Wolf Hunting (16 page)

Truth lifted her head from her paws.
“Your courtesy does you credit. I will remember it.”

The two humans, of course, were unaware of the conversation between Firekeeper and the Beasts, and had continued with their own social rituals. Food and drink had been offered, the one refused, the other accepted. Seats were selected, and privacy assured.

“Why not start?” Derian said to Harjeedian. “Firekeeper is being amazingly patient.”

Harjeedian did so. “I wish I had more to offer. The summation of our labors is as follows. Neither Cishanol and myself working in the libraries of u-Nahal nor Poshtuvanu working in u-Bishinti were able to make a positive identification of the two people depicted in the figurines. We were not even able to identify precisely in which city-state they might be residents. Moreover, our investigations into the symbols carved into the figurines also went nowhere. They may mean more in the city-states, but they do not belong to any of their major families or ruling houses.”

Harjeedian reached into a heavy bag he had carried with him and removed some books, which he set on the low table between his chair and Derian’s.

“Lady Blysse, before you ask ‘why’ and mutter how stupid humans are, please look at these. They should help you understand the difficulty of our task.”

“I look,” Firekeeper said, moving forward from her spot next to Blind Seer to demonstrate her willingness. Both wolf and jaguar joined her.

“This book,” Harjeedian went on, “is a general compendium—collection or gathering—that shows drawings of typical residents of the various city-states. It’s quite nicely done, and even fairly current.”

Firekeeper looked, concentrating to make the flat drawings real in her mind. She found it easier than in the past, and thought with some satisfaction that her time spent searching among the ruins of Misheemnekuru had not been wasted.

“See how very similar many of the styles of clothing are?” Harjeedian asked.

Firekeeper nodded. “Like Liglim.”

“Very like,” Harjeedian said. “There’s good reason for this. Not only are our climates similar, it turns out that Liglim is a major supplier of textiles to the south. I hadn’t realized just how much the city-states rely on Liglim for both fabric and ready-made clothing.”

Since Firekeeper had firsthand experience of how difficult it was to make clothing, even from hides, much less from plants, she wasn’t surprised at all, but she didn’t think it would be good manners to say so.

“So you can’t tell by clothing,” she said, knowing her disappointment showed in her tone.

“We can tell a little,” Harjeedian said. “The closer the city-state is to our border, the more likely the residents are to dress like residents of Liglim. Derian, can you help me with this map?”

The two men unrolled a map, weighting the edges with unused cups and bits of crockery. The map showed odd shapes in different colors. A river separating a long border was painted in a pleasant grass green.

“Since the figurines show people dressed like but not like residents of Liglim, that means they could be from here, or here, or here, or even here,” Harjeedian said, pointing to areas on different colored sections of the map. “Each color is a different city-state. The green is the southern border of Liglim. After Divine Retribution, our leaders declared the river there as our boundary, and no one has argued thus far.”

He said this with the smugness of the One of a large pack, and Firekeeper didn’t blame him.

“Are there any other limiting factors?” Derian asked. “Up north the people of Stonehold look very different from those of my land. So do you people, for that matter.”

“As I mentioned earlier,” Harjeedian said, shaking his head, “many of the city-states are racially mixed. The figurines are wonderfully detailed, but overall the people seem more like Liglimom than anything else.”

“So the trail ends before it begins,” Firekeeper said, trying for philosophical resignation, but failing.

“Not quite
,” Truth said.
“I may be able to take a scent from another wind. Would you hear?”

DERIAN WATCHED FIREKEEPER’S EXPRESSION CHANGE, resignation giving way to hope as if a cloud had drifted free from the face of the sun.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Truth speaks,” came the curt reply. “Wait. I tell.”

Derian accepted the promise as it was given, but Harjeedian shifted in his chair impatiently—or so Derian thought until he took a second look at the aridisdu. Before Harjeedian schooled his features back to neutrality, Derian read envy there, stark and bitter.

No wonder,
Derian thought.
His life’s training has been in reading the signs and omens that would enable him to interpret what the yarimaimalom say. Firekeeper understands more clearly, and does it as easily as breathing.

