

### Synopsis of

### The Dragon Who Didn't Fly

By C. M. Barrett

Originally published as

Big Dragons Don't Cry

Dear Reader,

Do you ever forget why you downloaded or bought a book? I do. I put this synopsis at the beginning to help you remember.

Enjoy the book, and I would love your feedback.

If He Doesn't Fly, His World Will Die

After naming Druid the Dragon of Destiny, his parents abandoned him in a swamp, and he bitterly vowed to never fly again.

Now his destiny is looking a lot like death. Malvern Frost, a cunning and malicious opportunist, wants to destroy the swamp and turn it into real estate. Only the dragon's presence prevents him from realizing his dream of wealth and power.

Exploiting a centuries-old fear of the allegedly vicious creature few have seen, the would-be tycoon tries to ignite the humans' terror into murderous rage. Enthusiasm for killing the dragon builds, and Frost realizes that with his rising popularity, he could topple the current government and establish himself as dictator.

Druid needs allies, but those he meets—a kitten who hasn't learned diplomacy and a young woman who's afraid to reveal her psychic gifts—don't know how to save him from death and the nation from tyranny. They must overcome communication difficulties, mutual mistrust, and delusions of human superiority before it's too late. And Druid must abandon his vow and fly.

Slavery, Freedom, or Death?

Read your free copy of

The Snake Charmer's Daughter, a novella.

Prequel to A Dragon's Guide to Destiny.

When a foreign nation conquers her land, Zena, an apprentice snake charmer and mind master, becomes a slave in the Emperor's harem. A dedicated sadist runs the harem, and the Emperor is a temperamental drug addict.

Determined to escape, she resists those who urge her to start a slave revolt. Heroes have short lives and violent deaths. Soon, though, she learns the power of friendship and love and can no longer turn her back on the suffering of others. As life in the harem becomes increasingly perilous, Zena wonders if leading a rebellion is the only way she can survive.

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### Chapter 1

The whisper of raindrops awoke Druid. He groaned and covered his ears with his paws. This silenced the dismal dripping, but nothing could prevent him from hearing the call of duty, even when its fulfillment yielded fewer rewards than scratching his scales.

Druid heaved his bulk into a standing position and lumbered from his cave at the bottom of the cliffs that bordered the swamp. He raised his head to the misty sky and recited the ancient water dragon ritual.

"The rains are here. The earth springs alive again. All creatures rejoice, Mother, at the gift of Your tears."

The words settled like dust in Druid's mouth. During the five hundred years humans had occupied the land beyond the swamp, he'd had trouble believing in either the litany or the Mother it honored.

The delicate pattern of life that made the earth whole had begun to deteriorate with their arrival. Both floods and drought had become more common. Refuse choked the rivers, and the grass in the meadows close to human settlements grew pale and sparse. Sometimes Druid wondered if these strange animals survived by sucking the life out of the land.

Today the deterioration seemed to have accelerated, like rot biting deeper into the heart of a tree. Agitation stirred the sluggish waters of Druid's habitual depression. Though humans were probably responsible for this latest disruption, he scanned the swamp to search for a local disturbance: one of the plagues that occasionally swept through the rodent communities or the far more common misbehavior of half-grown wolves.

Nothing seemed changed. As usual, Spanish moss cloaked brooding cypress trees, forming curtains that stretched from tree to tree and muted the sunlight. The ponds that sprouted blackened tree stumps like decayed teeth remained as stagnant as ever.

The dragon's awareness traveled to other parts of the swamp: the golden seas of saw grass and the dark splendor of the islands that dotted them, the twisted scarlet roots of mangroves belting the area between swamp and sea. He sensed no discord among the creatures who shared this world with him. In a nearby tree, the attention of a hungry hawk was drawn to baby mice who fretted in their mother's absence. Druid heard a cougar's distant growl and the delicate hoof steps of deer. Insects, stirred to life by the rain, buzzed in their billions.

Beyond the boundaries of the swamp lay the human world he'd never seen. Druid called on the pictures that birds had given him of the belching creatures used to stab the earth for growing plants, and the caves of stones and wood filled with bloodless beings that hummed and flashed. Still further to the east stood a place of deadness named City, where life tried to survive with little sun or earth.

In the center of this dead place stood tall caves where humans made plans that threatened other animals. Druid focused his attention there, and the discord burned like a tree struck by lightning. His nostrils filled with the acrid odor of despair.

From the first moment he'd seen them, carrying sticks that spewed out fire no more deadly than the hatred they breathed, he'd known them as enemies. His father's stone-shattering roar had transformed their rage into terror. Physically unharmed, they'd dashed from the swamp, their shriveled hearts swollen with the stuff of nightmares. Only fools and madmen had ever approached the swamp during the following centuries, and the roar Druid had learned from his father had always sent them scurrying back to the safety of their foul cities.

_Now the opposite has happened. Their fear feeds their hatred._ _They approach, the poison of their emotions staining the forest floor. I may finally discover whether my parents told the truth when they said human weapons couldn't penetrate my scales. Why should I believe them? They lied about everything else._

"Druid! The humans come!"

The screech thrust Druid out of his trance. Tomo, leader of the cougars, bounded down the path to the cave. "They're near the place in the forest where fire took many trees last summer."

Alarm ruffled Druid's scales. "They haven't come that close in a hundred years. Why now?"

"We can talk about why later," Tomo growled. "You've got to drive them out quickly."

Druid, not anxious for an aerobic trot, considered the possibility of a psychic confrontation. As a young water dragon, he'd learned how to transmit an essence of terror so powerful it could make humans believe he stood before them. Now he was so out of practice that he'd probably give himself a sinus headache if he tried, and he'd be laid up for days. Worse, if it didn't work, animals would die. He already heard frightened shrieks that turned his water to steam.

He would have to make a live appearance, but that required exertion. His legs, longer than the length of Tomo's body, could cover a lot of ground, but they had to carry a body weighted down from a long, idle winter of eating kelp.

He wheezed as he followed Tomo back along the trail.

The cougar glanced at him. "Why don't you fly there? It would be faster."

"A faster way to die. Imagine the target I'd make."

"True, but, now that I think about it, I've never seen you fly."

Druid didn't want even his best friend to know why he didn't fly. "Let's not discuss my exercise habits. Did you see the humans?"

"No, a young squirrel, Tolti, brought me the news." The cougar stopped so quickly that the dragon nearly tumbled over him. "She heard them speaking. They said they were going to take water from the swamp."

Druid quivered with an amplified sense of wrongness.

"Dragon, you know this squirrel. Does she have a brain in her tiny head?"

"None of them are empty-headed. Their thoughts travel as quickly as they race up and down trees. Tolti was one of my better students, and she always listened carefully. We can believe her. Did the humans say how they intend to do this?"

"They said only that it would be done and that the swamp would be theirs."

"It will not." Rage gave Druid speed, and they soon reached the place where the swamp met the woodlands. Other cougars, alligators and a few eagles waited for them. "I see them," an eagle shrieked. "Their fuzzy heads bob up and down in the distance."

Druid's eyes were not nearly so keen, but he smelled the rank human odor. Fury ennobled him. He rose to his full height, his long neck curving gracefully, his mane streaming in the breeze. Steam poured from his nostrils. He roared, a sound that began at the tip of his long tail, rushed up through his body, and exploded from his mouth in shattering thunder. The humans screamed, and, in a wake of cracking branches, dashed towards the fields.

For long moments the animals waited silently. When the sound of clumsy footsteps disappeared, they shouted, "Hail, Druid! Hail our guardian and protector!"

Druid bowed his head. "It's my job. Now I need to go home and lie down."

"I'll escort you," Tomo said. "Alone," he growled at the squirrels and chipmunks who tried to follow Druid in a ragged victory parade.

Tomo waited until they were out of earshot and then asked, "What would you have done if they'd entered the swamp?"

Druid hissed, spraying the cougar with steam. "Do you speak so to the Keeper? Do you believe I hold my vows lightly? The day humans set foot in the swamp with murder in their hearts and the means of it in their hands will be the last for all of them and their kind."

Tomo's eyes narrowed to amber slits. "The legends are true? You'll summon the fire dragons to destroy the human caves and burn their fields?"

Druid shook his head. "I don't even know where they live. As usual, this lonely dragon will have to take matters into his own paws, but I'd rather humans killed me than know that my cowardice caused one animal to die. Face it, if it comes to that, we can be certain the Mother has abandoned us."

"I already have my suspicions on that subject." Tomo growled. "Admit it, so do you. We're on our own."

"I keep that thought to myself, and I urge you to do the same. Despair can destroy the World more quickly than even the humans."

"Especially the despair of a dragon," Tomo said. "It's heavier than the spring rains."

"I try not to let it show, and when I can teach the young only cynicism, I'll stop. If I have any hope, it's that one of them, a new being, undiscouraged by a world damp with tears of despair, can lead us back to wholeness."

"I'll try to share your hope. In the meantime, what do we do about our knowledge of the humans' plans? I told Tolti to keep her little nutcracker shut, but she may have told half the swamp already. And we don't know who else may have heard the humans."

"Hope it wasn't Gris," Druid said. "That hawk has no discretion. Unless we notice rumors getting out of control, I'd rather wait until we've observed the rain rituals. Let our friends celebrate this expulsion of the humans. It will strengthen them for what may be coming."

"I yield to your wisdom," Tomo said. "And I'll leave you now to contemplate the events of the day."

"Thank you," said Druid, who was tired of contemplation.

_So it has come,_ _long after I'd given up hope that the romantic myths spun by that pair of careless drifters called my parents would ever come to pass. Now that I've accepted my peaceful, if boring and more than a little disappointing, life, the disruption arrives that makes my heart quicken with the possibility that they might have told the truth, that I'll yet discover myself as a dragon of destiny._

And probably fail.

On the evening of the rain celebration Druid left his cave to wash himself in the sea. The water spread silken folds over his hide. When he finished washing, he dove to the bottom in search of some particularly succulent varieties of kelp, but after eating a few strands, he lost his appetite, for the waving seaweed reminded him of his mother's green mane, of abandonment and eons of loneliness. He shook himself dry and headed for the large island in the center of the swamp, trying to think cheerful thoughts about the glories of spring.

During winter, the dry time, life for most of the animals was a continual search for water and food. Spring and the coming of rain gave rise to one of the most joyful celebrations in the swamp. The newest babies were introduced to the community and helped to find their places in the pattern. It was a time when all animals, in tribute to the end of deprivation, were pledged to disregard traditional predatory relationships.

Meadowlarks flew side by side with eagles, and cougars stretched out in their tawny glory to watch fawns pick their trembling way through the meadow. The animals praised the rain and She who showered abundance on them.

As the sky grew dark and the rains abated, the birds and animals gathered together in a large circle. "Let's have a story," called out a laughing gull.

Tolti, the squirrel, who had found a place on Druid's shoulder, said, "A dragon story."

"Yes, tell us a story, Wise One," a wolf howled.

A story would distract Druid from the concerns that had marred his enjoyment of the celebration. "What story shall I tell?" he asked the assembled animals.

"Tell us of how the dragons and humans became enemies."

"That's a very sad story, and old, older than even me."

Tomo's golden eyes raked him. "Tell it."

Druid sighed. The cougar was right. The celebration was almost over. Tomorrow the animals would have to face possibilities more grim than winter.

"When humans first appeared among us, they didn't know how to do anything," he began. "It looked as if they were going to be a small drop in the pond of history when the animals, in the spirit of She Who Teaches Us All, decided to instruct them."

"The birds and mice and beavers taught them how to build homes."

"The big cats taught them how to hunt," said a cougar.

"No interruptions," someone muttered. "Show respect."

"The fire dragons looked down from the sky at the poor, shivering human beings and decided to give them their special gift of warmth and heat. At first, the humans were grateful to the animals, but as they learned these skills, they wanted to forget who had taught them. They wanted to believe themselves above the animals who, out of kindness, had helped them to survive and flourish. They wanted to think they had done it all by themselves."

A young cougar spoke out again. "That's why they hate cats, for our wisdom. We remind humans that there are other intelligent animals around. For that knowledge they try to imprison us. Even now, our small cousins languish, maltreated and dishonored."

"Try being a turtle in a cage," a snapper muttered.

"You're both right," Druid said. "Humans do try to imprison or kill the animals they fear. They attempted to do so with dragons. My fire cousins had taught them how to start fires with wood and stones that burned, but humans found that to be hard work. Some human, may he be cursed, got the idea that it would be easier to trap dragons in order to have a ready source of fire."

Tolti pulled his ear. "May I ask a question?"

"Ask, little one."

"How did the dragons allow themselves to be trapped?"

"They thought it was a game. For a while they were patient, waiting to see how it was played. When they realized that the rules favored the humans, they decided to break them. They melted the prison bars with their fiery breath and flew away.

"Some humans saw the lovely dragons flying in the air and shot at them with fire sticks. Though the weapons couldn't penetrate the dragons' thick scales, this act of hatred ensured that from that time on, dragons and humans would be enemies."

The animals fell silent—all but the frogs and crickets, who sang a melancholy song about the death of trust. As the final chirp died away, Tolti cried, "Mother, protect us from the humans!"

All the animals echoed her words, and the trees whispered supplications to their creator. Tomo slunk gracefully into the center of the circle.

"Druid called his story an old one, but it is no older than a few days ago, when humans nearly breached the sanctity of our home. This is not the worst of it. Tolti, tell the others your story."

Druid would have preferred that the cougar consult with him about the best way to spill the bad news, but that was the problem with being a Keeper. He could protect, negotiate, and mediate, but with a crowd of independent animals, he could never dictate.

"Go ahead, Tolti," he said.

The squirrel clutched Druid's mane as she spoke what she'd heard of the human's plans to take the swamp. "They said they would drain the swamp and knock down the trees and build houses. What are houses?"

"Their nests, I think," Druid said.

"But, Druid, what happens to us?"

Snakes began to hiss, and alligators slapped the water with their tails.

Every animal looked at the dragon. Words never came quickly to him, and he could find no comforting ones now. "We must pray, as Tolti did a short while ago. We must ask Her to protect us and to tell us what we must do to protect ourselves."

His words were as dry of hope as the swamp had recently been of water. The pattern was being rent, and he, alleged dragon of destiny, stood helpless before its unraveling.

He rose with a wet sigh. "I must go, my friends. It has been a long day."

Tolti remained on his shoulder. "Keeper, your sorrow shudders through me and makes me want to weep."

"Water dragons have that effect. One of our tasks is to arouse the deep and hidden emotions in all living things that they may be brought to the light."

"You arouse love in mine, dear Druid. I don't like to think of you being alone tonight. Let me be with you."

Tears stung Druid's eyes. "You're kind, small one."

"Oh, no," Tolti said as she snuggled into the hollow of his neck. "It's my honor."

Tolti chattered as incessantly as other squirrels. "You can't imagine how shocked I was to hear those humans speaking. Wasn't it good of me to tell Tomo immediately? I was quite frightened to approach him, even though my tail was raised in truce. He ate my cousin only last week. It was all properly done. Her spirit was ready for departure, and the dance was correctly performed. Still, the sight of his teeth wasn't a happy one, I can tell you that. It isn't just the humans, is it?"

Druid, who had drifted beyond the squirrel's chatter to his own gloomy thoughts, jerked his head up. "What?"

"It's not just the humans, not even just the swamp. Remember how you taught us to hear and feel the earth's rhythm? It's disturbed now."

Druid lifted the squirrel from his shoulder and held her in his paws so that she faced him. "Tell me what's wrong with the rhythm."

The squirrel's nose quivered. "I'm not sure. It doesn't seem to be coming from the ground. It's a feeling from far away, the trembling of wounded animals, but none I've ever known, cries that shiver through me. It's the sound of hearts that have forgotten how to feel."

_A young squirrel senses more than I have._ Druid clasped Tolti to his heart.

The sky was clear now, and the new moon trailed stars across the sky. Reeds quivered with ghostly beauty, and moonbeams painted the charred tree stumps. Slender pine needles glistened as if they'd been dipped in the silver cauldron of the night.

Tonight the swamp was cloaked in grandeur, and its beauty was bitterness in the dragon's heart as he listened to the reeds and saw grass singing in the faint breeze and heard the distant shriek of a small animal who had surrendered its life.

_So the leaves die in autumn_ , he thought. _So they release their hold on the trees who have nurtured them, and fall to the earth to return the gift of life to their hosts. So the seed is food for a rabbit, the rabbit food for the cougar, the cougar food for the seed. It is the way of things that nothing shall be lost or wasted, that we are all important and necessary. Thus the pattern is woven and re-woven._

"How beautiful the World is tonight," Tolti said softly. "Surely the Mother won't permit it to be destroyed."

_Do You listen?_ Druid asked the night. _Will you answer this small one's devotion? Perhaps You are more present than I imagine. Perhaps You hide behind the moon, to mock the fumbling creatures who attempt to survive in this world of Your creation, Your laughter as faint as the fading whisper of dragons' wings._

### Chapter 2

Orion stood on a ridge overlooking the city. As he swayed, exhausted and hungry, the threads of its winding, dirty streets seemed to tighten around his neck in a noose that limited both breath and freedom.

His sister, Sekhmet, nuzzled him with her black nose. "Lost in thought?"

"Wishing you'd waited a year or so to haul me away from the good life."

"We thought we'd better get on the road before you wore out your equipment, Mr. Tomcat Stud."

Orion's other sister, Bast, trotted toward them, her white fur gleaming in starlight. "We've come to the right place. The pull is strong."

"Praise the Many-taloned One," Sekhmet said. "My paws are killing me."

The lights of the city flickered in eye-burning imitation of the starry sky. "It's not going to be easy," Orion said. "The smell alone makes me gag. It's not just the physical stench, but also the foul odor of self-righteousness and fear. And some of the fear is mine. I've never failed before."

Sekhmet raised her ears. "It's hard to fail when you mount a willing cat. I'm glad you realize you're facing a far bigger challenge. It gives me hope that you've become something more than a swaggering young tom. She of the Rough Tongue is molding you into the cat you were always meant to be."

"I don't know about Her rough tongue, but I've never doubted yours."

Bast growled softly. "Enough. Orion, you have to guide us now."

Panic bristled his fur. "I don't know; I can't feel anything."

Bast scraped her claws against a flat stone. "Then ask to feel. Have you forgotten you were chosen for more than shining fur and golden eyes?"

"And equipment," Sekhmet said.

He turned his back on them and washed himself briskly to hide his shame. Any cat could find the guidance of the Long-whiskered One, but Orion's ability to sink into a trance had separated him from the other males of his generation and guided his reluctant paws to this cold, windy, hilltop. How could he forget the first lesson all kittens learned? When you got lost, She would always nudge you home.

Orion closed his eyes and began to meditate on golden fur and eyes. The rasp of Her tongue shivered through him, massaging away the tension that had tightened his limbs, clearing away the resistance and fear that had hidden his path, and even temporarily blurring the memory of well-fed, sleek females.

The way became clear, but one final moment of doubt kept him in place. "Are humans worth our sacrifice?"

"Not yet, they aren't," Bast said, "but we're weaving a dream."

Orion loped down the hill, praying that the gathering strands wouldn't knot into a noose.

* * *

Emerald rubbed against the rough wood of the grain warehouse floor, howling in agony.

"If you keep carrying on like that, every tom in the city is going to knock at the door," Misha said.

"You talk as if it never happened to you, old lady. You know some magic to scratch the itch, tell me."

"No magic, child. It's a queen's way to want kittens and a tom's way to know when she wants them. Neither of them looks at the big picture. That's why this city is filled with half-starved cats too weak to run away from humans."

Emerald shuddered. Her mother, Hester, had been one of the victims, taken away with Emerald's littermates. "Could have been me."

"Could have been. If you hadn't been such a mischief-maker, climbing to the top sack of grain that terrible night, you wouldn't be flicking your tail and shuffling your hind legs right now. You want your own kittens to be drowned or tortured? That why you want to bring them into this sorry slum? The world is cruel to a cat and her kittens, except in the Green."

Fur and whiskers, Misha would pounce on any excuse to trot out that old catnip fantasy handed down from mother to daughter, but the soft hum that filled her voice soothed Emerald.

"Tell me about the Green, might take my mind off this awful itch, pass the time, anyway."

Misha closed her eyes and slowly rocked back and forth. "Somewhere, maybe not far away, might be over the next hill if we could only climb it, is a world where everything's green, bright and beautiful as your own eyes."

Though Emerald tried to imagine that, she saw instead the pale, sickly stalks of grass that grew up through the cracks in the sidewalk and the pointed dark green leaves with yellow flowers that turned to white fur. Green everywhere? Not likely.

"And fat, tasty mice that eat fresh seeds and grains, and more kinds of birds than you could count, and never a hungry moment."

"No humans?"

"Maybe some, but the Green is so big you can get away from them easy. And they got their own business to be going about. They got no time for idle viciousness."

Emerald sighed, the itch beginning to subside. "Tell me more about what it looks like."

"Flowers, not in some tiny window box or fenced-off piece of earth, but growing everywhere and smelling nice. The ground is soft on your paws, and a breeze always ruffles your fur and makes it clean. The Green has big, tall trees whose branches touch the sky. It's quiet there: no cars and trucks and footsteps all the time day and night, just the wind blowing through the leaves to sing you to sleep."

Emerald felt her tortured body begin to relax as waves of sleep rocked it. No way Green could come out of this hard, concrete world, but it was a comforting dream.

When she woke up, she caught a mouse and drank some water from the basin the humans used. She wished they'd drive their truck in to unload sacks of grain. Misha always saved a few mouse carcasses for their arrival, lining them up by the door. They would say, "Good kitties" and pour some milk into a bowl.

Emerald wanted the cool wetness of milk. The desire flickering inside her awakened the deeper urge, and she started to twitch and feel crazy again. As she dragged across the floor she heard a body thump onto the top layer of bags.

"Girl, you're giving off a sweet perfume," a deep voice purred, "and I've got what you need."

"She doesn't need anything but to be left alone," Misha growled. "You hightail it out of here."

"Are you the chaperone, Grandma? Better go hide behind the pile of bags before you see something that might make you remember better times—though you never had anycat as good as Senti."

"Good? You got some delusions. Try being on the receiving end of all those barbs tearing a poor girl to shreds. Don't be talking about a tom's style, because they don't have any. You listening to me, Emerald? You think you're hurting now? You haven't come to the beginning of pain."

"Misha's old and dried up," Senti said, hopping down to the floor. "You listen to me, Emerald; I'm going to take you out of your misery."

Misha leapt between them. "This girl is too young and too small to be having kittens. She could lose the litter and maybe her own life. You want to be responsible for that?"

Senti paused to consider. "Responsibility and tomcat are two words that hardly ever shake paws. Don't try to talk decency to me when my hormones are jumping. Don't try to stand in the way, either."

* * *

"I don't like the looks of this neighborhood," Bast said, flicking gobs of mud off her white paws.

Sekhmet curled her lip. "Did you expect to find the Chosen's mother in a nice, clean parlor, lapping daintily at a plate of gourmet food? The Prophecy said that though her heritage is royal, her circumstances would be lowly. In a place like this, you find cats with backbone."

"And dirty paws." Bast flicked again.

Orion sniffed. The scent grew stronger with every paw step—not just the delicious aroma of a female in heat, but, oddly, the fragrance of white-throated flowers and fat mice and earth bursting with life. He quickened his pace when he saw the warehouse.

"Go up those metal steps; they lead to an open window," he said.

"We'll let you introduce yourself first," Sekhmet said.

Orion stood on the window ledge and watched an elderly cat hiss at a white tom.

"You'll have to come past me, Senti. You want it bad enough to kill for it?"

Orion took advantage of the tom's hesitation to vault through the window. He saw the thin alley cat crouched in the corner. The contrast between her scrawniness and the padded hips of the females whose shining fur he'd recently been rubbing depressed him. Royalty rarely masqueraded as a bag of bones.

He changed his mind when she looked up. "You here to join in the fun?" she spat. The green fire in her eyes flashed through Orion, awakening something deeper than lust. It aroused the all-pervasive glow that filled him when the Mother wrapped Her shining warmth around him. He longed for this skinny queen as he had never desired a female. His tongue burned with the urge to lick her dusty fur until it gleamed. He wanted to see her sides swell with his kittens, watch them tumble into life, and help them grow.

These alien thoughts told him that, whether or not he killed his rival in a mating battle, his careless youth would die, and that would only be the beginning of the changes. His mission would demand far more from him than he'd ever given to anything. He was tempted to back out of the warehouse and run back to freedom, but Bast and Sekhmet were behind him, hissing for him to get on with it.

_Long-tailed One, guide me_ , he prayed.

_This is the easy part. Wait until you_ really _need to ask Me for guidance. Now you're on your own._

Orion narrowed his eyes and surveyed the scene, considering the obstacles. He leapt on top of the piled bags and growled at the tom. "Get away from her."

Senti hissed. "Don't know who you are, but this isn't your turf. Go find your own mate."

Orion hopped down lightly to the floor. "The elder appealed to your sense of common decency. That didn't work."

"Damn right, because you know as well as I do that a tomcat has no morality. You're not going to jump her bones if you get the chance?"

That, of course, was exactly what Orion planned to do, and he wanted to get rid of the other tom with a minimum of violence. He tried to give him an easy out. "I would prefer not to cause you harm, and I must warn you that I've never been defeated in a mating battle."

"There's a first time for everything, big-talking foreigner." The white cat began to puff up, hissing slowly.

Orion bared his teeth, and his inflated tail twitched back and forth. Senti was readying himself for a pounce when Orion leapt at his throat.

Senti, more agile than Orion would have suspected, twisted out of range and countercharged. Orion slashed at the other cat and leapt again. This time, using a zigzag pattern he'd perfected, he changed directions in mid-air and landed beyond Senti. Before the other cat could whirl around, Orion, in a parody of the mating position, gripped the nape of his neck, and pressed him against the floor.

The young female gasped. "Don't kill him."

Bast and Sekhmet appeared at the top of the bags. "It would be better if the Chosen's journey doesn't begin in a pool of blood," Bast said.

"It certainly won't be as messy," Sehkmet said. "Beat it," she told Senti. "You've gotten off easy."

Orion released the white cat, who looked at him with dignity. "Nice leap. I'll have to practice it." He darted up to the open window and left.

Sekhmet turned her attention to the young queen. "Are you sure she's the one? She's awfully skinny."

The cat arched her back and hissed. "So would you be if you lived on the thin pickings here. Who are you, to be coming in here with this attitude?"

Bast nodded. "Well spoken. Sekhmet, you've got to admit she has a proud bearing and plenty of spirit. You said this place would breed cats with backbone."

"That doesn't mean I want to see a cat whose backbone is practically sticking out of her skin. She needs to have more flesh if she's going to have healthy kittens."

The young female spat at them, her eyes fiery green. "Since when does a tom bring a selection committee with him?"

As the adrenaline of battle mode drained from Orion, fierce desire reappeared. Why didn't all these hissing females go off and hunt for mice? His plan had been sex first, explanations afterwards.

The old female bared worn teeth. "Answer Emerald's question. Who are you?"

"Emerald, is it?" Sekhmet said. "Lovely name and quite fitting, but if you want healthy kittens, like any queen, you're in the wrong place. The Chosen could have a better start than this place."

Her glance took in the grain and mouse droppings spilled on the floor, the black mold on one wall from a leak, the dust, the grime, and the dim red flash of rats' eyes.

Misha snarled. "Don't you dare slink in here like you own the world and trash the place where I've been living for years. Got a roof, doesn't it? Plenty of mice, too. Do you have anything better where you come from? Don't have to tell me you're foreigners, although you're the first fancy-assed cats who ever tried to bullshit me with stories about the Chosen. What's your scam? Are you passing yourselves off as the messengers of the Prophecy?"

Orion and his sisters looked at each other. Familiarity with the Prophecy virtually guaranteed that these alley cats, despite their unlikely appearance, had royal blood.

"No pretense involved," he said. "That's who we are."

Misha yawned. "Right, and I'm the High Priestess of the Alley."

Sekhmet looked ready to talon the old cat, but Bast shoved her. "Forgive us, Elder. We've had a long journey, and rest will restore our manners. Since you've mentioned the prophecy, I'd be honored to hear what you know of it."

Misha raised her head with dignity. "I'll tell you the story, as long as you don't say I'm an ignorant alley cat for getting it all wrong."

Bast flicked her tail at Sekhmet. "We'll listen to your words with respect."

"All right. My ancestors, who chose to travel with the first humans who came here, taught that when cats are as low down on their haunches as they can be, a kitten will be born of the royal line—and that's me and Emerald, whether you believe it or not—who'll teach them to be proud of themselves. Depending on how things go, she'll either teach the humans to respect us or have them wiped out."

"We lean towards the first solution," Sekhmet said, "but we're flexible."

She padded toward Misha and touched noses with her. "I regret that we started off on the wrong paw. Let's begin again. We, too, are of the ancient royal line. Bast, my sister, and I, Sekhmet, are the Seekers. With Orion, our brother, we've been traveling for weeks, looking for the one who will give birth to the Chosen. Orion's role in the Prophecy should be obvious."

"I'm not just the stud," he growled.

Misha looked back and forth between him and Emerald. "Am I hearing this right? Are you saying that Emerald is part of the plan?

Sekhmet nodded. "According to Not-Just-the-Stud, she's the one we've been seeking."

* * *

They all stared at Emerald. She lifted her dragging butt and hissed at them. "Is this your idea of a joke? Is this like the human saying, 'Nice kitty,' and then starting a torture trip? Because if you're telling me that an alley cat who's never been more than two blocks from this warehouse is part of some damn Prophecy, you're seriously messed up."

Orion turned the full strength of his gaze on her, and she was ready to take back everything she'd said. The sight of him took her over the top, transforming raw desire into a hunger she'd never known. She wanted to rub her cheek against his gleaming, striped fur. She longed for his teeth to bite into the nape of her neck and to feel his lean, muscular weight pinning her down.

If he were part of the story she'd stay tuned in a little longer.

"You never told her?" Bast asked Misha.

"We have to get along with our neighbors," she said. "A cat who sets herself above the rest doesn't get along too well. A mother will tell her kittens when they're grown, so that they'll be prepared if the Prophecy unfolds within their lifetimes. I was close to telling Emerald. I should have. She never would have let Senti near her."

"But you were ready to fight to save her," Orion said. "That shows breeding."

She hissed at him. "That's what anycat would do to save the life of one too young for kittens. I'll fight you, too, royal or not."

"No need," Sekhmet said. "We all want to see Emerald in better health before she has kittens."

Bast interrupted her. "Speaking of health, I'm getting a little hungry, so let's wrap up this story. Misha, I don't know how many details of the Prophecy came to this place with your ancestors, but it arrived in stages. First Ra the Dreamer received the vision that cats would restore all creatures to their connection with the Golden-eyed One. Bast, my namesake, envisioned the crisis and chaos that would precede this reunion."

Emerald yawned, hoping that the white cat would soon finish climbing down the family tree.

"Heket predicted that our line would produce the father of the Chosen. Heket's descendant, our own mother, Hathor, dreamt that Orion would be that one. Though we don't often like to tell him so, his attributes are the finest of any male of his generation."

_Don't have to tell me about attributes_ , Emerald thought in that small fragment of her mind that wasn't screaming with wanting him. She would have let Senti have her, not because he was the sharpest talon on the paw, but because he was there and she was desperate.

But this one would make strong, healthy kittens. His fur would be soft and silky to the touch. Emerald shivered.

"And the Green, what about the Green?" Misha demanded. "Did you hear that, Emerald? Thought I was out of my head, didn't you?"

They all were psycho, and Emerald wished they'd leave the warehouse to continue their ranting so she could get it on with this hunk of cat. She yowled faintly to remind him why he was here.

Though his eyes burned with longing, he shook his head. "My sisters and your grandmother are right. The Chosen must have a healthy, well-fed mother. We need to get to the Green first."

"And there's a lot of Green in the world," Sekhmet said. "We need to find the right piece of it." She closed her golden eyes.

After a long silence, she said. "We continue west, at least a day's journey by paw. We seek a place beyond great fields of wheat and other plants, a forest with streams and ferns and small, delicious creatures who quiver at the thought of our talons."

The white cat sniffed at a bag of grain. "Sekhmet, smell this."

She padded over and nosed it. "Yes, the smell matches my vision: Green and wheat, well-fed country mice. Where did this bag come from, Elder?"

"A truck," Misha said. "Every day the trucks come, and humans unload the bags."

"Have they come yet today?" Bast asked.

"Not yet."

The black and white cats looked at each other and started to purr. "Who says there are no free rides?" Sekhmet said. "We've hitchhiked hundreds of human miles in their vehicles. Once the truck that comes here is unloaded, we'll hop in when they're not looking and go out to these fields."

_Go_ penetrated the thick haze that spiderwebbed Emerald's brain. This wasn't some sick, heat-induced dream. If she agreed, she'd be heading off into the unknown with a trio of crazy cats who thought they were hot shit and she was some deluxe breeding machine.

She looked around the warehouse. The black bitch was right; it was a dump. She would never have a better chance to leave, and who was she kidding? She'd follow Orion's striped haunches anywhere. But what about Misha? Who would catch mice for her; who would groom her?

And who, to get down to the unsheathed claws of the matter, would love Emerald? Not this pack of strangers.

"Misha comes with me," she said.

Sekhmet sniffed. "She's old; she'll slow us down. And the Prophecy says nothing about her."

"Then screw the Prophecy." Emerald moved next to Misha and leaned against her trembling body. "You honor her as a cat of great faith and royalty. She gives you the clue about where to go next. You want to dump her? Forget it."

Orion raised a paw. "Misha comes with us. Remember? We're flexible."

*

A few hours later, they all jounced about in an empty truck, an experience that made Emerald forget about even the faintest pulse of desire.

"If we all crouch together in the corner, we'll be jolted less," Bast said. So Emerald found herself between the white cat and Sekhmet, both of whom, she was forced to admit, smelled very clean and made her nose sting with her own stench.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's unpleasant, but you can't help it," Bast said. "Wait until you're running through fields of grass and sleeping on soft pine needles and eating good food."

"Really?" she murmured and closed her eyes.

Emerald didn't fall asleep, though, and she heard the two talk about her.

"Anything in the Prophecy about a crude little guttersnipe?" Sekhmet, of course.

"Like you said, we had no reason to expect a princess, and this female is tough, strong, and, despite her circumstances, proud. She's also loyal and compassionate. She'll make a magnificent mother," Bast said.

"You're right, but I hope we can knock some manners into her."

_No chance_ , Emerald thought before she fell asleep.

### Chapter 3

Phileas Ar'ran braced himself for one of the most odious tasks required of the Guardian of Oasis: sex.

The young woman lying beneath him might have been dead for all the interest she showed in his attempts to arouse her. Probably she'd taken one of the drugs the young used to dull emotions. Perhaps the atmosphere of the Conception Chamber, a room in the House of Healing with all the charm of a morgue, had an equally numbing effect. With a carefully stifled sigh, he began the business of the moment.

Overall, he preferred indifference to the fear some young women displayed at being in the presence of the Guardian, the greatest man in the country. Even fear was better than the calculating attitude of those who thought seductiveness might earn them more than a brief stint in his bed. Foolish girls, didn't they realize he read their thoughts and feelings as easily as others read a printed page or computer screen?

He didn't blame any of them: the indifferent, the fearful, or the schemers. Why expect passion from them when he felt none?

Phileas completed the tedious act, hoping, as he always did, that the right combination of genes would produce his heir so that he could be done with these charades.

As she'd been instructed, the girl lay quietly for five minutes to keep the seed from spilling (no hardship, since she'd been lying quietly the whole time). She glanced at the clock. "Can I go?"

"You may."

Failing to notice the grammatical correction, she flung on her indigo tunic and trousers. _Not even a shower first,_ Phileas thought with distaste. Once the blood of Zena and Nathan, the Etrenzians who had founded Oasis, had run true. Either the caliber of their female descendants had fallen sharply in recent years, or the selection committee was ignoring the need to provide candidates with sensing abilities. This one didn't even recognize her odor.

"Is this the last time?" the slattern asked.

"Yes. Tomorrow, a Healer will test to see whether you've conceived." The odds were against that. Though Phileas's sperm had been declared in fighting condition, they avoided collision with eggs—and wisely so, when you considered the quality of mothers he was offered. No children had been born of these lackluster unions.

The girl pinned her hair into a sloppy knot. "Well, then . . ."

"We will hope for good news."

"Yeah."

She exited through the door without a backward glance.

Phileas reflected that she certainly had sufficient emotional control.

He stepped into the shower to wash off both the residue of sex and the film of gathering despair. Every brain cell must be sparking so that he could deal with the batch of morons and malcontents who made up the National Council.

In the past, Janzi Nor'azzi had helped him keep order, but during the last week she'd succumbed to some unknown sickness. What better indication of a nation in decline than a mysteriously ill Chief Healer?

Who happened to be his mother.

Phileas toweled off, gave his close-cropped graying hair an impatient swipe, and put on his dark purple robe. Before he left the room, he reminded himself to be calm and patient—at least for the first five minutes. If he could manage serenity for any longer, it would be a miracle, for today's council meeting was the quarterly State of Society discussion, and the state of society could hardly be worse.

The membership of the tree-hugging Earther cult continued to grow. Their opposition, the self-flagellating Godlies, persisted in warning anyone who'd listen (and many who didn't) that all sins of the flesh would result in an eternal afterlife of fleeing the fire-breathing dragon. The rest of the Oasan population teetered between confusion and apathy. What had extinguished the spirit of a once-vibrant nation devoted to the power of mind over body? Phileas knew he wouldn't find the answer to that key question at the Council meeting.

The Council met in a modern, solar-powered building with a pyramid on its top. The pyramid was intended to draw down pure mind. Unfortunately, Phileas couldn't remember a meeting where it had worked.

Three Councilors were missing: The Chief Healer, the Councilor for Education, and the Councilor for the Arts. The latter two were Tamarans, and each had requested a leave of absence from Council meetings, claiming that their duties left no time for attendance.

Phileas was certain that the top educator, a well-known lecher, was busy attending high school and university assemblies that featured performances by nubile young girls. As for the arts, countless opportunities existed to avoid boring Council meetings: the need, for example, to determine whether a movie was too pornographic for public viewing.

Tamarans were uncommonly clever at cloaking their desire for sensual pleasures in the guise of official business. Since these members contributed little to serious discussions, Phileas intended to ignore their absences unless the Tamaran community made noises about being unrepresented.

Kermit Strand, State Treasurer, gave the first report. In comparison to the Tamaran Council members, he was a paragon of mental control. If he had any emotions, they'd long since withered from neglect. His worst crime was the delivery of mind-numbing financial reports.

"The people are resisting our traditional and sacred austerity. They demand material comforts; they teeter on the verge of demanding satisfaction of their sensual urges. I attribute this rise in unrest to the increase in visits to Tamaras, which in the last quarter have doubled."

"You can attribute anything bad to Tamaras," Daria Turley, Nathan's feeble-minded descendant, muttered. "Oasis exists because Zena and Nathan had the wisdom and courage to rise up against the rotten nature of Tamaras, sin central."

"According to the surveys run by my department," Kermit said, "forty percent of the people don't even want to admit they're descended from slaves of the Tamaran overlords. They say their ancestors came later. Now that the vast wealth from Tamaran mining industry is more equitably distributed, their average family income is 17,000 tams, nearly double the equivalent in nats."

"But do they have subsidized housing and grain, free food and free medical care, and the best schools in the known world?" Daria shouted.

"They have disposable income. They eat fatty meat. They drink grain alcohol. They have theatres that show the worst kind of filth. Tam Town alone has twenty-three theatres, and attendance has risen thirty-four percent in the last year. Five recording companies spew out acoustic drivel to the tune of hundreds of millions of copies."

"And what do our people want?" Phileas asked.

"Twenty-five percent increase in income. That's an average, calculated with the following elements factored in—"

"A summary will do."

Kermit dropped his papers. "More money, release of trade and travel restrictions, abandonment of censorship."

"Surely not all Oasans?"

"A growing number, enough to cause unrest, and the rise is statistically greater among youth. In an anonymous survey, fifty percent of the respondents said they've considered emigration—to Tamaras, of course. Few showed any interest in the frozen peaks of Dolocairn or the Etrenzian desert. They seek the flesh pots."

"We have failed," Daria said.

Phileas knew what she really meant. _He_ had failed. The founders' pristine dream of a people no longer enslaved by the addictive demands of the body, no longer drowned in the tidal pool of emotions, free to create a peaceful and just society by using the possibilities of pure mind, had eroded under his leadership.

And Snurf Noswan, the Dolocairner Godly who had somehow prayed his way onto the Board, was about to tell him why.

"With all due respect, Guardian, your relaxation of sexual restrictions has only made the people more dissatisfied. As Zena so rightly said, lust is an addiction that can never be satisfied."

"I couldn't agree more," Phileas said. "The same might be said of gluttony, but does that mean we should ban eating? By providing free, tasteless nutrition, we restore eating to its rightful role as a physical function. We encourage the same attitude towards sex. Old Tamaras had more rules against sex than Oasis has ever had. Depravity flourished in an underground and illicit atmosphere. Repression from above pushed perversion below."

"Filthy Tamarans," Daria said.

She might not have said it if the Tamaran Council members had been present, but her opinions could get back to them. Phileas moved quickly to avoid a later crisis. "Remember Nathan said our greatest strength came from the blending of the races to create a new culture."

"Except that we're not doing much blending," Wendly Icinger said. "In my capacity as Director of Agriculture, I get countless complaints from Dolocairners that they're automatically assigned to the fields. Is it any wonder they become Earthers?"

_And what about you, Wendly?_ Phileas wondered. _Do you, too, fall on your knees at the name of the Earth Mother and beg forgiveness for your crimes against twigs and weeds?_ He didn't read that kind of devotion in the man, but Wendly's being shouted sympathy. And why not? He was a Dolocairner.

"Don't forget the ones who become Godlies," said Snurf.

They were both right, but every attempt Phileas had proposed for the elevation of the Dolocairn race had been stifled by his fellow Etrenzians, who produced studies showing that Dolocairners lacked the ability to make fine mental distinctions. Now the country had two dissident Dolocairn-led movements, one based on wild and irrational Earth worship and the other on the fierce eradication of all emotions but penitence, suffering, and stifling self-righteousness.

Kermit shuffled papers. "Back to business. We were talking about sex."

Phileas nodded with relief. "It's incorrect to say that deviance goes unpunished. Those who persist in it fail to advance in our society for the simple reason that they've demonstrated a lack of control over their physical urges. We levy the same penalties on those who are emotionally uncontrolled. The man who can't refrain from showing public affection to his wife—"

"Or the depraved teenagers who practically have sex in the street," Daria said.

"Yes, those, too. They pay for their pleasures, just as do the drug abusers, by being deprived of any significant role in the shaping of their country. Thus, they are isolated, and Oasis is uncorrupted. Those who change their minds and decide to learn mental and emotional discipline can re-enter the mainstream of society."

"But without having to atone," Snurf said. "The Godlies do not accept that. Those who contribute to an atmosphere of licentiousness make it more difficult for the ones who seek purity of mind and body. The sinners should be punished."

"A spirit of vengeance is emotional extravagance unworthy of Mind," Phileas said. "Let's hear some facts, instead." He turned to Kermit. "Isn't it true that since the relaxation of the sex laws we have greatly reduced incidents of rape and murder?"

"I can verify that." Kermit tapped on his handheld computer. "Rape down seventy-five percent, murder fifty percent. Excellent statistics."

"And I'd rather have live and unbrutalized citizens. In this, I follow the example of my father, Calmus Ar'ran, Guardian before me, who said that law was no substitute for reasoning with the people."

"We all know that," Malvern Frost said, "but I'd like to know how he'd deal with the Earthers. Agitation increases among the field workers. Earthers spout the nonsense that they've heard the earth cry out. They claim that abuse of the land will lead to our doom. Many are now bleating that we must become one with it. Imagine that, becoming one with mud and dung and mindless animals who eat and shit and call that life. They're actively recruiting young Oasans. On three occasions, they've demonstrated in the center of Nathansville."

As annoying as the other Councilors could be, Phileas considered only Malvern dangerous. Half Dolocairner and half Etrenzian, he could shift identities to his advantage, at one moment expressing his solidarity with those who felt their ways through life and the next displaying all the attributes of a formidable, emotionless mind. Lately Phileas had sensed in him an overarching ambition, and today Malvern seemed far too pleased about Kermit's gloomy report.

Wendly's brow furrowed like a newly ploughed field. "I'm seeing too many good men and women turn to the Earther cult—not the kind of people who weep at the death of a sparrow, but honest, intelligent citizens. We should be listening and seeing if there's any way of finding common cause, instead of driving them underground."

Phileas nodded. "Exactly as Calmus said. Let's never forget that the philosophy of Oasis is based on the free exchange and enrichment of thought."

Malvern pounded the table. "But as you said, Guardian, it's not based on emotional extravagance. I defy anyone to make common cause with the idea that the earth can speak. Show me one passage in Nathan's writing that even suggests such twaddle. Earthism is a disease, a fungus, a rot, and it will destroy our food production like any disease. There's already huge disruption, as I have reason to know, living in Oasis West, cheek by jowl with the farmers."

Phileas suppressed a smirk. Cheek by jowl, indeed. Malvern had plenty of both. Through some act of administrative chicanery, he'd built a house on one of the few hills in Oasis West, claiming it was necessary to have an overview of the fields. Oddly, this house also needed to be larger than a typical farmer's dwelling, and the interior was, if not luxurious in the decadent style of Tamaras, no monument to austerity. This way of living could provoke the people to greater unrest.

"We aren't doing nearly enough," Snurf said, "but, as I continually state, only in the Godly sect are all equal."

"A sect Nathan would never have permitted," Daria said.

"Untrue! Unfair! And among the Godlies you won't find the greed, the jealousy, or the unleashed lust that poisons the rest of the population. We practice Nathan's creed of austerity in every aspect of our lives."

Phileas thought someone should feed Daria to the dragon, but she was tough to quash. "These Godly notions of sin and repentance undermine our ideals," she said, "and some of these fanatics standing on the street corners have no more emotional control than the worst of the Earthers. It's what you could expect of people whose ancestors froze their bollocks off every winter—and we all know how long a Dolocairn winter lasts."

Phileas looked in despair at the Council members. They could only agree about how bad things were. It was up to him to spin some notion to promote unity.

"Councilors, we need renewal. We've already planned the celebrations for the five-hundredth anniversary of Nathansville, but we'd better fine-tune them. I recommend encouraging those who'll make speeches to emphasize unity more than ever and the idea that every citizen is important. I'd also recommend a particularly heavy emphasis on what the days of slavery were like, and I'd like to see a high percentage of Dolocairners participating in the performances."

He turned to Snurf. "I stand in total opposition to the Godly idea that people will only turn away from emotional extravagance if they live in terror of an afterlife of being chased by the dragon. However, I favor reminding people what happens when they throw reason and logic out the window. As the fine play, _Zena Triumphant,_ reminds us, emotional slavery can be as much a form of bondage as physical servitude. Let's inspire renewed vigilance."

He looked around the table. "Are we in accord?"

"Well spoken, Guardian," Kermit said. "If we all do our part, I should end up with more encouraging numbers to crunch."

"I'm always in favor of reminding people about the bad old days," Daria said. "Oasis rose from the ashes of decadence."

The others nodded. "Good," Phileas said. "By next week I'll expect plans to raise enthusiasm among the field workers, students, special interest groups, and general population."

He looked at the printed agenda. "What's this item: Dragon?"

"That's mine," Malvern said, "and it's critical. Last night I heard that the dragon was seen entering the fields. Some brave men fought it back into the swamp."

Godlies, Earthers, and now the dragon? "Why was I not told immediately?"

"Because I'm still attempting to verify the information. No need to throw the population into panic."

That might be exactly what Malvern wanted to do. "This is a very serious matter. Except for the occasional drunken idiot, no one has seen the dragon since the arrival of the first settlers."

"Some people even wonder if it's still alive," Wendly said. "Only the youngest children still play the Dragon game."

"Another example of the decline in morals," said Snurf. "Unless we have the dragon to remind me what beasts we can become without the discipline of Mind, we will fail as a nation. Consider how Dolocairn long ago lost itself to dragon worship. Do we want a country poor in material goods, starving for intellect, rich only in the murk of emotion?"

"We all know dragon worship ruined Dolocairn," Malvern said. "And every smart Dolocairner in Oasis has learned to distance himself from that disaster of a country. _We_ know that every dragon is our enemy, but let's pay attention to the monster in the swamp."

Phileas wished Malvern weren't so articulate. It made him more dangerous. "Let's get down to specifics," he said. "We must try to determine why the dragon appeared. Everyone who saw it is ordered to report to the Healing Center immediately, while their impressions are fresh."

"If you wish it, Guardian," Malvern said, his deference thin.

"I do wish it."

Pounding at the door interrupted him. "Enter."

A young woman dressed in the green tunic and trousers of an apprentice Healer ran into the room. "Assistant Chief Healer Romala Kyle needs you. We have an emergency."

"This meeting is adjourned," Phileas said. "We will meet again in a week."

He shoved his chair aside and left the room.

Phileas walked quickly from the administrative complex to the Healing Center. Two Healers leaped to attention when he entered the lobby. "Healer Kyle awaits you in Room S2 on the top floor."

Phileas breathed deeply to quell the small pulse of anxiety in his throat. That was his mother's room.

Though impatience was a dangerous failing, he couldn't wait for the elevator and vaulted up the stairs, past the surgery suite, the mental mastery training floor, and the wards for those who were suffering only a slight reversal in their mental fortunes. He opened the door to Room S2 and closed it quickly behind him.

Romala Kyle stood by Janzi's bed, looking as if she'd witnessed the front line of a Tamaran invasion. Nonetheless, her manners were impeccable.

"Guardian, I apologize for interrupting your meeting."

"No apologies required. Your damage control has been superb. Did the Chief Healer take a turn for the worse?"

Romala summoned him closer. "This morning, when I attended her, she was highly agitated, squeezing her fingers together, occasionally bursting into tears."

"Tears? My mother?"

"You can imagine my shock. She asked me if I knew that the dragon was our friend."

" _Our friend?_ You're certain these were her words."

She nodded, her black eyes steady. "She repeated them several times. She also claimed that we must honor and express our emotions."

Phileas fought the temptation to fall onto the floor and collapse. "And from whence did this astonishing information come?"

"She wouldn't tell me, but she said it was documented."

_I am the Guardian. The future of a nation depends on my self-control. I will not fail._ Phileas pulled a chair beside the Chief Healer's bed, shaking her gently awake.

Janzi's black eyes snapped open. "Phileas, I'm so glad you're here. I have vital news."

"So I've heard."

"We must change all our policies immediately. Oasis will finally be free. We can shake off the bondage of fear and the tyranny of mind control. We will at last come into balance."

"This is wonderful news. How did you discover it?"

"Just before I fell ill, I was looking for a book on healing I wanted to have entered into the public database. Through an accident—though logic admits to no accidents—I found a hiding place that held an ancient, dusty manuscript. It was Zena's last testament. What I read created such turmoil that illness took advantage of my imbalance, but a period of rest has refreshed and revitalized me."

"Oasis rejoices," Phileas said. "I would like to see the manuscript that brought you such happiness."

Janzi smiled. "I'm afraid that won't be possible. Zena used a binding spell she learned from her sorcerer father to prevent anyone who wasn't ready for her words from finding it. It remains in its hiding place, awaiting your belief. Hopefully, I've planted a seed that will flower into faith."

"Having read the ancient texts about Etrenzian sorcery, I'm aware that binding spells can be broken," Phileas said.

A crafty look came over his mother's face. "It would be demeaning for a Guardian to dabble in sorcery."

"I will suffer that or any humiliation for the sake of our country. Is it not the work of the Guardian to decide what should be hidden and what should not?"

"Zena thought you'd say that, not that she knew who you were, nothing personal. She referred to the Guardian. Why struggle with spells and useless searches? If you're meant to find the manuscript, you will, and Oasis will learn the truth."

The Chief Healer, who, after Phileas, was supposed to be the most mentally disciplined person in Oasis, began to weep. "How wrong we've been. It's unbearable to contemplate. And the dragon, the poor dragon."

Phileas quickly shielded himself against both her obvious insanity and the fatal temptation towards sympathy. Here was the great danger of being a Healer. One needed to sense the emotions of others, but the shields against absorbing them had to be vigilantly maintained. Janzi had obviously neglected her shielding to the point where her mind was probably a quagmire.

He would soon need to find out, but he decided to first see how much reason remained to her. "Does Zena mention the dragon?"

For a moment, Janzi's eyes flashed with intelligence. "Don't think you can trick me. It follows logically. We must love the earth, Phileas, and the dragon is part of the earth."

She burst into fresh tears.

"Janzi, your state of emotional agitation must be painful to you. Will you allow us to enter your mind for healing?"

"I made no attempt before," Romala said. "I felt a solo effort might be dangerous, and I could trust none but you to join me."

"Quite right." The woman's reasoning and discretion were flawless. This was a priceless gift, since the need for a new Chief Healer was now urgent. "You won't be offended if I take the primary role here?"

"Not at all, but I do have a suggestion. I don't wish to offend you, but this will be a delicate probe for you, as the subject is your mother, who's in a highly agitated state."

"I never felt better," Janzi said.

Phileas winced at the word, "felt." "Healer Kyle, if you're suggesting that we link minds, I would appreciate that greatly. Not only does it provide a safety precaution, but we can confer later."

"I give permission to both of you," Janzi said. "My mind has never been in better health, and I have nothing to hide."

_Except the location of the mysterious manuscript._ Phileas carefully shielded that thought.

"Excellent," he said.

"Before we explore her mind, let's get an overall view of the electrical activity," Phileas said.

One of Oasis's foremost scientists had invented a computer that measured mental and emotional activity in the brain. Romala hooked his mother up to the machine with electrodes.

"I'm surprised to see so little activity in the left prefrontal cortex," she said. "The Chief Healer has always been a woman of great intelligence and reason."

Phileas pointed at the screen. "Look at all the red. The active emotions have probably suppressed the logical functions. That's why you see so little blue on the screen. I find it odd that, agitated as she is, she doesn't seem to be fearful. The right prefrontal cortex is lively."

"You think I don't know anything about the brain?" Janzi demanded. "My right prefrontal cortex is jumping for joy because I'm happy to finally know the truth."

"We're glad to hear that, " Phileas said in his most soothing voice. "Healer Kyle, let's link."

Sensing, the art of entering another's awareness and locating areas of emotional disturbance, was a Healer's most powerful tool. It was also the most dangerous, because the Healer, if not fully detached from the subject's turbulence, might become infected by it.

Phileas closed his eyes and took a series of deep breaths, breathing out all loose strands of personality and emotional turbulence, breathing in the cool, dry air of logic and reason. _I am a vehicle for the light of truth_ , he repeated silently. _My work is to go into this troubled mind and cleanse it of accumulated poison. I will at all times shield myself from that poison. I attach no personal glory to the idea of success. My work is for the benefit of humankind and for this disturbed being._

The sensation of entering another's mind was dreamlike, except that the skilled and well-shielded Healer observed, rather than entered, the dream of another.

Healer Kyle's mind was a calming place, with softly waving green fronds and the fragrance of lavender and chamomile, a tidy and well-tended garden of a mind. Phileas suspected that weeds grew on side paths, but, like all people who practiced mind mastery, she'd barred those paths from others' view.

His mind wasn't garden-like. It was a library, full of books, some worn from use, others new, their bindings uncracked. Not all of these books made for wholesome consumption, but he kept the unsuitable ones deep in the back, in a small, locked room.

When he saw Romala walking down an aisle lined with rows of volumes on healing, he knew the link was established. He reminded himself to observe dispassionately as he began a slow, cautious probe into Janzi's mind.

The outskirts were littered with tattered frills of feeling: longing for her decades-dead mother, concerns for his own well-being, and other emotions that a Chief Healer should have swept away as part of routine mind cleansing. Clearly, his mother had been declining for some time, but she'd known how to conceal this, failing only when her cluttered mind had exploded and spewed forth dangerous nonsense.

Maybe. He reminded himself that he was still clearing away the outskirts of consciousness. He went deeper, looking as he traveled to see if, in the midst of this disorder lay any information about the manuscript. Finding none, he took the most heavily trodden neural pathway into the center of Janzi's mind. As he probed, she responded with a series of sensory images. The path turned muddy and overgrown with weeds. The atmosphere was dank, oppressive, and foul. It would be impossible to plant the seeds of mental health in such a poisonous environment.

Phileas had never been in a place like this, but awareness, slow as water dripping from a mossy branch, penetrated his own mind. This was the swamp, the dismal landscape he'd seen every time he'd attempted to heal those brave and honest beings who'd come for help when they found themselves afflicted with the Earther disease. Their terrifying images had described clammy air thick with mosquitoes and gnats and an environment populated with hissing snakes and deadly spiders. In Phileas' considered judgment, their desperation to escape that nightmare world had been the main ingredient in their successful healing.

No such desperation moved Janzi. Her mind seemed perfectly comfortable about housing this horror show. It was far too soon to admit failure, but one could reasonably conclude that additional healings would be required. He was looking around to see what temporary repairs might be made when the earth began to shake beneath his feet, and noxious steam overpowered the general odor of rot.

And the Dragon appeared, no fire-breathing demon, but a cartoon character, with a big, goofy smile and soft eyes. _I am your friend_.

The horror of it briefly disarmed Phileas, pulling him into the dream and hurling him back to his childhood.

"If you're a bad boy, the Dragon will have you for breakfast," parents told their children. In the schoolyard, the children shouted," Kill the dragon!" beating a defenseless tree with their sticks, vying to outdo each other in the shrillness of their screams. He was the best, always, because he hated the Dragon, because dragon hating was the only passion allowed full expression, and because he already knew he would be the leader of the people.

The wrongness of Janzi's diseased mind made him want to vomit. With supreme effort, he turned his back on the still-smiling beast and ran out of the swamp. Once safe, he gathered together his mental powers and imagined an impenetrable hedge bristling with the thorns of reason and logic to separate Janzi from her thoughts about the monster. Having completed that work, he slowly pulled himself out of her mind.

Because of the arduous nature of his labors, he found it necessary to allow himself a brief period of unconsciousness. When he opened his eyes, Romala was looking at him with concern.

"Are you all right, Guardian?"

"Drained. If I had to do a healing right now, I probably couldn't."

She glanced at Janzi, whose eyes were closed. "I don't know if it would help. She's gone into a coma."

Phileas suppressed the guilt and relief he felt at that news. Logically, the coma helped. "It may be that the Chief Healer was over-zealous in her work and didn't allow herself necessary periods of recuperation. That will be the official statement. However, only the most trusted Healers can be allowed to attend her, and they are to let you know the moment she speaks. And you are to send word to me."

Romala nodded. "May I ask you something? Could there be any truth to what she said about Zena?"

" _Zena? Mother of Mind_?"

She flinched, but didn't retreat. "It was logical to ask."

He erased his brief guilt for frightening her by apologizing. "Forgive my descent into emotion. We must always ask. To rest in the feathery comfort of certainty represents mental sloth of the worst kind. However, you surely saw the disarray of my mother's mind and the dragon."

"I didn't see the dragon. I saw ponds choked with weeds and slime."

"Probably the swamp," Phileas said.

"Perhaps, for I also saw trees whose roots and trunks rotted in stagnant water. I breathed foul, damp air. The images I saw, though, were of a mother sick with grief over her alienation from her son. I saw her heart bleeding with the unhealed wound that was the loss of him when he was so young."

He was glad he'd only seen the dragon. Even a second-hand vision of Janzi's suffering threatened his mental self-control. "Leave me," he said. "I must think about this."

But he couldn't think about his mother. Instead, he thought about Zena. Discreet as Romala was, Phileas wasn't about to tell her what was known only to Guardians: that Zena, too, had gone off the deep end during her last days. There'd always been suspicions about a manuscript. Earlier Guardians had ordered searches of every library in the land, but nothing had shown up.

He'd uncovered no traces of the manuscript in Janzi's mind. Still, she could have hidden an entire library in all that disorder. And, though he loathed the idea that dread, one of the lowest forms of emotion, was tarnishing his mind, he found it impossible to shake the belief that everything that could go wrong would go wrong under his regime, that in years to come—if, indeed, there _were_ years to come—he would be known as Phileas the Failure.

