literally lifted Po into the air. Laughing again, Kel said, «The blood's clean, but the knife is not. Let flesh turn green with stinky rot!» Without further ceremony, Kelandris threw Podiddley against the wall of a nearby house. She whirled away from him, her black veil fluttering wildly in the sudden autumn breeze. Podiddley sank to his knees, his heart pounding. He cradled his right hand painfully, trying to gauge the extent of the damage. Bone showed through the bloody pulp. Swearing, Podiddley decided the damage was beyond his ability to dress. Especially if the knife had been dipped in poison or anything equally as bad. Po staggered to his feet, his solar plexus in almost as much distress as his bloody hand. Turning west on Khutub Street, Po took his hurts to the best healer he knew: the Irreverent Old Doogat of Suf. Two blocks away, Crazy Kel let out a cry of surprised rage. She had just discovered the loss of her purse. Wheeling around, Kelandris doubled back the way she had just come. She arrived at the wall where she had left Podiddley to find him gone. Swearing, Kelandris lifted her veil partially and smelled the ground where Podiddley had squatted in pain. Using the keen senses of her Mythrrim heritage, Kelandris picked up the scent of not only Po's freshly spilled blood but also of his unmistakably bad personal hygiene. Moving swiftly, Crazy Kel caught sight of Po just as he opened the front door to Doogat's Pipe and Tobacco Bazaar. Po let himself in with difficulty. Kelandris hesitated, then ducked into a nearby alley to wait for Po to reemerge from the little Asilliwir shop. Sudden movement caught her eye; a bright autumn leaf drifted lazily down the street toward her. The leaf pirouetted nine times, then without warning, it lifted high into the air and blew across an adjacent cobblestone avenue. Kelandris watched the leaf as it disappeared around the corner. The woman in black shivered unconsciously. Chapter Twenty-Nine Doogat hung a «Temporarily Closed» sign in the window of his pipe and tobacco shop. While he went to get his green medicine bag, Po fidgeted. Doogat could be a ruthless physician, his cures equal in severity to the occasional harshness he employed as a Mayanabi Master. Po swallowed. There was this certain jar full of the nastiest antiseptic— Po's eyes widened as Doogat returned to the back of the shop; Doogat was carrying a clear jar filled with liquid that looked black. Po got to his feet, his face paling. «Is that what I think it is?» Doogat started laughing. «You big coward— «Now, Doogs—now put that down!» cried Po, starting to edge around the small table in Doogat's kitchen. Doogat uncorked the bottle, his amused eyes as dark as the antiseptic he held. Po squealed and made a beeline for the back door. Doogat neatly intercepted him, and, grabbing his arm, doused the knife wound generously. Po howled with pain, tears streaming from his eyes. Pulling away from Doogat—who let him go—Po cursed Doogat, Doogat's family (whoever they were), the Mayanabi, and every Greatkin he could think of. Doogat recorked the bottle. «Feel better?» «NO!» bellowed the little thief. Doogat rolled his eyes and put on a pot for tea. «Sit down,» he said, pointing to an empty chair. «I'll make you something comforting now.» «You wouldn't know how,» Po retorted. Doogat decided to change the subject. Self-pity never helped anyone heal. Glancing again at the gaping hole in Po's hand, Doogat nodded imperceptibly. Po would need stitches. The Mayanabi reached for a blue jar over his wood-burning stove. He unscrewed the lid and smelled the medicinal mixture of herbs inside. They were fresh enough to use. Grabbing a small handful, Doogat put some in the strainer he'd need for Po's mug. Closing the blue jar, Doogat set it back on the shelf. «What're you doing?» asked the little Asilliwir, his expression suspicious. He had been watching Doogat's movements out of the corner of his eye. «Making you some baneberry tea.» «That's a tranquilizer, Doogat. Why do I need a tranquilizer?» Po sounded extremely nervous. «I have to clean up your hand, Po.» Po scowled and said nothing. There was no point in contradicting Doogat. Po was certain that if he fought Doogat, Doogat would win. He always did, it seemed. Po reached for a piece of fruit on a platter in the middle of the kitchen table. Doogat slapped his good hand gently, shaking his head. «You want to feel the stitches? No? Then, drink baneberry on an empty stomach.» Po swore and slumped in his chair. Suddenly remembering that he had a stolen purse in his pocket, he pulled it out and set it in front of him. He hoped there were a lot of silies in it—or the Tammirring equivalent. This morning's «easy mark» had probably taken him off the streets for at least a week. Po opened Kel's black drawstring pouch. Reaching inside, he froze. Feeling the contents again, he let out a small cry of frustration. He pulled his hand out, holding a string of black glass beads. «Shit,» he said. The sudden clatter of breaking ceramic startled the little thief. Doogat was never clumsy. Po turned to look at his Mayanabi Master in surprise. Doogat was staring at the black beads in Po's hand. «Where did you get those?» asked Doogat, his voice a whisper. Po put the beads on the table. «My day's take. Why?» Doogat walked slowly over to where Po sat. He picked up the beads, his hand trembling. «I lost a set like these once. A long time ago. I thought they were gone forever.» «You sure these are yours?» asked Po, fascinated by Doogat's reaction. He had never seen Doogat lose emotional