Teri McLaren

killed him by now, except that he enjoys torturing him with captivity and he's more than a little afraid of selkies, even though ores have been known to eat them…"

"Ores eat anything, even other ores. Why is Rotapan afraid?" said Claria.

"Well… some time ago, Drufalden-"

"Drufalden? You mentioned her before," said Cheyne.

"She's queen of the cold country, has a fortress of ice up on the biggest mountain in the range, along the Borderlands," answered Claria. "The last of the Three Sisters, they call her. A long time ago, when everything was locked in ice, her ancestors' kingdom covered most of Almaaz. They've never gotten over the Thaw."

"As I was saying, Drufalden had another of my stones. The caravan route passes through her lands, so Riolla had to pay her off, also. But the ice queen got a little careless with her water sapphire. Lost it as she was bathing in a stream that feeds Into the selkies' river. The stone washed right down into a fish's mouth, quick as you please, and in a day or two, it was on Wiggulf s table, decorating his lunch. Of course, he knew what it was-that harpy had been using the stone to freeze the waters upstream from him for years. Little by little, she was advancing toward his kingdom, pushing his clans together and starving them out, trying to take control of his waterways, forcing his fishing farther and farther toward Rotapan and the Silver Sea."

"And his poison," added Cheyne.

"Yes. And drying up the sea at the same time, just to irritate Rotapan. So Wiggulf, or rather his family, has held the stone for awhile-as both a balance against his life with the ores and as a threat to Drufalden."

"How so, Og?"

"The best I can figure, the waterstone works with sound that can make solids of liquids and liquids of solids. No doubt Riolla taught each of her minions just enough to make them dangerous with the stones, and their lack of natural ability makes things even more

uncertain, but if Drufalden could freeze Wiggulf out, he could possibly bring down her mountain of ice just with the same stone. And Rotapan is afraid that all that melted ice will make the Silver Sea suddenly rise and swallow his kingdom. Ores don't swim, remember? If Rotapan were to survive that, and still have his stone, he could do some harm to Drufalden, too. It's been a delicate balance. I don't know how he survives, but Wiggulf keeps singing his strange song down there in the dungeon, year after year, waiting for help."

Cheyne nodded as he recalled the eerie wail they had heard as they climbed the stairs. "The other space in the cabinet?"

"Is for me. Gambling debt. I went for double or nothing on the staff and lost. Game was rigged, of course; you should never trust an ore, much less a half-ore,1* Og ended, motioning their attention to the cabinet, where the heads had begun to chatter.

"Hallooo! Well, it's about time, now. Puffer, are you still up there? Shake the straw from your ears and wake up," said one of the heads on the lowest shelf.

"Of course he's still up there. Where else would he be? You say that every time the doors open, Glom," snapped another one, its eyes sewn shut with long, black stitches.

"You know it's the rule of order to recognize the speaker for the house. Mind your tongue, Rasper," replied the first head, managing to sound as wounded as possible.

"Order! O-O-Order!" sputtered the head on the top shelf. "Now, this session of the war cabinet will begin." He called roll, and when all the heads had answered, he announced, "We are all present and accounted for, Overking. How may we serve you today?"

"I have need of determining whether these humans are sent to imperil me. You may commence to prophesy," intoned Rotapan, facing the cabinet, closing his eyes and banging the staff down three times. The red stone cast a pestilential glow on the shriveled heads.

Teri McLaren

Puffer opened his puckered mouth and began, the relish in his voice all but garbling his words. "Not since you took me in your greatest battle, Overking, have I been so honored to tell you that, though they are not sent by Riolla, indeed, these three are come to work you the gravest of harm-"

"I wanted to tell him about the gravest of harm part! Overking, upon my sworn oath to destroy you, I say they will bring down your kingdom, and there will be nothing left of it but white dust," Rasper broke in. The other heads began to cheer wildly.

"Order! O-O-Order! The Right Honorable Rasper will refrain from interrupting. The speaker recognizes Clutch," bellowed Puffer.

Clutch snorted and giggled, savoring his response. "By the spear you put through my eye, the tall one is the nemesis of Chelydrus himself, the one you fear above all, and he will break your staff and let the short one take your magic!"

"Ooo-me next, Puffer," said a shrill female voice, somewhere from the left side of the cabinet.

"Proceed, Sawsa," said Puffer,

"Ooo-by the fang of the adder you sent to bite me, the girl will laugh at you."

"And why is that, you simpering whinny?" Rotapan raged at the head, shaking his staff in her face.

"Because they have all escaped!" Sawsa gleefully shrieked, and the other heads began to trill and gibber with abandon, Puffer calling for order every second or two, only adding to the uproar.

Whirling to face Cheyne, Claria, and Og, Rotapan opened his eyes. True to the prophecy, they were nowhere to be seen, having slipped away as easily as the snakes slithered into the cracks of the temple walls. He banged his staff and slammed the heavy wooden door shut on the council's hilarity, catching Glom's left ear in the hinge. A hideous muffled wail arose from the cabinet. Rotapan rapped the staff sharply on the door and the wail ceased, but the exertion brought on one of

his coughing fits, and he hacked and spit for a full minute before he could even summon speech.

"Yob!" he boomed, the rotunda's chamber echoing his anger out in great waves to the steps outside.

Yob, his eye warily on the entranced Krota, snapped to attention and raced back into the temple. "Yes, Overking?" he answered tentatively.

"Where are they? They have escaped! Were you asleep at your post again? They must have run right past you! I knew it-they smelled like trouble from the beginning! I will hunt them down and feed them to these writhing reptiles and make of their blood the supreme offering to my Lord Chelydrus. You brought them here-if you wish to live, you bring them back-dead!" he screeched, pounding his staff on the head of an unfortunate mamba, "Your daughter, who, by the way, I had seized as surety against your tribute report, just in case you came up short yet again, will now serve as my hostage until such a time as you come back with their bones."

Yob gulped and bowed, then dug in his claws as he leapt over the coils of vipers and back out of the temple after Og, Cheyne, and Claria. Rotapan was hard on his heels, shaking the staff and ranting about a laughing woman. Yob stopped short at the steps, an odd roar, seemingly from under his feet, shaking the building ever so slightly. Yob looked down, but forgot the noise immediately when he saw, in the soft sand at the bottom of the staircase, human footprints leading toward the inland sea, the only part of the temple's grounds that fronted no wall. For generations, the sea itself-and its raging whirlpool, the cauldron-had served to protect Rotapan's western front. He looked toward the wind-whipped water, meeting the prospect of the chase with utter chagrin.