knocked out the plug and it had quickly drained away.
Now the knife shone silver instead of red. Palimak looked up and saw the Demon Moon had risen above the top of the window frame. The soft glow of the morning sun gleamed through.
Palimak was surprised he hadn't noticed the passing of so many hours. One moment it had been late night. Then he'd stared into the knife's surface and all that time had collapsed.
He didn't remember falling asleep. How could he have, with all that pain-and its sudden, blissful release?
But it seemed to be the simplest and therefore the most logical explanation. It also accounted for the strange image he'd thought he'd seen reflected in the knife blade.
Yes, that was the answer. He'd fallen asleep.
With dawn's arrival, Palimak started putting his plan into action.
First he got out the little stone idol and summoned the Favorites. The boys were usually cranky in the morning, but he had some sweets ready for Gundara and some very old cheese for Gundaree. They munched on the treats, quarreling with one another between bites, but he kept pulling tasty bits from his pockets until they were more or less settled down.
Palimak turned his attention to the task at hand, fishing various magical items from a leather purse: six tiny pots filled with special oils; small packets of sorcerous powders, each of a different color; a jar of an alcohol-based elixir, in which he'd dissolved powder made from ground ferret bones; and finally, a little mirror.
He drew magical symbols on the floor, using a quick-drying paint for ink. While he worked, Gundara and Gundaree hopped up on Safar's bed.
'The old master looks pretty sick,' Gundara observed in cheerful tones.
'Maybe he'll die,' Gundaree put in, partly stifling a yawn with his hand.
'You two are such ungrateful wretches,' Palimak said. 'Three weeks ago he saved your worthless lives.
Now you're all but getting ready to bury him.'
'I only said he looked sick,' Gundara protested. 'Gundaree was the one who talked about dying.'
Gundaree put hands on his slender hips. 'What's wrong with that?' he demanded. 'Death happens, you know. When you get to the bottom of the Scroll of Life, that's it!'
He made a cutting motion across his throat. 'Finished. End of story. It's the same for everything that lives.
Fish do it. Sheep do it. People do it. And demons do it. Although I suppose fish and sheep don't have very interesting stories on their Scrolls.'
Gundara leaned against Safar, relaxing. 'I don't know about that,' he said. 'I met a fish once who had a pretty interesting life. It was maybe six or seven hundred years ago, not long after we were stolen by that witch.'
Gundaree shuddered. 'Why do you have to bring her up?' he protested. 'That witch was a terrible mistress. Maybe the worst ever. You're going to spoil my whole day by making me think about her.'
'I was talking about a fish, not the witch,' Gundara said. 'That great big fish they served up at her birthday banquet. It was still alive, remember? And they were cutting off strips to make fish bacon.'
Gundaree grinned. 'That was great bacon,' he said, licking his chops as he fondly recalled those fishy snacks.
'I wish you'd stop interrupting my story,' Gundara grumped. 'While you were eating that poor fish, I was talking to him. About how he used to live at the bottom of the sea and had more female fishes than you could shake a fin at. And all the adventures he had fooling the sharks and the sea snakes.'
He shook his head, marveling at the memory. 'What a fish he was!' he said. 'A fish above all fishes.'
'You ate him too,' Gundaree said. 'After you made friends with him and promised you'd free him. You got in there too and ate the fish bacon as fast as the cooks could fry it up.'
'It seemed like the polite thing to do at the time,' Gundara said. 'I didn't want to insult him. Let him think he didn't taste good.'
Gundaree hopped up on the bed with Gundara. He studied Safar's face for a moment. 'I still think he looks like he might die,' he said. Another yawn. 'If I weren't so sleepy, I'd feel bad about it.'
Palimak did his best to ignore them. They were what they were and there was no way anyone would ever change them, much less warm up their cold little hearts. Usually they didn't bother him that much. In fact, their dark humor appealed to the demon side of him.
He couldn't help but smile at his own hypocrisy. The truth was, if they hadn't been talking about his own father, he might have found their conversation pretty damned funny.
The rueful smile made him relax. He arranged the pots on the floor, making a six-pointed star with the mirror in the center. He sprinkled powder from each of the packets into the oil pots, then lit them with a candle.
Multi-colored smoke hissed up, filling the chamber with a sweet, heady odor. Gundara and Gundaree made gagging sounds of protest, but he paid them no mind.
Next, he took out his father's dagger, reversed it, and rapped the mirror with the butt. The mirror shattered. He rapped again, breaking it into smaller pieces. Then he stirred the glass bits with the tip of the knife, mixing them up.
Palimak squatted back on his haunches. 'All right, boys,' he said. 'I'm ready for you now.'
Grumbling, Gundara and Gundaree hopped back down on the floor.
'This isn't going to work,' Gundara said. 'He's too sick.'
'You might kill him,' Gundaree added. 'Did you ever think of that?'
'Besides,' Gundara said, patting his little belly, 'I'm too full to work.'
'Enough!' Palimak barked, finally letting his weariness get the better of him. 'I've fed you, pampered you, and listened patiently to your mewling.'
His eyes glowed demon yellow. 'If you don't want to work, then by the gods I'll seal you in your stone house and throw it into the deepest part of the sea I can find. And you can argue with each other and the damned fishes for a thousand years, for all I care!'
The two Favorites went through an instant change in attitude.
'We were only jesting, young master,' Gundara said, flashing his white fangs.
'Yes, yes, only a joke,' Gundaree put in. 'We'll help you all we can.'
'And, I must say,' Gundara added, 'the old master really is looking much better.'
Palimak motioned, and the Favorites leaped up on his shoulder and shrank to flea-size specks.
He concentrated on the bits of shattered glass, breathing deeply, taking the incense smoke deep into his lungs. The spell he'd chosen came from a poem of Asper's his father had recited to him long ago.
Palimak chanted:
This dark-horsed destiny I ride?
Hooves of steel, breath of fire-
Suddenly, the shattered glass reformed into a mirror. A swirling image appeared on its surface.
Palimak felt dizzy and he gripped his knees as if he were about to fall.
He heard his father whisper, 'Khysmet! Where is Khysmet?'
There came a thunder of hooves.
And Palimak was swept away.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rhodes was in an ugly mood when he tromped down the stairs leading to Queen Clayre's chamber. Who in the Hells was king here, anyway? So what if she was a witch? So what if she was his mother? How dared she think she could summon him with an imperious snap of the fingers. Didn't she know he was busy?
