But the cat replied, “I have a better idea,” and paced toward her. His posture was that of a tiger, though his size had not altered. Mouse scrambled away from him, but he kept coming until he had her backed up to the edge of the rocky ledge. “Why don’t you take me to your little temple?”
“Without the heir?” Mouse gasped.
“Now.”
She shook her head. “I cannot return without him! The Silent Lady would be slain!”
“Not if I’ve rescued her first,” said the cat. “Which will happen much more quickly if I’m not sidetracked by goblins and misproportioned mortals.”
“No.” Mouse’s face set into hard lines unfamiliar to her young face. “I will not go without him.”
“What’s going on? What does she say?” Alistair demanded.
The cat’s fur bristled, and his claws dug into the rock. “You will take me now, girl,” he said.
She whispered, “I won’t.”
Suddenly the cat unfolded himself into a tall man in red with flashing eyes and a head full of fiery hair. He grabbed Mouse by the fabric on her shoulder and lifted her to her toes. His face was that of a wildcat, and his voice was a snarl.
“I haven’t time to waste on fool’s errands,” he said. “Imraldera’s life is at risk. I do not know where to find your pagan temple, but you will take me there and show me where my lady is being held, or so help me—”
His voice broke in a caterwaul as Alistair’s hands descended on his shoulders and dragged him backward. He dropped his hold on the girl, who nearly unbalanced into the water again, and was himself tossed into a heap. But he was up again in a swirl of his red cape, his gaze fixed on Alistair, who was as tall as he and perhaps a little broader, and whose face was white as a sheet with terror. A grin flicked across the cat-man’s face before he sprang and knocked the mortal man from his feet, pinning him to the ground.
“Don’t interfere, mortal!” he growled. “I’m not a man to be—”
Again he broke off, this time spitting a curse as Mouse struck his face with her fist. His hand darted out, snatching her wrist and wrenching it until she fell to her knees. She winced but shouted, “She told me you were good! She told me you were her fellow knight! She said you would help us!”
The cat-man paused, his teeth bared, his breath caught. Mouse’s black eyes fixed upon him in storm-like fury. “She never told me you were a monster!”
Still gripping her wrist, Eanrin looked from her down to Alistair, who was terrified and trying not to show it.
They were neither of them his enemies.
Eanrin released Mouse’s wrist, got to his feet, and offered a hand to Alistair. “All right, boy,” he said, hoping his voice sounded friendlier than he felt. “I’ll not hurt you.”
“Are you sure about that?” Alistair said, hesitating to accept the hand.
“Mostly sure,” Eanrin growled. He assisted Alistair to his feet, then faced the trembling Mouse. Her dark skin wore a sickly pallor, and her drying hair stood out comically from her head. But her eyes were fierce, unwilling to release the anger.
She looked remarkably like another young mortal girl Eanrin had once met in a far dark forest.
Eanrin shook himself, stretching out his neck and swinging his arms to work out kinks. Then he brushed off his sleeves with all the care of a dandy. “Very well, girl,” he said coolly, as though passing the time of day with an inferior. “We’ll accede to the Murderer’s demands if you insist.”
Her voice was small but sharp. “They’re not my demands. I care nothing for you or any of this. I am here only on behalf of the Silent Lady. I do not wish to see her condemned to death.”
“Condemned by your own so-called goddess.”
“Do not speak insolently of the Flame!” the girl said. “If the goddess demands the great sacrifice from any of us, we are glad to give it. Her knowledge is greater and her purity vaster than our comprehension. I am sure her prophetess would say the same!”
“I’m not,” the cat-man growled.
“Then you do not know the Silent Lady.”
“No,” he said. “You’re right. I do not know this Silent Lady of yours. But I do know Imraldera.” He sighed then and flicked dried mud from the front of his red doublet. “And I know she would not have sent you without reason. I don’t understand it, but I . . .” He grimaced. “I will have to trust it. Even as I must walk the Path of the Lumil Eliasul though I cannot see its end.”
Neither Mouse nor Alistair understood his last words. Alistair had understood only the cat-man’s side of the conversation anyway, and now his brain felt numb. Both he and the girl in boy’s clothes stared at the red-gold creature before them and found him more frightening than ever now that his words were also strange to them. They looked to each other, the one tall and pale, the other short and dark, seeking comfort in this world that had gone all wrong. Lacking the bond of language, they at least shared the bond of mortality.