Free The Catswold Portal by Shirley Rousseau Murphy Page B

it said, suddenly not pleading anymore but irritable. “Asleep. What could you want with the Toad?”
    â€œI want to ask it a question, I want it to tell me about my past.”
    The Harpy laughed. “If you want a vision of the past, he’s no use to you. All he does is sleep.”
    â€œSurely I can wake him.”
    â€œDo you no good. He has no powers left, the queen destroyed his vision-making powers. He can’t tell so much as what you had for breakfast. He remembers only a few homilies, all useless.”
    â€œBut…”
    â€œSiddonie thought the Toad could tell the future. He never could do that. No one can tell the future. The queen is a fool.Look at the beasts she has brought up from the Pit—for what? Not one of us can tell the future. Nor would we help her if we could.”
    â€œThat’s why she brought you all here? To tell the future?”
    â€œThat, and for her entertainment. She puts the fiercest among us in the courtyard to fight each other.”
    â€œI suppose the Griffon is the fiercest?”
    â€œOh, she doesn’t do anything with the Griffon. She can’t manage him.”
    â€œThen why does she keep him?”
    â€œShe likes to see him captive, of course. The more freedom a beast has known, the more she wants it behind bars.”
    â€œBut you were all free.”
    â€œThe Hell Beasts have been bound to the Pit of Hell. We are not totally free.”
    Melissa considered this as she moved to the next cell and looked in at the Toad. He lay sprawled on the stone floor, asleep. He was huge, nearly filling the cell. A lumpish beast, his green skin was covered with warts, his pale throat ballooning with each breath. Before she could try to wake him, the Harpy reached around with an icy hand and pulled her away. “If you wake him he’ll blow himself into a stinking air ball. Phew. He won’t speak to you.”
    Melissa’s head was beginning to ache. “Are there human prisoners here?”
    â€œBehind that wall.” The Harpy pointed a white finger toward the featureless black interior of the cellar.
    Melissa cast her spell-light, picking out barrels and shadowed pillars, and beyond these, a stone wall grown over with moss. “Do you know the spell to open it?”
    The Harpy laughed, darting her pink tongue between sharp teeth. “Do you think I’d be in here if could command any of her spells? Do you think I haven’t tried?” And quite suddenly the beast began to cry. Heaving sobs shook her, tears coursed down her white feathers, darkening the brown streaks. When at last the beast stopped crying, her eyes were red, and her voice was sharp with self-pity. “I thought you came to free me, but you didn’t. You wanted the human prisoners. I’ll never get out of this cell. I’ll never see my little mirror again.”
    â€œWhat mirror?” Melissa asked, frowning.
    â€œMy mirror was my only companion, my only legacy from my dead mother, and that bitch queen has taken it from me. If you cannot free me I’ll never see it again. Never.” The Harpy combed distracted fingers through her feathers, and one white feather floated to the cell floor.
    Melissa reached through the bars and took the Harpy’s hand, trying to comfort her. “Why did the queen take your mirror?”
    â€œI wouldn’t bring images for her.”
    â€œI don’t understand. The queen fears images.”
    â€œShe fears images in the present,” the Harpy said patiently. “My mirror could show the past. There is something in the past she wants to see.”
    â€œThen can you show me my past? I don’t need the Toad. You can tell me who I am.”
    The Harpy stared at her cannily.
    â€œI can remember nothing of my childhood,” Melissa said. She considered the beast warily, searching its small cold eyes.
    â€œI cannot bring any image,” the Harpy said assessing Melissa with a