Valdemar 11 - [Owl Mage 03] - Owlknight (36 page)

Nevertheless, they were polite young men, and they did indulge this ridiculous foreigner. So when, after a short period of waiting, the herd of deer
did
come charging through the trees as if a terrible enemy was on their heels, they were understandably startled. Only two or three of them actually got shots off, and of those, only one hit.

Darian and the rest, of course, knew exactly when Kel spooked the deer—and knew that Kel had managed another of his infamous double-kills as well. Small wonder that the deer fled!

Darian and Wintersky targeted the same deer that the Snow Fox hunter had hit, and the three of them brought it down. Shandi held her fire, as did Steelmind; Hywel brought down a fourth deer by himself. That was more than enough to make them welcome at the Snow Fox village.

One for Kel, three for us; that's generous enough.
Darian signaled to Wintersky and Steelmind to come with him; they found Kel with his two prizes, terribly proud of himself.

“Hah! Did I not tell you!” he shouted happily, holding his head high, his eyes shining. “I am asss good asss my worrrd!”

“Indeed you are,” Darian laughed. “Would you like us to wrap it up, or will you eat yours here?”

“Sssome of both,” Kel replied. “You will clean and drresss them herrre, yesss? Why wassste good food? I want sssome marrow, too.”

So as Darian and the others gutted and dressed the deer, bundling the meat into the hides, Kel gobbled up the entrails and other parts they would normally have left behind. The
dyhelis
flared their nostrils in distaste at the scent of blood, but permitted their riders to load the bundles up behind their saddles. Their attitude toward deer hunting was remarkably pragmatic considering that they looked so much like
dyheli.
They didn't like it, but they didn't actually object to it. The general attitude seemed to be, “better them than us.”

While they proceeded with the messy business of butchering, Darian Mindspoke to Neta, the
dyheli doe. :Neta, could you ask Hywel to carefully explain Kel

to the Snow Fox hunters for me?:
he asked, once he had established contact with her.

:Hmm, yes, I think he had better,:
was the thoughtful reply.
:I shall try to help him.:

When Darian and the others rejoined the rest, Kel came along with them, walking sedately on the ground rather than making one of his spectacular flying entrances. Darian hoped that Hywel and Neta had managed to “explain” Kel adequately.

Then again, knowing the
dyheli
doe, she would have no compunction whatsoever about invading their hosts' minds and making
certain
that they wouldn't panic when they first sighted the gryphon.

He had some qualms about that. More than a few.

Should I have forbidden her to do any such thing?
He could have done that, but that didn't mean she'd obey him.
Dyheli
had their own code of behavior, one that set the good of the herd above that of any individual, and that meant she would do whatever she thought was in the interest of her “herd,” in this case, the entire group she was with. She would dispassionately disobey orders, and lie to him about it. Of all the known creatures with Mindspeech, only the
dyheli
could lie successfully when using it.

There was no way to compromise with his conscience. He could only accept what happened and try to make up for it afterward.

Whether Neta had a hand in it or not, when they came out of the forest and into the sunlight, although the Snow Fox hunters looked a bit nervous to see Kel, they didn't seem frightened. “This is our friend Kelvren,” Darian said carefully. “He has made two kills of his own, and wishes to present one of them to Snow Fox as thanks for your hospitality.”

Kel glanced longingly at the piles of offal laid to the side, but immediately turned his attention back to the hunters. “I am honorrrred to make thiss gift,” he said, with a graceful bow, and a broad gesture of his taloned forefoot.

“It is we who are honored by your generosity,” the chief hunter said bravely. “And—ah—are your tastes similar to those of the hunting birds? If so, would you care to take your choice of the—remains—before we leave this place?”

Darian was extremely pleased and a bit surprised by this display of tact and thoughtfulness. And it argued powerfully for the notion that Neta had only helped to explain Kel's appearance, and had not taken charge of the hunters' minds.

“Yesss!” Kel exclaimed. “And I thank you!”

The hunters tactfully looked the other way as Kel pounced upon the pile of discards with relish; watching a gryphon eat was something that took getting used to. It was all too easy to imagine what else that cruel beak and talons could do.

He made very short work of the meal—which was indeed a full meal even by a gryphon's standards—and they were shortly on their way.

With the meat that would ordinarily have burdened them loaded on the backs of
dyheli,
the hunters set off at a lope that made conversation impossible. Very clearly they wanted to be gone from this place, and quickly, too. Darian longed to ask them why, but knew that he would have to wait.

Whatever the answer was, though, he was fairly sure that it had to do with the Wolverine tribe—and that it would not be good news for them.

R
eisha wasn't the only one who felt the relief in the hunters as they crossed some invisible line into “safe” territory. They slowed their pace to a trot from what had very nearly been a run; they began to talk among themselves and even make occasional comments to their guests. And at last they finally looked back at the laden
dyheli
with the satisfaction and anticipation such a fine take of venison warranted.

She decided to talk to one of the young men herself, and asked her mount to take her up to the front of the group. She “picked” the first one that looked over at her and smiled, thinking it would be easier to approach someone who showed some friendliness from the beginning rather than trying to coax a reaction out of someone determined to keep a stony visage.

