The Death of the Centaur

and by the time it was over the sun had set and strings of hanging lights had come on. The merry-go-round cranked out its four tunes of imitation calliope music while fireflies blinked along the edge of the woods. Some boys ran by in a pack and called to Terry. Kennan pressed two dollars into the surprised boy's hands, and Terry ran off with the others toward the rides and games.

Kennan watched the beginning of the next game under the yellow field lights and then wandered back to the tent for a beer. Kay Bennett, the district's school psychologist, was there and Kennan bought a second round of beers while the two sat talking. Kay was from California, was in her second year here, and felt as trapped as Kennan in this small, Missouri backwater. They took their plastic cups and wandered away from the lights. Broad paths ran from the Elk Lodge to small cabins in among the trees. The two walked the trails and watched as the full moon rose above the meadow. Twice they came upon high school students petting in the darkness. Both times they turned away with knowing smiles and amused glances. Kennan felt his own excitement rising as he stood near the young woman in the moonlight.

Later, as he was driving home, Kennan slammed the steering wheel and wished that he had gotten to know Kay earlier in the year. How different the winter would have been!

Back in his apartment, Kennan got out the bottle of Chivas Regal and sat reading Voltaire at the kitchen table. A gentle night breeze came in through the screen. Two drinks later he showered and crawled into bed. He decided not to make a journal entry but smiled at the fullness of the day.

'Shit!' said Kennan as he sat up in bed. He dressed quickly, ignoring his socks and pulling on a nylon wind- breaker over his pajama tops.

The moon was bright enough that he could have driven without headlights as he pushed the Volvo around tight turns in the county road. The parking lot was empty and there were deep ruts and gouges in the field. The rides were still there, but folded and ready to be loaded on trailers. The meadow was moon-dappled and, to Kennan's first relieved glance, empty. But then he saw the shadowy figure on the top row of empty bleachers.

When he came close enough the moonlight allowed him to see the streaks on the boy's dusty face. Kennan stood on a lower level and started to speak, found no words, stopped, and shrugged.

'I knowed you'd come back,' said Terry. His voice seemed cheerful. 'I knowed you'd come back.'

Raul was alive. He struggled to free himself from the pile of lizard bodies. It had been the shirt. Since Carvnal he had worn the brightly decorated tunic that Fenn had given him at Treetops. It is more than decoration. Isn't that what the strange little Fuzzy had said? Indeed it was. The shirt had stopped six high-velocity crossbow bolts from penetrating. Certainly it had been more effective than the loose-link armor that still adorned the lizard corpses all around.

Raul made it up onto all four legs and took a few shaky steps. He didn't know how long he had been unconscious. It hurt to breathe. Raul felt his upper torso and wondered if the impact had broken a rib.

No matter. He moved around the clearing, first picking up his bow and then retrieving as many arrows as he could. He found his short sword where it had cleft a lizard's shield, helmet, and skull. His clan warspear was broken, but he snapped off the sacred metal spearhead and dropped it in his quiver. When he had armed himself as well as he could, picking up a long lizard war lance, he galloped to the edge of the clearing.

Some of the palm trees were still smoldering. The Wizard platforms could not have been gone for long. And Raul knew where they must have gone.

To the north gleamed the high peaks of the Fanghorn Mountains. Wincing a bit, Raul strapped his shield and bow to his back. Then, breaking into an effortless, distance-devouring canter, he headed north.

Night. Bugs dance in agitated clouds around the mercury vapor lamps. Kennan is standing in a phone booth near a small grocery store. The store is closed and dark. The side street is empty.

'Yes, Whit, I did get it…' Only Kennan's voice is audible in the darkness.

'No, I know that… I am aware that it isn't easy to get to see Fentworth.'

'Sure I do, but it isn't that simple, Whit. Not only do I… I have a contract. It specifies that…'

'Those last days will make a difference…'

'So what did he say?'

'Look, I don't see what difference it makes if I see him now or when he gets back in August. If he has to decide on the position, they can't fill it 'til he gets back, can they? If I can just make arrangements to…'

'Oh, yeah? Yeah, I see. Before he goes? Yeah. Yeah. Uh-huh, I see that…'

'No, Whit, it is important that you're going to be there. It's just a matter of… it's just that I don't have the money to fly. And then I'd have to fly back to get my stuff.'

'Yeah. Yeah. That'd work out, but I can't afford to miss those last few… I don't know. I suppose, why? Hell, Whitney, you've been to Europe before.. why don't you… no, really, why don't you tell your folks you can't join them until late June or…'

'Yeah. You did? Your folks won't be there? What about… whatshername, the housekeeper, yeah, Millie… Until when?'

'Damn. Yes, it does sound good.'

'No, no, I do appreciate it, Whitney. You don't know how much it means to me…'

'Yeah. Uh-huh, that all makes sense but, look, it's hard to explain. No, listen, there's tomorrow. Friday, yeah… and then Monday's off because of Memorial Day. Then they go Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday's their last day. No… just report cards and stuff. Look, couldn't it be just a week later?'

'Uh-huh. Yeah. OK, I understand that. Well, look, let me think about it overnight, all right?'

'I know that… but he's around on Saturday, isn't he?'

'OK, look, I'll call you tomorrow… that's Friday night… and I'll let you know what… no, goddamn it, Whit, I'm poor but I'm not that poor, I don't want your parents getting billed for… look, I'll call you about nine o'clock, that's… uh… eleven your time, OK?'

'Well, you could call him on Saturday then and tell him I'd be there Wednesday, or I can just wait and hope something else opens up. Uh-huh, uh-huh… well, let's just… just let me think about it, OK? Yes… well, I will take that into consideration, don't worry.'

'Look, Whit, I'm running out of quarters here. Yeah. About nine… I mean eleven. No… me too. It's real good to hear your voice… Yeah. OK. I'll talk to you tomorrow then. Yeah… I look forward to seeing you soon, too. Me too. Bye, Whit.'

After Dobby's unsuccessful escape attempt, they hung him from chains on the wall. From where Gernisavien was strapped to the table, she could not see if he was still breathing. The red light made it look as if he had been flayed alive.

Tall, shrouded shapes moved through the bloody dimness. When the Wizards weren't turned her way, Gernisavien strained against the metal bands at her wrists and ankles. No use. The steel did not budge an inch. The neo-cat relaxed and inspected the steel table to which she was pinned. The smooth surface had metal gutters on the side and small drain holes. Gernisavien wondered at their purpose and then wished she hadn't. Her heart was racing so fast that she feared it would tear its way out of her chest.

At least Dobby's escape attempt the day before had distracted the guards long enough for Gernisavien to raise her hands, lift the key, and swallow it.

There was a movement in the shadows and the tallest of the hooded figures stepped forward into a shaft of red light. Slowly the Wizard drew back its hood. Gernisavien stared in horror at overlapping scales, a face like a mantis's skull, great eyes that looked like pools of congealed blood, and fangs which dripped a thick mucus.

The Wizard said something that Gernisavien did not understand. Slowly it raised its bony, scaly hand. Clenched in the foul claws was a scalpel…

Less than half a mile away, Raul labored uphill through heavy snowdrifts. His hooves slipped on icy rocks. Twice he caught himself and only the strength of his massive arms allowed him to pull his body to safety. A fall now meant certain death.

The shirt Fenn had given him provided some warmth for his upper body, but the rest of him was freezing.