Wolf Who Rules

by Wen Spencer

  "I do not have time to explain it all."

  "Of course not. You never have time."

  "Beloved . . ."

  "Don't 'Beloved' me. Did you know that—until Pony told me, I didn't know the name of your mother? That I didn't know that you—and I—could use Fire Clan spell stones? I don't even know when I'm going to have a period! I'm stuck in this stranger's body and no one tells me diddly. And when did I agree to be called Beloved Tinker? I think I should at least be able to pick out my own name."

  Windwolf looked stunned at her outburst and after a moment, said quietly, "Your name is . . . short."

  "Tinker isn't my real name. My real name is Alexander Graham Bell."

  "It is? I did not know that."

  "Score one for me."

  "Beloved—Tinker—Alexan . . . der?" He floundered for a moment. "Isn't that considered a male name?"

  "I can hold my own with Jewel Tear. I'm not done here, and I'm not leaving my stuff."

  "No, you cannot hold your own." Windwolf caught her by her shoulders. "Do not ever think that you can. Only you can sense her magic—so it is possible for her to attack you without your sekasha knowing it. She could make a tree fall, the ground give way, dozens of little ways that you do not know."

  "You really think she would try to kill me?"

  "Yes."

  "Any one of us," Stormsong added in English, "can make a bullet ricochet and hit a target. The tengu was a convenient excuse."

  Tinker turned to her and saw in her eyes that none of her sekasha took the event as an accident. They hadn't relaxed until Windwolf and True Flame appeared.

  "But why?" she asked.

  "Because the Stone Clan stands to gain much if you are dead and I'm distracted. Because she is a self-centered, ambitious bitch."

  That was unnerving. Tinker kicked at the dirt, not wanting to leave, hating that once again she was bowing to his limited options. "Can we can get True Flame to order her out of the area?"

  "No, we must let her try and fix this valley."

  Tinker laughed. "With what?"

  "Magic."

  She doubted that greatly, but she was up against the wall of her own ignorance. "I'm the one that made this mess. I'll be the one that fixes it."

  "That is quite possible. Stone Clan, however, has assured True Flame that they can quickly fix the Ghostlands, while you said you needed to study it further. Everyone knows that you were being realistic—but True Flame had to believe the Stone Clan or it would be an insult to them."

  "God forbid he insults them." Tinker growled and looked back toward the Discontinuity's edge and her abandoned equipment.

  "Domi, I will bring your things," Stormsong offered. "I am not totally ignorant of these computer things."

  Since Stormsong could manage the Rolls Royce and the walkie-talkie, she should be able to disconnect the equipment and carry it back to the enclave unharmed. Tinker sighed and nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

  Windwolf signaled that Cloudwalker would accompany Stormsong, and the two sekasha moved off.

  "There is so much I need to know," Tinker said to him. "And if we're really going to be husband and wife—you need to take the time for me. How do you expect me to trust you when you keep throwing me in the pool to sink or swim?"

  He sighed deeply and scrubbed his hands over his face. "I want to be there for you—protect you—but I can't. It's killing me that you're in the water and floundering—but the only other option I have is to lock you away someplace safe, and that would only kill you faster. The only thing that has kept me sane so far is knowing that you're actually very good at finding your own way out of the water."

  After seeing his domi safely back to Poppymeadow's, Wolf went in search of Earth Son to lodge his complaint. He found Earth Son at the palace clearing, pacing it out as if he planned to claim the piece of land for himself. Apparently the Stone Clan domana had expected the aumani as soon as they arrived in Pittsburgh; Earth Son wore a full tunic of rich green silk and a gold burnt velvet duster with a stone horse pattern. Like Jewel, he had a spell orb keeping him cool in the muggy Pittsburgh summer.

  Wolf closed the distance between them. "Earth Son, I will have a word with you."

  Earth Son had inherited his father's height, so he was slightly taller than Wolf. He tried to use it to look down on Wolf, but then ruined the effect by doing a sketchy bow. "Wolf Who Rules."

  Wolf was too angry to acknowledge the veiled insult of Earth Son's greeting. "Has the Stone Clan all run mad? We do not know the number of the oni forces, and the way between our worlds is not fully shut, and you're already asking for a clan war."

  "Us?" Earth Son feigned confusion.

  "I may be young, but I spent my doubles at court. I recognize power maneuvering when I see it."

  "You are seeing things that are not there—like your so-called oni." Earth Son's First, Thorne Scratch, tried to silence her domou with a hand on his shoulder. Earth Son flicked the female sekasha's hand away. "I have been out for hours doing scrys." He waved toward the forest beyond the clearing. "And found nothing remotely resembling an oni. 'I can see the shadows of the oni on the wall,' is that not what you said at court? Apparently that's all that you've seen—shadows! You're jumping at phantoms if you ask me."

