Wolfs Soul

by Jane Lindskold

  Kabot wondered how Jyanee could have created such a thing. Remembered Zazaral’s boast that she had guided that long-ago artificer. Suspicion, as cold as the death he had been fleeing, seeped into Kabot, suspicion that Zazaral saw him not as a friend, an ally, but as a shovel or pick, useful only to extract a treasure.

  What would Zazaral do with that treasure? Surely, most surely, she did not plan on letting Kabot keep it. Kabot froze, undecided, aware that to continue could be death, to wait would be death. “Could” is not “would.” Caught between them, he realized how little he had valued trust, now, when he could trust in nothing, not even in himself.

  Although she knew that the need for quiet had passed, Laria jumped when Firekeeper spoke to Wythcombe in a normal tone of voice.

  “You were of the secret here,” the wolf-woman said, shooing the others back up the passage. “Can your mind twist to think where, if we is above, we would go to be over where Guulvalkay is?”

  “I just might,” he said, rubbing the tip of his nose with his fingers, “I just might. But there will be more than dirt and plant roots in your way.”

  Firekeeper chuckled. “We have thoughts on that. Humans are more like rabbits, sometimes, than wolves. It is a rare rabbit who does not dig a hidden way from its burrow.”

  Laria glanced at Arasan. This was exactly the type of comment to which Chsss would be certain to respond, perhaps with a quip about preferring to be thought of as a fox, rather than a rabbit. However, both men remained silent. Laria studied them more closely, and thought that the two men in one body were conversing with each other.

  She realized that, despite their moonspans of travelling together, she was likely the only person in their group who would recognize the signs. In her case, the recognition owed much to when Chsss had been her teacher as she had struggled to control her newly awakened talent. She wondered if she should say anything, then decided that she would settle for keeping a careful eye on them, in case Chsss was up to something.

  When they emerged from the passage, Wythcombe consulted some internal compass—and possibly some spell Laria could not detect—and began to lead toward the more ornate areas of the complex, explaining as he did.

  “Some time ago, for reasons I was never privy to, it was decided to change the location of the entrance into the subterranean areas where the Shield was anchored.”

  “Did you know about the passage in the supply closet?” Ranz interrupted.

  “I did,” Wythcombe admitted, “and would have taken us there, but I couldn’t be certain that was where Kabot had gone. Firekeeper and Blind Seer’s way was much better. Without them, we would not have learned that Kabot has had opportunity to rest and renew. Therefore, we would still expect to be chasing a tired, half-starved, and panicked man.

  “Before you ask, I also knew there was a maze, and would have done my best to guide us through it—and still will, if Blind Seer’s plan does not work out. However, it is many years since I was in the confidence of any of Rhinadei’s governing bodies, and I cannot be certain that the perils in the maze have not been altered many times since I was last here.”

  Wythcombe had slowed in an area that, while grand, was not nearly as ornately decorated as had been the astronomically ornamented chamber where they had first entered. Here the centerpiece was an enormous fountain featuring a fanciful undersea scene depicting creatures that Laria would have once thought were imaginary. Now that she knew the peculiar reality of sea monsters, she gave them the benefit of the doubt.

  Laria spoke without thinking. “The other entrance is under the fountain. I’d bet it, but if you want…” She spread her hands, indicating her willingness to use her talent to confirm.

  “That would be good,” Firekeeper said. “Feel as you did when we first came through the gate into Rhinadei. If you could find Varelle’s hidden gate, you can find if this also hides a door.”

  Laria pressed her fingers to the lip of the fountain, let her talent wander. She found what she was seeking almost instantly: a sense of purpose that probably reflected not only the construction of the hidden passage, but the spells that protected it.

  “It’s here. A larger opening beneath the water than would be needed for a drain.”

  Arasan broke a long silence. “Problem. Unless Wythcombe knows how to disable these wards as he did with the one that protected the fortress, we will surely set off an alarm.”

  “This wasn’t confided to me,” Wythcombe admitted. “If you and I worked together, Chsss, we could probably undo them, but it will take time. Perhaps the maze would be best.”

