The Prophet of Panamindorah, Book One Fauns and Filinians by Abigail Hilton Page B

intent on Lexis that he had not noticed the snow
leopard coming behind his king.
    Meuril and Lexis turned at the sound of
Ounce’s growl. Meuril sighed. “Syrill, I told you to come around to
the—”
    “Sire—” grated his general, his voice shaking
with rage.
    “Go to my chamber and wait.”
    “How dare—!”
    “I said go, Syrill!”
    Meuril turned away. Lexis lingered for an
instant, his eyes like a purr. Syrill mouthed something at him.
Corry was certain it was not a customary response to “good
morning.” Ounce glided around Syrill without a backward glance, but
he stopped near the doorway. Corry saw that Laylan and Shyshax had
ventured inside. Ounce hesitated to growl something at the cheetah.
Corry heard the words, “Faun-loving little dog-cat,” to which
Shyshax said something about “ice for brains.” Lexis growled, and
Ounce moved away. Then they were gone.
    Syrill stood clenching and unclenching his
free fist until the door closed. Then he sheathed his sword with
unnecessary force and stormed into the throne room.
    “Corellian!”
    Corry looked up to see Capricia, last to
emerge from the conference. “So the thief has returned!”
    “Thief?” Corry glanced at Laylan and Shyshax,
who were taking an interest in the conversation. The sentry at the
inner door also looked interested.
    Capricia reached Corry. “Where have you
been?” she hissed. “Or, more appropriate, what have you
been?”
    “I didn’t steal it,” muttered Corry. “I’ll
explain later. How long have I been gone?”
    He was surprised and somewhat alarmed to see
a delicate, but very sharp looking dagger in her hand. She shook
her head at him, eyes narrowed to slips. “You’ve no idea what it’s
like. Every deer that stops by my window, every burrow in the
streets, every bird, every rodent…! I had a perfectly good hawk
shot because he was sitting in suspicious attitude on my garden
wall!”
    “Why?” He was looking at the dagger.
    “Syrill told me,” she whispered between
clenched teeth. “You can shift.”
    Corry’s mouth fell open.
    “I’d like to know just one thing before I
throw you in the dungeon. Why did you burn my books?” She looked at
him with an expression of pain. “You didn’t have to do that.”
    “I didn’t! Capricia, there was a
centaur—”
    She shook her head. “Sentry,” she raised her
voice, “fetch me four or five guards, large ones.” She glanced at
Laylan and Shyshax. “What are you two looking at? You weren’t
invited to audience. You may wait outside for Syrill.”
    “Capricia, no!” Corry thought quickly. He
fumbled in his pocket.
    She took a step back, raising the dagger.
“Keep your hands in front of you, iteration.”
    Corry raised the chain and extended it
towards her. He noticed that the flute was invisible again.
“Capricia, I didn’t steal it,” he whispered. “I caught a centaur
trying to, and I got it back, and I ended up in…another place, the
gray world. They called it the Otherwhere.”
    Capricia snatched the flute. She looked at
Corry suspiciously. She’s only trying to scare me , he
thought. And another part of his mind answered miserably, It’s
working.
    “Who called it the Otherwhere?”
    “The durian wolves.”
    At that moment, the castle doors opened, and
Meuril and his cabinet came clicking and murmuring back into the
antechamber, this time without the cats. A few of the fauns glanced
at Corry and Capricia, but they seemed preoccupied, and Capricia
had lowered the dagger beneath a fold of her cape. Glancing towards
the throne room, Corry saw that the door was half open. He was
startled to see Syrill sprawled insolently on the throne, one leg
tossed over an arm of the seat, drumming his fingers
impatiently.
    The courtiers saw it too and began muttering
disapproval, but Meuril held up his hands. “Friends, councilors,
please leave us.” Capricia, who evidently did not think such orders
applied to herself, remained. Meuril went into his throne room