The Voice had led her spirit to that apartment.
The Voice - or at least the tenant of that apartment - had carved a figurine that represented Truth. Had this been used to communicate with her? Likely. To control her? Again, reluctantly, Truth had to admit this was likely.
She gnawed at a fragment of claw sheath, working it free, letting it drop into the running water.
What had been done once could be done again. Therefore, she must find the Voice - and upon finding him, she must kill him. Only then would she be freed from the risk of having him dominate her again.
But to find him ... Firekeeper and the others might learn something from those figurines, but the figurines would lead only to the Voice's pawns. She wanted the Voice, and the only place she had encountered him was a place to which she feared to return.
Once before she had overextended herself to the point of insanity. All too well, Truth realized that the risk of insanity was greater if she reached again into the realm of omens.
VII
AS HE HAD PROMISED FIREKEEPER, Derian wrote Harjeedian before retiring that night. Harjeedian's reply arrived as Derian was finishing his breakfast. So did Firekeeper. Knowing as he did that the wolf-woman often slept in the daylight hours, Derian took this early arrival as an indication of her anxiety regarding the figurines.
"What he say?" Firekeeper asked, reaching to help herself to a wedge of melon from Derian's plate.
"He says," Derian replied, with a firm emphasis on the grammatically correct form, "that he will call here midday, in hopes of finding you returned from your evening jaunt. Word had reached Heeranenahalm of your arrival on the mainland, and he is pleased that you would wish to see him."
"Neither wish nor pleased," Firekeeper said, reaching for another piece of melon, "is not so, but must do."
Derian started to remind Firekeeper that she must be polite to Harjeedian if she expected to have him cooperate not only in this research, but also in keeping what they told him to himself. He stopped himself in mid-breath. Fire-keeper's social graces might be nil, but as she had shown last night when meeting Ambassador Sailor, she had a wolf's finely tuned sense of who was important and who was not. Good manners from her were not, as so often with humans, a sign that she liked someone. Instead they were a sign that she respected - or at least needed - them.
So I suppose, Derian thought dryly, that I should be thrilled that she's eating my breakfast.
He wasn't, but he didn't slap Firekeeper's fingers away as he might have his sister Dami's. Eating, and priority in eating, were serious matters with wolves. Derian wasn't completely certain that Firekeeper might not snap at him in response to his defending his meal.
He did, however, slide the remaining melon out of her reach.
"I can have the kitchen send you something if you're hungry," he said.
"Not hungry," Firekeeper admitted, giving him a smile that was at least a little sheepish. "But the melon taste very good."
Derian took this as a request, and rang for his runner. It was odd having servants assigned to him, but it did beat having to run down to the kitchens himself.
Firekeeper had never been much for small talk, so once Derian had her settled with her melon, he turned to his correspondence. There was quite a lot of it, both from members of the small Bright Haven community and from local officials. As Ambassador Sailor and Elise were still struggling with their written Liglimosh, the early review fell on Derian. Later, after he had assessed the gist of the meaning, the translator took over, but they had all agreed that it was wisest not to give the Liglimom reason to think that the northerners could be easily deceived.
The Bright Haven contingent mostly consisted of the crew of the Shine, the ship that had carried the ambassadorial party south and had then remained. This way, should the ambassador feel it necessary to break negotiations, the northerners would not need to wait for a ship to carry them home. Many of the Shine's crew had been chosen because of their knowledge of trade and other mercantile matters, and they regularly reported their own, interestingly skewed, views of Liglim.
There were less pleasant matters with which Derian had to deal. Two very different cultures could not meet without clashing, and hardly a hand of days passed without a brawl or serious dispute. Then there was the correspondences from locals, all of whom were certain that there was some advantage to them in getting in tight with the northerners before too many rules and regulations were in place.
At one point Derian glanced over at Firekeeper, thinking to suggest that she might enjoy visiting with Elise and Doc, but the wolf-woman was sprawled asleep on the floor, cuddled as close as the hot, sticky weather would permit, to Blind Seer. The blue-eyed wolf was also drowsing, but he opened his eyes at Derian's motion and canted his ears sideways as if to say, "Let her sleep. She's more worried than you might think."
