Wolf's Blood (49 page)

“What indeed?” Elation replied. “I had forgotten how insane certain wolves could be.”

Firekeeper knew that for all Elation’s doubts about the wisdom of the wolves’ actions, the falcon would remain faithful to her duties as watcher. However, what Firekeeper had not confided in Elation lest she bruise the peregrine’s pride was that she actually was counting on someone—Beast or human—being clever enough to find a way to see at least some of what they were doing. For that reason, Firekeeper’s snares and traps were constructed with two distinctly different goals in mind.

The first goal was to construct something sufficiently solid to trap or capture any Beast or human foolish enough to trigger the device. Firekeeper hoped this could be done without causing undue damage to the victim. For all that they had chosen to support Virim and his magics, Firekeeper felt no hatred for these northwestern Royal Beasts. They, or rather their ancestors, had made a choice that had preserved all Royal-kind.

Firekeeper had great respect for Royal-kind, and did not think that any of those who spied upon them for Virim and his allies would simply stumble into a trap. Therefore, she had constructed things that would act as alarms, alerting herself, Blind Seer, and Elation that someone was near and vulnerable. With these alarms in place, Firekeeper thought they might be able to take captive one or two who might have some of the information she desired.

These alarms were not as obvious as the bells or gongs humans would use in a similar situation, but were rather dry leaves spread where they might crackle, or twigs and branches that would snap beneath unwary feet. In a few places she cached pebbles loosely gathered in a leaf cup, securing them so they would not fall by chance, but only if jostled. By these contrivances and others, Firekeeper hoped to extend her awareness, to somehow compensate for the pack she and Blind Seer lacked.

When the traps and snares were in place, Firekeeper brushed dirt from her hands with satisfaction.

“One thing more,” she said, “to bait these traps.”

“Bait?” Elation asked. “Do you really think these traps need bait?”

Blind Seer, still wet from a cleansing swim in the river, did not question, but his ears canted in surprise.

“I have learned many things in my travels.” Firekeeper said, “and in the land of the Liglim I learned lore that should make these traps even better than they are already.”

While making the snares, Firekeeper had found certain bits of wood that suited her needs, and now she held them up for the falcon’s inspection.

“Did you know that while I was in the far southlands I learned to write?” she asked. “But what I learned was no common writing used for merely writing letters or making grocery lists. I learned a special writing, a very powerful writing.”

Blind Seer started to pant laughter; then Firekeeper saw him catch himself. Like her, he had not forgotten that they might be being watched. Their hearts were too close for Blind Seer not to have wondered at why Firekeeper was making such a speech, instead of simply getting down to whatever business she intended. Firekeeper knew the wolf had guessed that she spoke for some unseen auditor.

Elation did not know Firekeeper as well, not this Firekeeper, at least, and she continued to question.

“I am glad that you can write,” the peregrine said politely, “but how will writing bait a trap?”

Firekeeper grinned. “Follow and see, but take care to watch for the trip lines.”

Elation shrieked something rude at this intimation that she could be anything less than careful, but she also followed. Firekeeper noted that for all her interest in what Firekeeper was doing, Elation did not forget to stay alert. It was good to have such wise and talented friends.

Firekeeper made her way to where she had buried a nice leg-hold snare along a narrow game trail. She had already brushed dirt and leaves to hide the snare, but now she patted a small area smooth. In this smoothed area, she made certain symbols she had learned from the Liglim. They were real symbols, short ways of saying such things as “Keep Away” or “Come Quickly” or “Be Silent.” To these she added a few symbols that came from nowhere but cloud patterns in the sky or ripples in the water.

She didn’t much like the next part, but she knew enough of human magic that she knew it would be expected. Taking her Fang, she nicked herself lightly on the side of one hand and squeezed out a few drops of blood. These she let fall onto the symbols she had made. She had thought about leaving herself uninjured, using perhaps the blood of some small animal, but had shied from the thought. Even though she was not doing any real magic, Firekeeper felt that killing another for no other reason than to feed a deception would be wrong.

Going to the next large snare, she again smoothed the soil and took out a wooden stylus. This time she chose different symbols, and ornamented the apparent spell with a few smooth pebbles she had found and thought pretty. For her next “spell” Firekeeper used a few gaudy blue-jay feathers as ornament, and so on, sometimes using extra items for ornamentation, sometimes singing a few meaningless phrases in a hodgepodge of the human languages she spoke, always finishing the quasi-ritual by sealing the sigils with a few drops of her own blood.

Blind Seer seemed pleased and even impressed, although Firekeeper could tell that he was less than enchanted with her self-mutilation. Still, he did not stop her, nor did he make any suggestions as to how she might improve on her “bait,” and with this Firekeeper had to be content.

Elation had fallen silent for a while, watching Firekeeper’s peculiar routine with horrified fascination.

“Is that southern magic?” she asked at last.

“Much of what is there I first learned of in the south.” Firekeeper said, careful not to lie, “but as to magic, I think it is my own.”

Elation puffed her feathers and looked disgusted, and Firekeeper wished she could reassure the falcon that she had not sunk so low as to practice blood magic. However, there was too much risk they would be overheard. Better to explain later. Better, too, not to risk offending Blind Seer, who was still very touchy on the subject of magic and those who used it.

Firekeeper’s hope was that curiosity would draw at least some of Virim’s humans into her reach. She fully expected the Royal Beasts to report what they had seen to those within the keep. This report would certainly include the strange “spells” Firekeeper had put on the traps.

