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fire, and Aranur had to swallow his frustration and try to think of something else to keep
her alive inside.
With Shilia working at Abis, Namina dragging about the camp, and the wolfwalker gone
into the woods, Aranur's depression took over. He moped, desultorily sharpening his
knives and then doing it again, hoping that Dion would come back so he could talk to her
about Tyrel, but she did not come back till the evening's dusk brought dinner. After she
had been gone an hour, Aranur had become irritated, but after six hours, he had worked
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himself into a black mood. He was breaking wood into chunks that would fit their fire ring
when the shrubs behind him rustled quietly, and a lupine sneeze announced her arrival
with the Gray One.
He swung around sharply. "Dion," he said sharply, stopping
220 Tara K. Harper
her. He noticed the healthy flush on her cheeks and was even more irritated at his reaction
of sudden desire than at her lateness. "I don't want you going off alone anymore."
"I wasn't alone," she said, surprised. The wolf, who had trotted in with her, yawned lazily
and rubbed her side. "Hishn
was with me."
"Hishn no offense, Gray One is not enough to protect you. We don't know what dangers
are out here yet."
The Gray One growled, pulling her lips back from her teeth and stepping forward so that
he realized how big she really was. "Aramir," Dion said with puzzled irritation, "Hishn is as
well aware of the dangers as anyone can be. I am safer with her than
with you."
He took a breath. "I'm just concerned for your safety and for that of the group," he said
shortly. "If you got in trouble, we'd have no idea where you were, and I might have to place
the others in jeopardy to help you.''
She gave him a sharp look. "I appreciate your concern, Ara-nur, but I'd never place you in
danger if I could help it. You know that. And I can take care of myself in most situations.''
"And what about the other times, when you can't take care of it yourself?"
"Then I'll call you," she said with a sudden smile.
The expression lit her eyes like violet fire, and Aranur realized that he had rarely seen her
look like that. He forgot why he was angry with her and, nodding, turned away, but not
before he caught a smug look on Gamon's face. He had a feeling that Dion had somehow
gotten the better of him in that conversation, but he was not quite sure how. He frowned
and sat down.
"Shilia, let me see those letters again," Gamon said to his niece as he finished gnawing on a
rack of rabbit ribs. He absently set them down by his side in the pile of bones that had
grown there, but the ribs never reached the ground; a gentle set of fangs took them from
his fingers, and he did not notice for a second until he realized that the wolf was lying
beside him, chomping noisily. "Moonwormed mutt of a misguided dog," he muttered. The
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wotf tilted her head and regarded him from her wide, innocent yellow eyes; he grumbled,
tossed her another bone from the pile beside him, and wiped his hands on his dirty pants,
accepting the packet of letters the brown-haired girl dug from her pack.
WOLFWALKER 221
"Uncle Gamon, I don't understand why Salmi has to kill us to get these letters back," Shilia
said, slipping over the log he was leaning against. "Why don't we let him have them, then
go slip away home again?" She plopped down in the soft dirt and nestled against the old
man's toughened body, wishing she had a bed to sleep in that night instead of the ground.
"Girl, you're a smart one sometimes, but other times I think youVe been sheltered from the
world too long. The absence of those letters is the only reason Ariye and Randonnen and
the other counties haven't banded together to confront and fight the raiders or rather, I
should say, Zentsis directly. No one believes that there's a grand plan to their activities.
But those documents are evidence. With them, everyone will know what's coming. Hells,
it's spelled out !ike a first-year primer. Without the letters, even though we know the
important points of Zent-sis's plan, we'd have only half of Ariye behind us, and half of the
other counties, as well. That's enough to fight a battle, girl, but not enough to win the war."
"And with the letters?"
The old man chuckled. "We'd have ninety percent of all the counties aligned with us. And
that's more than enough to light a fire under Zentsis's britches and then keep fanning the
flames.''
"I still think if we gave the letters back they'd not try so hard to find us."
"Girl, taking something from Zentsis is like stealing from Aiueven," he said quietly. "You
might get away with it for a while, but you won't survive the experience."
Dion, only partially listening to their conversation, frowned at the mention of the bird
people. The legends surrounding the Aiueven, the original inhabitants of Asengar, were
even more morbid than those of Ovousibas, the double-edged gift the bird-men had given
the ancients.
As if he could read her mind, Gamon gave the healer a deliberate look.
"Take Ovousibas, now. The ancients took internal healing from Aiueven but got the plague
along with it.''
"That's just speculation, Gamon," she said.
"Is it?" The weapons master regarded the woman seriously. "Every healer who's tried
Ovousibas since the plague is dead. That's eight hundred years of death, Dion. Almost a
millen-
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222 Tara K. Harper
mum. Even two hundred years ago in Ariye, there was a healer that tried it to save the
Lloroi's mate."
"I've never heard that, Uncle Gamon," Shilia said. Gamon nodded at his niece. "It's an old
tale. One of tragedy, as all stories of Ovousibas are."
Shilia's eyes were wide and eager, but Dion made a gesture of dismissal.
* 'Don't be so quick to scoff, Wolfwalker,'' the older man said warningly. "Listen. I'll tell
you the tale, then you decide for yourself.
"The Healer Male and the Lady Ibirni had been childhood sweethearts, and it had always
been understood that they would Promise and mate. But they had an argument, and a
month later, she Promised to the Lloroi." The weapons master shook his head. "Healer
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