Wings of Omen

He took a ragged breath, then another, striving for calm. Lythande had told him he must prepare himself, but his stripped nerves kept him nervously aware of the blue pulse of the Adept's presence, as he was aware of Cappen Varra, who sat with hand clasped around his amulet, and of Gilla-of her more than any, projecting a mixing of strength and fear and love.

Perhaps she simply disliked being in the Vulgar Unicorn. It was the measure of her trust of Lythande that she had accepted the Adept's pronouncement that the Unicorn must leave this dimension by the same Gate through which it had come.

But was this really the Vulgar Unicorn, or only some drunken nightmare? It was so very still. After a brief, explosive interchange between One-Thumb and Lythande, the Adept had expelled the few customers who had braved the birthplace of the Black Unicorn, and cleared away the tables from the booth and the center of the room. Lalo stared at the irregular white space on the wall where his drawing had been, shivered and looked away, found his eyes focusing on the new dark stains that marred the floor, and shut them.

Breathe! he told himself. For Wedemir's sake-you have to find the strength somewhere!

"I should never have allowed it-" Gilla's whisper voiced Lalo's fears. "My poor son! How could you let him sacrifice himself? You'd let your baby bum and send your firstborn to be eaten by a demon from Hell-a fine sort of father you are!"

Lalo could feel her gathering steam for another diatribe and found himself almost welcoming the distraction, but Lythande's voice knifed through the pause as Gilla gathered breath to go on.

"Woman, be still! There is more than one life at stake here, and the time for discussion is long gone. Lend some of your anger to your man-he'll need it soon!" The Adept's snapped comment was followed by a half-heard muttering something about "working with amateurs" that made Gilla's ears bum.

Lalo sighed and tried to formulate a prayer to Ils of the Thousand Eyes, but all that would come to him was a vision of Wedemir's bright gaze.

The door opened.

Lalo jerked around, peering at the shadow that had precipitated itself from the darker oblong of the open door. Wedemir? But it was too soon, and there had been no sound. The figure stepped forward; Lalo recognized the dark cloak and narrow, sullen face of Shadowspawn.

"I got a message-" Hanse surveyed the odd group with disbelief. "I'm supposed to help you?"

His face was eloquent with resentment, and Lalo, realizing abruptly from whom that message must have come, felt a slim stirring of hope. He got to his feet.

"Yes, you can help us," Lythande said quietly beside him. "You saw something get loose here last night. Help us send it home again."

"No." Hanse shook his head. "Oh, no. Once was a time too many to see that thing."

"Shalpa's Son..." Lalo said hoarsely, and saw Shadowspawn flinch.

"Not even for-" he began, then whirled, hands going for his knives. From outside came the sound of feet ru

"Quick, for your life-" snapped the Adept, pointing across the room. "Take your place in the circle, and don't stir!"

For a moment Shadowspawn stared, then he moved.

But Lalo had forgotten him. Bench clattering over behind him, he darted past Cappen Varra to reach his place by the wall, glimpsed Gilla's bulk moving surprisingly quickly to the spot the Adept had assigned to her. As if she had tel-eported, Lythande was already standing, wand at the ready, at the point between the door and the wall.

Then it crashed open and Wedemir hurtled through, hesitated for a moment as he saw the place he had expected to fill already occupied by Shadowspawn, then stumbled into the middle of the circle, blood from his arm spattering across the floor. Lalo's stomach churned; he reached for the boy and pulled him to his side.

"The blood-" he gasped. "Did the Unicorn get you?"

Wedemir shook his head and touched the knife at his side. Lythande darted them a quick glance.

"I told him to wound himself," the Adept said. "I

Then a darkness filled the doorway, deeper than the shadows, in which flamed two glowing eyes. It had grown. Lalo swallowed sickly as the Unicorn forced its expanding bulk through the doorway. The black muzzle bent, snuffling for the blood-trail. Wedemir swayed, and Lalo saw that blood was still welling from between the fingers clenched around his arm to fall smoking to the stained floor. Lalo's altered vision perceived the life-force radiating from each drop. That, then, was what the Unicom desired.

Us of the Thousand Eyes, look down and help me! his spirit cried. Gilla's invocation ofShipri vibrated in the heavy air, and beyond her Lalo sensed the blur of Shalpa's power, Lythande's blue glow, and the murmur of Cappen Varra's plea to his northern gods.

The Unicom reared back: Lalo could not tell whether it went on two legs or four. Did those red eyes see puny human victims, or did it sense the inflowing power of the gods? The monster must not be frightened away, though his every nerve quivered with hope that it would go. Lythande's stem gaze commanded him. Now was the time-the Adept had done her part and he was on his own.

Great Ils! He could not do it; but somehow his feet were carrying him between Wedemir and the Unicom.

"Unicom!" Lalo's voice was a crow's croak. He tried again. "Unicom, come to me! Blood of my blood, here is what you desire!"

The dark form shuddered with thunder and deep laughter. It took a step toward him and then another, contemptuous of the others who stood there. Its gaze was like a horribly intimate touch upon his soul, and Lalo remembered suddenly that it was his-his own evil had been joined to that of the rest of Sanctuary in the Unicorn's conception. Lalo's part in the creature yearned for reunion; an answering yearning resonated in the secret depths of his soul. How easy it would be to... simply give in.

Lythande poised like a beast of prey, absolutely still. As Lalo wavered, the Unicorn stepped past her; her wand flashed out like a sword of fire, and blue light snapped across the circle to Gilla, back to Cappen Varra, over to Wedemir, occupying Lalo's old place by the wall, up to Shadowspawn and back to Lythande again before the Thing could move.

It roared and whirled, but it was imprisoned by the glowing lines of the pentagram. Lalo realized with horror that he was imprisoned too. Then the Unicorn grew still, senses questing outward to test the barriers. Its darkness pulsed softly; Lalo recognized faces contorted in voiceless torment, blinked away a vision of his own features swirling among the throng, and fumbled to unroll the canvas still clutched in his arms.

The Unicorn heard the rustle of canvas and began to turn.

The results of half a night's labor unrolled stiffly, and Lalo wondered desperately whether it would serve. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, seeking the Face of Ils in memory. Awareness faltered, fixed, and for one timeless moment he was There, but this time he did not look away. The brightness of the Divine Face blinded and burned him, searing that part of him that had responded to the Unicorn. And still the light grew, until Lalo realized that even the Shining Face of Ils had been only a mask for that radiance whose least part burned in the sun and the other stars.

And then he was falling, spiraling dizzily back into the prison of his human body. Still dazzled, Lalo released his pent breath across the canvas in his clenched hands.