The Prophet of Panamindorah - Complete Trilogy

by Abigail Hilton

  “The wolflings would take you,” persisted Istra. “I’m sure they need shelts who know how to lead, who understand fauns.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to them,” said Jubal, “even if they’d have me. Canisaria is barely on its feet. The wolflings will have an uphill task putting themselves back together. The last thing they need is Shadock’s active enmity, which they would certainly have if I came running to them for shelter like some fugitive. Besides, assassination isn’t his style, and I held his city for him. He may hate me, but I don’t see how he can do anything to me.”

  ‘Assassination isn’t his style.’ How little you know him, Jubal. She thought of something else. “Danthra and his lizard riders seem to have unaccountably disappeared.”

  “Have they?” asked Jubal with guileless curiosity.

  Istra glared at him. “Don’t push your luck.”

  “I made a bargain. I kept it.”

  She sighed. “Perhaps that bargain could save your life?”

  Jubal laughed. “Well, I suppose they might take me if I could find them. But to live in the swamp with mud dragons? No, my lady, I will take my chances here.”

  Istra shook her head. All these years, she thought, and you don’t really know Shadock. She watched Jubal walk away and wanted to call after him. I never told you why I did it. You did it for the very best reasons—because it was the right thing to do for shelts you’d never even met. But I’m not that good. I did it for a friend.

  Istra went to her rooms and tried to pack, but she kept putting items in her bags, only to remove them again. Where can I possibly go?

  Nowhere, answered a miserable voice in her mind, nowhere you know how to get to. Certainly the wolflings would try to help her if she asked, but Jubal was right. They were in no position to harbor fugitives from Danda-lay. Istra had financed and aided outlaws, but she had no idea how to be one.

  Perhaps I should do nothing. Perhaps Shadock really will forgive and forget, or perhaps he won’t be able to think of any way to harm me.

  Fool, said a voice in her mind. Wait for the poison that takes the guise of slow illness. Wait for the slip on some tall staircase. Wait to fall asleep in your bath. Wait for the claws in the dark. Istra shuddered. Shadock might wait a season or a year or five. It would be his way to let me dangle, but he will never forget and he certainly will not forgive.

  I could still go to Meuril, she thought. I believe Lexis would back my story if pressed. Then there’d be another war, and thousands of innocent fauns would die, but the one shelt who’s guilty would almost certainly escape. And maybe I’d be safe. She covered her face with her hands. No, no, no.

  “Why are you crying, lady?”

  Istra raised her head. An orange tiger cub looked up at her. She blinked hard and endeavored to compose herself. “You’re one of Lexis’s cubs, aren’t you? How did you get in?”

  Tolomy smiled. “I am a cat, Mistress. We go where we will.”

  Istra almost laughed. “I suppose you do.” She tried to stifle a convulsive sob. One of the windows, she thought. Left open in the courtyard. If even a cub can get in here, how easy it would be for an assassin to find me.

  “I think I know why you’re crying,” said Tolomy, “but I have to be sure before I do anything about it.”

  * * * *

  Shadock looked up from the papers on his desk. He was expecting Lexis at any moment, and he’d purposely dismissed all his retainers. He wanted no evidence that this meeting had ever taken place. He was surprised to see, not Lexis, but Tolomy sitting in the doorway. “Good evening, Sire.”

  Shadock stood up. “I sent a message for your father—”

  “I know.” Tolomy strolled into the room. “I met your messenger and told him I would deliver the message. I didn’t, of course.”

  Shadock was becoming angry. All his preparation for nothing, and now a new complication. I told the messenger to speak to no one but Lexis! “I have nothing to say to cubs. You have behaved childishly tonight, and your father will hear of it. Now go back to your quarters.”

  Tolomy yawned halfway through Shadock’s last sentence. It made the king almost glad of the misunderstanding. Insolent brat, you’ll pay dearly for this folly.

  “Do you know why the cats kept their speech during Gabalon’s reign?”

  Shadock wished he had a guard within hailing distance. He would like to have this little beast thrown from the room on his ear. “No,” he said, “but I do know that I have dismissed you.”

