Wolfs Soul

by Jane Lindskold

  Not long ago, Firekeeper had also thought that Derian was being cowardly in not wanting to visit his family. After all, what was there to fear? Derian had gained honors far beyond what a mere horse carter could have expected for his son. If Derian had lost an arm in battle, Colby and Vernita Carter would not have loved him less. How was a transformed physical appearance any different?

  But now Firekeeper knew how very thoughtless she had been. The people of Hawk Haven had been taught from infancy to dread magic, just as the wolves who had raised her and Blind Seer had been. As long as Blind Seer’s magical gifts had been unknown, Firekeeper could ignore what their birth pack’s reaction would be, but now… Now Blind Seer’s power was far more than latent. He had transformed himself to have wings, and flown. He was openly studying magic under the tutelage of a human spellcaster. Now that there could be no overlooking what he was, what would their parents think? Would their welcome be any more certain than what Derian dreaded from the family he so faithfully continued to write?

  Firekeeper hugged Derian tightly in mute apology.

  “Soon.” Derian hugged Firekeeper back, then released her to give Blind Seer a light punch in the shoulder by way of greeting. “What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into that you were hoping I’d be gone?”

  If Derian had expected laughter or denial at what had been clearly intended as a joke, he knew Firekeeper too well to miss the suppressed tension in how she tossed her tousled curls from her dark eyes.

  “The others come through soon,” Firekeeper said, stepping well away from the monolith that held the gate. “Then we tell all at once. I am sure you will be glad for Arasan being better with words than me before this is told.” The wolf-woman glanced mournfully over at the tidy sailing vessel that would carry them from the outer island which held the Rhinadei gate to the main island of the Nexus Island chain. “Especially since I do not have any fresh seasickness medicine.”

  Derian dipped a hand into his vest pocket. “Frostweed sent some, just in case. Why don’t you down it, so it has time to take effect? One thing. Should I expect any strangers—like that Varelle you brought last time?”

  Firekeeper shook her head. “Not yet. Strangers are staying behind to finish explaining how things are to their people while we came ahead.”

  Narrowing his eyes—the brown orbs much more like that of a horse than a human—Derian gave a low whistle. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Is not good,” Firekeeper admitted, adding water to the powder in the little flask, shaking it, tossing the foul brew back in one gulp. She grimaced. “But maybe it could be worse, far worse.”

  Derian waited patiently while first Laria, with the falcon Farborn on her shoulder, followed by Arasan, came through the gate. None of them would seem much changed from when he had seen them last, roughly a moonspan and a half before.

  Arasan had shed the extra weight he had gained during his convalescence, and his hair was a trace longer. Otherwise he appeared much as he had before: thick, dark-brown hair, showing attractive (to Firekeeper’s wolfish way of thinking) accents of grey, lines accenting thoughtful brown eyes. His lightly greying close-cropped beard and mustache couldn’t hide how both pain and laughter had taken their part in shaping his features. Arasan was the oldest member of their company in more ways than one. His body had experienced fifty-some years, but of his two souls, one was that of the centuries-old Meddler—a personage who, depending to whom you spoke, just might be a god, but who everyone agreed was trouble.

  The merlin Farborn now flew without his remarkable crystalline talons setting him off-balance, but what couldn’t be seen in the tidy little dark-brown and golden-tan falcon was how much of his self-confidence he had regained. If anything, these days Farborn tended toward a certain officious certainty that the safely of his companions depended upon him, first and foremost.

  Perhaps the greatest alteration would be seen in Laria who, at fourteen, was the youngest human member of their company. That she wore a sword—carrying it as if she was accustomed to its weight—was the smallest change. Her light-brown eyes had lost their perpetually worried expression. She actually smiled at Derian when he greeted her, rather than looking down at her feet and worrying the ribbon braided into her golden-brown hair. Her skin was the lightest of their group, a golden-brown like ripe wheat.

