dead silence. Kelandris put her hand to her mouth, her eyes betraying her confusion. «No. I mean, yes.» Furious, she added, «Don't change the subject!» Swearing, she kicked her gelding toward the woods. Zendrak raised his eyebrows in surprise. «Where are you going now?» «This damn horse is afraid of you. I can't get past you on the road, so I'm taking to the woods. I am going to Suxonli, Zendrak. And that's final!» Zendrak hastily whispered something to Further. The mare let out a scream,
horse fashion. The result was instant. Kel's gelding shied and bolted all at
once. Kelandris fell off, landing in a bush. The gelding took off at a run in a southerly direction, heading home to Speakinghast. Kelandris was so surprised at her horseless condition, she was speechless. Zendrak jumped off Further and broke his way through the brambles where Kelandris lay in a black heap. Kelandris looked up at him, her eyes dangerous. Zendrak offered her a hand up. As far as Kelandris was concerned, his gesture was insulting. She spit on his hand. Wiping the spittle off his palm, he offered her his hand again, saying, «In any good battle, Kelandris, there is strategy. Successful strategy is often made up of two things: patience and timing. If you go after Hennin now, you'll fail.» «How do you know?» she retorted, refusing to take his hand. «I know something about Hennin that you don't know.» «What's that?» «Elder Hennin is a high-ranking Mayanabi Nomad gone renegade. Do you know what that means, Kel? To go renegade?» Kel's jaw dropped. «I don't care what it means, Zendrak. The Order of the Mayanabi Nomads is your business, not mine. If someone like Hennin is one of them, then you better do some housecleaning.» She shivered involuntarily, remembering the look of enjoyment on Hennin's face when she had beat Kelandris during the Ritual of Akindo. The woman was the village disciplinarian, yes; she was also a first- class sadist. Zendrak dropped his hand and knelt beside Kelandris. «You better care what it means, dear heart. Hennin has power—focused and malicious. She's the real adversary of Jinnaeon. Not Cobeth. She's a user.» «They all take drugs in Suxonli,» muttered Kel. «Yes. But she's also a user of people. She used to have Cobeth in her thrall. She promised him the world, and the poor sod thought he was going to get it. He would've been happy being an artist, Kel. He was a Jinn. But he got lost from his parents and grew up in Suxonli—»
«So did I!» she retorted. «And I don't go around claiming to be Rimble's emissary, or start drug cults like Cobeth did.» Zendrak regarded her reprovingly. «There's a reason for that. Want to hear it?» «Yes.» «You don't need to make claims like Cobeth's. You're Rimble's daughter. You carry his blood in you. You're also Themyth's daughter. Even if you do nothing, Kelandris, you will affect civilization. You can't help it. Neither can I. Cobeth had no destiny like this. His own, however, should have been precious enough to him. Unfortunately, Elder Hennin convinced him that who and what he could be weren't enough. She gave him an impossible dream. The more he failed at it, the more dependent he became on her. As she wished him to be. You have to understand something about Elder Hennin, Kel. She's a spiritual warrior.» «So?» «So, she understands the importance of patience and timing.» «So what!» Zendrak cursed under his breath. Glancing at Kelandris in the darkness, he said, «Don't you know who Hennin's really after, Kel? It's you. Suxonli was a political move, Kel. She didn't know what you were then, but she certainly suspected. Like I told you, Hennin is ambitious. Spiritually ambitious. Never forget that. She wants your power. Mine, too, if she can figure out a way to get it. You go to her now, and she'll break you like dry leaves in the wind. Go to her now, and there will be no winterbloom.» Kelandris said nothing, holding her bathrobe close to her bosom again. The winter wind blew down her front and made her shiver. Seeing this, Zendrak offered Kelandris a hand up once more. This time she took it. The man in green guided her out of the brambles of the dark forest and gave her a leg up on Further. Then he pulled himself up behind her. Kelandris turned to him and said, «We're going back to Speakinghast, aren't we?» She sounded disgusted. «I think it's best at this time.» Kelandris shrugged. «But you do intend to do something about Hennin?» «Presence willing, something will be done about Hennin.» Zendrak turned Further south with his legs, and they rode slowly back to the sleeping city. As they rode, Kelandris leaned back against Zendrak's chest and dozed off and on. Feeling Zendrak's belt buckle against the small of her back, she muttered: «How did you have time to dress?» Zendrak smiled but said nothing. They rode in silence, both Greatkin too exhausted from fighting with each other to even speak. Their exhaustion had also dulled their psychic senses. Neither Zendrak nor Kelandris felt a bitter wind blast them from the north. Nor did they sense the silent outcry of Speakinghast as Elder Hennin's Akindo entered the city limits. Panthe'kinarok Interlogue Rimble's indignant scream in the kitchen at Eranossa brought all conversation at the dinner table to a stop. The table, which was alive, quivered. Ice cubes in crystal glasses tinkled while fruit again poured out of the