«I know that!» interrupted Kelandris impatiently. «Shut up and listen!» he yelled at her, his expression furious. There was a terrible silence between them. Zendrak swallowed and continued. «I thought I was cursing the draw out of my own sense of outrage at the barbarism and brutality of the Ritual of Akindo. That was only partially true.» He paused. «Now, listen carefully, Kelandris. I cursed the draw because Elder Hennin directed me to do so.» Kel's eyes widened. She felt as though she might start screaming and never stop. All she said, however, was, «You did what Hennin told you to do? You killed our baby because that bitch told you to?» Kelandris started weeping wildly. She crawled away from Zendrak, her back pressed against the wall. «How could you?» she whispered. «How could you?»
Zendrak's face looked drained of life. Speaking hoarsely, he replied, «I was Hennin's teacher. Her Mayanabi teacher, Kelandris. She left me twenty years before she put you through the Ritual of Akindo. During that time, she gained in power and mastery. I had no idea she had become that powerful. She had always been a quick study. Extraordinary, really. And terribly ambitious.» He paused. Then Zendrak said, «You see, Hennin knew I was a Greatkin. She figured it out after she left me. She suspected—when you didn't die after the Ritual of Akindo—that you were one, too. She was—and is—a very good psychic, Kelandris. She knew you were pregnant with Yafatah. She knew that child—born of two full-blooded Greatkin—would be a spiritual giant. One that would rival her. So she wanted that possibility killed. That future destroyed. The cursing of an entire draw was a small price to pay in Hennin's mind. So I cursed it. And mutated it. Think, Kel. Think what this means. A mutant Greatkin? Born out of my rage and your despair? Such a child would be a monster. Rimble begged me to put a stop to your pregnancy. So did Themyth. Thus the incoming soul—which had a right to live—was given to Fasilla.» «But Fasilla was on Tammi soil, same as me!» cried Kelandris. «She drew from Tammirring, same as me. That's the law. Where you conceive determines the draw. Her child would be a mutant, too, and Yafatah is not!» «But Fasilla was not on Tammi soil! She had wandered far from the revel site. So had Cobeth. They were both on drugs. They had no idea where they were. Well, they were in the Feyborne mountains, in the border between Tammirring and Piedmerri. You know how borders are. Anything can happen in the borders. Well, anything did. When I took you across the Piedmerri border, Piedmerri took pity on us. Piedmerri landdraw protects children. So
it did just that. It took our child from you and gave it to Fasilla, who had not yet conceived. The draw of Piedmerri allowed Yafatah to keep her Tammi bearings but protected her against my stupidity. My curse. Piedmerri protected Ya all the way through the pregnancy. It was a miracle, really. A
bit of grace that I certainly didn't deserve. In short, the draw of Piedmerri took the brunt of my curse—and turned it away from Yafatah. Yafatah, true
to Trickster's influence, is the impossible possibility. She is a cross between two draws. She has the warmth and sociability of a Pied and the body of a Tammi.» «Why didn't you tell me?» Kelandris said accusingly. «Why didn't you confess what you had done before now?» «Partly pride. And partly to protect you.» «Pride?» Zendrak glared at Kelandris. «How do you think I felt—feel—knowing that Elder Hennin had gotten inside my brain—me, a Greatkin—and given me orders that I followed out! Orders that nearly scuttled everything Rimble had been working toward for at least five centuries? Well, I will tell you how I felt. Like an idiot. And an unwitting traitor. On top of everything else—losing you and the baby—knowing that I had been duped by Hennin scarred my mind. As she no doubt hoped it would.» He paused. «Since I'm
speaking my heart with you right now, I might as well say this, too: I didn't tell you why I took you into Piedmerri because I thought you'd lose confidence in me—» «I have!» «That you might never regain—» «I won't!» «Since Hennin directed me to curse the draw in the first place,» he mumbled, his voice trailing off painfully. Zendrak took a deep breath. «Like you said, I'm not much of a Greatkin, am I?»
