by Clayton, Jo;
Finally his courtesy wore thin as Aleytys kept a tactful distance between herself and the kits. He picked up one of them by the scruff of its neck and dropped it into her lap. The baby started to howl and the female tried desperately to straggle to her feet.
For the first time Aleytys realized that something had happened to the mother’s hind quarters. She dragged her back legs and her warning growl was ragged with pain. Hastily Aleytys touched her frantic mind and soothed her, then quieted the kit so its wailing wouldn’t disturb the injured female. She began, stroking the baby, rubbing it behind the ears and under the diminutive chin, then running her hands over the sensitive ribs. The little one began to purr in a tiny falsetto reflection of Daimon’s adult ramble.
“Mm … feels good, doesn’t it, little mi-muklis, aziz-mi. You’re a darling, aren’t you? Wish I could take you home and keep you.” She laughed aloud. “Scare anyone white-haired who saw you, that’s sure.” She sobered and looked at the female again. She was very thin, almost gaunt … little more than matted fur over big bones. As she rubbed her fingers over the kit, Aleytys felt too many bones. “So thin, poor baby.”
She probed, reaching out with her new senses. There was hunger in the female, deep, gnawing hunger. And the babies were only half fed. She cuddled the kit in her arms and hobbled on her knees to the mother, moving very slowly, very carefully. Putting the kit down, she reached out a hand and rested it, very lightly, on the female’s heaving ribs. “What’s wrong, abruya ’haivna? Let me see.”
She moved her hand onto the front shoulder of the injured tars. The bones felt terribly sharp under her fingers. “He brings you food, I’m sure. But not enough? Or maybe something’s wrong with your stomach … easy … easy, mi-muklis, aziz-mi.… I want to help.… I don’t want to hurt you.”
The female moved uneasily under her hand and whimpered with fear. Daimon licked her face and turned his huge head helplessly to Aleytys. She could feel the overwhelming need pouring out of him. He whined briefly, begging her to do something, anything, his need settling down around her like a black fog. With the mind-touch she gave him answer, feeling of peace, feeling of yes, I know, feeling of trust and friendship. He calmed. The female seemed calmer too.
Aleytys ran her hands slowly down her backbone. Near the haunches her fingers touched a bump and the female gave a sharp little moan. Daimon flowed up onto his feet, growling. Hastily Aleytys soothed him, turned off his anger. He settled back, ears twitching constantly.
“Hai, Daimon, we’ve found where it hurts.” She brought her fingers very gently down and explored the lump. It centered about the spine and felt hard and hot under her fingers. She chewed on her lip. “That caravaner … he said he could cure. I wonder … Mother, I will bless you if …” She began touching the lump with her mind, gently pressing her hands around it. Her breath came in short sharp pants and she could feel her face heating as if with a bad case of sunburn.
Time slowed … power flowed out of her like hot lava, searing her fingertips, her palms. She trembled. It was a burning ache that tore at her soul … torment … the flow increased to a roaring flood. For an eternity she sat frozen to the tars. When finally she took her hands away, her bones creaked like old leather. Eyes watering, she looked down. The lump was gone and with it the aura of pain. She sighed with relief and wonder. Staggering a little, she stood and moved back a few steps until she could lean on the sidewall. “Now. Stand up, Daimonsha. Stand up, aziz-mi.”
She gave the female a gentle nudge with her mind. The tars struggled to her feet, falling once, finally standing on four feet that all worked, gaunt sides moving visibly as she panted in her hunger-born weakness. A deep sound rumbled in Daimon’s throat. He licked Aleytys’s hands with his long rough tongue. She dropped to her knees and hugged him affectionately, reveling in the flood of warmth—perhaps even love—pouring out of him.
She used him as a brace and pushed back onto her feet. “Ai-Aschla, I’m destroyed. Daimon muklis-mi, take me home. I’m going to sleep at least a week.”
It was full dark outside. She straightened her aching back and smiled into the star-burning sky. Resting her hand on the tare’s shoulder, she said softly, “Sometimes, my friend, it’s very good to be alive.” She sighed, looking with distaste at the deep shadow under the trees. “Come on, aziz-mi, take me home.”
