Firekeeper nodded and made a quick translation that across the gist, but left out Truth's elaboration. She could tell the jaguar was annoyed, but she didn't care. She had other things to think about.
Harjeedian was frowning at Derian. "Do not let yourself be fooled into thinking of the Meddler as a 'fellow' of any sort. You heard the legends Plik related. He is not a creature to be trusted in the least."
"Those were good stories," Derian said, "but I don't know if they're exactly history."
"They are not unlike those I learned as sacred lore," Harjeedian said in a lofty tone that Firekeeper thought might have worked if Harjeedian was speaking as aridisdu to the faithful, but was sure to annoy Derian. "The Meddler is not to be trusted. This is what we are taught."
Firekeeper interrupted, "What language you hear the Meddler talk?"
Harjeedian and Derian turned from their nascent argument and spoke almost at once: "Pellish" from Derian, "Liglim" from Harjeedian. Then they stared at each other.
Firekeeper looked at the Beasts.
"I did not think of it," Eshinarvash said. "He spoke, I understood."
"The language of Liglim," the ravens said.
"He spoke to me as in my dreams," Truth said. "I'd never considered him speaking any particular language."
"Liglimosh," Blind Seer said.
"And I heard Pellish," Firekeeper said. Then she translated for the humans what the Beasts had said.
"This is very strange..." Derian began, but Harjeedian interrupted.
"This odd power is proof of what I said. The Meddler is a deific figure of some sort."
Firekeeper huffed annoyance at him. "Hush. Tell me this. We all saw him. Derian speaks of being able to see through him. Was this so for all?"
Various sounds and gestures of agreement followed. Firekeeper took a deep breath.
"And what did he look like to you?"
"A man of my race," Harjeedian said, "of perhaps midle years, his clothing and the style of his hair after the way such was worn before the coming of Divine Retribution."
Eshinarvash said, "Also a man of Harjeedian's people, but dressed like those at u-Bishinti."
"He looked like someone from Liglim," Derian said, "but he smiled just like my father's brother, the one everyone knows isn't quite honest, but who you can't help but love."
"A wolf," Blind Seer said, "with yellow-golden eyes and fur perhaps a bit darker than my own. He was larger than me, although not by much."
The ravens and Truth had seen the Meddler much as Eshinarvash had, although in Truth's visions the Meddler's hair had been iron grey.
Firekeeper considered what the others had said and was startled from her reverie when Derian said, "And you, Firekeeper, what did he look like to you?"
"Like a vision from a dream long ago," Firekeeper said deliberately, "although not wholly so. He had the head and tail of a wolf, but walked upright like a human. His eyes were yellow-brown."
She did not add, "He was strangely handsome," but she wondered from how Blind Seer sniffed at her if he, at least, guessed. She stroked along his back in a quiet bid for forgiveness.
"Why all these faces and languages?" she asked.
"The Meddler is not to be trusted," Harjeedian snapped. "Surely this is yet another proof."
"Maybe because, as he told us," Truth offered, "he lacks a body of his own and so must furnish one from our imaginations."
"I think Truth's right," Derian said, "but so is Harjeedian. Not one of us saw a vision that was frightening or repellent. In the case of my being reminded of my uncle, that made me even inclined to like him a little."
"But why," Harjeedian said, mollified somewhat, "did Blind Seer see him as a wolf when none of the other yarimaimalom did so?"
Blind Seer replied, and Firekeeper translated, "Perhaps because I am not of your people, nor did I listen too closely to Plik's tales along the road. Indeed, I mink I missed several when I was resting from the day's heat or scouting the road."
Harjeedian listened, then said, "Perhaps the reason we all heard and saw as we did is as Truth suggested - because the Meddler lacks a body and relied upon our minds to give him one. However, it is possible that he deliberately manipulated us in some fashion, hoping to make us see him in the most favorable light possible."
Derian grinned at the aridisdu. "It doesn't seem to have worked with you."
"I have training and education precisely against such dangers," Harjeedian replied stiffly.
Firekeeper ignored the exchange, hearing nothing more than puppy growls in their verbal sparring. Instead she looked at Blind Seer.
"Do we trust this Meddler? Or do we go ahead and try to rescue Plik without his aid?"
Blind Seer looked very unhappy. "I think we must see what aid the Meddler can offer. We know that there are dangerous things in this forest. Plik and the others saw that the copse was strange even before Night's Terror or the Meddler told how it had come to replace the house in which the twins laired."
Firekeeper turned her attention to Truth. "You are the one who has had the most contact with the Meddler. Do you think he has any knowledge that will be useful to us? "
"I will ask," the jaguar replied. "I will ask”
EVENTUALLY, THE WOLVES LEFT TO HUNT for game larger than a rabbit, for someone the size of Blind Seer was not sustained for long on small game.
Truth wished them luck, but hoped they would take their time about the hunt. She wouldn't mind a chunk of freshly killed pork or venison herself, but she was not as fast a traveler as the wolves. In any case, she could turn the time to better use. Concentrating on the lessons the Meddler had been teaching her was not easy at the best of times. However, she found the manipulations harder when she was aware of Firekeeper's critical gaze. Even when Truth went off into the forests alone, she could feel that watchful waiting. It troubled her and broke her concentration.
