Wolfs Soul

by Jane Lindskold

  Fear. No. More than fear. Desperation. Coins bright as blood. Coins of blood. Piled high. A gambler’s stake, rattling in the gambler’s hand. The gambler made a tossing gesture, hooked his desire onto something too bright that was elsewhere, yet intertwined with the here.

  For a brief moment, Laria saw that elsewhere. She knew it, not from personal experience but from stories told in a woman’s voice, deep and sonorous, a voice that for all it held much laughter never lost an undertone of sorrow. Long-trunked trees wearing caps of fronds. Animals that caused the ground underfoot to tremble with their passage. Elegant brown-skinned people. Music.

  The image slammed shut. Laria rocked back on her heels, gratefully accepted the canteen of water Ranz held out to her.

  “Tey-yo,” she said. “They’ve gone to Tey-yo.”

  “Tell us what you saw,” Arasan urged.

  Laria did, reporting as the Meddler had taught her when he was her only teacher, including every detail she could, even when she was pretty certain that they weren’t real, just allegorical representations for things that didn’t really have shapes or forms.

  “So, Wythcombe,” she said eagerly when she had finished, “can you take us after them?”

  Wythcombe shook his head. “I wish I could, but I don’t have enough information to shape a transportation spell. Such spells don’t require that you’ve been to the place yourself, but more is needed than a general—if very vivid—description.”

  Ranz frowned. “Then how did Kabot work his own spell? I thought the people of Rhinadei had been isolated from the rest of the world for centuries. Certainly, he couldn’t have been to Tey-yo.”

  “A good question—and one for which Laria’s description provides a clue as to the answer.” Wythcombe gestured toward the gaping hole in the crystal lattice. “I suspect that both how Kabot chose his destination and how he had enough power to manage such a complex working so quickly are related to whatever was there. One shortcut used when working a transportation spell is to use something closely related to the destination as an anchor. Another shortcut is to exploit the bond between two closely related items.”

  “Like the gem on the pommel of my sword and the sword?” Laria offered.

  “Perhaps—especially if the gem is related to the sword’s magic. Even better would be the blade and the hilt—two elements so integrally related to each other that one is far less useful without the other. Again, I am oversimplifying. What I suspect is that Kabot somehow discovered that whatever was there”—Wythcombe gestured toward the broken lattice—“was closely related to something else, something located in Tey-yo. He then hooked one end of the transportation spell to that and went where it took him. If—as seems highly likely given the pervasive if generalized aura in this chamber—the item from the lattice was magical, he could have used its stored mana to power the spell.”

  Ranz looked both impressed and recalcitrant. “But how could Kabot have known that whatever was there was part of something larger?”

  Wythcombe raised and lowered his shoulders in a dramatic shrug. “There might have been notes. After all, they may have been searching through these ruins for weeks, even moonspans, since we don’t know precisely when they left Mount Ambition. There could have been a visual clue—a mirror without a face, a ring without a setting. Or Kabot might have sensed that whatever was here was part of a larger whole. No matter how I—or my colleagues in Rhinadei—feel about his choice to study the anathema art, no one will deny that Kabot is extraordinarily skilled. Indeed, had he been less so, his interests would have raised less concern.”

  There was a thoughtful pause, then Arasan said, “Someone should brief Firekeeper and Blind Seer. Do you think there is anything more you can learn here?”

  Wythcombe frowned. “If Ranz’s stair will last a while longer, I’d like to further inspect this chamber.” He directed his gaze at Laria. “I forgot to ask. Where is Tey-yo?”

  “I don’t know, exactly,” Laria said. “A long way away. It’s the homeland of some of the Nexans: Skea, Kalyndra, and a few others. What I know about it comes from Kalyndra’s stories. There was once a major gate to Tey-yo, but that was blocked right after Kalyndra arrived. I think I heard something about it having been opened again.”

  Arasan added, “It was. Skea and Kalyndra tried it. They retreated after they encountered something dangerous.”

  Wythcombe cocked a bushy eyebrow. “Well, dangerous or not, I hope they will let us use that gate to speed our own explorations.”

