Arasan continued. “When we left the Nexus Islands, it was morning. Further west, where the sun had still not yet reached, the day was yet younger. Therefore, if the gates brought us west, we moved to earlier in that same day. By contrast, to the east, the day was further along.”
“So, did we go east or west?” Laria asked.
“I really don’t know,” Arasan said, “judging such things can become complicated when great distances are involved.”
Firekeeper remembered when Arasan’s words would have been complete nonsense to her, but that was before she had traveled through many different gates and, between one step and the next, had gone to the Old World in the east, far across the ocean. There the sun came first, so the day was older. When she went back to the New World, the day would be younger, for these lands were west of the Old World, and the sun came there later. The Nexus Islands were surrounded by the oceans between the two lands, but were closer to the Old World than the New.
“What about the stars?” Firekeeper asked without hesitation. Unlike humans, wolves saw no advantage in ignorance. Stupidity was mocked, most surely, but nothing was considered more stupid than pretending knowledge when there was none. “Why are they wrong?”
This time the Meddler replied. “The void holds both fixed and moving stars. The fixed stars change depending on whether you stand on the top or bottom of the world sphere. Since the stars have changed, my conclusion is that we have moved so far in space that we have come to the bottom of the sphere. Therefore, the fixed stars are different.”
Firekeeper fought a completely irrational touch of vertigo at the idea of standing at the bottom of a sphere hanging in the void. What if she fell off? She banished the impulse with wolfish practicality. She was here, standing firmly on her own two feet, wasn’t she?
“So the gate carried us both far around the world and below,” she said. “Well, when one considers, that is not so odd. We already suspected that this particular gate did not serve either the New World or the Old.”
The wolf-woman sensed both the Meddler’s annoyance at having failed to impress her more, and that Laria shared some of Firekeeper’s own earlier, unreasoning panic. Firekeeper wondered how to offer comfort without insult, for young humans could be touchy. She was still considering what she might say to Laria when Blind Seer’s return took the moment from her. The wolf-woman flung her arms around the wolf’s neck in a quick, tight hug that spoke her dread that something could have happened to him out there in the unfamiliar land.
“Our pack seems to be alone here,” the wolf said, “yet this place has not been completely deserted—not as was the Burned Place or those ruins we explored on Misheemnekuru.”
Firekeeper translated for the humans, for of them all only she spoke the language of the Beasts—although there were times she wondered about the Meddler’s claim he had forgotten what he had once known. It would be very convenient for him to be able to eavesdrop on her and Blind Seer in particular. The rivalry between the Meddler and Blind Seer had dulled but had by no means vanished.
When Firekeeper finished her translation, she clarified, “By the Burned Place, Blind Seer means the place where I was last a human—the colony west of the Iron Mountains, founded by Prince Barden of Hawk Haven. That place held scraps of humans and their things, but was deserted. He finds no trace of humans or Wise Beasts currently living here, but the humans, at least, have not forsaken it. There are signs they come here time to time.”
“And what of the Beasts?” asked Farborn.
Blind Seer replied, while Firekeeper translated both question and answer for the humans.
“The Beasts leave fewer signs of their comings and goings than do humans,” Blind Seer said, “but I found no scent or sight posts—nor did I find any awareness of the Wise Beasts among the few small Cousins I could convince to pause and speak with me.”
The blue-eyed wolf gaped his jaws and panted laughter. “Those who did were frozen in shock, so I do not think that wolves of my sort are known here.”
“This would be good territory for wolves,” Farborn commented, “as well as for the game you hunt, yet I saw no sign of either. Strange.”
“Although I found neither humans nor Wise Beasts,” Blind Seer continued, “I did sniff out what once must have been great roads, such as one finds in some parts of the Old World. These are much reduced, even overgrown, but I do not think completely unused. Someone has kept the saplings from pushing through the pavement and has cut back the grass. I discovered something else. What is the season?”
“Early spring,” Firekeeper answered automatically as soon as she had finished translating. Then she paused. The hill on which the gate had been situated was what a human might call “barren,” but was neatly landscaped with low shrubs, herbage, and even a few slender trees. She sniffed the air and looked at their surroundings more carefully. “Autumn?”
“That is what I smelled as well,” Blind Seer said. “Very strange.”
The Meddler spoke as soon as Firekeeper finished translating. “Remember what I told you about the stars being wrong because we are on the opposite side of the sphere? For the similar reasons, the seasons are reversed. I could explain…”
“Not now,” Firekeeper cut him off. “I will take what my senses tell me. It is autumn and it is night. The why does not matter now that we have some sense of where.”
“As for our next move,” Arasan said, taking advantage of the Meddler’s chagrin to wrest back control of their shared vocal cords, “we humans and, to some extent, Farborn, will be more useful come daylight. I suggest we wait here until dawn. Perhaps those of us who do not see well in the dark should retreat into the building and discover if we can learn anything there.”
“Do that,” Firekeeper agreed. “Blind Seer and I will range farther, see what we can learn. Farborn can come for us if you find trouble.”
Upon hearing Firekeeper’s parting words, Laria felt distinctly annoyed.
