He had not gone down the Catswold Portal when he left Melissa. He had waited until he felt certain she was gone, then come out again. He had gone into the city, then two days later had taken a Greyhound north. In San Andreas, he bought a used Cadillac and drove out to the compound. There he left the car on a side road and climbed under the fence, ignoring the fear that the spell-cast fence engendered. He had crossed the grassy fields staying near boulders and within the shadows of the oaks. He wanted to see what progress Vrech was making with the false queen, but he did not want to be gone too long from Affandar and the changeling boy.
He had been able to teach the boy a few tactics to protect him against Siddonie. The boy had no magic, of course, but there were ways of the mind that would help him, and Tom had a surprising ability to resist her. He had performed cleverly, letting Siddonie think she controlled him.
Efil had no intention of freeing the boy. He meant, at the right moment, to bring Wylles down to the Netherworld, to show the two together to Siddonie’s armies and to the peasants, to prove there was a changeling.
Efil drained the Budweiser can, then popped open another beer and settled back. He watched the compound most of the day, watched the upperworld horse soldiers at drill and sword practice, and watched the false Catswold queen fighting beside them in mock battle. The Affandar officers had done well with San Francisco’s drunks. They had dried them out, and taught them to ride and to use a sword with modest skill. He watched Helsa with far more interest, soon with lust. She would be randy all right. And if he offered her more power than Siddonie promised, he had no doubt she would throw in with him. Once he convinced her that Siddonie planned to destroy her along with the rest of the Catswold, she would be his.
In mid-afternoon an unsuspecting rattlesnake slid near Efil. He killed it with a spell, then unwrapped the cheese sandwich he had bought in San Andreas, and opened another beer. He watched Helsa gather a dozen of the brawniest cats in the enclosure and change them to human, watched her lead them to the riding ring and drill them on horseback and then, finished, turn them back into cats. He assumed that she had not taught them the spell for changing. When he had seen all he needed, he walked back over the hills to the dirt lane, got in the Cadillac, drove into San Andreas and from there to San Francisco. He meant to be back in Affandar by the next night.
Chapter 49
The Greyhound bus smelled of cigarettes and stale food. A large woman took up most of the seat, pressing Melissa against the window. The bus was filled with morning commuters, with men in suits and ties, and women in tweed suits flaunting bare, silky legs and high heels.
She had been half afraid to take the bus by herself, but she had awoken excited by her dream. Curled up purring close to Braden, her mind had been filled with Timorell and the Amulet.
As the bus moved through Sausalito, she watched the fishing boats rocking on the choppy water of the huge bay. Then soon, approaching the Golden Gate Bridge, she thought about Alice dying there and was blinded by sudden, sharp pain.
Once the bus had crossed the bridge she was afraid of missing her stop, worried about getting lost. But the driver let her off all right; nothing was so hard if she just asked questions. She left the morning commuters behind and swung up Telegraph in the sharp, bright wind. Above her the sky tilted in explosions of light; gulls screamed, banking over her, their wheeling flight exciting her. She turned up a familiar street that climbed Russian Hill but, passing the Kitchen house, she was filled with loss. The feeling nearly undid her; she was all opposites this morning, swinging from joy to pain.
When she reached the museum it was not yet open; the iron gates were locked. In the shadow of the wall she changed to cat and leaped up and over.
She wandered the gardens pawing into niches and behind sculpture stands. Her paws were more sensitive than hands, picking up every subtlety of the different surfaces and textures. She examined bronze and marble cats for possible openings, and explored along the tops of the garden walls, then climbed a vine to the roof and searched among vents and into an old chimney. When the museum doors opened at ten she slipped inside, into the open ladies room.
In a booth she changed to girl, and came out again to mingle with a busload of arriving tourists. Searching the galleries, looking into windowsills and shelves, she tried to think how Timorell would have marked the hiding place of the Amulet, with what sign to be recognized only by another Catswold.