  Firekeeper knew that neither she nor Blind Seer would have changed at all. Her short, curly brown hair was a little neater, mostly because Arasan insisted on trimming it, rather than letting her go after it with her hunting knife whenever it started getting in her eyes. But her eyes were still a brown so dark as to be almost black, and if her tanned skin carried a few more scrapes and scars, no one would notice.

  Wolves did not alter much after reaching full adulthood, so Blind Seer was, as always, the handsomest grey wolf ever, his markings classic, the brilliant blue of his eyes perpetually thrilling by contrast. As was true of most yarimaimalom predators, Blind Seer was larger than Cousin-kind, standing tall enough that Firekeeper could rest her arm on his back without leaning down.

  After greeting everyone, Derian said, “Chaker Torn and his daughter, Symeen, sailed me over when we detected the gate activating. Shall we board the Silver Lady? You can tell me about your adventures while we sail back. Did Blind Seer find his teacher?”

  “His teacher, yes,” Firekeeper said, reluctantly climbing aboard, “and so much more.”

  On the Silver Lady, Firekeeper and Blind Seer settled where they could face into the salt-scented air. With her face and body angled forward, Firekeeper knew she looked like a peculiar figurehead, but she listened carefully as Arasan—assisted by Laria—briefed Derian on the events since they had left to find Blind Seer a teacher, and had found so much more.

  “So the short version is that you have reason to believe that this Kabot and his associates are somewhere in the Old World, probably Azure Towers?” Derian rocked his head back to ease a cramp in his neck muscles. “Can you narrow down when they would have arrived there?”

  Arasan shrugged. “Somewhat. The message Kabot left Wythcombe said they’d been released three moonspans before.”

  “But before when?”

  “I’m getting to that. They were still caught within their gate spell a few years ago when Wythcombe made his last pilgrimage. Our current theory is that they were freed sometime after Virim made the most recent modifications to querinalo.”

  “Why then?”

  “Because their spell malfunctioned after the Old World mages report that their people were beginning to survive querinalo, but that it was still strong enough to kill. Wythcombe checked on Kabot’s cabal more or less regularly at first. Remember, he knew nothing about querinalo, so all he was checking was whether they were still suspended.”

  “Hold up. So Rhinadei didn’t experience querinalo?”

  “It did, but what they experienced was much milder. It abated about the time—best as I can estimate—that Virim and his associates altered querinalo to permit the reemergence of talents in the New World. Since the Rhinadeians don’t practice blood magic at all—their term for it is ‘the anathema art’—they wouldn’t have experienced the extreme penalties suffered by those who employed blood magic. So, basically, the residents of Rhinadei have been without much in the way of restrictions on their magic for over a century.”

  Laria cut in. “The Rhinadeians seem to have a lot more people with magical gifts than we do—which makes sense, since their society was founded by magic users. Because of this, there are whole parts of their educational system built around learning what sort of magic children have, then teaching them. So even though Kabot was somewhere around forty when he rebelled, he was already an expert.”

  Derian frowned. “So we’re facing rogue blood mages who trained in magic as I did horseback riding—and I could ride before I could walk. Marvelous. Going back to when this cabal might have arrived in the Old World, why do you think the timing is related to querinalo?”

 
When Firekeeper spoke, she was very aware of her gut jouncing as Silver Lady smacked over the waves. “For a long time, Wythcombe thought that Kabot had done his gate wrong. When he learn from us how when we—you and me and Blind Seer—come from the New World to the Old, and how querinalo makes us all so ill, then Wythcombe wonders: What if Kabot did not do the spell wrong? What if querinalo made them sick so they could not finish the spell?”

  “Oh, I get it,” Derian interjected. “Then, last year, Virim set out to make amends. So far he hasn’t figured out how to cancel the curse that’s at the heart of querinalo, but he’s been working hard to make the victims’ reactions less severe. You think that Kabot and all were somehow able to finish their spell then?”

  Laria replied, “Wythcombe does. I think he’s right. I couldn’t get a clear reading on that place where Kabot’s cabal had made their base, but they were able to get out of the snare they’d been caught in, come back, set up a nasty welcome for just about anyone who might come after them, and then leave. Wythcombe and Ranz are going to try to narrow down when Kabot reopened his gate.”

