The Catswold Portal

She showed Melissa a vision of white stone towers and caves, of little niches and high alcoves where cats slept on velvet and silk. “This is Zzadarray.” Cats raced along the tops of the walls then leaped down to vanish, turning into silken-robed men and women. “They,” said the Harpy, “are the Catswold of Zzadarray.”

The vision hadn’t faded when Efil shouldered the Harpy aside, facing Melissa scowling. “You don’t need this. You don’t need to see this.” But then his looked softened and he began to stroke her and caress her. She shivered and tensed. He said, “Yes, my love, you are heir to the Catswold queens. You will be queen not only of Affandar but queen of the Catswold. Never has a Netherworld woman had such power.” He kissed her and teased her, moving her toward the bed. But the Harpy pushed between them. She shoved Efil away and fixed Melissa with a hard gaze.

“Do you not understand? You are heir to the Catswold queens. This was why Siddonie wanted you. You could lead the Catswold people anywhere; they would follow you unquestioningly. If Siddonie rules you with her spells, she would rule the Catswold. She would force them to fight the rebels. Now, King Efil means to do that.”

“No,” Efil said. “I will not do such a thing. The womanbird lies.”

Melissa took the Harpy’s thin hand, hardly attending to Efil. Slowly she was beginning to remember past remarks and conversations. The Amulet was a great power—it held the ancient power of Bast. She said, “The Catswold would not follow me if I do not wear the Amulet.”

“Yes, they would follow you,” said the Harpy. “Though your power would be stronger with the Amulet.”

“The old tales say it is lost.”

“Lost,” said the Harpy, preening.

“Cannot the mirror show where it lies?”

The Harpy glanced longingly toward the spell-door then at her little mirror. “Spells were laid to protect the Amulet from visions.”

Melissa looked back at her with all the command she could muster. “You will try,” she said softly. “Afterward I will give you the mirror.”

The Harpy tried. For a long time, muttering soft bird talk, she sought to bring a vision of the Amulet but the mirror remained blank. Suddenly the Harpy lost patience. She lunged at Melissa and snatched the mirror from her. The flurry of her white wings filled the grotto, then she was gone flapping into the night, hugging her little mirror. Melissa watched her disappear through the woods in awkward swoops. The womanbird’s voice echoed, “You have the power…if you will use it…” then her voice was only a bird cry, eerie in the darkness, and Melissa saw a last smear of white lift on the wind and vanish.

She watched Efil spell-close the wall so that no mark remained in the jewel mosaics and she thought, I am Catswold. She felt weak with wonder. And she was filled now with knowledge of the Catswold that had, moments before, not existed for her.

I bear the blood of queens, I bear the blood of Bast. That is why Mag hid the papers. That is why she made the deaf-spells. The stories were there in my mind, but I was deaf to them. This knowledge is part of my memory.

But this returned memory of the Catswold was not all that was lost. There was more. Still she did not remember her childhood.

Efil took her hands, drawing her close, stroking her hair, her throat. She turned her face away; she wanted to run from him, to lose herself in the woods. She wanted time to think. She was only beginning to see who she was. She wanted to understand and know herself; she did not want to be possessed now by another.

“Your promise will be honored now,” he said softly.

He slid his hands down her back, his lips brushed her cheek and her throat. “You are frightened, queen of the Catswold. Do not be frightened, my love.” His tongue touched her throat; his breath was hot against her.

She flinched away, holding herself tight and still. “I want time, I…”

But the fever he stirred was too strong, his caresses and his spells dizzied her. She fought the heat as he cupped her breasts, whispering love-spells. Stroking her, he moved her to the satin bed. He unbuttoned her dress, licking her breasts, weaving a spell that brought fire through her body. She clung to him, stroking him, begging him to caress her; all shame, all distaste vanished. All premonition of disaster vanished.

Chapter 18