"Hello in there? Did you hear me, Zendrak?"
Swearing, Zendrak yelled through the closed door, "What's the problem?"
"You and Kelandris have started a fire out here in the hallway. It's the second—nope—Barlimo says it's the third fire this week. She also says she would appreciate it greatly if you would not burn the house down. She spent a lot of long hours building and designing the 'K'—according to your requirements."
"Is the fire out?"
"Yes," cried a chorus of voices.
8
By the time Zendrak got dried off and dressed enough to come out of the bathroom, a small crowd of annoyed Kaleidicopians had gathered in the third-floor hallway. Present were the three Jinnjirri: Janusin, Barlimo, and Tree. These three shared the top floor of the "K" with the two Greatkin. It had been decided at a house meeting some months ago that only the Jinnjirri-born would be able to deal with the intensity of emotion that Zendrak and Kelandris generated between them. Tree, who was the last of the three to join the group, yawned and rubbed his eyes groggily. His autumn-colored bathrobe rustled as he shuffled toward Janusin and Barlimo. Tree was not a tree; however, he was a talented makeup artist who very much resembled a two-legged tree—complete with twiggy fingers and skin the texture of redwood bark. He was twenty-two, marginally employed, and generally good-natured. Sniffing the smoky air, he inquired,
"Are we on fire again?"
Janusin pointed to a charred pile of empty boxes stacked in the hall.
Barlimo, the Jinnjirri who had designed and built the Kaleidicopia, added,
"Like Jan said, that makes the third time this week. You and Kelandris better make up or make love before you burn us down. Understood?"
Zendrak nodded, too sad about what had passed between himself and Kelandris to say anything conversational.
Barlimo waved smoke out of her face. "Good. Now that we've got that settled, anybody want cocoa? I'm sure the kitchen embers are still hot from dinner."
Even Janusin's mood brightened at this thought. "I was freezing in my room," he admitted, nodding. "This fall is so cold compared to last year's.
Especially now that Cobeth's gone," he added lamely, knowing that none of his housemates, particularly Kelandris, missed Cobeth in the least. The sculptor sighed. It was hard being a minority of one. Despite all of Cobeth's misdeeds and infidelities, Janusin still kept a tender place in his heart for Cobeth. They had been lovers for five years.
"Give it a rest, will you?" said Tree sourly. "Cobeth was a dangerous man, and you know it, Janusin. And what's more, he didn't love you. I doubt he ever did—"
"Tree! Janusin!" snapped Barlimo. "Both of you stop it. It's three in the morning and no time for disputes."
Changing his mood instantly with true Jinnjirri speed, his hair turning from red to green, Tree put his hands in front of him and pretended to be sleep-walking. "Cocoa," he moaned. "Cooocoa."
Zendrak and Barlimo laughed. Janusin ignored Tree's antics, but said nothing more about Cobeth. Everyone trouped downstairs. When they reached the first-floor landing, they were met with the scent of cocoa already simmering. It seemed that Podiddley had just put a pot of milk and chocolate on the fire. Seeing the third-floor group enter the kitchen, Po glowered at the Jinnjirri and their changeable hair, saying, "Now the party will be spoiled. Look at Barlimo's hair. Already a disapproving red.
And—yes—there goes Janusin's. Well, Tree? Are you turning red, too? No?
Just garbage green?"
Tree ignored Po's jibes. "All we need now are Timmer and Rowen, and we'll have most of the whole house up at this silly hour."
"Preposterous hour would describe it better, Tree," said seventy-year-old Professor Rowenaster as he walked slowly into the kitchen, a scarlet kerchief on his head matched by a flannel nightgown of the same flaming color.
Zendrak winced. "You hurt my eyes, Rowen."
Rowenaster pursed his lips and inclined his head toward Janusin and Barlimo, whose hair echoed the professor's attire. "What's everybody so red about? Looks to me like Po's put on a nice pot of cocoa. We should be grateful for his thoughtfulness."
Po snorted. "I didn't put it on for any of you!"
"Exactly," said Barlimo. "And those are the only hot embers in the house.
So we'll have to wait, I expect, for Po to clear out."
"Nonsense," remarked Zendrak. "Po will share."
Po scowled at his spiritual master. "It's three in the friggin' morning and you're going to turn this into a teaching situation? Give me a break, Zendrak. Give me a break."
