Contrarywise

that you do, for I cannot menstruate. I don't turn the inside inside-out.» Kelandris swallowed. She had never seen a woman's blood-cycle in quite this way before. Then an idea occurred to her. «But the Jinnjirri can— Zendrak shook his head. «The Revel Queen is Tammirring for a reason, Kelandris. The landdraw of this region makes your people's minds elastic. A Jinnjirri turning into a he would mentally burn up. The power of the he can only be grounded by the internal draw of a native Tammirring.» Kelandris played with the dark hair on Zendrak's chest. «Oh.» Zendrak kissed her nose. «You could dance for Trickster anywhere, I suppose. But I think it would be easiest in Tammirring. Especially in Suxonli. Here you and the land understand each other on an intuitive level. Here your seasons are its seasons. Here,» he said moving his hips again, «you're at home.» Kelandris gasped, passion building between them once more. This time, Kel allowed herself to feel the he surge through her psyche. Using Zendrak's energy to stabilize herself, she opened to the complete bisexuality of Greatkin Rimble. It was a wild glory. And Trickster's Emissary and Trickster's he reveled in it. Chapter Thirty-Two Someone pounded loudly on the front door to Doogat's tobacco shop. Jolted out of their shared trance and their remembered lovemaking, Zendrak and Kelandris opened their eyes groggily. Forcing himself to focus on the outside world again, Zendrak stared at the vexed face glaring at him through the window. It was an Asilliwir woman of about thirty-five years of age. Still holding Kel's neck with one hand and the Kindrasul with the other, Zendrak debated what to do while the Asilliwir woman continued to sledgehammer the door. He needed to make sure the transfer of two-legged apperception of reality to four-legged was complete in Kel's mind. Feeling the woman in black suddenly stiffen against him, Zendrak swore softly. Clearly, the beating on the door was frightening Kelandris. Now the muffled voice of the Asilliwir reached him: «You there in green! Doon't pretend I canna see you! Open up!» The unusual accent of the woman broke Zendrak's concentration with Kel. Zendrak squinted in the direction of the clamoring Asilliwir. Abruptly Aunt's mental Mayanabi message returned to him in full: «Need second opinion on 'shift fever' victim. Girl, aged fifteen, a Tammi. Name: Yafatah. Begat during Rimble's Remembrance in Suxonli. Father Jinnjirri, but unknown to either mother or child. Mother's name is Fasilla. Personal friend of mine. Born in southern Asilliwir. Physical symptoms to follow…» «Shit,» said Zendrak angrily. This was Fasilla again and as before her timing couldn't be worse. He bit his lower lip, caught between his duty to Rimble—who wanted Yafatah in Speakinghast—and his caring for Kelandris. Zendrak let go of Kel's neck and placed both of his hands over the Kindrasul. Impressing the black glass beads with his heart's deepest longing for Kelandris, he leaned close to her face and whispered, «Wait here, Kel. I'll only be gone a moment.» Kelandris said nothing, her green eyes bewildered. Zendrak left Kel's side and hurried to the front of the tobacco shop. He flung open the door, blocking the Asilliwir woman's entry with his great height and broad build. «Yes?» he said curtly. «I be Fasilla of Ian Abbi. Be you Doogat of Suf?» «Doogat's out for the afternoon.» Zendrak pointed to the sign in the window. «Shop's closed. Come back tonight. Say—seven bell-eve?» «But—» Zendrak shook his head, closing the door firmly in Fasilla's face. He turned around hoping to find Kelandris still lying on the floor. She was not. Zendrak cursed raggedly. Neither Kelandris nor the Kindrasol were to be found anywhere. Zendrak tore through the scarlet beads that divided the tobacco shop from the kitchen. The door leading outside to the store's back alley stood open. Zendrak stepped into the narrow cobblestone byway. He looked in either direction for some sign of the woman in black. The street was empty. Calling Trickster every four-letter name he could think of, Zendrak ran his hand through his dark hair with frustration. Deciding to track Kelandris via the pull of the Kindrasul on his heart, he opened his mind to receive emotional impressions from the black glass beads of Soaringsea. Without warning, Zendrak slammed into a gleeful wall of psychic static. Opening his eyes in surprise, Zendrak muttered, «What?» «First things first, Zen-boy,» said a familiar voice. Zendrak spun around. «Rimble!» Trickster grinned. «In the flesh, so to speak. Meet Old Jamilla.» Zendrak put his hands on his hips, regarding Trickster with grudging admiration. The little Greatkin was no longer four-feet-seven, but a whopping five-feet- three. Dressed in a tattering of rags, Rimble currently appeared as a pied-eyed, toothless old woman. Zendrak smiled sourly. «You've grown.» «That's what happens when I matter to mortals.» Trickster batted her eyes coquettishly. «And believe me, Zen-boy, I matter ooodles to Yafatah.» «Yeah? Well, Kelandris of Suxonli happens to matter ooodles to me, Rimble.» Zendrak crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at his father. «Where is she? Where is Kel?» «Wandering.» «That's not an answer, Rimble.» Trickster shrugged. Then, before Zendrak could open his mouth, Rimble wagged a disapproving finger in Zendrak's face. «And don't even think of asking Phebene for help. I've had about all I can stomach of that lollipop loony. She's a sugar-coated, meddling, tinsel-tot.» Zendrak chuckled derisively. «Poor