Plik considered his options.
"Ill tell the twins," he said.
To this point, Plik had been given no reason to go into the twins' cottage, but when he'd awakened that afternoon, he'd gone with Isende when she went to fetch more yarn. From the brief tour she had given him, he had a fair idea where everything lay.
The twins' cottage was somewhat larger than Plik's own. It possessed two rooms. One was used as general living quarters, and, at night, as Tiniel's bedroom. The other, much smaller room, was Isende's.
The cottage's front door was not locked. Not wanting to alert the guard in the event that Firekeeper had not yet put him out of action, Plik lifted the latch as quietly as he could and walked in without announcing himself. Lovable strutted in after him with that particularly raven gait that was both bold and alert.
As they entered, Tiniel stirred slightly on his cot near the hearth, but didn't awaken. Plik stirred up the fire so there would be light for the humans to see by, then shook the young man by one shoulder.
"'Sende?" Tiniel murmured. He moved as if to draw Plik into bed with him. When his hand met fur, it stopped abruptly.
He woke more fully, and opened his eyes.
"Plik?"
"Wake up," Plik said, keeping his voice in the conversational range, and crossing to Isende's door. Unlike the outer door, this one was locked. He rapped on it sharply.
"What is it, Tin?" Isende's sleepy voice called a moment later. "Has Plik taken a turn for the worse?"
"This is Plik. I've something important to tell you - and, no, it can't wait until morning."
Clad in a long, shapeless robe, Isende emerged almost immediately. Tiniel was sitting up in his cot, staring at Lovable, who had taken a proprietary perch on his blanket-covered foot.
"Don't make my job more difficult," Plik scolded the raven. "Go tell Firekeeper how things stand."
"What happened to your face?" the raven asked, get-ting.her first look at the shaven section in the light from the fire.
"Later," Plik said. "Go report to Firekeeper. Tell her not to kill the guard."
Lovable chortled and obediently winged off through the door Plik held open. He closed it and immediately began talking.
"My friends have come for us," he said. "Get dressed and grab anything you need. Knowing Firekeeper, she's not going to wait for you to pack."
"Here?" Tiniel said, getting up and beginning to pull on trousers under his nightshirt. "They came through the gate?"
"I assume so," Plik said. "The season's all wrong here for this place to be close enough to home for them to have come overland. Further north for one, I'd guess, but maybe the Old World is colder overall. You did tell me this place was in the Old World."
"Right," Tiniel said. "Sorry. I think I was still asleep."
He'd buttoned his trousers and was thrusting his arms into shirt sleeves. Isende had vanished, but her voice came from her bedroom door.
"I don't understand. How could they figure out how to use the gate without notes? We took everything with us."
"They're pretty remarkable people," Plik said smugly. "My guess is that this is going to be a quick strike. In and out, then back through the gate. It's quite possible that the Once Dead and their people won't even know we're gone until daylight comes and you're not at the gate waiting for the breakfast tray."
"Oh!" Isende said, her voice rising with anxiety. "Do you think all of them came?"
"Probably the entire group," Plik replied, confused. What did this matter? Why didn't Isende sound happier?
"But don't you see ..." Isende was beginning when the door swung open and Firekeeper came in, Blind Seer beside her.
Almost as if they were still linked, the twins gaped as one, staring at the intruder, expressions filled with mingled wonder and shock.
Plik had forgotten just how remarkable Firekeeper might appear to those who did not know her. He had now been around a sufficient number of humans to realize that Firekeeper didn't even move like a human. She didn't move like a wolf - that would have been impossible given that she was both bipedal and had excellent posture - but if a wolf could move like a human, that wolf would have been Firekeeper. Then there were her eyes. They were far, far darker than the amber and gold that glowed from the faces of most wolves, but Fire-keeper's eyes held the same unfocused yet ever focused gaze of the pack predator, aware both of her prey and those with whom she hunted.
