She nodded.
“Great hopping goblins!” Eanrin turned away, pulling the scarlet cap from his head and twisting it in his fists. “Great ugly hopping goblins! What am I doing? This is just brilliant, Eanrin, brilliant. You’ve gone and rescued a princess from one curse only to find out she’s under another! That’s what you get from reaching out the hand of friendship to a stranger. Listen to yourself next time and don’t get involved.”
He prowled the little clearing like a caged animal while the girl watched him, irritated. After all, she had not asked him for help, and she certainly wasn’t asking now. She folded her arms and waited.
The cat-man whirled on her, his eyes flashing. “What I don’t have time for is you!” he declared. “So you’d best get up and go on your way. Do you hear me? Break your own curses.”
Her jaw set. Her shoulders went back. Her hands dropped in fists to her sides, and she turned from the poet and marched from the clearing into the waiting Wood.
“Stop!”
The poet leapt forward, spreading his arms as he blocked her way. “Where do you think you’re going? Carry on that way, and before you know it, you’ll land right in the middle of Arpiar. Terrible demesne, that! All barren hillsides and deep mines, goblins crawling everywhere. And didn’t I just tell you about Rocs hunting on the Karayan Plains?”
She drew back from him, wrapping her arms about her middle so that the bindings on her wrists slapped against her legs. She turned on heel and started in the opposite direction. But she had made no more than a few paces when the poet shouted again.
“You mortal creatures are as helpless as blind kittens!” He placed a restraining hand on her arm. “You go on that way, and you’ll tumble right into the realm of Lord Bright as Fire, the Tiger. He doesn’t like company. And you’re so puny, it won’t take him more than a mouthful to put an end to you!”
She shook off his hand. With a still more resolute stride, she picked another direction and started at a run. But the cat-man easily outpaced and blocked her, a warning hand upraised. She scowled, planting her hands on her hips. The poet sighed as though he bore the curse himself.
“The Wood is dangerous without a Path,” he said. “Especially for you, mortal as you are.” His merry face became drawn with long-suffering. “I’ve never much cared for your kind. You live and die so swiftly, it’s like becoming attached to a mosquito. But now I’ve gotten you this far, I can’t leave you out here to get yourself killed or enchanted all over again. What’s the point of waking you if you’re just going to go back to sleep?”
The girl shook her head slowly, her eyes narrowed, her mouth closed tight. Oblivious, the poet heaved a frustrated sigh. “I shall have to take you with me.”
“No,” she signed.
“Eventually,” he continued, ignoring her, “I must discover where you belong and return you there. But I haven’t the time to waste on such nonsense at present. For once in my life, Time is of the essence! My beloved, the fair and glorious Gleamdren—you know, my poetic muse?—has been captured by a most foul evil. The dreadful Hri Sora, curse of the Near World! Exciting prospect, yes? The stuff of epics.”
“I’m not going with you,” she signed.
“See here, girl, I don’t know what you’re saying, but consider this: What other choice do you have? Do you want to end up battered by Guta or devoured by the Tiger?”
The girl gazed up at his strange, beautiful features. He was different from every being she knew save for . . . save for that one terrible face with eyes devoid of either kindness or mercy. And yet, while this man was definitely a cat and selfish to the bone, she thought perhaps, deep inside his gaze, she glimpsed a spark of compassion.
Besides, as he said, what choice did she have?
“Very well,” she signed. “I will go with you. For now.”
“Is that a yes?” guessed the cat, his eyes following the movement of her hands.
With something close to a smile, the mortal girl nodded.
“Excellent!” said Eanrin.
11
COZAMALOTI FALLS roared with the voices of a thousand lions, its white mist shot with rainbows. Only the brave man who dared dive from the bridge at the brink of the falls for the sake of another would enter the City of Wings. Many had journeyed to this brink and gazed into those mists, only to turn their backs upon greatness. These had never seen the city of the Sky People or the tall green towers of Etalpalli, where Lady Gleamdren now languished in a dragon’s keeping.
Now was the hour for the brave to come forward and make that leap of faith! But no story ever told about the mighty Cozamaloti Falls had prepared Glomar for this challenge.