"Not yet" Firekeeper admitted. "This is hard to do in the darkness."
She could feel the wolf straining against the mesh.
"Take care," she warned. "If you rise while tangled, you may pitch yourself into the waters and drown."
The wolf subsided, but she could feel his nervous panting, and the wash of heat coming off him as his tension grew.
There was a thud and clang, then the faintest glow of light broke the absolute darkness. Without looking up from her work, Firekeeper knew that those who had trapped them were coming closer. She could not tell how many sets of feet trod the stone, only that there were more than one.
She pulled and was rewarded by feeling a large section of the net come loose, freeing the wolf's hindquarters, though she suspected at the cost of a great deal of fur.
She had time to do no more. There was a thump as the bridge joining their walkway to the next was lowered. The light grew brighter and shone from a higher point so she knew that someone had lit one of the many lanterns hung for the convenience of those who worked here. In but a breath or two she would have lost whatever advantage she might have.
Standing, Firekeeper tossed the edge of the net forward, hoping to throw it entirely off the wolf. Without waiting to see if she had succeeded, she leapt over Blind Seer's recumbent bulk and drew her Fang. In the improved light, she could see at least four coming over the narrow bridge. Men, she thought, enormous, bulky figures.
Even in the lantern light, they were hardly more than shapes. She, however, was only a shadow, a darker form against the dark.
The man in the lead barely suspected her coming. Then she was against him, pitching him into the stinking waters before he could raise an alarm.
The man behind him was not so easily taken. He waved the short sword he carried and moved forward, clearing the way for his fellows to exit the bridge, shouting back at them in some incomprehensible garble.
Firekeeper was kept busy dodging the man's blade. He was skilled with it, but not so skilled that he thought to vary the pattern of his attack and defense. When she had learned his movements, she brought her Fang up and cut his throat as neatly as if he had been a rabbit.
He sprayed blood enough to soak her and the stone on which they both stood before sliding into the river.
Spitting his gore from her mouth, Firekeeper readied herself for the next attack. She could hear Blind Seer's claws scraping against the stone, accompanied by his furious and frustrated whines, and guessed that the wolf was still pawing himself free from the net. That he had not called for her assistance assured Firekeeper that he thought he could manage.
All she had to do was win them both enough time.
The remaining two men were more cautious than their fellows had been, for the first had thought to find netted captives and the second, frightened by the suddenness with which his leader had vanished, had not thought at all.
These moved forward with care, neither side by side nor one after the other. Rather one came forth hugging close to the wall while his companion moved a pace behind, but over slightly so that he gave his fellow room. The man on the outer edge moved his hand in a slow looping motion that Firekeeper found vaguely familiar. Only after the man made his cast did she recognize it.
She jumped into the air, but could not completely avoid the weighted rope that lashed out to snare her. The man had been trying to pin her arms to her sides and had succeeded only in snaring her about the waist and hips. Even so it was enough to throw her off balance.
He yelled his triumph and shouted something in a language Firekeeper did not understand as he hauled back on the rope, drawing it more tightly around her and dragging her closer. His fellow gave an answering cheer and moved in, intent on either killing or disarming Firekeeper.
Regaining her balance was nearly impossible with blood-wet stone beneath her feet and the rope jerking around her waist, so Firekeeper did not dare lower her guard long enough to try to slash her Fang through the restraintùand she feared that it would take more than one attempt to cut the supple coil that wrapped her round.
The second man was closing, cautious in his awareness of both the chancy footing and the knife that had so easily opened his companion's throat. Firekeeper spat at him, darting her Fang in little motions that made clear what would happen if he came much closer. The swordsman was no fool, but he was also aware of how much of her mobility had been sacrificed.
All he had to do was take care while his comrade reeled her in. Firekeeper knew this and wondered if somehow she might turn the rope to her own advantage. She pulled back against the rope, seeking now not only to maintain her distance, but to force the other man to pull even harder. Her strength was tremendous, but she was far smaller than her opponent and weight was against her. Moreover, her feet slid on the blood of the man whose throat she had cut while the man on the rope's other end had comparatively solid footing.
Still, Firekeeper did not hope to drag him forward, rather to force him to pull as hard as he might. When she judged this moment had been reached, Firekeeper leapt forward, dodging wide around the man with the sword so that the rope caught him across his lower body. He fell, dropping his sword, his weight dragging at the rope and making Firekeeper lurch and drop her Fang.
The man holding the other end of the rope staggered back, unbalanced by pulling against a force that was suddenly no longer there. He reeled back several paces, then fell over into the sewer.
Now Firekeeper became aware of a flaw in her hastily devised plan. In the faint light she had not seen that the man had the other end of the rope fastened onto his body. When he fell, she was jerked forward into the disarmed swordsman. He, unaware of this complication or uncaring now that he was the lone survivor of what had been four strong men, beat at her with his fists, screaming what must have been curses or insults.
Firekeeper warded off the blows as best she could, but she was more concerned about getting free from the dragging rope. Without her Fang, she could not cut it. The rope man had been caught by the strong current formed by the flooding together of these several streams, and whether living or dead was providing an anchor pulling her inexorably after him.
