by Andre Norton
“And who are you?” It was the man who came a stride forward to stand beside her.
“I am—was—Kethan—heir to Car Do Prawn of the Redmantle Keep. What I am now—I do not know.”
I was sure I had seen a fleeting change of expression on his face when I named myself. Had Maughus's hunters spread so far the news of my escape that it had reached this quiet place? Still I could not accept that this man or woman would yield to any pressure from such as Maughus. For they had about them both, like a cloak about the body in the months of cold, an elusive suggestion of Power. I could feel of them partly as I did toward UrsilJa, that they saw and did things beyond the talent of mankind.
“Car Do Prawn,” repeated the man. “Lord Erach rules there, but if you are heir—” He gazed at me interrogatively.
“I am son to the Lady Heroise, his sister.”
“That is a clear human line,” the man continued. “How came you then under the Were spell? Was it laid upon you?”
“By my folly, as Ursilla and my mother said, because of the belt—”
“Let him tell his story later.” The woman interrupted me. “I think it is time for the cordial. He must be strengthened or the moly will fail the sooner.”
I did not understand her meaning. However, when the man aided me to sit up and she brought me a cup of steaming liquid, I obediently emptied that even though the taste was bitter. As I so drank, another came into the chamber.
My Moon Witch! Again she wore the riding garb wherein I had seen her by the river. Behind her trailed two tawny shapes that I knew for wild cats half-grown. That any could tame them was a mystery, for such beasts are noted for their fierce natures. Yet, they rubbed about her ankles lovingly, hindered her so in walking that she must pick up the bolder, holding it within the crook of her arm, fondling its ears.
“There is a pied hawk in the air,” she said. “It has four times circled the garden. I do not think it hunts—but rather watches.”
“So—” The woman nodded, then looked to me.
“The wounds you bear, Clansman. They were scored by a hawk's talons. What enemy have you?”
“One only with the Power—the Wise Woman, Ursilla,” I mumbled. The girl had been so intent upon her message that she had not looked to me. Now she turned full gaze in my direction. Within me another magic worked, one that bore no kinship with the Power.
I had seen her first in the majesty of one who speaks with what is greater than any of our species, robed herself with the Power. And then again I had seen her through feverish eyes by the river. Three times—still within me it was as if I had known her all my life. Or else had been aware there was such a one in the world and had unconsciously sought her. Yet she looked upon me with indifference. The cub she fondled might be of far greater importance to her.
“The Wise Woman Ursilla—She dwells at Car Do Prawn?” the man asked.
“Since my mother returned from Garth Howel. I do not—” I hesitated. To reveal myself so much less a master of my own destiny in the eyes of the Moon Maid, that was a hard thing. Yet there could only be truth with these three—that I knew.
“Ursilla is not fully my enemy. She would have me do her will. Therefore—her creature (I am sure it was her hawk) took the belt. Now she perhaps seeks me again.”
“Tell me more of this belt,” the man ordered with some of the same authority in his voice as Pergvin used when instructing me in arms.
So I told my tale, of the gift of the belt, the transformation that it wrought in me, of how Maughus had used that to force my flight from the Keep, and the later attack of the hawk.
“Thus without the belt, you believe that you cannot return to man form?” the man asked when I had done.
“I thought not—until now. But—what did you do for me, Lady,” I dared to ask the girl directly, “that made me a man once more?”
She pointed and I looked down to where there swung against my bare breast the small ball of crystal, within it the sprig of green, which to my eyes now did not seem so perfect, having a slightly withered appearance.
“Moly,” the Moon Witch replied. “The herb that can counteract any spell, until it dies. But when it dies,” she shrugged, “you will return to the pard, unless you learn better what can be done.”
It seemed to me that there was a kind of contempt in her gaze, as if I showed such stupidity in my past actions that I was hardly worth any tending. My feeling for her recoiled a little, to be tinged in turn with anger. Who was she to judge me so?
The man paid no attention to her, rather he gave me an order.
“Put forth your hand!”
When I had done so, he cupped his under mine, raising my palm closer to study the lines that met and crossed there. I saw again his faint change of expression.
“It is not the belt that wrought your change.” His words were blunt. “That only provided a key to open the door. Unfortunately, because it was the key, your guess that this Wise Woman can use it to control you now is the truth. And also—if the belt is destroyed—”
“I will be only pard?” I demanded when he hesitated.
“As it now stands, yes,” he admitted.
“And if Maughus gains the belt—then that is what he will do—destroy it!” The strength that had come back into my body made me want to leap from the bed, return forthwith to the Keep. If I fronted Maughus as a man I could challenge him and—But what had the maid said concerning this moly? I peered intently into the globe. There was no mistaking that the sprig within was dying.
“Can I get another?” I held up the globe to demand of the three.
The woman shook her head. “Only once can the spell work for the same person.”
“Meanwhile—” The girl still stroked the cub she held. The other had reared up to paw at her breeches. “The hawk flies overhead. Maybe so some other shall learn who shelters here—”
“Not so—yet.” The woman contradicted her. “I have set the spell—”
“It is not working,” the girl returned flatly. With that report, she startled both her companions.
