I wonder if she'd had any idea what the real thing was like would she have been so eager to find one? Derian thought. I wish I could tease her about it.
He forced himself to listen as Powerful Tenderness reported on Truth's condition.
"Truth is far gone into possibility," Powerful Tenderness began, "so far gone that there is doubt she will ever be drawn forth again. Even if she does come back to us, there will be no alternative but to attempt to keep her from divining, or risk losing her again. Therefore, it has been divined that Bright-Eyes-Fast-Paws will take her place representing the island jaguars at the court of Tiridanti for the remainder of this jaguar year. We thank the deities for their firm guidance on this matter."
There was a prayerful muttering to acknowledge this statement, and Derian realized that only he, Firekeeper, and Blind Seer had not automatically reacted.
Shape doesn't seem to matter, he thought. In this, at least, Blind Seer is closer kin to me than Harjeedian would be—or Rahniseeta?
The thought made him very uncomfortable, as if he'd somehow been unfaithful to her.
"We now must address the matter of Shivadtmon," Powerful Tenderness went on, "and come to a conclusion as to how to deal with what he represents. We must deal with Elwyn and Wiatt, the surviving northerners. However, as will be seen, their crime is merely one of trespass and willingness to do violence in order to steal. Shivadtmon's is far more serious."
Next, the bear-human-reptile summarized what had occurred, including Shivadtmon's role as Dantarahma's tool, his deliberate misleading of Waln and his followers regarding Misheemnekuru, and, finally, in greatest detail, what had happened atop Magic's tower.
"Are you saying," Hope asked, interpreting for a wolf called Integrity, "that the evidence is that Shivadtmon actually performed magic?"
Powerful Tenderness looked at the wolf as he replied, "Yes. As you know, we of the maimalodalum can sense magic as you hear sound. The ability varies among us, but at the moment the winged folk report that Shivadtmon's knife took Waln Endbrook's life, each and every one of us felt something. Those of you who were working beside us may recall the moment."
There was a general stirring among the yarimaimalom and Derian did not need a translator to know this was confirmation. Harjeedian looked very uncomfortable.
"I was working with Healer over Questioner at that time, and saw the reaction mentioned. I was called out almost immediately after, however, to hold the canvas onto which Shivadtmon and Firekeeper jumped. When he landed, I distinctly heard what Shivadtmon said: 'I prayed to Magic and she answered my prayers.' Are you saying that he believed he prayed, but what he did was sorcery?"
Questioner stirred, and Derian instinctively knew that this was why he had insisted on being present.
"Harjeedian," Questioner said, "what I am saying—and not all my kin agree—is that where blood is involved, there is no difference between sorcery and prayer. The rituals involved may be called prayer, but they are sorcery. I think one grew from the other."
Harjeedian looked offended, as well he might.
"But, Questioner—though I understand your divined name is Defier-of-the-Deities, and now I have some idea why—that is blasphemy. Our records show that blood sacrifice was involved in the earliest rites of prayer. We evolved away from it over time, especially as the lore of the aridisdu devolved to provide other ways of knowing the divine will, but it was not until the time of Divine Retribution that the practice was relinquished—and then, so many argue, it was as much a secular decision, meant to ease our relations with the yarimaimalom, as one willed by the deities."
"So argued Dantarahma," Questioner said.
A fit of coughing forced the wounded maimalodalu to stop, and Powerful Tenderness took up the account.
"Harjeedian, the most sensitive of us—the ones with the best 'hearing' for matters of magic—have long sensed something awry on the mainland. We think that Dantarahma also was aware of us. We believe he took actions to prevent us from sensing what he and his fellows did. Therefore, we were uncertain whether we were sensing something more than an unusually powerful talent or some minor artifact sporadically at work.
"We do not think it was chance that Dantarahma sent his minion not merely to Misheemnekuru, but precisely to this island. If the matter was merely, as Shivadtmon says, to weaken the yarimaimalom's claim to exclusive use of these islands, then touching ground anywhere would do, but Shivadtmon was steered—and Waln Endbrook through him—to this one island out of so many, to the very place where those who could sense Dantarahma's actions lived.
