Wolf-Speaker

by Tamora Pierce

  Someone banged on the door. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

  “Yes, you dolts!” snarled Rikash. “Get in here now!”

  “It’s locked!” yelled the man outside.

  “Out of the way!” the immortal cried. He could point at the door, and did, to loose a bolt of fire at the lock. Flicker jumped to the floor and ran over just as the door swung open.

  Three men, two of them cooks to judge from their aprons, dashed in.

  “Get that squirrel!” shrieked Rikash as Flicker bolted past.

  The cooks gaped at him. “Get the what?”

  The exit was open. Flicker darted though and raced for the fort’s wall.

  “Don’t argue with me! It’s getting away!” Rikash’s voice was clear even through the command post walls.

  The squirrel didn’t even pause. By the time a search party could leave the fort, he had reached the woods and was scrambling through the trees.

  Daine returned to herself. She tried to get up, but something was not right with her feet or hands. They were squirrel paws. “Oh, no,” she whispered. “Not now.” Looking up, she said, “Flicker, are you all right?”

  The squirrel climbed down the willow. You should have let me bite the Great Stinky, he snapped. Then he’d know what it’s like! Looking her over, he remarked in a milder voice, You know, parts of you are almost normal.

  “Funny,” mumbled Daine. “Cloud, we have to go. I think Rikash will search for us. But—” She looked at her hands and feet. They were still paws. “Please change back,” she said wistfully.

  Why? asked the squirrel. You don’t have claws of your own—keep these.

  If they are hunting you, it might be wise to warn the local squirrels, Cloud remarked. They’ll just kill anyone they see, hoping it’s you.

  Daine winced. “You’re right.” She called to the nearby tree folk, whether they were red, gray, or the shy black breed. When she finished, all were finding places to hide, and her hands were human. Teetering on human-size, clawed feet supported by her boots, she saddled Cloud and mounted, with Flicker on her lap.

  They halted some hours south of the western pass when the light had gone. Stormwings had forced them under cover several times on the way: she dared not start a fire they might see. Instead she gnawed on waybread and jerky, trying to ignore a pounding headache. To complete her happiness, fog rose from the lake to cover the valley in a clammy shroud.

  Flicker cleaned out her supply of sunflower seeds, dug up and ate all the nuts other squirrels had cached within sight of their camp, and curled up in one of Daine’s packs to sleep. Daine shoved herself under a rock ledge to get out of the damp, and gingerly removed her boots. Her ankles looked human, but the rest still looked squirrelish. “When will I get my toes back?” she asked Cloud.

  The mare liked fog no better than her rider. I am a pony, she snapped. You have to ask that question of someone who understands magic. I do not.

  —So.—Daine jumped, and banged her head on the rock over her. How the badger had crept up on her she could not begin to guess.— I see you have learned the wider applications of the lesson I mentioned to you.—

  “You could have warned me,” she snapped, rubbing her scalp. “I thought I was losing my mind.”

  —After the man said there was no madness in you? If you cannot trust your own instincts, you could at least trust his.—

  “He has no instincts, only things learned from books,” she grumbled.

  —Why do you say that?—

  The question brought her to a sudden boil. “He walked us into a mess of traitors.” She knew she was being unfair, but couldn’t stop. “And evil mages. He got stuck on one side of a magic wall with me on the other. He won’t use a word of power on it ’cause the word might cause a mess somewhere, which I don’t believe it will. Now I have to count soldiers at opposite ends of the valley. He thinks I’m safe because I’m inside Flicker. He didn’t think of folk who’d see a squirrel looking at papers and know something was amiss!”

  Her toes hurt, sending darts of pain up her legs that did nothing to help her thinking. She rubbed them. “I’m saddled with a two-legger who won’t go home when she’s only in the way. I’m running from Stormwings, hurroks, Coldfangs, and the Horse Lords know what else. I’m cold and hungry and tired and I have squirrel feet!”

  The badger breathed on the afflicted parts. His breath was warm and soothing. Hair and claws melted, turned pale and smooth: Daine’s toes were back. They cramped, and she winced. The badger breathed on them again. The cramps eased, and stopped. So did her headache.

