Page 57 of Blacktail

Without meaning to, Blacktail let a flash of irritation slip into his tone. “Can you tell me nothing?”

“You ask questions to which there are no answers,” the dead thing said. “Perhaps the best I can do is give you an answer to which there is no question.”

Blacktail opened his mouth to respond then, after a moment, shut it. “Very well.”

“You will find what you seek in the Fire of God, I think,” it said, looking off into the distance with a queer and unfocused stare. “Yes. It will be the Fire of God.” It shook its head and focused on Blacktail. “Many eyes are on you, Hunter. More, perhaps, than you will ever know. All would see you pick up the trail of the Forest God. But to speak is more dangerous than you might imagine. Words may bind the eyes to a single sight, the mind to a single thought, blinding you to all else. And what if that thought is wrong? What then, while we of the old age cower in dead suns, black and bottomless? While heretics subjugate what light remains? No.” The dead thing considered a moment, then shook its head. “The risk is too great. You have the scent now. That, I think, is enough. I will say no more.”

“What in the bleeding dung are you—” Blacktail began, but, seeing the Hider peek up in horror, cut himself off. “Forgive me,” he said with some effort. “I am not usually such a poor guest.”

“No offense is possible,” it answered. “As I say, I owe a great debt. For my part, I am sorry that my answers do not satisfy. But perhaps I may do you some little service instead. Your leg—does it still trouble you?”

“It did,” Blacktail said, flexing it. “But not anymore. This one, this two-legs, has done much in my aid. When I was wounded, he brought the healing magic. When I was hungry, he brought food.”

“Did he?” The Hider was still kneeling, now with his paws covering his face. “That is good, very good.” The dead thing knelt, stroked the Hider’s hair. “We are pleased.”

The Hider did not speak, did not look up, but his body quivered with delight.

“I would ask nothing for myself,” Blacktail said. “This one, though…he has risked much on my behalf. He is hunted now, or soon will be. I would not see him caged by men for his troubles.”

The Hider’s god smiled a dead smile. “That much, I think, we can arrange.” It smiled down at the Hider trembling at his feet, then bent and stroked him down his back. As the dead hand passed over the length of the man’s spine, his flesh sprouted fur. The fur spread quickly to cover his back, then his abdomen. The bones of his legs contracted. His long fingers first curled, then molded together into pads. From the pads sprang small claws.

Blacktail blinked. At the god’s feet where only a moment before the Hider had knelt and bled, there now sat a coyote. He was unwounded, but with a clean scar healed on his chest.

“Go,” the god said to him. “Go from this place. Do not return. You are lost no more.” The God of the Lost turned to Blacktail. “He is of you now.”

Blacktail wagged his acknowledgment, if not understanding. “What did you—”

“Oh,” the Hider said. “Oh. Oh.” It sniffed the floor of the cavern, sniffed Blacktail’s hindquarters, perhaps more vigorously than was strictly polite.

When he was done, the Hider turned back to the dead thing. His eyes were wide, rapturous. “Now I understand. Thank you, lord. Thank you.”

The dead thing lay back to take its place in the pile of bones. “Godspeed, Blacktail,” it said. “May you find the one you seek, and quickly. Time is short, for all of us.” It closed its eyes.

“Wait!” Blacktail said, but it was too late. The body had settled into the pile. Whatever had been there was gone. Only flesh remained.

“Hmm,” Blacktail said. The coyote that had been the Hider was examining his tail.

“It’s still you, isn’t it?” Blacktail said.

“Yes,” the Hider said, his tail wagging fast enough to create a breeze. “God has delivered me.” He spoke clearly, with no trace of accent.

“I’m glad for you. This is…fitting.”

“Thank you, lord.”

“I must leave soon,” Blacktail said. “But I suppose I can spend one more night. I might teach you a little of my way of hunting, if you would like.”

“Yes,” the Hider said. “I would like that very much.”

They walked together down the long passage of bones.

Chapter 5

Fatberry

i

The pack of Lord Fang lay in hiding just above the mountain trail. Other than their eyes, which glinted from time to time in the moonlight, they were invisible. They were hunting, after a fashion. None of them had eaten in four days, perhaps five. Though they might still pounce and tear, they mostly lacked the strength to cast about for prey.