The Jargoon Pard (Witch World Series (High Hallack Cycle)) (12 page)

It was the last thought that I chewed upon bitterly. The utter indifference of the Moon Witch clung as an irritating memory in my mind. Why did I long, above all else, to stand well in her sight? That was as utter folly as to expect any tenderness from Thaney! I must set aside such fantasies.

I—

As quickly as my man form had been reborn, so now it went from me. The globe I had kept in my hand dangled loosely, to slide from a paw that could not cup it. Four-footed, furred, I was once more the pard. Within the globe, the sprig of green was dark, completely withered.

A growl from the door whipped me about. One of the wild cat cubs snarled at me, the other hissed. The Moon Witch and her pets had returned.

She did not seem startled at my change. Perhaps she had already guessed that the moly had ceased to hold back the curse. The sooner now I was out of the Star Tower, into the forest—

For the first time I saw her expression soften, her lips curve into a smile that brought a whine from me. For, in that moment, all my hard-built wall against her indifference was overthrown. She put down the fur-ridged cub who withdrew, spitting and hissing.

Then she stooped and drew off the chain that held the globe.

“Listen.” Her fingers touched my head lightly. I could still feel the touch upon my fur even as she withdrew her hand. “You wish to go—that is well. But there is another key besides the belt. We cannot tell it to you, that is the geas—the command to be fulfilled—that enwraps it. If you can learn that secret, then you shall be far greater than you believe. Now—I may say no more, by the Power I hold in my small portion. I only trust that you shall find your key!”

She stood aside as I brushed past her. There was a door not too far away. Through that I flashed, so into the open, running between the highly scented herb beds, the fringe of the forest before me. It was not until I reached the shade under the first of the trees that I looked back at the Star Tower.

I half expected to see the hawk circling above it. But the sky was empty. However, though it was still day, from the poles I had seen as dim torches by night, there now wreathed that which was not light but more like the smoky clouds born of Ursilla's ceremonial braziers. Watching the gathering wisps of cloud, I padded back. My test proved the truth of what I had believed. I could not now pass the barrier. The disturbing element that had been caused by my presence was gone. Once more those who had undoubtedly saved my life and given me, if only for a short time, relief from the curse, were behind their wall of protection.

If I longed to remain within sight of the Tower, I knew such lurking was of no use. Their defenses would not drop for me again. Perhaps if I could, by some unbelievable miracle, regain my man form once more, be Kethan, untied to any plot of Ursilla's, then I could come hither and find the barrier down. But such a hope was very faint.

However, the words of my Moon Witch (how I longed to know her name!) were fresh in my mind. Both she and the Wereman who had saved my life had hinted that there was another way, besides the belt, besides the short-lived moly, to achieve shape-change. I was no sorcerer and they must know it, for the Power can never be bidden from another who possesses it. Thus they would not have said that had they thought I could not find the answer for myself.

I must set myself now to do so, though I had no scrap of knowledge at the moment to aid me. However, if Ursilla's hawk was cruising, then I needs must first find a good hiding place beyond the reach of its keen eyes before I turned my mind to the riddle the ones in the Star Tower had set me.

Of the Discovery I made and How I Planned to Put It into Use

Having no better place to go I drifted again to the stream-side, fed on an unwary fish, then hunted out a hiding place among the rocks, one that could not be viewed from the air. Coming hither I had kept under cover, hoping that no airborne spy might sight me.

Always in my mind was the puzzle those of the Tower had set me. They were not malicious of spirit, trying to delude me. If they believed there was a way that one could win back to one's proper shape, then it existed. The man who had been the snow cat wore no belt. However, that he was Werebom was entirely possible.

Must I search out such a plant as the moly? The sheer impossibility of such a quest daunted me so, I would not long consider the suggestion. Some ceremony then—? But how could that be so? Only those tutored in the Power dared call upon any manifestation of it.

Over and over I repeated in my mind the last words of the Moon Witch. There was a key—and, if it did not exist outwardly, then—within! Within myself! Did it hint that I possessed talent and did not know it? But if so—would Ursilla not have detected that early? Or—

Back my memory flashed to the strange time when the Wise Woman and my mother wrought over me some spell, on the eve that I was to leave their custody for another's. Suppose Ursilla
had
sensed some portion of talent in me and thus made sure that it would be quenched or imprisoned by the spell they wove around me that night?

Sorcery was a matter of learning, though one had to have a measure of inborn talent to fuse with the learning before using it to any advantage. A man or woman might steep mind and memory in the wisdom laid up in ancient runes and yet be unable to put this into use. Still—Ursilla in the days of her teaching me had selected only certain rune rolls for my reading. Others were kept under lock and key, fast shut within her chests. Had the forbidden records held what she feared for me to learn? The more I considered the idea, the more my suspicion grew that I had been deliberately kept from any knowledge that could have provided me the means of freedom.

Whether I possessed any talent or not, it now remained that those of the Tower believed I could free myself from the curse of a pard's body,
if
I found the right way to attempt such a feat. Upon their opinion I began to rely.