  Ranz interrupted, enthusiasm lighting his grey eyes. “If I froze the water coming into the basin, then we would have a clearer look at Laria’s passage. Freezing shouldn’t alert anyone, especially if I leave a trickle of water flowing, in case there is some sort of alert if the fountain clogs. I’m guessing that this is a mostly closed system that recirculates a limited amount of water.”

  “Good thinking,” Firekeeper said as he drew breath to explain further. “Do it.”

  XII

  FIREKEEPER WATCHED, OUTWARD patience concealing inner tension as the water entering the basin froze into an icicle that reminded her of a sword blade.

  Ranz studied his work critically as the water level in the basin dropped. “Search quickly. Even if this is a closed system, there must be some means for more water to be added. Otherwise, evaporation would eventually cause the fountain to run dry. I can keep freezing the water, but too much ice would create problems of its own.”

  Firekeeper glanced at Chsss, usually so eager to show off, saw how Arasan’s expression was closed, as if deep in thought. She might have said something, but Wythcombe was already moving forward, motioning for Laria to join him. Together, the oldest and youngest members of Firekeeper’s little pack studied the emptying basin with far more senses than those Firekeeper could command, consulting in a soft undertone. She tried not to feel inadequate but, when Blind Seer gently nudged her hand, she knew that her partner, at least, knew her frustration.

  “We’ve worked it out,” Wythcombe said, pushing himself to his feet with his staff. “Ranz was correct. This is a closed system. We’re fortunate. There’s a completely mechanical shut-off, probably…”

  Firekeeper interrupted. “Can we go this way or do we need to break through floor?”

  Wythcombe blinked. “We can get through here, probably without setting off any alarms.”

  “Good. We do this. Kabot and his Meddler have days ahead of us.”

  Although obviously still eager to explain rather than do, Wythcombe recruited Ranz and Laria to assist him. While they were pushing this and pressing that, Blind Seer nudged Firekeeper again.

  “Is it Arasan who has you so tense, dear heart?”

  “Yes. Chsss is too quiet.”

  “Maybe so. Maybe not. I scent no great magics from him.”

  “A mole’s tunnel may break an elk’s leg,” Firekeeper quoted.

  “True.”

  Ranz’s voice recaptured their attention. “Well, we’ve gotten it open, but do we dare lower that?”

  As one, Firekeeper and Blind Seer padded over. The entire bottom of the fountain’s basin had pulled away, revealing a wide shaft that extended straight down into inky darkness. Partially blocking the shaft was a boxy platform large enough to hold their entire group. The platform was suspended by thick ropes run over a series of pulleys. Firekeeper crouched and looked over the edge, her night-seeing eyes perceiving within the darkness. Neither sound nor scent indicated that anyone was below.

  Wythcombe was studying the ropes and pulleys. “If we use this, we will definitely trigger an alarm. Is it worth the risk?”

  Blind Seer had also poked his head over the edge. “Translate for me, Firekeeper. Wythcombe, if we scout before you, then make a light, can you create a spell to transport the rest of you? You have said you can bridge what you have seen.”

  “I can but…”

  “Can this platform be
pulled to one side without setting off the alarm?”

  Wythcombe narrowed his eyes and made a few finger gestures. “As long as it does not go up or down.”

  “How long will it take you to make your spell?”

  “I have one prepared for our retreat. I can adapt that quickly enough.”

  “Good. You adapt. We will go down. When it is safe to do so, we will make light. Farborn will come with us, both to scout and to alert you if we have made a poor choice.”

  Firekeeper had hardly finished her translation when Blind Seer flexed his shoulders, unfolding from them the moth wings he had created for himself when impulse, rather than wisdom, had chosen the form. Firekeeper knew from experience that those wings could bear them both, and grinned as she lightly set herself astride Blind Seer’s torso.

  “We go. Is deep but not so deep that a lantern’s light will not serve.” She extended one hand, and Laria handed over the unlit lantern she carried. Farborn had already darted below. He popped up again, spinning and darting in a fashion even the humans could read as meaning he had detected no immediate danger.

  To Firekeeper and Blind Seer, Farborn said, “Below there is a closed door, quite large. Beyond it, I thought I heard something, or perhaps my talons”—he flexed the crystal-covered appendages—“tingled.”

