Harjeedian had joined them. "I believe Lady... Firekeeper is growing restless. Truth has already wandered off. Shall we follow? We can talk as we ride."
Derian and Plik agreed, and once the pack train was moving Plik asked, "What is our destination tonight?"
"We thought," Derian said, "to camp. The maps show several promising areas. There may be other groups there - trade caravans and such - but the presence of an aridisdu and the yarimaimalom means that they will grant us our privacy."
"Not to mention the presence of a flame-haired northerner," Plik said. "You remind me of one of our number on Center Island. Her heritage is largely fox." "Firekeeper sometimes calls me Fox Hair," Derian said, "although I have been compared favorably to a chestnut horse as well."
He glanced over at Harjeedian, and the aridisdu unbent enough to smile.
Derian looked ahead to where Firekeeper and Blind Seer were ranging off into the forests. He knew better (ban to call them back. They would come in time, and doubtless with something for dinner. He smiled at the 'ought of freshly roasted venison, looked up to where ravens glided, marking the trail.
It was good to be on the road again.
FIREKEEPER RESIGNED HERSELF to accept steady rather than rapid progress after Plik joined them. If the campground they turned in to as evening drew near was not deserted, it was, from the point of view of maintaing their privacy, the next best thing. It was so busy that one was particularly interested in a small group head-south. Firekeeper was wolfishly pleased when Harjeedian's prestige as an aridisdu got them a space, even if they did I to settle for a location a fair distance from the communal well.
"We should remain uninterrupted," Harjeedian reported as he came back from the well. "All the other groups are going north to trade, and they're indulging in a bit of preliminary business now. Further proof that the deities are smiling upon us is that one of the groups is taking a daughter to be married to an associate in u-Bishinti. They are already celebrating, and have invited everyone else to join them."
"Could you decline?" Derian asked anxiously. He'd been able to conceal his red hair under a hat, and in the twilight his fairer skin was not so noticeable. Those advantages would be lost in close quarters.
"Without difficulty," Harjeedian said. "I told them we were on a pilgrimage and the omens had said we must spend the evening in meditation and prayer."
"Omens," Firekeeper said. "Useful things I think."
She had avoided drawing attention to herself and Blind Seer by entering the campground through the surrounding scrub growth. Truth had joined them. No one noticed ravens in a place like this, and Eshinarvash had agreed to have a blanket thrown over his back. Since everyone knew a Wise Horse would never tolerate such treatment, then by definition he could not be a Wise Horse.
The company was not attempting to travel south in secrecy, but all had agreed that the less attention they drew, the less likely they were to find keeping Plik's rattier unusual appearance from drawing comments. Also, they had no idea whether the two people for whom they hunted would be hiding from them. Better to be careful.
On the road that afternoon, they had decided that, if the matter came up, Plik was to be presented as coming from New Kelvin. As far as they knew, no one from Liglim or the city-states had been in contact with New Kelvin for over a hundred years, but stories about the northern lands were spreading rapidly as embassies were exchanged. The outrageous habits of dress and facial adornment practiced by the New Kelvinese should have been exaggerated, rather than otherwise, in the telling.
Now Firekeeper stretched out at the edge of the circle of firelight, luxuriating in the sensations of pleasant tiredness that coursed through her muscles. She drifted off to sleep to the sound of Derian teaching Plik a handful of New Kelvinese phrases.
THE NEXT MORNING the trade caravans departed almost as soon as there was light to see.
"They make me feel lazy," Derian commented, the ripple of laughter underlying the words indicating he felt nothing of the kind, "and we'll be on the road not long after dawn."
"And if we are fortunate," Harjeedian said, "we should reach the border in a few days. I spoke with several of the merchants last night, and they said the roads were in good condition."
The aridisdu was carefully repacking the array of items he had set out when he said his morning prayers - a ritual, Firekeeper noted with uneasy interest, in which not only Plik, but Eshinarvash, Truth, and the ravens as, had taken part.
The jaguar now padded up to Firekeeper. "Tell them when we reach a road that will take us west as well as south, we should leave the coast road."
"The Voice has told you to do this?" Firekeeper asked.
"I have divined it," Truth replied, but something in the coolness of how she lifted her burnt-orange stare to meet Firekeeper's questioning gaze made Firekeeper think there was more behind her knowledge than that.
Firekeeper passed on the information. Harjeedian and Derian immediately pulled out maps. It seemed that shortly after noon they would pass just such a junction, and this would change where they would cross the border.
The wolf-woman left such planning to them. Instead she padded over to where Plik was busy stretching and squatting.
"You are well?" she asked politely.
"Sore," the maimalodalu said honestly. "My legs do not like poking out around the barrel of a horse, but they would like less walking all those miles. I am not as long in the leg as you, nor am I as young."
Firekeeper agreed without comment. Plik stopped his exercises and looked up at her.
She decided that his face almost equally blended human and raccoon features. His nose and mouth were more like that of a raccoon, even to the damp black leather at the nose's tip. His mouth, however, was shaped so he had no trouble with human speech. His whiskers were more dense, rather like a mustache. What on a raccoon would have been merely white fur over the darker fur surrounding the eyes was instead bushy eyebrows. His fur lengthened at the crest of his head, growing out like hair, although maintaining more the characteristics of fur.