At the edge of the clearing she hugged him briefly and let him go back to his mate. Tiredly she walked across the meadow, feet stumbling now and then as though strands of grass slid between her toes. Her mind drifted in a haze of wonder and happiness. As she reached the door, she shoved the hood off her head and started undoing the fastenings with one hand as she pulled the door open with the other, then she halted, shock thrumming through her.
A roaring fire leaped in the fireplace and a man stood leaning loosely against the stone.
She eyed him wearily. “Who are you?” As she spoke she sent her mind searching for the tars.
“I’m the one should be asking that.” He moved out of the shadow so she could see his face clearly. Imperceptibly she relaxed and let the mind-search lapse. He was a stranger.
“Why?” she asked coolly.
“My house.” He jerked his head toward the name carved in stone. “Made with these hands.”
“But … you’re a fur trapper. What are you doing here now?”
He laughed. “You’re scolding me?” He took a step toward her. “Got bored with the vadi. Decided to get some wild meat.” He edged closer to her. There was a wide grin on his tanned face and an amused twinkle in his chahi-colored eyes.
Aleytys rubbed two fingers over the hollow at her temple. “The cabin was empty. I didn’t expect you.”
“Disappointed?” He laughed, his teeth very white in his sunburned face. “I’m not, love. I don’t usually catch wild sabbiyeh in my nets.”
She felt a stirring in her loins; he was close, very male, very disturbing, and after the emotional session with the tars, she was very susceptible. She stared uneasily at him. “Catch …”
With a chuckle, he swung her off her feet and flung her over his shoulder with a force that jammed the breath out of her body. Then she was tossed down on the bed.
Confused and a little frightened, wanting and reluctant, having known only one man in her life, Aleytys lay and looked up at him. He reached out and touched her hair with gentle, caressing fingers. “Soft,” he murmured. “Soft fire.…” His hand traveled her cheek, leaving a trail of heat behind it, slid over her shoulder, and pulled at the fastening of the abba.
Aleytys laid trembling fingers over his.
“No?” he said softly. He bent and kissed her fingers. Her hand involuntarily slid behind his head and stroked the soft short curls at the nape of his neck. “No?” His breath was hot on her throat, lips tickling as he repeated the short syllable. The need, the loneliness, the trailing remnants of the day’s miracle, combined into a roaring fire inside her.
When he finished, he rolled off her and stood up, pulling his abba back together. With a grin, he wiped the blood from his neck where her nails had clawed him. “Little tars,” he said affectionately.
She growled low in her throat and grinned back at him. Sitting up, she let the abba fall in careless folds around her legs. She stretched and groaned, tired beyond any ordinary tiredness, but at the same time content, at peace with herself and her world. She lay back and watched as Talek pulled a bubbling pot off the fire and brought her a cupful of chahi. She raised up on an elbow and swirled the steaming liquid around in her cup. Then she looked at Talek. “Your eyes are the color of chahi,” she murmured.
“Hai!” He sat beside her as she moved her body back to give him room. He leaned over and brushed the hair back from her face. “I like the way you bless the Madar, aziz-mi.”
She chuckled. Catching his hand, she pressed her lips against the palm briefly, then let it wander on, stroking and caressing her. The chahi left a pool of warmth in her middle and she drifted into a comfortable half
-doze. “How long’ve you been out from the Kard?” she murmured hazily, wondering if news of the Raqsidan’s troubles had reached that far as yet. Vajd, she thought, maybe he knows something, of him, my love, my love. She murmured the last two words aloud and Talek chuckled, taking them as a compliment to himself.
“Ten days,” he said after a while. “Why?”
“Oh, I just wondered how long it’d take to get to the trade road from here.”
“Ten days’d do it, walking. Faster, if you’ve got horses.”