She howled her fear and frustration, hammering at her adversary. The world narrowed to the weight that dragged her toward the edge of the walkway and the man who struck at her. In frustration rather than with forethought, Firekeeper shoved her attacker, pushing him away from her.
He tripped on the taut rope, stumbled, and, grabbing at the rope as if to stay his fall, went toppling over the edge. Firekeeper, unbalanced by the momentum of her own attack, felt herself going down after him. She dove over the edge, her head and shoulders sliding into the stinking waters, and knew that she would die choking on human filth.
At that moment, a searing heat on her left calf divided Firekeeper's world into twin pains: the quiet one of suffocation paired with a loud screaming from muscles and bone clamped onto by strong jaws, jaws that pulled back and upward, dragging her out of the water.
The rope about her waist still hauled her down. Though Firekeeper could hardly think through the sharp pain to her calf, she knew that if Blind Seer was to succeed in drawing her up she must release herself from this competing grasp. Laboriously, she plucked at the rope, untwined the weighted end from where it held the coils close to her, and at last felt it slide free.
With a final jolt of pain, Firekeeper felt herself dragged level across stone that reeked now of her own blood mingled with that of the man she had slain. Never before had she longed for anything as she did now for unconsciousness and the release from pain it would bring, but she knew that if she slept now she would never waken.
"Get me," she managed, speaking as much with a toss of her head as with words, "closer to that one. His clothes may make bindings for my wounds."
In reply the great grey wolf instead went and dragged the dead man over to her.
"No need," he said, snuffling at her injured calf and licking the blood away, "to m
ove you when he is so far beyond protest."
Firekeeper didn't waste energy agreeing. The lanterns hanging high on the walls gave enough light that she could examine the dead man. He did not carry a first-aid kit, but his shirt was good cloth, easily torn into bandages with scraps left over for her to use as towels to mop away the worst of the filth that still dripped over neck and shoulders.
Doc had given Firekeeper some training in medicine and she knew that this stuff was as great or greater a danger to her healing as were the wounds themselves. Therefore she did not protest when Blind Seer, having licked her wounds clean, took it upon himself to begin to wash her.
"Foul stuff," he commented, panting, his breath like heated sludge, "but better gone from you."
Binding her wounds hurt so much that Firekeeper had to keep pausing to let bright flashes of pain fade from behind her eyes. By the time she had finished her labors she knew that though Blind Seer had been as careful as he mightùa thing she knew for her leg bone was not crushed to splintersùstill his fangs had sorely lacerated her flesh. She wrapped her makeshift bandages around and around, partly to stay the bleeding, partly to soak up what would inevitably flow.
"My Fang," she asked him. "Did it go into the muck?"
The wolf nosed around and came back, bearing the bare blade very carefully in his mouth. She took it from him, and slipped it into its sheath, for she knew it would take all that she had merely to move. There would be no more fighting for her.
"No convenient walking staff," she asked, trying to make light of her need.
"None," the wolf said, "and no time to hunt. These will be missed and we do not want to await the searchers."
Firekeeper agreed.
"I shall make do with your shoulder then," she said.
Bracing herself against Blind Seer, she hauled herself up so that she stood balanced on her good leg, her heavily wounded one throbbing so that she didn't dare put any weight on it.
They made their escape, leaving behind betraying light, entering darkness that now seemed sheltering rather than obstructive.
Their travel was very slow. Whenever they came to a turning, Blind Seer would pace ahead, leaving Firekeeper leaning against a wall in absence of his support. More than once he offered to let her rest and go seek the others so that she might be carried, but always she refused.
"I would sleep," she said, "for I can barely keep awake now. Then if I was found I could offer no defense. This is better."
Whether the wolf agreed or not, he remained with her. Firekeeper hardly knew who she was or where. Her entire world had been reduced to the throb in her calf, to the dozen lesser aches, and a pleasant lassitude that continually beckoned her. She didn't know when she ceased to move of her own accord and Blind Seer was forced to drag her by one shoulder, the leather vest providing some slight armor against his teeth, but the bruising going to the bone.
At last they came to the entry into the sewer nearest to Hasamemorri's house. Blind Seer could not haul Firekeeper up, but he managed the rung ladder, and shouldered the cover aside.
He emerged into the greyish light of false dawn, a blood-streaked horror so like something out of the worst legends that the few early risers who saw him fled, not even pausing to scream.
ELISE PACED ABOUT THE KITCHEN, brewing tea and refining the lecture she was going to give Firekeeper when the wolf-woman returned from this latest impulsive foray.
Derian had noticed Firekeeper's note and the missing map when he went to ready himself for bed. He had returned to the kitchen, his shirt open, revealing what Elise recalled with a slight blush as a rather attractive chest. Normally, Derian was modest to a fault around herùa lingering remnant of his respect for her as both a woman and a noble. It had been his abandoning this that had given Elise the first sense that something was wrong.
"Does everyone else read this the way I do?" he asked, dropping a grubby sheet of paper on the table where they could all see it.
Sir Jared had answered first.
"Firekeeper's gone back into the sewers," he said, slamming his fist into his palm, too polite to curse in the presence of the ladies.
