Had Fairbird remembered to add that last line for her?
Shaking herself, Imraldera dashed tears from her eyes. She was the daughter of Panther Master. She must not weep. She had vowed to the poet-cat that she would find his ladylove before she gave thought to her own troubles, and find her she would, or die as she was meant to die.
Turning away from the window and back to the streets, she forced her mind to review what Eanrin had told her of Etalpalli . . . a dragon . . . Gleamdren . . . It all tangled up in her mind. Her head was light with hunger, and her eyes blurred, though whether from heat or fear she could not have said. Part of her wanted to curl up in a ball and let the heat melt her away into nothing. Instead, she found herself walking. What was the good of waiting under a window? She would fulfill no vows that way. She must find a way to solve the puzzle of these tortuous streets.
Her thirst was great and she stumbled as she went. When was the last time she’d eaten? The wafers fed her by the priest . . . but no! She would not think of that. That was another time, another world entirely.
The street bent.
It was a sudden, jerking movement that threw her off balance. Imraldera landed on her hands and knees, stunned. For a moment her head whirled, and she thought she would be sick. Then her stomach settled, just as the street did.
She raised her face and found that she was surrounded by thick, black Midnight.
It was the darkness of a night without a moon, that hour when children awake in their beds, terrified because the sunset is long gone and sunrise far away. There is no escape from such darkness. All one can do is wait and hope.
Imraldera found she’d had enough of waiting.
Grinding her teeth, she scrambled back to her feet. Her knees were scraped and one palm bled. She did not care. She’d already sat once in moonless darkness on the top of that mountain. No more! She would keep moving until she dropped.
The only sound was the slap of her bare feet on cobbles still hot to the touch. The street now stretched before her without turn or bend, and it was too dark for her to make out either its beginning or its end. It was as though the city itself had decided upon her path and shaped it for her.
A sob rattled across the silent stones.
The sound startled her, and she backed up against one of the tower walls; having rock at her back was somehow comforting. She strained her ears. Sure enough, a second sob followed the first, and this one gave her some idea of the direction. It was a pitiful sound made by a small voice. She should be afraid, she knew. This darkness was dreadful, this world more dreadful still. She should be cowering, running for her life.
But the sound wasn’t one she could fear.
Picking her way quietly down the street, walking on her toes so as to make no noise, she followed the sobs. At length her searching eyes made out a form sitting in one of the high windowsills. Eanrin? Her heart leapt with the hope. Then she realized that the sobs came from this creature, and the voice was not the poet’s.
It was a child.
The instant Imraldera recognized this, the Midnight vanished. It was as sudden as snuffing out a candle, only the opposite. One moment, she stood in darkness. The next, blistering red sky leered down at her. The abrupt shift hurt her eyes, and she shielded them with both hands.
When at last she dared look again, she saw the child still perched in the window. One thin leg dangled down the wall; the other rested up on the sill. The little urchin was so thin and underfed as to have lost almost all traces of childhood. Boy or girl, Imraldera could not guess. It covered its face with bony hands and sobbed its heart out.
Imraldera wished yet again that she had a voice. She could only stand and watch. Even if she could speak, what could she do to ease such painful sorrow? This little one’s heart was broken. And there was nothing worse, she knew, than a brokenhearted child.
Suddenly, as though it felt her gaze, its hands dropped away. A pinched, wolfish face turned to her, and Imraldera saw how its eyes gleamed yellow. They were animal eyes.
She recognized them.
Her heart stopped beating where she stood. She might as well be dead. That animal gaze held her in place. Then the child bared its teeth and snarled. With an agile leap, it landed on all fours in the street, crouched and emaciated. The sob was replaced by a low growl.