Chapter one
Phantom of the jungle
The woman in the blue tunic halted just inside the edge of the jungle and, shading her eyes against the twin suns, stared out toward the lake. The two men walking toward her might be deep in conversation; she knew well enough even in the short time she had made their acquaintance that if she moved another step they would see her at once.
A vague blue haze pulsed unexpectedly about the men, making her blink her eyes. She did not move. The twin suns threw down their mingled streaming lights and in the early morning radiance shadows still stretched short into emerald and ruby blobs. The strange blueness appeared to swish into her eyes like the bewildering swirl of a dancer’s cape.
When she looked out again there was only one man on the little path by the lake.
Alarmed, she called out.
“Seg the Horkandur!”
At the sound of his name the man looked up instantly. He was in the act of picking up from the path a length of scarlet cloth and a longsword. From these two items he drew his attention not so much reluctantly as regretfully. He faced the woman.
“Yes, my lady?”
“Is all — is all well? Where is the Bogandur?”
“He has been — called away.”
She laughed uncertainly. “Called away? Here in the midst of this terrible jungle?”
“Do not fret over him, my lady. He will turn up in his own good time.”
“Yes, I believe that. For I thought him dead back there in that horrendous mountain.”
“As did I. He was not an apparition, I assure you. Stand very still, my lady. When I shout run, run!”
The scarlet breechclout and the longsword went thump onto the path. The longbow snapped into Seg’s left hand, the shaft was nocked and the string drawn in a blur of speed. The first arrow sped.
That shaft passed a scant hand’s breadth past the woman’s ear. Seg bellowed as he loosed.
“Run, my Lady Milsi, run!”
Milsi ran.
A gargantuan screech burst out from the jungle just to her rear. A bellow and a thrashing of densely packed foliage drove her on, panting with effort. A second arrow flew, and a third followed on while the second was still in the air.
Milsi panted down out of the jungle edge, pursued by what horrors she did not know. But she had complete confidence in Seg the Horkandur. She had known him for so short a time, yet he had proved to be the perfect jikai, the honorable warrior, devoted to her person.
With the same blurring speed Seg thrust the bow stave up over his left shoulder and whipped out his sword.
Yelling in a deliberate attempt to enga
