Unicorn Point

3 - Flach

Flach was waiting as Neysa trotted up. He was at the castle of the Red Adept, where his father Mach had brought him for the exchange. Mach got to study the Book of Magic which the Red Adept controlled, during the time that Flach visited his Grandpa Stile. That was the deal they had made, and it had existed as long as he could remember. This was because Stile and the Adverse Adepts were enemies, and the Red Adept was with Stile, and he had the Book of Magic, so they had to trade off if they wanted to use it. Until recently it had seemed to Flach that he had the best of the deal, because he hardly cared about any dusty old book, while Grandpa Stile was wonderful to be with.

But he had come to understand that it was the other way around. The Book had spells that were even better in the other frame than here, and the Adepts over there—the Con trary Citizens—were getting very strong. Before long they would be stronger than Grandpa Stile and his friends, or rather, Nepe’s Grandpa Blue, really the same thing. So now he felt guilty about the fun he had visiting, knowing that it was costing his grandfather a lot. Maybe it was time to stop the visits.

These thoughts were fleeting, however, for Granddam Neysa moved rapidly. She was old, but still strong, and her black hide was glossy. He liked her about as well as he liked Grandpa Stile. She never talked much, but she was great for traveling in the wilderness, and he always felt safe with her. Mach lifted him up to sit astride the unicorn. He needed no saddle; it was not that he was an apt rider, but that she would never let him fall. “See you later, crocogator,” Mach quipped, smiling. He always had something fun-stupid like that to say, from his memories of the other frame. “In a while, allidile,” Flach responded dutifully.

Then Neysa was off, Flach clinging to her flaring mane. She moved slowly at first, making sure that he was secure, but gradually picked up speed.

They bore west, heading for the Blue Demesnes, where Flach was to have a week’s visit with his grandparents on the human side. But as they passed through a section of forest, Neysa sounded her horn.

Flach had been trained in horn talk. He understood immediately. She had just told him that now was the time to act.

He did not acknowledge directly. He knew that they were being watched; they were always watched. He merely squeezed his knees to her sides, acknowledging. Then, as they emerged to an open region, he spoke. “Granddam Neysa, I have to pee. Can we stop?”

The unicorn slowed and halted. Flach slid off her back. She assumed human form. “Why didn’t you see to that be fore we started?” she asked, with timeless annoyance.

“Didn’t have to go, then,” he said, walking to a head-high patch of bushes.

She returned to equine form and made a snort of resignation. She took the opportunity to graze the lush grass here, keeping an eye out for any danger.

Flach wedged his way into the bush, reached for his trousers, looked back, and sang a spot spell:

Privacy

While I pee

The air clouded around him, so that his body was hidden. In the privacy of that cloud he did open his trousers and urinate. But he also used his free hand to work something out of the lining of his trousers, and set it in his jacket pocket where he could readily put his hand on it. It was a figure like a doll that looked just like him, complete to the outfit he normally wore for traveling: blue jacket, blue trousers, and blue socks and shoes.

His tasks completed, he stepped out of the bushes, and the fog surrounding him dissipated. He returned to Neysa. She walked to a nearby log, so that he could climb up on it and mount her from that height. Then they resumed their journey. There was nothing to indicate that a significant action had been started.

Grandpa Stile had coached him carefully on this. Anything he wished known he could do openly, and anything he wished to keep secret he had to cover in some way. So he had brought out the amulet doll under cover of the privacy spell, and he communed with Nepe only when Mach and Bane were communing across the frames, and he did secret magic only when some similar magic was being done in the region. That way, Stile had explained, the traces were covered. His best protection was secrecy, so that no one suspected what he could do. It had been a game, and fun; now it was serious. He was about to go into hiding. Stile had told him how, and Neysa would help him, but he had to go where neither of them knew, and remain hidden until he was big and strong and talented enough to survive alone. He knew that would be a long time, so he concentrated on doing the best job of hiding he possibly could.

“Granddam,” he said after a suitable interval had elapsed, so that there would seem to be no connection with her note of information or his pause for nature. “I’m bored with this same old route. Can we go by the wolves and ‘corns?” Neysa blew a note of caution.

“Oh, I don’t mean to stay long, just to pass by and say hi.” He smiled, because his rhyme caused a little atmospheric effect; it thought he was doing magic. “It won’t take long, honest, and besides, you can see your friends too. I’ve never met the Pack you know so well.”

