Teri McLaren
rattlesnake Cheyne had ever seen, a foot-wide specimen coiled tightly on an uprooted sapling that had been wedged into the bottom of a huge, broken, overturned ceramic pot. Krota suddenly flicked her tongue at them, shook her rattles menacingly, and drew her head back, preparing to strike. Yob prepared himself, teeth clenched and yellow eyes squinched shut. But Og jumped in front of Claria and whistled a low note, gradually raising the pitch as she and Cheyne and Yob flattened themselves to the hideous wall and made their cautious way around the snake. Og let go of the note and hopped to the other side of the temple doorway. The rattler stretched back on her perch, fangs bared and frozen in the striking pose, one lidless eye fixed coldly on Og.
"She'll stay that way until I revoke it," assured Og. "I think."
Claria, recovering her composure as they moved into an anteroom of sorts, looked over her shoulder at the rattlesnake, then pulled on Og's sleeve. "Why does he call her 'sister'?"
Og smiled. "Because she is Rotapan's sibling. One day they were having an argument, and quite by accident, he claims, he bewitched her with the ajada. Then he couldn't undo the magic, but I don't think he tried very hard, either. Now he keeps her out here because he can't control her like the others. She tries to kill everyone who passes. Can't blame her," he replied. Yob stopped walking and laughed nervously.
"Others?" said Cheyne, his eyebrows raised. Og shrugged as Yob cut in.
"He's over there. I will go before you and make my report."
In the dim light of the temple's rotunda, Cheyne waited for his eyes to adjust, the sound of gentle friction all around him. When he could see again, he instantly preferred the blindness. From every corner, every niche, and statue, snakes of all colors, patterns, and lengths clung and draped, hissed and coiled,