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made me nervous. From the beginning
     of our association with Taglios, shadows have been cause for terror. A shadow in
     motion meant death could have hold of you any moment. Those sad but cruel
     monsters off the plain had been the lethal instruments by which the
     Shadowmasters had earned their fame and had enforced their wills. But here, in
     the Land of Unknown Shadows, the hidden folk who lurked in the dark were shy but
     not ordinarily unfriendly—if treated with respect. And even those manifestations
     owning a history of wickedness and malice now worshipped Tobo and harmed no
     mortal closely associated with the Company. Unless that mortal was dim enough to
     irk Tobo somehow.
    Tobo lived as much in the world of the hidden folk as he did in ours.
    In the distance the spectral cat Big Ears again mouthed his unique call. Native
     legend says only the creature’s prospective victims ever hear that chilling cry.
    A couple of the Black Hounds bayed. Legend suggests you do not want to hear
     their voices, either. Interviews with locals lead me to believe that before Tobo
     arrived only ignorant peasants really believed in most such perils of the night
     and the wild. Educated folk at Khang Phi and Quang Ninh had been stunned by what
     the boy had summoned from the shadows.
    I glanced at the spear above the door. One-Eye had worked on that for decades.
    It was as much work of art as weapon. “Hon. Didn’t One-Eye start crafting that
     spear because of Bowalk?”
    She paused in her knitting, stared up at the spear, mused, “Seems to me Murgen
     wrote that One-Eye intended to use it on one of the Shadowmasters but ended up
     sticking Bowalk with it instead. During the siege. Or was that? . . . ”
    My knees creaked as I rose. “Whatever. Just in case.” I took the spear down.
    “Damn. It’s heavy.”
    “If the monster does get this far, try to keep in mind that we’d rather catch it
     than kill it.”
    “I know. It was my bright idea.” The wisdom of which I had begun to doubt. I
     thought it might be interesting to see what would happen if we could force it to
     change back into the woman it had been before it had become fixed in its cat
     shape. I wanted to ask her questions about Khatovar.
    Always assuming that the invader was the dread forvalaka, Lisa Daele Bowalk.
    I sat down again. “Sleepy says she’s ready to send spies and scouts across.”
    “Uhm?”
    “We’ve been avoiding the facts a long time.” This was hard. It had taken me an
     age to work up to it. “The girl . . . Our child . . . ”
    “Booboo?”
    “You, too?”
    “We have to call her something. The Daughter of Night is so unwieldy. Booboo
     works without being an emotional calthrop.”
    “We have to make some decisions.”
    “She’ll . . . ”
    Black Hounds, Cat Sith, Big Ears and numerous other hidden folk began to give
     voice. I said, “That’s inside the wall.”
    “Headed this way.” She set her knitting aside.
    One-Eye’s head rose.
    The door exploded inward before I finished turning to face it.
    A plank floated toward me in slow motion, slapped me across the belly hard
     enough to set me down on the floor on my butt. Something huge and black with
     blazing angry eyes followed the board but lost interest in me in midleap. Still
     falling backward onto my back I scored its flank with One-Eye’s spear. Flesh
     parted. Rib bones appeared. I tried to thrust on into the beast’s belly but did
     not have enough leverage. It screamed but could not alter its momentum.
    Burning pain seared deep into my left shoulder, not three inches from the side
     of my neck. The forvalaka was not responsible, though. Friendly fire was. My
     sweet wife had discharged a fireball projector while I was between her and her
     target. There was plenty of fire left, though, when that ball, its flight path
     altered, clipped the panther’s tail two inches from its root.
    The monster’s scream continued. It flung its head back while still airborne.