Neysa made a derisive trill on her harmonica horn, knowing he was wheedling, but she turned south. The truth was he could wheedle much from her, for he was-of her flesh. She had never forgiven his dam Fleta for mating with the golem Mach, but she loved Flach, and the affection she could not show her filly she showed him instead. However, that was merely the pretext; right now she would do his bidding no matter what it was, because she was helping him hide. He could have assumed unicorn form and run with her, but unicorns matured no faster than human folk did, and he would never have been able to keep her pace. So he remained in human form and let her carry him and protect him, and it was good. Under Stile’s guidance he had mastered two more forms, but concealed them; this would be the first time he used either out in the open. That made him nervous, but he quelled it as well as he could, because he knew that if he messed up, there would be more trouble than he could imag ine, for him and Grandpa Stile and all the Adepts who sided with him.

Abruptly he felt the contact of Mach and Bane across the frames. They were orienting on each other, so as to overlap in space, so that they could exchange. They usually conversed for a time first, setting things straight between them. Flach knew what to do.

Nepe! he called in thought. After a moment she responded. I hear you, Flach. I was specting you, ‘cause they ‘re transfring.

It be time to hide! he thought. Be thou ready?

Better be! she responded. Then: Oh, Flach, I’m afraid!

Me too! But Neysa told me, and needs must we do it. We ‘ve got to do it, she agreed. Now he felt the fear in her, washing across the contact between the frames. Needs must be we brave, he thought.

Do you have some bravry for me?

He had to smile, though he was taut with the reality of what they were about to do. Here be some o’ mine, Nepe! And he sent her a wash of emotion, as positive as he could manage.

Oh, thank you, brother self! she thought back. It really seemed to have helped.

He could tell by the feel that their fathers were about to break off communication and make their exchange of identities. Till -we mind again, sister self! he thought.

Till we mind again!

Then they broke, for it was not safe to push the limits, and they had covered the essence. Nepe’s presence faded from his mind, and he felt a swell of loneliness, as he always did. She was his other self, closer than any other person in either frame, and he felt whole when he was in touch with her, and empty when they separated. That was the way it always was. But now he had to concentrate on his own situation. There were things he had to do, and do right. He could not afford to be concerned about his lost other self. Not right now. As he rode, he risked one minor bit of magic: he made a spell to modify his smell. He had figured this aspect out for himself and was rather proud of it; this spell should go unnoticed because it was so inconsequential and seemingly pointless. But he had his reason. It would wear off within the hour, but that should be enough.

Neysa was traveling rapidly, as only a unicorn could, and soon enough reached the Were Demesnes. Two wolves charged out to intercept her, growling; then they recognized her and became an escort instead. Neysa was the friend of every member of this Pack, because of a spell Stile had wrought long ago. The younger wolves were not bound directly by it, because they had been whelped after it, but their sires and bitches had impressed the situation on them. In deed, the entire lasting truce between Pack and Herd had dated from that Oath of Friendship Stile had made. They had doubted his status as Adept before then; none had doubted it since.

Flach wished he could have seen those great old events happening, for he was sure there would never be any to match them in his lifetime. For one thing, the raw power of magic was only half what it once had been, though that made no difference in Phaze because all Adepts had been depleted equally, and other creatures never had used magic of full potency. Probably if Grandpa Stile made a similar oath today, it would affect only half the Pack and Herd, or maybe only half as strongly, but who would know the difference? The escort wolves guided them to the current haunt of the Pack, and old Kurrelgyre came out to greet Neysa. The wolf was white around the muzzle, but still strong; his time to be torn apart by the Pack was not yet. Not quite yet. His time would have passed before now, but Stile had seen to his con tinuing strength.

Neysa played a greeting on her horn, indicating that this was only a passing visit. Several of the older bitches came up to sniff noses with her, remembering old times. Flach waved to several of the cubs; they were after all about his age. But they did not know him, and did not respond. Then Neysa resumed her travel, and Flach was satisfied.

