HUNTER OF WORLDS BY C. J. CHERRYH

Chimele’s head went back and her face was cold. “You are not of my sra, Mejakh. Once you had honor and Chaxal was compelled to notice you, but in his wisdom he did not take you for kataberihe. You are a troublemaker, Mejakh. You threw away your honor when you let yourself be taken into Tashavodh by Tejef. There was the beginning of our present troubles; and what it has cost us to recover you to the nasul was hardly worth it, o Mejakh, trouble-bringer.”

“You would not say so if Khasif were here to hear it.”

“For Khasif’s sake I have tolerated you. I am done.”

Mejakh struggled for breath. Could iduve have wept she might have done so. Instead she struck the desk top with a crash like an explosion. “Bring them all up! Bring up Khasif, yes, and this human nas kame, all of them! Wipe clean the surface of this world and be done! It is clear, Orithain, that you have more m’melakhia than sorithias. It is your own vaikka you pursue, a vaikka for the insult he did you personally, not for the honor of Ashanome.”

Chimele came around the side of the desk and Isande’s thoughts went white with fear: Rakhi, get Rakhi in here, she flashed to Aiela, and reached for the desk intercom; Aiela launched himself toward the two iduve.

His knees went. Unbelievable pain shot up his arm to his chest and he was on his face on the floor, blood in his mouth, hearing Isande’s sobs only a few feet away. The pain was a dull throb now, but he could not reach Isande. His limbs could not function; he could not summon the strength to move.

After a dark moment Chimele bent beside him and lifted his head, urging him to move. “Up,” she said. “Up, kameth.”

He made the effort, hauled himself up by the side of a chair and levered himself into it, searching desperately with his thoughts for Isande. Her contact was active, faint, stunned, but she was all right. He looked about when his vision had cleared and saw her sitting in a chair, head in her hands, and Rakhi standing behind her.

“Both of them seem all right,” said Rakhi. “What instructions about Mejakh?”

“She is forbidden the paredre,” Chimele said, and looked toward her kamethi. “Mejakh willed your death, but I overrode the impulse. It is a sadness; she had arastiethe once, but her loss of it at Tejef’s hands has disturbed her reason and her sense of chanokhia.” “She has had misfortune with her young,” said Rakhi. “Against one she seeks vaikka, and for his sake she lost her honor. Her third was taken from her by the Orithanhe. Only in Khasif has she honorable sra, and he is absent from her. Could it be, Chimele, that she is growing dhisais?”

“Make it clear to the dhis-guardians that she must not have access there. You are right. She may be conceiving an impulse in that direction, and with no child in the dhis, there is no predicting what she may do. Her temper is out of all normal bounds. She has been disturbed ever since the Orithanhe returned her to us without her child, and this long waiting with Priamos in view—au, it could happen. Isande, Aiela, I must consider that you are both in mortal danger. Your loss would disturb my plans; that would occur to her, and kamethi have no defense against her.”

“If we were armed—” Aiela began.

“Au,” Chimele exclaimed, “no, m’metane, your attitude is quite understandable, but you hardly appreciate your limitations. You almost died a moment ago, have you not realized that? The idoikkhei can kill. Chanokhia insists kamethi are exempt from such extreme vaikka, but Mejakh’s sense of chanokhia seems regrettably lacking.”

“But a dhisais,” Aiela objected, “can be years recovering.”

“Yes, and you see the difficulty your attempt to interfere has created. Well, we will untangle the matter somehow, and, I hope, without further vaikka.”

“Chimele,” said Rakhi, “the kameth has a valid point. Mejakh has proved an embarrassment many times in the matter of Tejef. Barring her from the paredre may not prove sufficient restraint.”

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