Wolfs Soul

by Jane Lindskold

  “Why you so upset, Wythcombe?” Firekeeper asked. “Back in the Nexus Islands, you were told to expect this. Now you act as if it is new to you.”

  “I also heard that Queen Anitra was considered a wise ruler. I suppose I believed that she would react more proactively to a threat to her people.”

  “This threat is something I not quite understand, even now,” Firekeeper admitted. “I have thought much about what Kabot say. He sound as if he wished to someday show Rhinadei what he had become, but why is that a threat?”

  “You wanted to find him,” Wythcombe countered. “Wasn’t that because you thought he could be a threat?”

  “Ignorance is always a threat,” Firekeeper replied calmly. “I was very ignorant when I came east of the Iron Mountains. If I had not been lucky in my teachers, I would have made more errors than I did.”

  “So you just want to find Kabot so you can brief him as to local customs of dress and table etiquette?” Wythcombe’s tone was mocking.

  Firekeeper grinned at him, a wolf’s grin, as much challenge as expression of humor. “If that is what is needed, then, yes. But we—myself and Blind Seer—we have not forgotten that Kabot may have come believing, perhaps, that Old Country is unchanged from what you of Rhinadei tell in your tales.”

  “Sorcerer monarchs drinking mingled wine and blood from goblets made from the skulls of their enemies,” Laria offered softly. “Riding fire-spitting dragons through the skies. The sort of thing that makes a great fireside tale when you’re safely away from it—especially since no one who listens to those stories imagines themselves one of the slaves being kept as a source of blood.”

  “Wait! Not everyone who uses blood magic abuses the power,” Ranz objected. “Your own Ynamynet is evidence of that. I think it’s stupid to forbid a powerful source of mana simply because it was abused in the past. Maybe Kabot feels the same way. Maybe when he said in his message that he looked forward to coming back to Rhinadei someday, he meant after he’d proven he could use blood magic”—Ranz used the Pellish term deliberately, defiantly—“and become more versatile.”

  Wythcombe had stopped pacing to listen, now he resumed. “But I can’t get away from how Kabot seemed to be challenging me—me personally. When the emergency council came with me to Mount Ambition, we found no sign that Kabot left a message for anyone else.”

  “And because he left you this message,” Firekeeper said, “you feel you must find him.”

  Whatever Wythcombe might have replied was lost when Farborn, who had been hunting, came soaring in through an open window. “One comes! Although she wears a cloak with the hood up, I recognize the manner of her walk. It is General Merial. I learned her gait when she was among our captives on the Nexus Islands. If she does not come here to speak with us, then I will never eat another mouse.”

  “General Merial comes,” Firekeeper translated, then asked the merlin. “Does she come alone or with her pack?”

  “Alone, best as I can tell, but I will scout.” The reply was as much in action as in what a human would have called words, as Farborn sliced the air on his way out the open window.

  Blind Seer rose, ears perked, then padded to where he could sniff the air that whispered beneath the closed door to the suite. “I think it is too soon for the mice to rejoice. Footsteps approach and, yes, certainly that is Merial’s scent.”

  “I’ll wake Arasan,” Laria said, jumping to her feet and opening Arasan’s door without pausing to knock. Such formalities had not yet reestablished after their moonspan and more of living together in camps. Wythcombe settled into a chair, and struggled to look relaxed.

  There was a sharp rap on the door. Firekeeper let Ranz go to answer it, since that left her and Blind Seer free to attack or flee, whichever seemed the best response. A human might see flight as cowardly, but a wolf knew that living to bring aid later could be the wisest course.

  “Yes?” Ranz said, opening the door only enough to see who was without. He sounded a little wary, which was just as he should.

  The response was spoken very softly. “I am Merial. We met this afternoon. May I come in?”

  “Are you alone?” Ranz asked.

  “I am.”

  “She is!” whistled Farborn from the window and, although Firekeeper didn’t translate, Ranz seemed to understand. Closing the door all but the width of a finger, he turned to them. “It’s Merial, from earlier. She wants to speak with us.”

