She tilted her head back and gave a long, trilling laugh that would not have been out of place at a royal costume ball, save that it was tinged with madness. Kit wondered what she ought to do. She didn't think she could defeat four of the Iron Guard, plus the mage and the crazy woman, yet it was too late to go back and get Colo. And strangely, no one had made a move toward her. She was edging imperceptibly—or so she hoped—toward the mage, who sat there, cloaked and hooded, inscrutable.
"It was easy to connect Radisson to his brother, but it took a little longer than I hoped to track Radisson himself down. I got lucky. He was with the panther-man. El-Navar, I believe is his name?"
Kit controlled her voice. "Why didn't you kill El-Navar, as you did Radisson?" The lady's brows furrowed. "I'm very upset about that. That the strange man could turn himself into a panther was something I didn't anticipate. In that form he is evidently protected by some ward, and I cannot communicate with him. Or kill him. Believe me, I tried. I tried! I've got the obnoxious beast caged underground. I'm still deciding what to do about the nuisance."
Kit had maneuvered close enough to the mage so that she was able to act, bringing her sword up in a swift arc and, in a flash, down again. She severed the man's right hand, which fell to the floor. Yet no blood flowed from the limb and, incredibly enough, the mage did not even move a muscle, did not so much as wince.
Lady Mantilla shrieked with laughter. "Oh, my dear," she cackled, "you have been worrying about that idiot mage. He is number seventy-three, the latest of those who have been employed to assist me. I killed this one days ago, as I have killed them all for their failures and artifice. After a while I pick up their tricks, and they bore me with their airs." Kit held herself in a guarded stance, wondering if she looked as silly and confused as she felt.
The Lady's voice shifted into a lower, baritone register. Despite the ominous tone, there was a hint of anguish. "You don't know what it's like," Luz Mantilla said to Kit, "to lose someone you love. To dream your life with someone else, and to lose that dream. To be left alone. All alone. Alone!" She gave up any pretense, and sobbed with her head in her hands.
Kit studied the quartet of armored guards who stood behind the lady. She could not make out their eyes or any other indication of their humanity. Through their narrow slits they seemed to regard her coldly. Were they also dead, like the mage, or simply empty shells of metal?
As if reading her thoughts, Lady Mantilla's head snapped up. With a bony finger she traced a contour in the air. The quartet of knights began to spin and move with such grace and agility that Kitiara was astonished. The only noise they made was the clanking of their equipment. They did not go toward her, but instead, in some choreographed maneuver, moved toward the perimeter and took up prearranged positions at four equidistant points around the room. Kit noted uncomfortably that she was the focus of their pattern.
Holding both her knife and sword in front of her, Kitiara did her best to look threatening. Lady Mantilla's face shone. Her rotting yellow teeth were bared in a smile. "You are wondering about my Iron Guard," she said with almost a wink. "They are more alive than my mage. Well, only half-alive, or half-dead to be sure, but I like them better that way. I only have four left, more's the pity. I think I've been rather hasty with the rest of them. But the important thing is—" she made a clucking sound and put a finger to her head "—
the important thing is they are created so that they will do anything for me—even die at my bidding. They are exceedingly loyal about that, dying I mean. Shall I demonstrate?
Zierold!"
One of the armored men took a step forward, his armor creaking. Kit braced for a challenge, but Lady Mantilla said airily, "Jump out a window for me, will you, Zierold?" The heavily armored Zierold went to one of the windows curtained with velvet. With ballet-like moves he hoisted himself up to the ledge, turned to salute the Lady, then, without an utterance, hurled himself out the opening. There was a long moment of silence, followed by a muffled crash. Lady Mantilla positively squealed with glee. Good, Kit thought, one less. She shifted her position slightly so that none of the remaining three Iron Guard stood directly behind her.
"Yes," continued the Lady, "it was easy to catch up with Radisson and El-Navar, but a little harder to find that sneaky Ursa. He seemed to disappear, be swallowed up. He separated from Cleverdon for a while. We followed Clever-don, but then he managed to lose us as well. They donned disguises, camped in the outlands, traveled hundreds of miles outside of my purview.
"I found out all I could about Ursa. I had spies and agents everywhere. He never visited the same place twice and always managed to stay one step ahead of us. But in the end I came to know more about him and his habits than his own mother did, and I knew I would eventually track him down."
She shifted tone, velvety now, like her curtains. "To