He now knew the location and layout of the Pack’s Demesnes. Neysa made a note of alertness. Flach looked up. In a moment he spied what her sharper senses had noted: a for mation of three bats crossing their path. He knew that these were young ones, traveling from one Flock to another. This was the season of exchanging, when young bats, unicorns, wolves, ogres, harpies and others joined new tribes, so that they could grow up and mate without inbreeding. Even some human villages did it; it was a convenient way to keep things mixed without disruption.

Stile, he realized, had chosen this time for action because of this; it would be almost impossible to trace all the ex changes that occurred at this time. At other times, a new addition to any group was a matter of community interest; often it was because of some stress resulting in a banishment elsewhere.

Soon Neysa played another note. This time it was a single dragon circling ahead. What was it after? “Maybe we should check,” he said.

She sounded a note of negation, because it was dangerous even for a unicorn to cross a dragon. She intended to carry him safely, not into adventure!

“But if it be young ones traveling—“ he persisted. Without comment she veered to go toward the dragon, and broke into a gallop. She realized now that he had reason for this involvement, and had to cooperate. “Maybe if we look first—“ he said.

She liked that better. She halted, and he dismounted, putting his hand on the doll-amulet in his pocket. She changed to firefly form, while he, timing it precisely, changed to bat form. The doll he held became a life-sized replica of himself. Instead of him holding the little figure in his hand, now the big figure was holding the bat in its hand. Only a close observer would have noticed any change.

Neysa the firefly flew ahead. The golem walked to the shelter of a leaning many-spoked spruce tree, so as to keep out of sight while unprotected. It put the bat into its pocket with out looking at it.

At the tree, shrouded by the radiating branches, the golem halted. Flach climbed out of the pocket and transferred to a spoke-branch just above it. He crawled along it, blending in with its rough bark. He circled the trunk and crawled out along a large branch on the far side. This encountered a bush, and he dropped into the bush. He worked his way through the leaves to the high grass below, and scurried through the grass until he found the base of another large tree, an oak. He climbed that trunk, up to where it bifurcated. Finally he took wing from the height of a far branch. For a moment he was unsteady, for he had not flown often, and the sonic method of navigation was not natural to him. But he used his eyes as well, and gained proficiency.

Now he flew in the direction Neysa had gone, staying low so as to be sheltered from view by the trees. He never looked at the golem again; it would function as it had been made to do when activated, just like a boy. It even had his texture, weight and smell; Neysa might never notice the difference, until at some point it would fail to react in a living manner. There was only so much a golem could do; such things were not very bright. But whenever Neysa did notice, she would not let on; she knew this would happen somewhere along this journey. She would deliver the golem safely to Grandpa Stile, who would greet it exactly as if it were Flach himself, preserving the secret. So would Grandma Lady Blue. With luck, no one else would know of the exchange, until it was far too late to do anything about it.

Now he saw the dragon. It was coming down! He swooped forward, eager to discover what manner of prey it sought. This turned out to be a group of four werewolf pups and a grown wolf guiding and protecting them. But they had fool ishly strayed into an open section while the dragon was near, and now it was diving, talons outstretched, using its fire to ignite the dry grass ahead of the wolves so that they could not flee. The mature one knew enough to dodge back as the dragon pounced, causing it to miss, but the inexperienced pups were panicking.

The dragon veered to catch one. It yiped—and at that moment Neysa appeared, changing from her unnoticeable firefly form. She was in full motion, her horn oriented on the dragon’s posterior. Now it was the dragon who seemed foolish; it had not been alert for a surprise like this! It dropped the pup and slewed to the side, barely avoiding the horn.

In a moment it regained its equilibrium and oriented on Neysa. But she retreated to the shelter of another great bull spruce, while the rescued pup scrambled for cover. The dragon could attack her, but could not come close enough to be effective; if it risked the vicinity of the spruce, Neysa could charge within the tree’s cover and perhaps score with her horn. Meanwhile, the prey was gone.

Raging, the dragon retreated. It could not afford to expend its fire uselessly; better to seek other prey. It ascended and flew away, pausing only to vent a giant dropping. The drop ping splatted against the tree, causing the bark to scorch and steam, but Neysa had already moved behind it and was not sullied.

