healing on a smaller scale the day Spencer met him, and he had no business standing in the doorway with his mouth open.
Michael, on the other hand, had a right to his amazement.
Not that anyone who didn’t know him as well as Spencer had come to, and didn’t have, in addition, Spencer’s Noantri ability to sense changes in body temperature, adrenaline level, and heartbeat, would have been able to read Michael’s reaction. Michael’s people had a reputation for stoicism. To Spencer’s mind that was, like any stereotype, rooted in erroneous expectation: in this case, that the outward expression of emotion was identical across cultures.However, it couldn’t be argued that Michael was doing an admirable job of keeping his face blank.
Thomas Kelly bestirred himself and sat, as invited. Livia also moved into the room, poured two more brandies, and took a seat on the sofa. Michael, though, stayed standing. He stared and finally shook his head. “Spencer. You look much better. I’m glad. But I have to go.”
“If you’re in pain, Livia is quite handy with things medical.”
“I’m fine.”
“I doubt that, but on the other hand, equally implausibly, I am. Michael, please, I’d like you to stay for a bit. I’m sure you’ll find the topic of discussion interesting.”
“No. I’m sorry, but—”
“It concerns that wolf.”
Michael’s eyes widened. Spencer was sure that even Thomas Kelly, with his Unchanged senses, could tell Michael’s surprise was feigned. “In the park? That was a dog. A husky, or some kind of—”
“It certainly was not. It was a wolf, you spoke to it in some ancient language—no doubt the words of your people—and what’s more, it understood you.” Michael didn’t react, so Spencer added, “Though it didn’t seem disposed to agree with your remarks. It snarled and snapped and returned its attention to the task of tearing off my head. At which point, Michael, you uttered some loud imprecation and became a wolf yourself. Now please, sit down.”
15
L ivia studied Michael Bonnard, waiting for his reaction to Spencer’s words. If he chose to turn and walk out the door there would be nothing she or Spencer could do. Or would try to do.
The monumental implications of what Spencer had seen—that the Noantri and the Unchanged were perhaps not the only categories in the human typology—had long been whispered in both Noantri and Unchanged circles. But so had, among the Unchanged, the notions that the Noantri did not appear in mirrors and could fly. The Noantri found these false characterizations useful as diversions and as shields. Revelation of the truth had proved, over and over through the centuries, to be terrifyingly dangerous.
If Michael Bonnard had the power of what could only be called shapeshifting, he also had the right to reveal or conceal that power.
He didn’t leave. But he didn’t sit, even though from his drawn face and set jaw she suspected he really ought to. Nor did he agree with Spencer’s account. “You were delirious,” he said. “You’d lost a lot of blood. The dog—”
“Please, stop,” Spencer interrupted. “As you say, I had lost a lotof blood, and with it much physical strength. I was not, however, in any way intellectually impaired. I am now well on my way to the complete restoration of my health, which will be fully accomplished, no doubt, by morning.” He pulled at the neck of his sweater to show his scars, now almost completely healed. “As has happened to me on other occasions of bodily harm. To one of which Father Kelly was a witness.”
Bonnard turned to Thomas. The priest was white as a sheet, brandy notwithstanding, but he managed to nod.
“Michael,” Spencer continued. “I saw you wrestle with the wolf. Two wolves, contending together. I also saw this: when the other ran off, you—wolf-you—started after it, but quickly returned, to stare down at me. At that point, to my eyes, you ever so briefly lost definition just as
Michael, on the other hand, had a right to his amazement.
Not that anyone who didn’t know him as well as Spencer had come to, and didn’t have, in addition, Spencer’s Noantri ability to sense changes in body temperature, adrenaline level, and heartbeat, would have been able to read Michael’s reaction. Michael’s people had a reputation for stoicism. To Spencer’s mind that was, like any stereotype, rooted in erroneous expectation: in this case, that the outward expression of emotion was identical across cultures.However, it couldn’t be argued that Michael was doing an admirable job of keeping his face blank.
Thomas Kelly bestirred himself and sat, as invited. Livia also moved into the room, poured two more brandies, and took a seat on the sofa. Michael, though, stayed standing. He stared and finally shook his head. “Spencer. You look much better. I’m glad. But I have to go.”
“If you’re in pain, Livia is quite handy with things medical.”
“I’m fine.”
“I doubt that, but on the other hand, equally implausibly, I am. Michael, please, I’d like you to stay for a bit. I’m sure you’ll find the topic of discussion interesting.”
“No. I’m sorry, but—”
“It concerns that wolf.”
Michael’s eyes widened. Spencer was sure that even Thomas Kelly, with his Unchanged senses, could tell Michael’s surprise was feigned. “In the park? That was a dog. A husky, or some kind of—”
“It certainly was not. It was a wolf, you spoke to it in some ancient language—no doubt the words of your people—and what’s more, it understood you.” Michael didn’t react, so Spencer added, “Though it didn’t seem disposed to agree with your remarks. It snarled and snapped and returned its attention to the task of tearing off my head. At which point, Michael, you uttered some loud imprecation and became a wolf yourself. Now please, sit down.”
15
L ivia studied Michael Bonnard, waiting for his reaction to Spencer’s words. If he chose to turn and walk out the door there would be nothing she or Spencer could do. Or would try to do.
The monumental implications of what Spencer had seen—that the Noantri and the Unchanged were perhaps not the only categories in the human typology—had long been whispered in both Noantri and Unchanged circles. But so had, among the Unchanged, the notions that the Noantri did not appear in mirrors and could fly. The Noantri found these false characterizations useful as diversions and as shields. Revelation of the truth had proved, over and over through the centuries, to be terrifyingly dangerous.
If Michael Bonnard had the power of what could only be called shapeshifting, he also had the right to reveal or conceal that power.
He didn’t leave. But he didn’t sit, even though from his drawn face and set jaw she suspected he really ought to. Nor did he agree with Spencer’s account. “You were delirious,” he said. “You’d lost a lot of blood. The dog—”
“Please, stop,” Spencer interrupted. “As you say, I had lost a lotof blood, and with it much physical strength. I was not, however, in any way intellectually impaired. I am now well on my way to the complete restoration of my health, which will be fully accomplished, no doubt, by morning.” He pulled at the neck of his sweater to show his scars, now almost completely healed. “As has happened to me on other occasions of bodily harm. To one of which Father Kelly was a witness.”
Bonnard turned to Thomas. The priest was white as a sheet, brandy notwithstanding, but he managed to nod.
“Michael,” Spencer continued. “I saw you wrestle with the wolf. Two wolves, contending together. I also saw this: when the other ran off, you—wolf-you—started after it, but quickly returned, to stare down at me. At that point, to my eyes, you ever so briefly lost definition just as
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