The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [69]
Sharna interrupted my reflections to ask how he could help. I explained that I had to get out of the kitchen and into the courtyard adjacent to the maze. From there, I could reach the farms.
“There are beasts in the yard,” Sharna returned, projecting an image of huge doglike shapes moving about, sniffing at the wall and the maze gate.
“I know. I will talk to them and ask them to let me pass,” I said.
“They will not hear you,” Sharna warned. “They were once wild wolf cubs, but they were caught by the funaga-li and made mad with rage. There is a red screaming in their heads that stops them from being able to hear anything but their own fury. Best to come back when they are locked up.”
“I have to pass them now,” I sent. “Maybe I can find a way to distract them long enough for me to get into the drain.”
There was a long pause while he ruminated. “I will go to them,” he told me at last. “Innle must be shielded.” I started, because “Innle” was what Maruman sometimes called me when he spoke of my appearances in his dreams. It meant “one who seeks” in beast thoughtsymbols, and I had always thought it some queer term of affection.
“Come,” Sharna commanded, crossing the kitchen. I followed down a short corridor and unlocked the outer door, opening it only a crack. The chill of wintertime bit deep into my skin. Then I saw the glimmer of red eyes and heard a low, savage growling that filled me with icy fear.
“Greetings, sudarta,” Sharna sent, flattering them with a title that applauded their strength. It seemed to have no effect on them.
Sharna turned to me, his own eyes gleaming. “Do not go until I tell you. While you wait, find with your eyes the place you must go.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to the door, nosed it open, and began to make an odd, low thrumming sound that vibrated in his throat. Beyond the door, I saw the red eyes withdraw.
“Sharna, what …?” I began, but suddenly the old dog launched himself from the door and raced across the yard toward the wolves. Only then did I understand that he had not meant to persuade them to let me pass.
“Sharna!” I screamed. “Don’t—”
“Go!” he commanded. The primitive snarling of the wolves sent a primeval shudder through my body. I heard Sharna taunting them, calling them away from my exit.
Trembling so hard I could scarcely walk, I stepped into the courtyard and stood for a moment, paralyzed with fear at the sight of the wolves falling on Sharna.
“Go!” he shouted again into my thoughts. A madness of terror roared through me as one set of red eyes turned to me and the beast uttered a growl. I flew across the courtyard, tore away the drain cover, and flung myself into the round opening behind it. Terrified one of the wolves would follow, I wriggled mindlessly along the pipe, imagining snapping jaws closing on my foot and dragging me backward.
I heard a howl of pain and stopped my mad flight. I was horrified to realize that I had left Sharna to his savage brethren.
“Go!” Sharna cried yet again, and I felt him weakening. I knew then that even if I could turn and go back, I could not help him. He had sacrificed himself for me, and I had not realized it until too late. Sick with shame and despair, I continued, but more slowly, for aside from the narrowness of the tunnel and the darkness, I was half suffocated by my tears.
In the end, I had to stop and gather myself before I could go on. The crawl through the network of pipes was such a long, cold, exhausting journey that, by the time I reached its end, sorrow and guilt over Sharna had given way to sheer dogged determination to make use of the chance he had paid for with his life.
My trousers had shredded at the knees and my palms were so raw and painful that I did not even realize I had reached the end until I tumbled out into the soft, cold snow. Gasping, I lay in the drift for a long moment, panting and weeping, but it was too cold to stay