Where the river’s blood is streaming And wild animals are dreaming.
—THE OLD MEN OF MOUNT SHALEM
THE DRUM SOUNDED AGAIN, AND HIGH ABOVE THE GLIMMER walls a score of sylths flew, bearing up a large, dark cloth. They lowered their burden to the stony ground before the captives, then tossed flowers on the dead unicorn that lay atop the cloth. Lilies and wild irises fell across the body, but beneath the heavily scented blooms the bloody gash in its throat could still be seen.
Tears streamed down Hanna’s cheeks. Here was the unicorn from her dreamwalks. She’d seen her again and again, running from two large beasts, though she could never make out the look of them. And in that moment she remembered where she’d seen the stone tree before. In her dream the unicorn had run past the three-spired tree.
“Here,” said Queen Shaleedyn. “Look long at the work you’ve done.” Her violet eyes seemed larger now and cold as the coming night. She raised her proud chin. “Surely in your world as in ours the unicorn is a magical beast and above the hunter’s rights to slay for meat!” Her voice picked up strength, as a gale does rising early in the first hours of a storm. “Yet you come to Attenlore and kill my beloved steed, Neurreal! She was free to wander as she willed but loyal to me always. Whenever I wanted to ride, I needed only speak her name, and she would come.” Shaleedyn’s lip trembled. Again, and more softly, the queen added. “She’d cross all Oth to come.”
Both Hanna and Gurty were trying to protest through clamped jaws, and the Falconer struggled against the webbing that held him fast to his seat.
Queen Shaleedyn came to a slow stand on her platform above the crowd. Her monarch took sudden flight. “Hessha elandra,” she whispered, stirring her finger in the air. As she stirred, the sound of rushing wind overcame the music. The queen’s hair and gown began to blow in the wind of her own making. “Elandra!” she said again. The sylth folk moaned and cowered, their banners whipping in Shaleedyn’s gale. The cold wind she was stirring rose high and higher, and the trees outside the glistening wall began to sway.
“The law demands payment for this death,” said Shaleedyn over the keening. “If your human world is peopled by half-awakes who have forgotten the ancient laws, then know that our world is not. We the folk of Attenlore live and die by the law of the Old Magic.”
By some power Hanna could not imagine, the Falconer finally struggled to a stand and spoke through his spell webs. “Queen Shaleedyn. This murder is evil to our eyes as well. We did not do this!” His long hair blew back in her storm; still he stood in her great wind, Hanna watched him try to raise his hand, but he could not break the webbing around his arm.
“Queen Shaleedyn,” he cried. “We, too, honor the Old Magic!”
The queen stopped stirring her finger, and the wind began to die down. The trees outside the glimmer walls settled to a murmur, and the banners ceased their fluttering. “Braughnoick, I see you have some power, but there is the smell of your world on this killing, and you three are the strangers here.”
Hanna looked up at the Falconer, whose gray head was bowed. The sylths lining up on each side whispered one to another, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Then a loud commotion made the sylths at her right draw far apart.
“Who comes to disturb my court?” asked the queen.
A fox, flanked by more sylth guards, trotted up beside Hanna.
“I have news,” said the fox.
“Your news can wait,” said the queen. The sylth guards turned about, but the fox kept his footing.
“Your majesty will want to hear this,” said the fox.
Queen Shaleedyn flared up like a candle flame; a sudden ring of purple fire surrounded her, and the roses around her throne shone in the brilliant light. The fox threw himself to the ground and covered his eyes with his paws. Hanna looked aside as far as the webbing would allow. But the Falconer faced the fire straight on and did not avert his gaze.
“I know what happened to Neurreal,” the fox said, his eyes still covered.
“We know this, Epitt,” said the queen. The purple flames about her head cooled and died down.
The fox lifted his head just enough to see the body laid out on the ground at the far end of the courtyard. “I saw the killing done,” he said.
“Rise, Epitt,” said the queen. “And look about.”
The fox did so.
“You are too late with your news, fox. We have already caught the trespassers from the human world.”
Epitt’s lip curled to a snarl. “Ah,” he said. “I sniffed these human folk out myself today. Your guards have caught these trespassers,” said Epitt. “But I saw the ones who broke the law.”
Shaleedyn fingered the sapphires at her neck. “Tell us what you saw.”
Epitt bowed his red head, then raised it again. “The Shriker,” he said.
The name sped through the air like a thick shadow. Orb lights dimmed in its wake and some went out altogether. Hanna heard scrambling sounds as the sprites hastened to relight the orbs. Red lights and blue and yellow warmed one by one, and when enough light had returned, Epitt continued. “There were two of them, Queen Shaleedyn. They attacked Neurreal and tore her throat. Then they fought over who would eat the kill.”
The courtyard fell silent with the news. No one moved. Only the orbs flickered, as if fighting to remain lit. At last the queen spoke with a voice like breaking ice. “There is only one beast by that name, Epitt. The one so named by the Darro three hundred years ago. There cannot be two.”
