He rubbed under the chin of the nearest creature. She tilted her head, leaning into his hand, and smiled and closed her eyes, enjoying the attention.
“I hope so,” he said. “Do you know I dreamed of the hunt? Even when back in Tencendor?”
“You must have felt us, even then, my love. You and we are bonded. Linked by our need to regain what is rightfully ours.”
“The dream is stronger here,” Drago said. Some nights it left him exhausted, breathless, but always, always with such a deep sense of satisfaction it was pleasure in itself.
He dropped his hand, and the creature drooped, dipping her head, wanting more.
“Later,” Drago said, and waved his hand.
Whispering their disappointment, the flock wheeled off, racing cloudlike through the trees, whispering, whispering, whispering.
“The Questors,” StarLaughter said, and Drago followed her eyes.
They waited between the pillars of their chamber, and Drago felt a knot of excitement form in his belly. The Questors were so powerful, and yet so benevolent in that power, that Drago felt privileged they allowed him to share their time.
“Drago,” Barzula said as he and StarLaughter joined them. “How the children adore you.” He smiled, and grasped Drago’s hand.
“They are…” Drago searched for the right word, “so determined.”
Barzula’s smile faded. “Determined. Yes, as are we. Please, do sit down.”
Drago had not had much opportunity to talk with the Questors since he’d arrived. StarLaughter had been his constant companion, and the Questors had kept largely to themselves.
He sat, with StarLaughter and her child, on the same couch he’d originally awoken on.
The Questors sat before him, ranged on a semi-circle of plain wooden chairs.
“We thought we would begin our return journey soon,” Sheol said without preamble.
Drago breathed deep in excitement. Soon! “I cannot wait to return, to regain what I have lost.”
“Nor can we,” Mot said, rubbing his skeletal hands up and down his thin arms.
“What did the Enemy steal from you?” Drago asked. “It must be very valuable that you have hunted so long and so hard after it.”
“Think you to steal it from us?” Raspu said, and everyone, including StarLaughter, grinned. “I would not counsel that at all.”
“No, no, not at all. I was just curious. What did the Enemy steal from you?”
“Ah,” Sheol said, and her face fell in sadness. “The Enemy stole something very precious from us. Very precious. We call it… we call it the Grail.”
“Ah,” said Drago, understanding. “Grail Lake, of course. What you hunt is buried beneath Grail Lake. Well, I can show you where that is.”
“Thank you very much,” said Barzula.
Drago missed the sarcasm. “But what is the Grail -”
“It is none of your concern,” Rox said, and his voice was so heavy with threat that Drago recoiled. “The Grail is o«rs!”
“Of course. I was just curious -”
“Curiosity can be dangerous,” Sheol said, her voice as implacable as her companion’s. “Fatal.”
“I will not steal what is yours,” Drago said, his own anger stirring in the face of the threat. “Have I not had enough stolen from me not to wish further loss on you?”
In the blink of an eye the demeanour of the Questors altered. Friendliness and companionship radiated from each of them, and StarLaughter slipped an arm through Drago’s, pulling him closer to her.
“We do not mean to doubt you,” she said. “But what we all hunt is precious to us.”
Drago let himself be soothed. “And I will have my blood order reversed and my power restored if I aid you?”
“Assuredly,” Sheol said. “We can do that for you. All we need from you is to help us through the Star Gate.”
“You will be so powerful,” StarLaughter whispered against his ear, “that no-one will dare laugh at you or taunt you again.”
Drago relaxed. “But I am concerned that you use my Icarü power to help you. What if you use it all up? I need that power, and I -”
“Be still.” Sheol slipped from her chair, and Drago suddenly realised that all the Questors had stood, and were now surrounding him.
“We will leave you what you need,” Sheol added. “Be very sure of that.”
“Are you certain?” Drago started to rise, but hands clamped down on his shoulders and head, and he was forced back to the couch.