  Wythcombe replied heartily. “Fine with me.”

  Firekeeper grunted agreement. Arasan, coming sleepily to the door of his room, said, “Give me a minute to brush my hair and I’ll join you.”

  Ranz opened the door and stood politely to one side. “Please, come in.”

  The general did so, moving with something less than her usual confident stride. Once inside, with the door closed firmly behind her, she scanned the room, noting the open window with Farborn on the sill, Firekeeper and Blind Seer standing ready, Wythcombe with his hand wrapped around his staff, Laria turning with a poker from the hearth, and, lastly, Arasan, emerging from his room, tugging his clothes into line. His eyes still looked sleep-puffy, but were alight with interest.

  Firekeeper took it upon herself to act as hostess. “General Merial, you are welcome. We have a chair here.” She indicated the one across from Wythcombe. “We have some tea and some water, I think. We could ask the innkeeper for other food if you wish.”

  She was very proud of herself for remembering these human social graces, and found the little smile that twitched at the corner of the Meddler’s mouth (it was definitely him) annoying. But General Merial acted properly, taking the chair Firekeeper offered, then asking for tea, which Laria brought her. Firekeeper settled herself on the floor with Blind Seer, leaving chairs for the humans. Farborn stayed at the window. Firekeeper knew the falcon would periodically dart out to make certain this unanticipated visit wasn’t a prelude to some trap.

  After tasting the tea and thanking Laria with a small inclination of her head, General Merial studied them thoughtfully. If she had thought her silence would prompt them into asking her why she had come, she had chosen the wrong group. Only Ranz shifted, covering his restlessness by reaching for his own teacup.

  “I’m not here to ask you to leave Azure Towers,” Merial began, and Firekeeper, who had not even considered such a possibility, was interested that this could have been an assumption. “I’m here as one of the heads of this nation’s military with additional questions regarding your account from earlier today, questions that did not occur to me until after we had all left Queen Anitra’s presence.”

  Blind Seer panted laughter. “Rather, questions she did not wish to ask in front of her queen. But do not challenge her, dear heart.”

  Firekeeper rubbed her fingers along the dark line of his spine, and kept her peace.

  “If we can answer your questions,” Wythcombe replied, all hearty courtesy, none of his earlier anxiety showing, “we would be happy to do so.”

  “You seemed very concerned about Kabot and his associates,” Merial began. “Why do you think he offers any threat?”

  Wythcombe replied much as he had earlier, although at greater length. Merial then asked several more questions. What interested Firekeeper more than the questions was that none of them even implied disbelief in Wythcombe’s basic premise.

  Fingers wrapped around the now empty teacup, the general stared down, as if the pattern on the carpet had somehow become fascinating. When she raised her head, her gaze was resolute.

  “Queen Anitra has her priorities. I have mine. Even when we disagree, I believe we are actually in accord, for we both care deeply about the safely of this nation.” Merial faced Wythcombe and Ranz. “If you’ve seen maps of the continent of Pelland, you may have noticed that ours is among the smaller nations—especially if you remember that much of our uplands are mountainous and, therefore, not entirely useful.”

  “For humans,” Blind Seer said, and Firekeeper swallowed a smile.


  “There are those—especially our near neighbor Hearthome…”

  “And not long ago the Mires,” Blind Seer added.

  Firekeeper thumped him gently between the ears. General Merial did not seem to notice, but Laria certainly did.

  “…that believe we are too small and too unmilitant to defend what many see as the most valuable resource we hold. This is not our mineral wealth, nor the ore and gems from our mines, but the very ruins you have asked to visit.”

  “Asked,” Wythcombe prompted very gently, “and been refused.”

  “Yes. That refusal is what I wish to discuss. Queen Anitra is very wise to refuse you. If she were to permit you and Ranz—two barely met strangers from another land—in the company of three…”

  “Five,” chorused Blind Seer and Farborn together.

