“She-” hissed the mage. “She’s at the bottom of it. If we can destroy her-even
contain her-maybe we can set the rest right!”
“You go right ahead,” snapped Lalo. “Just drawing her picture was bad enough.
Fight your own wars-it’s nothing to do with me!”
Randal sighed. “I can’t force you, but others may try. You’ll wish you had
allies then.”
Lalo stared sullenly into his wine. “Threats won’t move me either, mage!”
There was a short silence. Then Randal fumbled with his collar again.
“I’m not threatening you,” he said tiredly. “I don’t have to. Take this …”
From the apparently limitless compartment in his dog collar he pulled a wadded
cloth. It opened out as it fell and Lalo saw a garish rainbow of red and blue
and yellow and black and green. “It’ll get you across town when you decide you
need help from me. Ask for me at the Palace …”
He paused, but Lalo would not meet his eyes. Randal got to his feet, and as his
movement stirred the drawing, shadows lifted like dark wings in the corners of
the room. Like the winged shadows in the picture, thought Lalo, shivering. Very
carefully the mage rolled up the drawing. Lalo made no objection. He never
wanted to see it, or the mage, again. His vision blurred and images moved just
beyond the limits of his perception. He shuddered again.
“Thank you for the loan of your cloak …” The words trailed off oddly.
Lalo looked up just in time to see his outer garment settle like a deflating
balloon across the chair. Something wriggled beneath it, sneezed, and then
pushed free. He saw a gaunt, wolfish dog stand up, shake itself, and lift one