Firekeeper padded soundlessly into the center of the room, ran a hand through her already tousled hair, then dropped it onto Blind Seer's shoulder.
"Guard is out," Firekeeper said in Liglimosh, evidently pleased with herself. "He still stand, though, and so until relief come should look like is on duty. When relief due?"
Tiniel was gaping at the wolf-woman, but he closed his mouth and managed a question. "Is it past midnight?"
"Think so."
"Then not until dawn - probably. Might be sooner, though, now that the nights are getting longer."
"We have time, then," Firekeeper said. Those dark, dark eyes inspected Plik, and a smile touched them at finding him in one piece, then a frown as he turned his head and she saw the shaven place, but she didn't ask anything. "Ready to go?"
Isende found her voice. "But don't you see? You can't go back to the New World. If you go back, you'll carry Divine Retribution with you and who knows how many people will die!"
XXIX
TRUTH SAT, tail wrapped around her paws, watching the prisoners. Above their gags, the Once Dead glowered at her in undisguised hatred and resentment. The other two were more relaxed. Truth thought that Verul might even be asleep.
The difference, she thought, between believing one has power, and knowing that one does not.
Eshinarvash was standing near the opening to the outdoors. "I hear sounds from the direction of the menagerie."
"An alarm?"
"No. Success, I think. Small whimpers and cries of joy. I doubt a human would even hear them."
"What do you smell?"
The stallion's nostrils flared. When he angled his head to catch the correct wind, his long mane danced on the currents. He was a beautiful enough beast that Truth could look at him with admiration uncolored by the least trace of hunger.
"Many beasts," Eshinarvash said. "Some tainted by illness and rot. There is a touch of blood as well. Human, I think. Yes. Human."
"Well, as long as it doesn't belong to either of our humans," Truth said, "that's all right I am beginning to understand why the Royal Beasts strove to drive the Old Country rulers from the land. I wonder at the courage our ancestors showed in being willing to make truce with them."
"Courage," the horse said, stamping one hoof against the stone, "or necessity. Ah... Here come the first, led by Onion."
"It will be impossibly crowded if they all come in here," Truth said, "nor do I think these will have any love for walls. Suggest they remain outside, but remind them to be quiet."
The Wise Horse raised his tail and deposited a few round droppings on the floor.
"I will do so," he said with such mildness that Truth was left to ponder whether the defecation had been deliberate insult or not.
"Here come our humans," Eshinarvash added. He trotted out of the doorway and a few moments later returned with Derian and Harjeedian. Both men were quiet, and there was something odd about how Derian shied when Truth came over to greet him.
Harjeedian gave the Wise Jaguar a respectful bow, gathered up the pack of medical supplies he had not carried with him to the menagerie, and, after saying a few inconsequential words to Derian, quickly departed.
Truth lashed her tail. "Derian has never shown so much fear of me before, only healthy respect. Can you find out what happened?"
Eshinarvash snorted. "Maybe if you go outside. Ask the others what happened. Derian seems to take comfort from me. Together we can guard these four and I will see if Derian will talk."
Truth was glad enough to leave the enclosed building and her glowering pr
isoners. She leapt lightly over the still steaming horse apples, and padded over to where Onion was supervising Harjeedian's inspection of a paw-sized sore on a young wolf's shoulder.
"Derian is edgy," Truth said. "What happened?"
Onion gave his own shoulder a quick, nervous lick in sympathy for the injured wolf before offering reply.
"We told you some of what was done to us by those who imprisoned us here. We did not wish to be thought whining pups, so we did not tell you everything - all the torments they heaped upon us for no other reason than that it amused them."
Perhaps, Truth thought uncharitably, you didn't tell us because you feared you would frighten us off and you needed our help.
When the wolfling made as if to snap at Harjeedian, Onion leaned forward, grabbed the young wolf by the neck scruff, and shook him solidly.
"Be still and silent, pup! This human is helping you."
