Tears blurred Little Fur’s eyes, and she sank down and wept.
She had been severed from the flow of earth magic! No wonder she had not been able to save Lim! If only she had been more wary! If only she had refused the pleading of the mink!
The sound of human voices in the distance reminded her of where she was, and she got to her feet, knowing she must find a place to hide until it was safe for her to make her way home. But she could not go home. The Old Ones would never allow one who was not open to the flow of earth magic to enter the secret wilderness.
Little Fur stumbled to an open cellar window in one of the human dwellings lining a cobbled lane. There was no need to search for a shelter with an earthen floor now. The cellar was damp and smelled unpleasantly of old human rubbish, but Little Fur did not care. She climbed down into it, wrapped herself in her father’s cloak, and escaped into sleep.
Little Fur dreamed that she was hurrying along a tunnel leading down to the troll city of Underth. Inscribed on the walls were strange, beautiful runes that had been made by trolls, and even though she knew she ought to be hurrying, she could not resist stopping to study them. She felt that if she stared at them long enough, she would know what they meant.
When did the trolls make these? she wondered. No one answered, but she sensed someone was watching her. The feeling was so strong that she awoke and opened her eyes.
A glowing green eye was looking at her. She gasped and shrank back, only to realize that she knew the scent of its owner. “Sly?” she whispered, her eyes picking out the black shape of the cat within the dense shadow of the cellar.
“I thought it was you, Healer, but you do not smell like yourself,” said the black cat.
“You were looking for me?”
“Crow saw me when he was flying to the wilderness to tell Sorrow and Ginger what happened,” Sly said, her green eye narrowing. “He said greeps had caught you and were going to eat you.”
“I do not think they meant to eat me,” Little Fur said. She told Sly quickly about the harling, Lim’s death, and Nobody’s being taken away by a human.
“How did you escape?” asked Sly.
“I hid when the human came, and when it carried Nobody out of the round house, I slipped out, too.”
“That was clever,” the black cat said approvingly. “Do not worry about the vixen. The humans will not hurt her. They like things that are different.”
“They will put her in a cage,” Little Fur said.
Sly’s eye glinted. “Humans are very fond of caging wild things, but cages can be opened.”
“Yes,” Little Fur said, heartened by the cat’s cool certainty. Then a thought struck her. “Did you free Danger from the zoo?” She knew the black cat had done nothing since meeting the caged panther but plot to free him.
“I will free him this very night,” Sly said exultantly. “Indeed, I must go now. You had better return to the wilderness.”
“Oh, Sly, I can’t,” Little Fur said. “I can never go there again, because the greeps severed me from the flow of earth magic. I can’t even heal properly now. That is why Lim died.”
“You must find the way to undo this severing,” Sly said.
In that moment, a solution came to Little Fur like a beam of sunlight slicing through a winter sky. “I will ask the Sett Owl how I can rejoin the flow!” she said.
Sly gave a scornful hiss. “Ginger said that I should ask the Sett Owl how to rescue Danger. I went and I asked, but the bird told me that his freedom was not mine to give, and that all was not as it seemed. She said that Danger must follow the fearful guide in order to find himself.”
“What does that mean?” Little Fur asked.
“It means nothing,” Sly said coldly, springing up onto the sill of the cellar window.
Even as the black cat vanished, Little Fur suddenly remembered what she had wanted to tell her. “Sly! Don’t forget that Danger said he would kill you if you let him out!” she called, but the cat had already gone.
Little Fur climbed out the cellar window into the lane. It was deep night, and the moon was hidden behind a thick bank of cloud. It was very dark, despite the false light shining from a pole. The lane looked very different at night, but instead of noting the differences, Little Fur could only feel the terrible silence of the mossy earth between the cobbles. She set a course for the Sett Owl’s beaked house, thinking, This is how it is for humans. No wonder they feel nothing for the earth or the earth spirit. Perhaps they build their roads to block out the deadness of the land.
Little Fur had just reached the hedge beside the beaked house when Ginger and Sorrow found her. The red fox had grown strong and his coat sleek and thick since his return from Underth, but there was still a deep sadness in his eyes. Thinking of all the trials he had endured made Little Fur ashamed of the selfishness of her grief. After all, she was not the first nor would she be the last creature in the world to suffer.
“Crow spoke true,” Ginger said in his low, purring voice. “Earth magic does not flow through you.”
Little Fur nodded. “I am going to ask the Sett Owl if there is a way for me to repair the severing.”
Sorrow looked troubled. “The Sett Owl is very old. It is as if the world grows ever more complex in her eyes, and while Indyk is very skillful at explaining her words, I dinna ken if his words count as foretellings.”
Little Fur repeated her story again. When she came to the part where the human had carried Nobody away, Sorrow’s eyes blazed yellow with outrage. “She must not be caged!” he said, growling deep in his throat.
“I do not think the human that carried her away meant to hurt her,” Little Fur said, but the fox seemed not to hear her. He began pacing feverishly. Watching him, Little Fur felt a sudden lightening at the thought that rescuing the white vixen might open the shell in which the fox had encased his heart.