  Arasan nodded. “Even without that, we can estimate anywhere between the three months mentioned in the message and about six months, because that’s when Virim worked his first major abatement of the curse. Derian, you look… thoughtful? I’d expected anger or even disbelief, but what’s bothering you?”

  Derian shook his head so hard that his forelock tumbled into his eyes. “I have a feeling that there’s a reason that Azure Towers is going to be difficult to deal with on this matter, but I can’t remember why. We’re going to need to brief the Nexus Islands council in any case, so rather than my speculating, let’s wait and consult them.”

  He looked to where Symeen was adjusting a sail in preparation for bringing Silver Lady into the dock, then back to where Chaker stood at the wheel. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer you two keep what you’ve heard to yourselves for now. I trust the Nexans, but today is a transit day for some of our clients. I’d just as soon that this news not get out before we’ve had a chance to decide what to do about it.”

  Symeen nodded, trying hard not to look impressed at being taken into Derian’s confidence. Chaker grinned.

  “No problem, Counselor. We’re used to keeping mum.”

  Firekeeper wasn’t surprised by their support. Since last summer when the Nexus Islands had established their right to rule themselves, the Nexans had not lost their unity of purpose. They knew all too well how close they’d come to losing control of the gates, to returning to life as slaves of the powerful Once Dead. Maybe in time they’d forget that lesson but, for now, as the graves of those who had died in the defense were only now being covered with the faint green of new grass, the memory was fresh and raw.

  Once ashore, Firekeeper’s erstwhile pack began to go their separate ways. Since it was likely that their small group would be departing before long, Laria wanted to spend time with her mother and two siblings. Blind Seer would be off to consult the jaguar, Truth, a frustrating proposition at the best of times, and one certain to be more so if—as they suspected—the currents of future events were in flux. This would leave Firekeeper and Arasan to brief the administrative council of the Nexus Islands. Farborn was remaining on the island in case anyone came through from Rhinadei. True, the gate was kept under observation by yarimaimalom gulls, but Farborn would know their friends—or at least allies—from outright intruders.

  “Hard as it is for us to face,” Blind Seer said as he shook the sea spray from his fur, “the gates have changed what it means to have a territory.”

  Firekeeper knelt so she could press her face into his fur and feel his breath warm on her skin. “Remember how Grateful Peace spoke of the gates? That in all his years as a spymaster, he had never realized that New Kelvin possessed a border in the basement of Thendulla Lypella. So it is for us all now. We have borders that cannot be easily seen—and dread the borders we have not yet discovered.”

  “That is so,” the blue-eyed wolf agreed, stretching his torso in preparation for a run. “Truth needs to know what we have learned, if for no other reason than so she will understand why there is good reason if her visions have become more turbulent of late.”

  “Run to Truth, then, my sweet hunter. I will listen while Derian and the counselors repeat themselves. Perhaps in listening I will learn what has Fox Hair so troubled.”

  The council proved to be small. Zebel, the doctor, had expressed due thanks for being included in the ruling body, but excused himself from attending meetings unless the matter under discussion somehow pertained to the island’s medical needs. Wort, the island’s quartermaster, was logging in a new shipment of supplies. This left Skea, Ynamynet, Urgana, and Derian.

  As Firekeeper had expected, much of what was said first was a repetition of what they had reported to Derian. One of Blind Seer’s favorite proverbs ran, “Hunt when hungry, sleep when not, for hunger always returns.” Until her stomach had settled from seasickness, Firekeeper had no appetite, so she drowsed while the discussion went on around her.

