is Tammirring's disgrace, You have averted your eyes from Trickster's Face. You are lazy and soft, O village mine, Yet, stand ready to assault The only one soaring at the ancient fire Without the straw wings of holovespa liar!» So said Trickster's defiant daughter. The Hive swarmed, the Hive hissed Against the insolence of Kelandris. The sting of a whip cut open her back As each conscience lashed out With the cruel whine and cruel crack Of Suxonli's village law. Beware you wasp-tongued Daughters! Sick with the toxin of repeated stings, Kelandris wept, searching the night For her green-robed King. He answered by mind, appalled at her pain. Returning through time while the murderous Hive Gave Kelandris the very drug she decried To silence Trickster's truthful daughter. Begging Trickster to allow her to die, Kelandris fell to the ground, barely alive. Now something shimmered in blue and black, Thundering hoofbeats of the Green King come back. He knelt by his mate, he beat away the Hive And protected Trickster's savaged daughter. The Hive pressed forward. Smelling the drug on their breaths, Zendrak spat and cursed the spot. Unafraid of masks and revel, torchlight, He stared into their eyes, And promised the draw of Suxonli would rot For the crime commited against Kelandris tonight, Such was his love for Trickster's only daughter. Touching her battered body with a lover's care the King lifted the Queen to the back of his mare, Riding in silence, they left Tammirring. Now Zendrak crossed the border shift and wilds. Listening to the Queen's frantic whimpering— He realized she would lose their unborn child. Zendrak wept for Trickster's sad daughter. His beloved entered a private world of pain For sixteen years at the Yellow Springs, His love made the dark journey of the insane. Under the watchful eye of a certain Aunt By the water, by the iron medicine water, Zendrak left Trickster's mad daughter. The journey was long, and longer still, Healed of body but not of heart, Crazy Kel refused the daylight of sunlit climes, Preferring the dark gray of her shadow rhymes Instead of her Green King's summer thaw: Such was the despair of Trickster's wounded daughter. There would be no renewal for any draw, No common ground of change, No life-giving fertility From the woman in mourning black; Such was the supposed sterility Of Trickster's akindo daughter. Like father, like daughter, She's contrary but not always wise, And she'll continue to masterfully block The schemes of the one with pied eyes. Unless Rimble turns her heart—there'll be no dance Of remembrance by Trickster's ice-queen daughter. Meanwhile, the Green King waits for the new bloom, Meanwhile, the Green King warms the winter soul Of Trickster's frozen ground Like patient time knowing spring will come again, Zendrak collects a new circle of more seasoned kin For Trickster's winterbloom daughter. Staring very hard at the mesmerized faces of both Rowenaster and Tree, Kelandris broke off suddenly. Then she whispered, «And you shall be outcast one and all if you heed the heresy of Trickster's wild call.» Eyes locked between the three in silent, astounded recognition of their naturally occurring deviant nature. Kelandris swallowed hard, covering her mouth with a bewildered hand. Then, shaking her head violently, Kelandris muttered sharp cries of denial. Before Rowenaster or Tree could say anything, the woman in black climbed out from under the obsidian legs of the Mythrrim statue and fled down the path that had brought her into the Great Maze of Speakinghast. Torri broke the stunned silence. «Hey, professor—that was a good one! You really had me going there for a while. I mean, on our way in here I was thinking maybe you'd gone stark raving or something.» She and the rest of Rowen's class grinned with renewed appreciation for the professor's off-beat teaching methods. «And all the time, you had this wild actress waiting to speak poetry to us—Mythrrim style. Hey, and now I see why Widdero had to go. He was going to spoil everything, wasn't he? I mean, what if we'd decided to leave in a huff or something? That ball of yarn—well, we could've found our way out with that.» Torri beamed at