control over hing. «Could they be yours?» Doogat peered at one of the beads. Po got up to see what the Mayanabi was doing. Doogat showed him the tiny markings on of the glass pieces. Pointing to the entire string of beads, Doogat said, «In the commonlang of your people, Po—these would be called runes. My people have a different name for them—we call them Kindrasul.» Po said nothing, hoping Doogat would continue. This was the first time Po had ever heard Doogat mention his draw. Po, who Asilliwir and clannish by nature, had a strong interest in all things genealogical. Proud of his own family lineage, the little thief had often wished that Doogat would let him trace his. It was Po's opinion that Doogat spent too much time alone. He also felt that Doogat's strictness as a Mayanabi teacher was the result of Doogat's lack of experience with a large, close family. Po was certain that Doogat was an only child—not spoiled, mind you, but certainly isolated. Doogat fingered the single bead in his hand, reading the markings by touch. He smiled. Turning to Po, he said quietly, «These are mine. They have my door on them.» «Door?» Doogat frowned, thinking of a suitable translation for the concept of a Mythrric «door of remembrance.» He set the beads down on the table and went to fetch Po's medicinal tea, still turning the problem over in his mind. As he poured boiling water into the strainer over Po's mug, Doogat said, «A door is a place of entry—and exit. It's a threshold of exchange. A place of meeting. Every mind has such a place in it. Every mind can open and shut. When my people work with the Kindrasul they open themselves to certain kinds of information—messages. But they can only do this by using their own personal—uh—access code. Their own door.» Doogat handed Po the mug full of baneberry. «The glass in a string of Kindrasul is alive. Psychically sensitive. It can be impressed with the—uh—feeling tone of the person whose beads they are. This particular string will only open for me.» Doogat paused. «Drink up, Po. I can't keep the shop closed all day.» Po drank the bitter tea reluctantly. Doogat poured himself a regular cup of black tea then joined the little thief at the table. Picking up the beads once more, Doogat shook his head. «Rimble-Rimble. I've no idea where I even lost these. What did the person look like—the one you stole from?» Po shrugged. «Never saw her face.» Doogat sniffed the glass beads idly, not expecting to recognize the scent of the woman who had previously owned the beads. Doogat froze. Momentarily forgetting that Po was in the room with him, Doogat reacted to Kel's body scent like a cat that has just discovered a female of its own kind in heat. Doogat, who was fighting hard not to turn into Zendrak, let loose with a mournful wail. Podiddley was so startled by the animal-like behavior of his Mayanabi Master that he pushed back from the table, upsetting his own chair. He landed in a painful heap on the stone floor of the little tobacco shop. Exposed nerves and bruised bone screamed at him, and Po swore in agony. Cradling his hurt hand, Po leaned against the wall, his face breaking into a sweat. Doogat knelt beside him hastily. «You all right?» asked the older man. Po sucked in his breath and whispered, «I was about to ask you that.» As the bells in the Great Library campanile rang ten bell-morn, Fasilla, Aunt, and Yafatah drove through the west gate of Speakinghast. Handing Yafatah the forged pass Aunt had made for them, Fasilla said, «Doon't lose that, child. We'll need it again should them Saams stop us for anything. They have strict curfews in this town. And strict laws. Here—put it in me travelling pack.» Yafatah nodded and did as she was told. The young Tammirring girl had all but recovered from her bout with «landdraw fever.» On the morning of the fourth day when crossing out of Jinnjirri and into southern Saambolin, Yafatah had suddenly regained her mental composure—and Kelandris had lost hers. Shaken and disoriented, Yafatah had cried for hours. She had felt a sadness and a loneliness that she could not understand or forget. Despite the queerness of her shared rapport with Kelandris, in an odd way Yafatah had valued it. She had never known another Tammirring, and the psychic intimacy she had experienced with Kel had shown her what being among her own draw might be like. Ever since that morning, Yafatah had hoped to meet up with travelling Tammirring. So far, she had been disappointed. It seemed that the Tammirring kept to themselves—and to their northern native land. Yafatah sighed, scanning the crowds in front of her for veiled women and men. Suddenly, Yafatah broke into a smile. «There be Tammi here,» she whispered softly, pointing to a group of slowly moving university students. Their colorful veils fluttered with the animation of their conversation. «Look, Ma—me own kind.» Fasilla, who had been feeling that Yafatah was growing stranger and stranger by the day, responded curtly. «There they be, Ya. And there they stay. We havena' come to this city so you can socialize. We must see the Master Doogat. When that be done, we'll go home to Asilliwir.» Yafatah's face fell. She turned away from her mother and refused to speak to her for the rest of the drive to Doogat's. Fasilla put up with this only barely. At the moment, Fasilla felt annoyed with everyone—especially her good friend, Aunt. Some days ago, Fasilla had wanted to turn back at the pass through the Feyborne Mountains. Just as she had reined her roans to a stop, Aunt glared at her in obvious disapproval. So Fasilla