“Good sport? You call my peril good sport? Was this nothing but a game to you, Eanrin?”
“No more than it was to you,” Eanrin said darkly.
Gleamdren’s jaw dropped. She went from red to purple as she struggled to draw a complete breath. One rancorous gasp and her fury would have been unbearable indeed. But just then, Midnight descended.
The Black Dogs stepped from Etalpalli into the Wood Between.
2
GET DOWN!”
Eanrin and Gleamdren dropped at Glomar’s whispered command, pressing their bodies flat to the woodland floor. Eanrin, his nose quivering at the too-familiar scents assailing it, carefully lifted his head to peer down to Cozamaloti. His cat’s eyes struggled in the impending Midnight, but he could see the two enormous forms stepping off the bridge. Their eyes gleamed.
“It’s all right,” Gleamdren whispered much too loudly for anyone’s comfort. “They weren’t sent for us.”
“How do you know that?” Eanrin hissed.
She stuck out her tongue at him. “I’ve been in the Dragonwitch’s company for some time now. It’s difficult not to overhear a plot or two!”
“What are you talking about?”
“What do you think I’m talking about?”
Another movement caught Eanrin’s eye. He turned his scowling face from Gleamdren to dart a quick look up. He choked on his own breath. Imraldera was striding swiftly down to the River.
“Ah! I told you she was a witch, Eanrin!” Glomar growled. “She’s brought the Dogs upon us, you see.” The captain reached out and grabbed the poet’s arm. “Quick, man, let us find a safe Path to Rudiobus, or we’re all lost.”
“No,” Eanrin muttered. “It isn’t true.” He sat for the space of three heartbeats, cursing his own cowardice. Then he was on his feet and sprinting after the girl, praying the Dogs would not catch his scent and knowing they must have it already. “You fool!” he heard Glomar call after him, but he ignored the badger-man and caught up with Imraldera.
“What are you doing?” he demanded in a low voice, turning her to face him. She shook her head and pushed him away, pointing back up the incline to where the others hid. “No, no!” Eanrin snapped. “I’m not leaving. Not until you tell me what is going on.”
She rolled her eyes helplessly and shrugged. Eanrin could feel the Black Dogs watching them from below, but the girl did not seem afraid, merely tired and frustrated. She raised her hands and began to sign, but Eanrin caught them both. “That’s no good, my dear. We’re going to have to play at guessing, but never fear, I’m a quick guesser. Tell me, did you make a bargain with Hri Sora? To rescue Gleamdren?”
To his dismay, after an instant’s hesitation, the girl nodded.
“Great dragon’s teeth and flame!” His hands tightened on hers. “You offered yourself in exchange for Gleamdren!”
But here she shook her head hastily. Pulling her hands free, she tried again to sign. She pressed a hand to her heart, then pointed to the Dogs. Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. And Eanrin did try for all he was worth, his eyes round and worried as he struggled to guess at any possible explanation. He knew so little about her! He knew she was mortal and cursed. He guessed, from the cords he had cut from her chafed wrists, that she had been a prisoner of some sort.
But nothing about her made sense. Not in the context of the dreadful Black Dogs, those merciless hunters who dragged their victims to Death’s realm. For in Imraldera’s eyes he saw only love.
He had not recognized it before. Their time together had been so short, and he had been unable to read or understand her for most of it. Following his encounter on the edge of the Dark Water, however, he found himself looking at her with new eyes. He could see the love in her every move and expression. Not love for him, no. How could she love someone like him? He was foolish even to consider it. But love for . . . for someone. Or something. Love that could not be quenched even when standing in the presence of Death’s own brood!
The Black Dogs snarled. Midnight surrounded Eanrin and Imraldera as the monsters drew near.
“Please, Imraldera,” Eanrin said, wishing she would let him take her hands again. But she took a step back from him. How ghostly she looked, her white dress shining faintly in that darkness. “Please tell me you haven’t given yourself to Hri Sora.”
She shook her head.
“Is that no, you have, or no, you haven’t? Dragon’s teeth!” Eanrin ran his hand down his face. The Dogs were closer now. He could hear their rhythmic breathing. If he did not move soon, it would be too late. Those great jowls could swallow him in a second. Against his will, his feet carried him back, first one step, then two.
Imraldera made a sign he did not know, perhaps a blessing, perhaps a farewell. She turned and strode down to the Black Dogs until she stood between them, her tiny form framed by their hideous bulk. She cast a final look up at Eanrin.