His voice has risen now, but the baby isn't disturbed. Mother has resumed her gentle motions. The sun is warm. The birds, startled to silence when the man first arrived, have now resumed their songs.
"You'll never believe what I saw," the man says.
"Probably not," Mother says, and there is soft laughter under her words. "Why don't you tell me, Donal?"
"It was a deer the size of a moose—or maybe just an elk, but a white-tail buck in every other way, right down to a rack that would be the envy of any trophy room in the kingdom."
"If you say so," Mother agrees. "But how could you tell the size at such a distance?"
"I'd been out to that very spot," the man says, "just a few days before. There's a couple of boulders and I wanted to see what was denning there. I could guess the size of the buck from how he dwarfed those boulders. But, Serena, wait—the size of the buck isn't the best thing."
"Go on."
"While I was watching, the brush moved and out stepped a wolf—a timber wolf nearly the size of a pony. What do you think the buck did?"
"I won't even try to guess. Hand me the seed sack, will you? I'm out. And go on with your story. Somehow I don't think it's going to end with venison hanging in the larder."
"Here. Let me pour some seed into your basket."
A sound with a hiss like falling rain intervenes. The baby squirms, but Mother resumes her motion and the man his speech.
"I thought to see the buck bolt, though how it had let the wolf get so close I couldn't imagine, but I can't say I was thinking much, just watching. The buck didn't bolt, though, nor did the wolf spring. They stood for a moment, sniffing each other, then they stood for all the world like two men gossiping over a fence while resting from the plowing."
"You're not making this up?" Mother asks.
"On my honor," the man says. "It's too early in the season for fireside tales. Buck and wolf stood there, then a bear lumbered out of the cover and joined them, and the three stood there. By now if it hadn't been for the tree branch digging into my knees I would have thought I was dreaming.
"All of a sudden, there was a harsh croaking call and black wings flashed over where I was. Buck, wolf, and bear all froze, but they didn't flee as animals should when the raven calls warning. Instead, as one, they turned their heads and looked right where I was in my tree. I don't know if they could see me, but it was like they knew what the raven said."
"Don't animals always take warning from a raven's cry?"
"In a general way" the man said. "Not like this. Not looking right where the trouble's sitting. They looked at me one long moment. Then the wolf turned his head and looked in the direction of our settlement. Then, just like they'd finished a conference, they melted back into the brush. I was too scared to move for the longest time, but then I got down and came straight here."
"You're not teasing?" Mother's voice sounds tense and the baby whimpers in response.
"No, Sarena," the man says. "I don't want to say anything yet—not to anyone but the prince, maybe—but I keep thinking of the fireside tales my grandfather would tell, and, I wonder if we might have neighbors."
The baby stirred again, and this time mother's arms drew her close, rocking her. The baby snuggled close into the softness of comforting fur, and fell soundly asleep.
Firekeeper awoke shortly AFTER dawn, and occupied herself attempting to work some of the tangles—she hadn't cared much for grooming aboard ship—from her hair. She was reaching the unpleasant conclusion that she might need to cut some of the hair off as the only solution, when Barnet emerged from his room.
He glanced over at the other closed door and grinned.
"Did I snore last night?"
"Summer thunder is more quiet."
"I thought about warning Derian I snore," Barnet admitted, slouching into one of the chairs alongside the pool and yawning mightily, "but he didn't seem to notice the first night."
"First night," Firekeeper said, "everyone too tired. How you do on ship?"
"Well," Barnet laughed, "it wasn't just my way with words and charming smile that got me a nice private place to sleep in the sail locker. I think my mates wanted a door between me and them."
Firekeeper nodded.
"Breakfast come soon. Maybe I should wake Derian."
"Not going to give me a chance at Rahniseeta without the competition?"
Firekeeper tilted her head, acting more puzzled than she was. She'd seen that both men liked Harjeedian's sister, and thought that they were fools, but then she was coming to learn that humans took a different view of choosing a mate than did wolves. In a small pack, only the Ones would mate. In a larger pack—so she had heard, though her pack had never been so—there would be a second pairing. Humans seemed to pair for many reasons, pleasure being an important reason, with the alliances that meant so much to wolves meaning something only to those humans who had more to protect.
