Zylas talked softly to Falima and stroked her nose. The horse pawed the ground and snorted. A large insect buzzed past Collins' face.

"Ready?"

Collins looked up, only then realizing Zylas had addressed him. The blue-white eyes lay unsettlingly upon him.

Collins' gaze shifted unconsciously to Falima.

"She not come," Zylas explained, stepping around Collins and heading in the direction he had scouted.

"No need."

Collins continued to study the horse, who had lowered her head to graze and seemed to take no notice of the humans' conversation. He hardly knew her; yet, for reasons he could not explain, he would miss her. "Tell her I said 'good-bye.'"

"I will," Zylas a.s.sured without looking back.

Collins turned and followed the rat/man through the brush, excitement building with every step. Soon, he would return to the mundane world of troubles that no longer seemed so significant. Staring death in the face, he might not have found courage, but he had found new perspective. Nothing less would ever seem formidable again.

The forest broke gradually to the familiar field of wildflowers and weeds. On the hill, the broken fortress looked positively welcoming. Collins raced toward it.

"Wait." Zylas charged after his impetuous companion. "Wait!" He dove on Collins.

Abruptly driven to the ground, breath dashed from his lungs, Collins twisted to glare at Zylas. "What the h.e.l.l did you do that for?"

Zylas' answer was an inclination of his head.

Collins followed his companion's gesture. Just ahead, a ragged line of arrows scored the ground. They had not been there when he had started his run.

"d.a.m.n." The expletive left Collins' mouth without intention.

Zylas seized Collins' hand and wriggled back toward the forest.

"d.a.m.n," Collins repeated, following. "Guards?"

"Would guess," Zylas returned.

More attuned, Collins heard the second round of bowstrings singing, the rattle and thunk of thearrows landing. He lunged for the forest, Zylas at his side.

There, beyond range of the bowmen, they stopped to study the ruins. Collins saw only the stone building, sunlight flashing from chips of quartz in the crumbling construction. "How did you know?"

"Didn't." Zylas also studied the ruins. "Sense. Smell . . . guess."

Sensed and smelled. It seemed logical to Collins that some of the animal instincts would permeate into the human phase as well. Thank G.o.d. Now relatively safe, he started to shake, terrified in a way he had not felt when the arrows directly menaced him. I almost died. Again. He looked at Zylas, skin white as paper and hair the nearly colorless blond most men loved and many women sought in a bottle. As they retreated back to Falima, he tried to lighten a mood wound as tensely as a spring. "Got any friends who change into rhinoceroses?"

Zylas blinked. "What?"

"Never mind." A dinosaur or an army tank might do it.

Falima made a soft, snorting nicker, then pawed the ground.

Zylas spoke to her gently in his own language. He turned his attention back to Collins. "We go." He leaped onto Falima's back, sliding toward her hindquarters to make room for Collins. Collins' heart felt as if it were sinking into his toes. "Go? But ..." But . . . what? What do I expect him to do? Clearly, approaching directly and in broad daylight could lead only to their deaths. Apparently, at midnight, Zylas would resume his rat form. Then, he could slip past the bowmen. And do what? Give them all bubonic plague? He stifled a hysterical chuckle. With a sigh of resignation, he clambered onto a rock and, from there, to Falima. The horse took off, going back the way they had come.

Chapter 4.

BENTON Collins mulled the situation over as they rode silently into a deeper part of the forest.

Trees glided past in a silken green blur, and Zylas' scouting became a remote background to Collins'

thoughts. The fluid motion of the horse also lost significance, though the growing aches in thighs, b.u.t.tocks, and groin gradually grew too prominent to ignore. His watch read almost 5:55 when they finally stopped in a clearing surrounded by scraggly junipers and scrub pines. Clouds raked across the sky, a gray accompaniment to Collins' dispirited mood. He dismounted beside Zylas. Falima lowered her head and snorted. Zylas stripped off the pack and tossed it to the ground. He unhitched the lead rope/halter from her head and let it fall.

