Wolf Captured

by Jane Lindskold

  Truth was going on, "But there are those who at their first showing before the priests and teachers reveal themselves to be possessed of merit. For these do we seek a name that will indicate the path which they might do best to follow. In other cases, the merit does not manifest until later and, again, when this happens, a change of name may be in order. Always, though, always, the name must be right or the deities may not realize who it is who prays to them for aid. The deities, you see, know each one by the real and truest name."

  Firekeeper wanted to rub her head, feeling an ache coming on, almost as if they were back on the ocean, but she restrained herself.

  "It is not unlike," she hazarded, "how Derian's people change their names and titles throughout their lives."

  "They do this?" the jaguar said, interested. "Then perhaps they are closer to an awareness of the deities than I had been told. It does sound as if they are reaching for communication with the divine."

  Wisely Firekeeper kept her thoughts sealed behind her teeth. Blind Seer did not even pant the faintest breath of laughter. She thought she knew now why Truth had called herself the source of many omens, for it seemed likely that the jaguar somehow communicated the results of her divinations to the humans. However, Firekeeper was still puzzled by the final thing the jaguar had said.

  "How is this your year?" Firekeeper asked.

  "This is a jaguar year," Truth said, clearly proud, "and I am selected from all my kind to represent the year in this city, which is among the greatest of Liglimom cities, though some argue that u-Vreeheera in the south is greater."

  "Oh" Firekeeper said. "I think I understand. Derian's people—and the people of Bright Bay as well, for they are kin—name the moonspans in cycles. Do your people do the same with years'?"

  Truth's ears flattened, and Firekeeper knew that once again she had somehow erred.

  "I beg forgiveness," she said quickly, having none of a human's embarrassment about apologizing when ignorance was the cause. "I misunderstood. I am a pup before your tremendous wisdom. Make the sun chase away that darkness."

  "Whatever else," the jaguar replied, "your parents taught you to speak prettily. I can see that you are sincere."

  Firekeeper felt a faint chill at this last, for it seemed possible that the jaguar could divine when lies were spoken. She was glad she was a wolf, for wolves do not often lie, but for humans, who seemed to exist on shades of half truth, the jaguar's gift could be very dangerous.

  Truth licked her paw and washed thoroughly behind one ear, an action that created a mild ripple of excitement among the humans, who thus far had watched the interaction of wolves and jaguar from a distance far more polite than they had accorded the wolves alone.

  "What year belongs to what beast is divined," Truth explained at last. "Such divination is a complicated matter that courses over several days before the closing of the previous year. Different beasts are associated with one or more of the deities, so not only does the divination arrive at which beast will represent the year, but also arrives at some understanding of which of the deities will be taking an active hand in events."

  "And which deity is associated with the jaguar?" Firekeeper asked, sorry now she hadn't paid more attention to Rahniseeta's discussions of these matters.

  "Fire," purred Truth, "so you can see why the coming of one who styles herself the fire keeper should be seen as of such importance."

  Firekeeper could indeed, and the awareness gave her no great comfort at all. What gave her even less was the feeling that the jaguar didn't find her important.

  Chapter IX

  Until Harjeedian returned, Rahniseeta didn't realize that he had been gone.

  "The u-Liall are ready to speak with Lady Blysse," he said. "I must go ahead and prepare them."

  The sour expression on Harjeedian's face told Rahniseeta how little he was looking forward to the upcoming interview—and why should he? Who would have expected that a woman so obviously blessed by the deities would be so unpleasant?

  "Bring her," Harjeedian said, "as soon as you can separate her from Truth without awakening undue omens."

  Rahniseeta nodded, understanding. There were those in the group that had gathered to watch Lady Blysse in conversation with the jaguar who were reading omens into every flex of the great cat's ears, every twitch of her tail. As the jaguar seemed restless, those omens were not good.

  Happily, not long after Harjeedian departed, Lady Blysse and Blind Seer turned away from the jaguar. The woman's face was a study in impassivity, but Rahniseeta thought Lady Blysse was both unhappy and disgruntled.

