in fact real. As were the Greatkin. *28* Kelandris and Zendrak slept that night, wrapped in each other's arms. Kel's face was relaxed, the terrors of her previous years in Suxonli finally laid to rest. Zendrak's breath rose and fell lightly next to her face. All of sudden, Kelandris sat bolt upright. Thinking his sister had just dreamed one of her habitual nightmares, Zendrak started to comfort her. When he saw the wild joy on Kel's face, he stopped. Then he heard them. The Mythrrim reached Suxonli at two in the morning, their voices cacophonous and joyful as they conversed on the way to Saambolin. Grabbing a yellow blanket, Kelandris threw it over her naked body and ran outside. Zendrak covered himself, too, and followed her. They looked up. Large silhouettes veiled the sky and made strange shadows on the ground in the moonlight. The few villagers who were left in Suxonli came pouring out of their homes. No one screamed in fear; no children cried in horror. In fact, every heart was lifted by the sight of these legendary beasts come home once again. The Mythrrim were the first teachers of the two-legged races. Memory of the Mythrrim stirred in the generational consciousness that each person inherited from his or her respective landdraw. Smiles became radiant as the creatures passed overhead. People danced and turned for joy. Standing close, Kelandris snuggled next to Zendrak. He kissed the top of her head and murmured, «Won't Speakinghast be surprised.» Rimble-Rimble. The Mythrrim Beasts of Soaringsea flew into Speakinghast in silence at dawn. They landed on the grounds of the Great Library, folding their wings neatly beside them. They tucked their ugly heads under their wings and slept. The Mythrrim were so motionless in their sleep that they resembled the black glass statue of a Mythrrim that lay in the heart of the Great Library Maze. Indeed, when early morning students cut across the snowy grounds, they thought the Mythrrim were inanimate. Hearing student conversation, the eldest Mythrrim of all, Kindra, lifted her head. The Saambolin and Dunnsung students present shrieked and ran. In no time at all, word of the sleeping Mythrrim spread about town. Hundreds of people flocked to see the great creatures, keeping a safe distance as they ogled. The Mythrrim paid the students and residents of the city no attention. Instead, they began their morning toilet, cleaning and ruffling their splendid feathers and striped hides. As the morning before—Gadorian loved routines—the guildmaster was eating a coddled egg when a guildguard knocked sharply on his door. Sirrefene went to open it, her face puffy from crying. Sirrefene and her husband had been arguing since daybreak over Gadorian's action against the Kaleidicopia. The guildguard bowed to her awkwardly and hurried into the kitchen, where Gadorian sat hunched over the table. «The Mythrrim are here, sir.» Gadorian yawned. «More rumors from the Kaleidicopians?» «I don't know what you mean, sir.» He paused, licking his lips nervously. This conversation with the guildmaster was going to be more difficult than he had imagined. «But I do know this, sir—the Mythrrim Beasts of Soaringsea are sitting on the grounds of the «Great Library.» Sirrefene smiled, her expression unexpectedly relieved. Gadorian stared at the guildguard. «Have you been sipping ale this early in the morning, Captain?» The guildguard stiffened. «I certainly have not, sir. Well, suit yourselves. I've just come from the grounds myself. So I'm giving you a firsthand report. Don't say you weren't told.» He bowed to both and left the opulent residence of the guildmaster and master curator. Sirrefene regarded her husband steadily. «It's not like Captain Besredd to drink or lie, Gad. What do you think he saw?» «Don't know,» replied the guildmaster, taking a bit of egg. «Don't care, either. One thing's for sure—the Mythrrim are beasts of fantasy. Not of fact. Maybe Besredd had a bad dream—» «Don't you think we should investigate?» «You can if you want, Sirrey. Me, I'm going to have my breakfast in peace.» Master Curator Sirrefene reached for her woolen maroon cape which hung on a peg in the hallway. «The library and its grounds are my responsibility. See you for lunch,» she added coldly. Then she left the house. As Master Curator Sirrefene walked outside, she was buffeted by a cold blast of winter wind. Pulling her cape close, she trudged through last night's snowfall and turned right. As she hurried along the city streets, she saw hundreds of people running toward the Great Library. «Presence alive,» Sirrefene muttered to herself. «Has my time finally come? Imagine that.» By the time Sirrefene arrived, the sun had already risen and Professor Rowenaster was well on his way to classes. Also seeing hordes of people running and jumping through the snow to get to the Great Library, he was perplexed. He decided to pay the Great Library a visit himself. An extraordinary sight met his eyes. Several hundred Mythrrim were ringed by several thousand people. Everyone stood or sat in silence, even the baby Mythrrim. Rowenaster put his hand to his heart in wonder. Here were the teachers he had always longed to see. Zendrak's brief shape-change into a Mythrrim several weeks ago had only whet the old man's appetite for knowledge of ancient things and ways. Tears rimmed his eyes as he crept forward. Students made way for the old man. Several of them thought Rowenaster might be responsible for bringing the beasts to Speakinghast; the old man had been known to employ wild teaching methods in his classroom during the