Rimble. Such a sad story—sharing the stage with Phebene. Perhaps you just can't manage to swallow all that you dish out at the Panthe'kinarok? Of course, we mortals have been gagging on your meddling for centuries—not that you'd care.» Trickster's pied eyes narrowed. «What an ass you are today.» «Like father, like son.» «With one difference, Zen-boy. I don't get duped by Love.» At that moment, several Saambolin students walked past the two Greatkin. One of them laughed merrily, her eyes kind. Grabbing the hand of the boy closest to her, she tweaked his nose saying, «I'm on to you, sweetie. You kick and scream whenever I mention love. But I know better. You've got a yen for tenderness a mile wide. You're a closet romantic, my friend, and I'm just the one to open your door.» Then, glancing in Trickster's direction, the girl added firmly, «So help me, Phebene.» Catching sight of Trickster's scarlet face, Zendrak started laughing. Speaking softly to the Greatkin next to him, Zendrak said, «Point in Tinsel-Tot's favor. She's talking to you, Dad. Direct.» «All lies,» protested Trickster indignantly. Hearing Rimble's comment, the Saambolin girl looked over her shoulder at the old woman clothed in rags. Beaming broadly, she called, «Smile, grandmother. Nothing can stop true love—not even Trickster himself.» «That does it!» retorted Rimble. Without warning, the Greatkin began spitting expertly at the Saambolin students. Wiping Rimble's phlegm off their fine velvets, the students complained fastidiously and walked away. «Just wait until I return to Eranossa, Phebes,» muttered Trickster. Before Zendrak could retort, Rimble materialized a blue robe out of thin air. It was Doogat's size. Rimble handed it to Zendrak. «You better change.» Zendrak shook his head. «Sorry. I'm busy. I've a lunatic to find.» «Like I said, Zen-boy—first things first. You've an overdue appointment with a young Tammirring girl named Yafatah. Come along,» she added, extending her arm to Zendrak. Zendrak refused it, his expression furious. «If you think I'm going to leave Kelandris 'to wander,' you're sadly mistaken, Rimble.» Trickster smiled cooly. «That's why I'm here.» «Why?» «To make sure you attend to first things first.» Chapter Thirty-Three Staying behind at the caravan camp in the Asilliwir Quarter of Speakinghast while her mother went to check on the availability of Doogat, Yafatah walked slowly back to the red and blue wagon belonging to her mother. She carried a heavy pail of water, the warm water sloshing to and fro as she made her way across the heavily populated caravan park. Before she had left for Doogat's, Fasilla had suggested that Yafatah wash some clothes while the noonday sun still shone high overhead. Yafatah was now doing so. Aunt, for her part, had gone to fetch bread and fruit for snacks, leaving Yafatah alone in the safety of the caravan camp. Borrowing a chunk of gray soap from a neighboring campsite of Asilliwir merchants carrying spices and bolts of bright cloth, Yafatah carefully set the pail of water on the back stairs of the red and blue wagon. She went inside to fetch a pile of her dirtiest laundry. As she pulled a wooden trunk from under her cot, Yafatah sighed. She wished her mother would let her go exploring in Speakinghast. They had passed any number of marvelous stalls and shops on their way to the caravan park. It seemed silly to be surrounded by paradise and not be permitted to smell the flowers of its gardens. Yafatah scowled. She considered taking a walk despite her mother's admonishments to the contrary. Yafatah stopped sorting her laundry. She figured she had at least a half hour before either Aunt or Fasilla returned. A half hour was plenty of time to see the city sights. Yeah, she thought, grabbing a red traveling cape. Smiling, Yafatah escaped. The fifteen-year-old had not gone more than a block when she heard someone call her name. Turning away from a particularly delectable looking pastry shop in front of her—rows of cream and fruit filled goodies teeming in the window—Yafatah stared at an old woman in patchwork rags waving to her from across the busy street. Yafatah's eyes widened in disbelief. «Jammy!» she cried in delight. As the young girl ran to meet Trickster, «Old Jamilla» turned to the man dressed in blue beside her and said, «At least somebody loves me.» Doogat rolled his black eyes. Trickster opened her arms wide to receive Yafatah, saying, «Well, well, kiddo—what a surprise to see you here. I thought Tammirring didn't like these big cities. No headaches or fear of the crowds?» Yafatah shook her head happily, throwing her arms around Jamilla and giving her a ferocious hug. «I do be so glad to see you, Jammy. I looked for you in Piedmerri, but I couldna' find you. There do be queer things—» Yafatah broke off, suddenly suspicious of the man in blue. Trickster smiled at Yafatah. «He's all right. He's with me. In fact, my sweet, this is Doogat.» Doogat, who was still thinking about Kelandris, gave Yafatah a perfunctory bow, his dark eyes distant. The young girl eyed him skeptically. Then she pursed her lips and remarked, «You ought to spend more time in your shop, Master Doogat. You do be making me ma fierce mad with them hours you keep.» «My sincere apologies,» said Doogat, his tone slightly sarcastic. Yafatah nodded briskly. Turning her attention back to Trickster, she said, «Oh, Jammy—I didna' have anyone to talk to. And me blood came early, and we went into Jinnjirri where I got sick. On account of the shift and all. And then—oh, Jammy—and then, this weird willy thing