He loosened his hold on Eanrin, and the cat-man was up in a trice, backed away and braced for battle. Though he was taller by far than the ancient scrubber, and his limbs were well-formed and strong compared to the other’s aged frailty, there was fear in his eyes. “What did you do to Imraldera?” he growled. “How did you force her to obey you?”
The old man chuckled. “When have you ever known Dame Imraldera to be compelled beyond her will? Remember, we speak of the same maid who fought Amarok and won.”
“The Wolf Lord possessed nowhere near your cunning, Etanun Ashiun,” Eanrin said. “Your manipulations are shrewd indeed, but do you really think you can convince the worlds to believe you anymore? Imraldera doesn’t know. She wasn’t there when you killed your brother and broke faith with the Lumil Eliasul.”
“Neither,” said the old man, “were you.”
“I saw what happened! I saw the Near World tumble back into darkness, cut off from the Sphere Songs. I saw the Flame at Night ravage nations unchecked; I saw Etalpalli burned to ruins. I saw the results of your evil.”
“So did our Lord,” Etanun replied.
He said no more, made no defense or argument. And yet, to Alistair’s surprise, Eanrin opened his mouth to speak, then swallowed back his words and turned away with a bitter curse. He refused to look at the old man again.
So it was to Alistair that the scrubber addressed himself next. “Mouse will be along shortly,” he said. “When she arrives, you must do as she says. She knows more than she thinks she knows, and she will help you. All is coming together as it must, so try to be forgiving”—he glanced at Eanrin—“if you can.”
With those words he began walking, bowed over and tottering, his face set toward the distant tower and the red light. “Wait!” Alistair cried, taking a step after him.
“That’s right,” the old man said over his shoulder. “Wait. Wait a little. You will see in time.”
“But where are you going?” Alistair glanced at Eanrin, but the cat-man’s head was bowed, his eyes closed, his face grimacing as though with pain. There would be no help from that quarter. “What do you intend to do?”
But the old man gave no answer. He continued on his slow, painful way, as though every step sent searing pain through his joints, along his veins. Then, as suddenly as the blink of an eye, he vanished. There was nowhere for him to hide, not on this wide, blank desolation. He was simply and utterly gone, like an interrupted dream, leaving only the faintest and most confused memories in his wake.
Alistair stared at the empty space. “Where did he go?” he cried, whirling upon Eanrin.
The poet straightened slowly, adjusting his clothes and wiping his face. He looked at the dirt that came off on his fingers and shuddered. Then he fixed Alistair with the intensity of his golden-eyed glare. “This land is crossed over with Faerie Paths,” he said. “Secret ways, most of them unsafe, by which immortal kind may travel. He has taken one of those.” Again he shuddered, and his throat constricted as though he was trying to keep from being sick. “Not one I would take.”
“And what are we to do?” Alistair cried. “He said Mouse would return, but you told me the Black Dogs took her!”
Eanrin bit out his words as though they tasted foul. “I have no answers for you, mortal. For once, I find myself as ignorant as you.” He drew a long breath and spoke with reluctance. “We will have to . . . wait.”
Alistair stared across the wide and lonely plain to where the tower slashed at the horizon. A red light flickered faintly.
Nothing could be done about her shaggy, cropped hair. After multiple washings and peelings away of the grime and dirt in which Mouse had lived for the last many weeks, the Speaker finally declared that it was the best that could be expected. She ordered the other acolytes to dress Mouse in a red robe like those of a priestess, but they covered her head with the black hood of an acolyte to disguise the damage the shears had done.
“Are you ready?” the Speaker asked when Mouse, shivering and clean, was presented before her. “To look upon the face of the goddess is an honor even priestesses are rarely given. You have served the Flame with a willing heart, proving your devotion even to the point of risking your own life. The Flame is pleased.”
The Flame should be pleased, Mouse thought with little reverence. After all, she had done as she was told.
“Follow the blue star, child,” the Silent Lady had said. “Do what you must.”
All those months ago, Mouse had withdrawn from the dungeons and made her way back up the long stairs to the temple above. Waiting at the top of that stair had been the high priestess.
“Well done, little Mouse,” the Speaker had said. “Tell me, what did you learn from our prisoner?”
Mouse had told her. What else could she have done? She’d told her everything, including her promise to find Etanun and his heir.
“The Flame is pleased,” the high priestess had said even then. “You will go. You will do as you have promised. And when you have discovered Etanun’s heir, you will bring him back to us. Do you understand?”