The Feline Wizard (39 page)

“Surely she could not!” Wings battered air and the sidicus lit on Brother Rianus' shoulder; he winced as its claws dug in but said nothing. “Of course,” the bird went on, “she was too frantic to know what to do if she had not had expert advice.”

Balkis shot it a glance of annoyance. “Anthony, this wordy bird is called a sidicus, and it is he who bade me free the uni-corn and ask it to carry you—which the unicorn did.”

“Once I made her angry enough to start thinking again,” the sidicus crowed. “Then I led her to these kind old men and their magical boulder, though I had to keep insulting her to catch her attention—her mind kept wandering to worrying about you.”

“It could not, of course, be merely that you enjoy insulting people,” Balkis said darkly.

“Why not combine charity with pleasure?
Rawkr

Balkis finally realized that its raucous noise was laughter.

Anthony managed to overcome his stupefaction at hearing a bird talk and bowed gravely. “I thank you, kind creature, for fair rescue and aid.”

“Well, doesn't he speak prettily, though!” The sidicus, still sitting on Brother Rianus' shoulder, fixed Balkis with a beady eye. “As you should know!”

Anthony turned to Balkis, puzzled again. “What does it mean?”

Balkis lowered her gaze, blushing furiously.

Before she could speak, the sidicus said, “
Should
know, I said! If she told you how she really felt, you would speak just as prettily to her, and she
would
know!”

“How you really feel?” Anthony turned to Balkis, suddenly intent. “Of which feelings does this bird speak?”

Balkis bit her lip, blushing furiously, confounded to find herself so completely tongue-tied and cursing the sidicus in her heart.

“Of course! You need not say, for I know!” Anthony said warmly. “Your feelings are care and concern for a companion and, I hope, for a friend.” Suddenly his arms were around her, her cheek was against the rough cloth of his tunic and the hard muscles beneath it, and his voice filled her ears as the fluttering began inside her again. “How fortunate I am to have so loyal and caring a companion! Thank you again and again, Balkis, for kind rescue!”

She was about to protest that it was more than friendship that had made her act so, but the words jammed up in her throat and would not come out.

“She doesn't want you to thank her, young idiot,” the sidicus said, “she wants you to kiss her!”

“Kiss her?” Anthony pulled back from Balkis, blushing but staring down at her doggedly. “Don't speak foolishness, bird! Why would so exquisite a creature wish for so lumpen a fellow as myself to kiss her?”

Balkis gazed up at him with longing, speechless but dying to tell him that he was anything but lumpen.

“Why, because she's in love with you, dolt!” the sidicus said. “Can't you see it? Really, you humans are so stupid! Any cock sidicus can tell when a hen takes a fancy to him! Do you really have to hear her say it?”

“Yes, and even then I probably shall not believe it.” Anthony's gaze held hers, and his eyes seemed to swell, to fill her whole
world. She felt herself on the brink of falling into them, and his voice seemed to surround her. “Do you love me, Balkis?”

Her mouth opened, her lips parted, but the words would not come.

“Pray Heaven you do,” Anthony said softly, “for I am most overwhelmingly in love with you, and have been since first I saw you in human form.”

Her lips parted farther, her eyes widened in surprise; she was filled with a sweet aching, but still she could not speak even as his lips came closer and closer to hers.

Then they shaped the soft words, “Do you love me indeed?”

“Heaven forgive me,” she whispered, “but I do.”

Then his lips touched hers, gently, lightly, moving enough to raise a sensation that sank more and more deeply into her, and she closed her eyes to savor it the more, to caress his lips with her own, until nothing existed except his kiss.

A raucous laugh broke the spell, and the sidicus crowed, “Well enough, well enough! We don't mean to have to put you both into the mussel shell to revive you from smothering each other!”

Anthony broke away from her, red-faced and fighting down an angry retort. “You are a most unseemly savior!”

