And we still have to cross the Igby.

Once they reached the big river, Arcove elected to run east towards the lake along its bank, rather than cross immediately. Storm suspected that he intended to cross at the delta, where the water was shallowest. It would make their entire journey a little longer, but it would avoid the brutal swim that would otherwise claim many of his followers.

As darkness fell, Storm began to imagine that he could hear wailing creasia rally cries behind them. How long will it take Treace to realize he's been tricked? How long to realize where we've gone? Once Treace figured it out, Storm had no doubt that he would come after them more quickly than they could run away. He's not traveling with cubs and wounded, and his cats are the youngest males in Leeshwood.

Storm was surprised, as he jogged along in the dark, to find Arcove suddenly beside him-a shadow of a shadow. The moon was peeking over the cliffs behind them-nearly full and yellow as a cat's eye. "Is that your luck or mine?" asked Storm.

Arcove chuffed. "We may need both tonight." He hesitated. "Walk with me a moment."

Storm felt uncertain, but he angled away from the group, into the edge of the trees. "Do you want us dead?" asked Arcove.

Storm thought it was a strange question, considering the circ.u.mstances. "If I did, I wouldn't be out here."

"You want peace?" asked Arcove. "No more raids? And creasia still alive on Lidian?"

Do I want peace without revenge? That's what you're asking me.

"Yes," said Storm. He was surprised that the answer came so easily.

"Because of the cub?" asked Arcove.

"Yes," he said again, although the real answer was more complicated.

He could feel Arcove's eyes studying him in the darkness. Storm kept his own eyes on the ground ahead. "I can't see as well as you can," he ventured after a moment. "Can we get back out from under the trees before I trip on a root?"

Arcove ignored his request. "Roup will probably ask you what happened in Syriot...and afterward. If you want what you claim, don't tell him. Never tell anyone. Will you promise me that?"

Storm did peer at him, then, but there was nothing to see. Even the reflection of his green eyes was lost in darkness with the moon shining behind him. "Are you...alright?" asked Storm. Are you already sick again?

"Yes or no?" persisted Arcove.

"I won't tell him," said Storm. "I can't vouch for what Sauny will do, and Charder-"

"I've already spoken with Charder," said Arcove. "I would appreciate it if you would talk to your sister." Then he was gone, gliding back into the light of the hunter's moon as it rose above the cliffs.

Tollee thought that the elders had made a decision. She did not know what. She did not care. She had decided that, at noon tomorrow, when most of the creasia were napping, she would try for one of the small islands. She would take Myla, and if they died, so be it. Her friends did not agree with her. Remy was unwilling to risk Teedo's likely death. Itsa flatly refused to go into the water after seeing the things along the sh.o.r.e.

"What if they're in the lake?" she asked. "What if they can swim? What if there are more lishties?"

"They don't seem very mobile," replied Tollee carefully. "I think lishties prefer sea water, and we don't even know whether the dead cats can hurt us."

"Did you see the fangs on that cub?" demanded Itsa. "I think it could have come after us if it had wanted to. I think it's guarding the edge of the island."

They quarreled on and off as they tried to find food for themselves and their foals. There was still enough forage without risking the carnivorous plants at the center of the island. But if we're here for more than a few days, we'll strip this place clean, thought Tollee. We have to run now, before we grow weak with hunger, before we start fighting with each other over food.

Moro came at dusk. This time, he brought eight creasia, and they herded the ferryshaft together around the clearing. Tollee told herself that she would not watch. She was glad that Myla was too small to see over the backs of those in front of her.

"Well?" drawled Moro, when the herd had quieted. "Which ferryshaft are you going to give me...or shall I choose?"

"They choose me."

Tollee had promised herself that she would not look, but the words brought her head up anyway. She was far back in the crowd, and the light had grown weak. She did not, at first, recognize the ferryshaft who stepped away from the others and walked calmly towards Moro and the ominous, glowing plants.

Then she blinked. His grizzled fur was familiar, even at a distance. Pathar. Storm's old teacher.

"I have always valued knowledge," Pathar said, his voice soft, but clear. "What is it you're hoping to learn from killing me, Moro?"

Moro's body language registered displeasure. "A volunteer," he said icily. "Oh, no. We can't have that."

He turned away from Pathar, but Pathar continued placidly. "I think what you are doing here is unwise. Lishties have goals that you could not possibly understand. Are you trying to wake Groth? I think that is exceedingly foolish."

Moro spun around. "Silence!" he snarled. "You will speak only when spoken to."

"Why?" asked Pathar. "Will you kill me twice?"

Moro's teeth flashed in the dim light, and Tollee shivered. "Maybe."

He turned back to the crowd. "It seems I've got some choosing to do. Where are those two who were seen talking by the water?"

Tollee wasn't sure whom he was addressing, but then a cat on the edge of the crowd behind her called, "They're over here."