had continued driving her on toward Speakinghast. Fasilla sighed wearily. Wending her way down the crowded Asilliwir Quarter streets, she felt quite certain that this whole trip had been a terrific waste of time. Besides, Yafatah was well now. Or mostly well. The child didn't need to see the man named Doogat. At least, that was the way Fasilla saw it. «Doon't you want to go home?» Fasilla asked her daughter suddenly. Yafatah shrugged, her young mind stimulated by the bustle and enormity of the cultural capital surrounding them. At the moment the city seemed like an oasis. Here she could learn of other draws, make Tammi friends, eat strange foods. And ride in a Saambolin happincabby, she thought, watching one trot past. A tear of yearning slipped down Yafatah's cheek. Without answering her mother, the Tammirring girl pulled her red veil down over her face and black hair. She wanted to stay in this city. She wanted to make it her home. After several wrong turns, and several stops for directions, Fasilla, Yafatah, and Aunt arrived at Doogat's Pipe and Tobacco Bazaar. Bringing the roans to a standstill, Fasilla handed the reins to Aunt and hopped to the ground. The Asilliwir woman read the «Temporarily Closed» sign in the window and swore. Rubbing her neck tiredly, she decided to take the wagon to the nearest caravan park. Once camped, the three travellers would be free to scout out the public baths in this section of town. Fasilla smiled. First things first, she decided, stepping off the front porch to the little tobacco shop. Climbing back on the wagon, Fasilla said, to both Aunt and Yafatah, «It do be closed right now. I doon't want to wait. Shall we find a place to camp? We do be fierce dirty—what say you to a hot bath, child?» Yafatah nodded mutely. Aunt frowned, staring at Doogat's shuttered shop. Her Mayanabi senses told her he was in there. They also told her that Doogat did not wish to be disturbed. Later, she thought at him silently. One of us will return later. Fine, came the answering reply. As the Asilliwir wagon drove away, Kelandris stepped out in the street. She watched Fasilla's wagon disappear around the comer, her expression wary and angry. Scowling under her veil, Crazy Kel returned to her hiding place. If the Asilliwir thief didn't come out of the shop soon, she might have to go in after him. He had her pretty thing. He had her special, pretty thing. And she wanted it back. Tree was the next to arrive at Doogat's. He had come to visit Mab. Carrying a bouquet of fresh flowers in his hand, he opened the back door of Doogat's kitchen. He was surprised to find both Po and Doogat inside. He wondered why no one was tending the shop. Then Tree saw Po's wounded hand. Eyeing the sewing needle and roll of bandages on the kitchen table, Tree muttered, «Maybe I should come back later.» «Nonsense,» said Po gaily, he was feeling very good and very relaxed thanks to the baneberry tea. The little Asilliwir beamed at the Jinnjirri and offered him a ringside seat. Tree declined it, starting up the stairs that led to Mab's room. As Tree put his hand on the banister, Doogat asked, «Did you happen to see anyone in black hanging around out there?» Tree shook his head. «Should I have?» Po broke into peals of laughter. Patting Doogat on the back with his good hand, the thief winked at Tree and said, «Doogs thinks there's a ghost from his past haunting the place. Thinks she means to do him in, too. Can you imagine that?» continued Po. «Doogat's never taken by surprise.» Po giggled. «Would be fun to see it happen. Just once,» he added hastily as Doogat picked up the jar of black antiseptic again. Tree inclined his head at the stairs. «Mab up?» «Don't think so,» replied Po. Then, seeing the flowers in Tree's nand, he added, «Now isn't that sweet. Flowers for the Piedmerri virgin. Course nobody believes that anymore. Cobeth—» «I do!» snapped Tree. Po shrugged. «Cobeth makes his moves pretty fast—» Doogat intervened at this point. «Shut, up, Po.» Then, without warning the little Asilliwir, he poured more antiseptic on Po's knife wound. Po's shrieks of dismay sent Tree running up the stairs three steps at a time. Tree had been coming to visit Mab faithfully ever since the party at Rhu's, bringing her little gifts and news from the house. For the past three weeks, Tree had worked hard to convince the little Piedmerri that all Jinnjirri weren't bad. This had been Doogat's idea. Tree wasn't sure if he was succeeding or not. Furthermore, in the past two days, Tree had noticed something disturbing in the Piedmerri's general mood. Tree wasn't altogether sure what it was that disturbed him. Mostly, Mab just seemed empty in some way. Empty and yearning to be filled up. But by what? Tree shook his head as he approached Mab's closed door. Tree hoped holovespa wasn't addictive. It never occurred to the Jinnjirri that Cobeth might be. Tree knocked softly. «Mab? You up?» «Come in,» said a dull voice. Tree opened the door, thrusting the flowers in front of him. When Mab didn't respond with exclamations or thanks, Tree poked his head into her room. The windows were shut, the drapes drawn. The heavy, oriental tapestries hanging on the walls made the room seem smaller. Almost claustrophobic today, thought Tree uneasily. Mab sat on the corner of her single bed, her shoulders hunched, her expression distant. «You okay?» asked Tree, coming into the room and squatting beside Mab. Mab said nothing. Tree's green hair turned a little gray. «Mab?» He touched her cheek gently. She responded by turning away from him. Tree licked his lip