Wolf's Blood (90 page)

“How long,” the Meddler whispered, “will you hold me to those words?”

“Why,” Firekeeper replied, “should I ever set you free?”

TINIEL HAD BEEN moved from the building that held the gate to u-Chival to one of the gardens between gateway clusters. When he was unbound and permitted to sit up and look around, he realized that he was in the same garden from which he and Isende had once been lured by the power of the now deceased Spell Wielders.

He tried to decide whether this was an omen that he would escape from here as well, but his head hurt too much for him to really care. The inside of his mouth, from which the gag had now been removed, was dry, sore, and slightly abraded. Nonetheless, when a stranger wearing a rich tunic and cloak over elaborate armor handed him a flask containing some liquid, Tiniel did not immediately swallow it, but looked up suspiciously at his benefactor.

“Don’t worry,” the man said in strangely accented but understandable Liglimosh. “You can drink it. It’s just water. Water from astonishingly far away, now that I think about it, but no more extraordinary than that. I am Aurick, commander of the forces from Pelland.”

Tiniel sipped from the flask and found it indeed held nothing but water. slightly warm from being kept in the flask but no worse for that. He inclined his head to Aurick in thanks, took another deep swallow before returning the much lighter flask.

“I am Tiniel,” he said, “from not really anywhere.”

Really not anywhere,
Tiniel thought with despair. Before this he might have claimed some alliance with the Nexans, but they would never have him now. The Setting Sun stronghold had belonged to him and Isende, but he supposed he had forfeited any right to that as well. After all, how could he get back? And Gak? He’d rejected that city-state and his family there in favor of setting out on his own.

Aurick did not press Tiniel to say more, but took a seat on the bench across from the one Tiniel currently used as a backrest, being too sore and too stiff to sit comfortably upright. Aurick moved his sword easily to one side, and stretched his feet out in front of him in the manner of a man who knows to grab time off his feet when he can.

“So,” Aurick said, “I understand from Aridisdu Valdala that you claim to have aided us for reasons of ideals. You think our rights to the use of the gates were being abused. Is that so?”

Tiniel shrugged just a little, then remembered that he really shouldn’t be rude to a man who, after all, was the first person to be polite to him in hours.

“Yes, sir. That’s right. I had heard about the agreement your people had made with the Spell Wielders here, and I thought that keeping you from using the gates wasn’t fair.”

“So you thought to help us conquer your own people.”

“They aren’t my own people!” Tiniel said, exhaustion and tension catching up with him and making him less than prudent. “The only one who might be said to be ‘my’ person is my sister, Isende, and she agreed with the others. The others aren’t even from my own city-state, much less my own land. Most of them are like you, from the Old World.”

“And you are from the New,” Aurick said. “I think your situation is a great deal more complex than we have been led to imagine. Would you care to tell me something that will help me to understand?”

Tiniel looked at the older man and a thought occurred to him.

“You said you are from Pelland. That’s a continent, right?”

“And a country,” Aurick agreed. “You know of it?”

“Some of the Nexans came from Pelland,” Tiniel said, “and some of the New Worlders speak a language I’ve heard called ‘Pellish,’ so I guess they might have come from your Old World.”

“Quite possibly,” Aurick said. “Pelland was—and is—a powerful land.”

Tiniel felt a tantalizing hint in those words. Pelland was powerful, and Aurick of Pelland seemed to be more friendly in his attitude toward Tiniel than Prarayan or Valdala had been. Maybe it was because they viewed him as a mere colonist, and everyone knew that the Old World rulers hadn’t exactly been kind to their colonists.

Aurick wouldn’t have that prejudice. He might even view Tiniel with favor because Tiniel was foreign, and rulers knew they had to treat foreigners carefully.

Encouraged, Tiniel tried to sit up a little straighter, and found that some of the stiffness was leaving his muscles.

Aurick watched him and gave an encouraging smile.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to explain something about the Nexans. You see, they managed to put a shield up around the complex, and I’m a bit worried about what that might mean for my troops.”

Tiniel knew about the shield. He couldn’t have missed it, and, in any case, the shield had been repeatedly discussed in his hearing by those who were guarding him.

“Your troops?” he asked. “I’ve heard that it isn’t wise to touch the shield, but you know that already.”

“My troops,” Aurick said, and smiled a touch sadly. “It’s one thing to bring soldiers through a gate and ask them to risk their lives in a fair fight. It’s another thing to leave them enclosed in some sort of magical bottle. We’ve been wondering what might happen next. Could the Nexans cause the air to become poisonous, or could they insert troops of their own? If this is going to become a deathtrap, I don’t know if I can ask my soldiers to remain.”

Tiniel felt warmed by Aurick’s obvious concern for those who followed him. He also felt touched at being asked for information.

“You must have taken other prisoners,” he said. “They might know more than I do.”

“We have prisoners,” Aurick agreed, placing a slight emphasis on the last word, “but that is all they are. They remain opposed to us, even though we have warned them that they might suffer the same fate as we would. You, however, chose to ally yourself with us. That is an entirely different situation.”

Tiniel straightened further. He wasn’t quite ready to get up on a bench, but he was feeling better every minute.

“I will help you as best I can,” he said, “but I must be completely honest. I knew nothing of this shield—even though my sister is among the Nexan Once Dead.”

Aurick managed to convey both sympathy and disappointment without speaking a word. Tiniel tried to explain.

“Isende and I both had talent—that is until querinalo came. After that, well, it turned out she had two talents and she sacrificed one to save the other.”

“I see,” Aurick looked impressed. “And so she is serving with the Once Dead. They must be delighted to have her.”

“They,” Tiniel said, finding that now he was talking he couldn’t seem to stop, “are more delighted than you could imagine. You see, there really aren’t that many Once Dead among the Nexans, not anymore.”