### Chapter 4

Serazina sat on her bed and stared out the window, watching a hawk soar through the sky. "I wish I were a bird or a cat or a fish—anything but a human."

Berto, leaning against her dresser, quoted the Oasis creed in a bored voice. "'I am proud to be a human, superior to the creeping and flying beasts. I value my ability to rise above base animal feelings and sensations. I pledge to break the shackles of emotion and reach ever higher into the pure realm of intellect.'"

"I said that, every day for twelve years of school, but I never believed it."

"Of course not. You wanted to _feel_. You have an excellent mind, but you're so determined to protect your feelings that you won't admit it."

He'd never before made feelings sound so slimy, like rolling in worms. "No, I won't let them change who I am, and my feelings are the best thing about me. They make me alive, instead of half-dead, like a lot of people in Oasis. Maybe you'd rather I was like them. Maybe you'd rather have a full-blooded Etrenzian girlfriend who doesn't start crying at the sight of a kitten or puppy. Are you tired of me?"

He moved to the bed and hugged her. "Don't even think that. No one is like you. Why are you so depressed? Are you worried about the final exams?"

Her shoulders slumped. "I'm terrified, even though I've used my _excellent_ mind to protect myself. I had enough control to pass the school tests that identified the Feelies, and I've been smart enough to act stupid all these years."

"Why don't you trust it to get you over this last hurdle?"

"Because of my dreams. It's the final interview, but instead of an examiner, the Guardian is conducting it, and his black Etrenzian eyes see right through me. He says, 'Girl, you're a fraud,' because I've failed to convince him I'm stupid. In some versions, he sends me to the department that hooks people up to the machines that measure emotional activity. I break them. As punishment for bypassing the holy laws of reason and logic, they send me to a rehabilitation center, and the techs shock that filthy _knowing_ out of me. Sometimes they cut it out."

"No!" Berto made a fist. "I won't let that happen. I know it's illogical, but that dream frightens me. We can leave Oasis. We'll go to Tamaras, where minds are impure and people indulge their senses and enjoy life. You've got to live in a place where no one denounces passion, where you can cry without people staring at you and maybe taking you off to the House of Healing for rewiring."

The birds sang to her, the trees in the forest bent their leafy heads, and the dancing blades of grass whispered, _Stay_. How could she move to a place where the air reeked of garbage and too many humans, their feelings and sensations as rank to her awareness as rotting food?

"Serazina, listen. The more I think about leaving, the better I like the idea. I'll never be able to paint the way I want to here. And they might not let us get married if we stay."

When she looked into him more deeply, she was flooded with his fear and desperation to convince her. "But _Tamaras?_ "

His eyes blazed with anger. "You say you won't let them change who you are, but you let them fill you with prejudice. We've been trained to believe Tamaras is awful. The people eat fried food, listen to loud music, and like sex. What animals. I'm Tamaran, do I qualify?"

Berto's rage burned her cheeks. "You like sex," she said, trying to divert him.

"Sorry," he said, "but even if you weren't in danger, and I weren't worried about painting the way _I_ feel, I'd be ready to leave because I hate those racial stereotypes. Etrenzians have the best minds. That's why they run the place. Dolocairners are so waterlogged with emotions that they're incapable of mental labor, and don't they worship dragons? Those crafty Tamarans are tricksters. Never mind that we've all been living here for five hundred years."

"I know. Do you think it's fun to be a mixture of waterlogged Dolocairn and supposedly smart Etrenzian, a _hybrid_?"

Berto lowered his head. "And you face a danger bigger than mind modification or surgical alternation. What if you get sent to examiners who realize that you have the sensing gift?"

She held him tight. "That's in my dreams, too, but I managed to get disqualified last year. If I hadn't had a brilliant older sister, I wouldn't have been tested at all. They rarely test hybrids. Our Etrenzian blood is polluted beyond salvation."

"Ordinarily, I'd agree with you, but the Guardian will soon be forty years old, without an heir in sight. The people are getting nervous. I admit that the odds of your being found out are small, but do you want to take that chance?"

"I'd die first," Serazina said.

He hugged her. "No, we'll leave first."

The circle of his arms comforted her. If they were together, nothing could hurt her. "But why Tamaras? And I don't mean that as a racial slur."

"Would you prefer the baking heat of Etrenzia? Or maybe you have a fondness for the ice and snow of Dolocairn."

"No one does. Only Godlies who really want to suffer go to Dolocairn. You're right, but I don't know."

Berto stroked her hair in a way guaranteed to soften her resistance. "We don't have to leave tomorrow. We'll plan and prepare; we'll save our nats and zenas until we have enough money to hold us while we look for work. You have time to get used to the idea."

But she wouldn't. Ever.

"Serazina?" her mother called from downstairs. "If you and Berto are going to see that play, you need to leave soon."

Serazina groaned quietly. As an early graduation gift, Fiola, her mother had given her two tickets to Part I of _Zena Triumphant_ , an operatic version of the life of her Etrenzian ancestor, the one who had started all the trouble. "Coming," she said.

They clattered down the stairs to the living room, where Fiola sat at a computer and her older sister clicked on the keyboard of her portalibrary.

"Reading something interesting, Elissia?" Serazina asked.

"Ten years of reports from the Water Commission," Elissia said, rubbing her eyes. "I downloaded them from the Science Library, and I'm supposed to upload my comments before a meeting on Monday. We have to find a solution to the problem of drought."

The heavy black hair coiled on Fiola's head quivered slightly as she looked at Elissia, and the dimmest tinge of pride brightened her obsidian eyes. "And you the youngest member of the Water Commission. I hope your sister will follow your example."

Although it would be a miracle if she did.

Serazina winced at the bitterness of her mother's unguarded emotions.

"Maybe seeing the play will remind her about the honor of being Zena's direct descendant." Elissia's face was solemn.

"A logical and desirable outcome," Fiola said.

"And speaking of logic, I think Serazina should stay at my apartment tonight."

Fiola nodded. "It's too dangerous at night in the city these days. I intend to write a letter to the Supreme Council about the drug problem."

"It's a very serious issue," Berto agreed.

Serazina, Berto, and Elissia left the house to take a high-speed train into the city, where they could buy drugs.

The train wasn't crowded, and they were all able to sit together. "Don't even think about not seeing the play," Elissia warned Serazina, who squirmed with guilt.

"How did you know what I was thinking?"

"Not because I read minds, dear sister. It's logical. No one under the age of thirty wants to hear actors shrieking for two hours about mind mastery. But she'll quiz you when you get home tomorrow."

"And you think I couldn't answer any of Mother's questions? 'What was the play about?' 'How strong emotions rot the mind and why we should fight to suppress them in every waking moment.'"

Elissia frowned. "We should resist some. Do you want everyone to be greedy, despairing, and jealous?"

"Look around," Berto said. "They are. And you didn't mention lust, which is awfully popular. Sometimes I think that the more emotions are thwarted, the bigger they become. If the leaders of this country were really logical, they'd figure that out."

Elissia kicked a pile of litter someone had illegally left on the train. "And you aren't going to change them. Berto, if you love my sister, you've got to be worried that she'll end up in a padded cell or with pieces of her brain missing."

"Hello, I'm right here," Serazina said, "and I know the dangers." It was a big day for telling her about that. Had her dreams infected those who loved her with her worries?

"But did you know that the Breeding Board is having so much difficulty coming up with potential candidates to be mother of the Guardian's heir that they've decided to retest all females descended from Zena, including hybrids, when they turn eighteen?"

"Just as I thought," Berto said.

Serazina's heart tightened. "No."

"Yes," Elissia said. "I'll never know how you got yourself disqualified in the first go-round. They saw right away that I have only weak sensing skills, but how did they miss you?"

"I didn't bathe for three days beforehand. I made my hair really messy. I acted as if I were totally wasted on drugs. I was like 'Guardian who? Zena who?' They didn't even want to come near me."

"But you might not succeed this time," Berto said. "That settles it. We'll leave before September."

Elissia's black eyes were fiery. "Do it."

Before her stop came, Elissia handed Serazina a set of keys to her apartment. "I won't be there. You'll have the place to yourself."

"Hot date?" Berto asked.

Her eyes softened. "Special guy."

"Just make sure your genetic and mental profiles are guaranteed to create a crop of outstanding citizens. 'Each generation must rise above the last.'"

"Oh, Berto, if you knew how I worry about that, and I'm not the only one. Someone started a dating service where everyone is screened for compatibility. You get a list of approved candidates from the Breeding Board. Can you imagine anything more deadly?"

The train stopped and Elissia kissed them quickly. "Have fun."

Serazina and Berto got off at the next stop and hurried down the streets to the State Playhouse, a squat concrete building. Inside, it was no more beautiful. The walls were unfinished concrete blocks, and the space was dimly lit and crowded with uncomfortable chairs.

The play had already begun. Serazina studied the program notes and saw they'd missed the scene of Zena's abduction from the desert oasis in Etrenzia where she'd been born. Now, having been sold into slavery, she was living in a Tam Town harem. Her master, Emperor of Tamaras and the villain of the piece, was suitably licentious, rubbing his big hands together and frequently flinging his slaves onto a bed, but nothing much happened. Oasis playwrights didn't write about sex.

They didn't write about passionate emotions, either, but it was necessary to show how Zena's rage at being a concubine added mental enslavement to her physical bondage. Of course, it also led to the great awakening, the moment Zena realized that if she could master her destructive emotions, she could win her freedom.

_Could I?_ Serazina wondered. _If I could master the fear and guilt that enslave me, wouldn't I be happier?_

The trouble was that the official Oasis list of undesirable emotions also included passion, exhilaration, the love of nature, and tenderness for small animals. The most prohibited sense was the one most important to Serazina: the deep knowing that something was true, a sureness that needed neither reason nor logic. It went against everything for which Oasis stood, and in Oasis you either toed the line completely or your brains got scrambled.

She could never be as cold and deliberate as her ancestor. Zena, daughter of a snake charmer and sorcerer, transformed the skills she'd learned in order to charm people instead of snakes and to entrance them with visions of freedom. Her harem mates became disciples, and slaves who traveled the streets of the city on errands spread the word that a liberator had come to help those who could learn to free themselves of enslaving emotions.

Throughout the city, captives replaced despair and anger with fierce watchfulness. "We await the day," sang the actors in one chorus that seemed to go on forever, but finally the day came, and the slaves arose. The uprising was violent, but Zena justified the slaughter by saying that sentiment over worthless human lives was the greatest enslavement of all.

Serazina thought a little romance might enter the story when Zena, stepping over the body of her former master, took the hand of Nathan, the messenger who'd coordinated much of the citywide uprising, but she was disappointed. Zena coolly examined the young man and said, "You may become my husband."

"Ghastly," Berto said when the play was finally over. "Let's go to the Bazaar and get high."

They walked a few blocks and plunged into bright colors and loud music. Serazina's senses, dulled by the play, came alive again.

"I hear they talk about cleaning up this area," she said.

Berto shook his head. "Never happen. Better to have all the degenerates in one area, where they can be watched. Everyone needs the Bazaar."

Serazina knew she did. Unpleasant as it was to be in the city, she cherished the freedom she felt here. "I hope they don't."

"Even if they do, we'll be gone."

"Be gone, be gone, greed and lust and mind destruction through drugs." A man wearing a black Godly robe shouted on the street corner, grabbing the arms of passersby. "Sinners, hear me, your fleshly indulgences weaken your minds. A weak people are a conquered people. In his filthy lair, the dragon rejoices over the surrender of the Oasis spirit. You do his work, sinners, traitors! Nathan curse you, blessed Zena curse you!"

The black heat of his wrath choked Serazina. "I can hardly breathe," she whispered.

Berto guided her away. "Never call yourself to their attention. In the bars, people are saying the Godlies in the Bazaar are spies."

They walked through the Dolocairn district on their way to the bar. On either side of the entrance to a cheese store stood big wooden tubs full of early spring flowers. The reds and yellows assaulted Serazina with their loveliness, and the thin membrane in which she tried to enclose her emotions burst.

A woman walked by, her hand on her belly, and all the sadness and tears of a miscarriage flooded Serazina's heart. Before she had recovered from that, a drunk staggered past them, his heart stuffed with emotions too tattered to identify. Next passed a Godly whose mind whipped at tender feelings. _Weakness! Blasphemy!_

"Berto, please."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the Rainbow. The air in the bar was cool and scented with lavender and the resinous odor of cactus flower. Faceted prisms reflected the colors of gel-covered lights to cast a diffused glow in the large room. Serazina could breathe again.

"A glass of wine?" Berto asked.

"No thanks." In the early stages of drinking, she enjoyed the dulling of emotion. After a while, though, it had the opposite effect, opening her even more to the moods of everyone around her.

The drug waiter came around with a tray of capsules. Berto bought some Flash; he liked to hallucinate. Serazina preferred the drugs that created a kind of mindless happiness, the feeling that she was at the bottom of a lake and would never drown.

"I'll take some Numbs," she said.

"Numbs?"

Berto's upset was fiery. Serazina withdrew her hand from his arm.

"Sorry," he said, "I was thinking about Elissia's empty apartment. Sex is so much nicer when I don't imagine your mother wishing I were an Etrenzian."

"I still feel lacerated, and I want a break from myself. I'll only take one cap and some Dance."

All drugs and some other substances had a distinct taste and smell for her. More than once, a scent of wrongness had saved her from tainted substances. She sniffed the capsule. Reassured by the sweet aroma of honeysuckle, she swallowed it. A few minutes later, she touched Berto again, and he felt cool and peaceful.

A singer stood on the platform at the end of the long room, singing a mournful tune. Many young people were devoted to Wail. A genre of music from Dolocairn that exalted feelings, whether sad or happy, it wasn't permitted play on public airtime.

"My mind imprisons me," the singer howled. "How can I get free? Feelings crushed and dead, electrodes in my head."

Some of the singer's emotionalism was contrived to suit the song, but Serazina sensed dark and tangled feelings like the weeds at the bottom of a stagnant pond.

"I can't stand Wail," Berto said. "I imagine some Dolocairner singing it and causing an avalanche that buries an entire mountain village."

Apparently others agreed, because a cry rose up for some Body. The band switched to a lively beat, with heavy emphasis on Etrenzian goatskin drums. Serazina, Dance pulling her to her feet, got up with Berto.

Except as a form of exercise to release excessive physical energy, dancing was not encouraged, especially the slow, sensuous rubbing that Serazina and Berto now began. Others were on the dance floor, so Serazina didn't feel so conspicuous, except that she was sure she must radiate flames.

"Let's go," she said to Berto.

Elissia lived in an apartment complex for young government employees. Near the city center, its drab gray façade was unornamented, and her one-room apartment was equally austere. Serazina didn't bother turning on the lights. She and Berto unfolded the couch into a bed and fell on it, reaching for each other with a passion fueled by drugs and desperation.

Sex released Serazina so intensely that it was often days before her emotions built up again to the danger point. After their lovemaking, she slept peacefully, her arm around Berto.

She woke up late the next morning and jumped out of bed. "Berto." She shook him. "I have to go work at the House of Healing."

"I'll walk around the city and do some sketching," he said. "Meet you for dinner? At Al'asso? I feel like eating Etrenzian food."

As always, Serazina noticed the ugly buildings in the center of the city. In Tamaras they had turrets and wrought iron. Even Etrenzia had minarets and beautiful domes. Oasan architecture specialized in pyramids and obelisks stabbing the sky.

Only the House of Healing was different. A verdigris dome topped it, and ivy twined up its pillars. Abstract designs in stained glass let in soft green light.

Serazina went to her locker in the basement and changed to her laundry worker's uniform, dyed the dull yellow of leaves about to die, and reported to the supervisor.

"You're up on the Feelies floor today."

She went up the stairs to the ward. Drugs kept the patients here relatively comatose, their emotions dulled. Those who became stable on medication were sometimes released without surgery or shock therapy. Many of them, though, stopped taking their pills once they felt better, and the cycle of hospitalization began anew. Three visits to the Feelies ward guaranteed a date with either electrodes or knives.

Serazina went down the hall to check on towels and drinking water in each room. In the first room she saw a woman who'd once been her teacher in Dolocairn literature. Citizen Whiterock had become overcome with emotion while reciting a poem about snow. She'd sobbed out the line, "The snow _falls_ and _falls_ and _falls_ " for fifteen minutes before someone had gone for school security. Now she sat in a chair, bundled in blankets, her lips moving silently, her emotions a damp shroud enveloping her.

Serazina replaced the water pitcher quickly and ran out of the room. In the next room a man huddled beneath his bedding. When Serazina tried to lift it, he clutched it more tightly about him. "Don't want the dragon to see me," he whispered.

Serazina wished she could tell an administrator that sending her to the Feelies ward was a bad idea for all concerned, but that would mean admitting her sensing ability. She tried to use Mind. _Three hours left. If I finish the rounds, I can go sit in the staff lounge. I'll be seeing Berto soon._

She managed to do everything necessary in the frightened man's room and went to the next room, a private one. The door was closed, and she knocked on it.

A nurse opened it a crack. "No one is supposed to come in here, but you look harmless."

Serazina translated that to _insignificant_. Any secrets beyond the door would obviously mean nothing to a worthless hybrid. She entered the room. Lying on the bed was an Etrenzian woman in her sixties. Her eyes were closed, and her chest barely moved. Her black skin was nearly gray.

"I want to put a flotation pad beneath her," the nurse said. "Would you lift her? She hardly weighs a thing."

Serazina easily lifted the woman's body, light as a bundle of dried stalks, while the nurse slid the air-filled padding beneath her.

"She'll rest more comfortably now, not that she probably knows the difference, poor thing. I've got to go to the front desk and give a report on her condition. Get her new towels and fresh water."

The nurse left. After Serazina filled up the water pitcher and placed it on the bedside table, the woman opened her eyes and smiled.

Serazina gaped at her. "You're supposed to be in a coma."

"A simple matter of mind control. It serves my purposes to pretend."

"Why let me know?"

"You look like a descendant of Zena, and I read you as trustworthy. Some day you'll know the truth. In the meantime, trust the dragon."

" _What?_ "

The woman put her hands on her lips and closed her eyes. Thirty seconds later, the nurse returned.

"Did I hear talking in here?"

Serazina shook her head.

"Get on with your work."

Serazina left the room.

_Trust the dragon?_ The woman was crazy.

After work she went to Al'asso, where Berto sat with some of their classmates.

"Hi," he called out. "We're complaining about our future."

"There's a lot to complain about," she said.

"Tell me," said Clona, a Dolocairn girl who wore her emotions on her pouting mouth. "Ninety percent of the field workers' kids end up in the field. You're lucky that all your parents work in the city."

"My father doesn't," Serazina said.

"No, but Johar Clare gets no soil on his hands. He's responsible for the production from all the fields in Oasis West. Think they'll put you in the fields?"

Obvious as the venom in her words was, her emotions were even more aggressive. Serazina tried to neutralize them. "You're telling me that when I've just come from my work hauling hospital sheets full of shit and piss and wiping patients' ulcerated bottoms? Some great connections. Clona, it's not my fault you're angry at the world."

Clona sawed at her lamb. "Sorry. It's just that there are so few places where I can bitch."

The girl's anger melted into sodden self-pity. As sometimes happened, Serazina was glad to sense the emotions of another because it reminded her that others suffered more than she. Clona, struggling against the jealousy and despair she'd been taught was wrong, sank ever deeper into them, like someone sucked down by quicksand.

_It's better to allow emotions_ , Serazina told herself, _even if it's more dangerous._

"The safest place to bitch is beyond the border," Berto said. "And when I leave, I might spend a week getting it out of my system."

"You're really leaving?" someone asked.

"What choice do I have?"

"It's hopeless, isn't it?" Serazina asked when Berto walked her to the door of her house.

"Pretty much." He looked up at the sky, gleaming with a lacy pattern of stars. "I love it here, despite everything. The Tamaran sky won't be so beautiful. What if I lose my inspiration?"

_And what will I lose?_ Serazina wondered.

### Chapter 5

_You want to get creeped out bad, come to the country,_ Emerald decided. _Look at that black, black sky. Any kind of mean, ugly thing could come swooping down on you and carry you off. And those trees, all dark and leaves rustling in the wind. And what's that bird going 'hoot, hoot'? Makes my backbone twang. And it's_ cold, _not one little flower in sight. Did I just hear a scream? Tomorrow I'm taking the truck back to the city, and I don't ever want to hear any more about The Green._

That was all she was hearing right now. Misha was freaking. "Look at those gorgeous trees and the clean sky, the softness of grass beneath my tired paws." If she didn't stop, she was going to have the softness of grass above her dead body.

Even the smooth-tongued cats who'd lured them into this disaster zone looked concerned. "Let's find a resting place," Bast said, "and catch something to eat. I smell rabbit nearby."

Rabbit? Emerald hoped that wasn't some big bug, but she was almost hungry enough to eat a dirty roach.

They trotted into the woods, where some of that big-assed sky got hidden, and found a small cave close to a stream. "You rest with your grandmother while we hunt."

Sleep helped Emerald recover from the bone-rattling journey; so did the mouth-watering smell of fresh meat wafting past her. She opened her eyes to see Orion carrying a good-sized creature with long ears.

He put it in front of Misha. "Let the Elder eat her fill."

Misha sank her teeth into the flesh and ate with evident enjoyment. "Delicious," she finally said.

Orion ripped off a haunch and tossed it to Emerald. Misha was right; this was the tastiest hunk of meat she'd ever eaten. Maybe the Green wasn't so bad.

But the silence was so big, the space so huge. If she'd been alone here, she would have gone out of her head with fright. Instead, she cuddled close to Misha and, eased by the old cat's peaceful breathing, slept again.

She woke up to a fragrant wind ruffling her fur.

"She looks healthier already," Bast said. "By her next estrus she should be ready."

What was this, the daily medical report, with fancy words a stupid little alley cat wasn't supposed to understand? Whatever anyone wanted to call it, the swelling and unbearable itch had gone. Good riddance. Orion still looked like one fine tom, though, and she enjoyed the way he came to her side and nuzzled her.

"Let's walk around," he suggested. "You'll want to get familiar with the pathways and know where the best hiding places are."

It was always smart to know your turf, so she followed him, but this hiding place business bothered her. "From what? Any humans here?"

"We saw some last night, gathered in a circle, calling on the Mother. They sounded like lost kittens. With humans you can never be sure, but they seemed harmless."

"I'm in no hurry to find out," she said.

"No. However, we have more immediate worries—wolves, for example. They're like dogs, but larger and stronger. Although they've been known to kill cats, we're hoping to negotiate with them. Bears, who are very large and strong, usually don't bother cats, unless you decide to rub against them."

"Won't catch me rubbing against anyone I don't know or even some I do."

"You also need to learn about snakes with poisonous bites and porcupines, who have dangerous quills."

"This is the place my grandmother has been dreaming of all these years? What else got left out of the story? You must be out of your mind to think I'm going to raise any kittens here. You forked-tongued bastards will probably blame me if they turn into bear food or get quills. What are quills, anyway?"

"Narrow sticks with lots of tiny claws on them."

"Huh, sounds like something you were wanting to introduce to me last night."

"I only have one, and when the time comes, you'll be glad to make its acquaintance."

"We'll see about that."

She'd never met a tom more full of himself, but it might come from being so well fed. He couldn't help it if he was fine.

"Look over there; that's a porcupine."

Emerald studied the strangest-looking animal she'd ever seen. "You sure that isn't some kind of mutant?"

"I know it looks deformed, but I wouldn't say that to its face—if you could find it."

"Orion, how do you think porcupines manage to mate?"

"That's a frightening thought. I wouldn't want to be around in case the quills were flying. If you can tear yourself away from that fascinating sight, I'd like to do some hunting."

Emerald, determined to prove she wasn't as ignorant as she was starting to feel, caught and killed a squirrel.

"Delicious," Orion said, thoughtfully saving the seed-filled stomach for her. "I'm not surprised you hunt so well, with that graceful, muscular body."

Flattery wouldn't get him much, but it didn't hurt her ears, and, after they ate, the rough tongue that groomed her did no harm to her fur. Her skin tingled from head to toe, and she purred herself to sleep.

Every day and night they went out exploring. By the next new moon, Emerald knew all the major pathways through the forest and where the tastiest animals lived. She'd discovered how delicious grass and certain herbs were, and her coat gleamed.

One afternoon they visited a waterfall. Emerald sat for long silent minutes on the cushiony moss, breathing in the rich, green air, watching the rainbow the spray made. She was thinking it was the most beautiful place she'd ever seen when the itch came on her again.

Orion, who obviously had the keenest nose in the forest, began rubbing against her, and his silky fur was as soft as the moss beneath her paws. "A beautiful place to create life," he purred.

As a come-on, it was a lot subtler than "Senti has what you need," and it helped that the selection committee wasn't around. They'd probably have told Orion how to mount her, and he seemed to know how to do that just fine.

No wonder queens screamed when they mated. Misha had been right about those barbs. Once it was over, though, Emerald noticed that the itch was gone and her agitation with it. She sank into the moss and closed her eyes. Currents she'd never noticed before, like water flowing deep in the earth entered her, carrying tiny flashes of light that sparkled through her. Maybe it had something to do with the crazy country air.

Orion wanted to keep on mating, "just to make sure," and they stayed at the waterfall until the next day. By the time they left, Emerald thought she'd had enough of that for a while.

Two moon cycles later a different kind of pain gripped her. She tried to crawl off to the nest she'd secretly prepared, but the wicked sisters prevented her.

Those cats were unnatural. When a queen had her kittens, she wanted to be alone, not out in the open, with Bast droning some awful chant and every damned little bird in the forest hanging from the branches to watch her. Who cared if it was a great moment for the cat world?

"Relax," Bast hummed.

Right. Wasn't this the same Bast who'd said Emerald was too young to have kittens? She'd been right, but put a pound or two on that young cat, shine up her fur, and suddenly she was in fighting condition. Or maybe they needed this so-called Chosen kitten in such a hurry that they'd thrown what few scruples they had to the winds.

She could feel now how big the kittens were. They took after their father. Why hadn't she thought about that by the waterfall? She'd remember next time, if she were lucky enough to have a next time. Things didn't look promising at the moment. If a creature could survive being torn apart like this, she would have heard about it.

_Good-bye, world_ , she thought, looking up at the untroubled sky. At least she'd lived in the Green, and that was more than many cats could say. She'd eaten good food, had fur that didn't smell funky, and she'd lived without hearing a human voice. The absence of that harsh sound allowed her to realize how it had terrified her. Every time she'd heard it, she'd remembered her mother shrieking in terror.

If she had to die, at least it wouldn't be at their hands, and no one would be throwing her stiff body into some stinking garbage can. She supposed the other cats would drag her off into the underbrush, and her body could slowly rot the natural way, becoming food for the plants eaten by the small creatures who'd fed her so well here.

That part of her the Big Three liked to call Spirit would be at rest, in silence, no one bothering her, just peace and quiet and never having to worry about where the next mouse was coming from . . . so good, the quiet and the peace, no more pain, just the feeling of flooding open, a kind of sweetness filling her, not dying at all, but huge with life. A sound broke the silence, the tiniest mew ever, its need calling her out of the darkness and into dazzling light.

* * *

For an eternity, the darkness had rocked the kitten in its sticky wetness. Now its walls squeezed her, pushing her into another darkness that was much bigger. Rough touch, then, a feeling that made all of her tingle, and a sliding off of something that had surrounded her, leaving her cold and exposed. Then she was guided into a new, encircling warmth. After a while, another small body crowded next to her and another, until they were all pressed against the big warm. And so it went on for another eternity of sweet-smelling darkness.

"The kitten with the white paws is the one."

"Are you sure?"

"Would you stop asking me if I'm sure? You asked that about Emerald, and now you're asking about the Chosen. It's my job to know. She was the first-born. That's how eager she was to get out of the womb and on the job. Look, she's opening her eyes, and they're the exact color of mine."

The sunlight would have been blinding if the three huge faces staring down at her hadn't blocked it. "The Chosen," they all said, showering her with wet.

She returned to the serious business of filling herself with better-tasting wet.

"We'll name her Tara."

"Don't I have any say in the matter?" the body who was the source of warmth and food demanded.

"You can name the other three. Isn't that fair?"

"You cats don't know the meaning of fair."

She was Tara. She didn't know what a name meant, anyway, although it helped to sort the other cats out. Emerald was the milk source, she of the delicious rough tongue, and Misha had the soft voice and old eyes that lit up when she saw the kittens. Tara's littermates got names, too: gray Cloud, another girl, and Oak and Chestnut, males striped like her, but without her white face and paws.

The sun blockers were Orion, Sekhmet, and Bast.

Except for them, seeing was exciting. It gave purpose to her movement, and she saw so many things that made her want to move faster. At first she was awkward and fell a lot, but she got the leg business sorted out. She developed speed.

"Time for your education to begin," Bast said one day when Tara was busy pawing at a worm.

"She's four weeks old. She's still learning how to walk. Let her play," Emerald said.

"Don't you want to learn, Tara?" Orion asked.

"I'd rather play."

"It's easy to see where her attitude came from," Sekhmet said.

Emerald arched her back, and her stripes rippled. "Yeah, smart-assed cat, she's like her mama. You know, you all slink around like you're so important, guidance moving you here, moving you there, like you get special messages no one else can hear. I have my doubts about that, but if you're tuned in, so is a kitten of destiny. And if she hasn't gotten that tap on the shoulder saying, 'You're the one,' maybe she isn't. Or maybe the Cosmic Cat isn't in the same kind of rush you are. The earth has been turning a good long time, and it'll keep on turning without your help. Why do you want to push to make it go faster?"

The Big Three all turned their backs on her, and began grooming themselves furiously. Tara wobbled after a butterfly.

For a few weeks, she hoped that was the end of the talk about Education because anything involving Bast and Sekhmet was bound to be a huge yawn. Tara was growing to like Orion better than his sisters. At first, all his talk about being her "father" had meant nothing to her, since it didn't involve milk. She'd since learned that Orion's tongue could groom her almost as nicely as Emerald's and that to lean against his massive body and be surrounded by his purr comforted her almost as much as cuddling against her mother's warm belly.

And Orion knew how to play, rolling over when the kittens hurled themselves at him, batting them softly, leaping high into the air and soaring like a bird.

Orion was all right, even if the word that meant the most to Tara was "Mother."

Emerald began to teach the kittens to hunt, bringing them live mice to kill. Even then, the Grumps had to sneak in a lesson.

"There's a proper way to kill," Sekhmet said.

"Sure is," Emerald said. "Breaking the neck is best."

"No, I mean attitude."

"Oh, that thing you say I have too much of?"

"Reverence for life!" Sekhmet screeched. "Thanking the animal for offering its body as food."

Emerald nodded. "Got it. This is a mouse; I'm a cat. I'm hungry; he's food. Thanks."

Sekhmet shook her head. "Sometimes I wonder."

"Well, I wonder about you all the time," Emerald hissed. "I'm not ignorant; I know that's a living thing, same as me, and same as the seeds he eats. The way I see it, we're all in this together, except the humans don't know they are. That's why they're dangerous."

"I don't think either of you could top that explanation." Orion purred with a big rumble that seemed to make Emerald happy. The other two cats stalked off, their tails high.

Emerald also taught the kittens to become familiar with the forest. "Got to know your way around, and know which animals to avoid. First time Orion showed me a porcupine, I wanted to fall down laughing until I got a better look at those mean quills. You don't want to wrestle with one of them."

She went down a list of animals the kittens didn't want to wrestle with. "But I don't want to get you all scared. Unless an animal is hunting, you just need to leave it alone. But if a hunting animal is around, you need to know before you're in the emergency zone."

She pointed at some deer grazing in the field bordering the forest. "They're eating, they're flicking away the flies, but they keep looking around to check out the scene. They're not afraid. They're alert. Be alert."

"Is that how you were in the city?" Tara asked. She couldn't imagine the world her mother described, with few trees, tall caves, and bad-smelling animals who walked on two legs and didn't cover their scat.

"I was more afraid," Emerald said, "because you couldn't predict what a human might do. A few were nice, but you couldn't count on them all being that way. It was safer to count on them all wanting to hurt or kill you. If you think of them as the most dangerous animals alive, you'll live longer. But I hope you never have to worry about that."

Cloud shivered. "I'm glad to be here."

"So am I," Emerald said. "I never thought I'd say that."

"What makes grass grow?"

"Why does the sun rise and set?"

"Why does a mouse offers herself to me when I'm hungry?"

Emerald batted Tara. "Why does a kitten ask so many questions? Go ask your father. He's the cat with all the answers."

Tara padded over to Orion and repeated her questions. Unlike her mother, he seemed interested and but puzzled.

"I could understand a city cat asking, but you were born into the harmony of the Green. Don't you sense the rhythm of how it all fits together?"

She paused, looking up at the sky, seeing the approaching gray cloud that would soon water the earth and feed the grass. She pressed her paws against the earth, and they throbbed with the current of life flowing deep within it. An answering rhythm flowed through her.

"I do know, but I can't explain it."

"Why do you have to?"

"I don't, not now. Everyone here knows, but an idea chases me, growling that someday I'll have to explain all this to someone who doesn't know."

Orion's eyes widened. "Slow down and let the idea catch you. Tell me if it has anything more to say."

A few days later, Emerald took them to a waterfall deep in the woods. "I come here when I get tired of the other cats' voices. That happens a lot. I lie on a rock in the sun and listen to the water and smell it and look at the rainbows in the mist, and all my bad feelings get washed away."

Like the sound of the water, Emerald's voice flowed through Tara.

"This is the place where you all got your start in life. I saw tiny winking lights and thought it was just a hallucination, but it turned out to be you."

Tara closed her eyes and breathed in the fragrance of water rushing over wet rocks. Light sparkled around her, dancing and whirling, whispering to her in a purr that rubbed against her skin like her mother's rough tongue. It encircled her like Orion's purrs and began to fill her, growing, getting brighter and brighter, turning into a pair of huge golden eyes like twin suns, the eyes of a giant cat, who purred and licked her.

With every stroke of the rough tongue, Tara began to feel less and less like a kitten and more like the waterfall, flowing through rocks, floating along with no place to go, no rush, like the earth turning, no need to push it.

_Only to be one with it_ , the golden cat purred, _only to listen to it, to listen to Me._

Are you the Big-pawed One?

At your service. Always. And are you the kitten of prophecy?

_Don't you know?_ Tara asked, suddenly turning into a kitten again.

You may be, but nothing is foretold. How you place your paws on the path ahead will determine your journey.

But how? My paws don't know where to go. Please, don't leave.

"Tara!" Her mother shook her. "Are you all right? You were mewing and whimpering."

She looked around the waterfall site. "She was here, a cat with eyes like the sun. She said I might be the one they say I am."

Emerald raised her eyes to the passing clouds. "Some days I wish I'd never met that fast-talking Orion. We'd better go back and tell them."

"Nothing is foretold; well, I suppose not." Sekhmet sounded displeased.

"It's down to how she places her paws on the path," Emerald said, "and that means she has a choice."

Bast hissed. "Of course she does. This is a choice-based universe."

"Never mind the big words. It means she can say no."

"But what am I saying no to?" Tara asked.

"That's not foretold, either," Sekhmet said, "except that it has something to do with bringing humans back to harmony."

Emerald swiftly placed herself between Tara and the others. "Humans? Over my dead and bleeding body and maybe all of yours. I didn't come here to the Green so I could send any kitten of mine back to the city."

Orion's golden eyes beamed reassurance. "We knew from the beginning that this was the place for her." He closed his eyes for a moment. "She's meant to be in the village. It's nearby, and there are trees, grass, and other cats. I could settle there for protective purposes. Wouldn't that make it all right?"

Emerald flicked her tail. "Settle down with some village cat, more likely."

"More like a string of them," Sekhmet said. "But at the moment you have no interest in him that way."

"That is the blessed truth, even if it's none of your business."

"We'll spend time there, too," Bast said. "Those village cats need some educating."

The spasm of sympathy Tara felt for the cats who would be educated by Bast drowned in a surge of terror. "Emerald," she whimpered.

Her mother tucked Tara closer to her. "Just hold on. You're all building a set of plans on nothing. The Big Paws said Tara might be this Chosen kitten. And might not. So you all need to chill. Better yet, why don't all of you go to the village and rub up to the humans and she stays with me?"

Tara saw the flare of rage that erupted from Orion and heard his soft hiss. Then he seemed to go deep inside himself, looking for a place where he wouldn't spit out an angry answer. Soft blues and greens surrounded him, as if he had drawn in sky and water to cool him.

This looked like more fun than hunting, and Tara paid close attention.

"That will be up to the kitten," Orion finally said, his voice smooth as his fur. "And just to show you how true that is, Tara can change her direction any time. To make her choice even more clear, I'll teach her about the humans' history and habits, so she knows what to expect."

Tara wanted to roll back time to before the waterfall experience. She didn't want to learn anything about the most dangerous animals who lived.

But she would, because something inside her was stronger than fear. They could talk about choice, but it seemed that the delicious, floating feeling created by the golden-eyed cat's purrs had ruined Tara for any life that didn't include being close to Her.

The next day Orion taught the first lesson. "Humans, like cats, come in different colors. Some are lean and dark-skinned. They came from a hot and dry place called Etrenzia, with lots of sand for burying scat but not much water. Cats there eat bugs and lizards. Etrenzians are dry, too. In the desert, they say tears are a waste of water."

"What are tears?"

"Drops of water that spill from humans' eyes. This seems to relieve their pain, but for those whose ancestors came from this land, spilling water is considered the act of an inferior being."

"But underneath, they're like kittens who've lost their mother." The words spilled out of Tara like human tears. She shook her head, as if the voice she'd heard were a tick she could dislodge. "I don't want someone taking over like that."

Orion had a goofy look of ecstasy on his face. "The Long-Whiskered One does not take over."

"I know, choice-based universe." Tara twitched her ears, trying to get the sound out.

"Did you object when Emerald taught you how to hunt? Of course not. Think of this as a greater Mother, a greater teaching."

"I like to see someone who's talking to me."

"Then close your eyes, kitten."

There she was, the Golden One, Big Cat in an imaginary sky, floating on a cloud that wept tears. Tara felt a shivering inside, like cold rain.

"I'm frightened, Orion."

Her father licked her head with long, luxurious strokes until she stopped shaking. "You're so small and so new in the world, and that's more of an advantage than you may realize. You are fresh from Her womb and still close to Her. The stronger your connection remains, the safer you are."

Orion had an answer for every question, but she was beginning to think he made some of them up on the spot—or maybe she was too tired to know the difference between truth and lies. "Could we have a nap?"

"Good idea. Here, sleep against my side."

Tara leaned her head against Orion's flank and let him purr her to sleep.

When she woke up, she felt much better. She and Orion groomed each other briefly.

"Let's continue," he said. "We left off with the Etrenzians, who don't believe in tears. Very white people come from Dolocairn, a place with snow, which is frozen white water. The people are tall and get fat for the long winter months."

"Do they cry?"

"In their native land they do. They love physical closeness. It protects them from the chill of winter. They find the Etrenzian ways difficult to follow."

"So why do they follow them?"

"We'll come to that in a minute. Let me finish with the races. The final ones are Tamarans, who are various shades of brown and gold. Their country is rich and lush, and so are their bodies. Tamarans are cat-like in their ways. They live for pleasure, and they always land on their feet. If the Etrenzians make a law, they will pretend to obey, but they do what they like."

"Why do these Etrenzians run things? And don't they ever breed with other humans?"

"Not as often as the other two races. They think they're better than the others."

"Like Bast and Sekhmet think they're better than Emerald?"

Orion sounded as if he were trying to cough up a hairball. "Bast and Sekhmet don't force Emerald to be like them."

"Mouse shit. Emerald says they tried, but they had to give up."

"At least they gave up. Etrenzians don't, and they seem to have forced the others to follow some idea of mind. We understand the use of reason and logic, but they seem to think these tools can only be employed if emotion is suppressed."

That frightened Tara more than anything she'd heard.

### Chapter 6

Druid looked out of his cave to see another rainy day. He didn't mind rain. Probably water dragons never did, but how was he supposed to know that? It wasn't as if he'd ever had the chance to take a survey. He was the loneliest dragon in the world.

Long ago his mother had groomed his emerald mane and held her close against her scaly chest. When she'd sung to him of the Mother of All Life and the glorious (though vaguely described) future that would one day be his, destiny had been a sweet melody in his ears.

Druid's parents showed him how to narrow the water in his body into a jet suitable for putting out fires. They taught him how to scan the earth for trouble spots and demonstrated the art of transmitting terror.

"Why must I know that?" he asked.

"We don't know," Dragonlady said, "but we're supposed to teach you. It's a trick that's bound to come in handy some day."

They had been happy for fifty years or so while Druid grew to adolescence. Everything changed the day another dragon landed on their beach.

Dragonlord greeted him. "Raindancer, how is the flock?"

"In need of your leadership. We have a few younger dragons who are getting the idea that they could run things as well as you. I hurried here before things got messy. It's time for you to return."

Druid's wings spread with joy. What greater destiny than to soar, to fly, and sing with dragons? He rose several feet in the air before his father caught him.

"Raindancer, would you mind leaving us alone for a short time?" Dragonlord asked.

"No problem. I only came to request your return. I'm going back now."

Druid watched the dragon disappear. "Why can't we go with him?"

"Small one, dragon infinitely dear to me, your moment to fly with us has not yet come. You will find your purpose here."

"In the swamp? Alone?"

His father's paws trembled as he held him more tightly. "Alone, bereft of the companionship of your kind. Our history says that this is the path of your destiny."

Druid twisted out of Dragonlord's arms and fluttered to the ground. "And must I accept my destiny?"

Dragonlady tugged at her mate's mane. "He's right, of course. He must choose."

Dragonlord lowered his head to meet his son's eyes. "We have sung to you of the balance and harmony of all life. You know that water dragons are sworn to protect this. We guard the Mother's tears that fall on the earth and make it alive. When the earth is dry, we water it with our tears.

"And we have sung to you of sorrow, of the time when the harmony of the world will be threatened by those who walk upright among us, the ones who have lost their way. When that day comes, the Mother will need a dragon to do Her will. You are that dragon. If you refuse your destiny, we will all suffer for it. Choose, then."

"You call that a choice?"

Druid's parents spent an entire day trying to reconcile their son to his future.

"It isn't so bad," Dragonlord said. "So many animals here will love you."

"They will love me, but they will die in what seems like a minute of my time; I will spend my life mourning."

"In our history, dragons will sing of you," Dragonlady said.

"But not _to_ me," Druid sobbed. "Think of me when you're off soaring in the sky; think of your small son, shivering in a cold cave and longing for his parents."

"He is a true water dragon," Dragonlord whispered. "He could make even humans weep."

"Pray that he does."

Druid's father buried his head in his son's mane and watered it with his tears. Dragonlady, too, wept as she stroked Druid's scales.

Druid's grief was powerful but that of his parents was overwhelming. No water dragon could withstand such an emotional assault. Soon he sobbed with them and made promises beyond the counting. His parents hugged him, whispering that they would see him again. He refused to watch them leave, but he heard the flapping of wings. When he looked up, the sky was empty.

Druid crouched on the sand for hours, his wings heavy at his side. If he couldn't use them to fly with his parents, they had no purpose. To soar in the empty sky would make him even lonelier than he was. He decided that he would never fly again.

Druid's parents had been gone for four-hundred-and-fifty-years, eight months, and twenty-four days. He'd long since stopped hoping that they would return.

"Hey, Druid, why so melancholy?" Gris, a red-tailed hawk, came flying to the cave entrance and perched on Druid's shoulders. "I've got a scoop for you about activity in the forest. That's not usually your beat, but I've been following the situation, and I'm starting to think I'm looking at a big picture."

"I could use a big picture. Tell me."

"First item, some cats have moved into the woods. Three of them are no alley cats. They talk like their mouths are full of cream. Two others come from the city. One is old, the other young. They settled down, observed the rituals, and since the mouse population is booming this year, no problem with competition. So far, an odd combo but not newsworthy.

"I knew that sooner or later they'd make contact, and about six weeks ago, one of the cream-eaters, a snippy black number, came to my nest. She made the Missus nervous because of the fledglings, but Blackie made it clear she was stalking business, not food. She said very politely that some kittens were going to be born, and would my friends and I mind not killing them? No feathers off my neck because meat-eaters never have the flavor I like. It takes a nice, grain-fed mouse to hit the spot. It was an offbeat request, though."

Druid was beginning to get a headache. Gris made even chatty Tolti seem like a mute. "Yes, unusual."

"Since my job is to gather and spread news, I asked why. She said these weren't just any kittens; they were from a royal line of cats. I laughed so hard I nearly fell off the branch. Every cat will tell you they're descended from some royal or holy or otherwise worshipped line of cats, not an ordinary stray among them.

"But I played along, hoping she'd spill some more. I said I was cool, but I might have to explain a little more to some of my friends. She said she couldn't give me any forecasts, but she and her companions had come all the way across the mountains because of some prophecy about a kitten bringing the world back into balance. _Too much catnip_ , said I to myself, but I decided to watch the story develop."

"And has it?" Druid hoped he'd hear about it quickly, because the smell of ocean kelp was beginning to drive him wild with hunger. No one should have to hear the shrieking of a hawk on an empty stomach.

"You bet. Second item, one of the kittens, a female, is learning all about humans. And she's a sharp little thing, asking bright questions, and, check this out, she's having visions."

The scales on the back of Druid's neck rippled. "Of what?"

"Cat version of the Many-feathered One. She's hooked into the Ultimate News Source. Any comment on that, Druid?"

"No, I'll need silence and meditation to think about it."

"Silence and meditation, what's that? One more detail. Blackie came to me a few weeks ago and asked if I'd start a flight relay to the city on the other side of the mountains. She's summoning more cats to the forest."

"And the message?"

"To come as soon as possible, that the time is now."

"For what?"

Gris shrugged. " She didn't say. You know how secretive cats are. It's a real frustration to a news hawk like me."

_What can it mean?_ Druid wondered after the hawk jabbered his way across the sky. _A royal line of cats, a kitten who's being trained for some purpose. Visions? Is this part of the change in the pattern? Was I wrong to assume it all meant bad news?_

It had been so long since he'd heard good news that it was hard to believe in it, but he was very curious about this kitten.

* * *

The more Tara learned about humans, the more confusing she found them.

"I keep on forgetting what is 'house,' what is 'train.' I can't imagine these things."

"Then we've had enough telling. It's time to show you," Orion said. "You need a trial visit to the human world, anyway." He paused, his tail twitching. "Ah, no need to mention this to Emerald. We'll slip away while she's somewhere else."

Emerald was out hunting when they left the next morning. They reached the edge of the fields by the time the sun was high. For the first time, Tara saw and heard humans. _The most dangerous animals who live,_ she thought and shivered. She heard the danger in their voices, emotions festering beneath a thick scab of thoughts, and whimpered.

"I know," Orion said. "What would be considered insanity among us is normal for them. These ones are fairly harmless. They're hot, bored, and thinking about food. Some think about mating."

"Why not do these things instead of thinking about them?"

"For food, they have to wait until the sun reaches a certain height. They can't mate until they're back in their homes. It's not permitted under the sky."

"That's insane."

"They are."

The humans moved about awkwardly. Some drove large machines that smelled awful. "Never get near one of those," Orion said. "It would chew you up."

After a while, they came to a long trail of crushed stone, with smaller paths branching off from it. Odd structures stood at the end of each branch.

"Those are houses," Orion said, "some for humans, some for animals called horse and cow. Many of the horses try to rebel against their slavery, but give a cow a meadow of grass, and she'll never complain until they take her young from her."

"Why are they taken?" Tara asked.

"Humans want cows' milk for themselves." He pointed to a long, low house. "Chickens, large birds but smaller than turkeys, live there. Humans eat their eggs."

"A fox or raccoon will do that."

"And do unless the humans kill them."

"Do they kill the slave animals for food?"

"Rarely. According to their idea of mind, eating flesh dulls thought and intelligent action and encourages the lower senses."

"Then a grain-eating mouse should be too smart for me to catch it."

Orion nodded in approval. "You pounced on that idea perfectly. Lovers of logic though humans are, their prejudices defeat their purpose. If you don't expect them to make sense, you'll better understand them."

Orion began slinking along the bushes that bordered one side of the house. "You can get a closer look at how they live. The house is made of a material mixed with water that hardens. The holes are called windows. They're covered with sand that's heated until it becomes something called glass."

"Maybe they're more clever than I think."

"What a cat couldn't do with paws like theirs. But humans' inventiveness follows a narrow trail. If they step off it, they get frightened."

Tara sniffed. "An animal's inside that house. It smells a little like wolf but much worse."

"Dog. It smells worse because it lives intimately with the humans in that house. Some dogs, like humans, have forgotten that they are animals. When they forget, they can be very dangerous to a freedom- and life-loving cat."

"What do you mean?"

Something in the wall of the house opened to form a hole through which the brown-furred dog ran. "Quick, up that tree, or you'll find out what I mean," Orion hissed. Tara scampered after him up a tall oak.

The dog stood at its base and barked furiously until the side of the house opened again, and a human came outside, carrying a long black stick.

"Did you tree a raccoon, Mongo?"

"Tell him we're not raccoons, Orion."

"He won't understand us, and when humans hold those sticks, they'll shoot anyone. Back around slowly so that the trunk protects you. When it's safe, dash down the tree and hurry back to the forest."

"What about you?"

Her father leapt off the branch onto the human's head, clawing his face so that blood sprouted from his skin. The stick went off, and black smoke filled the air.

Orion darted around the back of the house, the man in pursuit. "No!" Tara shrieked, forgetting about escape. "Help!"

* * *

Druid sat on the beach, the waves of the sea soothing him into a quiet state. _Cats and kittens. The time has arrived. For what?_

For the first time in hundreds of years, She, that delinquent Great Mother of All, spoke to him, painting a picture of a small kitten with white paws and huge, golden eyes, now wide with terror as she cowered in a tree and cried for help. Nearby, a human and a growling, wolf-like animal chased a larger cat.

Even if he were mad enough to venture into human territory, he'd never get there in time to save them, but the plaintive cry shivered through his heart, arousing pain and urgency.

He balanced on his tail in order to better feel the currents of earth and allowed the kitten's image to fill his heart until the urge to protect focused his spirit into a powerful jet that hurtled through space to the trouble spot.

_Damn, I'm still good at this_ , he thought when terror flooded the human's heart. The two-legged one cowered and screamed, dropped his gun, and fled into his cave.

Druid continued the transmission until he saw that both cats had fled to safety. Then, exhausted, he flopped on the sand and wondered what all _that_ had been about.

* * *

For a moment, the sight of the huge green monster paralyzed Tara. Then she dashed down the tree and headed into the nearest patch of trees. Once she was sure no humans were around, she darted through the fields and into the woods. She panted and laid her head against the cool earth, clawing against the veil of shock that turned everything she saw hazy.

Orion, belly low to the ground, crept through the tall grass. His eyes found her. Their warmth was like the sun dissolving a morning mist so that every color seemed alight with fire. Gold tipped the branches and blades of grass and filled the throats of birds, who streamed bright notes into the air.

Tara's fur tingled with joy. She pounced on Orion and purred.

"Dear kitten, it's good to be alive," Orion said.

"You could have died." Waves of delayed terror drowned the light.

"Not for the first time, although never for anything more important. I couldn't lose you to the jaws of a mangy dog or the bullets of a human idiot."

"Emerald was right," Tara cried. "How do you expect me to survive among them?"

"Lean against me, small one," Orion said.

She ran to his side and buried her head in his chest, feeling comfort from his steady heartbeat.

"We will know where you live in the village," he said, "and the Mother won't lead you to any place of danger."

"Then how did I end up nearly getting killed?"

"It was my fault entirely. The Mother may guide us to certain places, but She expects us to use our heads when we get there. Emerald has been diligent in teaching you the dangers and escape routes of the forest. I should have prepared you in similar manner. Had I done so, you would have seen that the chicken house had a crawl space too narrow for the dog. I was headed there when the creature appeared. Nonetheless, I wasn't careful enough. Emerald would have done a far better job."

Hearing Orion so penitent did a lot to ease the aftershock of terror. "She wouldn't have taken me there in the first place."

Orion shifted so that his back was turned toward her. For several minutes she heard only the rasp of his tongue against fur. When he turned to face her again, his eyes were a dim bronze.

"No, she wouldn't have. She knows the difference between being brave and being foolhardy. Emerald is the bravest cat I know, and I believe you've inherited her courage. If I hadn't told you to run—"

"I would have fought." Tara clawed the earth. "I would have jumped on that dog's back and bit his neck and—"

"I have a clear picture," Orion said. "You would have risked your life to save me, and that answers some of my questions about this mission. You see, little one, until we began the Quest, I was a carefree cat. I sired countless litters and rarely gave a thought to them. This is normal tom behavior, and I loved being a normal tom.

"I was angry when Bast and Sekhmet pulled me from the easy life, even though I'd been trained to know myself a cat of destiny. I wished destiny had been a little slower to step on my tail. Still, I was prepared to select the perfect mother for you kittens, sire you, hang around for a little while to see which of you would be Chosen, educate you, and leave."

"Leave the Quest?" Tara panicked.

"Never that, but I thought I'd get involved in some other aspect: recruitment, organizing campaigns, coordinating various interest groups. Yet I'm still here. The moment I saw Emerald, I knew that I could never easily lope away from her. As I love her, so I love her kittens. Finally, teaching you and protecting you brings out qualities I didn't know I had."

He lifted his eyes to the cloudless sky. "And I see how it may evolve. You need to learn that you can count on more cats than Emerald, perhaps even other beings in the future. My job is to be the bridge on which you journey to that awareness. Aside from that, you may still have a thing or two to learn from me."

Tara began to love Orion in new and comforting way, but she was afraid she didn't deserve his tenderness. The sour human sweat, the reek of dog drool, and the bitter smoke from the black stick still burned her nostrils.

"I'm not as brave as you think," she said. "I don't think I can be the Chosen."

He licked her vigorously. "Don't let terror stalk you. Breathe again, slowly and deeply, from the tip of your tail to the tips of your whiskers."

Tara obeyed, and her heart began to slow down a little.

"And one more thing," Orion said. "Never make a long-term decision when you're deeply frightened or angry. Wait until your heart is quiet; wait until She speaks to you. Whether you can be the Chosen still remains to be seen, but your behavior today shows leadership as well as courage. Another cat might have been paralyzed by the sight of that big green creature."

"What _was_ that? It frightened me as much as the human and dog until I realized it seemed almost like a dream. Didn't its form seem to shimmer like light through fog?"

"I noticed that, too. Here's what I think. A very noisy hawk has told us that a swamp lies beyond the forest. We haven't made contact with the animals in it yet, although we know some big cats live there. The hawk says a huge beast called a dragon is the Keeper of the swamp. The humans think the dragon is their enemy. Their fears are so fantastic that the cats in the village don't believe any of them, especially since none of them has ever seen the dragon."

"I think we did. So did the human and dog."

"Yes, and that saved us. As to why he didn't seem quite real, I don't know enough about dragons to be sure, but I have an idea. First, a question. When you bat an ant around, what happens to the ants nearby?"

It had nothing to do with dragons, but Tara had learned how tricky Orion could be with his questions. She closed her eyes to remember. "They all start running around, even though I didn't touch them."

"That's because the ant you _did_ touch communicates fear. They're not running from you; they're running from a sense of danger. I'm guessing that the dragon is capable of transmitting fear deliberately and over great distances. If he embodies the humans' greatest fear, it may be that the sensation of terror makes them think of this immense creature and imagine that they see him."

"But we saw him, too," Tara said.

"I think the human's emotions were so strong and we were already so frightened that we were unusually receptive to what he 'saw.'"

"This dragon must be very powerful."

"Yes, and I find it interesting and promising that he responded to your cry for help. We may not know what the Quest is yet, but an animal that big is sure to be an asset. We must discuss this thoroughly with Bast and Sekhmet. Unfortunately, that's going to blow my attempt at deception. There's no way Emerald won't find out. She'll want to murder me."

Murder looked exactly like what Emerald had in mind when she heard about the incident. "A little field trip, and you were going to keep Tara safe. Instead you lead her right into the arms of death. Her first encounter with the humans, and she nearly gets killed." Her slashing claws punctuated her growls. "Forget the Quest, forget those miserable humans. Let them rot in their greed and viciousness. Tara's not leaving my sight until she's a lot older."

"This is a major setback," Sekhmet said.

"Setback?" Emerald screeched. "If you lose your so-called Chosen, you lose everything."

"Orion did save her," Bast tried to point out.

"Orion didn't do shit; some big lizard saved her."

Tara's father knew better than to try to defend himself. He eluded Emerald's claws and stalked away. Bast and Sekhmet followed him.

Emerald examined Tara for possible wounds and licked her head. No, father love wasn't as good as mother's. Now that Orion's smooth-tongued words about leadership and courage began to fade from Tara's memory, fear returned. "I think they made a mistake about me," she told Emerald. "No kitten could stand up against humans."

"Of course not. Believe me, those cats are mistaken about a lot. Lousy foreigners, they think they know everything."

The other kittens crowded around her. "Phew, you smell bad," Cloud said.

Tara mewed faintly. "It's not my fault."

"Of course it isn't." Emerald licked her vigorously. "I'll get that bad human smell out, and you won't ever have to stink that way again. They can find someone else to do their dirty work for them and not send out a tiny kitten. They should be ashamed of themselves."

"But I feel like a failure," Tara whimpered.

Emerald's eyes narrowed to fiery green slits. "They have a lot to answer for."

* * *

Phileas had just finished another dreary round of sex and was about to step into the shower when he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Malvern Frost to see you with urgent news," Rey'ell, his personal guard, said.

"Ask him to wait five minutes."

Phileas showered and dressed quickly and went into his reception room. "Greetings, Councilor."

"Greetings, Guardian. That was a real beauty I passed on my way up here. Sometimes I wish I had your job."

Phileas thought about the doltish son Frost had sired. The country would be in a much bigger mess if Malvern were Guardian, but it was interesting and alarming that he could even imagine himself in the position.

"You had something to tell me," Phileas said. He looked at Frost closely and noticed the furrows on his forehead.

"What happened to you?"

"Some vicious cat attacked me. They should be exterminated, lazy, filthy beasts. But I didn't come to tell you about that. The dragon appeared in my back yard."

Phileas leaned forward, his body taut. He discreetly scanned Malvern to determine whether he'd been drinking, but the man seemed sober. "Tell me more."

"My dog, Mongo, had been barking, and I thought a raccoon might be after my chickens. Instead, I saw a pair of cats. After the big one attacked, I was going to shoot them both when the dragon suddenly appeared from out of nowhere, breathing fire and poison. It burned inside my chest. I thought I was having a heart attack. He disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared."

"And you didn't report this?" Phileas demanded.

"I informed the local Guards, and they came out to investigate at once, but it's been so dry they couldn't find any paw prints."

_Why is the dragon suddenly being seen? And why is Malvern connected to both sightings?_ The interviews with the three men who'd claimed to see the dragon earlier had been unsatisfactory in all regards. All employees of the Water Commission, they'd claimed to be checking the fields' irrigation systems when the monster had suddenly appeared.

The notion that they'd chased the Dragon back to the swamp was, of course, absurd. You didn't chase a beast the size of a tall tree anywhere. When the Healer in charge of the investigation had scanned their minds, he'd found rampaging cowardice, terror, and curious blank spots, as if parts of their memories had been erased. The Healer believed that shock had caused the erasure, but Phileas felt uneasy about this conclusion, particularly since the men's minds had now further deteriorated. They'd been moved to the Ward for the Chronically Crazy.

Phileas decided that Malvern's mind was worth another quick scan. Morally, he was only supposed to scan without permission in the case of national emergency, but he couldn't imagine a more appropriate occasion than a dragon appearing in someone's backyard.

He continued the discussion, asking questions about the dragon's appearance, while casually exploring the Water Commissioner's thoughts. Oddly, he found no inconsistencies. The man might be deranged, but he believed he'd seen the dragon.

