Derian and Harjeedian looked inclined to be convinced, but Firekeeper remained stony-faced, unyielding in her conviction.
"Earlier that same day," Plik said, "I saw the twins used as translators for the Once Dead. They seemed to understand many different languages, languages I don't think they've had time to learn. Moreover, later, when I asked Isende for her opinion of the interrogation, she was deeply upset and admitted to remembering nothing at all."
Firekeeper's expression was softening. "I hear something like that, too. When first I spoke with the Once Dead and told them to give us the twins, they answered, but Isende and Tiniel translated and their voices were very - even too - calm."
Firekeeper looked happier now, and Plik thought with relief that she had no more liked believing the twins were traitors than he had.
"You put them in their cottage," she said, "with ravens and owls to watch over them. I am glad."
Plik knew that by "glad," Firekeeper meant glad that Plik had halted her initial impulse, which had been to give the pair a very wolfish battering to remind them of the consequences of their actions.
"Are the twins in control of their own minds again?" Derian asked.
"I think so," Plik said. "Onion and I escorted Zebel there this morning so he could look at Tiniel's injuries. The twins were badly upset by what had been done to them, but able to talk and reason."
"So," Truth said with a long and luxurious yawn that showed every sharp and deadly fang, "did any of the Once Dead survive this spell-storm?"
"Several of the Once Dead did survive," Plik said. "Three who are, essentially, minimally talented. They did not practice sorcery as such, and were viewed as hardly better than the Twice Dead - or so I am told. Two others survived as well - our prisoners, Lachen and Ynamynet. Either the spell-storm or the yarimaimalom accounted for the rest."
"There are still a whole lot of people to deal with," Derian said. The tense expression, which had faded during Plik's report, had now returned. "I might as well say it up front and get it over with. I can't stomach the idea of slaughtering all these people. I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm no coward, but..."
He gave up trying to articulate his feelings and shrugged.
Firekeeper leaned over and patted Derian on the arm. "I don't want to do this either," she said. "Killing just to kill, to prevent possible wrong someday ... it may be wise, but it is still not right."
Derian looked relieved. "But what are we going to do?" he asked. "We can't just leave them here, can we?"
Plik interrupted, knowing that the time had come for him to raise an issue that had been bothering him since they first began discussing their return to the New World.
"I don't think we can," he said. "That isn't the important issue though."
All eyes had turned on him. Plik went on, hearing his own voice rise with a passion that had been growing since he first realized the implication of these Nexus Islands.
"Not only can't we just leave these people here," he said, "we can't leave this place in other hands. We must take the Nexus Islands and we must hold them, or all we care about will be doomed."
XXXI
DERIAN INSTANTLY UNDERSTOOD the logic behind Plik's statement, but it didn't stop it from shocking him. He decided he was getting royally tired of being shocked.
Firekeeper was looking stubborn again, and Derian didn't think Plik should be stuck with explaining to her yet again why the course of events couldn't be as neat and tidy as she desired.
"It makes sense," Derian said aloud. "I mean, we can go back, and we can do everything we can think of to make sure the gate in the twins' ancestral stronghold is jammed so no one can ever open it again, but that doesn't solve the bigger problem."
"Bigger problem?" Firekeeper asked, glancing at Blind Seer. Derian wondered what the wolf had been saying.
"The bigger problem," Derian said, "that we know there are other gates from the Old World into the New. I counted eight buildings in this circle. From what the Meddler told us, the gates into the New World were all put in one place. That means there are at least seven other points from here that end up somewhere in the New World. Think about that for a moment."
Firekeeper did, and from her expression it was evident she didn't like the implications one bit.
"Not all in city-states, either," she said, "but probably one in each colony."
"That's how I see it," Plik said, "and the current nations in the New World don't match the old colonies, not precisely. At least that's what I've gathered. Liglim pretty much has the same borders, but Hawk Haven and Bright Bay were originally parts of one colony."
Derian nodded, "And I've never quite figured out how things were divided up south of the Fox River. Stonehold has two dominant peoples, but I think there might have been more than two colonies there. New Kelvin says it used to own the area that's now Waterland. Do we count that as one or two colonies?"
Harjeedian frowned. "And if some of the materials in our libraries are to be taken as factual, rather than allegorical, the New World, as we term it, was probably more than one landmass. There may be areas out there with which we have completely lost touch. The Old Country rulers didn't like their colonists to know too much about anything that might diminish reliance on their founders."
"Think about what would happen," Derian said, looking at Firekeeper, "if a gate opened up in New Kelvin. Horse! The thaumaturges would probably declare a major festival. The sodalities would probably tell Toriovico to resign his rulership. I don't even want to think about what would happen next."
Truth licked a paw and Firekeeper said, obviously in partial translation, "So if we leave these gates here, it is like standing faithful watch at one side of a rabbit's burrow when the rabbit has gone out another hole."
"Gone out the other side," Derian said forcefully, "turned into a puma and come around to pounce on your unprotected backside. Plik's right. We've got to hold this place. Worse, we've got to understand it"
"Worse?" Harjeedian said with a dry laugh.
