landris had considered carefully whether or not to dress in the traditional yellow and black of her Suxonli heritage, but when Zendrak had pointed out that such costuming would be amply represented by her brother Yonneth, Kelandris had decided to abandon the wasp-queen motif in favor of Trickster's Blood Day scarlet. As soon as she had made the decision, her bloodcycle had started. This had startled Kelandris—the cycle was one week early—but Zendrak had assured her that she could not turn without it. They had not made love. Her he was fully operant, said Zendrak—and had been so for the past sixteen years. She did not need to make love to trigger it this time. Perhaps later, he had added with a smile… The red and green robes of Kelandris and Zendrak shone with the simple elegance of silk. They looked like a queen and king. Heads turned to watch them pass. Kelandris held her head high, but Zendrak could see the tremble of her lip. Kelandris glanced nervously at him. She could sense Yonneth's presence in the crowd. «He's here,» she whispered. «Yonn's here.» Zendrak shook his head. «He calls himself Cobeth now, Kel. He's not the boy you grew up with. He's not your beloved brother turned renegade. He's lost what heart he had. Don't be deceived by your good memories of him. He may one day become a better person, but you don't count on it tonight.» Kelandris laughed harshly. «Doubtful with a name like Cobeth.» She paused. «I can't believe he picked that old name. That's the one I gave him once when he was being a stinker. It's a Tammi word—means cold breath. That's what we call a fire flue that's been left open when there's no fire burning. It's kind of a back door for winter—sneaks in the house and sucks up all the warmth.» Kelandris stopped speaking; she had just caught sight of Cobeth. Kel's throat went dry. Kel knew only one thing; she didn't want to be anywhere near Cobeth. Kel swallowed, her hands breaking out in sweat. She stopped walking. «I can't,» she said to Zendrak in an agonized voice. «I can't do this. I should never have come. It'll happen all over again. Something will go wrong. It has to—it's Rimble's night. They'll beat me—» Kelandris backed up, her face pale and her green eyes stark with fear. She whirled away from Zendrak and ran for the door. Zendrak caught up with her immediately. Grabbing her arm firmly, he demanded, «What're you doing, Kelandris?» «Leaving,» she snapped. «This whole business about turning is stupid. It's a dead ritual. I've already turned once, I don't need to do it again. Suxonli refused me. Let it stay that way,» she cried, tears of terror springing to her beautiful eyes. «Then you condemn the whole world to spiritual decay!» «You exaggerate,» she replied, her eyes becoming glassy with fear. «You do. I'm just a simple village girl from southern Tammirring. What I do has no bearing on the world at large. It affects no one but myself—» Zendrak slapped her; he slapped her awake. «How dare you!» Kel screamed at him. «After all I've been through—» Zendrak slammed her up against the wall. «Now you listen to me, Kel. There's no time to treat you gently. Hear this clearly: if you don't turn tonight, you will be crazy again—» «No, I won't!» «You will! And so will the rest of the world. How dare you even contemplate wishing such a fate on all the people in this room—myself included.» His eyes bored into hers, full of desperation. «Have you no tenderness for me at least?» Kelandris started to renounce her love for him, but before she could get the words out, Zendrak shook her. «Don't make yourself into a liar,» he hissed. Then, without warning, he kissed Kel deeply. Mythrrim passion ignited between them instantly. Kelandris started to sob as she recalled what it had been like to kiss Zendrak. The man in green held her close, whispering loving things in her ear. «Hold me,» said Kel hoarsely. «Just hold me.» «I will, Kel. And for many years to come—if you'll just give those years to us tonight.» He stroked her blue-black hair. «Don't deny the world our love. Don't let Suxonli rob the world of the fertility of two Greatkin. Give up your resentment and turn. Turn for Trickster, Kel. Turn yet again.» Kelandris hid her face in Zendrak's shoulder, her breathing ragged. Zendrak could feel her tremble. Kel choked back her sobs, her eyes shut tightly. Finally, she raised her head. She met Zendrak's inquiring glance, her emotions unreadable. Then Kelandris gave Zendrak the one thing he had despaired of receiving from her again—a tentative smile. Forcing herself to be brave, Kel walked shakenly to the center of the room. Seeing Cobeth stiffen as he recognized her, Kel fought back the horror of Suxonli. Taking a deep breath, Kelandris crossed her arms over her chest, palms flat against her red robe. Ignoring Cobeth completely, Kelandris bowed in Zendrak's direction. Holding her head slightly to the side, she shut her eyes. She appeared to be listening to the strains of a faraway music. She hummed a single note, planting her left foot firmly on the floor as she prepared to make her turn. The note sang from her lips cleanly and