study. Touching Kel's breasts for the first time, Zendrak stiffened abruptly. Kelandris had a razor-sharp knife hidden in her bra. Eyeing Kel ruefully, Zendrak pulled the knife free and dropped it on the ground. Zendrak chuckled. Then he said, «Trickster told me you'd be fierce. He wasn't kidding. Tell me,» he asked, «do you often make love in full armor?» Rolling her eyes, Kelandris picked up the knife and threw it expertly into a sapling. «There,» she muttered. «You've disarmed me.» «And you're vexed,» said Zendrak, his voice sober. «You've misunderstood. I enjoy a woman who fights her own battles. And shows her spirit openly.» He stroked Kel's cheek with gentle fingers. «Spirited women are the very best kind. And they're also the hardest to come by.» Kelandris wrinkled her nose in disagreement. «Oh—Tammirring makes my kind everyday. It's in the draw.» Zendrak laughed good-naturedly. «Believe me, Kelandris of Suxonli, the world has never seen one such as you before.» Taking in the whole of her hermaphroditic costume, Zendrak bent to loosen the leather dildo from her striped belt. Holding the erect penis sheath by its engorged stem, Zendrak winked at Kelandris. «I don't think you'll be needing this for a bit. I've a very generous nature.» Patting the lower portion of his green robe, Zendrak added, «And I'm happy to share.» Kelandris started to smile then hesitated. The color drained out of her face as her seventeen-year-old virginity got the best of her. «How generous?» she asked hoarsely, all of Yonneth's taunts coming to mind. Tales of pain and blood. Kel started to tremble. «My brother—» She broke off, tears in her eyes. Zendrak studied the fear in her face. He dropped the leather ritual dildo to the ground and pulled Kelandris to him, enfolding her pounding heart in his arms. He kissed her lovingly then said, «Brothers can be cruel sometimes, Kel. You must refuse such violence.» «I do,» she said adamantly, glancing at her knife stuck in the sapling. Zendrak followed her gaze. «Weapons are ineffective against psychic violence, Kel. Only spirit can overcome this kind of attack. Spirit, courage, and refusal.» Kelandris listened closely to Zendrak's words. They made her feel strong inside. Strong, relieved, and hopeful. She smiled tentatively at the man in green. «Okay,» she said. Kel shrugged shyly, her face scarlet. «Let's—uh—share.» Zendrak chuckled. «Okay.» The boyishness and innocent glee of Zendrak's ready smile undid Kelandris utterly. Abandoning her fear of Zendrak's male differentness from herself, she allowed Zendrak to remove her costumed codpiece. Kel's eyes widened as she felt Zendrak's fingers explore the confines of her costume—and release her from it. Then, giving Kelandris a reassuring smile, the man in green kissed the tuft of dark hair between her legs. To him, she was a Mythrrim and she was «in season,» which meant desirable. Kelandris felt a twinge in her abdomen. Zendrak raised his eyes to meet hers. «The blood comes now.» «The blood?» asked Kelandris, unsure of what he meant. Then, feeling the wash of something wet issuing from her vagina, she yelped. Her menses had arrived for the first time. Kelandris regarded the blood dripping slowly down the inside of her thigh with horror. «It can't come now!» she cried. «The Blood Day Rule! I'm the Queen! The village expects me to dance!» Kel red her mouth, her eyes desperate. «They'll be so angry if I dance.» Tears brimmed in her eyes. «And so angry if I do.» «Rimble-Rimble,» said Zendrak, his tone matter-of-fact. Kelandris regarded him wildly. «What should I do?» Zendrak kissed her belly. «Make love.» «Yes, but—» «And then decide,» he added calmly. «Hmm?» Kelandris shut her eyes, feeling anguished by her internal conflict. Zendrak got to his feet. Mythrrim to Mythrrim, Kel's first blood sounded a passion in both their bodies that neither could restrain. Kelandris groaned, buckling. Zendrak lowered her to his cloak. Slowly, inexorably, he convinced Kel's body of the rightness of their mating. This was animal-talk. Kelandris opened her legs, inviting the spreading reach of Zendrak's fingers inside her. He stretched her and aroused her. Then, Zendrak entered her. Greatkin