"You're aware of Firekeeper," the Meddler said, appearing as he always did, unannounced and without warning, "because our Firekeeper has a very strong sense of herself. You have something she wants - the secret to how Plik might be safely pursued. In a sense, then, you've become a part of her personal sphere."
Truth didn't like the idea of that one bit. She was a jaguar, free and independent. Her life was her own, no extension of the wolf-woman's. Judging from the way the Meddler's lips twisted in an ironic smile, he knew - or guessed - what she was thinking.
"You've encountered people like that before," the Meddler said, "back when you still did divinations. People around whom the currents kept eddying, people who made currents rather than being carried by them."
Truth gave a dismissive sneeze. "Perhaps. What I want to know is if you are truly going to offer us any assistance, or whether we must go after Plik on our own."
"I have something to offer," the Meddler said. "Don't you think I've been working on the problem?"
Truth licked the edge of one paw. "I think you must have been. As you tell the tale, that copse appeared moonspans ago. How to get in and out of it must have greatly occupied your imagination."
"And so it has."
The Meddler seated himself beside Truth. They were not precisely in a place, but the longer Truth had contemplated those golden green spaces, the more she had become aware of them having characteristics. This was a comfortable place, more solid than the one where they had encountered Bitter. It was a place that invited lounging.
"So what can you tell me?" Truth said.
"The copse," the Meddler said without the evasiveness she had expected, "is probably an illusion - thus the anomalous trees and such. It is someone's idea of a forest grove, not a real one."
"You speak very matter-of-factly of something that is impossible," Truth said "At least of something that I have been taught was impossible."
"Since the Divine Retribution," the Meddler agreed, "such things have indeed been impossible. Anyone who attempted magic on such scale would have been burnt from inside. In the old days, before I was
imprisoned, such things were not common, but they were not unknown either."
Truth may not have been given an aridisdu's education, but she had lived most of her year amid the temples of Heeranenahalm, and she had heard more stories than most.
"Go on," she said.
"What I suspect is that the twins stumbled upon an artifact that generates the illusion," the Meddler said. "The illusion would have been meant for defense of the estate, hiding it from those who might mean the inhabitants harm."
"And?" Truth said, perking her ears and lashing her tail as she might when readying to pounce.
"And," the Meddler went on, "I wonder if that illusion field was part of a larger defensive system, one that has also created the bracken beasts and spread seeds for the blood briar."
"Convenient," Truth said, "for this theory leaves your pets guiltless of the deaths that have come since."
"Logical," the Meddler countered, "for how could Isende and Tiniel, unschooled in magic as they are, have managed so much in so little time?"
"So what do you think happens to those who walk into that copse?" Truth asked.
"I think that the outer edges of the copse act like a spider's web - they send warning and snag any who would intrude. Once the intruders have been seen, they are inspected. If they are judged to offer any threat, then the bracken beasts or blood briar come forth. The intruders probably are overwhelmed before they can flee, maybe snared by the briars."
"Probably killed," added Truth, who had a cat's lack of romanticism regarding such things. "And the victims' blood would feed the spell or artifact, enabling it to continue guarding those hidden within."
"Precisely my own thoughts," the Meddler agreed.
"And what plan do you suggest," Truth asked, "for getting through this trap?"
"I think," the Meddler said, "that if the spider's web was not touched, then the defenses would take longer to become active, if they activated at all. That delay could be used to advantage."
"What advantage?" Truth asked.
"How can I know without having been inside?" the Meddler said, exasperated. "Nor can I see inside. Such barriers would have been constructed with creatures like myself in mind, for bodiless scouts were not unknown. I would alert the 'spider' if I pushed through, just as you would if you walked through."
"But your tone says you think there is some other way," Truth said. She thought she knew the answer, and her fur rose at the thought, but she had to hear him say it. It might be the Meddler had something else in mind.
He didn't.
"I have told you already that you are extraordinary in your ability to move between places. I have been showing you how to do so without leaving your body behind. Now this was a rare talent, even in the old days, and I do not think the web will be set to snare one who uses it. It will be like a door that has been barred and locked - but only against those who come from without. You will be within, and none will raise claw or blade against you."
"That's why you came for me," Truth snarled. "All this time you've been planning this. That's why you came for me. You thought I could get into the copse."
The Meddler blinked. "And what's wrong with that? Does it change the favors I have done you?"
"You could have asked ..."
"Would you have believed? Would you have acted? Would you have cared?" The Meddler made a dismissive gesture. "Rip out my lungs when Plik is safe, not before. I tell you, I think this is the best way to go after him. You can carry with you one other - I would suggest Firekeeper - and then either disarm the trap or guard the others as they come through. Then with your full force, you can rescue Plik."
Truth considered saying many things, her tail lashing as it might before a battle with some creature who threatened her cubs, but in the end she said, "Show me how this can be done."
WHEN PLIK NEXT AWOKE, the light had shifted.
I've slept a day and a night and part of a day, he thought. His mouth was dry and his stomach rumbled complaint, but that was better than the vagueness he had -felt before.
