Tree wryly, patting the erect penis on the black marble from Tamirring, «I would've said Trickster's a prick.» Guests began arriving as much as two hours ahead of time. Barlimo swore as the doorbell rang for the third time in fifteen minutes. She told Rowenaster to answer it, as she was not yet done with food preparations in the kitchen. Janusin stopped in briefly to sample the punch that Fasilla was making. As the sculptor poured himself a ladleful of orange and pommin juice, Barlimo paused from cutting brown bread. «Jan—do you realize those invitations must've traveled as far as three counties? There's people coming from outside the city to this thing. And they all have an invitation in hand.» Fasilla looked up. «Yafatah says Old Jamilla do be a Mayanabi Nomad. This means, she do travel far and wee.» Janusin complimented Fasilla on her punch and turned now to Barlimo. «Well—like I said. It's in Rimble's hands. Should be interesting to see who turns up.» «Yes,» said Doogat, coming into the room. He had just been thinking about Kelandris and was again wondering if she would indeed come. He refused to think of the consequences if she didn't. «Hey,» said Po, walking out of the pantry, his arms laden with cheeses. «Doogs—you're not in costume.» Doogat looked over his shoulder. «Neither are you.» «But I will be,» said Po, beaming. «Mine's a surprise.» Barlimo nodded. «I think I'm going to be sick of that word 'surprise' by the end of this evening.» She backed away from the bread. «This bread's not cooked all the way through. And that, my friends, is impossible.» «Rimble-Rimble,» said Rowenaster as he also dropped in to sample the punch. «Mmm—sweet. Very nice, Fas. Very nice.» He wiped his lips and asked, «Where's Yafatah?» Fasilla shrugged. «She's not speaking to me at the moment.» «I see,» said Rowenaster. «Sorry.» «Doon't be,» replied Fasilla evenly. «The child do be going through fierce bad times—that be all. It be her age.» Po dumped his load of cheese on the cluttered kitchen table, making everyone jump. He started to unwrap one of the yellow bricks, but Barlimo stopped him. She wagged a finger in the little thief's face, saying, «Wash you hands.» Po gave her a disgusted look and went to the sink. As he turned on the water, he looked back over his shoulder and said, «So, Doogs—how come you're not in costume. Aren't you coming to our little carnival?» «No.» All motion and conversation in the kitchen came to a full stop. Rowenaster was the first to speak. «You're not coming? You said you thought that woman in black might show up. What're we to do if she does?» «You'll know.» Barlimo said nothing. She was the only one of Rimble's Nine who knew that Doogat was in fact Zendrak. She did not know, however, that Zendrak was Trickster's son. Barlimo intentionally dropped a pan on the floor. The attention shifted to her. As it did so, Doogat smiled at her and ducked out of the kitchen. Rowenaster turned back to speak to Doogat. «Where'd he go?» The front door to the Kaleidicopia slammed. Doogat stood for a moment on the front porch of the Kaleidicopia. His Mythrrim senses told him that Kelandris hid nearby. Doogat had come and gone from the house freely for the past three days. The fact that Kelandris had not approached him during this time did not bode well. Doogat stuffed his hands in his pockets. It was imperative that Kelandris recognize him as Zendrak while he still wore Doogat's «face.» Kelandris must not be unconscious when she turned tonight—if she turned tonight, he reminded himself sourly. He shut his eyes wearily, his head bowed. Kelandris was strong, stubborn, and committed to survival—her own. What else did he need to do to convince the woman in black that more was at stake here than her personal pain and grief? Would she ever stop wearing the clothes of mourning? Doogat swore softly. He was angry with Kelandris now. Very. The woman's narcissism was beyond belief. If she had been a mere mortal, he would've been more sympathetic toward her. But Kelandris of Suxonli was Trickster's daughter. And my sister, thought Doogat. He scowled,
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
