Wolf Captured

by Jane Lindskold

  Still, anxiety nibbled at the edges of Waln's soul, and he picked up his pace. Perhaps, if there was a stair intact within one of the towers, it wouldn't hurt to send someone up to take a look. Elwyn, maybe, though he'd probably just call down something about how pretty the water looked. Maybe Nolan. A little job to quell the incipient spirit of mutiny.

  That decided, pleased with himself, Waln halted before the double door that marked the way into the tower. The door was set in the exact middle of the flat side, its core sheathed in a dark metal. The sheathing was pitted in places from the salt air, but otherwise in remarkably good condition.

  Around the edges, the door's surface was embossed with intricate patterns. A large illustration dominated the center section, bridging the two panels so skillfully that Waln had to look twice to confirm that this was indeed a door.

  The illustration depicted the tower before them. Men and animals alike marched in the air around the half-moon, their mouths open, though whether in song or screams Waln really couldn't tell. Some of the marching figures had reached the top of the tower, and at least one lay draped across the apex of the pyramid. Stylized rays ending in what might have been raindrops or stars burst from the tower, more thickly at the top than at the bottom. Waln, remembering how the Liglimom believed Magic fragmented and those fragments had lodged in various people and things, couldn't escape the feeling that in this picture Magic was somehow being dislodged.

  The thought made Waln's flesh creep, and he hurried to open the door before any of those who followed him could get too long a look at the picture.

  "I wonder if it's locked," Waln said, keeping his tone jovial.

  He placed his hands on the broad, wide latches and lifted. He had expected them to stick, but they snapped out of their groove with an obedient metallic click.

  "They pull open," Shivadtmon said from beside him. "Most ceremonial doors do. It saves space within."

  Waln resented being told what he could have worked out from a look at the hinges, but he did not stay Shivadtmon's hand when the other made as if to open one of the doors. Better to get them open and that alarming picture out of view.

  "Ready?" he asked, and Shivadtmon nodded.

  Together they pulled open the massive metal-bound doors. These swung lightly on their hinges without a creak or hint of sticking. Again Waln felt his flesh creep. He'd come prepared for broken ruins, wild animals, spiders, snakes, and other filth. This was too easy, too quiet.

  Shivadtmon, however, was clearly uplifted. The nervousness had vanished from his voice. His eyes shone with religious transformation.

  "She welcomes us!" he said reverently. "She welcomes us!"

  He spoke so softly that Waln's men, all of whom had dropped back and readied crossbows in case something came rushing out when the doors were opened, didn't hear him. Waln was relieved. Shivadtmon might be delighted at what he took for evidence of divine welcome, but tell these northern sailors that Magic was making them welcome and they'd be down to the Islander as fast as they could run.

  For a jealous moment, Waln wondered if this was exactly what Shivadtmon intended. After all, that would leave all the treasure for him. Then Waln took a second look at that transfigured face and doubt left him. Shivadtmon had found a treasure here already in this confirmation that among his deities, Magic, at least, did not resent his intrusion.

  The aridisdu was already stepping inside, and Waln hurried to catch up with him. He didn't know what they would find, but he knew for certain that he did not want Shivadtmon to find it first.

  Initially, Rahniseeta had been too stunned both physically and emotionally to do anything but go mutely where she was told. The last of her headache had dissipated on the voyage over and by now she had certainly had more rest than any of her captors.

  The lethargy and depression that had sought to claim her had ebbed, replaced by fear of the sacrilege she was being forced to commit. The arrival of the seal the night before had seemed an omen, a promise that rescue was coming, that she had not been forgotten. Would the yarimaimalom feel the same now that she had trespassed no matter how unwillingly—on their preserve?

  Rahniseeta might try and explain how she had no choice but to do as Waln directed or the foreigner would kill her. Would the yarimaimalom accept this, or would they feel she should have died rather than break a sacred trust?

