Wolf's Blood (12 page)

“I think so.”

“Something is being hidden from us,” Firekeeper repeated with growing anger. “Again.”

VI

  TINIEL SAT WITH his sketch pad in the little cottage he had once shared with his sister and wondered when his self-esteem had fallen so low that he was grateful because a raccoon wanted to share a meal with him.

Not that Plik was just any raccoon, or even really a raccoon at all. Plik was of the maimalodalum, the beast-souled, a weird hybrid of human and yarimaimalom originating in the days when magic had been the rule by which events were governed.

To casual inspection, Plik was more raccoon than otherwise. Height was the greatest divider, but a boar raccoon raised on its hind legs was taller than many humans realized. Therefore, it was not lack of height that made Plik stand out, but rather the shape of his mouth, a quality that let him speak human languages with an ease no raccoon could manage. Facial features blended human and raccoon harmoniously, fur and mask and bushy eyebrows complemented each other to the point that if the tip of Plik’s nose had not possessed the blackened tip of the raccoon, this would have seemed odd rather than otherwise.

But Tiniel was too familiar with Plik to dwell long on his physical uniqueness. What kept nagging at the young man was that Plik was sitting across the table from him rather than the person who should be there, the person who had always been there until slightly under five moonspans ago.

Isende. Tiniel’s sister. His twin. His other half.

One of the first things to happen following the conquest of the Nexus Islands by the New Worlders had been the reorganization of who resided where. Not only were quarters needed for those who had arrived from the New World, but after what Firekeeper had termed—in what everyone was assured was meant to be humor—“the Battle of the Basement.” having unpredictable elements continue to reside in the large building that had formerly served as both group residence and headquarters had not been deemed a good idea.

Now only Harjeedian lived in the large building, Harjeedian and a rotating contingent of Wise Beasts, who seemed to enjoy the aridisdu’s respectful company, even if, unlike Firekeeper, he could not speak their language.

Tiniel had thought the relocation of the inhabitants, many of whom took over the more opulent quarters that had been used by the Once Dead, a good thing. What he had not expected was that Isende would be among those to choose a new place for herself. Now she lived across the island from him in a suite of rooms near Rhul and Saeta, a couple with a seemingly inexhaustible supply of small children.

Now Tiniel saw his sister only at the dining hall where all the Islanders took their meals in common. Limited supplies made common meals necessary. Even when they did meet, Isende usually had one or more of her small neighbors in tow. Tiniel found it impossible to have a constructive conversation when Isende was constantly interrupting to wipe something off someone’s face or to answer some idiotic question.

This didn’t bother him nearly as much as his suspicion that Isende wanted things this way.

So Tiniel found himself making excuses to avoid the dining hall whenever possible. Breakfast was the easiest meal to manage, for other than porridge, the meal consisted of bread, cheese, and a garnish of some sort—usually, these days, of pickled onions. Those on cookhouse duty didn’t care if you carried your portion away, only that you brought back the bowl.

Not long after Tiniel instituted the custom of eating alone, a tap at the door announced Plik, his own meal in a basket over his arm.

“May I join you?” Plik said, walking in before Tiniel could say anything. “I saw what you were doing, and thought it a good idea. I am Still unaccustomed to living among so many and the clamor of the dining hall in the morning is more than I care for. Still, company over breakfast is nice.”

Wordlessly. Tiniel folded away his current drawing and waved Plik over to the small table where for many moonspans he and Isende had taken their meals. Then the little cottage had been more a prison than anything else, but Tiniel found himself reflecting back upon those days with increasing nostalgia.

Plik continued to join Tiniel for breakfast daily, and although initially Tiniel had been inclined to feel that his perfectly good protest against Isende’s neglect was being attenuated, he couldn’t think of a way to dismiss the maimalodalu without being rude. Not only was Plik a popular member of the community—something of a cross between everyone’s grandfather and, especially to the children, a rather cuddly toy—Plik was also Tiniel’s closest neighbor. There were two small cottages within the blood-briar hedge, and now that they need not serve as prisons, they made good housing for one or two people, as long as their needs were simple.

Plik resided in the smaller of the two cottages, Tiniel the larger. No one protested one young man having so much space, partly because there was ample better housing, and partly because no one really cared to live surrounded by blood briar. Tiniel, perversely, found himself becoming almost fond of the queer, blood-sucking plant, for it assured him of the privacy he craved.

Or didn’t crave. There were times, as now, as he sat chatting with Plik about when they could hope for fresh food from the mainland, that Tiniel craved easy companionship. He had never really been alone, because there had always been Isende, yet in other ways Tiniel felt he had always been alone, precisely because his intimacy with Isende had made other friendships unnecessary.

And then Plik said a word that increasingly made the blood pound in Tiniel’s head, a single word, a name: Derian.

Tiniel was no fool. He hadn’t missed how Isende had taken to Derian. He’d seen how her gaze followed the tall redhead whenever they were in the same room. He’d noticed how she made excuses to visit Derian, often going alone to that ostler’s cottage near the stable. Sometimes she had one of the brats along. Lately, more often she didn’t.

Tiniel’s only comfort in this betrayal was that he didn’t think Derian had noticed Isende’s interest in him. The man had come through querinalo Once Dead, but couldn’t stop whining about how his transformation set him apart.

Tiniel had felt a surge of hope when Derian had galloped off to Liglim to see his friend’s new baby. Derian was important in Liglim. Maybe the ambassador who was his boss would insist he stay. Maybe Derian would even take the time to go all the way to his northern homeland, but Derian had come trotting back to the Nexus Island, all the more agitated about how his family would react to his altered self.

“Derian was wondering if you wanted to take charge of the supply run into Gak,” Plik was saying when Tiniel cleared the pounding from his head well enough to listen.