Zendrak remained obdurate. "Po will share."
Po rolled his eyes, swore under his breath, and left the kitchen. They heard the door to his first-floor room slam shut.
Zendrak shrugged. "He'll be back."
Everyone in the room knew Zendrak was right. Although Po's temper exploded more often than anyone else's at the Kaleidicopia, his foul humors blew over equally fast.
Barlimo stirred the cocoa and muttered, "I wonder if Po washed this pot before he used it?"
"Better wonder if he washed his hands," retorted Janusin.
At the Kaleidicopia, as Yafatah had pointed out in her ietter to her mother, Po's housekeeping habits were often the irate topic of the monthly house meeting that all Kaleidicopians were obliged to attend. If you didn't attend, you moved out. Very simple. Barlimo often said the Kaleidicopia was not a democracy. It operated more like a federation of landdraws. Everyone had a vote, but Barlimo could ask you to leave. Or stay. Since Barlimo was an eminently fair person, this system functioned quite well. Zendrak's presence in the house, however, had thrown a little confusion into the lines of command recently. Unknown to the rest of the members of the Kaleidicopia until the last year, Barlimo did not own the boarding house.
She had designed and built it, yes, but she had done so according to the requirements of Zendrak. And Zendrak was following Greatkin Rimble's orders.
Yafatah pushed through the swinging door into the crowded kitchen.
Yawning, the young Tammirring girl said, "Anybody found the dog?"
Zendrak glanced at Yafatah and said, "I think he's gone off again. He does that. Maybe for weeks at a time."
Yafatah scowled.
Janusin, who had not seen Yafatah for two days, stared at the sixteen-year-old's swollen face and hands. "You look awful. What happened to you?"
"Thanks," muttered Yafatah through fat lips.
"A swarm of uni—univer—whatever they are—got her," said Tree.
"Univer'silsila," corrected Barlimo and Rowenaster together.
Rowenaster began pouring everyone mugs of cocoa, being careful to leave enough in the pot for Podiddley when he returned from sulking. As he got to Zendrak, the Saambolin professor said, "You and Kel must've had a dilly of a fight tonight. I've never seen her leave the house in such a state. Or with such haste."
"Where in the world will she go at this hour?" asked Janusin.
Zendrak set down his mug. "I had no idea she'd left the house. Blast!"
"Don't you ever get tired of chasing her?" asked Barlimo, stirring the cocoa.
"The truth? Yes. Tonight, I'm very tired of it. I take one step forward with her and three back." He left the room hurriedly, grabbing his dark green traveling cloak in the hallway. The door slammed behind him.
"I just doon't see why Kelandris has to take everything so personally," said Yafatah.
"She's in love," said Janusin.
Tree put his twiggy hands on his hips. "If she's in love, Jan, then she's only in love with herself."
Janusin sipped his cocoa out of a ceramic mug. "She's in love with Zendrak.
Only she can't admit that. So she gets herself all upset so he'll have to comfort her. So she'll know that he loves her, too. Admittedly, a stupid system. But Kel's not exactly right in the head, if you know what I mean.
So she does the best she can. We all do when it comes to love."
Yafatah wasn't convinced. "Yeah, but
what be so hard about saying you love someone? Timmer does it every time she writes a song. I love you.
There. So what?"
Janusin's Jinnjirri hair turned a philosophical silver-gray.
"Uh-oh," said Tree. " Now you've done it, Ya. You've got him going on his favorite subject: love."
Janusin gave Tree a sickly-sweet smile and ignored him. Turning back to Yafatah, Janusin said, "I suppose the words 'I love you' are quite easy for anyone in this room to say—"
"Not me," snapped Po, returning unannounced.
Barlimo batted her fifty-year-old eyelashes at the little middle-aged thief and said smoothly, "Well, you're our resident Contrary, Po. What's easy for us has to be hard for you." She handed Po a full mug of cocoa.
9
In the street outside the Kaleidicopia, a figure in black hurried toward the public stables. It was Kelandris. The moon shone brightly overhead, casting a silver radiance over Kel's shadowy form and the darkened houses. It was close to four bell-morn, and everyone was asleep in the city. Kelandris neared the stables. She knew that most of the horses were stabled inside this time of year. The weather had remained well below freezing for weeks now. Such temperatures made it mandatory to blanket the animals.
