Wolf Captured

by Jane Lindskold

  "Mostly, yes," Harjeedian said. He was seated near to where she and Blind Seer were, in the bow of the sailing vessel that was taking them to the islands. Ostensibly, he, like them, was getting out of the way of those who must run the ship. In reality, Firekeeper was sure the aridisdu was keeping watch over his two not-quite captives.

  "If one wishes to be perfectly accurate," Harjeedian continued, "there are several islands situated very close to each other. However, from here it does rather look like one large island, doesn't it?"

  "Island' means land surrounded on all sides by water," Firekeeper said, wanting to make absolutely certain that she understood.

  "That is correct," Harjeedian said. "Our ships have sailed all around these lands—proving that they are indeed surrounded by water. However, the amount of land is large enough that such sailing is not an undertaking for an afternoon's pleasure."

  Firekeeper acknowledged the truth of his statement with a wondering shake of her head. Prior to this, her knowledge of islands had been restricted to those in rivers or lakes. She knew intellectually that there must be other types of islands that were much larger. After all, hadn't Queen Valora settled for a kingdom consisting entirely of islands? However, Firekeeper now knew that she had imagined that haughty woman perched with her ousted court on something like an overgrown sandbar.

  Beside her, his paws up on the side of the boat so his great head cleared the railing, Blind Seer sniffed the wind. He trusted what the odors it carried told him much more than what he saw, to accurately inform him about what was ahead. He sneezed and sniffed again.

  "There must be creatures who live and die for countless generations and never see half of these islands," he commented, "an d never realize that they are cut off from true land."

  Firekeeper agreed and didn't know whether to feel happy about this or upset. Certainly her image of Royal Wolves cooped up on a small lump of dirt, imprisoned by surrounding waters, was undergoing rapid revision. The long green stretch of land that was drawing closer as the sailors adjusted the sails so the boat could move against the wind was large enough to support many wolf packs—if the hunting was good.

  The wolf-woman could imagine no reason why the hunting would not be good. The wind brought the scent of plants that could not survive without ample fresh water. Birds erupted from the shoreline as the sailing boat drew closer. She thought she glimpsed the head of some swimming mammal—otter, perhaps, or beaver or muskrat. Not the game for a wolf pack, but again evidence of a thriving and healthy land.

  Firekeeper gripped the rail tightly, wondering if she had been too impetuous in insisting on coming here. Perhaps she should have taken the words of the humans as spoken in honesty. Now she was about to thrust herself not among weak and miserable wolves, but among wolves who would have every right to view themselves and their territory with pride.

  Her own wolves had protected her from other packs when she was small, but events of the spring before had brought ample reminder that not all of the Royal Beasts, not even all of the Royal Wolves, welcomed her. They saw her as all too human, even as many humans saw her as all too much wolf.

  What would these Wise Wolves think her? More important, what could she do, surrounded on all sides by water as she would be, if they decided she was an enemy? All paths of flight would end in water, and she could not escape that way.

  Blind Seer licked her hand.

  "Is the motion of the boat making you feel ill?" he. asked.

  "No," Firekeeper said. "A bit. What Harjeedian gave me does help."

  Firekeeper felt a bit queasy even thinking about the boat's motion. Blind Seer didn't tease her, so she guessed that maybe she was looking a little sick. She resolved to pull herself together. Wolves had no respect for weakness in strangers, especially strangers whose very arrival would be seen as a challenge.

  "I wonder" she said to Blind Seer, "if the local packs will know of our coming? Do these yarimaimalom send messages between the land and the islands?"

  "We will know soon enough" Blind Seer said with his usual wolfish practicality. "The boat is turning again. I think we are heading toward that cluster of buildings on the point"

  Firekeeper looked and saw what he had indicated, a selection of square stone structures constructed on a high ridge overlooking the water. There was no wall around them, but lower down the slope there were several fenced areas. Some held cattle or goats. Others were fenced high and tight, and Firekeeper thought they might be garden plots. Certainly, there was no reason for a fence that snug unless you were trying to keep rabbits out.

