Varjuna rose and began pacing the long end of the room.
"What are we to do?"
Zira interrupted before Meiyal could reply.
"We can do nothing tonight," she said firmly, "and will do less than nothing if we exhaust ourselves. Let us sleep on this matter and speak of it to no one."
"I won't," Poshtuvanu said. "Do you want me to stay here or go down to the dormitory?"
"Enough people heard about Prahini returning without her rider," Varjuna said, "that I think it would be wise for them to hear he has returned well and safe. Derian, have you given any thought to how we might explain your absence?"
Derian sketched out the tale he and Eshinarvash had worked out regarding a Wise Horse with an injured hoof.
"It will do," Varjuna said. "Poshtuvanu, go to your dormitory and pass that on to any who ask—and a few who do not ask. Gossip travels on galloping hooves. The tale will be to those who care to know in Heeranenahalm with the morning milk. If I have not contacted you otherwise, come back when your morning tasks are completed. We may well need you."
Meiyal nodded her agreement.
"Lack of sleep will make us take poor counsel. I will go to my rooms and pray for guidance." She pushed herself to her feet using the arms of the chair and looked up at Derian. "Sleep well, young man. You've had a rough time. I only wish I believed that the worst was behind you."
Chapter XXVIII
After eating her share of the young boar, Moon Frost collapsed into a sleep so deep that once or twice Firekeeper rose to make certain she still breathed.
"It is the healing sleep," Blind Seer assured Firekeeper when she returned to his side. "That swim was hard enough with two sound forelegs. That Moon Frost did it with one, even assisted… "
Firekeeper knew he was right. She knew, too, that her restlessness was keeping the blue-eyed wolf from the sleep he needed at least as much as Moon Frost did. Although in the past Blind Seer had frequently chided her impatience with the proverb "Hunt when hungry, sleep when not, for hunger always returns," this time he did not, nor did he settle back into sleep.
"Let Dark Death call the trail," Blind Seer said softly, "but follow him with care."
"Why? He has led us fair this far."
"Didn't you notice what he did when he went hunting—or rather what he didn't do?" Firekeeper indicated puzzlement and Blind Seer continued. "Use your mind as something other than a den for dreams, sweet Firekeeper. We are in another pack's territory, but did you hear Dark Death howl?"
"I didn't," she admitted, "but this is no stranger's hunting grounds. This is the land held by his own birth pack—or so I understood."
"More reason for him to howl, then," Blind Seer replied. "Would you swallow your voice if we were within cry of home?"
"No," Firekeeper said promptly. "Not unless… Not unless something dangerous followed me and I did not wish to lead it to the others."
"At last you think. Now, I do not think Dark Death thinks us a danger. I smell no such apprehension from him. Indeed, I think he rather likes you, at least. Me he tolerates, but that is well. We are of an age to be rivals."
Firekeeper didn't want to follow that thought, so she asked rather quickly, "If he does not think us a danger, then why not howl?"
"Give me back the answer," Blind Seer said. "You know it if you would but think."
"Because," Firekeeper reasoned, "he wished opportunity to speak with his Ones without our hearing."
"So I think also," Blind Seer said. "We have heard this island is a sanctuary within a sanctuary. Best Dark Death warn his Ones about us. I think his Ones may have had warnings already."
"Oh?"
"I think of the ravens. They are great talebearers and have taken an interest in you."
"Yes. I see that, but even so, Dark Death would wish to tell what he has learned during these days' running."
"So I see it, dear heart."
"Thank you. I will follow Dark Death with care, but who knows how the ruling of his Ones will have changed the trail."
"Good. Sleep now. You do neither of us any favors if you appear before these Ones draggle-tailed from lack of sleep."
Firekeeper obediently settled herself down, and forcing herself to breathe slowly and deeply, fooled her body into rest.
Dark Death roused them all shortly after dawn.
"I know we had a hard night," he said without apology, "but this time of year the day grows hot almost before the sun is high. Our trail is through thick forests, but why exhaust ourselves needlessly when we might lie up cool at our destination?"
No one argued against his reasoning. Breaking camp was as easily done as digging dirt over the coals of Firekeeper's fire. She tied the metal cup onto her belt next to the wallet. Blind Seer claimed to have little pain now, and while the tea might not have helped, it was good to have something in which she might heat water.
As Dark Death had promised, their trail was beneath tall forest giants that shaded the way along which the four wolves moved in the steady distance-eating trot that can be kept up for hours. Moon Frost had adapted to her tripod gait, and though she panted somewhat more heavily than did the others, she did not ask for favors.
Firekeeper noticed that their route seemed to be along what had once been a human road. Where rains had scoured away the dirt, fragments of paving showed. Occasionally there were small ruins. Once they crossed on a low-arched stone bridge, as sound as on the day its last piece was laid, but for where moss and rain had chewed a bit on the stone.
The wolf-woman noticed these things, but did not comment. She had no desire for anything but to reach their destination and learn at last the answers to her questions. Yet Blind Seer's rebuke of the night before stayed with her and Firekeeper did not let herself become lost in dreams.