  Once again, the Voice was the one who saved them. Kabot’s intention had been to create his transport spell to take himself, Uaid, and Daylily directly to Teyvalkay. Phiona’s voice, speaking gently but firmly, had chided him as he had begun shaping his spell.

  “Remember the ward you found here in Azure Towers,” she said. “Teyvalkay may be equally well-protected. As I recall, a powerful ward will at best interfere with a transportation spell, at worst…”

  Phiona’s voice trailed off. Kabot nodded, forgetting she couldn’t actually see him. Her words brought back to him the cautionary tales that had been part of his education. He reshaped the spell so that it would take them into the vicinity of Teyvalkay, then added a sigil for concealment.

  “Uaid, I’m ready,” he said, motioning for Uaid to bring closer the piece of lattice that held the rune-inscribed gold disk. Then he shouted for Daylily.

  Kabot pricked the point of his dagger into his right index finger, sheathed the weapon, then swiped his freely bleeding finger across his left palm. Lastly, he touched the finger to Palvalkay, while gripping Daylily’s hand with his bloodied left hand. Daylily, in turn, gripped Uaid’s free hand. As soon as Kabot felt their manas mesh, he activated the spell, shooting them like arrows toward an unknown prey. They shivered through space where strands, some gossamer fine, some cables like those on a sailing ship, spread out around them, fastened to unimaginable endpoints. Somehow Palvalkay avoided tangling with these as it slung them into green verdure and pervading damp.

  Kabot registered first that they were perched on a limb of an enormous tree; next he realized he was hearing drums and flutes, the music growing louder with every breath. Then a crowd of brightly dressed, wildly masked festivalgoers came dancing along the road that ran almost directly under where he, Daylily, and Uaid were hidden by the thick foliage. The colorful throng surged in an ecstatic, intricately choreographed routine which ebbed and flowed around a surpassingly elegant creature that was being carried upon a platform set on long poles. The platform, in turn, rested on the shoulders of four of the most beautiful human beings Kabot had ever seen.

  Their dark skin was the deep brownish black of polished ebony. Their eyes flashed like cut jet. Alone among that colorful throng, their faces were unmasked. Although their burden was not light, the four bearers stepped proudly, as might peers of the realm escorting a monarch. Above the waist they wore sleeveless tunics that displayed their muscular arms. Below wide belts that emphasized trim hips, they wore elaborately pleated kilts. The bearers’ heads were wrapped in complicated turbans. Jewelry depended from ears, wrists, necks, and ankles. The two in front were women of matchless beauty, the two behind men of equal fineness.

  The litter was preceded by some sort of elaborately costumed high priest. With head held high, he led a triumphal song in a language Kabot didn’t recognize. Only when they strode beneath the tree in which Kabot and his companions were perched did Kabot realize that what they carried was not actually a creature, but a shrine made in the shape of some fantastical beast.

  As colorfully and elaborately garbed as the four bearers were, the shrine was so beautifully made as to cause them to fade into insignificance. The base material must have been wood, else even such magnificent specimens of humanity could not have borne it aloft, but so much of the wood was wrapped in gold leaf, encrusted with gems, hung with small chimes that rang in delicate accompaniment to the bearers’ song, that it seemed to be some celestial creature rather than a creatio
n of human hands.

  “A dragon?” Daylily mused, her tones hushed and reverent. “No. Perhaps a gryphon. In any case, no common creature. Certainly birthed from legend rather than inspired by natural history.”

  “What we’re looking for,” Uaid said, cradling the lattice against him as a bard might a harp, “is close. In the shrine? Or maybe being worn by that priest?”

  Kabot felt Palvalkay’s yearning. “We’d be fools to try to grab Teyvalkay while it’s surrounded by that crowd. We’ll follow, keeping to the undergrowth. At least we have one bit of luck. They’re making so much noise that we won’t be heard.”

  He spoke bravely but, in reality, even with the mana he’d been able to draw from Palvalkay, he was so exhausted that he wondered if he could walk more than a few steps.

  Daylily and Uaid exchanged glances, then Daylily said, “Even if their destination is miles distant, they’ll leave a trail we can follow later. Let’s rest first.”