  The boat swung, orienting on one of the several long docks that stretched out from the sheltered sandy beach. Firekeeper felt her stomach lurch. To distract herself, she scanned the tree line with frantic intensity. She had expected to see only greenery, but her gaze caught an interruption that was not natural.

  "There," she said to Harjeedian, raising her hand and pointing, "what is?"

  Harjeedian turned his head in the direction indicated, but Firekeeper felt convinced he knew exactly what she meant. How could he have missed it? The solid blocks of squared-off stone rose taller than many of the trees around them, and there was no doubt that they were not part of a natural formation.

  "That," Harjeedian said, "is part of a castle built in the times before the Divine Retribution. The ones from the Old Country made these islands their first base for colonization. They liked the security of being surrounded by water. Later, when they felt safer, the majority moved to the mainland, but some remained here. Our histories relate that even with the inconvenience involved, the islands were considered very prestigious places to live. Many of the old buildings remain, though I would think they are gone to ruin by now."

  Firekeeper nodded. She wondered if those first colonists had been looking for security from the Royal Beasts or from their own kind or from something else entirely. That they had gone to the trouble to build castles, structures she now understood were constructed for defense as much as for residence, said that their fears had been strong.

  Harjeedian rose from his seat.

  "I hope you will permit me to introduce you to those who staff the outpost here. It is the only settlement of humans on all Misheemnekuru. If you wish to send a message to the mainland, or request a boat, they will be the ones for you to contact."

  Firekeeper nodded.

  "I meet them. Are they many?"

  "About twenty," Harjeedian said. "Over the years we have found that many more become cumbersome to provision and intrusive on what the yarimaimalom have claimed as their own. Too many fewer and boredom or arguing arise. Now we use the post as a training ground for particularly promising disdum. Even with the hope of promotion as a reward for doing well, they still often find it a very trying time."

  He spoke with what Firekeeper was coming to recognize as a hint of nostalgia in his voice. Harjeedian, then, had almost certainly been dispersed to this strange place to train.

  "How boring?" she asked. "It is a beautiful place."

  "It is indeed," Harjeedian agreed, "but the humans never go any further than this point. There is ample fresh water from springs in the rock. Gardens and domestic animals supply fresh food. One can fish or swim in this immediate area. However, leaving the outpost area is strictly forbidden. Violators are always caught. The yarimaimalom are jealous of their privilege."

  "But I can leave the point," Firekeeper stated, making certain that she had understood the terms on which she was coming to the islands.

  "Oh, yes," Harjeedian said. "Truth has said you are to be permitted to venture beyond the usual human limits—but she did not precisely say you would be welcome."

  Firekeeper hid the fear this bland statement awoke in her.

  "Wolves," she said with a calm she did not feel, "do not welcome on the word of a great cat. I am not afraid."

  "Liar" Blind Seer said, dropping to all fours onto the deck as the sailors came forward to make the boat fast. "And, in this, I would not have you any
other way."

  Once the vessel was secured, Firekeeper climbed out onto the dock, ready for her knees to play tricks on her. They did, but only a little, and by the time Harjeedian had finished speaking with the sailing vessel's captain about when the boat would have unloaded provisions and be ready to head back to the mainland, she felt quite steady.

  "If you change your mind about staying," Harjeedian said as he directed for them to come with him to where a handful of people were now descending from the ridge, "the boat will be leaving shortly after noon."

  "I not change my mind," Firekeeper said.

  "Somehow, I didn't think you would," Harjeedian replied.

  "Even if the local pack beats us bloody," Blind Seer added, "you would not have us return so soon—this would mean seeming weak before these humans."

  Firekeeper only snorted in reply, but she knew Blind Seer was correct. She had made her brag, now she must make it good—or at least seem to do so.

