Kingdoms of Light

EIGHT

With a name like Phuswick, Oskar expected the occupant of the booth to be fully human, perhaps plump of form and amiable of aspect. He was neither. A Very Large Bug presided over the contents of a gigantic antique shop whose inventory had been squashed and smashed and squeezed down to fit into one of the fifty or so booths that lined both sides of the market building's busy interior. The variety of goods on display in the stall was breathtaking, as was the efflux that emanated from their owner.

Delighting in the opportunity to visit the interior of a covered structure with a ceiling high enough to allow him to stand without bending, Samm stood in the middle of the mob, customers and tourists and merchants swirling around him like penguins cavorting madly about an iceberg. Taj remained at his friend's side, while Cezer and Cocoa were happy to stay in the background. That left it, as usual, to Oskar and Mamakitty to endure the majestic stink as they queried the proprietor.

"You're Phuswick?" Oskar half hoped the bug would reply in the negative.

"I am," hummed the recipient of the inquiry. His voice was smooth as maple butter, a startling contrast to his fetor and appearance. Big red-black compound eyes regarded the new customers. Between them, a mucousy proboscis probed a plate of chopped bits of something whose identity Oskar preferred not to know. It was no revelation that this trader would be a good customer of Biski's hyperactive cuisine.

"What can I interest you fine people in today? Perhaps a—" Leaning back in his hard wooden chair, the vendor reached for a quivering object that was languishing on a middle shelf.

"No, don't touch that!" Though far from squeamish, even Mamakitty had limits to her fortitude. "Please don't touch that." Eyeing the proprietor, she felt a surge of guilt at all the bugs she had toyed with and crunched in the not so distant past.

"Well, all right." Straightening in his chair thrust his body odor even more forcefully in the direction of his customers. "What, then? Or have you come to try and sell me something?" A clawed foreleg indicated the overflowing stock. "I am in need of nothing today. As you can see, my inventory is quite high at the moment."

Maybe if you used some perfume, or scented lotion, you'd have more customers, Oskar thought. Actually, once you got used to it, the smell wasn't so very much stronger than wet dog. Aloud, he inquired straightforwardly, "Biski sent us. She said that if anyone in Pyackill had what we needed, you would be the one to see."

"Ah, Biski!" the vendor buzzed. "Lovely Biski. Almost arthropoid, I like to think of her. Breeder of the best stubbleblips in the kingdom, too." Focusing on Oskar, much to the latter's olfactory discomfort, the merchant hummed, "What is it you need?"

"White light," declared Mamakitty flatly, sacrificing her momentary anonymity to spare Oskar the full brunt of the vendor's stench. "We need to acquire a large quantity of white light."

"And something to carry it in," added Cocoa from behind.

Having nothing to frown with, Phuswick had to settle for emitting a series of uncertain buzzes, as if he were aloft and abruptly losing wing power. "White light? You want to buy white light?"

"You don't know what it is." Cezer sighed in disappointment.

Looking past Oskar, the vendor replied sharply. "Of course I know what it is! Do you think me ignorant, one-lens? White light," he muttered, "is the light of all lights."

"Yes, that's it!" Pushing forward, an excited Cocoa tried to descry which of the dozens, of the hundreds of jars and alembics, pots and bottles, might contain the vital ephemera they had come to find. "Where is it?"

"Not here," the vendor snapped. "I'm a shopkeeper; not a theurgist. You won't find something as evanescent as white light for sale in a stolid, workaday place like Pyackill. If you really mean to have it, the acquiring will require more from you than money. It demands courage and skill, boldness and stealth."

"Then you know someone who does have it for sale?" asked Mamakitty as she slapped away the filching fingers of a would-be pickpocket. The tousle-haired boinkle grinned up at her as he hopped beyond her reach.

"Nice to meet you, too, stinky lady!" He smirked.

"I know of someone who might be able tell you where to find it." The fetid vendor rubbed his rear wings together.

"Then all we have to do is ask?" inquired Oskar eagerly.

"In a manner of speaking. You need to talk to those who guard our border with lands of other light. You need to talk to the Red Dragoons."