He struggled to sit up, and a familiar voice said, "Let me help you. You're not as steady as you think."
Isende, who had been reading near a window, rose from her chair and came over to the bed - at least his first impression was that this was Isende. When the person drew closer, Plik realized that this must be Tiniel.
Tiniel had the same not-brown, not-golden hair as his sister, the same warm, brown eyes. He was, like her, soft and somewhat overweight, and this further blurred the distinctions between male and female. However, his movements were those of a young man, full of contained energy, and even beneath the fat there was a sense that he would grow into lines and angles, where Isende would incline to curves.
'Tiniel," Plik said, and was delighted to hear himself speak a word, not a bleat. It was a poor excuse for a word, dry and croaked, but an honest word.
"Tiniel," the young man said, "and you are Plik. Would you like some water?"
"Please."
Tiniel poured a cupful from a heavy pottery jug. Then he came and propped Plik up, half holding the cup while the maimalodalu sipped.
"More?"
"Please."
After a second cupful, Plik heard his bowels rumble audibly.
"There's a pot behind that screen," Tiniel said, and helped Plik over without further comment, nor did he extend his solicitude to checking on him. When Plik emerged from behind the screen, feeling immensely better and completely ravenous, Tiniel gestured to a low table.
"I can bring you a meal. Nothing too heavy, but sincerely sustaining. The blood briars take a lot out of one."
Plik wondered if Tiniel spoke from experience, but he decided not to ask. He was remembering how Isende had wondered what manner of creature he was, and thought he might as well pretend to be just a bit simple. People weren't threatened by stupidity. In fact, they often grew fond of it, as long as it did not become annoying. Plik had noticed that people - and in this he included humans and maimalodalum and yarimaimalom all entire - tended to talk more freely to those they thought just a little stupid. not at all threatening.
Cute, furry, and utterly uncomplicated, Plik thought. seating himself, and noting that the fit of table and chair with his build were fairly comfortable. That's me.
Tiniel returned after a short time with a tray on which the centerpiece was a brown broth in which dark green vegetables had been lightly cooked. There was a loaf of wheat bread and a pot of what tasted like a goat cheese, though not seasoned in any fashion Plik had encountered before.
"The soup is good for rebuilding blood," Tiniel said. "Try to finish it. I can bring you more if you can stomach it."
Plik nodded, and obediently began spooning up the soup. It was flavorful, so getting it down was no great trial. When he began eating, Tiniel stood indecisive. For a moment, Plik thought the young man was going to return to his reading. Then he drew his own chair over and sat back a little from the table.
"Good?" he asked.
"Very good," Plik said.
"So you don't mind eating meat, then. We didn't think you would."
Plik made a noise indicating genuine confusion.
"Your teeth. They didn't look like the teeth of an herbivore, more like those of an omnivore."
Actually, Plik thought, rather like those of a raccoon, with a bit of variation toward the human in a few odd places. At least that has been my assessment. It isn't easy to look at your own teeth, even with a mirror.
His fur rose, just a little, at the idea of Tiniel and Isende inspecting his teeth while he slept - or more accurately was drugged. It bothered him that he remembered nothing of it, and he wondered what else they had done.
"Where am I?" Plik asked. It was a reasonable question. It would have been odder if he hadn't asked.
"You're in the place Isende and I have made our new home," Tiniel answered. "You were brought here by the bracken beasts - by one of them. Your friends broke most of the others."
"Are my friends here?" Plik asked. He didn't think so. He hadn't scented them, but then they could be being kept elsewhere.
"No, they are not," Tiniel said, and his tone forestalled further questions on the subject.
Plik decided it was best for him to look cowed and a little frightened. He did so, eating his soup, and then, when it was done, starting on the bread and cheese.
"Would you like more soup?"
Plik nodded, not quite raising his head and looking up through his lashes. He had rather good ones, and knew the expression (Hope had teased him about it) made him look vulnerable and forlorn.
When Tiniel left, Plik strained to gather any stray sound or scent that might tell him something more. Almost immediately, the surf-like pounding resumed, so powerfully that Plik smashed the bread he was still holding between thumb and forefinger. He squeezed his eyes shut, and, dropping the bread, covered his ears, focusing inward on himself. The horrific pounding began to dim, fade, then diminished entirely.
Slowly, cautiously, Plik opened his eyes again, uncovered his ears. The pounding did not return. He picked up the smashed bread and bit off a chunk, began chewing thoughtfully.
What happened there? I tried to get some idea, any idea of what was out there. Yet my eyes are fine now, my hearing is unimpaired. I can eat and drink. The disorientation is gone.
He thought more, then realization hit him. When he had reached out to sense, he had done so with all his senses, including the undefined one the maimalodalum used to detect magic. He had done so on reflex, opening his awareness to the full.
And I opened that awareness to the full because rarely has there been anything for it to find. When it has, then the sensation has been fleeting and distant. Last year when the tower fell, that was different, more like a scream. This was like a pulse. A magical pulse, and a steady one at that. What powers do these twins have? How have they awakened them so quickly?
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