“I knew this would happen once the veil was torn,” the Master of hounds said, and folded his arms. Then, quietly, without any of them noticing, he was not there anymore. The rest of the place went with him. There was no green moss, no mother dog, no pack of cold hounds sleeping. The ground, rough and full of bricks, slanted under their feet, and they found they were standing halfway up the mound of rubble where Sirius had lost Yeff. It was all cold and colorless in the time just before sunrise. The damp, misty air made them shiver. And all around in the mist, they could hear people moving, calling to one another and whistling, and dogs barking.
16
The four true dogs stood with their heads on one side and one paw raised, listening. “Goodness!” said Bruce. “That’s my master whistling!”
“And mine,” said Patchie, Rover and Redears.
“If you don’t mind,” said Bruce, “I think we ought to be off now. So long.”
They were all off, without more ado, into the wet whiteness. Some of the calling and whistling stopped and became relieved cries of “There you are, you bad dog!” But most of it went on.
“What’s going on?” Robin said sleepily. He went up the mound, stumbling from brick to brick, to see what the noise was about. Near the top, he shouted with delight. “Look! Look! He remembered!” The Master of hounds had kept this promise at least. A fat white puppy with blood-red ears was stumbling about up there, cheeping for its mother. Robin picked it up tenderly. Finding it was frosty cold, he wrapped it in his sweater and sat down with it, trying in a puzzled way to warm it up.
“Right,” said Basil. “He’s got his. Give me my meteorite.”
Kathleen held the Zoi to her and clambered away from Basil, backwards up the mound. “It isn’t a proper meteorite. It’s dangerous. I don’t think you should have it.”
“He promised me!” Basil said, climbing furiously after her.
Sirius bounded up with him and pranced around Kathleen, trying to show her she should give it to him instead. But Kathleen raised the Zoi out of his reach. “No, Leo. It’s a horribly strong thing. You’re not having it either.”
“Give it me!” shouted Basil. Kathleen ran away from him, to the top of the mound. Basil caught her there and tried to twist the Zoi out of her hand. They wrestled for it, to and fro, just above Robin’s head, while Robin sat absorbed in his puppy. Basil of course was the stronger. Sirius jumped around him, getting in his way, barging Basil’s legs whenever he could. He did not like to think what would happen if Basil touched the Zoi. Nor did he quite trust Kathleen not to use it again by accident. Basil gripped Kathleen’s arm and twisted it back. Sirius barged at his elbow. It was a hideously familiar sight. He and his Companion had wrestled for the Zoi exactly like this, and he was afraid it was going to be lost again, or destroy them all.
The bump Sirius gave Basil loosened Kathleen’s fingers. The Zoi fell from her hand and went plummeting to Earth. Since it was not made of the same stuff as Sol’s system, it fell like a streak of light. Sirius leaped for it. He was only just in time to catch it in his mouth before it entered the ground.
It hurt him. He had not known anything could hurt so much. The pain started at his mouth and spread all over him like a green flame. It was as much as he could do to make Basil another cindery cone, falling at an ordinary speed. After that, he could think of nothing but how much it hurt.
The heavy cinder thumped down on the bricks. Basil rushed at it and scooped it up. He glared at Kathleen. “I told you it was mine!” he said. Then he ran away down the mound with it in case Kathleen tried to get it again.
The pain did not last long. Sirius stood up out of it and stretched, light and liquid and free. He was a reasonable size again. He found himself looking down over Kathleen, out across the white mist that hung over the cleared space. Police cars with lights on were parked on the cinders. Policemen with dogs and torches were busily searching through the rubble and the nettles. He saw Mr. Duffield with them, and Miss Smith leaning anxiously out of one of the police cars. But they were only little details at the edges of his great green freedom. The warm, stupid dog was gone. Better still, there was a lightness and power at his shoulders. He had been without his wings so long that he had almost forgotten what they felt like. He spread and shook them, so that the silvery-green flames of the pinions streamed and whispered behind him. He would have wagged his tail with pleasure, except that he no longer had a tail. Instead, he took the Zoi out of his mouth and laughed down at Kathleen. Somehow, he had no doubt that she would be able to understand him now.