  Out of touch with the mainland as they were, the residents of Misheemnekuru outpost were initially only mildly interested in the new arrivals. However, as soon as they got a closer look and realized that Blind Seer and Firekeeper were no one that they knew, letters from home and supplies alike were forgotten.

  Their reaction once again forced Firekeeper to modify her assumptions. She had grown so accustomed to the very sight of Blind Seer awakening interest that this calm acceptance that Royal Beasts might interact with humans was hard to take. For the first time she considered what this might mean for her reception by the local wolves. They were accustomed to humans—but to these Liglimom humans, not to a human who was a wolf at heart.

  Firekeeper reminded herself to take care that her own subconscious assurance that these Wise Wolves would find her strange and interesting did not make her careless. A social flub among humans was merely embarrassing. Among wolves it could well be fatal.

  With what she considered very good grace indeed, Firekeeper attended while Harjeedian introduced her to the old man who was in charge of the outpost, to his assistant, and to several other humans. She pretended to understand less of the local language than she did in order to avoid having to stand answering questions any longer than absolutely necessary.

  At last Harjeedian said in Pellish, "I can see that you are impatient to be off, Lady Blysse, and I have done my duty to you by making all the correct introductions. Do you have any idea when we might expect to see you again?"

  Firekeeper started to shake her head, not liking the idea of being even slightly required to report to humans. Then she reconsidered. Derian would worry about her, and though she hoped to find one of the winged folk to carry messages to him, she was not certain she could do so. Better, too, for Derian's sake, that these people remember she cared for his well-being.

  "The moon is waning into her last quarter," she said thoughtfully. "I will try to come at each quarter. If I have not come with the turning of two quarters more then maybe something is not well with me."

  Though she kept her expression perfectly neutral, Firekeeper couldn't resist a sly dig. "But you can check omens and learn how it is with me, true?"

  To her surprise, Harjeedian didn't seem to know he was being teased.

  "Precisely," he said, "and we would certainly do that before interrupting the yarimaimalom. You are learning our ways quite well."

  Firekeeper didn't know what to think of this. Indeed, she wasn't certain that Harjeedian wasn't getting in a gibe of his own. She decided to call them even.

  "I go then," she said, then remembered her manners. She might not like Harjeedian, but he had done her a service. "Thank you for treating seasickness. You have wisdom."

  Then, before Harjeedian could win through his mingled surprise and pleasure, Firekeeper began trotting toward the green veil of the forest edge.

  She had not thought she and Blind Seer would go far without being noticed, and she was not disappointed. Almost as soon as they left the fringes where to their eyes there was evidence of human activity—wood cutting, berry picking, some small foraging—a low growl warned them against going any farther.

  Firekeeper stopped immediately. Blind Seer took a position that would put him slightly in front of her, guarding her from any sudden onrush, then also froze.

  "Wolf," said the growl, "why have you brought this human here in violation of our treaty?"

  Blind Seer, as the one addressed, took the burden of reply upon himself.

  "Wolf," he said, "I am an outlier, come not from the mainland you know, but from lands to the north and west. My birth pack lives west of the mountains."

  Listening silence met this declaration, so Blind Seer continued, "This one you call a human is only so in shape. She was born to humans, true, but from the time she was very small she has lived among us."

  Firekeeper was aware that their scent was being taken and tried not to reveal either fear or the almost overwhelming desire to draw her Fang and stand ready to defend herself.

  The answering growl sounded as if it would turn into a bark of laughter, but gave way neither to humor nor mockery.

  "Your scent is not one known to me," the yet unseen wolf said, "but I am still young and have not yet met all the packs—certainly not those that dwell on the mainland. Still, you are not Cousin-kind and your manners are good. Wait and I will call my parents to inspect you. Know that if you move forward, I will fight you—and I am not alone."

  "We wait," Blind Seer replied, "but tell your parents this. We may be outliers, but we are no low-ranking wolves to be beaten about. Attack us and we will fight, and you may find that our fangs are sharp."

