"The cure cannot be worse than this," said Javin.

"Muje, the juma said the poison comes out only when the elves dance and call down the holy lightning. Strikes you in the heart. Hurts much worse."

"But it heals."

"It heals. Or it kills."

Javin slouched against the cold rock, letting the chill take the heat from his face. Doulos banked the fire for the night and stood up to take the first watch.

"I will wake you when the moons pass the sisters," the slave said.

832

Teri McLaren

Javin nodded, rebandaged his arm, and found his blanket. Doulos climbed the rangy oak above them, settling back on a large bough and wrapping his robes about himself against the cold night.

Doulos never knew when he drifted off, but when he awoke, the moons were not only past the sisters, but nearly down. High over Drufalden's mountain, one bright light flared briefly through the fog, then died like a falling star.

Then there were six stars. Then twenty. The wind changed, and the unmistakable odor of canistas assaulted Doulos's nose, their foul, musty scent choking him. The slave whirled around, his spear ready. But there were too many targets. The canistas blinked redly at him through the white mist, then dropped their huge jaws open, and he could see their long, bright teeth. One of them began to chuckle, a low, almost human laugh. Like Riolla's laugh, Doulos thought, like the Schreefa about to eat you alive.

The laughter spread, growing louder and louder until the Neffian was surrounded with the hideous sound, his ears ringing with pain, his eyes suddenly unable to find the leaping, cavorting canistas as they prowled the foggy campsite, circling closer and closer to (avin.

Doulos knew if he made a sound, they would all spring upon the wounded man as one and tear his king to pieces before Doulos could reach him. If he didn't shout a warning, they would only move in steadily, playing their game, ripping and teasing Javin to death, and then turn upon Doulos himself. It seemed hopeless.

Doulos looked skyward, mouthed a silent prayer, and raised his spear. If he was going to die, he would take some company with him. He backed up one step, bracing himself, and felt the massive oak at his back like another fighter. Doulos put his foot into the next branch down and lowered himself to the ground, ever so slowly, holding his breath, listening beyond the hideous laughter for sounds that Javin was conscious.

SONG OF TIME 233

One more limb down, and he would be able to throw the spear…

In the darkest hours of the night, Cheyne finally found sleep, but no peace. The bad dreams of his youth came back, this time with an intensity and sharpness he had not experienced since the months directly after Javin had brought him home for the first time. Over and over again, he saw the figure with the clawed hand drop down onto him, ready to devour him, and the shape of the totem's glyph flashed in front of his eyes like a bright beacon.

Then the dream shifted to a terrifying new image. He saw Javin, his hand awash in flames, the fire about to consume his body, fighting dark shapes in the moonlight. The three sisters tilted overhead, and a hundred gleaming red eyes burned in the darkness, circling and closing on Javin.

Cheyne awoke, his lungs strained with unvoiced agony. He sat up and peered around the lodge, slowly remembering where he was. Clarta lay still and lovely in the darkness, moonlight glowing on her skin as it shone down through the lodge's skylight. But Cheyne thought he was still dreaming when, out of the shadows of the smoky lodge, stepped a tall elf, his face divided by a long scar, a silver chain for his belt and a brooch carved with the glyphs of the Sarrazan potters upon his breast.

"You!" Cheyne shouted. "Who are you? Have you been following us, too?"

"Who's there?" said Wiggulf sleepily from the far side of the hall.

The tall elf held up his hand, long thin fingers pale in the low firelight. "Forgive me, Riverking, for the intrusion. But I have urgent business with your guests and have just come from the Treefather with a message for the Argivan."

234

Teri McLaren

"Naruq? Is that you? You are always welcome here. But why do you come under the cloak of secrecy?" said Wiggulf, ambling over, dragging his covers, his round face troubled.

"There is one who seeks this man's life." Naruq pointed to Cheyne. "And his killer has been watching me for a very long time. I have risked enough by coming here, by showing myself in Sumifa before. I could make no direct contact."

Cheyne threw off his blanket and stood up, hand on his dagger. "So you were in Sumifa. I know Riolla's henchman is spoiling for my head. That's no secret."

"It's not the assassin Saelin you need consider. Although that fight outside Riolla's shop was a little too close for my liking. You handled yourself well, though. And you make friends fast, it seems."

"Who is the Treefather?" said Cheyne.

Wiggulf pulled at his bushy beard. "He's the Sarrazan elder. The Ancient. He never leaves the forest. No one knows how old he really is, but there are rumors that he was around at the time of the Wandering. If anyone would know what your totem says, he would."

"And he does. He has been expecting you since the lost caravan. He will answer all your questions. Time is of little consequence to the Treefather, but not to you. The curtain will part for us only for another hour."

If the elf had pierced him through the heart with his own knife, Cheyne could not have been more surprised. It was the answer to his every prayer. He had come so far on sheer hope. And to find the answer to his greatest need, he had only to go now, this minute, with Naruq.

And leave Javin to his death. The dream had followed him into consciousness. With every passing second, Cheyne's conviction of favin's predicament grew even more certain.

"Naruq, I can't go with you."

Claria looked at him through sleepy, unbelieving.

SONG OF TIME 23 5

eyes. "Cheyne, why not? This is what you have come all this way for," she said groggily.

"Because Javin's in danger somewhere behind us." He crawled out from under the thick covers and found his boots. By now, the whole lodge had awakened and Frijan had lit a candle with an ember from the fire.

"What is it? Intruders?" she whispered, looking out the window toward the riverbank.

"My father…" Cheyne began.

"I will go with you," said Claria, rising and folding her bedding.

"No. Please. I don't-"

"Need help? Really?" she interrupted fiercely.

"I don't want to worry about you, too. Please. Please," he begged her, holding her hands in his, Maceo's ring a cold reminder of their different paths. "It may already be too late."

"Then I will go," another voice added. "My nose can find them in the dark."

Cheyne turned and saw Yob looming over him in the eerie light of the low fire. His big jaw was set and he had found a spear.