Kingdoms of Light

shield them completely from evening rays. So precisely and uniformly did they perform this maneuver that Oskar was reminded of the time he had seen a troop of passing soldiers present their swords in salute to Master Evyndd.

While the body of the line halted, the diminutive woman in the lead continued to advance. Imbued now as he was with human feelings and desires, Oskar decided that she was attractive enough, though mating was not at the forefront of his thoughts. Instead, he found himself focusing on the jeweled knife she wore at her waist. The blade was longer than her short, woven skirt, the tip reaching nearly to her knee. Her companions carried similar finely wrought weapons, though none were drawn. Still, the potential for danger was there.

With a shout, he woke his slumbering companions.

Halting a short distance away as they rose to their feet, she studied the tall strangers. Her gaze lingered slightly longer, as did those of her fellows, on the massive bulk of Samm hovering silently at the rear of the group. When she finally spoke, her words were directed at the nearest traveler, who happened to be Oskar.

'Some of our youths hunting near the great gate saw you enter. As soon as the village was informed of your coming, we organized this welcoming party.' With a supple sweep of one arm she indicated the cortege behind her. 'We do not recognize your origin. You are obviously not citizens of the Kingdom of Orange, nor of Green.' Leaning to one side, she peered behind Oskar, where there was nothing but weak evening shadow. 'Where do you come from? I, the Princess Ourie, entreat the favor of a reply.'

Oskar found he was getting used to answering this apparently inevitable question. He proceeded to provide as reasonable an explanation for their presence as he could. While he did so, Taj leaned close to whisper to Cocoa.

'I don't think we have anything to fear from these folk. Not only are they very much smaller than us, from the way their heads keep twisting around and their eyes keep darting constantly from place to place, they look like they're afraid of their own shadows.'

The little woman spoke again. 'So your intention is notto linger among us, but to move on as swiftly as possible to the Kingdom of Green?'

'That's right,' Oskar replied. 'Any help or guidance you can give us will be much appreciated.'

'Guidance? Help?' She looked at him as if he had taken leave of his senses. 'To reach our neighboring Kingdom of Green you must cross the Great Rift. None among us dare try it, but we will not stop you. There is no way around the Rift, and no safe passage through it, though as strangers of unknown origin and powers you may have more success than we.' She eyed him thoughtfully, her voice unchanging. 'Most probably, you will die.'

'That's what I like to hear every time we arrive somewhere new,' Cezer remarked dryly. 'Encouragement.'

'This rift.' Mamakitty moved up to stand alongside Oskar.

'Is it a wide canyon, or just a gully with steep sides? There are good climbers among us.'

'It is not a question of climbing, but of avoiding the danger that lurks within,' the wee royalty informed her. 'And as you must know, for you all seem to be of at least moderate intelligence, that which is always with one can never be avoided.'

'Petite, beautiful, and vague.' Sensing extended conversation, Cezer had assumed a cross-legged sitting position on the invitingly warm ground. There was now enough sunlight for his shadow to join him. 'Not how I like my females.'

'I wouldn't concern myself about it,' observed Cocoa pointedly. 'She doesn't exactly seem to be clamoring for your attentions.'

'How could you be so sure we were strangers here?' Mamakitty eyed the princess curiously. 'Mightn't we have come from some far distant part of the Kingdom of Yellow?'

The highborn shook her head firmly. 'Your foreign origins are immediately apparent. Not only are you not Slevish'—she indicated the patiently waiting retinue strung out behind her—'but you carry among you not a single kwavin with which to protect yourselves.'

'I guess we don't,' confessed Oskar. 'Just to satisfy my curiosity, what's a kwavin?'

