who she is, Fas, and soon, for she is Trickster's turning point. I tell you, all the dreams of all the years depend on it. This is the Jinnaeon, the prophesied white-water of time. Now we change. Or we are changed. Period. Aunt ended the story here. She stretched slowly, rubbing her eyes. She looked over at Fasilla. The Asilliwir herbalist was sitting in her chair, her knees under her chin. Her face was very, very pale. Aunt touched her friend's arm gently. Fasilla jumped, Then, seeing Aunt, she said, «Them fools in Suxonli. They didna' train the girl.» «I know.» There was a long silence. Fasilla cleared her throat. «And me Ya do be mixed up in this, yes?» «Yes.» «How?» «I'm not sure,» said Aunt reaching for the remains of her cold tea. «Doogat says she may be one of Rimble's infamous loopholes. A fail-safe fail-safe.» Fasilla nodded. She was silent for a few moments, then glancing in the direction of Yafatah's room, Fasilla said calmly, «We go today, Aunt. Soon as me horses have rested. We go east to Speakinghast. You'll come with us, of course?» «Me?» said Aunt with surprise. She started to say more but was cut short by a strange rumbling sound. Eyes widening. Aunt grabbed breakable knickknacks off the walls of her cottage, yelling at Fasilla to protect Yafatah from falling objects in the tiny bedroom. Fasilla crossed the shaking floor with difficulty, her heart in her throat. So this was a «shifttime,» she thought—the Jinnjirri equivalent to an earthquake. She ducked a shelf of books as it came crashing to the floor right in front of her. Fasilla swore, deciding she much preferred the sandstorms of her native Asilliwir than this sliding and shaking of Jinnjirri. You could see a sandstorm coming in the desert, and you could take precautions. But when the earth itself moved, where was one to go? Fasilla threw open the bedroom door. Drugged, Yafatah was still sleeping comfortably. Gathering her daughter into her arms, Fasilla started to return to the kitchen with Yafatah. As she neared the thick doorjamb of the small bedroom, Aunt cried out: «Stay exactly where you are, Fas. Doorways are good during a shift.» Aunt grinned. «Like I said, change or be changed.» A few moments later, Fasilla heard Aunt swear. She followed the Jinnjirri's irritated gaze. Fasilla's terrified, hobbled mares were making for Aunt's hollyhocks—with Burni in hot pursuit. «Welcome to shifttime,» grumbled Aunt. «Rimble-Rimble.» Fasilla met Aunt's eyes. «You'll come with us to Speakinghast? Say you will.» Glancing at the broken knickknacks on the floor, Fasilla added, «I haven't the courage to go alone. Not after this.» There was a long pause. Aunt rolled her eyes, muttering, «Well, well, Doogat. Or shall I call you Zendrak? We'll meet again. Let's hope it's under better circumstances.» Sixteen years ago, Zendrak of Soaringsea had brought Kelandris to Aunt and entrusted the healing of her savaged mind and body to this capable Jinnjirri healer. Kelandris had been a terrible patient, trying to commit suicide whenever Aunt relaxed. It had been a long ordeal. However, Aunt was a Mayanabi and Zendrak was her commanding elder, so the Jinnjirri had stuck with it. And so Kelandris had lived. Chapter Sixteen As the earthquake in the northwest border of Jinnjirri reached its height, Mab woke with a start at the Kaleidicopia. Her long years spent in the shifting landdraw of Jinnjirri had heightened her sensitivity to its earthquake activity whether she lived there or not. This was a childhood legacy that Mab wished to forget. Mab grabbed the sides of her single bed out of habit, looking fearfully around her room for evidence of fallen objects. Seeing none, the Piedmerri sank back into her pillows, her breathing ragged. «You don't live there anymore,» Mab told herself firmly. «It's over with Jinnjirri. It's over. And whatever's going on there right now—it can't touch you. You're in Saambolin.» Mab swallowed, closing her eyes thankfully. «Saambolin,» she repeated, a trace of a smile on her lips. Suddenly, a passionate argument exploded on the stair landing just outside her room. It was Timmer and Tree; Timmer sounded furious about something. Mab pulled the brown blanket on her bed over her ears. This, too, reminded her of her life, in Jinnjirri. Moody silences and tempers. Mab's fingers clenched the bed so hard that her knuckles turned white. Nothing in Mab's life had been stable. Not her family life, not her friends, and not the land. She tried to tell herself she had been stupid to move into the Kaleidicopia, but she knew better. With all her heart, Mab wished she could live in an orderly Saambolin household, but she knew from experience that it would never work. «I'm just too weird,» she whispered. «You don't grow up in a Jinn artist's colony and not come out weird.» Mab scowled. «So I end up living