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grotesque and unnatural beast. yet something about the beast, face seemed similar, in its alluring femininity, to the
elf. he pushed his speculation aside, focusing instead on the rigors of the climb. the warriors straggled across a swampy
valley bottom, a flat depression that marked another barrier in their long march up the pass. from here he could look
before him into the black dome of the star-speckled sky and faintly see the outline of the narrow pass above. it looked
impossibly remote and distant, yet somewhat closer than the last time he had seen it most of the itza people should
be passing through it even now. you have made us a good plan, said zochimaloc, appearing out of the darkness to walk
softly beside gultec. the high route must be the safest. the jaguar knight sighed. i wish it were true. but i fear no place
is safe from the kind of enemy that pursues us. you must know that your attack was successful, countered the old man,
stepping nimbly over a low vine. they have fallen behind us now, and this gives us time to escape. time? can it be enough
time? gultec wondered. is there enough time in the world? zochimaloc chuckled, a patronizing, grandfatherly sound that
somehow made gultec feel more confident there is time, now, for the old people, the children and the mothers ° go
through the pass and over the mountains. perhaps there is time, too, to have faith. the warrior looked up at the pass,
still outlined against the stars. perhaps zochimaloc was right. indeed, many of the itza must have already reached the
far side of the mountains. by morning, the warriors would reach the summit of the poss. once there, they would have to
turn and face the inevitably pursuing enemy. there they would make their stand. night of the cat-god from the
chronicles of coton: in wander at the mysterious ways of the one true god. oround me the dwarves pace and grunt in
agitation over our missing companions. lotil, too, fears for his daughter. he tries to work, but his fingers cannot perform
their pluma-weaving. instead, they tremble in a way i have never seen before. and in truth, the disappearance of
halloran and erixitl is sudden and mysterious. yet i find it difficult to express fear for them. there is too much of destiny
about the woman for her to suffer a random mishap in the jungles, this short of our goal. she may not triumph, j know,
but her ultimate resolution will be countered at twin visages. of this, i am certain. wherever she has gone, it is good to
know that she has halloran’s strength with her. whatever her lot on this dark and impenetrable night, i feel certain
that it has a purpose in the pursuit of our goal. the dwarves will seek them in the morning, and i will wish them well.
perhaps my optimism is but the senile dodderings of an old man. my companions may be correct in their assessment of
danger. in any event, we must wait for the morning to know. halloran placed one arm oround erixitl’s shoulders and
moved himself between her and the source of the rumbling growl. he felt very conscious of the baby within her and
terribly vulnerable in his own unarmed state. he was determined to die before allowing harm to reach erix. the couple
stared across the darkened pit and slowly their eyes adjusted to the dim light. the stoutly barred door remained
closed, but again they saw shadowy movement beyond it. then that resonant growl rolled through the pit again. it’s
opening! erix gasped. they saw the barred door rise slowly, and then the black shape beyond it crept forward with an
oily smooth motion. ft crept toward them, slowly moving away from the shadows around the wall of the pit. as it
reached the center of the enclosure, they saw its sleek black pelt, its ears laid back along a broad, flot skull. a black
jaguar! hal hissed, shocked at the horribly menacing visage of the great cat. its yellow eyes burned through the
darkness like glowing spots of hellfire, while its jaws gaped open just enough to reveal long, wickedly curved fangs. the
animal’s shoulders equaled hal’s waist in height, even as the creature crouched. it stared unblinking, the dark tail flicking
hack and forth in excitement its too huge. it can't be a jaguar! erix objected, though she couldn’t imagine what else
