But Arcove could not focus. He was unbearably cold, and he kept trying to crawl into the hot spring. Roup and Nadine kept stopping him. "Just for a moment," he told them.

"It is going to snow," he heard Nadine say. "You shouldn't keep getting wet; you'll freeze."

"I'm already freezing," whispered Arcove, but he was fairly certain that he did not say it aloud, because they didn't seem to understand him. He felt nauseated and tremendously dizzy. He remembered feeling this way after fights when he'd lost a great deal of blood. Did I bleed that much? I don't remember it.

"Arcove." He opened his eyes, and there was Coden, looking at him with those sea-gray eyes.

Am I in the Ghost Wood? Do I have to fight you again?

"Arcove," repeated Coden, only this time some foggy part of Arcove's brain informed him that this ferryshaft was not Coden. He was too small and too young and he looked much too concerned.

"Keesha wants to see you," whispered Storm. "He says if you don't come out to him, he will come here and kill anyone who challenges him. I think you'd better come."

That registered. Arcove's head jerked up. The world rocked around him, but he saw, as though through shattered vision, the shapes of creasia-his creasia, through the curtains of steam. Keesha...cubs...Nadine...Roup...wounded...no. Storm pushed something at him-a b.l.o.o.d.y hunk of meat. Arcove thought, for a moment, that it was a dead cub, but then his nose told him that it was part of a sheep. "Eat," said Storm. "Eat. It might help."

Arcove tried to tell him that it wouldn't, but he couldn't make his mouth work, and at last he bent his head and devoured the meat in a couple of bites. He felt instantly nauseated and thought he might vomit. Storm was dancing nervously back and forth. "Come on," he whispered. "Come on before Roup gets back."

"Where is-?" Arcove managed.

"I got the curbs to bring your cats some food," said Storm. "Roup has gone to help make sure everyone gets a fair share. We've only got a few moments. Let's go. Unless you want Keesha in your den."

Arcove staggered to his feet. He felt as though he was standing on a log, floating down the Igby River, and the log was heaving up and down and back and forth. He'd only gone a few paces before he vomited up the meat.

Storm sighed.

They moved along the steamy edge of Smokey Branch to a narrow point, and then Storm jumped across, but Arcove splashed through the stream. He paused and considered lying down in the water, but Storm dared to give him a nip. "Hurry!"

Insolent foal. Arcove considered swatting him, but didn't think he could balance on three legs. He could barely balance on four.

Weaving crazily, he managed to follow Storm through the forest until he spotted the immense form of Syra-lay, like a snowy, fallen tree, up ahead. Bile rose in the back of Arcove's throat. Half-remembered nightmare images fluttered and stirred in his mind.

Keesha's voice sang out merrily. "Ah, there you are. I was about to get bored."

Suddenly, he was right there, inches from Arcove's nose. Arcove thought that nothing so big should be able to move so quickly. Or is it just that I am moving so slowly?

Arcove resisted the urge to jerk away. He stood his ground and looked the monster in the eyes. "What have you done to me?"

Keesha gave an unnerving chuckle in several voices. "I poisoned you...with a song."

Arcove tried to make sense of this. Keesha had started to hum. His voice dropped to a hiss. "I took your name and the taste of your blood and the fire of my pain. I took the memory of every friend that you murdered, every foal and pup and telshee and ferryshaft who died on Kuwee Island. I took all that, and I made a song...just for you. It took sixteen years. I hope you appreciate it."

The hum rose and engulfed him. Arcove had one clear thought-If I scream, my cats will hear and come running. They'll be killed. He was on the ground without knowing how he got there. The world spun wildly, and then he was falling-sickening, panicked free fall. There was a live rat in his belly. It was chewing its way out. Don't scream, don't scream, don't scream. He was retching helplessly, convulsing. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't smell. He was lost in his own head. He was falling, and then he hit the bottom. Pain shot through him in every direction, and then he blacked out.

Tollee woke to the sound of Myla whispering in her ear. "Mother? Mother, please wake up. I'm scared."

Tollee opened her eyes. The air had that first breath of winter in it, and she shivered. The world around her was limed in pre-dawn light. The brightening sky looked clear, but Tollee thought she could smell snow on the wind. Her fur had partially dried, but she was still a little wet. If not for the warmth radiating from so many other bodies, she would have been quite cold.

"Mother..." repeated Myla and Tollee blinked. The world around her was not simply aglow with dawn light. It was glowing. Many of the trees' limbs or leaves had a speckling of green luminescent points of light. They were not immediately obvious, since the whole wood was green, but, upon close inspection, there was certainly something odd here.

The ground was so thick with sleeping ferryshaft that Tollee could hardly see a place to walk, but, here and there, she saw others waking, getting to their feet, staring. A few were hesitantly grazing, although they shied away from things that glowed.

"They're just plants," she whispered to Myla. "Just...odd plants."

Myla did not look convinced. "That one has snakes."

