It was odd for me to confront him. I had no need of his flesh to feed me or his pelt to clothe me, and no need to beware his moods. Any attack of his would slide harmless from my invisible armor and he go toppling all the valiant, lean length of him. In my krarl youth I would have counted him a prize, hunted him with skill and hot excitement, to prove myself his better, driving my spear or knife into his brain, wearing his hide on mine. Now, needs, defenses, contests no longer meaningful, I took the time to run my eye over him, liking him for what he was in himself, rather than what he could be to me.
His tail went this way and that, his nostrils and his glands telling him I was neither enemy nor easy prey. But as I drew level, he put his forefoot out in my path, as if to stay me. I turned and met his gaze and he moved the foot aside. It looked weighty enough to have staved in a man’s skull, but the claws were scarcely visible. He lay down like a huge cat. Somewhere there would be a lioness, and his sons and daughters, the pride.
He reclined by the road and stared after me a minute, then I glanced over my shoulder and he was gone. There were no further illusions or beasts. The last palace loomed on my horizon. The pillars were circled with brazen bands and as I got closer I saw a rose tree growing in a bowl of earth before the steps, and it was in bloom, crimson flowers and dark green thorn daggers out of time, like the orange fruits and blossom in that room where I had lain with Ressaven.
Ressaven, who fled me in terror of the sorceress, who thought me so feeble in Power I could not protect her from one bitch’s wrath.
Well, we would find out, the three of us. There were three others first. I had not seen them for a moment on the steps. That white on white, marble, flesh, hair, and white velvet garments. But I caught the sudden glint of swords.
Mazlek was the nearest, my guide to Kainium, who had crossed over the wide river with his hand on my shoulder.
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Two others behind, a young man about eighteen and a girl in male tunic, trousers, and boots, and with a man’s sword ready, competent as a man. A white kitten had climbed into the bowl of earth and began to nibble at the roses, waking my memory. This girl was she I had met in the old city, the kitten on her shoulder. She seemed as calm now, and she called to me, “Go back, Zervarn. Was the lion in your way not presage enough for you?”
Mazlek moved down the steps onto the paving. He held the sword negligently, and said, “The blade is only a symbol. But we will use whatever we must to drive you off, Denarl, Sollor and I.”
“Of course,” I said. “You are the goddess’s guard.”
“Oh,” he said, “self-elected, I confess. She has no actual requirement for us, but it was a fashion among us since we were very young-as we adopted the fashion of the jade in the forehead from her, which in turn the younger chicks of the brood copy from us. How else could we show we honored a goddess who refused to be honored? To mimic her guard seemed good to us, to offer ourselves as a weapon, however flimsy. And we have named ourselves from three captains of Ezlann who once served her, the older versions of their names, as her own people would have used them.”
“Was one of that guard also a woman?”
“No, to be sure. But Sollor, trust my word, is our equal. Don’t underrate her.”
I said, “I could kill the three of you in three seconds.”
He raised his brows. “It would take you so long?”
“You have a nice humor,” I said. “Live to enjoy it. Get from my path.”
But the girl Sollor called again, “Kill us, then. Do it now.”
She was beautiful. Not as Ressaven was beautiful, but enough. I recollected how, staring at this face in the ruined city, I had not supposed I should see one lovelier.
I did not want to slay or harm them. They knew it.
Mazlek said, “We are only symbols, like these swords of ours, like the lion. Suffice it to say, Karrakaz begs you to return from here. To leave her in peace. And yourself.”
“Begs me? That’s a new song, I have not heard it before. Karrakaz begs, the sorceress, the goddess-Javhetrix. On her knees, perhaps. Let her come out and kneel to me, then, where I can watch her do it, and be sure.”
A blue cloud had lifted itself over the mountain, raising an awning of shadow above the street.
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I went toward Mazlek, and abruptly his sword swung up and a lightning burst from its tip. There was a ripping of the air about me as the white vein struck on that psychic shield of mine, which now I did not even have to bother with but which answered for me instantly.
Mazlek leaped back, his sword slashing bright arcs of metal and energy. He did not aim another cut at me, nor look afraid, nor even amazed. He had known he could not match me, which made this foolhardy barricade an idiotic puzzle.
I understood I should not get by him, however, while he was upright, nor by the other two. Even the maid had devilry ready; I could see it in the flex of her wrist and her intent mouth. I was not obliged to butcher them, merely quell.
I sent a shaft at Mazlek that spun him about and dropped him on his back. Dual bars of light sprang from the other two, but I set them aside, and laid the protagonists down. The kitten looked up from its feast of rose petals to spit at me, but the girl Sollor had suffered no great hurt. All three appeared sleeping rather than fallen warriors. Then I imagined I had her reasoning, the reasoning of the witch. She had sent them to test me, how vast my grievance should be. That I had incapacitated but not slain would reassure her. Wrong-
ly.
I raised my eyes, and there on the steps above me was Ressaven.
She wore male garb, like the kitten girl, but of black wool, and there was no blade in her hand.
She regarded me steadily, as if there had never been a word, let alone a coupling, between us.
“Only I separate you and Karrakaz now,” she said.
“A dangerous separation,” I said. I did not accept her stance; it was too exact. She remembers everything, I thought, and to spare.
“No,” she said. “I am here to prevent you, and I mean to do it. I am more gifted than the others.”
“How she values you, that stinking hag,” I said, “to send you out against me.”
For that last instant she was my Ressaven. Then she blazed up like a candle. The fire of the Power left her like a flight of burning birds. It burst through my shield, and hit me.
I had not expected this strength from her, despite her trick, despite the very appearance of her, which might have warned me.
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The blow was enough to stagger me, and the atmosphere crackled from the charge. Swiftly the thought went through my head that the lady meant business, and that she might master me if I did not settle her first. But I did not like to strike back at her. Though neither she nor I, the descendants of Karrakaz, could receive death, and each must be aware of that.
A second fire sizzled from her; I blocked it as best I could, and sent my own bolt flying, running after it up the staircase toward her. As her Power impaired mine, mine must lessen hers. The daylight seemed to detonate about her. That she felt the impact I never doubted, and in its aftermath I seized her and held her pinned against me. Though her psychic force rivaled my own, physically she was not at all my match. I searched her eyes, in which the Power flicked and surged.
“Ressaven,” I said. “Know me, Ressaven. Cease fighting me.”
“And you, cease fighting me,” she answered, her voice the coldest thing I ever heard, and the most desolate.
“You could not kill me,” I said, “nor I kill you. Even if both of us willed it. And would you see me dead, even for an hour, and rejoice? Do it, then.”
“As you say, I could not. But I ask you-”
“I will go up to her,” I said, “and no threat or plea of yours will stop me.”