  “Six,” thought Firekeeper, thinking of the Meddler and Arasan.

  “…from an allied land be the first to enter the ruins with royal sanction, then not only would the requests for similar privileges pour in, but Queen Anitra would be in a very poor position to refuse. For some time, she has been lobbied to permit a small group of carefully chosen scholars, all drawn from our own land, to study the ruins. Each time she comes near to agreeing, she backs away, fearful of the consequences. For that reason, even if you are granted the second audience you have requested, I believe the answer would be the same.”

  “But you,” Arasan said, his tone at its most melodious and insinuating, “while you do not disagree with the queen, you do not fully agree with her either.”

  “That’s about it,” General Merial agreed. “Cousin Anitra is correct as far as she has gone, but without proof that Kabot has invaded, she continues to react as if circumstances are unchanged. I keep worrying that he may be within, wondering what he might have found. Before querinalo began to abate, the ruins were just that—ruins. What wealth they contained was of the sort that isn’t dangerous of itself—only for what it might buy. Our histories make clear that after the fall of the sorcerer kings the ruins were looted. This doesn’t keep people from daydreaming that they’ll find a cache of gems or coins. I’ll even admit that the force we have on permanent rotation regularly turns back treasure seekers. We don’t make a big deal of this because we don’t want to encourage others, but we cultivate rumors that the penalties for trespass are very—in some cases, terminally—severe.”

  The grim expression on her face made clear that the rumors had a solid foundation.

  “Now querinalo is abating and a new sort of treasure is being dreamed of. Already there is talk about establishing a new university, both to teach the magical arts and to attempt to instill some ethical code. Some say that Azure Towers would be the best place for such a school for, even when magic was no longer useful, we retained a tradition of scholarship. These suggest that we should systematically search the ruins for texts or diagrams or other, more nebulous, artifacts in anticipation of founding our new academy. Queen Anitra refuses, saying that any magical relics from before querinalo would be tainted, that we would be better to start afresh.”

  She stopped, looking uncomfortable.

  “So,” Arasan prompted, “you have good reason to be unhappy about the possibility that Kabot is already within, his actions uninvestigated.”

  “Correct.” Merial’s tone was too level. “I asked the queen if we might send a patrol to search for evidence of any new activity, but she remains reluctant. Even if I carefully picked soldiers known for discretion, word might get out. Worse, if something happens to them, we would need to lie, and lies like that tend to twist around and bite you. On the other hand, if something happens and is traced to invaders within the ruins, then all the nations that have argued that Azure Towers is too small to guard such a trust will have a new support for their arguments.”

  “So?” Wythcombe leaned forward in his chair, knuckles white on the hand wrapped around his staff. “You are in a bind. You can’t go in. Yet you fear the consequences if you do nothing.”

  “Which is why,” General Merial said, resolve tightening the lines of her face, “I was considering asking you to go in. Unofficially. Fully aware that if you are caught, I can do nothing to soften whatever penalty the queen hands down.”

  III

  “SO WHY SHOULD we take the risk?” Laria heard herself blurt out. “How do we know this isn’t some sort of trap? Do you expect Wythcombe to be so eager he’s going to do something dumb?”

  “Laria!” Wythcombe’s tone mingled reproof and amusement, but Laria knew she wasn’t wrong. The old man was overeager. If Wythcombe took the bait, then Ranz would trot after him. Firekeeper might be able to convince Blind Seer not to do something foolish, but who would watch out for Ranz?

  General Merial looked shocked but Laria held her ground. For the first time, Laria realized her peculiar childhood had its advantages. After surviving the Spell Wielders and their mercurial moods, what did she have to fear from a mere general, even if said general was closely related to a queen?

  Laria leveled her gaze at General Merial, daring her not to reply. After a long pause, during which the general studied each of them in turn, Merial shook her head, as if not believing she was required to answer to a mere girl of no particular lineage or position.

  “Very well. The simple reason why I wouldn’t betray you is that I could not do so without betraying myself.”

