Wolf Captured

by Jane Lindskold

  Maybe they won't kill her, Derian thought, trying to raise himself up and feeling the paw push him back down. This time there was a prickling of claws and he lay very still. She's a fine animal, a valuable horse. Certainly someone would miss her.

  But the drumming grew louder, its heartbeat rhythm increasing in intensity, and Derian knew the mare was doomed. At the crescendo, when the drumbeats had become so rapid that one blended into the other in a horrible pulsing of sound, Dantarahma took the knife from his colleague and tore it through the red-splattered whiteness of the shining throat.

  Blood fountained everywhere, and to Derian's horror the worshippers, even the musicians, rushed forward, seeking to be showered beneath the life fountain. They never stopped singing. When the mare's body thudded to the earth and the knives came out, Derian felt the paw lifted from his back.

  They left before the feast really began.

  Derian felt sick TO his stomach, but the cool appraising gazes of the jaguar and the puma helped him regain control. After taking Derian far enough that he, at least, could no longer hear the sounds from the hidden temple, they guided him to a stream.

  Derian not only drank, he washed himself, splashing the cool water over his face and upper body as if he could somehow rinse away the horrible scene he had witnessed. When he ceased his frenzied bathing, he looked around. The two great cats had vanished, but Eshinarvash had returned.

  The young man's eyes had once again adjusted to moonlight, but now they played a curious trick on him. Eshinarvash no longer looked like a black-and-white horse, but rather like fragments of a white horse floating independent of any body against the darkness. For a moment it seemed as if the uneaten portions of the white mare stood before him in mute reproach. Then Eshinarvash shook and the illusion vanished.

  Staggering slightly, Derian walked over to the Wise Horse.

  "Did you know what they were taking me to see?"

  Eshinarvash nodded.

  "Have you shown this to any other people?"

  The horse shook his head.

  "Why not? Wouldn't Varjuna or someone like that be better?"

  Eshinarvash shook his head again, but, of course, he could say nothing more. Instead he nuzzled Derian, than looked back over his own shoulder, toward his back.

  "You want me to ride now?"

  Nod.

  "I think I can. I want to get as far away from this place as possible."

  Once Derian was astride and the horse had begun walking—no galloping now in the darkness—he tried to work out why the yarimaimalom would have shown him the ritual. He knew Varjuna would have been as horrified as he had been. He was sure that most of the other disdum would have been as well.

  "But that's the problem, isn't it?" he said aloud. When Eshinarvash gave no signal that he should be quiet, Derian continued. "You think you know who you can trust, but you can't be sure. If Dantarahma himself is leading the sacrifices, who might he have converted to his cause? With all the fires burning there, it would be impossible to identify most of those people by scent, and even if you did, what could you do?"

  Eshinarvash gave what Derian was certain was an encouraging nicker.

  "You can't accuse someone—not without some elaborate ritual, and then you'd have to hope that someone understood. Even if you spelled it out letter by letter, it's a long tale. How could you be certain that the person to whom it was told wasn't in on it or wouldn't tell it to someone who was or wouldn't have an accident before anything could be done?

  "What Dantarahma and his cronies were doing was worse than killing a few domestic animals. They were sacrificing them and reading the omens—and finding them good. I wonder what they decided their deities told them to do tonight? I bet you really wished Firekeeper had been here."

  To his surprise, Derian felt Eshinarvash shake his head.

  "You don't?" Then, again, understanding came. "She's considered a threat, isn't she? An accusation from her would look like a rival trying to upset the established order, but coming from me, especially with her out of touch there across the water, it's something else. The disdum at the outpost can witness how limitedly she can write. There is no way Firekeeper could send such an elaborate plot—even if she thought that way, which she doesn't. If she wanted to take over, she'd probably challenge each of u-Liall to a fight—or maybe take them on all at once."

  He laughed and heard the nervous note in it.