Tollee squinted. She saw, with a new chill, what Myla meant. One tree appeared to have the same sort of tentacles as the plants from Groth, growing out of an otherwise normal limb. They dangled lazily overhead, swaying in the occasional breeze.

Tollee swallowed the lump in her throat. Poison, she couldn't help thinking, this wood has been poisoned. Aloud, she said, "Let's get a drink." Tollee and Myla had not gone more than a few paces from the water's edge the night before. Tollee was certain that the island was not large, else the ferryshaft would have spread out more. She rose now and inched down to the waterline, Myla following. While she drank, Tollee examined the far sh.o.r.e. It seemed invitingly close.

As she watched, several creasia moved along the bank. To her dismay, three of them slipped into the water and started paddling out towards the island. Tollee retreated with Myla back to the cover of the thick foliage. She noticed, now, that much of it looked strange. Familiar plants looked warped-as though they were trying to grow tentacles...or bowls. A poorly-formed suspicion niggled at the back of her mind.

Many of the ferryshaft were stirring now. Tollee picked her way around and through them, towards the center of the island. She'd gone only a short distance, when she ran into Remy and Itsa. Tollee was relieved to see that Remy's foal, Teedo, was still with her.

"Tollee," breathed Remy. "Have you looked around?"

"Not much," whispered Tollee, "but these plants..."

"We know," said Itsa. "We've been all around the edges of the island. It's tiny, and all of the plants are deformed. In the center..."

She was cut short by the arrival of the three creasia. Ferryshaft scattered before them as they came up the bank, although they didn't strike at anyone or give any orders. The lead cat was shadow-black, and Tollee thought, for a confused moment, that it was Arcove. However, as the cat came nearer, she saw that it wasn't big enough to be Arcove. This creasia had pink nose-leather, and his eyes looked oddly colorless.

The three creasia walked through the sea of ferryshaft, who parted for them like leaves before a wind. Then, because they clearly weren't sure what else to do, the ferryshaft followed the cats towards the center of the island. Tollee, Remy, and Itsa looked at each other. Then, hesitantly, they joined the throng, their foals trailing behind them.

There was no pushing this morning. No one was especially anxious to be in the lead. However, they'd gone only a short distance when they encountered a clearing. "This is the center," muttered Itsa. "It really isn't a large island."

The gra.s.s in the clearing looked more palatable than the foliage of the wood, but not many ferryshaft had tried to eat it. The reason stood in the center of the clearing-a small stand of what were unmistakably the carnivorous trees of Groth. They weren't very big yet-about the height of an adult ferryshaft-and the pink of their inner bowls was still pale. It had not yet deepened into the opened-mouth color that Tollee a.s.sociated with the carnivorous forest. However, the smell was the same-sickly sweet, both alluring and repulsive. The trees would have been unsettling enough by themselves. However, Tollee could see the strange points of green light glowing through the thin plant-skin of their bowls. What is that?

The black creasia stopped beside the broad leaves and gently swaying tentacles of the deadly plants, flanked by his escort. He turned and looked at the cautious, frightened faces peering at him from the edge of the clearing. "h.e.l.lo, ferryshaft."

He did not speak loudly. Tollee had to strain to hear.

"My name is Moro," continued the cat, "and I am your new master. This," his gaze swept the clearing, "is your new home. I know it seems a bit crowded at the moment. But I'll help with that." Tollee felt herself bristle. She did not like this cat at all, but she found herself moving forward, straining to hear him. The rest of the herd was doing the same.

"This island isn't big enough for a creasia den, let alone the entire ferryshaft herd," said a female near the front. Tollee recognized her as an elder. A murmur went up from the herd-emotions of frustration and anger, previously held in check by fear and weariness-came surging to the surface. "Where is Arcove?" demanded the elder. "Did he order this? Where is Charder? He is our herd leader. If he has been replaced, we deserve to know."

Moro grinned-more of a flash of teeth than a true smile. "Arcove has been deposed," he said. "Treace is the new creasia king. Charder is dead or soon will be. There is no need for a herd leader anymore. I am in charge of you."

The murmuring in the ferryshaft herd grew louder. "That's not part of treaty law," growled a big, dark-colored male. Tollee knew that he was Kelsy's father.

"No," agreed Moro. "The treaty is void and meaningless. You are a conquered people. What need have we of a treaty?"

The growling and grumbling deepened as the ferryshaft closed in around Moro. Tollee felt a mixture of apprehension and hope. Can he really be this stupid? If the treaty is void, then we have nothing to lose by killing him.

From among the plants behind Moro, something rose up-a slender thing with patchy hair, fish-belly pale. Its slitted eyes glowed green. The ferryshaft near the front of the group tried to retreat so quickly that they ran over their companions. They pressed back, and Tollee thought, for a moment, that they would stampede again. She heard a foal squeak, "What is it?" And someone shushed him.

"That's better," purred Moro.