"It still hasn't rained," Phileas said. "I'll order field scientists to visit your property and see if they can find any traces of the dragon: scales, a toenail, something that can be analyzed."

"And then what? Will a toenail analysis make us any safer?" Malvern demanded.

"It may help us determine the next step." Not that Phileas had any idea what the next step should be.

To Phileas' surprise, Malvern nodded. "Let's see what they say."

* * *

Orion waited a day before approaching Tara. "Get away from me," she hissed. "I've thought about it, and I don't want any more lessons. Don't think you can smooth-talk me into anything."

He looked so sad that she softened her tone. "You did your best, and if I were really the Chosen, nothing would stop me from following my path. So that means I'm not, even if the Golden One appeared to me."

Remembering the Golden One made Tara understand why humans cried tears. She couldn't help thinking about the feeling of floating and the softness of the Great Cat Mother's paws. All that would be lost to her now.

"It isn't right to choose me and then not make me brave enough to stand up to fear."

"No, it isn't," Orion said in a rich, rumbling voice. "But it's my failure, not Hers. And no matter what your path in life, fear shouldn't block it. Will you allow me to teach you one last lesson?"

"You're not going to trick me into saying I'll be the Chosen again?"

Orion's whiskers twitched. "You know too much of what it means to be Chosen for me to trick you. No, this is a simple lesson about fear."

"It better be."

"I promise. Now, feelings are like mice. If you come upon a nest of them, they'll all dart away. Chase the one who seems easiest to catch. Let's see what you can catch right now, besides fear. You've already eaten that, and it's left a bad taste in your mouth."

Tara thought for a minute. "I've eaten shame for disappointing cats and wasting their time, letting Her down. That's the worst thing."

"Is it really? Were you only drawn to the idea of being Chosen so that you could act like a worthy cat? Maybe you were drawn because when you were in Her presence, it was the most delicious sensation anyone could know, the feeling of love flooding every corner of your being. It leaves no room for the scrabbling claws of shame or fear or any feeling that hurts. There is only the One."

Tara's whimper of pain grew into sharp cries, and Orion wrapped himself around her. "And you think you have to be the Chosen to feel that way, but you don't. Anyone can have that feeling, if they let Her fill them. That's what we want all beings to know, even the humans. That's what the Chosen will teach, but we're not talking about that now. We're talking about you, just as you are. When you're frightened, reach for Her, and She will always be there for you. She's here now."

A shaft of warm light flooded away the darkness of Tara's misery, wrapping itself around her inner being as closely as Orion held her body.

"You feel Her, don't you?"

Tara pressed her head against Orion's rumbling chest. She was thinking she could lie this way forever when a faint scratching clawed at her veil of contentment, and a face peeked through, a human face, eyes wet with sorrow, tears sliding down dark cheeks, their source a deep pool of anguish.

"You see something," Orion said softly.

"A human, not an angry one, a sad one, female, I think. She has great feeling, and her thoughts are like reeds in a stream. They have no power to hold back the flow. She tries to resist it, and she is close to drowning. If she could only float."

"Could she learn?" Orion's voice was no louder than the sigh of a breeze through leaves.

"Maybe. She would have great power if she did. She raises her arms; she reaches for something, someone . . . me."

Tara's eyes snapped open. "You tricked me."

"I didn't give you that vision. You reached for it with your own paws. And, furthermore, I won't tell Sekhmet and Bast about it. The choice is yours."

"And what's the choice?"

"This human female whose ability to feel is less damaged than most of her kind may have some connection to the Quest. She calls for help, as you, without knowing you did, called on the dragon. He answered your cry. Now you must decide whether to answer hers."

Tara thought of the frightful human with the smoking stick. "And what happens to her if I don't?"

Orion shrugged. "She'll surely get into trouble."

"Danger?"

"I suppose."

Tara thought Orion was trying too hard to be casual about the whole thing. "Tell me one thing. Can I be the Chosen and still have fear?"

"Yes."

"Yes, really, or yes, a trick?"

"Yes, really. You're a mortal creature. You will die some day. You may think being Chosen means letting those who follow you think you're fearless, but that would only make them ashamed of their own fears and decide they were unworthy for the Quest. To be afraid and act bravely anyway honors Her. It shows your trust that, no matter what happens, you will end up safely curled up against Her warm belly. And so you will, Tara, no matter what you choose."

Tara thought about fear for the rest of the day, trying to stalk her thoughts with patience and focus, as Orion had taught her. In the evening she found Emerald alone.

"You told us once about being afraid of dying when you lived in the city," Tara said.

"Mostly afraid of dying in awful ways, more, maybe, about suffering." Emerald drew her closer. "I was afraid I'd die when all you kittens were born. I was too young, too small, but somehow in the middle of it, I stopped worrying about it."

"Maybe you felt Her touch."

"I'm not so sure about Her touch. I'm more a paws on the ground kind of cat, although . . ." Her eyes grew misty. "I do remember thinking I was giving my life for something important, and I don't mean just you and your litter mates. It felt so big that I felt big."

"And fear felt small?"

"That's just how it was."

Tara clawed some loose dirt, wishing she could bury her fears in the earth.

"You're thinking about this Chosen thing," Emerald said.

"It won't leave me alone, but not because Sekhmet and Bast are bothering me about it. Orion told them to back off."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"It's all coming from me now. I don't want to someday look around and see what a mess the world is and think that I could have changed things. It's wanting to feel bigger than fear."

"And that's something you want, no matter what you decide," Emerald said. "Sleep now, and let those worries rest."

Tara fell asleep against her mother's side and dreamt that the female human came to her and picked her up, holding her against her human heart.

"Sweet, sweet," she whispered. "Please, small precious one, be my friend."

Emerald licked Tara awake. "You were whimpering in your sleep."

"Just a dream," Tara murmured. To herself, she said, _Just a choice._

"I've chosen," she told Orion the next day.

He stood very still. "And this time, it is a true choice."

His pace of teaching accelerated over the next few weeks, a period that coincided with her decreasing need to nurse. All the kittens began to lose interest, and Emerald's milk slowly dried up. She was still affectionate with them, but she often disappeared when the occasional thought of nursing occurred to them.

This happened less to Tara, as Orion taught her how to prevent physical desires from taking over. "Anycat can find herself in circumstances where it isn't possible to immediately satisfy hunger, thirst, or the need to sleep. Our journey from Tamaras, for example, was no luxury trip. We don't want the success or failure of the Quest to depend on whether you're too in need of a nap to think clearly."

Tara learned how to draw on deep and unsuspected resources of strength when exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her and how to defer the need for a tasty mouse. "Is this what those trained humans do?" she asked Orion.

He closed his eyes for a moment. "Yes, but for different reasons. We celebrate our bodies and we understand that when they tell us to eat, to drink, and to sleep, these messages are meant to help us preserve wellness and balance. Those humans who elevate mind above body read these messages as signs of weakness and failure."

"How painful it must be to live in a body and not like it," Tara said.

"And not only their bodies, but their emotions as well, although they are less successful in either shielding or suppressing them. Tomorrow I'll teach you about shielding."

The next morning Tara and Orion climbed to a mountain meadow fragrant with wildflowers and the scent of mice and voles.

"I smell your appetite," Orion said.

Tara washed a paw. "I was just about to suppress it. But how did you know?"

"A certain odor comes from the stomach when an animal longs for food. It's as distinctive as the smell of fear or sexual arousal. You can prevent these emissions by suppressing the desires and emotions or by shielding yourself. You must learn this, and you must also learn to slip past the shields of others, especially humans."

"Do they have any? I sensed their thoughts and emotions like a bad smell on the wind."

"Yes, that's well said, but we've heard that a few of them have formidable protection. While they could hardly equal those of a cat, we're not about to underestimate them. Let's practice. See that crow in the sky? Tell me about him."

Tara closed her eyes. The crow's awareness had a predatory, guarded nature, but his shielding was far from thorough. "He sees carrion in a field. He imagines with great pleasure sinking his sharp beak into its ripeness. Ugh."

"Good. See if you can locate a nearby rodent."

Tara sensed a chattering squirrel and saw pictures of seeds and nuts.

"All right, rest a minute. Remember what I said before, the emotions of a frightened animal are very loud. Rabbits are the extreme. Their fear can become so great they physically cry out, but even if they don't, you will feel an intense disturbance."

"And with humans, what will I sense?"

"My sisters have done some preliminary sensing of humans in the village. Few of those trained to suppress emotions have more than partial success. The most they can do is to muddy them. Their anger is dull, their fear dim. The cats report that their minds are full of vague but disturbing anxiety and depression, as if a cloud blocked the sun. Ironically, their attempts to suppress emotion have more damaging effects to their mental capacities than releasing them would."

"Sometimes I almost feel sorry for them," Tara said.

"You'll need to refresh that attitude when you're living among them."

Over the next few days, Tara practiced on a large variety of animals, until Orion said, "Now try to shield yourself against me. Most humans believe we don't have minds, and they're not likely to try to look within. However, convenient as their ignorance is, you can't count on it. I'm going to teach you to present no-mind to them at a moment's notice. Think of a sound you like."

"Emerald's waterfall."

"Imagine that sound. Good, make it a little louder and let it go while you think about whatever you want."

He was silent for a moment and then laughed. "Orion is a big fat poop?"

"You're too good."

"That's why practicing with me will be so helpful."

By noon, Orion could only hear the waterfall. "Now, gradually lower the volume of sound."

"But then you'll hear my thoughts."

"No, the waterfall will turn into an invisible barrier."

_Orion is a silver-tongued foreigner_ , Tara thought. Her father narrowed his eyes for several minutes, and then purred. "I didn't hear your thoughts. Well done. We'll practice every day until you leave."

"Leave?"

"In a week, small one. It will be the mid-spring festivities. We're working on a special ceremony to honor you."

" _A week_?"

She was about to explain how impossible that was when Orion's ears flickered. "My mother and brothers have arrived."

### Chapter 7

Orion darted toward the cats, handsome tabbies like himself. He touched noses with each of them and motioned Tara to approach.

"No need to tell us who this is," Hathor said, her golden eyes sweeping Tara with a warmth like that of the noonday sun. "We felt the glow before we saw you, a shimmering of light."

The others purred. "Greetings, Small One of Great Power."

Great Power! The words were like the scrape of a rough tongue, tingling through her. She was trying to think of something Great to say in response when Orion, with a lightning-swift paw, knocked her over.

She came up hissing. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"Your prideful thoughts reeked like an overripe fruit about to explode. Always be careful how closely you listen to voices of praise; they can drown out the wiser voice within."

Hathor inclined her head. "Orion speaks truly. I had to bat him into shape several times a day, and look how well he's turned out."

She touched noses with Tara. "I'm your grandmother, and these are your uncles, Atman and Ra."

Tara looked at them cautiously. "Sekhmet's brothers, too?"

"Don't hold that against us," Atman said. "Sekkie's not that bad. Hathor should have knocked her about more."

Hathor growled. "I spun her around so many times you'd think she'd be permanently dizzy, but she was always stubborn and determined to be herself, for good or ill. And the Long-whiskered One help anyone who dared to disagree with her."

"My mother did," Tara said.

"Then I'm more eager than ever to meet her," Hathor said.

Unlike Sekhmet, Hathor and her sons were good-natured cats. Misha took to Orion's mother immediately, and they spent the afternoon grooming each other and exchanging stories. The uncles accommodated the kittens in their favorite game of Jump-on-the-Cat.

That evening Tara was batting a centipede when she overheard Orion and Hathor speaking. She ducked behind a bush to listen.

"The Chosen couldn't have a better mother," Hathor said. "Emerald is passionate and brave and fierce in her loyalties. Young Tara needs these qualities. Even the rough tongue may come in handy in talking with village cats. They gave us quite the raised tails when we passed through. Quest, _shmest_ , is their attitude. They're far from starving, and some live in human homes. They mostly complain about dogs. It's going to be a challenge to rouse them, but Ra and Atman are congenial enough to make inroads. As for my third son, you're a changed being."

"More than you know. So far, I'm not even interested in catting around. I'd rather be with the kittens. Most of all, teaching and protecting Tara has become my life."

The warmth in his voice made Tara feel as if she'd swallowed a piece of sunlight.

"Tara, you can come out from behind the bush now," Hathor said.

She emerged, feeling very stupid.

"I encourage eavesdropping. How else can you get information? However, be sure to shield yourself. Your thoughts were very quiet, and it's possible that most cats wouldn't hear them, but take no chances. What did you think of our discussion?"

"I'm still not sure how brave I am."

"You never really know until you have to be, but with Orion as your teacher, I have confidence in you."

Tara snuggled against her father. "His words are like Her rough tongue."

Hathor's eyes beamed. "Cherish his love. You'll be relying much more on your father when you're living in the village. And that time is coming soon."

Too soon. Hathor set things in motion. She decided that the village cats should be invited to the planned ceremony to announce the Chosen and launch her on her path. Ra and Atman convinced a number of local cats to attend.

"You could hardly call them devotees," Ra said, "but they're attracted to the idea of cats regaining the stature they deserve, and some of the younger ones are searching for a larger meaning to their lives."

"How we present the Chosen and the Quest will make all the difference," Atman said.

All eyes turned to Tara, making her think of the lights in the city that Emerald had described: unblinking and blinding. "Don't look at me that way," she mewed, "because I don't have any answers for you. And I'm not speaking before an audience."

"Of course you are," Sekhmet hissed. "You're the Chosen. How can they follow you if they don't know who you are?"

Emerald examined the talons on her front paws. "In case you haven't hunkered down with ordinary folks recently, cats aren't really follower material. You can maybe convince them that the way you'd like them to go is the way they were planning to go, anyway, but that's about it."

The Sharp-taloned One suddenly purred in Tara's ear, and she said, "Emerald is the one to speak to them."

"What?" Sekhmet screeched. "How badly do you want the Quest to fail?"

Emerald spat at her. "Back off, bitch. I'm not saying I want to do this thing, but if I did speak, you could be sure some cats would still be awake at the end."

Hathor nodded her head slowly. "This idea is worth pouncing on. Tara's right. No matter how well the Golden-eyed One guides her, you're still going to have a crowd of cats sitting on their haunches and saying, 'Too young.' Let's give them Emerald's story instead: inner city cat who's seen the worst, mother of the Chosen, and a cat with a down-to-earth way of speaking."

"You can say that again," Sekhmet muttered.

"I like it," Orion said. "Are you willing, Emerald?"

Emerald glared at Sekhmet. "Just to show _her_ I can, I will."

The morning of the ceremony, Tara didn't want to wake up. She snuggled against Emerald. Why had she ever agreed to trade her mother for a flash of golden eyes? She'd rather spend the rest of her life listening to Emerald's slow, steady heartbeat than be some stupid Chosen kitten in a life that was sure to be lonely, dangerous, and probably brief.

She whimpered softly, and Emerald opened her eyes and began to groom her. The rumble of her purring shook loose Tara's grief. She mewed loudly.

"I don't want to do this."

Emerald tilted her head. "You want to a whole lot more than you don't want to. I hate to give those cats credit for anything, but the older all you kittens get, the more I see that you're different from the others. You're like me. I hopped into that truck with no idea where it was going to take me, and it wasn't only because Orion had sexy haunches. It was my chance to have a different kind of life, for me and for my kittens."

"But you found it. What could be better than this place?"

"Hadn't been this place would have been another. I had that restlessness and the urge to do something new. Another month, and this forest wouldn't hold you, but they say they can't wait. That's how city cats are, always in a hurry. And that means you're leaving before you're ready, but maybe that's part of your journey. Maybe that aching need for a mother will guide you where you're meant to go."

Tara looked at her in wonder. "You're smarter than any of the others. You don't have to do rituals to talk to Rough-tongued One; She's always speaking to you."

"Hope She speaks to me tonight."

Tara tried to contain her nervousness when the village cats began arriving in the late afternoon. Sekhmet guided the elderly toms and queens, mothers with kittens, and young males and females to a clearing near the waterfall, where stones tumbled over each other to create caves and walls. The widening of a stream formed a pool.

Some cats gathered around the pool, and others lounged on stones. Their thoughts swirled like gnats.

Look, how precious, those white paws; she's meant to walk the path of purity.

And tulip shaped ears for hearing the whisper of truth. Seeing her, I feel my life taking a new shape.

Awfully young, isn't she?

I don't know why they couldn't choose someone local.

"It doesn't matter," Orion said. "They're not voting for you."

"But they're voting for or against being involved."

"Yes, and it helps to know what words and actions will win them to our side, but don't listen to the world; listen to Her. The opinions of others may blow you around like wind flurries, but Her voice is steady and sure."

"And don't think in terms of numbers," Bast said. "We don't know how many cats we need for the Quest."

"Many," Tara said, "not at once, but soon."

"Did you hear Her voice?" Sekhmet asked.

Emerald intervened. "Maybe it's time to stop asking her that. Does it make sense? That's what matters."

Sekhmet growled. "I hope you speak more sweetly to the assembled cats."

"I'll say what needs to be said."

The black cat stalked off, but by the time she'd climbed up a series of stones, her tail had stopped twitching. She introduced herself and her ancestors in great detail. At the point when many cats began to think it would be more entertaining to check out the garbage cans in the village, Sekhmet ended her climb through the family tree.

"Each cat sitting here has heard the story of the Quest and the Chosen. Some of you are curious; some feel a calling. You are all welcome. Now, I'd like to introduce the Chosen's mother, Emerald. She will tell you about her daughter and about the Quest."

Emerald strolled onto the platform. Tara noticed the admiring glances many toms gave her mother.

"It's nice to see you all," Emerald said, "and I hope I get the chance to talk to more of you in the future. Up until now, I've been raising a litter of kittens, and you know how that goes."

"Uh huh," some females said.

"They're about grown, and I'm looking forward to some free time, but I worry about them. Some days it seems like they mostly have fluff inside their head, not brains. How are they going to do on their own?"

Tara sensed that every female who'd ever borne a litter was now totally with Emerald.

"It's what any mother goes through, except that I've got this one kitten who's the Chosen. What does that mean? They tell me she's going to save the world, but I don't see how one little kitten can do that on her own."

Tara heard Sekhmet suppress a hiss.

"You've been invited here because she needs help, but let's talk first about why you came tonight. Maybe you're curious. I would be. Maybe you're restless. I know that feeling, too. And maybe you think your life could be better. Maybe you're wondering if there's something for you in this Quest idea."

Emerald gazed at all of them. "I don't know about your lives, but I can tell you about mine. I was born in the city in a dirty warehouse. There were plenty of rats and mice to eat, but some of the rats were as big as a cat, and you'd find yourself fighting for your life instead of trying to catch a meal. But that wasn't the worst of it."

She paused, and Tara saw her tremble as painful memories coursed through her.

"When I was a kitten not yet weaned, humans came to round up strays. They took my mother and my littermates. My grandmother, Misha, and I were lucky. They didn't see us, but I'll never forget my mother's desperate cries or the mewing of my brothers and sisters.

"Misha and I scratched along, doing our best to survive and stay clean. Even though I didn't believe any of her stories about a better life for cats in the Green, I realize now they carried me through the hard times, the hungry times, the times when I was so tired I could hardly groom myself."

She pointed to Orion and Bast and Sekhmet. "Then these cats came, talking about the Quest. I didn't believe them, either, but I was in heat, and Orion looked like one fine tom. You ladies will know what I'm saying."

"I hear that," a few females muttered.

"I would have mated and been done with him, but these cats told me they could take me away from the filth and the smells of the city. I knew it was my chance, and I pounced on it. Think about that. What we're talking about here might be your chance."

All over the audience, ears pricked up with interest.

"Some of you might not be thinking you're Quest-type cats, but it's not about you turning into holy cats who forgive every human who ever hurt you. You ask me, you don't have to forgive even one. You want to hiss at them, shit on their doorstep, I don't care."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" a cat called out.

Emerald changed her stance, hunkering down. "Listen to me, cats. You ever sat in front of a mouse hole for hours because you knew sooner or later that mouse was going to come out? That's what the Quest is right now. We know things are happening, things are changing, and we have to be ready to pounce when the moment comes. And while we're waiting, we can do something."

Her eyes showered green light on them. "I was talking to this kitten today, trying to give her courage for what lies ahead. Cats, she's so small to be doing this thing. I'm not sure I know why it has to be this way, but this morning I started to understand. She's a kitten who still needs her mother, but she has to learn how to set her sights higher. Orion and the rest talked from the beginning about 'the Mother,' and I didn't get that any more than I got the Quest, but this morning I did. I realized She came to me after my own mother was taken. I think She looks out for motherless kittens. Tara's losing me so she can reach out for Her."

Emerald raised her head high. "You can do that, too. Maybe knowing Her won't make your stomachs growl any less when you're hungry. Maybe it won't save the lives of your kittens, but you'll know there's more than suffering in this world. You'll know what it can mean to be a cat, and you'll be proud of who you are. She brought me out of a stinking warehouse to the Green. Who knows what letting Her into your life can do for you?"

Tara felt the rising tide of excitement. Cats' eyes glowed in the darkness. Many purred.

"Let the Chosen speak to us," cats began to call out.

Tara climbed up the stones, her heart crowded with emotions tumbling like a litter of wobbly-legged kittens. She remembered how Orion had taught her to breathe deeply from the tip of her tail to the end of her whiskers. She let the cool night air fill her. Her paws tingled with the deep rolling of the earth beneath them.

The Mother told her to say a few words and then keep her little mousetrap shut. "I could not outdo my mother's wisdom with words. Now is a time when we can go beyond words, guided by the Sharp-taloned One. I'm going to ask the Mother if She'll speak through me to you."

_Okay, open up._ She opened her mouth and was surprised to hear liquid song spill out. Her voice was that of the meadowlark greeting the sun and of the nightingale singing the day to sleep. Cats began to sway softly, their eyes closed.

Golden light began to fill the grove, diffusing, until every cat was enveloped in it. Some responded with surprise; others resisted. Some reached for it as a mother cat reached with her tongue to groom her newborn kittens. Others grabbed at it like starving kittens. Every cat felt at least the whisper of Her.

Tara let the moment spin out. Before it faded away, Orion vaulted onto the rock beside Tara. "It's time for us to honor the Chosen and send her on her way. The jewels, please."

Ra carried a small pouch of animal skin and spilled its contents onto the stone. All cats gasped at the explosion of rainbow-colored light.

"My family, the family of the Chosen, has had these gems for generations," Orion said. "Our forebear took them from a human home, not knowing why, but certain that they would be needed. They haven't yet revealed their significance to us, but Tara will take them with her."

He replaced the jewels and fastened the loop of animal skin that held the pouch around Tara's neck. "Let's all wish the Chosen safe journey. And if any of you would like to stay for a while, we have some choice catnip and a selection of freshly killed mice for refreshments."

Tara's heart thumped, and Emerald rubbed against her. "You'll be coming back to visit. I made that big-tailed tom swear to it." She and Tara's littermates touched noses with her, but Tara pulled away before their sweet fragrance turned her into a whimpering mass of kittenhood.

"See you soon." _I hope_.

At first, Tara and Orion made good speed through the fields, but then Tara began to stumble and weave, the path blurred by her last sight of Emerald, her legs weary from the longing to run back home.

"Time to rest," Orion said. "We don't have to be there until morning."

"Where?" she mumbled.

"Don't give me that terrorized kitten look. Once you've had a good nap, your awareness will be more focused. Close those big eyes."

She was glad to obey, but as sleep began to lick at her, she became aware of a cat approaching. Orion was already on his paws.

"Greetings, friend," he said in a rumble that wasn't too friendly.

An adolescent male lowered his white head in deference. "Greetings, Chosen, and Father of the Chosen. I am Whiskers, and you moved me beyond words. I've given up any thought of catting around and acting like a normal male of my age. I want to devote my life totally to the Quest. What can I do to assist in your journey?"

"Nothing at the moment; we're about to sleep." Orion lay down again.

"Then, perhaps I could stand guard in case of danger."

Orion yawned. "Excellent. We can talk more after our rest."

"Don't worry, Chosen, I'll protect you." Whiskers politely moved several feet away, his ears pricked with alertness.

Tara sniffed, wondering at the strange muskiness that pervaded the young male.

"A sexual odor," Orion said, "and a problem I never thought about, although I'm sure those sly females have. He says he's given up the pursuits of a normal tom, but he hasn't succeeded."

The fur on Tara's spine rose. "But I'm way too young."

"Of course, and unlike human males, toms don't force a female who isn't ready. We're going to have big trouble, though, when you become mature. You'll need to have a talk with Sekhmet and Bast before long."

"Not you?"

"I couldn't teach you much about controlling that kind of urge."

Tara felt refreshed when they woke up a few hours later. Moonlight silvered the tall grass, and the world looked like a soft place. _Where now?_ she asked herself.

In the valley, lights glowed in the holes of the humans' houses. The lights from one seemed brighter than the others. Her heart thudded against her chest. "I know our direction."

"I knew you would. Before we leave, we need to catch a few mice."

Tara bounced to her paws. "Oh, fine idea. I'm so hungry."

"You may have one, but we'll have a use for the others. You'll see."

Tara glanced over at Whiskers, who was sleeping. "Some guard."

"His intentions were good. Do you smell mice?"

"Yes!" Tara flattened her belly against the grass and began to stalk the scent. It was good to act like an ordinary cat again.

She and Orion shared one mouse and carried the other two to the place where they'd slept. Whiskers was awake now. "Good hunting?"

"Fine. Sorry, we'd offer you one, but we need these for later."

Whiskers looked befuddled. "Strange are the ways of the Quest."

"Strange, indeed," Orion said.

They trotted through the field, and the closer they came to the house Tara had noticed before, the stronger grew its pull.

"Who lives there?" she asked Whiskers.

"A human considered important by others. He tells them what to do in the fields."

"Are there females in his family?"

"He has a wife, one daughter who left, and one still with him. When her mother isn't looking, she throws out scraps of food for cats."

"How promising," Orion said.

Before they started down the path of crushed stones to the house, Orion turned to Whiskers. "We've welcomed your assistance, but there are parts of the Quest that have to be private, and this is one of them. You'll have many other chances to help."

Whiskers lowered his head again. "Good journey. But before I leave . . ."

Orion's shield was fraying, and irritation leaked out. "Yes?"

"The humans are having a big celebration in the city soon, something about the anniversary of their first coming to this land. I don't know why I thought of it."

Tara watched him trot off into the fading night. "That animal's thoughts jump around like grasshoppers," Orion said.

"Because he's young?"

"And untrained and suffering from over-exposure to human thought. We have a lot of work to do in the village."

Tara wasn't listening. The young tom might be untrained, but his mention of the celebration hissed through her in warning. Certainty gripped her that this coming event was important. Something would happen, something involving the female she'd seen. The sooner she met this human, the better.

When they got to the house, Orion surveyed the perimeter of the house, pawing some freshly turned earth. "Perfect." He quickly dug a hole and bit into the loop of the pouch so that it fell from Tara's neck. "Drop it in," he told her.

She deposited the pouch, and Orion filled the hole with dirt. "Now we sleep until the humans awaken."

Sunlight warmed Tara's face, and Orion gently nudged her. "Is this the one you saw?"

A tall, slender human female stood on the grass. Her skin and hair were the color of rain-dampened earth, and her mouth was wide with a longing that ruffled Tara's fur like a strong wind. "It's her."

"Grab a mouse and place it at her feet," Orion said.

Tara took an extra deep breath. It had been much easier to speak in front of all those cats than to expose herself to this strange being.

Orion kicked her, and she exploded through the hedge, the mouse dangling from her mouth.

The human raised her paws to her own mouth. "Look at you. Is that the most adorable thing?" Her emotions flowed towards Tara like a beam of sunlight.

Another, older human came to the door. "What is that, a cat?"

The beam of sunlight disappeared, and the young human's body grew stiff.

"Get the other mouse," Orion hissed.

Tara darted back behind the hedge and grabbed it. Then she reappeared and carefully placed the second mouse beside the first.

"Fiola, look, she caught two mice."

The younger human's voice throbbed with pleading, but the thoughts of the older were truly intimidating.

Nasty little thing, full of fur... They stretch and purr and act as if they don't have brains in their head, although dissection has revealed—

Tara darted away from those terrible thoughts featuring something sharp that drew blood. She waited a few seconds before back inside the older female's mind.

But mice, disgrace to have those dirty, diseased things on the property. This cat has performed a service. It is to the species' credit that they kill vermin, and though stupid, they are clean. We will permit this creature to live.

"The cat is not to come into the house," the older human said. "That means never. You may occasionally give it a small dish of milk and, if you choose, the scraps you are currently feeding to all the neighborhood strays."

"How did you know?"

"I know. And that's enough time with this creature. You need to eat breakfast now."

The humans went inside their house, and Tara darted back through the hedge. "The older one is frightening."

"Formidable," Orion agreed, "but predictable and a bit tiring. Cats stupid, the very idea."

### Chapter 8

After breakfast, Serazina went outside to sit on the bench by the pond, hoping the kitten would find her there. She heard purring and looked down to see the kitten gazing at her with a pair of huge golden eyes.

How beautiful you are, and I know you must be clean; your chest and paws are the color of snow, and your fur gleams.

The kitten tilted its head and purred more loudly. Serazina patted the bench next to her, and it jumped up, arching its back.

Beautiful fur, soft, like the silk I touched once in the Bazaar, and I wanted to wear it. I knew how good it would feel against my skin. You would feel good, too; I'd love to hold you against me when I slept. I know I'd sleep so well, and I wouldn't have bad dreams. Touching you is better than Numbs. It makes my thoughts and feelings stop fighting with each other. Don't tell anyone, because I'm supposed to want my thoughts to win. Terrible things happen to people who let their feelings take over, but nothing feels terrible right now.

Oh, I wanted a kitten for so long, and I knew my mother would never let me have one, but you came along at the right moment. You're a miracle. Can I call you Miracle?

The kitten squirmed, and Serazina thought she heard a hissed _No_ , but not even drugs had ever taken her that far from what was real. Cats didn't think, after all.

She'd have to come up with another name, though. Miracles, being illogical, had no place in her thoughts.

Berto came to walk with Serazina to school, and the kitten chirped a greeting to him. He sat down and began to pet her. "Dare I ask if the Great Stone Mother has relaxed her restrictions against pets?"

"Only because she killed two mice."

"Good cat, hard-working cat, industrious cat. I'd like to spend the day with her, but we'd better get off to school."

Then Serazina kissed the kitten on the nose. "I'll be back later."

She paused. Had she heard the words, _Be careful_? Impossible.

"Do you have to work after school?" Berto asked Serazina.

"Yeah, another fabulous afternoon of hauling dirty laundry."

"Just remember, they pay you directly in nats instead putting it in your citizen credit account. It adds to our escape fund."

Serazina tried to remind herself of that as she wheeled the laundry cart down the hall. She was working on the mental floor today, and she hoped she wouldn't see too many people whose brains had been shredded.

"Psst, girl! Come here!"

A woman, wearing a badly fitting Healer's uniform, beckoned to her from the linen closet.

Serazina recognized her as the lady who'd told her to trust the dragon. "You're better, but why are you wearing that uniform?"

The woman showed how much better she was by pulling her into the closet. "I need you to help me. I've got to escape from here before they shred my brain."

Her face matched her words. Little muscles twitched at the corners of her black eyes, and her lips were pulled taut to keep them from trembling. Her emotions seared Serazina's heart. "Why?" she asked.

"Because I'm the Chief Healer, and I know things they don't want me to tell. Are you going to help me save my brain and try to save this country? Maybe keep your own brain from getting shredded?"

The Chief Healer! Rumors had circulated that she'd fallen ill, but how could it be bad enough for them to operate on her brain? Unless that wasn't true, unless she was crazy. But her words seemed true. Her eyes, though darting nervously around the hall, were dignified, and the set of her chin expressed power.

But if she were the Chief Healer, Serazina shouldn't be able to sense her emotions.

"I've learned to free them," the old woman said.

"You read me!"

"Sorry, it's an emergency. Young woman, you fascinate me, and I'd love to have a long talk with you. I'll be having no talks with anyone, though, unless you get me out of here."

The strength of her need to escape trembled in Serazina's heart. "Yes, I'll help. How?"

"That's the spirit." The woman darted past her and climbed into the laundry cart. "Cover me with linens, take me down to the basement, and unlock the door. I can get outside from there."

Serazina heaped sheets on top of her and continued down the hall to the service elevator, trying not to look as if she were pushing an unusually heavy load. In the basement, she looked around; all the workers were in the break room at the other end of the basement. She pushed the cart close to the basement entrance and unlocked it.

"You're on your own now."

The woman leapt out of the cart. "Thanks. I won't forget this or you, Serazina. Oh, don't look so frightened. I didn't read your mind this time. You're wearing an I.D. badge."

An hour later, the House of Healing turned into the House of Chaos.

"The Chief Healer is missing!"

"She's escaped!"

Healers and security guards swarmed through the hallway. A guard stopped Serazina.

"Did you see her? An Etrenzian woman in her sixties, about five feet tall with white hair?"

Serazina shook her head, and he dashed on.

_I'm glad I helped her,_ Serazina decided.

Unless anyone finds out.

* * *

"Extra! Extra!" Gris screeched far too early in the morning.

Druid shuffled to the opening of the cave to see the hawk perched on a mangrove. "Can you think of one reason why I shouldn't have you for breakfast?"

"One: you don't eat birds. Two: even if you did, you wouldn't eat such a valuable reporter. Three: you like me."

"I wouldn't be too sure about points two and three."

"Four: my news is even more important than usual. The human female called Chief Healer, who was allegedly ill, has escaped from the House of Healing."

"Why escape, if the purpose of that place is to heal?"

Gris hopped down to the sand and scratched it with his beak. "Why, indeed?"

"If you don't know, I'm going to have my morning bath."

Druid immersed himself in the warm green water, sighing with a pleasure that was interrupted by a new screech from the hawk.

"Maybe Tomo knows; he's coming this way."

Tomo hailed Druid. "I must have a word with you."

"It's the day for it, but you'll either have to wait until I've finished washing or join me."

Tomo shuddered. "Salt stiffens my fur." He curled up on the sand and napped while Gris soared over the swamp, looking for more news.

Druid thoughtfully shook himself off a distance down the beach from the cougar, and then loped back to the sleeping cat.

Tomo opened his eyes. "Felt you coming. Did you put on a little weight?"

"It's water retention," Druid said. "What's the news?"

"The wolves are getting out of hand. No respect for their elders, and some cubs are killing for the fun of it."

Druid sighed at this latest sign of the breakdown of the natural order. "We need to discuss that."

"I tried to troubleshoot, but they won't listen to anyone."

"They'll listen to me, or they're out of the swamp. Feel free to mention that to them—and their parents. With wolves always boasting about what good parents they are, you'd think they'd want to maintain their reputations."

"I like that line of thought. Before I forget, tell me what Gris was squawking about."

"A human escaped from the place called House of Healing. The interesting part is that she was known as the Chief Healer. There must be more to the story, but I have yet to hear Gris end any of his."

"Gris," Tomo growled. "If I weren't so sure his carcass would taste like stale news, I'd eat him for the sake of peace and quiet. But he can be useful. That's the other reason I'm here, to tell you that he caught wind of a ceremony the small cats in the forest held for a kitten they've named the Chosen."

"Shouldn't you have been invited?"

Tomo brushed that idea aside with the shrug of a massive shoulder. "I'm not offended. You can't expect a bunch of foreigners to come tramping through the swamp looking for big cats. The smaller ones could sink to their shoulders in some of the puddles, and it would be dangerous without a safe passage, especially when you think about how the wolves are acting lately. When the time is right, we will meet."

He rolled over and rubbed his back against the sand. "I should come here more often. This reminds me of my mother's tongue. Lots of talk about the Mother at the ceremony."

"You went?"

"Who needs an invitation? They gathered in a nice little grove in the middle of the forest, not far from a steep ridge where a quiet cougar could rest and listen."

"And you heard?"

"The kitten's mother did most of the talking, a smart move, because she didn't try to dazzle them with any mystical folderol. She talked about the Mother the way you'd praise a helpful friend, and she encouraged the cats there to listen for Her voice. That's a nice project, if you have a few lifetimes to devote to it, but in my opinion, it would take a lot more than nine. Still . . ."

Tomo's bright amber eyes softened, and a sigh rippled through his lean body.

"Are you not well?" Druid asked.

"I'm embarrassed, after all these years of specializing in being a cougar of little faith. The so-called Chosen hardly said a word. She sat before the crowd, looking adorable and staring at the village cats with the biggest eyes you ever saw. That kitten touched me in ways I never expected to be touched and don't want to be touched. She made me hopeful."

"Why?" Druid felt the reluctant stirring of his own heart. Even his wings tingled slightly.

"Because she was so brave and so wise. No way a creature so new to the world could radiate love and strength as she did, unless she's hooked up to the Long-tailed One. That means that there is a Long-tailed One and that She takes an interest in our lives and that she's sent this little creature to help sort out the mess we're all in."

"Astonishing," Druid said.

"Unbelievable, more like it, and I don't want to believe, but I'm afraid I do."

"Describe the kitten," Druid said.

"Golden eyes, big ears, white paws, nice stripes, if you go for stripes on a cat. Small. Very, very small."

"I've seen her, too." Druid, trembling with some of Tomo's contagious excitement, told the cougar how the Mother had tapped him on his scaly shoulder to warn him of danger to the kitten.

"And she was brave," Tomo said. "Called for help for the other cat instead of running away. It sounds like what she would do. What did you think of her?"

"Enchanting. Pure. Like a new flower opening its petals. But Chosen, leader of her species? I know cats think a lot of themselves—no offense intended—but one should be at least your size to have any impact."

"Those little cats can be clever," Tomo said. "Look at how some of them manage to straddle the world of the humans and the wild. They said this Chosen was heading to the village with her father. Imagine a small kitten marching bravely into the world of humans."

Druid couldn't. Such courage put every animal he knew, especially him, to shame.

Tomo rose and stretched. "I'll leave you to your thoughts now. My mate wants me to bring back a kill. She's worn out from this litter, says it's going to be her last. It's sad in a way, but my interest in mating is definitely winding down. The teeth will be falling out next. You must be losing your interest, too, eh?"

"For me, it was never more than interest."

"Really? You're a virgin, a five-hundred-year-old virgin? That's got to be a record."

Druid spoke through lips stiffened by salt. "Use your brain, Tomo. Have you ever noticed another dragon in the swamp? You would notice, don't you agree?"

"Ease off, friend. No one knows what you do at night. A female dragon might fly in for a quick one, love 'em and leave 'em."

"If only. Love him and leave him was more my parents' line. Let's drop this subject. I don't want to cloud my mind with bitterness. There's too much to think about. Tomo, see if you can find out more about those small cats. We need information that's more accurate than what Gris delivers."

"As soon as my arthritis clears up," Tomo said. "Hey, what about this crazy weather?"

They discussed the crazy weather for a little while, agreeing that it was another indication of how things were falling apart. Then Tomo, with a slight wheeze, got up and left. Druid sorted out what he knew.

1. Strange, foreign cats had taken up residence in the forest, first an advance guard and then another group.

2. A cat from the city had given birth to an allegedly special kitten.

3. A ceremony had been held for the kitten, who had subsequently disappeared into the village.

4. A human had escaped from a supposed place of healing.

What did any of this do to explain the unrest Druid had increasingly been feeling? How did it explain his sense that he should be doing something?

He scuffed his claws in the sand. Nothing made sense.

* * *

Two days after Janzi's escape, no one could figure out how she'd fled the hospital or where she was.

"It's an outrage," Phileas said, barely able to stifle a roar.

"I take full responsibility," Romala said. "I offer my resignation."

"That's the last thing I want. You could hardly have anticipated that a woman who'd supposedly been in a coma for weeks would somehow escape from the House of Healing. The damage is done, but where is she now?"

Someone knocked on the door. "Come in," Phileas said, and Head Peace Officer, Renzel Dal'Rish came in, looking uneasy.

"What's the bad news?" Phileas asked.

"The former Chief Healer has been seen in Turley Square. She gave a speech about—"

"About?"

Dal'Rish looked down at his shiny boots. "About the importance of emotion and Zena's secret message. What's Zena's secret message?"

Phileas gritted his teeth. "A delusion on the part of the former Chief Healer. Was the speech so short that our illustrious officers didn't have time to apprehend her?"

"The squad tried, but Earthers immediately surrounded her, and she disappeared."

"Disappeared? Does she do magic acts now?"

"I wasn't there. I can't explain it, but you can be sure that the peace officers are on full alert. With your permission, we're going to put up posters with her picture. The text will say that the Chief Healer is seriously ill and in need of medical attention. Anyone who sees her should do their best to apprehend her and put her into the custody of the nearest officer."

Phileas nodded. "Excellent, and I apologize for any harshness or excessive emotion."

Dal'Rish saluted and left the room.

Janzi made several more appearances over the next few days, repeating her theme, always protected by a contingent of Earthers.

"She's attracted a following," Romala said. "Even people who think she's crazy like to listen to her because she's so outrageous. She provides a break in the dull day. The Earthers have adopted her as their inspiration. It's rumored that she lives in the woods with those who have escaped the fields."

"But how?" Phileas demanded. "No private citizen has a car. Does she travel on public transportation?"

"I suspect the grain trucks or any truck that goes back and forth between Oasis West and Nathansville. You can be sure that some of the drivers are Earthers. And she always carries a shopping bag. I think she must keep wigs and other disguises in it."

"You'd think she'd wear a disguise all the time."

"She wants the people to know who she is. One of her themes is that the government sought to have her brain destroyed."

Phileas struck his forehead. "It was never definite. I had the gravest misgivings over the suggestion for the procedure."

"I don't think it would help to say that."

"No. I haven't noticed that she mentions the dragon."

"She's probably waiting until her base of support broadens."

"I don't know what to do," he said. "My mental clarity has never been so impaired."

Romala's eyes were warm with sympathy, and her hands curved as if she wanted to touch him. To his shock, he realized he wished she would.

But it would be totally inappropriate.

### Chapter 9

"You've been a lot more cheerful lately," Berto said, hanging from a strap on the high-speed train to Nathansville. "Is it the kitten?"

Serazina smiled. She did her homework outside whenever possible, and Kitty was always jumping in her lap and blocking her view of the portalibrary screen. If Serazina got upset, the kitten began purring and pushing her head beneath Serazina's hand.

"She seems so happy," Serazina said. "But I guess that makes sense. She doesn't have to worry about her future."

"Lucky her."

When they got off the train, they descended into the swarming mobs of people headed toward the amphitheatre for the anniversary celebration. If the mood of the crowd had been happy, Serazina could have endured it, but she felt only waves of worry with a strong undertow of anger.

"Are you all right?" Berto asked, taking her arm.

"So many people."

"We're almost there—unless you want to skip the whole thing. I wouldn't mind."

"No, I have to be there." She didn't know what had prompted that thought, but it helped her swim through the emotional tide.

"Oasans, beloved Oasans, rejoice. Soon you'll be able to set your emotions free."

Serazina had heard about the Chief Healer's random appearances throughout the city and about the following she had gathered. She was afraid to turn in the direction of the voice.

Berto, however, listened with rapt attention. "She's the best thing that's happened to Oasis since drugs."

Janzi didn't look frightened or small any more. She seemed to tower over her listeners, and her face glowed with vitality.

"Zena's message is coming."

"When?" several people shouted.

"When you're ready to hear it. If you heard it now, it would be dust in your ears. Open your hearts, listen to the wisdom of your emotions, and you will hear what you already know."

Janzi's words burrowed beneath Serazina's defenses, arousing the emotions always too ready to burst into life.

"You've been taught to mistrust your emotions and to believe they make you no better than an animal. Look at the animals." She pointed up to the sky, where a hawk hovered. "Who is free? That creature or you beings, chained by the cold shackles of logic? Fly, my friends! Fly!"

Serazina felt her spirit begin to soar. If only it were true, if only Janzi could reach enough people so that Oasis could become a place where she could survive.

"It's beautiful," Berto said softly.

Longing pulled all those who listened to reach for the happiness Janzi promised. The air hummed with hope. Then the fragile moment shattered. Godlies charged toward Janzi, but before they could reach the area where she stood, Earthers began fighting them. The sound of fists striking heads and the _oomph_ of stomachs pounded by feet filled the area around them. Peace officers waded into the melee to separate the combatants. In the midst of the chaos Janzi disappeared.

Serazina kept her thoughts as quiet as she could, but she could hardly breathe by the time they reached the entrance to the amphitheatre.

"I've never heard anything like Janzi's words," she said to Berto.

"Neither have I. Even though that was the most violent scene I've ever witnessed in Oasis, I kept on remembering what the Chief Healer said, and I had the strangest feeling that all would be well."

"Yes." She decided she would tell Berto what she'd done once they were alone.

Though the huge amphitheatre was packed, the emotions that had assaulted Serazina in the crowded streets of the city seemed here to dissipate into the blue bowl of sky.

Sunlight shimmered against the rectangle of polished stones in the area's center, and rainbows flashed off the quartz obelisk that topped the structure. Serazina thought of the kitten's golden eyes, and her heartbeat slowed. The images of hatred and combat faded. The Chief Healer and the kitten: somehow they were connected in their ability to smooth away her fear.

They found seats in the middle section, close to the stage, where the Guardian sat, flanked by Council members. Berto studied the program. "The usual spin: all praise to our great founders, why Oasis is the best country in the world, three cheers for the Council, Etrenzian and Dolocairn dancing and singing. Wake me up when it's over."

"I agree. The program seems even more boring than usual. There ought to be different ways to say Triumph of the Mind and Mind Mastery. And why are animal urges so base? What do they want, a world of machines?"

"I never thought of that," Berto said.

Why had Serazina never noticed how stiffly the Etrenzian dancers held their bodies, arms clamped against their sides, as if the slightest motion would invite unwanted emotion? She was beginning to think it might be a good idea to head off to the Bazaar when the actors from "Zena Triumphant" began to perform excerpts from a work in rehearsal called "The Journey to Oasis."

The excerpts focused on the post-revolutionary movement and the conflict between factions of the former slaves. Some chose to rebuild Tamaras; others claimed that a fresh beginning was needed. The actress who played Zena sang: "We will build a new, clean land, a monument to the power of Mind."

In the following scene, the pioneers entered the new world, formerly an outpost of Tamaras. The actor playing Nathan did a good job of losing heart when he thought of the empty land beyond them.

"The roads are hardly fit for a donkey cart. Except for the trains that carry salt from the distant sea, we have nothing."

"We have everything," Zena said. "We have the wealth of our minds, and with that wealth, we will build a mental oasis, a place where pure thought flourishes and refreshes us like the waving palms of the Etrenzian oases."

"What makes you so determined?" he demanded.

"I was a slave in Tamaras, an Emperor's toy. And I vowed I would build a world where that could never happen to another girl or woman."

You couldn't fault Zena for that, and every Oasis female owed her for helping to create a society in which women had at least a fighting chance at equality. Serazina felt pretty sure that Zena, who'd wanted everyone to get a break, hadn't realized that her own race, adapted to survive in a harsh desert environment, had developed special mental gifts that, like their dark skin, enabled them to flourish. She couldn't have known that she'd laid the groundwork for a society where Etrenzians would always be on top.

Once Nathan had discovered his own natural mental sharpness, it was all over for future generations, at least for those who couldn't subdue their emotions.

Oasis made a big deal about diversity: the blending of the races, a place for the gifts of each member of society, but it was basically all dragon shit. Maybe people were beginning to realize that; maybe that was why Serazina heard so much grumbling today.

And more than grumbling. Somewhere close by, emotions raged, burning with the stench of violence. Serazina shuddered, pinpricks of anxiety prodding her to escape.

_Close your eyes, find the source of this disturbance,_ a voice urged her _._ She followed the fiery stench to its source, a man working his way down the aisles. Without knowing why she did so, Serazina got up and followed him. When she saw him reach into his pocket, the word _Kill!_ stabbed at her. She gagged at the foul smell of refuse and filth, recoiling at her contact with his mind, empty of all but a furious buzzing.

His gun flashed silver, and he shouted, "Death to the Guardian in the name of the Earth!"

Serazina grabbed his arm as he pulled the trigger. Screaming erupted all over the amphitheater. Soldiers swarmed to surround the would-be assassin and took him away.

"Are you all right, miss?" a ruddy-skinned Dolocairner soldier asked.

The smell of gunpowder made her cough and her eyes burn. Her ears hurt.

"Were you hit?"

"No, I'm all right. Why is everyone shouting?"

"The fiend shot the Guardian."

Serazina jumped to her feet in time to see the Guardian slowly rising, blood dripping from his head. "A mere flesh wound," he shouted, his voice as strong as ever. "Already, it is healing."

Green-clad Healers hurried him away, and Malvern Frost, head of the Water Commission and Elissia's boss, came onto the stage. "Good citizens, do not allow base emotion to overwhelm your reason. You have seen that the Guardian hasn't been seriously injured, and the Earther assassin has been caught. If we discover that he's part of a terrorist plot, we'll find his accomplices and bring them to justice."

Dizziness overtook Serazina. The soldier grabbed her before she toppled to the ground. "Do you need a Healer?" he asked.

"No, I think I need to get away from this crush of people."

"I'll oblige your wish as soon as possible, but I need to have your name and address for the incident report."

She was trapped. "Serazina Clare, of the Clare farmstead outside Oasis West. I don't want any attention drawn to me, though. I'm not important."

"You saved the Guardian's life. That's important to everyone in this country. He'll want to thank you when he's well enough. Surely you're eager for the honor of meeting him."

That was exactly what Serazina didn't want. She didn't need that sharp mind to scan hers and notice the soggy muddle inside. "I'd rather avoid the danger of pride and self-importance, Officer."

"I commend you, but we'll let the Guardian be the judge of the danger." The soldier tipped his cap and marched away.

* * *

"I'm fine, perfectly capable of performing my job, and the people need me more than ever," Phileas raged. "I want to get out of this bed."

Romala stood by the bedside, unmoved by his tirade. "Guardian, the decision doesn't rest in your hands. As Acting Chief Healer, I decide. You need to recover from both injury and trauma."

"But the assassin must be interrogated and his accomplices captured before they go to ground."

"The leading Healers have been summoned. Perhaps none of them as individuals can equal you, but as a group they will extract whatever information is available. So far, though, they've found nothing."

Phileas sat up, ignoring the sudden slash of pain in his head. "Nothing?"

"Only this thought: 'Kill the Guardian.' They've found evidence of major tampering; vital mental circuits are destroyed. The assassin has no memory of his past."

"Someone turned him into a killing machine, but who? I haven't sensed that degree of either skill or ruthlessness among the Earthers. I don't find it logical that they're responsible. Calling out their name was probably a planned diversion on the part of the true terrorists."

"I tend to agree with that. Meanwhile, I've assigned the most skilled Healers to determine whether they can retrieve data from the assassin's mind. So, you see, everything is under control."

"And I'm superfluous?"

"Never that, Guardian, but neither should you be so indispensable that the nation can't carry on while you recover."

"What have you learned about the young woman who tackled the assassin?"

"She's Serazina Clare. Her father, a Dolocairner, is Head Supervisor of the fields, a well-regarded man. Her mother, Etrenzian and a direct descendant of Zena, supervises those who analyze medical data from the Healing Center."

Phileas frowned. "It's unusual for one of Zena's descendants to marry out of her race."

"Let's be frank, Guardian. It's frowned upon. My father wasn't even of Zena's lineage, and his family put huge pressure on him not to marry my mother. Believe me, prejudice against mixed marriages and hybrids is rampant among Etrenzians."

It was hard not to take that personally. "I have done all I could to promote equality."

"I'm not accusing you. However, when you consider the information about this family, take this awareness into your analysis. Whatever caused these two to wed is part of their children's heritage."

Her reminder that he must be analytical and logical told him how far the attempted assassination had pushed him towards cowardly emotion. "That's an important observation. Thank you. We must investigate that. We may assume that, given the parents' stature, they're both highly intelligent. Intelligence alone, however, doesn't explain how this girl sensed and assaulted the assassin before our allegedly well-trained Healers had a clue. Any sensing gift in the family tree?"

"I investigated that. Her older sister was one of the most gifted graduates of the Oasis West secondary school. Because of that, she was tested for suitability to be Mother of the Heir, despite her hybrid flaw. She failed, however, in the area of sensing. Now she's the youngest member ever on the Water Commission, and she seems to be doing brilliant work."

Romala referred to her notes. "Serazina was tested only because of her sister's outstanding record. She's an average student, and testing revealed no sensing ability. Failing a change in the final review report, she'll go to the fields after graduation."

Phileas reflected that this Serazina was a classic argument against mixing Dolocairn and Etrenzian genes. In her case, the Dolocairn heritage had overwhelmed any Etrenzian benefits. For that to happen to a descendent of Zena was a crime. Yet, somehow this baffling girl had sensed the presence of the assassin in time to deflect his aim, succeeding where trained peace officers, supposedly scanning the crowd for trouble, had failed.

"How did she conduct herself following the attempted assassination?"

"The incident officer reported that she resisted giving any information about herself. She said she wanted to avoid the danger of pride."

"Did she? I sense a mystery here, one worth unraveling. Let's do this. Correctness dictates that I thank this young woman as soon as possible for saving my life. Since you won't permit me the freedom to do that immediately, I ask that you go out to the Clare home as my emissary. While you're there, study this young woman and her parents."

"Their minds?"

"No. With all due respect, only I have the power to insist on the invasion of presumably healthy minds and only for purposes of national security. When the time comes, I'll cite that need without a shred of hesitation. I want you to gather whatever information you can without putting her on guard. Be my eyes and ears. Study the parents and the house. See if you can determine why they married. Has the husband transcended his Dolocairner heritage? Does the wife suppress a streak of romanticism? This information, as you so wisely pointed out, will tell us something about the girl. We'll discuss your findings tonight."

"Tomorrow, Guardian. I promise that the moment I leave the Clare home, I will begin recording my impressions, and I will stay up as late as necessary to complete my report. The results will arrive with your breakfast in the morning. Now, I insist that you rest."

"You're far too good at your job." He tried not to sound surly.

* * *

Only the highest officials had the use of hummer planes, and when Serazina heard the buzz above their house, she felt a tremor of fear. The visitor couldn't be the Guardian, though. According to the online reports, he was resting in the Healing Center.

Someone knocked at the door. Her father, Johar, rose from his computer, where he'd been projecting grain yields for the harvest, and went to open it. Serazina followed him and saw a soldier.

"Greetings, citizen," the soldier said. "The acting Chief Healer, Romala Kyle, wishes to speak with you."

Fiola darted around the house, seeking specks of dust on the immaculate surfaces. "If only we'd known. The place is a shambles."

"Such matters are unimportant," the soldier said. "The acting Chief Healer wishes to thank your heroic daughter on behalf of the Guardian." He stepped aside, and a woman wearing the green uniform of a Healer entered.

Her black hair was Etrenzian, but Tamaran curves shaped her caramel-colored face. Serazina thought of Berto and wished he were here.

"Greetings, Citizen Clare," the woman said. "May I enter?"

"Of course," Johar said. "Our house is honored."

"Honored," Serazina repeated, trying to quell her terror.

Romala Kyle smiled at her. "Tonight, the honor is mine."

"Come in, sit." Johar indicated his chair.

Fiola dashed in with a pot of lemongrass tea and assorted biscuits and set them on a table. "Forgive the inadequate offerings."

"Forgive my rudeness in not giving advance notice, but the Guardian stressed the necessity of conveying his gratitude at once. As my visit here will ease his mind, I lost no time."

She seated herself gracefully, smoothing out her tunic. "And, of course, Serazina, I extend to you my own gratitude. Your alertness and courage saved the nation from unimaginable disaster."

"I didn't do anything. I just tackled him. Any citizen would have done the same."

"We'd like to believe that," Romala said, "but not every citizen would have sensed the danger."

Serazina's thoughts, scattered by panic, crashed into one another. To try to calm herself, she focused on Romala. Beneath the mask of politeness and sincerity seethed the urgent need for information that Serazina was determined not to give her.

_Use your mind,_ she told herself. "I've tried to remember, but the shock of what happened seems to have erased my memory." She heard her voice tremble. "Forgive my emotion. I was frightened."

"Of course you were, and that makes your courage even more remarkable. The Guardian is deeply impressed."

"It was all an accident," Serazina said.

Romala Kyle's eyes narrowed. "That's exactly what it wasn't. Because of national security issues, I can't reveal the mysterious circumstances that surround this assassination attempt, but anything you can remember might be of enormous value in capturing the terrorists behind the attack. I hardly need say how vital this could be to the safety of the land. Perhaps a good night's sleep will help to restore your memory."

"I hope so," Serazina said, striving to put the utmost sincerity into her voice. "I only want to help."

"Of course. The Guardian wishes me to assure you that as soon as he's permitted to leave the Healing Center, he'll be visiting you. He'll choose an appropriate way to honor you. In the meantime, he's instructed me to give you what he calls a small token of his appreciation."

She opened a jewelry box. Inside it sat a ring with a bloodstone cabochon.

Fiola caught her breath. "The blood of the desert."

Romala nodded. "The sacred stone of Etrenzia. This ring belonged to the Guardian's maternal grandmother."

She handed the ring to Serazina and bowed. "Good night, citizens. I'll leave you to your rest."

The door closed behind her, and the hummer roared off into the night.

"Don't let this visit go to your head," Fiola said. "But a ring belonging to the Guardian's grandmother, no point in pretending that it's an ordinary trinket. Put it on."

Serazina slowly slipped the ring onto the fourth finger of her right hand. It fit perfectly. She hated it. It connected her to the Guardian in ways that frightened her. It was the signet ring of her doom, she was certain.

"I'm very tired," she told her parents. "I'm going to bed now."

In her room, she took off her tan student tunic and trousers and put on a white, shapeless nightgown. She took off the ring, but its removal did nothing to quiet her unease.

They'll know about me now. They'll send me off to a rehabilitation camp. I'll turn into one of those idiots who can barely gather the crops. Everything that's me will be lost.

Putting a pillow over her head, she cried herself to sleep.

### Chapter 10

Phileas, still confined to his bed, finished his breakfast, a tasteless gruel full of vitamins and amino acids good for the brain, and began reading Romala's report. He hadn't finished the first paragraph before his finger pressed the intercom to her office.

"Chief Healer, are you currently busy?"

"I'm always busy, Guardian, but I'd be pleased to speak with you. I was planning to come up in a little while."

"Sooner than that, if you would."

"Right away."

She arrived five minutes later. "You're reading the report? Good, I had a few more thoughts about it when I woke up this morning."

"Splendid." He paused, searching for the most reasonable words with which to express displeasure. "So far, I've been more than pleased by our new working relationship. You're doing a splendid job as Chief Healer. Any suggestions I have are solely for the purpose of the greater good."

She gave him a hard look. "What didn't you like about the report?"

So much for tact. "I was unable to read after the first few sentences. 'Serazina Clare resembles a gazelle.' What is that intended to mean? Does she have horns and a tail? Does she dart through the Etrenzian sands?"

"No, it means she is slender and graceful and she looks as if the slightest sound would make her dart away, if not through the Etrenzian sands. She is, as I note further along, principally Etrenzian in facial and body structure, although her skin and hair are lighter because of her Dolocairner heritage."

"In the future, I would like your reports to be a little less colorful. Vivid imagery stirs up emotion and weakens logic, and I hardly need to tell you how difficult that makes a clear judgment."

He skipped the rest of the gazelle paragraph. "'Her father is of classic Dolocairner appearance: tall, muscular, and broad-shouldered. His face is reddened from hours spent in the field, his hair nearly white for the same reason. He greeted me correctly, but said nothing once I was seated. (I note that my visit was very short.)

"'His wife may have been equally nervous, but she produced a perfect pot of lemongrass tea and some excellent biscuits.' Excellent biscuits?"

"Sesame, very crisp, not laden with fat, as Dolocairner biscuits would be. Guardian, keen observation is part of a Healer's work. I noticed all I could in order to discern what you would find important. For example, I was impressed by the immaculate state of the house—she apologized for the mess—and the precise, suitable hospitality. I view these as examples of mental mastery, especially in the face of an unexpected visitor of high status. It tells us that the girl has been raised in a disciplined manner."

"Hmm. Your point is well taken. Perhaps I'll allow a little color. And the father?"

