“They cannot,” the old man said firmly, “but if you feel you must enter, bear Cold Iron with you.”
“I always do,” Geoffrey said automatically, “or at least steel.” He touched his sword hilt.
The old man glanced at it and nodded with approval even as he took a few steps backward. “Steel is Cold Iron made more pure and alloyed with the core of life. Bear it well and wisely—and be glad to come away alive; take no booty with you.”
“Booty?” Geoffrey frowned. “I despise soldiers who loot. What manner of booty mean you?”
“Living booty,” the old man said, backing farther away. “Enemies.”
“What enemies?” Alain demanded, pressing forward.
But the old man’s form fluxed and flowed again; the horses reared, and all three men had all they could do to keep them from bolting. When they settled, the companions turned to look at the old man but saw only the small, shaggy pony festooned with seaweed, galloping away from them.
“I do not blame the horses,” Alain said in a shaky voice. “A sight like that makes me wish to bolt, too.”
The women elected to ride at night, though their eyelids were leaden and their shoulders drooped with weariness.
“Why do I feel so urgent a need to press onward?” Cordelia wondered aloud.
“Oh, I did not mean to let my anxiety leak out to disturb you!” Allouette said in chagrin.
Quicksilver managed an ironic smile. “Why do you think yourself so important as to be the psi who sets these feelings going, lass? Might not Cordelia be the source?”
“Or even yourself,” Cordelia reminded.
Quicksilver shook her head with certainty. “I am nowhere nearly so powerful an esper as either of you, and certainly not so skilled. My strengths lie in other areas.”
“If it is not us, then someone ahead is sorely troubled,” Allouette said, frowning.
“That,” Cordelia allowed, “or perhaps someone is intending a deed that makes all of us apprehensive.” She turned to Quicksilver. “Do not deny that you feel it, too.”
“Oh, I do indeed feel it,” the warrior said, “a sense of impending doom. I am strong enough for that, after all—but not to send out such emotion.”
The breeze shifted toward them, and the three women stiffened as they heard a faint and distant sound of chanting blown toward them.
“What in Heaven’s name is that?” Cordelia gasped.
“If it is in any name, it is not of Heaven,” Allouette said grimly. “Come, ladies! Ride more quickly!”
Adrenaline shoved weariness aside as the three women cantered down the moonlit road. The trees loomed to either hand, dark and threatening masses, deepening their sense of danger even as the emotion behind the chanting became stronger. It was savage, hungry, brimming with anticipation of some fell deed, and the three companions had to force themselves, and their horses, to keep riding toward it.
They burst out of the woods into the edge of a little valley, a hollow in the rolling land before them—and at the bottom of that hollow burned a fire with something turning on a spit over the flames. Dozens of men and women cavorted around it, chanting in a language the women had never heard—and in their center, around the fire, lay the charred bodies of a score of cats.
“It is the Taghairm!” Allouette gasped. “It is the ceremony for summoning a demon!”
CHAPTER 14
Face thunderous, Quicksilver rode down into the hollow. Cordelia stared in dismay, then rode after her, crying, “No, lady! Do not interrupt until we know their purpose!”
“I shall find it out,” Quicksilver called back, and leaned down to seize the shoulder of a woman who sat at the edge of the crowd, watching. She spun the woman around, demanding, “Speak, wretch! What do your people seek here?”
The woman looked up at her with glazed, excited eyes, a few flecks of foam on her lips. Slowly she focused on the warrior’s face but didn’t seem surprised to see her; she was beyond shock or delight, well on her way to mob mania. “We honor the monsters who have haunted our dreams,” she told them. “If we offer them food and drink by our fire, surely they will favor us and spare us in the conquest they have told us they will visit upon all the land.”
“Offer hospitality?” Quicksilver cried. “Cat’s paw! Cat’s paws and dupes, all your people! The ogres and horrors will come in when you ask them, aye—but they will not leave when you bid them, and at their pleasure they shall wreak havoc among you!”
“Nay!” The woman’s eyes cleared a bit as fear rose. “Surely they will spare those who appease them!”
“Spare you? Fool!” Quicksilver took her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “The only favor they will show is to conquer you first—conquer, aye, and likely enslave, torture, or devour you!”
“Surely not,” the woman pleaded, tears in her eyes. “Surely they will be kind to their friends!”
“We cannot be friends to them, only victims!” Quicksilver spun toward her companions. “Quickly! We must stop this obscene ceremony!”
“Indeed we must.” Allouette spurred her horse and rode down toward the bonfire while Quicksilver was still remounting. Cordelia rode after her and Quicksilver brought up the rear, mouthing imprecations.
A cat yowled with fear and pain as two men held up the spit to which it was tied; another man lifted a bloody knife over it. Allouette swerved her horse and the mare’s shoulder slammed into the men, sending them sprawling. The cat yowled as it fell, but Quicksilver swerved, leaning down from her saddle to slice through the rope that held it bound. The cat ran for safety, a ginger blur in the firelight.
“Villain!” one of the cat holders cried, struggling to his feet. “You have ruined it all!”
“Nay, she has not!” The knife holder sat up, pointing across the fire. “See! She was too late! Big Ears has come!”
Above the fire, smoke was gathering into a ghostly form—a giant cat with huge tufted ears, each as high and wide as the creature’s head. Lying Sphinx-like in midair with its tail waving, it seemed as tall as a woman’s shoulder. Its purr was a rasp, its eyes glowing coals.
The people froze, staring. Even Cordelia and Quicksilver felt hollow with fear, and Allouette, staring up at the spirit, had to summon up white-hot anger to counter her panic.
The apparition opened its mouth, showing far more and far longer teeth than any true feline owned. “Do not let them stop you, Friends of Zonploka! Persevere! Continue the Taghairm! Pay no heed to the voices of cowardice!”
“Cowardice?” Quicksilver jolted out of her trance. “Vile creature, if you were flesh and blood, you would answer to me for that insult!” Her sword flashed forth.
Big Ears turned and grinned down at her, drops of saliva glinting in the firelight. “Eagerly will I look forward to that encounter, tender morsel.”
“Morsel!” Quicksilver cried, outraged. “You shall find me more than you can chew, I promise you!”
“I shall remember your promise.” Big Ears turned to the villagers. “As I will remember your treachery, if you turn away from me now. Keep on with the Taghairm, for if you do not, another village shall—and my masters, who are far more terrible than myself, will remember your perfidy and descend upon you to pillage and torture and slay!”
The crowd moaned in terror.
The man with the knife turned on Allouette, shouting, “See what you have done! Would you make us monsters’ meat, then?” He spun to the crowd. “Hearken not to these women and their squeamish ways! Harden your hearts to do what must be done!” He whirled, kicking one spit off the fire and catching up another. “Big Ears, come for good guesting! Our village is yours! Is it not, neighbors?”
“It is!” the crowd answered with one single shout.