Plik blinked at her, and Firekeeper noticed his eyes had lids and lashes after the human style.
"I was thinking," Firekeeper admitted, "how well your face is made. Sometimes staring is rude. If so, I apologize."
Plik grinned at her. "No insult offered, none taken. May I ask a favor of you?"
"Ask."
"Would you and Blind Seer stay close this morning? I have a tale I wish to tell, and I think it would be better told on the road, where we are not likely to be overheard."
"What of me?" asked Truth.
In the way of the maimalodalum, Plik needed no translation. Like Firekeeper, he understood the speech of Beasts, and could speak it as well.
"I would like you to hear the tale as well," Plik said, "but I planned to ask you myself. You are not Firekeeper's to govern."
Blind Seer panted laughter from where he was stretched in cool earth beneath a bush. The season was shifting from summer into autumn, but as they traveled south, the transition was a slow one, and the wolf was suffering under his thick coat. On Misheemnekuru the pack had laid up during the day.
"And Firekeeper governs me? " Blind Seer asked.
Plik laughed in return. "You know that best of all."
"I will run with you in the morning," Blind Seer replied, "but I may well lie up in the worst of the day's heat."
"I should not need more than the morning to tell my story," Plik promised.
He began the telling almost as soon as they were on the road, and to Firekeeper's surprise, he spoke in good though not flawless Pellish.
"I was one of the keepers," he said, "of the two humans left with us this last year. They spoke little Liglimosh, and the teaching helped fill the colder days of winter."
"Fluency in Pellish," Harjeedian said thoughtfully.
''Doubtless another reason the deities gave omens that ordained your selection as one of our companions."
"Well," Plik said
modestly, 'It is rather nice to have a common language that it is unlikely anyone we pass on the road will speak, especially when discussing sensitive matters."
"Such as this tale you will tell?" Firekeeper prompted. she wondered if Truth understood Pellish, but as the great cat was not complaining, she guessed Truth understood enough. "And they say wolves have no subtlety," Plik chuckled.
"Very well. My tale begins with your own departure from Center Island. Many of the maimalodalum felt we knew too little about the place you have called the house that was not a house. We resolved to learn more. There were two ways we could do this. One, we could send an expedition to the site of the ruins. Two, we could delve into the nature of the books, records, and other items I had taken with me from me underground room.
"We decided to do both. A few of our number who could travel more quickly went to the ruins. Others with a scholarly bent went to work on the records. One or two who have specialized in learning what they can about the few magical artifacts that remain inspected the figurines. I will say right now that we learned the least from these. Perhaps our greatest expert in these things, Sky-Dreaming-Earth-Bound, died last year.
"I'm going to spare you speculation, as well as the various false starts we had and go immediately to what we felt certain about." Plik looked down at Firekeeper, who trotted at his pony's side. "Some of us might enjoy speculating later, but for now I will stay with facts.
"Those who went over to the ruins agreed with my conclusion that they were ruins not of a residence, but of a temple. What was fascinating is that every trace of to whom this temple had been dedicated had been very, very silly wiped out. Portions of texts containing prayers remained, but never a hint of the entity to whom those prayers were addressed. Moreover, every piece of visual art had been broken or carried away. All they felt certain of was that the deity in question had not been one of the great five elements, but one of the lesser figures."
"Excuse me," Derian said. "Lesser figures? I didn't know there were such."
Plik looked over at Harjeedian, and the aridisdu took it upon himself to answer.
"There are and there are not," Harjeedian explained. "Officially, we acknowledge only Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Magic as divinities. Unofficially, there are a slew of lesser figures - some of the disdum refer to them as heroes, others as demi-deities - that the common people acknowledge. For example, Water is a divinity, but many farmers pray specifically to Rain. Rain has been personified as a daughter of Water, younger sister to Magic, and colorful tales are told about her.
"We of the greater disdum simply teach that these figures are aspects of the greater five, not separate deities. However, we feel that divine Water will be understanding of the very human need to focus on one aspect of an element, especially when, as with Rain, the need can be so great.
"Less tolerable are the stories that attempt to connect human heroes to the Great Five, making this warrior, say, a human child of Fire, or that wise teacher an aspect of Air. Least tolerable are those stories that take human failing or ..." He frowned. "I'm not sure there's a word for this in your language. It is the opposite of failure, but not mere success or achievement. It is rather the pinnacle, the highest example of a trait. An exemplar, though something more."
"I think I follow you," Derian said. "The person you look up to as the best example of what you could be, like when I was a boy and thought 'If only I could ride like my father.'"
"Very like," Harjeedian agreed, "although something more. As I was saying, while the disdum tolerate the personification of portions of the Five Elements, they resist either the deification of humans or the deification of qualities."
"I can see how humans could be deified," Derian said. "I mean, in a sense that's exactly what my people do. We take our ancestors as guides. We believe that after death they move into a state where they are better able to understand matters of greater good and evil. Then we invoke their aid in times of crisis. I don't quite understand about how qualities could be deified."
