From a silent watch post high in the boughs of a new-leafed apple tree, Firekeeper had seen Blind Seer and Moon Frost running side by side, singing to drive an elk, moving at speeds her human legs could never reach, much less sustain. She had seen them dive almost as a pair into the carcass after the elk had fallen, snapping back at the Ones—who usually took the first and best parts of any kill as their right.
The Ones' own growls and snaps had been perfunctory at best. Indeed, they had permitted themselves to be driven back. This was hardly a great sacrifice on their part. Between the elk brought down by the Ones themselves and the elk Firekeeper had finished with her arrows, there was plenty of meat for everyone without the Ones invading Blind Seer's kill. Even High Howler, Rascal, and Nipper came in for chunks of liver—a delicacy usually claimed by the Ones alone.
Yet Firekeeper could not help but feel that the Ones had not growled Moon Frost and Blind Seer away for a reason other than the quantities of good meat available. She thought Tangier and Hard Biter were pleased at the accord growing between these two strong hunters. Well they should be. Mating season would not come until late winter, and until the snappish tempers of that time arrived, Moon Frost and Blind Seer would use their skills to support the existing pack. With two such fine hunters working as a pair, the pack would claim a high number of kills without paying in blood and broken bones.
What would it matter if by late winter Moon Frost and Blind Seer were splitting off? By then Nipper, High Howler, and even Rascal would have had time to grow into another two seasons' strength. Even with the loss of Moon Frost, the pack would be more powerful than it had been the previous spring.
Firekeeper tried not to brood over the pattern she saw developing, but she didn't feel any more friendly to Moon Frost when the female sneered at her for cooking her share of the meat or needing her knife to remove the hide. The fact that Moon Frost's pack mates—all but Neck Breaker, who was perhaps wiser, perhaps merely more prudent—joined the game caused anger and resentment to blend in Firekeeper's belly.
The wolf-woman wanted to leap at Moon Frost, to make the other wolf take back the gibe by force, but memories of Moon Frost's lean, graceful silver-grey form ripping in through the grass-swollen roundness of the elk's flank stayed her. Firekeeper knew herself beaten without battle ever being joined, and the elk flesh just beginning to be marbled with grazing fat after the thin days of winter and early spring, tasted flat and stringy in her mouth.
Yet for all of this, there were things to distract Firekeeper from her unhappiness. At the meeting meadows, she and Blind Seer met their second pack of Wise Wolves, these from lands slightly to the west of the meeting meadows.
The west pack was slightly larger than the borderland pack that had taken Firekeeper and Blind Seer with them to the meeting meadows. In addition to Grey Thunder, the pack's One Male, and, Half-Snarl, its One Female, the west pack boasted three hunters roughly equivalent to Moon Frost. Only two younger cubs from previous litters remained with the pack—a male a year old and a female two years old. They also had an older wolf among their numbers, a female called Cricket, and a small litter of this spring's puppies.
Soon after the west pack's arrival there came another pack, this one from hunting grounds some distance inland. By now Firekeeper was having trouble keeping track of which wolf was with which pack. She had no idea how many wolves there were now gathered around the meadows, making any prey animal nervous, and the nights ring with their boastful songs.
With private shame, Firekeeper felt how her refusal to bother to learn how to commit larger numbers to memory was a handicap. She knew that Derian would have had no difficulty assessing and categorizing the swirling mass of lean, grey-furred bodies. Nor, she realized, did the wolves. Their keener noses permitted them to "see" differences between individuals that Firekeeper could not. Only Firekeeper, who had refused to learn the human way of accounting and who lacked the ability to learn the wolfish way, was limited.
However, she had no trouble telling the next arrival from the rest. He was a magnificent male who belonged to none of the three packs already arrived, but was an outlier, dispersed from his birth pack but not yet bonded to another.
