The image of the winged, jointed monstrosity that was the kwedeir flashed in Rialus’s mind. The bunched muscle beneath the gray skin, the swaying movement, the enormity of it as scaled by the Auldek riding its back. And that was what he had seen. What might fréketes be? He could not help himself. He shuddered.

“Exactly,” Devoth said. He grinned with one side of his mouth. “Snow lions hunting for us and antoks clearing the way. Behind us, still other slaves will push weapons of war. We’ll ride singing, Rialus Leagueman, chanting, joyful. The Numrek tell me they had a mighty slaughter when they fell upon your lands. This, though, will be like nothing your people have ever seen. Be glad you’ll get to watch it from our side instead of from the ground as we trample you. Leagueman, try to understand, we’ve been dead in our living bodies for years now. We are ready to live again, to battle, to risk everything, to make children, and even to die. It will be wonderful. For us, at least. Not so much for your people.”

A male servant finally came and got Rialus, a good hour after he had arrived. A short time later, the servant paused and pointed to a figure in the center of a large, labyrinthine inner garden. “He is there, master. Can you find your way from here, or should I walk farther with you?”

“No,” Rialus said, more sharply than he expected. He was quite capable of finding his way forward now. I can see him, he thought. In the Giver’s name, I’m not a complete idiot! He had the impulse to wiggle his fingers in the servant’s face dismissively, but he knew the man would not so much as deign to respond if he did. Rialus would be left looking silly. “I’m fine,” he said. A few steps forward, however, and he was not sure of that.

A snow lion stepped out onto the path some twenty feet in front of him. It was a massive thing that moved with slow, heavy menace. For a moment Rialus thought it would cross the path, but, sensing the Acacian, the feline paused. It turned its head and set its gray eyes on him, moving as if its head and wild mane were as heavy as stone. Its tongue lolled out a moment, wagging, and then was slurped back in. Rialus cried out, “Eyyaaahhhh.” His fingers twitched. The summons fell from his hand and clattered, all too loud, on the marble tiles.

The cat lowered its head, the muscles along its back and forelegs rippling beneath its white coat. Its tail flicked, one quick movement that was enough to make Rialus start. He was sure the beast would leap on him, knew that it could cover the distance in one bound, knew its large paws hid claws that would grasp him as mercilessly as an alley cat does a mouse. Indeed, the lion seemed to be speaking to him. Did he realize, the beast asked, that it could crack Rialus’s head between his jaws and slop out his brains with his tongue?