Fool's Errand
Dutiful Farseer turned away from me, closing his eyes. He bowed his head to the advancing animal. There was not a sound, not even an indrawn breath, in the cave. All watched, all waited. Several faces were white and taut. One young man turned aside, shuddering, as the cat stalked up to him. She pressed her striped brow to the Prince's, marking him as cats do. As she swiped her face against his, her green gaze brushed mine.
Kit! me now.
The sharp mindtomind contact was so unexpected, I could not react to it.
Stupid brothertoadog! You waste our chance. Kilt me now!
These words struck my mind with the impact of a blow. “No!” cried Dutiful and belatedly I realized he had not been privy to her first words to me. He clutched at the mistcat but she launched, from the floor to Dutiful's shoulder and at me, heedless of how her claws scored him in that spring. She flew at me, claws raw and mouth wide. What is so cav, white as a cat's teeth against her red mouth? I tried to reach my knife, but she was too fast. She landed on my chest, the curved claws of her front paws hooking securely into my flesh as her hind legs ripped at my belly. She turned her face sideways, and all I saw were teeth descending on my face as I fell backward into the corner of the cave.
“Cat, oh, cat!” he cried, and clutched the lifeless body to his as if it were his child. “You killed her!” he cried accusingly.
“Peladine?” Laudwine asked wildly. “Peladine!” Perhaps if his bondanimal had not just been slain, Dutiful would have had the presence of mind to pretend his body held the woman's mind. But he did not, and before I could regain my feet, I saw Laudwine's boot flying toward my head. I flung myself aside into a roll and sprang to my feet in a performance worthy of the Fool's younger self. My knife was still in the cat's body, but my sword hung at my belt. I dragged it free and charged at Laudwine.
Laudwine was a bigger man than I, and the sword he was drawing would give him a sizable advantage in reach. I gripped my hilt twohanded and took off his forearm before his weapon cleared its sheath. He went down with a shriek, clutching at the spurting stump as if it were a cup held aloft in a toast. Shock held the mob back for an instant, barely time for me to take two steps and crowd Dutiful into the alcove behind me. He had not fled and now it was too late. Perhaps it had always been too late. He went to his knees, the cat in his arms. I swung my blade in a madman's wild arc, forcing the mob back. “Get up!” I roared at him. “Usethat knife!”
I was peripherally aware of him coming to his feet behind me. I had no idea if he had the knife from the cat's body. Fleetingly, I wondered if he would put it in my back. Then the wave of men surged forward, some in the front propelled only by the push of men behind them. Two grabbed Laudwine and dragged his curled body out of my reach. Someone jumped past them to confront me. The quarters were too close for anything except butchery. My first wide cut laid open his belly and slashed the face of another man as it finished. That slowed their rush, but then they bunched toward me. The men attacking us were hampered by their own numbers. When I was forced back, I felt the Prince step aside, and suddenly both our backs were to the wall of the cave. He darted past me to stab a man who had just managed to slip inside my guard, and then spun to his right to defend himself. He screamed like a wildcat as he struck out at his man, and the man answered with a shriek of pain.