No question that the pair of them might get into trouble, she thought, then almost immediately felt ashamed of herself.
Firekeeper and Blind Seer had been many places at least as unknown as this one. They’d also ventured into areas they knew by reputation were likely to be very dangerous. With Blind Seer’s nose to guide them, the pair were not likely to get lost. Even if something happened to wipe out the scent trail, they both were inhumanly alert. Look how Firekeeper had noticed that the pattern of the stars was off before she’d been out of the gate building more than a few minutes.
How long would it have taken me?
A light touch on her arm interrupted Laria’s brooding.
“Come back inside,” Arasan said. “We’ll close the door, then ask Farborn to check if any light leaks out. If it seems safe to do so, we’ll turn up the lanterns and do our own exploring.”
“Maybe”—even with only that one word spoken, Laria knew that this was the Meddler— “we’ll find something written. Firekeeper can’t best us there.”
Laria knew that this was true. Over the last few moonspans, Firekeeper’s reading skills had advanced, but she was the first to admit that Blind Seer read far better than she did. By contrast, both Laria and Arasan read several languages, a legacy of their lives on the Nexus Islands. The Meddler… Well, what he did and didn’t know remained something Laria was still trying to figure out. One thing was certain. If the languages in question were ancient, the Meddler would have an edge over both her and Arasan.
Laria followed the two men in one body back into the building, reflecting on how very many odd things she now took for granted. This, even though, according to what she was learning now that her world had expanded beyond the Nexus Islands, her childhood had not been precisely normal, both growing up as she had on those isolated yet not isolated islands, then coming of age during those brief but horrible wars… No!
Concentrate on the here and now, Laria repeated to herself as she had so many times before. Here and now. Here and now.
Sh
ifting her attention to the present moment was easy enough once they were inside the building and the lantern’s side-shields had been pulled up so that the light shone evenly all around. Unlike on the Nexus Islands, where most of the gates were situated in the open to facilitate the movement of people and goods, this gateway had been built inside a structure that possessed no windows, and whose exit was blocked by a single solid door. The structure that held the gate was rounded, with a domed roof. Light-grey granite walls had been highly polished so that the stone shone like glass. In the middle of the structure stood the gate, an arch that—unless the proper rituals were observed—could be passed through without any extraordinary effects. But if those rituals were performed, stepping through the arch would carry one to the Nexus Islands.
When the five of them had arrived via the gate, the door to the outside world had been firmly locked. Where the domed roof met the walls, there were narrow ventilation openings covered with metal grills. Firekeeper had climbed up and removed one of the grills, enabling Farborn to scout. When the merlin had reported that they seemed to be alone, the Meddler had demonstrated that he was very good at picking even extremely difficult locks, and had let them out of the building.
“Over the course of my life,” he’d said breezily as he tried a variety of tools—and possibly muttered a spell or two—“I developed an aversion to being detained against my will.”
As with so much of what the Meddler said, this invited questions, but none of them were in the mood to play that game. Laria—like all the residents of the Nexus Islands—knew a few things about the Meddler, including how untrustworthy some legends said he could be. Still, he had saved Arasan’s life, and had been a good friend to Laria herself. Did the Meddler’s past actions mean he had deserved to die or to be restricted to existing only as a bodiless spirit?
Not for the first time, Laria remembered her father, the terrible wound in his side, his blood spilling over her as she held him, baptizing her with the terrific force of his struggle to live. Ollaris hadn’t wanted to die but, in the dark hours when she was awakened by nightmares, Laria wondered… Would her father have wanted to live if that meant sharing his body with another, especially if that other was as chancy an individual as the Meddler? Had Arasan known what he was letting himself in for? Was he regretting his being given this chance at life even now? At first Arasan had been so passive that it was easy to overlook that two spirits, not one, inhabited the body, but of late he had become more assertive. Was he only trying to have an equal voice in the partnership, or did he hope to dominate?
“I wonder,” Arasan said, holding up his lantern for a better look at the shining walls that surrounded them, “why the people who built this went to all this trouble? First they sealed the gate, draining all its magical energy down to just a fizz. Then they built this building around it. I’d swear the building was constructed later. Why didn’t they just destroy the gate? It wouldn’t be easy—breaking apart magically enhanced solid stone structures never is—but hardly impossible.”
Laria knew what had led Arasan’s thoughts in this direction. Ever since the current government had taken control of the Nexus Islands, a systematic effort had been made to learn where each and every gate went. The gate that had brought them here was the first they had found which had been sealed not only on the Nexus Islands’ side, but on this side as well. Not merely locked—that wasn’t uncommon—but sealed so as to make it all but useless. If they had really wanted to stop the gate from being used, it would have been smarter to break it.
“But,” Arasan continued, “if we hadn’t had not only the Nexus Islands’ library to draw on but also those of the allied Old World nations…”
“And myself and Virim to offer some inspired suggestions,” the Meddler interrupted.
“…we probably would not have made it through. Maybe the locals thought they were safe enough.”
Laria swallowed a sigh. “But we did force the seal and here we are,” she said firmly. “What I’m worried about is whose land we’re in and how whoever sealed this gate with such care is going to feel about our showing up. I wonder if we’ve triggered an alarm?”