"Worse," Derian said, "because understanding it is going to mean understanding magic, and understanding magic is going to mean spending time with people who, quite frankly, make me want to vomit whenever I look at them and remember the things they've either participated in or at least let go on without interfering."
"Worse," Harjeedian agreed. "I see your point."
Completely unexpectedly, Firekeeper said, "I rather like Ynamynet, at least a little."
Derian gaped at the wolf-woman. "She tried to strand you! She would have killed you if she could have managed."
"Yes," Firekeeper agreed, "but she was very brave in how she do this. She risk having herself killed, and she take this risk without any help. She offer herself for her people's good. This is a wolf thing. I understand it. I like her a little because I can see a little how she thinks."
"You will never stop amazing me," Derian said with a sigh. "Next thing I know, you'll be telling me you want to adopt Lachen."
"Not adopt," Firekeeper said, "but maybe we can work with him. The Meddler tell me that Lachen is less brave than someone with his size might seem. These two are sorcerers. They are alive. Let us learn what we can about them before we talk to them, though. Plik, will this doctor talk more?"
"Zebel is trying rather desperately to show me that there are people here worth preserving," Plik said. "I think he will tell us anything we ask - although I would not count on him to bring up the worst about anyone. What is it we need to know?"
"About where they are from," Firekeeper replied. "Not the where of body, but the where of inside, of the heart. Like I am wolf..."
Plik nodded reassurance. "I understand. We need to know more about Ynamynet's and Lachen's lives, what brought them here, if they are among the ones who have family or children in the community."
"Right," Firekeeper said, relieved. "Family would be good to know about. I not want to do hostage taking, but if that is a way to make behave, then we must, but maybe we can find s
ome other hold."
Plik said, 'Truth has raised an interesting point. She says, 'Let us look at their lairs as well - before we let them return to them. Remember Dantarahma? Remember what was found after he had gone? Sometimes humans give away a great deal with what they keep, what they hide.'"
"Good thinking," Firekeeper agreed.
Derian rubbed his temples. Ever since he had awakened, he'd had a touch of a headache. It was probably nothing more than the end result of too little sleep, but he wondered if it might be a sign of the onset of querinalo.
"I hate to bring this up," Derian said, "but if Plik's predictions are right, before long some of us are going to be very, very ill. Do we try and get back to the stronghold, or do we weather the illness here?"
Plik wrinkled the tip of his nose in a fashion that made him look distinctly raccoon-like.
"How exactly did you plan on opening the gate to get back? You did have a plan for this, didn't you?"
Derian frowned. "We did. We figured that since the twins had opened the gate at least once, they could open it again."
"There's a problem with that," Plik said. "Querinalo. I'm not sure the twins still possess the ability to make the gates work."
FIREKEEPER WAS RELIEVED when the others agreed that theorizing among themselves was not the best way to resolve this new complication, not when the twins could be brought forward and given a chance to speak.
She also wanted an opportunity to take a look at the pair by daylight, and to learn what messages the beasts would read in their sweat.
"Let's go," Firekeeper said, "and talk with these two."
Eshinarvash said, "I am a little large to fit into a cottage. Let me remain here and make certain our allies do not get ambitious in our absence."
When the others arrived at the cottage, Bitter agreed with Eshinarvash's caution. "Lovable and I will join Eshinarvash. Not only do our allies bear watching, but the humans do as well."
The rest crowded through the wrought-iron gate, awakening the blood briars in the hedge into writhing motion. Firekeeper could see that Derian was torn between simply opening the cottage door and knocking as would be polite. The one would signal their distrust of the twins; the other might leave them in some doubt as to their status.
Before Derian could decide, the choice was taken from him. Isende opened the door and motioned for them all to enter. Tiniel, his face covered with a webwork of red tracery, stood near the hearth.
"It's warmer in here," she said. "Tiniel has just built up the fire."
That last might have been meant as a gesture of courtesy, but once all of them had crowded into the cottage's front room, they created heat enough. "Tea?" Isende said, indicating a kettle on the hob. Before she could go further with these social gestures, Firekeeper, seated back by a window she had opened so Blind Seer would not be too warm, spoke up: "Can you two open the gate anymore?"
Neither twin pretended they couldn't understand, and they answered almost as one. "I don't think so," Isende said. "It's like querinalo burned away a sense," Tiniel added.
"Forever?" Firekeeper pressed. "Maybe it will get better again?"
"Forever," Tiniel said bluntly, but Isende's reply was different.
"I'm not sure. I feel as if I kept some small... I don't know what to call it... Gem? Kernel? In any case, some small bit of ability might still be alive, buried deep inside. I remember sending the fires up around it, feeling a hard, glittering core preserved, maybe even refined, in all that heat."
The twins had been standing side by side in the area closest to the hearth, united against their interrogators, but now Tiniel spun and glowered at his sister.
"What? You never told me any of this!"
Isende stuck out her chin defiantly. "You were so upset. I didn't think it would make you happy. Has it?"
Firekeeper had the feeling that Tiniel at least had forgotten there was anyone else present. She remembered how the aridisdu in Gak had told them that the twins grew up being able to communicate their feelings without speaking aloud. She wondered if Tiniel had forgotten that the situation had changed.