past few years. Rowenaster approached the Mythrrim cautiously. Kindra eyed him. When he was within ten feet of her, she said, «Welcome, Professor. We were told to look for you. And now we see that you're here. Please, don't be afraid. We ate before flying last night. And we don't eat two-leggeds, anyway. Only horses and the occasional bear.» The crowd murmured, clearly shocked at Kindra's clear speech. Kindra, who was as tall as a medium-sized dinosaur, looked out over the heads of the people gathered around the Mythrrim. Seeing the rest of the members of Bazaar House approaching—including Themyth and Rimble—the Mythrrim Beast began to purr. It was a deafening sound, rumbling and echoing throughout the streets. The crowd backed up. Kindra's tail thumped the ground in doglike greeting to her Greatkin mother and father. Her own biological parents were among the Mythrrim present. She grinned at Trickster. «And now we make kinhearth.» Trickster prodded Yafatah to the front. The young girl's eyes were wide and full of awe. Trickster pointed to a small sack she carried carefully in her hands. «Take out the candles,» he told her. Yafatah did as she was bid. Slowly she pulled out eight candles. Kindra watched her do so with great interest. When all the candles and candlesticks had been accounted for, Kindra spoke with surprise. «Where is the candle for the Mayanabi, child?» Yafatah held up the seventh candle. «Here.» «Well, you can't have forgotten the Presence.» «Oh, no,» agreed Yafatah, holding up the eighth candle for Kindra to see. «Here it be.» Kindra squawked. «Have you a candle for each of the landdraws?» «Yes. Here be the six—» «Six?» said a chorus of Mythrrim voices. Kindra bent down, her large mouth close to Yafatah's head. «Did you forget us, child?» Yafatah swallowed. «The Mayanabi ritual only calls for eight candles. Not nine. At least, that do be what Po told me—» «Po?» asked Rowenaster, starting to laugh. «Po doesn't know—» At this point, Podiddley cut in. Putting his hands on his hips, he yelled at the Mythrrim and at the rest of his housemates. «The Mayanabi ritual called for eight candles. Not nine. I don't know when it got changed. Maybe centuries ago. Alls I know is that I didn't fuck with it.» «He's quite right,» said Themyth quietly. «The current Mayanabi ritual of light calls for eight candles.» Themyth sighed. «See what happens when people toy around with a perfectly good ritual? Leaves out things. Important things.» Themyth held her hand up. Instantly another candle and candlestick appeared in her palm. She handed it graciously to Yafatah. «Thank you,» said the young girl, her face solemn. Satisfied, Kindra directed Po and several other people to make a kind of table out of snow. Yafatah put the candles on the table and lit them. The last candle for the Presence she placed on a handful of snow near the back. Like the candle to God in Milwaukee, this candle also sat a little higher than the rest. When Yafatah had finished arranging and lighting the candles, she turned to Kindra and said, «Why do we be doing this?» «We're making kinhearth, child—two-legged fashion. In our own land, we sit around a blazing pit fire. Here on the mainland, we do it differently for all your sakes. Here we honor each landdraw. We light a candle for that draw and place it on the same table. This is for peace, child. Do you understand this word 'peace'?» «Of course!» retorted Yafatah. «I doon't be a baby! I be sixteen!» The Mythrrim roared and cackled with laughter. Their average life span was three to four thousand years. A girl of sixteen was a newborn to them. Kindra flapped her wings with hilarity. When she had regained control of her humor, she smiled at Yafatah and said, «You're very bright for one so young. And so we shall test you, yes?» Yafatah hadn't expected this. She shifted weight uneasily, stuffing her gloved hands deep inside her scarlet cloak. «I didna' know I was in school,» she grumbled. Rowenaster interrupted here. «We're all in school in the presence of the Mythrrim Beasts of Soaringsea.» «Shit,» said Po. «That's no mistake.» Kindra cocked her head to the side dog fashion and said, «Tell me what peace is.» «It be the opposite of war,» said Yafatah. «Is it?» Yafatah pondered the question. «Peace be when you feel all comfortable and friendly. When you doon't wish to fight or fuss.» Kindra shook her head. «Peace is accommodation. It is the stretching one makes to understand one's friends and one's housemates. It is not weak or spineless. Peace is a quality of the Presence. It is a Greatkin who is seldom invoked in this turbulent time, this Jinnaeon. Would you care to hear this Greatkin's name?» asked Kindra. Rowenaster smiled. He knew the name. Yafatah nodded. Kindra spoke softly. «She dresses in beauty, she walks in harmony, and she offers a tolerant love to all she meets. Her name is Universalima. And as we speak her name, she comes.» Themyth and Rimble watched the approach of their silent sister with smiles and whispers. This Greatkin had sat through the whole Panthe'kinarok dinner without saying a word. While Mattermat and Rimble had quarreled, she sat in utter stillness. Now that an accommodation for her was being made in the world of Mnemlith, she responded by appearing to all present on the Great Library grounds. Universalima wore white furs and a crown of gold, her dark skin and dark hair startling against the white of her furs. Like Rimble and Troth, Universalima was a resident of Neath. She was also a resident of Speakinghast. Rowenaster's jaw dropped. He could barely say the