From the corner of her eye, Laria saw Farborn hunch over and try to make himself smaller. She flushed at her thoughtlessness. Farborn—or so Firekeeper had warned them, and the wolf-woman had no reason to lie—still felt tremendous guilt for failing to alert the Nexus Islanders when they had been invaded via gates that he had been set to guard. Never mind that the merlin had been betrayed by his watch partner, Farborn was overly sensitive about anything that even hinted at the topic of alarms and incursions.
With dismay, Laria realized that Firekeeper probably had taken for granted that the gate or the building that housed it had been equipped with some sort of alarm. While Laria had been focusing on herself, the wolves were out there in unfamiliar territory, trying to detect from where an inspector or army or whatever else might be coming. But Firekeeper had managed to go seeking trouble without causing pain for Farborn.
And here I am, being more thoughtless than someone whose lack of tact is practically proverbial.
Determined to make up for her error, Laria held up her lantern to better inspect the nearest wall. Beneath the stronger light, she discovered that the wall was covered with many lines of stylized inscription.
“Farborn,” Laria said, raising her voice slightly, “I’ve found writing here. Why don’t you scout up there, along the ledge and the dome, and see if there’s more? Firekeeper’s always saying that humans never remember to look up.”
The falcon fluttered his wings, then began hopping slowly along the ledge where the domed ceiling met the wall.
“I’m not certain that’s necessary…” the Meddler began, waving his hand toward another section of inscription. “Ouch!”
He stopped in mid-phrase, his hand flying to his mouth as if he’d bitten his tongue. That, Laria realized with a flash of perverse delight, was precisely what he had done. Or rather, what Arasan had done to keep the Meddler from saying something that would add insult to the injury Laria’s comment had already done to Farborn’s feelings.
“Meddler, can you read any of this inscription?” Laria asked quickly. “It’s gibberish to me.”
The Meddler/Arasan lifted their lantern again, stepping back so as to better inspect the words incised into the walls. Laria’s first language was a variation of what the northern New Worlders called Liglimosh, which had been commonly used on the Nexus Islands even during the time when the Once Dead Spell Wielders had ruled. However, she was comfortable with Old World Pellish, as well as the languages of Alkya and Tavetch, since the Once Dead under whose rule the Islands had been until something like a year and a half ago had often given commands in their native languages. Woe to the servant, even if only a child, who didn’t understand.
Laria’s knowledge of written languages was more limited. The Once Dead had not precisely forbidden children to be taught to read, but there were no schools as such, only tutoring by whatever literate person had a moment to spare. Spare moments had been rare enough, especially for the literate. They were still rare since everyone was scrabbling to help the new government establish its hold and…
Laria realized she was woolgathering, and concentrated on the inscriptions. The style of lettering was familiar in some cases, completely alien in others. The Meddler/Arasan, in harmony now that they had a shared interest, were moving their lips as they sounded through a text. Arasan saw the puzzlement on Laria’s face—both men had long mastered the art of reading silently—and hastened to explain.
“These scripts are both ornate and of an ancient style. The spelling is also archaic. If not, we would suspect that the old-fashioned script might have been used for artistic effect. But seeing both together and…”—a sweeping gesture of one hand— “the older spelling being a constant in several unrelated languages leads us to believe that at the time these inscriptions were made this was the style of writing currently in use.”
Laria moved her lantern closer to the wall. Now that she knew the writing was stylized, she could pick out a word here, a phrase there, especially in Liglimosh.
“’Passage’?” she murmured, “followed by ’restricted to.’ Does that say ‘to those who would dance or sing or love rather than bleed’?”
“That’s how I read it,” Arasan agreed, “although after comparing the text to those in other languages, I would translate ‘bleed’ as meaning ‘to shed someone else’s blood.’ As in ‘to bleed a wound’ or to ‘bleed a carcass.’”
Laria was puzzled. “So is this an elaborate way of saying, ‘Come in peace’?”
Neither the Meddler or Arasan offered a reply, so Laria walked a few paces to where she could view a different portion of the text. Rather than write individual panels, each in one language, the inscribers had chosen the much more laborious course of writing a single line that extended around the circumference of the room.
Laria continued muttering her clumsy interpretation. “’Restricted to those who carve in stone or wax or wood, but never bone.’” Neither Arasan nor the Meddler corrected her, so Laria continued. “Write upon paper or stone or vellum, but on thinking skin use only that which you yourself have grown.’”
She’d almost come full circle, and her sense of apprehension was growing.
“What do they mean by ‘carving, writing, singing, dancing’?”
“I’d love to believe,” Arasan said, his expression wry, “that we have discovered a gate that will lead us to a community of peace-loving practitioners of the myriad arts and crafts. Maybe, in some sense, we have. But I think there is something being forbidden other than art supplies and the manner in which one may use them.”
“Blood magic,” said the Meddler bluntly, interrupting Arasan. “That’s what is being forbidden—along with those related fashions of magic that used bones, skin, and other—uh—things harvested from living creatures, especially intelligent living creatures.”
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