The young wolf subsided as wolves always did when chided by their seniors, but his yellow-eyed gaze remained distrustful and unkind.
Onion returned his attention to Truth. "The pup has reason for his fear. We told you that some of us had died here. What we did not tell you was what happened afterwards. Those who called themselves our keepers would skin the dead one, scrape the hide, and prepare it as they do those of Cousin-kin. When the weather grew cooler - and often at night when the winds from the ocean were brisk - they wore garments made of these hides when they tended us. It was mockery and reminder both.
"When young Derian saw some hides still drying, he instantly understood what had been done. Up to that moment, his scent had been filled with honest fear and apprehension - good things when on a hunt so uncertain. After he saw the drying hides, you could not smell the fear for the fury. Derian opened the keepers' den to us without our asking, and he opened the way into their sleeping lair as well. Only after we had made certain that these cruel ones would 'keep' no others did Derian's scent change. Now he smells sick and uneasy."
"And Harjeedian?"
"He, too, smelled of anger, but never this sickness. I do not understand."
"Derian's people know little of our kind," Truth said, "while Harjeedian's have lived side by side with us since Divine Retribution came. Tell this tale to Firekeeper when she returns. She may have words to comfort Derian where Harjeedian would not."
Half-Ear came to join them. "Bitter went searching for his mate on our return. The Firekeeper brings those she went to rescue."
"Intact?"
"Not a scent of blood on them, but Bitter says something is very wrong."
"Keep watch," Truth said. "Remind the others that silence must be kept no matter how great the pleasures of freedom."
"We will not easily forget," Half-Ear replied. "We know the insides of cages all too well to risk returning."
DERIAN LEANED HIS HEAD against Eshinarvash's flank. For the first time, he felt no wonder or awe in the presence of the Wise Horse, only a sense of comfort and security in the familiar odor of horse sweat and the smooth warmth of living horse beneath his brow.
Eshinarvash bent his neck and nuzzled Derian, nickering to him as a mare might to a nursling foal.
"Ancestors," Derian prayed softly. "Let me know that what I did was right."
A rough-edged voice broke him from his reverie.
"Fox Hair," Firekeeper said, "you must hear - we learn something."
Derian pulled himself upright. Firekeeper was standing just inside the doorway, her bearing tight and alert.
"What?"
'Trouble."
'Tell me."
"Not here," Firekeeper said. She tossed her head in the direction of the prisoners. "Others will guard them. You and Eshinarvash come."
Wolves were entering the building now accompanied by a puma longer than Truth, and quite a bit slimmer.
"Guard them." Derian heard his voice break. "You promise me. They will only guard. Nothing, absolutely nothing, else."
"Guard only," the wolf-woman replied.
Firekeeper didn't sound puzzled, so Derian guessed she had already been briefed as to what had happened over by the menagerie. She didn't sound happy, either, from which he took some reassurance. Even so, he was surprised when she waited for him to join her, then touched him lightly on the arm. The motion might have been taken as guiding him, for the building had grown darker as the light from the gate had faded, leaving only the dim illumination from the glowing blocks, but Derian knew comfort when it was offered.
Outside, Firekeeper led Derian to an area on the far side of the gate buildings where a few lanterns had been tit and a group of oddly disparate figures sat on the grass around the lanterns as around a campfire. There were blankets, too, presumably brought from wherever the twins and Plik had been staying. As he took a seat, Derian shrugged a blanket over his shoulders, grateful for the warmth.
Only then did he look to see who was part of tins privileged council.
"Plik!" he cried, and felt joy warm parts of his soul that had been chilled by confusion and doubt. "You look pretty good."
Then he saw that half the raccoon-man's face had been shaved to the bare skin. "Are you all right?"
"I've been through a lot," the raccoon-man said, his voice without its usual note of humor, "and indirectly that's what we need to talk about. First, let me introduce you to the twins we've come so far to find. This is Isende and this is her brother, Tiniel."