  Arasan shook his head. “That’s not enough.” His voice brightened and shifted, so Laria recognized the Meddler. “This might actually be some sort of plot concocted by you and the queen. We’ve already considered what would happen if important members of the Nexus Islands community were discovered breaking the Azure Tower’s prohibitions. We decided that we could not impose that risk on our community.

  “There are truthsayers,” Merial said. “You would be within your rights to insist on one reviewing my testimony. I could not hope to lie.”

  “That’s not the point,” Ranz interjected, “as I think you know full well. So you’re caught lying. What of it? You admit you did what you did for what you believed was the good of Azure Towers. Few would fault the queen if she gave you a light penalty. Nope. Laria’s right. Why should we take this risk?”

  Laria wanted to hug Ranz for his support, but she kept her dignity, and only inclined her head in a slight nod.

  Firekeeper said in her “Blind Seer” voice. “Your scent is not as disappointed as it should be. There is more, I think. Would you care to discuss it or shall we ask you to leave?”

  General Merial shifted uncomfortably when Blind Seer mentioned her scent.

  She forgot that we have our own sort of truthsayer with us at all times, Laria thought gleefully.

  “Very well. You have made your point. Laria, I apologize. I let myself forget that you have traveled to Rhinadei, served your land in war, and lived under rulers far more difficult than my own queen. Here is why you are secure against my betraying you. What I am going to suggest is that you enter the ruins via a route that is known to only a few people—myself, the queen herself, and her chief counselor. Not even Trahaene, the most trusted of her Once Dead, knows of this route. Therefore, if you are caught, the fact that you knew of this route will show that I was involved.”

  “That doesn’t answer my objection,” the Meddler retorted. “You could have made a deal with the queen in advance. In fact, given that you are willing to betray what must be a major state secret, I think it’s more likely, not less, that the queen is conniving with you.”

  General Merial threw her head back, exasperation in every line of her sturdy body. “I have no answer to that objection. Short of bringing you before the queen and making her swear she has not given me immunity from prosecution—which I cannot do—you only have my word.”

  There was a long silence, then Laria said, “General Merial does have a point. Proving someone hasn’t done something is harder than proving they have. Isn’t that what you’ve taught me, Arasan?”

  She placed just a l
ittle stress on the name, a reminder that the “Two Lives” was coming dangerously close to revealing its dual identity.

  “True,” Arasan admitted.

  “Let’s discuss your plan further, shall we, General Merial?” Wythcombe suggested. “There’s another way into the ruins? One that bypasses the patrols?”

  General Merial nodded stiffly, reminding Laria of a newly enlisted recruit reporting. “Yes. It’s a tunnel. Our guess—and that’s all we have—is that it was built for some sort of utility—a sewer, perhaps.”

  Firekeeper groaned and Blind Seer flattened his ears. Farborn whistled with unmistakable amusement.

  Merial looked surprised, but when the wolves didn’t clarify, she went on. “According to the report left by the patrol who scouted the tunnel, it ends in one of the largest of university buildings—or I should say in the understories of that building’s ruins. This structure is located much deeper into the university ruins than the borders where our soldiers patrol. If you were to emerge there, you should be undetected. With Farborn to scan from above, with Blind Seer’s sense of smell, with Firekeeper’s extraordinary abilities as a scout—as well as whatever other skills you have to offer, my thought was that you could easily discover if there are any traces of fresh human activity.”

  “Tell us more,” Firekeeper prompted before the humans could start raising objections. “Especially about this sewer. We do not much like sewers.”

  General Merial gave a crisp nod. “If the tunnel was a sewer, it probably hadn’t been used for centuries, even before querinalo. The tunnel—shall we call it that instead?—was discovered during the early years of the reign of Queen Anitra’s mother, during the clearing of rubble in anticipation of the construction of a road. The new road was diverted from what was thought to be a pit. Later, when studies were made to assess what it would take to fill the pit, it was realized that the ‘pit’ was actually a segment of a tunnel. Since the tunnel led into the ruins…”