He went on talking, telling Aurick about how he and Isende had come to the Nexus Islands, about their captivity, about their “rescue” and how it had been, for Tiniel, merely a new type of captivity. Aurick listened intently, leaning slightly forward, periodically offering Tiniel his flask. After a while, he motioned over one of the soldiers, and the woman took a seat to one side and began taking notes.

Tiniel had just finished detailing what he understood of the complex division of command between Ynamynet, Skea, and Derian, when a man wearing armor that made him resemble a bipedal dragon, even without the helmet he carried tucked under his arm, came striding into the little garden.

Aurick rose and bowed politely. The man glowered at him with what seemed like open dislike, but when he spoke his voice was polite enough.

“I only just learned you had gotten the prisoner to speak,” he said. “Why didn’t you send me a message?”

Aurick bowed, then gave Tiniel a reassuring glance.

“King Bryessidan, I feared the young man would be uncomfortable speaking before your august personage. I also knew that you were needed in many more places than this, and thought to spare you one chore.”

King Bryessidan looked slightly mollified, but Tiniel didn’t think he’d like to offend the king. He tried to look helpful, but didn’t say anything lest it be misjudged.

“I see you have someone taking notes,” the king said at last.

“I do, and copies were going to be sent to you as soon as I finished my chat with our young idealist here.”

Aurick managed to say “idealist” in a manner that left Tiniel feeling quite good. He decided that sitting on the ground in front of a king was a bad idea, and pulled himself to his feet and managed a bow.

When he looked up, King Bryessidan was studying him with interest, but no apparent animosity.

“Very well,” the king said to Aurick. “Does he have any information about the shield?”

“None,” Aurick said promptly, “but a great many thoughts about those we will encounter on the other side.”

“Report to me then,” Bryessidan said, “as soon as is reasonable. You can brief me and the other commanders all at once. Ancestors know, we can’t do much but talk for now.”

“I will be at your command,” Aurick said promptly.

When King Bryessidan left, Tiniel ventured to question Aurick.

“Is he like that because he’s a king?”

Aurick grinned. “He’s like that because he’s commander in chief of this force, and I did act a little out of line.”

Tiniel found this admission of guilt amazing and tantalizing.

“I thought you were the commander of the force. I mean, you said you were from Pelland.”

“The country. I did mention that there is a country.”

“You did,” Tiniel looked down at his shoes.

He felt a big, warm hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Tiniel. I’ll look out for you. Talk to King Bryessidan if he asks you questions, but don’t bother him otherwise. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

He lowered his voice so that Tiniel felt fairly certain not even the nearest soldier could hear what he said.

“Between you and me, I think Bryessidan is eager to make up for his father’s defeats. I’m not interested in having my soldiers used for another’s glory. I’m sure you can understand.”

Tiniel nodded. He did indeed understand what it felt like to be used. Looking at Aurick, he realized that here was another who would use him.

Visions passed through his head, visions of King Bryessidan conveniently dead, and Aurick now commanding and victorious. Aurick granting favors to Tiniel who had been of such great assistance to him.

Does it matter if Aurick wants to use me? No, especially if I can get what I want from the deal. Isende may see me as a hero yet, and the Nexans kneel before me and acknowledge me as their ruler.

XLIV

  PLIK HAD GONE back to his cottage. The siege could go on without him, and he desperately needed to put up his feet and rest. Soon Firekeeper would come back from the New World with reinforcements, and doubtless he would be needed to help translate as tactics were evolved to accommodate the new force.

In the meantime, in addition to resting his feet, he needed quiet to work through a troubling thought that had been nibbling on the edges of his mind. It was something to do with war and the results of war, but he hadn’t been able to make sense of it. Now that he had a few moments to think, perhaps he could puzzle it out.

He was leaning back in a chair that Diuric the carpenter had shortened the legs on so that Plik could sit at ease when he heard sounds of someone moving stealthily about in the adjoining cottage.

Tiniel’s cottage.

Plik got to his feet and moved noiselessly toward the door, his mind racing with questions.

Had Tiniel somehow gotten out before the shield dropped? How? If he had, who might he have brought away with him? Might another invasion be being planned right next door?

Plik felt very inadequate to deal with such an eventuality, but he also knew that if there was trouble, he stood a better chance of talking Tiniel out of doing something foolish than just about anyone on the Nexus Islands. And if Tiniel did indeed have someone with him …

The door to the adjoining cottage was open, and Plik slipped to where he could peek inside. At first he thought that the person bending over the papers and books on the desk at the far end of the room was indeed Tiniel, then she moved, and he knew who it had to be—and how foolish he had been not to expect her all along.

Well,
the maimalodalu thought,
I don’t think I can be blamed for jumping to conclusions. Isende hasn’t come down here for well over a moonspan, and I guess I’d like to see Tiniel. There are so many questions only he could answer.

He cleared his throat. Isende turned, her motion slow and graceful, without a trace of nervousness or guilt.

“Plik,” she said, not bothering with any more formal greeting, “why did Tiniel do it? I’ve just come from the infirmary. Rhul is dead. He was holding my hand. He was so far gone he thought I was Loxia, and she’s not even five. He didn’t seem to see Saeta, and she was right next to him crying her eyes out. Saeta’s just lost her husband, and her babies are in the New World and now that we’ve lost the gates, she doesn’t know if she’ll ever see them again.”

Plik couldn’t think of anything to say. Rhul and Saeta were Isende’s neighbors, the people whose children she had minded before the threat of invasion had turned her into an apprentice spellcaster and administrative assistant. In any case, Isende probably wouldn’t have heard him. She continued speaking, her voice level despite the tears that rolled down her cheeks.