Oskar nodded to indicate his understanding. "Doesn't sound too difficult. Where do we find these red dragons?"

"Not dragons—dragoons. On the border with the Kingdom of Orange, due east from here," Phuswick explained. "Be on your best behavior. You know how soldiers can be."

" 'All we have to do is ask.'" Cezer made a disgusted noise. "The Master once had a group of soldiers stay several days with him, discussing how knowledge sorceral related to matters military. I didn't like them. They wouldn't let me sleep in their laps, or scratch on their boots."

"This lot probably won't either," Oskar pointed out dryly. "Better get used to the idea now."

Cezer nodded tersely. "Don't worry. This shape doesn't seem suited to such pleasurable activities." He grinned at Cocoa. "Bet they'd let you sleep in their laps, silky-skin."

She made a face. "I'd rather scratch boots."

"We'll do it." Mamakitty's tone was firm if not entirely assured. "We'll question these soldiers, find the white light, and take it back with us."

"But not today, for I'll wager this outpost doesn't lie close to the city limits."

"Hardly," murmured Phuswick. Rising from his chair, he lurched forward until he was standing fragrantly close to Oskar and Mamakitty. "I'll draw you a map, as best I can recall from what I know. Beyond that, you're on your own. I can give you no further help. I don't do much buzzing around soldiers." Reaching out, he gave Oskar's nose a severe twist. "But I'm only doing this because I like you," he finished as Mamakitty, palm cupped protectively over her face, ducked back out of his reach.

The narrow road through the Glavieb Hills was surfaced with reddish clay. For several days subsequent to leaving Pyackill, traffic grew progressively thinner, until a last trio of farmers parted ways with the travelers not far back up the road.

"This must be harsh country in which to raise crops." Taj was striding along easily, one hand shading his eyes from the sizzling red sun as he studied the rugged hills through which they had been climbing for the better part of the day.

"Depends on local conditions, I suppose." Nudging a rock aside with one booted foot, Cocoa exposed the carmine-colored cockroach that had been hiding beneath. It scurried off in search of a more secure place of concealment. No ordinary human would have heard the skritching of its tiny feet, but like her companions, Cocoa was neither ordinary nor entirely human. She fought off the urge to chase down the cockroach, trap it under one hand, and eat it.

Something came screaming down the slope toward them. Mamakitty ducked, while Oskar and Cezer reacted by drawing their swords. The bird was red-blue, with enormous splayed wings and a single eye set in the middle of its skull. There were tiny teeth in its beak, and as it rocketed past the travelers it snapped at Mamakitty's curls. Then it was gone, an ominous presence soaring out of sight below boulders and ridges they had just traversed.

Straightening, Mamakitty felt gingerly of her coiffure. It was intact, as was her scalp. "Never saw anything like that before."

"Maybe it was just trying to be 'friendly,' in the local manner," Cezer suggested dryly. "Maybe it wasn't even a bird."

"Oh, it was a bird, all right." Taj spoke with some authority on the matter. "Not a seed-eater, either."

Though the unexpected and brief assault had harmed no one, they remained on high alert as they continued to ascend, scrambling over boulders and rocks with effortless agility. Only Taj, unaccustomed to climbing, had any trouble with the ascent, and he was helped over the rough spots by his companions.

It took several days of steady tramping to reach the border country, during which time the harshness of much of the terrain slowly gave way to increasingly lush vegetation. Rivulets became streams, streams became rivers, as the entire character of the landscape through which they were marching lost its rough edge.

It also lost some of its all-pervasive color. The hardy red tint that had stained everyone and everything they had encountered since Taj had first stumbled into the rainbow at the base of the Shalouan Falls grew muted. They were entering a region where two colors of the rainbow melded, as one kingdom gave way to another.

Oskar was especially pleased by the transformation. Not that he particularly disliked the color red, but in addition to the heat it seemed to amplify, its multiple variations had a way of sanctifying the kind of mannered hostility they hoped to leave behind.