  "So not only don't you want her to tell about this, I've got to do something before she decides to come back. Given what I told her about the maimalodalum, that's probably not going to be for a while, but still… "

  Derian fell silent, trying to decide in whom he could confide. He liked Rahniseeta and she certainly seemed to understand the inner workings of the interlocking temples without really being part of them, but in the end she'd probably just advise him to tell Harjeedian.

  Right now Derian was feeling even less friendly than usual toward the aridisdu. He kept thinking of how Harjeedian had ordered Roanne and the pack horse killed, and then coolly had their meat set aside as feed for Blind Seer. Was this simply efficiency, as Derian had thought, or was this the callous calculation of one who approved of animal sacrifice and who might have read a few omens in the spilled blood before having his comparatively ignorant sailors mop it up?

  No, Derian would definitely not trust Harjeedian, at least not until he had proof the man had not been among those gathered below. Derian hadn't seen Harjeedian, but he and the great cats had watched from above, and from a distance. Only the fact that Dantarahma had been at the top of the step pyramid, in the center of the light, had made that identification certain. Derian hadn't even recognized the other two he'd seen clearly: the assistant in the rites and the woman who had carried the various smaller animals to the top.

  He might know them if he saw them again, but then again he might not. The Liglimom all had dark hair, skin, and eyes. He was learning to recognize the many differences in facial structure and build, but he hadn't exactly been studying to remember. He'd been too busy realizing what all of this meant.

  Eshinarvash carried him for some time, then stopped and shivered his skin.

  "Rest break?" Derian asked, sliding to the ground. "It must be getting on for dawn."

  Eshinarvash nickered, nosing at something at about nose height. Derian made his way over—certain now that it was getting lighter. He found a pair of recently killed rabbits cached in a crotch of a tree.

  "Out of reach of the bugs," he said, fighting down nausea at the sight of the dead animals. Their limp forms reminded him of the sacrificed animals. Then he remembered how Firekeeper would think. "Someone brought me breakfast, and I shouldn't let it go to waste. Thank you."

  He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard a faint hoot in reply.

  As always, Eshinarvash had stopped where there was grass and fresh water. Derian made a fire, set the rabbits on a spit above the fire, and did a bit of foraging while waiting for them to cook. When he finished eating, he looked at the Wise Horse.

  "It's well into day now. Do we head back right away or wait until later?"

  Eshinarvash stared at him, chewing slowly, his liquid brown gaze seeming mildly reproachful. Derian realized he'd asked a question that couldn't be answered with either yes or no.

  "Are we going back immediately?"

  Eshinarvash shook his head.

  Derian decided he might as well get some sleep. He was making himself as comfortable as possible on a mat of oak leaves when a thought occurred to him.

  "Will we be going back?"

  Eshinarvash nodded.

  "Soon?"

  Nod.

  Derian decided to try something. "I'm going to make some suggestions as to when we might leave. Just nod if I get close."

  Eshinarvash snorted in a fashion that reminded Derian rather oddly of how Firekeeper reacted to human inquisitiveness.

  "Look," he said, "I'm not arguing, I just want to know. Humans are herd animals only to a po
int."

  Another snort. This one sounded more amused than annoyed.

  "Right. It's morning now. Will we leave this morning? Noon? After noon?"

  This last elicited a nod.

  "Soon after noon? Midafternoon?"

  Nod.

  "So you're looking to bring me back after dark," Derian guessed. "Probably don't want anyone to see me come back with you."

  Nod.

  "Any ideas what I should tell them to explain my vanishing?"

  He hadn't expected an answer, but to his astonishment Eshinarvash looked at him, then rather dramatically limped a few paces. Then he lifted his foot as he had learned to do when Derian wanted to check his hoof for a stone.

  "You're suggesting I tell them that you came to get me because you… "

  Snort. Violent shaking of head.

  "Because one of the Wise Horses had something wrong—maybe with his leg?"

  Nod.

  Derian thought for a moment.

  "That could work—especially if no one asks too many questions. A leg or hoof injury would explain why the horse wouldn't come on his own. Why me? Well, I'm the idiot who goes out every morning in hopes of seeing the Wise Horses. I was available. And if anyone pushes too hard, I can tell them that I think you horses wanted a closer look at me as much as I did at you. I think I can seem appropriately embarrassed."