Humans were greedy for both knowledge and power, and magic was the quintessence of both. Even if most resisted the temptation to take a closer look, Firekeeper did not think each and every member of that hive of spellcasters could resist the opportunity to examine a new spell. And when they came …

Well, then, Firekeeper would be ready for them.

XXIV

  “ARE YOU ON night watch again tonight?” Isende asked Derian as they were leaving the dining hall after the midday meal.

All day, Derian had been dreading this question, dreading it as only a few days before he would have waited for it with hopeful anticipation.

“I am,” he admitted, “but, Isende, I was wondering if maybe tonight you shouldn’t come and walk with me.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide with hurt and confusion, touched maybe a bit with anger.

“Have you decided again that I shouldn’t be with you?” she asked. “Is this more of that ‘I look like a horse’ nonsense. It better not be, because I’m just too tired to take it right now.”

Derian glanced around, but no one was close enough to have overheard Isende’s outburst. The Nexans were viewing his budding courtship of Isende—or hers of him, he really wasn’t sure how the matter stood—with gleeful delicacy. There were times—as when a seat next to Isende suddenly appeared in a crowded room, or when the various work schedules miraculously permitted them time together—that Derian felt as if his life was being coordinated by dozens of matchmakers.

He didn’t really mind. People were even figuring out how to solve their own problems, or bringing those that needed a neutral moderator to Plik or Harjeedian. For the first time since Derian and Ynamynet had become the informal mayors of the Nexan community, Derian felt as if he might actually finish one task before another dozen were placed before him.

“No,” he said firmly. “This isn’t more of that ‘I look like a horse nonsense.’ It’s just, well, you don’t look well. You look exhausted, to be honest. I was wondering if it was ‘that time’ or if you’d caught something from one of Rhul and Saeta’s kids.”

The hurt and anger left Isende’s eyes, and a small smile touched the corners of her mouth.

“I am tired,” she admitted. “Maybe I have caught something. The last few nights I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Derian touched her arm. “Why don’t you try and nap now? I saw the children being led off to help Frostweed with the gardens. Surely you can be spared.”

Isende shook her head, dismissing the suggestion with unwonted vehemence.

“I’ve been having some very strange dreams,” she admitted, “over the last few nights. It’s getting so I don’t want to go to sleep.”

Derian frowned. Once he would have dismissed this as Isende’s imagination running away with her. He would have worried that for all her outward enthusiasm for their growing closeness she actually was plagued by hidden anxieties, and that these were playing out in her sleep. He might have separated himself from her, believing he was doing the only thing a gentleman could when the woman was uncertain.

That was before the Dragon of Despair had haunted Firekeeper’s dreams, keeping the wolf-woman so short of sleep she’d done some very dangerous things. That was before querinalo had nearly killed him, and he had roamed places the human mind usually could touch only when the body was dormant. That was before Derian had been forced to realize that the world he had known for the first nineteen or twenty years of his life held but a small sliver of what reality contained.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked. “I need to mend some harness. This sea air isn’t kind to leather. You could come and keep me company.”

Isende smiled wanly. “I think I’d like that.”

Derian fetched the damaged tack, then carried it and his tools out into a sunlit patch near his house. He was too conscious of Isende’s reputation to have her sit with him in the tack room or in the house. Better they stay in plain sight.

After all,
he thought
, for all Isende’s willingness to accept my attentions now, she might change her mind about me. It’s the way of things that when one man shows he’s interested in a woman, then all the other men who had dismissed her suddenly grow interested. She might change her mind about this horse’s face and form if someone more normal paid her court.

Bringing a blanket and pillow out from his house, Derian encouraged Isende to stretch out in the sun while he seated himself on a folding stool.

“You might find you remember the details of the dreams more easily if you relax,” he said. “I know that I often wake up from a dream and think I’ve forgotten it entirely until I go to bed that night. It’s as if the feeling of my bed brings it back to me.”

Isende smiled and stretched out drowsily, stretching just a little, not coquettishly, but as an old cat would when it feels the sunlight warm its bones.

“They’re strange dreams.” she began. “Intense. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t had intense dreams before, but I don’t think I’ve ever had the same dream over and over again—not without really good reason.”

Derian pushed the heavy awl through two pieces of leather with a bit more force than necessary, but he pulled back before he could blunt the tip. Steel tools weren’t easy to get right now. Bone needles worked for sewing lighter clothing, but for steel they needed to go into Gak … .

He forced himself to give Isende his full attention. She was lying on her back, arm thrown over her eyes. He resisted the urge to bend down far enough to kiss her. He knew someone had to be watching, so he behaved himself.

“What are the dreams about?” he asked.

“Weird things,” Isende said. “Things I don’t usually dream about. I mean, why should I dream about ships? I’ve never seen a ship in my entire life. The little fishing boats here were the first oceangoing boats I’d seen. Gak is inland. There isn’t even a big lake nearby.”

Derian felt a strange thought tingle at the back of his mind, but he didn’t articulate the thought. Time enough for speculation when he knew more about Isende’s dreams.

“Go on,” he said. “Ships? You’re sure?”

“I’ve seen pictures,” Isende said, “in the archives here.”

“Ships, then,” Derian said. “What else?”

“Soldiers. Wearing all sorts of different types of armor, like they’re from different lands.”

“Ships and soldiers,” Derian said. “You haven’t been reading one of the history books, have you?”

“No,” Isende said. She blushed. “Actually, I’ve been reading some stories that Urgana tells me originated in Pelland. The book they’re in was for teaching languages. I thought … well, I thought that maybe I needed to improve my Pellish if someday I might meet your family.”