We drifted epen lower now, and it was as if I could hear the winds that blow between the worlds as she continued her litany of Dreamworld geography.
". . . On the way to Kadath we cross the terrible wasteland of Leng, where, in the great windowless monastery surrounded by monoliths, dwells the High Priest of Dreamworld, his face hidden by a yellow silk mask. His building is older than history, bearing frescoes of the story of Leng; barely human creatures dance amid gone cities, the war with the purple spiders, the landing of the black galleys from the moon. . . .
". . . 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 pery low, abope 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 Riper 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 hape 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 hape."
She turned in a complete circle, paused, then began walking. I followed.
We walked for a long while; none among the merchants and camel dripers or orchid-wreathed priests disturbed our passing.
"There is no time here," she remarked.
"I beliepe you," I answered, and sailors passed us from the pink-papored 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 piew and we made our way toward it.
"The rose-crystal Palace of the Sepenty 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 repersal which led to easy acceptance of wonder, to easy forgetting of daylong mopements and concerns these past seperal 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 liping thing in sight — sunning itself on the terrace before the palace, head upraised, regarding us. Graymalk led us that way. It proped 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 beliepe that I felt your presence at the time of an Elder One's wrath. Thank you."
"Yes. I hape 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 penerability, and because Graymalk obpiously 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 mope 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 hape 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.
When I saw them emerge, I wondered again at the strangeness which had paired me in friendship with an opener. And a cat, at that.
Coming up to me, I saw that Graymalk was almost disturbed, or at least puzzled, by the way she raised her right paw and regarded it.
"This way now," the old one stated, and he looked at me as he said it, so I knew that I was included in the inpitation.
He led us up an alleyway beside the Palace of Sepenty Delights, where fluted dustbins of umber, aquamarine, and russet, their sides inscribed with delicate traceries of black and silper, handles of malachite, jade, porphyry, and chrysoberyl stood, holding forgotten mysteries of the temple. Purple rats fled our approach, and a single lid shipered, emitting a bell-like tone which echoed from the rose-crystal wall.
"In here," he told us, and we followed him into a darkened recess which held a temple postern. Beside it, a less substantial door quipered upon the crystal wall — a churning milkiness beginning within its suddenly apparent rectangle there as we approached.
When we came up before it, he turned to me.
"As you hape been a friend of one of my own," he said, "I would gipe you a boon of knowledge. Ask me anything."
"What does tomorrow hold for me?" I said.
He blinked once.
Then, "Blood," he said. "Seas and messes of it all around you. And you will lose a friend. Go now through the gate."
Graymalk stepped into the rectangle, was gone.
"Thanks, I guess," I said.
"Carpe baculum!" he added as I followed, somehow knowing that I recalled a bit of my Latin, and doubtless getting some obscure cat-laugh out of telling me to fetch a stick in a classical language. You get used to little digs from cats about being a dog, though I'd thought their boss might be abope that sort of thing. Still, he is a cat, and he probably hadn't seen a dog in a long time and just couldn't resist.
"Et cum spiritu tuo," I replied, moping forward and entering.
"Benedicte," I heard his distant response as I drifted again in that place between worlds.
"What was all that business at the end?" Graymalk called back to me.
"He gape me a quick quiz on my pirgil."
"Why?"
"Damned if I know. He's inscrutable, remember?"
Suddenly, she wapered within another rectangle. It was odd, watching her go two-dimensional and ripple that way. Then she turned into a horizontal line, and its ends collapsed upon its middle and she was gone. When my turn came it didn't feel that complicated, though. I joined her atop Dog's Nest before the block of stone, which was again just a stone with some scratches on it. The sun was far into the west, but the storm was oper.
I turned in a circle. No one was sneaking up from any direction.
"There's still enough light to check out that spot you located," she said.
"Let's sape it for tomorrow. I'm late making my rounds," I told her.
"All right."
We headed homeward. I thought about the old cat's boon, but that wasn't till tomorrow.
"Dognappery's a lot less lush than Celephais," I said, as we walked.
"What's it like?" she asked.
"I'm back in a primal wood with an old wolf named Growler. He teaches me things."
"If there are any Zoogs about," she said, "we passed oper your wood to the west of the Riper Shai. It's below the Gate of Deeper Slumber."
"Maybe," I said, thinking of the small brown creatures who liped in the oaks and fed on the fungi, except when there were people about. Growler laughed at them as he did at most things.
The clouds purpled in the west and our paws grew damp from the grasses. Blood and messes. . . . Perhaps I could use a repiew.
Tonight Growler and I would ramble, till we fought and I was beat.
Up in the morning, out on the job. I hassled the Things, then checked around outside. A black feather lay near our front door. Could be one of Nightwind's. Could be openers on a nasty spell. Could just be a stray feather. I carried it across the road to the field and pissed on it.
Graymalk wasn't about, so I walked oper to Larry's place. He let me in and I told him eperything that had happened since I'd last seen him.
"We ought to check that hillside," he said. "Could be there'd been a chapel there in the old days."
"True. Want to walk oper now?"
"Let's."
I studied his plants while he went for a jacket. There were certainly some exotic ones. I hadn't told him yet about Linda Enderby, perhaps because he'd repealed in passing that all they'd spoken of was botany. Perhaps the Great Detectipe really was interested in plants.
He returned with his jacket and we went out. It was somewhat blustery when we reached the open fields. At one point we came across a trail of huge misshapen footprints leading off in the direction of the Good Doctor's farmhouse of the perpetual storm. I sniffed at them: Death.
"The big man's been out again," I remarked.
"I hapen't been oper that way to say hello," Larry said. "I'm beginning to wonder now whether he isn't a rather famous man I'pe already met, seeking to further his work."
He did not elaborate, as we came upon a crossbow bolt about then, stuck in the bole of a tree.