  —You have been a foolish kit,—he informed her.—To return to your original state, you must do the same thing you did to begin to change, only in reverse. You have to think yourself into your two-legger form.—

  “Oh.” She drew on stockings and boots, feeling ridiculous. The badger sighed, and lay beside her. The weight and warmth of his furred body against hers was pleasant, and the heavy badger aroma was comforting. “No matter what I say, the wolves are doing terrible things, things that will get them hurt if they’re caught.’ How can I help when they won’t listen to me?”

  —You don’t grasp why you were brought here. Haven’t you seen, in your travels, that you alone speak to all three kindreds: humans, immortals, and beasts?—

  “No. Is that important?”

  —In other places, perhaps not. But here…What do you think of this valley?—he asked, appearing to change the subject.

  She blinked. “Dunlath?” He nodded regally. “Well, its—nice. Lots of farmland, the lake for fishing, good forests—or they would be, if Yolane and Belden didn’t rip the covering off to get at every drop of what’s under it. Except for mountain winters, Dunlath is almost perfect, not only for the People, but two-leggers.” She remembered the ogre falling at the mines, blood rolling down his back. “Maybe even immortals, too, if they wanted to just live here and raise families.”

  —Now you see the shape of our plan. You were brought here to help all of Dunlath, not just wolves.—

  “That’s twice you’ve said I was brought, like a cat in a sack. The wolves asked me to come help, but I came on my own two feet, and on Cloud’s four.”

  —Were you not surprised to get a request for help from Brokefang? Is it the nature of wolves to think to ask for help?—

  “Well, no…Maybe—”

  —They do not ask their kinfolk. Packmates already know what is needed. And those beings who are not Pack are unimportant unless they serve as food.—

  “But he changed, because he licked my wound—”

  —He didn’t change that much, not in the beginning.—

  “Well, then, why did he think to ask for me to come?”

  —Old White suggested it. We thought that if you came for the wolves, you would ease into the true matter, the problem of all Dunlath. I had hoped you would see for yourself what is required by now.—

  Daine blushed, feeling absurdly guilty and stupid. “I’m not a seer or a diviner,” she protested, “I need things spelled out. That isn’t a crime.”

  The badger rumbled.—Then here is the spelling. Fish, fowl, four-leggers, two-leggers, no-leggers, you are to set this whole valley to rights.—

  She listened with dismay. “How?” she wailed. “I’m fourteen! Only fourteen! How do I set everyone to rights? Get someone bigger! Get someone older!”

  —Someone older and bigger will not do.—His voice was tightly patient.—You are the only one for the task. If you weren’t tired and wet and frightened, you would see it for yourself.—

  “No I wouldn’t,” she muttered rebelliously. “I still don’t—”

  —Shape a bridge between kindreds.—He pressed his blunt head to her palm.—Find allies, my kit—not just among the People, but among humans and immortals.—Idly he added,—How do you deal with the Stormwings, may I ask?—

  She made a face, “We’ve had words. You know how they are. They’re here in force, and it looks like they’re serving
the Carthaki emperor once again.”

  —It may be they have no choice. If hurroks can he bound to the service of humans, so can Stormwings.—

  “Why is everyone I meet defending them? You sound like Maura.” Remembering her friend’s behavior with the immortals, Daine snorted. “Though I’ll tell you, yesterday I almost felt sorry for Rikash and his crew. He wanted Maura to go home as bad as I do, but she said no, and he wouldn’t make her. It was funny.”

  —They sound almost like real people, not monsters.—The badger’s voice was so bland, so clean of any emotion, that Daine looked at him suspiciously.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  —Nothing, young kit.—Rising, he nudged her in the side, hard.—Get some rest, then go to work. Unless you want to be here for the Big Cold?—

  “Goddess, no!” Smiling, she added, “Thanks, Badger.”

  —Stop feeling sorry for yourself, mind. My patience has its limits.—As if to prove his point, he glared at the wide-eyed Flicker, who had listened to the entire conversation.—What are you staring at, nibbler?—

  He didn’t wait for a reply. Silver fire bloomed around him and he was gone.

