Part 34 (1/2)

Jarrod exploded from his hiding place, feet moving effortlessly, back legs thrusting. The vole had begun to turn to flee. Too slow. The intervening distance evap- orated and Jarrod struck it hard at the base of the skull and whirled around in time to see it tumble across the cracked stone. Mine! he shouted soundlessly, glee and triumph mingling. Mine!

The animal was dazed and struggling to get to its feet.

Jarrod pounced lightly to stop it getting up. Mine! He batted at it with is left paw. The vole battled its way up and took a couple of wavering step. Jarrod waited for

184 a moment and then caught.it in a single bound, teeth nipping precisely into the loose skin of the neck. He tossed it into the air. Mine! Mine! Mine! Joy flooded through him.

The vole was up again and Jarrod pounced once more, coming down beside it, and then bucked into the air, legs straight, back arched, bouncing slightly on the landing. The vole was frozen. Jarrod crouched and watched his prey intently. Not dead, not trying to es- cape either, just stunned or shocked. In a little while it would try again. More fun. Perhaps, he thought, I'll kill it the next time. There's another one around here some- where.

The casual thought jolted Jarrod's human side. He had been swept away and submerged by his feline in- stincts, but the time had come to rea.s.sert himself. He had done all too good a Job in this shape-changing.

Food, said the cat half stubbornly. By need of hunger and right of capture, by the law that governs the wild.

Jarrod fought back and made himself sit up. The vole, startled out of its inactivity, or sensing a chance for freedom, made a dash for a crevice in the rock. Reflex took over and the cat pounced, but Jarrod, fighting with equal stubbornness, forced it to land short of the little animal, which scurried into safety. Jarrod prowled an- grily about, tail las.h.i.+ng, furious with himself and re- lieved all at one and the same time.

Cats are not ones to dwell on the past, and the pacing became boring. The levels of excitement and energy had ebbed. It was time, he decided, to return to the others.

He paused to spray the rock to mark the place as his.

The sun was directly overhead now and the footing was becoming uncomfortably hot. Time to find some shade and wait for the work to be finished. Besides, there would be less temptation to hunt where there were men and horses milling around. To say nothing of the fact 185.

that any prospective prey would have been frightened off long since. He wasn't at all sure that he would be able to refrain from killing the next time. Not if he was truly hungry.

The site, when he saw it again, had been transformed into a place of giant stacks. He hoped that when he was restored to human form they would look iess daunting.

The carts and wagons were gone, but he could hear men talking over to the west. He walked around the clus- tered kegs of nails, the stacks of crisscrossed wooden beams and the squat towers of sacking. No harder to transport, he supposed, than the ma.s.ses of stone that Nastrus had already dealt with, but formidable never- theless.

He made his way to the outer edge of the compound and, when the humans were in sight, he sprawled in the shadow of a rectangle of tie beams and settled down for a nap. It took a while, Jarrod-the-cat had no exact no- tion of how long a while, for the men to finish drinking, climb aboard their wagons and drive off, leaving dust hanging in the air. Moresby Yarrow stood by the re- maining cart with Jarrod's horse still tethered to the back and watched the convoy disappear. Then he turned and shaded his eyes with his hand.

”Eminence!” he bellowed. ”Courtak!”

Jarrod sauntered out into the sunlight.

”Oh, there you are.”

Jarrod could tell that the man was embarra.s.sed to be talking to a cat who was also a Mage. He could smell it.

”Well, they're gone,” Yarrow continued unnecessar- ily, ”so, if you want to make your change, go ahead.”

Jarrod sat back on his haunches and cleaned his whiskers for the last time. He felt a strange reluctance to abandon this body that was so much more supple than his own, so much quicker in reaction. Still, duty

186 required. He tamped down his cat reactions and cen- tered himself. He became oblivious of his surroundings, half-regretful of the need, and then he began the task of transformation.

Moresby watched, fascinated and repelled, as the large, sleek white cat lost its fur. Its naked limbs elon- gated and the joints seemed to slip into new positions.

It stood up on its hind legs and began to grow. The shoulders broadened and became square, the ears shrank and lost their peaks, the nose lost its snubbed look and the skin took on a more normal shade. The changes took time, but eventually a tall, youngish man stood before him, hairless except for eyebrows. Hair began to sprout under the arms, at the crotch and on the chest, dusted along arms and legs and finally cov- ered the scalp.

”Welcome back. Excellence,” Yarrow said. ”That was quite a demonstration.” He turned away and fetched Jarrod's clothes from the saddlebag.

”Thank you, Moresby,” Jarrod said, relieved that his voice sounded normal. ”If there's any of that ale left, I'd appreciate some. I'm parched. If there's any food around, I'd appreciate that too. These transformations use up a lot of energy and I'm feeling a bit wobbly.”

”At once, Excellence.”

Yarrow was still nervous, though Jarrod could no lon- ger smell it on him. Understandable, really; most laics were uncomfortable around Magicians. On the other hand, Jarrod reflected as he waited for the ale, Greygor had taken the transformation in his stride. Perhaps, living in the capital, he had become inured-to the sight of Ma- gicians.

Clothes felt a little strange to Jarrod but the food and the ale tasted wonderful. Better, he thought with a shudder, than raw vole. He wiped his mouth and took the tankard back to the cart before returning to the 187.