A Mystery of Wolves, Page 3

  “A crow does not dream true,” the owl echoed coldly.

  “Brother Crow,” Gem hooted, so loudly that Little Fur jumped.

  “Brother!” the Sett Owl hooted with her dry laughter. “Should an owl call a crow brother?”

  “Beloved brother,” Gem hooted defiantly, but she was trembling.

  “Can you tell me if Ginger is in danger?” Little Fur asked the Sett Owl.

  The owl’s eyes grew cloudy. Little Fur felt the still magic thicken. “He is.”

  “What is the danger? Where is he?” Little Fur asked.

  “If you would find the cat, you must seek out the Mystery of Wolves.”

  Little Fur stared at the owl. “Do you mean that wolves have taken Ginger captive? And what of the others? Gazrak and the ferrets?”

  “Seek the Mystery of Wolves, and you will have the answers to the questions you ask and to the questions you do not ask,” the owl said. She turned her eyes to where Gem stood. “Take the owlet.”

  “Sett Owl, please. I brought her here only because I hoped you would appoint someone to teach her how to be a proper owl.”

  “She is a fallen owl,” the Sett Owl said. “No one can teach her what she needs to know. She must find the courage to fly up to what she can be. She has some bravery, if she would call a crow ‘beloved,’ but her head is empty. Take her with you, and she may gain wisdom.”

  “Take her where?” Little Fur asked.

  But the Sett Owl had closed her eyes.

  “I am afraid she will sleep for a long time now,” Indyk said apologetically. He set down the bowl of water he had brought and leaped up to replace the white cloth, which had slipped from the sleeping owl. Leaping back onto the floor, Indyk said, “If you mix the tisane, I will give it to her when she wakes.”

  Little Fur carried Gem to a place where she could work, and then she mixed the tisane. When it was complete, Little Fur admitted to Indyk that she had not understood what the owl had told her. “Perhaps I should wait until she wakes and ask her to explain,” she said.

  “She does not often wake now,” Indyk replied cautiously.

  Little Fur nodded sadly and handed him the tisane. Then she packed away her herbs and restored Gem to her shoulder. By then the monkey was nowhere to be seen, so Little Fur left an offering of some dried plums and went back outside. To her surprise, she found Sly the cat sitting curled on the front step of the church, grooming one elegant black paw.

  “Greetings, Little Fur,” Sly purred, rising gracefully. “Crow told me about Ginger, so I came to see what the Sett Owl advised.”

  Little Fur stroked the cat’s sleek back, and Sly glided beside her down the steps. Little Fur carefully repeated the Sett Owl’s words, ending with “I don’t know anything about wolves.”

  “Perhaps it is a riddle,” Sly suggested, her tail twitching with interest.

  “What is a riddle?” Little Fur asked. She had wondered at the word before.

  “A riddle is a puzzle,” Sly said. “A thing to be solved.”

  “A riddle is a mystery, but not all mysteries are riddles,” Gem hooted softly.

  “Have you a bird nesting in your hair now?” Sly asked, her single green eye glinting with laughter. “Have you run out of trees to store your patients in?”

  “She is the orphaned owl whose life Ginger saved. I think she has been dreaming of Ginger, too, but it is hard to tell,” Little Fur said. “She is too young to know what she says most of the time.”

  “Some say that the greatest wisdom is hidden inside a nut of foolishness. The trick is how to crack it open,” Sly said.

  At that moment, Crow swooped down from the sky to land on one of the stone shapes. He had not found anyone who had seen the black dog, he announced. Little Fur thanked him and again repeated what the Sett Owl told her.

  “Wolves eating birds and small creatures,” Crow said. “That being their dangerfulness.”

  “Wolves do not come into human cities,” the cat said. “If you want to find them, you will have to go out into the great wilderness.”

  “One wolf is being in the citydom,” Crow said. “He is captivated in the zoo. Maybe that being what owl meaning.”

  “Zoo,” Sly murmured, giving off the hot, strong scent of her curiosity. “I have heard of zoo. Let us go there now.”