purely. Timmer, who happened to be standing nearby, handed her lotari to a member of her quintet. Instructing the fellow to make a D-major chord from Kel's one note, Timmer added a vocal harmony of her own. Startled by the unexpected sound of the lotari's drone, Kel's eyes met Timmer's curious, smiling face. In that moment, Kelandris realized that there was another family for her—apparently right here in this house. She smiled hesitantly at the blonde Dunnsung musician. Timmer winked at Kel and continued improvising off of Kel's single note. Zendrak walked slowly toward the two women. As he did so, Po cut across his path. Zendrak stared at Po's white silks in surprise, his dark eyes delighted. Po, who had never had any dealings with Zendrak, ignored the man in green. Po smiled at Kelandris—instead of running as he had predicted he would do if he ever met a Greatkin face-to-face. Po added another harmony to Kel's continuous note. One by one, the rest of Rimble's Nine drew toward Trickster's daughter. Kel watched them approach. Barlimo stopped in mid-sentence with an architect and made her way hurriedly in Kel's direction. Mab followed the Jinnjirri shyly, her step light with the pleasure of joining Kel. Tree clamored down the second floor staircase, pursued by the nipping brindle bitch. Seeing the tiny group dressed in solid colors slowly positioning themselves around the woman in scarlet, Tree cried, «Wait for me!» Janusin, who was outside standing in front of the statue of Greatkin Rimble, wiped away his sorrow over Cobeth with a lavender handkerchief. Stuffing it in his pocket, Janusin answered Kel's summons. As he walked through the kitchen, he was met by Rowenaster. Neither man said anything. Rowen put his silver bifocals in his pocket and followed Janusin into the commons room. Each contrary took his or her place in a circle around Trickster's daughter. It was a rainbow of color. The man in green was the last to join the group. As Zendrak approached Kelandris, Yafatah broke free of her mother's strong grip on her arm. Fasilla had been in the process of leading Yafatah out of the Kaleidicopia. Aunt's interference in her attempt to kill Cobeth had infuriated Fasilla. She had decided to return to Asilliwir. Tonight. As Yafatah wrenched free of Fasilla, the young girl gave a cry of recognition to Kelandris and Zendrak. The young girl tore after the man in green. Fasilla started after her daughter, her expression horrified. Before she could grab Yafatah, however, Aunt intercepted Fasilla, saying, «Let her go, Fas! Let her go to them!» «I be her mother!» cried Fasilla. «And she'll do as I say!» Apparently Yafatah overhead this remark, for she turned in her flight toward the Nine and walked back toward her mother. Yafatah and Fasilla faced each other in silence. Then Yafatah said slowly and clearly, «You do be me ma—this be true. But Kelandris of Suxonli do be mother to us all. And I must go to her now.» «You'll do no such thing! Ya! Ya, come back here!» But the young girl would not heed her mother. Running lightly through the crowd now, Yafatah arrived in time to see Kelandris begin her turn. Yafatah slowed, her attention fixed on the tall woman wearing scarlet silk. Keeping her head slightly tilted, Kelandris began to turn in a smooth counter-clockwise direction. Her left foot remained firmly on the floor as her right moved around it. Like the Winterbloom for which Kelandris was named, Kel unfolded her arms like the petals of a flower reaching for the warmth of the sun. Kel's left hand pointed to the ground. Kel raised her right, palm upward toward the ceiling. Kel's black hair swung out behind her as her face suffused with an inner incandescence. Her gaze was distant, her green eyes focused on a radiance only she could see. Kel's mouth opened slightly, a slow, full smile spreading across her lips. Sparks of an electrical blue-black charge crackled around her body in an eerie nimbus of the Fertile Dark. And still Kelandris turned. Her scarlet robe became a blur of effortless motion. Now the power of Kel's sixteen-year dormant he rose through her body in a double helix of spirals. She gasped with pleasure. As she did so, the rest of Rimble's Nine began to turn likewise. Their synchronous movement steadied the pulse of the Greatkin electrical current coursing through Kel's bones and cells. On the far side of the room, Cobeth screamed, «No!» He ran toward Kelandris, determined to break through the group of eight surrounding his sister. Kel should not be turning, he should! He must break her concentration! He must stop this desecration! She was akindo! She was cursed! What would Trickster say? What would— Something grabbed Cobeth by the scruff of the neck. Cobeth struggled to free himself. He whirled around, swinging at whatever held him. Cobeth missed and fell forward. A tall man dressed in black and yellow rags crouched over Cobeth and whispered in his ear: «You believes in me, Coby-boy—so you makes me large. And for such a good show of faith, we've got something special in mind for you, eh?» Cobeth turned his head and found himself staring