“Doesn’t Harjeedian usually do that?” Tiniel asked.

Tiniel hadn’t been back to his home city-state since he and Isende had left more than a year and a half before, and he hadn’t much desire to go there now. Gak was the scene of the first of his monumental failures—the failure to achieve his father’s dream of having their family accepted as a separate clan, with voting rights in the city council.

“Usually,” Plik agreed, “but Harjeedian is deeply involved with trying to convince Urgana to undertake some necessary research. He has told Derian that he thinks it best if he doesn’t leave.”

Derian, again,
Tiniel thought.
How had Derian ever become leader when all he’s done is follow.
… A new thought interrupted this familiar one.

“Would Isende be coming with me?” he asked, suddenly happy.

“Probably not,” Plik said. “After all, the story Harjeedian has been telling in Gak is that you two have managed to make at least a small success of your venture to reclaim your ancestral holdings. It would hardly make sense for both of you to leave.”

Tiniel nodded. “Still, with you people out here—I mean there—helping, we both could leave for a few days, right?”

“Derian thinks,” Plik said, and Tiniel did his best to hide a wince, “that it would be best if we start downplaying our still being here. After all, both he and Harjeedian have fairly important posts back in Liglim. It’s one thing to assume that they might stay to help you and Isende through a bad winter when you were ill, but it might raise questions if they were to remain.”

“Are they leaving then?” Tiniel asked, his heart dancing with hope.

“Oh, no,” Plik said in a tone Tiniel realized was meant to be reassuring. “Don’t worry about that. Rather, you will take over the trips into Gak, and let it be assumed the others have moved on. If anyone suggests they come out and assist you—although I don’t think that likely, since there’s ample land for the taking closer to Gak—you can state you’re fine as you are. They’d believe that.”

They’d believe it,
Tiniel thought,
because they’d want to believe it. They let us go easily enough, didn’t they, and the two of us hardly more than children.

He didn’t admit even to himself that there was no legal way short of imprisonment that he and Isende could have been held in Gak. After all, there was no law against ambition—or idiocy.

“Maybe Derian and Harjeedian should go,” Tiniel said, “with me, I mean. Then they could be seen as leaving the area. If they wanted to double back then …”

Plik wrinkled his nose. “We discussed that, actually, but Derian is adamant that no one needs to get a good look at him as he is now, and Harjeedian has his business with Urgana. That leaves you or Isende. I certainly can’t go, and Firekeeper—even if she were in the area—would be impossible. Can you see her doing trade?”

“And none of the Old Worlders can go,” Tiniel said, trying to sound reasonable. “Even the ones who look like they could be from one of the city-states would give themselves away over and over.”

“There has been talk,” Plik said, and Tiniel found himself wondering when all these talks had been held, and why he hadn’t been invited, then realized that likely he could have been present, but that he’d been avoiding everything but his assigned duties, “that maybe later this summer you could take one or two of the others along. The Old Country Liglimom—they don’t call themselves that, but you know what I mean—might be accepted as people sent from the north by Harjeedian.”

“That’s an idea,” Tiniel agreed, “but I still wish Derian or Harjeedian would go on this trip. I’m no merchant.”

Plik spoke on, reassuring Tiniel that this had also been discussed, and that Harjeedian had promised to provide price guidelines, and Derian would give tutoring on bartering.

Tiniel let the words flow over him like water over rocks. He was thinking about leaving. Leaving and maybe not coming back, but that would mean leaving Isende. Losing her. Maybe losing her to Derian.

He wouldn’t stand for that.

“I’ll think about making the trip,” Tiniel said, trying to sound brave but apprehensive, “but I’m not sure. I’d feel a lot better if Isende came with me. Women are taught a lot more about barter and trade.”

Plik nodded, scraping his bowl with the edge of his spoon.

“Would you like to tell the others, or shall I?”

“I’ll tell them,” Tiniel said, “but I’ll speak with Isende first.”

And when I do,
he thought,
I’ll show her where her loyalties should lie. I’ll show her!

HARJEEDIAN SUCCEEDED IN convincing Urgana to attempt at least a little research on the very day that, if Derian had understood Kalyndra’s somewhat confused reckoning, Firekeeper and Blind Seer were due to return to the Nexus Islands.

“Urgana has a natural inquisitiveness,” Harjeedian said, “and after we had talked for some time, I realized that this curiosity could either help or hinder me.”

Derian, accustomed to Harjeedian’s habit of making speeches, made an encouraging sound in his throat.

Harjeedian went on. “Urgana had mentioned her fear that her pride, her dislike of being viewed as a lesser entity, simply because she did not possess magical talent, had been the reason she had bragged before King Veztressidan.”

“And thereby let him know what function the Nexus Islands served,” Derian said, not quite prompting.

“Exactly. I realized that I needed to show her that such pride was natural, and that denying the gifts the deities had given her would be wrong. From that point, Urgana began to yield, but not without,” Harjeedian mimed wiping sweat from his brow, “considerable further discussion.”

“So she will help us,” Derian said.

“She is already at work,” Harjeedian said. “The archived material was stored on the upper floors of the building in which I am currently residing. I took her there and left her—not, however, before requesting that Bitter and Lovable do me the favor of circumspectly watching her, and intervening if Urgana should begin to do anything untoward.”

“Like starting to destroy old documents?” Derian hazarded.

“Precisely.”

The two Wise Ravens were among the yarimaimalom to make the Nexus Islands more or less their permanent base of operation. Ravens were not picky eaters, and they seemed to enjoy watching humans. Also, although Bitter had mostly recovered from the punishing injuries he had taken from the blood-briar vines some moonspans before, still he was not as strong a flier as once he had been. Being able to hitch a ride, especially on a windy day, on the back or shoulder of a friend was a great advantage.