Nothing outside myself. More and more did I incline to the truth of that. The answer lay within my mind, entrapped there perhaps by Ursilla's meddling, or maybe only unused because I had never thought it could exist.

Who was I? To those of the Keep, I was Kethan, heir to Erach. To Ursilla and my mother, I was their way to power. To Maughus, Thaney, the Lady Eldris, I was a barrier between them and what they wanted—that same power. To all there, I was not really a person, but a thing that could help or hinder their own desires. What did any of them care that I might have wishes or desires of my own?

The belt—why had Ibycus brought it? I was firm in my belief now that the trader (who could be more than a trader) had had a reason to carry that into Car Do Prawn. Who was Ibycus and why did he wish to meddle with my destiny?

Perhaps I was now reading far too much into the short exchange between us in the early morning. Yet, when I summoned up that picture from memory, it remained firm, well set. There had been no taint of the Shadow about the trader. My mother had hinted that he had had some dark purpose in selling the belt to the Lady Eldris, to my harm. I believed not. What he had said to me had been a promise, not a warning of any evil.

Therefore—the belt had more reason than just to make me Ursilla's tool. Its promise of freedom was not a lie but the truth. Only, I did not have the belt.

Back I returned to the hard fact that if there was a key, I did not know it, could not hope to find it without some hint as a guide.

I lay bunking out at the rocks and the river. Once or twice I tensed as wings swept the air above. Neither time did the flyer have the appearance of Ursilla's fierce servant. A key—within—

My nature was now dual as I had early discovered. There was the man part that could think ahead, plan, hope and despair. And, there was, to counter that, the pard who moved by instinct, had flares of rage or hunger, whose intelligence followed other patterns. Suppose—suppose the key lay in those other patterns?

Dared I allow the man to sink wholly into the pard without a battle? I shrank from that. The fear of being lost, man within beast, was strong in me. But if I were to find that key—I must search, not the land without, but what twisted, hidden ways lay within myself.

Now I deliberately forced the man to meet the pard, to sink into the animal, as I lay in my hiding hole. Down, down, past the layer of the hunting instinct, the fighting, defensive part, down, deeper and deeper. That which was Kethan was caught in a maze of thought totally strange to man—lost in the ways not understood. Yet Kethan went deeper still.

The man reached a point about which swirled a trap. To remain here—no! A struggle to break free, to emerge. I waged such a fight as no physical action could ever equal. Up—up—and out! As a drowning man fights to reach the surface of water, fill his aching lungs once more with the air he must have, so did the identity of Kethan reach toward the outer part of the mind, the identity he had so invaded. Up and out!

I lay panting in great gasps as if I had indeed been engaged with an enemy. But Kethan was once more in command. What I had sought did not lie in the depths of the pard mind. That I now knew, almost to my undoing. Therefore, it must be within Kethan.

How could I seek it within myself? Might I reverse the process—let the pard mind search for me, as an animal noses out the trail of a quarry? But that I did not know how to do. What I had found within the beast—the vigorous energy, the patience of the feline hunter, the will to defend threatened territory—the instincts of life—they all added up to a force as strong as a man's will—if I could draw upon them without releasing the pard identity.

Memory was not going to serve me, that I already knew—not memory that could be drawn upon consciously. Did I have also an unconscious memory that held more, far more, than I was aware of?

I drew a mind picture of a room in which there were tall standing presses of rune rolls, all clasped together. Each of them held some portion of memory. Which one must I now take into my hand and open for enlightenment?

My mental picture grew stronger, sharper as I bent all my will and desire on forming it. Slowly, cautiously I tapped the energy of the pard's fierce nature, drawing more strength to back my will. This was 50—the rune rolls of my mind lay spread so before me. It remained for me to choose the right one, to open and read.

I was deep caught in my picture. That which was Kethan moved between the lines of presses as a man might walk through a material room. Here and there I paused, still never did there come to me the spark that said this was the right one, the choice I must make. Had I mistaken my course? Fiercely, I thrust the weakening thought away. No, somewhere here the knowledge lay—it must be found!

More and more I drew upon the pard, brighter, more real became the room, sharper and sharper the runes that identified the rolls. I was going far back in memory. Then, before me, was a dark shadow leaning ominously across the space through which Kethan must move. This I knew to be the bar Ursilla had set to imprison me.

Kethan alone could not summon the force to cross it. But Kethan and the pard—yes! It was as if I were engulfed knee-high in a sucking horror of a bog through which I might push only a finger-wide space at a time. Still I fought forward, the pard giving me the force of will to win. Then—the bar lay behind me. Something was in this part of my sealed-off memory—something that was a threat to Ursilla. Therefore, it could well be the key I thought. Which roll—where—?

On an on—and as my search was prolonged, so did my hope begin to fade. The picture rolls grew fewer on the shelves of the presses. What memories could lie in my very early childhood that would have any importance now?