"That's what I thought, too," Derian agreed. "She's taken one of the map copies I madeùa finished one, thank the Horse."
They'd debated about someone going after woman and wolf, deciding at last that Firekeeper and Blind Seer would be too far ahead of any pursuit, that their already attenuated group could not risk any further losses.
"Likely," Wendee said, drying the same plate for the third time, the only sign of distress she permitted herself, "Firekeeper will be back sometime in the middle of the night, smelling to the skies and as pleased as if she's done something clever. I'll set a stew kettle filled with water over the coals to warm before I go to bed. That way whoever is awake can make her bathe."
Wendee's practicality, forced as it was, had a good influence on them all.
Derian returned to readying himself for bed. Doc left to check the lock on the front door before taking the early watch. The women soon followed Derian's example and went to bed.
When Derian woke Elise for her turn on watch, her first words had been: "Are they home?"
He'd shaken his head.
"No sign. I'd better get some rest. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?"
Once she was alone, Elise found herself growing angrier and angrier. Maybe if she'd had siblings or children she would have been better prepared to deal with Firekeeper's behavior, but she had not. The Archer family had taken "Responsibility" as a motto rather than the more poetic "Arisen from the Soil" suggested by Grandmother Rosene to her suitor. Now Elise was facing just what that responsibility meant, and realizing what a trial some of her own escapades must have been to her parents.
"I wonder if Mother and Father have gone ahead and adopted Deste" she thought, and realized that she hoped they had. "Or perhaps if they have not we can take custody of Citrine when we get back. Jet certainly has done no good for her."
Homesickness and the routine kitchen chores that fell to the dawn watch kept Elise busy. When she heard the thump on the kitchen door, her first thought was that Derian must have slipped out while she'd been in the pantry and had his arms full with a load of wood for the fire.
Elise opened the door to find Blind Seer on the stoop, his fur spiked with mire and blood, his entire being reeking of filth. Though her mind knew perfectly well that he was no danger, her heart thought differently.
Her scream brought the othersùincluding one of Hasamemorri's maidsùrunning in. Derian ran directly to the wolf.
"Firekeeper!" he said. "Where is she?"
Blind Seer replied by tugging at Derian's shirt then turning his piercing, blue-eyed gaze directly on Doc and whining.
"I'll get my bag," the knight said.
"Elise," Derian ordered when she made as if to come with them. "If the two of us can't get Firekeeper, one more set of hands won't help. Get water on the boil and the surgery ready. All that blood isn't from the 'other guy' or Firekeeper would be here bragging about how tough she was."
Immediately realizing the wisdom in this, Elise hurried to obey, brushing past Doc in the hall. Wendee was urging Hasamemorri's maid out of the way, promising to bring the landlady's tray up herself.
Before the small kettle of water Elise had put on had time to boil, Doc and Derian were back, Firekeeper between them on a horse blanket that acted as a makeshift stretcher.
"Blind Seer grabbed it as we went out the back," Derian said, words flowing to cover his evident concern. "He obviously knew Firekeeper was in no shape to walk."
Doc, who was walking at Firekeeper's head, added, "If the water's boiled, bring it. If not, Derian can put on more. Bring what you have."
Blind Seer hovered in the doorway, obviously wanting to come in but not wanting to get in the way. Elise patted him on the head as she grabbed the kettle.
"Let Derian or Wendee wash you off," she suggested, "before you come in. You're a disease waiting to happen."
The wolf whined in resignation and Elise repeated her suggestion to Wendee as she hurried past.
"Right after getting breakfast ready for Landlady Curiosity," Wendee snapped, exasperated.
Elise offered a wan smile by way of apology, but didn't pause.
Once in the surgery, Elise got her first look at Firekeeper and had to stifle another scream. Doc and Derian had stripped off the wolf-woman's vest, revealing a left shoulder that was black and blue where it wasn't bleeding. Every inch of exposed skin on Firekeeper's upper body was scraped and scratched. It looked as if someone had wrapped a whip about her waist, leaving angry weals. Her left calf was wrapped in blood-sodden strips of cloth and caked with dirt.
"She's alive but lost so much blood that we must get liquid into her," Doc snapped, his hands moving as he checked and probed. "Derian, make sure there's more water heating. Prepare it in several small pots so they'll heat faster. Then bring in some tepid water and see if you can get Firekeeper to swallow some."
"Right!" The redhead was gone almost before Doc finished issuing his orders.
"Elise, is that water boiled?"
"Not quite, though it's hot."
"I want to wait until we have boiled water to unwrap the leg. Start sponging off the shoulder and upper body cuts. Use alcohol when the worst is off. The wounds must be clean before we put ointment on or we'll just trap the infection."
Elise nodded, then ventured, "What do you think happened to her? Did she meet some monster down there?"
Doc's lips twisted in a humorless smile.
"I'd say that this shoulder at least was done by Blind Seer. He must have dragged her I don't know how far. Poor creature must have wanted hands in the worst way."
Elise was horrified. She'd never really taken a close look at what the wolf could do, though she'd seen him kill and knew he was deadly. To think that this was what he was capable of when he was being gentle was enough to reawaken fears that she had thought forever gone.
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