Certainly the coloration of the atmosphere, as well as the countryside, was becoming noticeably softened. In the distance, rolling hills covered with thick vegetation took on a distinctive orange hue. Perhaps, he hoped, they were about to enter a land where courtesy was not founded on the prickliness of physical contact. But first they had to make certain they were traveling in the right direction.

There was no need to spend time searching for the Red Dragoons. As soon as they reached the main river, they found themselves confronted by a pair of those splendidly uniformed border guards.

"Travel documents, please." Cerise light glinted from the brightly polished helmet of the young man who bent low in the saddle of his kudu to query Oskar.

"I'm afraid we don't have any documents. We're strangers here, having come from," he thought rapidly before concluding, "far to the west. From the other side of the Kingdom of Red."

The dragoon's companion laughed softly at this, but the one asking the questions did not smile. "Oh, come now, traveler. What do you take me for? There are no kingdoms to the west of Red. Beyond that farthest border the climate grows too hot for intelligent life. Nothing can survive there."

"Nevertheless," put in Mamakitty, sensing that Oskar needed support, "that is where we come from. But our country is not so very hot. Not even as hot as this. We traveled hence by means you would not understand."

"Ah!" The dragoon sat up straight in his saddle. "Then you are magicians!"

"We certainly owe our presence here to magic," Oskar admitted truthfully.

"They don't look like magicians." The other rider spoke for the first time. Oskar noted that he had four horns protruding from his head, a third eye in the center of his forehead, and only three long fingers on each hand. "And they smell funny. Especially that one." He indicated Oskar, who looked hurt.

"It's not for us to decide." The soldier who had carried the conversation backed his steed a couple of paces. "You must come with us to the post. Captain Covalt will decide what is to be done with you."

"That's fine with us," Oskar replied amiably. "We have a question or two for him as well."

The dragoons' base consisted of a cluster of tents and small wooden buildings surrounded by a stockade of flexible red trunks and branches that had been interwoven together horizontally as well as vertically to form a strong, impenetrable barricade. It was the first wall Oskar had ever seen that looked as if it had been braided rather than built. From its location atop a sloping but dominant hill, the post commanded a fine view over the surrounding countryside, including the wide, slow-flowing river that ran from north to south on its western flank. As well as sky and clouds, the flora on the far side of the river had a distinctly orange cast.

Dragoons busy with washing, or maneuvers, or drilling paused in their tasks to observe the escorted newcomers' arrival. Particular attention was paid to Samm, since it is natural for soldiers everywhere to instinctively size up the most formidable of any potential opponent. The giant's imposing stone axe garnered murmurs of admiration.

The travelers were not troubled when the stockade gate was shut behind them. Having committed no offense, they had nothing to fear. They were here to answer questions, and to ask one or two of their own.

Their escorts disappeared into a single-story stone structure. Water was provided to the waiting guests. Within moments a trio of officers emerged, resplendent with polish, paint, and attitude. Only one was human. A second had the wide, flat face so typical of the city dwellers the travelers had encountered in Pyackill. He also boasted a long, naked, rat-like tail that emerged from the seat of his trousers, and two finger-thick whiplike antennae that protruded from his forehead. His companion was barely three feet tall, with a face like a carp and an inability to stand still.

As for the post commandant, Captain Covalt, he was of moderate height and dark of skin, with a bald head and two furry ears that thrust upward from either side of his skull. His jaw line flaunted an unfortunate natural downward curve that afflicted him with a permanent frown, and he had no visible nose. A wide mouth overfilled with small whitish teeth completed the countenance, which despite its somewhat forbidding features was not overtly malicious.

"So, you claim to come from west of the kingdom, and by means sorceral?" Though he spoke to Oskar, his gaze was fastened on Cocoa.

"We entered into this realm from a land where no one color is dominant," Oskar replied. "I know that may be difficult for you to accept, but—"

"It is not difficult to accept: it is impossible to accept. AH kingdoms are cloaked in a preclusive dominant color. That is the way the world was made. As well as being a soldier, I am also something of a scholar of such arcana. Call it a hobby, with which I try to while away the long lonely hours in isolated outposts such as this." Approaching Cocoa, he smiled a dentist's dream, took her hand, and kissed it. Given the width of his jaws, he could just as easily have swallowed it. "And what might your name be, my dear?"