The wolf came forward to sniff noses with Neysa. Now Flach realized that these cubs were from Kurrelgyre’s Pack! Naturally Neysa helped them, and the wolf recognized her and thanked her; they were oath-friends. Thanks to her, all of the cubs would reach the other Pack. Flach flew away, avoiding contact with any of them. He had changed form without being noticed; it was important that he preserve that privacy. Neysa would return to the golem and it would mount her and the two would proceed to her brother Clip’s Herd, and thence north to the Blue Demesnes. When others realized that Flach himself had not arrived there, they would check both the Pack and the Herd Neysa had passed, and find nothing, for he had exchanged identities at neither. So far, his escape was perfect.

He flew roughly northeast, toward the vampire Flock near est the Red Demesnes. He knew the bats there, and he liked pretty Suchevane, who had babysitted him on occasion while Mach or Bane was busy. The Red Adept was Suchevane’s husband, and their son Al was Flach’s friend. It was from Al he had learned how to fly as a bat; Al had covered for him during the difficult early practicing. Al was unique: a vampire troll, who could make magic amulets. If Flach were discovered, the Red Adept would be able to help him. But not long before this break had come, he had had sober second thoughts. Originally it had seemed that the Adepts would check only the Pack and Herd along his route, and never suspect that he had assumed a new form and gone elsewhere. But then he had realized that they could be smarter than that, and if they managed to pick up his change to bat form, they could readily track him to the Flock. That meant that the Flock could not be risked. So now he was only seem ing to go there; when he could deviate from this route without being observed, he would do so.

He had an alternate destination in mind. The place they might never suspect, because they would check it first and eliminate it, and never think to check it again. Kurrelgyre’s Pack. He had not exchanged forms there, but he would come there in another guise, with a different smell. That was why he had masked his smell as they passed. He hoped this was as clever a move as it had seemed when he first thought it out; now he was profoundly uncertain. He was after all only (bur years old; he knew he was extraordinarily bright for his age, but there was a lot he had yet to learn. Yet this was his committed course; he feared he would get in trouble if he changed his mind now.

In this batform he could hear very well, but mainly in the range he needed for echo location. He could see, but not as well as he could in boy form. He could smell satisfactorily, and now he used this sense to do what he needed to do. If he had figured this correctly, there should be—yes, there was one: the smell of a wolf trail.

He landed in a tree near the trail. This was not the one the three outgoing cubs had used. This one came from farther north, and the smell of it was stale. It should do. He settled down to wait. He was tired from his brief flight, for his bat wing muscles were not well developed. He might have a long wait.

He did. He slept, then foraged nearby for berries. Vampire bats in Phaze did not eat a lot of blood; that was for special occasions. Fruits and insects did nicely for the most part, and in the human form they ate what human folk did. Indeed, they were completely human in that guise, which was one reason he had thought to hide among them. However, they were not the only half-human species.

He hung upside down from a shrouded branch and slept again. Night came, and he wanted to forage, for bats were more comfortable in the dark, but he didn’t dare; he had to be by this path when the wolves came.

Where was Granddam Neysa now? Surely most of the way to her brother’s herd. She would probably turn the golem over to another unicorn while she grazed—no, she surely would know by now that it was a golem, so would not pause there, lest others discover that. She would dally only briefly, then move on, not really resting or eating until she reached the Blue Demesnes. Flach felt homesick, missing her company, and that of Stile and the Lady Blue. He missed his dam Fleta too, and was painfully sorry he had had to deceive her; he knew she would be distraught by his disappearance, when she learned of it. She would be horrified that he had gone alone into the wilderness, and she would fear he was dead. If he changed to human form, he knew he would cry. But he did not, because the magic of such a change could be noted, and that could give him away. He had to wait until it was time, and then change only when it could be covered by another creature’s magic.

All next day he waited, and all next night. The loneliness was almost overwhelming. He thought of Nepe, and won dered whether she had escaped. He thought she must have, because there had been no further communion between Mach and Bane. Of course, Mach might be trying to reach Bane, and Bane wouldn’t know unless he came to their rendezvous, so maybe it didn’t prove anything. The two had to overlap, physically, each standing in the same geographic spot of their frames; that was why they always exchanged at the same place, near the Red Demesnes. Flach and Nepe could contact each other from anywhere; he wasn’t sure why they were different from their fathers, or why no one else could do it, but he thought it had to do with their mixed ancestry. He kept reminding himself that his isolation was a good sign, because it meant that no one had discovered his disap pearance, or if they had, they had no idea where to find him. The critical period, as Grandpa Stile had impressed on him, was the first week. That was when his absence would be discovered, and when the search would be most intense. Af ter that the risk would diminish, though he could never afford to get careless.