  “The fauns, of course, have all kinds of stories,” continued Tolomy, “and you’ve probably heard them, but I doubt you’ve heard our story, because the cats don’t tell it often. This is how it goes: During Gabalon’s early reign, before he consolidated his powers and started killing his fellow wizards, there was an enchantress—a female wizard—who loved the cats. She took the form of a white tiger—something never seen before in Panamindorah. She took a tiger to mate and when he died, another. Altogether, she had about six mates, and their children were iterations. They were different from other cats, sometimes misunderstood, and eventually they banded together, formed their own tribe. The enchantress’s name was Alainya. Sometimes still you hear cats call white tigers the Children of Alainya, and we use it as our surname to this day.

  “Gabalon hated beasts, but when he began killing them and taking their speech, Alainya fought for the cats, protected us, advised us, and kept us safe. No one knows what happened to her. Some say Gabalon killed her. Some say she was assassinated by jealous cats. Some say she grew sad and weary of losing friends and lovers, that she withdrew into the Snow Mountains and lives there still. All agree that those born to the line of white tigers have wizard blood in their veins. Some say it makes us a little cruel. They certainly said so of Demitri.” Tolomy paused.

  Shadock had sat back down. He had never heard this story, and it was interesting. Perhaps he should humor this cub a few moments longer—a few moments might be all he had. “A pretty story,” he said. “Why are you telling it to me?”

  “Sometimes our heritage makes us better able to understand and deal with shelts. This is true of my father. He lacks that streak of cruelty, but he makes up for it with cleverness. He can be manipulative, but he is patient and he is merciful. My father wants to see the best in shelts and beasts. He has a habit of forgiving those that he should not forgive and trusting those that do not deserve it. This is what got him into trouble with Demitri’s old council. I think my father’s mercy is about to get him into trouble again.”

  Tolomy’s eyes narrowed to slits. His voice had lost all traces of childishness. It was stone hard. Shadock felt it like the shock of cold water. He had a sense of seeing something much too late. He’s only a cub!

  Tolomy gave Shadock a moment, but when he said nothing, he continued. “Everyone knows now that Demitri orchestrated queen Natalia’s death so that the wolflings would be blamed and Meuril would not go to the help of Sardor-de-lor. But Demitri sent only a small party of his personal officers. They waylaid Natalia on a little-known journey through her own country, and they came and went without a trace. This smacks of treachery. The cats seemed to know exactly where to go and when. Someone told them, and that someone was you. You were jealous of the wolflings, their power and their wealth. You did not want to go to war, and you knew that if your allies, the wood fauns, started fighting the cats, eventually you’d have to do so as well. You thought that by scheming with Demitri to get Natalia killed and thereby keeping Meuril out of the war, you were safe and your rivals were doomed. Perhaps you were a little jealous, too, because Meuril adored his queen, and you never learned to love yours.”

  Shadock’s mouth opened and closed without a sound. He was red with fury. “How dare you!”

  Tolomy sneered. “It must have been a shock when Demitri went ahead and attacked the wood fauns anyway, after he finished with Canisaria. I suppose you felt betrayed.”

  “These fantasies of yours—” began Shadock, but Tolomy talked over him.


  “I became suspicious while watching your behavior when my father told Meuril how Natalia died. You were afraid of what he was going to say. Of course you were! Demitri put a greater weapon between my father’s teeth than anyone guessed. My father had the power not only to deliver Natalia’s murderers to Meuril and name a new council. He also had the power to throw faun territories into chaos by exposing what you’d done. Meuril and his shelts would never forgive such a thing. Who knows where it would have ended? But Lexis didn’t do it. He didn’t tell your secret. Ah, but his mercy chafes. You feel in his debt, and you can’t bear it. He could destroy you at any moment, and you don’t trust him, not after what his father did. So you invited him here this evening to kill him.”

  Shadock sat back in his chair. “You stupid cub. You have no proof.”