  Wolf didn't even bother with magic. He stepped forward and caught Earth Son by the throat. "Listen, you little turd, my domi is under the queen's protection, which means you are not to attack her. But if you can't get that through that rock skull of yours, then understand this—if she is hurt in any way, I will hunt you down and tear out your throat."

  "You would not dare," Earth Son managed to whisper.

  "I started with nothing here. I can do it again. If my domi is killed, I will let the crown strip me bare to have my revenge. Do not think our royal cousin will protect you either—after you shit all over the queen's commands, True Flame will not stop me."

  "I cannot be held accountable for what that the others—"

  "You are clan head for this area and I will hold you responsible."

  "Forest Moss is mad!"

  "If you didn't want the disadvantages that the mad one brings with him, you shouldn't have chosen him."

  "I didn't choose him."

  Earth Son's Hand looked relieved as the clearing filled with Wyverns.

  "Wolf." True Flame followed on the wash of red. "Let him go."

  Wolf released Earth Son, turning over this new piece of information. He knew that Earth Son did not have considerable standing in the Stone Clan, but he thought that Earth Son would have at least been party to picking out the clan domana that would be under him. Now that Wolf had talked with Forest Moss and Jewel Tear and learned their situations, their inclusion seemed less a personal attack on the Wind Clan, and more a statement of the Stone Clan's assessment of Pittsburgh. They had sent two of their most disposable domana. Or was the count three?

  In the clans, birth did not guarantee rank. It was acknowledged, though, that children of the clan leaders learned much from observing their parents. Genetically, too, the leaders were the best that the clans had to offer. True, barring accident or assassination, it was unlikely clan heads would ever change—but as his mother's only child, Earth Son was a likely future leader. Then again, he had arrived with only one Hand. Was he escort for the other two, or fellow exile? If the latter, what had Earth Son done to be sent to Pittsburgh?

  "I did nearly a hundred scrys," Earth Son reported to True Flame while he rubbed his throat. "There's no oni here."

  "The oni are savage but not stupid," Wolf snapped. "Acting quickly is not to their advantage. They are hiding themselves well and waiting for the best time to strike."

  Earth Son scoffed at this. "If that was the case, they should have struck while you were here alone, with even your voice turned against you."

  "They tried. They failed." Wolf did not mention how near the assassination had come to succeeding. The brutal attack killed one of his sekasha, damaged one of his hands, and str
anded him deep in Pittsburgh's territory just as it returned to Earth. If not for Tinker, the plot would have succeeded. "If the Ghostlands can be used to their advantage, they will wait for reinforcements."

  "Wolf is right," True Flame said. "That they managed to stay hidden for nearly thirty years shows that they have patience. No matter what happens, we need you to ferret them out."

  13: IGNORE THAT MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN

  Tinker sat high up on a towering cross, clinging to the crossbrace. Black was sitting at the very end of the crossbrace, sobbing quietly. The delicate-boned woman wore a puffy black mourning gown and a crown. Lying beside her was a long wand with a star attached to it. Her host of crows sailed overhead, cawing, "Lost, Lost!"

  With a flurry of wings, Riki perched on the tip of the brace between Tinker and Black. He was wearing an odd red outfit. "There's no shame in being afraid of heights. Most people are."

  "Oh, go away, monkey boy," she snapped.

  "I'm not a flying monkey," the tengu said. "I gave that up. You melted the witch, so I got out of my no-compete contract. I'm working strictly as a freelance crow. The health benefits suck, but I make my own hours."

  Tinker pointed to the sobbing Black. "Why is she crying?"

  "She gave her heart to the Tin Man but she lost him," Riki told her. "Not even the wizard can fix that."

  "Hey!" On the ground, Esme gazed up at them, wearing blue checked overalls and red ruby boots. "You can't get down. Your not smart enough. You're head is full of straw."

  "I'll figure a way down," Tinker shouted back.

  "Falling will work," Riki said.

  And Tinker was falling.

  The dream seemed to hiccup and she was safe on the ground then. Esme had a wicker basket and a little black dog. Pony was there, his hair loose and curly as a mane, whiskers, cat ears and tail to finish the cat look. Oilcan too, looking like he was made out of metal.

  "You have Black's heart?" Tinker asked Oilcan.

  "I have no heart." He thumped on his chest and it echoed.

  "That was a different tin man." Esme butted between the two of them. "We need to find the wizard! Only he can solve all our problems."

  "I can take you to the wizard." Oilcan squeaked as he moved his arm to point down a yellow brick road that led into a dark forest of black willows. "But we don't need to hurry, it's only six o'clock."

  "We've murdered time." Esme took out a pocket watch. It seemed to be coated with butter. "It's always six o'clock—we have to run to stay in the same place."

  "We will have to go through the trees." Pony's cat tail danced nervously behind him.

  "I don't know if that's smart," Tinker said.