“It feels marvelous!” he said.
Kathleen did understand him. She raised her head. Her eyes climbed wonderingly up this sudden green giant, paused on his fierce silver-green face, and moved on over the mane of dense flame-like hair to the huge double wings at his back. Compared with this being, the Master of the hunt now struck her as small and tame. Wondering where he had come from, she said politely, “Does it? I’m so glad.”
Sirius was puzzled, and rather hurt. “Don’t you know me?”
Kathleen raised her face again. “I don’t think so,” she said in the same polite way. “Are you an angel?”
“Of course not!” he said. “I’m Sirius. I’ve been your dog for a year. You must know me!”
“Oh,” said Kathleen, and she looked down again.
Sirius looked to see what was taking her attention so thoroughly. There was a big dog in the mist at his feet, lying on its side in the weeds. It was a young dog, rather too thin, with a cream-colored coat and reddish ears. The ear he could see had recently been bitten. The dog was dead. He could see that from the drying skin on its pale eyes, even though it was still twitching a little from the life that had been in it. He looked at Kathleen’s stiff face and he knew what the Master of the hunt had been warning them of. Perhaps this was why he had given the Zoi to Kathleen and not to him.
“Listen,” he said. “I’m still the same. I was that dog. Don’t you understand?”
Kathleen nodded, though he did not think she really understood. She said, “You don’t look like Leo,” and then added kindly, “But you look very nice, of course.”
Sirius could not bear the look on her face as she turned back to the dog. He held the Zoi out to her. “Take this,” he said. “See if you can bring the dog to life again.”
But Kathleen put her hands behind her back and backed away. “Oh no, that’s quite all right,” she said politely.
“Then I’ll try,” said Sirius, exasperated by Kathleen’s polite, distant manner.
“No, really,” said Kathleen. “You don’t have to bother. It wouldn’t be the same.”
“Blast that!” said Sirius, and turned the Zoi on the twitching body. Nothing happened. The Zoi hummed and fizzed in its usual way, but there was no sweet sting of force. Sirius exclaimed with annoyance, although he understood well enough. The dog had been himself. The one thing you could not do with a Zoi was use it on yourself. “You’ll have to do it,” he said to Kathleen. “Here.”
He pushed the Zoi at Kathleen’s face to make her take it. Kathleen gasped and turned her face away. He heard her hair sizzle. Sirius backed away, horrified. As he went, he saw that the dog’s coat had singed and the damp grass under his feet was steaming and smoking. It dawned on him that he could not even touch Kathleen now. True, he could contain his heat, as his Companion and New-Sirius had done, but it was not a thing he had ever been very good at. He did not think he could do it well enough to risk going near Kathleen. He could not lick her face anymore. Kathleen could not hug him, in that uncomfortable way of hers, until his back ached and he had to wriggle. She did not even really want to talk to him. All she wanted to do was to look at the dead dog on the ground.
Then Sirius glimpsed a little of the meaning behind the wild hunt. He had been cruel to Kathleen while he thought he was being kind. Because he had not thought of anything but the Zoi, he had done something worse than Duffie and worse than shooting her father. It did not help to f
ind he had done it to himself too; or that Kathleen, in the kindest possible way, had done exactly the same.
“I’m afraid I cheated you,” he said.
“Oh, that’s all right,” Kathleen said politely, still looking at the dog.
It was only twitching faintly now. Sirius saw that if he was to go back into it, he would have to do it soon. It was no good giving the Zoi to Kathleen. Even if she would take it, he had already made it far too hot for her to hold. Somebody else would have to do it.
“Earth,” he said. “Could you take the Zoi and—?”
“I’m sorry,” Earth said regretfully. “I only know how to give life once.”
That left only Sol. Sirius looked around for him. The mist was pearly pink below. In it, the gray shapes of policemen and their well-meaning dogs were going round and round, trying to puzzle out the most confusing scents they had ever met. The sky above them, over the houses, was pink too, but Sol was still below the horizon.
“Fetch Sol, quickly!” he said to Earth.