She shook her head, for she was confusing herself, and gave an easier answer.
"I think that Rahniseeta say Harjeedian come after breakfast," she said. "Derian not wish to be sleep-tossed then."
"True," Barnet agreed.
He didn't say anything more about Rahniseeta, but now that Firekeeper considered it, he was very neatly groomed, making more effort than he had on shipboard. Was this because he wished to impress Rahniseeta or because he also had not forgotten Harjeedian's coming?
Firekeeper woke Derian and took advantage of his waking to fill the tub with tepid water and scrub the evidence of her roof-climbing ventures from her hands. The dark green fabric of her trousers hid the slight soiling well enough, especially since her preference for sitting on the ground left her trousers less than pristine rather quickly.
Breakfast was delivered by Rahniseeta and the usual servitors. The woman was clearly excited—more, Firekeeper thought, than her brother's coming could explain. However, as Rahniseeta did not volunteer anything and neither Barnet nor Derian appeared to notice her mood, Firekeeper kept her reflections to herself.
As if he had been awaiting a signal, Harjeedian arrived immediately after they had finished eating. He was clad in snake-embroidered garments and had one of his pets coiled loosely about his shoulders. It was a pretty creature—pale golden brown with darker brown angular patterns—and much more alert here in the warmth than it had been shipboard. Still, it was Cousin-kind, not Royal, and Firekeeper paid it scant heed.
Harjeedian seated himself in the chair Firekeeper was not using, and motioned for Rahniseeta to leave. If he noticed how Derian's gaze rather fixedly did not follow the young woman's graceful departure, he did not choose to comment.
"I hope you have been comfortable," he said.
Derian nodded. Barnet murmured something genial. Firekeeper snorted.
"Comfortable, yes, like birds in cage are comfortable. We eat, we drink, we wash, but we cannot fly."
Belatedly, she remembered how Derian had asked her to hold her complaints until after Harjeedian had his say, so she swallowed all else she wanted to add and said rather lamely.
"The clothes are good. Very comfortable."
Harjeedian gave a thin smile.
"I am pleased they suit you. Today you will be receiving more clothing, a great deal more."
"And to what do we owe this honor?" Barnet said.
"There is an upcoming reception to which the three of you are invited. My teachers have agreed to assure that you will be clad in honor of the occasion."
"Reception?" Derian asked. He managed without being rude to put a note of doubt into the word, implying that they were not so much being received as displayed. Firekeeper admired his skill.
"Reception," Harjeedian repeated solidly, ignoring Derian's tone. "This will be an opportunity for you to meet u-Liall, as well as many important aridisdum and kidisdum. It is to be a formal occasion, but not a solemn one. There will be no rituals, simply introductions."
"But why?" Firekeeper pressed. "Sure they come here. We not go anywhere.
"
Harjeedian's smile was tight and thin-lipped. Firekeeper knew she had annoyed him, but she didn't care.
"As I have told you," Harjeedian said, "we wish you to remain in Liglim as our guests. If you are to be guests, then you must meet your hosts."
Derian was about to say something—probably to moderate any anger Firekeeper might have aroused—but Barnet cut him off.
"I was given to understand," the minstrel said sharply, "that after helping you meet with Lady Blysse and Derian Counselor, I would be permitted to return to sea—to return to my travels, and eventually go back to the Isles. My mates and I have been from home a year or more by now."
"We have not said otherwise," Harjeedian answered smoothly. "Indeed, I believe we also discussed the possibility that you would act as our ambassador to these Isles—Baron Endbrook being less than welcome there at this time."
"You promised Baron Endbrook help reestablishing himself," Barnet said, his tone flat and guarded. "He had hoped for that ambassadorial position himself, and I heard you indicate that he was not hoping in vain."