  "Of course you don't, you have straw for brains." Esme picked straw out of Tinker's head to prove her point. "Look! See!" She held out the straw as evidence. "We have to get to the wizard. He's the only one who can give you brains so you can solve this problem."

  "But the road ended with the tree," Tinker pointed out as they crept forward, clinging to one another.

  "It's not the tree," Esme said. "It's the fruit."

  The trees turned, their gnarled faces looking at them with wooden eyes. They were black willow trees but there were apples—red and tempting—in their branches.

  "You need the fruit." Esme pushed Tinker hard toward the trees.

  The trees plucked the apples from their branches and flung them like hard rain at Tinker.

  * * *

  Tinker flailed her way out of her sheets to sit up in bed. It was very early morning by the pale light in the window—the birds hadn't yet started to stir. Windwolf was awake though, and dressing.

  "I didn't mean to wake you." He came to kiss her. His shirt was still unbuttoned, and she burrowed into his warmth.

  "I had another dream about Black, Esme, and the black willow."

  "Esme?"

  "I figured out who White was—she's Lain's sister."

  "Ah, the one in white—you're dreaming that she's dreaming." He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her hair.

  "Hm? Oh, yes, the Escher thing." Gods, it felt so right to be held by him.

  "Have you talked to Stormsong?"

  "Yeah. She—we fit."

  He tipped her head back to gaze intently into her face. "You've accepted her? To be your beholden?"

  She gave a tiny nod. It sounded like some kind of wedding vow. Was this what elf society was all about—getting married again and again, only without sex? "Yes. To be mine."

  Windwolf gave her his smile that warmed her to her toes. "I release her to you. But—"

  "But?"

  "But that is not what I meant. You should talk to Stormsong about your dreams. She has some training in yatanyai. She might be able to help you determine what they mean."

  "She does?"

  "It was thought she would be an intanyei seyosa but in the end, she had too much of her father's temperament." Windwolf kissed Tinker again and slipped out of her hold. "I need to go. True Flame expects me. Why don't you go back to sleep?"

  She eyed the bed. She was still tired, but to sleep would most likely mean another dream.

  "I'll send Pony to you." Windwolf buttoned up his shirt.

  "I'd rather have you." She settled back into the warm softness.

  Windwolf smiled. "I am glad of that, but alas, you cannot have me, so you must make do with Pony."

  Did he really know what that sounded like in English? She curled into ball and resolved to be asleep before Pony joined her. And she was.

  Another day, another dress. She really had to do something about clothing. She picked out the Wind Clan blue dress and had the staff add pockets to it while she ate. Breakfast proved that Windwolf's household was still intent on mothering the life out of her. They stacked the garden table with plates of pastries, omelets, and fresh fruit. Tinker eyed the collection of dishes with slight dismay.

  "If they keep this up, they're going to make me fat," Tinker complained.

  "Eat." Stormsong pointed at a bench, indicating that she was to sit. "You and Pony have both lost weight since Aum Renau."

  Pony nodded, acknowledging that this was the truth. "You should eat."

  "Pft." Tinker began loading a plate. "Fine, but you both have to eat too."

  A sign of their "fit," they ate at first in companionable silence, then drifted into a conversation about which of the sekasha would work well with them. Of Windwolf's four Hands, they came up with a list of seven possible candidates to fill the three open positions of Tinker's First Hand.

  "We can spend a few days pairing with others to see who works best with you." Pony meant Tinker. "Windwolf chose all of his sekasha so we work well together, and we've had years to learn each other's ways."

  "What are your plans for today?" Stormsong asked. "Are we finished with that tree?"

  "I don't know," Tinker whined. "I had another dream about it. Windwolf said I should talk to you about my dreams."

  "You dream?" Stormsong said.

  "I don't want to believe that I do," Tinker said, "but things keep showing up out of my dreams."

  "Dreams are important," Stormsong said. "They let you see the future."

  "Oh gods help me if this is my future," Tinker muttered.

  "Tell me this dream," Stormsong said.

  "Well, I had a couple, and they're all centering around two people, and the tree." Tinker explained the first dream and then the discovery of Esme's identity, and then last night's dream, ending with, "And I don't have a clue where all that weirdness came from."

  Stormsong cocked her blue head with a faint disbelieving look on her face. "It sounds like The Wizard of Oz."

  "What's that?" Tinker asked.

  "It's a movie," Stormsong said.

  Tinker had never heard of such a movie. "What's it about?"

  "It's about—It's about—It's odd." Stormsong said. "Maybe you should just see it."

  Since Tooloo rented videos, Tinker gave her a call.

  "I'm looking for The Wi
zard of Oz."

  "Well, follow the yellow brick road," Tooloo said and hung up.

  Somehow, Tinker had totally forgotten how maddening it was to deal with Tooloo. She hit redial, and explained, "I'm looking for the movie called The Wizard of Oz."