The newcomer shared the silver-grey coloration so common among the wolves of Misheemnekuru. He was as large as any of the One Males present, with big feet that seemed to promise further growth, though from other signs he had achieved at least four or five winters. Yet neither size nor any other physical trait was what set him apart from the others in Firekeeper's eyes, but a commanding presence that as much as declared him One Male, although his pack had yet to be formed.
"My divined name is Dark Death," the outlier introduced himself after proving his worth by flinging himself into a hunt in progress and bringing down the twisting, leaping buck that had eluded the others thus far. "I was born to the center-island pack. By swimming and running I have made my way here, drawn by songs old and new heard rising from this place."
It was a good boast. By now Firekeeper had gathered something of the relationship of the different islands to each other, and Dark Death must have heard those songs in relay from a long way off. She understood his claim as the wolves did—proof of Dark Death's prowess as a solitary hunter.
Firekeeper watched as the wolves went about their usual rounds of tail-sniffing, fascinated by how the dynamics of the packs were adjusting in response to this outlier. Two of the young hunters in the west pack were females: Beachcomber and Freckles. They sniffed tails repeatedly with Dark Death; then Beachcomber snapped at Freckles when she came too close. Young as she was, Nipper also showed interest in the handsome male, as did the females from the latest-come pack. Indeed, only Moon Frost acted indifferent, almost as if she already had a mate.
The dynamic among the males changed as well. The unmated males grew definitely defensive. Blind Seer put up his hackles and growled softly. Another male, Smoke Jumper, snapped at the tip of Dark Death's tail. Dark Death ignored him—a greater insult than if he had snapped in return. There would definitely be fighting before the males established who outranked whom—and as the females competed to show off their better qualities.
Perched up in her apple tree, Firekeeper found herself fascinated by Dark Death. The outlier wolf walked with an arrogant swagger as if he were a One of Ones, not a packless, isolated male. Indeed, Dark Death's arrogance put the One Males, each of whom had claimed mate and territory, on edge before long.
Firekeeper wondered if Dark Death was wise to behave in this manner, then realized the outlier was wise indeed. He was declaring himself competition for any and all mated males—or males who might hope to find a mate—and this meant that any battles would be between him and his opponent. The packs would not take part as they would against an invader into their territory.
After introductions were completed, Dark Death pretended to notice Firekeeper for the first time.
Firekeeper knew this noticing was pretense because she knew how easily a wolf scented anything unfamiliar. Doubtless Dark Death had been aware of her presence even before he had walked from the forest fringe into the meadows. However, as the other wolves had paid Firekeeper no heed, manners and prudence had dictated that Dark Death must account himself to them before commenting on the anomalous human in their midst.
Now the outlier wolf trotted over to the apple tree in which Firekeeper had taken her perch. He stood on his hind legs and stretched up toward her. Dark Death was tall enough that he easily reached within touching distance—but then Firekeeper hadn't been trying to get out of range. It was simply her habit when in unfamiliar places to claim a place from which she could see her surroundings. Otherwise, especially within a swarming, jostling mass of wolves, she was likely to become overwhelmed.
If she had chosen this perch because she knew that Blind Seer could easily join her if he so chose, Firekeeper didn't admit this, even to herself.
Now she looked down at the rudely sniffing nose and resisted an urge to bring her heel solidly
down onto the damp, black leather.
"I thought we had a treaty that forbade humans from coming into Misheemnekuru," Dark Death growled, "but perhaps that does not apply on this island."
The outlier's attitude was faintly insulting, implying that the wolves he knew would never have permitted such a thing.
Blind Seer responded.
"She is a member of my birth pack, my sister, and so not a human at all, but a wolf."
Firekeeper's response upon hearing Blind Seer defend her mixed pleasure and discomfort. She was glad that Blind Seer had spoken up for her and named her a wolf, but she felt unsettled that he referred to her as his sister. It had been a long time since he had called her "sister" or she him "brother." Yet that was the basis for their relationship. Why did the renewal of the term make her so uncomfortable?
The wolf-woman knew full well, but she could avoid thinking about it with an enormous wolf sniffing around her knees. The discomfort she felt flared out in her response.