  Rahniseeta glided forward to intercept Lady Blysse before any of those close by could create a distraction.

  "Lady Blysse?" she pitched her voice low, having already learned that the other woman's hearing was extraordinarily acute. "Please come with me. U-Liall are ready to meet with you."

  Lady Blysse's dark head tilted slightly to one side, as if she was preparing to ask a question, but her reply was a simple statement. "We follow."

  Rahniseeta said nothing further, but led the way to where a curving ramp ran along the interior wall, mounting to the next highest level of the building. Although the enormous ground-floor chamber and the step pyramid above were both used for major religious ceremonies honoring all the deities, the honest truth was that most of u-Nahal was an administrative center rather than a place of worship. Contained within base and apex were the rooms in which u-Liall met in full conclave, the scriptorium where documents pertaining to the business of the five rulers were kept and copied, and a variety of other rooms dedicated to routine business.

  Seeing where Rahniseeta was taking their guests, none of the very important people gathered in the reception hall made any attempt to slow her. Rahniseeta felt a thrill of pride, though she reminded herself that she was little more than a servant of the great.

  They mounted the ramp—aware that all but those clustered around the table where Varjuna spoke with Derian Counselor were watching. Rahniseeta led them through a doorway, then mounted a second ramp, this one walled on all sides.

  She noted that Lady Blysse paused, eyeing the enclosed space warily.

  "It becomes wider above," Rahniseeta said. "We go to a place above the reception hall."

  Lady Blysse nodded, but Rahniseeta did not fail to notice that her hand rested on the hilt of her knife.

  "You will be safe," Rahniseeta said soothingly. "U-Liall will be honored to entertain you. My brother has gone to make your way smooth."

  This last was rewarded with a small smile that twitched one side of Lady's Blysse's mouth. So she was aware of at least some of the discomfort she was causing. Rahniseeta didn't know whether to feel annoyance or admiration.

  The ramp had been constructed so that even horses or deer might mount to the upper levels of the temple, but Lady Blysse and Blind Seer followed Rahniseeta in single file.

  In case they must fight, Rahniseeta realized with a thrill, her feeling that Lady Blysse must indeed be one of the maimaladalu intensifying. Perhaps Blind Seer was one, too, only he had chosen to remain in his animal form.

  At the next turning of the ramp, Rahniseeta led the guests down a short corridor that terminated in an elaborately carved door. She tugged on the heavy, twisted rope that would announce her desire for admittance. There was no verbal acknowledgment of her signal, nor did the doorkeeper open the hatch to check who was outside. Instead, the double doors were pulled inward, granting the three admission.

  Rahniseeta had been in this chamber many times before, but familiarity had not removed the awe with which she viewed the room, especially when u-Liall, the conclave of the five supreme representatives of the deified elements, was in session.

  Although smaller than the vast chamber below, the conclave room still was spacious. The walls were adorned with painted tiles displaying events in the origin story and the important events that followed—a visual text of the faith that influenced all of their lives.

  Five high-bac
ked thrones were arrayed at perfect intervals along an imaginary curve at the far end of the room. Each throne was a marvel of costly workmanship: the woodwork encased in gold or silver foil, brilliantly faceted gemstones adorning the arms, legs, and—though it was not visible at this point—the backs as well. The cushioned portions along the back and seat were of tapestrywork, constantly repaired and restuffed so that the least wear never showed.

  The thrones were arranged and rearranged according to the omens. Today Fire's representative sat in the center, flanked at her right and left by Earth and Air. Water sat to Earth's right, Magic to Air's left. Harjeedian stood in the center, slightly to one side of Fire's throne, so as not to block the ahmyndisdu's view of the new arrivals.

  Two muscular male servants, deaf and dumb, stood to either side of the double doors. When Rahniseeta and those she escorted had passed through, the servants closed the doors behind them, then turned to face the wall where the bobbing of a bell would let them know if another rang for admittance—not that any would dare interrupt such an important meeting for anything less than a life-threatening situation.

