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fire until she was in the Scholar’s lair, which she was fairly sure had its own protections.
    Under the first glassy arch, she broke into a lope. “Peter!” she roared.
    Her voice echoed weirdly in there. The design of this place, with the glossy obsidian and rough sandstone, made her fur stand on end. The Scholar had died in fire once, and it had twisted her mind.
    “Peter! Scholar! Run!” she roared again.
    The two popped out of a side corridor. Sekhmet skidded to a halt, her claws throwing up sparks. She noted that absently as a cool effect. “They’re coming,” she snarled.
    The Scholar was wearing a knapsack and carried a quarterstaff with brass ferrules that was taller than she was. Peter looked like he was breathless. Sekhmet growled and stretched. She could see Peter’s eyes widen as she suddenly grew taller than a horse. Surely he’d seen enough up here not to be startled at that little trick. She crouched and looked at him expectantly. Not every mortal could be granted what she was offering.
    Peter scrambled onto her back, his lightness surprising her . The old man was... old , she thought fleetingly. Then she was running flat out, stretching with every stride for the entrance of the high path, where they would be sheltered from the deadly firebolts. The path was shielded . Peace bonded , Vulcan had once said.
    The first trio of bolts struck the Lair while they were still short of the entrance, but had been aimed for the center. The Scholar cried out as if she had been hit, but kept pace with Sekhmet, running faster than a human could have managed. Sekhmet knew the loss of her second home had to be hard, given how she’d reacted to the loss of the first one. Now wasn’t the time, though.
    They were running through the jumbles of rocks toward the path when the monster Sekhmet had watched climb down the canyon leaped out in front of them. She reached out a paw as she curved her body to the side, and felt her claws tear through the flesh of the Minotaur like paper. The Scholar on the other side spun her quarterstaff, bringing one end down on his head. He screamed and his knees buckled, then they were past.
    Sekhmet felt her paws strike the slippery tough surface of the path, and the tips of her claws, still extended from excitement, bit into it. She stumbled, almost throwing Peter, then regained her footing. The Scholar was only a step behind and the path closed around them... then darkened as a firebolt made a direct hit on the end. She didn’t even feel the overpressure.
    Sekhmet didn’t stop, but she did slow to a lope. She could feel the Scholar’s hand on her shoulder, not pulling, but keeping contact. Good. She was going to ask the path for help, and if they were all aligned it should be easier. The Minotaur was behind them, still. He was mad. The Scholar wasn’t right, but compared to the half-beast, she was delightfully eccentric. And Sekhmet might be immortal, but it still hurt to die.
    She keened, pitching her voice to the frequency of the path. Her mother had taught her this while she was a kitten, and she’d used it rarely in times of great need. Hopefully she remembered the right notes. The path resonated around them, vibrating her to her bones like a great purr. Sekhmet sang the commands.
    “Oh, I say, well done!” Peter spoke for the first time on this wild ride.
    He went on in a resonant tone. “The valkyrie’s cry checks wild flight and guides us into night.”
    “ No t a valkyrie,” Sekhmet told him when she could speak again. They were in night, though. She’d sung them to the far edge of the higher plane. She huffed out a great breath and dropped to a walk. The Scholar patted her shoulder. Sekhmet followed the woman’s pointing finger and saw the glimmer of starshine on water. There was no moon here tonight, but the Milky Way stretched overhead brighter than it was in the human realm.
    “Good idea.” She stepped off the path, flexing her pads against the cool grass. Her