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like I was a doll. She flipped me down across the shoulders of her mount. She
let out an earsplitting shriek of triumph, hauled back on her reins. Her
unicorn reared, pounded the air with huge hooves, then we were off at a
gallop, hounds larking around the great white beast's pounding hooves, Nog the
Inescapable floating alongside. Owls passed overhead, still fleeing the crows
but finding a moment to send down hoots of congratulations. The huntress laid
a silver-tipped arrow across her dark bow weapon and shaft both just
materialized in her hands. She sped the arrow. A monster crow became an
explosion of black feathers. The missile flew on through, took a big turn,
came back home. Mama snatched it out of the air, on the fly.
The crows got the idea. But they didn't back off entirely. Whither the owls
flew they followed, waiting to flash in and rip a few more feathers off heavy
wings. The owls were looking pretty ragged.
Not that I got a real good look, sprawled in that undignified position. But
it was a long ride, out of the city completely, into the region of wealthy
estates south of town. I don't like it out there. Every time I go I get into
big trouble. This time didn't look like it would be any exception. I was in
trouble before I got there.
I wondered why nobody remarked on me floating through the streets.
Along the way we accumulated the rest of the Shayir crew, some of whom had
real trouble keeping up especially that wide, stubby guy. None of his pals
seemed inclined to make any allowances. Sweethearts, the gods.
21
The place was huge and well hidden by trees and a stone wall ten feet tall, a
quarter mile before you got to the house itself. There were guards at the
gate, in keeping with the spirit of the times, but the gate stood open and
they didn't notice our entrance. I realized that nobody saw me floating around
because I was still inside that damned invisibility sack. All I had done was
make their job easier for them.
It was dark when we reached the manor house. I couldn't see much of it from
my position. I wondered if I would recognize it in the daylight. I wondered if
I wanted to. I wondered if the Dead Man had any idea where I was or what was
happening to me. I wondered why I was doing so much wondering lately.
The huntress dismounted, tossed her reins to a lesser deity of some sort who
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looked like a pudgy kid with the world's foremost collection of golden curls.
She dragged me down and tossed me onto her shoulder. Into the house we went.
The pudgy kid flew away on impossibly small wings, leading the unicorn.
I hit the floor on a bearskin rug in front of a merrily crackling fireplace
at one end of a room they could have cleared of furniture to use as a ball
field on rainy days. I lay there looking up at my captor, who was as beautiful
as any woman I'd ever seen. But there wasn't an ounce of warmth in her. Cold
as ebony. No sensuality whatsoever. I was willing to bet a mark she fell into
the virgin huntress subcategory.
Nog crackled. The owl girls passed near the fire, as lovely as ever but sadly
tattered. Hardly a thread remained of their wispy apparel. In better times I
would have applauded the view.
The dogs, the stubby guy, the giant, all stood around staring at the
bearskin. I didn't think they were trying to bring Bruno back to life.
I spied other faces great and small, humanoid and otherwise, all with a
definite mythological caste. Shadows played over the walls. The faun guy began
consoling the owl girls. A pleasant, avuncular sort of voice said, "Might I
suggest, Mr. Garrett, that as an initial gesture you come forth from that
pocket clipped out of reality?"
I wiggled and rolled and looked at a guy who was sitting in a big chair,
facing the fire. He had his hands extended to the flames as though he had a
circulation problem. He did look enough like Imar to be his brother. Maybe
Imar's smarter twin brother, since he could articulate a civilized sentence.
Straining and groaning I do not recommend horses in any form as
transportation I wobbled to my feet and fumbled with my cord till I was able
to step out into the room with my hosts. None of them seemed interested in the
cord. I made it disappear, hoping nobody would have second thoughts.
But why should they care? They had Nog, god of litter piles.
"I apologize for the less than genteel means by which you were brought here,
Mr. Garrett. You have made it difficult to contact you."
I stared for maybe fifteen seconds. Then I said, "I guess you're not one of
them."
"One of what?" Puzzled.
I waved an inclusive hand. "The Shayir pantheon."
He frowned.
"I've never heard of a god who has manners, let alone one who treats mortals
with respect."
Shadow touched his face. It wasn't one of the shadows that infested the
place, it was a shadow from within, a shadow of anger. "Would you prefer to be
treated the way you expect?"
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