"We did say as much," Harjeedian agreed, "and we have not said otherwise. However, it is up to us who will be our ambassador and at what time. We do not think it would be in Liglim's best interests at this time to send as emissary one such as Baron Endbrook who has been exiled by the very queen with whom we are hoping to open negotiations."
"Waln had hoped that your favor would help him reunite with his family," Barnet said, his tone becoming harsh.
"So it still may do," Harjeedian said. "Baron Endbrook's desire for a dramatic confrontation with Queen Valora is his own fantasy. It is no business of our own."
Barnet's glower said more clearly than words that he felt the Liglimom had led Waln Endbrook into believing his hopes were more than fantasy. Harjeedian ignored the minstrel's expression and continued on blandly.
"You have no such blot on your reputation. However, you also know too little about us to serve as a proper emissary. We propose to detain you here in u-Seeheera until you are better prepared, and until you can teach your language to those who will accompany you. You are by far the most talented language teacher among those we rescued from the wrecked ship."
Blind Seer beat his tail on the ground.
"So the hunter finds himself the prey!" he laughed. "Barnet does not look pleased."
Firekeeper scratched him between his ears.
"Still your tail, dear heart. I do not like how Harjeedian looks at it with his eyes thinning. It is almost as if he knows that you laugh, and why."
Barnet sputtered a few more protests, but he knew as surely as if Harjeedian stated so baldly that he had no real choice but to comply.
Derian looked quietly pleased at the minstrel's discomfiture, but oddly Firekeeper found herself pitying the minstrel. Barnet had been smug at times, but hardly unkind, and she was not so reconciled to imprisonment that she didn't feel sorrow for one who suddenly realized he had dug himself a pit too deep to jump out of.
"This reception is very important?" Firekeeper asked.
"Very," Harjeedian agreed. His next words held a silky, threatening note. "I would be very displeased if you refused to attend. I might need to take unpleasant actions."
Firekeeper met the oddly snakelike eyes over those high cheekbones.
"I tell you once before," she said. "No hostage games anymore."
"Are you saying you would let Derian be harmed?"
Firekeeper nodded. "I would. I am wolf."
Harjeedian frowned deeply and Firekeeper struggled to find the words to explain.
"I love Derian and Blind Seer, but all wolves love pack mates and still hunt the big game with them. In a hunt, a head may be stove in, a leg broken, but still we hunt the big; game. In winter cold time little rabbits will not fill empty gut."
She drew in a deep breath, as this was a long speech for her. Harjeedian did not seem to understand. Derian offered his own explanation, a certain softness in his voice showing Firekeeper how shaken he was at what he must see as her abandonment. It stung her, but there was no other way.
"Harjeedian, what I believe Firekeeper is saying is that although wolves care for each other, the risks they must take in order to survive mean that they weigh those risks against the potential gain and then take the risks. Firekeeper clearly feels that her need tor freedom is 'big game' for which she would risk even those she loves."
Firekeeper nodded, adding, "Without big game the pack cannot survive the winter. It is worth dying and maiming."
Harjeedian looked very upset. Clearly he had not taken very seriously Firekeeper's warning about the effectiveness of using hostages to control her actions. Why should he have? He had seen the ploy work before.
"And what is it you insist upon?" he said. "Will you starve yourself unless we let you free?"
Firekeeper had no real desire to fast and she did not trust these people to take her to familiar lands. She remembered, too, how she and Derian had discussed the need to plan an escape if they were to actually get away.
"You say 'guest,'" she replied, ignoring Harjeedian's question. "I say we are not treated like guest. Where is my Fang? Where is Derian's ring? Why must we stay in this small place?"
Harjeedian immediately looked relieved.
"We could renegotiate the terms of your parole," he said.
"But parole," Firekeeper was quick to interrupt, "parole is for prisoners. I think you say we is guest. Which?"
Harjeedian spread his hands.
"Very well. Prisoners, but honored prisoners—ones we would like to convince to remain as our guests."
Firekeeper nodded.
Blind Seer commented, "Now we bite hard and hold the prey by the throat. I think Barnet wishes he had done such hunting. His sweat chills his skin even as he sits so calmly. As it is said, A wise wolf scouts the prey, knows when to hunt, when to run away.'"
