Kingfisher

Kingfisher by Patricia A. McKillip





PART ONE




CHIMERA 1


Pierce Oliver was pulling crab rings out of the water off the end of the dock

at Desolation Point when he saw the knights.

They were throwing doors open, clambering out of a black touring car half as

long as the dock, it looked, and inset with strange devices depicting animals

so rarely seen most were presumed extinct. Three young men, sleek and

muscular, adjusting their black leathers and quilted silks, heads turning this

way and that as they surveyed the tiny harbor, caused Pierce to forget what he

was doing. The line went slack in his hands. The tiered, circular frames of

the net he had hauled up, dripping and writhing with crabs, slumped into one

another. A fourth door opened; another head rose out of the driver’s side,

black-capped and masked with sunglasses. His voice queried something lost in a

sudden squall of screeching gulls. The three shook their heads, turning from

him toward the dock.

They were all, Pierce realized abruptly, staring back at him.

A crab hit his shoe, skittered over it. He glanced down hastily, pulled the

rings taut again, knelt to shake crabs back into the net and bat the smaller

escapees back into the sea. He felt the tremor of footsteps along the dock.

Boots, black, supple, and glistening like nacre, came to a halt under his

nose.

“Sorry to interrupt your work there, but could you tell us where in Severen’

s name we are?”

Pierce, the crab net rope in one hand, a lime-green plastic measure in the

other, opened his mouth. Nothing came out. The shadow stretching out from the

boots on the dock seemed to have grown wings. They expanded darkly across the

wood, rising to catch the wind. The boots under Pierce’s transfixed gaze

refused to levitate, ignoring the wings.

Then the broad, shadowy wings were gone, and he could lift his head finally,

look helplessly up at the speaker, who had hair like cropped lamb’s wool and

eyes like a balmy afternoon sky in some other part of the world. The eyes were

beginning to look more bemused than tranquil at Pierce’s silence.

“He doesn’t know either,” the dark-haired man with a green jewel in one ear

the color of his eyes guessed with a laugh. The third, a golden-haired giant

as solidly massive as a slab of oak, flared suddenly, flames licking out all

around him. Pierce jumped, dropping the crab measure.

“Cape Mistbegotten,” he gabbled hastily, not wanting to rile them into

further displays of weirdness.

“Mistbegotten?”

“Des—Desolation Point.”

“Des— Seriously?”

A gull landed on the dock beside him with a sudden, fierce cry. After the

crabs, he thought, but it stayed very still then, raking the strangers with

its yellow-eyed glare. He retrieved the crab measure, stood up shakily, and

realized that he had forgotten to take his apron off. It hung limply around

his neck, untied and grubby from the kitchen, the trellis of green beans on it

like some stained mimicry of a heraldic device. Another crab was snarled in

his shoelace, trying to untie his ancient, cracked trainer.

“Desolation Point,” he repeated more clearly, though his mouth was still

dry. The dark-haired man’s shadow seemed to have grown a barbed tail; it

lashed sinuously, soundlessly, as though to sweep the crabs off the dock. It

stilled finally. Pierce closed his eyes tightly, opened them and his mouth

again. “It’s the only town on the cape. The sign got blown into the ocean

during a winter storm. It’s still a little early in the season for tourists;

we haven’t bothered to replace it yet.”

They were gazing at him with varying degrees of incredulity. “People come

here?” the fire-giant said dubiously. “On purpose?”

Pierce shook the crab off his shoe; it landed on its back, legs waving at him

furiously. “Like I said, it’s the only town on Cape Mistbegotten.”

“Then why isn’t it on the map?” the blond with the temperate eyes asked

reasonably. “Our driver couldn’t even find it on paper.”

Pierce grunted, puzzled. Something in the gull’s grim eye, its oddly

motionless stance, enlightened him. “Oh, that was probably my mother.

Sometimes she hides things and forgets.”

“Your mother.” The burly giant’s face flattened suddenly, all expression

gone. “Hides. An entire cape.” He had shifted suddenly very close to Pierce,

forcing Pierce’s head to angle upward. “Are you mocking us? Do you have any

idea who we are?”

Pierce, caught helplessly in the hazel-eyed smolder, finally registered the

odd crunch in the giant’s wake. “Not a clue,” he said breathlessly. “But

you just squashed a perfectly good dinner crab.”

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