She dug through the piles, checking volume numbers for any section that followed, but she never found one. Further work on volume seven hadn't been completed yet.
In the end, she had a list of seventeen names and nine blanks as possible names where the writing systems were unknown to the translators. Of the former, five were the Children of the Beloved—Li'kän, Volyno, Häs'saun, Vespana, and Ga'hetman.
Wynn swallowed hard and then started at a grumbling whine.
"Young Hygeorht!" Tärpodious croaked from the outer room. "If that animal has an accident in my archives, you'll answer for it! It is late for supper already."
Had an entire day slipped by again? Wynn glanced down.
The female looked up, not even raising her head from her paws, and a wave of guilt hit Wynn. Her new companion hadn't gone outside all day.
She restacked all the pages as best she could and gathered her things. About to close her journal, she glanced once more over the names there. The majay-hì finally raised her head and sat up, peering over the tabletop.
"Names and more names." Wynn sighed, carefully stroking the female's head, remembering the day she'd haphazardly named Lily. "And I still don't know what to call you."
A quick chain of images shuffled through her thoughts—Chap alone, then with Lily, their heads touching, and finally the old wolfhound.
Wynn groaned. "Stop that. It doesn't mean anything to me."
But it didn't stop. The images merely slowed in repetition.
She saw Chap leaning into Lily, slowly sliding his head along hers, as the majay-hì did in memory-speak. This time, when the wolfhound's image rose in Wynn's mind, it flickered with the image of a charcoal-colored pup tussling with her siblings.
Again, and again, until the image of Chap speaking to Lily faded into the mother's memory of a dark-coated daughter—now sitting beside Wynn. That last memory wasn't Wynn's own.
Wynn slipped from the chair, kneeling before Chap's daughter. She had no experience in memory-speak, so it had taken time for the meaning to finally sink in. Another instant of looking into the female's yellow-flecked eyes finally brought clarity.
Wynn didn't need to find a name.
Chap had already supplied one, taught to Lily, and through her to their daughter, in a way without words. A name called from his own memory of an aging wolfhound, honoring a simple animal who'd once saved him.
Wynn carefully put her hands around the face of Chap's daughter.
"Shade," she whispered.
The dog didn't respond in any way. Wynn relaxed all conscious thought to let her own memory of the wolfhound rise. As an answer, she received a warm, wet lap of tongue across her face.
It was going to take time and effort before they understood each other better.
With that, she gathered her things to leave, and Shade followed her into the outer chamber.
"Master Tärpodious, will everything be kept as I've arranged it? I didn't know if the materials would be secured for the night or left out for me."
For a moment his wrinkled face softened, perhaps at the concern and diligence of her studies. He was an archivist, after all, dedicating his life to the catalogues of knowledge. Then he scowled at the "wolf's" presence.
"I'll return it myself… to its safe place," he said. "But I'll pay heed to your arrangements when it is brought back out tomorrow."
"Thank you," Wynn said, but she wondered where the translations were being kept.
"Come, Shade," she said. "We'll have to hurry if you're going out to the gardens before the portcullis closes for the night. I don't think anyone would appreciate your relieving yourself in the courtyard."
She hurried for the stairs, and Shade trotted beside her without being urged. As they neared the side arch of the common hall, Wynn began to fret. Better to take the main passage around to the front than go through there again. Before she even passed the entrance, Domin High-Tower came thumping down the passage from the other way.
"Oh, perfect," Wynn grumbled, quickly grabbing Shade's scruff.
No doubt the domin had heard about her new companion and came to put an end to such nonsense. But High-Tower barely glanced at Shade. His brow wrinkled, and he seemed agitated.
"What?" she asked.
"Nikolas is awake and…" High-Tower didn't finish, and his frown turned to a frustrated glower. "Captain Rodian has arrived… but Nikolas is asking for you."
Chapter 15
Rodian followed a brown-robed apprentice through the guild. As they reached the hospice ward, he spotted High-Tower and Wynn hurrying down the corridor behind him. High-Tower only nodded in greeting, but Rodian barely noticed. He was staring at the tall, leggy wolf beside Wynn.
It looked exactly like the one from the fiasco outside the Upright Quill.
"Back to your studies," High-Tower told Rodian's escort, and the apprentice scurried off.
Rodian turned his attention to Wynn. "You are a never-ending source of complications."
"I'll explain later," she said quickly. "I'm here to see Nikolas first."
Wynn pushed through the door before he could object, and the wolf stayed at her side.
Rodian followed. Indeed, Wynn would do a great amount of explaining at the earliest opportunity.
High-Tower was last to enter the long room with four narrow beds. A small table stood pushed against the back wall, with shelves above filled with glass vessels of herbs, powders, and other concoctions. Nikolas was in the first bed, and an aged man with bony features and a brown robe leaned over him. But the attendant straightened when he saw the visitors.
His astonished gaze fixed on the wolf, but at a shake of High-Tower's head, the other sage said nothing.
"Captain," Wynn said politely, "this is Domin Bitworth. He has been caring for Nikolas."
Rodian merely nodded and looked down at the young man lying on the cot, conscious at last.
Nikolas's hair was slightly laced with gray strands, but some color had returned to his face. He looked thin and haggard. Wynn settled on the bed's edge.
"I'm glad to see you awake."
The wolf paced over beside her, sniffing the blanket. To Rodian's surprise, no one stopped it. But Nikolas's eyes widened in fright. He weakly pulled up his legs beneath the blankets, shrinking back against the short headboard.
"It's all right," Wynn assured him, placing a hand on his arm. "This is Shade. She's a majay-hì, not a wolf."
Rodian didn't know what she was talking about, but he noted Domin Bitworth's stunned side glance at High-Tower. Typically, the dwarf just scowled and sighed.
Nikolas remained in retreat, but panic faded from his sickly expression.
With that, Wynn placed her hands beside the wolf's face and gazed into its eyes. The animal froze and then turned its head toward Nikolas.
Terror returned to Nikolas's expression as he noticed everyone in the room, particularly Rodian.
"They won't tell me anything," he said to Wynn. "Where are Miriam and Dâgmund?"
Color drained from Wynn's face as she glanced at High-Tower and Bitworth. High-Tower swallowed with difficulty, and Wynn finally looked to Rodian.
"I'm sorry," Rodian said to Nikolas. "I couldn't reach them in time."
Nikolas stared up, expressionless. He doubled over, sickened again, as if whatever had taken his strength in the alley assaulted him once more.
Rodian felt responsible.
No matter what the premins and domins had done—or not done—it was his duty, as captain of the Shyldfälches, to keep the citizens of the king's city from harm. And he could have, if the sages had informed him that they'd sent out another folio.
"The captain brought you to us as quickly as he could," Wynn added.
"Enough," Bitworth warned, stepping closer.