Shadowkill

MEMORY:

The room was as stale and sordid as she’d expected; she felt a little sick when she saw it. She closed her eyes and told herself it didn’t matter. But it did. Arel put his hands on her shoulders. He was exactly her height, his mouth on a level with hers. She focused on that mouth, not daring to meet his eyes. “Give me a minute, Luv.” Whistling softly, he tossed the filthy bedding into a closet, brought out clean sheets. He made the bed with an expertise that had her smiling; he caught her at it and his whole body laughed. For a moment she couldn’t breathe.

He took an incense burner from his shoulder bag, filled and lit it. The scent of pines drifted to her, cool and clean. He brought out a pair of thick green candles, lit them and turned off the light.

The room was filled with flickering shadow, touched with magic. The outside world with its threats and dangers was banished for the moment.

“Come here,” he said.

Kizra collected Tinoopa’s clothes, brought them to her, then started pulling on her own clothing. When she was dressed, she dropped to the rug behind Tinoopa, where she could watch Aghilo but be more or less out of sight.

Aghilo twisted her hands around and around each other as Tinoopa was dressing. The sight of the Shimmarohi shaking out the nightgown and starting to fold it seemed to reassure her and she began talking. “Well, first thing I knew, Loujary chal was beating at my door, he’d gone into the Honor Suite to clear up and make sure things were right for when they woke, you know, warm the towels, pick up whatever was thrown about, kind of things they’d expect to have done and get…” she grimaced, “get cranky about if it isn’t. Anyway, P’murr let him in, said it’d been a quiet night, Rintirry hadn’t given him any trouble. Loujary said they talked some before he went in, this and that, he didn’t go into what they said except what I told you. Soon as he was inside, he twisted the rheostat way down and turned the lights on and went around picking up, getting things ready, you know. He looked in at the Artwa. Old man was sleeping. Snoring. He went in, picked up there, folded, set out. You know. Artwa didn’t stir, just kept snoring. He went in Rintirry’s bedroom.” She shuddered. “I couldn’t believe him, I had to go see.” She pressed her hand across her mouth, closed her eyes briefly, then forced them open. “I can’t forget…”

Tinoopa took her shoulders, shook her a little. “No time for that now. Listen, I need to know what it means for us. Chaps and chat, what do we have to do to protect ourselves?”

Aghilo squeezed her hands together, moving one over the other endlessly, the soft sound of skin on skin filling the tense silence. “Amurra bless, I’ve never seen worse, even…” she shook her head while her hands kept moving. “She cut his throat, that was first, I suppose. It had to be, that’s where the blood was… you could smell the blood all over the suite, I don’t see how Loujary didn’t, I suppose the door was shut then, shut it in… cut his head completely off and set it on the pillow, the eyes were open, it was like he was looking at you. And she cut him… ah… cut it off and put it in his hand like he was… ah… and she cut open his chest and took his heart out and put it down there where… ah… and the skin on the arms and legs, it was gone… ah… except for his hands and feet, it was like he was wearing gloves and slippers and… ah… she’d cut the skin she got in strips and braided it into a rope… ah… it must have taken her most of the night… ah… and when she was finished, she used that rope to hang herself… ah… from one of the bed posts, it’s a big bed, like the Matja’s, you’ve seen hers, carved like that, with posts holding curtains… it’s the drafts, come winter, it’s hard to heat the rooms, we don’t have that much fuel… ah… there’s coal in the mountains, but we’ve just started getting it out… she was naked, red hair hanging down to her waist, no blood at all, she’d washed it off, in the bathroom, bloody water and she’d oiled her body, smelled like… ah… I had to look… see everything…”

“Who?”

“The one called Tamburra, tall, red-haired. Strange woman. The Matja assigned her to the Herbmistress, she worked in the distillery.”

“How did she get in? Wasn’t P’murr supposed to stop that kind of thing?”

“I asked him. She didn’t go past him, I suppose she must have been inside already when the Arring set him there.” Tinoopa scowled. “I don’t know her…”

Kizra scratched at her nose. “She was the one who had nightmares every night. On the trip here.”

Tinoopa looked around and down. “What?”

“You must have heard her screaming. Woke everyone up several times. Didn’t explain except it was nightmares.”

“Got her. Yeh. The beauty. All she had to do was be where the man could see her, he’d work out the rest of it. Probably told her to go in and wait for him, keep quiet about it. He knew what, the Arring thought of him?”

“It wasn’t any secret.” Aghilo was settling into lethargy, as if by telling all this she was passing it on to Tinoopa, making it Tinoopa’s responsibility. “Us? Nothing we can do. Artwa might want P’murr skinned, he’s head guard. The Arring won’t let that happen. P’murr’s loyal; you can’t buy what he gives. If the woman hadn’t hanged herself, if she’d run, there be trouble. She’s dead. That should finish it. I don’t know. You understand, anything could happen… Artwa doesn’t need a reason, it’s his right, we’re his by law, chal and chapa, too. He can do anything to us he wants, all we have is the Arring and Amurra only knows how far he’ll go to protect us.”