"The northerners as a whole view anything magical as an abomination. They might make an exception for a beautiful piece of jewelry that might or might not be magical in nature, but for a maimalodalu? Waln was a violent man, as were many of his followers. I think Dantarahma expected—perhaps he had even divined—the likelihood of our paths crossing, and of our being destroyed or so severely weakened that we would no longer offer a threat to him. At the very least, he would receive confirmation as to our existence, learn whether he was threatened by a peculiarly talented yarimaimalo or—as I think he divined—something else."
Harjeedian had remained silent through all this long speech, but anguish remained on his face as he spoke.
"Are you saying that the miracles we credit to the intervention of the deities in our lives are instead the foulest of sorcerous practices?"
Questioner was blunt, but not unkind.
"That is the very question I asked myself when my travels took me into lands that did not know the deities as we do. You call me blasphemous, but I think of myself as one who would sort truth from the fraud. Only when that is done will I look upon the face of the divine unshrouded by confusion."
"And have you done so?" Harjeedian asked harshly.
"I came home again," Questioner replied, "and it remains my home. Find your answer in that."
The pain it caused Questioner to speak was obvious, but Derian rather thought it was how Healer bared her fangs that made Harjeedian cease his inquiry.
"Returning to the immediate problem of Shivadtmon," Powerful Tenderness said, "Truth averred that saving his life was essential, but she is gone to where she cannot tell us why."
Hope spoke for the jaguar Bright-Eyes-Fast-Paws.
"I do not have Truth's ability, but this much is clear. Shivadtmon must live because through Shivadtmon's testimony Dantarahma will be completely discredited. Moreover, Shivadtmon can identify others who shared worship with Dantarahma. Right now, Shivadtmon is still exhilarated from what he believes is a showing of divine favor, but when that elevation leaves him, there are several ways to convince him to assist us. I will be pleased to advise."
Derian swallowed hard, noticing now the jaguar had raised a paw from which claws extended, but he did not think physical violence would be the first resort. Shivadtmon's vanity might be appealed to, or it could be pointed out to him how he had been used and then abandoned. Derian would make sure these suggestions got to someone, just in case they needed advice on the workings of the human mind.
"And after?" Hope asked, speaking for the raven Bitter. "What do we do then? Has Shivadtmon been blessed or is he our curse?"
This led to a considerable amount of debate, and although Hope did her best to translate, Derian lost some of it. The end result was that if at all possible the fact that Shivadtmon had done magic must be concealed, lest intelligent listeners draw appropriate conclusions—and some ambitious ones chose to act on it.
"The fact is," said a maimalodalu whose name Derian had missed, "Shivadtmon was in a very good place for sorcery and had what may be the ideal sacrifice. It has been suggested that taking the life of one of one's own kind—thus symbolically slaying the self—is a powerful magical conduit."
"So," Hope said, speaking for herself this time, "I suggest we do not give any of the details. Harjeedian's report told that most of the northerners were killed when the tower fell. When Shivadtmon calms, I think he will no
t wish to boast of killing another human. Murder is not looked upon highly even in the civil courts. It is punished far more severely in sacred law."
Harjeedian smiled one of his thin-lipped, snaky smiles.
"I think that I can say a thing or two to lead Shivadtmon's thoughts in the right direction. I believe I can be subtle enough that he will not see himself led."
His offer was accepted, and the discussion moved on to the matter of Elwyn and Wiatt.
To Derian's relief, neither sailor was to be executed, but equally, neither would be permitted to leave Misheemnekuru.
"They will be our prisoners," Powerful Tenderness said. "Frankly, I would not like to be the one who tries to harm Elwyn. His luck is incredibly powerful. His nature is crude, but his intelligence childlike. I think, in time, he could be happy here. Wiatt may be less so, but although he was strongly led, still, he made his own decisions."
"One thing more," Powerful Tenderness said. "The humans have sent boats after Dantarahma, but, perhaps out of shame, they have not asked for our assistance. A seal or dolphin could do a great deal to limit the search—so could seagulls or ospreys. What are the omens?"