Or he could be saying, Derian thought, "Bother her and I'll bite you." I wish we could understand each other better.
Derian finished reviewing the more critical correspondence and made an early report to the ambassador. His report included a vague explanation as to why Harjeedian would be calling. Ambassador Sailor did not press for more details, and Derian found himself wondering just what the ambassador's directives regarding the wolf-woman might be.
Certainly both King Allister and King Tedric had reason to trust Firekeeper. She had acted to their advantage before. Had the ambassador been told to view her as a faithful subject, or perhaps as someone possessing a peculiar diplomatic capacity? Certainly the latter explanation might be more accurate, for if Derian was certain of anything, it was that Firekeeper's loyalties were often torn. She was loyal to those who had reared her, but at least once that Derian knew, she had defied the Royal Beasts' commands to act in what she thought was a wiser fashion.
With this combination of work and speculation to occupy him, the morning hours flew by for Derian. He was mildly startled when one of the servants tapped on his door. The servant bore a tray holding a variety of standard refreshments.
"Aridisdu Harjeedian has just been admitted to the building," the servant said, setting the tray on the table. "I thought you would like a moment to prepare."
'Thank you both for the warning and the refreshments. Feel free to leave the door open," Derian replied. He turned to Firekeeper, who had risen to her feet and was stretching. "Brush off the wolf fur, Firekeeper. Company's here."
Firekeeper didn't brush off the fur, but she did remain standing until Harjeedian entered, Blind Seer at her side, and her hand well away from her knife. Derian decided to be satisfied with this moderate expression of courtesy.
Aridisdu Harjeedian entered a few moments later. Except for his cheekbones, which were high, even among his people, whose features ran to such, Harjeedian was completely average: shining black hair cut blunt to the shoulder, slanting black eyes, skin the warm brown of toasted bread. What wasn't average about him was the aura of contained authority. This, more than the embroidery on his clothing, or the snake coiled around his neck, marked him as a man of importance.
Derian didn't like Harjeedian, but he didn't precisely dislike him either, so he accorded him both a neat bow and the appropriate courteous local gesture indicating welcome. Firekeeper offered neither, just stood, watching and waiting.
"You asked me to come here," Harjeedian said, when the appropriate greetings were concluded.
Firekeeper nodded. "Yes. Thank you."
Derian hid his relief. Harjeedian would fully appreciate those two small words.
"Before we get to business, can I offer you some refreshment?" He indicated the tray with an inclination of his head.
Harjeedian nodded. "Mint water would be very nice. The walk here was rather hot. The air is close. I wouldn't be surprised if we had a thunderstorm later."
"Nothing else?" Derian asked. "There are cookies and fruit. I could also send to the kitchens if you fancy something that isn't here."
"Mint water will be fine," Harjeedian
assured him.
Derian nodded to the servant who stood outside the door. "I won't need you for a bit. Feel free to take a break. I'll ring if something comes up."
Derian shut the door. When he crossed back to his desk, he found Firekeeper was pouring for Harjeedian, every bit as polite as Lady Archer when her grand duchess grandmother came to call. Harjeedian wasn't in the least stupid, nor had his increased importance made him unaware of offered courtesy.
"Thank you, Lady Blysse," he said, accepting the tall, pressed glass tumbler.
"I thought we'd sit over here," Derian said, indicating a pair of chairs set by a window that looked over the city.
Harjeedian looked momentarily surprised. After all, there were three of them. Then he saw Firekeeper resume her seat on the floor, and obviously remembered her habits.
"This must be important to bring you from Misheemnekuru, Lady Blysse," Harjeedian said. "I hope no one is ill."
"No one more than is," Firekeeper replied. "I mean, illness no other thing there or to those there is why I come."
