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d； and flew away through the trees on wide wings of softest white； calling a two pitched oo…ooo as it went； when the honey tree shock itself and moved away through the forest on roots suddenly as flexible as fingers； leaving me alone； then I began to know what shifterish meant。 I began to understand why it was that Sambeline had sneered at my belongings。 Does a pombi need a blanket？ A cookpot？ A firestarter？ I put down the pack and stared at it； unwilling to leave it and yet sure it marked me as nothing else could…stranger； outsider； outlander。 Was this dangerous or otherwise？ I could not tell。
Among the Gamesmen of Barish there were sixteen tiny figures representing Shifters。 In an ordinary set of Gamesmen； such as are given to children for their little two…space games； these would be the pawns。 In my set； Shifters； and one of them； or perhaps all of them held the persona of Thandbar； old sent…far himself； shiftiest of all。 Presumably none of this would have been strange to him； and yet I never thought of taking a Shifter figure into my hand； never considered it。 Later I wondered why I had not done。 It was simple enough： pride。 Shifting was my own talent； the one to which I had been born。 I wanted no instruction in it from another。 I wanted it to be mine。 So； out of ignorance and pride； all unprepared for what I would meet or see or be required to do； I went on into the country of Schlaizy Noithn quite alone。 So。 I sat upon a hill beside a grotesque pile of stones； twisted and warped as though shaped thus when molten； making an uneasy meal of fish。 These were unusual fish in that they had not howled and climbed up the fish spear to engulf my hands with a maw of ravening fury before melting into a swarm of butterflies and scattering into impalpability against the sky。 Because these fish were quiet； these fish； reason said； were real fish； edible fish。 Reason said that。 Stomach was uncertain。
Beside me the warped stones grated into speech； moving slowly as lips might if they were as wide and tall as a man。
〃Whoooo suuuups in Schlaaaaaizeee Noiiiiithnnnn？〃
I said； 〃Peter； the son of Mavin Manyshaped；〃 while trying to keep my heart from leaping out of my breast。 The stone said nothing more。 However； a long spit of earth began to grow from beside me； upward and outward like a curving branch of the living hill； out to turn again and look at me； opening from its tip a curious eye of milky blue； lashed with grasses； which blinked； blinked； blinked at me； staring。 It stared while the fish cooked； while I ate them； while I scrubbed my knife and put it away； while I put out the fire； then turned to stare after me still as I walked away。 When I looked back at the crest of the next hill； the eye had grown a bit taller to keep me in view。
Sometimes the road moved。 Sometimes it moved in the direction I was going； sometimes sideways； sometimes backwards。 Sometimes it jumped； like a cranky horse hopping when it is first saddled。 When the road went against my direction； I got off as soon as possible； always apologizing for doing so…or for having been on it in the first place。 It was hard to walk unless there was a road； for the land was full of impassable tangles。 Sometimes the roads spoke to me； sometimes they cursed me。 Once a road held fast to my feet while it carried me back a full day's journey。 Will you understand my stupidity when I tell you that I walked the day's journey again on my own two feet； carrying my pack？
They…whoever they were…grew impatient。
I stopped when it grew dark； took my firelighter out of the pack and laid kindling beneath it； ready for the spark。 The kindling reached up and flipped it out of my hands to be caught by a bird sitting on a stone。 The bird flew away； carrying the firelighter in her claws； and I seemed to hear small； cawing laughter from the air。 I cursed； cursed the place； the inhabitants； myself。 Nothing seemed to hear me or care； save that the tops of the trees moved in a wind I had not felt till then and clouds began to boil in the sunset； so many puffy gray dumplings in a red soup of sky。 Within moments it began to rain。 My kindling grew legs and walked into the brush。 I rolled myself into my blankets and nibbled on a handful of nuts collected during the day's travel。 A stag came out of the forest； trumpeted challenge to another which appeared from behind me； the two charged one another over my body。 I rolled； frantic； scraped across stones which left me bleeding； sat up to see the two stags running into the trees my blankets caught upon their antlers。
