The Wayfinder

by Darcy Pattison

  Valda raised her hand and said soothingly. “Siv, maybe he doesn’t know; maybe his mother never told him. Let me explain.”

  Siv let a careless hand fall on Lady Kala’s topknot. She scratched behind the Tazi’s ears. Lady Kala whined but didn’t move. “Explain then, sister.”

  Valda began. “Our father, Steinolf, was the leader of the Wolf Clan. Steinolf, what a powerful wolf of a man! He was a head taller than your King Andar. Steinolf had piercing eyes, a great mane of hair, and a thunderous voice. Territorial, that’s what we are, just like the great wolves. Yet Steinolf was a man of compassion. When Hazel and King Andar told tales of drought and famine in the land across the Rift, Steinolf vowed to help. The Wolf Clan set venison steaks before the dusty foreigners; we provided guards to escort them through our territory; we helped them locate the bow and arrow of King Andar’s dream. Did we receive any gratitude? No.” The suave voice turned vicious. “That woman, Finder Hazel, killed my father. Oh, she didn’t stab him or shoot him with an arrow. Nothing so kind as that. No, she stole his heart’s delight.”

  “What? Why?" Win already knew it was the Wolf Amulet, but he wanted to know why Hazel had stolen it.

  “We were a people of hunters—”

  Siv interrupted. “We are still hunters!”

  “Yes, Clan Leader. I didn’t mean otherwise.”

  “Yes, you did.” The sisters glared at each other. At Win’s back there were loud murmurings from the crowd as they took sides. Whatever bad feelings separated the sisters also separated the Wolf Clan.

  “May I continue?” Valda asked mildly.

  Siv waved her hand and leaned back in her chair nonchalantly as if nothing said here would matter.

  “We are a people of hunters. For generations we have hunted with the great wolves of the plains. We are the Steinolf Clan, rulers of the wolves.”

  The crowd dutifully echoed, “Rulers of the wolves.”

  Valda continued, her resonant voice pulling the crowd into her spell. “We use a copper collar, such as now controls your hound, to bend the wolves to our will. They hunt for us and provide our tables with meat, and our clan prospers. But wolves can live bound to us by copper for only a year, or they will weaken and die. Each year we select new wolves. For that we need the Wolf Head, an amulet that has been passed from clan leader to clan leader for as many generations as the Steinolf Clan has lived. With the Wolf Head, we can call the great wolves to gather at the grotto where we choose new hunters for the year.”

  Win was beginning to see why Hazel had stolen the amulet. Once in their travels before coming to G’il Rim, they had passed through a large mountain valley. They stopped at a village for coffee and sugar. At this village market, though, they were selling people.

  “Barbarians,” Hazel said. She spent their entire purse on slaves—a pregnant mother, a thin father, and their three scrawny children, who had been sold to pay their debts. As soon as they were outside the mountain valley, Hazel took off her sandals and shook off the dust of that evil place. Then she freed the slaves.

  “It isn’t enough, but it’s all we can do.” Hazel said.

  If the Wolf Clan had traveled with Hazel and King Andar for a week, forcing the wolves to hunt for them, she would have been very angry.

  Valda went on. “Hazel stole the amulet and thus killed our father. As clan leader Steinolf ate only meat. For the first year we ate well, but then we had no Wolf Head, no way to call the great wolves. Some years we managed to capture a wolf or two. One year we caught seven cubs and raised them for a year before putting them under the collar. Ah, that year we feasted, did we not, sister? But most years we watched our father starve. He grew thin, then gaunt. Finally, he wasted away. Ah, but you will care nothing for our sorrows. So now we have no hunters”—with a quick sideways glance at Siv, she corrected herself. “We must hunt alone without the help of the wolves.”

  Siv said, “We track the game; we make the kill.”

  Valda added, “I have heard the children crying many days when our tables were bare.”

  Win asked, “Couldn’t you eat other foods? Plants? Learn to fish?”

  “You see the crops my sister has tried to grow.” Siv swept a hand toward the sad-looking garden. “Her fishermen catch nothing worth eating.”