Her Liglimosh is worse than her Pellish, Derian thought with accustomed despair. I bet she hasn't used it for a year, except when she needed to order some disdu to take her to the mainland. Why would she?
"Perhaps," Derian interjected aloud, "we should speak Pellish. Harjeedian's has only gotten better since last you saw him."
"And my Liglimosh worse," Firekeeper said, switching languages with alacrity.
One good thing about wolves, Derian thought. They accept justifiable criticism very well.
Harjeedian forbore from commenting on Firekeeper's language skills, but returned to the main point.
"I am pleased that neither the yarimaimalom nor the maimalodalum need our assistance," he said. "May I ask what brings you here?"
Firekeeper nodded. "Not need to ask. I tell. Pellish maybe better. If any listen outside, they no understand too well."
"Especially if they try to understand your sentences," Derian said. "Do you want to tell Harjeedian, or would you like me to tell him what you told us last night, and correct me along the way?"
"I tell," Firekeeper said, glancing at Blind Seer. Derian wondered if the wolf had told her she needed practice. "You help. Please."
The telling was long and somewhat laborious. Harjeedian had some acquaintance with Firekeeper, but he didn't have Elise, Doc, and Derian's long familiarity with her tendency to view most words as nonessential. Even so, with Derian's help, by the time Firekeeper rocked back against Blind Seer as a sign that she had finished, Harjeedian had a clear understanding of events to this point.
"Astonishing," he said, picking up the broken pieces of the Dantarahma figurine and studying them. 'This is quite plainly Dantarahma. I can see why you are certain two of the other carvings are of people you know."
"And Truth," Firekeeper said, indicating the jaguar figurine.
"And Truth," Harjeedian agreed. "So you are hoping I can help you identify these other two. I will tell you directly. They are not anyone I know. As you said, their attire is not precisely that of Liglim. They could be from one of the city-states to the south. Attire there is rather eclectic, a blending of styles and cultures - even as their people are."
"Can you find out," Firekeeper asked. "Can you find out what this eclectic is? I want to find these and ..."
She shrugged as if to say that she'd figure out what to do with them when she found them. Firekeeper had never been much for advance planning.
"I can try," Harjeedian said. "We do trade regularly with the southern city-states. However, when I said 'eclectic' I did not mean this was a specific style. I meant the opposite. The southern city-states are not really a nation - as Liglim or Bright Haven are nations."
Derian had his doubts about Bright Haven, but he appreciated the diplomacy and courtesy in Harjeedian's statement.
"The southern city-states," Harjeedian continued, seeing from Firekeeper's expression that she was interested in knowing more, "were founded by peoples who either didn't have a nation to which they belonged - or didn't want to belong to their resident nation."
"I have met some like this," Firekeeper said. "They they do better without Ones."
Harjeedian nodded. "Precisely. The lands to the south not ideal for human habitation by any means. Some areas are very swampy and breed disease. Others are rocky, without much fertile soil. There are some nice pockets, I understand. Had Divine Retribution not driven the Old Country rulers from these shores, I think the southern lands eventually would have been settled, but why struggle with disease and bad soil when there was so much land elsewhere?"
"I bet there were renegades living in those areas years before the Plague," Derian said. "People who drifted away, shipwrecked sailors, runaway slaves. There wasn't civil war here in Liglim as there was in our homeland, but surely the social order took a while to settle down - and some folks decided to settle elsewhere."
"Precisely," Harjeedian said. "As these city-states are our closest neighbors, we of Liglim have always had some contact with them. Some of our merchants have kept travel journals, and have earned merit by donating copies to the disdum. Others have written short histories of one city-state or another. I may find something in those records, but if I need to do the work alone, it is not going to be quick. How important is secrecy in this matter?" Derian stared at him. "What do you think? We may have evidence that someone - someone who apparently can communicate through whatever strange time ocean it is where the diviners go - has been manipulating at least two people who turned out to be dangerously interested in magic."
"And," Firekeeper said, "this someone ... we have no idea where he is. Do we tell this to everyone?"