"I found it difficult to evaluate his silence. Some men would have made certain I knew they had stature in their own realms. He clearly felt no need for that. Certainly he was polite, allowing me to say all that was necessary. However—and I didn't think of this until the morning—when I was questioning his daughter, he seemed to become tense."

"That seems odd. Before we discuss the girl, did you have any other observations about the parents?"

"I sensed . . . a distance between them, and though their politeness obscured this, a sadness. This is pure conjecture, but I suspect they married out of a passion that died."

"As passions do; that is one of their great dangers. The wife probably experiences a deeper disappointment, having married a man of a race considered inferior. We may want to investigate further, but let's turn now to the girl. I'll read your notes."

He read for a few minutes. "She claims not to know how she sensed the assassin, and you don't believe her."

"Not for a minute. She put on a show of confusion that might have fooled someone else."

"Chief Healer, I must apologize. Forced inactivity has clearly made me succumb to the emotions of impatience and irritability. I rescind all previous objections. Your powers of observation are superb. Now let's go a little deeper into this situation. We had peace officers dispersed throughout the crowd, on the alert for agitators. We had Healers strategically located, searching for threatening emotions. One sat not far from this young woman. He noticed nothing. Could Serazina Clare, an untrained girl, have a power of sensing greater than that of a high-ranking professional?"

He raised a finger. "That's the first conundrum. Secondly, if this were the case, you'd imagine she'd want to tell the world about her talent. Our Healers are rightly esteemed for their mind mastery. Many young people dream of being eligible for their ranks. Why would she try to hide this ability? And why has no one in the school she attends discovered it?"

"I can answer the last question," Romala said. "My research revealed that the schools in Oasis West are the worst in the country. If a student's ability isn't practically screaming in a teacher's face, as it was in the case of Serazina's older sister, it won't be discovered. The classes are too large, and the teachers too overloaded with work because of the general perception that it's a waste of time to spend money and resources on young people who will end up in low-level jobs, anyway."

Phileas was aghast. "But this is wrong! Given the high concentration of Dolocairners in the countryside, these facts give new substance to the complaints of those like Wendly Icinger and Snurf Noswan. Good minds are going to waste there, and official neglect plants the seeds of rebellion and religion. Once the immediate situation is resolved, I intend to look into this. Now, back to the mystifying girl. Let me hear more of your thoughts."

"Mystifying is the right word. If she were the child of a field worker, one not taught to aspire to a position of respect, I might understand her diffidence, but her family is accomplished. Her father has risen far beyond the average Dolocairner, her mother's work performance receives outstanding reviews, and her sister's achievements are exemplary. As you point out, the facts indicate that Serazina's sensing powers must be extraordinary. I find it interesting that she's been disqualified as a possible mother of the Heir."

"That's more than interesting; it's alarming and probably another wrong to be laid at the door of the rural school system. How am I supposed to produce an heir if I'm not provided with eligible candidates? I want to meet her as soon as possible. When will I be released from this confinement?"

Romala closed her eyes for a moment, and he felt her light probe. "Your wound is healing well, but, with all respect, your state of agitation about being confined is slowing down the recovery. Guardian, if there's anything I can to do ease your concern that vital functions are being overlooked, it will be my pleasure."

She was a remarkable woman. "Are you sure you can? The duties of being Chief Healer are great."

"I've been a widow for two years. I can give my full attention to my work."

He remembered her husband, a pleasant and dull functionary, who'd worked for Kermit in the budgetary department. "I accept your offer of assistance with gratitude. We'll be working together closely during the coming months. I wish I could formally designate you Chief Healer, but I fear it would cause an outcry from the growing membership of my mother's fan club."

"Of course, Guardian." Romala bit her lip. "To be honest, I'd been doing most of that job for months. As it must have been obvious to you when you entered her mind, Janzi had been slipping, and I'd been wrestling with my conscience about whether to approach you."

He nodded. "In no way consider this a criticism, but from now on, if you notice the smallest thing amiss, report it at once."

"I do blame myself—"

He resisted her sour tide of remorse. "Control yourself, Chief Healer. Your intention was to preserve the dignity of a citizen who had served Oasis well for many years. No doubt you hoped that she would choose retirement. You could never have predicted that she would go over the edge and imagine that she'd discovered Zena's last testament."

"Thank you, Guardian."

"I take my own share of responsibility. She was my mother; I should have known, but we weren't close. Like all Guardians in training, I went to my father as soon as my gift was discovered. He encouraged me to sever any emotional bonds to Janzi, and I obeyed, as was correct, altogether correct."

"Sometimes I wonder, Guardian," Romala said, her black eyes fierce. "I think we go too far."

"Most women tend to think that way. That's why the Guardian has always been and must always be male." He wondered why his words sounded so hollow. They were no more than the truth.

And the truth was what mattered. "My mother, a logical woman, accepted her duty. She helped to maintain a relationship with me that was distant and wholly professional. Her presence of mind was great enough, even when she began to fail, to conceal her decline from me. Therefore, guilt is an emotion unworthy of me or of you. However, the subject does bring up a question: what has been done to tighten security in the House of Healing? Given that the Earthers seem to be the principal beneficiaries of her escape, I suspect that they have a network there. They could arrange to release other patients."

"No worker enters any floor now without first reporting to the main employee office for a key card, which must be surrendered at the end of each shift. The codes are changed daily. I should have instituted that procedure sooner. I'm sorry—"

"I've made it clear that I forbid remorse. To remain in the past reflects sentiment of the lowest kind. We have plenty to handle in the present. At this point Janzi is too much of a hero for us to tuck her back into a mental ward. I'd settle for the opportunity to reason with her and find out the truth about this damned testament."

He grimaced. "Now I'm sorry. We must be vigilant about the temptation to let emotion triumph in these dangerous times."

"Yes, Guardian."

"And one more thing. Formal titles have their place, but in a situation such as ours, I will permit you to call me by my first name and do the same with you."

"Thank you, Guardian—Phileas." The smallest curve of a smile brightened her face.

He tried not to notice.

* * *

Serazina and Berto sat by the pond, watching the kitten chase a grasshopper. "I wonder where she came from," Serazina said. "She's so little. Do you think something happened to her mother? And what about her litter mates?"

She wanted to cry when she thought about the possibility of tragedy in the kitten's history. Poor little thing. She didn't look as if she were grieving, but she was probably an orphan, with only Fiola's tentative permission keeping her safe from the filth and danger of some alley.

"I think you go out of your way to make yourself miserable," Berto said. "I may not be the emotionally resonant person you are, but I can see that this is a perfectly happy creature—unlike yourself."

"I don't think I like what you're saying."

"Most of the time I love how deeply you feel, but I like it best when you're happy and share the wealth. Unfortunately, you'd rather feel badly than feel nothing. You see a contented, lively kitten and imagine a starving waif. Why not see what's there and enjoy it?"

The kitten stopped pursuing the insect and looked at him. She padded toward the bench and jumped into his lap.

"See? She's agreeing with me."

"She doesn't understand what we're saying."

The kitten hissed softly, and Berto laughed. "I've always wondered about that. Isn't it convenient for humans to say they're the only thinking animals—that is, on those rare occasions when they admit they're animals at all? Animals can learn, so they must be able to think. How did this kitten know to line up dead mice to impress your mother? There's more to this little beast than we know."

Purrs filled the air.

"And they must be able to communicate with each other," Berto said.

Serazina frowned. "The scientists have done tests."

"The scientists you love so much, the ones you're desperate to escape? Those tests are designed to prove that base animal sensations interfere with higher intelligence."

"You're right, but now you're the one stirring up depressing emotions."

"It's too easy to do in this place. I was thinking about painting before I came over. If I study art here, I may learn something about technique, but it'll be like squeezing dry paint out of a tube. Maybe I'm not quite the waterfall you are, but I do like a touch of passion in a painting. I like colors that sing, and I don't intend to turn out industrial gray abstracts of rectangles and triangles that are supposed to be representations of Mind. If I could sell a few more paintings, I'd be on my way."

"Berto, I wish we could leave tomorrow. When you first brought it up, I was never sure I'd be happy in a city. Now that I've been stupid enough to attract the Guardian's attention, I have no choice. And there's something else I have to tell you. I helped the Chief Healer escape."

His eyes lit up. "How?"

"She got into my laundry cart, and I took her to the basement. She escaped through an exit."

"But that's wonderful. You may have helped to change the history of Oasis."

"It won't be wonderful if anyone finds out."

"You're right, only you, I, and Janzi Nor'azzi know."

"And the Guardian, if he reads me. At the very least, he'll think I'm an Earther, especially since they've begun to band around her. That's why I want to leave tomorrow, or at least before the Guardian is well enough to visit. I wish I were smart enough to figure out a way to avoid meeting him."

"We've been over this before. You _are_ smart. Together, we should be able to come up with a plausible explanation for your sensing what the best-trained minds in the nation didn't."

"Saying I couldn't remember didn't work."

"Could you have seen something? The flash of gunmetal or a suspicious bulge inside his coat?"

"If he goes into my mind he'll know I'm lying."

"Fill your mind with junk: stupid, distracting thoughts. You're smart enough to keep your gift hidden."

"Gift? Call it a curse."

The kitten leapt onto her lap, and Serazina thought she heard, _Not a curse_. When she heard cats speak she was in big trouble.

"I'll come if you want," Berto said. "I am a witness, after all."

"Oh, Berto, you're so good to me."

* * *

Druid tried to cover his ears against Gris's screeching. The hawk's visits were becoming far too regular.

"Vital news! The plot thickens. Someone tried to kill the human who calls himself the Guardian of Oasis."

The dragon became fully awake. "What's your source?"

"Hawks flying overhead saw the attack and hovered long enough to see whether the breath of life escaped the human's lips. They say he rose to his feet and said he was well. Meanwhile, many sources, particularly mice and rats, report that the humans who carry smoking sticks are going through certain neighborhoods, searching for what they call 'terrorists.'"

The news was interesting, but Druid couldn't yet see how it would affect life in the swamp. "Anything else?"

"Yes. The Guardian human probably would have been killed, except that a young woman sensed the assassin's intentions and knocked him down so that his shot went wild. Lot of head scratching about how she sensed the threat."

It was an unusual gift for a human and not a piece that fit into the puzzle. The only clear fact that emerged from this mélange of information was that unexpected things were now happening on a fairly regular basis. There seemed no point in trying to figure out anything. By the time he'd assembled a shaky structure of facts, a new one would knock everything down.

### Chapter 11

When Orion arrived at the pond that night, Tara wasn't prepared to be friendly. He'd promised to visit her at least once a day, but he hadn't come the night before. The novelty and challenge of living among humans that had distracted her for the first few days had faded, and she was lonely for the company of cats.

As long as she stayed outside and out of Serazina's mother's way, her survival was assured, but she couldn't ease her aching heart. The need for the warmth of her mother and littermates was a hairball lodged in her throat. She felt like spitting it in Orion's eye, but when he began to silently groom her, the idea of complaining tasted bitter. She pushed her head against his chest instead.

After the grooming, they lay in a silver ribbon of moonlight. "I came here last night," he said, "but I saw strange humans gathered about the house. Approach seemed dangerous, so I went off with the others who have been trying to make some sense of the attempted killing of the human leader. Have you heard about it?"

"Serazina saved him by sensing the assassin."

Orion focused his gaze on the house. "An untrained human who senses and tracks the thoughts and feelings of others? Finally I hear something that makes sense. Without knowing she did, she must have called you to her. That means she might be able to unstop her ears and heart and hear you."

"It'll take a lot of learning. Even though she refuses to give up her gift, it frightens her. These humans are even stranger than I thought. One came here last night, directly from the Guardian, a woman called the Chief Healer. Her purpose was to honor the girl for saving this Guardian's life. I read her thoughts."

Orion's eyes widened. "You have become an adept. Surely her shields are better than most."

"Better than most humans, perhaps." Tara was tempted to brag a little, but Orion had already praised her.

"Tell me about her thoughts," he said.

"Imagine a cat who constantly cleans its sleeping area, brushing out bits of leaf, always trying to smooth out and flatten the grass. This female kept brushing away emotion, as if it were an irritation or some venomous insect that wanted to sting her. It's very difficult to describe because I've never sensed that kind of attitude. You told me humans didn't like emotion, but I had to sense it to understand. I observed her thoughts of herself as a healer. She views emotions as symptoms of disease. A human healer concentrates on their suppression and elimination."

"That sounds right to me. Now tell me more about Serazina's mind."

"Her mind is excellent, but she clings to her emotions in a defiance of those who tell her they are wrong. She senses more with feeling than with mind. If she saw an ant, she wouldn't be watching it. She'd be saying, 'Hello, ant.' She'd be experiencing the smoothness of the grass and how it sways in the breeze. When she senses pain in others, she experiences that, too. She needs to learn some shielding, but she'd no more give up her feelings than I'd give up my whiskers. Underneath the fear she stubbornly holds to who she is."

"Very interesting and promising."

"Except that she's in danger. When the important female questioned her, she tried to pretend she didn't remember what happened during the attempted assassination. She's more terrified than ever, now that she's come to the ruling humans' attention."

"They're frightened, too. Cats are hearing that people blame the attempted assassination on a group of humans called Earthers—"

"Who are they? Serazina talked with her friend about them. She was afraid the human leaders would think her one of them."

"Most of them work in the fields, although some have fled and live deep in the forest. They talk about how the Earth is our Mother and we must live in harmony with Her ways."

"Why would such humans try to kill another?"

"It makes no sense," Orion said. "Either they're very confused—which would make them normal humans—or someone is falsely blaming these acts on them. Considering how many crimes are unjustly blamed on cats, we need to consider that possibility. Either way, the Earthers pose a problem."

"How could humans who love the earth be problems?"

"Because they give the idea of loving the Earth a terrible name. At this point, people think that even liking flowers will make them suspect. And Earthers express the feelings everyone else is trying to suppress. This causes them to be universally hated and feared."

Tara wished she could return to the time when Serazina had been a distant, pleading voice. "No wonder she's afraid of being called one. And there's another problem."

Orion groaned. "At the moment, I long for my careless life as a hot-blooded tom."

"You think I wouldn't rather be an empty-headed kitten chasing hummingbirds? You didn't tell me that humans also breed on purpose for the best gene combinations. The Guardian needs a woman with certain characteristics to breed his heir. Apparently, they're not as good at selection as you are, so he has to mate with any woman who might be appropriate."

Orion rolled on the grass, his sides heaving. "This is the first time I've envied a human."

"But you don't understand. Serazina has managed to disqualify herself by hiding her sensing gift. Now she's afraid he'll discover it. If he can train or force her to suppress her emotions, he may want to mate with her."

Her father pulled himself back to a sitting position. "That _is_ serious. How soon would this happen?"

"It seems she won't be old enough until leaf fall, but if he discovers her emotional 'deficiencies,' he may not only eliminate her as a possible mate—Orion, I can hardly say this, but the pictures in her mind tell me that when humans don't like how certain brains work, they dig into them with sharp sticks and change them."

Orion hissed. "Mother, why do we bother with them? When I hear such things, I think they're beyond saving."

"I know," Tara said. "They're stupid and dangerous beyond belief, and I can't believe that she has the nerve to think of _me_ as a cute little dimwit. Were she free of danger, I could walk away from her without a second thought, but I care enough that I can't allow her to fall into the hands of humans who'll torture her."

"No. We need to hunt for an answer. Tell me your thoughts."

"Serazina's male friend, Berto, offered to try to confuse the Guardian, but I suspect the Guardian is more than clever. What is a Guardian, anyway? How can I pounce on a problem when I can't even see it?"

"We hear he's a human who can bypass the strongest shields to read others. He seems to be born with this gift, but it's been developed to mastery through his training in their idea of Mind. Those we spoke to in the village reckon his abilities might equal those of an average cat, but I don't want to underestimate him. We need to check him out for ourselves. I've asked a hawk named Gris to visit some of our trusted friends in the city. He accepted the assignment because he wants to follow up on the assassination story."

"And that raises another question," Tara said. "If the Guardian's powers are so great, why didn't he sense the assassin?"

"Good thinking. Perhaps he was unwilling to experience the would-be killer's emotions. As you suggested, even these trained humans may avoid experiencing the essence of a feeling. Other possibilities: Maybe he had a temporary weakness: depression, discouragement. These are normal emotions, but they could debilitate one who dreads feeling. Or maybe the feelings have been inside him a long time, gradually weakening him, and he missed a warning that would have saved his life. I wonder if he's weary of living."

"The Chief Healer who visited said he was healing well, but I sensed some concern within her. She seemed very fond of this human."

"She may be significant," Orion said. "Tell me more about her."

"Despite her attempts to resist emotion, she seemed kind and caring. She was drawn to Serazina in a motherly way. The more the girl withdrew, the deeper the pull."

"A human of heart?"

Tara shrugged. "The world must hold one or two of them."

"In her position, she may be permitted to focus those emotions into an intention to heal. The unfocused, unacknowledged emotions are the dangerous ones."

Orion trailed his paw into the water. "See how the slightest motion changes everything; the moon becomes a rippled blur, the stars smears of light. Humans change like that, from moment to moment, pulled by the emotions they refuse to recognize."

He stretched and circled a spot on the ground three times. "Let's nap before we discuss this further."

Tara buried her head into his side.

"Let's go into the village," Orion said when they woke up the next morning. "With four big ears, we may learn something new."

As they passed through the alley beyond the butcher shop, the white cat who'd called for killing humans at the celebration greeted them. "Ah, it's the Chosen, come to grace our cheerless alley. Greetings, Great One."

Tara's mouth was shaped for a snappy retort when Orion said, "Greetings, Ossa, isn't it? May the Many-whiskered One bless you with a dinner of mice."

Ossa scowled. "Your tongue is clotted with cream. Be off before I'm tempted to believe you."

"A blade of grass grows more quickly than a tom like that," Tara complained as they left the alley.

"Maybe not. Sometimes the most hostile creatures have the greatest longing."

"Really? Humans must be close to bursting with their longings."

They passed a fenced area with a low white building, lined with the material called glass. Small human young ran around on a surface of crushed stones. One, a female, fell down and started crying. An older female approached her, shaking her head.

"No crying, Kira. Learn to control yourself."

The young one shuddered, tears quivering on her cheeks.

"Go face the wall and breathe deeply until you are calm again."

Curious, Tara stalked the girl's thoughts and emotions: the misery, the anguish held tight in her throat, the ache to release her emotions. Like a feline covering scat, the girl pushed layers of thought over the pain, where it huddled like an orphaned kitten with many other abandoned thoughts.

Tara looked at Orion. "All that grief will make her sick."

Orion nodded. "And unhappiness will always stalk her like a hungry wolf."

Tara turned away from the female and saw two small male humans fighting.

"If you don't stop hitting me, the dragon is going to get you."

"Is not!"

"Is, too, going to come all the way to the swamp and right to your house. He's going to burn it down and pull you from your bed and eat you for a snack. He'll spit out your bones on the sidewalk!"

The boy spat on the stones, and the other one tried to hit him. The adult human shouted at them. "Dollon, Yanis, stop that."

"We were just playing the dragon game, like you taught us," the spitter said, kicking the metal fence. "Kill the dragon! Smash his bones! Protect the people!"

"Drown him in the swamp!" the other boy shouted. "Bury him in the muck, feed him to the alligators. What's an alligator?"

"A big lizard with millions of teeth, eat you up if the dragon doesn't get you first."

Tara and Orion crept away quietly, neither of them caring to see if "Kick the Cat" would be the next game. "They really hate the dragon," Tara said.

"And fear him. We need to learn more about this."

They returned to the alley. Ossa was finishing off a moldy piece of meat. "Sorry, none to share."

"We'd like you to share some information," Orion said. "What's the story with the dragon?"

"Ah, the dragon. Is he real? I don't know. Not a cat in this village has ever visited the swamp, no reason to, if what the humans say about it are true: big reptiles with millions of teeth—"

"We heard a little human talking about that. Alligators?" Tara asked.

"And crocodiles. And poisonous snakes, wolves, not to mention the dragon—if he exists."

"We suspect that he does," Orion said. "What do humans think he'll do to them?"

"Eat them in their beds. They should get over this idea that they're tasty. No self-respecting carnivore would sink his teeth into their flesh. I think someone made up the dragon as a way to frighten humans and keep them in line."

"But they're against emotion," Tara said.

"Except when it comes to the dragon. The powerful ones encourage the others to fear and hate him. That should tell you something."

"Thanks, Ossa," Orion said. "You've been very helpful."

"Yeah, so put in a good word for me with the Great Cat Mother next time you talk to her." Ossa slunk back into his alley.

* * *

Phileas was tired of his bedroom's white walls and tired of being treated like an invalid. "I'm perfectly well. It's been a week since the assassination attempt, and I need to meet the country's needs by showing the people that I'm fully recovered and that I intend to protect them against the terrorists. I want regional meetings scheduled."

Romala shook her head. "You're not well enough to travel."

"What about the open Council meeting tonight? I have to go to that. It's two blocks away. Do you think I can travel that far?"

"You're so irritable that you must be getting better. All right, you can attend since I'll be there to watch you."

"How comforting."

The other councilors applauded when Phileas entered the room. "Good to see you on your feet again," Malvern said.

Kermit called the meeting to order. The first topic on the agenda was the assassination.

"Guardian, we beg you to announce the death penalty for anyone convicted of this crime," Snurf Noswan said.

"As Nathan said, we can't sink to the level of the animals who wantonly kill each other. Our nature is human nature, and our manner of action is reason. Nathan believed that the mind was capable of conquering all evil. I've healed many of the Earther disease, and I am more than willing to heal even those minds tormented with the illness of murder. However, I recommend most strongly to this Council that exile is not only too mild a punishment—"

"It's dangerous!" Malvern Frost boomed. "Bad enough we have Earthers crawling through our woods, probably hiding out in that cesspool called the Bazaar, maybe among us, disguised as honest citizens. We don't need them gathering across the border, planning a violent revolution."

"I say execute them," Snurf said.

A roar of agreement rose from the other Councilors. "And I say no," Phileas said. "We've never executed the worst criminals."

"We've never had an assassination attempt on our Guardian," Malvern said. "Use some sense."

This oaf had the nerve to tell the Guardian of Oasis to use some sense? Anger was an undignified, unworthy emotion, especially when it spawned the wish that Malvern would fall off his chair and crack his big, empty head open on the stone floor.

"Any decision we make is for the welfare of all citizens," Phileas said. "I propose indefinite incarceration in maximum security. I further propose forcible mental rehabilitation, including, but not limited to electrical and surgical alteration—although this would be a last resort and one deeply regretted by all. For purposes of deterrence, though, it should be widely publicized that these extremes will be employed if necessary."

"I second that motion," Daria said. "Those murderous terrorists ought to care about their brains at least as much as they care about their lives. Personally, I don't care how we cut off the gangrene, as long as we don't get more infection. This is a great country; we will not be destroyed from without or from within."

Applause rang out. Daria did have her uses.

Undeterred, Malvern said, "I also propose that the Earther cult be banned."

"As long as they continue to work and obey all laws, we have no cause to do that," Phileas said. "If they leave their work, assemble unlawfully, or put up illegal posters, they may, of course, be tried for those crimes—but the same may apply to any sect, including the Godlies."

Noswan, the Godly, looked alarmed. "I second the Guardian's opinion."

Today Malvern was unquenchable. "I would like to bring up one more concern. May I ask, with the greatest respect and regret, what's being done about the Chief Healer? So shocking that she's gone over the edge."

"She, likewise, is so far breaking no laws," Phileas said through gritted teeth, "but we are, of course, very concerned about her and wish to bring her back to a healing environment."

Phileas barely made it to his quarters before he had to collapse in a chair. "It was only the bloodthirsty emotions of the councilors," he said to Romala, who held her hands over his forehead.

"That's not an only," she finally answered, returning her hands to her sides, "and you weren't adequately shielded against those emotions. I had to clean out huge volumes of them. You must rest."

"I want to see that girl, Serazina."

"And you will, as soon as you're fully well."

* * *

The following night, when Tara ran to meet Orion, she saw Sekhmet instead. "What are you doing here?"

"Nice greeting."

"I'm always happy to see friendly cats."

"It could help those who think they're too impure for the Quest to see that you're not the emissary of sweetness and love."

"I have no sweetness and love for anyone who trashes my mother. Do it when I'm big enough, and I'll knock you on your skinny black butt."

"Fur and whiskers, you're like her, down to the foul mouth."

Tara raised her chin. "Don't think for a minute that you can insult me by comparing me to her."

They hissed at each other for a minute before Sekhmet raised a paw. "Truce, please. It may disturb you to recognize this—it certainly disturbs me—but we are kin. We are also engaged in the Quest. If we can't elevate our spirits higher than those of the bickering humans, of what use is our work?"

"Fine words," Tara said, "but my mother, who is an honest cat, has told me who started hostilities."

Sekhmet lowered her head. "Our beginning was difficult. However, I'm willing to seek some sort of understanding between your mother and myself. I doubt that we will ever be as litter mates, but with some _mutual_ effort, we can learn to rub together well enough."

"Glad to hear it. I'll believe when I see it."

"Remember that the Quest is based on believing before we see. My getting along with Emerald would be one of its minor miracles. But never mind that. For you and me to rub together is far more important. I can understand why you might be a little irritable at this point. I once lived with some humans for the educational value. The food was excellent, but they thought they owned me."

To hear Sekhmet talk like a cat with actual feelings made Tara feel somewhat less hostile. "They do have that habit. Why don't they realize that an animal who walks into their lives can just as easily walk out?"

"Well said. I had to show them how possible it was. Once I'd learned all I could, I left. I'm here to share some of that knowledge with you. Orion says you're having trouble getting through to the female human."

"Serazina. It's like trying to make contact with a grasshopper. Her emotions dart around so wildly I can't leap fast enough to keep up."

"That's how they are, but if this one is a sensor she should be more receptive."

"She's so afraid of her gift that she tries to dilute it with garbage, thoughts the hungriest animal wouldn't eat."

"What about when she sleeps?"

"I'm not allowed inside their dwelling," Tara said.

"That's inconvenient. I wasn't allowed out, but I found a way. You can find a way in. Where does she sleep?"

"See that window up near the top of the house?"

"Yes, and look, a sturdy tree grows right outside it, with a big branch. Let's climb it."

The branch led to an excellent view of Serazina's sleeping place.

"What does she lie on?" Tara asked.

"It's called bed. Humans in Tamaras have soft ones, very nice, but that bed looks hard. See her eyes moving? She's dreaming. Let's watch."

Tara carefully eased her way into Serazina's mind. The girl ran through a very wet-looking place, with clumps of ferns and moss carpeting.

"The swamp, I think," Sekhmet said.

A man chased her, slowed down by the folds of his robe. "I know your secret!" he shouted.

"That must be the Guardian," Tara said.

"Yes. Now see if you can inject a different feeling into this dream. Help her feel brave, strong, proud of herself."

"Like a cat?"

"We're not looking for miracles here."

But Tara knew cat feelings best. She formed an image of Orion, sleek and strong, his tail and head high, strolling through the forest, the sun gleaming on his fur, his eyes golden suns.

The girl stopped and faced the Guardian. "You can only exile me, and I would welcome a free ticket out of this place."

"But we don't want her to leave," Tara said.

"No, but it's good for her to face and conquer her worst fears. Now think of something positive for this Guardian to say to her."

Tara forced her thoughts to stalk an answer. The girl was kind-hearted; a plea might work.

"Serazina, I don't want to exile you. I need you to help me. I need you to help Oasis."

She paused, and Tara felt tension drain out of Serazina's being. "How? How can I help?"

The dream faded.

"Excellent," Sekhmet said. "I suggest you visit her every night. Another thing, humans sometimes allow their focus to leave their physical surroundings when they're awake. Look for that happening and do what you did tonight."

"Thank you, Sekhmet. We rubbed together well tonight."

The black cat touched noses with her. "We did."

Shortly after Sekhmet disappeared, Serazina's father left the house. After looking around furtively, he hurried down the road and cut through the fields.

Tara was tempted to follow him, but Orion had warned her not to leave the Clare land alone. Instead, she napped until the father came back, a few hours later, smelling of the Green. She strolled cautiously toward him.

"Pretty cat," he said, stroking her with big, callused hands whose roughness felt a little like Emerald's tongue. "Lovely wild thing."

He fell silent, though his hands kept moving, and so did his thoughts. _Earth Spirit, wounded, Mother, no one must know. So afraid, but I must._

Tara shivered. Serazina's father was an Earther.

* * *

Serazina felt unusually rested when she woke up the next morning, almost as if her mind and heart had been massaged while she slept.

"You're looking cheerful," Berto said when he came to pick her up for school.

"And I don't know why."

"Never question a good mood," Berto said. "Just pray for it to last, at least through the final written exam."

They filed into the examination room and went to their assigned computers. The first set of questions that popped onto Serazina's screen was about world geography, and she answered them easily. She exhausted herself struggling with the math problems and groaned when a series of essay questions came onto the screen.

She had heard that in other lands, people read books that weren't about history, philosophy, ethics, or how to repair a tractor. They were stories, works of imagination, romances and mysteries. You could get a degree for reading that sort of thing. Maybe she would, in Tamaras.

That thought made her able to face the essay questions.

"Explain why Zena allowed Nathan to take formal leadership in the settling of Oasis."

That was easy.

"Zena was an uneducated Etrenzian villager whose father was a snake charmer and sorcerer. Her status was further (and unfairly) lowered by her slavery in the harem. Nathan was descended from the royal lines of Etrenzia. His captors had originally intended to ransom him, but when they realized they'd killed off his immediate family, they sold him to the Emperor. He ended up as a gardener who had access to other slaves.

"He assumed leadership and organized them into a successful rebellion. He and Zena married before the journey to what is now Oasis. It's widely acknowledged that Zena was the moving force behind all aspects of Oasis society."

Someone else might have made the essay longer, by praising both Zena and Nathan for their foresight, but Serazina saw no point in lying. She moved on to the next question.

"Why must we hate the dragon?"

What? No teacher had ever talked about the dragon since early school days, when they'd run around like idiots, shouting, "Kill the Dragon!" Serazina had later learned that the exercise was designed as a useful release of emotions.

No one talked about him much now. She didn't think anyone even saw him. She wrote what she could remember from her childhood.

"We must hate the dragon because he's been our enemy since the first days of Nathansville. When the settlers from western Oasis saw him, they knew the dragon could trample all the fields in a single night or, worse, burn the crops with his fiery breath. He could start a fire in our village of Oasis West. Some people believed that he especially liked to eat small children.

"Some people also believe that, although no sightings have been reported for a long time, he's biding his time, waiting for us to relax our defenses. The Godlies say his existence means we have to be vigilant against the wasting disease of emotion. He seeks those most vulnerable. If we become weak as a nation, he will strike."

Serazina looked over the essay and hit, "Send." What if her essay answer were true? What if he were waiting? She imagined the huge beast, his breath singeing treetops, his eyes a blazing red. Every dragon nightmare she'd ever had landed on her chest, and she could barely breathe.

She tried to remember how she'd felt when she woke up: peaceful, safe, and happy. The gap between those feelings and her current fear was too broad to span, but she managed to slow her heartbeat and dull the teeth of gnawing anxiety.

If only she could wake up happy every morning and stay that way. Was it so much to ask?

It must have been, because when she got home, her mother was in a cleaning frenzy. The Guardian was coming to visit them in three days.

### Chapter 12

No intelligent spider ever lingered too long in Fiola's house, and by the third day of her furious cleaning, even the dust motes were afraid to circulate—except that dust motes weren't alive and couldn't think.

Unless they could. During the past few days everything had seemed more alive to Serazina. The green of trees and grass nearly blinded her at times, and the deep blue of the sky was a coolness within her. Butterflies approached when she trailed her fingers in the air, and hummingbirds fluttered above her head, buzzing softly.

She hovered at the edge of a cliff. If she would only leap from it, she'd find herself in a magical world where butterflies and hummingbirds spoke to her and where she had long conversations with the kitten. Why, when she'd never needed a healthy mind more, was such madness filling it?

By the day of the Guardian's intended visit, Fiola was spinning around the house like a sandstorm, and Serazina decided she had to escape before she screamed. She went to the pond and lay in the grass.

_I wish I were a cloud. I'd drift in the sky far above the earth, too far to hear people arguing or feel their hatred. I'd float from place to place, far away from Oasis and people who hate me for what I am. I'd disappear, and one day the Guardian would look up into the sky, wondering where I was, and I'd laugh in a_ _cloud's soft, fluffy voice and maybe rain on him._

"Serazina!"

Fiola came to the pond. "Get up. This is no time to be lounging around. There are a thousand things to be done. I've got to go into the city to find the ingredients I need to prepare food for the Guardian. The Guardian! Show some respect. You need a bath and a change of clothing. I expect you to look presentable by the time I come back."

"I will."

"Now."

"Mother, I have to prepare myself in my mind. Isn't that the most important thing?"

"Hmpph. Well, don't spend too much time at it."

* * *

From the shelter of the patch of woods, Tara and Orion watched the girl.

"I've changed her dreams every night," Tara said, trying to keep a whine out of her voice. "Her emotional balance gets stronger each morning, and the creatures of the air dance around her in encouragement. No matter how loudly I try to talk to her, though, she doesn't listen. And even though she wants to conceal her thoughts from the Guardian, I have a better chance of bringing down an eagle. Orion, we've got to think of something."

"Tara, the answers come when you need them. Don't let your new life with humans let you forget that. They do something called planning, which is worrying ahead of time."

"It's so much harder to hear the Mother now." Tara rested her head on her paws.

"But She hears what you ask. We're going to get the chance to study the Guardian before he comes here. He's first holding a gathering in the building we saw called school. We'll go there tonight and learn what we can about him. Then we'll know what to do."

Tara rolled over on her back. "I feel much better, and you're right about this worrying ahead of time business. Now that my mind is at rest, I think I know what we can do. Could I shield her mind from him and muddle his mind?"

"That sounds like a possibility. Let's keep on thinking. It's always useful to have more than one direction in which to leap, and it's especially useful to choose one that makes you stretch your mental muscles. What other ideas are coming to you?"

Tara paused. "My thoughts are tangled as the strings the girl dangles before me."

"If you tell them to me, we can unravel them together."

"It's been easy to introduce new images into Serazina's awareness. Could I try that with the Guardian?"

"That's a bold pounce. Slow to a stalk. What could go wrong?"

"We know his mind has been trained to resist anything that doesn't agree with his thoughts. You guess that he has vulnerabilities, but I'm sure he guards them the way Emerald guarded us kittens. He might hold the girl responsible for showing him his longings. I'll have to study him carefully."

"We both will. Back to the female. She is lying so peacefully right now. This might be a good time to give her a few visions of the Quest."

Just as Tara was about to say that was impossible, Serazina called out, "Kitty, kitty!"

Tara spat. "Not even a name. I'm going to get through to her just so that I can be named properly."

"Kitty!"

"Do you go when she calls?" Orion asked.

Tara's fur rose. "Am I a dog? From time to time I may stroll by her, but I'm never in a rush. I don't want her to think she owns me, not for a few lousy scraps of fish. I've never been so humiliated."

Orion yawned. "You haven't lived that long. Go to her, but keep your tail high."

Tara slowly ambled over to the girl. "There you are," Serazina said. "I've been calling and calling."

Her voice was annoyed, but her hands weren't. Tara purred at her touch, welcoming her seemingly endless capacity to stroke and rub. If only the girl didn't spew out such a distracting and annoying shower of thoughts, it would be easier to be around her.

* * *

Serazina flopped back on the ground. The jasper ring throbbed on her hand. She tried to pull it off, but her finger had swollen.

She'd never be able to run away now. His hawk's eyes would soar over the land, piercing dense thickets and stone to find her—

Kitty climbed onto her stomach with a purr. Ah, that felt good. Serazina decided to lie here a few minutes, a few last minutes of freedom, a few minutes for pretending nothing terrible was going to happen tonight. She closed her eyes, and the kitten's purr rumbled through her own body. Her breathing grew slow and deep. She supposed she was falling asleep, and it passed through her drowsy mind that Fiola was going to be angry, but mist swallowed that thought.

It was very quiet. No footsteps rang on the road that passed the farm. Though people working in the fields called to each other, their voices were mere echoes from another world.

The mist deepened, lifting her until she floated high in the sky, a cloud. Far below her people crawled, scurrying this way and that with no apparent sense of direction. The fields were carpets of fire, the forest a cool dark pond.

Beyond the forest she descended into a world of green mist throbbing with the smell of growing life—and the dragon. She started to run, but he said, "Don't be silly. This is just a dream."

He laughed, and she laughed at the sight of him. He was shaped like a pear, with a tiny head, sloping wings, and an enormous round belly. Who could fear a creature so ridiculous looking?

He raised delicate paws in greeting. "Welcome," he said in a low, rumbling voice. "Welcome to the world beyond the world, visible only to those who turn their eyes inward."

She shook her head. "I don't understand."

"Good. Understanding is meaningless here. Join the dance."

He bowed awkwardly and linked his dwarfed arm with hers. His squat body moved with surprising grace as he twirled her around and around. Together they spun in widening circles as the trees bent down to watch.

The clearing filled up with familiar figures: Johar and Fiola, Berto. The Guardian clicked his heels together like a young boy. The forest animals crept out of their hiding places, starting at the sight of humans. After a cautious pause they joined them. Deer soared over low hedges; squirrels sailed from tree to tree; birds wove circles in the sky. All things spun together, their outlines blurring, merging into a fluid One.

"One," Serazina said. "The world we know is only broken pieces."

A green and golden glow filled the One. As Serazina stared, a woman appeared within it. She extended her arms, and Serazina ran into their soft warmth. The woman stroked her head with a gentle hand.

"Your job is to mend the world," she said. "Use the glue of love."

"Serazina!"

When she opened her eyes everything looked different. The outlines of all that she saw were blurry, as if at any moment they might dissolve to reveal a world of green mist and another pond, where a mysterious woman smiled at her with loving eyes and a dragon danced.

* * *

"It's working," Tara said to Orion. "The mother is complaining and ordering her to do this and that, and the girl obeys without a hiss. The woman checks to see if the sun has made the girl ill. Peacefulness won't last long in that house, but she's better prepared for tonight."

"You've worked a miracle," Orion said.

Pride and ego bared their teeth at her, but she scampered past them into a delicious trance in which the wisdom of all cats flowed through her, in which her being was one star in a starry sky.

Orion nudged her. "Now it's time for us to go to that meeting at the schoolhouse."

Tara jerked her head up in annoyance. "I was in a state of ecstasy. I understand why ignorant humans interrupt such moments, but you should know better."

Before she saw Orion lift his paw, she was spinning through the grass. He growled, " _You_ should know better than to make such odious comparisons."

Tara shook leaves from her ears. "I didn't want the experience to end."

"To hoard such experiences is the manner of a cat who stores away food, even though he's hungry. When we trust Her, She sends us food and visions in equal measure. Let both joy and sorrow flow through you, leaping from one moment to the next, and you'll know harmony."

Maybe Orion was right, but he was way too eager to knock the truth into her.

The cats crept quietly through the deserted schoolyard, following the sound of human voices. They settled beneath the window of the place where the humans were meeting.

"Guardian, we've heard that you refuse to invoke the death penalty for terrorists. We beg you to reconsider."

Every hair in Tara's ears quivered as she listened intently to the human who responded. Though she had never felt the chill of winter's winds, she experienced it now in the coldness of this human's voice.

"I've said already that we must never sink to the level of the animals who wantonly kill each other."

Tara hissed. "The nerve of him. The stupidity. I've heard enough. No pretty visions for this one."

"Ten deep breaths before you say another word."

"But—"

"I mean it."

Tara slowly inhaled and exhaled and felt some of the anger-born tension slip from her muscles.

"Good. Now, don't pounce so quickly. It's true that the average dead body seems to have more feeling than this human, and his stupidity is disgusting, but we may be able to reach him. Don't listen to his words. Go deeper—but with the lightest of paw steps. You don't want him to know you're visiting."

Tara listened carefully, her heart traveling through the layers of the Guardian's voice. First she heard a muted roar of anger, like the low growl of a cat answering a challenge. The next layer held flickering tones of fear and dragging notes of defeat. At the deepest level crouched a faint, despairing whimper of loneliness. Throughout every level, frustration sounded shrieking chords, and deep as she dug, she couldn't find love or tenderness anywhere.

"He's better protected than even the turtle or porcupine," she said, "but I will try."

* * *

"But, Guardian," a rough-looking countryman said, falling silent only when someone else nudged him.

"Next question, please," Daria Turley said.

An elderly man with filmy blue eyes rose. "We're worried about the rain. Some predict drought. Even if we are spared, we must have more water."

"May I answer, Speaker?" asked Malvern Frost.

Phileas was tempted to punish him for his intemperate behavior, but he knew nothing about water. "Please do," he said, coating his words with an extra layer of ice.

The Councilor was unbelievably dull on the subject, but the members of this farming community listened intently. Water wasn't an academic subject for them. It was their lives.

"Our researchers are working continually," Malvern said. "Last winter they developed a new fertilizer that lowered plants' need for water. So far, our reports indicate its effectiveness."

A young man timidly raised his hand. "Councilor, some say that the beans of the first crops have a peculiar taste."

"Peculiar beans fill the stomach more adequately than none at all," Malvern said. "If we must adapt the preferences of our taste buds, I'm more than willing to do so for the greater good."

Phileas had to concede that this was well said.

"Still, it won't solve all our problems. We must have more water, not only for the fields, but also for the needs of our growing city. That's why we have the Water Commission. A young woman from our own community participates on it. Elissia Clare is a credit to all of us.

"We're investigating many possibilities. Though it's premature to describe any in detail, one, if adopted, will be especially agreeable to the citizens of Oasis West."

Phileas felt an unaccountable chill at Malvern's words. What was he hiding? That was the problem with appointing independent commissions. They met without his guidance and scrutiny, and all too often they fomented disaster. He would question Malvern closely and soon.

Succeeding questions were easy to answer. He was just beginning to congratulate himself that he'd gotten off easily when a tall, angular woman rose.

"Guardian, we're ecstatic that you escaped the assassin's bullet, but during those long hours when you lay between life and death—"

"I never lay between life and death," Phileas said. "That may be the material for a stirring myth, but those present that day know that I stood immediately, already healing. It is, after all, my job."

"I apologize," she said. "I refer to another of your jobs. Many across the land worry that you haven't yet produced an heir."

He tried for humor. "It's not like planting beans."

"I know, of course, but couldn't you..." Her voice trailed off in embarrassment.

And rightly so. Did the people want him to copulate more? Her nerve and ignorance appalled him. Did she think one shopped in the market for a new Guardian? And was he a doddering old man? Hadn't he proved by his recovery that he was as fit as anyone in this room?

"You have nothing to fear," he said.

"But, Guardian—"

"No Guardian has ever left his office vacant, and I'm younger than my father was when I was born. I'm sure that none of you are suggesting I'll be the first one derelict in my duty to the people."

One by one they fell back.

"Forgive us."

"You are our Guardian; our future is in your hands."

"You will do what is best for our country."

Phileas stared at their lowered, loyal heads, momentarily possessed by the urge to strike them all off from their thick, stubborn peasant necks for the crime of adding one more worry to his substantial collection.

### Chapter 13

By the time Phileas shook the last farmer's hand and escaped from the schoolhouse, twilight wrapped the countryside in a violet haze. Hungry and tired, he longed to join the Councilors going back to the city. He recognized his desires as symptoms of bodily weakness and subdued them.

Kermit Strand hung back. "Will you be all right, Guardian?"

"I've a dozen of the honor guard to protect me. If they can't do, so we might as well all surrender."

Kermit still lingered. In a voice pitched so that only Phileas could hear he said, "The people are right. I beg you to give more attention to the matter of an heir." Before Phileas could respond, he left.

The Guardian's car cruised down the narrow village lane, surrounded by a convoy of peace officers on motorcycles. _How dark the streets are_ , he thought, _how unnatural to let the night swallow the works of man._

The road widened as they approached the outskirts of the village. Night hung low over the fields, and the unharmonious warbling of frogs and crickets merged with a low vibration that grew in intensity as they rode on.

As if responding to Phileas's attention, it shaped itself into waves of thought, but he was unable to make any sense of them.

"What creature makes that mind-damaging hum?" Phileas asked his driver.

"I hear nothing," the man said, his voice low with apology. "Is it perhaps a thought only you can sense?"

Phileas gave the man an appreciative glance. The members of his honor guard were principally renowned for physical strength and alertness. This man was an exception, one capable of original thinking and probably deserving of advancement.

The thought only temporarily distracted him from the vexing hum. Its source was obviously a mind of great direction and force, a mind at least close in intelligence to his. Although he could make no sense of its reasoning, he sensed an inner integrity to it. This was impossible. Such a mind did not logically exist.

"Officer, what did you discover in your preliminary security arrangements about the people who live in the immediate area?"

"Councilor Frost and his family live in the big house over there."

Phileas tuned into the emanations of low cunning.

"Just behind us is the Albregetti home. The father is a Field Supervisor. He has a son who is apparently an artist."

Phileas turned in that direction, brushing away the sparkles of contentment and drowsiness that flickered from the house like fireflies. "And no one else?"

"Only the house we're approaching now, the home of the Clares."

It couldn't be her, either. Although she'd certainly demonstrated a gift for working her way into the heart of a Chief Healer who should know better, any mental talents she might possess would surely be raw. The intelligence Phileas had sensed was practiced and seasoned.

The driver pulled up in front of the house. "Guardian, the honor guardsmen will discreetly station themselves on the property, and I'll stand by the front door. This is Earther territory, and we can't be too careful."

On foot they approached what appeared to be an ordinary stucco cottage, with the traditional vegetable garden in front. There was, however, something strange about the garden. In one area, flowers grew instead of vegetables, and they glowed in the dark. The closer Phileas and the driver got to them, the more dazzling their light appeared.

This time Phileas decided not to make the mistake of asking his companion if he noticed anything unusual. Instead, he glanced at the man's face, which wore only an expression of predatory alertness.

Phileas turned back to the garden, where the lights of the splendid flowers winked and vanished. So did the flowers themselves. _Some treacherous trick of country light_ , he decided.

As the officer was about to knock on the door, it opened, and a big man charged outside. "Guardian, a thousand pardons! We are so honored by your visit, but an emergency has sprung up in Field Control. A new technician seems to have crashed the system. I've got to get it back online."

"An important task," Phileas said, "especially at a time of crisis." The man's emotions would have been readable by a novice healer. They jumped all over the place, but this was probably due to the clash of courtesy with his impatience to solve a major problem. According to all reports, including Romala's first-hand observation, he was known to be highly conscientious. No one mysteriously lost tools in his fields, and he gave all workers with grievances a fair hearing. He was a popular Supervisor who consistently won awards for field output. People like him helped to form the backbone of society.

"Don't let me delay you, Citizen Clare. I wish you success."

"Thank you, Guardian." Clare darted down the road toward Field Control.

A woman came to the open doorway. Phileas was sorry not to have the opportunity of observing her interacting with her husband, but he noted small pools of bitterness in the black depths of her eyes. Romala was right; a problem brewed here.

No emotion, however, dulled her voice when she greeted him. "Please enter, Guardian, and honor our home with your presence." Her handsome Etrenzian features were solemn. At first glance (and courtesy deemed that he go no further), her mind was quick, incisive, and informed by reason. If discontent lurked beneath her intelligence, it was well hidden by the focus on meeting an important man's needs.

"The honor is mine," he said as he followed her inside.

The room he entered was a model of Oasan austerity: plain, though well-constructed, wooden chairs and a couch with the thinnest of padding, a rug woven of grasses, the only wall adornments reproductions of portraits of Nathan and Zena. Everything was immaculate, and well-placed windows allowed refreshing cross-ventilation.

The girl, Serazina, sat on a chair next to a young Tamaran man of her age. Both of them jumped to their feet and placed their hands in an inverted V in front of their foreheads when they saw the Guardian.

"We're deeply honored," they said in unison.

He inclined his head. "You, of course, are Serazina, and you?"

"Berto Albregetti, I was sitting next to Serazina when she saw the assassin, and I thought perhaps I could be of service. I've made an effort to recall my impressions."

Here was a fine mind, one that should have been noticed by someone in the dismal rural school system.

Berto was worth exploring, but he constituted an obstacle to Phileas's intention to examine the girl's mind in solitude. He would hear what the young man had to say and dismiss him.

"Sit, please."

They did, and he seated himself in the nearest chair to Serazina. "I must thank you for saving my life."

She ducked her head, more a Dolocairner colt than a gazelle. He sensed that her footing on the bridge between adolescence and womanhood was unsure. She moved fearfully, as if worried that a plank would break or a railing give way. Her eyes were fixed not on the destination ahead but on the roiling waters below.

This, of course, would make Romala adore her. A shy, vulnerable girl would be meat and drink to the Healer. Close contact with Romala had made Phileas appreciate her abilities. However, like all those of even partial Tamaran descent, she was cursed with a deep vein of sentimentality. Her efforts to control it were ongoing but not always successful.

Phileas, as he often did, blessed his ancestress, Zena, who had never allowed maternal feelings—perhaps the most dangerous of all emotions—to color her judgment. Women of other races were not so disciplined. For most, the urge to protect their own young—and by extension, all helpless ones—and the willingness to sacrifice comfort, safety, and even life itself, approached animalistic passion.

Yet had that passion to protect not been active in this girl, he would be dead. Had not Romala, acting out of that same female urge, nursed him tirelessly, he would still be bedridden. This line of thought produced unpleasant emotions. He regarded them dispassionately, as if they were insects pinioned and squirming on laboratory trays.

_I resent them both_ , he thought, _because I'm in debt to them, and this puts me in emotional bondage—a condition not desirable for a Guardian. I must discharge this debt quickly. I'll help the girl find a rewarding career; as for Romala, I'll think of something._

He ordered his mind to be at peace.

"Show the Speaker the ring," Fiola said.

The girl extended her right hand. Phileas blinked; the once-opaque jasper was luminous and glowing, its light a nimbus that seemed to envelop the girl.

His unease returned. Neither knowledge nor training explained how a stone could so change its properties. The phenomenon was as irrational as the mysterious apparition of glowing flowers. He looked around the living room, seeking reassurance from the sturdy beams of the ceiling and solid carpentry of the floor. Everything was built well, built to last, in the same way that Oasis's laws and social structures had been built. Yet the deep unrest that threatened the country was very present here. Tension hummed in this room.

A commotion outside distracted him. The chief security officer opened the door. "Some people trying to get close to the house, neighbors, I guess. They want a look at you, but the situation is under control."

"Everyone's very excited about your being here," Serazina said.

"And they've allowed excitement to overwhelm their manners," said Fiola.

She left the room and returned with a tray of tea and cakes. Phileas was about to decline when he remembered that to refuse food in a host's home was the most profound breach of manners. How could he have forgotten? Here was evidence that it had been too long since he'd visited a home of ordinary people. And he wondered that people feared him.

"It would be an honor to eat your food," he said.

"Of course, we live on the food provided by the government, but for special occasions..."

"Unthinking austerity is as mindless as gluttony," he said, "and prideful austerity is worse." He allowed his eyes to slide to the tray, which held an Etrenzian spice cake, stuffed with almonds and dates.

Phileas took the offered plate and ate as slowly as he could. "When I was very young, my mother baked this cake," he said, setting his plate down with reluctance. "She said that its sweetness was a reward for our people, who ate more sand and dust than anything else."

"My mother said the same." She smiled faintly, nothing familiar, merely enough for courtesy.

"Thank you for your hospitality and for raising a child with the quickness and courage to do what your daughter did. Berto, perhaps you'd like to tell me what you remember before I speak to Serazina alone."

Did he imagine the sudden tension on the young man's face or the way he seemed to move closer to the girl?

"It isn't much," Berto said, his words measured as if he'd rehearsed them, "but we've been trained to discard no thought as unimportant without examination."

"Well said."

"And Serazina had to act so quickly, and it was such a shock for her when the gun went off, that she forgot things. I remember seeing that man, too. He was stealthy, and in some ways he seemed to move like a machine."

"A machine?" That would confirm the reports that the man's mind had been destroyed.

"Yes, robotic, stiff; his eyes seemed unfocused. I thought he might be on drugs."

"In this decadent age, I'm afraid that's always a possibility." An excellent mind, indeed, with keen powers of observation. "Did you notice anything else?"

Berto squeezed his eyes shut. "I may be imagining this, but I thought I saw a glint of something—wasn't it a windy day? Might his jacket have blown open to briefly expose the gun? Maybe Serazina saw that, too."

"You're Serazina's classmate? Ready to go out into the world or on to more education?"

"I'm an artist," Berto said.

While Phileas disagreed with hardliners who wanted to ban the visual arts entirely, he agreed with their premise that far too many paintings incited emotions. He found it hard to believe that so sensible and intelligent a mind found expression in daubs of paint.

"You might be much more than that, young man. We'll have to see about you. Thank you, Berto. You've been very helpful. A pleasure to meet you."

Berto stood up. "Thank you, Guardian. It's been an honor."

Phileas noticed his eyes lingering on Serazina. He took the girl's hand briefly before he left, and Phileas sensed the emotion that flowed between them. To his horror, his heart gave a pathetic little thump.

* * *

Berto left, taking with him any shred of calmness remaining to Serazina. The Guardian turned to her mother. "I would like to question your daughter alone. Where would be the best place?"

"Only the bedrooms, but that would be inappropriate." Fiola's tone left no room for argument, and Serazina, thinking of all the young women who were forced to have sex with the Guardian for the sake of creating the Heir, silently thanked her.

Fiola stood. "I'll leave the house."

"I wouldn't want to inconvenience you," the Guardian said.

"We could go outside and sit by the pond," Serazina said.

" _Outside?"_

Clearly, the idea made the Guardian uncomfortable. So much the better. Serazina sprang to her feet. "You can post your guards in the vicinity," she said, "and it'll be much cooler."

Acting as if his feet were mired in mud, the Guardian followed her.

A measure of tranquility returned to Serazina once she stepped out of the house. "See how beautiful the pond is in the moonlight?" she said. "Listen, you can hear the frogs."

"Frogs," he said without enthusiasm.

A voice that seemed alien whispered, _Beneath the darkness, behind the illusion is only love_. Serazina didn't know where that idea had come from. It was beautiful, but it helped her little against the presence of the Speaker.

She wondered if she could undo the damage she'd done by bringing Berto to the Guardian's attention. "Berto really is an artist. He always has been, and he wouldn't be happy doing anything else."

The Guardian's black eyes turned cold. "At all times, but especially at a time like this, every citizen's greatest happiness is to serve our country in any way deemed necessary. More than perhaps anyone, you should realize this. Evil stalks the land, and you have seen its face."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and he seemed to relent.

"Young woman, I believe you're still suffering the aftereffects of shock. Having heard Berto's report, I realize you acted more bravely than I knew, to leap at someone as clearly disturbed as the assassin. And Berto's explanation of the oddity of the assassin's behavior partially explains how you might have sensed his threat. However, in a time of emergency I can't settle for partial explanations. In the interests of efficiency I ask you not to pretend that you lack the intelligence for anything but the fields. You saved my life under what can only be called mysterious circumstances. It's my job to examine all mysteries. I request permission to read your mind."

"I'd rather you didn't," she said faintly.

"Come, there's nothing so terrible about it. All people, but especially the young, think that deep and awful secrets lurk in their minds. It is the duty of a Guardian to view all thoughts without prejudice."

"If I didn't agree, would you do it anyway?"

"Your cooperation would render the process more efficient, but yes, I would—to be precise, I will, in the name of national security. If there's any chance that your mind has retained some detail that can help us capture the terrorists, I'm obliged to search for it."

Serazina sensed no discrepancy between his words and the controlled features of his face, but the Guardian was surely trained to conceal any deception. _Beneath the darkness, behind the shadow_ —if she could love him she wouldn't be afraid, but how? Darkness and shadow were so much a part of the Guardian that he saw nothing else. Walls of Mind so powerfully protected him that his heart wept with unheard cries. How could she touch it?

* * *

While the Guardian had been sitting in the living room, Tara sat outside, with Orion, beneath a window. She'd found much in this human's mind to admire. It was neat and tidy, dusted of excessive pride. His practice of the peculiar human rituals was graceful. In some ways, he would have made a very good cat.

His mind had focus and purpose. He, too, seemed to have a quest: assuring the well being and progress of all the people. At the moment he was frustrated that he couldn't pounce on the source of their unhappiness.

Tara watched with some compassion as he paced about inside his mind, unable to recognize the limitations of its boundaries, unable to see that the answers lay outside it, in a heart whose wisdom cried to be heard. He was desperate for an answer. On his own he wouldn't scale the walls he'd built, but perhaps, with her help, he could.

When he and Serazina went outside, she followed them to the pond, reaching them in time to hear him say, "I can't dismiss the possibility that there's something special about you, some quality that our country needs."

Tara decided to introduce some other possibilities he couldn't ignore.

* * *

Phileas looked down and saw the cat, an animal all reasonable people disliked. More than any other beast—except possibly snakes and the dragon—they embodied the slinking treachery of the natural world.

"Does your mother allow filthy felines on her premises?"

"The cat's not on the premises; she's outside," the girl said, "And she washes herself all the time. Look."

He was forced to acknowledge that the white portions of the kitten's fur were immaculate and that the darker parts had a satiny sheen. _Reason forces me to admit that this is not a filthy animal. It is thus likely that other cats are clean. Yet all my life I have believed that cats are dirty. What else have I accepted that may not be true?_

These thoughts alarmed him. As he studied the creature, he was equally disturbed by the way it stared at him with an expression bordering on intelligence and a fixed gaze that suggested it was reading his mind.

He turned his head away. To imagine the possibility of human-animal communication was a blasphemy for which he deserved to be thrown into the swamp. He must read the girl's mind and hurry back to the city, where things like this didn't happen.

Then the aggravating creature closed its eyes and began to purr loudly. "This animal must be removed," he said.

"Her purring calms me," the girl said. "It quiets my thoughts." She lifted her head, and he noted the thrust of an Etrenzian chin. "Go ahead and read my mind," she said in a perfectly reasonable voice that held more than a trace of her mother's tone.

It was worth tolerating a kitten to have this battle so easily won. "Excellent. I'd like you to be very relaxed now, very, very relaxed. Imagine that you are in a favorite place. It's very peaceful and quiet there. You are perfectly at ease and very relaxed. And as you become more peaceful and relaxed, your mind relaxes, too. You are very peaceful and relaxed..."

* * *

The induction was far more elementary than those Orion had used with Tara in her earliest training. Furthermore, the kitten knew who was creating the desired state of relaxation in Serazina and causing the Speaker's eyelids to droop and his claw-sharp mouth to relax.

Tara purred even more deeply, slowly opening the minds and hearts of both Serazina and Phileas, weaving the energy that flowed between them into a bridge. As they slowly walked to meet each other, she knew a moment of fear. Like all humans, they were so helpless, so vulnerable, and so unreliable. How could she dare to lead them to the unexplored worlds of their hearts?

In answer, a deeper hum rose within her purr. Tara closed her eyes, guided by the Sharp-Taloned Paw.

* * *

No doubt it was the dank and unhealthful country air that wrapped Phileas' mind in thick cotton batting, a layer so thick that he couldn't tear through it to reach the girl's mind. He didn't even seem to be in his own mind, but in a forest, its deep green threaded with filaments of gold.

The girl said it was lovely, but his mind's muffled voice said it wasn't lovely at all. It was nature and therefore treacherous; it sheltered rodents, reptiles, and other low creatures. These logical thoughts suddenly turned slippery and elusive before they flew away like a flock of jabbering birds, leaving him in a fragrant glade, his feet cradled in soft earth, with all reason usurped by a serpentine emotion that wrapped around every cell of his being. He didn't know what it was, but he mistrusted it.

The air became malodorous with rot and decay. He had been here before. He turned to run away but a voice hissed, _Don't you want to save the country?_

It was the sound of reptilian sibilance sliding down a long neck. The dragon was upon him, but not the one who had stalked the nightmares of his childhood. This was the illogical dragon he'd seen in Janzi's mind. Round, almost comical in appearance, with green eyes dripping tears, it reminded Phileas of a stuffed animal he had had as a child, a battered, balding creature of indeterminate species that had kept him company in his narrow bed.

