“What in good candor is that obscene thing?” Quicksilver stared at the roadblock ahead of them.
The women drew up their horses side by side, staring at a vast pulsating white mound that filled the whole lane.
“It would seem to be a mass of witch-moss,” Cordelia said, “but what immense creature was it?”
“And who made it disintegrate into a mound of jelly?” Allouette asked.
There was no answer to either question, of course. The three women fought to hold their horses still—all three mounts were trying to shy away from the pulsating thing—and stared at the obstruction while they tried to work out what could have happened there.
“Dare we go closer?” Cordelia wondered.
“I fail to see any reason why we should not,” Quicksilver returned. “If it is unformed, after all, it has no claws or teeth with which to do us harm.” She touched her horse’s flanks with her heels—but the mare dug in her hooves obstinately. Quicksilver frowned at her. “Nay, sweet horse! Go ahead!”
“Wait.” Allouette raised a hand to touch her elbow.
Quicksilver whirled, a hot denunciation on her tongue, but Allouette was pointing ahead. “Another will test it for us.”
Quicksilver turned back in time to see a squirrel dash across the road two feet in front of the mound.
CHAPTER 9
Quicker than the eye could see, a pseudopod shot out of the great jelly to swat the squirrel. There was one shocked squeal; then the little creature was completely enveloped in white protoplasm. The pseudopod drew back into the mound with a horrid sucking smack.
Allouette shuddered. “It is a Boneless!”
“It is quite clearly boneless.” Quicksilver frowned. “What of it?”
“Nay, a Boneless!” Cordelia repeated. “ ’Tis the name of the creature, not merely its state.”
Quicksilver gazed at the mound through slitted eyes. “What is its nature?”
“Ravenous,” Cordelia told her. “It will absorb anything living that comes near it, plant, animal, or human!”
“Then let us give it a wide berth.” Quicksilver turned her horse, then hesitated. “But it will not stay where it is, will it?”
“Nay,” Allouette confirmed. “We, at least, know what it is—but what will happen if a child comes upon it?”
Cordelia thought of the squirrel and shivered. “Dare we even let it stay upon this road?”
Allouette’s eyes widened. “Look behind it!”
Looking, Cordelia and Quicksilver saw a trail shining for ten feet before it began to grow patchy with evaporation, then gradually ceased.
“It comes toward us,” Quicksilver said with disgust.
“Slowly,” Allouette qualified. “Nonetheless, it moves.”
“We cannot have such a thing skating about the countryside,” Cordelia said with decision, then glared at the Boneless. It began to quiver, then spread out at the bottom, wider and wider as it sank into a puddle that spilled over the sides of the road into the grass.
“Well done,” Quicksilver said.
“But not enough,” Allouette amended. “Might it not pull itself back together?”
“Not if we divide it and give it other forms,” Cordelia answered. “Will you join in the game?”
Allouette smiled. “Gladly.”
Pieces began to break off the grayish-white puddle, pull themselves into balls, and go rolling off toward the roots of the roadside trees. There they stretched out thin, widened here and there, took on colors—and violets peeped over barky ridges, daffodils nodded in the shade, tulips opened their cups, roses bloomed, and more exotic flowers than had any business growing among oak and ash trees splashed garish color through the wood.
Quicksilver forced herself to nonchalance while she watched, though the prickling of dread spread up her backbone and across her neck and shoulders. She was a country girl who had been raised with the superstitions of her time and people, and living in constant contact with espers hadn’t really changed that. Her mind knew that there was really nothing supernatural here, that these were only the tricks people with strong and rare talents could play—but her stomach knew nothing of the sort, and was trying to climb up into her gorge. She tried to shake off the feeling, telling herself that these “witches” were only young women like herself—very much indeed, if Geoffrey was right about her having a touch of the gift of mind-reading herself—but her apprehensions refused to be banished. Soon the huge pancake had completely disappeared, the woodlot was ablaze with color and fragrant with perfume, and Cordelia nodded with satisfaction. “Well done.”
“But too easily.” Allouette frowned. “Why did not the fellow who crafted this Boneless resist our fragmenting of it?”
“Most likely he fled in fear of it,” Quicksilver said. “After all, he did not know he had made it.”
“There is truth in that,” Cordelia told Allouette, “and it was very crudely fashioned, after all.”
“Perhaps.” Allouette scowled at the place the monstrosity had been, then gave herself a shake. “No, I am seeing enemies where there are none! Most likely I shall soon see specters in the shadows at noontime!”
Cordelia and Quicksilver exchanged a doubt-filled glance. Then the warrior turned back to the former assassin. “What do you suspect?”
“It is a foolish notion, I am sure,” Allouette protested, “only an old habit of seeing enemies behind every bush, so that I should not be surprised if one of them were real.”
“That can spoil your day, when there really are no enemies near,” Cordelia admitted.
“But foes who really are there can spoil your day far worse!” Quicksilver said. “Indulge us, lady—share your fantasies. What manner of antagonist do you suspect?”
Allouette shrugged. “It only seems remarkable that we should come upon one after another of otherworldly creatures who are rare indeed, by all accounts.”
“There is truth in that,” Cordelia admitted.
“It may still be an accident,” Quicksilver said, “but it would behoove us to assume it is not. How do you think these monsters came to be, damsel?”
“It would almost seem as though someone rides ahead of us crafting monsters,” Allouette said hesitantly.
“There is some sense in that,” Cordelia said, frowning, “but if such a one does ride before us, why did he let us dismantle the Boneless so easily?”
“To lull our suspicions, of course,” Quicksilver snapped.
Allouette shook her head. “My apprehension smacks of sickness. To suspect malice where there is none is to destroy all pleasure in life. This was a foolish notion. I should not have troubled you with it.”
“It will do us no harm to bear the possibility in mind,” Cordelia protested.
“And might do us great harm to ignore it, then discover it is true,” Quicksilver said darkly. “Do not lose that habit of devious thought, Allouette—it may be the saving of us yet.”
Allouette blinked, as surprised and pleased to hear Quicksilver call her by name, as she was affronted to be reminded that the warrior was still very much aware of Allouette’s treacherous past. “I must keep the impulse under control, for it can destroy happiness to ever be suspecting enemies where there are none. Nonetheless, there is one other thing that does worry me . . .”
“Finish the thought!” Quicksilver demanded. “What else can you guess as to the cause of so many monsters in so short a space?”
Allouette sighed and asked, “Is it riding before or after our men?”
“Would it were so simple as an enemy riding ahead of us crafting monsters to waylay us!” Alain said with a sardonic smile. “Surely, though, you would read his thoughts if he were there.”