"Cocoa." She tried not to show the revulsion she was feeling. This was not due so much to his hybrid appearance, so different from anything they had yet encountered, as to his smelling strongly of onions despite the fact that there was nothing in the least tuberous in his mien.

"A lovely name for a lovely lady. I request the honor of sitting next to you at dinner tonight." He struggled to smile, wrestling with the natural arc of his lips. "You will be our guests, of course."

"That's very kind of you," she replied courteously, "but we're in something of a hurry."

"Such a pity." She finally managed to free her hand. His touch was greasy. "Tell me: what compels you to flee the dragoons' hospitality so precipitously?"

"White light." Without openly jostling the captain, Oskar did his best to worm his way between him and the patently uncomfortable Cocoa. "We have to find some, and take it back with us to our country."

"White light? As an educated person I know of the existence of many colors, but not white." Turning, the captain gestured in the direction of the river. "Certainly there is none such to be had in the Kingdom of Red, but I have heard tales—old people's fancies, travelers' stories—of the many wonders that lie far to the east. The Kingdom of Purple especially is rumored to contain many marvels. I was once told, by a venerable and experienced traveler, of a temple there that contains within its walls examples of everything that is, or ever was, or that can be imagined. If your white light is to be found anywhere within the kingdoms, I would think that would be the place. You will assuredly not find it in the Kingdom of Orange that lies just across the river, which we know well."

"We'll cross whatever lands we must," Mamakitty informed him. "We can't go home without it."

Furry ears twitched as the captain bobbed his head. "I'm sure your quest is a noble one, though for the life of me I can't imagine why anyone would need to acquire such a mysterious intangibility." Reaching out, he took Cocoa's hand before she could avoid his grasp. "You have no travel documents. A fact I am willing to overlook."

"That's real neighborly of you." Oskar noticed that a number of the dragoons in their immediate vicinity had stopped laboring at their daily tasks and were slowly picking up their weapons. A new scent was in the air, and it was not onions. "We'll be going now."

"By all means," agreed the captain. "Take your leave. However, in the absence of documents I am afraid the kingdom demands security of another kind. One of you must remain behind to guarantee the good conduct of the others." His grip on Cocoa's wrist tightening, he nodded at her and grinned alarmingly. "This one. She will not be harmed, and will be treated as an honored guest until you return."

"We can't do that." Mamakitty stepped forward. "You see, we're kind of used to each other's company. Also, we believe that it's important to the success of our quest that we stay together. We pose no threat to the Kingdom of Red, or any other kingdom."

There was no mistaking the intent of the circle of dragoons, who, though incompletely attired and out of formation, were now closing an armed circle around the travelers. As unobtrusively as possible, Oskar let his right hand fall toward his sword. Samm made a show of unlimbering his great axe, while Taj gripped one of the rather insignificant-looking knives with which he had been outfitted.

Disdaining any further diplomacy, Cezer pushed his way forward, sword already drawn, eyes ablaze, teeth bared. "Take your hands off her, sir! It is no gentleman who designs to hold a lady against her will."

"Well and stupidly spoken." Releasing Cocoa's wrist, Captain Covalt slowly drew his own blade. "Obviously, you are unaware of my reputation as a swordsman."

"And you are unaware of mine!" Relaxing into a fighting stance, Cezer prepared to defend Cocoa's honor, ignoring the fact that she had drawn her own sword.

"You have no reputation," Mamakitty hissed at him.

"I will in a few moments—I hope," the would-be cavalier responded tightly.

Slowly shaking his head, Captain Covalt removed his splendidly embroidered jacket and handed it to one of his attaches. He was solidly built; his would not be an easy defense to penetrate. Oskar tried to conceal his concern. Though enthusiastic and energetic enough, Cezer had no formal training in swordsmanship, whereas the captain was an experienced soldier.

"Let me handle this." Axe in hand, Samm took a giant step forward. Instantly dragoons surrounded him, raising and aiming a lethal assortment of arrows, bolts, and spears—any weapon that could be employed from a safe distance.