One day it had vanished. The nursemaid who cared for him while his father was working had told him it was lost, but he knew that she'd thrown it away. He had wept for it, and now he nearly wept again.

* * *

Serazina couldn't imagine why she had been so worried about the Guardian reading her thoughts and feelings. He wasn't even close to doing that, and yet she found him transparent. Just as she could see the loneliness beneath all the hard lines and sharp angles of his face, the coldness of his mind parted to reveal that the greatest person in Oasis felt as friendless and frightened as a small child in the night. He was discovering that about himself, and he was so horrified that he couldn't love the dragon, who smiled very sweetly at both of them, saying, _If you learn to love me instead of fearing me, your land will be saved. This is your quest._

It was too bad that the Guardian recoiled with horror at the sight of the dragon.

* * *

Phileas's mind finally pulled him out of the swamp, eluding the ropes of moss that lunged at him, stepping free of the sucking earth. He came back to a world that hummed and spun as if its walls had collapsed. Why did the blasted little kitten seem to be smiling?

"Are you unwell, Guardian?" the girl asked. "I was dizzy."

"How did you do that?" he demanded.

"I didn't do anything."

He pulled his thoughts together and lined them up in a straight line, like fence posts on the road from cause to effect. "Have you done it before? Have you gone into other people's minds?"

"I don't go into people's minds."

It was the truth and also a lie. Suddenly Phileas understood. "But their thoughts come to you without effort on your part?"

She squirmed. "Only once in a while. Hardly ever. No more than happens to anyone else."

"It rarely happens to anyone else, and if it happens to you as infrequently as you say, you must prevent it through some strength of mind."

"My mind isn't strong. Look at my school records."

"I have, and they perplex me. Nowhere do they indicate an ability to sense as you did, regarding the assassin."

The girl bit her lip. " _Kill_ ," she said.

Phileas leaned closer. "You heard that thought?"

"He might have said it."

"Then why didn't Berto hear him?"

The wretched girl started to squirm. "I don't know. Berto thought he saw the assassin's gun. Maybe I did, too. I told the Acting Chief Healer that I couldn't remember that clearly."

He made one last attempt. "Serazina, would you tell me what you experienced in your, ah, relaxed state?"

She squirmed some more. "You know. You were there."

"That doesn't mean we had the same experience."

"I saw the dragon," she said, measuring out each word.

"You didn't seem frightened."

"No, he was friendly." She jumped to her feet. "But I don't think that. I know the dragon is our enemy. I swear that's the truth!"

"Calm yourself. I believe you." He saw that she'd descended to female adolescent hysteria. He would get no more information from her tonight.

"It's late, and I have much to think about. By the way, I see no need for you to be examined by a school official regarding your occupational future. I will consider what it should be."

"Just as I expected," she said in a low, defeated voice.

"What?"

She looked frightened. "Nothing. I have a headache. I can't think at all any more."

Phileas endured the tiresome formalities of saying goodnight to the parents and got in the car. "I wish no conversation," he said to his driver, who nodded and drove him toward the welcoming glow of city lights.

### Chapter 14

Phileas sat at his desk, a bottle of Etrenzian cactus brandy beside him. He'd given orders for no one to disturb him. It was time to sort out the unpardonable clutter in his mind.

Trying to avoid self-blame, he analyzed his failure and concluded that he hadn't adequately allowed for the difficulties of the girl's youth and gender. Until they were settled down in life, young women made the most difficult subjects. Hormonal uproar, confusion about life, and chaotic longings turned them skittish. The strongest protected themselves from any assault that in the faintest way reeked of male. Add to that the authority of the Guardian, and who could wonder that he'd failed to read her? He should have given the job to Romala.

Phileas was willing to admit that some of that frenzy may have infected his own mind and made it vulnerable to her insane visions. It was unforgivable for a Guardian not to shield himself against the emotions of another, of course. He would have to do some instant mental repair by dissecting those fantasies logically and dispassionately.

Clearly, the frightened girl had thought of him as a monster, and the most familiar monster to any citizen was the dragon. However, since the girl had somehow sensed his harmlessness and utter lack of monstrous thoughts, she had turned the dragon into a friendly creature.

Under ordinary circumstances that would be not only a dangerous but also a traitorous misuse of mind. Everyone knew that the dragon was the nation's mortal enemy, just as they knew . . . that cats were filthy, stupid animals.

As if to confirm this conclusion, a yowl pierced the silence of the alley outside his window. It was answered with a savage shriek. Cats mated in alleys, dirty, skinny beasts who ate garbage. That was the rule. The girl's kitten, probably a pampered animal, was an exception.

A bracing hit of cactus brandy encouraged him to be more rigorous in his thinking. It didn't matter what he decided about cats. He needed to take a deeper look at the overall events of the evening. Too many strange things were happening in Oasis. If he couldn't weave them into a pattern, who could?

He folded his hands together and reminded himself of the supreme guiding statement of all Guardians: _I am open to any path, no matter how dangerous, no matter how seemingly heretical, that will lead me to the truth._

His father had said, "At a time of crisis, a Guardian must never overlook anything that occurs, no matter how outrageous, not even if it seems to challenge the very foundation of our society. As Nathan uprooted himself from the world he knew, so we must all uproot ourselves from the security of our beliefs."

_Calmus, you didn't mean this_ , Phileas silently argued with his mentor and father. _Not friendly dragons and intelligent cats, not untrained girls who disarm the power of the land's greatest living mind._

Calmus answered across time, _Remember the lesson of Nathan._

Phileas leapt from his chair, went to the safe behind a row of books on the Oasis Constitution and pulled out the secret volume that contained the last words of Nathan Turley, a document known only to Zena, her son, who became Guardian, and the Guardians who followed.

Before Nathan died of injuries following a fall from a horse, he'd told Zena and her son his fall had been caused by his shock at the sight of an apparition that rose before him: a woman who seemed not human. She'd given him a vision of the world that he had never seen, one of wholeness and beauty. Though both Zena and her son had dismissed his babbling as the result of his fatal brain damage, they'd decided logic demanded that all successive Guardians have knowledge of it.

Phileas opened the book. "May my mind be as sharp as a cactus thorn," he said aloud, remembering the first time he'd read Nathan's words.

He'd been twelve, and Calmus had been training him for six years, long enough for Phileas to understand within the first few pages of reading the document why its existence had been kept a secret. Nathan, in his final death babble, had negated virtually all of the founding principles of Oasis.

"Now that I will soon go into the great emptiness, the nothingness of being, I find it no more lonely than the life I've always lived. In the end, Mind gives no comfort at all. One might as well try to get a cozy night's sleep on a mountain in Dolocairn.

"Perhaps I can take some satisfaction in knowing that most of our people are clothed and fed. Maybe I might modestly congratulate myself for encouraging reason to triumph over base prejudice. The people of Oasis live far better lives than those in any of the other lands, but is it enough? How many hearts ache like mine? How many suffer in ways that can't be eliminated by food and shelter? Have we attained prosperity, only to suffer the ultimate poverty?"

Calmus found him weeping over the manuscript. "Poor Nathan," Phileas sobbed. "What a tragedy."

Calmus snatched the pages from him. "Pay attention, for the reading of this document has been a critical test for all Guardians after Nathan's son. You opened your mind, and that is excellent, but you failed to apply the indispensable rule that an open mind must never be an undiscriminating one. Worst of all, you allowed your emotions to override logical thoughts, to say nothing of facts."

He gave Phileas a kindly slap. "Don't look so miserable; I failed the test, too. So did every Guardian before me. This text provides an indispensable lesson on the seductive nature of passion. Furthermore, we must always remember that the left side of Nathan's brain was all but destroyed. These writings are living proof that the flooding of irrationality could topple even one of the greatest minds known to humanity. By reading it, you've learned that you must always keep distant from your feelings and never allow them to cloud your judgment."

Then he ordered his son to reread the memoirs; and this time Phileas recognized Nathan's delusions.

That day Calmus administered to him the most sacred and secret oath of the Speaker:

I swear that I will always strive to keep my mind inviolate and immune to the temptations of base emotion.

He had kept this oath. No one could say that he hadn't been an entirely proper Guardian. He had done everything he knew how to do, and every day Oasis slid closer to destruction. It was treasonous, even for a Guardian, to say that the old ways didn't work. They were part of Nathan's heritage.

But so was this heretical document.

And if every Guardian had feared for his intellect after reading this, Zena must have been thrown into a frenzy. There was ample documentation that she'd recovered, but what if, with age and deterioration, a lonely old woman had allowed her husband's last words to seduce her into questioning the principles she had forged? What if she had indeed written a last testament, a document perhaps even more inflammatory than Nathan's final ravings, a manuscript whose location was known only to Phileas's Earther-loving mother?

Once, while climbing the mountains that separated Oasis from Dolocairn, Phileas had stood on a high, narrow ledge, buffeted by freezing winds. That well-remembered feeling of terror now surged through him.

The sun, not satisfied with hurting his eyes, stabbed through his skull to trigger multiple sensations of pain in brandy-sodden brain cells.

Phileas sat up. He had no memory of having gone to bed, and he'd apparently lacked the motor coordination to undress, for he was still wearing yesterday's clothes, wrinkled, filthy with country dust and aromatic with the reek of alcohol. He was about to try to raise his head when he remembered his dream.

He and the girl stood in the swamp. "I brought you here to show you something," she said and tore open her blouse. He averted his eyes, wondering how he had allowed himself to be alone with an emotionally and sexually depraved female. Women gushed out tears and blood that drowned reason.

"Look at me," she said, and the power in her voice hummed in his ears; he knew that hum from somewhere else. It forced him to look. Then he gagged, for what he saw was far more hideous than breasts. Her heart lay exposed, a misshapen mass bulging with blood, pounding in the rhythm of ritual Dolocairner music.

The sound mesmerized him; he stood helpless while she tore open his cloak, beneath which an equally grotesque heart pulsated. "Open your heart," she whispered, pulling him close to her, rubbing their hearts together. It was unendurable, and his heart burst, blood spurting out in flames.

The tattoo of the shower against Phileas's body cleared his mind of alcohol, bewilderment, and dreams. He reasoned that the previous night had disturbed him more than he'd realized, and reaching for the bottle had been a near-unforgivable mistake. Alcohol, though it promised the drowning of painful emotion, befuddled the brain so that secret passions and desires danced out of hiding like a tribe of savages fully armed to wreak havoc.

Not, he assured himself, that he had any desire to rub chests with a teenaged girl. The dream had made that clear, had in a final moment of sanity, shown him the peril of allowing emotions free play.

However, he realized, with a sickening lurch of his stomach, it meant something else. It reminded him that he hadn't uncovered the mystery of the girl. However many times she'd denied it, she had a powerful mind. She would have to be re-tested for breeding suitability. If she passed the test, he would have no choice but to mate with that shy, frightened child who loved a brown-eyed artist. No wonder she feared Phileas.

He lurched out of the shower to vomit.

Purging restored him. He stepped beneath the shower again to wipe out the stench. He was all right now. If he mated with the girl, he would be kind. Afterwards, he would permit her to marry Berto Albregetti without the usual genetic tests. And he would do more for her.

Whatever talent she had needed to be directed. No fields for her—and that would be a favor, for in that setting she would surely fall under the sway of the Earthers. Training and maturation could turn her into a useful citizen, but what occupation would suitably confine her vagrant emotions?

He'd just stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself when Romala burst into the bathroom, her breast heaving, her cheeks flushed, her hair disheveled.

"Phileas, I knocked and knocked and called your name, and I was so concerned something might be wrong."

"I'm fine," he said. But he wasn't. He'd never realized how attractive Romala was, how shapely her curves, how soft her wide mouth. He desired her as he had never desired any member of the parade of young women who'd entered the mating chamber.

And he saw, in scenes as clear as those of the pornography sold in the Bazaar, what desire would lead to: an emotional entanglement that would warp his abilities as Guardian. This could never be. He suppressed the incipient ache in his unruly heart.

"Chief Healer," he said deliberately. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind leaving the bathroom so I could dress?"

Her flush deepened. She backed out, her eyes focused on the floor.

He firmly closed the door and hastily donned his robe, hoping he wouldn't have to deal with a babbled apology. When he entered his study, though, she was perfectly composed.

"Did the interview go well?"

He was grateful for her calm, and he didn't want to be grateful to her. Last night he'd realized his indebtedness to her, and now he knew how to discharge it. He would give her the girl.

"Upon reflection, I've decided Serazina should be admitted into the Healer training program," he said. "Her mind lacks the strength it should have, because it's weakened by emotion, but growing up, combined with the discipline of the healing curriculum, will guide her in the path of reason and logic. Her training will begin in the fall, and perhaps we'll also discover that she's suitable for breeding."

"She's so young!"

"She'll be eighteen."

He nearly winced at the force with which Romala clamped down on disturbing emotions.

"You are wise," she said.

"In part, I've made my decision because I've had further evidence that the gifts of the youth of the countryside are passed over. Serazina has a young friend who also seems promising. I intend to use them as examples to inspire rural teachers to study their students more closely, and I am going to appoint a committee of Healers to go into those schools and see what other useful citizens in the making are being ignored."

He took a bracing draught of sassafras tea. "This girl will need strict training and discipline. If she is indulged and turns out badly, she'll lose her chance. If you would be kind to her, be a bit cruel."

She recoiled, and then squared her shoulders. "I understand."

The woman had backbone. Serazina would be in good hands. He tried not to think about how Romala's hands would feel on his traitorous body.

* * *

"I'll have no lies from you," Fiola said as she dished out the government gruel. It was lumpy, a sure indication of her mood. "Something happened to upset the Guardian last night. He left in a polite and proper manner, but you could have planted seeds in the furrows on his brow."

"It isn't a question of lying. I don't know what the Guardian saw when he went into my mind. Certainly, that's for him to say." Serazina wasn't about to mention that the kitten had been present.

Johar stirred his barley tea. "Your mother's worried, and so am I."

They all turned at the sound of a car. Gruel glued Serazina's throat shut.

Johar rose, and went outside to meet the messenger. He returned, a letter in his hand. Fiola seized it and tore it open.

"'My dear Miss Clare,'" she read aloud. "After much consideration regarding the matter of your future service to Oasis, I have decided to place you among the Healers. Acting Chief Healer Romala Kyle, who believes you may have a special gift, has agreed to supervise your training, which will begin next fall. At that time you will take up residence in the House of Healing. You will also be re-examined as a potential breeder.

"I hardly need tell you that this is a singular honor. In the future, should you make the most of your opportunities, you may become one of our country's leading citizens. Please convey my congratulations to your parents for having produced not one but two outstanding daughters."

Fiola looked at the letter in disbelief. "No child from this village has ever been so honored. To be personally trained by the Chief Healer herself, a woman who works closely with the Guardian, and to possibly become the mother of the Heir. You could hardly be honored more greatly."

Johar jumped from his chair, his hands fists. "By becoming a brood mare for the Guardian, to be discarded if she fails to be suitable? How can you call that an honor?"

"No girl who mates with the Guardian is dishonored," Fiola said, her eyes coals. "It can all turn out very well. How I wished I'd been chosen."

Serazina looked at her mother in horror, seeing that she'd meant it. "How can you say that?"

"Do you think I'd be here, in this backwater? I would have been honored. I might have had the Guardian's child."

Johar stifled a sob and fled the house.

"Even if you believe that, how can you say it in front of him?" Serazina said. "My father is a good man."

"I don't argue that," Fiola said, her mouth stiff, "and I once loved him passionately. That was the problem. Everything we're taught about the destructive nature of passion is true. Learn by my example."

"I won't," Serazina said. "You disgust me. You don't understand anything. I don't want the Guardian crawling all over me. I don't want to be the mother of the Heir or any child of the Guardian. I don't want your idea of a good marriage and 'honor.' I want to marry Berto."

Serazina ran out of the house, looking for Berto, and saw him walking toward the village. "Berto!" she cried.

He turned at the sound of her voice and ran to her, his arms open. She fell into them, sobbing.

"The Guardian's is going to have me re-examined for mating purposes."

"No!"

They cried in each other's arms until they realized their danger. "Come to my house," Berto said. "My parents are at work."

The Albregetti house was traditional stucco, but it was painted a warm ivory, and inside flowers hung from the arched doorways. The fragrance of aromatic spices filled the kitchen.

"Sit down," Berto said. "I'll make some chamomile tea. Tell me what happened."

"A note from the Guardian just came. He said that in September he'll have me trained as a healer. That's probably my reward for going to bed with him." A fresh outburst of tears stung her eyes.

Berto dropped the mug of tea he was holding. "Serazina, oh, Serazina."

He took her hand, and they went upstairs to his room. For a long time, they held each other, and Serazina whispered, "We have to go away now," and Berto said, "Yes. Haven't I said so?"

They made love, and Serazina felt calmer, because she knew she wouldn't let anyone take Berto from her. "When can we leave?" she asked him.

"If you're not being trained until September, we have some time."

"But we can't wait until the last minute. I'm so afraid something terrible will happen. Berto, I won't feel safe until we're on our way."

"Neither will I, but the greatest danger would be if your mother worries about you running away. She might have you locked up for your own good. Here's what I think you have to do. Go back to your house and tell her you're sorry."

" _Sorry?_ "

"Listen to me. Say you've had a chance to think about it, and you realize what a great honor mating with the Guardian will be."

"I can't."

"You can if it means your life, if it means our future. Can't you?"

Serazina returned to the house, where her mother was slamming dishes into the rack. "I apologize," Serazina said, her head lowered so that she wouldn't have to look at Fiola. "I was overwhelmed; I never expected such a thing. Today I'll write a letter to the Guardian thanking him for the honor he's given me."

Fiola nodded. "Very good. And I must apologize as well. Your father _is_ a good man, and it now appears that we've raised two outstanding children to serve our country. To ask for more would be greed."

She bit her lip. "And perhaps I didn't see the logic of your reaction. Any well-raised woman might cringe at the idea of mating with a stranger, in your case a much older stranger. But if you should be fortunate enough to give birth to the Heir, the service you would do to our country would be immeasurable."

"I understand, Mother," Serazina said. "I need some time alone, though, to consider this with greater reason."

She walked down the road, alone, wondering how many times she would feel the pebbles and sand beneath her feet.

No meadowlark's morning song.

No crescent moon hanging in an amethyst sky, no whisper of wind through tall grass. There would be noises and smells and people pushing each other in crowded streets. There would be an anonymous room.

But there would be Berto. And no Guardian.

* * *

"Thank the Long-Whiskered One for that boy," Tara said, "but we've got to move quickly. I've given up on trying to influence the Guardian. He saw my visions, but as soon as he got home he must have wiped them out of his mind."

"Calm down, no one's blaming you. You outdid yourself last night. It's not your fault if the man couldn't handle the visions, and I don't think he was able to wipe them out completely. You placed some of them, in a sly, catlike fashion, where he can't find them. He has some disturbing nights ahead of him."

"But so does Serazina." The full impact of what she'd done crumbled Tara's pride. "Orion, I failed. Instead of making Serazina less interesting to the Guardian, the visions I introduced made her more intriguing. He'd never think a _cat_ had that power, so he attributes it to her. He may try to go into her mind again and again until he learns the truth. He wants to see if she's suitable to be the mother of the Heir. I've put her in greater peril."

"Tara, I honor you for your willingness to admit failure," Orion said. "It shows more maturity that I thought you had. I agree that on the surface the results may look like failure, but sometimes the Mother stalks different prey. Perhaps it's important for Serazina to come to the Guardian's attention. He may play a vital role in what unfolds. Surely a vision which challenges his hatred of the dragon has value, as does any idea that upsets his certainty that he knows the truth. I have no sense of wrongness in this."

"I hope not," Tara said, "and I will try to trust."

He placed a paw on hers. "But you're right that we must be alert about protecting the girl. And the matter of time is critical. That brings me to another point. Do you remember when you said we would need many cats here?"

"The Long-whiskered One said it," Tara said. "I didn't understand why."

"No one did, but I begin to. Between guarding you and keeping our ears open to what goes on in the village, our resources are stretched. Now, I'm convinced that we also need cats to trail the girl's father. And what of the Guardian and the Chief Healer? Their thoughts and activities also need to be monitored. The assignment is perfect for Sekhmet, but she can't work alone, and if we position her in the city, we need messengers to coordinate our respective activities. In short, we need many more cats on location, and we need to be assured of their loyalty."

"Village cats?" Tara suggested.

"They observe us with interest, but they see little reason to get involved. I'll return to that subject in a few minutes. For now, our best hope lies in city cats, who well understand how we suffer at the hands of humans. They need to be brought here, though, and trained. This, unfortunately, puts an undue burden on available food. Sekhmet has had a number of discussions with the mice, rabbits, and squirrels. They all agreed to breed more actively."

"Imagine a poor mouse trying to say no to Sekhmet."

Orion batted her lightly. "Despite your willingness to think the worst of my sister, she didn't coerce them. They, too, sense the urgency of the situation. While grain from the human's fields is still abundant, they foresee cycles of starvation unless the balance is restored. As it is, we can't impose on them beyond the summer. Winter, under the best circumstances, can be a time of hunger. We also need to consider how long a large number of cats can live together in harmony. Commitment to the Quest helps us override our natural tendencies, but again, for how long?"

His eyes narrowed to slits. "So you can see that we need to move quickly."

She saw that easily, but she saw something distasteful lurking beneath the surface of his argument. "Move quickly _how_?"

"I think it's time for you to meet the dragon."

### Chapter 15

"Me?" Tara squeaked. "Tiny me? Why not send Sekhmet, whose mouth is as fiery as the dragon's is said to be, or Bast, who might cool him with milky words? Why not you, the mighty tom? Are all of you afraid?"

"Of course we are. Any cat of intelligence would be. You have to go because you're the Chosen."

The job description of the Chosen had greatly expanded since she'd signed on. "Why not do it the usual way? I've been alive long enough to know that protocols exist. One of you tells that hawk we'd like to meet with the dragon. The hawk flies to his lair and conveys the request. The dragon arranges safe passage through the swamp, and we have a nice meeting that everyone survives. Give me one good reason not to do it that way."

"It wouldn't be as impressive," Orion said.

Tara reared up and batted her father's face. " _What?_ I don't care about impressing creatures. I have a job to do, and I'm interested in surviving so I can do it and maybe live a normal kittenish life afterward." She was beginning to have doubts about the afterward, though.

Orion gently pushed Tara back on all fours. "Unfortunately, part of that job includes public relations. 'Small kitten goes bravely forth to meet gigantic dragon' inspires, encourages, and activates. My intuition tells me you'll be perfectly safe."

"Maybe I'd risk my life based on my intuition, but not on yours."

"You're probably right." Orion shook some dried grass out of his fur, but Tara didn't think he'd shaken the idea out of his mind. He was figuring out some way to trick her.

"Remember when the dragon came to save us?" he said. "A creature who would do that would never hurt you."

"We never got a confirmation that it was really him. Do you expect me to risk my life on a mirage?"

"Being Chosen involves taking risks."

How many did they want her to take? How much did they need her to suffer? She was tired of being the Chosen, tired of living in a world where humans smelled and jostled each other and failed to sense the threads that bound them together. Tara wanted her mother.

Emerald! The thought of seeing her turned her paws away from the Clare home, out of the town, into the fields. Her heart thumped in alternating rhythms of joy and sadness. Unutterable longing flexed her legs, and a kitten's plaintive mewing trembled in her throat.

Orion caught up to her. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To see Emerald."

"Stop."

"No way." Tara darted through the fields, eluding her father, dashing through places where grasses grew tall, her heart singing with excitement. Once in the woods, she zigzagged through ferns and underbrush, darting under fallen logs that slowed her father.

"Where's your discipline?" he hissed. "Do you think the Quest will wait while you dash off to indulge your infantile whims?"

"I gave up my kittenhood for this Quest," she called back. "And now you want to send me out on a death mission? Let's see what Emerald thinks about that."

They came to an open stretch and Orion caught up to her.

"You gave up your kittenhood? You're frozen in it; you're still that whining, sniveling, miserable scrap of creaturehood who didn't want to leave home. You don't mind being Chosen as long as cats sing 'Hail Tara,' as long as it doesn't mean inconvenience or dirtying your fur. You mew about your rights when the whole world is in danger. Why did I ever bother with you?"

"Why indeed? Do you think I never wished that you hadn't? Do you think you were doing me a big favor? I'd trade every 'Hail, Tara" for one lick from Emerald's tongue. You can take your personal glory and stuff it up your big fat—"

She was surrounded by warm fur smelling of flowers and enfolded by strong paws. A rough tongue began to scrape away her misery.

"Tara," Emerald purred. "Why have you been away so long?"

"Hello, Emerald," Orion said, his voice tentative.

"It's his fault," Tara said. Nestled deep in her mother's fur, she whimpered, "He wants me to meet the dragon."

" _What?_ "

Tara felt the rage in her mother's bones. Orion would get the tongue-lashing he deserved.

"Emerald," Orion said, sounding like a whining kitten himself. "It's not me, it's the Quest. We have to get it in motion."

"You're as full of shit as ever," Emerald said coldly. "First, I had to worry about humans hurting my Tara. Now I have to worry about her crazy father sending her off to see a dragon, who'll probably step on her. Have you gone out of your mind?"

"This kitten has a mission. What's going to happen to the world if she dashes here and there whenever she feels like it?"

"She's been down in that village living with dirty humans for half a moon. You call that dashing here and there? Did she complain once about missing me? And even if she did break your precious discipline for five minutes, so what? The more you growl at her, the more confused she gets, the more she wants to cling to safety. With all the drivel you like to spout about mothers, you've got something to learn. We don't stop loving our babies because they make mistakes. We don't make them so scared to set one paw off the path that they end up lost in the woods. You blame her for picking up human fears, but it doesn't enter your fool head that coming home could get her back into balance. You won't even admit that you've missed me, too."

She drew her mouth back in a sneer. "Because Orion is one bad-ass cat and he's got that discipline thing down."

Orion bared his teeth. "I gave up my freedom to follow the path of the Quest."

"Ha, like I gave up my kittenhood," Tara hissed from the safety of Emerald's chest.

"I don't hear that you've given up that much," Emerald said, "not to judge by the drooling females who wander up here and ask, 'Where's Orion?' Not that I care. I've learned a little discipline myself, and I don't intend to mate for a while, so if the old itch grabs you, scratch away."

"Emerald, you're different from any female I ever..."

"Balled? Right, I'm the Mother of the Chosen. Lucky me, I get to see my kitten turned into dragon bait. You open your big ears wide. You should have brought Tara back here sooner, instead of blaming her when she couldn't stand being away from me another minute."

Orion turned his back on them and began licking his paws.

"And furthermore," Tara began, but Emerald batted her softly.

"Always give a cat a chance to regain his pride before he repents."

Only a few minutes later Orion muttered, "You're right. I feel like a ball of rabbit dung. Emerald, forgive me?"

"We'll see about that. I might consider it if you'd ever admit that sometimes you're a lost kitten, too."

Emerald groomed Tara until the kitten felt the last trace of human odor leave her. "It's so hard to live with them," she said with a small sigh.

"And you're a brave kitten to do that. Now say hello to your brothers and sister."

Tara touched noses with her littermates and enjoyed a series of tussles with each. It felt so good to be a kitten again.

"Tell us about humans," Cloud begged, and Tara said everything she could think of. Their eyes widened in wonder as she told them of her encounter with the human called Guardian.

"I would have been frightened," said Oak. "To touch a heart so cold must have made your paws freeze."

"It was almost more frightening to feel the warmth beneath," Tara said, "and to sense how hard he tried to cool it."

"I don't see how they can be saved," Chestnut said.

"Well, neither do I at the moment, so let's talk about something else," Tara said.

After frolicking through the woods the kittens curled up in a collective heap. Tara didn't want to go back at all, and she hoped that Emerald's scolding had wiped the idea of a visit to the dragon out of Orion's mind.

She and her littermates were ambling back to the grove, when Bast and Sekhmet, approached. They were accompanied by Ossa, the cynic from the village, and a group of strange cats. Tara sniffed and recoiled. The cats reeked of rotten food, filth, and the subtle bitterness of defeat.

Emerald gestured to her, and she pranced over to her mother's side. "Be polite," Emerald whispered. "I smelled this badly when I first came to the forest. A cat who lives in the city, no matter how hard she tries, can't lick the smell from her fur. Wind and flowers and grass will do the trick for our friends."

"Friends?"

"I knew them all in the city, and that white tom was nearly my mate. Come with me to greet him."

"Senti, meet Tara," Emerald said.

"This is the Chosen?" Senti asked.

"She is," Sekhmet said. "Tara, Senti is one of the cats who became curious about seeing where we all went."

"A little holiday in the country is good for a cat," Senti said, "especially when it sounds like an adventure, but where's the action?"

"All over the place," Orion said, his mouth curling in the suggestion of a snarl. "Tara's worked very hard to bring one human closer to the Path."

"One? At that rate, it's going to take more lives than a cat has to bring even a few of them down the right road."

"The city cat knows how to do the math." Ossa, the perpetual cynic, arched his back. "We'd like to see something dramatic. Ever since someone tried to bump off their leader, the humans have been on their worst behavior. The other night, if a crowd of cats hadn't intervened, some young males would have killed a kitten."

Tara's fur rose with horror. "Why?"

Ossa sneered. "Because they get off on wanton violence. All their lives they've been raised to hate the dragon. They'd like to kill him, but in the meantime, they'll attack any innocent animal. If you really are the Chosen, you'll do something for us."

Emerald pulled Tara close to her side. "Not to make light of the incident, but Misha and I have seen a lot more cats killed than you have, and my baby can't go around the countryside like some crazy avenger. She's trying to make life better for all cats. Instead of complaining that enough isn't happening, you could think of helping out. The Quest doesn't want half-hearted participation. We're not looking for spectators, either. You don't get to stand on the edge of things, cheering on my kitten, and if you decide to boo you'll have to contend with me."

"Evil-mouth bitch," someone muttered.

"Got that right," Emerald said, "and I've had a rough day, so it's likely to get worse."

Senti stepped forward. "Emerald, I know you're no pampered cat, but how can a well-fed little kitten, shining with health, understand the first thing about cats? I could tell her stories."

"So could I."

"And I."

The cats began to rumble like thunderclouds. Misha slowly lifted herself and dragged herself next to Tara. "No offense to anyone and what they've suffered, but I'm seeing a bunch of cats get dragged down by their bad memories, like all your nine lives are behind you. Maybe Tara hasn't gone through bad suffering—although she nearly got killed by a human before she was two months old, and I don't call that _good_ suffering—but you know damned well that Emerald and I lived in a stinking place where the Green seemed like a bad joke. I told her about it anyway. Maybe she thought I was wrong in the head, but when these three fancy-talking cats came along, she believed enough to take a chance. And so did I, and my bones are a lot older than any of yours."

She flicked her tail, looking as if she'd like to whip some sense into them with it. "Tara can't give you faith; it's got to come from you. Faith is what makes it happen. You think one little kitten can carry you all to a world that's good for cats? You believe in that world, and your paws will carry you just fine. If you don't believe, if you wait for faith to appear like a nice piece of meat, you'll stay hungry. I'm not hungry any longer, not in body and not in spirit, and every day I'm grateful for the faith that carried me here."

Misha raised her head, suddenly not a skinny old cat with worn-down teeth, but a being almost as beautiful as the Long-tailed One. Tara had never so fully appreciated this cat who had never lost her faith. Misha, who had only seen the soot-darkened walls of the alley, had sung of beauty. She had saved Emerald and given her love. She had made everything possible.

Tara touched noses with Misha. "Thank you, cat of great faith."

"And you're my reward," Misha said. "I know I don't have many days left, but that doesn't matter now. I've seen enough to make me happy, and I'm going to die in the Green, no matter what happens."

Tara crept away to sit beneath a tree, humbled by Misha, troubled by confusion about where her paws should go next. Emerald was right; vengeance wasn't part of her job, but what was? Public relations? Those city cats had made a long and probably dangerous trip to come here. They might be braver than she thought.

She could be brave, too. Meeting the dragon couldn't be as dangerous as living with humans, could it?

There was only one way to find out.

* * *

Druid wasn't having one of his better days. In the morning all the animals gathered on a cypress island to put the wolf clans on trial. A committee of rabbits and squirrels had accused the latest crop of cubs of killing their kind for sport. The older wolves were suitably disturbed, but the young ones failed to see what they'd done wrong.

"It disturbs the balance," a silver-muzzled elder growled. "We kill no more than we need."

"You think the world's going to tip over because of a few miserable rabbits?" a younger wolf sneered. "The humans will wipe us all out in the end anyway."

Council representatives sentenced him to a week away from the family den, a punishment so severe that the other culprits immediately promised to abandon their thoughtless ways, but the animals left the meeting shaken by the young wolf's words.

Tomo left the island with Druid. "They all feel that way. I've been going around until my tongue is dry, telling everyone about the Chosen, but they're like you were at first. 'Sure, Tomo, where's the catnip?' The only kind of animal who would give them any hope would be one about ten times the size of you, a beast who would go over the fields and destroy the humans with a single stomp of his foot. We aren't a hopeful community."

"I know," Druid said. "The young ones still come to me for teaching, but now all they want to know is why, if the Mother loves us, she'll allow the humans to destroy us. I don't have an answer. How useless I feel, how helpless. How hopeless."

"To be given a small amount of hope is worse than none at all," Tomo said, his golden eyes lackluster. "Why hasn't this Chosen kitten done anything yet?"

A deep sympathy for the cougar stirred in Druid's spacious heart. What had happened to once-cheerful Tomo? Even when he'd first learned of the humans' intentions, he had been bold and brave, willing to sacrifice his life for the defense of his home. Clearly, vague spiritual promises had been too much for a cat whose practical mind was ill equipped to digest such esoteric food.

_And worse than that,_ Druid thought bitterly after the cougar left. Like anyone unfortunate enough to open his heart to the Mother, Tomo had been seduced into believing Her promises. Careful and canny as he was, he'd for the first time abandoned the wariness that made him such a fine hunter and flung himself into the arms of One Who was perhaps more dangerous than any human. He'd given his heart to Her, and now he felt Her teeth sinking into it. He hadn't had Druid's early lessons in betrayal.

* * *

_I will, I will,_ Tara told herself. _I can be brave._ She hurried through the woods, and dedication carried her down mossy and piney paths, her paws dancing like raindrops on water. She tried not to notice when her paws started sinking instead of dancing because the ground was getting more and more spongy, mucky, muddy, starting to smell of rot. _I will_ turned into a faltering cry, drowned out by _I won't. I can't_.

How clever of Orion and all those older cats to send off a kitten whose whiskers were still wet with milk. Just a Quest, just a few humans, just a dragon. _Hail, Tara_ , they shouted, loudly enough to fill even her big ears. _Hail, Chosen._ Chosen for the dirty work. Was Orion here, muddying his paws? No, that special privilege was reserved for glorious Tara.

And was anyone kind enough to give her instructions about how to find the dragon? Tara paused at a fork in the path. One branch clearly led to dry ground; she could even see a bit of sunlight. The other led to increasing muck and mire. That would be the right one. The most difficult and disgusting path was surely that of the Quest.

Until now she'd heard the distant twitter of birds and the scurrying of small animals. This part of the swamp was entirely silent, as if even its residents shunned it. _Very sensible of them,_ she thought as she tried, unsuccessfully, to leap over a large puddle.

Now completely soaked, she marched on grimly, her spirits as damp as her fur. Orion said all paths were possible for those who followed the Big-tailed One, but Tara would like to see him on this one.

Yet her father's warning rang in her ears: _More like the humans every day._ Tara had spent too much time with them. She'd started to think about the swamp the way they did. Still, if the Mother had created this dump, it was evidence of a character flaw.

It would take hours of grooming to get this muck off her, assuming that she would return with something left to groom. Large animals, after all, were always hungry. All her quickness and cleverness wouldn't matter at all if he cooked her alive with his fiery breath. No Tara, no Quest. Had anyone thought about that?

* * *

Druid decided to head back to his cave. Mossy clouds moved slowly through the sky, swollen as pregnant deer. A strange noise diverted him from his gloom, a delicate, feathery paw step, light as the dance of dandelion fluff. What creature was this? It wasn't a thumping squirrel or rabbit and certainly not a scrabbling mouse. Tiny though the animal was, it moved with the majesty of a much larger beast, as Tomo once had moved before despair had devoured his heart.

A flower of a face peeked through the tall grass, petals for ears and eyes like golden fire. It was the kitten he'd seen before, and this direct view of her parted the dark curtains of his disbelief, for who could doubt that the One who had fashioned so beautiful a creature was kind?

The kitten's body emerged, and steamy rage doused the light in Druid's heart. What a cruel joke this Chosen was. Only cats insanely committed to the superiority of their species could look at this infinitesimal scrap of creaturehood and imagine her capable of saving the World.

_They all ought to be strung up by their whiskers_ , he raged, but even in the midst of his fury, he realized that no creature with a heart could fail to be moved by this charming, helpless kitten or fail to believe that protecting her would be the greatest honor possible. He, a dragon already sworn to protect the helpless, was in special danger.

_I won't be trapped,_ he vowed. _The Mother has gone too far in using so innocent a creature for her intentions. As Guardian of the Swamp, I have a duty to make this kitten welcome in my domain, but I won't become involved in her misbegotten quest, no matter how adorable she is._

He lumbered toward the kitten, his arms outstretched to greet her.

* * *

The path took a downhill turn. The trees thinned to reveal a pond from which dead, blackened stumps rose. So did the dragon on wobbly legs, his eyes gleaming in bloodthirsty anticipation, his terribly big teeth bared in a fiendish grin. This was not the dragon mirage she'd seen before. The closer he got, the more frightening he looked. She closed her eyes and prayed fervently.

Mother, where are you? Are you going to let me be squashed flatter than dragon dung? If that's Your plan I think I'll take matters into my own paws.

She opened her eyes and unsheathed her talons. _I'll fight to the death,_ she vowed.

With a piercing yowl, she leapt at the mountain of green scales and dug her claws into his hide. "I'm Tara, the mighty huntress," she hissed. "Dragon, die!"

### Chapter 16

Druid was shocked when she lunged at him, hissing "Dragon, die!" Certain that he'd misunderstood, he caught the kitten in his paws, his scales trembling at the touch of her silky fur—until a claw pierced the soft skin of his paw. With a curse he dropped her.

The kitten dashed up a tree. Safe in its heights, she bared tiny fangs. She didn't look nearly as appealing with her delicate features squashed into a parody of ferocity, and her manner was no longer charming. Druid discarded his welcoming speech.

"I beg your pardon, I mistook you for the Chosen."

"And so I am," the little monster howled.

"I doubt that. Any creature so honored would surely know that I was her friend."

She hissed at him. "I felt no friendship in you. I found a monster whose heart seethes with bitterness and hatred."

Her temerity was appalling. "I am Druid, the dragon of destiny," he roared with such force that she was nearly blown out of the tree. "If my heart is bitter, it has excellent reasons. You might listen to them before passing judgment."

The kitten was too intent on keeping herself from tumbling to the ground to answer. Once she'd found her balance, she said, "Ask me politely to listen. Apologize for your rudeness. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

"But that's the whole problem." Druid caught himself. "Would you allow me to tell you?"

The kitten dug her claws into the tree bark, and the puffball of ferocity shrank. "If I could get over the fear that you're going to blow me out to sea, I might be able to listen. An animal as gigantic as you needs to learn better control."

Druid examined the small ooze of green blood on his paw. "Sometimes the tiniest things cause the most pain. I refer, of course, to your claws."

"Self-defense," the kitten muttered. "When you're a small kitten like me, faced with a big dragon like you, jumping to the wrong conclusion is safer than not jumping at all."

She did have a point. "I'm sorry," Druid said. "We seem to have gotten off to an awfully bad start. Tara, mighty huntress, would you mind coming down from that tree so we can start over?"

"I'll stay in the tree, if you don't mind, at least until I feel a little safer. Besides, it's easier to hear you at this elevation, and I _would_ like to hear your story."

Druid started to smile, until he noticed the kitten shrinking at the sight of his fangs. "I promise not to bite," he said.

"Are you good at keeping your promises?"

"You can ask any animal in the swamp. One of my best friends is a squirrel much smaller than you."

"Squirrels," the kitten said with a sniff. "You think I accept _them_ as references? But go on. Just remember to breathe gently."

Getting to know this kitten was a lot of work. "I'll tell my story with the intention of friendship between us. Long ago, I had parents."

He told Tara his history of abandonment, of the long years of waiting, and of the eventual rot caused by despair. Druid even told her about his vow to never fly again, a secret that no other animal knew.

"You must understand," he said in conclusion, "that Her indifference, though galling, caused no problems as long as things were in balance. But now She's allowing the humans to wreck the World. I know it's my destiny to prevent this, but does She speak to me? Does She give me so much as a suggestion of how to save our home?"

The kitten looked at him sharply. "I'm trying to avoid rudeness, but sometimes a sharp claw is needed to pierce the film of illusion. Have you been listening for Her voice? It's clear that you've been brave these many years, and I, a kitten of instant destiny, can't judge what it must have been like to wait so long for a sign. It's perfectly reasonable to hold a grudge against Her, but my father always says reason is how the humans think."

"Oh, I know that."

"You think you know, but not until you live among them do you realize what it means. Most of them have hearts the size of mouse droppings. And, even though I have more faith in the Mother than you seem to, I have a grudge or two against Her myself, mainly because she's sent me into their stinking dwellings."

Druid admired her adroit, thoroughly feline, way of commanding his respect. _I am small_ , she said, _but I have been where dragons fear to tread_. And he knew this to be so. When he'd first seen her, a human had threatened her life. It would do no harm to remind her that he'd saved her.

"Do you remember when we met before?"

"Orion and I thought it might have been you, but to our eyes you were blurry. We wondered whether you were transmitting from a distance."

"So I was, and the image I created in that vile human's mind was a fearful one."

"You're good at that." The kitten shivered.

"And yet I wasn't trying to frighten you today."

"Maybe you've gotten into the habit. Still, I promise to hold my memory of your rescue of me more firmly in my mind and heart. It's the problem of living with humans. I need constant vigilance to avoid falling into the sloppiness of their mental and emotional patterns."

"I can hardly imagine," Druid said.

"And I should have believed Orion. He's my father, the cat who was with me that day. He said I could trust you. Thank you with all my heart, which is loyal, for saving him and me."

He sensed the scampering of her thoughts as she integrated that past incident into the spacious Now. A large intelligence was tucked into her tiny head.

"Tell me about life among the humans. Tell me what the Mother says to you. Tell me about the quest."

Tara raised a paw. "You'll have me pouncing in three directions at once. I suppose you've got to know about the humans, but you won't find it inspiring."

This was an understatement. Her description of human customs appalled him, and nothing shocked him more than her account of the dragon game.

"I've never heard of anything so disgusting. Believe me, kitten, when I say that I haven't lifted a claw against them. Why do they fear me so?"

Tara looked thoughtful. "I'm coming down to demonstrate. Watch your feet, please."

She climbed down the tree and chased her tail.

"This is no answer!"

Though his breath ruffled her fur, her eyes didn't blink. "Not all answers are spoken with words. I thought I'd try to show you. We cats like to pretend that our tails aren't part of us so that we can entertain ourselves by chasing them. We also enjoy jumping away from shadows and other things, even though we know they can't hurt us. We play at fear."

She pounced on a fluttering leaf. "An animal may know a moment of fear or several, some of them very long, but usually our hearts lead us back to Her protection. Because the humans don't know Her, they have no relief from their fears. They make it more difficult for themselves to find Her by putting obstacles in their path."

"Obstacles?"

"They gather together their fears, large and small, into one huge fear, for example, fear of you."

She paused for a moment, and looked at the ground far below. "Dragon, it's painful for me to say this, but you, too, seem to have lost your way Home. You say the Mother doesn't speak to you, but when did you last speak to Her other than in anger? Have you thanked Her for the blessings she's given you: a home that seems to suit you, lots of whatever it is you eat? Have you praised her for sending good friends into your life or for the gifts of the heart?"

The kitten was getting carried away, punctuating her questions with short jabs of her paws. "Have you asked Her to guide you? Have you recognized Her guidance when it appeared? Have you had dreams from Her that you ignored? Have you praised yourself for the greatness of your heart? The Mother comes to those who honor Her by honoring themselves."

"You're wise, small one," Druid said in a trembling voice. "You've learned the secrets of my heart, and I can trust you with them. I don't pretend that I share your faith yet, but I'm beginning to see that the impossible may be possible." He bowed his head in shame. "I haven't lost faith. I've abandoned it."

"Don't be ashamed," Tara said. "I abandon faith two or three times a day, but I have Orion to cuff me back on the path." She glanced at the sky. "I'd better go before anyone gets worried about me."

"I wish you didn't have to," Druid said. "I wish you could stay forever."

"I'd be too busy grooming myself to talk to you at all, but I'll come back."

"I'll take you to the edge of the swamp. Hop on my neck, it makes a lovely perch."

"If a bit unsteady," the kitten said as she scrambled for a claw hold on his scales. "No sudden leaps of ecstasy, please."

Druid kept his pace to a stately crawl. "I forgot to tell you about the humans threatening the swamp. A young squirrel overheard them talking about taking water from us."

Her claws dug into his hide. "I heard a human speak of a plan for water. His voice was slicker than your scales. Did the squirrel hear anything else? No, please don't shake your head."

Druid stopped just in time. "She heard that the swamp would be drained and taken over by humans. That put all animals into deep despair."

"The pattern begins to come together," Tara said. "If the humans want to destroy the swamp, all animals must find a way to defend it. And where does the girl fit in?"

"If she could meet me, she'd realize I'm not so awful. If she's a decent sort, I might be able to revise my opinions of humans."

"Be sure you're on your best behavior. Before that happens, we cats will have much to discuss. Druid, don't despair if days pass before I return. We must gather as much information as possible, and I must take the time to flood the girl with positive pictures of you. It will be best if I can break through and communicate with her. I'll be busier than a kitten chasing her tail."

They came to the beginning of the woods, and Druid lowered his neck to the ground. "And I must prepare the swamp animals for the arrival of a human who comes in peace."

They looked at each other. "Those are big jobs," Druid said.

"You're a big dragon. I'm a small kitten with a big mission." With a wave of her tiny paw, she was gone.

The moment she disappeared, Druid wanted to call her back and tell her the one detail he'd omitted from the story of his parents' abandonment. Even though he'd never trusted anyone with the secret of his vow not to fly, maybe her huge golden eyes would bathe him in the light of understanding.

And maybe they'd narrow into molten slits, and she'd hiss at him and say that was more stupid than a cat deciding to never pounce again. And she'd decide that she wasn't going to risk her life on someone as hopeless as he was.

And she would be right.

Druid slunk back to his cave, his wings dragging through the sand. For most of his life he'd prevented them from doing what they were meant to do—and for what? His parents weren't suffering because he didn't fly. Only one dragon suffered from his infantile decision, and he deserved to suffer.

It was one of the things Druid did best.

* * *

The sun was sinking behind the trees when Tara raced into the grove, now filled with even more cats. "I succeeded," she cried. "I met the dragon, and it was so frightening at first—"

He stopped her with a flick of his ears. "Wonderful news, and our visitors would like to hear it."

"Fine, I'll just have Emerald clean me up first." Tara's fur rippled with pleasure as she imagined the good cleaning it would get now. She ran to her mother's side. When Orion dragged her away she howled.

"Get your teeth out of my neck, you bully. I want Emerald. I'm covered with mud and dragon drool."

He, Bast, and Sekhmet made a circle around her, blocking her from the view of the city cats.

"How can you behave without dignity? You shame all cats," Sekhmet hissed. "The cats from the city need to hear this story."

"Yes." Bast's voice was a talon.

Tara shook her head. "I can't behave with dignity until I'm groomed, and any cat who doesn't understand that can take a flying leap into a garbage can. You can tell them how it is, and I can collect my thoughts while Emerald washes me."

The Big Three marched away, and Emerald purred her approval. "I love to see their backsides twitching with frustration. Let's fluff you up. You've been in some nasty stuff, child."

Emerald's rough tongue restored Tara to balance, licking away some of her anger at cats without faith. She remembered that her faith hadn't lasted any longer than it took for one paw to get muddy with swamp muck. Only meeting the dragon had restored her.

How could she convey who the dragon was? How was she to convince these doubtful cats without impressing them with her own heroism, without boasting and getting knocked across the grass by Orion?

Now completely clean, she decided that the only way to tell the story right would be to forget about the problems of telling it.

The cats were quickly drawn into Tara's story, some even licking themselves when she described her immersion in mud. The more their beings reached out to hers, the more the story captured her until she was no longer the one telling it. The words streamed through her.

When she finished, a village cat spoke. "I'm Malta," she said, "and this cat wove for me my own story of courage. I'm ready to follow the Path."

Other cats, young and old, rose to call out their names and promises. Orion's haunches rippled with excitement.

Senti rose to his haunches. "I didn't come here because I believe in the Quest, the Mother, or even—"he flicked a ragged paw at Tara—"the Chosen. I came because I didn't want to die without ever having left the alley. I came because I was curious enough to slink out to meet danger instead of waiting for it to come to me.

"Now I've seen that one thing the cats who visited my alley said is true. This is a better life than we live in the city. Though I laughed my butt off at old Misha's songs of a green world, here it is. All cats deserve to know the Green. This may not be your idea of the Quest, but it's mine."

"You're an honest cat, and one who can drop the veils from your eyes when evidence challenges what you believe," Sekhmet said. "The time will come when you believe more. Until then we accept the terms of your allegiance."

That was awfully easy-going for Sekhmet. Tara thought vows should be more wholehearted than Senti's. "What about faith in the Mother's guidance? How can a cat who doesn't believe in Her lead others? You say all cats deserve to know the Green, but to truly know it is to know Her."

Senti said, "Takes a lot to convince a cat from the alleys. I'm waiting and watching. I admit I'm impressed by this Dragon business. And no matter who you are, I'm willing to die for even the little bit of time I've spent so far in the Green."

"You're a different cat already," Misha said. "The rest will come."

If Misha thought so, Tara wasn't going to object any longer. "Would you like to hear more about the dragon?"

"Go on," Orion said.

"The first surprise was not being eaten by him. Now that I'm safe from being squashed by his big feet, I realize how gentle he is. His heart is as big as those feet. Oh, and he cries, like the humans. You don't want to be standing directly below him when he does. It's like being in a cloudburst. And he's dedicated. He's kept the swamp safe from humans all these years."

"What are his weaknesses?" Orion asked.

"No self-confidence. He thinks he's Chosen only because his parents told him so. He doesn't feel it. He's too busy beating himself up for not having lived up to his destiny. Our meeting may have raised his self-esteem, and maybe he isn't so mad at the Mother for sticking him in the swamp."

"What about his hatred of the humans?" Bast asked.

"That's a big hairball to spit out, probably for all the animals of the swamp. It's hard to love those who want to wipe out your world. I need to take the girl there as soon as possible."

Orion nodded. "And we need to find out what the humans are up to."

"We'll go back to the city and nose around," Sekhmet said.

While the others talked Tara searched for more impressions of the dragons. The outside world dimmed; she hardly heard Senti speaking to her or Bast saying, "She's in trance. Be silent."

_Druid, Druid_ , Tara whispered silently. She saw his funny wet eyes, his toothy grin. The thought of his surprisingly delicate paws called forth a surge of warmth in her. How strange that the scrape of scales could be as caressing as silky fur and that a creature so large and ungainly could have his own kind of beauty and grace.

It was strangest of all to realize that she had begun to love him. Her heart tightened with fear when she saw marching humans who shouted, "Kill the dragon!" She mewed frantically.

Orion put his huge paws on her trembling shoulders. "Speak."

"The answer was there all the time," she wailed. "They'll take the swamp by killing him."

### Chapter 17

During the next few days Serazina wished that she could go into the woods, hide in a cave, and try to untangle the mess her life had become. Instead she was reminded of that mess every time a villager congratulated her.

"Imagine it, the Guardian himself coming to your home."

"You've brought pride to Oasis West."

"Maybe other young people will have a chance now."

Not everyone was happy. In school, where others were going through their final placement interviews, she encountered resentment.

Clona, who had been assigned to work in the fields, said, "No more hauling dirty laundry for _you._ "

Some future field workers wouldn't even speak to Serazina. When she passed them in the halls, they turned their heads.

"It almost makes me glad I'm leaving," she said to Berto on the last day of school. "I wish I could tell them that I'd much rather go to the fields."

"They'd never believe you, but don't take it personally. One guy said I must have pulled strings to get sent to the architectural college. Little does he know I won't spend a minute there. It's time to start planning our move."

_Tamaras._ Only thoughts of leaving kept her sane.

Serazina had just come back from school when Elissia stormed into the house, her braid flying like a kite tail. "If I hadn't been working overtime the past few days, I would have come sooner. Fiola's beside herself that you might get to mate with the Guardian. I nearly puked."

" _You_ nearly puked? I lied to her, just so she wouldn't pack me off to the head shredders."

Fiola flew in through the door. "The mayor and Malvern Frost have called for a great celebration. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Wonderful," Elissia said in a solemn tone. "But why not? Serazina saved the nation. Now, if you'll excuse us, my heroic sister and I have some catching up to do."

They walked out to the pond and sat on the bench. "I don't trust Malvern Frost," Elissia said. "Since when does he call for celebrations? Especially when the drought is beginning? I keep on designing short-term proposals for water conservation. He looks at them and says, 'Very nice.' Then he ignores them."

Serazina trembled. "Still getting the shakes?" Elissia asked her.

"It's like looking at pieces of a broken vase. I know that they fit together, but if I pick them up I'll bleed, and nothing will ever be like it was. Malvern is part of it."

"From the rumors in the city, Malvern is part of everything. What about the Guardian? He was obviously impressed by you."

"Was he? Or didn't he know what to do with me? It doesn't matter." She lowered her voice. "Berto and I are leaving soon."

"Thank Zena, not that we have much to thank her for—unless we do. Have you heard this rumor that she left a last testament calling for the overhaul of the entire philosophy of Oasis?"

"Just hints of it. I heard Janzi speak on Founder's Day."

"She's everywhere ever since the attempted assassination, telling people that no Earther would try to kill the Speaker but that the Godlies are worthy of suspicion. I heard the Godlies nearly caught her one day, but a bunch of Earthers who were built like trees blocked their passage. The mood in the city has changed since she started showing up. People are feeling more hopeful, and I think they're going Earther in droves. I'm feeling a little that way myself, but I'd like to read that testament first. It's part of being a Mind person. I need facts and evidence."

Serazina lowered her voice. "I think the Earthers are right. Maybe they don't have the whole picture, but they're looking for it. But, Elissia, I'm afraid that soon it's going to be very dangerous to be an Earther."

"I think it's going to be dangerous to be any kind of Oasan," Elissia said. "Things have gotten very serious with me and my boyfriend. But he's only a clerk and pure Dolocairner. I know they're going to give me the old dragon shit about not diluting my excellent genes."

"Get pregnant," Serazina suggested. "I've heard you can find people in the Bazaar who remove anti-pregnancy implants."

"But did you know that all unauthorized pregnancies are subject to abortion? I couldn't go through that. Larros and I may be following you across the mountains."

"I wish I were leaving today," Serazina said. "How am I going to get through this celebration? All those people, and they're good people, so proud of me—"

Elissia gripped her shoulders, her eyes black fire. "Listen to me. That's how they get you. You have less to feel guilty about than anyone in this country. You risked your life to save the Guardian. If you never do another thing for Oasis, you've done much more than enough."

"Dinner," Fiola called.

Before they went to the celebration, Elissia and Serazina went up to her room. Once the door was closed Elissia pulled out a flask of liquor. "It's Etrenzian cactus brandy, really strong. It'll help you get through this ordeal."

Serazina decided that the occasion called for an exception to her no-drinking rule. She took a sip and coughed. "Strong isn't the word."

"Good, isn't it?" Elissia had a swig, too. "Let's go. Be careful not to breathe on the parents."

* * *

Phileas couldn't have imagined that anything could trouble him more than the fanatic Godlies, the troublesome Earthers, his insane mother, Malvern Frost's machinations, and the reappearance of the dragon. These problems still occupied his thoughts, but the fate of a disturbing girl had assumed priority ever since he'd visited Serazina.

It was, of course, utterly illogical. The cause of national security had given him every right to go into her mind. The need to develop promising youth made it necessary for him to find a place for her in the hierarchy, and the pressing urgency to give Oasis an heir obliged him to consider her as breeding material. To feel guilty about these correct decisions was inexcusable.

Yet this sodden emotion had trailed him for several days. He would recapture the image of Serazina and Berto holding hands and remember her fear of having her mind invaded. If only to free himself of guilt, he was tempted to let her live a mindless life in the fields and marry her love, but that would represent sentimentality and weakness. If he couldn't resist the tug of emotions, how could he expect any other citizen to do so?

Most inexcusable of all, he vacillated between standing firm and letting her go several times a day. No wonder the nausea that had overtaken him the morning after his visit frequently visited his miserable digestive system. He was half-afraid to eat even the bland foods that made up his diet.

The last thing he wanted to do was to see her at the village celebration, but Malvern would certainly attend, and Phileas needed to observe him in his native habitat.

He stood in front of his closet, trying to decide whether to wear his official robes. Finally, deciding that for once in his life he didn't want to stand out, he put on a dark-blue tunic and trousers.

* * *

Everyone of any significance made speeches, and Serazina had a glass of wine while she waited for her turn. She tried to remember the few words she'd thought of saying.

"I want to thank the Guardian for the honor he has given me."

Each time she tried to repeat that to herself, she lost a few more of the words, but she cared a little less. She didn't want to thank the Guardian for anything. Given another glass of wine, she would curse him.

Someone helped her climb the steps to the platform, and she hoped she wasn't going to have to stand, because she already felt herself swaying.

The Mayor gave her the key to the town. That was funny, because the town didn't have a gate. What, she wondered, as she expressed appreciation for the clunky iron key, did it open?

A delegation of workers from Johar's fields came up to the platform with a bouquet of wildflowers. "And Miss Serazina," their leader said, "is the fairest flower of them all."

She thought of them as she stood up to speak. "I hope everyone here is proud, not because of me, but because of the work you do. Intelligence isn't only in the mind but in the body. It's wrong to scorn field workers for living close to the earth and getting dirt on their hands. Everyone's food comes from that dirt. Those who pretend otherwise aren't using their minds."

Time to sit down before she made a complete idiot of herself. "So be proud, all of you. Be proud if your daughter becomes a Healer. Be proud if she works in the fields." _Shut up!_ "Thank you."

Serazina climbed down from the platform and looked for a place where she could be alone and possibly vomit. As she stumbled towards the public restrooms, she almost ran into the Guardian, who stood in the crowd, surrounded by bodyguards.

"Guardian!" She jumped in panic.

His eyes flickered with shock. "What's wrong?" he asked, sounding like a human being who cared, like a man whose heart beat, however faintly, inside a wall of Mind.

Could she tell him the truth?

It probably happened because she was drunk, but she saw the Green Lady shimmering before her. Her outstretched arms and the smile that turned Her eyes to emeralds shouted, _yes_.

Even though Serazina thought she was crazy and would probably end up with scrambled brains for her reckless behavior, she said, "Guardian, can I talk to you privately?"

"Of course."

One of his bodyguards said, "With all respect, it isn't safe, Guardian. You know this is Earther country."

The Guardian turned to her. "What if we went to your house? My men have patrolled its grounds before."

Yes, home, where she felt safest.

They walked the short distance in silence, and Serazina unlocked the front door. She tried to break the awkward silence between them. "Before the Earthers we never locked the door. Come in. Would you like something to drink?"

He sat down in the chair where her father usually sat. "I'm sure I've had more than enough of that. Sit, please. I've agreed to speak with you because I think it may be important. At this point any words may be important, but especially enlightenment from one who remains such a mystery to me. I have to return to the celebrations soon, though, so I must ask you to skip the preliminaries."

"All right, but I'm not good at saying things, with or without preliminaries, especially something like this."

The Guardian nodded, his shoulders slumped with the weight of unbearable burdens. "Perhaps I can make it easier for you. I suspect it has something to do with this mating business. The whole thing is distasteful to you, isn't it?"