  Derian sighed. He didn't like lying, but knew perfectly well that there were times when only a lie would protect the innocent. He'd lied to protect considerably less honorable enterprises, now that he came to think about it.

  "I can pull it off," he assured Eshinarvash, "but I'm going to need to confide in someone. There's simply no way I can accuse one of u-Liall without some support."

  Eshinarvash nodded and then went back to grazing. Derian had the feeling that the horse was tired of talking. Fine. He could wait, at least for a while. He couldn't help but think it would be nice to talk to someone who could answer more than yes or no.

  Derian walked up to the ikidisdu's residence at u-Bishinti at dusk, near the hour that would usually find Varjuna's family scattered to their own activities. The two younger sons would be occupied with their studies. If Poshtuvanu had come to have dinner with his parents, he would have long ago returned to the dormitory where he lived with other newly made kidisdu. Unless some emergency called them away, Varjuna and Zira would be sitting together on the east-facing porch, where they could enjoy the breeze off the ocean.

  With this in mind, Derian planned to find his hosts on the porch, make his apologies, and reserve explanations until they could speak in some place more secure from the chance of being overheard. When he approached the sprawling house, he immediately abandoned this plan. Lights burning in areas of the house that would usually be dark at this hour told him that the normal patterns had been broken.

  Although he was weary and aching from the better part of two days spent riding bareback, Derian quickened his pace. He had a feeling that the reason for this unexpected disruption was his own absence, and the sooner he assured his hosts of his safety, the sooner everyone could relax.

  Though they'll relax only to face a worse problem than a wandering northerner, Derian thought ruefully, but there's no helping that.

  He had almost reached the front door of the house when a voice spoke out of the darkness.

  "Derian? Is that you?" Poshtuvanu called softly, his voice pulled tense between hope and dread.

  "It's me," Derian assured him. "Sorry to have caused such trouble."

  Poshtuvanu hurried to meet him.

  "If the Wise Horse came for you, you had no choice. Earth and Air be praised that you are safe. The omens were anything but clear—even when old Meiyal did the readings herself."

  Derian had been introduced to the iaridisdu of the Horse and knew all too well the importance that had been attached to his disappearance if Meiyal herself had done the reading. Not only was the iaridisdu physically fragile, but in anticipation of an honorable retirement she had begun to delegate all but the ceremonies of highest consequence over to her subordinates.

  Poshtuvanu went on, "They're all in my father's study. I was about to walk back to my dormitory when I thought I saw someone coming up the path. It's rather dark to tell, but it looked like you. Didn't walk like you, quite, so I didn't say anything."

  All the time he'd been talking, Poshtuvanu had been leading the way into the house and down the wide corridors to Varjuna's office. Now he flung open the door.

  "Father, Derian's come back."

  With those words, Poshtuvanu ushered Derian in, then followed after. There was a general hubbub of greetings and exclamations over which Zira's voice rang clearest.

  "You look exhausted, Derian. Sit down. Have something to drink and eat—or would you prefer a bath first?"

  Derian wanted a bath and a change of clothes, but he wouldn't leave his hosts waiting and wondering—especially not after he noticed old Meiyal sitting huddled in one of the high-backed chairs. She, Varjuna, Zira, and Poshtuvanu were the only ones present.

  "Something to drink would be welcome," he said, "and to eat, eventually. I can make do with sugared nuts, even. I was taken good care of."

  "Taken care of?" asked Varjuna. "By the Wise Horses?"

  "By them," Derian said, "and others."

  A cool drink redolent of mint and fruit nectar was pressed into his hand and he drank thirstily before continuing.

  "It's a long story," he warned, "and not one for all ears."

  "Our younger sons were scheduled to go on a packing trip to u-Vreeheera," Zira replied, "and we encouraged them to go as planned. They wanted to stay, but we told them that we were certain you were fine, and that the story of where Eshinarvash had taken you would only get better for the wait."