  Win ventured some advice: “You could learn. You just need to care for the crops better, water them, weed–”

  Siv rose again from her chair. “See how he insults us? We are hunters! We don’t scramble around in the river, trying to catch a smelly fish. We don’t dig in the ground for tasteless tubers. We fill our roasting pits and our stewpots with meat, and as long as I lead, the Steinolf Clan will always be hunters!”

  Win began to understand now why the people were so thin and why they were so interested in Lady Kala. The Steinolf Clan were great hunters only when they had a wolf or hound to hunt for them. Pride separated Siv’s supporters from Valda’s supporters. Valda wanted the people to be practical, to learn to fish and farm properly. Siv and her supporters, who were most of the clan, clung to the old ways of hunting, and they were starving because of their pride.

  Getting Lady Kala away from them would be almost impossible. She was their only hunter now, and they'd guard her carefully. Even if he avoided the guard, he would have to remove the copper collar or figure out how the collar allowed them to control her.

  Valda stood and paced in front of the crowd. “You all know that what I say is true. As firstborn my sister has attempted to lead the clan for the past five years—but no longer. I have found the Wolf Head.” From a pouch at her waist she pulled out the amulet. Triumphantly she held it overhead. She called, “Wolf Head, Wolf Head!”

  Valda’s eyes glittered as she heard murmurs beginning in the crowd. Win saw that he had misjudged her. She didn’t care if the people hunted or farmed. She just wanted power; she wanted to be the leader of the Wolf Clan. At any cost.

  Slowly the crowd took up the chant, murmurs building to a crescendo: “Wolf Head! Wolf Head! Wolf Head!”

  The chant rolled over Siv, but she just fidgeted with the shell necklace.

  “Wolf Head! Wolf Head!” Valda marched back and forth in front of the enthusiastic crowd, stamping her feet in time to their chant.

  “Wolf Head! Wolf Head!”

  The cry pulsed in Win’s head until he thought it would burst.

  THE LAST JEWEL

  “Hold!” Siv suddenly leapt up and stalked Valda from behind. With a quick motion she jerked the amulet from Valda, who let her have it with a smug grin. The crowd was suddenly quiet, but the tension between the sisters stretched the silence taut.

  Siv peered at the amulet. She ran her fingers over the polished wood, probing its secrets. Everyone watched her. “Pah! It’s worthless.”

  “What do you mean?” Valda tried to take back the amulet, but Siv held it closely.

  “Only two red jewels for eyes. One is missing.”

  The crowd groaned. Win wondered what to do now. The clan members appeared willing to follow either sister’s rule, depending on which was the cleverer at filling a cooking pot. No wonder they were gaunt; they lacked a true leader.

  None of that helped him right now. He tried to remember how he had gotten past Paz Naamit. He had Found the second red jewel for her. Perhaps the third jewel was in this village, and he could Find it. He concentrated on an image of the red stones. A Finding came over him, and with a start he realized the stone was close, very close. Siv wore the red jewel, concealed either in the shell necklace or underneath her shirt. Why? And why didn’t she tell that she wore it? Perhaps she waited for a time of better advantage. Or perhaps she didn’t know it was there.

  Either way, it meant that Valda was Win’s way of escape.

  He held up his bound hands for silence. “I know the location of the last jewel.”

  “Where?” Valda demanded. Her fingers flexed as if she wanted to jerk the amulet away from Siv.

  Win said, “First, take the collar off Lady K
ala.”

  “Free the hound,” Valda growled. “We must have the jewel for the amulet.”

  Hulda shoved up to his feet and started for Lady Kala.

  “You go too far, sister.” Siv drew her dagger and crouched in front of Lady Kala. Her glance swept across the crowd. “Don’t touch her.”

  Hulda stopped in confusion, turning from Valda to Siv and back again, like a helpless fawn caught between a wolf and a hunter.

  Standing awkwardly on the scarred leg, Siv appealed to the crowd. “Listen! If we free the gazehound, Winchal Eldras will have no reason to help us. First, let him find the Wolf Head jewel.”

  Win’s eyes narrowed. Did Siv know the jewel was hidden in the shell necklace? Was she bluffing to gain time? He would not leave without Lady Kala.