“Horses!” She jerked upright, spilling him off the cot with the vigor of her movements. “Damn.” She pattered to the door and thrust her head out Mulak, Pari, she called with the mind-touch, come, come, come. For a moment there was silence, then she heard the dull thudding of their hooves as they came across the meadow toward the cabin. Mulak thrust his delicate head against her shoulder. “Sorry, my friend, forgot about you two. Hey, Pari … I’m glad to see you intact.” She stroked the mare’s quivering nose. “Come, let’s get the both of you settled for the night.”
When she came back into the cabin, Talek had an odd look on his face. “Well,” she demanded, setting hands on hips and staring him down.
“The bad-luck piece from the Raqsidan,” he said calmly.
Startled, Aleytys walked over and sat down beside him. “What do you know about me?”
Talek caught hold of her head and turned her face up so he could look at her. With a sudden grin, he traced the outline of her lips with a long forefinger, then bent over and kissed her, a long, slow exploratory kiss that left her breathless and limp, then he lay back on the bed and pulled her down on top of him. “Had some visitors from the Raqsidan before I left.” He stopped provocatively and his bony mobile face lit up with a mischievous grin.
“Well?”
He sobered abruptly. “You know what happened to your lover?”
“Ahai!” She tried to push away from him but he held her to his chest.
“Now just relax, little tars.” He ran his hands slowly up and down her back until he’d worked the tension out of her muscles. “They found out. Your Sha’ir read the smoke, rounded up a hairy bunch of fanatics, and took him from the Mari’fat. Funny thing, they’d have fought for him, but he said not and went.”
Tears flowed slowly from her eyes. She clenched her hands into fists until blood ran as her fingernails cut into her flesh. “He knew … he knew when he sent me away … ah, Madar … ai-Aschala.…” She broke into wild sobs.
“Now, don’t do that. Sure he knew. I don’t go for that bloody stuff myself, but trust a fanatic to forget he’s human.… Aschla’s tits, girl, he couldn’t help it. Look at me, suspecting who you were all the time—I mean, what other woman’d be wandering around out here with hair like yours?—and I had to have a go at you.” He laughed nervously and shook her until she hiccuped and sniffed, blinking the flooding tears out of her eyes.
Talek shook his head. An amused lilt came into his voice. “Knowing you were the blackest kind of bad luck. Ah, well, I’ve had bad luck and I’ve had good and neither one lasted long enough to dry spit. His didn’t last long either.”
“Oh?” She stared blurrily at him.
“Aye, went under the knife.…”
“Knife!” she shrieked. She jerked away and turned her head wildly around the room as if searching for answers in the dark corners.
“Now, little tars, just relax. I told you his bad luck didn’t last long.”
“He’s dead.”
“No, of course not. Just blind. He’s doing fine right now.”
“Blind?” She went limp. He pulled her back down and rubbed his big hands comfortingly over her shaking body. “Blind?”
“Yeah. You’ve got the worst bunch of herdsfolk I ever heard of there in the Raqsidan. They’ve a sweet little trick they call the Madraseh alameh. Cut a man to pieces a slice at a time. Way I heard it, blind, castrate, cut off hands, feet, and so on; take off a piece here and there till the poor nit just gives up and dies.” He grimaced at the grisly picture his imagination presented to him.
“Vaji.…” Aleytys whispered the name. Horror dried the tears away and she lay and shuddered over and over in endless spasms.
“Now, witch, you keep forgetting. I told you he’s all right. No need to go on like that.” He sat up and cradled her in his arms, rocking her like a baby. “Poor little sabbiya, no, he’s still a man and still very much alive. Getting along fine in the Kard. A dream-singer don’t have to see. He’s almost good as new.”
She sighed and collapsed against him, vaguely glad to feel his strong body close to hers. “How …” she murmured, curiosity beginning to overpower the chaotic emotions seething inside her. “How did he get away?”
He patted her shoulder and rubbed her back, his hands warm and alive. “That’s a good girl.” Laying back on the bed, her body resting flaccidly on top of him, he spoke softly. “A cousin of yours, little girl with a snub nose, figured she wouldn’t stand for that. Good blood in your family, though it seems to have skipped some of the men. She worked on some other character and together they sneaked the singer away. She brought the blind man to the Kard a couple days before I left. Got there just ahead of the herdsmen chasing her and asked for sanctuary. Mightn’t have got it—we aren’t a people to mix in others’ business—but the herdsmen tried to take him without asking. Well, we couldn’t have that. Besides, our own singer was getting senile.”