  “Actually, I do. When I started to put things together, I realized that Istra and the Raiders and Jubal were all part of it. I dropped in on your queen a few hours ago just to make certain. It seems that she overheard you talking to a highly secret visitor—a cat who came to parley about Demitri’s proposal. Istra did not understand at the time, not until after Natalia was killed. She was very close to Natalia and wanted to avenge her, but she knew what would happen if she went to Meuril—long, bloody war, and the only person responsible for the war would almost certainly go unpunished.

  “In the end Istra retaliated by protecting the very shelts you had framed. She sought out the remaining wolfling royalty and did all in her power to help them. She distracted you from the truth by circulating a rumor that wounded your pride and pointed your suspicions in the wrong direction. As a result, the wolflings were eventually acquitted and part of the truth revealed, but Istra knows her life and Jubal’s aren’t worth two cowries now that you know the truth. She was crying, because she’s afraid of what you’ll do to her, and she can’t bring herself to tell Meuril.”

  Shadock had stood up and walked around the desk. He went to the door, closed it, and took down the sword hanging on the wall behind. He was calm now, beyond anger. “Well, cub, you could have made a successful spy or investigator or whatever they call such persons in your country. It’s unfortunate you chose to test your budding skills on me. There’s not a court in Panamindorah who would hear such a case. No one judges kings.”

  Tolomy backed up to put a few paces between them. “I’ve heard it said that history is the judge of kings, but you’re right. No court would hear such a case. No war will ever bring you to justice. No shelt would dare to call you murderer. But you remember what I said about house Alainya? My father and my sister may be the ones with the white coats, but I’m the one who takes after my grandsire.”

  Shadock sniffed. “If you think you’re going to harm me, think again. There’s poison on this floor, which is absorbed through the pads of a cat’s feet. Already, you will begin to weaken, and very soon, you will begin the descent into madness and death. You were doomed as soon as you stepped foot in my office.”

  To his surprise, Tolomy grinned. “Someone told me about this kind of poison not long ago. I thought it sounded like you, so I took the liberty of going to a chandler before I came.” He lifted a paw and shook it daintily. “Wax. It feels a little odd, but I should be safe.”

  Shadock’s eyes widened. He had been so certain that the cat was growing weaker, that he would begin to convulse at any moment. Still, he’s just a cub, just a cub. Tolomy leapt to the desk, putting himself almost at eyelevel with Shadock across the small room. “One day, Sire, there may be a court that would hear a case such as yours and dispense justice. But for now, there is only me.” He sprang.

  * * * *

  Laylan and Fenrah were walking the Sky Walk later that evening, trying to hammer out the details of the agreement that he was to present in council next day. Aside from an end to bounty laws, nothing had been finalized. Attempts to re-draw the map of Canisaria were meeting with resistance from some faun nobility, who had claimed parts of that land years ago, as well as cats, who were living there.

  Fenrah had invited several of the prominent pack leaders to the council meetings. They spoke cautiously to the fauns and cast nervous glances at Laylan. “They still don’t trust me,” he told Fenrah as they walked.

  “And you shouldn’t trust them,” she said, “not until you know them better.”

  Laylan frowned. “You still think I’m the right shelt to represent them?”

  “You are the only shelt to represent them.”

  “And who’s going to actually rule their country?”

  Fenrah looked uncomfortable. “I had thought of a council—”

  “ I don’t think wolflings would follow a council,” said Laylan. “They want a clear leader. A queen—”

  “Or a king,” she countered.

  “Or both. We could give them both.”

  Silence fell between them. The sounds of merrymakers on the Sky Walk seemed suddenly far away. Fenrah had a hunted expression. She would not look at him. “If you don’t love me,” he whispered, “just say so. I won’t ever mention it again.”

  She laughed then and met his eyes. “Won’t you?”

  Laylan winced. “Well, I’ll try not to.”

  Her eyes glistened like wet velvet in the dusk. “Laylan, to the fauns and to the rest of Panamindorah, you have always been within the law. We wolflings have been living outside it. We did what had to be done, but now we’ve got to get inside again, to be something that we’ve fought. I am the very symbol of that. A free Canisaria doesn’t need something like me hanging around.”

