"And probably looking you over as well," Derian chuckled. "You haven't had an easy time of it, have you? I wonder if they're trying to figure out if you're one of the maimalodalum, just like Rahniseeta was doing with me and Barnet."
Firekeeper tilted her head at him in mute inquiry. Derian responded with the story, flavoring it as best he could in Barnet's style. He had expected Firekeeper to be amused, but he had not expected her to seize on it with more intense attention than she had given his account of mainland politics.
"Rahniseeta believe these maimalodalum are real?" Firekeeper asked, her dark eyes burning. "Animals with human shape, humans with animal shape?"
Too late Derian realized what he had done. To him and Barnet the story of the maimalodalum was after the fashion of a fireside tale, amusing, but too fantastic to be believed. For Firekeeper, forever trapped between two worlds, it was tantalizing hint of a dream that somehow might come true.
"It's just a story, Firekeeper," he replied lamely.
"So for humans," the wolf-woman replied, looking over at Blind Seer, "were the Royal Beasts."
When Waln heard that Derian counselor was being taken to Misheemnekuru, he smiled—not because he like the idea, but because he knew this violation of procedure was what he needed to bring Shivadtmon firmly over to his side.
Without a word spoken between them, Waln knew that young Carter's admission onto those sacred isles would make Shivadtmon eager to challenge those who had permitted the visit. After all, being posted there was an honor reserved for the best and brightest—an honor of which Shivadtmon had boasted. What had Derian Carter done to deserve being given an equal privilege?
Waln knew he could use Shivadtmon's certain irritation to his own advantage, and made a private bet with himself that he could do so without ever even speaking Derian's name.
As Waln had told Tedgewinn, his first goal was to gain the shipwreck survivors a bit more freedom of movement. Without that, anything else they might hope to achieve would be completely impossible. Now, while Shivadtmon had to be burning with a desire to get even for imagined wrongs, was the time to strike.
After reflecting on various tactics and discarding them all as flawed—basically because Waln just didn't know enough about the way the Liglimom thought—the merchant decided on the direct approach. Therefore, when Shivadtmon arrived for his lesson, the aridisdu found the door to the suite open and Waln staring out of one of the narrow slit windows in the direction of the open water.
Waln let the aridisdu tap once for admission, then a second time before turning to face him. He kept his movements lethargic and made his smile of greeting a bit wan.
"Are you unwell?" Shivadtmon asked, obviously concerned, though Waln thought rather cynically he was probably more worried about infection to himself than ill health in his tutor. "I heard one of the other tutors was ill."
"No, I'm fine," Waln said, motioning Shivadtmon to the table where they usually sat for lessons. He poured them both tumblers of cool water flavored with mint, moving slowly as he did so, pausing once as if distracted.
"You do not seem well," Shivadtmon objected.
"It's not anything you can do anything about," Waln said, deliberately provoking Shivadtmon's pride. "It's being shut up in this cursed building all the time, especially in this stifling heat. I'm a sailor and an islander. I like to see a long ways off. Being closed in… "
Waln shrugged. What he really wanted to do was grab Shivadtmon by the collar of his shirt and yell, "Get me out of here, you idiot!" That, however, would be less than productive, and, like any man who had ruled by strength, Waln knew how to pick his battles.
As Waln had hoped, Shivadtmon did not like being told there was something he could do nothing about—especially at a time when he was doubtlessly feeling rather impotent. He bristled, and it was out of anger rather than compassion that he shot forth his next question.
"Being closed in does what to you? I understand that sailors live very tightly packed when on shipboard. I should think you would be well prepared to live like this. That you would even find the spacious quarters provided for you comfortable beyond imagination."
Waln essayed another weak smile.
"I suppose it would seem that way," he said, "to one who has never been on a long voyage. The difference is that although shipboard quarters may be tight, topside there's open space as far as the eye can see. There's shore leave, too. A merchant vessel like those me and most of my mates served on didn't spend too long out from shore. We went from port to port. The mainland was a longer run, of course, but even that wasn't too bad."
