Beyond the fire the cat twisted, screaming, away from the burning poker. Teb leaped for the fire, grabbed one of the men, and stabbed him. The bear tumbled the other, mauling him and muffling his screams. The man at the cages turned to look, but before Teb could reach him, a figure appeared out of nowhere, out of the dark, leaping to the torturer’s back. There was a cry, Teb saw the flash of a knife. By the time he reached the fight, the torturer lay writhing and the smaller figure was running for the gate.
Teb knelt over the soldier, glancing back toward the fire, where the bear was flinging one of the dead soldiers into the air, catching and battering him. He stared into the dying soldier’s face for a moment, a youth no older than he but sallow and evil, even in death. He removed the knife, wiped it clean, and put it in his belt, where it would not identify its owner; then he watched the soldier die.
He opened the gates to the cages and unchained the five big cats and two wolves. No creature spoke; they moved out quickly toward the gate, crowding around the bear as if for safety. Beyond the gate they found the river quickly, and the animals crouched among rubble and broken walls to drink. Panting, the five big cats shivered with pain. The two wolves slunk as no speaking animal should. The silver bear stood rearing beside them, watching the stadium they had left and the barracks that formed one side of it, turning her head back and forth, listening. When no sound came from the stadium, she sat down at last and contemplated the animals. One of the great cats came to her and Teb, limping badly. Her voice was hardly a breath.
She was the sand-colored cat he had released first, her body torn with fresh burns. She raised her face to Teb, her green eyes caressing him, then licked his face, leaning her head against him. At last she stood back, studying Teb and the bear appraisingly.
“If you were riding a marvelous white mare, I would think you Prince Tebmund of Thorley. But instead, you ride a bear. . . . Do bears speak, my prince? I have never known a bear.”
He laughed. “This bear speaks. She is . . . kin to the white mare, you might say.”
The cat twitched a whisker. “I am Elmmira of the colony of Gardel-Cloor. We are in your debt. Do you know whether the girl escaped safely?”
“What girl?”
“The girl with the knife, who killed the soldier.”
“She got out the gate safely. Who was she?”
“That must remain our secret, even though you saved us. We would not speak her name without her permission.” Elmmira laid a soft paw against his chest. “My companions are Domma, Jimmica, Xemmos, and Jerymm.” Each animal lifted its head as Elmmira spoke its name. “Our wolf friends were brought here as captives from Igness. Yallel and Zellig.”
“I am Tebmund of Thorley.” Teb felt ashamed at giving these animals less than the truth. But if the great cats felt the need for care, then so should he. “The bear does not give her name. But tell me of Gardel-Cloor. That is an ancient sanctuary. Are you free to tell me where it lies?”
“That, too, Prince Tebmund, we cannot reveal even to you.” Elmmira began to lick at her burns. The bear turned to look at the animals, then started up over the rubble-strewn hill. They followed, Teb walking among them. But soon the sky began to grow lighter, the bear’s silver shape becoming too visible among the fallen houses.
“You’ll be seen if you stay with us,” Teb told the animals. “Go quickly where you can hide, before Sardira sends out his soldiers. He’ll be in a rage that you escaped; he’ll get you back if he can.”
The animals raised their faces to him for a moment, exchanged a long look with the bear, then angled off quickly among the broken walls and ran, limping, down toward the city and the sea cliffs. Teb did not see Elmmira pause, sniff for scent among the rubble, then begin to track. He swung onto the bear’s back and she moved at a fast, rolling walk up over the hill. An empty valley lay beyond, rocky and desolate. Here the bear plunged down, in a hurry now to change back and take to the sky before dawn grew too light.
But in the valley she paused, agitated. Teb slipped down. She began to pace, lumbering around boulders, fighting something unseen. She returned to Teb at last, her head down, shifting and backing uncomfortably. I cannot change. I am trapped, Tebriel.
He tried to help. It did no good. Seastrider remained solidly a bear. Teb mounted at last and they went on, up the cliff and onto open fields, back toward the course of the river. It was too light now for her to take to the sky, even could she have changed. In the shadows of a dense grove they hid themselves—if such a huge, pale creature could hide anywhere. She squeezed into the brambles, Teb lying along her back, his head against her rough coat, trying with her, trying to change. . . .
She clawed at the earth, combing ridges into the soft forest mulch. She pressed her shoulder against a huge oak, forcing to bring the magic, then in an agony of defeat she raked great gashes down its bark so the wood beneath shone white in four long strokes. And still she was a bear. The morning had come. Down below the wood they could hear the city waking, bangs and thumps and voices calling, and a squeaky cart.
The silver bear ceased fighting the dark. Teb slid from her back. She faced him, very still. I will go away alone. Far from here across the inlets south, away from the forces of the unliving. I will swim the sea to some deserted shore, then I will be able to change back.
You won’t go alone.
Yes.
I won’t let you go alone; we must not be separated. Come . . .
Instead of arguing or letting him mount, she spun fast for her bulk, her teeth bared and her ears laid flat, her roar heavy with fury. He stepped back with amazement, his arm up to shield his face, then he saw the horsemen advancing on them from out of the dark forest: It was them the silver bear faced. As they circled bear and prince, they threw their leather capes back to show the yellow uniforms beneath. In the lead rode Captain Leskrank, General Vurbane, and black-robed King Sardira.
Calm, Teb thought. Calm. Put a good face on it.
Yes, calm, Tebriel. A pet bear, a guard bear raised in Thedria . . .
“You’re out early,” Teb said. “You’ve discovered my secret at last. I had thought not to burden you with my pet.” He grinned. “She is not the sort of animal I would have brought into the palace with me.”
They sat looking down at him, Sardira’s face a pale thin moon above black robe and black horse, General Vurbane like a melted wax figure where the scar made his face run together. Heavy-shouldered, hunched Leskrank glowered at Teb and the bear, his waxen face pale and eager with the promise of torture. Twelve soldiers flanked them, their horses backing and fighting to stay away from the bear.
“It is not the sort of animal,” King Sardira said, “that exists in this hemisphere, Prince Tebmund. Tell us how you came by it.”
“Oh, they exist.” Teb smiled. “We raise them on Thedria and train them as guard animals. I understand that in the nations of Windthorst they use winged jackals, but we find the bears more . . . accommodating. Do not fear her; she is quite tame unless danger threatens. She has been most obedient about staying here to herself, in the wood.”
“There are no bears on Thedria,” said Vurbane. “I have been there. There is no Prince Tebmund, either.”
“Oh, there are bears,” Teb said lightly. “There is no Prince Tebmund, of course, for I am here.”
Vurbane looked annoyed, a drawing-back deep within his cold eyes; Teb hoped he had been bluffing.
“When were you in Thedria?” Teb asked lightly. “I do not remember your visit, General Vurbane.”