Contrarywise

by Zohra Greenhalgh

  thinking that Kel's raging self-pity said little for the family bloodline. At the very least, it was undignified. At the very worst, it was selfish. The sound of boots on cobblestone made Doogat open his eyes abruptly. Heart pounding, he watched Kelandris—still in damnable black—cross the street to approach him. Doogat went to meet her, his steps purposeful, his face a lie of calm. Kelandris bowed to Doogat, her veil fluttering in the early evening breeze. «I have a question for you,» she said, her voice quiet. Doogat nodded, gesturing for her to continue. «Who am I?» she asked. «That's an excellent question.» There was a short pause. Kelandris frowned under her veil. «One you're not going to answer?» Doogat crossed his arms over his chest. «I cannot answer it.» «Why not?» she demanded angrily. «Because you do not know who I am.» Kelandris swore. «Who cares who you are. I need to know who I am!» Doogat lost his temper. «Is that all you can think about, Kelandris? Yourself? What about me?» Gesturing wildly with his hands, he said, «What about Mnemlith? Or Suxonli?» «Suxonli!» she yelled. «You expect me to care about Suxonli?» «Yes.» Kelandris blinked. Who was this man? How could he say such a thing to her? Suxonli was the setting for her every nightmare, her every sorrow. Kelandris lifted her veil, intending to spit in Doogat's face. As she revealed herself, she was again caught by the black of Doogat's eyes. Kelandris shuddered, her resolve to harm Doogat wavering. Doogat's white hair suddenly seemed to darken to blue-black, flying back from his face like raven wings. The features of his face became lean and angular, his smile slightly wry. Kelandris took a step backward, shaking her head. Terrified that she was going crazy again, she turned to run. Doogat grabbed her arm. «You're sane, Kel—you're sane,» he said softly in her ear. Kelandris turned, giving Doogat a wild look. «You left me in Suxonli!» she cried at him. «You left me in their hands! Why didn't you stay? Why didn't you come sooner?» Kel's voice caught. Sobs wracked her body. «You left me,» she whispered, her face so full of pain that Doogat had to look away. There was a short pause. Doogat swallowed, feeling ill with guilt. «I came as soon as I could, Kel. As soon as I heard your call.» Tears started to his eyes. He paused. «You have been in my thoughts every day since that time. And I have never been able to forgive myself for not coming sooner—for not preventing the death of our destiny.» «Prevent it!» cried Kelandris furiously. «You caused it! You took me over the border to Piedmerri.» Doogat took a deep breath. «Physical children are not the only ones that exist, Kelandris. I wonder if you know this.» «What are you talking about?» she snapped. Doogat shrugged. «Physical children die. So do mental ones. You distorted the speaking. And so you got confused.» «I what!?» she retorted. «In that one place, you distorted the speaking.» Doogat grunted. «Happens sometimes—especially if the emotions are very charged around an issue or event. Which yours are.» «What're you saying?» snapped Kelandris. Doogat took a deep breath. «I'm saying, Kelandris, that you lost the 'child' during the Ritual of Akindo. At the moment that Yonneth raped a young woman named Fasilla. There was a death and an exchange…» Kelandris stared at Doogat. «The draw was responsible,» he said. «For what?» she cried in frustration. Doogat met her eyes evenly. «For giving our child into the keeping of another woman's body until such time that this child came to us and asked to be our daughter.» Doogat paused. «I did not find this out until recently, Kel. I have lived with the pain of our loss for the past sixteen years, and it has scarred me just the same as if I were truly responsible for the child's death. As it is, we may be given a second chance. We may be given an open door—» «Yafatah!» whispered Kelandris, suddenly remembering her encounter with the young Tammirring girl in the northwest border of Jinnjirri. «Yafatah is our child?» «Yes and no,» replied Doogat. «She was born of the union of Fasilla and Yonneth. She is their flesh and blood in purely animal terms. However, the draw took from you and I both, Kelandris. The draw that I cursed in Suxonli gave that child a terrible