menaced them in this night-mare pit. there are other great cats in the world tigers, lions, even more horrible things like
displocer beasts, hal whispered, desperately seeking a plan of action maybe it’s something like that. i am the lord of
the jaguars. for a moment, the voice shocked them into stillness. it flowed with oily smoothness, yet it contained traces
of the deep growl that had already raised their hackles in fear. the great cat blinked, and halloran swore those jaws
twisted

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landing a year ago! tranph sputtered, indignation wrestling with outrage. and that, in itself, may be at the root of the
treason, don vaez suppressed a yawn. but come now, my good sergeant. where is your general? surely he is the one who
must provide the ultimate answers. i tell you, he has marched on the capital of this land a city reported to hold more
gold than you can possibly imagine! our last message from him told us that he had entered the city and was engaged in
negotiation with their ruler. we have heard nothing else from him for these last four, maybe five months. nor will he
hear aught from you, promised don vaez with a tight smile. when he returns, we shall have a quiet reception call it a
trial, if you will and he will have ample opportunity to answer the charges against him. perhaps if his mission is a
success, he will return with enough gold to convince us of his noble intentions. then he will accompany us in chains, of
course on a return to amn. and then my own triumph shall be complete! he added silently. don vaez, in a flurry of blond
curls, turned on his heel and marched from the cell. a burly guard slammed the door shut behind him, while a company of
trusted watchmen stood as sentries about the small building. rodolfo, the veteran navigator, stepped over to don vaez
as he left the shed. beggin’ your pardon, sir, he began, but i wonder, if we're bein’ a bit hard on these lads here. don
vaez’s eyes flashed, and he fixed the man with all the glare his clear blue eyes could muster. you’re not being paid to
wonder but to follow orders! if i were you, i’d have a care to remember that! he barked. rodolfo met the gaze in those
blue eyes for several seconds, but don vaez couldn't read the look he saw there. he held his own gaze firm, and the
navigator finally nodded slightly. as you wish, captain he replied softly. rodolfo turned and disappeared into the
darkness collecting in the fortress. don vaez watched him go, pleased with the result of the confrontation he knew
that he had gone far to secure his position as unquestioned leader of the expedition. the only question now was what
to do next. still, it was a fine start to the mission! don vaez congratulated himself as he crossed the compound within
helm-sport, toward the large wooden building the only permanent structure here which he had claimed as his
headquarters. within that house, he knew, pryat devane worked his auguries, trying to determine with the aid of helm
what would be the appropriate course of action that was useful, thought the commander, but not essential. he had
time now, and could afford to wait. he took no notice of the eagle soaring in serene circles high
overhead. ***** we have folk like this where i come from, halloran explained. they're called halflings.
do they lack clothing and take your people prisoner? erix wondered. hal chuckled grimly no they're more of a nuisance!
than a threat. most of them live among humans, in the same cities and towns and villages. sometimes they're brave,
sometimes cowardly, they're just like other men, except a little smaller. he and his wife sat on the ground within a small
cage fashioned from sturdy wooden bars lashed together with toughened strands of hemp. around them, the little
people settled down to their evening's cooking. the village was a collection of straw huts, with overhanging roofs of
heavy thatch and low, rounded doorways. racks in the center of the structures held a variety of meats over low coals.
night settled across the surrounding jungle, a night filled with the heavy drone of insects, punctuated by the shrill howls
of monkeys and birds. every once in a while they heard the rumbling cry of a jaguar, and for a few moments
afterward, the forest fell still. several children advanced cautiously toward the cage, watching them with wide eyes.