Serazina wished the alcohol weren't fuzzing up her brain. "It's nothing personal. I mean, I'm sure you're a very nice person, but—"

"You're not sure of that at all," he said, "and who could blame you? I'm the distant figure who issues proclamations every now and then and comes to your house and insists on reading your deepest secrets, although I failed. Sex, by the way, would be neutral in comparison. Would you feel better knowing that the whole idea of mating to create an heir has become distasteful to me, too?"

Suddenly she saw the Guardian, day after weary day, having sex with a parade of candidates and hating it. His repugnance was sour in her throat. "Put an end to the practice!" she cried. "Marry some nice woman and take your chances on getting an Heir."

His eyes, downcast before, suddenly blazed. "Too much is at stake. The future of Oasis depends on a strong Guardian."

"But what if it doesn't? What if that's part of the problem? Maybe Oasis needs to change." She covered her mouth. "I didn't mean that, really. I had too much to drink. I'm just a stupid girl. I don't know anything."

He gave her a slow, sad gaze. "What's happened to us when our young people are afraid to criticize? Rebels founded our nation. What have we done? What have _I_ done? Lately, I think I want nothing less than to wish this kind of uncertainty and suffering on any child of mine."

Serazina didn't think he was crying—surely the Guardian never cried—but she sensed misery crumbling the walls that protected him from emotion. "I'm sorry," she said. "If I could help, but not that way, please. Can't you find me unsuitable? I am, you know."

"I'm not at all certain of that, but..."

She held her breath. The Guardian's face remained composed, but she sensed a struggle within him.

Finally he exhaled softly, an act that seemed to soften his furrowed brow and soften his eyes. "To command you against your will would be more than distasteful. Nor do I think the Heir should have an unwilling mother. I shall release you from any obligation. If I promise to take no action against you, would you tell me who you really are?"

She hesitated. The truth clattered around in her head and tightened her stomach until she thought she might vomit.

"Serazina, I promise with a pledge as binding as that which I took when I became the Guardian that you can trust me."

"You won't send me to the brain shredders?"

He winced. "I vow."

"All right. I don't know who I really am," she said, "but I'll never find out here. Guardian, I promise not to be a problem for this country. I won't stick around and contaminate anything. Berto and I want to leave as soon as possible. Don't tell my mother."

She covered her mouth and looked at him with horror. "I didn't mean to say that."

His mouth became a thin, unhappy curve. "Your secret is safe with me, although I'm more than sorry to hear it. When our best young people think they can no longer live here, what will Oasis become?"

"It's become a prison to me," Serazina said. "For as long as I can remember I felt things deeply. At home and in school we were all taught that deep emotions signified weak minds, but I couldn't believe that something so much a part of me could be false. All I could do was try to hide it by learning to give the appearance of a good, well, a fair student and a loyal citizen."

His black eyes regarded her. "I don't believe you're weak of mind at all. None of our scientists or leaders has ever denied that emotion has power. If it didn't, would we be concerned about it? Your emotions contaminate what may be an excellent mind, not only because you refuse to control them, but also because they disturb you. Worry, anxiety, and fear always weaken the mind."

Clever as he was, something was wrong with his reasoning. "I'm not sure," she said.

"Let me try a different approach. You're angry at the Oasan philosophy because it dictates the superiority of mind over emotion. Yet you turn it upside down by declaring that emotions are superior to mind. You cling to them with great stubbornness because no one wants you to have them. All the while, you neglect the priceless resource of your mind. Use it for just one minute. You can read people, like the would-be assassin—"

"But I read his emotions!"

"Ah, finally we come to some kind of truth. Do you think I _don't_ read emotions? What you can't do is read without absorbing. To go into a disturbed consciousness upsets you because you haven't been trained in the art of detachment, a training your healing apprenticeship would have given you. If you could fully appreciate your mind, you'd give up those stubborn emotions in a moment."

"No, I wouldn't."

"That's more stubbornness speaking."

"No, it isn't. I'm using my mind now, Guardian. If you could convince me that we can live in a way that values both emotions and mind, I wouldn't leave Oasis."

His shoulders sagged. "It would go against all I believe."

"And that's the problem. When you shield yourself from emotions by judging them inferior to Mind, you don't get to read their truth."

"They are inferior." His voice was firm, but his eyes were those of a lost kitten.

"Are they?"

"What do you expect me to say? The Guardian is the embodiment of Mind. It has been that way almost from the beginning, and one Guardian trains the Guardian-elect in emotional austerity, to think of himself as different from others. It means having others think of me as cold. It means bearing loneliness."

He rose from his chair. "I need to get back to the celebrations."

Serazina stood up and touched his hand. "I'm sorry that's how it is for you."

His fingers trembled. He didn't look so old now, and he wasn't imposing at all.

"Guardian." She looked at him, words lost. She took his hands, and with what was almost surely a sob, he pulled her against him. He kissed her, his lips suddenly not thin, but full and soft, the softness smoothing all the raw places inside her, allowing desire to flood her, not only in her body. She began to feel as she had the night before, when the Dragon had come to both of them, and the Lady, and the Dance.

In the midst of her reverie she heard Berto calling and a terse dialogue between him and a bodyguard. She pulled away from the Guardian.

"That wasn't distasteful," she said, "but I don't want it."

He turned away from her. "I have promised."

* * *

Phileas called on every method of mastery he could muster in order to stop his body from trembling and his mind from staggering off into emotional cesspools. For a moment he had wanted Serazina with a kind of desperation that had slashed through the bonds of discipline. Bonds? Why did he call them by that name? Discipline was his life.

His mastery had become imperfect. He managed to quell his flare of desire for Serazina only because it reminded him of a greater passion for Romala. Something would have to be done about that. "Marry a nice woman." Did he dare? Even if life with her would not be tranquil, he wasn't experiencing vast stretches of peace at the moment.

Though tradition dictated that a Guardian could marry only after he'd successfully produced an Heir, he could always claim that he was following the example of Zena and Nathan, who'd chosen their son as heir (and hope that no one would remember that he'd been one of the worst Guardians in history). When the dragon business was settled, he'd consider what to do.

At least, the seesawing about the girl had ended. He'd never know whether he'd made the best decision for the country, but releasing Serazina from any obligations freed him. He argued with himself that it followed logic. The girl would never embrace the discipline required of a Healer, no matter how many precious hours Romala wasted on her. Reason dictated that Serazina, like other misfits, should follow her desires and leave the country, which would suffer not at all for the loss of her dubious talents.

If only he could exile the errant voice shouting that the country desperately needed not only people like Serazina, but the girl herself. _Intuition_ , he thought with disgust. _There's no evidence for that._

He was in a foul mood when he returned to the celebration and saw Malvern Frost.

"Grand party," Malvern said. The old man's face was tomato-hued from too much dancing and barley beer. No one else in the square looked to be in much better condition, though.

It was true that the mind must occasionally rest and the lower impulses be allowed expression. Festivals and other celebrations provided organized outlets for otherwise-dangerous emotions, but Phileas preferred not to be around them. Tonight's celebration was particularly disturbing. Though separated from the crowd by his place on a hastily erected reviewing stand, he sensed a raw, animal feeling about the throngs packed into the village square. (Or was that the raw, animal feeling Serazina had aroused in him?) The lights illuminated drink-slackened faces with eyes gleaming like those of predatory beasts. The turgid undercurrent of despair, by now characteristic of most Oasan gatherings, tonight spouted foamy crests of rage.

Malvern slapped his leaden hand on Phileas's shoulder. "I must confess that this was all my idea."

Swords flashed as two young men enacted a Dolocairn dueling dance. The glint of steel sharpened Phileas's apprehension. "I appointed the Clare girl. The mayor ordered the festivities and invited us to attend. What was your part in it?"

Malvern's laughter dispersed alcoholic fumes. "I sent a contribution out to Mayor Cob to make the celebration possible and instructed him to arrange for it. Why are you giving me that snake-eyed look?"

"Unless you made a private contribution, that was an unauthorized use of funds."

Malvern's veneer of conviviality dissolved. "Don't threaten me. The sum was less than one hundred nats, which any Councilor may withdraw in the case of emergency."

"That being?"

"A crisis in confidence which would impact on all Councilors and you in particular."

"How thoughtful."

"Don't mock me, Speaker. I live among these people; I understand how they think. The villagers are worried about the drought and the Earthers but even more about the succession. You've heard them. Do you want an army of field workers marching on the Council chambers? Better to distract them until the time comes to point their anger in the direction it belongs, out there." His finger vaguely indicated the general area of the swamp.

"When the time comes for what?" Phileas demanded. "The plan villagers will find particularly congenial?"

"All to be revealed in the fullness of time. I don't ask you to produce an heir, do I?"

"Is a Councilor a hen to sit on a plan until it's hatched? Tomorrow at the National Council meeting you'll give me an account of yourself, and it had better be a truthful one."

Malvern's eyes narrowed. "Very well, but it's only fair to warn you that some begin to question your right to your title. Would a true Guardian allow the Earthers to rampage unchecked? Would he leave his people in jeopardy without an heir? If he can't produce an heir is it because he is himself perhaps a . . . fraud? Not my words, of course, but they are spoken. I leave you to ponder them. Mayor Cob is signaling me to lead a dragon drill."

"Kill the dragon!" the crowd roared at the sight of the old man. "Malvern! Dragonslayer!"

It was clear that he had men planted in the street and equally clear that Malvern was no fool. He hadn't spoken as one who let alcohol douse his better judgment but as a man so confident of his power base that he was certain the Guardian would be ineffective against it. Who knew how many webs the wily spider had woven: enough to give him confidence that Phileas couldn't avoid becoming caught up in one of them?

"He's your enemy and the enemy of Oasis," Romala said.

Phileas began to regret having given Romala a report of the previous night's events. Her moments of brilliance were invaluable, but her emotional excesses sometimes outweighed them in the balance.

And how misplaced she looked this morning in the sober environment of his dwelling. Her skin burned against drab gray walls; her dishevelment was a pronounced contrast to the monotonous uniformity of its furnishings. Even the portrait of calm-eyed Nathan seemed to shrink from the fire in her eyes.

Romala was altogether desirable. He skidded away from that thought like a car avoiding an accident.

"Enemy or not, he's right about the people," Phileas said. "Their temperature is unstable and dangerous."

_Like your own,_ he was tempted to add. As if she heard, she smoothed her hair, tidied her collar, and assumed an expression of intelligence.

"Guardian, something disturbs me. Ever since you first told me of the peoples' mood, I've been doing research. The other day I discovered an obscure text by Nathan, _Mirror of the Mind_. Do you know it?"

The book had been haunting him recently. "It was one of Nathan's few failures in logic. No Guardian has ever agreed with it. His theories are grandiose and ego-ridden, an exercise in megalomania. In my view they should have been suppressed."

"Why is it megalomania to state that the people's mental wellbeing reflects that of the Guardian? You're worried about the succession, so the people worry, too."

"It has a limited application," Phileas said. "Naturally a Guardian must always appear confident and optimistic, but you're implying that this mysterious communal malaise reflects some inner disturbance of mine. It's preposterous."

"When you were ill—"

"I wasn't ill. I was injured by an assassin's bullet. I'm quite well now, I examine my mind on a daily basis and there's nothing out of order."

"As you will," she said, her head bent in false deference.

Phileas was given a sudden insight into the roots of wife beating. "Shall we continue? Malvern is my enemy. He's tried to corner me with his evaluation of the peoples' mood, but I'm not a dog to whine for mercy. I'll attack by charging him with secrecy. The people don't like that. He'll have to reveal his plans."

"If only we knew how the other Councilors will react. Daria Turley is hopeless. I do think it's time to abolish the precedent that a descendant of Nathan—other than the Guardian, of course—must always be represented on Council. His blood has thinned considerably."

Phileas allowed himself some tension-releasing laughter. "Daria is wedded to the old ways with no understanding of them. What about Kermit?"

"His mind isn't bound," Romala said. "He considers issues carefully, he's guided by his conception of what's best for the people. He's certainly above bribery or coercion."

Phileas agreed, but he mistrusted the tone of admiration in her voice. "Perhaps you have some romantic feelings toward him?"

Fireworks ignited in her eyes again. "I don't, but if I did it certainly wouldn't be any of your business. I'm deeply offended . . ."

She went on and on, as only a woman could, until at last he was forced to apologize, inwardly cursing himself for his unforgivable and strategically unsound breach of discipline.

### Chapter 18

Serazina should have been reassured by the Guardian's promise, but the next morning when she got up, tendrils of fear gripped her. Danger lay ahead.

Her tension seemed to be contagious. At breakfast her parents sniped at each other in a manner unbecoming to sober, restrained mates, and Elissia tried to make peace between them. "You must have had too much wine last night," she said. "I have a headache myself. Drink some calming tea."

"She's probably right," Johar said. The effort of smiling made him wince.

"Perhaps," Fiola said. "It's logical. I think I'll go to work a little early. Being in the city is sure to improve my mood."

She washed her dishes and left the house.

Her absence didn't do much to improve Johar's mood. His fingers drummed against the saucer of his teacup.

Serazina thought of something that might make him happier. "I spoke to the Guardian last night, and he has released me from any necessity to breed."

Johar's eyes briefly brightened. "You must be very persuasive."

"I've never thought of myself as good at that. It's more likely that the Guardian is a decent and honorable man."

"Let us hope so," Johar said, "and let us also hope that he can prevail against those who lack all decency and honor."

"What do you mean?" Elissia asked.

"I can't speak of it now."

Berto reacted with much more exuberance when she told him about the Guardian's promise. "So we're free to plan on leaving?"

"We are, and that means we can take our time and do it right. Having another month or so to save money will help us settle in Tamara more easily."

"I agree." Berto hugged her. " Serazina, aren't you excited?"

"I can't get used to the idea," she said. "I can't convince myself that I'm safe, but I'll try."

The kitten wasn't around as much as usual, but whenever she appeared, she stared at Serazina and mewed frantically. That only heightened Serazina's anxiety because she thought something was disturbing the creature.

Serazina was a disturbed creature, too. Every night, when she fell asleep, she dreamed that the dragon was weeping. "You're leaving?" it cried. "And we haven't even met."

She was probably going out of her mind.

* * *

Orion assured Tara that cats never lost their minds, but her brain cells were melting with the effort to reach the girl.

When she was asleep, Serazina's mind was receptive, accepting the idea of talking animals and the notion that the dragon held no threat for her. Tara's attempts to communicate when Serazina was awake, though, smashed against a shield of disbelief. The girl understood her urgency but misinterpreted it as distress. More than once Tara had seen pictures in Serazina's mind of a cold, shiny table, a man who poked at and probed Tara, and the word, "Vet." Tara scampered away from these images.

Worse, Tara sensed in the girl a deepening conviction that she needed to leave the country before she had a total mental meltdown. The Quest would have looked like a hopeless venture, except that the city cats and a few volunteers from the village were organizing themselves into effective intelligence teams. Though they hadn't yet come up with any substantial information, they were positioned so that any useful news would come to their ears at once.

Three days after the celebration for Serazina, Orion approached Tara. "Isn't it time to try again?"

"You don't know what you ask," she said. "I need to rest my brain before making another assault."

She squirmed in his unblinking gaze. "All right, I'll go to her tonight. I promise."

* * *

Druid had been suffering for two days when, while wandering on the beach and thinking about how gritty sand really was, his oldest friend, the century-old turtle, Seafoam, hailed him.

"You look more depressed than usual."

Druid was pleased that someone had noticed. "Much more. I'm suffering greatly."

He was disappointed when Seafoam, instead of asking why, said, "Our wisdom tells us that suffering, when experienced fully, leads to the end of suffering."

"I'm an expert at suffering fully, and I haven't noticed it ending."

"Did you really suffer _fully_? Or at some excruciatingly painful point, did you back away and say, 'I can't take this any more'? Or are you perhaps resisting it all the while?"

"Of course, I resist it. It hurts."

"And do you tell yourself constantly how much it hurts? What if you told yourself that this feeling would teach you something?"

The turtle raised a flipper. "Do me a small favor. Try it." Then he slid into the sea.

Druid wanted to ignore the turtle's advice, but it stuck to him like a stubborn barnacle. He sat down, leaning against a sand dune, and thought.

I'm suffering because I'm ashamed that, even though Tara was very honest with me, I didn't tell her the full truth about myself. And part of that full truth is that I'm now humiliated by the realization that basically, I've had a centuries-long temper tantrum.

_Maybe I could let go of that suffering, but it's only possible if I admit that misery prevents me from recognizing that Destiny is calling—in the form of a kitten who is both charming and bad-tempered, who may be wise and certainly courageous but who has no physical power. In fact, she needs my protection, I, who gave up the power of flight. I have to come into that power and probably many more._ Now.

And that is very frightening.

Druid supposed that Seafoam would have advised him to fully experience the terror, but he'd experienced enough for one day. The time had come for action. He had to prepare the swamp animals for the arrival of a human.

He was deciding whom to contact first when Tomo strolled by.

"I heard that a certain small kitten came to the swamp," the cougar said.

"Yes, and I want to tell you about it."

Druid left out Tara's rapid-fire questions about his relationship with the Mother, even though he felt they could have just as accurately been directed at his friend, but Tomo caught the drift.

"She's ferocious," he said. "And brave to live with humans. She said that all animals must defend the swamp?"

"She did. Now here's the tricky part. Her idea is that humans have to get involved, specifically the girl she lives with."

"Typical kitten logic." Tomo shook his head. "Regardless of the species, they're all examples of courage and common sense leaping in opposite directions."

"But how can we save the swamp _without_ the humans? We have to make them change their minds."

"Do you hear yourself? This place will turn into a mountain meadow—which I have never seen—before that happens. Although . . . ." He sank onto his haunches. "I can't forget the effect that kitten had on me."

Druid remembered how Tomo had briefly turned into a cougar of great faith. It could happen again. "She came into the swamp, all alone. Imagine what else she might be able to do. Tomo, we won't know what's possible unless we let the girl come here. You need to help me convince these stubborn animals that they should welcome her into the swamp."

"Maybe you're too ambitious," the cougar said. "How about 'tolerate the girl's passage'? That's going to be difficult enough. Half the animals will be convinced that she's a spy, sent by the humans to map out the paths of the swamp so that they can launch a full-scale assault and wipe out all of us."

"I'd be the largest target, and I don't fear the girl," Druid said.

"All right. Since the alternative is to sit and brood about doom, I'll help, but I'm not dealing with the wolves."

Druid sighed and trudged off to speak to them.

* * *

In the middle of the night, someone shook Serazina. She opened her eyes to see her father standing over her bed.

"Come outside for a minute."

Serazina put on a robe and followed him down the stairs, her heart pounding. "What's wrong?" she asked when they reached the pond. "Do you have a meeting in the city? Why are you leaving in the middle of the night?"

"I'm not leaving for the city." He shuddered, and moonlight gleamed on the buckles of his travel pack.

"Have you had another fight with Mother?"

He shook his head. "I love your mother, but I've given up hoping that she could accept me as I am."

"Who you are?"

Johar's smile was as frail as the lacework of a spider's web. "I'm surprised you haven't guessed by now."

With a guilty start Serazina realized that she'd been so involved in her own miseries that she'd barely exchanged a word with him for days—if she were honest, for weeks. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I haven't paid attention."

"It's all right. I know what you've been going through, and I understand it. In a way, I've been struggling with the same issues. How can we live as whole human beings in this country that wants to dissect the hearts out of us?"

She realized she should have known all along. She thought about the tender way he cared for the vegetables in their garden and the arc of his hands caressing the kitten. She remembered that she'd always gone to him when Fiola had been harsh beyond the bearing of it.

"You're an—"

He covered her mouth gently. "Not a word. Yes, Serazina. I'm going where I can't be captured."

"But if no one knows and if it isn't illegal, why leave?"

"Malvern Frost had one of my closest associates brought in for questioning two days ago. No one has heard from him since. We suspect that the government is attempting some form of brain modification, and we can't rule out the possibility of torture. Serazina, I'm the superintendent of all the fields. Imagine the example they'd make out of me, especially with the attention that's come to this family."

"It's my fault," Serazina wailed.

"You did nothing wrong. I knew that sooner or later I'd need to go. I contrived a way to leave the house the night the Guardian came. I couldn't risk his reading my mind. Probably I should have gone to the woods then, but I wanted to see what happened after he met you. Now I can do what calls me. But you won't be truly safe unless you leave this country. You need to be in a place where your emotions can run free."

"You know about me?" she whispered.

"Of course. For most Earthers, to suppress their emotions would be as painful as to cut down a healthy tree in its prime to make room for some building. They don't have your gift of mind and focus, but many of us are learning to hear and feel the conversations of Nature."

"Conversations?" She remembered her strange visions: the dragon, the dance, trees singing. "Is that true?"

As if he knew what she was asking, he smiled at her. "The world is much more than we've been taught, Serazina. Keep your heart open."

Johar glanced at the sky. "There's so much I want to tell you, but I need to leave before the sun rises. One important thing, though: We didn't attempt to assassinate the Guardian. We think a secret group is organizing to overthrow the Council. They use the Godlies to conceal their intentions, hoping to stir up the people into rebellion. Our guess is that Malvern Frost stands at the center of this effort. Some of our people are watching him, but you must be cautious if you're around him."

He got up to leave, but she grabbed his arm, suddenly afraid she'd never see him again. "Father, I told the Guardian the truth about myself. He promised that I wouldn't be harmed in any way. I'd like to trust him, but I'm sure I can. Berto and I are going to Tamaras.

He nodded, his eyes sad. "It's the only way."

"But before I go, can I find you in the woods?"

"We're well hidden, but if you walk in the direction of the setting sun and turn right at a waterfall, you may find us."

"And will you ever be able to come back?"

Clouds swam in his eyes. "I hope so. Oh, Serazina, I hope so."

Then he was gone.

She crept silently up the stairs and got into her bed, but she couldn't sleep until the kitten leapt through the window and curled up next to her, purring loudly. Serazina clutched the kitten for the rest of the night, her sleep fitful and laced with nightmares.

In her last dream before waking, the kitten leapt across time, landing beside a cup of wine. She knocked it over so that it spilled across Serazina's vision, spreading stains of confusion, loneliness, bright like blood. The singing grew louder. Feet stamped the dry earth, and dust and voices rose, shouting, "Kill the dragon!" while Serazina wept tears of sticky blood, like the muck and mire of the swamp, where the dragon cried.

His tears became pools of water that washed away all the stains and left everything clean and shining and white like the sheets which covered her, like the window frame in which Kitten perched, like her glossy chest fur. The world into which Serazina opened her eyes glowed in the sunlight, as fresh and fragrant as the wheat fields in early morning. It was a place of brightness and clarity, but Serazina saw it through a haze of tears.

* * *

Tara ran to the sacred grove to give Orion her morning report.

"A tragedy. Serazina's father has gone to join the Earthers in the forest." Tara repeated the conversation she'd overheard early that morning.

Orion's tail danced. "Good, very good."

"Good? Him telling her about nature being alive was certainly helpful, but she's heartbroken. I never thought you'd be so cold that you wouldn't sympathize with someone's grief."

"Of course, I'm not, but what if her grief compels her to action? Her father can't come home to her until the human world changes. The time is right to take her to the dragon."

* * *

Serazina shuffled into the kitchen. Fiola bent over the stove, looking worried. "Did you hear your father leave the house?"

"No. Do you think it was another emergency?"

"Yes, that must have been it." Fiola's face cleared. "He must not have wanted to wake me. I'll call him later and see if everything is all right."

_And he won't be there_ , Serazina thought. _And she'll come home, and he won't be here. And she'll know, and she'll be ashamed, and she'll hate him. How can I endure this?_

* * *

Today Phileas didn't care how many times Daria spoke of her ancestor's legacy nor how many tedious statistics Kermit recited. He intended to observe them all carefully and do a little surreptitious mind reading. He, too, could cite emergencies, and he, too, could be a spider, one who sat in the center of a cleverly spun web waiting for his victims to become entangled.

He had noticed that Malvern had managed to give four of the eight reports and was now giving a considerable portion of the report about Earther activity. He raised his hand. "Isn't Kermit our Councilor for Defense?"

Malvern, wearing a sober expression, spoke carefully. "When we are so threatened defense is every citizen's task. And since the Earther problem is endemic in the fields close to my home, I was happy to offer my services to Kermit."

The dense slime of greed oozed from his mouth.

Daria Turley thumped the table. "Hear, hear. Nathan said, 'Let no man or woman shirk the task of defending our nation.' He would have known what to do about those Earthers. He'd have the problem solved—not like some."

_You're a spider_ , Phileas reminded himself. _Spin out some thread._ "I'm sure you're not implying that I haven't solved the problem. That would mean no solution existed. It would be a call to despair. I certainly have no intention of giving up. We will triumph."

"Of course we will," Daria mumbled. "Don't go about confusing me with those fancy word tricks of yours. I only say you haven't solved it yet."

Romala said, "But, Daria, it took Nathan and Zena a year to realize they had to leave Tamaras and form their own country. The Guardian has had only a few months to solve the Earther problem, and who can say that what he's done hasn't prevented their disease from spreading?"

She gazed calmly at Daria, who smacked toothless gums. "There's a smart girl. Women talk straight and to the point. They've got too much else to do to waste time spouting words for the sound of them. Maybe the Guardian has done more than I thought."

"Except that the Earther crisis is still with us," Malvern said. "Our intelligence sources believe that they have only dispersed. Some hide in the deepest recesses of the forest, and, we suspect, the swamp."

"They could be captured in the forest," Phileas said.

Malvern looked positively cherubic. "As you pointed out, that's not my job. Furthermore, they remain free because they've become unnaturally clever about covering their trails. As far as the swamp is concerned, no one will go in."

"Sensible of them." Phileas noted that Malvern's agile mind resisted his attempts to read it, but no one outwitted the Guardian for long. "In essence, you're telling this Council that you can't follow the trails in the forest, but you're sure Earthers hide there. You don't go into the swamp, but there must be Earthers there, too."

"An oversimplification," Malvern said.

Kermit rattled some papers. "With all respect, I disagree. We must have facts. Ten thousand unlawful leaflets have been put up during the past two weeks and two hundred men have vanished from the fields." He looked up. "We project that there are approximately three thousand Earthers in the Oasis West vicinity, with untold others in the city. Their numbers grow every day. And Earther activity has sprung up in other parts of the country. Some may have fled to Tamaras."

"Where they'd be welcomed warmly," Daria said. "Tamaras, home of harlotry and lasciviousness, Tamara, fleshpot of the world. Tamara can have them all."

"Unfortunately, Tamaras is getting a great many of our citizens," Phileas said. "And I must remind you once again that it is not unlawful to be an Earther."

Snurf Noswan pounded the table with his fist. "As a Dolocairner, I say that allowing the Earther movement to exist provides an unhealthy emotional outlet for my people. Deprived of it, those of my race would reach for the benefits of mind. Is not that in line with the highest ideals of our society?"

"Snurf, I follow your logic," Phileas said. "However, those who seek to wallow in emotion will find another way, should the Earther path be denied them. I choose a more reasonable path. I intend to enforce ever more vigorously among our young people, and especially among our children, a belief in the superiority of Mind. It has come to my attention that rural children get only the most haphazard form of education. This will change."

"I appreciate that," Noswan said, "and I thank you on behalf of my people."

The crisis might have passed, had not Malvern spoken. "I, too, thank you, but I must strongly second Snurf's remarks. Educational improvement, while welcome, does nothing to relieve the current plague of Earthism. In Oasis West, the top field managers are quietly removing known or suspected Earthers from any positions of responsibility. With the drought, it's just too dangerous."

His words recharged Noswan. "And the danger is more than material. The Earthers introduce moral rot into our society. It is as if they bring the poisonous vines and mud and deadly snakes of the swamp into our living rooms. They have the nerve to speak of being redeemed by their sensual and vile reunion with the earth. We are redeemed by suffering and sacrifice. They should experience a little suffering themselves. Or a lot."

Phileas was suddenly reminded of Serazina's claim that Oasan values were as skewed as he'd insisted hers were. She was wrong about him, but when he considered the brutal repression Godlies inflicted on themselves, he thought she might be right. Why was he plagued with the notion that her answers needed to find a home in his mind?

With great effort he put Serazina out of his mind. He needed to give all his attention to the current battle.

"I disagree with both Malvern and Snurf," Romala said. "Earthers should be sent to the Healing Center for rehabilitation. We don't punish people for mental illness. Malvern himself admits that many of them are in positions of leadership in the fields. When such loyal and intelligent citizens become infected by the Earther disease, our job is to treat it as we would any other sickness."

"Yes," Phileas said. "That is the essence of Mind."

"I'm all for Mind," Malvern said, "but I'm also for bold and decisive action. Oasis will remember who acted."

"But, Malvern," Romala said, "surely we're all acting, each in our own way. None of us would expect the Guardian to solve the problem alone. As Nathan said, 'Let no citizen shirk his or her duty.' Our duty is to assist our leader."

Malvern continued wily. "Of course we will. Haven't I just indicated that I've been working night and day to help out, even with all my other responsibilities?"

"Yes, we'd like to hear about those other responsibilities," Phileas said.

"Wait, let's be orderly," Kermit said. "We can't go hopscotching through the agenda. I propose that efforts to round up Earthers who break the law will be redoubled."

"Agreed," the other Councilors chorused.

"Daria, do you formally propose sending proven law breakers to Tamaras?"

"Either that, or if they want to go to Dolocairn, they can join their kin in shedding frozen tears."

"The floor is open for debate," Kermit said.

"We need a punishment to discourage more traitors from cropping up," Malvern said. "I propose that we name all Earthers as traitors and deserters. The people called for execution of the would-be assassins. Can we show less backbone?"

"Can we show less wisdom?" Phileas countered. "I disagreed with the notion of executing assassins. To execute deserters and, for Zena's sake, people who put up posters, is unthinkable."

"It would be costly," Kermit said.

"Not just monetarily," Phileas said, "but in terms of public opinion. We have untold numbers of Earthers, each with relatives and friends. And if we give this cause too many martyrs, it may win sympathy from the people. Exile for lawbreakers is humane; it demonstrates that we're wise and just leaders."

"Who let criminals agitate outside our borders and maybe sneak back in," Malvern said.

"Humph, easier to agitate mud than the Tamarans," Daria said, "and the mountain passes from Dolocairn are closed half the year. More likely that the Earthers will sink into the pleasure pits or the snow and forget about making trouble. The border guards can take care of any who try to slip back here. Call the question."

Malvern cast the only opposing vote. Usually losing infuriated him; today he seemed indifferent. Had he amassed enough power to disregard this Council?

"The next item is the water problem," Kermit said.

"We've been over the conventional solutions in earlier meetings," Malvern said. "I won't waste your time on them, except to say that they're insufficient. There are two items I wish to bring to the attention of this Commission."

"You don't wish to; you were requested to," Phileas said. "I ask that it be noted in the records that Councilor Frost withheld information and plans from this Council."

Malvern banged the table. "No withholding was involved. Both information and plans are in preliminary stages. It's not my practice to waste this Council's time on speculation."

"This is wise," Kermit said.

Phileas leaned forward. "It is, however, the practice of all Councilors to bring promising ideas to each other so that we may develop them. This follows Nathan's principle of collective leadership, our safeguard against tyranny."

Malvern scowled. "I deny any charge of secrecy. It seems to me that certain parties, unsure of their own power, are accusing others of gathering too much."

"A speculative statement," Romala said. "What parties and who are the others?"

Kermit appeared to be in great pain. "Councilors, I must insist that we get through this agenda."

"I agree," Phileas said. The battle was declared, and he was exhilarated, his mind as fit as the body of a boy of sixteen. The preceding skirmishes had limbered up his mental muscles. He'd loosened Daria's traditional alliance with Malvern (Romala had helped). He'd forced Malvern to openly reveal his thoughts. Frost was in excellent mental shape; but quick as his mind was, it lacked imagination, and Phileas had detected a pattern.

Malvern would play three themes. First, he would cite his knowledge of the field workers. Second, he would fashion himself as the true patriot and standard-bearer of Nathan's heritage. Finally, in order to mask his own power mongering, he would claim that the Guardian was losing power and support.

This most dangerous strategy must be countered whenever Malvern attempted to use it. Phileas would reverse it by hammering until the Councilors' ears rang with the alarming news that one among them was building a private base of power as a launching source for suspicious and possibly treasonous activities.

"Councilors," Malvern said in the friendliest of voices, "the news I have to share is very exciting. First, a university scientist has developed the theory that the dragon is responsible for the drought. Dragons breathe fire. Fire evaporates water. Thus, he has deduced that the dragon dries up moisture with his fiery breath."

"But we don't have drought every year," said Kermit.

"The theory allows for this. Our own history shows that the dragon has been alive a very long time. Thus, his cycles of sleep and wakefulness, activity and idleness, may be correspondingly longer than our own."

Phileas wondered if this were Malvern's own notion. "The people are frightened enough. We don't need to terrorize them with an unfounded notion about the dragon. Until this highly imaginative theory is proven—and I'd be interested in hearing how you intend to do that—I decree that it not be brought to the attention of the public."

He smiled inwardly when Malvern leapt at the bait. "Without the Council's approval?"

"I do so by the right of the power vested within me during times of emergency. Didn't you cite the state of emergency as your reason for withdrawing one hundred nats yesterday?"

Kermit looked up in alarm. "I must have a receipt."

Malvern's voice sounded more ragged. He was a hare on the run, skilled in evasive tactics, but no match for the hound of reason who snapped at his legs. "You'll have it, and you, Guardian, shall have the silence you request."

Phileas caught an unguarded thought. _Of course I won't obey; the story's already in circulation._

Malvern continued. "Private consultants to our commission have also, in a remarkably short period of time, devised an innovative, even daring plan which is, if I may say so, very much in the spirit of our Founder himself."

"Hear, hear," Daria said. "If a stupid butterfly can break out of a cocoon, if a chicken can crack open an egg, human beings should be able to burst through any barrier which confines them."

Malvern looked annoyed. "Yes, exactly so. We've conceived a plan for draining water from the swamp."

Phileas was electrified, his prey in sight. "How will you do that?"

"My engineers have come up with a feasible scheme. I'm sure you wouldn't want me to bore you with the details."

Kermit looked up in surprise. "I love details."

"So do I," Phileas said, "especially about a swamp that no one has ever explored—except, perhaps, the ever-elusive Earthers."

"Our engineers are perfectly capable of designing a theoretical model to test feasibility. They've also established that once the swamp is drained and cleared, a new community could be built for our expanding population."

For a moment or two Phileas was paralyzed by the brilliance of the scheme. _Yes, of course, tell the farmers, their eyes in a perpetual squint from staring at the sky for rain clouds, that the dragon is responsible for their misery. Tell them that it's possible to end drought through a new source of water, gain new land for colonization—and a private kingdom and power base for Malvern._

The last part was speculative, but Phileas was sure it was true. Still, that automaton Kermit would demand evidence, proof, facts, and Daria would fall asleep in the midst of any extended explanation. He would have to find another way to block Malvern's march towards dictatorship.

"Wouldn't these plans be costly to develop?" he asked Kermit.

"Very," Kermit said. "Earth to move, pipes to lay—the cost in labor alone would be astronomical. I would insist on a very detailed budget."

Malvern threw up his hands in mock despair. "I'd love nothing more than to be able to give such details to you. Am I one to waste our country's precious resources?"

"What lives in the swamp now?" Romala asked.

"Only a few worthless species of animals."

"And the dragon!" Daria shrieked. "Have you forgotten?"

"Hardly. As the Guardian has so correctly pointed out, we are denied access to the swamp by the presence of the dragon. Killing him is a prerequisite for the launching of our plan. I say the time to kill him is now."

To his astonishment Phileas found himself shouting at the top of his lungs, "That's a terrible idea!" What possessed him? How could he imagine that the dragon must not be killed?

Everyone was staring at him. His mind cast off derangement and came to his help. "Excuse my emotions. It has been a long and tiring meeting. Let me rephrase my statement. As with all of your schemes, a campaign against the dragon would be costly. The fields are already short of labor, thanks to the Earther defections, and we can't endanger the harvest by taking more away. Many of our citizens are already working extra hours as auxiliaries in the Peace Patrol; how can we ask them to do more? We dare not march off to the swamp and leave the city open to attack. Nor can we afford the risk of losing our finest fighters in an assault on the dragon."

Everyone else nodded their heads in agreement, and Malvern lost even more control than Phileas had. "I don't think that's why, I think you're afraid of the dragon."

Romala jumped to her feet immediately. "To accuse the Guardian of cowardice is treason."

"Statute 12, Article 47," said Kermit.

"Punishable by exile," Daria said. "Come to your senses, Malvern, you don't want to be traveling with the Earthers to Tamaras or Dolocairn."

Malvern's face turned white as a Dolocairner snowfield. "I meant no treason. I spoke in the heat of the moment. Guardian, I apologize."

Now that the bully was flat on the ground, Phileas decided to show the other Councilors that he could be gracious. "Malvern has only said that I'm afraid of the dragon. That's true; so are we all. It's not considered good etiquette to mention it. The remark was rude, but I'd be hesitant to accuse any Councilor of treason without further evidence. I accept your apology."

Malvern still looked white. "Thank you, Guardian."

"And it's hardly necessary for me to say that should the dragon attack, I will be the first to take up arms against him. I suggest we move on. I propose that we table any decisions on the dragon and the swamp until the harvest is in. By then, our field hands will be free for mobilization, and we should have the Earther problem solved. If an attack on the dragon is warranted at that time, we'll have the forces to do so."

"Call the question," Kermit droned.

Malvern voted aye with the rest.

### Chapter 19

Phileas sat alone in the chambers long after the others had left. Romala had lingered, perhaps intending a cozy dissection of the meeting. He had praised her for her contributions to the discussion, begged her to evaluate the proceedings at her leisure, and report to him the next morning.

A woman knew when she was getting the brush-off, no matter how it was worded. "Very well," she'd said and left without a farewell.

He dismissed all thought of her. He had far more important matters to analyze, a dizzying array of questions that gyrated like a child's spinning toy. Malvern was hardly quelled. Once he recovered he would be more circumspect, concealing his machinations. Phileas, though he disliked the idea of a secret corps of spies, decided that from this moment forth Malvern wouldn't spend a waking or sleeping moment unobserved.

The propaganda war was another matter. The most skilled agents couldn't track down whispers. Malvern wouldn't call him a coward, but those sentiments would circulate in the marketplace, the fields, wherever the people gathered. The Guardian's authority would be undermined. Was that what made him so uneasy?

It was enough, but he sensed rumblings in an area of his mind he was reluctant to explore. _I am Guardian_ , he told himself. _If I can bear to look at the disease in others, I must examine it ruthlessly in myself. Why did I become unbalanced when Malvern spoke of killing the dragon? Fear alone_ _wouldn't stop me. I would lead the people if it were the right thing to do, and when could it ever be wrong?_

He heard demented Janzi moan, "The poor dragon." He'd easily dismissed that insane remark until it had been joined by the nonsense he'd found in that damned girl's delusions about the giant reptile _: If you learn to love me, Oasis will be saved._

How had such heresy stuck in his mind? Could the bullet that struck him have in some way been poisoned with the subtle oils of doubt, creeping slowly into his mind until they found a place to sprout evil seeds? Nonsense, pure superstition, and a reflection of the worst Etrenzian practices: soothsaying, desert visions, gods speaking to men who were sun-sick. Perhaps he suffered an illusion woven of unhealthy country air.

Whatever its source, I must face this unhealthiness in my own mind. The more I look into it the more it's like biting into rotten spots in what appeared to be a perfectly solid and healthy apple. I must go deeper. How can I triumph when I fear my own thoughts?

He left the chamber, nearly tripping over a pair of cats crouched by the doorway.

* * *

The house was very quiet when Fiola left for work, and all sounds seemed muted outside. Stalks of corn and wheat rustled in the dry breeze, and the petals of meadow flowers fluttered limply. Though cooking smells and cries of greeting gave testimony that other humans existed, their presence was faint, far from Serazina's lonely corner of the world.

She was glad she'd already given up any possibility of becoming a Healer. No one tainted by an outlaw Earther parent could ever be trusted in such a sensitive position. Even Elissia's job might be now endangered. But that was far from the worst of it.

The worst of it was almost beyond thinking about. Serazina had never imagined feeling sorry for her mother, but what she felt now went far deeper. Fiola would be destroyed by the anger sure to explode through every layer of mental mastery she'd ever built. Once she'd spent her rage, she'd be left with loneliness and suffering, endless days and nights of grief.

Though a newfound compassion for her mother made Serazina long to comfort her, she would instead cause more suffering. She had to leave the country before they decided she was an Earther, too.

There was no hope for her in this world, and she found herself longing for the other, where all was peace, where a lovely green lady replenished the shrinking store of love in her heart. If only she could escape there again, to that misty land where fear found no home, to that world of moss and vines, where the Guardian could never find her.

Kitten rounded the corner to go to the side of the house. Serazina thought she heard digging and cried, "Don't, please. Fiola will kill you if you dig a hole in her vegetable garden." Not that Fiola was going to give a dragon's butt about carrots now.

As she'd feared, the kitten was pawing the earth. "I'm warning you," Serazina said. She stopped in astonishment.

No vegetables grew in this section of the garden. Flowers Serazina had never seen erupted from the earth: butterfly golden blossoms whose depths held sunbeams, blue flowers the colors of sky and sea, pink ones like a kitten's nose, row after row of glorious flowers that looked as radiant as jewels must be, rising from stems and leaves sparkling like emeralds.

Serazina, bedazzled by this display, didn't notice the kitten tugging at the stalk of a pink flower with her teeth until she had pulled it out from the ground. "Why?" Serazina cried. "Give me that. I'll have to throw it away so she doesn't find it."

When Serazina reached down for the flower, the kitten growled, her eyes the dim sulfur of a mist-shrouded moon. For a second Serazina thought she saw contempt in them. That was ridiculous. Cats might feel happiness or sadness, but they didn't have complicated emotions.

"Come on," she commanded, "I'm trying to save your little tail. My mother isn't going to like this. Can I have it?"

The kitten dropped the flower into her hand. Its petals, soft as a baby's flesh, warmed her hand. Light danced in the corners of her mind, weaving her thoughts into a rainbow mist. She knew that no such flowers grew in her familiar world and that these could have only come from the world beyond. Or perhaps she had again entered that world without knowing it. Maybe the worlds had blurred together, like the places where two different colors of wet paint met. Or maybe there were windows and doors she couldn't see, and the light of the other world streamed through them.

Or maybe she was totally demented.

The kitten gave her a look like the whisper of a dragonfly's wings and dashed past her towards the fields. She knew. She was from that world, too.

_Nature's conversations._ Serazina wept for the loss of her father. If she found that world, could she somehow find him, or at least feel close to him and understand why he had to run away and ruin their lives? She tucked the pink flower into a buttonhole and followed the kitten.

* * *

Tara was exhausted from listening to Serazina's thoughts. They jumped around like a horde of hungry grasshoppers.

The fields seem more dry than usual. The earth crumbles beneath my feet, and those plants look awfully thirsty. Oh, I'm hot. Oh, I'm tired. This time next week, probably, I'll be somewhere else, but if I leave Oasis, I might never see my father again. I wish I could do something to save him, to make people understand what he believes. But what does he believe? It's hard to follow, like that kitten; she doesn't even act as if we're going anywhere; she just zigs and zags all over the place.

With a mind like hers, Serazina had huge nerve talking about zigging and zagging.

Where's the magic world I saw before?

She'd never see the Brightness with the downpour of her thoughts.

_If it disappears so easily, I could never stay in it anyway. I might as well turn back_.

Not a chance. Tara dashed out of the last field into the meadowlands.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

She stopped so that the stupid girl could catch up. They'd been walking a long time, and tiredness sharpened her irritation at the impossibility of trying to communicate with a creature who couldn't understand civilized habits. If she tried to sleep a little, Serazina would just start whining again about how they weren't going anywhere.

After a quick wash, Tara ran up to the girl, stood on her hind legs, and stretched her front ones up to the girl. Serazina loved this; she called it "just like a baby wanting to be picked it up." What a cat had to suffer in order to communicate with humans.

_Now listen to me,_ she said, making her eyes reflect the colors of the garden. Her gaze rewove the rainbow tapestry; a beam of brilliant colors flashed between herself and the girl. _Look_ , her mind shouted. _The magical world is HERE. The new world takes form in the brightness of the old._

The girl throbbed with vague comprehension, but her mind rejected the pictures. _Hallucination. I'm tired. The sun is too bright. My eyes hurt. I hardly slept all night. My life is ruined. There's nothing here._

It was discouraging work. Tara tried to heighten Serazina's other senses. She opened her own ears wide to take in the love songs of birds, the soft creak of tree limbs as tasty rodents leapt from one branch to the next, the laughter of leaves.

Blended fragrances bathed her mouth and quivering nostrils: the earthy scent and taste of moles, the green sweetness of young grass and leaves, the tang of pine needles. How exquisite the world was, how various the elements that formed the One. Why couldn't the girl sense it?

Disinclined though she was to give Orion any credit today, she remembered the mental techniques he'd batted into her. She would stop trying. She would empty her mind of ambition. She would think only of the Mother.

_Help me_ , she prayed. _Let the girl see you again. Give her a vision that will bind her feet to Your path._

The golden eyes were unblinking. _No._

Tara glared at those cold yellow eyes. _Why not?_

_If I could let her in, I could let all the humans in, and there'd be no need for your Quest. She must_ choose _to know my world._

The last thing Tara wanted to hear about was the choice-based universe _. But_ _how?_

You must be the connection between her heart and mine.

Do you think I've been chasing flies all day?

The Mother's smile was a shimmer in the grass. _The girl won't open her heart to Me until you open yours to her, until your love for her is free from your many opinions about her humanness, until it is a pure force to pull her to Me._

_If you had to spend a few weeks in a human home,_ Tara spat _, I guarantee you'd reconsider this whole Quest. It's fine for you to have perfect love. No human ever trod on your tail or tried to kill you._

The sky darkened and growled. _In many human hearts, I am long dead._

But there's so much more of you. It's too much to ask me.

_I ask a lot,_ the Mother said and disappeared.

Tara looked at the sky, wondering where She'd gone, probably off to tell some other poor innocents why they had to do it all by themselves. _Fine, since no one is about to help me, I'll give it a chase—but I'm not knocking myself out, You hear me?_

No answer. Tara hunkered down to business, applying every lesson in discipline she'd ever learned. She dug into all the corners of her mind, remembering the girl's acts of love, the endless hours of stroking and rubbing, the way she scratched particularly sensitive spots behind the ears, smuggled gifts of fish, the daily risks taken to deceive that horror of a mother. Serazina loved her as much as any human being could love an animal.

This, when you got down to the unsheathed claws of it, was only enough to allow Tara to project a thin and wavering pulse of love, but it was more than the girl had ever gotten. Her heart could barely take it in.

* * *

Serazina's heart swelled like an overripe fruit filled with liquid warmth. With gentle hands the green and golden lady parted the layers of fear and disbelief that covered its sweetness. Trust and confidence spilled out of her, dissolving the worried girl named Serazina into a dance of light and sound. _No more me,_ a voice exulted, _no more miserable mass of complaints and fears._

_No more me?_ her mind shouted. _Stupid heart, this means death!_

The lady faded. _Don't leave me,_ her heart cried.

The lady materialized long enough to give Serazina a long, sad look. _Follow me,_ she said and dissolved into a nimbus that danced across the meadow to the woods. Tara jumped out of Serazina's arms and began trotting in that direction. Undecided, Serazina paused until a cord looped around her heart to pull her along the kitten's zigzag trail.

"Lady, lady, please wait," Serazina sobbed as she stumbled over stones and tree stumps. She had been running for years. Her heart, pounding unevenly, hurt as much as the aching muscles of her legs. As she faltered, the warnings of her mind grew stronger, until at last the vision of the lady was no more than a tattered memory.

When she stopped to rest, her burning lungs took in the reek of decay and death. There was no Lady here, unless her colors had rotted to gray and black. She couldn't live in this world where dripping vines snaked across the boggy path and shrouds of moss concealed the sun.

Serazina screamed and began to dash back to the woods. She was nearly there when she noticed that the kitten hadn't moved.

* * *

Tara buried her head in her paws and mewed. To have come this far, to have exhausted the energy she'd once thought inexhaustible, only to have the girl refuse to take the last few steps that could make the difference between the survival and the loss of a world, made her feel that leaving her mother had been a catnip feast in comparison.

_I give up. I'm not Chosen. I'm not worthy. And it's not my fault if the Mother abandoned me_.

The old familiar purr buzzed in her hears. _Who forsook whom? Who diluted the flow of My love into a thin stream of watery milk? Instead of giving up, why don't you surrender?_

To what?

To me. To the Dance. It's not your life I want. My jaws hunger for the flesh of your vanity and the shivering bones of your fear. Let Me relieve you of these burdens.

Perhaps they were burdens, but they seemed to her as light as kitten's whisker. Besides, the vanity business was unfair. How else could a small kitten puff herself up enough to look as if she were the size for the job? What if she'd said to those doubting cats, "It was just an accident that the Dragon didn't kill me. It had nothing to do with my being smart and intuitive, to say nothing of adorable in appearance?" Who would have been impressed? A kitten who'd been given the job of saving the world had no time to be humble.

The fear business was even more unfair. Did the Mother dare accuse her of lack of courage, she who had faced the mightiest beast on earth? Of course, she was afraid. She'd made it no secret that fear had trailed her from the beginning of the Quest, but she'd tried to use it. It warned her when danger threatened, which when humans were around was all the time. Her fear of humans had kept her alive. She wouldn't give it up; she wouldn't surrender her heart to the dangerous glue of human affection. It wasn't smart, it wasn't reasonable...

She sounded just like Serazina. She'd become infected by the girl's poisonous thoughts. And now the few steps Serazina refused to take mirrored her own reluctance.

They were so close; a bridge of light shimmered between them. Reason argued against crossing it, and reason, as she'd said to Druid, was the enemy of the Quest. So easy to serve up tasty truths—Orion was the master of that—so hard to swallow them when they turned bitter in the throat. Now it was time for her to eat her own wisdom.

She closed her eyes, and impressions both sad and sweet flooded her heart: a bird's twilight song, the dying beauty of a crescent moon, and the stately splendor of the Dance of Existence. Life and death spiraled ever in and out, and her own fears died gratefully so that she might truly live, be truly the servant of the quest.

_Mother_ , she whispered, _I'm ready to surrender fear and mistrust. Let me return Home._

The Mother purred, and Tara felt paws closing around her neck. _Her sharp claws come to deliver me_ , the kitten sang. _My soul trembles with joy._ She shuddered with pleasure and pain as layers of her being shredded away, creating a passageway through which her soul could soar upward into the realm where all was One and life and death embraced and there was only the Dance, where she and Serazina were threads in a glowing tapestry, interwoven by the will of the Weaver.

She saw how bravely the girl danced in the face of what she believed to be certain death, putting Tara's safety before her own. No more could be asked of any creature.

Guided by the Mother's paw, Tara ran deeper into the swamp.

* * *

"No," Serazina sobbed as she stumbled after her. "Why did you do that, you stupid kitten? I promised to take care of you, but I can't save you if the dragon catches you. We'll just both die. Don't you know that I'd rather die than be too cowardly to save you?"

Twisted branches stretched out to grab her. The shadows cast in the dim light weren't like other shadows; they had their own menacing life. The air was heavy and fetid with the dragon's breath. A strand of moss touched her face, and she shrieked with fright.

* * *

"I sensed you coming, small whiskered one," Druid roared, scooping her into his arms.

The force of his breath flattened Tara's ears and ruffled her fur. "Softly, dragon," she hissed. "Listen, the girl is on her way here."

"I thought I heard the cry of a strange creature in distress. Why is she so unhappy?"

"Most humans are not overjoyed about meeting you. She's only coming because she thinks she has to rescue me from terrible danger."

"Her ignorance is appalling!" Druid roared. "If she believes that I'd harm you, I have little to say to her. In fact, it would be an insult to all dragons for me to meet her."

"Don't you dare, not after what I've been through today. Yes, her ignorance is far more appalling than you could possibly know. But she'll be here any moment, and you _will_ stay. Come, Druid, imagine how animals will sing of this day, of the great-hearted dragon who took a mighty and magnanimous step to save the World. Listen, that's her, crashing through the bushes. Let me do the talking."

* * *

Serazina cried as she stumbled down the vile, muddy path. _No more special leftovers for that cat,_ she thought. _Maybe she's dead already, eaten up by the dragon, and even if he doesn't kill me, I'll never find my way out of here_.

Through her tears, she noticed that up ahead a bit of sunlight shone through the dark leaves. A few steps later she saw a large pond. Water lilies floated on its surface. On the banks frogs sang.

And a dragon crouched, holding the kitten in his paws, not the friendly, courteous being of her visions, not the graceful dancing partner who'd whispered to her with sweet sibilance, but a huge, roaring beast, who, down to the last puff of steam spraying from his nostrils, was a creature who deserved to be hated with every cell of a human's being.

The sight of him freed her heart entirely of the treacherous images of the green and golden Lady and the beautiful land, those glittering facades designed to conceal the horror of the swamp. There was no other world, only this one, and the only way to leave it was to die.

And maybe that would be best, better to die than to live this fearful life of suffering, nothing for her back in the world but a vanished father and a mother who was going to freak more than anyone had ever freaked, nothing but surgeons' knives and losing herself in a slow death more painful than the one that waited for her now.

"Don't you hurt her, old dragon!" she shouted as she raced towards the monster. "Let go of her!"

The dragon roared again, and the impact of his breath knocked her against a tree.

* * *

"Why did you do that?" Tara hissed. "Didn't you know that too much fear can make a human's heart stop altogether?"

"Considering the quality of their hearts, that wouldn't be a tremendous loss," Druid said. "And hers is a ugly little squeaking thing. I've seen slugs with more character. Is it a wonder that when my mind roared at me to attack, I obeyed?"

"It's no wonder at all," Tara said with a sigh. "It's been that kind of day. But I have a few things to say that may scrape harshly against your scales. I've seen her heart, and it's the most beautiful thing about her. When she charged you, it was pumping ferociously with courage. Maybe there's an ugly squeak inside you. Maybe it isn't her fear that burns your nostrils, but your own."

"Me, afraid of a miserable spindly-legged thing?"

"Who stands for all the humans who hate you. Admit it."

"I don't like you as much as I did the other day," Druid said. He raised his foot to stamp the mud.

"No!" Tara screamed. "I'll be grooming all day, and I have other things to do."

Druid slowly lowered his foot. "All right, I admit it, and I can't think of one reason why I should even tolerate this creature in my swamp—"

Tara was sure she'd used up at least eight lives today. "And you're afraid of what she means: giving up your reasonable hatred of the humans, sacrificing your peaceful life in the swamp, going into the human world, submitting your will to that of the One—"

Druid covered his eyes with his paws. "That's more than enough in the truth department. But you're going to have to do some very fancy tail-shaking to convince me to like that, that thing."

"Just give me a chance," Tara said, barely swallowing a yawn. She'd applied every discipline Orion had ever taught her about ignoring the demands of the body during this exhausting journey, but if she didn't get to sleep soon she was going to collapse. "Do what I told you to do in the first place—nothing. Watch me, and get some idea of how to deal with humans."

With a graceful twist, the kitten turned to face Serazina. The only sound in the clearing was her slow, rhythmic purring.

* * *

Serazina stumbled to her feet and picked up the kitten. "We've got to escape," she tried to say, but her tongue was thick and heavy, and her mouth wouldn't move at all. She found herself falling into the kitten's eyes, into a stream of honey, smooth and silky as it flowed through her, liquefying her limbs, coating the dark warnings in her mind. It carried her back to the beginning of her journey (years ago, it seemed); its force split her into two people.

While the old Serazina sat on a bench, the new one was a bee who hummed as she flew among flowers glowing like jewels. As the first girl trudged through the meadow, whining, "Where are we going?" and wondered where the so-called magical world was, the second danced with birds and butterflies, skimming lightly over grass, her song a beam of light.

Old Serazina stumbled through the forest, crying for the beautiful Lady. New Serazina leaned her head against the comfort of Her shoulder.

The magic was here. It had always been here. The stream of golden light carried her into the Dance.

As she danced with the kitten and the dragon, she was the sway of the cypress trees, a cattail's bold thrust, the sleepiness of moss.

The Dance moving within her, she saw those who shuffled reluctantly, humans, blindfolded as she had been, their feet trampling the delicate fabric of the pattern, their hands tearing at it, opening wounds that drowned the golden world in blood. She was a doe, sinking into death as her fawns bleated in terror, and a tree who screamed at the bite of the saw. She was the earth, stabbed by shovel and hoe, her veins filled with poison.

But all these horrors were symptoms spawned by desolate human hearts, driving some to the Godlies, who promised to strip them of emotion, naming it sin, some to the Healers, who organized the thoughts of their minds in neat rows, and others to the Earthers, who sang of redemption in grass and sky.

_And where do I fit in?_ Serazina asked the lady.

You are my hope.

What must I do?

Learn to listen.

To you?

To all my creations. Listen.

A soft wind rose up, its sigh the feathery chords of a harp. Nestlings in a tree nearby cried out, "Hungry! Father! Food!" A song rose from their parent's throat. "Coming, my loves." Sunlight poured through the forest, each shining ray singing, "Grow, grow."

Above these sounds Serazina heard a soft mewing like words and a deep rumble with hissing fringes.

"That was an astonishing performance, Tara. No one else could have convinced me of the tenderness possible in a human heart. I was amazed to feel sorrow that she had to experience her species' misery."

"She must feel it clearly. It's not easy being Chosen."

"But harder for her. Imagine seeing how far your own species has fallen."

Serazina didn't remember the last time she'd taken drugs, but she'd heard that they could have a long-lasting effect, all those chemicals lying in wait until a person was really stressed.

"I feel strange," she said, but that was stupid. They wouldn't understand.

The kitten loped over to her and mewed. Serazina's mind filled with a picture of herself sitting down.

"Did you say I should sit down?" Stupid to ask.

The kitten mewed some more, and Serazina realized that she was shaking.

You've had a hard day.

"You're talking? Really? I think I'm having a nervous breakdown."

The kitten hissed. _Quiet. Listen._

Serazina closed her eyes and saw, as if from a distance, the kitten and herself. Between them streamed pictures: a smiling, dancing dragon, the green and golden Lady, trees that sang to the sun.

"You gave me those pictures," she said. "Is that how you talk?"

The kitten mewed and trilled, and Serazina, still following instructions, listened. _I'll pretend she's talking,_ she thought, and the sounds shaped themselves into words.

"We communicate in two ways," the kitten said. "All creatures make sounds, understandable to those who listen. We also stream pictures and emotions, just as humans do."

She stopped mewing, and Serazina heard, "You hear human thoughts and emotions when they don't speak. Why is it so hard to believe that every creature can communicate in this way?"

"Because I didn't know animals could speak Oasan," Serazina said.

"See how slow they are?" Tara said to the dragon, who nodded his head.

"Your words and emotions translate into the language all living things share," Tara hissed. "Humans don't know it because they don't believe in it enough to listen."

_Listen_ , her father said. _Father, I hear._ Serazina started to cry. "I wish Johar were here. He'd understand."

The kitten—Serazina suddenly heard her name, Tara!—looked up at her, her eyes warm and golden. "He does understand. I'd like to talk with you about that and about many things, but I'm more tired than a kitten has ever been. I know you've had an awful day, too, but you can't imagine how many visions I've had to create just to get you here. And this last one has taken my remaining strength. I can't explain anything right now."

"Who can tell me what it was all for, what it means?"

"Him," Tara said, pointing to the dragon before she closed her eyes again.

* * *

It was hard to hear him at first. She made it easier by climbing a tree so that they were close to eye level with each other, but she couldn't stop the mind that kept on shouting, _Don't you know that's the dragon?_

Still, there was something magical about his eyes, soft, green, glistening with tears, and his voice, once she got used to its hissing undertone, was gentle and soothing as the sound of water flowing over stones.

She'd already experienced this Mother he spoke of, She who created all life, who loved her children and held them close to Her heart, even the humans who harmed Her—but that last bit seemed impossible.

"I don't love those who hurt me," she said.