Kelandris climbed under a cloth stable guard and hastily unbuckled the blanket on the black horse inside the stall.
Like her brother, Zendrak, Kelandris was able to ride a horse without bridle or saddle and control it through her emotions. Unlike her brother, however, Kelandris was unable to call one of the horses from Neath, the Greatkin underworld, and ask it to carry her. She had never been granted this privilege. Not yet, anyway. So while Zendrak got around the world on the back of his black mare, Further, Kelandris made do with the mortal variety of steed.
Kelandris stroked the neck of the black gelding and unhooked the stable guard. The gelding snorted as she made contact with his animal mind.
Calming him, she grabbed a handful of mane and jumped on his furry back.
The gelding wore a thick winter coat, nature's indicator of a continued tough winter. Kelandris commanded the gelding to leave the city at a slow canter. She realized that if Zendrak decided to follow her on Further, she had little hope of outrunning him. Still, it was worth a try. She had to get to Suxonli. She had to finish what was begun there eighteen years ago.
Black on black, the night hid both the rider and the ridden. Urging the gelding into a gallop, Kelandris turned the horse north. They approached the five-foot gate that led out of the city. Hunching over, she asked the horse to jump it. She did not wish to get stopped at the gate. She had no papers or pass to hand to the sleepy Saambolin guard who would require them. If Saambolin bureaucracy got hold of her, she would never escape Speakinghast before Zendrak caught up with her. The gelding gathered himself for the jump. He cleared it safely. Kelandris heard the astonished shout of the Saambolin guard behind her calling for her to stop. She ignored him. Horse and rider sped north.
Zendrak reached the stable too late to catch Kelandris. Sniffing the air, Zendrak tested Kel's scent on the wind. He grunted. He had her. She was heading north at a fast clip. He swore loudly. He was certain her destination was Suxonli Village. And Elder Hennin.
Walking behind the public stable, Zendrak looked to see if any of the pastures were empty. They all were. Zendrak ran his fingers through his shoulder-length black hair. He needed a large open space, preferably one that held no people or animals. He intended to call Further from the stables of Neath. Her sudden appearance out of thin air would terrify two-leggeds and four-leggeds alike. Also, this was Speakinghast, stronghold of the Saambolin. The psy-chology of this city did not lend itself to ready explanations of the impossible. Zendrak closed his eyes and called Further to him from the Greatkin underworld.
Based on five hundred years of trust between them, the mare came as soon as she was bid. Thundering out of the east, she galloped over rolling pasture covered with hard-ened snow, her body shimmering with blue-black power in the moonlight. Steam rose from her back, and her blue eyes glittered. Slowly she approached Zendrak. Standing on the snow of Saambolin as easily as if it was a sandbar, she snorted at the man in green, throwing her head up and
down. Were they about to have an adventure? she wanted to know. If so, she continued, she was fit to travel and full of spirit.
Zendrak smiled at her eagerness and patted her velvet nose. She smelled pungently of warm, furry horse. Zendrak jumped from the ground to her broad back. Then guiding her with pressure from his legs, they turned north.
The mare gathered speed, shimmered, and entered Overneath time. They would reach Kelandris in a matter of moments.
Such was the power of Further.
Before Kelandris had gone a mile north of Speakinghast, Zendrak intercepted her, his large black mare blocking the road as she galloped through a wooded glen. Kel's gelding shied when he saw Further. Further was a power of the Fertile Dark. Kel's gelding sensed Further's Neathian nativity and was terrified at this unexpected encounter. Kelandris nearly fell off as the gelding veered to the right. Swearing, she regained her balance and yelled, "Get out of my way, Zendrak!"
He rode toward her slowly, his hands crossed over his chest, his legs loose around the barrel of Further's belly. "What now, Kel? Are you running away from home? Or our bed?"
Kelandris stiffened. She glared at him, pulling her black bathrobe tighter across her bosom. She had left the Kaleidicopia in such a hurry she had not had time to put on proper riding attire. Now she remembered what she was wearing and felt stupid. She noticed Zendrak wore pants, boots, and a tunic. She lifted her chin and said, "As a matter of fact, Zendrak, I'm running toward something for once. I'm running toward my destiny—I'm going to Suxonli to finish Hennin."