  “It is on the other side of the city,” Little Fur protested.

  “It is snowing,” Sly said carelessly. “Perhaps this wolf will tell you what you need in order to understand the owl’s advice.”

  Little Fur found herself reluctantly agreeing, and off they set.

  An hour later, Crow swooped down to tell Little Fur that the zoo was just ahead. In a few moments, she was gazing up in dismay at a high stone wall that ran away into the mist in either direction.

  “Following the wallness,” Crow cawed from above.

  Little Fur and Sly did as he suggested. They soon came to a high gate in the wall made of thick strands of twisted metal. Beyond it, a snowy path wound neatly away through a hedge that had been trimmed to have the squared lines of a wall. The top of the hedge was white with snow. There was no one inside, so Little Fur pushed through a gap in the metal strands. As she waited for Sly to come through, she sniffed. Her eyes widened at the multitude of unknown scents. Then Sly was beside her, single green eye glittering, long, elegant black tail lashing backward and forward.

  CHAPTER 5

  The Zoo

  “Crow will flying to find the wolf,” Crow said.

  Little Fur watched him flap away, then turned to Sly. The cat’s tail was disappearing around a bush farther down the path. Little Fur went after her and found a smaller path curving away from the main path. She nearly called out to Sly, but there was something unnatural about the mingling of so many smells, and it made her reluctant to shout. So she just followed her past numerous enclosures filled with strange animals. She wished she had time to stop, but Sly’s speed reminded her of the urgency of their journey.

  Little Fur caught up with Sly at an enclosure with a fence so low that Sly leaped over it and sniffed at the bases of several dead trees. In the branches above sat a number of small black-eyed animals with large, soft, fur-tipped ears and long, lustrous ringed tails. They gazed down at Sly, who studied the dangling tails before leaping onto a snowy bench and grooming herself.

  “What kind of beast are you?” Little Fur asked one of the animals, wondering why Sly had stopped here.

  “We are lemurs,” said the biggest of the creatures. “That is what the humans call us. My name is Orin. Why have you come here?”

  “I came to speak with the wolf,” Little Fur said.

  All the black-eyed lemurs cast startled looks at a small, rather unkempt member of their clan. This one bared his teeth and lifted his tail to throw it about his neck. For a moment, he looked very fine and dignified; then he forgot himself and began to gnaw at the end of his tail.

  “You are the elf troll who saved the trees from the tree-burning humans and who traveled to Underth to battle the Troll King?” Orin asked Little Fur.

  “I did not battle the Troll King,” Little Fur said. “But I did go to Underth. How did you know?”

  “He dreamed that the elf troll who did those things would come in search of a wolf,” Orin said, flicking a dismissive look at the tail-gnawing lemur. “His name is Ofred, and he sometimes dreams true things.”

  “Sometimes! Oh, sometimes!” Ofred hissed. He burst into wild laughter that made the hair stand up on Little Fur’s neck and toes.

  “I am Little Fur,” she said. “Is it true that you dreamed of me coming here?”

  “Impossible things can be done only by impossible creatures,” Ofred said. “Here is a riddle. How can an elf love a troll?”

  “I do not know,” Little Fur said.

  “The elf troll will lose her way. The darkness will devour her unless she can find the deepest green. If she does not find it, the world itself will fall to darkness. So said the wizard who was of the fi
rst age of the world and the last of her kind.” The lemur gave another mad cackle of laughter.

  “What you are doing here?” Crow cawed, coming to land on the low fence. “Wolf not being here. Coming!”

  Little Fur bade the lemur clan farewell and continued along the path. “That fence was so low,” she said to Sly. “They could all escape if they wanted to.”

  “That is why they have no need,” Sly said.

  “Here being wolf,” Crow cawed, landing on the path just ahead.

  Little Fur joined him and looked into the cage. An old wolf lay on a rock. He lifted his head, and his eyes shone with a fierce, sad pride.

  “Greetings, Wolf. I am Little Fur, and I have come to ask you a question,” Little Fur said.