“Oh, but I have to save humans,” the sidicus explained. “Your follies are endlessly amusing, and life would be so boring without you!”

Brother Athanius came up to stand next to Rianus in time to hear this. Smiling, he said, “I own I find your jests amusing, sidicus, though they are frequently annoying, too.” He favored Anthony with a conspiratorial smile. “Indeed, I would rather have one like him, who carps and mocks but does good, than one who speaks me fair and does me ill.”

“Well, there is some truth in that,” Anthony allowed, and bowed. “I am Anthony, reverend one.”

Balkis remembered that they hadn't met. “Anthony, this is Brother Athanius, the other gentle hermit who healed you.”

“I am pleased to have aided, young man.” The hermit returned the bow, then glanced from one to the other, his eyes bright. “Of course, your fair young friend aided us in bearing
you the mussel shell, where the curing waters healed your wounds.”

Anthony turned to stare at Balkis. “You have cared for me in every way!”

“Cared very much,” the sidicus agreed. “Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that you had to go naked into the water.”

Anthony's stare widened. Balkis lowered her gaze, blushing. “Bird, do you know the meaning of the word 'discretion'?”

“Of course,” said the sidicus. “It is what people call for when they want to keep secrets.”

“Annoying he may be, but I have never known him to speak falsely,” Brother Athanius said.

“Of course,” Brother Rianus demurred, “that's not to say he won't mislead people if he thinks he will have more pleasure watching their confusion.”

“Of course,” the sidicus agreed. “What are humans for, after all? And you two have been great fun this morning!”

“I must not criticize one who has helped me,” Anthony sighed.

“Quite so,” Brother Rianus agreed, speaking up now. “Still, young people, I would say you have endured enough of his taunts. You are healed in both body and spirit now, and must go your ways to make enduring this treasure that you have hidden from one another, but that the sidicus has discovered within you.”

“I suppose we must thank him for that,” Balkis said grudgingly.

“Of course.” The sidicus' tongue lolled out in an avian smile. “You never would have told it by yourselves. Birds are much more practical.”

“Go hatch an egg,” Balkis muttered, then aloud she said, “Thank you I shall, then, for you have been a great help.”

“Yes, thank you, good bird,” Anthony said, “and I thank you, reverend sirs.”

“Go with our blessings,” Brother Ranius said, smiling, “and may love lead you.”

* * *

With Anthony's arm about Balkis, they walked in silence, stopping to gaze into one another's eyes now and then, smiling but still shy. After half an hour they overcame their shyness enough to stop and kiss again, then went on, talking in low tones of things they had never discussed in all the months they had journeyed together. All that day they drifted in a sweet dreamland, and though Balkis occasionally felt the touch of apprehension, wondering what would happen when evening came—though it sped her pulse, too—she was able to put it aside well enough to enjoy these first few blissful moments to the fullest.

When the sun went down, they walked awhile in the moonlight, Anthony talking of his love for her and of her beauty, stopping frequently for kisses that inflamed her thoroughly. Finally, though, Balkis' head began to droop with weariness, and Anthony stopped. “We have come far enough for one day, my love. It is time to sleep,” he said.

Apprehension clamored in her breast, surging up into her throat, but Balkis managed to only gaze up at him shyly and say, “Let us lie down, then.”

The ritual of pitching camp had become so routine that they were able to go through it without thinking—which was good, for Anthony began to grow silly, making foolish remarks that soon had Balkis giggling and breathless—but when they had supped and she knelt by her bed of bracken, again overcome with shyness, Anthony said, “Sleep, now, and I shall watch, for that bath in the magical shell has made me so completely well that I feel no weariness, and doubt I could sleep.”

Relief flooded her, though she could have wished for a better reason to keep him from sleep. “How long shall you watch?”

Anthony shrugged. “I shall waken you when I tire. It shall be half the night at least, and perhaps all of it, since I shall have the sweetness of your sleeping face to gaze upon and fill me with strength.”

