Wolf-Speaker

‘The inhabitants of the Divine Realms are called by men “immortals,” but the term itself isn’t entirely accurate. I know that unless they are killed in some accident or by deliberate intent, creatures such as Stormwings, spidrens, and so on will live forever. They don’t age, either. But how are they “lesser immortals” compared to you, or to the other gods?’

—They are ‘lesser’ because they can be slain,— was the reply. —I can no more be killed than can Mithros, or the Goddess, or the other gods worshipped by two-leggers. ‘Immortals’ is the most fitting term to use. It is not particularly correct, but it is the best you two-leggers can manage.—

Having made Numair speechless, the badger went on. —Now, on to your teaching. It is well enough, but you have not shown her where to take her next step. I am surprised. For a mortal, your grasp of wild magic normally is good.—

Numair looked down his long nose at the guest who called his learning into question. ‘If you feel I have omitted something, by all means, enlighten us.’

The badger sneezed. It seemed to be his way of laughing. —Daine, if you try, you can learn to enter the mind of a mortal animal. You can use their eyes as you would your own, or their ears, or their noses.—

Daine frowned, trying to understand. ‘How? When you said I could hear and call animals, it was part of something I knew how to do. This isn’t.’

—Make your mind like that of the animal you join,— he told her. —Think like that animal does, until you become one. You may be quite surprised by what results in the end.—

It sounded odd, but she knew better than to say as much. She had questioned him once, and he had flattened her with one swipe of his paw. ‘I’ll try.’

—Do better than try. Where is the young dragon?—

Kitten had been watching from the other side of the fire. Now she came to sit with the badger, holding a clump of his fur in one small paw. She had a great deal to say in her vocabulary of chirps, whistles, clicks, and trills. He listened as if it meant something, and when she was done, waddled over to talk with Cloud and the horses. At last he returned to the fire, where Daine and Numair had waited politely for him to end his private conversations.

—I must go back to my home sett,— he announced. —Things in the Divine Realms have been hectic since the protective wall was breached and the lesser immortals were released into your world.—

‘Do you know who did it?’ asked Numair quickly. ‘We’ve been searching for the culprit for two years now.’

—Why in the name of the Lady of Beasts would I know something like that?— was the growled reply. —I have more than enough to do in mortal realms simply with keeping an eye on her.—

‘Don’t be angry,’ Daine pleaded. ‘He thought you might know, since you know so much already.’

—You are a good kit.— The badger rubbed his head against her knee. Touched by this sign of affection, Daine hugged him, burying her fingers in his shaggy coat. To Numair he added, —And I am not angry with you, mortal. I cannot be angry with one who has guarded my young friend so well. Let me go, Daine. I have to return to my sett.—

She obeyed. He walked towards the cave’s mouth, silver light enclosing him in a globe. At its brightest, the light flared, then vanished. He was gone.

‘Well,’ said Numair. She thought he might add something, but instead he busied himself with stirring the vegetables.

Suddenly she remembered a question she had wanted to ask. ‘I think he puts a magic on me,’ she complained.

‘How so?’

‘Every time I see him, I mean to ask who my da is, and every time I forget! And he’s the only one who can tell me, too, drat him.’

Kitten gave a trill, her slit-pupilled eyes concerned.

‘I’m all right, Kit,’ the girl said, and sighed. ‘It’s not fair, though.’

Numair chuckled. ‘Somehow I doubt the badger is interested in what’s fair.’

She had to smile, even if her smile was one-sided. She knew he was right.

‘Speaking of what is fair, what do you think of the advice he gave you, about becoming a magical symbiote?’

Most of the time she was glad that he spoke to her as he would to a fellow scholar, instead of talking down to her. Just now, though, her head was reeling from Brokefang’s news and the badger’s arrival. ‘A magical sym – sym – whatsits?’

‘Symbiote,’ he replied. ‘They are creatures that live off other creatures, but not destructively, as parasites do. An example might be the bird who rides on a bison, picking insects from the beast’s coat.’

‘Oh. I don’t know what I think of it. I never tried it.’

‘Now would be a good time,’ he said helpfully. ‘The vegetables will take a while to cook. Why not try it with Cloud?’

Daine looked around until she saw the mare, still at the rear of the cave with Mangle and Spots. ‘Cloud, can I?’

‘Cloud, may I,’ the man corrected.

You can or you may. I don’t know if it will help, said the mare.

The girl went to sit near the pony, while Mangle and Spots ventured outside to graze again. Numair began to get out the ingredients for campfire bread as Kitten watched with interest.

‘Don’t let him stir the dough too long,’ Daine ordered the dragon. ‘It cooks up hard when he forgets.’ Kitten chirped as Numair glared across the cave at his young pupil.

The girl closed her eyes. Breathing slowly, she reached deep inside to find the pool of copper light that was her wild magic. Calling a thread of fire from that pool, she reached for Cloud, and tried to bind their minds with it.

Cloud whinnied, breaking the girl’s concentration. That hurt, the mare snapped. If it’s going to hurt, I won’t do it! Try it with less magic.

Shutting her eyes, Daine obeyed. This time she used a drop of copper fire, thinking to glue her mind to Cloud’s. The mare broke contact the minute Daine’s fire touched hers. Daine tried it a second, and a third time, without success.

It’s the same kind of magic, she told Cloud, frustrated. It’s not any different from what’s in you.

It hurts, retorted the pony. If that badger knew this would hurt and told you to try it anyway, I will tell him a few things the next time he visits.

I don’t do it a-purpose, argued Daine. How can I do it without paining you?

Without the fire, Cloud suggested. You don’t need it to talk to us, or to listen. Why should you need it now?

Daine bit a thumbnail. Cloud was right. She only used the fire of her magic when she was tired, or when she had to do something hard. She was tired now, and the smell of cooking ham had filled her nostrils. ‘Let’s try again tomorrow,’ she said aloud. ‘My head aches.’

‘Come and eat,’ called Numair. ‘You’ve been at it nearly an hour.’

Daine went to the fire, Cloud following. Digging in her pack, the girl gave the pony a carrot before she sat. Numair handed over a bowl of mildly spiced vegetables and cooked ham. Kitten climbed into the girl’s lap, forcing Daine to arrange her arms around the dragon as she ate. Between mouthfuls she explained what had taken place.

Cloud listened, nibbling the carrot as her ears flicked back and forth. When Daine finished, the mare suggested, Perhaps I am the wrong one to try with.

‘Who, then, Cloud?’ Daine asked. ‘I’ve known you longer than anybody.’ She yawned. The experiment, even though it hadn’t worked, had worn her out.

But I am a grazer – you are a hunter. Why not try with a hunter? It may be easier to do this first with wolves. You are practically a wolf as it is.

‘And if I forget I’m human?’

(‘I wish I could hear both sides of this conversation,’ Numair confided softly to Kitten. ‘I feel so left out, sometimes.’)

The man said you won’t, replied Cloud. He should know. Brokefang is part of you already. Ask the stork-man. He will tell you I am right.