«You certainly aren't!» cried Kelandris, getting to her feet. She climbed out of the shower. Without another word to Zendrak, she hurriedly dried herself and pulled on her bathrobe. She opened the door to the bathroom and left. The door slammed after her. Zendrak did not follow. He was too devastated by her reaction to be able to do anything else except sit in the hot shower
and try to keep from putting his fist through the wall. A few minutes later, someone banged loudly on the door. It was Janusin. «I don't know what you two Greatkin were doing in there—fighting or fucking—but whatever it is, knock it off!» Zendrak rolled his eyes and stepped out of the shower. Janusin lived on the third floor in a room to the right of Zendrak and Kel's. He was a man of forty years and much accomplishment; he was one of Speakinghast's only working Jinnjirri sculptors. Although Janusin was normally a polite soul—as Jinn went—at three-thirty in the morning he was apt to be blunt of speech. «Hello in there? Did you hear me, Zendrak?» Swearing, Zendrak yelled through the closed door, «What's the problem?» «You and Kelandris have started a fire out here in the hallway. It's the second—nope—Barlimo says it's the third fire this week. She also says she would appreciate it greatly if you would not burn the house down. She spent a lot of long hours building and designing the 'K'—according to your requirements.» «Is the fire out?» «Yes,» cried a chorus of voices. *8* By the time Zendrak got dried off and dressed enough to come out of the bathroom, a small crowd of annoyed Kaleidicopians had gathered in the
third-floor hallway. Present were the three Jinnjirri: Janusin, Barlimo, and Tree. These three shared the top floor of the «K» with the two Greatkin. It had been decided at a house meeting some months ago that only the Jinnjirri-born would be able to deal with the intensity of emotion that Zendrak and Kelandris generated between them. Tree, who was the last of the three to join the group, yawned and rubbed his eyes groggily. His autumn- colored bathrobe rustled as he shuffled toward Janusin and Barlimo. Tree was not a tree; however, he was a talented makeup artist who very much resembled a two-legged tree—complete with twiggy fingers and skin the texture of redwood bark. He was twenty-two, marginally employed, and generally good-natured. Sniffing the smoky air, he inquired, «Are we on fire again?» Janusin pointed to a charred pile of empty boxes stacked in the hall. Barlimo, the Jinnjirri who had designed and built the Kaleidicopia, added, «Like Jan said, that makes the third time this week. You and Kelandris better make up or make love before you burn us down. Understood?» Zendrak nodded, too sad about what had passed between himself and Kelandris to say anything conversational. Barlimo waved smoke out of her face. «Good. Now that we've got that settled, anybody want cocoa? I'm sure the kitchen embers are still hot from dinner.» Even Janusin's mood brightened at this thought. «I was freezing in my room,» he admitted, nodding. «This fall is so cold compared to last year's. Especially now that Cobeth's gone,» he added lamely, knowing that none of his housemates, particularly Kelandris, missed Cobeth in the least. The
sculptor sighed. It was hard being a minority of one. Despite all of Cobeth's
misdeeds and infidelities, Janusin still kept a tender place in his heart for Cobeth. They had been lovers for five years. «Give it a rest, will you?» said Tree sourly. «Cobeth was a dangerous man, and you know it, Janusin. And what's more, he didn't love you. I doubt he ever did—» «Tree! Janusin!» snapped Barlimo. «Both of you stop it. It's three in the morning and no time for disputes.»
Changing his mood instantly with true Jinnjirri speed, his hair turning from red to green, Tree put his hands in front of him and pretended to be sleep-walking. «Cocoa,» he moaned. «Cooocoa.» Zendrak and Barlimo laughed. Janusin ignored Tree's antics, but said nothing more about Cobeth. Everyone trouped downstairs. When they reached the first-floor landing, they were met with the scent of cocoa already simmering. It seemed that Podiddley had just put a pot of milk and chocolate on the fire. Seeing the third-floor group enter the kitchen, Po glowered at the Jinnjirri and their changeable hair, saying, «Now the party will be spoiled. Look at Barlimo's hair. Already a disapproving red. And—yes—there goes Janusin's. Well, Tree? Are you turning red, too? No? Just garbage green?» Tree ignored Po's jibes. «All we need now are Timmer and Rowen, and we'll have most of the whole house up at this silly hour.» «Preposterous hour would describe it better, Tree,» said seventy-year-old Professor Rowenaster as he walked slowly into the kitchen, a scarlet kerchief on his head matched by a flannel nightgown of the same flaming color. Zendrak winced. «You hurt my eyes, Rowen.» Rowenaster pursed his lips and inclined his head toward Janusin and Barlimo, whose hair echoed the professor's attire. «What's everybody so red about? Looks to me like Po's put on a nice pot of cocoa. We should be grateful for his thoughtfulness.» Po snorted. «I didn't put it on for any of you!» «Exactly,» said Barlimo. «And those are the only hot embers in the house. So we'll have to wait, I expect, for Po to clear out.» «Nonsense,» remarked Zendrak. «Po will share.» Po scowled at his spiritual master. «It's three in the friggin' morning and you're going to turn this into a teaching situation? Give me a break, Zendrak. Give me a break.» Zendrak remained obdurate. «Po will share.»
Po rolled his eyes, swore under his breath, and left the kitchen. They heard the door to his first-floor room slam shut. Zendrak shrugged. «He'll be back.» Everyone in the room knew Zendrak was right. Although Po's temper exploded more often than anyone else's at the Kaleidicopia, his foul humors blew over equally fast. Barlimo stirred the cocoa and muttered, «I wonder if Po washed this pot before he used it?» «Better wonder if he washed his
