"Someone wants something here badly enough to kill for it," he nearly shouted. "And you saw that black-robed man outside of a'Seatt's shop. Whoever it is has knowledge of the folios' movements… and can read your sages' script. How many people does that leave, Wynn? Not many, from my count."
"You're not hunting a living man!" she responded harshly. "And you'll never stop it through your usual means. If you truly wish to protect your people and the sages, then you'd best alter both your strategy and thought… immediately."
Angry as he was, Rodian was still taken aback. Wynn breathed hard and calmed slightly.
"Talk to Nikolas again," she said, "when he is more himself. Talk to il'Sänke—he has knowledge that you don't. Talk to
He stood dumbfounded at her outburst. Of all the things he'd expected, a torrent of evasive nonsense wasn't among them. She now sounded like one of her superiors.
"What is in those texts?" he demanded.
Wynn shut her eyes tightly for an instant, as if the answer wasn't something she wanted to think on. Rodian almost faltered at whatever weight seemed to press her down.
"More things you wouldn't believe," she whispered, "especially from me."
Rodian's anger hardened like ice. He'd thought her sensible, possibly his only ally within the guild, but they'd gotten to her—High-Tower, Sykion, possibly even il'Sänke. What had they demanded in exchange for placating her desire for the texts and avoiding her claim in court? Or perhaps they were right, and she was so addle-minded that she couldn't see he needed her help.
"Faith that denies fact isn't faith," she whispered suddenly. "It's only fanaticism. Even if I could tell you, I won't batter myself against that wall inside your head. Tear it down yourself, if you've any real interest in the truth."
Wynn walked away with the wolf toward the keep's main doors, leaving Rodian standing alone.
Anger spent, Wynn felt numb as she shoved through the main doors. Rodian wasn't going to acknowledge the truth.
When she reached the common hall's main archway, she held out one hand, palm open, trying to make Shade wait.
"I'll be right back with dinner."
She backed away into the hall as Shade watched her, but the dog did stay. Wynn hurried to ladle a bowl of soup, and then plopped a joint of roasted mutton on a spare wooden plate. A warm fire blazed in the hearth, and there were few people left in the hall. Wynn suddenly didn't want to sit locked in her own room.
And then Shade appeared at her side.
Either ignoring or not understanding that she shouldn't come in, the dog looked up at Wynn, then raised her nose, sniffing at the plate.
Heads turned their way, and Wynn almost fled the hall. But Shade kept poking at her arm and huffing. Wynn took a long breath. Trying not to meet any eyes, she strode toward the hearth. She settled at its right end upon the ledge, far from where most people sat at the tables.
Wynn set the wooden plate on the floor, and Shade began chomping on mutton. She set aside her bowl and stepped over to retrieve a water pitcher from the nearest table, along with an empty mug and bowl. Three initiates were still cleaning up, but none came to clear the tables nearest Wynn. She heard frantic whispering that grew louder as she headed back to the hearth.
"There's no such thing! It's just a wolf."
"Kyne, don't get stupid!"
"Let go!"
"That thing could eat your whole head."
"Oh yeah, well… you're just a big, ignorant coward… Let go of me!"
Wynn kept her head down, focusing on her bowl as she ate.
"Is she really… a majay-hì?"
Wynn flinched at the surprisingly close voice and looked up straight into an ivory face covered in freckles.
The girl in an initiate's tan robe and smudged apron couldn't have been more than thirteen. Her wonder-struck eyes peered cautiously at Shade, now with the mutton pulled off the plate and trapped between teeth and forepaws.
Wynn swallowed a piece of carrot. "How do you know that word?"
"Reading," the girl answered, still staring at Shade.
Wynn almost smiled. Now, here was a cathologer in the making standing before her.
"Can I pet her?" the girl asked.
Wynn glanced down. Shade had stopped chewing, her unblinking eyes locked on the girl. Wynn didn't know if Shade would ever submit to being touched by anyone else, but she preferred not to hurt the girl's feelings.
"She's still getting used to things here," Wynn answered. "Maybe later."
The girl's expression fell, as overcome fear washed away in disappointment. She backed up and scurried off.
Looking down into her spoon, Wynn grimaced at the irony of worrying about a young initiate's feelings. Sages were dying over the ancient texts she'd brought here, but she still thought upon the wonder of one small girl. Had she ever been so naïve herself?
Probably.
Shade renewed chewing her mutton, all the way down to the bone, and then rose on all fours to lap water from the bowl.
