A Loud Silence

Curiosity prodded Lynxana. The female edged closer to the street that led to the Temple of Silence. She had yet to see the fat merchant. What keeps him from her? she wondered.

"Do you fancy this trinket?" asked Tril'i. The cheetah guard held a thin bracelet of silver. The sun glinted weakly off its polished surface.

"Perhaps another," the lynx suggested, hoping to secure more time for her observations. A flash of color caught her attention. Black, brown, green, sky blue, white, violet and black. Seven bands of color marked the robes of the guardians of the Silence. A dark blue hood kept all but their eyes and a bit of fur hidden. The book binder snorted in frustration. The priest was far too short to be the other individual that she sought. The person also lacked a tail, unlike the jan'nirri Myr'an'dra, a pantheress, who had become an associate of Ba'sir.

The jan'nirri had run afoul of the mountain tigers, with whom she had foolishly consorted, and had disappeared. King Lir had unexpectedly widened her mission, and now asked her to track both panthers. The exercise had proven more difficult than she had anticipated. For a time, the merchant had also vanished as if he had not existed. She could report nothing to King Lir until the day that Ba'sir had resurfaced. He had binged on food, and had purchased many baubles in the marketplace, to the amazement of the crowds that followed him from one indulgent stop to another. He had ended his day of excess at the Temple of Silence. It was then that she had concluded that their strategy was a good one. Where better to hide Myr'an'dra than in a somber, sacred place. Thereafter, she had followed the pattern for some suns. Ba'sir would enter the marble compound. Invariably, two tall lean, figures, only one possessing a barely hidden tail, would emerge. They would walk for hours before returning to the temple. Bejeweled Ba'sir, clothed in gaudy yellow, would finally burst forth once more from the white stone gates. He must command powerful magic to transform himself, Lynxana mused.

A familiar voice raised in annoyance dashed her thoughts. "How he departed no longer matters!" hissed Tir'shan, famed even among them mystics for his healing powers. "The asira'savi have assured us that all goes as planned."

"Never have I trusted them!" exclaimed the mystic Shaktar'ri, the sleeves of his blue robe billowing as he swung his arms wildly in frustration.

"We have no say. Our fate rests with those that have sheltered us these many seasons." The giant mystic halted. He rested his right palm on the other mystic's shoulder. "Shaktar'ri, I would know if anything amiss had befallen Tygra. And in the name of Talitha, the one who loves him, I would challenge the asira'savi."

"What gives you such certainty?"

Tir'shan sighed. "As the people have been bound to the Four-Forms, in a manner I cannot easily explain to you, I have been bound to Tygra and Talitha. Su'ti has accepted my words, why not you!" The response did not satisfy his companion. Their argument continued until they reached the gates of the Temple of Silence.

Grabbing Tril'i's hand, Lynxana said, "Let's us wander a bit."

"But the bracelet--"

"Can wait!"

"Very well," Tril'i acceded. He bowed in apology to the merchant whose wares he had examined.

The slender cheetah began to hum a coarse tune. Nervous as usual, Lynxana thought with disdain. That a warrior like him is wary of Death is amazing. She snorted which ended the humming.

Tril'i drew his cape more closely about himself, concealing his leather armor. "Lynxana, if we are to wander at least we should fortify ourselves with the warmth of a steaming drink. The tavern is but two streets over."

"I wish to admire that tree first."

"Its leave are all but gone."

"But its form is beautiful."

"Ah, the artistic eye," the youthful guard conceded.

The mystics' words filtered back into her ears. "What will we learn from Ba'sir today?" Shaktar'ri asked.

"Probably nothing until that architect gets the city built. The exodus cannot begin until then."

All waits upon one, Lynxana thought.

*And that one dawdles.*

The response had penetrated her mind smoothly, a rapier of thought that sliced into her consciousness. Lynxana spun around but saw no one.

"Something amiss," Tril'i asked, his hand falling to the sword strapped to the belt encircling his waist.

The words would not come now. People faded to pale, unmoving figures lost in growing greyness. Her own solidity thinned. A tall, dark shadow crept between the silence and the frozen living. *Ba'sir!* Her thoughts had gained an unexpected power for she knew that they reached the faceless stranger she had chosen to name.

*Lir trusts me not. No matter. I trust no one.*

*Not even Myr'an'dra?*

Amusement trickled across her mind and slightly warmed her icy form. *She and I are one. Long have I waited for her. Treachery is not her name.*

*Tell that to the mountain tigers.*

Every particle of her being stretched with agony. *Leave us to ourselves,* he snarled, withdrawing his torture slowly. *Myr'an'dra has given information to Lir in recompense. No harm comes from us. Tell the king to see to those around him. Some would not have him relinquish rule back to the son of Claudus.*

The shadow disappeared into growing light and movement.

"Lynxana?"

She heard her name, and the concern locked into it. Tril'i is a good friend, she decided as she fell to the ground, her saffron robes pooling about her.

The lynx looked into the sky, for that is what she saw in Tir'shan's eyes. She rose, cradled in his arms. Safe. That was all that mattered for now. No one crossed Mrísena's favorite son.

The rumbling voice carried vicious thunder hidden in velvet tones. "What has stricken our young book binder?" The merchant asked. His fleshy fingers caressed her cheek not with care, but with domination. His yellow clothing made him a malevolent sun that burned her soul.

"Probably too much work, fine sir," Tril'i replied politely.

"Or poor lodgings. I've seen her home. Her shop needs more insulation from the elements. Perhaps she should stay at the excellent inn where I am housed."

Trapped!

"I will take her to the Temple of Miritana." Tir'shan's firm tone left no space for dissension.

"Ah, so it is that time. Well, for the best, wise mystic," Ba'sir answered with a bow. "But I fear our luncheon must now be postponed." With a wave of his hand, the panther crossed the street, then disappeared down an alley.

The maze of intrigue had indeed grown more complex. Yet Tir'shan had saved her by recognizing what she had chosen to ignore: her fertility had arrived.

Tril'i's hand touched her cheek lightly. Loss or sympathy? She could not decide what emotions battled across his face. She reached for him. "When this time has passed...I owe you a more pleasant afternoon." He smiled. The curves of his sensuous lips bore but a trace of regret. This time is not auspicious for the conception of a cub. And although his body is ready for fatherhood, I will not take the freedom of his youth. At least not right now, the lynx decided.

She looked up at Tir'shan. "Thank you, son of Mrísena." She hoped he had gleaned the subtext in her voice that more deeply expressed her gratitude.

"Avoid that one." The response was abrupt, but carried the truth.

Once in the safety of the temple she would send a message to King Lir. The strange panther, the mystics and the asira'savi had their own manner of accomplishing the tasks that would lead to the exodus. Perhaps it would be best for the king to just flow alongside them like a river.

"Your shop?" the guard asked.

Tril'i was always practical, and he had the key. "I know you will see to it," she answered with a confidence that buoyed her friend. For a few suns, the world would have to manage without her.