Firekeeper had been listening to this theoretical discussion with some impatience, but she actually thought she understood this point.
"I think," she offered, reluctant to become involved in a delay. "Is like this, I think 'Give me patience.' These people, they think Patience is some sort of person. They pray to him or her."
Harjeedian looked at her with surprised respect. 'That is very good. I did not know you were a student of theology"
Firekeeper frowned and bit her lip, knowing she was in danger of being insulting.
"I not, but where Blind Seer and I are born, wolves have no gods. We sing to the moon because she is pretty, not because we think is listening. Since we come to human lands, we hear of ancestors and of gods."
"Ask the wind. Ask the rain," Blind Seer quoted. "Empty howling and wet fur are all you earn for your pain."
Firekeeper repeated this, then said, "So you see, all is new to us. We must student this theology to understand humans ... and yarimaimalom, and maimalodalum."
Harjeedian nodded. "In whatever fashion you reached it, your explanation is a good one. Let me use your example of patience..."
Plik interrupted with a chuckle. "And I'm sure Firekeeper only chose to wish for patience by the merest chance. Not finding an old raccoon too talkative, are you?"
Firekeeper wrinkled her nose in a pretended snarl at the maimalodalu, but she gave Harjeedian her attention.
"If patience," the aridisdu went on, displaying a fair amount of the quality himself, "were a deity, then worshippers could pray to her and if they could not remain patient, then they could dismiss their failures by saving "The goddess must not wish me to keep my temper.' We of the disdum do not think this would be a good thing. The deities are there, but they are neither examples nor excuses. They are the elements, eternally changeable, and often incomprehensible."
"Except," Plik said, "sometimes through divination."
That is right," the aridisdu replied, pleased. "That is why the aridisdum study the art, in an effort to comprehend the divine will."
Firekeeper was relieved when Derian turned the conversation back to its original point "All right Thank you, Harjeedian. I think I understand. Plik, to what type of lesser figure do your people think the temple was dedicated."
"Not a hero or exemplar," Plik said. "Not a human at all."
"One of these abstract qualities, then?"
"That's right. In most legends, he is called the Meddler."
Silence met this announcement silence broken by the sharp hiss of indrawn bream from Harjeedian.
"I know that name," the aridisdu said. "It is from a very ancient story cycle, one brought from the Old Country, one that happily, has nearly died to nothing here in the New World. Sometimes mentions of the Meddler crop up in unrelated legends, but those legends are not told to the people. Only the most senior of the aridisdum are taught them so that they might recognize them when they are told, and take action to diminish their impact"
Derian turned in his saddle. "Back up, Harjeedian. You speak as if this is a great horror, something as evil as torture or abusing a child. Meddling? There's not a city street nor even a household that doesn't have someone who loves to meddle. What else are politics and diplomacy, but meddling with others' fates? What else are gossip and matchmaking? Is it a part of human nature."
"Even wolf," Firekeeper said, "do this sometimes. And often raven or raccoon, any of those Beasts that live from cleverness and wit."
Harjeedian nodded, but the intensity in his gaze did not fade. "Now imagine deifying this quality. Imagine having someone else to blame for those times meddling goes awry - a match badly made, a treaty in which dangerous flaws are overlooked, even an idle bit of gossip that turns a marriage sour or ruins a person's reputation. Meddling is dangerous - all the more so when someone other than the one who has done the meddling can be held accountable."
"I see that," Derian admitted. "I can see why your people have suppressed such a belief. It
seems that in your own aversion we have found the reason that temple was so carefully destroyed. I suppose that your Old Country rulers must have felt the same way."
Plik nodded, the brim of his hat flapping. "And when they learned this illegal worship had followed them here, they took steps to halt it."
"You may be right about the temple," Harjeedian said, but he did not relax in the least. "Tell me, good people, who might have been locked in the underground room? Who might have made those figurines and set so much pain and destruction at play? Who might it be?"
Firekeeper spoke out, feeling confused, "You think this Meddler was there? But you say there is no Meddler, that this is one of those deities you not believe. Why you say he is there if he is not?"
"What if..." Harjeedian said softly, as if to mute the intensity of his own emotions. "What if we were wrong? What if the Meddler does exist and we have been so unfortunate as to set him free?"
X
TRUTH HEARD WHAT PLIK SAID, and when the band of travelers stopped that night, accepting welcome in an outlying temple dedicated to the Wounded Bear, she parted from her companions. They thought she was going to fish, and so she was, but they might have been surprised in which waters she dipped her paws. First, she did find a massive, sour-tempered old snapping turtle. She broke open his shell with her powerful jaws, scooped out the red flesh with velvet paws. Then, having made the waters safer for generations of short-lived fish and insects, Truth climbed high into the limbs of a tree. There she washed, the rhythmic lapping of tongue against fur soothing her into a state between sleeping and waking.
This was an old trick, taught to every kitten who showed signs of seeing more than one world, one time. Truth had disdained it for many years, her gift being so great that she must only adjust her will to have the means of reading omens open to her. Now she washed, tongue against packed density of fur, almost tasting the dark rosettes against the golden field. She thought of nothing, focused tightly on one thing.
Meddler... Meddler... Meddler...
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