  “There are many things to consider here.” Faced with Siv’s ferocity, Valda once more turned diplomatic. “You want Lady Kala, and you want to Find the Well of Life. Find the jewel for us, and we will release you to Find the Well. When you return, you can purify our well water, so the plague won’t harm us. Lady Kala will stay with us as a hostage to guarantee your return.”

  The situation was dangerous, especially for Lady Kala who had no will of her own while she wore the copper collar. However, Win thought the Well was only a day’s journey at the most. Lady Kala should be fine for that amount of time. He realized he had no choice but to trust them.

  Valda demanded again, “Where is the jewel?”

  Win concentrated on the last red jewel. His hand went to the shell necklace on Siv’s neck. He hesitated for a moment before pointing to the largest shell in the center of the top row. “The jewel is inside this shell.”

  Siv’s eyes grew wide. “Hidden inside my necklace? All this time!”

  Unclasping her necklace, she inspected the shell. With dagger point she dug out a small red stone. Before Valda had a chance to react, Siv inserted it into the third eye socket of the Wolf Head. Whispering, “For you, Father,” she slipped the amulet over her head.

  Valda stomped in vexation. Then, recognizing defeat, she slumped to her knees in front of her sister.

  A deep hush settled over the crowd. A breeze whipped up and rustled through the thatch of the pavilion.

  Crouching, Siv’s eyes changed from deep blue to brilliant red, like the stones. She didn’t appear to recognize anyone in the pavilion. She threw back her head, and her golden hair hung like a shaggy mane past her waist. The sunflower that she had tucked behind her ear fell onto the ground. Sitting on her haunches, she clawed at the ground, ripping apart the sunflower. She stretched her long white neck into the sky. A feral howl rose from deep inside her chest: “Arooo! Ar, ar, arooo!”

  Win shivered at the mournful howl, but the Wolf Clan went wild. The drummers beat a wild cadence, their bone drumsticks racing up and down the length of the logs like a pack of wolves. The clan danced and howled back at Siv, but with a human howl, not with the uncanny wolf howl that Siv had voiced. One scrawny old woman sat on the ground, tears running down wrinkled cheeks, murmuring, “Meat for the pot!” The rest of the clan leapt and hugged and celebrated the return of the Wolf Head to the Steinolf Clan, rulers of the wolves, the return of fat and prosperous times.

  Valda had regained her composure. She shouted, “We will call the wolves at dusk!”

  The clan took up the cry. “At dusk!”

  In the midst of the celebration Win realized no one was paying him any attention. He crept to Lady Kala’s side and ran a hand, still neatly trussed, over her silky topknot and down to the copper collar that bound her to Siv’s will. He tugged at it, and it separated. In a moment she'd be free.

  A dagger pressed at his throat. Valda said, “Where do you think you are going, son of Hazel?”

  THE ESCAPE

  Win swallowed hard, feeling Valda’s blade nick his skin. “I go to seek the Well of Life,” Win said. “I need my hound.”

  Valda just laughed. “Hulda, bind him and lock him up. We’ll feed both him and his hound to the wolves when they gather at the grotto. That should rid us of the plague.”

  “Wait! You promised—”

  “Nothing!”

  Win struggled against Hulda and the other guards, but they wrestled him to the ground. He tried to call to Lady Kala, but she lay unseeing, uncaring, as Hulda sat on him and tied his feet together and gagged him. Then Hulda slung Win over his sturdy back and strode through the village to the prison hut. He tossed Win inside and bolted the door.

  All morning the village was filled with laughter and songs. All morning Win despaired of ever returning to the Heartland with the Water of Life. Everyone would die, and the streets of G’il Rim would be silent and ghostly. Was Hazel sick already? He tugged at the bonds, but they held. Was the Prince still alive? He could do nothing but listen to the celebrations of the Wolf Clan.

  Toward midday the village quieted as the Wolf Clan rested or napped in preparation for the calling of the wolves that night. Win’s hut was hot and close, and he was dizzy with hunger and thirst. Finally, he dozed.

  Suddenly a cloth covered Win’s eyes and was tied roughly behind his head. A cold iron blade slipped between his ankles and severed the rope. A rude hand jerked him upright and pushed him forward. The hand stayed on his elbow to guide him. They moved along dirt paths for a few minutes, then into tall grasses that caught at his legs and brushed his face. His nose itched, and he sneezed, or tried to, but the gag muffled the sound. The hand squeezed his elbow, and a voice growled, “Quiet!”