  No, Rahniseeta certainly should not wait to be rescued. Not only could she not be sure that the yarimaimalom would rescue her, but waiting would also mean she could be used as a hostage against her friends. Rahniseeta wasn't sure if threat to her safety would stop Lady Blysse from doing whatever the wolf-woman felt was right, but she was certain that neither Harjeedian nor Derian would act if their actions would bring injury to her.

  Therefore, Rahniseeta must escape, preferably long before rescue arrived. She considered fleeing into the forest, shouting as loudly as she could that she was a friend of the Firekeeper. Rahniseeta knew few details about the wolf-woman's visit to Misheemnekuru. She didn't even know if Lady Blysse had come to this particular island, but she was certain that the yarimaimalom were at least as devoted to gossip as were humans. Whoever lived here would have heard of Firekeeper.

  Then, if the yarimaimalom let her live, Rahniseeta could beg their forgiveness and hopefully redeem her life by telling in detail about the weapons the sailors carried with them, and their willingness to kill.

  Rahniseeta discarded that plan almost as quickly as it shaped in her mind. The area between her and the forest's edge was wide and open. The well-groomed cobbles would make for easy running, but the lack of obstruction would mean that a crossbow bolt would reach her all too easily.

  Shelby's groping caresses had left no doubt about his interest in her, and she'd caught an appreciative glance from a few of the others. Yet, despite this admiration, she had no illusions that if ordered to shoot her, any one of them—even Shelby—would not hesitate. Hesitation would raise doubts as to where loyalties lay, and Waln Endbrook was not a man to take disloyalty lightly.

  Rahniseeta was certain that not one man here particularly liked Waln Endbrook—Elwyn excepted, since Elwyn seemed to like just about everyone. However, liking was not the issue—getting home was, and Waln Endbrook had offered the northerners a way they could get home with honor and maybe fortune.

  During the voyage over from the mainland, Rahniseeta had heard doubts expressed that they'd ever see that home except by their own efforts. She wished she could be indignant at this lack of trust, but she had seen enough now of the intrigues and factions among the disdum that she knew the northerners had reason for their fear.

  She recalled that Barnet had been the one to introduce the subject, and wondered if he had been indirectly offering an excuse for his own action in joining Waln's party—something he might see as a betrayal of a sort, given how long he had resided in the Temple of the Cold Bloods and acted as if he thought her a friend.

  But Barnet and his possible guilt were not here on this island hilltop. Waln Endbrook and his associates were—along with Shivadtmon, an aridisdu who had returned to the way of blood sacrifice. Rahniseeta didn't think Shivadtmon would hesitate if Waln threatened to cut her throat. He might even volunteer to perform the act himself and make her blood an offering to the divine five.

  Yes. Definitely, she had to get away from here, but if running into the forest was out of the question, what remained?

  As she was herded toward the five towers and noted their relatively good condition, an idea came to her. If she could not run away, perhaps she could run into one of the buildings. Waln and Shivadtmon both seemed to believe that treasure would be found below. That would be where their attention would be fixed.

  So I, thought Rahniseeta, must find a door and get it between them and me. A strong door. Maybe I can even find a stairway up. From above I could call warning to the others when they arrive. And maybe, maybe, Waln will not even bother to come after me. I'll be locked up where he can get me later, after all, a
nd he won't want to waste time to chase me down when I can be retrieved easily enough.

  As Shivadtmon, closely followed by Waln, took a few steps into the tower, the filtered sunlight that came in with them illuminated an area in far less good repair than the outer precincts. Blown leaves had accumulated on the floor, along with a liberal scattering of dirt and grit. A shaft of light from a window set high in the wall revealed the likely source of this intrusion.

  "Shutter must have broken," Waln said, glancing up. "Clearing away this crap is going to have to come first if we're going to find a way down."

  Shivadtmon nodded.

  "Reasonable. However, we should test the floor as we go along. The same window that admitted dirt and leaves may have let in enough water to encourage rot. If there is a cellar beneath… "

  Waln nodded and sent Tedgewinn out to cut some saplings to use as probes.