“This will only hurt a little,” Sheol said, and then they began.
She was wrong. It felt like they tore his flesh apart and then ripped into his soul. He felt as if a hundred fish hooks had been sunk in his heels, and then pulled up through his body. As if a ravenous rat had been let loose in the spaces of his body and told to eat its fill. He felt himself explode so slowly he could count the particles of flesh as they skimmed by his eyes.
It hurt.
At no time did he lose consciousness. He sat, awake and aware, through the entire ordeal.
He wished for death. Nothing would be sweeter than death. Sweet, blissful, total annihilation.
He realised it was over when he became aware that the five Questors were back in their semi-circle of chairs, and StarLaughter sat beside him. She stared at him curiously, her breast bared, its nipple hanging over the baby’s unresponsive mouth.
He stared back at the Questors, unable to form any words, but wanting to know why… why had they done that?
“We have leapfrogged closer to the Star Gate,” Sheol said, her voice echoing as if it came from behind an ice wall. “Look!” And she threw out a hand at the world beyond the pillars.
Slowly, every movement agony, Drago looked to where she pointed. At first he thought nothing had changed, but then he realised that the world beyond bad altered. The trees were still there, but now they were so stunted they were barely shrubs. Now no mown lawns spread between them, but red, cracked desert. Now a silvery-white sky hung over them, and two giant red suns ebbed low on the horizon.
Pain throbbed through him, and Drago fought to remain conscious.
“Five more leaps and we will be there,” Raspu said conversationally. “Do you think you will survive?”
Zenith Lost StarDrifter walked slowly up the rise toward the Temple of the Stars, every step heavy with sadness. Not only for Zenith’s problems, but also for RiverStar. News had reached him from visiting Icarü about her murder, and of Drago’s involvement. And now apparently Drago had disappeared. Two granddaughters lost, and a grandson fled. What was happening to his family? StarDrifter wished his power could stretch as far as Sigholt so that he could see down its secretive corridors.
The Temple rose into the morning sky, a great violet beacon that speared into the clouds. Stars danced in its midst, but StarDrifter found little even in that beauty to comfort him these days.
She stood there, hands folded before her, her wings folded less than gracefully against her back, staring into the beacon.
“I wish I could step in there,” she said, and sighed.
“No-one save Enchanters can enter the Temple,” StarDrifter said unnecessarily. But Zenith could have entered. His granddaughter could have entered.
Niah had apparently lost whatever powers Zenith had enjoyed.
StarDrifter shivered. Maybe it was catching. Over the past few days he’d felt as though some of his power had slipped away, as well. It was more than perturbing.
Niah turned and smiled at him. “Oh, StarDrifter, it is enough that I am alive to see it. When I was First here it seemed an impossibility that the Icarü would ever return, or that the Star Gods would walk among us again. But here I am, and I am alive to see it, after all.”
StarDrifter averted his eyes. She had been here five weeks, and in that time Zenith had not said a word, nor had StarDrifter seen her in an expression, or a single movement. Niah was in undisputed control of this body and this mind.
She said that she had always been Zenith, and Zenith her. That all that had happened was that “Zenith” had realised her true identity.
But StarDrifter did not believe that. He saw before him a completely different woman, different in movement, expression, and personality. If Zenith had been Niah all this time, then he should not have seen this massive change.
So if this entity occupying Zenith’s body was not Zenith, then where was Zenith?
Niah walked about the Temple, beckoning StarDrifter to follow, and he somewhat reluctantly did so. In normal circumstances he knew he would have liked this woman, but not now. Not now she had destroyed or trapped his granddaughter.
Damn WolfStar to eternal night, StarDrifter thought, his expression remaining neutral, and damn Azhure with him for encouraging his obsession with Niah. Damn her for damning her own daughter.
Niah led him about the Temple and then down the grassy slope towards the southern cliffs. She stopped some twenty paces from them, adjusting her wings awkwardly in the stiff breeze.