need for a future, a future that only you and I can provide for her.» «Don't be absurd,» said Kelandris cooly. «Only Greatkin can create futures.» «That's right.» There was a long pause. Kelandris stared at Doogat. Was he saying that she was a Greatkin? The words of The Turn of Trickster's Daughter came pouring into her mind, the repeating one line refrain at the end of each stanza searing her thoughts. Kelandris swallowed. She suddenly understood: she was the daughter of Greatkin Rimble. And this man dressed in blue standing beside her was really, truly Zendrak. Could it be that her years of insanity were finished? Kelandris touched Doogat's cheek tentatively. «Why—why do you look like this?» she asked, «you're so old—» «It serves me,» he replied, taking her hand and kissing it. «It's hard for mortals to accept that they're in the presence of a Greatkin, Kel. They're easier to talk to when they think they're just speaking with an old Mayanabi Master. This face,» he added, patting his apple cheeks, «calms them a little.» He smiled at Kelandris. «You see, dearest beloved, I am your brother. I am Trickster's son. A Greatkin like yourself.» Tears sprang to Kel's eyes. Doogat smiled kindly at Kelandris and whispered, «Welcome home.» At that moment, the autumn wind gusted over Kel's back. It snatched her veil and lifted it into the twilight sky. It fluttered out of sight behind some crimson and gold trees. Kelandris said nothing, feeling as naked with Doogat as she had with Zendrak when they had made love in the forest grove in Suxonli. Her hands trembled. Doogat smiled at her reassuringly and took her hands in his. «Come with me,» said Doogat quietly. «Where?» asked Kelandris, her voice betraying her nervousness. «Back to my place. There's a Hallows on tonight, and we must dress the part. Otherwise,» he added, his dark eyes twinkling, «how will they recognize us?» «Who?» «Oh—the world.» Doogat grinned. «For starters.» Chapter Forty The Kaleidicopia's annual Trickster's Hallows officially commenced at eight bell-eve, but at least ninety people had arrived before the bells of the city sounded the hour. Those who Trickster had included on his elite guest list dressed in the spirit of the evening. There were buffoons, fools, raggedy men and women, animal headed masks, fops, pranksters, and imposters of all kinds—each wearing a costume that expressed his or her particular outrage or outrageousness. On the surface, Podiddley's attire seemed the exception to the rule. Of course. The little thief poked his head outside of his first floor bedroom. Making sure that no other house members were nearby, he stepped into the fray of the party. No one recognized him. And why should they? Podiddley was spotless. Furthermore, he was wearing an Asilliwir tailor-made tunic and flare pants of white silk. He was clean from head to toe and smelled like yellow roses. Twirling his brown mustache, Po sauntered up to Timmer who was busy

  tuning her lotari for the party. «Is there a thief from the south living at this abode? Podiddley is his name.» Timmer pointed toward the room out of which Po had just come. «Yeah. He's in there. But you'll have to hold your nose. Po's a foul housekeeper.» Po grinned. «Thank you.» «Sure,» said Timmer, going back to her lotari. Insufferably pleased with himself, Po decided to see if any of his housemates could recognize him tonight. As Po approached Janusin, he told himself that it was a good thing Doogat was gone—the Mayanabi Master never missed a trick. No point in having all the fun spoiled before he even had a chance to have any! «Master Janusin,» said Po formally, «I want to commend you on that lovely statue of Trickster outside. I've always thought that Greatkin Rimble was a little taller than conventional wisdom would have him be. And the balance of the pirouette is remarkable.» Janusin warmed to the praise. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his lavender silk tunic and looked as modest as he could. The sparkle in his eyes betrayed his pleasure, however—as did the spreading lavender of his hair. Like Po and Timmer, Janusin was dressed simply and elegantly. Barlimo had commented earlier to Po how odd it was that everyone in the house had opted to wear a solid color costume. She had expected them to wear bangles, mirrors, and ribbons—especially Tree. But Tree had surprised them all and selected a robe of startling orange-red. The Jinnjirri makeup artist joined Janusin and Po now. «'Scuse me,» said Tree politely to Po. «This'll jus
