“. . . And we pass Kadath itself, enormous city of ice and mystery, capital of this land. . . .
“. . . Coming at last to fair Celephais in the land of Ooth-Nargai on the shores of the Cerenerian Sea. . . .”
Now we swooped very low, above a snowcapped peak.
“. . . Mount Aran,” she intoned, and I saw ginkgo trees upon its lower reaches; then, in the distance, marble walls, minarets, bronze statues. “The Naraxa River joins the sea here. There in the distance lie the Tanarian peaks. That turquoise temple down the Street of Pillars is where the high priest worships Nath-Horthoth. And so we find our way to the place where I have been summoned.”
We dropped steadily then, to touch the bright-cut onyx-stone of the street. Immediately, there were sounds about us once again other than the wind, breezes that I could feel. Graymalk leaped from my back, alighting beside me, shook herself, and stared.
“You wander these lands in dreams of catnappery?” I said.
“Sometimes,” she replied, “and sometimes elsewhere. And yourself?”
“I think that sometimes I might have.”
She turned in a complete circle, paused, then began walking. I followed.
We walked for a long while; none among the merchants and camel drivers or orchid-wreathed priests disturbed our passing.
“There is no time here,” she remarked.
“I believe you,” I answered, and sailors passed us from the pink-vapored harbor and sunlight sparkled upon the streets, the minarets. I saw no other dogs about, smelled none.
In the distance, a blinding spectacle came into view and we made our way toward it.
“The rose-crystal Palace of the Seventy Delights,” she said, “whence he has called.”
And so we walked toward it, and it was as if a part of me normally awake were sleeping and part of me normally asleep were awake, a reversal which led to easy acceptance of wonder, to easy forgetting of daylong movements and concerns these past several weeks.
The crystal palace grew before us, gleaming like a piece of pink ice, so that I looked past it rather than directly at it. Our way became more quiet as we approached, and the sun was warm.
When we came into its precincts, I beheld a small, gray form, the only other living thing in sight, sunning itself on the terrace before the palace, head upraised, regarding us. Graymalk led us that way. It proved to be an ancient cat, lying on a square of black onyx.
Drawing near and prostrating herself, she said, “Hail, High Purring One.”
“Graymalk, daughter,” he answered. “Hello. Rise, please.”
She did, saying, “I believe that I felt your presence at the time of an Elder One’s wrath. Thank you.”
“Yes. I have been watching for all of your month,” he said. “You know why.”
“I do.”
He turned his head, antique yellow eyes meeting my own. I lowered my head out of respect for his venerability, and because Graymalk obviously regarded him as someone of great importance.
“You come in the company of a dog.”
“Snuff is my friend,” she said. “He pulled me out of a well, cast me back from the Elder One’s lightning.”
“Yes, I saw him move you when it fell, right before I decided to call you here. He is welcome. Hello, Snuff.”
“Hello, sir,” I answered.
Slowly, the old cat rose to his feet, arched his back, stretched low, righted himself.
“Times,” he said, “are complicated just now. You have entered an unusual design. Come walk with me, daughter, that I may impart a small wisdom concerning the final day. For some things seem too small for the Great Ones’ regard, and a cat may know that which the Elder Gods do not.”
She glanced at me, and since few can tell when I am smiling, I nodded my head.
They strolled along into the temple itself, and I wondered whether, somewhere, an ancient wolf in a high, craggy place were watching us, always alert, his only message, “Keep watching, Snuff, always.” I could almost hear his timeless growl from the places beneath thought.
I sniffed about, waiting. It was hard to tell how long they were gone in a place without time. But it followed that it should not seem to take long. Nor did it.