  Rahniseeta saw Lady Blysse tense as they were closed in, but there was nothing she could do to reassure the wolf-woman, not even point to where other doors were cleverly concealed among the ornamental tiles. At this point, Rahniseeta must act as if deaf or dumb, or risk—so it was rumored—becoming so in fact.

  "Welcome, Lady Blysse," said the ahmyndisdu.

  Lady Blysse said nothing in reply, and well she might be struck silent. The most senior representative of divine Fire in this temple was a woman younger than Rahniseeta herself. Tiridanti had marked the passage of her seventeenth year of life only two moonspans ago. Her elevation to her high position had occurred three years before that—when she was barely fourteen.

  Members of u-Liall held their position for life, and Tiridanti's predecessor had been seventy-three when a winter chill had stolen into his bones and hastened him to a warm seat in Fire's hall.

  In theory, successors were selected from all who gave service to the deities. In practice, they usually came from the higher ranks of the aridisdum and kidisdum, most especially those whose service was in some way closely related to the appropriate element. Tiridanti's predecessor had been ikidisdu of fifty-one years when he had been elevated from keeper of ravens.

  Tiridanti herself had been an underkeeper of pumas when confusing omen after blank reading had led to the rejection of all of those senior to herself, right until the day that the four remaining members of u-Liall had followed a trembling doe (for it had been the year of the deer) along to where Tiridanti was bottle-feeding an orphaned puma kitten.

  Even then there had been protests from a few that the doe had been somehow influenced, but these had quieted with the stern reminder that Fire was well known to be the least predictable of all the elements. If he wanted his ahmyndisdu to be a barely educated child, then they must follow his will.

  Later, so Rahniseeta had heard, the seniors in Fire had become reconciled to Tiridanti's elevation when they realized that in her they had the potential for a reigning member of the conclave who might well serve for seventy or eighty years. This was not to be lightly dismissed, for though the deities were, of course, consulted on matters of great importance, there were many matters of routine that were handled by much more mundane political maneuvering. Many favors could be accumulated in fifty or sixty years. Soon Tiridanti was as treasured as she had once been scorned.

  There had been no further changes to the conclave since Tiridanti's elevation, though with old Bibimalenu of Air in his eighty-first year it seemed quite likely that there would be another soon. Nor was much beloved Dantarahma of Water very young. At seventy, he had officiated at the beyond-sendings of several colleagues.

  The remaining two members, Feeshaguyu of Earth and Noonafaruma of Magic, were of robust middle years, their elevations having followed the more usual course. Both had held their seats for a decade or more and were well respected, if not always well liked. Since her brother was aridisdu himself, these internal rivalries did not shock Rahniseeta. Every so often she'd say something to some market acquaintance who did not have a brother who was an aridisdu or who was not an intimate of Heeranenahalm, the City of Temples, and the shocked look she received would remind Rahniseeta how very different her life was from the usual.

  Today, watching Lady Blysse study the members of u-Liall while they studied her in return, Rahniseeta thought that here was one who would not be overwhelmed by the height of their diadems or the history represented in their embroidered stoles. Here was one who took things as she saw them and as nothing more.

  And that, thought Rahniseeta, will be a mistake.

  Since it was a jaguar year and Fire was senior, Tiridanti took charge of the meeting. When Lady Blysse did not respond at all to her formal speech of welcome, Tiridanti's smooth brow creased in the faintest line of irritation, but otherwise she did not comment. Instead, she moved to other matters.

  "Have you been made comfortable since your arrival in u-Seeheera?" she asked.

  Lady Blysse looked as if she might not reply, but then she said, "We have food and water. Shelter, too."

  "Then you are comfortable," Tiridanti said, obviously wanting a straight answer and perhaps a bit of the praise that usually accompanied anything said to any of u-Liall.