t take a minute.» Turning to Janusin, he said, «You seen our beloved thief anywhere?» «Beloved thief?» said Po in genuine surprise. «Yeah—his name's Po. He lives here in the house. Most of the time he's not beloved,» continued Tree. «But tonight I'm feeling generous. I'll get over it,» he grinned. Janusin shook his head. «No. In fact, Tree—I haven't seen Po since we set the feasting table. Did you try his room?» «No answer.» «What does this Po look like?» asked Po, unable to resist. «Can't miss him,» replied Tree. «He's a regular scum-bum.» «He's got a good heart, though,» said Janusin. «You just have to get beyond what he looks like in order to see it.» «And that takes some doing,» said Tree, nodding vigorously. «True,» agreed Janusin. Po frowned privately to himself, unsure if he'd just been complimented or insulted. «What's his draw?» «Same as yours,» said Janusin. «In fact, you look a tiny bit like him—hair color and physique, you understand. We'd never catch Po in clothes like yours. Or with his hair clean,» he added with a good-natured chuckle. «I've often wondered if the meaning of Po's name is 'slob.' « Po sniffed haughtily. «Podiddley, gentlemen, means 'steadfast dancer.' It's an old name, and a proud name.» «Oops,» said Tree with genuine embarrassment. «I think we've insulted our guest. Sorry.» Tree paused. «Actually, sir—if you want to know the truth—Podiddley's got something real special about him. It's just that he doesn't use it much, and it's a waste, you know? Makes him hard to live with sometimes. So we try to—uh—improve him every now and then. But it's only because we see that special thing that he won't share with us, see. I mean—well, I guess I'm trying to say that we kind of love our 'steadfast dancer.'» «We just wish he'd be a little more openly steadfast, that's all,» remarked Janusin. Then, with eyes twinkling, the sculptor added, «Be nice if he'd stop dancing around the rent, too.» Po's face colored. He looked away, unexpectedly touched by their warm feelings toward him. «Well, I hope you find your Podiddley,» he said quietly and walked into the teeming crowd of costumed people. The two Jinnjirri said nothing for a few moments. Then Janusin commented, «Maybe now Po will see that we're not as blind as he thinks.» Cobeth and Rhu entered the Kaleidicopia by the back door of the kitchen. Mab looked up from arranging vegetables on a platter just as Cobeth crossed the threshold. She backed up, her face pale. Cobeth ignored Mab. She had been nothing more to him than a possible lay. When that hadn't panned out, he had lost interest permanently. The Jinnjirri actor grinned at Barlimo—who did not return the salutation. «What's the matter, Barl—Housing Commission still on your ass?» Barlimo's even-tempered green hair streaked with red. «Not at the moment, Cobeth. I'm hoping it'll stay that way.» «We'll see,» he replied, his eyes cool. Mab cleared her throat. «What have you got against this house? I mean, why do you hate us all?» Cobeth regarded her in silence. Then he shrugged. «Something to do, I suppose. Besides, it keeps you on your toes. Keeps you creative.» «As if that were something the people in this house needed,» remarked Rowenaster drily as he walked into the kitchen. He was dressed in cool gray. The color blended calmly with Mab's tunic of blue-toned pink and muted the glaring brilliance of Barlimo's fuschia attire. «You know, Cobeth, it's only by Barl's good graces that you're allowed here. I certainly have no love for you,» he remarked, referring to his stolen library card. Barlimo pressed her lips together. It was Doogat's good graces that allowed Cobeth here tonight—not hers. If she'd had her way, she would've reported the Jinnjirri bastard to the Great Library authorities for suspicion of theft. Never mind if they ever got it proved. A Jinnjirri under suspicion like that would have a hard time in this Saambolin city. Might force Cobeth to leave altogether, she thought wistfully. The Jinnjirri actor smiled sweetly at the professor. «The feeling's mutual, old man.» Then, without further conversation, Cobeth