World's End

Page 72

At the sight of Ang's pile, the cloud ears set up an eerie, high-pitched trilling that made my skin crawl. I

watched their twig-fingers reaching for their pouches, quivering with anticipation.

"Wait! Wait!" the human cried suddenly, throwing back the folds of his cloak.

"A woman!" Spadrin muttered, at the sight that was abruptly obvious to us all. A woman well into middle age, with a face and a half-naked body as wrinkled and weather-beaten as any native's.

She struck left and right with her staff, driving the cloud ears into squealing confusion. "Not yet, not yet!"

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world's end

Ang held up his rifle, pointing it at her. "What the hell are you doing?" It wasn't one of the questions I would

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have asked, but it was sufficient to get her attention. She cocked her head at us, as if she'd suddenly registered us as sentient. She wrapped her cloak around her, clothing herself in unexpected dignity as she stepped forward.

"Are you here to exploit these unfortunate savages, as all your ancestors have done since time before remembering?"

The cloud ears shuffled and trilled behind her like a flock of impatient customers. But they waited.

Ang gaped at her for a long moment. Finally he lowered his gun and said, "No."

She seemed to seriously consider that. "Then I bless this congregation of fate with the presence of the Sacred

Aurant." She mumbled some more words in a sublanguage I didn't know, and lowered her staff in turn. The natives rushed past her and began to pick through Ang's offerings. She smiled benignly, making chirrups and whistles that sounded like their speech.

"Who is she?" I murmured to Ang.

He shrugged. "How would I know?"

"What's the Aurant?" Spadrin asked.

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