"Keep out of it, Samm." Describing small circles in the air with the point of his sword, Cezer was prancing threateningly before the captain. "I picked this fight, and I'll finish it."

Covalt nodded once, curtly. "Indeed you will, my friend. I can see that you are extraordinarily quick of hand and foot, with much natural talent. I can also see that you are inexperienced in the arts of war. Though I could cut you to pieces, I won't let you suffer. Your death will be a quick one."

Oskar stepped forward. "Look, isn't there some way we can settle this with further discussion?"

"The time for words is past." Sword fully extended, Covalt widened his stance. "Don't worry—once this one is disposed of and the girl comfortably situated here, there will still be plenty of you left to carry out your quest." Turning his attention back to his opponent, he uttered what might have been a formal challenge—or a local imprecation.

With a wild yowl, Cezer charged. His thrusting sword was parried with such subtlety that Oskar could not be certain he had seen the captain's blade move. Its point caught Cezer in the left buttock as he rushed past the dragoon, pricking him and bringing blood.

"This is too easy." Bouncing lightly on short legs and feet that Oskar noticed for the first time were slightly webbed, Covalt awaited his opponent's next rush. "I am a soldier, not an assassin of children."

"No: you're a polite would-be rapist—would-be, say I!" Cezer charged again.

This time the captain stood his ground, parrying every swipe and strike Cezer could muster. Eventually bored, Covalt struck back, his sword jabbing at his opponent's exposed chest. Fortunately, the sword point was diverted by a silver pillbox residing in Cezer's breast pocket. The force of the thrust alone, however, was enough to send him stumbling backward. Covalt followed, pressing the attack relentlessly.

"He's going to kill him!" Taj stuttered. "Somebody do something!" His gaze turned up and back. "Samm, you have to stop this!"

The giant's teeth were clenched. "He said not to interfere."

"But you have to!" As Taj fingered the knife he held, he saw several soldiers staring hard in his direction, their own weapons upraised, ready to block any attempt to intervene in the duel. Constrained like his companions, Taj could only stand by and watch.

The remorseless Covalt continued to force Cezer steadily backward. Although his companion's efforts with the sword steadily improved as the fight continued, Oskar saw that his friend remained desperately overmatched against the skilled officer. The dog-man's eyes darted from side to side. No matter the consequences, he knew that he was going to have to intercede. As an upshot they might all die, but despite the surface acrimony that existed between them, he knew he could not let Cezer be killed without at least attempting to save him. They shared too many memories from the times they had slept curled up against one another as puppy and kitten.

Whirling, the embattled Cezer leaped onto a wagon. Covalt followed more slowly, admiring his opponent's gymnastic ability if not his swordsmanship. Now there was nowhere else for Cezer to retreat. The sheer wall of the stockade was at his back. Sweating profusely, muscles trembling, he let out a yowl of anger at the situation circumstances had forced him into.

"Master Evyndd, is this what you intended!"

"I don't know this 'Master Evyndd.'" Sword darting smoothly from side to side like a patrolling dragonfly, Captain Covalt was preparing to climb up into the wagon after his adversary. "But he can't help you. Not now." Choosing his route, he thrust upward with his weapon.

Though still too far away to make contact with the other's blade, Cezer made desperate, wild parrying motions. And then, quite unexpectedly, their blades did make contact. But only because Cezer's weapon had suddenly doubled in length. Impossibly, it felt no heavier, though there was clearly twice as much steel protruding from the pommel as a moment before.

It was enough to make Covalt blink. The captain hesitated only briefly, however, before striking again. In response, his opponent's engorged weapon seemed to take on a life of its own, as though drawing strength from some cat part of its holder usually employed in entirely different campaigns of conquest. As he wielded the taut, shining blade that was now some six feet long yet lighter than ever, an entirely new and fresh expression came over Cezer's face.

Anticipation.