Rowen. «Pretty amazing piece of street theater, professor. Wait till I tell Widdero how he nearly messed everything up. He'll stop being sore right then and there. He'll be amazed—and sorry he missed the fun. Wow, professor,» she added breathlessly. «You're brilliant.» Rowenaster blinked, then, realizing that Torri was expecting him to answer her, he smiled woodenly. Feeling suspended between some ancient place and the present, Rowen muttered, «Thank you.» Chapter Thirty-Five Neither Tree nor Rowenaster spoke much on their way out of the spiral labyrinth. Excusing himself from the professor's company, Tree headed for the comforting walls of the Kaleidicopia. He arrived in time to see Janusin open the door to Doogat, Trickster disguised as Old Jamilla, and a young Tammirring girl. Tree stopped where he was, wondering if Doogat would talk to him about the woman in black who had spoken poetry in the maze. Tree licked his lips, desperately wanting some answers. He felt light-headed and very nervous about something. He knew the woman in black was responsible for some of it, but he didn't understand why or how. He ran his fingers through his frosted Jinnjirri hair, his hand shaking. Tree decided to enter the 'K'. Seeing the color of Tree's hair, Doogat walked toward Tree, his expression thoughtful. When he reached the Jinnjirri, he said, «What happened to you?» Tree shrugged. «That woman—the one at your place this morning?» Doogat stiffened. «Yes?» he asked intently. «Well, she's—she's very strange, isn't she?» Doogat pursed his lips. «Where did you see her?» «In the Great Maze. Rowen took his class in there. Field trip.» Tree cleared his throat uncomfortably. «That woman was in there. Under the Mythrrim statue. She—she started talking. Uh—speaking. Kind of formal like. In verse.» Tree shook his head, tears coming to his eyes without warning. He fought for emotional control. «She told such a sad story. I can't get it out of my mind. Doogat—I'm—so scared. I don't know what's going on,» he whispered, his voice catching. «Please—I want it to stop.» Doogat grunted, gratified to learn that Kelandris had spoken as a Mythrrim. It meant his operation of psychic release on her had been successful. Turning his attention back to the trembling Jinnjirri before him, he said, «Where is the woman in black now?» Tree shrugged. «She stared very hard at Rowen and me at the end of it all. I guess she didn't like what she saw because she started cursing Greatkin Rimble and this fellow in the poem. Zen—something.» Doogat winced. «Go on,» he said unhappily. Tree nodded. «Then she ran away. And this stupid Saambolin girl started jabbering at Rowen. Something about him being a brilliant teacher. It was real hard to even understand what the girl was saying. I felt like I was two people at once—a student on a field trip and someone I didn't know. I knew things, Doogat. Weird things.» «And you felt older than your years?» asked Doogat calmly. Tree started sobbing in earnest now. He nodded his head several times, unable to speak. Doogat regarded him with compassion and pulled the twenty-one-year-old to his chest. He held him close while Tree bawled. Hearing the sound of Tree's crying, Janusin poked his head out of the kitchen. Seeing the terrified frost of Tree's hair, the sculptor walked toward Doogat hastily. When he reached the two men, Janusin said, «Sweet Presence, Tree—what happened!» Doogat handed Tree a green handkerchief from inside his pocket. Frowning at the telltale color, he handed it to Tree and wondered if Trickster had planted a green handkerchief in his change of clothes for a reason. On the other hand, he thought, Tree's favorite color was green. Perhaps «Old Jamilla» had known Tree would show up at the house—with the information he needed about Kel's well-being. Rimble-Rimble. «Tree's all right,» said Doogat quietly to Janusin. «Or he will be in a bit. Nothing that a cup of Barlimo's black brew won't fix,» he added. «Shall we?» Doogat asked, pointing Tree toward the Kaleidicopia's swinging kitchen door. «Good idea,» said Tree when he'd caught his breath. Tree's calm was short-lived, however. While Janusin poured steaming cups of Barlimo's