  The wolf-woman was drawn from her doze by the voice of Ynamynet, the leading spellcaster of the Nexus Islands. Unlike many of the remaining Nexus Islands spellcasters, Ynamynet continued to wear the elaborate embroidered robes and close-fitting cloth caps that had distinguished those who practiced the magical arts. The reasons were, Firekeeper suspected, dual. Ynamynet was the Nexus Islands’ highest-ranking spellcaster. In her role as one of the two heads of the very informal government, she often needed to confer with other users of magic. These would have been shocked to see her otherwise attired. Ynamynet’s other reason was that, because of querinalo, she was always cold. Where others might find the heavy garment stifling, she welcomed the warmth.

  “I wish I knew if Kabot’s cabal actually suffered querinalo or if it simply blocked their ability to use magic,” Ynamynet was saying, her pale blue-grey eyes narrowing in suspicion. “If they did suffer it, what did it do to them?”

  Arasan replied, “I wish I knew. None who experience querinalo comes through undamaged—as you know all too well.”

  “And for far too many,” Ynamynet added, “the damage is more than physical: a sense of entitlement is the least of it. Often there is paranoia, megalomania, or worse.”

  “Very true,” Firekeeper put in, resisting the urge to yawn. “Maybe when Wythcombe comes, you could warn him his friend may be changed. You are a spellcaster who has lived through querinalo. Words from you should bear much weight.”

  “I’ll do that,” Ynamynet replied. “Most definitely.”

  Derian turned to Urgana. The elderly woman had come to the Nexus Islands decades before, in company with her magically gifted sister, who had been exiled from their homeland for the crime of surviving querinalo with her talent intact. After her sister’s death, Urgana had served as a clerk to the Spell Wielders. Now she served the Nexus Islands as their chief archivist and librarian—a task which made use of her scholarly inclinations and took advantage of the experience of her long life as well.

  “Urgana, ever since Arasan told us that it’s likely that this Kabot’s spell took him to Azure Towers, I’ve been feeling uneasy—but I can’t remember why. On the surface, there doesn’t seem to be a reason for it. We haven’t had a great deal of contact with Azure Towers, but I can’t recall anything unduly bad. In fact, if I remember correctly, Queen Anitra has an excellent reputation.”

  “She does and deservedly,” Urgana said. “Let me give you a brief summary of Azure Tower’s politics. I suspect that will explain why you’re feeling uneasy.” She shifted to a lecturing tone. “Azure Towers is very careful about foreign visitors, even those who can be assumed to be friendly. It shares borders with two nations—three, if one counts Tishiolo but, as Tishiolo is on the other side of a nearly impassible mountain range, that does not concern us—or them. One of Azure Towers’ borders is with the Mires. However, since the conclusion of the recent war, King Bryessidan has bent himself
over backwards to prove that he truly desires nothing more than peaceful trade.”

  Firekeeper tried to imagine the brash young monarch bending over backwards and found she could. When she had first seen him, Bryessidan had been clad in terrifying armor of silver and brass. Since then, she had seen him in other contexts, including with his wife and small children. The warrior king had been unbending to his undoing. The father king was a much more pleasant and flexible person.

  Urgana continued, “On the other border is Hearthome. Queen Iline of Hearthome has always sparred with Azure Towers. Some say that she has a personal rivalry with Queen Anitra. Others say she uses the conflict as a means of keeping her extended family too busy to give her trouble. Queen Iline has repeatedly stated that she believes that Queen Anitra’s tiny nation should not be custodian of the ruins of the ancient university city, that the ruins should be the property of Hearthome instead.”

  Derian tapped one hoof-like fingernail on the tabletop. “That’s what’s been bothering me—something about the university. Ruins you say?”

  “Ruins,” Urgana agreed. “As Arasan mentioned, Azure Towers was the site of what was considered the largest and most prestigious university specializing in the magical arts. U-Chival also had a large magical academy, but since their magical teachings were inextricably intertwined with their religious beliefs, it was never as important.”

  “But after the coming of querinalo, the university was destroyed, wasn’t it?” Derian protested. “Ruins, you said.”

  “Destroyed, yes,” Urgana said, “but indiscriminately, by those with no knowledge of what they damaged. There has long been speculation that the ignorant may have left behind items of great value—especially of value to those who practice the magical arts.”