ushered Rhu out of the kitchen. As soon as they passed through the swinging door, Cobeth's yellow hair turned a violent red-black. «Cocksucking assholes!» he said in a low voice. «I'll fix them, I will!» Rhu frowned. «What're you going to do?» «Take them on a little journey to Neath.» He pulled out a vial of holovespa powder and walked toward the feasting table. Moments after Cobeth and Rhu entered the Kaleidicopia, the brindle hound escaped from the confines of Aunt's second floor room. Limping, the pied-eyed bitch made her way down the stairs toward the commons room. She stopped on the second floor landing to survey the general chaos and gaiety below. Timmertandi, who was dressed in soft aqua, took to the cleared dance floor and began singing a raucous medley of bawdy Jinnjirri songs. The Jinnjirri in the audience clapped their hands. A few Dunnsung and Asilliwir joined hands to circle dance. A spiral formed, broke, and formed again. As the drumming grew louder, Timmer sang a Tammirring favorite. Suddenly catching sight of Cobeth, the dog named Pi trotted down the rest of the stairs, reminding herself to limp. She crept over to where Cobeth stood with his holovespa vial, avoiding the crush of feet around her. Cobeth pulled down his mask. It was the same one he had worn on the night he had raped Fasilla—black and yellow and studded with mirrors. Trickster ducked behind a curtain. She sat no more than two feet from where Cobeth loitered with Rhu. She pricked her ugly ears, listening to their conversation. Rhu put her hand on Cobeth's arm. «Do you think spiking the punch is such a good idea, Cobeth?» She looked about herself nervously. «There's no telling who's here tonight. Not with all these masks. Professor Rowenaster and Master Janusin know some people in some pretty high places—Saambolin-wise. I've already had my house raided for drugs once. I'd hate to invite a repeat performance. Might hurt the playhouse, Cobeth. Might hurt your work,» she added. Cobeth snorted. «The people who live in this house hurt my work,» he retorted. «They all think they know something about Trickster. And they don't. None of them grew up in Suxonli. None of them.» «Yes, but—» «Stand aside, Rhu. Trickster's going to teach these folks a lesson!» As Cobeth announced this, Trickster slunk toward him on her dog belly. Then the brindle bitch positioned herself close to Cobeth's yellow-booted feet. There Trickster waited to be stepped on. Opening the vial of yellow holovespa powder, Cobeth poured it into Fasilla's fruit punch with a flamboyant sweep of his arm. The amount, as usual, was excessive. There was enough holovespa in Fasilla's pommin and orange juice mix to set the entire Jinnjirri Quarter of Speakinghast turning for a week. At the moment, Fasilla walked through the swinging door of the kitchen, carrying cups and saucers. The Asilliwir woman didn't see Cobeth until she was practically on top of him. The mask gave Cobeth away. Fasilla swallowed and all but dropped the cups and saucers on the feasting table. The clatter was violent. Cobeth looked over in her direction. But, as in Mab's case, Cobeth did not acknowledge Fasilla. It was clear to the Asilliwir herbalist why this was; he did not recognize her. She, on the other hand, had never been able to forget him. Not his mask, his mannerisms, his smell—or his cruelty. She debated what to do. Then she saw the empty vial on the feasting table. She picked it up when Cobeth wasn't looking and sniffed it. Fasilla recognized the bitter smell of holovespa instantly. Her eyes narrowed as she realized where Cobeth had dumped the contents of the vial. She was speechless. All the outrage she had ever felt about this man came to the fore now. Catching sight of Yafatah walking toward her, Fasilla's outrage swiftly turned to protectiveness for her child. She did not want Cobeth to know that Ya was his daughter, nor did Fasilla want Yafatah to know that Cobeth was her father. Without thinking of the consequences, Fasilla pulled out the Asilliwir akatikki she kept hidden in her belt. She set a dart tipped with fast acting poison inside the blow tube. But as she raised the akatikki to her lips, Cobeth fell over the brindle stray, stepping directly on the bitch's bandaged front paw. Trickster let loose with a scream of pain that silenced the party. Aunt came running—as did half the residents of the Kaleidicopia. Aunt reached Fasilla first. Aunt stared, her jaw dropping. Recognizing Cobeth from Fasilla's description of his carnivale mask, Aunt stepped between the Jinnjirri and the Asilliwir. Aunt's only thought was to stop Fasilla from ruining her life; the dog's pain could wait. Without saying anything to Fasilla, Aunt tackled her from the front and sent the Asilliwir