  Kabot managed a rueful smile. “You’re right. Why invite detection? Surely, we’ve shaken Wythcombe and his weirdlings.”

  The tree in whose wide limbs they had arrived invited resting safely above the ground. Its broad leaves promised a certain amount of concealment. As he drifted off into a soul-healing slumber, Kabot heard Phiona trying to speak to him. He couldn’t find the energy to focus on her faint whisper. In any case, he hadn’t always listened to her when she was alive. Why should he now that she was dead?

  V

  FIREKEEPER WAITED IMPATIENTLY while Wythcombe briefed General Merial. She didn’t know why such talk could be not undertaken while they were on the road back to the City of Towers and the gate to the Nexus Islands. She’d acutely felt the delay while they retreated through the tunnel. They’d been fortunate that General Merial had decided to wait for a few days in case they found nothing and returned.

  “Even if we did not catch Kabot, we consider our journey far from useless,” Wythcombe explained to General Merial. “I have now confirmed our suspicions that Kabot’s destination was the university at Azure Towers. We know that his group consists of three people: one woman and two men. We have an indication of where they may have fled. Furthermore, Blind Seer will recognize their scents.”

  “You’re certain they’re gone?” the general asked for at least the fifth time. Firekeeper growled low in her throat.

  “We didn’t thoroughly scout the ruins,” Arsan replied, “but neither Sun Diver, the eagle, nor Farborn”—he indicated the merlin with an inclination of his head—“detected anyone. Nor did Blind Seer catch a fresh scent. You might want to inspect the ruins yourself, just to be sure. The time has returned when guarding physical borders will not be sufficient to keep out intruders.”

  “Because,” Merial said, her brows furrowing in worry, “as we should have already learned, with the return of magic, the concept of border has now changed. Yes. You are right. I must find a way to bring this to Queen Anitra’s attention—without quite confessing what I helped you to do.”

  Firekeeper laughed. “Remind her how a transportation spell is like but not like a gate. Your queen is stubborn, but not stupid. She will soon enough begin to worry what is happening where her eyes are not.”

  “I might take your advice,” General Merial said thoughtfully. “Although I believe I shall keep your assessment of Queen Anitra to myself. Let’s get the horses saddled. We can make at least part of the journey to the City of Towers before dark.”

  Wythcombe gave a small smile. “I may not be able to craft a transportation spell to where Kabot is, but I can at least take us to the City of Towers—if you will permit. I’d attempt to return us directly to the Nexus Islands, but my understanding is that it is ensorcelled to block such spells.”

  General Merial looked shocked, then nodded slowly. “Choose a location away from the palace.” Then, almost as if to herself, “Firekeeper is right. The concept of a secure border has indeed changed. We counted too much on old spells being forever lost, far too much indeed.”

  When they returned to the Nexus Islands, they learned that Derian and Isende had departed for Liglim. Elation, the yarimaimalom peregrine falcon, was travelling with them, as was the yarimaimalom stallion Eshinarvash, so their journey would be far easier than it might have been.

  As Arasan briefed the Nexus Islands council, Firekeeper couldn’t help but think about the mutual friends Derian would soon see: Elise, Doc, Harjeedian, Rahniseeta, perhaps some of the maimalodalum, later many more friends in Hawk Haven. Blind Seer must have scented her distraction, for he nudged her hand to alert her that the discussion had finally reached an interesting point.

  “Yes. We’ve reopened the gate to Tey-yo,” Ynamynet said, leaning forward on her elbows and pulling her heavy wool cloak more tightly around her shoulders. Her face grew even more pale as she remembered, “but that doesn’t mean it’s safe to go through. Skea had to run for his life. He nearly didn’t make it back.”

  “But he did.” Wythcombe stated the obvious.

  “Not because of any strength of mine,” Skea said, moving one arm in a fashion that emphasized the ripple of his muscles beneath his dark skin. “If Ynamynet had not been there, if she had not been a mage of great power, Sunshine would be another of the Nexus Island orphans.”