“You ought to go and see if you can find where the human took her,” she urged. “Did Crow tell you where it all happened?”
“He did,” said Sorrow. He held her gaze for a moment, taut with indecision, and then something in him gave way, and he bounded off.
Little Fur and Ginger exchanged a look; then they crawled under the hedge. Clambering to her feet on the other side, Little Fur dimly saw the crossed sticks set at the tip of the steep roof that had given the beaked house its name. Little Fur took a deep breath and told herself that the Sett Owl had offered her good advice in the past.
“Have courage,” Ginger whispered, pressing his soft forehead against hers. “I will wait here for you.”
Little Fur took a deep breath and tucked up her tunic. Then, gathering the shreds of her courage, she crawled into the tunnel at the base of the wall.
CHAPTER 4
The Sett Owl
Inside the beaked house, a dim jeweled light streaked the floor, the rows of wooden benches, the pallid marble statues of giant humans, and the somber gray walls. There was no sign of the Sett Owl, nor were there any of the beasts who were usually waiting their turn to make their offerings and present their questions.
As soon as Little Fur climbed out of the tunnel that ran under the wall, she felt the fizzing of still magic in the air. She took comfort from the fact that it pressed against her skin and nuzzled at her as fondly as it had always done. She had once believed that the beaked house had given the Sett Owl the power to see the future, and had lengthened her life. Now she knew that the owl had already had the seeds of her power when she had taken refuge in the beaked house. The still magic had simply recognized and nourished what was in her.
The humans had no idea of the existence of still magic, though it had grown from the songs and yearnings that they had brought into the beaked house. Little Fur did not know why, but the magic had an affectionate regard for her that seemed to be unchanged, despite her being severed from the flow of earth magic. She had always thought it liked the earth magic that flowed through her, but now she saw that this could not be so. It was odd to imagine that it
might simply like her, as one creature likes another. Suddenly Little Fur realized that the faint smell that had so mystified her in the round house was exactly this—the scent of still magic!
“Greetings, Little Fur,” said a familiar voice. “I have been expecting you.” The small monkey Indyk emerged from the shadows behind one of the great stone forms.
“The Sett Owl foresaw my coming?” Little Fur asked.
“She did,” Indyk said gravely.
“Where is Gem?” Little Fur asked.
“In a small wooden house at the end of the yard,” said the monkey. “She fears to enter the beaked house. She fears the still magic.”
“Fears it?” Little Fur echoed.
“Unfortunately, yes,” said the monkey, sounding tired. “You have come to seek a foretelling, Healer?”
Little Fur nodded, then realized that she had forgotten that she would need to bring an offering. “I have a question, but I have no offering,” she said apologetically. She meant to add that she would go and find something, but the monkey gave her a long measuring look before saying that he would summon the Sett Owl.
After he had vanished back into the shadows, Little Fur studied the giant stone humans, wondering as she always did at the compassion in their expressions. Humans had made them look that way, but now Little Fur felt as if the enormous stone humans were gazing down at her with pity, understanding her loss.
The flutter of wings interrupted Little Fur’s thoughts. She looked up to see the Sett Owl descending on ragged outstretched wings through a swirl of dust motes. She landed awkwardly, and Little Fur was shocked to see how frail she had become, and how cloudy her enormous eyes were.
“Greetings, Sett Owl,” Little Fur whispered.
The Sett Owl clacked her beak and said in a rasping voice, “Greetings, Healer. You have no offering, but I will accept your question if you will grant me a boon.”
Little Fur nodded, and said quietly, “I am severed from the flow of earth magic.”
“Yes,” agreed the Sett Owl.
“Can it be undone?” Little Fur asked.
“All is not as it seems,” said the Sett Owl. Around Little Fur, the still magic pressed against her like hands seeking something hidden. “The she-wizard foresaw what will come, and you must not fail her vision. You must go to the source in order to understand what you must do.”
Little Fur was puzzled at the mention of a she-wizard. Surely this foretelling was similar to the one that Sly had received. Perhaps the Sett Owl was confused. “Sett Owl, it is I, Little Fur,” she began.
“The beloved,” said the Sett Owl dreamily.
Little Fur blinked in surprise. “I do not understand,” she said.
“No,” agreed the Sett Owl. “To understand how you came to be as you are is the nature of the quest you must now undertake.”
“But I know what happened,” Little Fur said hastily. “The Troll King sent some greeps to sever me from the flow of earth magic, or maybe it was simply an accident.”
“The Troll King sent the greeps to steal the green stone you wear,” said the owl. Little Fur felt for the stone left to her by her mother, but it was safe around her neck. The Sett Owl continued, “The Troll King believes the stone is not empty, but he is wrong: only with understanding can the stone be refilled, and that which is sundered be healed. Only at the source will there be understanding, but the way is perilous.”
“What source? What way?” Little Fur asked desperately, because she could see the Sett Owl’s eyelids beginning to droop.