into the pied eyes of Trickster. Cobeth began to laugh wildly. «Something for me?» cried Cobeth gleefully, visions of personal power making him giddy. «Finally, something for me?» «Something for you,» repeated Trickster coldly. Then, without warning, Greatkin Rimble plunged his left thumbnail into the soft flesh of Cobeth's forehead. Like a wasp's stinger, two lancets shot out filling the wound with poison. Cobeth screamed in silence, his face contorted in agony. Trickster withdrew the thumbnail, whispering, «Now we'll see how you like your journey to Neath.» Cobeth buried his face in his arms, his body hunched in a fetal position on the floor. Rhu came running over to him. She shooed a brindle dog away from Cobeth's torso. Cobeth was unable to speak to her, his brain on fire. Rhu peered into his dilated pupils. It looked to her like Cobeth was having an unexpectedly bad reaction to the holovespa in the punch. She called for healers. Several came over. Their diagnosis confirmed her own; Cobeth had overdosed. He was having a toxic response. Antidotes were tried, but nothing worked. With each passing moment, Cobeth sank deeper and deeper into an emotional miasma with no bottom. All of this occurred while Rimble's Nine turned contrarywise. In the center of the room, Kelandris increased her spin once more. She spread her arms, lifting them like wings. Softly she whispered, «So turn the inside inside-out and be sanely mad with me. Master Trickster's turnabout, and come to my ecstasy!» As Kelandris finished speaking, power exploded among the Nine and was grounded into the draw of Saambolin through the capacity of Trickster's daughter for change. The charge rippled outward. The guests of Rimble reacted according to their capacity for change. If they were rigid and afraid, they wept. If they welcomed change, they responded with smiles and joy. Overwhelmed, Cobeth entered a catatonic state of mind. Several healers took him away. Now Kelandris lowered her hands. She folded them once more against her chest, the movement simple and clean. Then Kelandris came to a standstill. The other eight did likewise, and the turn was complete. Yafatah walked slowly toward Kelandris, tears streaming from her eyes. Now the young girl ran headlong into Kel's waiting arms. She clung to the tall woman, her face suffused with a radiant peace. The future of the world was assured now. The Wild Kelandris had bloomed. Kelandris kissed Yafatah's forehead. As she did so, Kel's eyes met Zendrak's briefly. Zendrak nodded. Then the two Greatkin shared a secret smile. The Panthe'kinarok Epilogue The Greatkin finished the third course of their potluck feast with general merriment and banter. Phebene wiped her lips daintily with the corner of her napkin and belched. Jinndaven looked at her in surprise. Catching his expression, Phebene pointed at the little Greatkin who sat between them, saying, «It's his influence.» Jinndaven grunted. «Can't say that it's very flattering, Phebes.» Trickster, who was getting tired of being talked about as though he were not there, started swearing. «My influence, she says! What about what she did to my plans!» Phebene picked her teeth with the prong of her fork. «You haven't a corner on improvements, you know. Love has every bit as much a right to change people as you do, Rimble.» Jinndaven watched Phebene's table manners deteriorate with dismay. «For Presence sake, sister dear—try to be a little more civilized.» «I beg your pardon?» asked the Greatkin of Civilization. «Did you say something to me, Jinn?» The Greatkin of Imagination shook his head. «Nope. Just complaining about Rimble's bad influence on Phebene. I think we should reconsider the seating arrangements.» «I agree!» replied Rimble hotly. «You've meddled enough, Phebes. Meddled and muddled. Zendrak's losing his edge! He doesn't mind me when he should. And Kelandris—she's gone all sweetness and light. It's disgusting!» Phebene blew her nose into her sleeve. Referring to Rimble, she said, «Don't pay any attention to his bitching. Jinn. He loves it. Don't you?» she asked, kissing Rimble on the top of his head. Rimble sank into his chair, putting his napkin over his head like an old woman wearing a newspaper hat. «Love better not be catching.» Jinndaven started laughing. «I think it would be an improoovement if it was, Rimble. You'd be ever so much more manageable.» «Never!» snorted Trickster under his napkin. «Just think of it, Phebes,» continued the Greatkin of Imagination, «Trickster in love—» «Sick, sick, sick,» muttered the pied-eyed little Greatkin. «Say, Rimble,» yelled the Greatkin of Humor at the far side of the round table. Her name was Nessi'gobahn. She wore bells in her hair and had an infectious laugh. «Is it my imagination, or have you grown some?» Jinndaven investigated. «If it's your imagination, then it's mine, too,» he called back. «Rimble's at least a foot taller than when we sat down at the table.» «What do you think it means?» asked Phebene. The Greatkin of Civilization smiled at them all, her eyes twinkling. «It means, my dears, that Rimble is starting to matter again.»