Wolf-speaker (21 page)

“It's a lovely name,” Daine replied soothingly. “How may I help you?”

Please come, the hound begged. The man is hurt. The wolves did it.

Daine looked at her friends. “Something's up. I have to go with this dog.” To Prettyfoot she said, Is it complicated? Will it take me awhile to help?

I don't know if you can help at all, Prettyfoot said, dark eyes sad under wiry brows. Our pack could do nothing.

“Tkaa, will you take this to Numair?” Daine asked, pulling the letter she had written from her shirt. “I think the sooner he gets it, the better.”

“Very wise,” the basilisk said, lifting Kitten from his pouch. “When it is delivered, I will walk
back this way to find you again.” He took the letter and set off down the trail, long legs carrying him quickly out of sight.

“We go with dog now?” asked Iakoju.

Daine nodded. “His master's in trouble, he says.”

“Tait?” Maura said, alarmed. “Then what're we waiting for?”

Prettyfoot led them onto a new trail, explaining that his pack had been calling for help for a day and a night. No matter what they or the man did, there was no way to take him from the hole. In a small, rough clearing crossed by the trail, they found the rest of Tait's dogs beside a pit. They came running to bark greetings to her and Maura.

Going to the rim of the hole, Daine peered in. Tait, coated in mud, leaves, and filth, sat at the bottom. Suddenly she knew what the wolves' plan for Tait had been. “Huntsman,” she said. “You're in a fix.”

“Laugh all ye like, girly,” he said tiredly, “but get me out of here.”

“I don't know,” she drawled. “May I ask if this was a wolf pit, to start?”

“It was a lot smaller!” he bellowed. “And the trail marks I put here t' tell me where the damned thing was got moved! If that was your work—”

“I haven't been next or nigh this spot,” she retorted, “so don't raise your voice to me!” She was
tempted to leave him there. Maura had told her, during the morning's ride, that Tait had killed the last wolf pack to live in Dunlath.

Do not be angry, begged Prettyfoot. He is cold and wet and hungry. And he
smells
.

Daine turned to Iakoju. “I have a rope. Can you pull him out?”

The ogre went to the rim of the hole and leaned over. A sound like a yelp rose from the pit. “It's all right, Tait,” called Maura, trotting over to stand next to the large, aqua-skinned immortal. “She's with me.”

“Lady Maura?” the captive said. “What kind of company are ye keepin' now?”

The ten-year-old scowled. “Better company than is at home,” she snapped.

“And what's that supposed to mean, miss?”

“Never mind. I'll tell you later.”

Iakoju looked at Daine and nodded. “Man not too fat. I bring him up.”

With a sigh, Daine got the rope and gave it to Iakoju. “I'm not doing this for you, Tait,” Daine called. “I'm doing it for your dogs.”

“I don't care who ye do it fer, long as ye do it afore I turn gray!”

Iakoju took several turns of rope around her waist and dropped the free end into the pit. Tait wrapped it around his waist in the same manner,
and grabbed the rope between them with both hands. “Haul away!” he yelled.

Iakoju backed up. With some cursing on Tait's part, she dragged the hunter from his prison. The moment he was on solid ground, the wolfhounds surrounded him, yipping their pleasure as they nuzzled him.

Seeing him up close, Daine winced. The pit didn't seem to be the cleanest spot in the forest. Tait now smelled greatly of wolf urine and dung.

“Have ye water?” he asked, petting his dogs. “And food would be fair nice.”

Maura gave him Daine's canteen. The first gulp went to rinse his mouth; the rest went into his belly. “Weiryn's Horn,” he gasped, “I needed that.”

Maura offered him sliced ham and cheese. He shoved the cheese into his mouth as the dogs watched, licking their chops. “Ye shouldn't be here,” he said when his mouth was empty. He looked at Daine and Iakoju. “No offense meant.”

“Berate her all you like,” Daine replied. “If you can make her go home, it's more than I could do,
or
that Stormwing lord.”

“Things are crazy here now,” the man grumbled. “The lords don't care for land or people, bringin monsters t' keep their servants in fear…” Shaking his head, he tore the ham up and gave it to his dogs. Seeing that Daine watched him, he looked down.
“Don't care for more'n cheese just now,” he growled. “M' throat's that sore from bellowin'.”

