Wolf's Blood (84 page)

“True,” Aridisdu Valdala said. “When we have a force of twenty safely arrived here, begin your attack. You recall where the Tavetch gate is located?”

“I do.”

“Take that first. Then the Tavetch can join us in relieving the Pellanders.”

“I will do as you command.”

Tiniel listened to this with a distant sense of disbelief. He’d thought about what would happen when he allied himself with the Old World nations, and just about nothing was going according to his plans.

Sure the Old Worlders were through the gate, and were quietly augmenting their forces, but where was the appreciation? He’d imagined someone—someone he now realized looked rather like his deceased father—patting him warmly on the shoulder and then offering him a fine sword or even some magical artifact. He’d spent hours refining that moment in his imagination, finally deciding that a magical sword would be best, but he’d settle for an amulet.

Certainly, Isende was not the only one of the twins capable of dreaming true dreams? And she did it without trying, and he was trying so hard.

Now here had come his big moment, and not only was no one asking him anything, they were practically ignoring him.

“Idealist,” Prarayan called, his voice low but still managing to carry, “you’ve been seen for a few moments. Come here. Aridisdu Valdala has a few questions for you.”

Tiniel moved to obey with alacrity, his heart beating fast within his chest. Now his dreams would come true. Now they would tell him that they had seen him in their auguries, that he was blessed by the Divine Five, the chosen of the deities.

Aridisdu Valdala looked him over critically. Tiniel felt his cheeks heat with a blush, and felt very glad that he was not as fair as Derian. He hoped they would not be able to tell how embarrassed he was of his mismatched armor and of the stout spear that was his main weapon for hand-to-hand fighting.

“Tell me, Idealist,” Aridisdu Valdala said. “who might be the Horse, the Wolf, and the North Wind? Such figures have occurred again and again in our auguries, but I would know more.”

Tiniel blinked at her. His cheeks were heating again, but this time from fury not from embarrassment.

Derian, again! Derian!

He wanted to press his lips close and tight rather than admitting that horse-faced outlander lout was anyone important, but from the way Aridisdu Valdala was looking at him, she was not accustomed to being kept waiting. He saw her fingering a sheathed knife at her waist and remembered that the Old World sorcerers had no reluctance to shed blood.

“The Horse,” he said, and was pleased to find his voice steady, “may well be a young man named Derian Carter. He was among those who came from the New World and conquered the Nexus Islands.”

Aridisdu Valdala exchanged a glance with Prarayan that said as eloquently as words that the idea was not a new one to them.

“Once Dead or Twice?” she asked. “Or Untainted?”

It took Tiniel a moment to remember that the u-Chivalum did not use the degrading term “Never Lived,” but chose to view those without a touch of magical ability as marked by the blessing of the divine powers.

“Once Dead,” Tiniel replied, and for once didn’t feel bad about according to Derian what these people would certainly not see as an honor. “He had a mystic rapport with horses that querinalo has enhanced to the point of making him resemble a horse.”

“Interesting,” Aridisdu Valdala said. “You say he is from the New World. What is his native tongue?”

“Pellish, I believe, but he speaks Liglimosh fairly well, and what he calls New Kelvinese at least a little.”

The aridisdu quirked an eyebrow at Tiniel’s use of the slang term “Liglimosh,” but did not mock him as Prarayan would certainly have done. Tiniel began to warm toward Aridisdu Valdala, and wonder if she would be the one to give him his honors.

“The Wolf,” he said quickly, “is also from the New World. She is Once Dead as well—or so everyone thinks. However, she has been odd from the start. Her ability to communicate with the yarimaimalom could not be greater if she were one herself.”

Aridisdu Valdala looked interested, but pairs of soldiers were filing from the gate, and clearly she was aware that this was not the time to ask many questions.

“And the last?”

“I am not sure,” Tiniel admitted. “You said ‘North Wind’?”

“Yes. That is the best title we could come up with. The impression was one of great power, but also of great cold.”

Insight came to Tiniel. He remembered how Ynamynet always bundled up as if she were very cold, even in the heat of summer. He remembered a few lewd jokes, quickly stifled, about what Skea must do to manage making love to a woman that cold.

“I think I know who your North Wind must be,” he said. “The magical forces are led by a Once Dead named Ynamynet. I believe she is originally from one of the Pelland countries, but I am not sure. She never speaks of her past, and as she spent many years in the forces of King Veztressidan, she had ample opportunity to learn Pellish.”

“So this Ynamynet is not from the New World as are these others?”

“No. She was one of the Once Dead who took up residence here after the defeat of King Veztressidan. Her husband, Skea, a Twice Dead, is commanding the armed forces.”

“I remember Skea,” Aridisdu Valdala said. “A man with very dark skin and great military skills. I believe I remember Ynamynet as well, although we were never friendly. Very good. Where might we find these three? Our auguries indicate that our chances of success will increase if they are defeated early in the battle.”

“I don’t know about Firekeeper—that is the Wolf. She does not fit into any command structure. Derian Carter, the Horse, will be somewhere here on the gateway hillside. Ynamynet will be near the bottom of the hills in the headquarters building with the other Once Dead.”

“And how many are there of these?” the aridisdu asked.

“Very few,” Tiniel said. “When the New Worlders came here, most of the reigning Spell Wielders were killed.”

Aridisdu Valdala looked appalled. “These invaders from the New World must be formidable warriors and sorcerers.”

“Not really,” Tiniel said, shaping his envy into notes of scorn. “They really had little to do with the defeat of the Spell Wielders. The Spell Wielders mishandled a spell and slew themselves. Only a few who were not tied into a spell survived. Only one of these survivors—Ynamynet—is a spellcaster. She has since recruited a few others, but the force is small and untrained.”