"We help," said Bright-Eyes-Fast-Paws the jaguar. "Even were I not a diviner, I would know this. Dantarahma must be stopped, lest he spread his blood cult to other susceptible minds. Moreover, the humans must know he is dead so they can name another to his place without hesitation."
"And those who sailed with him?" asked Questioner. "What of them?"
"Boats sink," said the jaguar with finality, and no one disagreed.
Chapter XL
Firekeeper had said nothing during the long conference, for she felt this was not her place. However, overall she approved of the course chosen by the yarimaimalom and the maimalodalum.
"Or perhaps," she said to Blind Seer as they left the star-shaped tower, "I should simply think of them all as Liglimom, for they are alike beneath their shapes, different as all beasts are different, but alike in their worship of these deities they rely upon for guidance."
"And you?" Blind Seer asked. "Have you decided what you are?" Firekeeper would have answered, for recently she had thought a great deal on the matter, but Dark Death, who had been as her shadow since her return to Misheemnekuru, sometimes forcing himself very rudely into her company, now snarled at Blind Seer.
"You can ask Firekeeper that? You who claim to love her? She is a wolf, a marvelous wolf, and if you were not such a coward, she could have all she desires."
"Are you as lost to reality as Truth?" Blind Seer snapped. "What are you saying?"
"I know a way that Firekeeper can have her dream," Dark Death replied, and there was no hiding the menace beneath what he said. "Fight me, Blind Seer. Fight me, and if you win, Firekeeper can have my life and take my shape. We have heard today how magic works, and know what is the most powerful sacrifice, do we not? Magic's tower may have fallen, but we know that she listens to those who give her worship." Blind Seer growled, his ears flattening against his skull, his eyes narrowing. "And if you beat me?"
"Then you promise the same," Dark Death replied evenly. "I thought you treasured Firekeeper. Do you treasure her so little that you will not help her gain what she most desires? She is a marvel of strength and courage. Her human shape lets her climb and use weapons. What might she achieve if she possessed a wolf's shape as well?"
"Stop!" Firekeeper ordered. "I will have nothing of this. I have already said this making of maimalodalum is a foul practice."
Neither of the males heard her, so concentrated were they on each other, locked in a conflict as old as time.
"I love Firekeeper," Blind Seer snarled. "None will question that."
"Then you fear me, fear losing to me," Dark Death taunted. "That is why you will not fight me."
"I do not fear you, nor any wolf," Blind Seer retorted.
"Stop it!" Firekeeper shouted.
The males were circling now, deaf to any sound. Those who had been leaving the area now that the meeting was complete were drawn to the snarling, but tellingly, no one but Derian even tried to interfere.
The red-haired man ran over to Firekeeper.
"What's wrong with them? Can't you stop them?"
Firekeeper spared him a glance.
"Would you step between those? I would not and they claim to fight for love of me."
Derian's expression of shock became one of understanding.
"Still," he said weakly. "Maybe a bucket of cold water?"
"That would work for dogs," Firekeeper said, "but these do not fight on impulse. The matter has been long building."
Derian accepted this without argument, but Firekeeper had no attention to spare on surprise. Her universe had narrowed to the snapping, snarling pair. Dark Death had all the apparent advantage. He had been spared the injury that had laid Blind Seer low not that long before. He was also the larger, and probably the stronger, but Firekeeper placed her hopes on the knowledge Blind Seer had gained in their travels—and then she realized how unwise she was to do this.
For two years now, Blind Seer had run with her rather than with wolves. He had missed the daily sparring that defined the hierarchy within even the best-run packs. His opponents had been other than wolves—mostly humans and their dogs. With a sudden rush of panic, Firekeeper began to fear for him, and her hand dropped to her Fang.
"Don't," Derian said softly. "Take it from another man. Blind Seer would prefer to lose than to win only because you fought at his side. In any other fight, he would welcome you, but unless wolves are far different from what you have led me to believe, Blind Seer would not welcome you here."
