was becoming clear. If the resources at hand were typified by Sunlord, why not be resourceful and search at a distance?
“I trust you will be happy here in the Country of the Beasts,” I said with as much grace as I could summon, though my voice resounded through the rooms and corridors like the afterecho of an earthquake. “Next time you must come to see me.” (Yes, and I will feed you hensbane.) “Follow the path between the cypresses, turn at the rock which looks like a Cretan galley, cross the meadow of yellow gagea, and there is my tree. You’ll know it by its outside ladder and its abundant foliage.”
“First you must accept a small token of my gratitude for your visit.”
I waved a protesting hand-a few more amenities would suffocate me-but Saffron clapped her feet, her anklets jangled, and a worker appeared in the door.
“Bring my guest some refreshment.”
In the time it takes to raise and lower a door hanging the worker reappeared with a goblet of amber wine.
“It’s made from honey and fermented pollen,” Saffron said.
“I never drink before lunch,” I said firmly. Amenities or not, I had no intention of letting her poison me.
She looked surprised; her smile faltered but did not quite forsake her. “Then you must accept a small gift or I shall be deeply wounded.” She reached to the back of her neck and drew down what, on closer examination, I saw to be a bird or animal. Owl? Rabbit? No, kind of a diminutive combination, bunnylike, feathery winged, which she cuddled in her hands.
“He’s called a Strige. He’s no trouble at all. Feed him sunflower seeds and he’s quite content. Most of the time he sleeps, and what he likes most is to drape himself around your neck. He’ll keep you as snug as a fox’s tall and you won’t have to bother with carrying him.”
She draped him around the back of my neck. His warmth and softness were indescribable. I could feel and hear his soft purring and I must admit that I was enchanted with him. I will take him to Eunostos, I thought. He loves small animals and it will help to cheer him until we can rescue Kora. Besides, if I refuse to accept she may suspect that I have seen the pendant.
“But Saffron, all I brought you was acorns and a partridge, and you’ve given me your own pet!”
“The measure of a gift lies in the heart, and you have kindled a warm hearthfire in me with your friendship.”
She waved to me as I left the encampment, and soon she was busily whisking among the workers and piping orders in her melodious but incontestable voice. The drones grinned their wicked, languorous grins and Sunlord said:
“I see you impressed our queen to the extent of her favorite Strige. Good for you, my girl.”
I could not resist a parting sally. “Did you ever do a day’s work, my boy?”
Unaccountably my voice lacked its usual resonance. No doubt I had lost my boom in the company of soft- spoken Saffron. Sunlord craned his neck to catch at my words and I had to repeat the insult. He took it with wry good grace.
“If I had, you wouldn’t see me now, would you?”
As I strode into the forest, my first feeling was triumph. I had accomplished my purpose. I had proved Saffron’s guilt. Now I would wake Eunostos and tell him what I had learned. If I found him sufficiently rested, we would call on the Centaurs and plan Kora’s rescue. Why then did I feel a curious malaise? Why had my parting sally at Sunlord emerged as a whisper instead of a thunderous insult?
“Ho there, Moschus,” I called to test my voice, though unhappily Moschus was not in sight. Even if he had been behind the next tree, he would not have heard my thin whisper. Now I was feeling downright somnolent. I’ll stop a moment, I thought, and catch my breath. My adventure-the danger, the confrontation with a deceitful woman-has exhausted me. I leaned against the friendly bulk of a cypress trunk. I slid onto the ground and fought to open my eyes. Had Saffron drugged me? I had been so careful not to drink her wine!
The little creature around my neck had grown as heavy as a bronze collar. I tried to raise my arm to remove him. The arm fell to my side.
“Sleep well, my dear.” My last image was Saffron standing over me, flanked by workers. Their thick hands were reaching toward me like knotty clubs.
“No,” I gasped.
“Yes,” she smiled. And I lost consciousness.
I came to my senses in a room whose walls were glazed with wax and whose sole furnishings consisted of two leopard-skin rugs, one of them under my prone, aching body, one of them under Kora.
“Kora!”
At least my voice had returned.
She stirred fitfully but she did not open her eyes. She was deathly pale; her green-gold hair lay in wild confusion about her face; her lips had turned blue. I knew the signs. She was not drugged, she was suffering the prolonged separation from her tree. The vital forces were slowly draining out of her.
Saffron, flanked by two workers, stood in the door. “How long does your friend have?” she asked.
“Without her tree, you mean? Five or six days. Seven at most. She’ll weaken each day.”
“And so will you, I presume. We’ve had her for three days and she’s already peaked. I imagine you’ll hold up better-because of your, how shall I say, bovinity.”
“If you mean I’m fat, why don’t you say so?” I snapped. “My lovers call me voluptuous, but you wouldn’t know about that with your skinny little frame.” I tried to struggle to my feet but sank back onto the skin. “Why don’t you let Kora go? You have her pendant.”
“Aren’t you interested in how I captured you?”
“You must have drugged me. I don’t know how, since I didn’t drink your wine.”
“No, and I had to lend you one of my friends.”
I was slow to grasp her meaning. “The Strige?”
“Exactly. He relieved you of some excess blood. You see, his tongue is like a delicate needle. He inserted it into your neck without your feeling a thing and drew forth just enough blood to make you faint. Fortunately for you, we removed him before he had drunk his fill.”
“Why doesn’t he drink your blood?”
“It’s yellow. He only likes green or red. You see, he’s very particular, the dear little fellow.”
I was quick with questions. “And Kora. Why did you buy her from the Panisci?”
“They captured her for me in the first place. For a price, of course.”
“But why?”
“Bait.”
“For Eunostos!” I shuddered. “You had her captured to bait him into your hive.”
“Exactly. I entered into negotiations with a Paniscus chief-Phlebas, is he called? But he refused to deliver Eunostos without maiming him. Said it was quite impossible. He suggested that Kora would be easier handling and accomplish the same purpose.”
“But what do you want with a harmless Minotaur calf?” As if I needed to ask!
“A young bull, I would say. Have you noticed his horns? The best drone is barely adequate as a lover. Consider the one you met, Sunlord. Would he satisfy you?”
“I would rather remain a virgin than give him a try.”
“Exactly. However, if a Dryad can mate with a Minotaur, why not a Thria? A full-grown Minotaur, to be sure, would be a trifle large for me. At the very least, he would muss my wings. But Eunostos is only six feet. It will be interesting to see what offspring he sires. Something more animated than a worker and more manly than a drone, I trust. Perhaps a winged bull like those you see in Hittite monuments.”
“But isn’t it true that the drone who mates with a queen is”-and my voice fell to a quaver-“doomed?”
“Our mating is somewhat turbulent. The drone is generally-and forgive my coarseness, but then I can’t shock you, can I? — gutted.”
