“To get us fighting among ourselves. It is trick of . . . of . . . the Deyzara! This is typical of them. If the clans fall to fighting each other again as we have always done, we will have no time for the Deyzara. They must realize this.”
The elder with the business acumen responded, “No Deyzara could persuade, or pay, a true Sakuntala like Geladu-tiv to participate in such a scheme. You will have to do better than that, A’Jah thief.”
Under ordinary circumstances, such an explicit insult would have called for immediate retribution. But the present circumstances, Aniolo-jat knew, were anything but ordinary. He saw years of careful planning, of organizing and preparation, coming apart like a soumeth flimsy. And the worst of it was, he didn’t know how to put a stop to it because he did not know who or what was behind it.
Rising from his chair, he moved to pick up a communicator. He was immediately surrounded by his aroused guests.
“Calling for help?” Sesesthi-toa challenged him. At least, he reflected, she had not yet drawn a weapon of her own.
“Calling the AAnn Thessu. He will put this right. If you not believe me, will you believe him?”
The war chief glanced at her senior adviser, then over at several of her kinfolk and allies from the three other clans represented in her group. Finally she thrust both ears forward. “Call the hard-skinned ones.”
He tried. Several times. But their AAnn allies seemed to have evaporated. Even the carrier wave was gone. It was as if the two toothy officers had vanished from Fluva itself.