  "See if you can cobble a broom or two while you're at it," he called after.

  Rahniseeta heard the carpenter's reply only absently. Her attention was fully occupied scanning the room. This particular chamber took up only about the front third of the tower, and another set of double doors stood resolutely shut along the back wall. She noted these as possible escape routes, but even more interesting was a door set on the left side of the room. From her knowledge of architecture from before the deities visited their retribution upon the Old Country sorcerers—a style of building she saw daily in Heeranenahalm—she guessed there was a staircase behind that door.

  Shivadtmon reached the same conclusion a few minutes later. Carefully testing every step, he made his way across to the door. It was slightly stuck in its frame, but Elwyn's muscular arms worked it loose without much effort.

  "What's there?" Waln asked eagerly.

  "Stair," Shivadtmon said, "going up."

  It said something about the level of trust between the men that Waln came over and inspected the stairwell himself.

  Rahniseeta longed to join them, but knew she dared not show too much interest. Even though she had continued to act beaten and vague long after she had formed her resolve to get away, someone always seemed to be watching her—Shelby most often. There was a proprietary edge to his watchfulness that she did not want to challenge until she had some hope of escaping.

  "Nolan," Waln said, "run up those stairs and see if there's any sign we're being followed."

  Nolan shook his head decisively, the first real defiance of Waln's will that Rahniseeta had witnessed.

  "With Shivadtmon warning us to watch the floor in case it breaks under us?" Nolan retorted. "I don't think so. Let's see how sound the building is before we go running up stairs."

  At Nolan's words, a thrill of mingled anticipation and fear touched Rahniseeta's heart. She hadn't thought about the possibility that the stairway might be unsound, but now that Nolan had voiced his fear, the others would be slower to pursue. She'd have to risk it when the time came.

  If the time came.

  "The stair looks sound enough to me," Waln said, "but if you don't want to go… "

  "I don't," Nolan interrupted sharply, "and don't you think your calling me a coward will make me do your bidding, neither. If you're so eager, go yourself."

  Shivadtmon stepped in, making himself peacemaker.

  "No need to quarrel. It's unlikely in any case that we could see much. The forests have grown thick since the days when the Old Country ruled, arching over many of the channels between the islands. As for ships at sea, how could we tell whether one pursued us or not? The bay is a busy place. In any case, I think pursuit unlikely."

  Waln let himself be persuaded without further argument. Indeed his gaze was already on the doors in the back wall.

  "Fine. We should get these doors open. Possibly there's a matching staircase to this one on the other side of the wall—a staircase leading down."

  The sailors, already tired of clearing away leaves and rubble with their hands and the makeshift brooms Tedgewinn had put together, were more than happy to take his suggestion.

  Once the floor in the first room had been tested and declared fairly sound, everyone crowded into the building. Rahniseeta let herself be herded along, but took care not to press forward, edging herself toward the side of the room where the staircase was. Now all she needed was a distraction of some sort.

  She contemplated how she might create a distraction while Waln and his men forced open the two interior doors. These led to another larger, deeper room with remnants of fine tile work on the walls. There was no convenient door to a cellar stair, however, and the debris that covered the floor was deeper than in the outer room.

  Waln set the now grumbling sailors to work clearing away the leaves, bracken, and bits of broken tile, but he didn't forget to post guards. Rarby was set on the outer door, and Shelby just inside. No one stated that Shelby was to guard Rahniseeta, but Shelby clearly found her at least as interesting to watch as the work going on in the inner room.

  Rather than meet Shelby's eyes and accidentally do anything that could possibly be interpreted as invitation, Rahinseeta kept her gaze fastened on the work inside. It was sickly fascinating to mark the progress, for unlike those who hoped for riches, she could only anticipate disaster. She distracted herself from visions of being carried off to sea as just another piece of loot by inspecting the room.