"To commit murder?"
"What does it matter, Zendrak? Suxonli already accused me of that. And
'proved' it," she added harshly, referring to the sad excuse of a trial that had preceded the Ritual of Akindo. Kelandris shrugged. "So if I kill again, what can they do to me? They have already done their worst. I took their cup of bitter poison and survived. Hennin can't hurt me now, Zendrak. Get out of my way so she can feel the rage of Rimble's wasp queen."
"And if she finds a way to do you in?" asked Zendrak softly.
"Then I'm done in," snapped Kelandris. "But at least I'll be done in doing the right thing. At least I'll be done in fighting the bitch instead of sitting on my ass in Speakinghast waiting for you to take her by the hinder and wallop her."
"After tonight, I know you don't have a very high opinion of me," said Zendrak with a small grimace. "Still—"
"You're quite right. I have a lousy opinion of you. Hennin and Cobeth both tried to kill me, Zendrak. Well, I would think that's cause for some pretty powerful outrage on your part. That's usually how real lovers are, you know.
They don't just let the assholes of the world hurt their beloved and do nothing."
If Zendrak was aggravated by Kel's condemnation of him, he did not show it. He appeared to be listening intently, however. Finally he said, "Are we real lovers, then?"
There was dead silence.
Kelandris put her hand to her mouth, her eyes betraying her confusion. "No.
I mean, yes." Furious, she added, "Don't change the subject!" Swearing, she kicked her gelding toward the woods.
Zendrak raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Where are you going now?"
"This damn horse is afraid of you. I can't get past you on the road, so I'm taking to the woods. I am going to Suxonli, Zendrak. And that's final!"
Zendrak hastily whispered something to Further. The mare let out a scream, horse fashion. The result was instant. Kel's gelding shied and bolted all at once. Kelandris fell off, landing in a bush. The gelding took off at a run in a southerly direction, heading home to Speakinghast. Kelandris was so surprised at her horseless condition, she was speechless. Zendrak jumped off Further and broke his way through the brambles where Kelandris lay in a black heap.
Kelandris looked up at him, her eyes dangerous. Zendrak offered her a hand up. As far as Kelandris was concerned, his gesture was insulting. She spit on his hand.
Wiping the spittle off his palm, he offered her his hand again, saying, "In any good battle, Kelandris, there is strategy. Successful strategy is often made up of two things: patience and timing. If you go after Hennin now, you'll fail."
"How do you know?" she retorted, refusing to take his hand.
"I know something about Hennin that you don't know."
"What's that?"
"Elder Hennin is a high-ranking Mayanabi Nomad gone renegade. Do you know what that means, Kel? To go renegade?"
Kel's jaw dropped. "I don't care what it means, Zendrak. The Order of the Mayanabi Nomads is your business, not mine. If someone like Hennin is one of them, then you better do some housecleaning." She shivered involuntarily, remembering the look of enjoyment on Hennin's face when she had beat Kelandris during the Ritual of Akindo. The woman was the village disciplinarian, yes; she was also a first-class sadist.
Zendrak dropped his hand and knelt beside Kelandris. "You better care what it means, dear heart. Hennin has power—focused and malicious. She's the real adversary of Jinnaeon. Not Cobeth. She's a user."
"They all take drugs in Suxonli," muttered Kel.
"Yes. But she's also a user of people. She used to have Cobeth in her thrall. She promised him the world, and the poor sod thought he was going to get it. He would've been happy being an artist, Kel. He was a Jinn. But he got lost from his parents and grew up in Suxonli—"
"So did I!" she retorted. "And I don't go around claiming to be Rimble's emissary, or start drug cults like Cobeth did."
Zendrak regarded her reprovingly. "There's a reason for that. Want to hear it?"
"Yes."
"You don't need to make claims like Cobeth's. You're Rimble's daughter.
You carry his blood in you. You're also Themyth's daughter. Even if you do nothing, Kelandris, you will affect civilization. You can't help it. Neither can I. Cobeth had no destiny like this. His own, however, should have been precious enough to him. Unfortunately, Elder Hennin convinced him that who and what he could be weren't enough. She gave him an impossible dream. The more he failed at it, the more dependent he became on her. As she wished him to be. You have to understand something about Elder Hennin, Kel. She's a spiritual warrior."