"Wolf I am and wolf I will be, no matter who denies it," Firekeeper snapped. "Would you still be wolf if some mischance cut off your tail? If you were missing an ear? If you were missing an eye? My shape may be wrong, but my heart is a wolf's and I'll fight any who deny it."
Dark Death dropped lightly down onto all four paws and looked up at Firekeeper, his head tilted quizzically. Then he turned and surveyed the gathered wolves, where indeed there was one with a missing ear, another with a blinded eye, another whose tail had met with some misfortune.
The outlier's reply was somber—not angry, as Firekeeper had expected. The seriousness of it touched her heart.
"True," Dark Death rumbled. "Shape does not make a wolf, nor scent, nor anything we can touch. I am sorry, wolf. May I have your name?"
Firekeeper was so astonished she found herself sliding to the ground almost without volition.
"I am called Firekeeper," she said. "As with Blind Seer, I am from lands very far to the north and west."
Dark Death sniffed her, "You are very brave, Firekeeper, but then your name promises you would be so. I am pleased to have the opportunity to hunt with you."
Firekeeper blinked and to her surprise realized that she was blushing. She hoped that none but Blind Seer would recognize the sign.
Then the moment passed and Dark Death once again concentrated on meeting and re-meeting the local wolves. Firekeeper, forgotten, found her gaze following him as he moved about. For the first time since their arrival, she even forgot to worry about Moon Frost, even when the other female crowded close to Blind Seer.
As neck breaker had explained, the meeting meadows were neutral territory, bordered by lands hunted by several different wolf packs. In the winter, when the fish were not running, the elk clustered here, taking advantage both of the remnants of lush grass that remained under the snow and the proximity of so many of their number to keep their calves safe. Where the elk gathered, so gathered the wolves.
"It is an odd cycle," Firekeeper said to Neck Breaker one afternoon when she was trying very hard not to notice that Blind Seer was involved in some rough-and-tumble with Moon Frost and Freckles. "We follow the elk, but the elk cluster because we follow, and in turn more of us come because there are so many elk."
"And in time," Neck Breaker agreed, "there will be too many elk and the surviving calves will grow too strong for the hunting to be good any longer. Then, too, there will be pups to be taught hunting on more manageable prey. So we will leave, and the elk, no longer feeling threatened, will also break into small groups, and eventually bear their new young. In the absence of both hunters and grazers, the meadows, well fertilized by shit and piss and blood, will recover to be hunted upon when the next winter year comes."
"Are there rules?" Firekeeper asked. (Blind Seer had Moon Frost's scruff in his mouth and was rattling her back and forth while she snapped and growled in ineffectual protest.) "Rules for who can hunt here and how many to take? I noticed that the latest-come pack even swam across the water to join in the hunting, but no one challenged their right."
"There is no rule but that of having enough to eat," Neck Breaker said. "Sometimes—sad as it is to admit—even Wise Wolves can behave like Cousins and kill more than they need, but such greed is unusual even for Cousins. It would be a violation of divine Earth's goodness."
Firekeeper fell silent, caught between the discomfort she always felt when the Wise Wolves employed the terms of what she felt should be a purely human thing—this religion that spoke of deities who somehow shaped events—and her unhappiness at Blind Seer's play. Then, too, Dark Death had trotted out from the forest where he had gone earlier—presumably on one of the solo hunts that were not uncommon for a wolf who belonged to no one pack. She watched as ripples of awareness played over the gathered wolves at his arrival, finding it the easiest thing to accept.
The hierarchy of non-mated males was working itself out, readjusting with every new pack or outlier drawn to the meadows. Both Dark Death and Blind Seer remained at or near the top. Smoke Jumper had fallen some, though not to the bottom. Puma Killer, a male who would have been handsome but for the ear he had lost in the fight that had won him his name, was another high-ranking contender.