“I’m turning as fast as I’m allowed to,” said Earth.
Sirius dared not leave that cooling dog. He had to wait. And it seemed to him that Sol would never rise that day.
Sol came at last. He stepped up above the roofs in a bright bundle of spiky beams, turning the wet slates into sheets of silver and the mist into glory.
“Sol,” Sirius said desperately.
Sol took one golden glance. “Oh, I see,” he said. “So you found it.”
“Yes, and here it is,” Sirius said, holding the Zoi out to him. “Take it and put me back into that dog again. Quickly!”
“I can try,” Sol said dubiously. “But I’ve never handled a Zoi before.”
“Take it,” said Sirius. “Put me back!”
“All right,” said Sol. Kathleen looked up, blinking, as he stretched out a hot yellow arm and Sirius put the Zoi in his hand. She shaded her eyes to look at the bright figure, that was either very near or very far away, standing just above the houses meditatively holding the Zoi. After a moment, the Zoi fired to a bright lump between his white-hot fingers.
Nothing happened.
“Put me back,” said Sirius. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying,” said Sol. “I see how to use it. But I’m sorry. I don’t think I can put you back.”
“Why can’t you? You must!” Sirius shouted at him. Sol simply shrugged. Sirius raised his wings and blazed with such rage that several policemen looked up and remarked on the queer green light there was this morning. “Put me back!”
“I can’t,” said Sol. “Could you do it?”
“No,” said Sirius. “But that’s beside the point. Do it!”
His anger and Sol’s light were drying the mist away. A policeman saw Basil crouching possessively over his meteorite and shouted, “Here’s one of the lads!”
“I’ve told you I can’t,” said Sol.
“Blast you!” Sirius roared. Then he noticed that Kathleen was staring at him in a wan, horrified way. He must be frightening her out of her wits. He did his best to settle his blazing pinions and smooth his flaming hair, and knelt down so that he would not seem so appallingly tall to her. “Sol says he can’t put me back into your dog,” he told her. “I’m sorry.”
“I know. I heard him,” said Kathleen. “You know, I really do believe you were inside Leo. His eyes used to look just the same when he was angry.”
“I’d go back if I could,” said Sirius.
“But I told you it wouldn’t be the same,” said Kathleen. “Leo would only die again when you left, wouldn’t he? It’s perfectly all right. Thank you for being so kind. I must go now. I think those policemen are looking for us, and I’d better tell them Robin’s gone to sleep over his puppy. Good-by.” She smiled at Sirius politely, before she turned and went carefully down the side of the mound.
Sirius stared after her. “What can I do?”
“Nothing,” said Earth.
“Come away,” Sol suggested, and held down a hand to help him into the empyrean.
Sirius spread his nearly forgotten wings and came up beside Sol. He felt strange and raw. It was darker than he remembered, and the noises astonished him for a moment. Space sang. There were great slow notes, high sweet sounds—every note in human music and more beside, all winding, twining, combining, and ringing out solemn and single, like a constantly changing tune. It was the sound the spheres made as they turned, and he had almost forgotten it. Feeling stranger than ever, he began to walk the way he supposed was homeward, toward the green sphere. Sol left his own sphere and walked beside him. Sirius knew how conscientious Sol was, and realized Sol was doing him a great honor.
“Should I be going this way?” he said. “New-Sirius is Denizen now, isn’t he?”
“Well, no,” said Sol. “Not any longer. Your Companion isn’t there either, I’m afraid. Polaris sent word just before I dawned on your town that someone had used a Zoi to—er—wipe them out. Both spheres are standing empty now. Who did it?”
“Kathleen,” said Sirius. “She didn’t know.”
“So you can take back your sphere,” said Sol, “and start looking for another Companion.”
“I’m not having another Companion,” said Sirius. “And I’m not having Kathleen in trouble over it, either.”
“She won’t be,” said Sol. “Not if I have anything to say about it. She’s one of my creatures, and she was no more used to a Zoi than I am—here it is, by the way. Anyway, Polaris is vouching for us. Most of this was his doing. I wish he’d told me, but he was probably right not to. I can’t keep secrets. He saw where the Zoi fell, and when he couldn’t find it himself, he had you put as near to the place as he could, because he was sure you were covering up for your Companion.”