flying backward into the heavily laden feasting table. Plates and platters of rich foods crashed to the floor. Glasses shattered. House members of the Kaleidicopia did what they could to rectify the damage. Po did his best to separate the two women, but his hurt hand hindered his attempts. Aunt finally ended the skirmish herself by planting her fist soundly in Fasilla's lower back. Fasilla gasped for breath and doubled up in pain, her kidney in agony. Finally, the bedlam subsided. Conversation resumed. Cobeth, who still did not recognize Fasilla or the mortal danger he was in, watched the fisticuffs with amusement. Then, offering a cup of punch to everyone standing near him—including young Yafatah—he drank a glass himself. Yafatah accepted the punch from Cobeth mutely, her eyes troubled. Why had her mother and Aunt started fighting? She didn't know. The dark-haired girl raised the cup of hallucinogenic poison to her mouth mechanically. As she did so, the brindle bitch slammed into her from the side, knocking the punch out of her grasp. The cup broke when it hit the floor. Trickster fell into the shards, carried forward by her jump. The dog yelped and whined piteously. Blood soaked the carpet. During all the commotion, no one noticed Kelandris and Zendrak enter by the front door. As soon as the two Greatkin walked in, however, the air became charged with power. Kelandris wore red tonight, and Zendrak wore his habitual greens. Kelandris had considered carefully whether or not to dress in the traditional yellow and black of her Suxonli heritage, but when Zendrak had pointed out that such costuming would be amply represented by her brother Yonneth, Kelandris had decided to abandon the wasp-queen motif in favor of Trickster's Blood Day scarlet. As soon as she had made the decision, her bloodcycle had started. This had startled Kelandris—the cycle was one week early—but Zendrak had assured her that she could not turn without it. They had not made love. Her he was fully operant, said Zendrak—and had been so for the past sixteen years. She did not need to make love to trigger it this time. Perhaps later, he had added with a smile… The red and green robes of Kelandris and Zendrak shone with the simple elegance of silk. They looked like a queen and king. Heads turned to watch them pass. Kelandris held her head high, but Zendrak could see the tremble of her lip. Kelandris glanced nervously at him. She could sense Yonneth's presence in the crowd. «He's here,» she whispered. «Yonn's here.» Zendrak shook his head. «He calls himself Cobeth now, Kel. He's not the boy you grew up with. He's not your beloved brother turned renegade. He's lost what heart he had. Don't be deceived by your good memories of him. He may one day become a better person, but you don't count on it tonight.» Kelandris laughed harshly. «Doubtful with a name like Cobeth.» She paused. «I can't believe he picked that old name. That's the one I gave him once when he was being a stinker. It's a Tammi word—means cold breath. That's what we call a fire flue that's been left open when there's no fire burning. It's kind of a back door for winter—sneaks in the house and sucks up all the warmth.» Kelandris stopped speaking; she had just caught sight of Cobeth. Kel's throat went dry. Kel knew only one thing; she didn't want to be anywhere near Cobeth. Kel swallowed, her hands breaking out in sweat. She stopped walking. «I can't,» she said to Zendrak in an agonized voice. «I can't do this. I should never have come. It'll happen all over again. Something will go wrong. It has to—it's Rimble's night. They'll beat me—» Kelandris backed up, her face pale and her green eyes stark with fear. She whirled away from Zendrak and ran for the door. Zendrak caught up with her immediately. Grabbing her arm firmly, he demanded, «What're you doing, Kelandris?» «Leaving,» she