  Blind Seer bowed his head in appreciation. “If you will go ahead of us, it is possible your talons may warn us further. They are Rhinadei’s gift. It is possible this land does not like what Kabot and his Voice are about.”

  The last time Firekeeper had ridden Blind Seer when he flew using these improbable wings, she had been in a great deal of pain, as well as rattled from a nearly fatal fall. This time, she had the luxury to get nervous. She fought not to hold her breath when Blind Seer tilted his nose down, kicked off the platform’s edge, then dove into the darkness. For a terrifying moment, they fell rather than flew. Then she felt the beat of his muscles and heard his wings catch the air, slowing their descent.

  They glided down, the steady beat of the wolf’s wings pushing them up while, or so it seemed to Firekeeper, the ground itself tried to drag them down. When they landed, her feet touched the ground almost as soon as did his paws. She stepped free, extracting her fire-making tools from the pouch about her neck.

  Blind Seer stepped toward the door, his hackles rising, even as he folded his wings against his flanks. “Hurry, Firekeeper. Farborn is right. Something is happening out there. We’re out of time.”

  “Don’t tell me,” Kabot said when Zazaral began to speak. “Wythcombe is here. He has caught up to me again. This time we can’t run, can we?”

  “We can,” Zazaral assured him, her voice silky soothing. “You have found Guulvalkay, yes? I will help you twine it with the others. We’ll have power enough to escape. Even better: the piece of Xixavalkay lies next to Teyvalkay. Through the one, we will hook the other. With over half of Sykavalkay assembled, who can stop us?”

  “I’m afraid,” Kabot said, speaking part of the truth to hide his more personal fear, “that if I remove Guulvalkay, I may damage, even destroy, Rhinadei’s shield.”

  “What of it?” Zazaral scoffed. “With the power of Sykavalkay, the shield can be remade even better, stronger. The one who does so will be hailed as a hero, even as a god.”

  Distrust let Kabot hear what Zazaral did not say. She did not say “You can remake the shield. You will be hailed as a hero.” Kabot suspected that the one who would be hailed as a god would not be him, but would be Zazaral, and that he—Kabot—would be cast as the adversary in an only partially true recounting of events.

  Stalling, he said, “I can try.”

  Moving Kabot’s fingers as she had moved his body, used his spells to get them through the maze, Zazaral said, gently as a lover, “Let me help.”

  Kabot tried to resist, tried, even, to alter the shape of the spell he felt building, but even with the ward wrapped around him, his body remained Zazaral’s to use as she wished. He felt her chuckle rumble through his chest.

  “Relax. There is too little time for me to be careless. I do not precisely fear Wythcombe, but there are those I would not give opportunity to interfere.”

  Kabot’s hands shaped complex signs he did not know. He felt Palvalkay, then the half of Xixavalkay flare, lightless tongues of fire that blended without heat, holding an intensity that multiplied, rather than merely added. No longer were they two threads, but were transformed into a fragment of Sykavalkay. As such, they reached for Guulvalkay, but something reached to block them. The rainbow ward? No, something else, something that made Zazaral hiss and curse. Kabot wondered if Rhinadei’s shield was more potent than Zazaral had anticipated.

  Then he saw, shadows cast by Sykavalkay’s lightless flame, two figures wrapped about Guulvalkay. Attenuated, but still somehow female, the pair reeked of power and of age. But, despite the force that vibrated from them, Kabot doubted that these protectors could stop Zazaral and the newly rejoined Sykavalkay, especially since Guulvalkay yearned toward Sykavalkay of its own accord.

  Kabot heard himself shouting for help. To his heartfelt astonishment, the name that leapt unbidden to his lips was “Goldfinch!”

  Snuffling ineffectually at the far side of a closed door, Blind Seer noticed the door handle was a lever, not a knob or latch.

  Surely it is locked, he thought as he reared back on his hind legs to bring his weight to bear, but the latch moved. He smelled the scent of sparks on dry tinder, knew precious breaths would pass before Firekeeper could join him.

  “The door is open,” he said. “I go to scout. Follow when you can. Let Farborn take care of the humans.”