favorite dark tea, Doogat made introductions. Hearing the name «Yafatah of Suxonli,» Tree shrieked. His hair lost all pretense of balance, pale green shifting to stark white. Janusin stared at Tree, toothless Old Jamilla, and Doogat. «An explanation would be nice,» said the sculptor to the Mayanabi Master, his expression bewildered. «I'll say,» said Tree warmly. «A nice, cozy explana—» Old Jamilla smiled at this point. Tousling Tree's hair, she interrupted gleefully, saying, «Too many explanations make you stiff, boyo—like wood.» Tree jerked his head away from Trickster, his eyes angry. Doogat gave Trickster a look of disapproval—which Trickster ignored—and answered Janusin by saying, «Seems Tree and Rowen spent part of the day with someone else from Suxonli. Kelandris. The same woman who knifed Po.» Old Jamilla inclined her head, her expression sly. Doogat watched to see what Trickster was going to do. When the old crone continued to drink her tea complacently, Doogat wondered if maybe he had misread the look on Trickster's face. Perhaps Trickster wasn't always up to something. Janusin put his hands on his hips. «Seems everybody in this house has met up with this woman in black—except me! Even Mab's aware of her. Did I miss something?» «I haven't met her,» retorted Timmer from the floor of the commons room. The Dunnsung was busy transposing music on a sheet of brilliant white paper. Humming a few bars to herself and making inky notes with a feather pen, she yelled, «Maybe this Tammirring Terror is Po's soulmate in disguise. Knifing Po was just her way of getting close. Tammi fashion.» Yafatah, who had been listening in silence until now, left the group and walked into Timmer's view. «She do be no terror,» said the girl. «She do be a very sad lady. And I'll thank you not to slur me draw,» added Yafatah indignantly. «Excuse me,» replied Timmer in her haughtiest voice. «And just who are you, anyway?» «Me name be Yafatah. Master Doogat says I will be living here—with me ma, of course.» «Live here!» said Timmer, spoiling the notation she was making. Swearing first at her own clumsiness and then at Doogat's meddling, Timmer got to her feet. She brandished her feather pen like a sword and stormed into the kitchen. «I demand a house meeting. Everyone's here except Rowen, and Barlimo. That's a quorum. And you,» she said pointing the wet pen at Doogat, «will be first on my shit-list!» «I beg your pardon?» said Doogat cooly. Timmer advanced on the Mayanabi Master, her eyes blazing. «You don't live in this house, Doogat—we do! You're Po's teacher, and that's as far as your influence goes here at the 'K.' We accept new members by vote—our vote—and nobody's voted on this little Tammi brat! Or her mother! Do I make myself clear?» «Perfectly,» said Doogat. Trickster started laughing. His mouth was toothless, his guffaws loud, and his pied-eyes wild. Everything about Trickster was an exaggeration, even his humor. Doogat took a deep breath. «Perhaps this would be a good time to tell them, Jammy,» he said to the amused Greatkin. «Tell us what?» asked Po, entering the kitchen. He had been listening to Timmer's tirade from inside his first floor bedroom. He thought Timmer had done an admirable job of taking Doogat down. Smiling, the little Asilliwir took a seat at the kitchen table. Yafatah, who had returned to the kitchen, was standing behind Po's chair. She sniffed the air uncomfortably. «Doon't you bathe?» she asked. Po shrugged. «I'm Asilliwir. We're used to going for long periods of unwash. Caravan life,» he added grandly, expecting Yafatah to know nothing about any of it. Yafatah snorted. «I be kin to Clan Abbiri. We do be one of the oldest caravans in all Asilliwir. And we wash!» Po's face turned as scarlet as his dirty tunic. All of Po's housemates burst out laughing. Timmer regarded Yafatah with grudging interest. «Well, maybe I was too hasty,» she admitted. Then the Dunnsung added, «But can she pay her rent, Doogat?» The Mayanabi took a deep breath. «It doesn't matter if she can or not, Timmer—» «It certainly does,» retorted Janusin. Doogat regarded the sculptor kindly. «No, it doesn't.» Doogat waited to see if anyone else wished