  Blind Seer did not say all of this in words as a human might, but in how he held himself, in his refusal to cringe even the slightest amount, in how he cupped his ears forward rather than holding them to the side.

  Fresh from hearing u-Liall's request that she teach their people how to speak to the yarimaimalom, Firekeeper considered with new confusion how she managed to communicate with the Royal Beasts though she lacked ears and tail and the acute sense of smell that meant so much to them. In the next moment she heard the stranger wolf howling news of their coming, and she shook conjecture from her. It would do her no good at this time, and like anything that weakened her confidence in herself, it could well do her harm.

  "Strangers! Strangers! Strangers! Strange!" rose the howl.

  Firekeeper stiffened as she realized this was the very call that had announced the coming of Earl Kestrel and his party into her pack's lands two years before. This time she was the "strange" the call announced, and she did not like it. The loneliness of being neither wolf nor human flooded her, and she coiled her hand in Blind Seer's fur for comfort.

  Even that contact, as familiar as it was, underlined her predicament, for she couldn't help but notice that her own skin was bare.

  At Firekeeper's request, Derian did not rise to see her off. Instead, he slept past sunrise, worn out from the accumulated events of the previous day. They invaded his dreams: the jaguar escorting him to the council meeting; the ornate mosaic adorning the walls in the temple; that amazing horse with its wild coat and intelligent eyes; Firekeeper's voice, husky in the darkness, explaining why she must go to Misheemnekuru.

  Images blended and mingled until the jaguar explicated the meaning of the stories told in the mosaics, and the horse spoke with Firekeeper's voice, explaining why u-Liall must let themselves be carried.

  Eshinarvash is cantering, and Derian clings to his mane, the long hairs biting into his fingers, his knees slipping as he tries to stay astride. Something is interfering with how his knees clench into the rise and fall of the horse's body. He glances down to see what is impeding him.

  How odd. Instead of his usual trousers and riding boots, he is wearing something completely strange. Then he remembers the elaborate attire he had worn to the reception that morning. Certainly this is the same. There are horses embroidered on the trouser leg, beautiful horses in all the hues Derian has ever imagined a
nd a few he had only dreamed.

  But no, these are not the same. The horses are not the only creatures. There are jaguars with their spots of living flame. Lumbering bears, rising from the earth mold, mushrooms growing on the broad area between their ears. Seagulls with feathers edged in living crystal air-dancing over otters that glide half dissolved into the waves.

  Derian leans forward to try and get a closer look at the elaborate diorama, then realizes that he has unbalanced, that he is falling, falling into the picture, and that his own image is appearing there, edged in vibrant lines of thread.

  Derian shook himself awake with a start, finding himself sliding headfirst half in, half out of the bed. He pulled himself back onto the level and lay for a while, staring at the fine netting that surrounded his bed.

  Although he had been assured that the season for insects had not yet arrived, Derian thought he must have misunderstood, for even by the pale daylight that filtered through the windows he could see dark flecks where the little creatures had become tangled in the mesh and died. He stared at them for a long while, trying to make out what exactly they were, and felt himself drifting again into nightmare.

  He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, reassuring himself of the solidness of reality in the cool tile under his feet. Pushing the netting aside, he stood, stretching and rubbing his eyes until the last vestiges of his disturbing dream were forgotten.

  Sufficient daylight was filtering in through the window—these screened and curtained with finely woven fabric—that he didn't bother to light a candle. His stomach grumbled, and he realized that the day must be well advanced. He hoped the servants hadn't cleared all the breakfast away.

  As Derian washed, he became aware of voices out in the courtyard: Barnet and Rahniseeta. He couldn't make out precisely what was being said, but he heard Barnet sing a few bars of something and Rahniseeta's gentle laughter followed by the melodious notes of some wind instrument. There was a rude twang, then Rahniseeta laughed again.