at this house. Because I understand it. I don't like it,» she yelled in Timmertandi's general direction, «but I do understand it!» Voices out in the hall reached a fevered crescendo. Rolling her eyes, Mab got out of bed and stumbled blearily to the door of room two. She poked her head into the second floor hall. Scowling at both Timmer and Tree, the Piedmerri asked crabbily, «Do you have to do this now? And do you have to do it right outside my room?» She peered out the windows on the second floor landing. «I bet it's not even seven bell-morn yet.» «It's not,» said an equally crabby voice. Janusin lounged next to the open door of room six, his violet nightshirt crumpled, his hair dark blue with pronounced streaks of red. He looked as if he had hardly slept at all. The sculptor yawned and added, «So what's this about? Now that you've drawn an audience.» Timmer, who was dressed smartly in pastels and soft cottons, put her hands on her hips. Her long blonde hair tumbled backward over her slender shoulders. «It's about that scum-bum Podiddley. Not only did he leave his curry dish in the sink last night—some influence that Doogat is!—Po left all the spoons of the house in his bedroom. And then he locked it! Po could be gone for weeks. There's no telling what might flourish in his pigsty.» «Great gobs of mold probably,» muttered Mab. Janusin eyed Timmer and Tree with a baleful look. «You woke me up on account of dishes? That blasted house meeting went until one bell-morn!» «Oh, Jan—who're you trying to kid?» snapped Timmer. «My room is right across the hall from yours. You bawled most of the night.» Janusin's hair shot with brilliant red. «Shit,» muttered Tree, «now we've got fireworks for sure.» Before Janusin and Timmer could make a real go of it, however, they were interrupted by a remarkably fresh looking Rowenaster. Ignoring the color of Janusin's hair, he beamed merrily at the disgruntled Kaleidicopians as he joined them from the third floor. Doffing his feathered academic hat at Timmer and Tree, the Professor asked, «What's this? An early morning second floor landing party?» Tree swore. «Somebody wipe that frigging smile off his face, will you? It's too hard to take at this hour.» Rowenaster chuckled. « 'This hour' is the one at which I normally rise, Tree. Perhaps you'd like to accompany me to the Great Library. I could introduce you to a new concept: studying.» «That's it!» snapped Tree. «I'm leaving! And Timmer, I don't care who cleans up Po's room for the house inspection. You want to make it my job—fine! Meanwhile, I'm going out for breakfast!» Tree started down the stairs then wheeled around, his eyes meeting Mab's hopefully. «Want to come, too? I'll wait.» Timmer snorted. «Smitten,» she muttered. She stormed into room three and slammed the door. Mab swallowed, feeling very much on the spot. «Uh— «Oh, forget it!» said Tree and disappeared down the stairs to the first floor of the Kaleidicopia. Mab stared at the floor. Janusin muttered four-letter words under his breath and retreated to his room. This left the professor and Mab standing in the hall in silence. Rowenaster cleared his throat. «Charming place, don't you think? Probably makes you want to live here forever.» Mab shrugged. «Rent's cheap.» Rowenaster nodded. «Did you sleep well? Short as it was,» he added with a patient smile. Mab shrugged. «Sort of. Until the shift in Jinnjirri woke me.» «What shift?» Mab sighed deeply. «Curse of the draw. Mine, I mean. We Pieds are real close to the land. Sometimes we know things at a distance. It's like a twitching of the skin. I can't explain it.» She paused. «Just something I learned. Mostly, I just wish it would go away. I don't live in Jinnjirri anymore. And I'd rather forget I ever did.» «You don't miss your folks?» Mab shrugged. «Only a Saambolin would think to ask that. Miss them? They're too busy with their artistic lives for me to miss them. I was always underfoot. Oh, and very dull. I didn't know how to party, they said. I was too serious. Too intense. Dull.» Rowenaster chuckled. «One just can't win, can one? Over at the University, I'm perceived as something of a libertine because I choose to live in this house. The registrar is convinced I have orgies every weekend.» Mab didn't smile. «Well, they did—at my house.» There was an awkward silence between them. Mab shrugged, then ducked inside her bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her. Professor Rowenaster stood in the empty hallway in silence, his expression troubled. On the far side of town, deep in the heart of the labyrinthine Asilliwir Quarter of Speakinghast, the wooden sign for Doogat's Pipe and Tobacco Bazaar creaked in the warm breeze. At the back of the shop, Po «slaved» over a sink of dirty dishes while Doogat entertained him by reading Po a tediously dry Mayanabi tex