“It is the Great Snake Yr,” said Kta. “Gold on green. I wish you well in that bloodfeud, t’Nethim; you will avenge Elas also, when I cannot.”
“Obey the Methi,” said ‘Lhe.
“No,” said Kta. “But Kurt may do as he pleases.”
Lhe looked toward Kurt, and Kurt gave him nothing better. Lhe made a gesture of exasperation.
“You must admit,” said Lhe, “that the Methi has offered
you every chance. It is a lasting wonder that you are not
sleeping tonight at the bottom of the sea.” ‘
“Nephane is my city,” said Kta. “And as for your war, your work will not be finished until you finish it with me, so stop expecting me to obey your Methi. I will not.”
“If you keep on as you are,” said Lhe, “I will probably be assigned as your executioner. In spite of the feud between our houses, t’Elas, I shall not like that assignment, but I shall obey her orders.”
“For a son of Nethim,” said Kta, “you are a fair-minded man with us both. I would not have expected it.”
“For a son of Elas,” said Lhe, “you are fair-minded yourself. And,” he added with a sideways glance at Kurt, “I cannot even fault you the guest of your house. I do not want to kill you. You and this human would haunt me.”
“Your priests are not sure,” said Kurt, “that I have a soul to do so.”
Lhe bit his lip; he had come near heresy. And Kurt’s heart went out to Lhe t’Nethim, for it was clear enough that in Lhe’s eyes he was more than animal.
“T’Nethim,” said Kta, “has the Methi sent you here?”
“No. My advice is from the heart, t’Elas. Yield.”
“Tell your Methi I want to speak with her.”
“Will you beg pardon of her? That is the only thing she
will hear from you.”
“Ask her,” said Kta. “If she will or will not, ought that not be her own choice?”
Lhe’s eyes were frightened. They locked upon Kta’s directly, without the bowing and the courtesy, as if he would drag something out of him. “I will ask her,” said Lhe. “I already risk the anger of my father; the anger of the Methi is less quick, but I dread it more. If you go to her, you go with those chains. I will not risk the lives of Nethim on the asking of Elas.”
“I consent to that,” said Kta.
“Swear that you will do no violence.”
“We both swear,” said Kta, which as lord of Elas he could say.
“The word of a man about to lose his soul, and of a human who may not have one,” declared Lhe in distress. “Light of heaven, I cannot make Nethim responsible for the likes of you.”
And he rose up and fled the hold.
Ylith took a chair and settled comfortably before she acknowledged them. She had elected to receive them in her quarters,.not on the windy deck. The golden light of swaying lamps shed an exquisite warmth after the cold and stench of betweendecks, thick rugs under their chilled bones.
“You may sit,” she said, allowing them to straighten off their faces, and she received a cup of tea from a maid and sipped it. There was no cup for them. They were not there under the terms of hospitality, and might not speak until given permission. She finished the cup of tea slowly, looking at them, the ritual of mind-settling before touching a problem of delicacy. At last she returned the cup to the chan and faced them.
“T’Elas and t’Morgan. I do not know why I should trouble myself with you repeatedly when one of my own law-abiding citizens might have a much longer wait for an audience with me. But then, your future is likely to be shorter than theirs. Convince me quickly that you are worth my time.”
“Methi,” said Kta, “I came to plead for my city.”
“Then you are making a useless effort, t’Elas. The time would be better spent if you were to plead for your life.”
“Methi, please hear me. You are about to spend a number of lives of your own people. It is not necessary.”