"How could I be happy?" he said. "I remember what we had. I remember feeling the fires coming. I remember feeling your pain almost as if it was my own, but that didn't matter because we were united against whatever ne. We might die together, but that didn't matter. lien
Be stopped speaking, but the expression in his eyes grew wilder and wilder, as if he was remembering something that had been vague until this moment.
Isende prompted him, her tone cool and a touch mocking. "Yes? Yes, Tin. What then?"
"Then I felt a change," the young man said, the words coming in a rush, becoming staccato. "The heat... It be-to ... change? No, that isn't right. It didn't so much change as ... move. For the first time in my life I didn't feel you. Where you had been was heat. Fever heat. Burning ... surging through that intimacy. I felt like my heart was shriveling. I tried to drive it back. I tried to find you again, but there was always the heat where you should be. I tried to drive it back!"
The last phrase was shouted. Isende replied very, very quietly.
"I didn't. And you know why, Tin. You know why. I fed that fire, and I'm glad."
Tiniel looked at his sister, his eyes, so like hers, widening in horror and comprehension.
"But, 'Sende. I never meant anything wrong. I..."
Isende shook her head, a hard motion, direct as a slap. Tiniel shut his mourn, pressing his lips together so hard that they turned white against the brown of his skin. His agonized gaze remained locked on his sister, but she had turned her attention to the fascinated group who had listened to this interchange without sound or breath.
Isende spoke as if there had been no interruption.
"Despite this 'gem,'" she said, "I don't think I can work the gates. Not now, at least. Maybe later. Maybe someday."
Her tone had become dreamy with contemplation. Now she shook her head.
"But not now. Not soon, even. Tiniel and I wouldn't have managed what we did without the notes we found."
Derian was looking at Isende as if seeing her for the first time. "The Once Dead took those?"
"They did," Isende said with a bitter smile. "Took those and our freedom. Now, I've answered one of your questions. Would you answer one of ours?"
Firekeeper gave an answer that wasn't really an agreement, although she could tell Isende took it for one.
"What is the question?"
"What are you going to do with us?" Isende asked.
Plik replied with a question of his own. "How do you explain your deserting us to rejoin the Once Dead?"
Isende shrugged her round shoulders.
"I can't. Not really. I can tell you what I think happened, but I don't know, not for sure."
"Try," Plik suggested.
"I think that the Once Dead had put some sort of controlling spell on us. They did a lot of things to us when they first caught us - when we were so stupid as to walk right into their arms. I think they'd set some sort of sign or signal so that if they whistled, we'd come running like bird dogs to their master."
"And you think that's what happened," Plik pressed.
"I do," Isende said. She looked at her brother for the first time since ending their argument. "What do you think, Tin?"
The young man shook himself, as a dog might when waking from a deep sleep.
"I don't know what to think," he said softly, and Firekeeper wasn't at all certain he meant about the Once Dead. Then his tone became more direct. "All I can add to Isende's theory is that I have no memory of leaving that place where we were talking to you. I remember the fox. I remember Firekeeper saying something about people coming. I remember more animals than I had realized were near suddenly coming into the light. I remember someone asking if we could help move a few things into the gate building. That's it. After that, I remember nothing until there was noise and this brilliant violet light, and we were being hustled back to this cottage without a word of e
xplanation."
Blind Seer gave a low laugh. "That's quite a lot of 'not remembering,' but I will tell you this. Tiniel smells of many things, including something like rage, but there is none of the fear stink that so often comes when humans lie. If this one lies, he does it without compunction. I could believe that of the Meddler, but not of this one."
Firekeeper agreed. She switched to Pellish in order to tell Derian and Harjeedian what Blind Seer had said, then returned to Liglimosh to question the twins.
"How long until this querinalo comes?"
"My guess," Tiniel said with a bitter laugh, "is you'll feeling the fever by tomorrow at this time."
Isende nodded agreement.
Firekeeper turned to her companions. "Then we have much to do before then. Let us set about making all secure."
"What about us?" Tiniel asked. "You haven't answered our question. What about us?"
Firekeeper looked at him in cool calculation. "Talk to us after querinalo has run its course. When we know who live or die, then we know what to do with you."
"Then we stay here?" Tiniel asked. "We stay locked up, just like always?"
"Why not?" Firekeeper said.
Before she could add anything further, Derian surprised Firekeeper by asking Isende, "Would that be all right for you? Would you maybe like to move your things into the other cottage - the one Plik had?"
Isende shook her head, a small, tight smile making her seem suddenly quite old.
"I'll be fine," she said, "but I would like to suggest that if you're going to leave us locked up, you might want to move whoever comes down with querinalo here. Tiniel and I know a little about nursing those with the disease. Right, Plik?"
Plik nodded. "They do. I can testify to that. Really, this would be the best place I can think of."
Harjeedian interjected, "What about the buildings where the Once Dead lived? We have moved the survivors all into the building they were using as headquarters. It wouldn't have been my first choice, but not many of them were living there, so it was easy to search. Now they're crowded, but at least we can keep them guarded. The relocation leaves many other empty buildings we could use."
Wolf Hunting Page 49