"Nor do I," Druid said. "I've hated the humans for a long time."

Serazina lowered her head. "I wouldn't blame any animal for hating humans, especially you. When I think of how people hate dragons. They have a drill—"

"I know about the drill. Don't remind me of it. I don't want our newfound rapport shattered."

"I didn't want to play it; it made me sick—truly."

A shower of tears fell on her head. "That's why you're Chosen, and why I arrive at last to the belief that the Quest may come about, that the world may yet be saved, and that my being may once again be graced by the Mother's smile."

"Why do you cry?"

"Because the heart that gives up hope becomes like the dry earth. When rain comes, it cannot at first contain its moisture; the water spills away, as these tears spill from my shriveled heart."

"Is it the way happiness sometimes hurts?"

"That way exactly." He wiped his eyes, and his gaze fell on the flower she had tucked into her buttonhole. "How lovely. It glows like a gem, and a dragon loves nothing more."

Tara opened her eyes and smiled a secret smile. "Why is that? Are dragons like humans, in love with possessions?"

"Certainly not. For us, the beauty of gems symbolizes the beauty of all souls, and their light illuminates the path to realization of this truth. So this flower sparkles in my heart, lights my path, and gives me courage."

Serazina shook her head. "Anything seems possible here, where everything is magic. But in my world I'm just a girl, and I can't change how people think."

"All Chosen feel this way at first," Druid said. "Ask Tara."

"I've felt that way many times," Tara said. "Even cats, who should know better, are difficult to convince. And once I was on my own, a small, lonely kitten weighed down with impossible tasks, I spent many nights in terror."

"As did I," Druid said. "Though I knew that all dragons were behind me, there's something quite unsatisfactory about long-distance support."

"No support is even more unsatisfying," Serazina said. "Do you know what they'd do to me if they found about this day?"

Druid looked at her with great interest. "What?"

Tara intervened. "To think a thing is to wish it into existence. We've all conquered a host of fears today, and this is a time to rejoice—" Her eyes widened, and a low moan escaped from her throat.

"Charming one, what troubles you? How can I ease your pain?" Druid asked, knotting his claws together.

"I don't know, an uneasy feeling, as if someone is rubbing my fur the wrong way." The kitten closed her eyes and shivered. "Somecat is dying and calling me, such a faint voice. Blessed whiskers, I think it's my great-grandmother. I've got to go back. Druid, I'll return as soon as I can, but it might be a day or so."

"I'll send Gris to the grove if I need you urgently." The dragon began to weep. "I should be used to death by now, but the thought of your sorrow is heartbreaking." He picked up the kitten, and they touched noses.

He turned to Serazina. "Chosen girl, be strong. Know that I will protect you. Though my thoughts are slow my heart is not. If you're in danger, I will know."

"Thank you, Druid. I'll do my best not to let any humans hurt you. And I'll try to be brave. I'll try to remember the magic."

He plucked at his hide and removed a gleaming green scale. "Keep this. Look at it when you doubt."

### Chapter 20

Tara noticed that Serazina was silent as they left the swamp. When she finally spoke, her voice was the whisper of a dead leaf from which all color had faded.

"Nothing is the same. We're coming to a part of the forest I know well. I played here countless times as a child. That fallen tree has rotted more, and the stream hardly exists at the moment, but those changes don't matter. It's me, everything I was so sure of, everything that was true. I find myself wondering whether roots hold the trees up or if they rest on some kind of magic."

"Both," Tara said. "You're coming home to some deeper truths. What you knew before was a different world, the world of humans."

"But I'm a human, and I have to live in that world."

"Live in it, yes, and change it."

They traveled together a little further, and Tara said, "We part now."

"And the magic leaves us," Serazina said. "You're just a kitten, and I'm just a girl who has to go back into the world."

_Show them miracles and mysteries, and they complain because their underdeveloped hearts can't retain them._ Eager to rejoin her family and say good-bye to Misha before she died, Tara pawed the ground impatiently until she remembered no family awaited Serazina. No one wanted to hear about her adventures. She faced the disasters of a missing father and a probably hysterical mother.

If the girl didn't get some strength, she'd slither right back into the mass of disconnected humanity. That would be a terrible end to a trying day. _Misha, wait for me. I can't leave my work undone._

"I'll teach you how to block your thoughts," Tara said. "Once you've learned, no one, not even the Guardian, will be able to read them. You'll be safe."

"Do you think I can learn that?"

Tara wasn't certain at all, but she saw no point in saying that. Blocking her thoughts, she said, "It's the easiest thing in the world. See if you can read my thoughts."

"I see only your eyes; they're like suns. If I tried to look behind them, I'd be burned."

"That's the idea. Sometimes I work with waterfalls, but I also like to think my eyes into great blazing suns that shield all my thoughts. Green-eyed cats turn their eyes into dense, tangled greenery, almost like the swamp. Blue-eyed cats imagine their eyes as bottomless seas in which a creature might drown."

"The sea, I've only seen pictures of it."

"I've never seen it at all, but I've heard it described as an endless expanse of water that ripples and coils and crashes onto sand. The sea sings, sometimes in a gentle hum, other times in a mighty roar."

"I can almost see it," Serazina said in a dreamy voice. "It's blue . . . and bottomless. At the horizon it runs into the sky, and the moon tides pull the water, and everything changes."

Though Tara knew this was illusion, she fought a moment of panic as a crashing wave towered over her. "Excellent," she said.

"Don't you find it lonely to hide your thoughts?"

"Seeds long for the sun, but they know that they have to hide in the earth until they're strong enough to bear the light. And now I must go."

Serazina kissed her nose. "Tell your great-grandmother that Serazina greets her."

Tara noticed the unconscious dignity in the way the girl held her head. "I will."

She buried her face in Serazina's hand and left.

* * *

Serazina continued alone, listening to leaves rustling, nearly understanding them, when human voices broke her trance.

"The Mother weeps!" a voice cried. "She weeps because of those who destroy her, because of humans. Our lives are nothing. We, the Children of Earth, gladly sacrifice them to You."

Serazina crept closer. Men and women, some wearing the deep green of field workers, others the brown of those who worked in offices, clustered in a small clearing, kneeling on the ground, their arms extended. Her father was among them. She wanted to run to him, but she hesitated.

Janzi Nor'azzi came into the clearing, her small body swathed in skirts and shawls. Her black eyes snapped with ferocity. "Enough of this weeping business. Haven't you been listening to me? You're all bound up in spider webs of guilt. You sound like Godlies. It's not a crime to be ignorant. The crime is to know the truth and not act on it. What are we going to do?"

"We don't know what to do," one man said. "We're waiting for a sign."

"Don't wait for signs; look for them."

Serazina nearly gasped. Behind Janzi, she saw the sunlit Lady, Her fingers trailing rainbows of light, Her green eyes staring at Serazina.

Don't wait for signs; you're the sign.

But I don't know most of these people. Some of them could be spies.

Trust in Me.

But I hardly know You. It's not reasonable—

I didn't choose you because you were reasonable. Look at your father; he sees Me.

Tears streamed down Johar's face. "Dear Lady, Weaver of the World, Healer of all wounded and broken hearts, please guide us. I'll go wherever you ask."

Serazina stepped into the clearing, and Johar gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"My rescuer," Janzi said and opened her arms to embrace her.

"My daughter?" Johar asked, his eyes brightening.

"Serazina helped me escape, and I have the strangest feeling that's not all she's been up to. Look at her face. It glows, as if . . . have you seen Her?"

Serazina closed her eyes, and the glimmer of the Lady filled her. "I've seen Her, and She's so beautiful. I want to help everyone see Her."

Janzi led Serazina to a stump. "Sit down here, girl, and tell us everything."

Serazina tried to tell her story, but so much of it was feeling and picture and the Dance.

Tell them about the dragon.

Serazina tried not to shudder. Again, she saw the sea, but now she stood at the edge of a crumbling cliff. All she could do was to jump and hope.

"I've met the dragon," she said. "He is kind and gentle. He weeps to know that humans fear and hate him."

"I don't believe any of this. The girl is crazy," one man growled. "I need some proof."

Serazina nearly gagged at the acidic hostility in his voice. He couldn't be an Earther. She was about to tell the others to flee when the Lady appeared again.

All will be well.

How can you be so sure?

Because I am who I am. Show them the scale.

Serazina was uncertain, but whom else could she trust? She pulled it from her pocket, holding it up to the light. "He gave it to me."

They gathered around her, hands reaching, but Serazina held the scale fast, fearing that it would be crushed. As she touched its smooth surface, she remembered the cries of "Dragonslayer" and the dark malice that that had gleamed in Malvern Frost's eyes. The dragon's life suddenly seemed as fragile as his scale.

"I think the dragon is in danger. If you want action, find a way to save him."

"Wait a minute," Janzi said. "I fully approve of this idea, but you have to realize the rest of us haven't met the dragon, and we've been trained to hate and fear him. If we're going to help him, we should at least learn to like him a little."

"Oh, he's very likable," Serazina said. "He's the Guardian of the swamp. And he doesn't at all understand why humans are afraid of him. He's never done anything to hurt them. His mane is so beautiful, like silk."

"And how did you speak to him?" Janzi asked.

"I don't know, I can't explain. It was like walking across a bridge. I couldn't until I could. Maybe anyone could. The kitten said she'd been trying to communicate with me for weeks, but I wasn't listening because I didn't believe she could speak to me."

"Like I told you, we've been learning to listen," Johar said. "But we need to learn more. Maybe right now the most important thing is to learn what the humans are up to. Those of you who still live in the village must listen and watch."

"Good plan," Janzi said. "Our learning has begun."

* * *

Now that she was free to hurry to Misha, Tara found herself reluctant _. Once again the girl and I mirror each other,_ she thought. _I fear this path as much as she fears hers. It's one thing to Dance in the Mother's arms, knowing that She'll place you_ _gently back on the ground. It's one thing to share the Dance with a mouse or mole and quite another to share the dying of one of my own kind, a cat of my blood. No doubt it's a_ _lesson the Mother has designed to aid me in the Quest, but I wish these lessons were spaced further apart._

Orion ran to the edge of the clearing to greet her. "Were you successful?"

"I was, and the most astonishing—"

He placed a paw on her mouth. "I'm eager to hear, but you must go to Misha. She refuses to die without seeing you."

The elderly cat lay in one of the cool, dark caves in the grove, attended by Emerald. As Tara approached the entrance, she hesitated, repelled by the odor of death. She stood outside, struggling to overcome her fear, and listened to her mother and grandmother.

"Lovely cat," Misha murmured. "Prettier even than your mother, for she had a hard set to her jaw. You might have looked the same if you'd stayed in the alley. Thank the Long-tailed One that you escaped. My poor daughter would be glad if she knew."

"She does," Emerald said softly. "She is free."

"And so I will be soon, once I've seen that flower-faced kitten of yours."

"I'm here," Tara said, entering the cave.

"Come close," Misha whispered. "What a face; even the Mother must smile when She sees it. So sleek and shining, but look at that mud. Emerald taught you better than that."

"I was in the swamp with the dragon and the girl."

"Tell me more. What a sweet song to carry me Home."

She closed her eyes as Tara spoke, and the kitten noticed how Misha's spirit flew in and out of her body, each time staying longer and longer outside.

"I never heard such a story," Misha said when Tara was done. "Imagine a human brave enough to risk her life for a kitten. Life has been good to me, Tara, and now I'm dying in the Green, safe in the paws of the Shining-furred One."

A shudder rippled through her thin body, and Tara felt the death tremors as if they were her own. _This is what I fear. One minute Misha's scolding me for muddy fur; the next minute she pops through the veil into that big Catnip Field in the Sky._

"Misha," she said.

"It's all right," the old cat said. "She wants me now, and I'm ready to go."

She closed her eyes. "Come close, both of you."

Tara and Emerald placed their paws on Misha's head. The cave began to spin. Hadn't Tara had enough visions for one day? This was the most dizzying yet. Three cats floated in a rainbow-colored bubble: Misha, dropping memories and pain like the fur of a winter coat, and Emerald, who bounced between misery and ecstasy.

And Tara, seeing them, but also part of them, young, old, a mother, a kitten, alive

And dead.

Misha broke out of the bubble, scattering rainbows throughout the cave in blinding fragments of color. When the air quieted, she was gone.

Misha's body lay on the flat stone, where Tara, Emerald, and Orion stood. One by one, the visitors approached. Some were clearly wondering if mice had been killed for the funeral feast, but most managed to purr their greetings and blessings without moving their eyes from the stone.

And even those who looked hungry (and who could blame them? Not one city cat had as much flesh as a garbage-eating village cat) drew closer when Senti said, "Chosen, there's a lot to talk about."

"Yes," others murmured, and some of them, village residents, approached her with un-catlike shyness. They stared at her, some with awe, some with definite second thoughts about her size. She pretended to be indifferent, though she wanted to scream that a cat might stare at a king, but never at another cat.

Four cougars burst into the clearing.

"Hail, cats," an aged one growled. "I, Tomo, leader of the swamp cats, greet you." He trotted over to Tara. "I heard you were in the swamp. You should have given me advance notice. I would have arranged a welcoming committee."

He was telling her politely that she'd broken a rule of feline etiquette, but she shifted the responsibility where it belonged.

"My father, Orion, can explain why he considered it necessary for me to go alone and unannounced. As for the second visit, you try leading a human into the swamp and see if you have time to send out an advance message. Once the ceremonies are over, I'll return, and I'd like you to introduce the girl to the swamp residents."

"Let's hope they don't run me out of the neighborhood." His eyes turned to Misha's body and he lowered his head. "Forgive my anger. Allow me to share your grief and respect."

The ceremony began. Orion rose. "Misha had faith when there was no reason for it, and she did her best to inspire Emerald with that faith. My mate wouldn't be here tonight if it hadn't been for Misha."

Senti spoke. "I always thought she was a crazy old queen, but I had to respect her. She was one of the few who didn't let the alley drag her down, and it's because she was a cat with pride that I'm here."

Other city cats spoke of Misha's kindness, her generosity, her willingness to listen to any cat with troubles. When they were finished, Emerald spoke.

"I wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for Misha. I thought she was crazy, too. Maybe she was, but we'll all have to be crazy like her to see this thing through. Misha was right about sensing a better place than the alley, and I hope she's right about the Heavenly Fields of Catnip. I hope she's there now, getting high. I hope she's watching over us like she watched over me when I was a kitten."

Tara wondered what she would say. What could she add? The village cats were looking at her eagerly. They'd be expecting something impressive. That was enough to twist her tongue so that it scratched the bottom of her mouth. She remembered Misha's parting song.

She meowed for attention. All faces turned towards her; a hundred eyes gleamed in the night. "I never saw any cat die before," she said. "I was afraid. But when it happened, I wanted to go with her. The Fields are real, Emerald. I saw them in Misha's eyes. We will all die, maybe some of us soon."

She gulped and hurried on. "But Misha wasn't afraid. She lived her life with a purpose, and she surrendered to it. Her world was bigger than the alley, and the Mother ruled it. She trusted the journey of her life, and every pawstep took her closer to Home. Pray that we can all follow her example."

Sekhmet stood on her hind legs, raised her front ones above her, and said, "Our sister Misha is gone. She went gladly; her paws were light as they traced new patterns in the Dance. As the wheel of life and death turns, we will all join her. May each of us bring the Mother the gift of joy when our time comes to go Home."

She sank to a sitting position. "The body of blessed Misha will not lie, moldering in a dark alleyway, the gift of her life scorned by metal and wood. We will bury her in this sacred earth."

She scooped out a pawful of dirt. One by one, the cats followed her example until a large hole had been dug. Several big toms placed the body inside.

A deeper tone filled Sekhmet's voice. It became hypnotic, and—a miracle for the black cat—poetic.

"Her body is one with the earth," she chanted. "The roots of plants born deep within it caress her and consume her goodness. When a flower opens its petals, Misha sees the sky once again.

"Her flesh becomes tender grains to feed the small creatures of woodland and meadow. Thus, Misha, giver of life, feeds us and is reborn in the flesh of a cat.

"As she is one with the earth, so she is one with the stars.

"In the heavens she shines tonight; her light graces our fur.

"In sky and earth she is one with the Mother.

"Misha, look upon us.

"Show us the Mother's love in flower and star.

"Give us Her blessings of Life, of Death."

All the cats closed their eyes and crossed their paws.

Orion trotted over to the hole where Misha's body lay. "Return to the earth, to the stars, to the One," he said and kicked earth into the grave.

All the other cats followed suit until the hole was filled in. "This grave is sacred to the memory of Misha," Bast said. "Let every cat whose heart aches with sorrow and despair come here and be renewed."

The cats sat in silence for a few minutes, and Sekhmet raised her paws to indicate that the ceremony was over.

Excited mewing broke out. "Tell of us the Quest." "Speak, Chosen."

Orion stopped them. "The Chosen has had a long, tiring day, and must be allowed some time to take in the loss of beloved Misha. Many of you have traveled great distances to come here. I suggest that we all enjoy naps and hear her story with refreshed hearts and spirits and minds clear enough to give the counsel she seeks."

Late that night the cats gathered to hear Tara's story. Though many cats, no longer under the spell of the ceremony, looked suspicious and cynical, she wasn't afraid. She believed in her story about a loving dragon and a girl of great courage who needed the help of as many cats as would open their hearts.

When she'd finished, she saw that she'd won a number of doubters, but not all. Some held back, their tails twitching irritably.

Tara was about to speak when she saw Orion's golden eyes narrow. He thumped against a tree for attention. "Friends, there is much to celebrate, and I trust that you will take your joyous spirits back to your tribes. Before you leave, though, we must hold open council on certain matters at hand."

"I want to speak!" Tomo roared. "The small cat speaks truly about the dragon, who is my dear friend, a being of great and loving heart."

Tara saw that nocat was about to argue with him.

"Now I must speak about the situation in the swamp. Most animals are in despair, and many have renounced the Mother. They're ready to kill the humans. It will be all Druid and I can do to get them to accept one girl. The swamp is threatened. If the Quest means anything, all creatures must defend us."

"I have something to add to that," Senti said. "Today we caught a truck ride into the city in time to hear a meeting of the human council. Last night the Chosen was given a vision that the humans would kill the dragon in order to gain access to the swamp. We've received confirmation of this."

Tomo bared his fangs. "No cat can allow this."

"No cat will," Tara said. "If Druid dies, so does the Quest."

Orion nodded. "Assembled cats, will you agree to defend the life of the dragon as if it were your own, that of your mate, or your beloved kittens?"

A city cat, Kria, growled. "Why should I risk my life for a big reptile? Would he do the same for me?"

"Yes!" Tara spat. "He's always risking his life for the creatures of the swamp, even for a little mouse you'd have for breakfast. When you meet him, you'll see."

Kria sniffed. "I won't muddy my paws in the swamp."

Tara hissed her rage. "Are you better than the Chosen? Is the mud of the swamp worse than the filth of the alleys? Listen to me, all of you, your pledge to me is worthless unless it includes the dragon and the girl."

Kria bowed her head in shame. "All right, I pledge."

The other cats murmured agreement, but those who weren't yet sworn muttered. "A dragon, yes," said Cylar, a gray-and-white female from the village. "If the humans hate him he must be all right. The human girl is another matter. Perhaps the kitten is too young to know about how humans are—"

"Am I? The girl's own mother would sooner drown me than look at me. How dare you—"

"Gently," Orion said silently. "This wins no one."

Tara hissed out the last of her rage. "I apologize, but any cat who thinks I don't know about humans, speak now."

The grove was silent.

"All right. I know that trying to work with humans is a big risk, but I'm taking it. I'm not asking you to live with them or do anything but be on the girl's side."

"But we aren't you," a black cat said. "You're Chosen, and we're just ordinary cats."

Tara thought about that. "So was Misha an ordinary cat, but many of you will remember that only a few days ago she told us that any cat can have faith. Any cat can have greatness. The Mother doesn't care about Chosen or unChosen. She wants every one of you to be all that you can be. We're all in this together, even the ones who don't know it yet."

"You mean the humans?" the black cat demanded. "They're part of this 'One' you cats keep on talking about? If that's true, their evil is part of us. No way, little Chosen, you can chase your tail until the world flies apart before you'll get me to believe that."

"Hold on," Orion said. "We're not at that stage. Maybe it's too soon for you to see the big picture, but you don't have to see it or even believe it to protect one human girl."

"A very nice girl," Tara said, "a girl who, I believe, has always had trouble being a human."

"That speaks well for her," Senti said. "No one is asked to trust humans, only to trust the Chosen."

"All right, one human," the black cat said.

"And the rest of you?" Orion asked quickly.

More cats pledged.

Senti growled his approval. "Take one step, and the next will follow. I didn't want to pledge to humans, either, but every day my steps grow bigger. Think about it, cats. We're chosen as a species. Let's show that we deserve it. No more hissing and yowling. Let's not be like the humans."

"By the Golden-furred One, that is a fine sentiment," Tomo said. "And now let's hear more about the human plans for the swamp."

"The one called Malvern Frost wants to kill the dragon," Senti said, "The others, led by the one called Guardian, outvoted him and reserved discussion of killing the dragon until some time in the future. So, Chosen, you may have planted within him seeds that grew."

"So it appears," Sekhmet said. "Senti is a good observer, and I'm not backbiting him when I say that I've been trained to understand communication on many levels. I sensed that the Guardian's doubts were profound, partially because he suspects that Malvern Frost is organizing to overthrow him."

"We've got to learn more about this," Tara said. "I think we want the Guardian to stay where he is."

"Yes," Sekhmet said, "but it's no fur off our backs if the humans are divided regarding the swamp. Let me continue. Beyond his suspicions, the Guardian has other, deeper reservations, which he doesn't understand and therefore pretends don't exist. He has no memory that the Chosen implanted in him the notion that the dragon is linked to the survival of humans, but that seed has taken root."

But would it flower, Tara wondered, in a time of drought?

"To work," Orion said. "Village cats, organize yourselves into teams to stalk Malvern Frost. Patrol his home in the country; follow him as he walks through the streets; listen to his conversations."

A black female named Bora spoke. "This human has a large, fierce dog who takes special pleasure in killing cats."

"I wouldn't say no to goring his hide with a tooth mark or two," a tough-looking tom said. "We'll travel in teams."

After the village cats disappeared, Orion asked Tara, "And what will you do?"

"I'll return to Serazina tonight," she said. "We'll visit the dragon as many times as it takes to discover what we're supposed to do next. But, Orion, I'm worried. I feel that the plots of this Frost are many and deep. I fear for the dragon, for the girl, and even for the Guardian."

"So do I," Orion said, "but fear, as we've discussed countless times, is an even bigger enemy. Rest, sleep, when you wake up your thoughts will be more clear."

Tara closed her eyes, but dark forms pursued her in her dreams.

### Chapter 21

As Serazina walked back to the house, the mist of contentment that filled her slowly dissolved, as if dried by the rays of a too-hot sun. Now alone, she faced the knowledge that, except for a few renegades, she was the only human in the world who had seen the vision of a green and golden goddess and the only one who knew the truth about the dragon. She'd never been so lonely in her life.

Serazina felt worse than lonely when she saw her mother standing in the doorway, desolation graying her eyes.

"Your father has disappeared," Fiola said in a low voice. "His assistant has called the Healing Center and the Missing Persons department. They think the Earthers may have abducted him. Search parties have already gone out."

The anguish her mother wouldn't express assaulted Serazina. "Your words tell me this is terrible news, but your voice—at a time like this, you don't even cry. I can't bear it."

"How dare you? I'm not like you—and where are your tears for your beloved father? What's that look on your face?"

"I'm . . . shocked. I can't believe it. Where are they looking? Are there any clues?"

Fiola 's eyes narrowed. "You never could lie. You know something. For the love of Zena, tell me. Could it be any worse than what I'm imagining?"

Serazina hadn't expected to be unmasked so quickly. She should have prepared herself by rehearsing. What use was it to conjure up a vast roaring sea in her mind when her feelings danced all over her face?

She bit her fist, and Fiola grabbed it. "Tell me!"

Maybe if she told Fiola slowly, the dreadful news would be easier to take. "He woke me up last night to tell me he was leaving."

" _Leaving?_ Does he have another woman? Tell me, Serazina. All his meetings late at night—sometimes I wondered, but he always said he had to take care of an emergency in the field office. I never checked. I trusted him. Does he have a woman?"

"He would never do that!"

"What has he done? Is he in trouble?"

Serazina hung her head. "He's in terrible trouble. He's gone to the Earthers in the forest."

"No. No! He wouldn't do that. He's a good citizen. He's loyal to his country. He's never broken the law. He's not a traitor. "

"Mother, I've told you the truth, I swear it."

Fiola leaned against the wall, her face gray and suddenly worn. "I should have known. For all that he was an exemplary Supervisor, he felt too much. How many times did I catch him stroking that kitten of yours or smiling tenderly when he heard birds sing?"

She brushed away the single tear that rolled down her dark cheek. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"Because you would have tried to keep him from going."

Rage dissolved Fiola's temporary vulnerability. "As Zena is my witness, I would have. He's ruined himself and he's ruined us. If I want to keep my job, I'll have to denounce him. He's set himself against everything Oasis stands for, hundreds of years of hard work and sacrifice. My husband. You'll have to denounce him, too."

"Never!"

"You will, by all that is logical and reasonable. This is no time for misplaced loyalty. You'll denounce him, or you have no future in this world and no place in this house."

"You're throwing me out?"

"I'll threaten anything that will bring you to your senses. Do you want to end up in prison . . . as your father surely will? Prison or worse." Fiola bit off a wail with a snap of her teeth.

Serazina pushed past her. "I'll never denounce my father."

She went upstairs, stumbling in her grief, turning to scream, "I hate you! How can you do this to me?" For a moment, the image of the Green Mother mocked her. _Forget all mothers_ , she thought. _This is what happens when you relax your guard and trust._

Serazina threw some clothing into her travel sack, thinking, _Poor Father, poor Dragon, poor Tara. They'll have to save the world by themselves. Where will I go? What will I do?_

She sat on her bed and wept until shadows of night stained the sky. Her mother came up the stairs, wearing a mask of calm.

"I apologize for letting my emotions rule me. I set a poor example at the moment you needed guidance from one parent to face the treachery of the other. If you'll sleep on your decision, I'm sure that in the morning you'll realize denunciation is the only possible choice."

_Forgive me, Father, I don't know what to do_. "Maybe. I'm very tired and upset right now. I'll see what I think tomorrow."

Serazina slept restlessly that night, her dreams populated with cartoon-like dragons and prancing kittens, the fronds and moss of the swamp waving in languid counterpoint to the mad dance.

The last thing she remembered from her dreams was the Green Lady whispering, "No one knows anything." That gave her an idea.

She went downstairs and said to her mother, "Please listen to my suggestion. Let's say the authorities become suspicious that Father is an Earther and ask us. We claim to know nothing and say we need evidence of this."

"That would be deception. He told you."

"But, Mother, what if he comes to his senses? Is it wrong to give him a chance to restore himself to reason?"

Fiola's brow furrowed, and Serazina sensed the surge of her desire to adopt this viewpoint and the love that battled duty. "Maybe not. They still believe him abducted. The workers who respect him would be demoralized by learning the truth."

"Think of national security," Serazina said.

Her mother's forehead smoothed. "Yes, who can imagine the repercussions? Perhaps you're right. All I know is what a silly daughter who may have been dreaming told me. I would never repeat unconfirmed rumors."

* * *

Phileas and Romala sat in his living room. For a long time, they'd been discussing the preliminary intelligence reports about Malvern Frost, and the wooden chair on which Phileas perched seemed harder than usual.

"I'm astonished by the size of his spy network," Romala said. "And how is he financing the payroll?"

"That's an important question. Do you think he's sold off sections of the swamp in advance?"

"They're not his to sell."

"No, but let's say that Malvern, as the leading citizen in Oasis West, positions himself so that he has the power to choose who can buy which parcels."

"Of land no one's ever seen?"

He paused to consider how well their minds worked together, how perfectly her questions sparked his answers.

"We _think_ no one's seen it. Even if that's so, he could sell promises to make the most desirable land available to the highest bidders. Obviously, the buyer would be taking the risk that the dragon will be killed, the land razed and drained—lots of unknowns, and maybe Malvern would have to repay the money if it doesn't work out."

"Which would make him more determined than ever to push through his plans. Are we choosing to ignore the illegality of this?"

"Not at all," Phileas said. "Let my spies find even a hint of illegality, and I'll order a public investigation, and Malvern will find himself cheek by jowl against prison bars."

He paused at the sound of clattering footsteps and a woman, shouting, "Unhand me, you savages!"

Janzi? He flung the door open and saw several peace officers, Malvern Frost, and Head Peace Officer, Renzel Dal'Rish, who held his handcuffed mother.

"Phileas, do something about this," Janzi said.

"Not much he can do about a proven traitor," Malvern said with evident satisfaction, "but, don't worry, Guardian, not too many people will hold it against you that your mother went loony."

"May I know what this is about?" Phileas demanded in his iciest voice.

"Of course, that's why I insisted on accompanying the officers," Malvern said. "You won't have any complaints about not being notified immediately. We've unearthed a nest of Earther leaders in the woods. No point keeping them in the local lockup. They have too many sympathizers in Oasis West. Besides, they threaten our national security."

Dal'Rish interrupted Malvern. "The others are in the downtown jail, but the former Chief Healer insisted on seeing you."

"Because I'm sane." Janzi said, her eyes knives, "and I can prove it, even if these cretins don't believe me. Frost, you big spider, I'll hang you in the center of your web."

Dal'Rish examined his polished boots. "Guardian, I leave the decision about your mother to you. I hope I didn't do the illogical thing."

"You've acted correctly. Who else was arrested?"

Dal'Rish listed a string of names, all of them men and women respected in Oasis West.

"Johar Clare?" Romala gasped.

Malvern shook his head. "I don't know what this country is coming to, but I'm afraid we have more bad news. The informant who'd cleverly infiltrated the terrorist cell reported that Clare's daughter has been meeting with the dragon."

Phileas laughed. "Oh, really, Malvern, you go too far with your lies. Give me proof that this is true, or I'll have you locked up with the Earthers. Have you forgotten that this girl saved my life?"

"Hopefully, that'll reduce her sentence," Malvern said. "Guardian, I have the informant sequestered, but you're welcome to question him at your convenience."

"And so I will. What about the girl? Why haven't you brought her?"

"They haven't caught her," Janzi said. "She's not an Earther. She's far ahead of us. When she pulled out that beautiful scale—"

"Scale?"

"From the dragon; he gave it to her. Phileas, you need to speak to her at the first opportunity."

Phileas felt almost as sick as he had after his cactus brandy binge. "Commander Dal'Rish, I want the girl brought here as soon as she's apprehended."

"I'll see to it."

Janzi grabbed his arm. "Phileas, I have more to say to you. Get rid of these people."

Malvern harrumphed. "That seems unwise—"

Phileas whirled on Malvern. "Kindly remember who is Guardian. Commander Dal'Rish, please send your men to the jail and make sure the Earther prisoners are treated well. They are not to be interrogated until I can do so."

"Very good, Guardian."

"Enjoy your authority while it lasts," Malvern said, his fingers fluttering in mockery. "Sometimes, power floats away like dust."

After they left, Phileas slammed the door. "What an odious man," Janzi said. "How did he ever crawl onto the Council?"

"Leave Malvern aside for the moment. Sit down, Mother, and let's discuss what you've been up to. You look well. Life in the woods obviously agrees with you."

"Healthiest I've been in years, but I give most of the credit to my mind."

"Really?"

"Drop the interested, professional tone. I'm as mentally balanced as you are and probably more so. Phileas, that girl is our future. I've been out among the people lately, as you've probably heard, and they long to hear what she can tell them."

"Which is?" Romala prompted her.

"That the dragon is a kind and caring being. He looks after all the animals in the swamp. And though Serazina didn't say it, clearly she's won his heart. Imagine that."

It was all too dizzying. Phileas lifted his feet to make sure the floor was still beneath them.

"What do we do now?" he asked her.

"Since you've arranged for my friends' comfort, we can move on to some important business. I'm certain that the coming hours will challenge you as Guardian in ways that you've never been tested before. For your sake and the sake of Oasis, it's time for you to read Zena's Last Testament."

* * *

After Fiola left for work, Serazina called Berto. "I've got to see you."

He came over a few minutes later and hugged her. "I heard about your father. Do you think they want a ransom?"

She couldn't lie to Berto. "He wasn't kidnapped, but I can't talk about it here. Let's go for a walk. I'm waiting for the kitten. Here she is."

Tara came panting down the path to the house. She issued a series of trills that were meaningless until Serazina reminded herself that the cat was speaking. She listened carefully.

"I have much to tell you," the kitten said. "We must act quickly."

"I'm going to fill up her water bowl," Serazina said to Berto. She went inside, and the kitten followed.

"Did your great-grandmother die?" Serazina asked.

"Yes, very sad, very inspiring, and we can talk about that later, but I have urgent news first. Cats have heard that the Councilor called Frost plans to kill the dragon."

"How can we stop him?"

"We have to go to the swamp at once. Can you get rid of the boy?"

"No." Serazina made up her mind. "I want to tell Berto everything. I already told my father about the dragon. I saw him in the woods with Earthers."

"Was that safe? Did you know everyone in the group? What if a spy was among them?"

"I thought I detected one, but the Green Lady told me to trust Her."

"She does things like that, but that doesn't mean She'll help you squeeze out of a tough spot. Guards might come for you any minute. Let's hurry to the swamp. They won't find you there."

"Berto comes with us."

"Are you sure you trust him?"

"I've never had to tell anyone something this big. I'm not sure of anything except that it's too lonely to be the only one who knows. But if I can't trust Berto . . . I can't trust any human."

A wave of sympathy from the kitten enveloped her. "Tell him, but let me guide you. Begin by asking him what he thinks about the dragon. It would help if we could avoid a long walk." She looked at the bicycles leaning against a shed. "Aren't these good for something?"

Serazina told Berto she wanted to take a bike ride. They took the path that led through the field and into the woods, Tara riding in the basket and complaining all the way.

"We can't go much further," Berto said.

"Let's rest. Tell me what you think about the dragon?

Berto tipped his head at her question. "What makes you ask?"

"Because everyone is blaming the dragon for the drought, and the night before last they called Malvern Frost Dragonslayer."

"That would be enough to make anyone suspicious. I'm basing my loathing mostly on how I feel about his son, Walker, who's a bully. And Malvern kicks doors open for Walker. This is a kid who flunked Political Science, and he's going to Leadership College? Please. Seeing Malvern in action would make anyone suspicious about the whole dragon mystique."

"Mystique?"

"Haven't you wondered why no one has ever tried to kill the dragon?"

"Maybe they have and don't want to let the people know they failed. Maybe the dragon is un-killable. However, I happen to know Malvern plans to kill him."

Berto's jaw dropped. "You mean Malvern Dragonslayer wasn't just the usual bullshit? How do you know?"

"That's part of what I want to tell you, but I'm not ready yet. Do you have any ideas about why the dragon has never hurt anyone? What if he's, well, indifferent to humans?"

"I could believe that."

He was telling the truth.

"But let's get back to this dragonslaying business. How do you know?"

Serazina clenched her fist. "Berto, I'm not on any drug, and the last thing I had to drink, which was way too much, was at the celebration. So do you get that I'm stone sober?"

"I would know if you weren't."

"Yesterday I met the dragon."

Berto stared at her. "Could you say that again? Because maybe _I'm_ on a drug. You met the dragon? You're sure you weren't dreaming?"

"I'm sure."

"But how? Did he come knocking on the door? Did you actually go to the swamp?"

She nodded.

"Why?"

"That's kind of the hardest thing to answer," Serazina said. "I was going for a walk with Tara."

"I'm glad you finally named her."

"We'll get to that. Anyway, she started running into the swamp, and I figured she didn't know any better, and I was terrified, but I had to save her, so I followed, and somewhere in the middle of all that, I saw a beautiful woman, oh, but she's really a Goddess, and Tara spoke to me."

"Are you _sure_ you're not on drugs?"

Tara growled. _Someone should teach you how to tell a story._

Serazina thought of another approach. "Berto, I don't expect you to believe me, but what if I showed you? Do you want to meet the dragon? He's very sweet."

"You really mean it? You could take me to meet him? I don't think I ever heard anything more terrifying in my life."

"Do you want to?"

"Sure, let's go meet the dragon. I don't believe I'm saying this."

They pushed their bikes into a thick tangle of weeds and walked deeper into the woods. "Tell me more about this Goddess," Berto said.

"She doesn't seem like a physical being. She kind of shimmers, but I feel love so great from Her it almost makes my heart hurt. And it's nothing special about me. That's who She is. She probably loves the Guardian and Malvern Frost and everyone."

"Hmm, I'm not sure I approve of that lack of discrimination."

"But, Berto, how can people learn to love others if they don't feel loved, no matter who they are? As long as we can find reasons not to love someone, they can find reasons not to love, and it goes on and on."

Berto sat down on a stump. "I have to think about that."

"It's not the kind of thing you can think about. Don't you see? It's not reasonable. Reason says: 'If you do this, I'll do that.' If someone's nice to you, you're nice in return. If someone does something cruel to you, the reasonable thing is to be cruel in return. We keep score, we add or subtract points."

She sat on the ground beside him. "But what I felt yesterday went so far beyond that. It's like this Lady found something in me much deeper than good or bad, and she pulled it out and showed it to me. I went back to that good-bad thing the minute I didn't feel Her any more, but going back felt awful. I don't know how to explain it any better than that."

Tara sat in front of both of them and gazed at Berto, her eyes seeming to grow bigger and bigger, until all Serazina could see was golden light. Berto began to relax, as amber waves massaged his muscles and washed through his heart.

"It's like when I paint, when it's going well," he said, his voice soft as leaves glistening with raindrops. "I know that every brush stroke is sure and goes exactly where it's meant to. The colors glow like jewels, and their pattern dances, and I dance with it. I don't even think about deserving that gift. But it only happens when I'm painting, when I'm alone. I never thought it could have anything to do with people—except you."

He started to cry. "Sometimes I'm so lonely."

Serazina embraced him. "But that's what it means. You don't have to be lonely any more."

### Chapter 22

The Healing Library was huge, with floor-to-ceiling shelves. "I hope you know where the document is, Mother."

"I do, of course, but I'd still like to see whether you're meant to find it. We can better your odds, though. Let me lead you."

"All right, but please promise you'll never tell anyone about this. Can you imagine what Malvern could do with the information that the Guardian allowed himself to be led around by his mother?"

The warmth of her hand aroused debilitating childhood memories of trust and love. A dangerous urge to weep conquered him. Shimmering tears distorted his vision and a wave of emotion befuddled his mind. He saw Serazina, joined by the dragon and the glowing form of a woman, and followed them to a row of books. His hand throbbing, he pulled out a thick volume.

"You've done very well, my son."

Parts of the pages were cut out; inside them rested a wooden box, sandalwood, from the smell. He tried to open it, but the lid refused to move.

"It's waiting for your answers," Janzi said. "Will you tell the people about what you read?"

Reason struck. "How do I know, when I haven't read it?"

"You must trust."

Logic forced him to review his options. He had none. "I promise."

"Open the box."

This time the lid opened, and sandalwood perfume filled his nostrils. Inside the box rested a yellowed manuscript, miraculously preserved. He picked it up and began to read.

* * *

When people speak about the founding principles of Oasis, they always give me credit as the driving force behind them. This is one of the benefits of logic and reason, neither of which provides any evidence for the inferiority of women. I have been quoted as saying, "Habit and emotion, those foul polluters of our psyches, poison our view of women."

I said that and many related things to Nathan while we scaled the peaks that divided Tamaras from Oasis. In Tamaras I had seen how willingly people trusted and followed him and were reassured by his confidence in the dangerous venture. His mind was clear, a fallow field ripe for the planting of intellectual seeds. Since I, during my time as a slave, had done little but imagine a better world, I had those seeds.

And I'm not sorry I planted them, even though some of them have grown a strange new crop of ideas. I've thought about sharing the fruits of my harvest, but the people aren't ready. The emotional excesses of Tamaras are far too fresh in all of our minds. We need the iron of reason and the steel of logic.

I am going to put this document away and seal it with an Etrenzian charm. My father, as history records, was a snake charmer and sorcerer. I have described how his ability to enter the awareness of the deadly snakes in his possession made me think that might be possible with human minds, but I never talked about the binding charms he placed within the snake's mind during his first training session. They made it possible for him to instantly mesmerize a serpent, though he extended the induction to make his audience feel they were getting their money's worth.

He learned that spell from his mother, a powerful witch who lived in the deep desert. She was a wealthy woman, and she spellbound her wealth in boxes that could not be open except by her.

So I will bind the box in which I will place this manuscript. I will hide it in the Healers' Library. The right person will find it when it is most needed.

It occurs to me that you must be that person. Congratulations and good luck. You'll need it.

Zena Vash'ti Turley

My Last Testament to the People of Oasis

You are, of course, fully aware that the supremacy of the mind is the foundation of our society, at least in theory. We work every day to inculcate a deeper discipline in every citizen.

That discipline, as I have stated above, has been and is still a necessary counter balance to the Tamaran excesses. However, foreseeing the time when the pendulum must begin to swing in the other direction, though not to its previous extreme, I have written this memoir and testament.

My husband and Oasis's first Guardian, Nathan Turley, died in his prime, his mental faculties fully intact, despite what anyone says, despite what I believed when I heard him express sorrow and regret over the course Oasis had taken. Though I faithfully recorded his words, I decided that none but the Guardians to follow should ever read them. I noted in my introduction that my husband's deluded ramblings would test their fidelity to our principles. For my part, I regretted that an exemplary life had ended in such drivel.

My sudden aloneness threatened my own mental well being. I didn't wish for a new life companion, but I felt the urgency of finding a purpose for my life. Our son, Ronan, was now serving as the Guardian. He sought my counsel, but not as often as Nathan had, and this was appropriate. Each Guardian must find his own way.

I sought a way to serve the people and decided I could be most effective in studying those among whom the doctrine of mental supremacy had had least effect, those who worked in the field. From the beginning, field work was assigned to those with the smallest mental talents. I felt, though, that we needed to draw our farm workers more into the loop of mental activity, to stimulate their minds, and especially to create an environment in which their children wouldn't naturally drift into the same occupations.

I decided to spend some time among them to discover how best to elevate their mental abilities.

I was fond of horseback riding, finding the exercise valuable and enjoying the clarity that being in the open air encouraged. Every day I rode out to the fields and spoke with the workers. They were hesitant at first, fearing that what they said would earn them official repercussions, but I assured them that I had little authority.

Many told me that they would like more formal education and an expanded library system. Often they complained that hard physical labor left them too tired to go into the city at night to take advantage of its cultural opportunities. They wanted plays in the villages where they lived, and they wanted a broadened curriculum in school for their children. I duly noted these requests and promised to pass them on to those in power.

Once I'd familiarized myself to the people, I turned my attention to their environment. I spent my early years in the great desert of Etrenzia, a harsh, dry land conducive to the development of mind. It is far from an unbroken stretch of sand; even outside the oases, there are areas of green where wildlife thrives. I knew the aromas and bright colors of flowers and the darting motion of snakes and lizards. I was not unaware of the physical lure of nature, but when I was captured and enslaved in the city of Tamaras, the tall buildings and the stench of too many humans living too close together erased those early memories. The artificial sensuality repulsed me, and my retreat into the private world of my mind was my salvation.

Now I rediscovered nature in an atmosphere far more lush. The smell of growing things, the cries of birds, and the sinuous movement of animals in the tall grass dulled my mind and opened up a kind of dangerous sensuousness. This was not the poison of Tamaras, based on overindulgence in food, wine, drugs, and sex. It seemed almost innocent in its effect. Yet, I was sure it could not be.

I decided to ask the rural workers whether this atmosphere had any effect on them. Many of them, understandably cautious, said they didn't notice; they were there to do a job. A few who had come to trust me, admitted that they found their thoughts affected by the myriad of scents, sounds, and sights.

Yora, a tall, pale Dolocairner, said, "It distracts me. It takes me back to my babyhood in Dolocairn, toddling through the snow to a patch of green, screaming in excitement. I know that's a most unhealthy feeling."

"Indeed," I said.

Mardon, a laborer with acute intelligence said, "This world is alive for me. Sometimes the sight of a hawk soaring overhead lifts my spirit. Sometimes, despite my best efforts to keep my mind calm, joy floods my being, and my body comes alive. And I ask myself why this should be wrong, and I can't come up with an answer."

He looked at me, troubled, and I found that I had no answer, either. I had, however, devoted my life to an idea, and I became desperate to justify it.

I wondered if the forests would induce similar effects and asked the laborers who went there. They answered that woodsmen spent time among the trees, especially now that the pine plantations established many years ago were being harvested. Hunters also roamed the forest in season. (Nathan and I had been undecided about allowing hunting. It seemed an utterly primitive activity, but the symbolism of humans triumphing over beasts seemed worth encouraging, and it was a way to provide the most skilled with a material bonus in the form of meat on the table).

Assured that the forest held little threat, I decided to explore it and found this area to be even more dangerous than the fields.

The farmland was open country, crowned with a sky that was often a pale blue streaked with clouds in a calming pattern that could induce mental coolness. The constant breeze kept the air from growing dense and stagnant.

No such relief existed in the woodlands. A ceiling of foliage trapped the air and the dampness of the forest floor. Moss and ferns grew everywhere, and assorted vile fungi. The light that filtered through the leafy canopy was a sickly yellow.

Nature at its most pungent held little seduction for me, and every shadow that darkened the paths of dead and rotting leaves aroused the crippling emotion of fear. The sounds of the forests seemed equally menacing, and I felt small and insignificant among the ancient trees. It was unforgivable to imagine that these towering oaks and beeches had awareness, but these were the murky trails my thoughts traveled.

Still, I returned day after day, determined to conquer this shadowy world. In time, the drone of insects, the dank fragrance of the forest floor, and even the lurking shadows failed to damage my mental clarity.

I pause here, for I must use the utmost care in choosing my words. How can I communicate what happened next without future generations deciding that Zena ended up crazy as a coot? Forget my whining ego, how can I convince you, the reader, that what I experienced was true, especially when what I called truth became challenged by it?

You're still reading. Good. Now, be prepared to throw out everything you've ever learned. Come to these words like a newborn baby, fresh, bright, with an open mind and an open heart.

Phileas's hands began to tremble. "I don't know if I can go on."

"You can," Romala said. She touched his hand, and he thought that maybe he could.

I can never be sure that my own knowledge of Nathan's last words didn't influence the series of events that now unfolded. Let me try to describe it logically and sequentially. It began this way. One day I was riding in the woods, troubled in my mind over a certain course of events my son, the new Guardian, was bringing into effect. I thought he was wrong. He failed to listen, and his refusal deepened my sense that I'd lost power to affect events in Oasis. More disturbing, I saw clearly how over the years the vision Nathan and I had shared would erode.

Why, I wondered, did we bother? I cannot describe the weariness and depression that made my limbs heavy. Had I not been mounted, I might have sunk into a damp bed of moss.

Slowly, I became aware of an odd sensation, like the humming of a thousand bees, the smell and taste of honey, the feeling that the golden syrup poured through me, healing my wounds. This was followed by a voice that whispered, _Fear not. All will be well._

I thought the voice only my own higher intelligence, urging me to rise from the quagmire of despair and to climb the pinnacle of reason. A few days later I returned and heard it again, the voice more distinct this time, a tone soft as the newly opened petals of a flower, yet also resonant with age and wisdom. _Know me_ , it said.

I rationalized my unendurable longing to do so by assuring myself that it was surely my duty to investigate this extraordinary occurrence. A circular clearing in the woods lay ahead (I half-noted that I had also been near this place the first time I heard the voice). Some ancient shamble of stones stood in its center, too primitive to have been built by humans. In front of it sat a pool of water, fringed with reeds. It seemed a good place to dismount and investigate.

I sat on a tussock of grass by the pool. The humming sound intensified, and a golden haze descended over the pool, blurring the outlines of trees and dimming the sky. I felt as if I were sinking into a puddle of honey, its stickiness binding my limbs, immobilizing reason and logic. Oddly, this sensation didn't frighten me.

Slowly, a form began to shimmer in the amber mist, a green column that gradually resolved itself into the shape of a woman. Her skin was the tawny hue one often sees in a person of mixed Dolocairn and Etrenzian descent. Her hair seemed a mass of flowery vines, a madness of green and gold. Her eyes, too, were green, and more steady than any I had seen. Only the fixity of her stare kept me from leaping on my horse and riding away.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice as croaky as that of a frog rising from sluggish hibernation.

"I am She whom you seek."

"I seek no one," I said, but as soon as I spoke bubbles rose in my throat in effervescence, not unlike that fizzing alcohol drink the wealthy Tamarans had favored. The bubbles tickled, making me want to laugh in pure delight.

The apparition smiled. "Laughter pleases me."

"And why should I want to please you?"

"Because I am your heart and soul."

To my astonishment, I wanted to believe her, for the idea of a heart and soul, so insignificant to me before, suddenly assumed the greatest importance.

"Teach me," I said.

You who are reading this will travel your own road to the visions she shared with me over the days that followed. She spurned the easy route of words, choosing instead to weave pictures. She showed me the plants soaking up water and nutrients from the soil, the mouse feasting on seeds, a cat feasting on a mouse. In countless ways she painted a portrait of wholeness through interdependence. She showed me that we are all partners in a great dance, and humans do not call the tune.

She didn't scorn intellect and reason, but she showed me that, when unpartnered with feeling and emotion, its dance is awkward and stumbling and lonely. My own loneliness became a palpable sensation, and just when it seemed unbearable, she relieved it by drawing me into the circle of wholeness.

I opened my eyes, and the Lady leaned over me. "Your remaining days are few," she said. "You must preserve what you have learned for the time when others will be ready to read it."

And so I have done my best to share my vision of why we must unite heart and mind in order to realize our own wholeness. Each person will find her own way to this unity, but you, who are reading this now, especially if you are the Guardian, must do everything possible to assist in the work of rebalancing. Call it not work, though. Call it the lightening of burdens. Call it joining in the Dance.

Call it knowing the world is love made manifest. We humans have been too busy shaping the world so that we may appear to be its masters. We engage in a love-hate struggle with the natural world when no struggle is necessary. All that is necessary is to allow the harmony to live in our own hearts.

It took me months to arrive at the knowledge that now illuminates my being. You may not have that kind of leisure, but the fact that my Testament has come into your hands tells me that you have been slowly, perhaps even unknowingly, making your own journey towards illumination.

Trust that journey, and trust Her to guide you further.

May the Lady bless you who read this. May She touch your heart.

Phileas touched his wet eyes. He didn't know what to do now.

### Chapter 23

Serazina and Berto came to the edge of the woods. Berto gulped, looking out at the marshlands. "I guess that's the swamp, right?"

Serazina nodded.

"Well, here goes disaster. I wish you'd warned me. I would have worn different shoes and different trousers, probably an entirely different body, maybe one a little more flame resistant."

"If I can face the dragon, so can you," Tara said.

"Noisy little kitten," Berto said.

"She was talking." Serazina repeated Tara's words.

"Right, I forgot she talks. I keep on forgetting all the important things."

* * *

Tara, remembering Tomo's request for advance warning, signaled him with a piercing cry. Within a few minutes a younger cougar darted through the saw grass and growled a greeting.

"Wonderful," Berto said, his face pale. "I should have brought a change of underwear. Just warn me if there are going to be any more sudden appearances."

"My name is Monti," the cougar said. "What's with the male? I thought we were only going to see the girl."

"She couldn't bear being the only human who knew the truth about the dragon and the world."

"That's understandable, I suppose, but let's not make a habit of it. I can assure you no one in the swamp wants humans to start treating this place like their private property. We don't want swarms of them wrecking the place."

Tara looked at the drooping saw grass, mucky earth, and the vulture soaring overhead. "I'd say that won't be a problem."

The cougar growled. "Don't get wise. You may consider it a dump, but it's home."

"They're talking?" Berto asked Serazina.

The cougar's tail flicked. "He doesn't understand?"

"Humans generally don't."

"No kidding. What's the sense of bringing him here if he can't relate?"

"He needs to see the dragon so he knows there's no threat from Druid."

"How's he going to know that if they can't communicate? One friendly roar from Druid, and the kid's going to be running back to civilization."

Tara hadn't thought of that.

"Maybe I should run ahead and warn Druid not to roar."

"Good idea, I'll escort the guests. Don't worry, I won't feed them to the alligators."

* * *

Serazina wished Tara hadn't left, because she didn't quite know what to say to Monti. "Nice swamp you have here." "Do you have any hints about removing mud and muck?" The possibilities weren't exactly endless.

Finally, she decided that if the cougar wanted to have a conversation, he could speak.

"It's strange," Berto said. "Now that I know animals can speak to us, I feel a little bit as if I understand them."

"Genius," Monti growled. "We turn left here for the dragon's cave."

"The air is starting to smell different," Berto said.

Monti sniffed. "That's the sea."

"The sea?" Serazina started to run. "I've never seen it."

"Why not?" Monti looked astonished.

"Well, some people go far south of here to harvest salt, but I haven't been. I've only seen pictures."

"In your mind?"

"Those, too, but pictures on screens. A screen is something flat like a rock, but it's also clear like water, and you can see things on it."

"Amazing and even interesting. Tell me some more things about humans."

Serazina elaborated on computers, described refrigerators, washing machines, and showers.

"It's a strange way to live," the cougar said, "but it shows a certain cunning."

They came to the top of a hill, and Serazina saw the endless dark blue expanse of water, maned with white foam. "Oh, Berto!"

"I know."

Serazina didn't know how long they stood in silence. Who could measure time against the endless procession of waves, the song of the sea? Finally, watching wasn't enough. She had to feel it.

She pulled her shoes off and threw them in the grass. The white sand was warm and silky beneath her feet. Serazina paused again before pulling off her tunic and trousers. Finally she jumped into the water.

Berto hesitated and did the same. "Oh, it's beautiful, almost better than sex or drugs."

"It isn't just the feel of it. Smell it, listen, look at the rainbows the water makes."

They jumped into the waves and swam for a while. The tingle of the water on Serazina's skin reminded her of the Lady's gaze.

She heard a thumping that wasn't the slap of the waves against the shore. "Berto, I think the dragon is coming."

"And I'm not even dressed."

They scrambled out of the water and put on their clothes. Serazina was belting her tunic when the dragon, led by Tara, became visible.

"Nathan's whiskers, he's huge," Berto whispered.

Serazina ran to meet the dragon. The sun came out from a cloud, and beams of light illuminated his green mane, turning it the color of glowing emerald. For one blazing moment she saw the Lady shaping his features, molding the flare of his nostrils, weaving the coat of iridescent scales that covered him.

_Him and me, Berto, everything. She is constantly creating us. A thought, a word, a feeling, and we instantly become more or less beautiful, further away or closer to Her design_.

* * *

Druid paused to appreciate the girl's vision, allowing it to flow through him like water. "Thank you. To share this is like seeing Her for the first time. You've restored my faith."

The boy looked confused. Ancient strands of fear and prejudice lightly circled an awareness that was—difficult word—aesthetic, the sense of one who also created, a sense that soared above those limiting strands and burst free, like a dragon first learning how to fly.

Druid wished this boy could hear him directly. The quality of Berto's being tingled within him like the sea on his skin. _Look at me_ , he said silently. _Look into me. Feel the depth of my desire. You can do this, young human._

"You're noble," Berto said. "You're kind and beautiful. I'd love to paint you."

"What is paint?" Druid asked.

"A picture with colors," Serazina said.

"In the mind, imagination?"

"Berto, draw the dragon in the sand."

He picked up a stick and traced the dragon's image on wet sand, adding subtle crosshatching to indicate scales, describing the mane as a great, sweeping wave.

Monti and Druid watched with great interest. The cougar ran his talons through the sand. "With practice, I might do that myself, but it's the thought of doing it that's wonderful."

"I wish he'd made me a little slimmer," Druid said, "but it is an astonishing likeness."

Berto signed his sand drawing. "If I were painting, I'd use brushes and a flat surface called a canvas. Then the picture lasts a long time, hundreds of years."

"I've lasted that long," Druid said. "Oh, I wish you could understand me."

"He understood you when he drew you," Serazina said. "Berto, keep drawing. Druid, lean a little this way."

He twisted in a way that concealed his bulk, and Berto's stick flew.

Serazina spoke to Berto while he drew, and Tara purred.

"Remember, Berto, how when you first met Tara, you said you thought animals could communicate? You thought the scientists were wrong. They are wrong. Druid, talk to Berto."

Druid thought that he might be able to reach the boy by talking about the drawing. "I like how you've captured the curve of my neck. I always thought it one of my best features. And I've never seen the wind blow through my mane. That is lovely. And you see the sadness in my eyes."

Berto finished Druid's eyelashes and drew a tear. The dragon gasped. "You understand! You hear me."

The boy's stick skidded. "He's awfully loud. What did he say?"

"That you understand his sadness, that you hear him."

"But I don't. Anyone could look at him and see that he's sad."

"Berto, how many people have looked at dragons? How many people could begin to understand Druid's feelings? Listen, really listen, as if your life depended on it. Stop drawing and look into his eyes. Even if you don't understand him at first, keep listening. Listen with your heart."

Druid's heart swelled as she spoke. Her voice spun a circle of love that drew him closer to the boy.

Berto gazed at him. "I'm sorry you're sad."

"I'm hoping things will change," Druid said, speaking slowly. "I've been much more cheerful since all of you showed up."

Berto's eyes widened, and a slow smile spread across his face. "I heard you. Serazina, I heard him."

"That boy was easier to open up than you were," Tara said to Serazina.

Serazina frowned. "He had a little advance warning; I convinced him that communication was possible. Besides, he wasn't chasing a kitten through the awful . . . through a strange place."

They all sat on the beach for a while, talking about the human who wanted to kill Druid. He wanted to reassure them. "They'll never kill me. I can easily leave. What worries me is the destruction and murder they'll wreak in their march through the swamp. I'm the Keeper. If I abandon them, I abandon the most important part of myself."

"We have to trust," Tara said, sounding very mistrustful, "but we also have to pay attention to every detail."

Berto said, "Maybe it's something about the dragon that's important. Like, you, Serazina, can read hearts and minds, and that connected you to the Guardian. Now it's helping you communicate with all the animals. The kitten has a similar gift, and she's inspired a lot of cats to join this Quest. Both of you have courage and loyalty."

Tomo loped down the beach to join them. Monti greeted his father with an affectionate yowl. "These humans want to know what qualities make Druid special. You've known him longer than I have."

"He's passionate, loyal, and brave, as the others involved in the Quest are alleged to be."

"What about the fire breathing thing?" Berto asked.

"Yes, how could we forget?" Serazina said.

Their excitement licked at him like flames. He wondered how to change the subject.

"Could we see?" Berto asked. "Maybe, for the sake of safety, you could blow out towards the water."

"Yes!" The kitten jumped up and down.

Humiliation crept in a stealthy way towards him. He had a feeling this was only the beginning.

"I'm a water dragon."

"A water dragon?" The two humans and the kitten looked at each other.

"I never heard of a water dragon," Serazina said.

"Dragons represent each of the elements; that's how we help to keep the world in balance. Water dragons stand for the healing qualities of emotion."

Serazina's eyes lit up. "You're here to teach us that."

"Yes," Tara said, but Druid caught an unshielded thought. _Those fire dragons must be quite impressive._

He didn't blame the cat. Teaching, though useful, was hardly either dramatic or worth five hundred years of waiting.

Tomo, good friend that he was, looked at the humans and cat with amusement and just a hint of feline contempt.

"Of course, he's a water dragon," he said, "and exactly what we need during the dry season here. More than once Druid saved this swamp by putting fires _out._ I call that special."

They all agreed that it was, but as they looked at the ocean and imagined the wet, in fact, sodden, and in many places moldy swamp they'd come through, they couldn't imagine a time when the place was dry as tinder, and animals could die of thirst.

Berto, probably believing himself thoughtful, changed the subject. "What about flying? Don't all dragons do that?"

Serazina clapped her hands. "Oh, I'd love to see you fly."

Tomo gave him a look that suggested he'd been thinking of Druid's refusal to explain why he didn't fly. The look also made clear that the cougar couldn't help him out with this one.