To Tollee's horror, Moro started in her direction. She saw Remy trying to back away, but the ferryshaft weren't letting her through. They closed up tightly behind her. Everyone looked at the ground. They were pushing each other without meeting anyone's eyes. Cowards, cowards, cowards! thought Tollee, but she was trying to back away as much as anyone else.

She looked up and saw Moro right in front of her, his pale eyes gleaming in the light of the rising moon. He's going to choose me. He's going to do something horrible to me.

His eyes fell to Myla, cowering at Tollee's feet. No, no, no, no...

"Which shall I take," he asked. "This foal...or that one?" His head whipped around, and Tollee saw Teedo, trying to crawl between Remy's front legs. She met her friend's horrified eyes beneath Moro's gaze. "Well, be quick," he said. "I'm giving you a choice. Your foal or hers? Or shall I take both? Come, I haven't got all night."

This is meant to divide us, thought Tollee hopelessly. And it will work.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came. She tried again. "I-"

At that moment, there was a commotion on the far side of the crowd. Animals were stirring and muttering. From the trees beyond the clearing, Tollee heard creasia yowls and rally cries. Moro looked around. "What's going on?" A subordinate came up suddenly and started whispering in his ear.

Tollee took advantage of his distraction to slip quietly into the animals behind her, who'd begun to mill about. Moro moved back towards the center of the clearing, muttering to his officer. There was more commotion among the herd. Tollee wished she could see what was causing it. She could feel her heart thudding against her ribs, and she felt certain that her ordeal was not over. How to get away, how to get away, how to get away...?

And then she saw them-three ferryshaft slipping quickly through the press, speaking here and there. Tollee caught her breath. Kelsy... Valla? And Sauny!

Most ferryshaft believed Sauny was dead. Many of the younger ones regarded her as the tragic hero of their attempted rebellion. Rumors that she was alive among the telshees had persisted, but few really believed them. Now, not only was she among them, but she was walking-not limping, not hobbling, but running and walking as smoothly as anyone else.

"This is very interesting." Tollee looked back towards the center of the clearing to see Pathar peering into one of the plants' bowls. They were glowing more strongly now in the dim light. "They're more active after dark," he continued. "They don't like the light, do they?" Pathar caught at a tendril suddenly with his teeth and jerked, tearing part of the plant.

"Get away from that!" snarled Moro.

In the same instant, the plant shuddered and the tendril coiled in a clumsy, reflexive fashion. Pathar danced away. "They're quicker than the ones I'm used to, but not exactly implacable."

"Get away from that!" roared Moro again. He was trying to reach Pathar, but the agitated herd was getting in his way. Everyone wanted to see what was happening, and the ripple of excitement that followed Sauny and her companions created even more chaos.

Several wet and panting creasia were racing around the edges of the herd or trying to push through it. "We're in pursuit of three rogue ferryshaft!" one shouted. "They just swam over. We think one of them was at Arcove's council."

"Well, they're here now," snapped Moro as he shoved past the last of the ferryshaft into the center of the clearing. Pathar had ducked into the stand of plants, but he backed out suddenly as Kos emerged.

Tollee stared in horrified fascination at the lishty's nearly transparent skin, green in the light from the surrounding plants. It c.o.c.ked its head at Pathar. "This one is old and ailing," it said. "A poor host. Unsuitable."

"I know that," growled Moro. "But we still can't have him tearing up the ghost plants." With casual brutality, he lunged forward and crunched through one of Pathar's front legs. A collective moan went up from the watching ferryshaft, but Pathar didn't make a sound. He staggered sideways, looking more surprised than hurt, and sat down heavily. Crimson blossomed down his mangled leg and began to pool on the ground in front of him.

"I'll deal with you later," growled Moro.

He turned back to the ferryshaft herd, his tone brusque again. "Well, you are fortunate this evening! It seems your choice is obvious. Give me the newcomers."

The noise in the herd died away. Tollee held her breath. She could no longer see Sauny, Valla, and Kelsy, but she had an idea of where they had vanished into the crowd. She didn't dare look in that direction. Treace's creasia were shoving in among the ferryshaft, who parted for them, but remained silent.

There was a sudden shriek at the far edge of the crowd, and Tollee was jostled by a ripple of shoving animals. She thought, at first, that they'd parted to reveal Sauny, Valla, and Kelsy, but, instead, three of the muddy creasia from the island's bank lurched into the faint glow from the plants.

"Ah, here's some incentive!" said Moro. "Shall I just let them start biting? I think they'd like that."

The cub that Tollee had seen earlier opened its mouth like a snake and hissed. Then, horribly, it spoke. "I have been Serka," it said thickly, as though it was not quite accustomed to its tongue. "This body...is...strange...to us."

"You'll get used to it," said Moro. "Or perhaps you can try a ferryshaft."

The herd was talking. Their voices rose in a frightened babble around Tollee. A few had simply curled up on the ground and buried their faces in their tails.