Firekeeper looked at him, but the very stillness of the wolves who stood watching gave proof to Derian's wisdom. Dark Death's entire birth pack was present, and even when a well-timed slash from Blind Seer brought the blood welling up through the fur along one shoulder, not a one moved except where ears and tails flickered in comment to those who stood near.
So Firekeeper dug the tips of her broken fingernails into her palms, and struggled not to move, not to cry out, lest word or sound from her distract Blind Seer at a time when he needed every iota of his concentration.
Both wolves were bleeding now, Dark Death from shoulder and flank, Blind Seer from hip and throat. Both were trapped within the white heat of fury and would not feel anything other than a crippling wound—and that not until the limb crumpled and refused to respond.
Was Dark Death flagging? No, that had been a feint, but Blind Seer had not fallen for it. Dark Death might have hoped to lure the blue-eyed wolf close, but Blind Seer had kept his distance, and Dark Death was forced to make up momentum lost.
Blind Seer did not make this easy for him. By preference a wolf goes for throat and belly, but even a tail feels pain and it is hard to concentrate when lightning quick strikes hit everywhere. Dark Death grew confused, while Blind Seer became more and more concentrated. There was an attacker now and a defender, but Dark Death was not surrendering, and his defensive stance was enabling him to catch his breath.
Losing fury's white heat had also enabled Dark Death to think more clearly. When he resumed the attack, he went for Blind Seer's head, striking from the rear when he could, but eschewing several easy holds on neck and ruff to bite at Blind Seer's skull. Blind Seer kept his ears flattened back, and did his best to force Dark Death to attack from the front, where he would be exposing his throat, but it was evident he was disconcerted.
There was a stir of interest among the wolves. A yearling elk stomped his foreleg in excitement. The ravens set up a chatter, and an eagle shrieked.
Derian muttered almost to himself, "What's Dark Death about?"
Firekeeper answered tensely. "Blind Seer was hit in head soon before we first come to this island. He was much in pain. Dark Death has remembered and sees if old wound can be made new."
"That's nasty!"
"Yes," Firekeeper said softly. "Very good fighting to go for weak and old."
Had h
er climb up the tower walls not broken every fingernail she possessed, Firekeeper's palms would have been slick with blood. As it was, her fingertips ached in complaint, and Firekeeper forced herself to ease the pressure. What good would she be to Blind Seer if she bruised her hands beyond use?
With shock, she realized that she was anticipating him losing this battle, already planning how she could save him if he preferred death to surrender. She didn't care what Derian said. She wasn't going to let Blind Seer die from pride.
Bite and slash. Dark Death rearing up onto his hindquarters to get the elevation he needed to hit from above. Blind Seer rearing back in return, chests crashing together bringing both so close that—lacking a jaguar's claws—they could do each other little injury so they must fall back again, circle, and strike.
Then Blind Seer failed to make the answering rise. Instead, as Dark Death reared up, he dove down and under. In a move almost too blindingly fast to see, Blind Seer clamped his jaws tight onto Dark Death's left hind leg, high above the joint. He pulled back, jerking his unbalanced opponent hard onto his back.
Releasing the leg, which was bleeding heavily, Blind Seer straddled Dark Death and grabbed his throat in his jaws. He shook once, threatening. Knowing there would be no second warning, Dark Death went limp, his tail curling between his legs and every line of his body signaling absolute surrender.
Instantly, Blind Seer stepped back, and scraped contemptuous dirt over his fallen opponent.
"Someone," he sniffed, "might look to this fool's wounds."
Limping slightly, Blind Seer went over to Firekeeper, his head held high with a triumph that left no room for pain. Kneeling, she gave him an exuberant hug; then she began inspecting his injuries. There were a good number. Derian went without being asked to bring a bucket of the boiled water being kept for cleaning Rahniseeta's, Questioner's, and Wiatt's injuries. Derian then excused himself to go sit with Rahniseeta for a while.
Blind Seer huffed a bit at being cleaned and medicated at a time he clearly wanted to strut around, but he submitted with the wisdom of one who has survived his share of battles and knows the value of the physician's arts.
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