"I see… "
Shivadtmon fell into a tense, thoughtful silence. Waln would have bet anything he owned that the aridisdu was trying to decide whether allying himself with the northerners and their concerns would be to his advantage or not.
"Do your fellows—your mates—feel this way, too?" Shivadtmon asked.
"They do," Waln said promptly. "Thing is, they're just deckhands mostly, and so are a bit nervous about speaking out. They don't quite buy the bit about us being guests rather than prisoners, and are scared they'll end up in a dungeon somewhere if they complain."
"And you do not share their fear?" Shivadtmon asked.
"Of course not," Waln said stiffly. "I believe we are guests and are being treated as such."
Waln wondered if the aridisdu had heard how Waln had agitated to see Tiridanti soon after their arrival. Best to add that first—and if he could tweak Shivadtmon's nose while he did it, all the better.
"Aridisdu Harjeedian came to me as a direct emissary from Ahmyndisdu Tiridanti," Waln said.
He didn't mention that at the time he'd felt like he was being fobbed off on a junior disdu as a direct slight from the ahmyndisdu. He'd noticed before that Shivadtmon resented the prominence into which Harjeedian had come of late.
"Aridisdu Harjeedian explained that our current living quarters were meant to protect us from the general populace. Apparently there is fear that they will take us as some sort of legendary demons?"
Waln turned the last into a question.
"We do have such creatures in our folktales," Shivadtmon said, "but I hardly think the local populace would be so credulous."
"Then we are prisoners?" Waln asked. He was pleased that he managed to sound quite shocked.
Shivadtmon found himself in the position of defending someone who he resented. It didn't improve his mood—but his irritation was not directed toward Waln.
"I do not think you are prisoners," Shivadtmon said in a reasonable tone of voice that confirmed to Waln that he thought the exact opposite. "Rather I think Aridisdu Harjeedian overstepped himself in his explanation. Certainly there are some members of our common folk who would be shocked by your appearance, but not to the point of violence against you. More likely they would run into their houses and bar the doors."
"Could you ask Harjeedian what's going on then?" Waln asked, sounding as pathetic as possible. "We're going stir-crazy in here—all but Nolan, who may well be sickening for lack of fresh air and exercise."
Waln decided to throw caution to the winds. To the bottom with his private bet. He paused as if remembering something.
"Oh, but you can't ask Harjeedian, can you?" he went on, squaring his shoulders bravely against disappointment. "I forgot. Aridisdu Harjeedian has gone to Misheemnekuru with Derian Counselor. Even when he returns, he will certainly be too busy for such a minor matter."
"I do not need to be granted an audience from Aridisdu Harjeedian," Shivadtmon said frostily. "I can speak to a member of u-Liall myself. I am quite good friends with Junjaldisdu Dantarahma. He was one of my teachers before his elevation."
Waln looked appropriately impressed, but decided it couldn't hurt to twist the knife a bit more.
"If you could speak to the junjaldisdu that would be wonderful," he said. Then with innocent concern etched all over his face, he went on, "But will Junjaldisdu Dantarahma be able to overrule something Ahmyndisdu Tir
idanti has ordained? I have heard so much about this being a jaguar year, and how Fire's influence dominates the other four elements."
Shivadtmon's jaw tightened.
"It may be a jaguar year, but that does not mean Ahmyndisdu Tiridanti is the only one who can take omens. Nor is she greater than the other members of u-Liall. A jaguar year gives Fire some importance, but it remains one among the five elements—and a child of Water and Air as well."
Waln was tempted to push even harder, but he knew that he had Shivadtmon ready to go agitate for the shipwreck survivor's freedom. There was nothing else to be gained here—and besides, Waln was pretending to feel unwell. Pushing would be out of character.
"Well," Waln said, reaching for the book in which he kept his teaching notes, "let us get on with your lesson. I apologize for keeping you from your studies with my minor concerns."
Shivadtmon, however, had risen and was gathering up his materials.