"This is Kos. It just wants to learn about you. We're going to kill some of you, of course, but we want to be fair about it, so we thought we'd let you do the choosing. I'll come again this evening. If you don't provide me with a subject, I'll choose ten. One dead ferryshaft or ten. Your choice."

Chapter 15. Something Extraordinary.

Arcove's eyes snapped open. The echo of pain was still intense, but his head cleared. He looked around and saw, in addition to the telshees, three ferryshaft and a number of highland curbs, all staring at him. Arcove struggled to his feet, and the world did not spin. The nausea was gone. His limbs obeyed him.

His head snapped around at Keesha, and he snarled.

Keesha yawned. "So predictable. I just fixed you. Aren't you going to say thank you?"

With an effort, Arcove controlled his instinctive growl. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He could remember everything from the last day, but the events took on new meaning. I didn't lose the fight...not exactly. Treace used a curb trap. But I wasn't fighting correctly. I was sick and dizzy. Keesha...

Arcove opened his eyes. "It won't last...will it?"

Keesha grinned at him, showing all his teeth. "Now you're catching on! That tiny predator's brain does puzzle things out in the end!"

"He'll get sick again?" piped up Sauny, but Keesha ignored her.

"I have the poison and the cure, and the poison is the cure. You cannot fight this...although I know you'll try."

"What do you want?" asked Arcove tightly.

"Is that your idea of begging? You're not very good at it."

"What do you want?"

"To watch you die in great pain, obviously. You'll do that when I finish the song...and you'll die if I don't finish it, too. The whole thing is a little redundant, but I can drag it out. You should be flattered. Do you know how hard it is to make a song like that?"

"If you think threatening me will allow you to control-"

"Oh, I have control," said Keesha. He hummed a single note, and Arcove flinched. The rat stirred in his belly. "I've put an invisible cord around your neck," hissed Keesha, "and when I yank it, you will come. If you don't, I'll yank you right out of your head. You'll do whatever I want."

"You haven't told me what that is," said Arcove through clenched teeth.

"Is there anything Coden could have said to keep you from tearing him apart?" asked Keesha. "Did you make him beg before the end?"

All kinds of things, thought Arcove. And Coden would never have begged.

"How did the Shable end up in Groth?" asked Keesha. "I thought I knew what happened that night, but maybe I need the story from an eyewitness."

"I don't know," said Arcove. I could guess, but I don't know.

"Liar."

Arcove said nothing.

When it was clear that he was not going to respond, Keesha said, "I want the ferryshaft herd free. I want Leeshwood under ferryshaft control. If they choose to be more merciful to you than you were to them, that's their business. I wouldn't expect too much if I were you."

"I do not currently have control, either of Leeshwood or the ferryshaft herd," said Arcove.

"Well, that is unfortunate," said Keesha. "Storm seems to think this Treace person is more repulsive than you are. I can't imagine that I'd want to deal with such a cat. And I don't have a song for him. I might just have to kill all of you if he ends up in charge."

Arcove could hear the blood beating in his ears.

"I won't kill Roup," continued Keesha, "because I promised Coden I wouldn't. So I'll spare him. Do you think he will be lonely all by himself, the only creasia left on-?"

"Shut up," grated Arcove. "You've made yourself clear." He turned away and was relieved that his legs did not betray him.

Keesha called after him, his voice merry again. "When you begin to feel ill, come and see me. I'll be around."

I will choke on my own vomit before I come and see you.

"When you're ready, you'll ask for my help," continued Keesha. "Ask nicely."

Arcove stopped, but did not turn. His voice came out savage. "You were an evil-tempered thing on Kuwee Island, and sixteen years of sleep have not improved you. You got your friend killed, Keesha. Coden would still be alive if you hadn't been there."

Arcove didn't turn, but he heard Keesha's low hiss and earth-throbbing snarl. Go ahead. Tear me apart. That might be best for everyone.

But Keesha did not attack. He didn't even hum. However, as Arcove started moving again, the low, furious voice called after him. "I will sing to you again when you beg. Not before."

Arcove spun around. "Is that a promise?"

Keesha's mane was bristling, making him look even bigger. "Oh, yes."

And you've said it before witnesses. Arcove felt a measure of relief. At least I get to choose how I die.

Storm watched in dismay as Arcove disappeared into the trees. He had suspected that Arcove's illness was Keesha-induced. He'd expected Keesha to address the problem and to make threats and demands. However, the scope of the situation had exceeded Storm's expectations by several orders of magnitude. He glanced sidelong at Sauny. She looked just as uncertain as he felt.

"Keesha..." began Storm.

"Yes, yes, I know you are going to ask about that cub," said Keesha, still watching the place where Arcove had disappeared. "I'll make some allowance for him. And if you truly want to manage a small population of creasia here, then I suppose I'll allow that, too." He turned to look at Storm and Sauny. "But this struggle between your two species has gone on long enough. It is a source of constant turmoil on my island. You have an opportunity here to get the creasia under control and to free your people. I suggest you take it."

"And by 'get the creasia under control,' you mean kill all of them?" asked Storm.