  Derian was relieved. He knew that Varjuna and Zira usually dispensed with servants after the evening meal had been cleaned up, so except for whatever servants Iaridisdu Meiyal had brought with her, the house should be empty. He had already decided to trust the iaridisdu with his tale. Not only could she have not been among the number at the temple last night—the ride would have been far too taxing for her—he knew Varjuna respected her deeply and would want to consult her before taking any action.

  "You got my message, then," he said. "Prahini's well?"

  Varjuna nodded. "She came down to the stables just as you thought she would. The kidisdu who saw her wandering about delivered your message directly to me. He was so determined to be discreet he clipped it from her forelock."

  "The hair will grow again," Derian said, absently, his thoughts elsewhere. "Did you receive any other copy of the message? I sent two."

  Varjuna nodded, his expression heavy with puzzlement.

  "I found a second copy on my desk. It was rather mutilated, but readable."

  "When you did not come back by afternoon," Zira said, "and the Wise Horses were being singularly uncommunicative, we decided to consult Meiyal. She consulted the resident horses in Heeranenahalm and was concerned when the omens were ambiguous, so she came here to see if the Wise Horses would say more to her."

  Meiyal spoke, her voice as dry as a cricket's chirp, but just as musical.

  "They were quite difficult," she said with a chuckle, "and so I remained. I am glad I did so, for now I can hear your tale—that is if you trust me with it."

  "I do," Derian said, coloring. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise. However, once you've heard what I have to say, I think you'll understand why careful consideration needs to be taken before it goes any farther. In fact, can we be overheard from here?"

  Zira shook her head. "Not unless someone is prowling out in the dark."

  Poshtuvanu had been leaning against a wall, listening with interest.

  "I can take a look," he said, "and then maybe I had better leave. Clearly these are matters beyond a mere kidisdu."

  Meiyal waved her hand. "If Derian has no problem with Poshtuvanu remaining, I certainly have none."

  Varjuna l
ooked at Derian. "Nor do I, but the decision as to who stays and who goes is Derian's."

  Derian hated what he had to do, but he had to be certain. Poshtuvanu was young and strong enough to have made the trip to the ceremony last night and to have gotten back in time to not be missed at his duties. Moreover, he stayed with his parents just frequently enough that if he were not at the dormitory he would be assumed to be at the ikidisdu's residence.

  "Where were you last night?" he asked.

  Poshtuvanu looked startled. "Here, actually. My father asked me to stay in case news about you turned up and he needed another pair of hands."

  "I'm not as young as I once was," Varjuna said, "and the younger boys were gone."

  "Good, then," Derian said. "Take that look around outside, then come back and hear what I have to say. You'll hear soon enough why I had to ask, and I apologize in advance for doing so."

  While they were still sorting out that strange statement, Derian took a moment to go rinse his face with cool water. Then, when Poshtuvanu returned and assured them that all was quiet, Derian launched into his account. He moved quickly through the first part, but skipped nothing, including how the various yarimaimalom had cooperated to provide him with food, and how the great cats had escorted him to the ceremony. When he reached the point where he must describe what he had seen, he paused.

  "Now comes the hard part," he said. "I'm going to try and tell it without saying what I thought about it—just what I saw. When I'm done, well, then I've some questions for you."

  Derian had never had a better audience. They listened attentively, not asking even a single question, though from the way Zira folded down the fingers in one hand as if counting, she, at least, would have a few. When he finished, though, it was Meiyal who spoke first.

  "You are certain it was Dantarahma you saw?"

  "I am."

  Meiyal sighed. "I wish I were surprised, but for many years Dantarahma has been eager for reform. I think he believed that when the former ahmyndisdu died, one who thought as he did would be appointed to u-Liall, for the omens indicated great changes were upon us. Then Tiridanti was anointed. She and Dantarahma were, well, like Fire and Water. They can hardly bear to be in the same room together. I thought—as I think many thought—that Dantarahma had accepted the omens. Now I see he has not."