Stabbing and swinging, it was his turn to press the attack. Unable to slip in a thrust beneath so active and extended a blade, Covalt was forced to give ground. As he did so, the preternaturally elongated sword began to swing faster and faster, until it was generating an audible hum that could be heard everywhere within the Red Dragoons' post. How he was doing this Cezer did not know, although every swing of the weapon seemed to be propelled by his whole body. Not being of as serious a questioning mind as Oskar or Mamakitty, he was content simply to make use of the fortuitous phenomenon and worry about explanations later.

Seeing their superior hard-pressed, both of Covalt's aides abruptly rushed to his aid, as did a pair of foot soldiers standing nearby. Their intercession was of no consequence. With the six-foot-long blade humming to itself like a gigantic wasp, Cezer forced them all back while clearing a circle around himself and his companions.

"How are you doing this?" Oskar shouted as they began to edge toward the stockade gate.

"How should I know?" Cezer continued to swing and thrust with zest, enjoying the look of confusion on the faces of their opponents, and the one of frustrated fury on that of the captain. When a couple of soldiers let arrows loose at the retreating visitors, the magically augmented sword parried them with ease. Thus redirected, one such shaft pierced the leg of another soldier, with the consequence that no more projectiles were forthcoming from the assembled, flustered troopers.

"Isn't your arm getting tired?" Sword in hand, Cocoa had her own potential opponents to worry about.

"Not yet," he yelled back at her. "It's as if an entirely different part of myself is holding it up."

"Through the wonder of the Master's magic we have been given human form." Mamakitty lunged sharply forward, driving back a would-be assailant. "Perhaps we have been given other things as well."

Then why is my sword still of normal length, and my legs already aching? Oskar wondered silently. Did it mean that there was something inherent in Cezer that made him a better swordsman? No matter. He was more than content to retreat under cover of his companion's proprietary enchantment.

By this time, word of what was happening had spread throughout the entire contingent of dragoons. In various stages of uniform and dress, putting aside their daily tasks, they took up arms and trailed the travelers down to the river's edge, waiting for the moment when their bewitched opponents should tire. Several of the uninformed newcomers tried to bring Cezer down from a distance with arrows or spears. His mysteriously elongated and accelerated sword blurring the air like a hummingbird's wing, Cezer once more parried these threats from long range as effortlessly as he did the soldiers' continuing futile sword thrusts.

There were half a dozen boats tied up at the river's edge.

One by one, the travelers clambered aboard the nearest. While the miraculously invigorated Cezer held off the entire contingent of dragoons, Samm slipped into the water and pulled the boat off the sandbar on which it was resting, giving it a hearty shove downstream before climbing over the dangerously declining stern to rejoin his companions.

Her own weapon still held at the ready, Mamakitty frowned as the current caught them and they began to pick up speed. "They're not following. As angry as Cezer has made them, I thought surely they would follow. They have the boats to do it."

Oskar gazed back at the shore, which was now lined with gesticulating, jeering dragoons. "It seems they'd rather taunt us."

"Let them taunt all they wish." Emotionally exhausted, Taj lay slumped against a railing. "Easier to parry insults than steel."

Safely away, Cocoa sheathed her own weapon and strode forward. Seeing her approach, Cezer moved automatically to put up his sword. Had he paused to think about it he might not have initiated the gesture, for a six-foot sword would not easily slip into a scabbard designed for one half that size. But as it was turned toward its home, it began to shrink. Oskar blinked, but the phenomenon could not be denied. By the time it had swung around far enough to be scabbarded, the weapon had contracted back to its original length.

"How did you do that?" Cocoa indicated the now sheathed blade.

Cezer shrugged, then grinned. "I have no idea. Some postmortem trick of Master Evyndd's, I should assume. I wonder what other posthumous surprises may await." He straightened, making himself as tall as possible. "I'm quite exhausted from the episode, but the swordsmanship was all mine. No magic in that. After doing battle all my life with two handfuls of smaller versions, it seems to come naturally to me." Holding up a hand, he made a face at the blunt human nails that tipped his fingers. "Miss my naturals, I do."

"Well, mssst, thank you, Cezer." She shuddered visibly. "The mere thought of being held as a 'guest' by that loathsome creature is enough to curdle milk."