silver cornucopia in the middle. All the Greatkin present scrambled to keep things from falling to the floor, especially Sathmadd, the Patron of Organization. Fuming at Rimble under her breath, she straightened fallen place cards that she had so carefully calligraphied the evening previous to the commencement of the Panthe'kinarok. When she came around to where Themyth was sitting, Sathmadd grumbled at Themyth for her bad taste in bed partners, specifically Rimble. Themyth smiled enigmatically and poured herself a fresh glass of sweet black-currant wine. The wine had been a gift to Themyth from Phebene, the Patron of Love. As Themyth put her wineglass down on the now stabilized table, she turned to Sathmadd and said, «Relax, Maddi, dear. Everything will turn out all right in the end.» «Not so long as those Neathian nuts are in charge,» snapped Sathmadd in a low voice. «Just look at them. Every face is smug—and not one of them has gone to find out what's wrong in the kitchen. Know why? Because they're waiting for one of us from Eranossa to walk in there with Rimble. What do they think we are? Stupid?» «Maybe just compassionate,» whispered Themyth, patting Sathmadd's hand like a favorite grandmother. Sathmadd snorted and bustled off. Themyth surveyed the twenty-six faces around the table in front of her. Several of Rimble's brothers and sisters glanced nervously at the closed door to the kitchen. A few rolled their eyes. Others slumped in their chairs. It was clear to Themyth that no one in the room relished the idea of playing the dupe to Rimble's crafty intelligence. Themyth listened as throats cleared and conversation resumed. Smiles were forced, she noted. It seemed that all of them were trying to keep their eyes on their dinner partners and off the door to the ominously silent kitchen. Themyth decided to help Rimble along with his schemes. Leaning toward Jinndaven, the Greatkin of Imagination, she planted an idea in his very fertile mind. «Jinn, sweetheart—you don't think Rimble is in real trouble, do you? I mean, I can't imagine what made your little brother scream like that.» «I know, I know,» sighed Jinndaven. «I've been trying not to worry about it.» Looking heavenward, Jinndaven threw his linen napkin on the table and got to his feet. Before Jinndaven could leave the table, however, Greatkin Mattermat intercepted him. Grabbing Jinndaven by the arm, the Greatkin of All Things That Matter asked, «Why do you always defend the little brat? Why do you always help Trickster?» Jinndaven pulled his arm away from Mattermat's grip, his expression annoyed. Straightening his crumpled, filmy, mauve sleeve, Jinndaven shrugged defensively and said, «I don't know. I just do. I like Rimble, I suppose.» Mattermat and Nessi'gobahn, the Patron of Humor, roared with derisive laughter. Mattermat wiped tears away from his eyes and said, «Well, there's no accounting for taste, is there?» Jinndaven crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his enormous brother. «Rimble uses my ideas,» snapped Jinndaven. «Even the bad ones. He can make a go of even my most mediocre creativity. That matters to me. Certainly more than it matters to you, Mattermat.» Mattermat helped himself to another serving of bread and butter. «Fortunately for me, Jinndaven, I don't have to depend on anyone to exist. I simply am.» Conversation at the table came to an abrupt halt. Themyth was so shocked by Mattermat's statement that she began coughing and choking on the wine in her mouth. Phebene ran to the crone's side and patted her back vigorously. When Themyth had regained her composure, she thanked the Greatkin of Love for her assistance and turned to Mattermat, her expression hard. Then Themyth said, «We're all interdependent here, Mattermat. As Phebene has just illustrated by coming to my side when I choked on my wine, we're here to cooperate and help one another. Always.» Mattermat scowled at the cheery rainbow attire of Phebene. Then he said sarcastically, «I'm a realist. Not a ridiculous romantic—» «Maybe I had better sit next to him,» said Phebene to Themyth in a seductive voice. «Might improve his temper— Mattermat got to his feet. «And listen to your sickeningly sweet conversation through the next three courses of dinner? Not a chance of that, sister. Not a chance.» Jinndaven went quickly to Phebene's side and put his arm around her. Materializing a handkerchief out of the air, Phebene began to weep copiously. «Boo-hoooooo,» she cried, «Boo- hoooo.» Phebene made so much noise that she brought Rimble running from the kitchen, his plan to lure Jinndaven and ultimately Themyth in there completely foiled. The little Greatkin burst through the kitchen door, his expression one of genuine alarm. Seeing that Phebene was on the brink of dissolving into a literal puddle of tears for the second time this Panthe'kinarok, Rimble walked up to Mattermat and said, «What did you say to Phebes? What did you say to her?» «Interesting how he always blames me—» began Mattermat, his posture defensive. «Well?» retorted Jinndaven. «He's right to blame you, you big lout!» During a disagreeable pause, Themyth nodded at Rimble, her voice jovial. «Rimble, dear—what happened in the kitchen? Jinn was just on his way to find out. We were a little worried.» Rimble regarded Themyth with a mixture of affection and irritation. He knew Themyth was