"I beg your forgiveness," the aridisdu said, "but though you properly seek not to press your appeal, this is an important matter. We cannot have our guests growing ill from lack of exercise and fresh air. It would be an insult to the deities who brought you to us."
Waln, hearing points of debate evolving, had the wisdom not to delay Shivadtmon. Instead, after the aridisdu had departed, and having some time before his next student would arrive, Waln wandered to the common area on the ground floor. He found Shelby and Rarby there before him, absorbed in a game of Navy versus the Pirates.
Rarby was playing the pirates and, judging from Shelby's scowl, was winning. Waln wasn't surprised. Even among Islanders who had never sailed a pirate venture in their lives, the pirates were figures of romance, and most players concentrated their skills on learning those tactics.
"Done with classes for the day?" Waln asked jovially.
"Not begun," Shelby replied, obviously glad for a distraction. "Saw your first student leave early. Piss him off by criticizing his accent?"
Waln grinned. "Nope. Aridisdu Shivadtmon and I are good buddies, such good buddies that he's gone off to talk with Junjaldisdu Dantarahma about getting us shore leave."
"Shore leave?" Rarby asked, then grinned. "You mean we could go out to the market? I think I know every brick in this courtyard. I'd love a stroll—and maybe a visit to some accommodating lady."
Waln hadn't thought of this angle. The Liglimom had offered a variety of entertainment, but had stopped short of bringing in prostitutes—probably because it would make the shipwreck survivors' true status apparent.
"Better be careful with that," he warned. "We don't know how the Liglimom feel about such things."
"You might not," Shelby scoffed, "but we didn't bunk belowdecks with the hands on Fayonejunjal without hearing plenty of stories. Problem will be getting our hands on solid money. I doubt temple association will do."
Waln nodded. "I'll see what I can do, but let's be tactful about it. You've gone longer without, shipboard."
"Shipboard," Shelby said bluntly, "we were a hell of a lot more tired. Does things to a sailor's drive when he's hauling line in the wet."
Waln gave up. He didn't want the northerners to be seen as rutting animals, but maybe it would be best if Rarby and Shelby came across as less than sophisticated. It would make the Liglimom more willing to work with Waln, rather than negotiating separately with each of them.
Waln spent a little more time extolling the attractions of getting out of their prison—though he was careful not to call it such with these two, lest they remember their earlier fears—and wandered off to find Tedgewinn.
The carpenter's mate was busy with a student, so Waln stopped in to visit Nolan, dropping in his ears a hint or two about the possibility that his illness might have been brought on by confinement. Then Waln retired to his own suite and picked up a book one of his other students had given him. It was a children's book about the settlement days, and Waln was translating it word by painful word.
The Old Country rulers had come prepared to settle. Once they had settled they had not hesitated to indulge themselves. That was clear even in this simple primer. After a while Waln ceased reading, his imagination captivated by what treasures might be awaiting him amid the tangled forests and crumbling ruins of Misheemnekuru.
So Firekeeper has heard about maimalodalum," Truth said to Bitter. "You know what that means."
The raven had found her drowsing in the gardens surrounding u-Nahal and reported eavesdropping on the long conversation between Derian Carter and Firekeeper that had taken place the afternoon before. Normally, Truth would have resented being awakened, but her dreams had been so troubled that she was glad.
"I don't have your gift for divination," the raven replied, "but I don't need it for this. Firekeeper is going to want to learn more about them. The question is, how much do we tell her?"
Truth licked her paw. She had prayed very hard on this matter and the, deities had vouchsafed her the clearest reply she'd gotten on any matter having to do with Firekeeper. Oddly, the jaguar found this clarity unsettling rather than otherwise. Why did the deities grant visions on this matter when they were mute on so many others?
Truth could not divine the reason for this, but she did know she wasn't going to tell Bitter about her growing feeling that she was being played with by the deific forces she served. It was for cats to toy, not to be the toys of others—not even if those others were divinities.