“More mint water?” Derian said, reaching for the pitcher containing the sweetened infusion.

“Thank you,” Harjeedian said, but although he held his tumbler out so Derian could fill it, his gaze did not leave Firekeeper.

At last Firekeeper stirred and looked up at the two men.

“Is not easy to explain,” she said, “because I not all understand, but I try. Truth say she think she can find these two, like with divination. She say that sometime she hear the Voice still in her head. She not like. She think the Voice wish her to do something more for him.”

“More?” Derian asked. Then he understood. “That’s right, the Voice seems to have been imprisoned in that cellar on Misheemnekuru. In helping Truth, he helped himself—or so it seems. But he’s out now—or at least you didn’t find him there.”

Firekeeper bit her lower lip, then nodded. “We not find. Truth though, she think he not, maybe not a person. Remember the Dragon of Despair?”

“Who could forget that?”

“The dragon there, yet not there. I think, Blind Seer, too, that maybe the Voice is like the dragon.”

Harjeedian spoke for the first time. “You think the Voice is a dragon, did you say?”

“No,” Firekeeper answered. “I say
like
the dragon in that it lives in another way than we do.”

Derian interjected, “I’ll tell you more later if you’d like, Harjeedian. Leave it for now that Firekeeper is being precisely accurate. What we encountered in New Kelvin didn’t fit any of the rules for a living thing—but that didn’t make it any less alive.”

“I’ll accept that,” Harjeedian said. “After all, until Firekeeper and Blind Seer came from the west, your people had no idea the yarimaimalom were other than fireside tales—our people knew about them all along.”

“Right,” Derian said. “It’s interesting. If the Voice had any role in prompting Melina’s actions, could he have led her to the tales of the Dragon? It seems possible, especially if they are somehow akin.”

Firekeeper held up her hand. “I not say this. Truth not say this. I just remind, so that you not think a person you not see is less a person.”

“Right,” Derian said, “but there’s nothing wrong with speculation.”

Firekeeper tilted her head in tentative agreement. “Maybe. But not to think thinking about something is the something.”

“I promise,” Derian said. “So Truth thinks she may be able to find the subjects of the remaining two figurines. Does she think the Voice will guide her?”

Truth emitted a sound between a cough and a gruff roar. Firekeeper’s mouth quirked in a wry smile.

“Truth say she think she track by her divination,” Firekeeper replied. “She think that the Voice tell her things, even things she not want to know.”

Harjeedian frowned. “Truth, isn’t this a terrible risk for you to take?”

Firekeeper translated. “Truth say, ‘Yes, is, but I think leaving this thing of the figurines without us knowing who they are and what they do is worth taking risk.’”

The wolf-woman paused and added, “She also say, she not talk so bad.”

“I understand,” Harjeedian said. “But what if Truth goes insane as she did before? None of us have her gift for divination, nor can we hear the Voice.”

Firekeeper paused, then said, “Blind Seer think maybe we should have someone else come with us, someone who scents magic as he does game.”

Derian understood immediately. “One of the maimalodalum? I remember they claimed a sensitivity to magic, but Firekeeper, how could one come with us? I thought they wished their existence to remain a secret and … well, they are so odd-looking. They’d be hard to hide.”

Firekeeper replied, “Some maybe, with clothing over them—like Hope, maybe—could come with us. There are others who are smaller or good in the forests. They might come with us as Blind Seer has in the northern lands, staying hidden most of the time.”

“I suppose it might work,” Derian said. “It would be useful to have someone along who could assist Truth. Should she need assistance,” he added hastily when the jaguar’s burnt-orange gaze turned balefully upon him.

“So Blind Seer and I think, too,” Firekeeper said, “but you speak as if you would come with us on this hunt.”

“I had planned to,” Derian said, surprised. “There are times a human or two are useful, and you don’t know yet if you would be traveling through human-held lands or not. I think it’s likely. Neither Melina nor Dantarahma had the courtesy to work out in the wilds where you are most comfortable.”

Firekeeper gave one of the gusty sighs that meant she agreed, but didn’t much like doing so.

