Shadowkill

MEMORY:

Lissorn was racing toward Ginny, stunner forgotten, claws out.

Ginny raised a hand.

Four cutters flashed from overlooks, hit Lissorn in midstride.

For an instant the Dyslaeror was a black core in the furnace where the beams met, then they winked out and there was nothing left, not even dust.

When his son died, Rohant screamed with grief and rage, his great voice filling the room…

Rintirry. He was a human being, just barely, but he was and someone should grieve at his passing and the manner of it. Someone. Not me.

Loujary and Wayak came silently from the flitter and went off toward the men’s quarters.

Arring Pirs dropped onto one knee and bowed his head, the watery sunlight that struggled through the clouds turning his long loose hair to melted gold.

Shadith couldn’t see the Artwa’s face, but she could smell the stink of his malice. He was beginning to enjoy this. “I leave no blessing on this House,” he intoned, his voice blaring out through the whine of the wind. “There is kin blood on this House. Until it is cleansed, I curse it and you. Kin Blood,” he repeated, liking the taste of the words.

Pirs said nothing. He didn’t move.

Shadith shivered. It was all too apparent that he revered his father, that he needed his approval. That he was suffering under the old man’s spite, that he didn’t see it as spite, would never see it as anything but a father’s justified distress over the needless death of a son, however worthless that son might be. The blindness startled her. He was an intelligent man, even a good man, given how he’d been brought up. And yet he let this… this vain, stupid old… warthog! rule him.

Aghilo was right. Pirs would never rebel against his father. He would hunt ways around the old man’s more irresponsible acts and edicts, but in the end he’d do what his father told him.

The Matja knows that, too, that’s why… Gods, the Matja means well, but what she’s promising… it probably won’t happen. The old man will see to that. And Pirs will do as he is told.

So I do for myself or it doesn’t get done.

The Artwa went stalking down the steps.

The skimmer door closed behind him, the motors whined. A moment later the court was empty and the flier a black speck vanishing into the clouds.

They threw Tamburra’s body into the river for the fish to eat. The locals didn’t want l’borrghas to get a taste for flesh that walked on two legs.

At the same time, the smoke from the pyre they built for Kulyari on Amur Hill rose black and solid into the clouds. She was Irrkuyon and couldn’t be discarded like offal; there was only the briefest of ceremonies with Polyapo there to represent the family and the Amur-speaker to say the Rest-rites, then the fire was lit and a cadre of charcoalmen left to keep it burning until even the bones were ash.

Ghanar Rinta settled into peace.

There were no more attacks from bands of tumaks. No one said anything, but they all knew what that meant-the supply of gold was cut off when the supplier died.

Allina continued healthy.

Tinoopa ran the House with unobtrusive efficiency, making points, as she’d say, with every easy day.

Pirs lost his strained look. With a facility that amounted to a Talent, he forgot old terrors and went back to his books and the business of running the Kuyyot.

Shadith’s restlessness increased. She got Pirs to let her look over his histories and the atlas he kept on his desk. Whenever the Matja gave her some free time, she was in the study, making notes, trying to work out a way of reaching Nirtajai without getting herself killed.

And she began looking about for allies.

The chal wouldn’t run with her, she knew that. She didn’t bother thinking about them.

Vuodee and Vassika had settled in and started courting almost immediately; now they were promised, with weddings due before the month was out. They were full of plans and elated because their contracts were to be voided as soon as they took the chal-oath to the Arring and the Matja.

Tictoc, Evalee, and Dorrit had been having a grand time flirting and generally making mischief among the men, but they too were beginning to settle down. According to Tinoopa, the betting was Evalee would be promised before Summerhighday and the other two soon after.

Lyousa va Vogl was blissful with the opportunities offered by the weaving shed. Nunnikura. Weavemistress had recognized her gifts and left her free to improvise. It would take a planet wrecker to blast her loose.

Jassy and Eeda had a widening circle of friends; they were hard workers, cheerful and outgoing. Contract levies were all they knew and they were content to have it so. Jassy was a practiced storyteller and she had an endless supply of strange, wonderful tales to liven meals and sit over brushtea with; in a world where books were scarce and most entertainment homemade, she was a treasure.

Beba Mahl had settled into embroidery. She’d bargained for night work and gotten it. She had a room of her own and almost no contact with the rest of the Kuysstead. She could complete her contract and move on. No one would miss her and she would forget them as soon as she joined a new levy.

Ekkurekeh and Yerryayin were hard workers and unambitious. For reasons they never spoke of, they’d adopted the Levy system as home, did what they were told and dropped into Kuysstead life without making a ripple.

The cousin convicts Bertem, Luacha, and Sabato were bored and unhappy here, they loathed the work in the weaving sheds and wriggled out of it whenever they could. The problem was, like Tinoopa, they were city-bred; the Brush scared them, they couldn’t ride and didn’t want to learn. They liked their comforts, baths and beer and warm beds with friendly company. Shadith considered them, shook her head. No. Better go alone than chance the miseries that trio of sybarites would bring with them.

The Jinasu (Ommla, Jhapuki, Fraji and Rafiki) spent their days with the beasts and their nights with the herders and were as likely as the young ones to take the chal-oath when their term was up, though not because they wed any of the locals. They’d branched far enough from the other Cousin races to make children unlikely and any that appeared sterile. They were candid about that early on and it made life much easier for them since they’d ceased to be a threat to local women. They liked this world and would do nothing to injure their status here.

Zhya Arru spent long lazy days tending the livestock of the Kuysstead; she liked beasts and loathed unexpected changes. Though she didn’t work at it, she too had her admirers and would probably wed one of them and take the chat-oath before the end of summer-as long as it was clearly understood she wasn’t about to do any housework or other boring tasks.

Anitra vanished the third night after their arrival. It was assumed she’d gone to the Brush. Pirs sent out trackers, but they found no trace of her.

Tsipor pa Prool stayed a month longer than Anitra, then she vanished, too. She was a silent women, secretive and strange. No one bothered going after her. In fact, there was a collective sigh of relief when she was gone.