Aridisdu Valdala studied Tiniel for a long moment.

“Why are you telling me all of this, and so eagerly? You are from the New World yourself. You are betraying your own people.”

Tiniel shook his head. “I am not. As I told Prarayan, I chose this side because I believe that Derian Carter and those who follow him are in the wrong. They violated an honorable treaty by sealing the gates and seeking to control them for their own benefit.”

He tried very hard to look sincere, tried to keep the envy and jealousy that he felt for all the Once Dead—but most particularly for Derian Carter—to himself.

The aridisdu laughed and the sound wasn’t in the least kind. She looked at massive Hahrahma who still hovered near Tiniel.

“Tie this man up and put him in a corner out of the way. We’ll see how his ideals hold up later.”

Prarayan glanced over from where he had been briefing his forces.

“Why not cut his throat?”

“He has information we may need,” the aridisdu replied.

“Let me fight with you!” Tiniel pleaded, backing away from Harahma. “Let me prove myself to you!”

“You have betrayed your own people,” Aridisdu Valdala said coldly. “I would not have you at my back even if you claimed to have been personally blessed by each of the Divine Five in turn.”

Tiniel sought to find an argument that would make the u-Chivalum trust him, his voice breaking over the words as it had not done since he was much, much younger. Aridisdu Valdala did not listen, only glanced over her shoulder at mute Hahrahma.

“Gag him,” she said.

Bound and gagged, then tossed into a corner like a disregarded heap of laundry, Tiniel watched helplessly as the u-Chivalum marched in near silence to the doorway that would take them into the gateway complex. The force contained more than the twenty Prarayan had originally specified, for Aridisdu Valdala’s interrogation of Tiniel had delayed the force’s departure, while the inexorable transfer through the gate had continued.

Seemingly timed to every ragged breath Tiniel took, more armed and armored soliders were coming through the gate. Two by two, obedient and silent, dark eyes shining in the light of the glowing blocks on the walls, the soldiers settled into their ranks.

Patiently, they awaited their orders, orders that would doubtless lead to the taking of the gateway hillside, to the defeat of the Nexans, and to the capture or death of all of those the Old World forces chose to view as rebels.

Including Isende.

Tiniel started to struggle.

XLI

  THE TREMENDOUS HOPES with which Firekeeper had led Grateful Peace down to the water’s edge had, by the day following his arrival diminished. The lean thaumaturge had stood staring out over the ocean, the wind moving through his bone-white hair in its long braid the only motion he made. He didn’t even seem to blink.

Firekeeper had waited impatiently at first, but there was that about the way Grateful Peace stood, the stillness of his entire body, that reminded her of something. When she realized that what he brought to mind was a great cat, crouched in hunting stillness, her impatience vanished, replaced by the deep, nearly infinite patience that any successful hunter knows must be brought to a hunt.

So had that day passed into evening, and with nightfall Firekeeper had escorted the three new arrivals to the public dining hall. Despite the fact that many of the Nexans were absent, standing watches or tending those who had been wounded in that morning’s battle against the fleet’s landing parties, the noise level was high and the pitch of the chatter so intense that had Firekeeper been able to fold down her ears she would have done so.

The arrival of the three strangers had caused a momentary ebb in the noise, an ebb that eddied to silence when Derian stood. In a very few words, these so well chosen that Firekeeper knew they must have been prepared in advance, Derian introduced Grateful Peace, Edlin, and Citrine.

They were greeted with cheers that, to Firekeeper’s ear, sounded more tense and anxious than joyful.

That first set of introductions, however, had left out the Meddler. He stood there in his new human form surveying the gathered Nexans as if he had not seen them before, as indeed he might not have done. Firekeeper had no idea how many of the panicked mountain sheep’s memories were the Meddler’s to access, and certainly a sheep’s eyes saw differently than did a human’s.

After a slightly awkward pause, Derian introduced the Meddler as someone else brought from the New World to help. He was also greeted with enthusiastic cheers, but Firekeeper thought that a few of those gathered looked thoughtful. Doubtless they remembered that she had brought a mountain sheep, not a human back from the New World, and wondered at the change. However, being from the Old World, where such miracles might even be common, they kept their questions to themselves.

Following the meal, Derian and Ynamynet invited Grateful Peace and his entourage to come with them to the headquarters building. There they conferred at great length about what Peace might be able to do.

Grateful Peace sighed. “I sensed something there—or rather the part of me that is connected to the Dragon did so. However, what I know about dragons is what my ‘companion’ has taught me. I know nothing of sea monsters—not even if they are related in the least to dragons.”

“We might be able to help with that,” Ynamynet said. “Several of our older residents have been delving into the archives. Let me see if any are about.”

Urgana was summoned, and offered to show Peace what had been located in the library and archives regarding sea monsters and dragons. He accepted graciously, and asked to be excused.

“Firekeeper,” he said, pausing in the doorway on his way out, “I know you are likely to be awake much of the night, but would you be willing to be my escort come dawn?”

Firekeeper gave a thin smile. “Tonight, I think I sleep. These Old Worlders is human in one way at least, they will prefer to fight in light, and I should be fresh then.”

“Good, then unless you are helping with the defense, will you join me?”

“I will,” Firekeeper promised.

“If I do contact one of these sea monsters,” Peace continued, “I am not at all certain what language it might speak—or if it will speak any language at all. You, however limited your command of human tongues may be, are fluent in whatever is spoken by the Beasts. Moreover, I recall that you, like me, had no difficulty at all in communicating with the Dragon.”

Remembering that strange conversation, and how close she had come to making choices she thought now she might deeply regret, Firekeeper hid a shudder, and nodded.