The Riddle - Alison Croggon [140]
There was, indeed, a pack of wolves in the cave, and the first thing she noticed was the feral stink of predators. Bones were scattered on the floor; they were probably bones from deer, but to Maerad they looked unsettlingly human. There were between twenty or thirty wolves, all seated on the floor in a semicircle with their eyes fixed upon her. None of them moved.
In the center of the circle was the biggest man Maerad had ever seen. He seemed almost twice her height and was enormously fat. His long black hair was plaited in a dozen greased braids that hung down to his waist, and he was naked, his skin smeared with what seemed to be a mixture of fat and ash. He wore a bracelet made of carved bone around his upper arm, and a pendant of black stone hung around his neck from a thong of leather. He was squatting next to a pot suspended over a small fire, in which he was cooking some sort of stew. He turned his head and stared at Maerad, and, very slowly, stood up.
There was a long silence. Maerad wondered whether she ought to offer greetings or wait until he acknowledged her. At last, when the silence and the stillness had stretched her nerves to breaking point, she spoke. Without thinking about it, she used the Speech.
“Will you speak with me, Inka-Reb?”
At the sound of her voice, the wolves’ ears pricked forward. Maerad realized she hadn’t asked what happened to those with whom Inka-Reb would not speak. Were they eaten by the wolves? Perhaps the bones on the floor were all those luckless enough not to pass the test, whatever the test was.
But Inka-Reb spoke. His voice was deep and liquid, and boomed across the cave.
“Why should I speak with you, daughter of the Voice? What have you to say to me, that I should listen?”
“I know not, Inka-Reb,” said Maerad. “I do not know what you like to listen to. But I hope that you will share your wisdom with me.”
At that Inka-Reb laughed. “I think, daughter of the Voice, that you have nothing to say to me. Leave, and I will tell my wolves not to eat you.”
“No,” said Maerad, with more temerity than she felt. “I won’t leave. You don’t know what I might ask you.”
“You won’t leave?” Inka-Reb made the smallest gesture, and the wolf pack slowly rose from their haunches, snarling and baring their teeth. Maerad gave them a terrified glance and swallowed.
“No. I ask something that may help your own people as well as mine. I have traveled very far to see you. I won’t leave until you answer me.”
The low growl of the wolves rumbled through the cavern, and Maerad felt her legs beginning to tremble. She hoped it wasn’t obvious. “And so you threaten me?” said Inka-Reb, drawing his eyebrows together in a massive frown.
“No, I do not threaten you.” Maerad licked her dry lips. “I beg you. Not only for my sake. My life is a small one and doesn’t count for much. But I am Elednor, the Fire Lily of Edil-Amarandh, the One who was foretold. And I need to know what the Treesong is, if the Dark is not to hold sway again in this land and in many others.”
Inka-Reb put out his hand, and to Maerad’s unutterable relief the wolves subsided, lying down on the ground and putting their heads on their front paws.
“Is that so?” said Inka-Reb. “So, it was you of whom the dead warned me, in my dreams. Well, maybe I will talk with you. But what have you brought me?”
“I — I brought this,” said Maerad, holding out the seal meat. Inka-Reb looked at it briefly and nodded, but did not move forward to take it, leaving her unsure whether or not he had accepted it. “I wanted to ask — to ask you if you knew what the Treesong is. And where I could find it.”
There was a long silence while Inka-Reb looked steadily at her, his face expressionless. Then he stepped