“We enter now?” urged the borman.
The shaman turned. One arm rose in a fluid gesture towards the guild entrance. And again, her body smiled. Not her mask, but her body; the subtle tilt of the shoulders, the inviting wave of her hand. The gestures of welcome that wanted to be seen.
And just like that — it was over.
Yu tore his gaze away from her. Away from the door. Onto the platform’s edge. The path, the steps, the downward trail that led back into wind and dark and storm. Away. He needed to leave. He really, really needed to leave, as soon as possible, and never again set talon on this his horror-infused mountain with all its beasts and witches and voices and things that wore faces but were not people.
What was wrong with these guards? This was supposed to be a place of —
Yu screamed. Not aloud. Not through his beak. Inside. He screamed into his skull. He screamed and screamed and screamed to drown it out, the horrible hunger-voice, but the Mountain King roared louder. The hunger spread in his chest, in his spine, in the sockets of his eyes. It pressed in until sound became pressure, a pressure that made his thoughts bleed until Yu could no longer tell where his own inner voice ended and the Mountain King began.
He spun, bolted —
and ran into Tirran.
Tirran stood between him and the door.
Yu had not seen him move. He was just suddenly there.
Blocking the way inside.
No posture of threat. Claws not extended. No focus in his eyes.
Just standing.
Then the shaman’s voice slid across the platform again. “I understand your urgency,” she said. To the borman. “The krynn and you may enter. But your two companions must also prove to be unmarked by witches.”
The borman shifted his weight.
It was the ker who answered, still three or four steps below the platform. “That condition was not previously demanded. They cannot consent to something so invasive.”
Yu knew. He knew. She had been ready to let them in. Before the voice. Which was still, suddenly, again roaring, demanding more.
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