Firekeeper only half listened. She was waiting, forcing Harjeedian to further explain himself. One thing she had learned from her time with humans: There were few who could keep silent when caught in the wrong. They must justify themselves. Harjeedian did not disappoint her.
"We have things that might interest you enough to make you stay among us willingly, Lady Blysse."
"Not magic things!" Firekeeper retorted. She'd had enough of these to last her forever.
"No," Harjeedian said, "not, at least in the sense you mean. I have heard the tales of what Queen Valora stole."
Again Firekeeper held silence and, again, Harjeedian broke into it.
"From what Barnet Lobster tells me, until your coming from the west the yarimaimalom, the Wise Beasts, were only known in legend, legends only half believed in. Would it interest you, Lady Blysse, if I told you we of Liglim have had knowledge of the yarimaimalom for a long time—and that some of those Beasts are our guests?"
Firekeeper stared at him. Then, almost against her will, she threw back her head and howled in astonishment and disbelief.
Chapter VII
Truth was clean-limbed, lean-limbed, and she smelt omens in the wind as she smelled the hot blood of the deer they brought her to kill. Not for nothing was she born of a long line of diviners.
Omens—for good and for ill—were what she had been bred to hunt, so her surprise was great when this new scent told her nothing more than that something portentous was about to occur. It was as if an ocean wind had switch-backed when it struck the hard limestone of the cliffs, taking on the stone's scent and the scents of all who grew upon them or lived among them, thus subtly altering the salt and fish-rank character of the wind until it seemed land-born.
Omens good or ill. Truth did not know, and the not knowing troubled her in every line of her body and made her tail twitch with irritation. She bent her head and rasped at the fur between the toes of one paw, noticing how the claws had slipped loose from their sheaths and wondering if perhaps, after all, this meant the portents were of ill things to come.
She took ano
ther deep breath, opening her mouth and wrinkling back her lips to taste the wind as she might a male's scent, and faintly caught the note of a wolf's howl raised in anger and in protest.
How do they explain the existence of magic in your land?" asked Rahniseeta.
She had come as always to serve the meals to their guests, but this time Harjeedian had asked her to remain and visit with their guests. He was greatly upset by the outcome of his interview that morning, and felt the guests needed to be better understood.
"I made a mistake in judging Lady Blysse," he said to her. "I had thought I had taken her measure aboard Fayonejunjal, but now I see how much seasickness had weakened her. Go to them. Stay with them as long as you think you are welcome. Meanwhile, I shall speak with the teachers."
Rahniseeta needed little urging to follow her brother's request. She was fascinated by the newcomers, not only by the Lady Blysse but by her two male companions. Appearance was only part of it, though she could hardly keep herself from staring. Except for the color of her skin and her strangely rounded eyes, Lady Blysse did not look too different from normal, but the men! One had hair the color of dry corn silk, the other the warm red of flame—and she could hardly believe they could see out of eyes so light. Even the wolf had blue eyes. It was all very odd and very strange, and nothing like it in all her twenty-one years had ever caught her attention.
She nursed the idea that they were maimalodalum, beast-souled,just like in the stories. That would explain their odd-colored hair—though perhaps not their eyes. Lady Blysse might be a wolf or bear. The redhead a fox, perhaps. What of the corn-silk man? A puma, maybe. Maybe a jaguar, though he lacked the rich golden color of their pelts and showed no sign of spots. There were horses with coats that color, but Rahniseeta didn't sense anything else horsy about him. Then there was his singing. Could he be a bird of some sort? He possessed the lightness of build.
No, Rahniseeta did not have any difficulty doing as Harjeedian requested. It certainly was more interesting than the jobs he usually set her, and even better did not involve snakes. Rahniseeta did not dislike snakes—after all, they were among the most common residents of the temple—but she lacked her brother's fascination with them, and being constantly surrounded by them was one of the trials of living in the Temple of the Cold Bloods.
Wolf Captured Page 12