Firekeeper had paid less attention to the dynamics among the females, but she knew that Moon Frost's standoffishness had done her no harm in the eyes of the males. Although—at least to Firekeeper—Moon Frost seemed to favor Blind Seer, she had bonded with no male. The males, with the contrariness Firekeeper had observed in both humans and wolves, were all the more interested in Moon Frost because she refused to fawn over them. Freckles and Beachcomber vied between trying to imitate her indifference and making themselves noticeable through their antics.
Though Firekeeper could not help but be aware of this unfolding drama, the wolf-woman strove to concentrate on the original reason she had come to Misheemnekuru. She still was not certain whether the wolves remained on the islands by choice or by some odd coercion. One thing of which she was certain was that this was a sensitive topic. Even the two oldest wolves, Neck Breaker and Cricket, drew back from questions on the matter. From the answers she received, Firekeeper pieced together that the wolves were pleased with their lands on Misheemnekuru, that they would fight to keep them, but that there were problems, problems of which they would not speak to a relative stranger.
Firekeeper kept seeking information, worrying at the problem like a teething pup on a strip of rawhide. However, as rawhide resists puppy teeth, so the problem resisted solution.
I wish I could talk to Derian about this, she thought, but Derian is far away across the waters, and we are a good day's run even from where the humans have their outpost. Perhaps I could get one of the ravens to carry him a message, but how would I draw a picture of a problem? Certainly the few characters the aridisdu insisted on showing me will not serve. All is not well, but all is not wrong either.
But even as she thought such things, Firekeeper knew it was not Derian to whom she wished to speak—no matter that his human perspective might be useful. The one she wished to speak with was Blind Seer. He, however, sprawled in the sunlight, wrestling with Moon Frost as if there were neither problem nor mystery in all the world.
Chapter XVI
Shortly after noon three days following Rahniseeta's talk with Harjeedian, Barnet and Rahniseeta drove along the coast road toward u-Bishinti. She had chosen this route deliberately. Not only did it take them through some beautiful countryside, but some of that scenery would provide her with the opening she sought.
"You handle the reins well," Barnet said. Rahniseeta smiled her thanks. The somewhat chubby black gelding between the shafts was so well behaved that the young woman suspected a child could handle him in anything except an emergency. "Do you drive?" she asked.
"No," came the laconic reply. "Sail, row, paddle, and ride—the last barely passably. The land on which I grew up was so wet we moved everything we could by water. I don't think there was a wheel on the place bigger tha
n those on a child's toy."
By now Rahniseeta knew that Barnet was inclined to exaggeration. She also knew that though his family name was a high-ranking one in his birth land, his branch of the family had not owned one of the great estates. That was one reason Barnet had decided to risk the voyage of exploration which had ended so disastrously. Really, she thought, his prospects are little better than my own. She couldn't decide if this similarity made her warm to him or despise him a little. She might not have many prospects, but she could ride, drive, write a good hand, make a snake dance to flute music, and do many other things that would advance her as surely as Harjeedian was advancing through the ranks in the Temple of the Cold Bloods.
And Barnet? He could tell stories—and sail, but it was clear that his heart was not in the handling of boats.
In our land he might have followed the same path as Harjeedian, but his people are ignorant of the deities. They go their way blindly, trusting to ancestor spirits to guide them—as if such would be wiser after death than they were in life!
Rahniseeta realized she had fallen too quiet. Barnet, tired no doubt from hours of trying to teach Pellish when he himself spoke the language of the Liglimom only passably, was drowsing beside her.
"See there?" Rahniseeta said, pointing out into the bay with a tilt of her head.
"Where? What?"
Barnet had indeed been drowsing. Rahniseeta pointed again.
"There, out in the waters. See the land? Those are Misheemnekuru."
Barnet expressed none of the surprise about the size of the islands that Harjeedian had reported from Lady Blysse.
"Nice looking," he said. "Do I see buildings there?"
Rahniseeta nodded, well pleased. She had waited her comments until they had reached this point precisely for this reason.
"Yes. Those on the high point belong to the outpost maintained there by some of the disdum. However, the ones you see toward the end closer to us… You see there?"
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