“Why?” Aiela had lost his power to be shocked. His mind simply could not grasp the turns of amaut logic.
“Why, my lord nas kame, if the population of this colony realizes the bnesych serves the other lord, it would split the colony into two factions, with most bloody result. We are not a fighting people, no, but one protects his own nest, after all—and the bnesych has many folk in this venture who are not of karsh Gomek: out-karsh folk, exiles, such as myself. Such loyalties can be lost quickly. There is always natural resentment toward a large karsh when it mismanages. And if it no longer appears the action at the port was on human initiative, it would be most, most distressing in some quarters.” He pressed his broad-tipped fingers to Aiela’s brow, where there was a swelling raised. “Ai, sir, I am sorry for your unhappy state, and I did try to find you before you wandered into a trap, but you were most elusive. When I knew you had entered the headquarters and when I saw the northside lights out, I acted and disposed my human agents at once, or you would be in the other lord’s hands before dawn.”
“Get me to the ship at the port,” Aiela said, “or get me a means to contact them, or there are going to be people hurt.”
“Sir?” asked Kleph, his squat face much distressed. He gulped several times in amaut sorrow. “O sir, and must the great lords blame those who are guiltless? See, here am I, out-karsh, helping you. Surely then your masters will understand that not all of us in this colony are to blame. Surely they will realize how faithfully we serve them.”
It was impossible to tell Kleph that the iduve did not understand the custom of service and reward, or that harm and help were one and the same to them. Aiela made up his mind to a half-truth. “I will speak for you,” he said, “maybe—if you help me.”
“Sir, what you ask is impossible just now, if you only under—”
“It had better not be impossible,” Aiela said.
Kleph rocked back and forth uncomfortably. “The port— these tunnels are not complete, nor shored properly all the way, and your—hhhunhh—size will not make the passage easy. But at this hour, honest folk will be abed, and no human mercenary would be down here; they fear such places.”
“Then take me to the port.” Aiela gathered his stiffening legs under him, straightening as much as he could in this low-ceilinged chamber. Kleph scrambled up with much more agility and Aiela snatched at his collar, for it occurred to him Kleph could run away and leave him to die in these tunnels, lost in a dark maze of windings and pitfalls. He knew of a certainty that he could not best the creature in a fight or hold him if he were determined, but he intended to make it clear Kleph would have to harm him to avoid obeying him.
“You recovered my gun,” Aiela said. “Give it back.”
Kleph did not like it. He bubbled and boomed in his throat and twisted about unhappily, but he extracted the weapon from his belly-pocket and surrendered it. Aiela bolstered it without letting go Kleph’s collar, and then pushed at the little fellow to start him moving. They came to tunnel after tunnel and Kleph chose his way without hesitation.
Light burst suddenly like a sun exploding, heat hit their faces, and the stench of ozone mingled with the flood of outside air. A shadow of manlike shape dropped from above into their red-hazed vision, and Aiela hauled back on Kleph to flee. But the pain of the idoikkhe paralyzed his arm and he collapsed to his knees, while beside him on his face Kleph groveled and gibbered in terror, his saucer eyes surely agony, for the amaut could scarcely bear noon daylight, let alone this.
“Aiela,” said a chill, familiar voice, and the idoikkhe’s touch was gentle now, a mere signature: Ashakh.
Aiela expelled his breath in one quick sob of relief and picked himself up to face the iduve, who stood amid the rubble of the tunnel and in the beam of light from the street above.