  Laylan put his hands in his pockets. “When we were in Glacia and the Architects asked for our dreams—our futures—that’s the one you were afraid they would take, isn’t it? A free Canisaria.”

  Fenrah looked surprised. “Yes, of course.”

  “Do you know what mine was?”

  She shook her head.

  “You.”

  Fenrah’s eyes started to fill with tears.

  “I’d give up my memories,” continued Laylan, “give up my name before I’d give away that dream. If you ask me to live without it, I will, but not because you’ve outlived your usefulness. You haven’t. I love you. Every wolfling in Canisaria loves you. They need—”

  She threw her arms around him. “Enough, alright, I’ll ma—” The rest of the sentence got lost in a kiss.

  * * * *

  Tolomy looked up at the sound of the door opening. He tensed, then relaxed when he saw the iteration, Corellian. Corry was staring at the mess in the room. Shadock had hit the desk as he fell, and blood-speckled papers lay everywhere. Spilled ink was dripping onto the floor, mingling with pools of crimson. Tolomy had a long cut down the side of his leg, but most of the blood wasn’t his.

  “What have you done?” whispered Corry.

  “Did you overhear any of that?” asked Tolomy.

  “Yes, some of it.”

  “Then you know what I did and why I did it.”

  “Shelts may not believe you,” said Corry. “This may start cat/shelt hostilities all over again!”

  Tolomy shook his head. “Not the way I’m going to do it. Ah, here they are.”

  Corry glanced over his shoulder to see two black leopards. They were staring wide-eyed into the office. Tolomy grinned at them, his teeth bright red. “Didn’t bargain for this, did you? Well, at least I didn’t make you kill him. No, don’t come in this room, the floor’s poisoned. Did you bring the water like I asked?” One of the leopards turned and picked up the handle of a bucket in his teeth. Tolomy tipped it over the floor. “Let’s hope that dilutes the poison enough to keep it from killing anyone.” He grabbed one of Shadock’s arms and dragged the body into the hall. “Now you need to make some tracks in his blood,” he told the leopards.

  He turned back to Corry. “These are two of the cats who followed Liliana. Apparently Daren killed her in Selbis and sent them to search for Shyshax and Ounce. They were frightened and came creeping back to Danda-lay. Knowing my f
ather, he’ll probably pardon them, but they’ll never hold office again, and they stand a good chance of being killed by their own kind for what they’ve done. I offered them a way out.”

  “And what is that?” asked Corry.

  “My blood is on this floor, too, for anyone with a nose to see. They’ll find Shadock’s body and the tracks of these two known traitors. I disappear, and everyone will assume that they killed Shadock and carried me away out of spite.” He smiled. “I am only a cub, after all.”

  Corry frowned. “You’re leaving?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Not sure yet. The Snow Mountains maybe. Between the three of us, we should have no trouble bringing down enough game.”

  “Tolomy, your father and your sister—what will I tell them?”

  “You’ll tell them nothing. Don’t make me regret not killing you, Corellian.”

  “They’ll be frantic.”

  Tolomy ran a paw through the blood on the floor. “I know. I’m sorry. But Demitri was right: there can be only one king or queen of Filinia or of house Alainya. Leesha is the cat to rule. She’ll make a good queen. If I stay, I’ll eventually destroy her. I know this, Corellian.”

  Corry sighed. “Good-bye, Tolomy.”

  * * * *

  Lexis left the palace complex and walked through Danda-lay until he came to a certain hotel in a poorly lit section of town. He went, unchallenged, up several flights of stairs until he reached the roof. There on the edge he spied a crouched figure, hooves dangling, elbows on knees, chin in hands. He looked small and alone on the empty roof, watching the party below and listening to the muted sounds of music and laughter. The tiger padded forward and lay down beside him. “Nice place to watch the sunset.”

  Syrill started to rise, but Lexis stopped him with one heavy paw on his knees. “Stay.”

  Syrill looked down at the huge, velvet paw, which completely filled his lap. “Not you, not now. Go back to the party, Lexis.”