So it was that she easily spotted the first sentinel, though the wolf watched from shadow and might easily have been mistaken for a section of the fallen tree trunk that lay nearby. Dark Death did not acknowledge the watcher, so neither did Firekeeper, but she knew from how Blind Seer flicked his ear when she glanced his way that he, too, had taken note. As they ran on, Firekeeper spotted at least one other watcher, and thought she glimpsed a third.
The ground was rising beneath them and the forest giants were thinning. As they had seen at the first ruin that they had visited together, the winds were not friendly toward those who challenged their might, but here, as had not been the case in that other place, there was evidence that efforts had been made to move the fallen trees so that the hilltop would remain clear.
Wolves could not do that, Firekeeper thought. There are beaver marks on that section of trunk, though there is no water on this hill such as beavers like. Yet they have been here. I wonder why they would care?
Dark Death was slowing now, and at last he gave the searching howl Firekeeper knew she should have been listening for last night. It was answered immediately, and from close by.
This is like one of those plays about which Wendee told me, Firekeeper thought. This is no true greeting, but a pretend. Moon Frost gives no indication that she has noticed the oddness of this. Blind Seer does not either, so I will be guided by their manners.
A wolf came forth to greet them almost before Dark Death's howl had quavered to silence on the hot late-morning air. She was not a lovely creature, not sleek and silvery as was Moon Frost. She moved easily enough, but with an odd drag to her step. This, Firekeeper realized, was because her right forepaw was gifted with twice as many toes as were usual and these were all of different sizes and shapes.
The wolf's coat was almost the same shade as Dark Death's, but the fur was coarser and lay less evenly. Her ears were a trifle too large, and one flank bore a large, ragged scar. Yet there was an aura of power about her, a sense of contained purpose that made Firekeeper certain beyond the slightest doubt that this was a One fit to lead.
Firekeeper thought that the One was less old than Cricket or Neck Breaker. There was a compact confidence as yet unwe
akened by the advance of years. She had also borne puppies this year, and had not quite recovered from the demands of nursing.
"I am Integrity, the One Female of this island," the wolf said as greeting. "Dark Death I know, but name yourselves."
Again Firekeeper had that sensation of being in a play. She accepted the role, and let Blind Seer lead. He introduced himself, and then Firekeeper, much as he had to the first pack they had met. He left Moon Frost to name herself, in that way making clear that she was an outlier, not a member of his pack.
Firekeeper was amazed at the relief she felt at this little gesture. She knew Blind Seer would never claim what was not his. Indeed, Moon Frost could be said to belong to Firekeeper more than to either of the males, for Firekeeper was the one who had fought and bested her. But Firekeeper was not so proud as to make such a claim, and Blind Seer did not do it for her.
After Moon Frost had named herself and her lineage as was the way of the Wise Wolves, Integrity led them to a shaded place near to a cool stream. It was a good place for escaping the afternoon heat that so plagued the thick-furred wolves, and there they met Integrity's mate, Tenacity, and the two pups of this year.
Like Integrity, Tenacity bore marks of physical deformity. His skull was broader between the ears, and he carried his head as if it was rather heavy for his neck. The pups, as far as Firekeeper could tell on sight, were completely normal.
"The rest of our pack is elsewhere," Integrity explained. "This time of year is good for ranging abroad. Though this island is not as large as the largest, it offers space in which to roam."
"Our people also go their own ways," Blind Seer said, "once the pups are eating solid food. It is good to run in ones or twos, and test oneself."
"But you have not come here to compare how we raise our families," Integrity said. "I hear that a specific legend drove you here."
"Maimalodalum," Firekeeper replied, tiring all at once of this playing as if these wolves did not know precisely why they had come, and probably everything about them that could be observed. "Maimalodalu. The beast-souled. That is the tale that brought us to your island. When I asked the wolves of the largest island they sent me here. Can you tell me more?"
"Tell you, yes," Integrity said. "It is a tale best related here, for reasons I think you will understand in time. I scent your impatience, Firekeeper, and will not ask why one from a land that so hates magic is interested in magic. It is obvious that you feel yourself born into the wrong shape for your soul. True?"
"As you say it," Firekeeper replied. "All I know is being a wolf, but my human form does not match what I feel."
"And you wish to change this," Integrity said. "Wishing is not enough. For anything there is a cost."
Firekeeper knew she was being tested and schooled herself to patience.
After all, she thought, settling herself, they are right to test me. We talk of serious matters here.
"Speak to me of cost," Firekeeper said. "Speak to me of the maimalodalum. Tell me everything I must know. My ears are yours, my stomach will go empty if you so will. I am here to be taught."
Integrity's tail thumped once in approval, and though her gaze was on a pup that was wandering beyond limits, her attention was for Firekeeper.
"To tell the tale, I must go back in time," she said.
"I am learning that most tales begin back in time," Firekeeper replied, and she tried to sound pleased. "How far does this one go?"
"It goes back before those who founded this colony came from the Old Country," Integrity said. "Have you been told that our religion was brought from that place?"
"Yes."