Late in the afternoon of the second day, he jolted awake.

They were coming! Down the trail from the northwest: wolves!

This was his next critical step. He could lose it all here. If anything went wrong—

The first wolf pup came into view. Flach let go of the branch, dropped, spread his wings, and looped back up. He hovered before the nose of the pup, who abruptly halted, surprised.

Two other pups came up, and then the bitch who was guiding and guarding them. They stared at the erratically behaving bat. The bitch snapped at it, but Flach hovered just out of reach. He looped about, remaining ahead of them, preventing them from proceeding. Every time the bitch tried to drive him off, he came back again.

Finally she had had enough. She changed to human form, garbed in furs, ready to take a stick to him if she had to. That was what he wanted. Simultaneously he changed to pup form.

Instantly she was back in bitch form, growling. Flach whimpered, his little tail between his legs. She advanced on him, teeth bared. He rolled over on the trail, exposing his belly. She hesitated, then sniffed him. He lay there, not having to feign terror.

Finally she resumed woman form. She was of advancing age, garbed in furs, and she carried a knife. This she pointed at Flach. “Assume this form, strange creature!” she snapped. “I be Duzyfilan, and I would talk with thee.”

Now Flach reverted to his natural form, lying on his back on the ground. “Please, good bitch, hurt me not,” he pleaded. “I come to beg thy protection.”

“Who and what be thou?” she asked sharply.

“I must be nameless, lest I be doomed,” he said, sitting up.

She studied him, noting his blue outfit. Any werewolf understood the significance of that. “Methinks thou dost be doomed anyway,” she said. “Knowest thou not that we tolerate the likes o’ thee only for the sake o’ the truce?”

“I have changed sides,” he said. “I must hide, lest those thou knowest catch me.”

Duzyfilan considered. “Willst make oath on that?”

“Aye.” And from him came a faint splash, that rippled the blades of grass and colored the air momentarily.

“Then must we help thee,” she decided. “No other must know thine origin. A secret spread about be no secret long.”

“I seek only to join thy company,” he said. “And to join the Pack, and be as weres be.”

“Thou hast no pup name?”

“Nay.”

“A pup be named first by the bitch who bears him,” she said. “Canst thou accept me in lieu, since I be first to receive thee in this guise?”

“Aye,” he said gratefully.

“Then I name thee Ba, after what I saw o’ thee that thou must ne’er again be, an thou be called one o’ our kind.”

“Ba,” he repeated. She had seen him as a bat, so she took from that, as was the werewolf way.

“And these three pups must ne’er tell o’ what they saw o’ this,” Duzyfilan continued briskly. “Must each exchange oath-friendship with thee, to keep the secret.”

“Aye, an thou sayest so,” Flach agreed.

“Turn wolf,” she said.

Flach resumed wolf-pup form.

Duzyfilan beckoned to the male pup. The wolfling padded dutifully forward to sniff noses.

“Do these two o’ ye, Ba and Fo, make Oath o’ Friendship, each ne’er to betray the welfare o’ the other, in the wolven way?”

Both growled aye, and the splash manifested. Among adults the magic splash of absolute truth was seldom seen, but among the young, who were less jaded by experience, it was common enough.

The bitch beckoned a female pup. “Do these two o’ ye, Ba and Si, make Oath o’ Friendship, each ne’er to betray the welfare o’ the other, in the wolven way?” Again both growled affirmation, and again there was the splash and ripple.

She summoned the second female. “Do these two o’ ye, Ba and Te, make Oath o’ Friendship, each ne’er to betray the welfare o’ the other, in the wolven way?” A third time they growled agreement, and the splash manifested.

“Now may ye exchange what confidences ye choose, and ne’er fear betrayal, an ye be mindful who else might over hear,” Duzyfilan said. “But concern me not with it, for it be not my business. We camp ahead; we shall travel not this night.” She resumed bitch form.

So it was that Flach joined the formation of pups, falling in line between the two females. They padded on along the trail, first Fo, then Si, then Flach as Ba, then Te, with the bitch following watchfully. This was because trouble was far more likely to come from behind than ahead, and she could meet it there. But if trouble did appear ahead, the pups could pause, and she would quickly advance on it, as she had when Flach appeared.