to Greatkin, their bodies fit together like a living socket and plug, the current of raw sexual potency streaming from one to the other and back again. Surprised, Kelandris immediately clamped down on her energy. But it was like trying to hold back an enormous waterfall. Power surged and threatened to overwhelm her if she didn't let go. Zendrak pressed his hand against the area between Kel's ovaries. «Just breathe,» he told her quietly. Kelandris tried to do so but ended up panting instead. Zendrak cupped one of his hands around the back of Kel's skull and slipped the other into the curve of the lower portion of her spine. The effect was immediately calming. It felt to Kel as if he were absorbing unclaimed current directly into his hands, thereby steadying the wild fluctuations of psychic energy in her body. «Follow me,» he said calmly and began to slowly rock his penis back and forth inside her vagina. In no time, the power began to build again. This time, Zendrak took control of it, allowing Kel only as much as she could safely accommodate. Kelandris groaned, arching her back. The pressure building inside her body made her feel dizzy and almost nauseous. Losing the rhythm between them, she squirmed under Zendrak. «I can't do this. I can't— «Yes, you can, Kel,» replied Zendrak, kissing her firmly, thrusting his tongue deep inside her mouth. Kelandris hesitated then met his passion with her own. Lights danced before her shut eyes. She felt her body finally relax into Zendrak's full embrace. Now something shifted between them. Something controlled, something electric, and something wildly fertile. Zendrak pulled back from Kel for a moment. He studied the dazed expression in her face then said, «You're doing fine.» Kelandris frowned helplessly. «But what am I doing?» «Becoming the he. Becoming a divine potential. The line to your womb is open now—thanks to your blood. Through you, Suxonli Village will come face-to-face with the Presence. And all will be changed.» Kelandris hadn't the faintest idea what he was talking about. She shuddered, surrendering briefly to the steady pulsing of power streaming out of her hands, legs, and crown. She blinked. Heart pounding, she stared hard at Zendrak. «What—what?» «Let it happen, Kel. Become both.» Kelandris shook her head dazedly. She felt terribly strange—as if her body were literally changing shape. Or sex, she thought. Like a Jinnjirri. She felt for her breasts. They were still there. Utterly confused, she couldn't get rid of the sensation that she might be female and male simultaneously. Zendrak kissed her forehead. «Don't fight it, Kel. It's what you were born to do.» Then Zendrak whispered Trickster's rhyme: Will you turn the inside inside-out, And be sanely mad with me? Will you master the smallest steps of my turnabout, And come to my ecstasy? Kel's world suddenly doubled, and she saw Zendrak's face from both a male and female perspective. It was as if all the concepts of gender she had ever held paradoxically collapsed and expanded inside her mind at the exact same moment. She was no longer male or female. She was a peculiar intermarriage of both. And yet her physical body remained female. Had she always been like this? Kel put the question to Zendrak. Trickster's Emissary nodded. «The visible rests on the invisible. Always.» He stroked Kel's cheek. «In this way, my maleness rests on my femaleness. In a manner of speaking, you could say I am Trickster's she.» Zendrak smiled, massaging Kel's abdomen deeply. «However,» he whispered, «I'll never embody it the way that you do, for I cannot menstruate. I don't turn the inside inside-out.» Kelandris swallowed. She had never seen a woman's blood-cycle in quite this way before. Then an idea occurred to her. «But the Jinnjirri can— Zendrak shook his head. «The Revel Queen is Tammirring for a reason, Kelandris. The landdraw of this region makes your people's minds elastic. A Jinnjirri turning into a he would mentally burn up. The power of the he can only be grounded by the internal draw of a native Tammirring.» Kelandris played with the dark hair on Zendrak's chest. «Oh.» Zendrak kissed her nose. «You could dance for Trickster anywhere, I