The woman hurried from the room, the girl after her. I looked to the man for an explanation, to find that he was studying me.
“A spell-tie then,” he said slowly.
“What mean you?”
“Just this—you are tied to the belt. And the belt lies beyond these walls, in the hands of one with Power.”
“So—as long as I am here,” I caught his meaning, “I am a breech in your defenses—?”
“For now it does not matter.” He shrugged as if it really did not. “Tell me more of this wandering trader of yours, this Ibycus. What manner of man was he?”
“My mother said he was more than he seemed. She believed he confided in the Lady Eldris the secret of the belt so she could use it against me. I—I also thought he wore trading for a cloak.”
“If this be so—why then did you accept the belt?”
“Because—once I looked upon it I desired it so greatly I could not help myself.” I told him the truth, even though it might well name me a weakling, easily defeated by my own desires. I did not know why I wished so to stand well in the regard of this stranger. From the first, he had had to save me from the results of my own folly.
That all” three of the dwellers within the Star Tower regarded me as a lesser being, whose concerns made them impatient, I guessed. The assessment made me wish for some way in which I could prove to them that I was not the nothing of their accounting.
“The belt—” I put now into words what I had felt. “It made me—free—”
“Still, now it has bound you,” he pointed out. “And for such binding there is only one remedy.”
“That being?” To get the belt back from Ursilla? To win my own form again and destroy it? I pelted him with questions.
“The belt is the key, you must learn to use it.”
“How?” I demanded.
“The answer lies within yourself, and only you can seek it.” His a
nswer was ambiguous. “But of this I am sure. Car Do Prawn holds great danger for you.”
“If I would get the belt, then I must return there,” I said slowly. “And if the gift of moly does not hold long enough—” I drew a deep breath as I surveyed the withered sprig within the globe, “then it is as a pard I must go.”
His steady gaze met mine. There was that in his yellow eyes which—
“You are the snow cat!”
He neither nodded nor spoke his affirmation of my discovery. But I knew that was true.
“But—” I glanced down at the belt about his jerkin. Its strap was the common one of tanned leather that any man would wear. “You have no belt.” I made a statement of that, not a question. “Then how—?”
Now he did shake his head. A rule of the Power stood between us, I understood, just as I began to know why these three had not named names in my hearing. The oldest rule of all is: a name is not to be given to a stranger, lest he make use of it in some ensorcellment. That I had anything to fear from the Star Tower, I was sure was not so. But that those within it would not give me shelter to their own peril, that I thought was also true.
“The Shadow gathers strength.” He broke the silence between us with words that had no immediate meaning for me. “Those who have taken the Darker Way awake, prepare to fare forth once more. I have a question concerning this Ibycus, the trader. You felt nothing in him of the Dark?”
I shook my head. “Rather, he seemed otherwise. Almost I wondered if he was some messenger or scout for the Voices.”
“The Voices, now there is a thought that bears shifting.” His hand lay on the hilt of his long hunter's knife, drawing it a fraction from the sheath, then sending the blade thudding back into hiding once again. “Perhaps there approaches a time when once more we of Arvon must choose sides. Short indeed has been our peace.”
There was a set to his lips, his weary eyes were now half-veiled beneath their lids. In this moment, the illusion of youth that he wore so well slipped a little and I thought he had perhaps seen long years of time in Arvon.
“And,” he swung about to face me squarely, “to play small games with the Power in such a time is to invite peril beyond reckoning. I do not like it that winged eyes, which might be servant to your Wise Woman, circle now above this Tower!”
There was determination in that, a threat if I wished to read it so. Without any farewell, he went out—while I still sat upon the bed, holding in my hand the moly that had given me respite from the curse, wondering how much longer the respite might last.
After the man had left, I glanced about me, more interested now in the room than I had been when those three were in it. The odd shape, with one wall striking out in a point to help fashion the star space, made it strange. The walls were unbroken by any pictures or hangings such as the Keep chambers had. There was the bed upon which I lay, a narrow, shelflike affair. Against one wall a chest, richly carven, against the facing wall a small table on which rested a jug and washing basin. Poor looking indeed.
Yet herein I felt a kind of oneness such as I had never experienced in the Keep. There were signs of age about the walls, even as that which clung like moldering tapestry to the walls of Car Do Prawn. But here was not an age that made me feel the insignificant intruder, rather, in a strange way, one with all about me.
That I should have this sensation, in a place where manifestly I was not welcome, was strange. I had no training in the Power, no talent for it. And this was clearly an abode, even a fortress, steeped in the forces that very few of us can understand. Why then did I feel as if I never wanted to leave the Tower?
I got to my feet. Strength flowed back. I could bend and twist my body, as I did in test, and feel no pain from my back. When I quested with my fingers as best I might, crooked my neck as far as I could, to see my wounds, they showed pink, coated with new skin, well along to complete healing. So healed, I had no right to call for any more shelter. The hawk above was a warning of that. I wanted to bring no ill upon the ones who had succored me, even though they considered me unworthy.
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 maliciou
s 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.