Druid's heart sank to his tail. Growing humiliation brought with it the moment of truth, complete with more suffering. Yet in the midst of his anguish, he felt a dim but growing relief that he could finally unload the burden of deception. It would be terrible to reveal himself, and they might all despise him, but the truth weighed more heavily in him than the aftermath of a kelp-eating binge.

He told them the full story of his abandonment.

"So sad." Serazina's eyes filled with tears.

Tara's eyes, however, were as narrowed and molten as he'd feared they'd be. "Why did you leave the flying part out before?"

He bowed his head. "I've never been proud of that vow, which is why I tried to never think about it."

Tara raised a paw. "Stop right there. I understand more than you think. I've never been completely alone, but when I first went to Serazina's house, I felt that way. I also know that I've done and said foolish things when I felt betrayed, but I had wise parents to set my paws back on the right path—"

"And I didn't have parents at all!" Fully experiencing anger was surprisingly easy. "And if you'd let me continue, you'd hear me say that I've realized that I have to let go of that vow. I know I need to fly. The Quest may demand it."

"It may indeed." The kitten's eyes faded to a soft yellow, but they still regarded him keenly. "Your words sound good, but I hear a lack of . . . conviction."

Druid didn't need to have that pointed out. Humiliation had not relaxed but tightened its grip, squeezing out yet another moment of truth. Now that he had to fly, he wasn't sure he could. Five hundred years was more than enough time for inertia to set in, and his wing muscles probably had the strength of seaweed. Tomo and Monti wouldn't shun him if he failed, but these new friends who didn't know the first thing about dragons—

"Maybe all of you should go away for a little while.

He shouldn't have been surprised that Serazina understood first. Druid already knew her as a being who could almost match him for emotional intensity. Now he saw something new in her: a dry-eyed intensity and determination.

"Druid, I know a lot about thinking I can't do something. My parents never abandoned me, although I often thought my mother—well, never mind. I know how it feels to be lonely, though, and I know how fear feels. Sometimes I think I've been nothing but frightened since this whole thing began, but if I stop now, my father will never be able to come home, and you—and all the animals here—might get killed. So I have to keep on and do things that frighten me."

"We all know about fear," she said, "but if you don't think about yourself and humiliation and danger for a moment, you'll realize that not trying to fly means that someone might die. Could you live with that? I mean, assuming that you lived at all?"

She put her hands firmly on her hips and stared at him. The sight of her stirred an old memory of the day he'd become aware of a new kind of animal approaching the land. He'd made contact with a fierce and fearless mind, that of a female human who had probably been around Serazina's age.

Now he realized that beneath the tumult of fear and vulnerability, Serazina had the same invincible spirit, now sparking in the black eyes that challenged him. _You have this, too,_ they said. _Look within._

Her eyes were stern, and he wanted to turn away. Instead, he looked more closely and saw love in them and love in the soft curve of her mouth. That love watered his courage, and he knew that he, too, could be invincible.

A week ago he wouldn't have imagined that a human could love him. If that miracle could take place, maybe he could fly. They _needed_ him to fly. And so did he.

Druid took a deep breath and tried to ignore the sound of his bones cracking when he tried to lift his wings. He flapped slowly, trying not to look pained. "Just a little aerobic warm-up. Gets the heart going, and I have a really big heart."

He was out of breath already. Maybe he could ask them to come back in a few days, and he'd practice and practice, making a few test flights when no one was looking.

_Good idea_ , his aching muscles urged.

But it wasn't. They were all looking at him, and he thought about the ones who weren't there—Tomo and Monti, Tolti, all the babies and young ones who deserved to have futures. He was the Keeper, and no matter how depressed he'd gotten, he'd never abandoned his responsibility to them.

Now that responsibility had greatly increased, intertwined with his destiny, which, he now dimly saw, extended beyond the swamp. It involved cats and humans and perhaps the fate of the land the humans called Oasis.

The immensity of it filled him, not with pride but with a purpose that gave strength to his wings.

_Destiny._ He whispered the word, and his muscles responded with increased power, and his wings grew light. He flapped vigorously and felt himself lifting off the ground.

His new human friends applauded, and Tara purred. "Think of flight, glorious flight."

_Glorious flight._ He raised himself ten feet above the ground without falling down. He soared up another ten feet and felt the delicious air hit his belly like a kiss.

"Okay, just a little more warm-up and a very short spin, need to check the air currents, of course."

"Of course," they echoed, trying to look knowing.

Flight, glorious flight! Druid grew daring and rose higher and higher, flying along the coastline. Treetops waved in the distance and grass in the fields. Beyond, metal fingers poked into the sky. Far below, the humans and cat cheered. He dipped a wing at them and flew some more, circling and trying out a dip or two.

He wasn't going to think about the countless lost opportunities to fly. He was flying now because his friends had given him the courage, the friends who were now joined with him in a quest that would at last fulfill his destiny—and theirs.

His wings warned him that this was enough for one trip, and he glided back to the beach.

"That was _so_ impressive," Berto said.

Serazina smiled. "I'll never forget it."

"I'm proud of you," Tara said.

"And I thank all of you from my heart, which is very large and a little tired at the moment."

Tara pointed to the sky. "What's that?"

Dim specks became visible in the distance. Druid caught his breath. The closer they got, they more they looked like dragons.

They were! He flapped his wings furiously, and they began to land.

"Druid!"

"Didn't I tell you what a handsome dragon he'd be?"

His mother!

"Did I ever doubt you?"

His father!

"The time has come," his mother said.

Ten more dragons landed on the beach.

Druid's parents embraced him, shedding so many tears that the other creatures had to jump out of the way.

"What great things you've accomplished," his mother said. "No dragon has entered into close friendship with humans since they tricked the fire dragons. Here you are with two!"

"And a cat," his father added when Tara growled.

"We sensed that something was happening while we were visiting some air dragons. Wisdom told us we might be needed," his mother said. "We've been traveling for days. Avoiding the people of this land made the trip much longer. But now all that can change."

"What makes you so sure of that?" Druid asked.

"Either it does or you're dead."

"I thought human weapons couldn't kill me."

His mother avoided his eyes. "They haven't killed a dragon yet, but we're not up to date on their technology. It _has_ been four hundred and fifty years since we told you that."

"Don't remind me. But couldn't I fly away before I was in danger?"

"You're too conscientious to do that," his mother said, "So it's success or death. You wouldn't want it any other way."

Though Druid had expressed the same thought less than an hour ago, he resented hearing it from his delinquent parents. "I'm grown up now, Mother. You don't have to tell me how I want it. I'll decide, thank you."

His mother lowered her head. "You're right. When I look at you, I see a tiny dragonling. Now, if you succeed, you'll be joining the larger flock and us. You'll meet a nice dragon and have dragonlings of your own."

"And I won't leave them in some desolate swamp."

Her face hardened. "If you have to you will. Do you think yours was the only heart that ached?"

All the dragons wept.

Dragonlady and Dragonlord wanted to hear all the details of the Quest. Druid's mother was especially interested in the Guardian. "You know him best," she said to Serazina. "Tell us more. Tell us how he's connected to the Quest."

"I wish I knew," Serazina said. "He must be. No one else has the power to stop the people from killing Druid."

"If he does have that power." Tara avoided the temptation to try to wash her paws. She'd learned that led only to a mouthful of sand. "Dragonlord, Dragonlady, two cats listened in on a meeting of important humans. One, named Malvern Frost, plans to organize humans to kill the dragon. The Guardian blocked the idea of an immediate attack. All the humans raised their hands to agree to the delay, but the cats read the Frost human's mind. He's going to force the issue. He's going to set something into motion that the humans can't ignore."

"What?"

"The cats couldn't find it in his mind. Some have stationed themselves at his dwelling, but a vicious dog lives there, and they have to be careful. As soon as they have any information, they'll relay it to the swamp."

She turned to the cougars. "You need to be prepared for this."

"Don't worry about us," Tomo growled. "I know my responsibilities, and the word is out to allow any cat safe passage into the swamp."

"Maybe Berto and I need to get back into the village ourselves and walk around to see what we notice," Serazina said.

"Good idea." Berto stood up and brushed the sand off his trousers. "Nice to meet all of you. It's been a day I won't forget."

"You'll be back tomorrow?" Druid asked.

Serazina nodded. "If all goes well."

### Chapter 24

Fiola was sitting in the living room, her arms folded across her chest, when Serazina came home. Her eyes were dull as dusty stones.

"Your father has been arrested," she said.

Terror pulled at Serazina like the sea's treacherous undertow. "Why?"

Fiola's voice was as dim as her eyes. "Peace officers found him in the forest with a group of Earthers. The former Chief Healer was with them. They've been taken to the city for interrogation. No one is allowed to visit them. It's rumored that they'll all be executed."

"No!"

"They're suspected of conspiring to assassinate the Guardian."

"They have no evidence, no proof!"

"I know, it isn't logical, is it? Everything I've believed, all the times I haven't cried, the ways I've been stern with you when I wanted to comfort you, all those sacrifices—for what? To see my husband killed? My Johar?"

She rose unsteadily from her chair and staggered toward Serazina. "I can't bear it!"

Serazina hugged her mother while she wept. "I can't tell you everything that's going on, but the situation isn't hopeless. I'm going to go see what I can do."

Pounding at the door interrupted her. "Open in the name of the law. We've come to arrest Serazina Clare."

"Go upstairs," Fiola whispered. "Just a minute, please," she called out.

Serazina went to her room and locked the door. She looked out the window that faced west. The dragon was there, and the cougars, and the vast expanse of the sea.

And below her window a peace officer cautiously circled the house.

Fiola opened the door. "What is this about?"

"Citizen Clare, we're not allowed to reveal the charge. It's a serious breach of national security."

"My daughter is involved in no such thing."

"Didn't think your husband was either, did you?"

Serazina wondered if the branch near the window would bear her weight, but she couldn't even think about it. The peace officer now stood beneath the tree. The others were coming upstairs now.

The handle rattled. With a tremendous thump, the policemen slammed the door and knocked it off its hinges. Two of the policemen grabbed her and hauled her down the stairs.

"Mother!" she screamed.

"Don't hurt her!" Fiola cried. "Where are you taking her?"

"Local lockup, but don't think you can bail her out."

Serazina kicked and struggled. "Let me go. I'm underage. You can't take me to jail."

"There's no age limit for traitors," an officer said.

Curious neighbors came out of their houses. She saw Berto and screamed his name. He came running over.

"Dragon's blood, what's going on?"

"Matter of national security," the head peace officer said.

"Berto, go to the city, tell the Guardian. If you see Tara first—"

She heard a soft hiss. The kitten crouched in a tree in the front yard, her eyes unblinking.

* * *

After resting for a while, the water dragons prepared to leave. "But we'll be hovering in the area," Druid's mother said. "If you need us, call."

"Something else you should know," his father said. "We've communicated with a flock of fire dragons. They're on their way here."

Druid's heart contracted. "Do you anticipate the final destruction?"

"We prefer to be optimistic. We hope you and your friends will persuade the humans to give up their miserable ways. But if you fail—"

"Bad word," his mother said, "discouraging word. Keep him floating on a sea of hope."

"If things don't turn out the way we'd like or if you get killed—"

"Dragonlord!"

"I'm sorry." Dragonlord's eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm feeling emotional about this. I see my beloved son after so long a time, and I want to fly away with him to share normal dragon lives. The humans enrage me. Do I interfere with their lives? And it is a little sad to think of all of them dying."

"All of them? Serazina? Berto? What about Tara?"

His father shook his mane. "Very sad indeed, but if we reach that point, the Quest has failed."

"Couldn't I warn them?"

"If you have the chance. But if you're fighting for your life, you won't be able to."

"What can I do?"

"Succeed."

"But I don't even know what I'm supposed to succeed at."

"Yes, that's a problem."

The dragons began to flap their wings. "See you soon, we hope. If not, have a glorious afterlife."

* * *

Phileas held the ancient manuscript. "So much needs to be done," he said. "I've got to get the Earthers out of jail, and I need to find Serazina before she gets arrested. Somehow, I have to unearth Malvern's schemes and dismantle them. But all I want to do is discuss this extraordinary testament."

"Discuss how?" Janzi asked. "Intellectually? Using the scalpels of reason and logic to dissect Zena's vision and turn it into lifeless shreds?"

Her words jarred forth the realization that this had been his exact intention. Now that the glow of reading the document and briefly living inside Zena's revelations had faded, he knew he hadn't been so threatened since . . . since he'd tried to go into Serazina's mind and found her in his. And maybe before then, maybe when he'd begun to suspect that the old ways no longer worked.

That suspicion had become fact. Zena's testament tore apart any flimsy delusions remaining that life could go on as it had, but he had no idea how to adapt to a shifting, treacherous cosmos.

"It's not as bad as you think," Janzi said. "You were moved by Zena's words, deeply moved. You believed in the Lady, didn't you?"

"I did," he whispered.

"She's still present and waiting to guide you. Phileas, you can't get through what lies ahead unless you let Her into your heart."

"My heart." Suddenly that neglected organ began to fill with warmth. He didn't know if he would succeed in whatever disasters awaited him, but he knew he could choose no other way.

"Serazina said she could stay in this country if Oasis would learn to balance heart and mind."

"The Lady speaks to her," Janzi said. "I think we need to talk to her as soon as possible."

His pager buzzed. "Yes?"

Renzel Dal'Rish said, "Guardian, we have a call from a young man named Berto Albregetti, and he insists that he has to speak to you. He's very agitated."

Phileas felt an unpleasant premonition. "Put him on."

"Guardian," Berto said, "they've arrested Serazina and taken her to the Oasis West jail!"

"I was expecting that. She's accused of meeting with the dragon."

"So did I."

"I must hear everything."

"Not while Serazina's in prison. I'll meet you there. I'm going to try to go inside."

"Frost will arrest you, too."

"If I can keep him from hurting her, I don't care."

Phileas hung up. "I'm going to the Oasis West jail," he said, "by hummer plane, I think. There's no time to lose."

Janzi stood up. "I'm going with you."

* * *

The peace officers put Serazina in the back seat of their car and drove her to the jail, across from Town Hall, where the mayor had given her the key to the city. He should have given her the key to the jail.

Serazina tried to hang onto irony, but it proved a flimsy defense against terror when the guards took her down to a small room in the basement where Malvern Frost sat.

"Excellent. Sit down, Miss Clare."

She couldn't let terror win. "Am I under arrest?"

"That depends on how you answer my questions. Bear in mind that the security of Oasis West may depend on what you say. Let's begin. Where does the filthy dragon live?"

The simultaneous assault of his hatred and a picture of Druid dead and dismembered shifted the focus of her fear. She had to save Druid, because he was funny and wise, and because he had the biggest heart she'd ever known.

"The dragon could be anywhere. He travels the length and breadth of the swamp. And he'd know if you invaded. All the animals of the swamp would warn him."

"Or you would?"

"I would do anything to save Oasis from _you_. I'm not saying anything more until the Guardian comes."

One of the peace officers standing in the room shifted nervously. "Commander Dal'Rish gave us specific orders, Councilor."

"And we will obey them as soon as we have the information we want. How do we know that this girl hasn't told the dragon everything he needs to know about Oasis West in order to destroy it? Shall we give him the chance while we wait for the Guardian?"

"He wouldn't," Serazina said. "He's never done anything to the humans."

"But he will."

" _What?_ She heard the hiss of deadly intent. " _When_ will he? What do you have planned?"

Malvern's face, momentarily creased in panic, smoothed out again. "I plan against the inevitable attack of the dragon. I have said this before. It's a matter of public record."

He turned to the guards. "Only think of the treachery that lurks in the so-called innocent heart of a young girl. The Godlies are right. Corruption can find a home anywhere."

She fought panic. "Even in the greedy heart of a Councilor," she said.

"That's quite enough." Malvern moved closer, the smile of nightmares on his face. "Everyone leave the room, please."

* * *

The Guardian piloted the plane towards Oasis West. "I've never been in one of these before," Janzi said. "I like the way the wings adapt to the air current, now fluttering, now stretched out for gliding."

"It's all computerized and of much less interest to me than the dragon. Tell me about him. I can't believe I'm asking that."

"I didn't directly observe him, but Serazina was expressive on many sensory levels in her description. Phileas, I can't believe we've spent hundreds of years fearing him. Serazina told us that Tara says his life is in danger."

"It is," Phileas said. "Who's Tara?"

"Serazina's cat."

"I see. Every question seems to take me deeper into the realm of the impossible."

"That's why you needed to read Zena's words. None of this is the kind of sense we're used to."

"No indeed."

* * *

Serazina could smell the whisky on Malvern's breath. "Poor girl, no one could really blame you for hanging out with the wrong animals when you have a father who's a traitor. If you cooperate, we might be able to get his sentence reduced to life imprisonment. I could argue your father's case . . . but I wouldn't unless I had some reason to, some kind of information."

"No."

He shook his head slowly. "You're a heartless girl. They're likely to torture him for the sake of national security, of course. And if that fails, they might cut into his brain. It's a deep probe. They extract information from the cells, very painful, I hear. They might to that to you, too, especially if you don't volunteer anything. They're rigorous over at the House of Healing."

"No," Serazina said, and Malvern moved closer. She wondered if terror would make her vomit on him.

"I can tell you about something even worse, a terrible drug manufactured in Dolocairn. It blots out portions of the memory. Imagine that. You'd never remember any of our, ah, conversation. You'd forget all this 'The dragon is our friend' treachery."

_The assassin,_ she thought. _Malvern gave the drug to him, and he'll give it to me. Lady! Save me!_

The response came, cool as green leaves kissed by autumn frost. _Save yourself. Shield yourself._

If only she'd practiced. If only she'd made more use of the mental abilities everyone said were so keen. They felt as sluggish as a debris-choked river.

Not a river. The ocean, and now I've seen it and heard its roar and its hiss, so like Druid's voice. Dear Druid. I must save him. If I can build a wave that towers over Malvern and keeps me safe, I can go into his mind. If I can learn his plans, I can save the dragon.

The wave was small at first, a ripple of white far out in the ocean. As it drew closer to the shore, it became swollen and tall, singing in crashing tones the glory of its brief life. And behind it another and another. She darted into his mind.

His thoughts roiled like a nest of rattlesnakes. _What does she know? Has an informer infiltrated my ranks? It doesn't matter. With the fire and the following chaos, I will be able to overthrow the Guardian. He won't be much of a player after tonight, and you, young Dolocairner-Etrenzian hybrid, will be killed by a crowd that demands your death for your treasonous association with the dragon._

* * *

"Follow me to the clearing where the small cats live!" Gris screeched. "Emergency!"

"What emergency?" Druid demanded.

"The girl with a name like a mouthful of feathers has been imprisoned."

"Prison, like a cage?"

"Exactly like that."

"I'm coming with you," Monti said. "I like that girl. And, Druid, I don't think you'd better fly."

Druid thought that someone should do something to make the woods more dragon-friendly, instead of a jumble of stones and vines designed to trip him. At last, he made it to the clearing, where a crowd of cats circled him, awe in their eyes.

"This alone is worth leaving the city," Senti said.

Tara ran to Druid. "You heard about Serazina?"

He nodded. "It's because of me, isn't it?"

Tara nodded. "They're calling it national security. That means she's a traitor."

"Bunch of buttheads in that village," Monti muttered. "Too bad you're not a fire dragon. I'm for razing the place to the ground."

"I could call the fire dragons, but how would that save Serazina?"

"Set the prison on fire?" Tara said. "No, she might not get out in time. That would be worse."

"The fire dragons could threaten the humans, though. I've never seen one, but I imagine they're very impressive. They could burn down a house or two to get the point across."

"Maybe. Druid, I don't know. None of it sounds exactly right, and it feels like anything that isn't exactly right will be exactly wrong. All I know for certain is that the closer you are to the village the better. Could we go to the edge of the woods? The trees will conceal you."

When she saw the dragon hesitate, she lost her balance. "Druid, they could be hurting her right now! They have terrible tools for that. Who knows, they might even kill her. Maybe you can live with that, but I'm not sitting here any longer. I'll slip in between the prison bars; I'll scratch the jailors. I'm one small cat, but I'd rather die than live knowing I never tried."

Druid sobbed. "What a water dragon you would have made. I've never felt such shame. Let's go."

* * *

Malvern inched closer to Serazina. "Once the villagers hear about you, I'll have a hard time restraining them. You know how it is. We live on the edge of the dragon's territory, on the edge of terror. To know that one of their own betrayed them would make them angry and possibly want to hurt someone. Soon a mob will gather outside the jail. All I have to do is to turn you over to them."

"You fiend!"

Berto! She turned her head. He stood in the doorway with the Guardian and Janzi Nor'azzi. Peace officers from the city seized Malvern, and Serazina fainted.

Frantic cries revived her.

"Fire! Fire!"

Was she back in Malvern's mind? No, she could smell the smoke.

* * *

Malvern, with surprising dexterity, squirmed out of his captors' grip. "I must save our people! The dragon started that fire, and we're going to kill him at last."

He ran out of the lockup, followed by several local peace officers.

"Seize him!" Phileas roared.

One officer turned. "Sorry, Guardian, not a chance. He's going to save Oasis West. We're going after the dragon."

Phileas ran after them, into the crowded square, where people shouted, "Kill the dragon!"

Malvern Frost stood in the square, protected by armed men. "Guardian, do you see how right I was to interrogate the girl? You can be sure she knew about the dragon's vile plot to destroy this village. We'll make both of them pay."

Phileas considered his position. He was sure Malvern was lying, but he lacked the forces to overcome the troops surrounding him. The fire had to be his first priority.

So far, it was limited to one building, but the flames were seeking new fodder in neighboring buildings. The fire chief directed men and women bearing hoses, but the water pressure was so low the jets of water barely reached the flames.

"Fellow citizens," Malvern shouted, "Every minute we delay we risk that the dragon will return to strike when we're at our weakest."

If a horde of people marched off with Malvern, few would be left to help put out the fire. Phileas attempted reason.

"Who saw the dragon do this?"

"I did," a man said.

"So did I."

_National security_ , Phileas said to himself and scanned their minds. They were both lying.

Serazina said, "I saw thoughts of fire in Malvern's mind."

"That girl has lost her own mind," Malvern said. "That's what happens when you hang around dragons. We're losing precious time. Onward!"

* * *

Tara sniffed the air. "What's burning?"

A cat came dashing from the direction of the village. "I saw humans set a fire. Now they're blaming the dragon. They're assembling a group to march here and kill him."

"Why do they think I set fires?" Druid demanded. "Why don't they know I'm a water dragon?"

A shiver of destiny rippled his scales. _No,_ he thought. _It's too dangerous. They'll kill me._ But the ripple wouldn't go away. It grew stronger, surging into a wave that filled his wings with strength.

"I'm going to show them. I'm going to put out the fire," he said.

Gris, perched on a branch, said, "That's very brave, also stupid. I'll make sure I'm there to cover the event."

"It may save my friends." _And kill me. And that could bring on the final destruction—not that I'll care._

### Chapter 25

Serazina watched Janzi climb on top of a bench and try to get the departing villagers to stop. "If you won't listen to your Guardian, listen to me. Serazina Clare has seen the dragon. He did her no harm. This is the moment I've been talking about all along. If you kill the dragon, you kill your future. Oasis West will be destroyed and eventually the entire country."

Romala emerged from a hummer and joined them. "I got your message, Guardian. What can I do?"

"Organize bucket brigades."

_What can I do?_ Serazina asked herself. Only one possibility presented itself. She ran for the fields, hoping to reach the dragon before the mob did.

Behind her rose the sound of shouting. She glanced behind her. Moonlight glinted off rifle stocks, and voices rose in the quiet night. "Kill the Dragon!"

Serazina ran faster.

* * *

Druid began to worry when he approached the end of the forest. Open fields lay ahead.

Serazina darted into the woods, followed by breathless Berto.

"Druid, they're coming to kill you. How can we stop them?"

"I was planning to put out their fire," Druid said. "Any chance of that?"

"Not at the moment," Berto said.

Serazina set her mouth in a firm line. "I'm going to talk to them."

* * *

She looked out at the crowd, bracing herself against the onrush of hatred for the dragon, but she found it greatly diluted with fear, hesitation, and downright reluctance.

Would have looked bad if I hadn't come.

I don't want people to think I'm an Earther.

We can't take any chances—I guess.

What if we go back and find our village burned to the ground?

If she could tell them the truth maybe enough people would hear it to prevent the others from marching further.

Words slipped about in her mouth like smooth-shelled beans. Before she could bite down on any of them, Malvern Frost shook his rifle at her.

"Out of the way, traitor," he said. "You've tried to destroy us."

"I'm trying to save the dragon and all of us."

He approached her, his rifle pointed at her chest. "By letting him set fires?"

"The dragon didn't set the fire. You did."

A flash of terror so brief Serazina thought she'd imagined it crossed Malvern's face. His usual crafty expression replaced it. "Prove it."

"Are you accusing the Councilor of starting the fire?" someone called out.

A gasp rose from the crowd. Malvern grabbed the collar of her shirt. "That's slander."

"Fellow citizens, didn't I save the Guardian's life?" she cried out.

Voices muttered confirmation. "And didn't I know that the assassin would strike before anyone else?"

"You did, and the Guardian honored you for it. You brought pride to our village."

"And gave a nice speech about how important we were. I haven't forgotten that."

"Every word was true," Serazina said. "We are honest, loyal citizens."

A few ragged cheers arose.

"But one person here isn't." She pointed to Malvern. "As surely as I knew someone was about to murder the Guardian, I know Malvern Frost organized the setting of the fire. And I can prove that the dragon would never do such a thing."

Malvern's smile dripped acid. "Go ahead. This will be worth seeing."

"You have to put your guns down."

"Don't listen to her!" Malvern shouted. "This is a trap."

"It isn't. I can bring the dragon here, into this field, but I won't until everyone puts their guns down . . . in a pile . . . over there." She pointed to the end of a row of corn.

"Why should we?" a few people demanded.

"Because the dragon can save our village. He isn't a fire breathing dragon at all; he's a water dragon."

The muttering increased. _Water dragon? Did you ever hear of such a thing? Is the girl cracked? She must be loony. A water dragon?_

"Put down your guns, and I'll prove it," Serazina said.

One man put down his gun and walked over the edge of the row to drop it. "I believe her. I want to see this."

The others followed his lead, until all but Malvern were weaponless. He shook his head. "No way, little girl."

The words were hardly out of his mouth before two farm workers grabbed him, wrestled him to the ground, and sat on him. "Sorry, Mr. Frost," one said, "but it had to be done."

"Go on now," the other said to Serazina. "Let's see the dragon."

"Druid," Serazina called. "Come out now."

Excited chatter broke out when the dragon appeared.

"He's like a giant snake with feet."

"A huge lizard."

"Look, he's weeping."

"The girl told the truth."

* * *

Satisfied that the bucket brigades were succeeding in at least slowing the spread of the fire, Phileas ran after the dragon killers, hoping that even at the last moment, he might be able to reason with them. He got to the meadow just in time to see the dragon emerge from the forest. He held his breath in awe.

Nothing he had ever heard had prepared him for the glittering glory of the beast. His scales gleamed in the moonlight like finely cut emeralds, and his mane was even brighter. The creature's eyes made Phileas gasp. The soft green of jade, they were ringed with starry tears.

Zena's words began singing in Phileas's ears. _The world is love made manifest. Join in the dance._

Rapture strained the boundaries of Phileas's heart. He was about to run forward when Malvern broke free of his captors and seized his gun.

"If no one else dares, I will kill the dragon!"

"No!" Serazina knocked him to the ground, just as she'd tackled the assassin. Phileas ran to the girl's defense, but before he could reach her, Malvern's gun went off.

At the first sight of blood flowering on her shirt, a roar made the trees shake and the grass whip down to touch the ground. The dragon drenched Malvern with gusting water.

The Councilor staggered to his feet and retched out a stream of water. "It sprayed right in my mouth. Filthy beast, shoot him, someone."

"Seize him!" Phileas shouted, and several men wrestled Malvern to the ground. Phileas knelt by Serazina's side.

"Be calm."

"I am, Guardian. Am I going to die?"

"I don't think so."

"If I do, please don't let them hurt the dragon."

He examined the wound quickly. Because of the close range of fire, the bullet had torn its way through Serazina's upper chest and out her shoulder. Phileas took off his shirt, ripped it into bandages, and made them into a tourniquet.

Berto came running over. "Will she be all right?"

"I think so, but we need to get her into the village, where Romala and Janzi can work with me."

"The dragon says he'll carry her into the village if the people give him safe passage."

"You run ahead to warn them."

The dragon approached them, his short front legs outstretched. Phileas lifted Serazina, and the beast picked both of them up and cradled them against his chest.

Phileas had only a second to appreciate how soft the dragon's scales were, like fine Etrenzian leather, before the dragon flapped his wings and began to fly.

"The air feels like the sea, with currents and waves," Serazina said. "Do you think this is what dying is like, floating into the next world?"

Focusing on healing Serazina kept Phileas from worrying that the dragon would drop them. "It would be better if you don't think about dying. We want to stop this bleeding. Close your eyes, and imagine the site of the wound, near your collarbone, and see the blood there getting very thick, almost like a glue that closes the wound. And now your skin is pulling together, closing, joining, and every part of your body where the bullet passed is doing the same, muscles stitching back together, nerves reconnecting, and the wound disappears." He hoped.

"And I'm very grateful," Serazina said, "that Malvern didn't get to kill the dragon. And I thank the dragon for being so brave and for coming to the village to help the people, and for being my friend, that most of all. And I thank the Green Lady for helping me to see the true world."

Once things calmed down a little, Phileas was going to have several long conversations with Serazina. His mind raced with possibilities.

He saw the village ahead and hoped the dragon knew how to make a soft landing. "Guardian, you might want to start shouting so they know you're riding the dragon," Serazina said. "Otherwise, they might be upset."

She was right. Already people were screaming, a few picking up rocks. "It is I, your Guardian!" Phileas bellowed. "The dragon has come to put out the fire. Clear the way."

People seemed only too glad to disperse.

"Is that the Clare girl?"

"And the Guardian?"

"He isn't wearing a shirt."

"Am I drunk?"

The dragon landed gently, kneeling down so that Phileas could lower Serazina to the ground. "Romala! Janzi! Serazina has been shot."

The women pushed through the crowd, and people began to mutter.

"Who would do that?"

"That nice girl who spoke so highly of us? When did she ever harm anyone?"

"Who shot her?"

"Malvern Frost," Phileas said. "We have a crowd of witnesses."

"And he had the fire started," Serazina called out weakly.

"You stay quiet," Romala said, placing her hands on the wound. "You're going to be fine. Your spirit is very strong. Let's get you to a bed, where you can rest."

"No, I've got to stay here. I can't leave the dragon now."

* * *

Druid landed close enough to the fire to be within spraying distance and far enough away from the dry, fiery air caused by the flames. But it wasn't going to work. He'd used up too much water in assaulting the human who'd shot Serazina, and the heat caused his water supply to evaporate faster than he could replenish it.

"Dragon clan!" he cried, "come to my aid!"

He thought he heard an answering cry, but it sounded distant. "I'm going to fail," he told Serazina, Berto, and the kitten. "I don't have enough water."

* * *

Tara looked at the gathered cats and knew why she had sensed large numbers would be needed. A hundred wet tongues might stimulate the Dragon into increased water production. She would never talk them into it in time. It was better to lead by example.

She climbed up Druid's leg and onto his torso. "Cats, follow me. Climb up on the dragon and lick him!"

"Are you zoned out on catnip?"

"I'm not licking any dragon."

"Those scales would ruin my tongue."

Orion followed, and after him Emerald, Sekhmet, and Bast.

"Cats, show your courage!" Orion cried out.

"Use your brains!" Emerald screeched. "If we help put out the fire, the humans are going to owe us big time."

That got the village cats' attention. One by one, they climbed up the dragon and began to lick, until he could hardly be seen for the writhing mass of fur that covered him. The cats licked tirelessly, and Druid, now insulated from the worst heat of the flames by his cat cocoon, shot forth a fine jet of water that reduced the flames.

The feline irrigation system worked for a while, but Tara began to feel her tongue getting dry. The other cats, being larger, would last longer, but not long enough.

At the point where she knew she couldn't go on, a cry rose from the crowd. The water dragons were coming, brilliant flashes of green in the night.

"Mother, Father," Druid said. "Help me, please."

The dragons hovered in the sky.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked.

"A reason to help," his mother said.

"For me?"

Dragonlord said, "Druid, at this point, you've earned your place in dragondom. You can fly away with us now as a dragon of honor."

"What about the rest of them: Serazina, Berto, the people who believe in me? Will you let their homes be destroyed?"

"We could," the Dragonlady said. "We need an incentive to get involved. Do these humans have anything valuable to give us: gold, precious oils, or gems?"

The people looked at each other.

"I do!" Tara cried.

Dragonlady hovered close to her. "Nice ones?"

"Beautiful gems, but the fire will spread too fast in the time I need to get them. You must believe me."

"Is this cat's word good?" Dragonlord asked Druid.

"Totally reliable."

"All right, let loose." The dragons sprayed the burning buildings.

Tara ran to Berto. "Come with me to dig up the gems. They're in Serazina's garden."

"I'll carry you," he said and dashed to the Clare house, followed by Orion and Senti.

When they reached the house, he set her gently on the ground and grabbed an odd stick with a scooped metallic device at its end. "Tell me where to dig."

Orion pointed, and clods of earth flew in all direction, obscuring the approach of the dog who'd attacked Tara and Orion until he growled and leapt at the cats. They fought him off, nipping at his legs. Senti leaped into the air to attack the dog's muzzle, but the dog grabbed him in his jaws. Finally, Berto managed to grab his collar.

The dog yelped painfully, his jaws loosening. "Mercy. I ask for my life. I was trying to defend the honor of my master."

"He has none," Orion hissed. "Loyalty is a fine quality, but not for those who don't deserve it. Seek a higher loyalty, dog, and we'll spare your life. And no false promises, either, because we'll be around to check."

"I swear it," the dog said, and Berto released him.

Blood streamed from Senti's neck wound. "Chosen," he gasped, "come close."

Tara crept near to him.

"What you said about the Great Cat Mother was true. I see Her; Her soft paws reach to enclose me. In Her heartbeat, I live. Always."

Tara licked his face. "You will be known as Senti, the Seeker. All cats will honor you."

"I thank you, but the greatest honor is to have had a life worth living." The white cat closed his eyes.

Tara laid her head on his heart. It still pumped strongly, and she had no sense, as she had had with Misha, that his spirit was preparing to leave. She remembered the woman healer, whose voice had been so kind.

"Can we find a way to carry him into the village?"

"I will," Berto said.

Tara pulled the bag of gems from the hole Berto had dug and ran ahead, carrying them in her mouth.

The last flame had been extinguished by the time she returned to the location of the fire. All the dragons were settled on the ground. Tara ran up to the Dragonlady, who opened the bag with her claws and spilled out the gems.

Human and dragon alike gasped at the bright, shining colors that winked in the darkness. Dragonlady picked up an emerald to inspect it. "Very fine quality. We approve."

She turned to the crowd. "You don't understand me, I know, but listen, anyway. We give these gems to the girl, Serazina and the boy, Berto. They are to find ways to use them for your enlightenment. And whatever use they put them to, you must always remember that the dragons are responsible for the benefits you receive."

Tara hissed, and Druid said, "And cats. None of this would have been possible without Tara and her family and friends."

"Quite correct," Dragonlady said. "If we hear anything about cat abuse, our fire-breathing cousins will visit. You really don't want to meet them when they're in bad moods."

Berto carried Senti into the village square. "Humans can show their appreciation immediately. We need a Healer for this cat."

"For a cat?" Romala demanded.

"Yes," Serazina said fiercely, "for one of the cats who saved this village."

Romala put her hands, still wet with Serazina's blood, around the cat's neck.

"Help her," Orion said. "Sing, cats."

All the cats began to purr and mew. Though some humans covered their ears, Tara thought it the sweetest sound she'd ever heard. It wreathed around Senti's wound, its song giving new life to his torn flesh. The bleeding stopped.

Sekhmet leaned over him. "He's very weak. He can't travel at all tonight."

"He'll stay at my house," Berto said, "inside, where he'll be safe."

"I've never been inside a human house," Senti said with wonder. He looked up at Berto. "Or been held in the arms of a human."

* * *

Dragonlord flapped his wings. "It's time for us to leave now. Druid, bid your friends farewell."

He turned to each of them, lowering his head for them to touch.

"I'll never forget you," Berto said. "Thank you for teaching me how to hear you and for the ride."

"Will you come back?" Serazina begged. "Please?

"I hope so," he said, finding water for tears he hadn't thought he'd be able to shed.

Tara touched noses with him. "I love you, Druid. I'll always remember you."

"And you, small kitten," Druid said. "You taught me the meaning of greatness, and you will always live in my heart."

All the dragons flapped their wings and rose in the air. Druid kept his eyes on his beloved friends until they became specks on the charred earth. He began to weep. The other dragons joined in, their tears drenching the parched fields. The prayers of plants and trees rose in grateful response.

"You will miss them," Dragonlady said.

He nodded, unable to speak, remembering how Tara had warned him not to shake his head. New tears welled in his eyes.

"I'll even miss the humans," he said. "When they're bad, they're the worst animals on earth, but when they're good, they creep into your heart."

"It would have been a shame to destroy them," Dragonlord said. "I'm glad we didn't this time."

All the dragons sighed and flew towards dawn.
Main Characters

Author's note: I know that a character list can make some people feel that they're about to read a Russian novel. On the other hand (or paw), I've read many books that should have had them. So this one does.

\---

Swamp Residents

Druid: A depressed water dragon

Tomo: A cynical puma

Monti: Tomo's son and heir apparent

Tolti: Chattering squirrel of great faith

Gris: Loud-mouthed but informative hawk

\---

Cats

Tara: Though destined to help bring the world back to Oneness, this kitten would rather chase butterflies.

\---

In the Alley

Emerald: Young cat, smart, sexy, and malnourished

Misha: Her grandmother, who dreams of a place called the Green

Senti: A randy tomcat

\---

Foreigners

Orion: A randy tomcat with class

Sekhmet: Mean-mouthed cat who's his sister

Bast: Slightly nicer sister

Hathor: Mother of the siblings and of

Ra and Atman, other male cats of the litter

\---

Humans

Their Country: Oasis was founded by former slaves from three lands.

\---

Races

**Etrenzians:** originally desert people, they scorn emotions, being more comfortable with the arid power of mind and thought. The leaders of the slave revolt were Etrenzian, which gave them an edge from the beginning.

**Tamarans** : pleasure-loving sensualists who know how to evade the restrictions of the austere Etrenzians without getting caught. While the Tamarans in Oasis were once slaves, Tamaras was the slave owning country.

**Dolocairners:** Considered to be a race only good for field and manual labor because most of them cannot be trained to have disciplined minds. They are currently attracted to both the Earther movement, a group determined to honor nature and the Godlies, who believe that emotions are vile and sure to land one in an air-conditioned hell where the Dragon will chase sinners.

\---

Individuals

Serazina: Of mixed Etrenzian and Dolocairner background, this girl feels more than is good for her safety and freedom in logic-loving Oasis.

Berto: Her Tamaran boyfriend, an artist

Elissia: Her older sister, a scientist

Fiola: Her mother, Etrenzian and proud of it

Johar: Her Dolocairner father, who has been known to weep

Phileas: Etrenzian, Guardian of Oasis, Master of Mind, haunted by the idea that he will be known in history as Phileas the Failure

\---

Members of the Oasan Council

Malvern Frost: Mixed Etrenzian and Dolocairner, he is shifty, manipulative, and all around trouble. He lives in Libra West, where primarily Dolocairner workers tend the fields.

Daria Turley: Descended from Nathan and Zena Turley, founders of Oasis, she is batty and not too bright.

Wendly Icinger: Dolocairner and Overseer of agriculture, he has sympathy for the Earthers.

Snurf Noswan: Dolocairner and leader of the Godlies

Kermit: Etrenzian and Treasurer of the country, lover of facts and figures

Romala Kyle: Etrenzian and Tamaran and Acting Chief Healer

Janzi Nor'azzi: Etrenzian and mother of Phileas. The Chief Healer, she is now believed to be deranged.

\---

Characters Who Are Sometimes Invisible

The Green Lady: A cosmic deity, known to cats as The Big-rumped One, The Sharp-clawed One, The Golden-eyed One, etc.

### Thank You

Thanks so much for buying and reading _The Dragon Who Didn't Fly._ It's the first in the series: _A Dragon's Guide to Destiny._ _Dance with Clouds_ is Book Two. You can read Chapter 1 of this book a few pages from now. _House of the Moon_ is Book 3. The fourth book is Book of Sorrows. The fifth, as yet untitled, book will be published in 2017.

On the next page, you'll see that I'd love to send you a free prequel to the series, _The Snake Charmer's Daughter,_ a novella _._

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Slavery, Freedom, or Death?

Read your free copy of

The Snake Charmer's Daughter, a novella

Prequel to A Dragon's Guide to Destiny.

When a foreign nation conquers her land, Zena, an apprentice snake charmer and mind master, becomes a slave in the Emperor's harem. A dedicated sadist runs the harem, and the Emperor is a temperamental drug addict.

Determined to escape, she resists those who urge her to start a slave revolt. Heroes have short lives and violent deaths. Soon, though, she learns the power of friendship and love and can no longer turn her back on the suffering of others. As life in the harem becomes increasingly perilous, Zena wonders if leading a rebellion is the only way she can survive.

Sign up for the author's monthly newsletter

to receive your free copy.

### Click here to get started.

http://dl.bookfunnel.com/ox0rn5lrhk

Below is an excerpt from Dance with Clouds,

Book 2 of A Dragon's Guide to Destiny.

### Chapter 1

Far from the swamp where he'd spent most of his five hundred years, Druid walked along the shore with Daphne. The female dragon's hips, rolling like the waves of the sea, bumped softly into Druid's quivering side.

Daphne wasn't the shiniest pebble on the beach, but she demonstrated exceptional talent in the shadows of a dune or beneath sheltered palm trees. Having spent too many centuries as a sex-starved virgin, Druid loved to lose himself in scaly embraces, and Daphne's enthusiasm matched his.

Stars winked suggestively, and the moon wore a sensuous smile. Druid was ready to romp.

"Wouldn't you like to rest beneath a palm tree?" he asked Daphne. She lowered her long green lashes and smiled.

They were in the throes of thumping passion when Druid sensed a disturbance in the quiet of the tropical night. Over the whisper of sheltering fronds and the sigh of the sea, a metallic hum cut through the sky.

Only one species made noises that sawed into bones and nerves. "Humans!" he shouted, jumping off Daphne and raising a sandstorm as he hurried down the beach. One by one, dragons stumbled out to join him, their wings flexed to resist attack.

"What? Where?"

Druid raised his eyes to the sky and pointed at distant lights that cut through the pearl-black night and dimmed the stars. He had seen such lights blinking over the swamp. They belonged to a flying machine called _airplane_. This one seemed to pollute the ocean breeze with a faint but spreading malevolence. Like a distinct odor, it evoked powerful memories. Druid tasted the tang of fear rising from the sun-leathered skin of a hundred frightened humans and the mixture of sweat and oil smeared on their weapons. He heard the hatred in their breathing. He smelled the venom of Malvern Frost, self-proclaimed Dragonslayer.

_Dragonslayer._ The human fiend was supposed to be in a cave called prison, no longer able to harm anyone, but Druid was certain the monster was in that infernal _airplane._ The dragon's scales clacked with alarm, and his wings flapped with the urge to fly at the alien machine and knock it from the sky.

"Attack!" he shouted. "The enemy who tried to destroy the swamp is in that machine!"

Several dragons hissed in sympathy, but no one moved a wing. "Why attack?" a dragon asked, yawning. "He's going south, away from us, away from your friends and their city. Let us rejoice. Good riddance, says I, and I'm going back to bed."

The other dragons yawned in sleepy agreement and disappeared. Only Daphne remained, still panting from interrupted passion. Druid watched the winking lights until they disappeared, leaving his unease intact.

Daphne tugged at his wing. "It's gone. Let's go back and romp."

Druid, ignoring her, poised himself for flight to the swamp to warn his old companions, but a voice stopped him.

_They are safe at the moment_. _Danger is still a distant storm. When the time comes to act, you will know._

"Not that Dragon of Destiny business again," he groaned.

* * *

The first knock on his door awoke Phileas, Guardian of Oasis. By the second knock, his hand was turning the doorknob.

Commander Dal'Rish stood in the doorway. "Frost has escaped."

A person of great mind did not succumb to rage, no matter how eagerly it flamed within him. "Enter," Phileas said, "and tell me the rest. When and how did it happen?"

"Two hours ago."

"Two hours ago, and I am only hearing about it now?"

Sometimes a person of great mind abandoned his principles.

Dal'Rish flinched. "Your fury is totally justified, and I offer my resignation. I have failed my country, my people, my Guardian—"

A person of great mind recovered his calm quickly. "I will be held responsible for this mess, and I don't have the luxury of resigning. Gather your wits, Commander, and give me some useful information. Enlighten me with the details of how Frost escaped from a prison with the highest known level of security."

"Drugs in aerosol form," Dal'Rish said. "Our scientists are now analyzing the substance. It first hit the guards who circle the perimeter of the prison. The members of the tactical squad who rushed out to disable the criminals also got sprayed, and the criminals got inside and immobilized the guards who controlled the locking system. We suspect that a former inmate or guard supplied detailed plans of the prison. Guardian, I in no way seek to excuse myself—"

"I'm clear on that."

"But the attackers disabled security and communications to such an extent that I've only just heard of the incident myself."

The ring of Dal'Rish's beeper interrupted him. After listening for a moment, he put it on speaker mode.

A female voice spoke. "Commander, we've discovered tire tracks, apparently those of an all-terrain vehicle, leading to a nearby beach. We also see the imprints of a small passenger airplane like those used by drug traffickers. Our teletrackers saw the flight pattern of a plane that was headed south towards Tamaras before we lost it."

"Inform our agents there at once," Dal'rish said. He clicked off his beeper. "Why Tamaras?" he asked Phileas.

"A diversionary move. Malvern will surface in Dolocairn."

The astonishment on the Commander's face was no greater than what Phileas felt. He hadn't thought out the answer in his usual deliberate, logical way. It had seemed inspired by—the word that defiled reason— _intuition._

"But Malvern loathes Dolocairn and all Dolocairners," Dal'Rish said.

The Commander spoke logic: clear, unarguable, but _wrong._ Phileas clung to intuition's wobbly perch. He'd always called Frost a wily spider, but now the former Councilor's web glittered in blinding silvery strands, a pattern impervious to reason.

"Guardian, can you explain this?"

The panic in Dal'Rish's voice made Phileas desperate for a ladder of logic to help him down to earth. "Breathe deeply, Commander. Let's consider the facts. We can agree that Frost always clung to the Etrenzian half of his heritage and repudiated his Dolocairner ancestry. Is it possible that his denunciation served as a cover for a far-reaching plot involving that accursed land of ice and mountains?"

The Commander's face relaxed. "Guardian, allow me to salute your brilliance."

"Thank you, but I'm afraid the brilliance is all Malvern's. He duped us." Phileas mentally shook himself. "Remorse, however, defeats the intentions of Mind. Now we can anticipate him."

"We'll take action at once," Dal'Rish said. "I'll get messages to our agents in deep cover as soon as possible. Do you think he'll have the temerity to surface openly?"

"Malvern never lacked temerity, but if he does show his face, we'll know that powerful forces in Dolocairn, if not the government itself, are in league with him. We'll find out soon enough."

Phileas was tempted to rub his hands in satisfaction. His brain sparked in preparation for battle. Only now did he realize how dull life had been since Malvern's incarceration.

"I think I'll go over to the House of Healing and check on those attacked by the mysterious drug," he said.

"I'll accompany you. Guardian?"

"Yes?"

"What about Serazina Clare? Shouldn't she be told that Frost has escaped?"

Phileas stopped, momentarily paralyzed with a guilt he shook off almost as soon as it burdened him. "She must be brought to safety. Have several of your trusted subordinates bring her to this building. Order a round-the-clock watch. She is not to go out unescorted. Frost may be gone, but he clearly has a well-organized network. If there's one person other than me upon whom he'd seek revenge, it would be Serazina."

"I'll tell her myself," Dal'rish said.

"I'll come with you."

* * *

Serazina was having the usual nightmare. She saw Malvern Frost's hate-filled face as he aimed his gun in the dragon's direction. As she had night after night, she leapt at him, and the bullet meant for Druid drilled its way into her.

She sat up, screaming, and Tara pressed against her head and purred. _Calm, calm._

"What?" Berto reached for Serazina. "The dream again?"

"More real than ever before." Serazina looked around, half-expecting to see Frost lurking in the corner of the bedroom.

"He can't hurt you now."

Serazina was sure he could.

She heard a knock on the door that sounded like trouble. "I'll get it," Berto said. He dressed quickly and went into the hall.

"Guardian?"

Serazina threw on some clothes and joined him. The Guardian and Commander Dal'Rish stood in the doorway, both looking grim. "He escaped," she said.

"How did you know?" Dal'Rish asked, but the Guardian merely said, "We believe he fled to Tamaras."

Images of steep mountains crowded her head. "Not Dolocairn?"

"Astonishing," the Commander said.

The Guardian stepped on Dal'Rish's foot. "Why do you think Dolocairn?"

"I don't think it. I _see_ it."

Her voice was sharp, but he deserved it for testing her. He might as well realize she was no longer going to hide her sensing ability, even though the old fear that she'd be shut up in the Ward for the Chronically Crazy assaulted her.

"Then you're not afraid?" Phileas asked.

She wished he hadn't asked. His question opened the floodgates straining against terror. "Because he's not here? What difference does that make? He didn't escape unassisted and not only for the sake of freedom. He must have a plan, and he'll try to eliminate those who stopped him the last time."

The Guardian nodded again. "That's why I'm ordering you to move to the House of Justice and full-time protection."

The idea of safety seduced her until she remembered it meant loss of freedom. "I won't be imprisoned. Would _you_?"

"I'm ordering you."

"And I'm refusing your order—with all due respect."

Though the Commander looked horrified, Berto stifled laughter. The Guardian glared at him.

"Aren't you worried about her safety?"

"Of course I am, but it's never done me any good to worry about Serazina. What if you'd ordered her not to go into the swamp and meet the dragon? Malvern Frost might be ruling this country."

"And he still wants to," Serazina said. "None of us are safe anywhere."

The Guardian's lips tightened. "I accept that—with reluctance. Since you refuse to be reasonable, will you accompany us to the House of Healing? Perhaps you could help heal or at least study the victims of Malvern's attack."

That was an offer she couldn't refuse.

* * *

Although it was a short walk from the cottage to the House of Healing, Tara noticed that Serazina saw danger in every clump of bushes. After the third time she jumped and cried out, Berto took her hand.

_About time_. Once Berto would have immediately reached out to comfort Serazina. Now the demands on each of them pulled them apart. Serazina worried about what the Guardian would ask of her now that she was the Heroine of Oasis. Berto faced his own torments. Having given up on the idea that the boy would become a political leader, Phileas had commissioned Berto to paint a series of murals depicting the Night of the Dragon, as Druid's triumph over Malvern Frost had come to be named.

If Berto had a cat's sense, he wouldn't assume that Phileas favored him only because of his relationship with Serazina. Even Druid, a dragon unfamiliar with human concepts of art, had spotted Berto's genius when the boy had drawn his image in the sand.

Tara sensed deeper problems, swimming in murky waters as foul as those of the swamp. These issues stemmed from the human word, "relationship," a concept alien to the kitten. She wondered whether she should find ways to reconcile the unhappy couple or encourage a division that might lead each more surely along their paths of destiny.

Orion always said that when two possibilities beckoned equally, the path of least resistance usually proved to be the best choice. He would further say that when one was dealing with a number of pressing questions, those that could be most easily neglected deserved to be let alone. He would tell Tara she had more important responsibilities at the moment.

And he would lecture to Tara about a lot more. When her mother's ears flattened against Orion's verbal assaults, Emerald called him a pompous windbag. Moving to the city to live with Serazina had freed Tara of Orion's endless supply of wind. Despite this, she missed him—but not as much as she missed Emerald, who would be a much better cat to ask about relationships.

Now, though, was the time for telling. Orion, Emerald, and other cat leaders needed to hear about Malvern Frost as soon as possible. Someone had to get to the swamp and tell the animals there. For once, Tara wished that Gris, the newshawk, were around.

She scanned the trees and saw the round eyes of an owl. "Brother Moonfriend," she called. "I need help."

"And why should I help a competitor for the mouse supply?"

"This year has given us many mice because cats urged them to procreate with greater vigor. Hasn't that news reached you yet?"

The owl hooted. "And I suppose you were one of them?"

Tara raised herself on her hind legs. "I am the kitten who faced the dragon in the swamp."

"Who?"

"Tara, kitten of the Quest."

The owl shuffled on the tree limb. "Oh, that kitten. In the city we don't take much notice of rural happenings. However, I do have an opening in my schedule. What do you want?"

"An owl relay, if possible. Malvern Frost, Dragonslayer, is on the loose, probably headed to the icy country of Dolocairn. What he plots may cause harm to all creatures, owls included. The animals of the forest and swamp must learn this news."

"Very well."

Tara could have gone for a little more enthusiasm, but Orion had always said that graciousness was its own reward. Orion again! Was his entire body of wit and wisdom buried in her little skull?

"Thank you, night brother."

"Just don't eat all the mice before I come back."

The owl winged his way west.

Tara caught up to the others as the humans were about to enter the security door of the House of Healing. "I'm sorry, Guardian," the guard said. " No animals allowed."

Apparently the salvation of Oasis by animals, especially cats, was yesterday's news. Tara was trying to decide whether to scratch him or piss on his shoes when Serazina picked her up and brought her face to face with the guard.

"This kitten helped to save the lives of everyone in Oasis. When the dragon came to put out the fire that would have destroyed Oasis West, Tara organized cats to keep his scales wet."

"That little thing?"

Tara hissed again.

"Little, brave, and heroic."

"Does that mean you're Serazina?"

Tara saw the girl physically shrink away from fame, her shoulders hunched, her neck nearly contracting, as if she were trying to pull her head inside her body. This unnecessary modesty would have to be addressed very soon.

Phileas took control. "This animal is allowed."

His black eyes burned red spots on the guard's cheeks. The youth buzzed them through.

Tara began sniffing the moment they entered the room where victims of the prison assault were lying. The odor emanating from the skin and clothing of the patients reminded her of the perfume of ginger flowers, but it was far more powerful.

Romala, Chief Healer, called from a corner where she was tending to comatose men, and the group moved to her side.

"Has anyone identified the drug used to immobilize the guards?" Phileas asked.

"The scientists have narrowed it down to some species of alpine weed. That means Dolocairn."

"Dolocairn, indeed," Phileas said, "but that doesn't indicate the country's direct involvement. Its drugs are distributed to all the other lands. Anyone could get some. I want to be very cautious about pointing the finger of blame until we have irrefutable evidence."

"Understood," Romala said. "I won't make this information available to anyone else."

"Thank you, Chief Healer."

According to Serazina, the Guardian and Chief Healer were sexually interested in each other. Based on this exchange, no one would ever know it. Analyzing human relationships was a task without reward.

"Guardian," Serazina said, "I can sometimes detect the properties of a drug by smelling it. This reminds me of the odor of the would-be assassin, but I sense something else . . . and I think it's fatal."

Phileas frowned. "Let's see if you're right. I'll go into these wounded minds and discover the nature of the damage done. Chief Healer, shall we do this together?"

Tara knew humans were underdeveloped, but why couldn't they sense the wealth of information leaking from the brain cells and blood of the injured people? It was time for a cat to take control of the situation.

"Tell them I'll investigate, too," she said to Serazina.

Serazina repeated that to the other humans. " _Her_?" the Guardian demanded.

From guard to Guardian, most humans could benefit from a good cuffing about the head.

"Tara has great skills," Serazina said.

"We'll see whether our conclusions match."

Talk about gratitude.

They chose a human, and Tara padded around the perimeters of his awareness. She noticed that he had no memory of what had happened immediately before the attack. A thick, black curtain separated the events from the man's awareness.

The kitten shoved the curtain aside to hear the echoes of what must have been the human's last conscious thoughts.

Something sure smells awful. I wonder what Lorens brought for dinner. Smells like a rotten—

He smelled rotten, too. Though the odor was subtle, its poisonous tendrils inched through his body, eating up cells in the course of its passage. It might be days before this human died, and he didn't seem to be suffering. The pain response, like all other sensibilities within him, was silent.

She reported this to the humans.

"I didn't notice any signs of physical illness," the Guardian said.

Romala frowned. "Neither did I. Of course, Serazina came to the same conclusion as the kitten did."

"We haven't tested either of their abilities. You and I are highly trained Healers, and I thought the drug's effects appeared identical to what we noticed in the assassin who tried to kill me last summer."

Poor Serazina looked crushed. She had the misfortune to care what other humans thought of her. Tara didn't care, well, maybe a little, but she knew she would be proven right. She was sorry it would mean the death of Frost's victims, but she'd warned them.

The Chief Healer still looked uncertain. "If only we knew more about Dolocairner pharmaceuticals. We're unprepared for this assault."

Tara, still in search-and-discover mode, caught the Guardian's unguarded thoughts.

My fault again. Phileas the Failure.

His mental odor had a bitterness that she connected to the distinctly human emotion of guilt. She wanted to tell him that it was more deadly than the most dangerous drug. If a kitten leapt at prey and missed, she either decided that failure had improved her odds for the next pounce or practiced leaping for a while. Humans wore failure and self-blame like a heavy coat of winter fur.

To his credit, the Guardian didn't linger long in these muddy waters. He turned to Serazina, and Tara saw that he'd made a decision. "Oasis is again in crisis, and I want to go into it better prepared than before. For all my mistrust of intuition, I am mandated by our recent history to respect it."

"I agree," Serazina said.

"Do you agree enough to accept a position on the governing Council when I nominate you?"

The girl shrank again. "How will that help?"

"The events of the past several months have proven to me that we must have young people helping to govern our land. In addition, despite your deplorable habit of relying solely on intuition, you hit on the right solutions often enough that we need your insights. Thirdly, you are the Heroine of Oasis. The decision will be popular, and I need all the popularity I can get, especially with Malvern's escape."

Acknowledgments

To the cats who have graced my life, thanks for teaching me ease, relaxation, and appreciation. Someday I may even learn.

I also want to thank the assortment of wild animals who visit or live on my land for sharing their habits and behavior and providing hours of inspiration and enjoyment. While I might wish that the wing-and-sting contingent were a little less well represented, nature has its own plan.

I hope the humans who have helped don't mind that the animals came first. It's their turn.

This book would not have happened without the support of my writing group. Some of us have been together since 2000, and you are all invaluable to me.

I also want to thank my mother and grandmother for teaching me how to tell stories.

My deepest thanks to my son, Hawk, for his enthusiasm about this project and for everything else.

To keep this list from assuming encyclopedic proportions, I had to leave out many of those who deserved recognition. To all those unmentioned, you are nonetheless deeply appreciated.

### Books by C. M. Barrett

Fantasy Fiction

_A Dragon's Guide to Destiny_ Series

_The Snake Charmer's Daughter:_ Prequel to the Series

_The Dragon Who Didn't Fly:_ Book I

_Dance with Clouds:_ Book II

_House of the Moon:_ Book III

_Book of Sorrows:_ Book IV

_Rainbow Dragon:_ Book V

Literary Fiction

Gone to Flowers

Fiction/Humor

Cats in Charge:

A Guide to the Training and Education of Humans

Nonfiction

Animals Have Feelings, Too:

Bach Flower Remedies for Cats and Dogs

Renew Your Life The Natural Way:

Balance Your Chakras with Crystals and Essences

Bach Flower Remedies: A User-friendly Guide

Visit http://www.cmbarrett.com for more information.
The Dragon Who Didn't Fly

Copyright (c) 2011 by C.M. Barrett

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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Rainbow Dragon Press

Cover design by Mnsartstudio via fiverr.com

Visit my web site at http://www.cmbarrett.com