Why, you softy, thought the girl She got more cheese and two apples, and gave them to him. For the dogs she cut up the rest of the ham.

“Kind of ye,” muttered the huntsman.

“They're good dogs,” she replied shyly. “They really love you, you know.”

“I know. They could've left me, but they didn't. They run off a bear last night, when it wanted t' come a-callin'.” He looked at Iakoju. “Give a man a hand up?” he asked. “M' legs went t' sleep, bein' cramped down there.”

The ogre held Tait by the elbows and lifted until he got his feet under him. He winced. “I need t' get this stink off me.” He looked from Maura to Daine. “Will ye wait so I can wash? I've clothes and such hid by a stream nearby. I came out here with no plans to go back. Don't like what's happenin' in that castle these days.”

Daine smiled. With luck, she had another recruit. “Go ahead. We'll wait for you.”

With Iakoju to lean on and the dogs frisking around him, Tait hopped off to his bath. As they passed out of sight, Daine heard him tell the ogre, “No peekin' once I'm out of my clothes, mind.”

“I want to check something,” Daine told Maura. “Don't stray.” She leaned against a tree and closed her eyes. Finding an eagle, she got permission to
enter his mind. From the spot where he glided in the warm air that rose from the trees she could see glimpses of Tkaa. The basilisk was on all fours and galloping, his long, delicate limbs taking him faster than she would have believed possible. He was close to the western pass already.

Knowing her letter would soon reach Numair, she let the eagle take her where he wished. He flew low to avoid the barrier overhead, but he was still high enough to have a good view of the valley's heart. Not far from Tait's pit Daine glimpsed the lumber camp. The wolves, it seemed, had achieved their aim. All work was at a halt. The camp was nearly empty; the few humans there lay idly about or walked lazily around the area.

The eagle then flew south. Below lay the village and the castle, like toys. Smoke of an ugly green-brown color billowed out of a tower window in the castle. Every flying creature gave the weirdly colored plume a wide berth.

Why? Daine asked the eagle.

I do not need to fly through death to know what it looks like, replied her host. I do not have to bathe in danger when I know what it smells like. There is always something bad going on in that tower.

We're going to stop it soon, Daine assured him. It's almost over.

Good, replied the eagle. Tell me if you need help, and I will give it.

When the bird wheeled north, Daine saw trouble. Three creatures flew in criss-crossing patterns along the slopes where she had been the night before. The eagle squinted, and shapes came into focus: the bodies and heads of horses, batlike wings as big as sails. The hurroks worked their way south, skimming above the treetops. They were hunting for something, and she had an unhappy idea of what it might be.

I have to go, she told the eagle hastily. Thank you!

She opened human eyes. Something huge and brown filled her vision and surprised her into a yelp that came out a keening screech. I wish this would happen when I need it, not when I'm rushed! she thought peevishly, and blinked. The brown thing moved to show a patch of hairy skin.

Trying to rush the change was not going to work. With a sigh she began to remember Daine the human. She thought of nights in the Rider barracks hearing stories, of sword practice with the King's Champion, and of stargazing at Numair's tower. Under her memories now she felt talons become feet, and wings become arms. When she opened her eyes this time, Tait sat beside her, a golden brown feather in his hand. It was his rough tunic and skin that had seemed so close.

“Sorry. Didn't mean t' scare ye, lass” He offered
her the feather. “Ye lost one. Actually, ye lost a few. Maura's got one.”

Daine looked around and saw only Kitten and Prettyfoot. “Where is she?”

“Iakoju took her fishin'.”

Raising her voice a bit, she said, “Kitten, get Maura and Iakoju. Hurroks are searching the valley—they're coming this way.” To the man she said, “Is there cover around here?”

“The laurel bushes can hide Maura and the dragon.” Tait stood. “There's a willow by the stream for Iakoju and the pony. The dogs can go where they like—I don't think the hunters will care about them.”

The ogre and Maura came at a run. All of them listened as Daine explained where to hide. They hid their belongings, too. Daine kept her crossbow and quiver. Tait had a bow of his own, a fine weapon polished and supple with much use. He strung it quickly.

“They hunt me.” Iakoju's eyes, the dark green of oak leaves, were sad. “They count us in morning, before work. My brother supposed to say I am sick.”

