The healer let the Prince hold and mourn the cat until the sun touched the horizon. Then she looked past him to me. “Take the cat's body from him,” she said quietly.

It was not a task I wanted, but I did it.

It was hard to coax him to give up the cat's cooling body. I chose my words with great care. This was not a time to let the Skillcommand force him to do what he was not ready to do on his own. When finally he allowed me to lift the mistcat from his lap, I was astonished at how light the creature seemed. Usually, a dead animal, lax and lolling, seems to weigh more than a live one, but with the loss of its life, the pathetic condition of the little cat was revealed. “As if she were eaten through with worms,” Nighteyes had said, and he was not far off the mark. The cat was a wasted little creature, her oncesleek fur gone dry and brittle, and bumps of bone defining her spine- At her death, her fleas were leaving her, far too many for a healthy animal. As the healer took the cat from me, I saw anger flicker over her face. She spoke softly. I do not know if Dutiful heard her words, but I did. “She did not even let it keep itself as a cat would. She possessed it too completely, and tried to be a woman in a cat's fur.”

Peladine had imposed a human's ways on the mistcat. She had denied her the long sleeps, the gorging to satiation, and the grooming sessions that were the natural right of a lithe little cat. Play and hunting had been denied her. It was the way of the Piebalds to use the Wit only for their own human ends. It sickened me.

The healer carried the cat's body outside and the Prince and I followed with Nighteyes walking between us. A halfbuilt cairn awaited the little corpse. All Deerkin's people came outside to witness the interment. Their eyes were saddened, but they brimmed with respect.

Their healer spoke, for Dutiful was too numbed with grief. “She goes on without you. She died for you, to free you both. Keep within you the cat tracks she left on your soul. Let go with her the humanness that you shared with her. You are parted now.”

The Prince swayed as they put the last stones on the cat, covering her death snarl. I set a hand to his shoulder to steady him, but he shrugged away my touch as if I were tainted. I did not blame him. She had commanded me to kill her, had done all she could to force me to the act, and yet I did not expect him to forgive me for having obeyed her. As soon as the cat was interred, the Old Blood healer had brought the Prince a draught. “Your share of her death,” she said as she offered it to him, and he had quaffed it down before either Lord Golden or I could interfere. Then the healer gestured to me that I should take him back into the cave. There, he lay down where his cat had died, and his mourning broke loose anew.

I don't know what she gave him in that drink, but the boy's heartbroken sobs wound slowly down into the hoarse breathing of sodden sleep. There was nothing of rest in the .limp way he sprawled beside me. “A little death,” she had confided to me, thoroughly frightening me. “I give him a .little death of his own, a time of emptiness. He died, you know, when the cat was killed. He needs this empty time to be dead. Do not try to cheat him of it.”

Indeed, it plunged him into a sleep but one step shy of death. She settled him on a pallet, arranging his body as if it were a corpse. As she did so, she muttered scathingly, “Such bruises on his neck arid back. How could they beat a mere boy like that?”

I was too shamed to admit I had given him those marks. I held my silence and she covered him well, shaking her head over him. Then she turned and brusquely motioned me to her side for her services. “The wolf, too. I've time for you, now that the boy's hurts are tended. His hurt was far more grievous than anything that bleeds.”

With warm water she washed our wounds and salved them with a greasy unguent. Nighteyes was passive to her touch. He held himself so tightly against the pain I could scarcely feel him there. As she worked on the scratches on my chest and belly, she muttered sternly to me. I gave Jinna's charm the credit that she deigned to speak to a renegade like me at all.

But the healer's only comment on it was that my necklace had probably saved my life. “The cat meant to kill you, and no mistake about that,” she observed. “But it was no will or fault of her own, I'm sure. And not the boy's fault, either. Look at him. He is a child still to our ways, far too young to bond,” she lectured me severely, as if it were my fault. “He is unschooled in our ways, and look how it has hurt him. I will not tell you lies. He is like to die of this, or take a melancholy madness that will plague him to the end of his days.” She tightened the bandage around my belly with a tug. “Someone should teach him Old Blood ways. Proper ways of dealing with his magic.” She glared at me, but I did not reply. I only pulled what was left of my shirt back over my head. As she turned away from me, I heard her snort of contempt.