“And I thought to also offer my services,” Harjeedian said. “The lands in which you will initially travel are held by my people. Even when you cross into the city-states, our language and writing are often used for trade.”

Firekeeper scowled, “But humans mean things, and things mean beasts to carry things, and all this means roads and …”

“You aren’t hunting deer, Firekeeper,” Derian said. “You’re hunting humans. Get it through your head. You’re going to need us.”

Blind Seer, who had been sitting calmly though the discussion now rose onto all four feet and looked down at Firekeeper. There was absolutely no doubt that he was reprimanding her, and under his blue-eyed stare, Firekeeper wilted.

“I agree,” she said. “To hunt humans, need humans. To hunt magic, need maimalodalu. To find these at all, need Truth—maybe Elise, too, and Doc. They like to go places. What a strange, strange pack this will be.”

Derian laughed. “Well, as to that point, you won’t find me disagreeing, Firekeeper. You won’t find me disagreeing one bit.”

VIII

HARJEEDIAN STAYED while they drafted a message to the maimalodalum. Then he said he should take his leave, explaining he would need to make arrangements with his temple to go off with Firekeeper.

“I would like to tell the full truth as to why I go,” he said, “but I would be lying if I said I thought an explanation is necessary. It is enough that Truth is sane again and requests my aid.”

“That’s how you will explain it?” Derian said.

“That should be enough,” Harjeedian said, “especially if Truth herself will come to the Temple of the Cold Bloods.”

The jaguar rose, indicating without need of an interpreter that she would be pleased to do so.

Firekeeper also rose. “I give this message to a fish eagle, then I find Doc and Elise. Tell them what we do, ask them to come. Doc’s healing talent would be a good thing to have with us, and Elise very much likes strange places.”

“Go ahead,” Derian said, “but ask them to keep our going close for a bit. I should be the one to tell the ambassador I’m leaving. Honestly, I need to ask his permission.”

“If Ambassador Sailor seems unwilling to grant you leave,” Harjeedian said, “send me a message. I will have a request come directly from my temple. The ambassador will be reluctant to refuse us your assistance.”

“Thanks,” Derian said.

“You talk like you not talk to ambassador now,” Firekeeper said. “Why?”

“If I leave now,” Derian explained, “I can get to u-Bishinti and back again before dark. We’re going to need horses and pack animals for this trip—horses and pack animals that won’t be troubled by you, Truth, and whatever the maimalodalum choose to send.”

“U-Bishinti later,” Firekeeper said. “Ambassador first. He not like if you go making plans for horses until he lets you go.”

“She’s right,” Harjeedian said. “Wolves usually are when it comes to matters of precedence.”

“You’re right,” Derian said. “You’re right.”

AMBASSADOR SAILOR COULDN’T see Derian immediately, but he asked Derian to join him for lunch. Over fresh sea bass and wild rice, Derian gave an edited version of his reasons for requesting a leave of absence.

“To be honest, sir,” he concluded, “I don’t really know the full story. It’s often like that with Firekeeper. I know that whatever this is has something to do with what brought her from Misheemnekuru. I know that the jaguar, Truth, is involved, and I know it’s important enough that the aridisdu Harjeedian has put himself at the jaguar’s disposal.”

“And you think we should do no less?” Ambassador Sailor asked. “I see. I am reluctant, though. You are my right hand. In all honesty, and I believe in honesty, you are more the real ambassador than I am. Until I manage to acquire a better grasp of local customs and language, I rely on you to keep me from making a bad blunder.”

Derian knew this, but he also knew he was more afraid of what would happen if Firekeeper was turned loose on an unsuspecting south than of any political or diplomatic misstep the ambassador might commit.

“I really should go with Firekeeper,” he said. “Please don’t refuse me right away. At least tell me you will think about it.”

Ambassador Sailor nodded, but he clearly wasn’t pleased. “I’m also not happy that Lady Blysse is off attempting to suborn Lady Archer and Sir Jared to her cause. What does she think I will do if all of you go?”

“There are others from Bright Haven here in Liglim,” Derian reminded him, but he knew the argument was weak. Most of those who would remain would be more merchants than diplomats, and none had his, or even Elise’s, command of Liglimosh.