  “Wait!”

  The speaker was not Firekeeper, but Arasan. When Blind Seer growled softly, against all precedent, Arasan laid a light hand on his shoulder. How had he gotten down?

  “We do the dominance thing later,” Arasan said. “Chsss has concealed himself deep within me. We need you to guide us to where Kabot and his Meddler are. Now that we’re so close, he recognizes her: an ancient, sometimes called Zazaral. Chsss will do what he can to neutralize Zazaral. While he does so, the rest of you must get Sykavalkay from Kabot.”

  Had Blind Seer been human, he might have argued, asked for explanations. Had he been only a wolf, he would definitely need to discover which of them was dominant. Being what he was, he did neither. Nor did he ask Firekeeper if she had heard, for he knew that she surely had. Instead, his actions became his reply.

  Not shaking Arasan’s hand from where it rested, Blind Seer breathed deeply, searching not only for Kabot, but for traces of arcane workings. He found both, then stepped into purest darkness. Guided by scent, he led Arasan to a corridor that sloped gently down. To his relief, a glimmer of light showed as soon as they rounded the first bend. From here, Farborn would be able to guide the others without showing a light.

  The route beneath the fountain had been made for emergencies, so here there were no traps, no doors, no tricks. Doubtless the closed chamber at the base of the shaft had been intended to muffle the sound of the platform descending. Now that the door was opened, action was all that would matter. Resisting the urge to stretch out his muscles and run, Blind Seer led Arasan, wondering whether putting his trust in Chsss was purest folly.

  The chamber at the corridor’s end was etched top, bottom, and on all sides with magical symbols. Despite this, the vast space lacked the elegance of the ornamented halls above, but for an eldritch firefly brilliance that filled the air. The swarm of multicolored lights originated where Kabot, his shadow looming larger than it should, was struggling with what, to Blind Seer’s vision, was nothing more than sparkle, but to his magic-sensing nose smelled like two human females.

  “We’re too late!” Arasan gasped. “Kabot has surrendered his will to Zazaral.”

  Wild defiance filled Blind Seer. “If this Zazaral is anything like you, Chsss, then I can make this one regret assuming a mortal’s body. Watch!”

  He leapt, swallowing h
is howl until the fragile moment when he would cross from shadow into the coruscating light. Remembering Laria’s face twisted in terror, her blood running down her throat, the blue-eyed wolf could barely restrain his desire to snap Kabot’s neck. Then he caught something in Kabot’s scent that made Blind Seer wonder if Kabot was resisting Zazaral. If so, then for this moment, they were allies.

  Blind Seer slammed into Kabot, knocking the man onto his backside, pinning him with his paws. He smelled urine, felt the sting of a building storm, and leapt clear before a surge of lightning could course through his bones.

  As he twisted in midair, Blind Seer scented a cloud with a vaguely human shape oozing from Kabot. He snapped at it, but his fangs slid through the insubstantial form. However, Blind Seer was not hunting alone. With a spring nearly twin to Blind Seer’s own, Chsss departed the protection of Arasan’s body and latched onto what had inhabited Kabot.

  Immediately, Blind Seer knew that Chsss was tremendously overmatched. His clouded shape was smaller than his opponent’s, and began to fray, as if being blown apart by a tempest no one else could feel. Arasan raced forward to help Chsss, but what could a musician do against a bodiless demi-deity?

  Kabot was struggling to his feet, terror evident on his features, hands rising to cup the partial Sykavalkay he wore about his neck. Maybe Kabot only intended to defend himself, but Blind Seer wasn’t going to wait to find out. He crashed into Kabot again, stood with his forepaws on the man’s shoulders, lowered his head to within inches of Kabot’s sharp nose, and growled.

  Kabot’s reaction was utterly sensible. He fainted. As the man’s limp fingers slid from Sykavalkay, the charms rose in the air and hovered, shifting back and forth between two points. One must be Guulvalkay; the other was doubtless Teyvalkay and the bit of Xixavalkay which remained in Laria’s custody. Uncertain what the partial Sykavalkay might do to him, Blind Seer pulled back, but kept his weight solidly on Kabot’s torso.