She blushed, looking down. “May the night be calm for you, then.” She lay down, careful to arrange her cloak with all modesty—if he would gain strength by gazing, it should be only her face that he watched.

“Sleep lie sweetly on your brow.” Anthony leaned over and kissed her forehead. “And on your eyes.” He kissed each closed lid. “And on your lips.” The last kiss was substantially longer than the others and guaranteed to keep him awake. When he lifted his head, Balkis smiled shyly up into his eyes, then deliberately closed her own and breathed out a long sigh of happiness. Anthony echoed it with a sigh of his own that perhaps held as much longing as contentment, then turned away to sit by the fire where he could watch both the night and her.

Sleep would not come to Balkis, though, and all that lying still with her eyes closed merely made her acutely aware of the strange warmth and trembling within her. As the hours passed she began to wonder whether to feel relieved or disappointed at Anthony's self-control.

Then she remembered that the unicorn hadn't hesitated to carry him, that he must be virgin, too, and wondered if he were as apprehensive as she. She even wondered if he knew what lovers did together, then remembered that he was a farm boy, after all, so had certainly seen animals couple, as had she herself in growing. Then she remembered the crudeness of the household in which he'd been reared, and a strange thought struck her, the possibility that he might not connect mating with love.

If that were so, she would definitely have to do something about it. She was still wondering what when she finally fell asleep.

Anthony woke her after the moon was down, woke her with a kiss on the forehead. Heavy-lidded and flushed with sleep, she smiled and said, “Is that all you can offer me, sir?”

Smiling, he kissed her on the lips, a long and lingering caress that quickened the blood in her veins well enough. Then, though, he released her and sat back on his heels to say, “I have grown wearied at last, so I shall let you watch for the last hour or two of the night, if you wish.”

Balkis realized that he was waiting for her to rise from the bed, even though she had made only the one this night. She rose with a sigh, went to sit by the fire, and gave him a smile that spoke more than her lips as she said, “Dream sweetly, love.”

He pulled his cloak over his shoulders, smiling back and saying, “If my dreams have been as sweet as my musing, I may not wish to wake.”

“Oh,” Balkis said, “I think I can see to that.” She gave him what she hoped was a look filled with promise. His eyes glowed in answer, but he forced his lids shut with firm resolution.

She turned back to the fire with a sigh and fed it twigs. Really, she was going to have to do something about his excess of gallantry.

She woke Anthony with a kiss, and the magical mood wove itself around them again as they ate breakfast. Then they drowned their fire and took to the road again, or rather, the path. The early sun cast a rosy glow over the landscape, the dew twinkled like stars all about them, and they both felt that they were walking on air as they strolled along, chatting of inconsequentialities—and stopping now and again for a kiss.

Early in the afternoon the mountains that had been before them in the distance for so long were suddenly near, and they saw that the path led into a gorge a hundred yards wide at the bottom. As they came into it, they saw that the walls were high rugged cliffs. They looked about them, marveling at the wild beauty of the place—then heard shouts in a language that Balkis recognized again as akin to that of Maracanda, but so heavily accented that she couldn't really understand it. She did, however, comprehend one word. “Anthony! Someone is telling us to stop!”

“There may be danger ahead, then.” Anthony looked all about him. “Where are these people who send kind warning, though?”

“I see them not, either,” Balkis said.

The voices shouted again, then began to chant with a heavy beat.

“That has the sound of a war song,” Balkis said nervously. “Where are the singers?”

“There!” Anthony pointed upward, staring in amazement.

Balkis looked where he pointed and saw a dozen dragons— small ones, only twelve feet long—saddled and bridled and with people riding them as they flew. As they spiraled down
toward the intruders, their war-songs grew more harsh. Anthony and Balkis stared, thunderstruck, as they came. Then three riders dropped spinning packages that spread open into nets, and Balkis jolted out of her reverie. “Run!”