Elven Star – The Death Gate Cycle 2. Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman

The dog began barking, a warning. Haplo’s head jerked around. Beyond the house, the jungle was moving.

Calandra stormed up to her office, slammed the door shut, and locked it. Drawing out her ledger, she opened it, sat rigidly in her straight-backed chair, and began to go over the previous cycle’s sales figures.

There was no reasoning with Paithan, absolutely none. He had invited strangers into her house, including the human slaves, telling them that they could take refuge inside! He had told the cook to bring her family up from the town. He’d whipped them into a state of panic with his gruesome tales. The cook was in hysterics. There’d be no dinner this night! It grieved Calandra to say it, but her brother had obviously been stricken with the same madness that plagued their poor father.

“I’ve put up with Papa all these years,” Calandra snapped at the inkwell. “Put up with the house being nearly burned down around our ears, put up with the shame and humiliation. He is, after all, my father, and I owe him. But I owe you nothing, Paithan! You’ll have your share of the inheritance and that’s all. Take it and take your human trollop and the rest of your scruffy followers and try to make your way in this world! You’ll be back. On your knees!”

Outside, a dog began to bark. The noise was loud and startling. Calandra let fall a drop of ink on the ledger sheet. A burst of noise, shouts and cries, came from downstairs. How did they expect her to get any work done! Angrily grabbing the blotter, Calandra pressed it over the paper, soaking up the ink. It hadn’t ruined her figures, she was still able to read them-the neat, precise numbers marching in their ordered rows, figuring, calculating, summing up her life.

She replaced the pen, with care, in its holder, and walked over to the window, prepared to slam it shut. Calandra caught her breath, stared. It seemed the trees themselves were creeping up on her house.

She rubbed her eyes, squinching them shut and massaging the lids with her fingers. Sometimes, when she worked too long and too late, the numbers swam before her vision. I’m upset, that’s all. Paithan has upset me. I’m seeing things. When I open my eyes, everything will be as it should be.

Calandra opened her eyes. The trees no longer appeared to be moving. What she saw was the advance of a horrible army.

Footsteps came thudding up the stairs, clattered down the hall. A fist began to pound on the door. Paithan’s voice shouted, “Callie! They’re coming! Callie, please! You have to leave, now!”

Leave! And go where?

Her father’s wistful, eager voice came through the keyhole. “My dear! We’re flying to the stars!” Shouting from below drowned him out, then, when Callie could hear, there came something about “your mother.”

“Go on downstairs, Father. I’ll talk to her. Calandra!” Beating on the door. “Calandra!”

She stared out the window in a kind of hypnotic fascination. The monsters seemed uncertain about venturing into the open expanse of green, smooth lawn. They hung about the fringes of the jungle. Occasionally one lifted its eyeless head- they looked like sloths, sniffing the air and not much liking whatever it was they smelled.

A thud shook the door. Paithan was trying to break it down! That would be difficult. Because Calandra often counted money in this room, the door was strong, specially designed, reinforced.

He was pleading with her to open it, to come with them, to escape.

Unaccustomed warmth stole over Calandra. Paithan cared about her. He truly cared.

“Perhaps, Mother, I haven’t failed, after all,” said Calandra. She pressed her cheek against the cool glass, stared down at the expanse of moss and the frightful army below.

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