"We will tell Firekeeper about the maimalodalum," Truth replied, "but we don't tell her everything."
"Like what don't we tell her?" Bitter asked. "Already Rahniseeta has told Derian about the wearing of skins or carrying of a token. We could deny that, I suppose… "
"No. If she already knows that, we do not deny her. We simply will not tell her about the cost to gain that token, at least not right away."
"Why not? Surely Firekeeper should know about that, and about… " The raven paused and preened the feathers of one wing, uncharacteristically nervous. "And about the other things."
Truth licked one paw and groomed behind her ear. The rhythmic motion soothed her, and she could answer calmly though her brain was burning with flashes of uncertainty.
"Because it is important that she know about those other things we cannot risk her refusing to see them. If she refuses to see them, to witness them with her own eyes, she may be able to disbelieve. She is from the north and those northerners have a deep aversion to the things of the Old World. There is a chance that she will shy away if she learns everything all at once—and the deities have made it very clear that she must go to the central island."
"There?" Bitter puffed out his feathers as against the cold. "Most of our own do not go there."
"A few go there," Truth corrected. "Didn't you mention a wolf called Dark Death has recently come to the large island? He is born of the pack that guards the central island. I do not think his coming at this time is coincidence."
Actually, Truth wasn't sure whether it was coincidence or not, but Truth was not above aiding her visions with more deductive insights. The visions were so often like dreams remembered just after waking—clear enough that one could remember the logic that had functioned within them and even suspect what had inspired them. Later, when the dreams had faded, it was necessary to make the connections for others.
Truth knew that this making of connections was her weak point. It was not simply chance that associated felines and Fire. Like Fire, cats great and small excelled at tearing apart rather than connecting. Nest builders like birds and rodents made better interpreters, but the predators usually were sharper at receiving the initial images—and the solitary hunters, like the great cats, sharpest of all.
"Perhaps Dark Death's arrival is not coincidence," Bitter replied. The raven sounded as if he doubted this. "However, wolves do roam great distances when the mating urge is on them, and the central-island wolves need go further than most to avoid mating their close kin."
Truth extended the claws of one raised paw, sayi
ng in effect, "You question my vision?"
Bitter flapped, the motion containing refusal to either admit questioning Truth's divinations or to apologize.
Truth knew Bitter had flown back and forth between Misheemnekuru and the mainland several times. Doubtless he was tired and his temper, never bright, even from the egg, must be frayed. Therefore, she decided to let the matter rest.
"Will you or one of your winged kin fly to Misheemnekuru and inform the wolves of the deities' will in this matter?" Truth asked. "Firekeeper will visit with her human friend, then return to the wolves, full of questions. The wolves should be prepared both for those questions and for what they should not say."
"I will have an osprey carry the message," Bitter replied. "My wings are weary of the buffeting of salt winds."
"Done, then," Truth said. "Take my thanks for making these arrangements. Tell the wolves—indeed any who question—that their own diviners may test my vision against theirs. I think they will agree this course follows the divine will."
Bitter flapped as if about to depart, then he folded his wings.
"Truth, do you know why it is so important that Firekeeper go to the central island?"
Truth hesitated, uncertain how much to say. Eventually, she decided that honesty would only help her with this gloomy black bird. He would not take commands as would a doe or other fearful prey animal.
"I have had visions," Truth said, "repeated visions of Firekeeper being there. These are the only visions I have had of her in any place. Her very presence muddles the future, but perhaps because of the fact that she is certain to be interested in the maimalodalum, this one thing is clear. If she is not scared away, Firekeeper will go to the central island. There is nothing in the visions to indicate that the deities do not want her there. Indeed, I sense that were we to try and prevent her going, they would be displeased. That is all I have, but since it is all I have, I assign importance to it."
Bitter flapped up to the top of the wall enclosing the garden.
"I think I understand. I will speak to the osprey. The osprey will speak to the wolves and the wolves to Firekeeper. You do not wish the osprey to carry the message directly to her?"
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