“Right.” Tinoopa twisted round to look down at Kizra. “Kiz, get the sitting room cleared, I’m going to see what I can do with the maids and houseservants.” She straightened. “Aghilo, you’d better go on in and let the Arring know what happened. Tell him we’ll be ready for anything he wants us to do even if it’s just keep out of the way.” She hauled Aghilo to her feet. “Just tell him what you saw. He’ll know better than us what he has to do. He knows his father. You all right?”

“Better.” Aghilo smiled, shook herself, went soberly out of the anteroom.

Tinoopa murmured, “I hope this turns out better than I think it’s going to.”

Kizra shrugged. “We stick with the Matja, I don’t see we have any other choice.”

“And hope she can put some starch in the Arring’s spine. I’d better get moving. You take care, Kiz.” She looked like she was about to start one of her lectures, then she glanced over her shoulder at the door. “No time for talking. I mean it, child, keep your, head down.”

Dyslaera 9: Lizard Magic

Rohant sat in the Pen absorbing the sun; it was good to be out again. And eating again. He’d always been astonished how easy it was for other Cousins to fast for days on end without serious damage to their bodies. Digby said hunger goes away; you forget about it. You shake a little, get dizzy, but you forget about eating.

He smoothed his thumbclaw along his mustache. Dyslaera weren’t like that. He was not at all like that; he went cold and weak and his mind started shutting down.

There was a flicker of something down by the sump.

Lazily, not much interested, he turned his head, saw a small gray sauroid perched alertly on the rim of the sump. He smiled. It made think of Kikun. Li’l Liz.

The lizard(?) spun, its long thin tail snapped out, the prehensile end whipped round a large flier that was circling down for a drink and slammed it hard against the concrete floor of the pen. It sat up on its haunches, took the insect in its hands and turned it to expose the soft underside. With absurd small relish, it began biting fastidiously at its prey.

Interesting. Wonder what they call it here? It had an almost Dyslaer facility with those tiny hands. Tie with that? Why not.

Rohant let his eyes droop closed and considered the creature, tried to sense it with the faculty he’d used before he could speak. Male and female, Dyslaera were born with the Talent to link with certain beasts, to tie into their nervous systems, to vibrate in tune with their feeling lives. It wasn’t nearly as broad-ranged and apparently indiscriminate as Shadith’s ability to mindride, but there were possibilities…

It took time to build the Tie, time to understand the beast, to relate what was sensed to realtime acts and reactions. Time… lots of time… he’d had Sassa from the egg, carried that egg against his body, warming it, becoming slowly aware of the creature inside. He’d relinquished the egg just before it hatched to allow the hatchling to imprint properly on his own kind, took him back as eyas, kept him always near, sleeping in the same room, trained him, was trained by him, an intensifying give and take until the Tie was complete. Months and months, more than a year.

It was much the same with the mutated panthers Magimeez and Nagifog; he didn’t want to think of them, their death still screamed in his head, their terror and rage and pain.

He thought instead of the not-lizard.

A name. What should I call you, little liz? Miji. Yes. Nimble Fingers, abbreviated because the whole would be too long. Miji. I can’t take a year to get to know you, Miji, all I’ve got is an hour or so, but maybe we can hurry it up some. The sun is warm today. Very bright. Just a few clouds. A shadow of a cloud is passing over you, Miji, do you feel the difference in the warmth? Aaah. Yes. Astonishing. It seems rubbing against Shadow opened some doors in my head. Opened them a crack, anyway. Shadow…

no, Rohant, get your mind on what you’re doing. Do you have any curiosity in you, Miji? You’re not wholly a reptile, are you? Native to this world? Life in the process of evolving? The change altered or cut short by us intruders? Do you feel me… aaah…

Miji the not-lizard lifted his frilly head, stared at Rohant. His eyes were large for his head, black as jet beads, lively eyes, bright with the curiosity Rohant wanted to find in him.

Miji, Miji, come and see. He formed the words in his mind and tried to project the welcoming warmth generated around them.

Miji shivered, ran a few steps toward him, retreated. Time passed unnoticed.

Slowly, warily, Miji got closer and closer, finally close enough to sniff at Rohant’s fingers.

Rohant didn’t move.

Miji panicked, skittered back about a meter, sat on his haunches, and contemplated the Dyslaeror.

Rohant’s ears quivered. He heard the sound of footsteps in the tunnel; the walkers were several minutes off still, but he knew them. His warders come to take him back to his cell. For the first time he looked directly at the not-lizard. “Go,” he said aloud. He slapped his hand several times against the concrete, hoping Miji would understand the warning. It was a common one among the reptiloids of Dysstrael his homeworld.

Miji chirked (the first sound he’d made), slapped the spatulate tip of his tail against the concrete, then went scooting away, darting down the outflow pipe at the bottom of the sump basin.

A moment later the grill clanged open and the five masked wards assigned to him came stomping out.