The Catswold Portal

Now, alone in the cottage, she brought a scene which she hadn’t shared with Mag, viewing again an encounter that had made her smile. As she watched Melissa and Braden West, the Harpy clacked her beak with pleasure.

In West’s studio, the calico lay on the model’s couch sprawled across a spill of vermilion silk. West was reaching for her angrily as if he would jerk her off the couch and throw her out the door. But then suddenly he drew back, his anger seemed to dampen, and he lifted the little cat gently, almost cuddling her.

The cat gazed up at him with languid ease and trust, her white paws limp, her small, pretty body limp in his comforting hands. The Harpy opened her beak with devilish interest as Braden carefully laid the cat down again on the silk, and stroked her. He was smitten, already infected with tenderness.

The Harpy liked West’s tall, tanned leanness, his look of taut strength. But more than that, she liked his kindness. She was amazed at herself that she cared about kindness.

And there was something else she liked about West, something she couldn’t sort out. Puzzling over the attraction, she thought maybe it was the fact that West didn’t know he was kind; West thought of himself as hard-nosed and blunt. The Harpy watched him with interest, but at last she turned from Braden and Melissa to bring another vision: a conversation in the Netherworld that she had glimpsed earlier.

The queen and her seneschal stood in Prince Wylles’ chamber observing the changeling boy they had stolen. Siddonie was dressed extravagantly for the royal ball in a swirling satin gown the color of the deepest Hell flames, and with rubies woven into her elaborately upswept hair.

On the bed, Tom Hollingsworth slept deeply. Drugged and spell-laden, the boy was now as pale as a Netherworlder. As the Harpy watched, Siddonie drew her hand across Tom’s closed eyes, renewing and strengthening the spells she had laid on him earlier.

“You will remember nothing of the upperworld. You will learn willingly all I command you to learn. You will be healthy and strong in the Netherworld for as long as I require this of you.”

The queen lowered her pale hands and turned to Vrech, her expression triumphant. “You did very well, my dear Vrech.” She stroked Vrech’s cheek, moving closer to him. “Now, of course, the boy must be properly trained.”

Vrech nodded. “I have spoken with the horsemaster. In my absence, he will do quite well with the boy. He will put him on a horse, and teach him to handle weapons. The new Wylles should be ready soon to travel with you to the villages.”

Siddonie brushed Vrech’s lips with stroking fingers. “I plan to take the boy to every village in Affandar. I want him seen by every subject, every croft and herding family. Everyone in the Netherworld must know that Prince Wylles is again healthy.”

Vrech’s hands wandered over the queen’s breasts. But his eyes, regarding the boy, were cold with another kind of promise.

Suddenly the boy stirred.

Vrech and Siddonie drew back, and quickly Siddonie cast a sign across Tom’s face.

But still the child’s eyelids moved. His hand slid across the cover, and his color rose. His eyes opened and he lay looking up at them, dazed, uncomprehending. Siddonie repeated a spell, and repeated it again.

The boy shivered, seemed to be trying to move. Then he dropped into sleep.

The Harpy, watching in her little mirror, saw in that instant when the boy had looked up something that perhaps the queen and Vrech did not. She saw deep in Tom’s eyes a spark of sharp awareness. The boy was alert, intense; a look he quickly masked.

Siddonie watched the boy with cold anger. “He should not have awakened. What has caused this? What sort of boy did you bring me?”

Vrech had paled.

“I assume, Vrech, that you were more efficient in carrying out your other instructions. I assume you took more care in seeing to my wishes regarding Melissa.”

“I told you that after I dropped the cat, I patrolled the highway. I am certain that pack of dogs tore her apart. There was orange-and-black fur everywhere.”

“You might have waited and seen it happen.”

“The Primal Law—if I saw it happen and didn’t stop it…”

“A technicality, Vrech.” The queen studied him with remote dislike, all her lust for him gone. “In the morning you will return to the upperworld. You will go directly to the ranch and set about replacing Melissa with a false queen. I want a girl who is sufficiently avaricious but who can be readily trained.” She turned from him abruptly, her red satin gown swirling, her ruby encrusted hair catching the lamplight. She paced the room as if too filled with energy to be still; then she turned back suddenly, giving him an unexpected smile. “You may, of course, attend tonight’s ball before you leave.”