Shadowkill

2

The door to the bedroom opened and Arring Pirs came through it into the sitting room. He stopped beside the couch where Matja Allina was sitting. “He’s settled in,” he said, touched Allina’s head, fingers sliding gently over her smoothed hair. “He called Utilas and told him. Ut won’t be coming.”

Allina caught his hand, held it against her face. “At least there’s that. I don’t think I could bear it, watching Utilas and Rintirry stalking around each other like a pair of randy tomcats.”

“Randy,” he said. He dropped to the couch beside her. “Yes. Rintirry. His blood’s up. You know what that means. You’ve warned our women to stay inside and bar their doors?”

“And if he kicks the door in? What are they supposed to do then?” Matja Allina’s control was slipping. “What could WE do? Slap his wrist and say Bad Boy?” There was rage in her voice. “He doesn’t care whom he uses. You know that. Even our daughters aren’t safe. And the Artwa would support him. You know that. Do something, Pirs. I don’t care what it means, I won’t have ANY of our people…” Her mouth worked. “Used. I won’t.”

“And if the Artwa calls the mortgage?”

“Let him try. He can’t afford an inside Kirtaa to add to his other wars. And if he’s foolish enough to go ahead with it, I’d rather go into the Brush. I swear it, Pirs. I will go into the Brush before I turn my head and sacrifice a baby to Rintirry’s lust.”

He took her hand, kissed her fingers one by one. “Yes, sweet warrior, mi-Matjali, yes.” He set her hand down. “I put P’murr on guard at his door with orders to make sure he stays where he belongs. He’ll enjoy doing it, mi-killi. He’s tired,” the laugh lines deepened about his blue eyes, “he lost the tip to his ear and has a butt-burn from a pellet out of a tumak’s rifle. He’s quite annoyed at Rintirry.” He bent, touched Ingva’s cheek and ruffled Yla’s hair. “You sleep in your Mama’s bed this night, lirrilirris.”

“Mama?”

“She will be in with me, Ingvalli. You and Yla and the Jili will be all alone.” He straightened. “Jili Arluja, take them in now, please.”

He watched them out, then turned to Polyapo. “Ulyinik, you are welcome to a pallet here as long as this situation lasts, but if you prefer to return to your own quarters, I think you will be safe enough.”

Polyapo got slowly to her feet. She bowed perfunctorily and left without a word.

Pirs waited until Aghilo was back from barring the door after the titular Housekeeper, then turned with grave formality to Tinoopa and Kizra. Kizra could feel his unease with them; he was a better man than his father, but he was also a product of his culture; what was in his bones and blood fought the pale overgrowth from his mind. He was honest enough to realize this and recognize the roots of his distaste for them, but he still felt it-and showed it in his dealings with them.