Her responsive, dewy-eyed gaze was moist with compassion. 'That you have no thought or notion of the most vital piece of Slevish attire surely proves your ignorance of this land. It is fortunate for you that you arrived on such a cloudy day.' Her gaze swept past him to encompass his waiting, watching companions. 'You must come with us, quickly, so that we can make kwavins for you all. Without them you will not live long in this country.' She gestured in the direction of the now distant great wall. 'Those who arrive kwavinless invariably perish before we can help them.' With an air of majesty swirling about her that was most impressive for her size, she turned and moved to rejoin her retinue.

Cezer rose to join Oskar and Mamakitty. There was a twinkle in his eye. 'Pretty little thing. I wouldn't mind chasing her tail—if she had one. What was that all about?'

Oskar scratched absently at his left ear. 'It seems we're all in great danger unless we allow them to provide us with something called a kwavin.' He glanced upward. 'Apparently it has something to do with the sky. Whatever the danger she was referring to, the clouds protected us from it.'

The swordsman sniffed. 'Cats don't get sunburned, if that's what she's talking about. But if they want to give us some kind of talisman or charm for free, that's fine with me. What's a kwavin?'

'I don't know. I asked, but she never got around to telling me. She's very nice, but her manner is a little on the imperious side.'

'Well, ssst, as long as this kwavin thing doesn't require any tiresome contribution on our part. Something like body modification, say, or the payment of some outrageous fee.' Reaching up, he felt of the small notch in his right ear. Mamakitty had taken it out of him when, as a kitten, he was even more generally obnoxious than he was now.

'Until we know what a kwavin is, there's no point in assuming the worst.' Squinting toward the setting sun, Mamakitty set off in the wake of the princess. For an instant, something seemed to hold her back, but it soon dropped away. Rested and relaxed, her friends followed.

When they turned to retrace their steps, the line of marchers swiftly and as precisely as a coordinated dance team shifted the elaborately decorated sunshades they carried from their left sides to the right, to ward off the last rays of the setting sun. Oskar found his curiosity piqued by the unexpectedly energetic move. Were the Slevish demonstrating their martial efficiency, utilizing shades in place of pikes? Did the balletic gesture have some unknown religious significance? Were they trying to impress the bigger strangers with an unspoken ability to coordinate their actions? Or, bearing in mind Cezer's earlier comment, was their skin simply excessively sensitive to the effects of direct sunlight?

Though certainly a possibility, the latter seemed unlikely. While decidedly pale, the Slevish were not albinos. Even with the lemony cast the ambient light conferred upon everything it touched, he could tell that the flesh of the little folk was not particularly white. Nor did the cloud-muted light that had bathed him and his friends ever since they had entered the Kingdom of Yellow feel in any way unnatural. On the contrary, it was as warm and pleasant as the land it nourished. No, the plethora of carefully deployed sunshades must serve some other, ceremonial purpose beyond simply shielding their holders from ordinary daylight. He would put the question to Princess Ourie when next the opportunity presented itself.

If the much smaller Slevish were intimidated by their visitors, they showed no sign of it—though Oskar caught one or two glancing uncertainly in Samm's direction. The snake-man was so very much larger, they could not help but consider his presence. As the long column crossed several thickly vegetated hills, he noted with approval that even in the company of their new hosts, progress continued to be made eastward. They were sacrificing no time by accompanying the Slevish.

The community situated on the shore of a vast, yellow-tinged lake was more a large village than a small town. Despite the presence of hundreds of dwellings, there was no central square and no structure higher than two stories. Perfectly formed Slevish children, active and bright-eyed as a wizard's toys, congregated in batches to gawk at the towering strangers. They clustered around Oskar and Mamakitty, Cocoa and Cezer and Taj, but shied uneasily away from the perambulating man-mountain that was Samm. Though it was in no wise his fault, he could not entirely escape certain intangible characteristics of his original shape.

Ourie led them through the village and down to the lakeshore. Dozens of willowy, low-slung outriggers rested on the yellow-white sand like beached scarecrows. Fishing nets hung on drying poles, oddly aligned with the setting sun instead of spread against it to take maximum advantage of its drying rays. A few children ran along the beach,