  Badgers, Flicker remarked wearily. They always have to be wiser and grumpier than anyone else.

  The next day dawned gray and wet, a mixed blessing. It meant they didn’t need to worry much about Stormwings or hurroks: they had trouble staying aloft with damp wings. However, she and her friends were also wet, which did nothing for moods. They were all aware of the long trip to the northern fort.

  “At least we can dry off and get some hot food here,” Daine told the others as they reached the caves. “We can’t stay long, though.”

  When they entered the big cave, Maura squeaked and ran to hug Daine. “I’m so glad you’re back!” she whispered. “Are you done with your counting?”

  Daine felt a guilty twinge. Her comments to the badger about a two-legger who got in her way felt as if they were branded on her forehead. “I have to do the northern fort yet,” she said. “How is everything here?”

  Maura pulled away. “Fine,” she said, the tone of her voice falsely bright. “Tkaa’s teaching me’n Kitten—”

  “Kitten and me,” Daine corrected automatically.

  “About rocks. You know, how you can tell what’s what. He teaches Kitten how to change them, too, but I can’t make the noise.”

  —Some of the wolves frighten her,—said Tkaa, emerging from one of the rear caverns. Daine looked for the pack. The pups, napping beside the pile of human gear, thumped their tails and dozed off again.—The gray-and-white female, Frostfur. The older male, Longwind. They do not harm her, but they watch her, and she knows it. The female growls if Maura comes too close.—

  “Oh, dear.” Daine looked at the girl. “Tkaa says Frostfur and Longwind are upsetting you.”

  “Oh, no.” Maura’s eyes avoided Daine’s. “I hardly notice them. Fleetfoot and Russet are nice, and the pups will play with me. Would you like corn cakes? I still have some batter. I made it from the food the pack brought.”

  Daine tended Cloud, feeding her the last barley and oats. Her pony cared for, she tried the cakes, and praised them. Flicker liked them too, particularly with honey. It will be a shame to go back to the trees, he confided to Daine. I like the variety of food you have.

  You’ll get fat as a marmot, Daine said, oiling rough spots on Kitten’s hide.

  “Daine?” Maura asked. “I was thinking, don’t you need help with your counting? I could write numbers down for you. I wouldn’t be in the way.”

  Dismay warred with pity. “We’ve only one horse,” Daine said, “and I have to move fast. The only way you could go would be if we had a mount for both of us. I can’t call your horse—he’s in his own stable by now. And there’s nothing else you can ride.”

  “A deer, maybe, or an elk? No. I guess that’s a stupid idea. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I know you’d rather I went home.”

  Daine winced. It was what she thought, but hearing it in that polite, well-bred voice made her feel like a bigger monster than a Stormwing.

  “If travel is the only problem, I may be able to help,” Tkaa remarked. “I will carry Lady Maura on my back.”

  Kitten whistled: the basilisk nodded. “You may ride in my pouch, Skysong.”

  Dumbfounded, Daine stared at the tall immortal. He looked no stronger than a birch sapling. “Impossible.”

  “You of all people should know better than to use that word,” reproved Tkaa.

  “Even if you could carry both, which I doubt, you couldn’t keep up.”

  “I do not see how so young a mortal came to believe she knows all there is to be known of immortals. I would not offer if I felt I could not do it.”

  Daine was a well-mannered girl, but she liked being talked down to no better than any other teenager. “Very well,” she said, standing. “If you can fit Kitten in your pouch, carry Maura piggy-back, and keep up with me and Cloud—”

  “Cloud and me,” Maura interrupted. She blushed and covered her mouth with her hands when Daine made a face at her.

  “—then you’re welcome to come,” the older girl finished, feeling beset on all sides. “But if you fall behind, I won’t linger for you.”

  Before they had been on the trail more than an hour, Tkaa caught up to Cloud, Daine, and Flicker and passed them. Maura drooped over his shoulder, sound asleep. Kitten sat up in his pouch, watching the trail.

