both wolf and human, were no longer seated upright; some were on their backs, others on their sides, and still more on their faces. Howling was very difficult when lying on one's face. But Wolf Nomad ritual demanded that the dead be honored with a chorus of howls and so, wine and weed notwithstanding, the celebrants did their best.
Mika wakened early the next morning clutched in Hornsbuck's massive arms. For one horrified moment, he wondered if the curse had advanced to the full extreme without his knowledge.
He separated himself from Hornsbuck, scrambling backward on the hard, dirt floor. Wolves and nomads were everywhere, lying where they had fallen, overcome by their unswerving devotion to nomad custom.
Mika felt less terrible than he might have expected, but he realized that he had missed much of the ritual by looking for the princess.
The princess! Mika reeled out of the dwelling and staggered off in the direction of the forest. He had to find Starr and the princess. He should never have left them alone together for such a long period of time. What if their initial truce had not lasted? What if the princess had hurt Starr? He'd be in even worse trouble!
Berating himself for leaving, he rushed into the woods, with Tam following on equally unsteady legs. He remembered the direction from the night before and fought his way between the dense growth of trees.
'Damn trees,' he cursed. 'Why can't they grow in straight rows!'
He heard them before he saw them-the giggling gave them away. He slowed, and then for some unknown reason, he crept forward and hid behind the base of an immense roanwood tree instead of announcing himself in a straightforward manner, straining to hear what was being said.
'… and then, you won't believe this, but I swear it's true. He said, 'Starr, I could learn to love a girl like you.' ' Starr deepened her voice, and Mika realized with a terrible shock that she was parodying him! He peeked out from behind the tree and saw Starr strutting back and forth in front of the rock where the princess still perched, watching Starr with laughing eyes.
Mika stumbled away, his face and ears burning. Was it possible that women talked to each other like this often? What else had Starr told the princess? His mind reeled. Suddenly, he felt positively ill. He sat down on the ground and held his head.
'Oh, there you are, Mika dear,' said a sweet voice. Mika could barely manage to raise his head. He looked at Starr through bloodshot eyes, feeling the birth of a monstrous headache beginning to throb behind his eyes.
'Is something the matter?' Starr asked sweetly, her big, brown eyes gazing down at him with the utmost innocence.
'I… I don't think I feel very good,' he whispered.
'Poor dear,' said Starr, her voice trembling with solicitude. 'I was just telling the princess that we should come to see how you were. I was sure you would devote yourself to drinking in a serious manner-only to show your respect for your men, of course,' she added hastily. 'Come along with us, Mika. The princess and I will take care of you!'
Mika looked from one set of female eyes to the other and put his head down on his knees and groaned, for that was precisely what he was afraid of.
CHAPTER 18
Mika allowed Starr to lead him back to the village and tuck him into bed. He fell asleep instandy and did not waken until the following morning, his exhausted body doing its best to catch up on lost sleep.
When he wakened, he jumped out of bed, thunderstruck that he had slept so long. There was still much to be done! He dressed hastily, glad to see that his gaundet had not been removed, unable to remember undressing-or anything else for that matter. Much to his surprise, the magic gem had been returned to him as he slept, the gold circlet atop the gem affixed to a brand-new chain of finely forged links. The gem felt warm against his chest, and Mika felt better than he had in days, even though his head still ached with the remnants of a headache.
Starr watched him from the low doorway as he struggled to cram his foot into his boot.
'The princess and I decided that you should keep the stone for safekeeping, Mika. But remember that it's hers, and you must give it back once she is safely home.'
Mika sat down on the bed, waiting for the catch, wondering what additional price they were going to extract from him. Getting the stone back couldn't be that simple! Tam snoozed at the end of the bed, and even he opened one eye and twitched an ear.
'What else?' Mika growled suspiciously when nothing else seemed forthcoming.
'Nothing else,' Starr said with a gentle smile. 'Just keep your word, or you'll be sorry.'
'Of course I'll keep my word,' muttered Mika as he slipped past Starr and hurried out the door, unwilling to meet her steady gaze. 'What do you think I am, untrustworthy?' Fortunately, he was halfway down the path before she answered. He barked a command to Tam and somehow managed to miss her reply.
Mika stopped long enough to pull on his second boot before wandering through the village to look for the shaman's dwelling. Like it or not, he still had to refill his supply of healing herbs and hopefully pick the man's mind for a cure for the awful demon fingers. His task would be complicated by the fact that the shaman did not seem to like him and had voted against him in the council, although Mika did not understand why he had done so.
He found the shaman's dwelling by following the directions of a small child. Like all nomad dwellings, it was constructed of roanwood posts driven deep into the ground and then interwoven with smaller branches and plastered over with moss and mud. He called out. and when there was no answer, he stepped over the broad sill and entered with Tam at his beeb.
Considering the sour nature of the shaman, it was a most pleasant dwelling. He found himself in an unusually large room, with windows the length of one wall. Under the windows was a broad, wood slab, half of a roanwood trunk that served as work space for the preparation of ungents, tinctures, potions, and possets, many of which were placed neatly on the shelves that lined the walls in a wide variety of tiny botdes, horns, vials, and tubes.
Strange plants, only a few of which Mika recognized, grew in moss-lined niches carved in the wooden pillars that supported the roof. Large bunches of dried herbs and medicinal weeds were suspended from the beams. Sacks labeled bat's wings, spider's legs, salamander eyes, and other ingredients necessary for the working of spells were stacked in an orderly fashion under the bench.
A small, gold and silver pseudodragon was perched on the window sill, preening itself in the warm sunlight. The creature hissed at Mika, its long, forked tongue flicking in and out as though tasting his blood, and its poisoned tail quivered nastily above its head. Mika gave it wide berth.
Oban's workshop also featured a large, stone hearth in the center of the room, raised to waist level, bringing it within easy reach. Even now, an immense cauldron hung over the coals, emitting a dank, sulfu- rous stink. Tam backed away, pawing at his nose as a yellow cloud belched out of the pot and rolled over them.
Mika was bending over the cauldron, trying to figure out what was being brewed, when a voice spoke out behind him, calling his name. He turned, wondering why Tam had not warned him of the shaman's approach, but he saw no one.
The voice called his name again. Searching the room, he saw the pseudodragon hovering in mid-air, scarcely a hand's width away from his face, the dangerous, barbed tail ominously close. He flinched back and tried to speak in a level tone.
'Your pardon, honored shaman. I called before I entered, but no one answered. I have come to consult with you on business. Your helper is most impressive, but may I beg your presence in person?'
The pseudodragon darted forward, its little, brightly colored wings vibrating so swiftly that they could barely be seen, its deadly tail positioned to deliver a fatal sting. Mika shielded his face with his gaundet, knowing that to be stung on any portion of his body was to die. Tam snarled and lunged for the effervescent creature, his teeth snapping on empty air.
'No, Tam, down!' cried Mika as he batted at the creature, trying to knock it out of the air, alarmed that Tam might actually catch the dangerous thing.
'Mika,' it said just as Mika's hand struck it full on the body. Abrupdy, amazingly, the pseudodragon turned into the shaman right before Mika's startled eyes.
The man's face was set in a grim frown, his attitude unimproved by the fact that Mika's hand was still resting heavily on top of his head.
