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habit of playing both ends against the middle: the Shadow Tower of Bredna, the Hall of Tulan the
Black Bard, the private hunting preserve of Chulhain Lorn, and Red Magda's stud farm.
Best not ask what she raises. She might feed you to them.
All of them grim destinations, and all too small to escape from readily. Smaller, even, than Madoc
Skean's holding.
The one saving grace was that none of the four were on good terms with Madoc. In fact, Red Magda
and Tulan had little private feuds with him that virtually guaranteed they would turn him away
with a curse if he came to them on the trail of Tannim.
Of course, this did not mean that they would help Tannim. Since the young human was an ally of
Keighvin Silverhair, they would probably be perfectly happy to hunt him down on their own. Magda
hunted any humans she could find or kidnap just on general principles; she preferred the Great
Hunt over any other kind. And as for Shar well, they'd probably treat her the same as a human.
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I have no notion how I'd stack up against them. Rather not find out by meeting them head-to-head,
either.
It was rather interesting, though, to discover that she recognized all the destinations of this
Gate. Were they finally getting back into familiar territory? That could be good or bad news.
Good, if it meant finding a neutral destination at last bad, if all that happened was that they
worked themselves deeper and deeper into the holdings of the darker creatures. Shar had heard
rumors of those who'd worked themselves into places where even the Unseleighe Sidhe were afraid to
go. And once, when she was a child, her father had returned silent and stiff from one of his own
journeys of exploration and he would not talk about where he had been, only sealed off the setting
on the Gate that had led there. Now that was an unsettling recollection.
It almost made a foray into one of Charcoal's holdings into a tempting idea.
She disengaged her awareness from the Gate carefully, making sure to leave behind no traces that
she had been there. No magical "footprints" or "fingerprints"; nothing to betray her presence.
Moving that circumspectly took time. She only hoped that Tannim had been able to find the physical
opening out there in the mist, since this Gate was pretty much a washout. Of course, they could
always go back to the plain and try the other pocket of the Unformed that Gate went to. They might
have better luck there.
Behind her, she heard Tannim stirring, the shh-ing of denim on the hood of the Mustang. Good! He
must have found the opening into the next domain. They could compare notes, make some further
plans.
The sound of fabric sliding over the metal ended with the faint thud of sneakers hitting the soft,
white sand of the ground of this place. She was turning to greet him when a hint of movement out
of the corner of her eye caught her attention.
Is there something out there? She peered into the mist, trying not to think of anything in
particular, but whatever had been there was no longer there.
She still wasn't certain if the momentary curdling of mist had been the result of the mist
"wanting" her to see something, or if it had been something very real slinking through the fog,
when Tannim screamed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tannim slid off the hood of the Mach I feeling rather pleased at how quickly he had found the
entrance he'd been searching for. He was straightening up, his defenses momentarily down, when the
mist-thing streaked out of nowhere and sank its teeth into his arm.
He never got more than a glimpse of it; his brief impression was of a long, lean creature about
the size of a Great Dane, as white as the mist, and impossibly fast.
It was possessed of an obscene number of sharp, white teeth, thin as razor blades, most of which
seemed to be scraping his arm bones.
Maybe it was a giant white shrew, or a wild dog or an albino weasel. More likely it was someone's
worst nightmare. That was certainly the way Tannim felt when the thing's teeth met in his arm as
it knocked him to the ground. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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