to contradict him. Everyone remained silent. Everyone except Old Jamilla. Picking up one of the invitations to the Kaleidicopia's Trickster's Hallows that lay in a neat stack in the center of the kitchen table, Trickster began humming an odd little tune. It got on the nerves of everyone present with the single exception of Yafatah. Janusin grabbed the invitation out of Trickster's gnarled hand, slapping the beautifully calligraphied paper back on top of the pile. Trickster immediately reached for it again. Janusin moved the pile. «Stop snooping,» said the sculptor with irritation. Trickster beamed at him. «It's my nature.» «Well—curb it, will you?» snapped Janusin. The invitations were his contribution to the Hallows. They had been expensive, and he didn't want unnecessary fingerprints all over them. The sculptor crossed his powerful arms over his chest, glaring at the short little crone. Doogat cleared his throat loudly. «Mind if I steal back center stage?» he asked Trickster. «I mean, I was saying something of importance here.» Trickster batted her eyes at Doogat. «Do continue.» Doogat gave Trickster a weary look and turned to Timmer. «Yafatah doesn't need to pay rent. She and her mother will be here as my guests.» Timmer wagged a finger at Doogat. «You can't have guests, Doogat. Only house members can have guests. You act like you own the 'K'!» she added with disgust. «I do.» There was a stunned silence. At that moment Barlimo walked into the kitchen, a bag of groceries in her arms. Heads turned immediately to Barlimo. Everyone present begged her to refute Doogat's statement. The Jinnjirri shrugged. «Sorry, loves. It's true. The Kaleidicopia belongs to Doogat. I'm simply the architect.» Chuckling at their disappointed faces, Barlimo added, «Oh, come on, my friends. Did you really think I ran this place out of my own pocket? The Kaleidicopia takes up half a city block—in the nicest section of the Jinnjirri Quarter. Even an architect's salary needs supplementing under conditions like these. And Doogat's been that supplement. So before any of you go pulling any more long faces, those of you behind in rent can thank him for his charity of heart.» Nobody said anything. «Such a well mannered lot,» remarked Old Jamilla drily. «Yeah,» said Doogat. «They remind me of you.» Old Jamilla made a rude sound with her lips and stared distantly out of the kitchen window. Then she said, «Rowen's on his way back.» «I don't see anything,» said Barlimo, craning her neck to put herself in Old Jamilla's line of vision. «Perhaps I was mistaken,» said Trickster, turning to look at the closed kitchen door. «Everyone here is so uncommonly contrary, it's difficult to tell you apart.» Now Mab walked slowly into the kitchen. Her slippered feet made no noise on the tile floor. She was wearing a pink bathrobe and looked sleepy. Tree regarded her worriedly. Mab smiled and patted his hand. «I'm much better than I was,» she whispered. «Started feeling more myself about two hours ago. Around noon.» Tree frowned, a strange thought popping into his mind. Noon was just about the time that Rowen's class had entered the labyrinth of the Great Maze. Well, that was ridiculous—connecting the two events. The front door of the house opened and slammed shut. As predicted, the professor had returned home. Seeing strange capes hanging on the pegs in the hallway, Rowen headed for the kitchen, his expression dour. He was more than a little relieved to see Doogat. «I have to talk to you,» said Rowen in a low voice that only Doogat could hear. «I witnessed something very strange this afternoon.» «After dinner, Rowen,» said Doogat. «I think this is a house meeting.» Rowenaster scanned all the faces. «So it is,» he said grumpily. «I should've known I'd get no peace of mind here. And all I've been thinking about for the past hour is a hot tub for these poor bones.» He sighed mournfully. Timmer rolled her eyes. «He's trying to get out of the house meeting.» «Please?» asked Rowen, pouring on his old-man waifish charm. «Take a vote,» announced Timmer. Then, turning to Doogat, she added nastily, «Or don't we get to vote anymore, Master Doogat?» Doogat shrugged. «Go ahead and vote