Behind him, on the other side of the rain, Yeruna-hua stepped from his chair to speak. Brilliant pupils blazed, and the other Yuiqueru’s yellow-and-black fur stood erect.
“Aniolo-jat speaks thoughtful but speaks too much caution. I say forget Commonwealth. Not mind reaction of off-worlders.” He raised an arm high. “Kill every Deyzara! Kill them all!”
The chant rose around the circle. But while spirited, it was far from universal. Aniolo-jat let it run its course before finally interrupting, having to raise his voice only slightly to do so.
“A cubling may not always have what it wish for. In this new, wider world of stars and other beings that live around them, the Sakuntala are still cublings. The wise offspring watches, and learns even from parents it dislikes. It is the foolish one who bravely steps off the branch and into waters of Viisiiviisii, to swim boldly—until is taken by a giimatasa.”
It was an image burned into the memory of every Sakuntala. The wild swirl of water, the helpless cries of the trapped, the inability to do anything but watch until the doomed disappeared into the depths: no one, not even a Hata, was immune to such a possible fate—or the memory of it. When it was quiet again, Aniolo-jat resumed speaking.
“We could possible kill most Deyzara and see rest flee into sky. But then what happen?” Wrapping his tongue several times around his face, he briefly covered his eyes. “Commonwealth do one of several things. Punish us.”
“Not afraid of humans!” Yeruna-hua made a challenging cracking sound with his own fully extended tongue, snapping the tip like a whip. “Humans small and weak. They have cubling tongues, and they slip and fall from trees and walkways like legless shumai. My young ones strong enough to rip off their arms.”