“But he was one of the Judges!” Sirius protested.
“Yes. But they were all three in it,” said Sol. “It was as irregular as Pluto’s orbit and there’s going to be an outcry from the Castor luminaries, and probably from other quarters too, but at least they’ve got my evidence now. Polaris says you were so flaming loyal that they weren’t going to get any evidence against your Companion any other way. I still think they should have told me. If I’d known, I would have recognized her when she was trying to get you drowned. Then none of the rest need have happened.”
“The Zoi would have been lost, though,” Said Sirius.
“I’d have got it out of Earth in the end,” said Sol. “I’m not pleased with Earth—risking an Ice Age, acting dumb with me, and lying to Polaris like that!”
“Don’t be too angry,” said Sirius.
“Earth,” said Sol, glancing suspicious beams on him, “is mine. To do what I like with.”
“I know, I know,” Sirius said hastily. “I only meant that Earth was protecting a very strange child. I still don’t understand what he was, but he was stronger than any Zoi. Earth may have had no choice.”
Before Sol could reply, Polaris came down to meet them, holding out a hand to Sirius and smiling his likable smile. His brothers from the Big Dipper came too, and so did Antares, Betelgeuse and many more, all delighted to see Sirius again. For a moment, Sirius felt he could not face them. He looked back at Earth to steady himself. There, he saw that Miss Smith, after some argument with Mr. Duffield, had taken charge of Kathleen. A police car was taking them both back to Miss Smith’s house, on whose door Sirius had battered so often. It seemed the best thing to have happened. He wished he could have done more for her.
With Sol’s help, he was able to do one more thing for Kathleen. It was in September, just before she went back to school. Kathleen was taller and browner and outwardly happier. Miss Smith had taken her to France all summer for a complete change. Now she was back, and out shopping for Miss Smith. She had lost her ability to see or understand luminaries, because, of course, that was not what she had asked the Master of the hunt for.
Nevertheless, Sol and Sirius managed, by gentle degrees, to lead her toward the river.
They found she still would not go anywhere near what had once been the overgrown cleared space, in spite of the fact that it was quite different these days, with houses, flats and a new school going up all over it. They were forced to lead her on a long detour along the towpath. Sirius was forcibly reminded of himself as a dog, when he had to nudge and push and hint Kathleen to go where he wanted.
They nudged and pushed and hinted Kathleen downriver again, and then up one of the narrow streets—it, too, was due to be knocked down that autumn. They pushed her gently toward a gate with wire netting nailed above and below it. Then they could only wait and hope. Kathleen glanced over the gate, stopped and looked again.
Patchie’s puppies were by then about three months old. She was sitting in the middle of the yard, looking charming but harassed, while puppies seethed and fought and rolled in every other inch of it. It was clear that Yeff or one of his fellows had managed to jump the gate after all. Almost every puppy had a cream-white coat and red ears.
Kathleen put her shopping basket carefully on the pavement. Then she hooked her fingers in the netting, pressed her face to it and stared. Sol slipped into the house and gave Patchie’s mistress a nudge. Patchie’s mistress remembered that her tea towels would be about dry and she went out to collect them. Kathleen watched the puppies rush up to her in a mob bawling to be fed.
“Little hypocrites, I only just fed you!” Patchie’s mistress said. She smiled at Kathleen. “I’ve got a rare old job on here, I can tell you.”
“I know you have,” said Kathleen. “Please—when they’re ready—could I buy one of the puppies?”
“Buy one!” Patchie’s mistress exclaimed. “I’m giving them away! I’d never find homes if I didn’t. Look at the number of them, will you! We nearly went mad when she had them. Patchie was too young anyway, and she couldn’t feed more than a few, so there was me and Ken and Ken’s Dad and my Mum and Ken’s Dad’s Mum, all on shift work feeding bottles to puppies. And I’d thought it was bad enough when our Ken fished Patchie out of the river! Mind you, we had a good laugh over it. They’re quite old enough to go now. Come on in and take your pick.”