"Well then, we are well along already. Now in the Old Country, there were no creatures like the yarimaimalom. All the beasts were Cousins. Even so, as here, the Cousins could act as liaisons between the deities and those who desire to abide by their will.
Then, as now, the problem was that of communication. No matter how elaborate were the charts drawn up by the aridisdum, no matter how complex and complete the volumes of lore, still there were many times when the will of the deities was less than clear.
"The humans bred their beasts for ability to hear the will of the gods, hoping that the breeding of one who was a good diviner to one who was a good diviner would create a lineage of such. Soon it became clear that the deities were capricious. The progeny of such lines sometimes were quite gifted. Other times a wild creature trapped by chance would serve as well.
"Thus other efforts were made to bridge the gap. Since these Cousins could not be taught to communicate more precisely with humans, so the next thought was to create humans who could communicate more fully with beasts."
Firekeeper could see where this was heading and longed to urge Integrity to greater speed, but she remembered that this was not only a tale but a test and resolved to listen carefully.
"You know of human talents," Integrity said. "Indeed, I think if one who has the gift for scenting talents took a sniff of you they would discover that you are among the talented."
Firekeeper felt no surprise at this. She had heard the theory before, and dismissed it as irrelevant. If she had talents they were not like Doc's, hers to use at will. They were more like Derian's, a background to all she did, but no more hers to control than she controlled her sense of touch.
Integrity paused as if to give Firekeeper a chance to confirm or deny the existence of her talents, but when she did not, the wolf went on with her tale.
"The sorcerers from the Old Country experimented with creating a means of letting a human borrow the form of a beast. I will not weary you with tales of how long they worked or how many times they failed. At last they learned what they needed to know. Magic could be worked that would let a human take on the shape of a specific animal. It would not work for every human. Only those who had the talent for relating to that specific animal could achieve the transition."
Firekeeper wanted to make certain she understood, so she asked, "By 'relating' you mean those who understand a specific type of animal more deeply than is usual, is this correct? My friend Fox Hair is like this with horses. Are you saying, then, that he would be a candidate for the magical transformation?"
"Yes," Integrity said. "If he desired to sometimes have a horse's shape. He could not, however, become an otter, say, or an eagle. The sorcerers of long ago were not pleased when they learned the exchanges would be so limited. However, they rejoiced that they could be done."
"Thank you," Firekeeper said. "I understand. I think, however, there is more to your story than this."
"Definitely so," Integrity replied. "There was great celebration over this achievement, but soon after humans began taking beast form, limitations were discovered. One was minor and easily overcome. In beast form the maimalodalum must keep by them some token of their human self or be unable to reverse the change. When in human form the maimalodalum must keep some token of their animal self or the entire ritual would need to be repeated from start to finish. As this was time consuming and expensive, no one wished to do this.
"Soon tokens were made containing both of these elements and the maimalodalum wore them always. Even today stories have survived in which the central element is a maimalodalu who has lost his or her token—usually when in animal form—and must hurry to regain it."
I suppose I might hurry, Firekeeper thought, but being a wolf forever and always would not trouble me too greatly.
Integrity went on. "Now, this matter of tokens was the lesser limitation. There was an even greater one. Cousins are all well and good, and we are blessed that the deities have set them upon Earth's surface with us. However, in comparison to humans—or yarimaimalom—they are very limited in how they think. They are not precisely stupid, but they are not creative or versatile.
"Some of the maimalodalum loved their beast forms so much that they rarely changed back into their human one. In this way it was learned that when a maimalodalum does not return to the human form from time to time and remains that way
, the beast soul consumes the human. The maimalodalu simply becomes a beast. So the matter stood when those from the Old Country crossed the oceans and discovered the yarimaimalom."
Moon Frost had been listening with perked ears. Now she interrupted, eager, but with her ears flat to her head as if facing a dreaded enemy.
"Yarimaimalom are as smart as humans," Moon Frost said. "If these maimalodalum sacrificed a yarimaimalom rather than a Cousin when they did their magic, there would not be the problem of becoming stupid when in beast shape. Is that what they thought?"
"That is what they thought," Integrity replied. "Remember, these were humans who thought the deities were pleased with the killing of beasts. They did not see any wrong in what they did as long as they profited from it."
Tenacity interjected, "Much as we might like to think otherwise, Moon Frost, we are not so different from those long-ago sorcerers. We do not hesitate to kill to feed ourselves and our young. These human sorcerers did not shy from killing when they needed to feed their magic—magic they thought reflected the will of the deities."
Firekeeper felt a tendril of uneasiness at what she was hearing, but she had schooled herself to obedient listening and did not wish the thread of the unwinding story to be lost in questions. After a moment Moon Frost's ears rose and her hackles lowered, but she licked the exposed paw beneath her broken foreleg over and over, until Firekeeper worried she would rub the fur away and leave the skin raw.
"Now," Integrity went on, "although the Cousins had been given no say in the matter, the yarimaimalom did not care for the use to which the sorcerers would put them. When captured and set within the spell chambers, their spirits struggled against the spell and sometimes they won. More often the sorcerers won. Sometimes neither won, and from these undecided battle were born creatures neither human nor beast."
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