snapped. «This whole business about turning is stupid. It's a dead ritual. I've already turned once, I don't need to do it again. Suxonli refused me. Let it stay that way,» she cried, tears of terror springing to her beautiful eyes. «Then you condemn the whole world to spiritual decay!» «You exaggerate,» she replied, her eyes becoming glassy with fear. «You do. I'm just a simple village girl from southern Tammirring. What I do has no bearing on the world at large. It affects no one but myself—» Zendrak slapped her; he slapped her awake. «How dare you!» Kel screamed at him. «After all I've been through—» Zendrak slammed her up against the wall. «Now you listen to me, Kel. There's no time to treat you gently. Hear this clearly: if you don't turn tonight, you will be crazy again—» «No, I won't!» «You will! And so will the rest of the world. How dare you even contemplate wishing such a fate on all the people in this room—myself included.» His eyes bored into hers, full of desperation. «Have you no tenderness for me at least?» Kelandris started to renounce her love for him, but before she could get the words out, Zendrak shook her. «Don't make yourself into a liar,» he hissed. Then, without warning, he kissed Kel deeply. Mythrrim passion ignited between them instantly. Kelandris started to sob as she recalled what it had been like to kiss Zendrak. The man in green held her close, whispering loving things in her ear. «Hold me,» said Kel hoarsely. «Just hold me.» «I will, Kel. And for many years to come—if you'll just give those years to us tonight.» He stroked her blue-black hair. «Don't deny the world our love. Don't let Suxonli rob the world of the fertility of two Greatkin. Give up your resentment and turn. Turn for Trickster, Kel. Turn yet again.» Kelandris hid her face in Zendrak's shoulder, her breathing ragged. Zendrak could feel her tremble. Kel choked back her sobs, her eyes shut tightly. Finally, she raised her head. She met Zendrak's inquiring glance, her emotions unreadable. Then Kelandris gave Zendrak the one thing he had despaired of receiving from her again—a tentative smile. Forcing herself to be brave, Kel walked shakenly to the center of the room. Seeing Cobeth stiffen as he recognized her, Kel fought back the horror of Suxonli. Taking a deep breath, Kelandris crossed her arms over her chest, palms flat against her red robe. Ignoring Cobeth completely, Kelandris bowed in Zendrak's direction. Holding her head slightly to the side, she shut her eyes. She appeared to be listening to the strains of a faraway music. She hummed a single note, planting her left foot firmly on the floor as she prepared to make her turn. The note sang from her lips cleanly and purely. Timmer, who happened to be standing nearby, handed her lotari to a member of her quintet. Instructing the fellow to make a D-major chord from Kel's one note, Timmer added a vocal harmony of her own. Startled by the unexpected sound of the lotari's drone, Kel's eyes met Timmer's curious, smiling face. In that moment, Kelandris realized that there was another family for her—apparently right here in this house. She smiled hesitantly at the blonde Dunnsung musician. Timmer winked at Kel and continued improvising off of Kel's single note. Zendrak walked slowly toward the two women. As he did so, Po cut across his path. Zendrak stared at Po's white silks in surprise, his dark eyes delighted. Po, who had never had any dealings with Zendrak, ignored the man in green. Po smiled at Kelandris—instead of running as he had predicted he would do if he ever met a Greatkin face-to-face. Po added another harmony to Kel's continuous note. One by one, the rest of Rimble's Nine drew toward Trickster's daughter. Kel watched them approach. Barlimo stopped in mid-sentence with an architect and made her way hurriedly in Kel's direction. Mab followed the Jinnjirri shyly, her step light with the pleasure of joining Kel. Tree clamored down the second floor staircase, pursued by the nipping brindle bitch. Seeing the tiny group dressed in solid colors slowly positioning themselves around the woman in scarlet, Tree cried, «Wait for me!» Janusin, who was outside standing in front of the statue of Greatkin Rimble, wiped away his sorrow over Cobeth with a lavender handkerchief. Stuffing it in his pocket, Janusin answered