I came to the last of the presses—three volumes only. But—my hand (so did I think of myself as
in
that room) went out to the last volume. I drew it out of hiding, opened it—

There was only a picture within—but it was clear, laid in brilliant color. A pard's body on the ground, a man arising from its head, and in his eyes—Now—I
knew!

I released the mind picture of the room, the energy of the pard, I withdrew from memory. Now I lay outstretched, too weak to lift my furred head from the rock under me, as worn of body as if I had journeyed leagues without rest. But I had won!

It remained now to see if I could use the knowledge I had found. But not at once. I was too wearied by the search. Twilight was closing in. Nor was my small world unpopulated at that moment. So deeply had I been sunk in my search that I had not been warned by my outward senses. However, I could see clearly, riding at a purposeful trot along the bank of the stream, nearing my hiding place, a man.

Also—one I had seen before. It was he who wore the eagle helm, had held converse silently with the snow cat near this same place. His horse was surefooted amid the loose gravel of the stream shore, and the rider held the reins loosely, as if to leave for his mount a choice of path.

The closer he drew to me, the farther I shrank back into my crevice. For, though his meeting with the snow cat had been a friendly one, that did not mean the stranger might see in me anything but a dangerous beast. Nor had I any reason to wish to attract his attention.

I tried to make out the features under the shadow of the helm, though, even to my cat's sight, they were hard to see. There was a haunting resemblance in what I could distinguish, but it was not until he passed me by that I realized from whence the feeling of familiarity had come.

This bird-crested rider was much like the man of the Tower—Another Were?

The rattle of hooves in the gravel, the faint sound of chain mail scraping against saddle, stilled. I dared to creep out of my hole, gaze downriver. The mount had waded out into the shallow stream, was crossing in the direction of the Tower. I hunched down to watch the helm safely out of sight.

I killed before night came, a slow-moving creature I could not set name to, something I had not seen before. It was much like a house lizard, yet many times the size of one of those small reptiles. And it had a brightly colored tail, which my pard nature distrusted, so that I devoured only half the body.

My strength was returning. I needed only to test myself. Then I knew well what I must do. If I had indeed learned the key, entering the Keep must be attempted. For I could not be ever sure of freedom until I had the belt once more. And to go into the very heart of what I now considered enemy territory was something that must be well planned.

The moon was waning this night. The strong influence that had kindled the shape-change in me would be failing. I could not choose better to test its temporary defeat

Under the waning moon, on top of the rocks, I began my struggle. Just as I had fought to regain memory, now I turned within my mind to the building of the conception of Kethan as he was—a man! More and more detailed grew that picture. Finally, I held it finished and firm. So Kethan
was!

Truly this was like forcing a key to turn in the lock of a stubborn door. Then—

The night wind was cold about my bare body, which now was not provided with a coat of fur. I stood, throwing my arms high toward the moon, so exultant in my triumph that I could have shouted aloud. But my moment of man-life was not long. I could not hold the change upon the first endeavor for longer than several deep breaths. Once more I was the pard.

Only—I had done it! This I knew was the secret of the Werekin. How such change had been granted to one not of their blood and birth—that I could not tell. But that I might master the pard for periods of time I now understood. I must draw upon my inner forces, harness the beast to the wishes of the man, until I could bring about such a change long enough to penetrate the Keep. Ursilla and Maughus would expect the animal. I would deal with them in human form where they dared try neither to master nor kill me, lest they evoke the ancient penalty for kinhurt.

However, I was still far from mastery of change to the point where I would have time enough to do what I must within Car Do Prawn. Time might be very short, yet I dared not allow that thought to push me into uncon-sidered action.

Thus began my self-schooling. I lay in hiding during the day, but, at night, as the moon lessened, I would turn my key—and the power to stand as Kethan grew each time I marshaled it to my service. I believed that with the coming of complete dark of the moon I could be ready to attempt Car Do Prawn. Thus I moved through the forest toward the Keep, hiding by day, ranging at night.

That all was not peaceful under those great trees could, I was sure, be sensed by any who penetrated only a short way into that unknown. I did not meet any of the forest people, and I had made a wide circle to avoid the Star Tower, since I knew that it was closed to me, even if I had found my own mastery of form. However, there were stirrings, comings and goings, which were to be felt rather than seen or heard. I did not know whether it was the pard's more-than-human senses that recorded this, or if I was now more fully attuned to any manifestation of the Power.

There were places that I avoided with an inward shrinking. And it appeared to me that they grew more numerous every night, as if some seed of evil had been planted, sprouted, now grew outward, to encompass more and more about it. On my first flight into the depths of the woods I had not been aware of them at all.

Perhaps the inflow of the tide of the Shadow that Pergvin had spoken of now gained momentum. If so, the dark of the moon would feed it. For the Shadow grows ever in the dark, and to
it
light is a burden or even a blow.

I reached the fields before nightfall on the evening that I knew I must make my entrance. My unease had been greatly increased by this strangeness in the forest. Tonight it seemed that, with the setting of the sun, twilight loosed upon the fields a threat.