I sat beneath a tree； water dripping down my neck； without blankets； without fire； the rain continuing in an endless； mocking stream。 Whenever I moved； it found me。 There was no shelter near except a hollow high in the tree into which wings flickered from time to time； outlined against flashes of lightning。 I was cold。 My clothes were little use except to hold some warmth against my body。 I felt a little tug at one ankle。 The next lightning flash showed a small； razor edged vine cutting the seams of my trousers while a tendril sifted a kind of powder on my boots。 Two lightning flashes later and the boots were sprouting fungus from every surface； huge； soggy sponges covering my feet。 Wings flickered into the hollow five man…heights above me； an opening as wide as my armspan into the great tree。
A kind of dull fury began to pound in me； a disfort so great that my body rebelled against it。 There was no thought connected to it at all。 Something deeper and more ancient than thought did as it wished； and Peter did nothing to oppose it。 My claws struck deep into the corky bark of the tree。 My long； curved fangs gleamed in the lightning。 Above me was a consternation of birds； and my pombi…self smiled in anticipation。 I came through the opening into the hollow in a rush； a crunch of jaws； a flap of great paws catching this and that flutterer； to make a leisurely meal of warm flesh as I spat feathers out of the opening and watched the storm move away across the fax hills。 When it was quiet； I curled into the dry hollow； pausing only to rip out a strip of rotted wood which made a small disfort against my hide。 I slept。 It was warm within the tree； and the fury passed as the storm passed。
I woke remembering this dimly； in my own body shape； naked as an egg。 Below me the remains of my pack lay on the ground。 A few straps and buckles。 A knife。 Beside me in the hole was the pouch in which the Gamesmen of Barish were stored。 Evidently even in fury I had not let them go。 I went down the tree as I had e up it； pombi…style； the pouch between my teeth。 Once on the ground； however； I became Peter once more； furred…Peter； with a pocket in the fur to hold the Gamesmen。 It was no great matter。 I wondered then； as I have since； why it took so long to think of it or decide to do it。 The knife would have fitted into the pocket as well； but I left it where it lay。 The pombi claws would cut as well。
As the sun rose higher and warmer； my fur grew shorter ex…eept upon the legs and feet where it was needed as protection against the stones and briars。 When it grew cool with evening；
fur became long again。 The body did it。 Peter did not need to think of it。 The body thought of longer legs on occasion； as well； and of arms which were variably long to pick whatever fruits were ripe。 That day late better than in many days past。 No fruit tore itself screaming from my hands。 No fish or bird turned into a monster over my fire。 Some things I let alone； and the body knew which。 After a time； the eyes knew； also； and then the brain。
There were trees one did not approach； hills one stayed away from； roads one did not step upon。 There were others which were hospitable； or merely 〃real。〃 There were artifacts in Schlaizy Noithn。 Monuments。 Cenotaphs。 Monstrous menhirs which looked as though they had been erected in the dawn of time。 Some had been put there by people。 Gamesmen； perhaps。 Or pawns。 Some were Shifters； beings like myself （or so I thought） in the act of creation。 I learned to trust the body's feeling about these places。 If they were 〃real〃 then I might explore or take shelter there。 If they were not； it were far better to stay a fortable distance away。 I did not yet know of other kinds of things； neither real nor Shifter； kinds of things my body would not warn me of。 What betrayed me to one of these was simply loneliness。
Days had gone by。 I had lost count of them。 I had quartered the valley in search of the monument of Thandbar。 I had searched and had begun to despair； for who was to say the monument had not moved always before me； or behind me？ I had not seen a human form since Sambeline had flown away。 I had wondered from time to time whether they used the human form only on some ceremonial occasions for some purpose of high ritual in the pursuance of their religion； whatever that might be。 In any case； they did not show human form to me。 I saw animals which were not animals； things apparently of stone and earth which were not； trees and plants which never sprouted from seed or tuber； but I did not see mankind。 Even furred…Peter was far closer to his reality than many others there。
So； when I came upon the Castle； lit from a hundred windows； with