  Here, too, a window shutter had broken against the pummeling of time. By the light it admitted, rather than by that of the lanterns Waln had ordered lit, Rahniseeta inspected the beams that held the floor above. Some were solid, as were the sections of floor they supported, but others were seamed with slips and cracks. One was so far gone that it hung in a distorted V, bits of flooring gathered in a mass at its tip. The beam might hold for another hundred years, but to Rahniseeta it looked as if a robin's weight would be more than it could bear.

  It was while Rahinseeta was scanning the ceiling and wondering if she should offer some sort of warning that she noticed motion near the broken shutter. At first she thought it might be her rescuers, and imagined them sneaking up on the far side, where Rarby—jealous of missing anything—only reluctantly patrolled. Then she realized the motion was a raven, a raven moving with considerable stealth and purpose.

  Unnoticed by any but her, the raven squeezed in through the broken shutter. It stood for a long moment on the sill, bobbing up and down as it inspected the activity below. Then its head turned and Rahniseeta could have sworn the bright gaze fastened on her directly.

  The raven held her gaze for a long moment, then dipped its beak toward its own breast. When it lifted its head again, Rahniseeta saw it held something that shot rainbows in the light.

  The raven made an odd tossing gesture of its head, and Rahniseeta realized that it had been wearing a pendant of some sort. With this in its beak, it flew silently to where Elwyn and Wiatt were clearing away debris. The raven let the pendant fall onto the nearest heap. Then, still unnoticed by the men whose attention was fixed so resolutely down, it flew out again through the window.

  Rahniseeta realized the raven had—deliberately or not—created the diversion she needed, but that the sailors had not noticed. Seizing the opportunity, she raised her voice and called out in a voice in which the note of excitement was not in the least feigned.

  "I see something glittering! Over there, by Elwyn. Is it gold?"

  As Rahniseeta expected, her words caused a general scrabbling toward Elwyn and Wiatt. Even Shelby turned his attention that way. When Elwyn's atonal voice blatted out "It's gem! Gems on a golden chain! Finders keepers, fart faces!" Shelby forgot he'd ever been on guard.

  Not waiting to see if Rarby had responded to the commotion, Rahniseeta turned for the stairwell.. Shivadtmon had left the door ajar, and she pulled it closed as soon as she had slipped inside. The bolt had rusted into place and defied her efforts to pull it, so she left it and she ran up, praying to Magic, to whom this building had been dedicated, that the old stone stairs would not give beneath her.

&nb
sp; She felt creaks beneath her feet and one ominous crack, but Magic answered her prayer.

  As in u-Nahal, the stair ran along the wall, and at the first landing there was a door. Rahniseeta pressed up the latch and pushed her shoulder against the wood, but the door was swollen tightly into place. She abandoned it and ran up to the next landing. Here again there was a door, and this time the latch rose to her touch and the door moved.

  Rahniseeta pushed the door open, then closed it solidly behind her. There was another bolt here, and unlike below, this one could be forced into place. Ancient brackets awaited a bar, and Rahniseeta cast around for something that might fit. She found a length of hardwood where it might have been left over a century before.

  She did not wonder at this, but picked the bar up and shoved it into place. Her precautions might not help for long, but she was looking for time, not to withstand a long siege.

  A shout below announced her flight had been noticed, and Rahniseeta pivoted around to inspect this refuge she had found—and see if it held anything she might turn into a weapon. For several long, ragged breaths her eyes refused to comprehend what stood among the old furnishing and remnants of carpeting, framed by the fragmenting mosaic work that adorned the walls.

  The room was filled with monsters.

  Rahniseeta froze in terror. Then, in a voice so shrill and piercing she hardly knew it for her own, she began to scream.

  Chapter XXXVII

  Derian won a few new blisters helping Harjeedian sail the smaller sailboat they'd commandeered. Firekeeper crouched in the bows calling back navigational instructions, relayed—presumably—from the seal.

  "We're fortunate that the seal will help us at all," Harjeedian said. "There must be those among the yarimaimalom who consider that the treaty between our people has now been broken." Derian wiped his sweaty forehead on the back of his arm.