The owl opened her eyes wide and the clouds in them drew aside, leaving a clear round whirl of stars and constellations. “I have no more answers to give, Healer,” the Sett Owl said. “I have answered the one who comes without an offering to ask the last and the first question. I am no longer the Sett Owl.” Her eyes closed.
Little Fur had a wild desire to shake the old bird. The violence of the impulse shocked her, and she stepped back in dismay. Was this rage of emptiness and confusion what humans felt? And trolls? No wonder they did so much harm!
“Healer?” Indyk proffered a bowl of water. “You smell of thirst.”
Little Fur wanted to slap the water away, but she forced herself to take the bowl and drink a few sips, resolving to keep control of the impatience that had taken root in her heart.
“I did not understand the foretelling,” she told the monkey as she gave the bowl back to him. “And surely the Sett Owl said some of the same words to Sly.”
“Some readings are so large that they touch upon many lives,” Indyk told her gravely, setting the bowl aside.
“But how can Sly’s wanting to free Danger have anything to do with me?”
“Perhaps the similarity was only seeming, and there is no connection. Yet the Sett Owl sees links that others do not,” Indyk said. “And remember that the words of the deepest foretellings are riddles that want solving.”
“A riddle,” Little Fur echoed. The word tasted tricky and complicated on her tongue and in her mind.
“Only in understanding the riddle can its solution be found.”
Again Little Fur felt a surge of anger, but she choked it back to ask, “Why couldn’t she just tell me what to do?”
“I am surprised you would ask that,” Indyk said softly.
Little Fur’s anger ebbed before the gentle dignity of the monkey’s response. She looked again at the frail owl and felt a pity so strong that it hurt her, for what had all her power done but use her up? She thought of the last words said to her by the owl and asked softly, “What did she mean by saying that she was no longer the Sett Owl?”
“Herness told me, when first I came here to the beaked house to stay, that one day a creature would come without an offering to ask a question that would be the largest she had ever been asked, and answering it would quench her.”
Little Fur was aghast. “My question—”
“For which you owe a boon,” Indyk said, and there was sadness in his eyes. “You must ask the first question.”
“The first?” Little Fur repeated dully, but the monkey had turned to tenderly groom the sleeping owl.
After a moment, she went quietly to the tunnel entrance and crawled back outside, devastated to think that her question had used up the last of the Sett Owl’s power. And what on earth was the meaning of the boon she had been asked for? What was the first question, and of whom ought she to ask it?
Little Fur strove to calm herself by concentrating on the things she had understood. The Sett Owl said that the Troll King had never meant to kill her or sever her from the flow of earth magic. He had only intended the greeps to steal the green stone. The harling had obviously prevented the theft. But what did the Troll King want with her stone when he had his own? The Sett Owl said he believed the stone was full, but how could a stone be full of anything but itself? Little Fur had been given more questions than answers.
The most puzzling part of the telling was the mention of a she-wizard, for there were no wizards in this age, any more than there were full-blooded elves. The only wizard Little Fur knew anything about was the she-wizard of the last age, who had captured her mother, a troll princess, and her father, an elf warrior. The wizard had kept them imprisoned until the hatred between the elf and the troll faded and they became allies. Their attempts to escape failed, but in time friendship turned to love, and Little Fur had been conceived. Only then had the wizard told them that the child they had made was the reason she had held them captive. During the flood that ended the age of magic, Little Fur’s father had cracked open the earth and sacrificed his life to save his troll princess and the baby she carried.
But the Sett Owl had seemed to be saying something quite different. The she-wizard foresaw what will come, and you must not fail her vision. It was almost as if she had contrived for Little Fur to be born so that she could do something in this age of the world.
“Healer?” said Ginger when Little Fur emerged from the end of the tunnel into the moonligh
t.
Little Fur looked into the gray cat’s orange eyes. “She said I must go to the source, but I do not know what source she meant.”
“What else could she mean but the source of the flow of earth magic?” said Ginger simply.
Little Fur stared into his bright eyes and wondered if dull-wittedness was another effect of being severed from the flow of earth magic.
“The source of earth magic is the earth spirit itself,” Ginger continued. “Did the Sett Owl say how you are to find it?”
Little Fur shook her head. “She said only that the way was perilous.” She noticed a small horde of lemmings clustered nearby, talking quietly, and remembered urging the Teta to send some of her people to ask the advice of the Sett Owl. How long ago that seemed to Little Fur, though it was only the day before!
“Greetings, Healer,” said one of the lemmings courteously.
“Greetings,” Little Fur said. “I have to tell you that Lim has—”
“He has joined the world’s dream,” said the lemming with such serenity that Little Fur was shocked, not because the lemmings had known before she told them—for many animals had a clan link that told them of the death of one of their number—but because of their calmness in the face of that death.
Perhaps it is part of their creed of politeness to greet death with this gentle acceptance, Little Fur thought. And why not, for do not all creatures die eventually? Maybe if she herself had not been severed from the flow of earth magic, she would not have felt such raw sorrow at Lim’s death. But without earth magic to connect her to all other living things, a death was a terrible severing. Little Fur forced herself to describe Lim’s bravery to the listening lemmings.
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