"Now what?" Collins asked, kicking a deadfall at one edge of the camp site. Bark flew amid a spray of rotted wood. A large black beetle with angry-looking pincers scrambled from the carnage.

"Dinner?" Zylas suggested, catching the bug with a swift grab.

"Dinner," Collins repeated. He shook his head and turned to sit on the deadfall. The scream of leg muscles changed his mind in mid-movement, and he struggled back to a stand. Pain made him irritable. "I just lost my appet.i.te." He wrinkled his nose at the beetle kicking madly in Zylas' grip and attempting to twist its pincers to meet the restraining fingers. "Besides, I'm more worried about my neck than my stomach."

Zylas stepped closer, gazing at Collins' throat. "Hurt neck? Sorry. Me tried get rope not with-"

Collins interrupted. "That's not what I meant. I ... if ... I have to get out of this . . . this place. My life-"

Zylas frowned and threw his hands in the air. Before he could speak, Collins caught an unexpected movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled toward it. A naked woman stood where the horse had once grazed. Black hair fell in a satin cascade that formed soft curls around ample b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Though not thin, the body looked toned and well-muscled, the curves delicate and in exquisite proportion. Pale eyes made a radiant contrast to the golden/tan skin. She said something Collins did not understand, then s.n.a.t.c.hed the beetle from Zylas, crushed it, and tossed it into her mouth.

Revulsion broke the spell. Flushed from the roots of his hair to his chin, Collins averted his gaze.

The beetle crunched between Falima's teeth, then she said something else to Zylas. He knelt beside the pack, pulled out the linen dress, a pair of something that looked like shorts, and two of the wood-and-cloth sandals. He tossed them to Falima.

Collins heard the rustle of fabric. He focused fanatically on the other man. "Are you always . . . like that . . . when you change?"

"Like what?" Zylas looked from Falima to Collins.

Falima said something simultaneous with Collins', "Like . . . bare. Nude. Naked."

Zylas stuffed clothing back into the pack. "Have to be, you think?"

Collins nodded, swallowing hard. It only made sense. He dared a peek at Falima, who returned a hard glare. She spoke to Zylas again, and he made a throwaway gesture as well as answering with words. Falima stomped a foot, horselike.

"What's wrong?" Collins asked.

Zylas looked at Falima first, urging her to answer. When she did not, Zylas tried. "She have thing . . .

mine. Not-"

Apparently even more frustrated with Zylas' broken rendition of English than Collins, Falima interrupted. "The reason I cannot give you your translation stone back is because some moron ..." Sheglanced pointedly at Collins, then back to Zylas. "... kicked me and made me swallow it."

Collins' face reddened again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"It all right," Zylas soothed. "Now both can talk and understand Ben."

Falima tossed her head, ruffling her hair so that it fell over her shoulders in inky stripes. "You, barely.

Me, I have no interest in speaking to him at all." She turned her back.

Not wishing to engage in another war, Collins ignored the woman for his more cooperative companion. "This stone?"

"Magic," Zylas explained with a word. "Let know all tongue."

Collins accepted the revelation without further questioning. It seemed no more outlandish than humans turning into animals and back, which he had already witnessed. "Remember when I asked about a friend rhino?"

"Rhinosaurus," Zylas corrected.

"You don't have any in ... this place? Whatever it's called."

"Barakhai." Zylas sat on the deadfall, examining the hole where he had found the beetle. "Mean 'whole world' our tongue."

"Barra-KIGH." Collins tried to p.r.o.nounce it correctly, uncertain of the spelling and doubting his companions could illuminate it. It was a lot easier to learn to speak a language than to read it, especially in rat form and on the sly.

"Durithrin Forest be exact."

Durithrin. Collins recognized the word from their previous conversation, applied to a squirrel.

Still ignoring them, Falima pulled food from the pack and stuffed cheese curds in her mouth. Collins glanced at her.

"Very hungry," Zylas apologized for Falima's manners. "Ride most of day. Not time graze."