  “You smell of troll,” rasped the wolf.

  “I am an elf troll,” said Little Fur. “Do you know of the Sett Owl?”

  “I have heard of her,” answered the wolf.

  “I dreamed of a friend in danger. The Sett Owl said the dream was true, and that if I would save him, I must discover the Mystery of Wolves.”

  The wolf rose with a swift grace that belied the gray fur around his muzzle. “What has the Mystery of Wolves to do with your friend?”

  “I do not know. My friend is a cat and he was journeying here from the city by the sea with three smaller animals. Perhaps wolves took them captive.”

  “Wolves do not take captives,” said the old wolf with austere dignity. “That is a human thing. If your friend did some harm to a member of the pack, he would have been killed.”

  Little Fur drew close to the bars. “Can you tell me what the Mystery of Wolves is? Is it a secret?”

  “It is not a secret,” said the wolf. “The Mystery of Wolves is an order of mystic wolves that dwells in the mountains.”

  Little Fur stared into the wolf’s pale blue eyes. “An order?”

  “It is a pack led by a dream,” said the old wolf.

  “Where do lost dreams lead?” Gem hooted softly.

  “Where is the home of the pack?” Little Fur asked.

  “It is in the mountains that lie between this city and the sea. If you free me, I will lead you to the Mystery,” the old wolf said.

  Little Fur looked at the strong bars of the cage and the heavy lock on its door. “I am sorry, but the bars are too thick and the lock is too strong,” she said. “I am only a healer.”

  The wolf turned away.

  “I think you will need the wolf’s help if you are to find Ginger,” Sly said with a little hiss.

  Little Fur flinched as the thorny talons of the little owl under her hair sank in, reminding her that the Sett Owl had told her to take Gem with her. She took another look at the wolf’s cage, hoping an idea would come to her.

  “Excuse me,” said a deep, rich voice. “Did I hear you say that you wanted a cage opened?”

  Little Fur looked to see a vulture sitting on a perch in an open enclosure. She had a metal ring on her leg, and a chain ran from it to another ring set into the side of her perch.

  “There are keys to all of the cages in the office of the human keepers. They hang on a great circle on a hook. I know exactly where it is. You see that green building near the wall? There is a window that stays open where birds and beasts are sometimes brought if they are ill. Only free me. It will not be hard. The chain on my leg ends in a pin that is through the ring in my perch. I cannot get it out with beak or claw, but your fingers are clever, like those of a human. Help me and I will help you.”

  “Never trusting a vulture,” Crow croaked.

  “That is a harsh thing to say,” the vulture said reproachfully. “Will you refuse me, Healer? Is not the bestowing of freedom an act of healing?”

  “I don’t know,” Little Fur said. “It might be.”

  “Then free me. Do not fear my sharp beak. Never would I be so craven as to peck the hand that freed me.” She shifted to the end of her perch and pecked fretfully at the chain.

  Little Fur made up her mind. She entered the vulture’s enclosure and began to work the pin out. The moment it fell free, the vulture spread her wings and rose into the air.

  “So much for that,” Crow said.

  “I am sorry to have tricked you,” the vulture called. “I am too big to get through the window, but a smaller bird might manage it.”

  “It bound to being a trap!” Crow said in a sinister voice. But when Little Fur said nothing, Crow put on a martyred look and flapped away, calling dolefully, “Nevermore.”

  Sly had gone along the path and was looking into another enclosure. Little Fur was about to call her back when she noticed how rigidly the black cat stood. Her long, narrow tail was fluffed all along its length. It was so unlike her that Little Fur went to see what she had found.

  She gasped at the giant cat behind the bars, stretched out with savage elegance. His fierce, tawny eyes were locked on Sly. His fur was black as night, black as blackest shadow.

  “How dared they to have caged you?” Sly said. There was something in her voice that Little Fur had never smelled before. Sly padded closer to the bars, trembling from head to toe.

  “Humans dare anything in their ignorance. I was much smaller when they captured me. Indeed, it was so long ago, I do not remember it.”