suppose. But I think it would be easiest in Tammirring. Especially in Suxonli. Here you and the land understand each other on an intuitive level. Here your seasons are its seasons. Here,» he said moving his hips again, «you're at home.» Kelandris gasped, passion building between them once more. This time, Kel allowed herself to feel the he surge through her psyche. Using Zendrak's energy to stabilize herself, she opened to the complete bisexuality of Greatkin Rimble. It was a wild glory. And Trickster's Emissary and Trickster's he reveled in it. Chapter Thirty-Two Someone pounded loudly on the front door to Doogat's tobacco shop. Jolted out of their shared trance and their remembered lovemaking, Zendrak and Kelandris opened their eyes groggily. Forcing himself to focus on the outside world again, Zendrak stared at the vexed face glaring at him through the window. It was an Asilliwir woman of about thirty-five years of age. Still holding Kel's neck with one hand and the Kindrasul with the other, Zendrak debated what to do while the Asilliwir woman continued to sledgehammer the door. He needed to make sure the transfer of two-legged apperception of reality to four-legged was complete in Kel's mind. Feeling the woman in black suddenly stiffen against him, Zendrak swore softly. Clearly, the beating on the door was frightening Kelandris. Now the muffled voice of the Asilliwir reached him: «You there in green! Doon't pretend I canna see you! Open up!» The unusual accent of the woman broke Zendrak's concentration with Kel. Zendrak squinted in the direction of the clamoring Asilliwir. Abruptly Aunt's mental Mayanabi message returned to him in fulclass="underline" «Need second opinion on 'shift fever' victim. Girl, aged fifteen, a Tammi. Name: Yafatah. Begat during Rimble's Remembrance in Suxonli. Father Jinnjirri, but unknown to either mother or child. Mother's name is Fasilla. Personal friend of mine. Born in southern Asilliwir. Physical symptoms to follow…» «Shit,» said Zendrak angrily. This was Fasilla again and as before her timing couldn't be worse. He bit his lower lip, caught between his duty to Rimble—who wanted Yafatah in Speakinghast—and his caring for Kelandris. Zendrak let go of Kel's neck and placed both of his hands over the Kindrasul. Impressing the black glass beads with his heart's deepest longing for Kelandris, he leaned close to her face and whispered, «Wait here, Kel. I'll only be gone a moment.» Kelandris said nothing, her green eyes bewildered. Zendrak left Kel's side and hurried to the front of the tobacco shop. He flung open the door, blocking the Asilliwir woman's entry with his great height and broad build. «Yes?» he said curtly. «I be Fasilla of Ian Abbi. Be you Doogat of Suf?» «Doogat's out for the afternoon.» Zendrak pointed to the sign in the window. «Shop's closed. Come back tonight. Say—seven bell-eve?» «But—» Zendrak shook his head, closing the door firmly in Fasilla's face. He turned around hoping to find Kelandris still lying on the floor. She was not. Zendrak cursed raggedly. Neither Kelandris nor the Kindrasol were to be found anywhere. Zendrak tore through the scarlet beads that divided the tobacco shop from the kitchen. The door leading outside to the store's back alley stood open. Zendrak stepped into the narrow cobblestone byway. He looked in either direction for some sign of the woman in black. The street was empty. Calling Trickster every four-letter name he could think of, Zendrak ran his hand through his dark hair with frustration. Deciding to track Kelandris via the pull of the Kindrasul on his heart, he opened his mind to receive emotional impressions from the black glass beads of Soaringsea. Without warning, Zendrak slammed into a gleeful wall of psychic static. Opening his eyes in surprise, Zendrak muttered, «What?» «First things first, Zen-boy,» said a familiar voice. Zendrak spun around. «Rimble!» Trickster grinned. «In the flesh, so to speak. Meet Old Jamilla.» Zendrak put his hands on his hips, regarding Trickster with grudging admiration. The little Greatkin was no longer four-feet-seven, but a whopping five-feet-three. Dressed in a tattering of rags, Rimble currently appeared as a