“Then he’s alive and doing well.” Aleytys felt wrung out, limp with relief.
“Right. He’s got a good life ahead of him. Him and the little girl set up house, seem to be getting on fine. They make a good pair. And the mardha Kard were taking good care of him. Like to see a bunch of little dream-singers soon as can be. Damn if I don’t envy him a little.”
A brief flash of jealousy hot as hellfire ripped through Aleytys. For a time-stopped instant she wanted to kill Vajd, tear him to bloody quivering shreds, then the feeling washed away, leaving her weak and sick. At least he is alive … and Vari … that’s the end of that dream.… I can’t go back now.… I don’t want to go back.… Ah, mi-Vadj.…. “I’m glad,” she said hoarsely. “They’re the two best people in all the world.” Taking a deep breath, she spoke softly into the heart beating under her ear. “I’d like to see them both. Will you take me?”
He chuckled. She could hear the rumble in his chest. His hands went on stroking her hair. “Not a chance, little tars. I’d have to be out of my head to bring you into my vadi. The luck you carry around’s too bad for me. Got two people killed.…”
“Two? Killed?” She tipped her head back and stared into his smiling face.
“The Sha’ir. And a boy from the caravans. And it ruined the trading for maybe a long time in the Raqsidan. I doubt any bunch of traders is going to camp there a good long while after this. And it lost a good man his eyes and banished a fine girl! Another thing. Your clan head.”
“Azdar?”
“Had a stroke. Can’t move, can’t talk, more like a vegetable than a man.”
“Good!” she said fiercely.
“Well.” Amusement twinkled in his voice. “Can’t see bringing that kind of luck home with me.”
She dropped her head with a weary sigh. “It was just a thought. Never mind.” She yawned. “Ahai, I’m tired … so tired.”
He chuckled again, the sound a little unsteady as his breathing deepened. “Not yet, red witch, you owe me some more rent.”
She ran her thumb across his ribs. “Think you can collect?”
“Know I can.”
7
Aleytys’s eyes popped open. She lay Wondering what had wakened her, then surrendered to the pleasant lassitude glowing through her aching, hard-used body. Well and truly paid, she thought. She touched her tender breasts and a warmth began building again inside her. She looked around for Talek.
Her eyes widened as she saw the fat pack sacks sitting in the middle of the floor. She turned her head. The wall pegs
were empty. A scraping sound came from the door. She lay back and closed her eyes, slowed her breathing.
Talek slipped inside. After a hasty glance at her, he picked up one of the pack sacks and hauled it outside. She lay and watched as he cleared the place. After he pulled the door shut behind him, she dived out of the bed and scrambled through the back window.
Standing behind one of the ironwoods, she watched him roping the packs on Pan’s back. She shook her head ruefully. “He’s impossible,” she breathed. Such a cheerful, unrepentant, and unblushing rogue. It’s hard, she thought, to hate a man who laughs at himself and the rest of the world.
As she watched him, her nipples hardened. She rubbed her hands over her breasts. “Damn him,” she muttered. “I wish he hadn’t got me all stirred up … no.” She sighed. ‘No, I’d do it again in a minute.” She peered around the tree again. He was tying the last knots. “What am I thinking.… I better get busy or that charming rogue will steal everything I’ve got.”
She sent her mind questing. The tars was asleep in the den, but responded to her urgent call, flying through the forest like a black wind. He came to her and rubbed his side against her, rumbling softly in his giant-sized version of a contented purr. She peered around the tree again.
Talek was in the saddle, pulling on the lead rope. Aleytys stepped out of the wood, the tars beside her. “Talek,” she called, her voice fluting through the quiet morning air.
He looked around and saw a slender golden figure with a ruffled silky mane blowing in the morning breeze and shining like fire against the dark background of the trees. When he caught sight of the tars walking loose at her side, he gulped and lifted the reins.