“This I know, Your Highness,” said Epitt. “But that is what I saw.”
Hanna’s terror grew. This was worse than being accused of killing the unicorn herself. At least before she’d known that it was a mistake and there was some hope of proving their innocence to the queen. But Epitt’s news hit her like pelting stones. Miles still wore the body of the Shriker. Worse, the fox had seen him and the Shriker kill the unicorn. It couldn’t be true, but there had been two beasts in chase in her dreamwalk, and two who fought over the unicorn. Her body shook as she saw them now clearly in her mind. Great, dark monsters. Bearlike, but wild dogs both.
“We know something of this, Queen Shaleedyn,” said the Falconer. “If I may speak.”
The queen nodded, but her brow narrowed with displeasure. The Falconer raised his arm, breaking through the silken webs. In the quavering light he held his left hand out to a burning orb until the Othic symbol on his palm shone blue. Hanna watched it appear as she had the night he’d first shown her the sign.
“So, you are a meer,” said the queen. She tilted her head and studied him with her violet eyes. “Tell us the truth, then, Falconer.”
He bowed his head to her, for she’d looked more closely at him and discerned his name.
“I will tell you what truth I know.” The Falconer put his hand on Hanna’s shoulder. “This is Hanna. She was entranced in our world and called to be the Shriker’s prey.”
Queen Shaleedyn leaned forward. “How is it she still lives?”
“It is by some great magic she was spared, though I do not know its origin,” said the Falconer.
“Tell me, what spell was used?” ordered the queen.
“No spell,” said the Falconer, “but the shapeshifter’s art.”
A sigh rippled through the crowd, up and down the great hall.
“Be gone!” said the queen. And suddenly musicians, dancers, and other sylth folk disappeared. Only a small group remained before the queen under the burning orbs: Hanna and Gurty in their chairs, the Falconer standing tall, and across from him, the sylth guard, Epitt the fox had vanished with the rest.
Queen Shaleedyn looked down at Hanna. “This girl has a brother,” she said.
“Aye, Queen.”
“So it happens again,” said the queen. Her eyes seemed far away when she said this, as if she was looking somewhere in the past.
So it happens again? thought Hanna. What did she mean by that?
The queen seemed to awaken from her daze. She waved her hand at Hanna and Gurty, and the webbing broke apart. Hanna brushed the silken threads from her face and front.
“There was a boy who gave us pleasure with his flute,” said Queen Shaleedyn. “Ah, such music,” She adjusted her shimmering gown, then frowned at the Falconer. “A gift was given.”
“Ah,” said the Falconer. “A sylth gift.”
“The wind chose it,” corrected the queen.
Hanna looked up at her. Did she mean Wild Esper? Why would a wind spirit give Miles that kind of power?
The Falconer bowed his head a moment, then raised it again. “The wind,” he said thoughtfully. “These are great powers indeed and as old as the oldest magic.”
Queen Shaleedyn leaned forward. The glimmer wall behind broadened her reflection, so there seemed to be two of her, one human size and one giant size. “The law was broken, and we shall deal out just punishment here in Attenlore. The Shriker’s laid claim to my lands long enough. He’s crossed the walls and forced the boundaries farther out.” She made a sweeping motion with her arm as she said this. “The more he hunts, the larger Uthor grows. Now he and this shifter have killed my Neurreal. This murder was crime enough, but to poison the meadow where the Oak King Brodureth stands—to blight the place where we go to honor Deya’s Eve!” Her voice was growing louder with each word. “The Oak King of old, though he is stone now, is father to many in the wood. The Shriker’s kill fouled his meadow, and now King Brodureth stands in constant shadow. What punishment is cruel enough ever to pay for that?” She was at a full stand now on the dais, towering over them. “This is our trouble, Falconer! Not yours. Your kind have done enough.”
“But it is our trouble,” cried Hanna, leaping from her seat. “Miles is my brother!”
“Banished!” called the queen. She raised her hand and said. “The door closes now!”
Suddenly the bright orbs, the glimmer walls, and the sylth guard disappeared like snuffed-out candles, Hanna felt herself wrenched up and tossed skyward.
Blackness everywhere. She screamed and flailed. Nothing to see. Nothing to hang on to. Then she was falling down and down and down.
At last she landed with a splash and sank deep under cold water. Frantic for air, she swam upward and broke the surface, choking. She was treading water in the middle of Garth Lake. “What?” she cried. “What’s happened?”
Gurty splashed down beside her, let out a startled scream, and went under. Hanna dived for her, clenching her jaw against the cold. She swam as best she could with clothes and shoes still on.
Catching Gurty’s arm, she pulled her to the surface. Sputtering and taking in breath after breath, they clung to each other. Then the Falconer swam up, took Gurty’s other arm, and helped Hanna pull the old woman back to shore.