Derian looked the pair over as best he could in the lantern light. They looked less alike than he had imagined, siblings with a strong family resemblance rather than copies of one person. With their warm brown skin they looked rather like diluted Liglimom, but Derian had never seen anything quite like their thick, somewhat wavy hair. Seen in one light it appeared fair, but beneath it held a warmer brown.
Like it has been polished, Derian thought, not sun-faded. The color is nice-enough-looking, once you get used to it.
He remembered that Rahniseeta had said something similar about his freckles, and realized with weird relief that he was remembering his former fianc6e without the same degree of heartache.
Derian inclined his head to each twin in neutral greeting. Then he glanced to see who else was included in the conference.
Blind Seer reclined near Firekeeper. Truth sat at the fringe of the lantern light, along with Half-Ear. Bitter and Lovable cuddled close, perched on a stone plinth that had probably once held a statue. Harjeedian was missing, and Firekeeper anticipated Derian's question.
"Harjeedian is treating some of the yarimaimalom as best he can. Some were very badly hurt by their keepers."
As Liglimosh was the one common language in this group now that the twins must be included, Firekeeper used the Liglimosh word "kidisdu." Her inflection made clear she found no likeness between those who had kept the yarimaimalom captive, and their Liglimom friends.
"Harjeedian say," Firekeeper went on, "that whatever we do, he will follow."
"So what's the problem?"
"We can't go back," Isende said. Her Liglimosh had the same accent they'd heard in Gak, but even so Derian could detect a note that told him she had said this before and was desperate that she be believed. "It's querinalo, Divine Retribution, the Plague. All of you have probably been infected. If we go back, you'll spread it."
Derian thought he had suffered enough shocks that he would be immune to another, but this announcement made the inside of his head vibrate as if he'd been physically hit.
"But how have we been infected?" he asked. "Was it contact with the Once Dead and Twice Dead? If so, they've been into the New World. It's too late to stop the infection from spreading."
Tiniel shook his head. "We're not sure how the infection is spread, but neither one of us grew ill with it until we came through the gate and spent time here. The illness wasn't lingering in the stronghold or any of the old papers or anything like that."
"But," Isende said, "it's the experience of the yarimaimalom that makes me think that the infection is here in the Old World,
but not yet in the New. After Tiniel and I made our transit, the Once Dead took us captive. When we were over querinalo, we were brought back to the stronghold for a time, so we could show them where everything was, explain what we had found where. That's how we know that they captured some of the yarimaimalom and held them there in the stronghold for a while before deciding to bring them into the Old World. It was only after the transit that some of the yarimaimalom felt the fires of Divine Retribution."
Firekeeper nodded. "I have asked Onion and Half-Ear, and they say the same. Only after they come here did this querinalo strike."
"So the New World is still safe," Derian said with relief.
"Unless you go back and infect it," Isende said. "We're safe, but it's going to take a day and a half or so before we know which ones of you are vulnerable."
"Then you have already had it?" Derian asked.
"Yes," Tiniel replied for them both.
The single word was so blunt and so bitter that Derian didn't ask more.
"Plik?"
"Yes. It was ... horrible. I nearly died. I saved myself by ... I don't know how to say this, but by offering it my talent to burn instead of my body. I lived, but my ability to sense magic is gone. When I arrived, the magical energies being used here were like a surf pounding in my head. Now there is only silence."
"Are the stories true?" Derian asked. "The Plague - 'keri-something,' I think you called it - only affects those who have magical abilities?"
"That seems to be the case," Tiniel said. "Plik could sense magic. We - Isende and I - could sense each other. That ability is gone."
Isende added, shyly, as if she thought the information unimportant, "The Once Dead are those who had the Plague but their magic still 'lives.' The Twice Dead - like us, like Plik - 'died' twice. Once in having the disease, once in letting our talents die. Some of those here call those who don't catch querinalo the 'Never Lived.'"
"Does this querinalo," Derian said the word carefully, "still kill people?"
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