Kel's summons. As he walked through the kitchen, he was met by Rowenaster. Neither man said anything. Rowen put his silver bifocals in his pocket and followed Janusin into the commons room. Each contrary took his or her place in a circle around Trickster's daughter. It was a rainbow of color. The man in green was the last to join the group. As Zendrak approached Kelandris, Yafatah broke free of her mother's strong grip on her arm. Fasilla had been in the process of leading Yafatah out of the Kaleidicopia. Aunt's interference in her attempt to kill Cobeth had infuriated Fasilla. She had decided to return to Asilliwir. Tonight. As Yafatah wrenched free of Fasilla, the young girl gave a cry of reco
gnition to Kelandris and Zendrak. The young girl tore after the man in green. Fasilla started after her daughter, her expression horrified. Before she could grab Yafatah, however, Aunt intercepted Fasilla, saying, «Let her go, Fas! Let her go to them!» «I be her mother!» cried Fasilla. «And she'll do as I say!» Apparently Yafatah overhead this remark, for she turned in her flight toward the Nine and walked back toward her mother. Yafatah and Fasilla faced each other in silence. Then Yafatah said slowly and clearly, «You do be me ma—this be true. But Kelandris of Suxonli do be mother to us all. And I must go to her now.» «You'll do no such thing! Ya! Ya, come back here!» But the young girl would not heed her mother. Running lightly through the crowd now, Yafatah arrived in time to see Kelandris begin her turn. Yafatah slowed, her attention fixed on the tall woman wearing scarlet silk. Keeping her head slightly tilted, Kelandris began to turn in a smooth counter-clockwise direction. Her left foot remained firmly on the floor as her right moved around it. Like the Winterbloom for which Kelandris was named, Kel unfolded her arms like the petals of a flower reaching for the warmth of the sun. Kel's left hand pointed to the ground. Kel raised her right, palm upward toward the ceiling. Kel's black hair swung out behind her as her face suffused with an inner incandescence. Her gaze was distant, her green eyes focused on a radiance only she could see. Kel's mouth opened slightly, a slow, full smile spreading across her lips. Sparks of an electrical blue-black charge crackled around her body in an eerie nimbus of the Fertile Dark. And still Kelandris turned. Her scarlet robe became a blur of effortless motion. Now the power of Kel's sixteen-year dormant he rose through her body in a double helix of spirals. She gasped with pleasure. As she did so, the rest of Rimble's Nine began to turn likewise. Their synchronous movement steadied the pulse of the Greatkin electrical current coursing through Kel's bones and cells. On the far side of the room, Cobeth screamed, «No!» He ran toward Kelandris, determined to break through the group of eight surrounding his sister. Kel should not be turning, he should! He must break her concentration! He must stop this desecration! She was akindo! She was cursed! What would Trickster say? What would— Something grabbed Cobeth by the scruff of the neck. Cobeth struggled to free himself. He whirled around, swinging at whatever held him. Cobeth missed and fell forward. A tall man dressed in black and yellow rags crouched over Cobeth and whispered in his ear: «You believes in me, Coby-boy—so you makes me large. And for such a good show of faith, we've got something special in mind for you, eh?» Cobeth turned his head and found himself staring into the pied eyes of Trickster. Cobeth began to laugh wildly. «Something for me?» cried Cobeth gleefully, visions of personal power making him giddy. «Finally, something for me?» «Something for you,» repeated Trickster coldly. Then, without warning, Greatkin Rimble plunged his left thumbnail into the soft flesh of Cobeth's forehead. Like a wasp's stinger, two lancets shot out filling the wound with poison. Cobeth screamed in silence, his face contorted in agony. Trickster withdrew the thumbnail, whispering, «Now we'll see how you like your journey to Neath.» Cobeth buried his face in his arms, his body hunched in a fetal position on the floor. Rhu came running over to him. She shooed a brindle dog away from Cobeth's torso. Cobeth was unable to speak to her, his brain on fire. Rhu peered into his