"My weapon will always be at your disposal, ready to extend itself to extraordinary lengths at a moment's stimulus." He smiled enigmatically. Trying to read his expression, she considered how to react to this promise, finally deciding to ignore it. Turning, she settled onto a bench to watch the shoreline slip past.

"You know," Oskar mused to Mamakitty as the two sat watching the shore, "keeping in mind what we have learned of the customs of this land, perhaps that soldier was only trying to be very polite."

The woman seated next to him considered. "You could very well be right, Oskar. I didn't think of that. This is a difficult place in which to try and read someone's intentions. Tell me: did you smell the threat in him?"

The dog-man shook his head (that, at least, being a gesture with which he was long familiar). "No, I didn't. There was something else. I think maybe he was coming into heat. And then there was the anger, when Cezer challenged him. Could we have so badly misread his intentions?"

She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Cocoa wasn't going to stay with him, and we certainly weren't going to leave her behind. I'll be glad if and when we enter country where people touch noses, rub up against one another, and engage in mutual grooming as a way of showing friendship."

Oskar sighed. "You cats are always so touchy-feely."

From near the stern, Cezer had to comment. "More polite than smelling a new acquaintance's butt."

Taj turned toward the river. "You disgust me, the lot of you." Samm had no comment. Snakes usually didn't.

Oskar ignored the swordsman. "That sounds to me like wishful thinking, Mamakitty. I'm afraid the best we can hope to encounter is the human habit of shaking hands."

"So impersonal." Turning away from him, she let eyes and mind relax by concentrating on the slowly changing panorama beyond the boat.

While the near riverbank retained the distinctively reddish cast of the kingdom it delimited, the low sandbars, high reeds, and rustling palms on the far side had assumed a distinctly orange hue. Very fat birds and puffballs with sunken eyes flitted in profusion among the tropical growths. While it remained warm, the closer they drifted to the far shore, the more the temperature moderated. Humidity increased, however, altering without lessening their discomfort.

"How I long for the cool depths of the Fasna Wyzel." Always fastidious in his personal habits, Taj was suffering from the perspiration that soaked his clothing. Unlike his former feathers, the artificial raiment he was compelled to wear could not be cleansed by simple preening. So it was not surprising that it was he who suggested they take turns washing themselves and their clothing in the river.

Having been the one to advance the proposal, it was he who tentatively slipped first into the water. A couple of ropes secured to the boat had been tossed into the river. These now dangled astern. By clinging to one of these, a bather could enjoy the cleansing action of the current while exerting minimal effort to remain afloat. Come evening, everyone had taken a turn. The river was deep enough so that even Samm's feet did not bump against the bottom. Not that he cared. The snake-man was the best swimmer among them. A few fish nibbled curiously at their toes, but nothing emerged from the deeps to bite or sting the grateful bathers. Taj had to remember to hang on to the rope with one hand instead of flapping both simultaneously in the water.

When the stars came out, they were tinged with carmine, and the moon was a pink blot against the blackness.

"Tomorrow we'll pick a place to go ashore on the western bank." Mamakitty was leaning back against the railing, studying the night sky.

"How?" Oskar wondered. "When Master Evyndd took us to Zelevin, we saw boats like this on the Shalouan, and I remember watching them as they were steered. This one has no oars, no sail. Without a way to guide it, we're likely to drift past any suitable spot."

"Don't you remember? It should be enough to just move that wooden thing fastened to the back. I recall that when they were pushed one way, boats turned in the other direction."

Cezer looked back at the rudder that was swinging freely with the current. "That's right, I remember now. People on boats pushed such things in the opposite direction they wanted to go." He relaxed. "I suppose that means we can go ashore anywhere we like."

She nodded. "Let's try to pick a dry place. I don't like getting wet any more often than I have to."

He nodded understandingly. Personally, he loved the water. And for that matter, the mud. "I still wonder why those soldiers didn't come after us?"

Mamakitty shrugged. As performed by her, it was a remarkably liquid gesture. "I suppose they decided being impaled on Cezer's blade wasn't worth capturing a female for their captain."

