Tal had learned this much through his readings, and they had discussed it before.
"Anyway, they call him a lot of things," said Tal. "Especially different kinds of dangerous animals: big cats, wolves, bears-you name it. Most often it's the Beastlord or the Black-Blooded Pard. The way Feena said it, though, I don't think all this necessarily has to do with Malar."
"But Rusk is a priest of Malar. What else could it mean?" Chaney looked sadly into his empty mug. Tal took the hint and raised a finger to the barkeeper, who nodded back.
"I don't know," admitted Tal. "It has to be something that wasn't in the books I found, probably something to do with Selune."
"Just because Maleva worships Selune doesn't mean this Black Wolf heresy comes from her sect," said Chaney. "Selune and Malar both figure in those werewolf stories, right?"
The conversation paused long enough for the skinny young barmaid to replace Chaney's ale and receive four pennies, a penny tip, and a half-hearted wink in return. As she sauntered away, Chaney peered into his purse before cinching the strings and tucking it back into his green jacket.
"Spend all your allowance already?" Tal took a sip of his own ale, still nursing his first mug.
Chaney looked up at him, an odd quirk on his narrow lips, as if Tal had made a joke but blundered the punch line. "Yeah," he said, plucking at his well-worn jacket. It was a once-fine garment of worsted silk, but it had seen far better days. The piping at cuff and collar was slightly frayed, and the patch on one elbow was slightly too dark. "Shouldn't have bought that new wardrobe."
"You really ought to retire that thing," suggested Tal.
"What, my lucky jacket?" said Chaney. He took a long drink of his ale and clapped the half-empty mug on the table. "So, you were saying something about Selune. If this Black Wolf business is to do with the moon goddess, then why didn't Maleva tell y6u more about it?"
"Aha!" said Tal, "That I can answer. If it is a heresy, you wouldn't expect it to be published anywhere, would you? The temple would suppress it."
Chaney nodded thoughtfully. "All right, that makes sense. So where do you find out what it means? Go back to Maleva?"
"No good," said Tal. "If she was willing to tell me, she would have done it already, but she said something about the high priestess of Selune in Yhaunn."
"Dhauna Myritar," said Chancy, "the one who gave her the moonfire potion."
"Right. Maybe she'll be willing to tell me things that Maleva held back."
"Maleva and Feena living so close to the Arch Woods," said Chaney, sitting up straight, "it makes me think they've got some special grudge against Rusk and his pack."
Tal nodded. The same thought had occurred to him.
"If that's true, then wouldn't they be experts on werewolves?"
"Say 'nightwalkers,' " said Tal, looking around. "And keep your voice down."
" 'Nightwalker' and 'lycanthrope' sound pretentious," said Chaney. "I don't know why you're so defensive about the word."
"I'm not defensive."
Chaney arched a dubious eyebrow.
Tal held up his palms and shrugged. "All right, maybe a little defensive."
"If Maleva's some werewolf expert, maybe she knows something this Dhauna Myritar doesn't. Or maybe Maleva lied about getting the moonfire from Myritar. Or maybe Maleva's the one who put all the conditions on giving it to you."
"Maybe Myritar would sell it to me," said Tal. He did not feel hopeful, but he was curious about this high priestess. "There's only one way to find out," said Tal. "You talked me out of werewolf hunting, but how about a short trip to Yhaunn?"
"You haven't been there before, have you?" asked Chaney.
"Once, when I was really young," said Tal, "but I don't remember it well. There are bridges and ladders and things all between the buildings by the docks, right."
"That would be the stiltways," said Chaney. "The whole place is a little seedier than Selgaunt."
"Sounds great to me," said Tal. "Want to come with me? I bet the nightlife is something else."
"I don't know," said Chaney. "It's kind of a bad time for me to run off. You've got plenty of time on your hands until the spring productions start up, but I've got some things-"
"That's all right," said Tal, waving away his friend's excuses. Chaney went on the ill-fated hunting trip under protest, feeling far more at home in the city than out in the wild. It was asking a lot to invite him back out on the road so soon afterward. Tal would have felt better with Chaney to watch his back, but he didn't want to twist his arm. "It's probably best that I go alone anyway."
Thamalon will have a fit if you go without a guard."
"Only if you tell him that I went," said Tal.
"You don't think he'll send someone to look for you if you're gone that long?"
"You can imitate my handwriting, can't you?"
"I haven't done that in years," said Chaney. "I'd need to practice."
"Fine, I'll leave you some samples. Check in with Eckert every couple of days. If there's an invitation from Storm-weather, just write an excuse. If it's Mother, write that I have a previous social engagement. If it's Thamalon, say I'm meeting a merchant from Turmish about importing musical instruments."
"They believe that crap?"
"Works every time," said Tal. "Well, maybe they don't believe it, but they leave me alone if I make the effort to concoct an excuse."
"How are you going to keep Eckert quiet? He can tell the Old Owl that you left town without mentioning the werewolf business."
"I'll deal with Eckert," said Tal, "but there is something else you can do for me."
Two days later, Tal was ready for his journey. Traveling to Yhaunn and back would take no more than a tenday. That left Tal a comfortable margin before the next full moon, when he would need to confine himself to the cage once more. If he needed more time, he could ride hard and make the return trip in only three days.
He wore a heavy woolen jacket over a simple blue tunic and his leather riding breeches and long boots. Over it all he threw a heavy gray cloak with ties rather than an expensive clasp. With Perivel's big long sword in a simple leather scabbard and a plain bundle of clothes and rations slung over his shoulder, he looked more like one of the Hulorn's outriders than a young noble of one of Selgaunt's richest families.
He said his farewells to Eckert and left the tallhouse at dawn. Chaney awaited him outside.
"Ugh," said Chaney by way of greeting.
"I thought I'd have to go looking for you," said Tal. "Sorry to get you up so early."
"You didn't," said Chaney. "Long night. Don't ask."
Tal suppressed a laugh but honored his friend's request. Chaney had probably drunk too much, gambled too much, or dallied too long with one of the tavern wenches he favored-probably all three. A few months before, Tal would have been at his side, indulging in the same wild behavior and providing the muscle to back up Chaney's barbed witticisms.
They walked up Alaspar Lane, turned west on Densar's Alley, and snaked around side streets before heading north on Galorgar's Ride. Passing beneath the fabulous water horses carved on the Klaroun Gate, they stepped onto the High Bridge. The wide span joined Selgaunt with Over-water, on the far bank of the Elzimmer River. To each side of the road were crammed tiny shops and ramshackle alehouses, the first and last effort by the petty merchants to separate travelers from their coins. Even at this early hour, the bridge was noisy with haggling voices and the rumble of cartwheels.
Beyond the High Bridge lay Overwater, a bustling staging ground for caravans and passenger carriages to the capital city of Ordulin. Tal had briefly considered booking such passage, but the convenience was outweighed by two other concerns. It was simple enough to give a false name when hiring a carriage, but there was always a chance that one of the other passengers would recognize an Uskevren. Moreover, the carriages traveled at a leisurely pace, taking five days for a journey that would take a lone rider only two.