word that came to his stunned lips. «Sirrefene?» Master Curator Sirrefene smiled at the open-mouthed crowd in front of her. «Yes. It's me. The real Sirrefene died some years ago. Gadorian had been sweet on Sirrefene since childhood. Before he was able to ask the real Sirrefene to marry him, she contracted Hatter's Disease from a Jinnjirri hat she bought here in the city. She died from it.» Turning to Rowenaster, Universalima said, «This was before the fateful 'affair' with the Jinn artist. See, I was the libertine. Not Sirrefene. Not that I slept with the man, mind you. But I was different in temperament than the good guildmaster family's daughter. People felt that and thought what they wished, but I digress. Anyway, at the time of Sirrefene's death, Gadorian was so distraught, he tried to kill himself. I appeared to him before he was able to do so. I offered him peace. I have remained by his side ever since that day. He has forgotten the real Sirrefene's death. He doesn't know who he lives with.» Janusin spoke for the first time now. «No wonder you wanted me to do all those statues of your family.» He paused. «Why did you cancel the contract for the Panthe'-kinarok Series?» «I didn't. Gadorian did. I like your work, Master Janusin.» Janusin blushed. «Shame I only got to do one statue, then.» Universalima laughed. «You've made one more, I believe.» «You have?» asked Barlimo, who like everyone else was dressed for winter with woolens and mufflers in layers around her neck. «Where is it, Jan?» Janusin shuffled his feet in the snow. «Well, I hid it in the Great Library Maze. It was just a small thing, really—» «But, oh so exquisite,» replied Universalima. «And it helped, you know. It helped bring the two of them together. Art does that. You create an accommodation on the plane of imagination and eventually it will find its way into manifest reality.» Tree turned to Janusin. «What in the world did you create, Jan?» «I made a tiny statue of Kelandris and Zendrak kissing. She was so upset when Zendrak died that I thought I would try to immortalize their love for each other in stone. Something romantic like that.» «Well, it worked,» said Universalima. There was a short pause. Fasilla stared at the master curator turned Greatkin. «You've been in this city all along?» «Yes, dears,» said Themyth. «She has. Only we've all been making so much noise, who's had time to listen to the Greatkin of Peace? Much less recognize her,» added the crone drily. Timmer let out a big sigh. «How you could stand living with that lout, Gadorian, is beyond me.» Universalima inclined her head. «Everyone deserves peace. Even guildmasters.» «And the city?» asked Rowenaster. «Does it deserve peace, too?» «That will be up to you. All of you. With the return of the Mythrrim, you may again learn the ways of peace. If you do, this city will know a great flowering. Out of the worst winter will come the perfumed bloom.» «No problem,» said Trickster. «The winterbloom is growing in the Feyborne Mountains again. So is Kelandris.» He grinned. «I keep telling 'em patience. Keep telling all the worlds that. Everything comes in its own time. Especially civilizations,» he added with a naughty wink at Greatkin Themyth. She blushed. Kindra cleared her throat. Calling all the other Mythrrim to form a perfect circle around her, she said to Podiddley and the rest of the Mayanabi in the crowd, «What is your purpose?» «To serve the Presence.» «By doing what?» «By keeping remembrance.» «And how do we do that?» «By keeping kinhearth among ourselves. By lighting the candles for all. By including all. By loving all.» Kindra nodded her ugly head. «And so we end this tale by beginning a new Mythrrim. It will be called the Mythrrim of Universalima. And you will have to tell it among yourselves. You may start now.» Panthe'kinarok Epilogue Greatkin Mattermat slouched in his chair. He didn't want to admit it, but he was desperately glad to see Rimble again. The weight of his own gravity and inertia had almost overwhelmed him. Now he knew how the mortals felt when they spiraled downward into entropy and procrastination. Mattermat poured himself another glass of wine, his hand shaking. When Rimble finally made his reappearance at the table, his smile victorious, the rest of the family—all save Mattermat—got to their feet and cheered. Trickster sidled over to Mattermat and asked, «You still holding a grudge?» Mattermat shrugged. «Not exactly.» «Yeah? Well, that avalanche of snow in the Feyborne was convincing. You nearly buried my friend, Podiddley.» «Well, you were rubbing it in, Rimble. Singing that stupid song. You deserved to be buried.» Rimble considered the situation from Mattermat's perspective. «I can see how you might think that.» «I did think that.» Rimble sighed. «Miss me?» Mattermat rolled his eyes. «Maybe.» Trickster grinned. Announcing to the rest of the family, he said, «Mattie missed me.» Mattermat put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. His expression was dour. Trickster whispered something in the big fellow's ear. Mattermat's face immediately brightened. «Really?» Mattermat asked Rimble. «Yup.» «What?» asked Jinndaven uneasily as he watched this interchange. Mattermat smiled secretly and wouldn't say a word. Greatkin Themyth, who was looking younger and younger by the hour, pointed her cane at Rimble and said, «Tell, Rimble. Tell us what you're hatching.» Trickster looked at Mattermat. «Think we should tell them?» Mattermat shrugged. «It's up to you.» Trickster grinned. «I'm pregnant.» There was a long silence. «By who?» asked Th