“I guess they didna believe him, lass,” Tait said, patting the ogre's arm. “Not yer fault. Get under cover. We'll sing out when all's clear.” Iakoju tramped off toward the stream with Cloud and Tait's dogs behind her.

Daine pointed to a spot where a fallen tree leaned against an oak. Where they met, the dirt underneath had worn away, leaving a hollow. From that spot they would be able to see the clump of laurel and the stream. Tait nodded and followed her to it. Flicker was already there, sunning himself on the log.

Sitting next to the huntsman, Daine put an arrow in the crossbow's notch and secured it, then placed it at her side, ready to fire—just in case. At the limits of her awareness came the first tingling sense that hurroks were near.

Tait had tucked the eagle feather behind his ear. Now he ran it through his fingers thoughtfully. “Can ye change entire?”

“No,” the girl replied, fingering the badger's claw around her neck. “I can't even control what changes. I just learned how to turn myself all human again the night before last.”

“Aye. Maura said at first ye thought ye were mad.” Tait's brown eyes met hers. “She told me why she left home. Do you believe me when I say I'd no idea treason was afoot? I knew things was strange—that's why I left. But treason…That's worse than I thought.”

Daine studied him. His was a square, stubborn face. He looked as if he would be as bad a liar as she was herself. “Yes,” she replied, and smiled.

He smiled back. “Truthfully, I'm as glad she's
here and not home. I don't think Tristan has the grip on what's goin' on that he thinks he does.”

“What do you mean?”

The man teased Flicker with his feather as the squirrel tried playfully to grab it. “Two days ago I was in the courtyard when the female mage, Gissa, came out screamin'. She was holdin' her wrist like her hand turned into a serpent, yellin' fer someone t' ‘take it off' I saw a wee drop of red on th' hand. Th' skin was
bubblin'
, like, and red streaks was growin' on the back toward the wrist, like they do when a wound's gone bad. Tristan and Master Gardiner was on the steps, and they just stared at her.” Sweat appeared on Tait's forehead. “So she run t' th' woodpile, grabbed th' ax, and chopped her hand off.”

Daine stared at him. “She cut off her own
hand
?”

“Weiryn leave me hungry if I lie.” He wiped his face on his sleeve. “Praise the Goddess the lass wasn't there. She'd've had nightmares for months, what with the blood and Tristan not carin' about Gissa, but yellin' if she let ‘it' boil over they were all dead. He run inside—didn't even try t' help Gardiner make the wrist stop bleedin'. He—”

Daine put a finger to her lips, then pointed up. A large, winged shape passed overhead, its shadow falling on the spot where Flicker had lain. Nearby she felt the other hurroks, their presence tainted, as
always, with rage. They remained directly above for some time before moving higher on the mountainsides.

“I think if we're quiet, they won't hear us,” she whispered. “They've gone off a ways, but they might come back.”

“Ye can tell where they are?”

“When they're in range.”

“More witchcraft, then?”

“Yes,” she replied, and he shook his head. She knew this attitude too well. Some people were uncomfortable with magic; the more things they heard she could do, the more uncomfortable they became. Rather than argue, she changed the subject. “Who's this ‘Weiryn'?” she whispered. “You mention him all the time, and I don't think I ever heard of him.”

“A mountain god of the hunt. He's rooted in the forest and rock, kin to all that walks or swims or flies. On Beltane ye can see him pass in the woods, with his hounds. Got antlers like a deer, he does. All us huntsmen swear by 'im.”

Something about that description was familiar, but she couldn't place it. “I never had much to do with huntsmen at home. Well,
they
didn't have much to do with
me
. Have you heard of my village, in Galla? Snowsdale?”

The look he gave her was thoughtful, and very sharp. “So ye're
that
one.”

Daine felt herself turning red. “I don't know what you've heard, but it's prob'ly blown way out of proportion.”

“Not after what I've seen today,” the man said, and grinned.

They waited for a long time. As they waited, Daine filled Tait in on all she knew, from the wolves' summons to the orders she'd seen from Carthak. Just as she thought the hurroks were going, she sensed fresh arrivals: Stormwings. Keeping low, she checked on the others and warned them the danger was not over. As she rejoined Tait, screams and snarls exploded overhead. It seemed hurroks and Stormwings did not get along.