dilated pupils. It looked to her like Cobeth was having an unexpectedly bad reaction to the holovespa in the punch. She called for healers. Several came over. Their diagnosis confirmed her own; Cobeth had overdosed. He was having a toxic response. Antidotes were tried, but nothing worked. With each passing moment, Cobeth sank deeper and deeper into an emotional miasma with no bottom. All of this occurred while Rimble's Nine turned contrarywise. In the center of the room, Kelandris increased her spin once more. She spread her arms, lifting them like wings. Softly she whispered, «So turn the inside inside-out and be sanely mad with me. Master Trickster's turnabout, and come to my ecstasy!» As Kelandris finished speaking, power exploded among the Nine and was grounded into the draw of Saambolin through the capacity of Trickster's daughter for change. The charge rippled outward. The guests of Rimble reacted according to their capacity for change. If they were rigid and afraid, they wept. If they welcomed change, they responded with smiles and joy. Overwhelmed, Cobeth entered a catatonic state of mind. Several healers took him away. Now Kelandris lowered her hands. She folded them once more against her chest, the movement simple and clean. Then Kelandris came to a standstill. The other eight did likewise, and the turn was complete. Yafatah walked slowly toward Kelandris, tears streaming from her eyes. Now the young girl ran headlong into Kel's waiting arms. She clung to the tall woman, her face suffused with a radiant peace. The future of the world was assured now. The Wild Kelandris had bloomed. Kelandris kissed Yafatah's forehead. As she did so, Kel's eyes met Zendrak's briefly. Zendrak nodded. Then the two Greatkin shared a secret smile. The Panthe'kinarok Epilogue The Greatkin finished the third course of their potluck feast with general merriment and banter. Phebene wiped her lips daintily with the corner of her napkin and belched. Jinndaven looked at her in surprise. Catching his expression, Phebene pointed at the little Greatkin who sat between them, saying, «It's his influence.» Jinndaven grunted. «Can't say that it's very flattering, Phebes.» Trickster, who was getting tired of being talked about as though he were not there, started swearing. «My influence, she says! What about what she did to my plans!» Phebene picked her teeth with the prong of her fork. «You haven't a corner on improvements, you know. Love has every bit as much a right to change people as you do, Rimble.» Jinndaven watched Phebene's table manners deteriorate with dismay. «For Presence sake, sister dear—try to be a little more civilized.» «I beg your pardon?» asked the Greatkin of Civilization. «Did you say something to me, Jinn?» The Greatkin of Imagination shook his head. «Nope. Just complaining about Rimble's bad influence on Phebene. I think we should reconsider the seating arrangements.» «I agree!» replied Rimble hotly. «You've meddled enough, Phebes. Meddled and muddled. Zendrak's losing his edge! He doesn't mind me when he should. And Kelandris—she's gone all sweetness and light. It's disgusting!» Phebene blew her nose into her sleeve. Referring to Rimble, she said, «Don't pay any attention to his bitching. Jinn. He loves it. Don't you?» she asked, kissing Rimble on the top of his head. Rimble sank into his chair, putting his napkin over his head like an old woman wearing a newspaper hat. «Love better not be catching.» Jinndaven started laughing. «I think it would be an improoovement if it was, Rimble. You'd be ever so much more manageable.» «Never!» snorted Trickster under his napkin. «Just think of it, Phebes,» continued the Greatkin of Imagination, «Trickster in love—» «Sick, sick, sick,» muttered the pied-eyed little Greatkin. «Say, Rimble,» yelled the Greatkin of Humor at the far side of the round table. Her name was Nessi'gobahn. She wore bells in her hair and had an infectious laugh. «Is it my imagination, or have you grown some?» Jinndaven investigated. «If it's your imagination, then it's mine, too,» he called back. «Rimble's at least a foot taller than when we sat down at the table.» «What do you think it means?» asked Phebene. The Greatkin of Civilization smiled at them all, her eyes twinkling. «It means, my dears, that Rimble is starting to matter again.»