"They're just jellyfish!" shouted a voice. A ferryshaft was bounding over the others, trying to get to the front of the group. Tollee thought, for one moment, that it was Storm-fluid as a deer-and then she hit the ground, and it was Sauny Ela-ferry in the center of the clearing, glaring at Kos. The fur bristled along her spine. "Poisonous jellyfish!" she spat. "You can get inside dead animals and control them, but you're just jellyfish!"

Kos hissed at her. "You..." it murmured. "We trusted you."

"You lied to me," said Sauny. "But that's not important now."

Moro was advancing on her, tail twitching. "Is this a good specimen?" he asked Kos. "Young? Strong?"

"Yesss," hissed the lishty.

Tollee looked at the ferryshaft around her. They were transfixed, hardly breathing. Do something!

"You're not going to hurt me," said Sauny, although she was backing away. "My herd won't let you."

"Your herd is a cowardly prey species," said Moro. "They will stand and watch."

Another ferryshaft struggled through the press to stand beside Sauny. Tollee wasn't surprised to see Valla. Kelsy came out on the other side of the clearing. He was shouting something, although it took Tollee a moment to understand what he was saying at that distance. "Are you going to let this happen?" Tollee heard him say. "It's now or never, ferryshaft!"

He was interrupted by a long, lonely sound that rose quavering in the air. Tollee took a moment to recognize that it was a ferryshaft howl-deeper and longer than the sound the curbs made. It took her another moment to realize that Pathar was the one howling. He sat where Moro had left him, although he looked like he was having trouble holding himself up. He'd tilted his head back, and the haunting sound carried over the clearing.

Far back, on the edge of the crowd, someone answered. Their song created strange harmonies. It didn't sound like two ferryshaft. It sounded like three or four.

And then it was three.

And then it was four.

And then it was hundreds of hundreds.

Tollee had never howled with a group before, but it seemed instinctive. It stirred something in her blood-a beast that woke and feared nothing. A beast that sang for blood.

Moro seemed to sense the change in the herd. Several more ferryshaft had come forward to stand by Sauny, but Moro veered away from them. In two bounds, he reached Pathar, caught him by the throat, and ended his song forever.

Kos was hissing, and the dead cats were showing their fangs. Tollee heard snarls around the edges of the herd as creasia attacked howling ferryshaft. But it did not matter. The ferryshaft herd had had enough.

Chapter 19. The Telshee's Eye.

Storm stood in the cave at the top of the hill on Kuwee Island, panting. In the near-distance, he could hear the rally cries of Treace's cats. The waxing moon had risen a quarter of the way up the sky, casting sharp-edged shadows. Arcove and Halvery stood beside him in the cave. Below them, creasia were filing up the hill, putting one weary foot in front of the other. Roup had stayed by the edge of the water to count the cats who were still swimming over.

It was unclear how many they'd lost in the run. Those who couldn't keep up had simply dropped back and hidden. If they were lucky, Treace's cats might pa.s.s them by in favor of more meaningful conquests. However, Storm had heard the snarls and screams of those who were not lucky. Treace's cats were closing in, killing the stragglers whenever they found them.

Storm stopped in the center of the cave and shrugged off the Shable stone. It looked at home here, with the rougher blue crystals jutting from the walls. Arcove and Halvery watched him. Storm could hear a faint rattle in Arcove's breathing. He didn't dare ask how he was feeling.

"Well?" demanded Halvery. "How does it work?"

"Just a moment," muttered Storm. He scanned the ceiling of the cave for the strange shape-the painting. As before, it took his mind an instant to sort out the lines. There was the telshee, its enormous white outline sprawling across the ceiling of the cave, its pink tongue, and its one blue eye staring down at him.

Halvery seemed to make sense of the painting in the same moment. "Ghosts," he muttered and hunkered down a little. "I don't remember seeing that before."

Arcove looked down the slope at the cats staggering through the trees. "It was there."

Storm caught the metal string of the Shable in his teeth and swung the blue stone into the air. He didn't understand how it was supposed to wedge into the empty socket of the telshee's eye. The indentation didn't look deep enough. The Shable struck the ceiling and fell with a clatter. Arcove whipped around. "Don't break it."

Storm felt embarra.s.sed. "I-I'm not exactly sure..."

Arcove came over and picked up the blue stone in his mouth. He reared up on his hind legs, craning his neck, and he was as tall as Shaw like that. He pressed the Shable stone into the empty socket of the Telshee's eye and sank back to the floor.

To Storm's fascination, the Shable stuck there, suspended, the chain dangling. "It's lightning stone," said Arcove. "It's made from the same rock as this cave. Lightning stone sticks to itself."

Before anyone could ask questions, there was a deep creak from the ceiling and also from somewhere underground. The entire section of the ceiling containing the telshee painting dropped gently towards the floor of the cave. Storm, Arcove, and Halvery scrambled out of the way. In the front of the cave, creasia were gathering. They did not speak. They watched.