erixitl smiled at them, and they quickly scampered back to the shelter of their parents cookfires. if erix was frightened,
halloran thought, she didn't show it. he tried to hide his own fear, even though he didn't fear for himself. but what kind of
hope was there? what were their prospects of flight, even if they could get away, with erix carrying the burden of
their child within her. what do you think they’ll do with us? she asked. halloran could only shrug, at least i don't see a
pyramid or an altar. but who knows what their plans ate? have you heard of these folk before? in the same sense as
the ‘hairy men.’ the desert dwarves, she admitted. the little people are told of in ancient legends, and some claimed
that they dwelled in the deepest jungles of far payit. but like the desert dwarves, no one seemed to take the stories
seriously. i have never heard of anyone who has seen

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fellow you'd like to have at your back in a fight. jhatli looked at daggrande in surprise. obviously the characterization
of' the brawny figher as a lad struck him as somewhat unusual. still, he hadn't previously appreciated how far back the
paths of' the two legionnaires were linked. there was something paternal in the way the gruff dwarf spoke of his
human companion. ‘course, i never told him that, continued daggrande, his tone angry, the big lunk wouldn't have
understood! daggrande looked at the group around the fire, as if he expected someone to challenge him. what're you
starin’ it? he growled at coton as the cleric eyed him curiously. the priest made no answer, and daggrande sat down
with a sigh. i don't know what's got into me! surely they're all right somewhere. they've got to be! he couldn't allow
himself to think of any other alternate c maybe they just wanted some time by themselves, guessed the youth. still, a
look at the darkening jungle around them dispelled this suggestion even as he made it the forest at night did not
create a very romantic environment. should we search for them? asked the chieftain of the desert dwarves. yes but
not now, came daggrande's response. we’ll only get more of us lost in the jangle, and we can't hope to find anything until
morning. they could be back before then, in any event, lotil offered, though the blind man’s tone suggested that he
shared the dwarven captain's concern. at first light, then, said luskag. if' they haven't returned, we shall commence the
search. }} * * * * hoxitl stirred in his stench-filled lair, which had once been the grand temple of zaltec in nexal. now
ruined stone walls leaned and tilted around him. where once a proud archway had created the entrance, now a slimy
tunnel cut through the piles of rubble. beyond the lair, the monsters of the viperhand prowled restlessly through the
ruins of the city gangs of orcs snarled and fought with each other, only to scatter, howling, at the approach of looming
ogres. after the long march across the desert, the creatures had returned to their city with crude pleasure. yet now,
after many weeks of en-forced idleness in the brackish ruins, the pleasure turned to boredom. the beasts, hoxitl knew,
needed activity. he himself had succumbed to a lethargic passivity that had verged on the comatose. for a time, he lay
unknowing his mind vacant, awaiting the command and the vitality of his god. the towering statue of zaltec, near his
lair, stood impassive and unmoving as the weeks became months. finally, not knowing why, the monster hoxitl raised
himself from lethargy into stiff, unpleasant movement. gradually a command took shape in the cleric-beast’s mind, an
image of a destination and a growing compulsion to again put his beastly force into motion. at the end of this march,
he sensed, there would be killing, and hearts to feed the god, and final, ultimate victory over the humankind of maztica.
hoxitl emerged from his cavelike lair and raised his voice in a high, ululating howl. the sound echoed from the great
mountains around the valley, rolling across the muddy, swamp-like stretches that had once been lakes. among the
ruined streets and cesspools, the ores looked up from their bickering. the cry called forth other ores and ogres and
trolls from slumber or feeding. all took up their weapons and responded. slowly, by ones and twos, then by dozens and
scores and hundreds, the beasts of the viperhand moved to their master's call. they gathered across the sprawling
chaos of the great plaza, perching on ruined temples, clustering in the few flat expanses of the stonework, all of them
turning their beastly faces toward the great stone monolith that was their power and their glory. creatures! my
children! hoxitl bellowed in his grotesque language, and the creatures listened attentively.  zaltec calls us, and we must
obey! again we shall march so that all maztica will know the terror of our presence! his creatures responded with dull
roars of anticipation. the long days of inactiuity weighed heavily upon them, and now they stood, once again ready for
war. * * * * * chief tabub, we bring two of the big people as prisoners, explained the little man, who was called
kashta, after placing his bow and arrows the tips of the deadly missiles wiped clean of their kurari poison beside the
door to the chief's low hut kashta carried halloran’s sword with him into the hut. the weapon was as long as the
warrior himself. it is as i dreamed, as the lord of the jaguars told me in my sleep, said tabub in a low monotone. the
chief sat cross-legged, flanked by two of his wives. a man and a woman … she carries a child? indeed, whispered kashta,

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veranda at the front of the house. let me have a quick shower and change into some clean, dry clothes, she said quickly.