“How much farther do we go to reach your home?” she asked him, thinking that would be an easy way to begin a conversation, and grateful that they had all learned the Snow Fox dialect via
dyheli
before they left k'Valdemar.

“Not far,” the young man told her; he couldn't be much older than Hywel, and was possibly younger. “We are within the range of our sentries now,” he added. And that was a curious addition, or so it seemed to Keisha. Why should that matter to her?

Unless he is reassuring me that no one can move upon his village without warning,
she thought soberly.
Like a war party from this Wolverine tribe, perhaps?

Their journey had brought them right up to the foot of the mountains, and soon it was evident that they were about to enter a kind of side valley, a cleft with steep cliffs on either side and a small, clear stream meandering along the base of the cliff on the left. If the village had not originally been situated with defense in mind, the setting certainly provided as much shelter as if protection had been a major consideration from the beginning.

“This is our valley,” the young hunter said proudly. “It has been the home of our tribe from the time of my grandfather's grandfather's grandfather. The Snow Fox himself led us here, as the Snow Fox told our Shaman to send our sick to Ghost Cat, and then led our sick ones on the journey.”

Ah? They didn't say anything about that back at the Sanctuary. But then again—they might assume we already knew something of the sort must have happened in order for them to find us at all.
It seemed that the tribal spirits of these northerners took a very paternal (or was it maternal?) interest in their titular tribes.

:And the other deities of you humans do not?:
came the impudent query from her dyheli.

to help or safety,:
she pointed out wryly.
:Perhaps it is easier when your worshipers number less than a hundred to intervene directly in their lives.:

“I am called Bendan,” the hunter continued diffidently, looking up at her, but not meeting her eyes directly. “May I know your name, Wisewoman?”

Hywel had found a way to get the tribesmen to grant both Keisha and Shandi better status than “merely female.” Keisha was always introduced as the Wisewoman, and Shandi as something that translated as “woman whose soul is a man.” Apparently there were a few female warriors in the history of the tribes, and they'd had to come up with a category to fit them into. “Man-souled women” who passed the boys' initiation trials could become hunters and warriors, but they sacrificed the traditional role of “wife and mother” in order to attain that status. They were considered neither male nor female—rather like the Shin‘a'in Sword-Sworn, in a way.

At any rate, that was Shandi's role, and she went along with it, since taking on that persona at least allowed her to sit at the Men's Fire with the rest of the party, and not suffer a lonely exile to the company of the clan's women.

It said something for the status of Wisewoman that Bendan gave Keisha his name. A “mere woman” would have had to learn it obliquely, by overhearing it or learning it from one of her friends, for he would never have addressed her directly if she had not had that rank.

“I am called Keisha,” she said. “Has Snow Fox a Wisewoman of their own, or does the Shaman conduct all healing?”

“We have only the Shaman, and he has no healing magic—that is why the Snow Fox sent to us to take our sick into the south,” Bendan said eagerly. “Have you been sent by the Fox to teach our Shaman in the ways of southern healing?”

:Boy's a quick one, isn't he?:
chuckled the
dyheli.

“I have; your people reached us safely, as you know, and I came in answer to your need,” she replied solemnly, taking the question as the gift it was. “That we bear trade goods is as a protection, so that others will not interfere with our passage.”

“It is wise—though I do not think it would avail you with Wolverine,” he replied, then shrugged and changed the subject, trotting along at her stirrup with no sign of effort. “We have some sick still with us; too ill to travel. I hope you will be able to help them.”

“I hope so, too,” she said sincerely.

When they reached the village, it was apparent that this was a permanent enclave, unlike some of the other hunting camps they had visited. Here were the familiar log houses, decorated and carved, roofed with slabs of bark; the characteristic poles stood prominently before each house with totemic animals and spirit representations carved into them. Even more than at Ghost Cat, there were piecework blankets on display, made of felted and dyed fur, and the costumes of the inhabitants were covered with embroideries made with tufts of dyed fur.

It was clear that this was a prosperous tribe; it was also clear that the invisible sentries had already alerted the Chief and Shaman that visitors were being escorted in. Women and children clustered at the entrances to the log houses—craning their necks and strairting their eyes for a good look at the strangers, but also ready to bolt inside at a hint that there was something amiss. The Chief and Shaman marched forward to meet them, surrounded by armed warriors older and more experienced than the young hunters.

Hywel bounded from his saddle, and together with Bendan, came forward to speak with the leaders of Snow Fox. He displayed the token that the Snow Fox folk back in Valdemar had given them, and soon the faces of those around him were relaxed, even smiling. The warriors lowered their weapons, and with that sign that all was well, the women and children began to ease closer.

The Shaman headed straight for Keisha once the formalities were over; she dismounted rather than tower over him as he approached. Gray-haired and bearded, he was a handsome old fellow by anyone's standards, with strong features and lively eyes. Knot-work was layered down the front edges of his mantle, with points of antler serving as closures alternating from side to side. The colors picked for the tufting between the antler tips exactly matched his eyes.

“Wisewoman Keisha, I am Shaman Henkeir Told-True. I am warmed to see your presence. May your spirits bless you for coming to us!” he exclaimed, seizing her hand. “The Chief's woman and children are ill, as are several more, too ill to send to Ghost Cat with the others, and I have had no success with them. The Snow Fox told me I must wait for a healer out of the south—”