While this reasoning did not fully satisfy the contemplative Oskar, he could think of no better explanation for what had transpired. Besides, he was tired. Since Mamakitty seemed content to let the boat drift downriver, he saw no point in dwelling on what was past. Finding an empty place on the open deck, he paced in circles, tighter and tighter, until at last he felt comfortable and lay down, curling up as compactly as his new body would allow, before falling into an exhausted and dreamless sleep.

When his eyelids next fluttered, the sun was already up. A mass of orange-red fluff was gazing back at him out of eyes that protruded from the depths of dense down. Whether it was composed of feathers or fur, he could not tell. Taken unawares by its proximity, he snapped awake. Emitting a startled coo, the orange sphere promptly fluttered its feathers (or fur) and rose vertically into the air. Looking up, Oskar saw that it had joined a dozen others of its kind. They hovered above him for another moment before flocking as one for the grove of orange-tinted palms from which they had emerged.

"I wonder what they are." Cocoa was sitting up on the deck.

"I wonder if they're edible." Standing next to her, Cezer rested a hand on his belly. "I'm hungry."

"We should conserve our supplies. How about some fresh fish?" Samm stood contemplating the water.

Cezer's face lit with anticipation, and he all but slobbered on his fine clothes. "Fish! You're asking a cat if it would like some fish?"

"You're not a cat anymore," Taj pointed out.

"I'm not all human, either," Cezer shot back. "Don't tell me you don't feel the urge to flap your arms and take to the sky." Before the other man could reply, the swordsman had turned back to Samm. "Get us some fish, and I'll lick you clean myself."

The giant wore a look of distaste. "Thanks, but I got clean enough in the river."

"How are you going to catch fish?" Oskar wondered. "Master Evyndd used to take me fishing with him. There is no fishing equipment on board this boat. Besides, it is a delicate skill. You have to understand how to read the play of swimmer and sand, light and water."

"Then I will be delicate." Leaning over the side, Samm caused the entire boat to tilt in his direction. While his companions struggled to remain erect, the giant scanned the softly rippling surface of the river intently. Espying motion, he brought his enormous axe down in one swift, arcing movement. Water erupted, cascading over the gunwale and drenching everyone and everything aboard.

Sputtering, Oskar was about to say something disagreeable—until he saw the half dozen stunned fish that now lay twitching on the deck. Water spilling in rivulets from his bald pate, Samm sat back down in the stern, set his axe aside, and patiently began picking at the yard-long specimen nearest his feet. With a cry, Cezer and Cocoa bent to do the same. There was no place to make a fire, but that did nothing to mute the avidity with which those on board tore into the unexpected bounty. Having always consumed it raw, they saw no necessity to cook it now.

Only Taj did not participate. The orgy of consumption, with fish blood and oil staining the deck and pale flesh and bone flying every which way, turned his stomach. He had to satisfy himself with dried fruits and vegetables from those stored in Samm's pack.

Bellies swollen, stomachs packed full, they settled down as cats and snakes will do after eating for a long, contented nap. That left only Oskar—who although he had eaten well was not quite as serious a fish fanatic as his feline companions—and Taj to consider the country through which they were passing. While the boat drifted onward, the others slept off the unexpected feast. Rhythmic digesting sounds issued from somewhere within the somnolent Samm, persuading Oskar that despite what one might think, it was indeed possible for a snake to snore.

"I still can't figure out why those soldiers didn't come after us."

"You heard Mamakitty's explanation." Taj was leaning over the prow of the boat, contemplating the water. Suddenly he lifted his head. "Maybe that's the reason, up ahead."

Oskar had to squint. Though excellent, his eyesight was not as sharp as the other man's. Then he saw it: the place forward of the bow where the river disappeared into a huge cave. The rim of the yawning opening was dominated by prominent stalactites and stalagmites.

"We'd better wake the others. We have to go ashore before we reach that. No telling what happens to the river once it has entered the cave."

"We'd better wake them quickly." Taj had straightened, and the hair on the back of his neck had stiffened. "That's not a cave. It's a mouth. And those things lining its rim aren't cave growths made of dripping stone. They're teeth…."