  Technically, the praise was addressed to the deities u-Liall represented, but the disdum would have been less than human if they didn't feel a little rubbed off onto themselves.

  Lady Blysse gave no such balm.

  "We are not hungry or thirsty, but that is not comfort. We are taken from our own places and kept from returning. This is not comfort."

  Rahniseeta knew this was a long speech for Lady Blysse, but to u-Liall it must have seemed short and overly critical. After all, there were prisons and dungeons. Where was the flowery praise given to thank the deities for sparing the speaker from such a fate?

  There was a very tense silence. Then Tiridanti apparently decided she must adapt to the situation.

  "Water and Air brought hence the ship that first gave us word of your existence," she began.

  Lady Blysse tilted her head to one side and looked at Harjeedian. In Pellish she asked, "What say?" Rahniseeta knew that phrase well by now.

  Harjeedian bowed low before the thrones.

  "Lady Blysse does not understand any but the most elementary of the wise statements and incisive questions that fall from your heaven-blessed lips, O Fire's Chosen. May I have your permission to translate?"

  "You may," Tiridanti replied with a gracious inclination of her head, "now and in the future. We know the subtle swiftness of the snake's tongue, and trust you to serve wisely."

  Harjeedian thanked Tiridanti appropriately, then said, "If perhaps the great ahmyndisdu would deign begin again, I might garner your thoughts and translate them appropriately."

  Tiridanti nodded and returned her attention to Lady Blysse.

  "Water and Air brought hence the ship that first gave us word of your existence. We were intrigued, for it seemed to us that in your person was embodied a gift we had thought never given to humankind."

  Tiridanti paused to give Harjeedian opportunity to translate. It was notable that he needed to use far fewer words. Tiridanti then continued:

  "The artists in travel by means of Air and Water from the foreign lands noted our reverence for animals and how we turned to them again and again for guidance. One said to us, 'Would it suit your gracious person to have among you one who speaks with the animals more easily than I speak to you?' We said that this would be up to the deities. The omens were consulted and the deities said that we should bring you before us. This was done and now we ask you to confirm the truth of these rumors. Can you indeed speak to animals more clearly than I speak to you?"

  There was a slight smile on Tiridanti's lips as she made this last statement, as if she was well aware that communication even between humans was not an easy
or reliable thing.

  Lady Blysse listened to Harjeedian's translation, then said in the language of Liglim, "Wolves raised me. I understand my kin."

  The members of u-Liall all looked very interested at this confirmation of rumor.

  "And do you understand other than your kin?" Tiridanti asked, leaning forward slightly so that the gold chains on her headdress swayed. The little rubies and bits of diamond sparkled as if the metal and stone were imbued with Fire. "It was said that you went over to Truth, the jaguar of this year, and that you stood a long while as if in conversation."

  Lady Blysse looked as if she would refuse to answer, but at last she said very heavily, "I understood jaguar."

  Tiridanti turned and smiled brilliantly at her fellows in u-Liall. They each nodded, though their expressions were more guarded.

  But then this will be Fire's coup, Rahniseeta thought. They would be less than perfectly pleased.

  "And can you speak with other animals as well?" Tiridanti pressed.

  Lady Blysse glanced at Blind Seer, then shrugged.

  "Beasts you call Wise Beasts," she said, "those I can speak with. Cousins I understand only a little."

  There was a longish pause while Harjeedian explained what Lady Blysse meant by "cousins." Some further discussion followed as to what this might mean on a theological level. Through it all, Lady Blysse waited with well-concealed impatience, one hand resting on Blind Seer's shoulder, the other near to her knife.

  At last Tiridanti asked with unaccustomed bluntness, "Can you teach us how to speak to the Wise Beasts?"

  Lady Blysse looked genuinely surprised.

  "I not know," she said in the language of Liglim. "I have not tried."

  Then the wolf-woman switched to Pellish, which Harjeedian translated without flourishes, "Why should I teach you? You claim to respect the Wise Beasts and go to them for omens, but you keep them captive as you keep me captive."