i’ll join you shortly. sure, gib said. but you look beautiful just the way you are, he couldn't resist adding. he saw her cheeks
flame scarlet oh dany’s heart tripled its beat licking her lips nervously, she backed off the veranda and hesitated at
the entrance. i’d better change. i’ll be just a moment sitting down on one of the bamboo chairs, which had huge, soft
pink cushions, gib wondered at her reaction. wasn't dany used to being complimented? apparently not, she’d blushed like
a schoolgirl. ma ling appeared with two chilled glasses of iced tea. she set the accompanying pitcher on a small
bamboo table covered with thick etched glass. a plate of sliced lemons and a sterling silver sugar bowl completed the
ensemble. gib thanked her and got up to squeeze lemon juice into his glass and add two heaping spoons of sugar. this
time, ma ling didn't give him the accusing stare. he grinned, taking the glass back to his chair to sit down. maybe it was
the maid’s way of praising him far showing up in civilian clothes. dany quickly slipped into a long, pale pink cotton skirt
that brushed her ankles and a sleeveless white blouse. her hair hung in damp sheets about her shoulders. she quickly ran
a brush through the strands to smooth them into place, then captured the mass into one long braid that hung
between her shoulder blades. her ever present grief lifted slightly at the thought of gib downstairs. dany glanced at
herself in the bedroom mirror. wispy strands swept across her forehead, barely touching her brows. tendrils curled
against her temples, softening the natural angularity of her features. smoothing the cotton blouse, she hurriedly left
her spacious bedroom, furnished entirely in bamboo pieces, and skipped down the stairs. gib stood when dany entered
the veranda. she looked fetching in the simple skirt and blouse, incredibly beautiful and fresh. his smile deepened when
he realized she was still barefoot. you’re a country girl at heart, he teased, stepping over to the table and offering her
a glass of iced tea. smiling shyly dany sat down. thank you. she drank half the glass of tea thirstily or had she done it
out of nerves? somehow gib made her wildly aware of herself as a woman gib took a seat opposite her at the table
and opened his briefcase, taking out a number of papers and a pen. how are you doing since the funeral? he asked.
sitting back in the bamboo chair, dany drew up one leg beneath the voluminous skirt. i have good days and bad days,
she answered simply. it’ll cycle like that for about three months. her mouth twitched. don't say that. pointing to her
eyes, dany added, look at my dark circles. i’ve had nothing but broken sleep and nightmares since it happened. with a
frustrated sound, she said, there's too much work here that demands my attention. i can't keep going on like this. you
wake up tired and go to sleep tired, gib guessed softly the urge to reach out and fold dany into his arms was tangible.
she looked so young, seemingly untouched by the war that escalated daily around her. yes, dany said. she managed a
small smile. the work keeps me from thinking... feeling, i guess. hearing the raw pain in her voice, he lifted his head and
held her sincere gaze. grief does funny things to us, he agreed. dany set the glass on the table. she tried to remind
herself that he was a marine, someone who posed a threat to the plantation and her people. just as she was going to
speak, she heard a young boy calling her name as he ran around the corner of the house. it was hank vinh, ma ling’s
twelve year old grandson. gib heard the high, excited call and turned in his sent. a skinny young boy dressed in a pair of
faded cutoffs and a white t shirt, his straight black hair cut in a bowl fashion came galloping up the stairs. missy dany,
missy dany! look what i found! vinh called excitedly. his brown eyes widened at the sight of gib, and he jerked to a halt.