  They traveled all day, getting soaked as the damp turned to rain. At midafternoon they passed the cliff where Daine had first seen the mines. She sighed. That spot would have been good to work from if she only had to listen to the fort’s animals, but she wanted to be closer before Flicker went there. She wasn’t sure how far her new magic would stretch.

  So they followed the mountains farther north, around the fields of heaped and barren dirt. Tkaa found a wooded ridge that overlooked the fort. It was ideal. Large trees nearby would shelter them from the hurroks Daine was sure lived in the northern fort. Also, a line of rock formed a clear path from the base of their ridge to within fifty yards of the palisade.

  Flicker agreed. Easy as eating corn, he told her.

  Using branches and a fallen log over a pocket in the earth, Daine and Maura built a rough shelter where Tkaa, Kitten, and the girl could sit out of the wet. Daine unsaddled Cloud. As she did so, Maura, Kitten, and Tkaa returned to the ridge, looking not at the fort, but at the mines. The weather might have been damp and miserable, but operations below were in full swing. Human and ogre workers labored in thick mud while overseers cursed those who fell.

  When Daine joined them, Maura said quietly, “These poor ogres are ugly.”

  “I don’t know,” replied Daine. “At least they’re of a piece, all one thing. They prob’ly think we’re funny looking, all pink and hairless.”

  “You don’t hate them? But I hear so many stories. Outside the valley they fight with humans all the time. It’s said the King’s Champion lives in the saddle these days because she’s always battling them.”

  Daine shrugged. “It’s not so bad. Lady Alanna doesn’t always fight them. Ogres just don’t understand they can’t take things that belong to others.” Since her talk with the badger, she had done a great deal of thinking. “I wonder—if humans didn’t attack and tried to be nice, maybe ogres wouldn’t be so nasty,” She pointed at the mines. “And I know one thing for certain. This is just plain wrong. Look at their ribs—you could count them. When d’you suppose they had their last meal? And whatever it was, it can’t have been much.”

  Maura stared at the scene below, small face unreadable.

  Come on, Flicker said. We’ll have to do some of this in the dark, and I hate the dark. Can we get moving, before we have to do it all in the dark?

  “I have to go,” Daine told the others. “Keep your heads down while you’re here, and get under cover soon. No fire, mind, and talk softly.”

  Tkaa looked at her. �
��We will be fine. I will keep the little ones safe.”

  Daine smiled. “I know you will.”

  Seated in a corner of the shelter, Daine shut her eyes and entered Flicker’s mind. The squirrel’s hide itched with anxiety over the coming of night. He scratched, then clambered down the ridge to the line of rock.

  The mine workers were trudging home as Flicker reached the fort. Daine was glad to find a chink where the log palisade met the ground: she had not liked the idea of climbing up when they could be seen by those being herded past. Once inside the wall, Flicker scaled one of the watchtowers, tucking himself in where two of the supports met the platform floor.

  What is that building over there, the newish one? he wanted to know. It has a terrible smell.

  She peered at the structure he meant. It was set apart from the other buildings in the enclosure. Built like a stable, its doors extended from ground to roof. When the wind blew from its direction, a scent of hay, dead meat, and rage, one she had first smelled as a bat, filled the air.

  Hurrok stables, she told Flicker. They patrol this part of the valley. They’re nasty. Lucky for us, I don’t think they can fly in weather like this.

  She examined the rest of the fort. It was larger than the one in the south, and older—no doubt it had been here before the mining began. There were painted shutters open on the buildings’ windows. The men wore the uniform of Maura’s house, green tunic over gray shirt and breeches, with a shoulder badge of the Dunlath coat of arms, a green two-headed griffin on a gray field.

  Stands to reason that it’s fancier, she told Flicker. Most local visitors must come from the north, from the City of the Gods or Fief Aili. Only traders come in from the south.

  The sun is going, the squirrel replied.

  I’m afraid we have to let it go, she said, as kindly as possible. That room with the light in it looks to be the commander’s office like the one we visited in the south. We have to wait for him to leave, and that probably won’t be till it’s time to eat. Look at it this way—at least we’re out of the rain.