They came to a place the bitch deemed suitable for camping. She sniffed it thoroughly, then had them crawl under a thick thorny bush and nestle together out of sight of the trail. “Needs must I hunt,” she announced. “An danger come, hide; an it sniff ye out, bay for me. An I came not in time, scatter.” Then she was gone.

They were packed in nose-to-tail, but in a moment Fo and Te made room on either side, and Si assumed human form beside Flach. “Change, oath-friend,” she told him in a low tone. “We would learn o’ thee.”

Flach changed, finding himself jammed against her, be cause their human forms were larger than their pup forms. She was a girl of about his size, which meant also his age, because the werewolves matured at the rate of their slow component, the human one. It was now too dark for him to see her, but he felt her human mane, soft and fluffy as her fur, and the snug clothing she wore in human form. “What wouldst thou learn o’ me?” he asked, speaking no louder than she. He realized that she had been chosen, or had chosen herself, to interrogate him; the other two were listen ing with their superior ears.

“We saw thee shift from bat to wolf. Ne’er have we known o’ a were also a bat. Be thou a crossbreed?”

“We be oath-friends now,” he reminded them. “An I tell ye three, you must tell not other.”

“Aye,” Si agreed, and the two others growled assent. “I be descended o’ the bitch Serrilryan, who gave her life that the Adept Clef might come to Phaze. An I tell thee aye, I honor aye.”

He had heard of the Adept Clef, the one who played the famed Platinum Flute. Si had impressive ancestry, and surely could be trusted. “I be grandchild o’ Adept Stile, and o’ Neysa Unicorn. I be thus ‘corn with more forms, and little Adept.”

There was a concerted reaction. “No true wolf?” the little bitch asked.

“I be wolf now,” he said. “But also other.”

“Thou willst fight for us, an we do for thee?”

“Aye.”

“And do magic for we three alone?”

“Nay. An I do magic other than were form changing, they will know, and seek me out. I may not be other than were wolf, till it be safe.”

Si made a little sigh of disappointment. “This be less fun than we hoped.”

Flach felt the need to repay them for the fun they had anticipated, because their Oaths of Friendship bound them to far greater risk than they would otherwise have known. “I can tell you o’ the other frame,” he offered.

“Thou dost know o’ it?” Si asked, excited. “How so?”

“I commune with my self-sister Nepe in Proton,” he ex plained. “She tells me o’ her frame, and I tell her o’ mine. But we can commune only when our sires commune, so the trace o’ our magic be covered by theirs.”

“Then how canst thou know when?” Si asked, intrigued. “We feel it. Our sires must align in place to commune, but we need that not. We talk when they do, and only then. Last time, did I tell her to hide.”

“She has to hide too?” Si asked, awed.

“Aye. ‘Cause an they catch one of us, they will make that one tell where the other be, and catch both. So we both must hide, and ne’er get caught.” He found that it eased his void somewhat to tell of this.

“But why didst thou not stay with thy Pack?”

“ ‘Cause the Adverse Adepts be wrong. Grandpa Stile and Granddam Neysa told me that, and showed me how it be so, and I believe it. So needs must I change sides—but we knew the Adepts would let me not. It be the same for Nepe in ‘Proton. So we had to plan, and practice, and hide before the Adepts and Citizens started using us. An they knew that Nepe and I can think to each other, and do it better than our sires can, they would ne’er let us go.”

“So you join the Pack with us?” Si asked. “Aye. Only it must be known not, ‘cause the Pack can stand not against the Adepts. There would be awful trouble, Grandpa says, an they found any Pack or Herd or Flock shel tering me.”

Si pondered. “I wish we had known this before we swore oath-friendship with thee.”

“Why?” he asked. “Would ye three have made not the oath?”

She concentrated for a time before answering. “Mark thee, we be but young pups, and ill grasp adult concepts. But we feel the truth o’ them, howe’er poorly we say them. So I say to thee we made the oath thinking thou wast only an odd were-creature. We would have made it knowing we be truly helping the cause o’ all the good creatures o’ Phaze. Does that make sense to thee?”

“You would have made it anyway?” he asked, surprised.

“Aye,” Si said, and the others growled assent. “All wolves be ready to fight and die for their Pack and their friends and their way of life, but it means more an they know when they be doing it.”