its all right, vinh, dany said kindly. this is major ramsey. he's here to investigate my mother's death. she spoke slowly to
him in english, as she often did. dany wanted her workers to be fluent not only in their own language, but english and
french as well vinh flushed, dodged around gib and proudly marched over to dany. look what i found! with a cry of
delight, dany reached out toward vinh. a kitten? yes, i found it crying along our fence line where i was clearing some
brush. look at it! look at the color. i’ve decided to call him milky, because he is the color of milk. dany gently took the
kitten into her hands and cradled it against her breast she glanced over at gib and saw genuine interest

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the vietminh in the fifties. this is different. if i get a deposition with any proof of duc's involvement, i’ll contact you upon
my return. good. dismissed. gib came to attention and left. against his better judgment, he looked forward to seeing
dany. had she recovered from the initial shock of her mother's death? he hadn't been able to forget the look on her
face the puffiness beneath her eyes, showing how much she'd cried. moving between the long rows of tents, he made
his way to his own recalling ma ling's severe censure about showing up in uniform, gib decided that to keep the peace
he'd better slip into civilian clothes. his tent was small and spare, including a metal bunk with a thin mattress on it, a
metal locker where he stored his clothes, an office desk and a phone. the plywood floor was swept daily by vietnamese
women who worked on the base, but sand inevitably crunched beneath his flight boots. grabbing a towel, gib headed
for the hastily erected plywood showers that stood at the end of the row of tents. on some days, the grit of marble
mountain felt like burrs under a saddle as far as gib was concerned. the fine sand got trapped inside his dark green
flight suit and chafed until his skin was raw and bleeding. then fungal infection could set in, becoming a nightmare of
trying to get rid of the leaky abrasions with ten dug cycles of penicillin. he shook his head at the thought. yeah, great
climate they had here. right now gib wanted a lukewarm shower to cleanse his crowded, exhausted mind almost as
much as to wash the sand off his body drying himself afterward, he padded down the row of tents in his shower
thongs, the white towel wrapped loosely around his narrow hips. it would be a welcome change to get out of his one
piece flight uniform and into a set of clean civilian clothes. back at his tent, gib pulled on a light blue short sleeved shirt,
fresh underwear and tan slacks, then quickly ran a comb through his short dark hair, taming it into place. feeling semi
human once again he borrowed a yellow citroen from an arvn officer friend and headed toward dany villard’s
plantation. as gib drove along highway 1, which would eventually lead to 14 his mind strayed to the passing countryside.
the afternoon heat was building across vietnam, the sun burning down from a bright azure sky to touch the top of the
triple canopied jungle. the smells that surrounded gib were many from pungent and acrid to cloyingly sweet. to him,
vietnam was a land of extremes, but more than anything, it was one of the most beautiful places on earth and,
unfortunately, rapidly becoming one of the deadliest. as he drove down the villard plantation's long redbrick driveway,
gib saw the few vietnamese peasants working along the boulevard look up in curiosity. but their faces gave away
nothing of what they thought or felt about his intrusive presence. at the house, gib climbed out of the citroen. the need
to see dany was nearly overwhelming in one sense, yet uncomfortable in another. as he took the steps two at a time,
gib tried to search for why he was drawn so powerfully to her, but no answer was forthcoming. all he knew was that
thinking of dany brought a lush flow of feelings that he'd thought he'd lost by being in combat for nearly two tours. and
he couldn't afford to feel like that not here in vietnam with the rigors of combat he faced every day he knocked at
the screen door and waited patiently for ma ling to appear. ma ling answered his knock, her broad brow wrinkling
instantly when she saw who it was. yes? she demanded. gib spoke slowly. i’m here to see miss villard. ma ling's scowl
deepened, but she reluctantly opened the door. come, you go through house. miss dany out with workers. gib nodded.
thank you,” shaking her head, ma ling led him through the teakwood halls to a rear door. go out there, she ordered. you
find her there. gib thanked her and, leaving his briefcase near the back door, stepped out once more into the sunshine.
bougainvillea grew in bright profusion around the rear of the house, and a small, carefully manicured lawn with a
number of silk trees bordering it made up the backyard. a variety of orchids climbed and hung in the limbs of the silk
trees, their colors and scents dazzling his senses. as always, the calls of birds, each melody different, wafted out of the
jungle that surrounded the rubber tree plantation like a somewhat discordant symphony. screamer monkeys could be
heard, their shrieks sounding almost human in the distance. beyond the small oval lawn row upon row of rubber trees
stretched for as far as the eye could see. to the left sat a small village of thatched huts. as gib