pied-eyed, toothless old woman. Zendrak smiled sourly. «You've grown.» «That's what happens when I matter to mortals.» Trickster batted her eyes coquettishly. «And believe me, Zen-boy, I matter ooodles to Yafatah.» «Yeah? Well, Kelandris of Suxonli happens to matter ooodles to me, Rimble.» Zendrak crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at his father. «Where is she? Where is Kel?» «Wandering.» «That's not an answer, Rimble.» Trickster shrugged. Then, before Zendrak could open his mouth, Rimble wagged a disapproving finger in Zendrak's face. «And don't even think of asking Phebene for help. I've had about all I can stomach of that lollipop loony. She's a sugar-coated, meddling, tinsel-tot.» Zendrak chuckled derisively. «Poor Rimble. Such a sad story—sharing the stage with Phebene. Perhaps you just can't manage to swallow all that you dish out at the Panthe'kinarok? Of course, we mortals have been gagging on your meddling for centuries—not that you'd care.» Trickster's pied eyes narrowed. «What an ass you are today.» «Like father, like son.» «With one difference, Zen-boy. I don't get duped by Love.» At that moment, several Saambolin students walked past the two Greatkin. One of them laughed merrily, her eyes kind. Grabbing the hand of the boy closest to her, she tweaked his nose saying, «I'm on to you, sweetie. You kick and scream whenever I mention love. But I know better. You've got a yen for tenderness a mile wide. You're a closet romantic, my friend, and I'm just the one to open your door.» Then, glancing in Trickster's direction, the girl added firmly, «So help me, Phebene.» Catching sight of Trickster's scarlet face, Zendrak started laughing. Speaking softly to the Greatkin next to him, Zendrak said, «Point in Tinsel-Tot's favor. She's talking to you, Dad. Direct.» «All lies,» protested Trickster indignantly. Hearing Rimble's comment, the Saambolin girl looked over her shoulder at the old woman clothed in rags. Beaming broadly, she called, «Smile, grandmother. Nothing can stop true love—not even Trickster himself.» «That does it!» retorted Rimble. Without warning, the Greatkin began spitting expertly at the Saambolin students. Wiping Rimble's phlegm off their fine velvets, the students complained fastidiously and walked away. «Just wait until I return to Eranossa, Phebes,» muttered Trickster. Before Zendrak could retort, Rimble materialized a blue robe out of thin air. It was Doogat's size. Rimble handed it to Zendrak. «You better change.» Zendrak shook his head. «Sorry. I'm busy. I've a lunatic to find.» «Like I said, Zen-boy—first things first. You've an overdue appointment with a young Tammirring girl named Yafatah. Come along,» she added, extending her arm to Zendrak. Zendrak refused it, his expression furious. «If you think I'm going to leave Kelandris 'to wander,' you're sadly mistaken, Rimble.» Trickster smiled cooly. «That's why I'm here.» «Why?» «To make sure you attend to first things first.» Chapter Thirty-Three Staying behind at the caravan camp in the Asilliwir Quarter of Speakinghast while her mother went to check on the availability of Doogat, Yafatah walked slowly back to the red and blue wagon belonging to her mother. She carried a heavy pail of water, the warm water sloshing to and fro as she made her way across the heavily populated caravan park. Before she had left for Doogat's, Fasilla had suggested that Yafatah wash some clothes while the noonday sun still shone high overhead. Yafatah was now doing so. Aunt, for her part, had gone to fetch bread and fruit for snacks, leaving Yafatah alone in the safety of the caravan camp. Borrowing a chunk of gray soap from a neighboring campsite of Asilliwir merchants carrying spices and bolts of bright cloth, Yafatah carefully set the pail of water on the back stairs of the red and blue wagon. She went inside to fetch a pile of her dirtiest laundry. As she pulled a wooden trunk from under her cot, Yafatah sighed. She wished her mother would let her go exploring in Speakinghast. They had passed any number of marvelous stalls and shops on their way to the caravan park. It seemed silly to be surrounded by paradise and not be permitted to smell the flowers