Flach was abruptly overwhelmed. “Do wolves cry?” he asked.

“Aye, when they be in human form.”

“Good. ‘Cause I be going to cry.”

“Why?” she asked, dismayed. “Did I say it wrong?”

“Nay, thou didst say it perfectly.”

“Have we treated thee not kindly?”

“It be ‘cause ye three have treated me more kindly than I feared,” he said, the tears starting. “I bring great danger to you, yet you support me.”

“It be the way o’ the Pack,” she said. “We three be trav eling to join a new Pack, and we know the way o’ it, but we know also how hard it be to do. We welcome thee as we would have our new Pack welcome us.”

“I will try to make you glad o’ that,” Flach said, as the tears flowed more copiously.

Si did not speak again. She put her hands to his face, and turned it toward her, and kissed him passionately. He realized that her face was wet too, with her own tears. She was kissing him for the three of them, for they had accepted him as they knew him to be. He was profoundly grateful, and somewhat in love, as of that moment.

After a suitable interval, they returned to wolf form and slept, the four of them comfortably nestled together against the chill of the night. Their noses pointed outward in four directions, so that any warning carried by the wind would receive prompt attention.

In the period before dawn, Duzyfilan returned with her kill: a giant rabbit. They woke at her summoning growl, and scrambled out to join her. The light of two moons shone down, showing the delicious carcass. In a moment each was hauling and chewing at a leg, while the bitch maintained guard.

Flach had never had a meal of this type before, and was at first alarmed. But he emulated his companions, and discov ered that cooling raw flesh was delicious as well as being a challenge. As long as he was in wolf form! By the time dawn came, he was stuffed on rabbit, and felt wonderful. They slept again, for it was not good to run on a full belly. It was almost noon before they resumed travel. But the bitch knew what she was doing, for she had, it turned out, spied an Adept in the vicinity, and elected to lay low until the Adept was gone.

At dusk they reached Kurrelgyre’s Pack. Duzyfilan sniffed noses with the leader, and brought up the four pups, saying nothing. Kurrelgyre sniffed each in turn, growled his ap proval, and summoned his own chief bitch. She took the four to her den. They were cowed and quiet, but knew the worst was over: they had been accepted. They never saw Duzyfilan go; she had been no more than a courier, and for reasons of her own she did not stay to socialize.

They were given two days to acclimatize to the new Pack. Then Kurrelgyre brought them up before the assembled wolves and gave them each their second syllable, in the man ner of the wolven kind. This was their formal mark of accep tance; henceforth they would be members of the Pack in all the ways of pups of their generation, except that they would be free to make permanent liaisons with other Pack members when they matured. They and the other pups from other Packs represented this year’s New Blood: a place of custom rather than honor. Honor they would have to achieve for themselves, in due course.

So it was that they became Forel, Sirel, Terel and Barel: because they had been lucky enough to be adopted by the leader’s den. They would strive henceforth to do that den honor. It was even possible that one of them might have the supreme honor, when grown, of killing Kurrelgyre. With peace, but threatened war, the Packs were increasing in size, anticipating future losses, so that it was no longer required that a young wolf kill his sire in order to assume adult status. But when a sire became infirm, it remained the duty of one of his offspring to dispatch him cleanly. However, that was a long time distant, and it was quite possible that Kurrelgyre would die in battle before then.

No one recognized Barel as the boy whom Neysa had carried by a few days before, because when he went to boy form he assumed an altered appearance with wolven clothing, and his smell was not the one they had encountered. Minions of the Adverse Adepts did pass, searching for someone, but it was evident that only werewolves were here. Kurrelgyre of course had not been told Flach’s identity, and if he suspected, he did not care to give it away. Certainly not to the Adverse Adepts!

It seemed that Flach had made a successful escape. But only time would tell. Meanwhile, he worked hard to become the best were pup he could be, and he did no other magic or shape changes than those of the wolven kind. The focus of the war between the good and bad Adepts had to move elsewhere.

Only his den mates, his oath-friends, knew of the pain he felt because of his isolation from his true parents. They felt it too, but not in the same way, for they had not also sepa rated from their native culture. They remained with him, and stood by him, so that it was remarked with approval among the Pack how unusually close these four were.