  “You must be freed,” Sly said passionately.

  “Will you free me? I promise you that I will kill the moment I am free. I will kill and kill and kill until my rage is sated.” The enormous black cat yawned, baring fangs.

  “I would free you,” whispered Sly.

  He eyed her with ferocious amusement. “My name is Danger, emerald eye. I will kill you if you free me.”

  “I will free you,” Sly vowed.

  Danger stared into her eyes. Then he yawned again. “Will you bite through the bars with your terrible fangs? Will you tear open the lock with your savage claws?” There was mockery in his voice, and Sly flinched as if he had slashed at her with his claws.

  “There are keys.”

  “The key to my cage is kept on a chain around the neck of the she-human who rules this place,” said Danger. “No one ever comes into my cage but that one. It calls me Beauty and whispers its dreams to me. One day I will lure it close enough to teach it my true name.”

  Crow was overhead now, squawking. Little Fur turned to see him descend with a shining circle hung with many keys. “Hurrying,” Crow cawed, panting from his exertions. “Soon humans coming.”

  Sly sniffed at the keys, but Little Fur could see already that they were all too small for the great lock on the door of the giant cat’s cage.

  “Lucky for you, emerald eye. Run far and fast before my teeth close on your throat,” said the great black cat. He gave a terrible snarling growl of laughter and rage.

  “A true thing, caged, does not know itself,” Gem hooted softly.

  Sly said nothing as they returned to the cage of the wolf.

  Little Fur unlocked the door, and the old wolf leaped out onto the snow. “We must go at once,” he said. “I must be far from this place before the humans find my empty cage.”

  The wolf padded along the trail they had left in the snow. In a moment, they were at the front gates to the zoo. Little Fur was dismayed to find that the wolf was too big to fit between the bars.

  “I will hide in the bushes, and as soon as the gates are opened, I will come out,” the wolf said decisively. “You must go, and I will find you.”

  “I do not know the way,” Little Fur reminded him.

  “Go that way,” he said, pointing in the direction opposite of the wilderness. “To the mountains. Go as fast as you can.”

  Little Fur nodded, and then she saw that Sly had not come through the gate.

  “I will stay here,” Sly said. Little Fur had never seen the black cat so solemn. Suddenly she was afraid for her, for what had kept the cat safe all her dangerous life was her pure detachment. But now she smelled of caring.

  “He will not spare you out of gratitude if you free hi
m,” Little Fur said. “He is too wild for that.”

  “I do not want his gratitude,” Sly said. “I want him to be free.”

  “There is no time for this,” barked the wolf. “Go! I will find you soon.” He bounded away.

  Little Fur gave Sly a pleading look, but the one-eyed cat turned and stalked away. Little Fur looked up to where Crow was wheeling in the sky.

  “Go, go,” urged Gem on her shoulder.

  Little Fur gathered her courage around her and squeezed back through the fence.

  She did not look back.

  CHAPTER 6

  Graysong

  “He will not coming,” Crow cawed as Little Fur began walking. “He will being caught.”

  Little Fur said nothing, for it seemed all too likely that the old wolf would be caught. Yet there was nothing to be done but to go in the direction of the mountains and hope. Little Fur headed along a street where many road beasts slept under heavy pelts of snow.

  The street led to a great open space, in the center of which was yet another fir tree that had been hung with jewels and strands of glittering silver and gold. When Little Fur reached the tree, the mist was so thick that she could no longer see the human dwellings about the edges of the open space. She could have been standing in the midst of a vast snowy plain, and very soon she might be doing exactly that.

  Crow flapped down to tell her that she must hide, because some humans were coming. Since there was no shelter except the tree, Little Fur slipped under its resinous branches and pressed herself against its trunk. Gem gave a soft hoot of fear, and Little Fur stroked her downy feathers. The humans stopped at the tree. Little Fur smelled the pleasure the sight of it gave them. Then they passed on and out of hearing.

  “Coming out now,” Crow cawed from above.

  Little Fur emerged warily, and as she did, the wolf appeared out of the mist.