Harjeedian shook his head. "No. But I should at least report to u-Liall."
"One of u-Liall was this Voice's tool," Derian reminded him. "Dantarahma was Divine Water's representative among the Five who rule Liglim."
"That is not something I am likely to forget," Harjeedian snapped. He pressed his eyes shut, perhaps praying for insight or patience - or both. He opened his eyes arid looked directly at Firekeeper. "You trusted me with this."
"We needed to," Firekeeper said bluntly. Then in a more conciliatory tone she went on, "And you are very wise and very full of knowledge."
"Flattery," Harjeedian said, almost smiling, "will not make me able to read faster. I must have help."
Derian turned to Firekeeper. "What about Poshtuvanu of the Temple of the Horse? We know he wasn't in Dantarahma's camp, and if he's been seduced since I'll eat my best saddle."
"Poshtuvanu?" Harjeedian said. "Possible. The Temple of the Horse has an excellent library in u-Bishinti. Many merchants have given them records."
"And Cishanol," Derian went on, "Iaridisdu Meiyal's secretary. He's also of the Temple of the Horse, and we know we can trust him. He's stationed here in u-Seeheera, right up in Heeranenahalm. He could work with Harjeedian."
"Maybe," Firekeeper said. "Maybe. Can't we just give pictures of figures, show clothes, say 'find' and not say why?"
Harjeedian nodded. "We can. We may, but usually secrecy raises more questions, not fewer. For example, I'll need to have some explanation why you wanted to see me. No one will believe you asked for me out of friendship."
Firekeeper puffed a sigh. "Humans make so complicated! But that is not that you is wrong. You is right. Guide me, and I will follow."
They spent the next hour or so coming up with a plausible excuse for the research. Firekeeper's coming to the mainland was explained by her desire to see Elise and Doc. Her desire to see Harjeedian was harder to explain, finally they decided on a version of the truth. She had wanted an explanation of things she had seen among the ruins, and had thought of him.
"And I will make quite clear that she was an arrogant chit," Harjeedian said, "thinking she could order about one of my high station."
"Thank you for coming," Firekeeper said. "I do think is kind."
Harjeedian blinked, then made a complicated ges
ture of acknowledgment. "And I appreciate your trust."
"You know of the maimalodalum and never speak," Firekeeper said. "You have showed trust."
On that surprisingly cordial note, Harjeedian departed.
TRUTH WAS FINDING ADAPTING TO LIFE without her second sight very difficult. Ever since she was a kitten she had used her ability to weigh and judge probable courses of action to guide her in making even minor decisions. Now, as she tried not to do so lest she slide again into that stream and be washed away into madness, she discovered a degree of hesitancy she had not known was part of her nature.
To make matters worse, if she did cheat the least little bit, the Voice had a tendency to start talking to her.
"It's not going to work, you know," he said one afternoon.
"What?" Truth replied before she thought about how dangerous this could be.
"They're not going to ..."
Truth stopped listening. She collapsed, panting and trembling. Fur came off in a cloud when she shook herself. She sat and groomed limb by limb with centered concentration, focusing on every spot, every curve. She'd done a lot of this in the days since their return to the mainland, and her coat looked wonderful. She was even losing some of her former gauntness.
"What isn't going to work?" she asked herself, but she didn't know the answer, and she admitted that she was afraid to ask the one who apparently did.
FIREKEEPER WAS WELL AWARE that pestering Derian and Harjeedian was not going to get her answers any sooner, so she did her best to be helpful. Since the most helpful thing she could do was defuse any sense that her return to the mainland was an omen of some impending crisis, she tried a hand at deception and diplomacy - neither her strongest trait.
Visiting with Elise and Doc was easy to do, even delightful. Elise insisted that Firekeeper speak Liglimosh with her, which Firekeeper found frustrating, but admitted was probably necessary. As Doc didn't share Elise's gift for languages, conversation often lapsed into Pellish, and Firekeeper found herself increasing in her facility in both languages.
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