  He tried to pull away, but the hand held his elbow in a vise, and something—a spear or dagger—poked his back. He could do nothing while his hands were bound, and his eyes were covered. His blindness amplified every sound: the swish of grasses, the buzz of mosquitoes, the breathing of his captor, and behind him, Win thought the movement of another person. Was there more than one person with him? Where were they taking him?

  Soon the tramp through the grasses gave way to a hard-packed trail that was easier for the blinded Win to walk. They traveled for almost an hour before the hand tightened again and made Win stop. His throat was as dry as sand and his stomach growled. He didn’t know how much longer he could continue. The hand shoved him to his knees. The blindfold was removed.

  Squatting in front of Win was Siv.

  The sunlight slanted through the tall stalks of grass, and the shadows were jumbled on her hair. She could almost melt into the grasslands and be invisible, he thought. Except for her blue eyes.

  Why had she brought him here? Siv drew her dagger. To kill him?

  She cut the ropes off his hands and pulled the gag from his mouth. Win licked his lips, trying to get his mouth to work again, then rubbed at the rope burns on his hands. What was she up to?

  Siv stood and whistled, a sort of warbling birdlike noise. Lady Kala slunk into view, obviously following Siv’s commands. Her eyes were still dull, and her coat was clumped and ragged. Bits of grass hung from her skin.

  A choking sound escaped from Win. He stumbled toward her, but Siv threatened him with her dagger. “Stay back.”

  Lady Kala crept toward her master with her tail tucked, ears flattened, belly low to the ground. Siv knelt and gently removed the copper collar. Lady Kala sank to the ground as if utterly exhausted. Win wanted to rush to her, but Siv’s dagger still held him back.

  Win asked, “Why?”

  Siv broke off a stem of grass and chewed on it. “Will you take the Wolf Head with you and make sure it is destroyed?” She pulled the wooden amulet from a pouch at her side.

  Destroy it? When it had so much power? “I don’t understand,” Win said.

  “Steinolf Clan isn’t the ruler of the wolves but slaves to the wolves. We have suffered greatly over the last years because we relied too much on the wolves. We must learn to hunt for ourselves, to be strong because we have our own skills.” Siv said this defiantly as if afraid Win wouldn’t understand or agree.

  Win squinted at her, still trying to adjust to the light wi
th the blindfold off. “That’s not the only reason.”

  She looked away. “You saw what the amulet did to me.”

  “You almost became a wolf.”

  Siv shivered. “In the old days the chieftain trained his oldest son to call the wolves to the grotto. The son gradually learned to use it and become used to the—the transformation.” She thrust the amulet into Win’s hand. “I can’t do that again. It was uncivilized. Horrible. Besides, what I said is true. We need to be strong ourselves and not rely on other creatures as our slaves.”

  Win nodded slowly. “I will take the amulet, but I can’t destroy it; there may come a day when you need the wolves. Take out the center jewel and keep it hidden as before.”

  Siv used her dagger to dig out the jewel. As she did, Win asked, “Will Valda suspect that you helped me escape?”

  “Maybe. But she can prove nothing. There will be a great search party, and I will lead it. I can give you a few hours’ head start, but you must move quickly. Hide your tracks. If I catch you, I will be forced to kill you.” She handed him the Wolf Amulet, now rendered useless by the removal of the third stone.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it hidden yourself?”

  “No! Valda would ferret it out and be tempted to use it herself; she craves the power too much. Better that it leaves our lands.”

  Win remembered Paz Naamit’s warning: “Beware of one who seeks power.”

  Win flexed his stiff arms. “Siv, you are right to try to hunt without the wolves. But listen to Valda and to others. You need many ways of strength for the clan to survive. You should learn to grow crops, to fish, to hunt. You need all these for a thriving clan.”

  Siv shook her head, and her ripples in waves, like the prairie grasses in the wind. “No! We are hunters.”

  “Then be hunters. But also be fishermen and farmers. There’s no shame in fishing or farming or even hunting as there is in enslaving the wolves.”

  Siv jabbed at the path before them. “Go! Before you anger me, and I change my mind.”