Falima made a wordless noise around her food.

Collins put aside the issue of how someone who spent half her life as an herbivore and half as an omnivore managed to digest anything but gra.s.s. Barakhai clearly followed different natural laws and logic than his biology, chemistry, and physics textbooks. Returning to his original point, Collins cautiously sat beside the albino, this time ignoring his aching muscles. "What about lions? Eagles? Bulls?" He added one he had already seen here. "Big dogs?"

"Know dog," Zylas admitted. "Bull?" His eyes crinkled. "That mean . . . lie?"

Only the s.h.i.t. Collins dodged the slang to explain as simply as possible, "Man cows. They have horns, and they're big."

"Pepsa," Falima said around another mouthful.

Zylas bobbed his head. "Pepsa. Bull. Yes. Why?"

Collins waved away another large, flying insect. The answer seemed so obvious, he could scarcely believe the question. "Don't you people fight?"

"Fight?" Zylas repeated, looking at Falima.

"Augin telishornil bahk." Falima drank from the waterskin. It seemed like a lot of sounds to explain a one-syllable word.

"Fight." Zylas c.o.c.ked his head to the heavens. "No."

"No?" The answer was nonsensical, especially after the barrage of arrows that had nearly killed them.

"They were fighting." He jabbed a hand in the general direction of the crumbling fort.

Zylas followed the gesture with his gaze, eyes shadowed by his hat.

"Different. They solen ak opernes."

This time, Falima translated without entreaty. "Royal guards."

Collins considered the foreign phrase. "Solen ak opernes." He remembered now that Zylas had used opernes before to refer to royalty. "Solen ak opernes." He quit practicing the foreign phrase. He had no reason to learn their language; he would have to escape as soon as possible . . . and never return.

"No one else fights?" he asked dubiously. It seemed beyond possibility. "Ever?"

Falima laid out apples, hard rolls, and cheese, then started peering under rocks and rolling logs.

"Sometime," Zylas admitted, loosening a strand of white hair sweat-plastered to his temple. "Not ... asgroup. Not like . . . like . . . king cop."

"Solen ak opernes," Collins supplied.

Zylas smiled. "Language go wrong direction."

Collins laughed. He had once watched an exchange between a teacher and an English as a Second Language student via interpreter. At one point, the teacher had used a Spanish phrase that the translator dutifully recited for the Peruvian student-in English. Now, Collins broke bark from his seat with his heel.

Falima rushed in to gather the revealed bugs, placing them in the crock.

Collins wondered how hungry he would have to get to share that meal. "If we could marshal some strong animals, they wouldn't necessarily have to have formal combat training-"

Falima straightened suddenly. "You self-centered b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

The outburst, in perfect English, startled Collins; and he nearly fell off the log.

"Falima," Zylas warned.

But nothing would silence Falima until she spoke her piece. "Is it not enough that we will probably die for saving a coldblooded cannibal? Do you want more innocents to sacrifice their lives for you?"

Collins found himself unable to reply, though regret filled his stomach like lead, and the bare thought of eating now made him ill.

"Falima," Zylas said again, a clear plea to quiet her. He added more in their own language.

"I do not care," Falima replied, still in clear English. "He is a fool and a clod. We should have let him hang."

Zylas said more, punctuated by broad hand gestures that displayed the anger his tone did not.

Collins tried to defuse the situation. "I'm sorry. I really am. I am very grateful that you saved my life. I didn't mean to suggest others should die to help me." He tried to catch Falima's eyes. "I don't want anyone to get hurt."

Falima dodged his gaze. "What sort of dimwit finds himself in a strange place and immediately kills and eats someone?"

"I'm sorry," Collins practically pleaded. He needed Falima and Zylas to help him negotiate Barakhai, but he also desperately wanted a friend. The idea of being alone in a foreign world with rules beyond his understanding overwhelmed him. Nevertheless, he chose to gently defend himself. "If you came to my world starving, wouldn't you start eating every bug you saw?"