Wolf-Speaker. Tamora Pierce

them all.

      ‘I think I know why Brokefang changed so much,’ she said. ‘I mean, animals learn things from me, and probably that’s how most of the pack got so smart, but Brokefang’s even smarter. I got hurt, when we were after those bandits, and he licked the cut clean.’

      ‘It’s a valid assumption,’ agreed Numair. ‘There are cases of magically gifted humans who were able to impart their abilities to non-human companions. For example, there is Boazan the Sun Dancer, whose eagle Thati could speak ten languages after she drank his tears. And—’

      ‘Numair,’ she said warningly. Experience had taught her that if she let him begin to list examples, he would not return to the real world for hours.

      He grinned, for all the world like one of her stableboy or Rider friends instead of the greatest wizard in Tortall. He had begun to cook supper: a pot of cut-up roots already simmered on the fire. Daine sat next to him and began to slice chunks from a ham they had brought in their packs. Kitten waddled over to help, or at least to eat the rind that Daine cut from the meat.

      —This is very nice,— a rough voice said in their minds. —Cozy, especially on a rainy afternoon.—

      They twisted to look at the cave entrance. It shone with a silvery light that appeared to come from the animal standing there. The badger waddled in, the light fading around his body. He stopped at a polite distance from their fire and shook himself, water flying everywhere from his long, heavy coat.

      Daine fingered the silver claw he had once given her. She liked badgers, and her mysterious adviser was a very handsome one. Big for his kind, he was over a yard in length, with a tail a foot long. He weighed at least fifty pounds, and it appeared he could stow a tremendous amount of water in his fur.

      When he finished shaking, he trundled over to the fire, standing between Daine and Numair. Seated as Daine was, she and the badger were nearly eye to eye. She was so close that she couldn’t escape his thick, musky odour.

      ‘Daine, is this—?’ Numair sounded nervous.

      The badger looked at him, eyes coldly intelligent. —I told her father I would keep an eye on her. So you are her teacher. She tells me a great deal about you, when I visit her.—

      ‘May I ask you something?’ the mage enquired.

      —I am an immortal, the first male creature of my kind. The male badger god, if you like. That is what you wished to ask, is it not?—

      ‘Yes, and I thank you,’ Numair said hesitantly. ‘I – thought I had shielded my mind from any kind of magical reading or probe—’

      —Perhaps that works with mortal wizards,— the badger replied. —Perhaps it works with lesser immortals, such as Stormwings. I am neither.—

      Numair blushed deeply, and Daine hid a grin behind one hand. She doubted that anyone had spoken that way to Numair in a long time. She was used to it. The badger had first appeared in a dream to give her advice sixteen months ago, on her journey to Tortall, and she had dreamed of him often since.

      ‘Another question, then,’ the mage said doggedly. ‘Since I have the opportunity to ask. You can resolve a number of academic debates, actually.’

      —Ask.— There was a studied patience in the badger’s voice.

      ‘The inhabitants of the Divine Realms are called by men “immortals,” but the term itself isn’t entirely accurate. I know that unless they are killed in some accident or by deliberate intent, creatures such as Stormwings, spidrens, and so on will live forever. They don’t age, either. But how are they “lesser immortals” compared to you, or to the other gods?’

      —They are ‘lesser’ because they can be slain,— was the reply. —I can no more be killed than can Mithros, or the Goddess, or the other gods worshipped by two-leggers. ‘Immortals’ is the most fitting term to use. It is not particularly correct, but it is the best you two-leggers can manage.—

      Having made Numair speechless, the badger went on. —Now, on to your teaching. It is well enough, but you have not shown her where to take her next step. I am surprised. For a mortal, your grasp of wild magic normally is good.—

      Numair looked down his long nose at the guest who called his learning into question. ‘If you feel I have omitted something, by all means, enlighten us.’

      The badger sneezed. It seemed to be his way of laughing. —Daine, if you try, you can learn to enter the mind of a mortal animal. You can use their eyes as you would your own, or their ears, or their noses.—

      Daine frowned, trying to understand. ‘How? When you said I could hear and call animals, it was part of something I knew how to do. This isn’t.’

      —Make your mind like that of the animal you join,— he told her. —Think like that animal does, until you become one. You may be quite surprised by what results in the end.—

      It sounded odd, but she knew better than to say as much. She had questioned him once, and he had flattened her with one swipe of his paw. ‘I’ll try.’

       —Do better than try. Where is the young dragon?—

      Kitten had been watching from the other side of the fire. Now she came to sit with the badger, holding a clump of his fur in one small paw. She had a great deal to say in her vocabulary of chirps, whistles, clicks, and trills. He listened as if it meant something, and when she was done, waddled over to talk with Cloud and the horses. At last he returned to the fire, where Daine and Numair had waited politely for him to end his private conversations.

      —I must go back to my home sett,— he announced. —Things in the Divine Realms have been hectic since the protective wall was breached and the lesser immortals were released into your world.—

      ‘Do you know who did it?’ asked Numair quickly. ‘We’ve been searching for the culprit for two years now.’

      —Why in the name of the Lady of Beasts would I know something like that?— was the growled reply. —I have more than enough to do in mortal realms simply with keeping an eye on her.—

      ‘Don’t be angry,’ Daine pleaded. ‘He thought you might know, since you know so much already.’

      —You are a good kit.— The badger rubbed his head against her knee. Touched by this sign of affection, Daine hugged him, burying her fingers in his shaggy coat. To Numair he added, —And I am not angry with you, mortal. I cannot be angry with one who has guarded my young friend so well. Let me go, Daine. I have to return to my sett.—

      She obeyed. He walked towards the cave’s mouth, silver light enclosing him in a globe. At its brightest, the light flared, then vanished. He was gone.

      ‘Well,’ said Numair. She thought he might add something, but instead he busied himself with stirring the vegetables.

      Suddenly she remembered a question she had wanted to ask. ‘I think he puts a magic on me,’ she complained.

      ‘How so?’

      ‘Every time I see him, I mean to ask who my da is, and every time I forget! And he’s the only one who can tell me, too, drat him.’

      Kitten gave a trill, her slit-pupilled eyes concerned.

      ‘I’m all right, Kit,’ the girl said, and sighed. ‘It’s not fair, though.’

      Numair chuckled. ‘Somehow I doubt the badger is interested in what’s fair.’

      She had to smile, even if her smile was one-sided. She knew he was right.

      ‘Speaking of what is fair, what do you think of the advice he gave you, about becoming a magical symbiote?’

      Most of the time she was glad that he spoke to her as he would to a fellow scholar, instead of talking down to her. Just now, though, her