  Firekeeper cut in. “But we have a mage of great power, too, more than one. Not all of us have Skea’s great strength, but we are not fuzz-furred pups.”

  “Numbers may not be in your favor,” Skea cautioned. “Mother, will you explain?”

  Kalyndra pushed a soft coil of her thick grey-streaked black hair back from her face and studied Wythcombe. “Do you know anything of Tey-yo?”

  “Not by that name,” he admitted. “Although I wonder if it might be a land that is preserved in some of our tales as having a system for studying magic that rivaled that of Azure Towers. As I explained when we first met, the majority of those who united to found Rhinadei were connected in some way to the university of Azure Towers. Those other people were said to be very dark of hair, eyes, and skin, impressively powerful and proud of their traditions. Some joined with Rhinadei’s ancestors, but it is said that the majority felt that retreat was a weakling’s option.”

  “That may well be a description of the long-ago people of Tey-yo.” Kalyndra’s hooded eyes and lazy smile reminded Firekeeper of the slow tap of a great cat’s tail. “Let me tell you a little about my homeland. Unlike these rocky islands, or even what here are termed the Old and the New Worlds, which are clement by contrast, Tey-yo is warm all the year round. The seasons are marked by wind and rain, rather than hot and cold. The basic needs for food and shelter are easily met. Indeed, if one chose not to labor more than to pick fruit from a tree or dig tubers from the ground, one could live.”

  “Sounds like paradise,” Laria sighed, looking down at her hands, which were grubby from having helped with the spring planting.

  “Nothing is ever that simple,” Kalyndra replied sadly. “The same warmth and fecundity that made life so easy for humans, also made life easy for the small creatures that carry disease. Over the generations, it was learned that certain precautions in the disposal of waste, of food, of how water was channeled, would diminish the chance of illness spreading. Living above the ground also helped, whether in trees or on plateaus that dotted the landscape.”

  Firekeeper, remembering the trials of her childhood among the wolves, how much labor she had expended slogging through tasks her pack had been equipped from birth to perform, rested a hand on Blind Seer’s back and said sadly, “So for the good of the pack, then, the easy life could not be. I think, maybe, many did not care for this, any more than every wolf in my birth pack liked giving some of the kill to feed a pathetic Little Two-legs. There was unhappiness, yes?”

  Kalyndra nodded. “So our tales tell. Over time, magics to aid health were developed, but those who could work magic did not see why they should use their spells to preserve those who could not even bother to dig latrines or take basic precauti
ons to preserve their health. Moreover, the mages expected financial support in return for magic. Eventually, a stratified society developed. On top, as in the Old World, were those who used magic. Next were those who supported the users of magic and who, in turn, benefited from magic. At the bottom were those who preferred to live a subsistence existence and so largely did without magic. These last called themselves the ‘Mrrettm,’ which roughly translates as ‘Acceptors’—by which they meant that the price they accepted for Tey-yo’s warmth, generous food, and essentially easy life would sometimes be paid in early death and disease. They called everyone else the ‘Kleefm,’ ‘the Selfish’ for taking all that Tey-yo offered and fighting so hard to avoid paying the price.”

  “What did the Selfish call themselves?” Ranz asked. “Because I’m guessing they didn’t see themselves as selfish any more than the traditionalists in Rhinadei see themselves as close-minded.”

  “In reaction to the Mrrettm,” Kalyndra replied, “they called themselves the ‘Rrrteerim,’ which roughly means ‘the Grateful,’ because they said they were grateful for Tey-yo’s generously providing the basic needs of life to encourage them to find ways to defeat disease and other life challenges that Tey-yo presented.”

  Kalyndra waved down further questions. “Let me be brutally honest. I believe the tales that tell how when disease struck the Mrrettm, the Rrrteerim made no effort to cure the sufferers. Because of this, numerous Mrrettm communities were wiped out, from the wisest elder to the youngest infant. Some of the Rrrteerim held the belief that in time all of the Mrrettm would die off, leaving only those who practiced magic—for the good of the community in many cases—and those who supported them. But then…”

  She took a deep breath and drank deeply from a tall glass of cold tea as if to wash a bad taste from her mouth.