HUNTER OF WORLDS BY C. J. CHERRYH

What of the amaut? asked the pulses of the idoikkhe. Will you be rid of him?

“No,” Aiela said quickly.

A response in which I find no wisdom, Ashakh replied. But he put the small hand weapon back in his belt and looked down on the amaut, coming closer. “Get up.”

Kleph obeyed, crouching low and bowing and bobbing in extreme agitation. The light at his wrist swung wildly, throwing hideous shadows, leaping up and down the rough walls. Ashakh was a darkness, dusky of complexion and clad in black, but his eyes cast an uncanny mirror-light of dun rose hue, damped when he moved his head.

This person was aiding you? Ashakh asked.

“If Kleph is right, bnesych Gerlach was behind what happened at the port, and Kleph risked a great deal helping me.”

“Indeed,” mused Ashakh aloud. “Do you believe this?”

“I have reason to.”

As you have reason for letting this amaut live? I fail to understand the purpose of it.

“Kleph knows Weissmouth,” said Aiela, “and he will be willing to help us. Please,” he added, sweating, for the look on Ashakh’s grim face betokened a man in a hurry, and the iduve understood nothing of gratitude. He misliked being advocate for Kleph, but it was better than allowing the little fellow to be killed.

Chimele values your judgment; I do not agree with it.

But Ashakh said no more of killing Kleph, and Aiela understood the implication: it was on his shoulders, and vaikka was his to pay if his judgment proved wrong.

“Yes, sir,” said Aiela. “What shall we do?”

“Have you a suggestion?”

“Get a ship and get the others out of Tejef’s hands.”

Ashakh frowned. “And have you a means to accomplish this?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, we shall go to the port, and this person will guide us.” Ashakh fixed the trembling amaut with a direct stare and Kleph scurried to get past him and take the lead. The tall iduve must bend to follow as they pursued their way through the winding passages.

“Do they know—does the Orithain know,” Aiela asked, “what happened?”

We had a full account from Tesyel, who commands the base ship. And then in un-Ashakh fashion, the iduve volunteered further conversation. Chimele sent me to find you. I was puzzled at first by the direction of the signal, but remembering the amaut’s subterranean habits I resolved the matter—not without giving any persons trying to track us a sure indication of the direction of our flight. We had best make all possible haste. And I still mislike this small furtive person, Aiela-kameth.

“I can only decide as a kallia, sir.”

Honor to your self-perception. What are your reasons for mistrusting Gerlach?

CHAPTER 12

THE TOUCH OF Rakhi’s mind came softly, most softly. It had hurt before, and Chaikhe accepted it cautiously, her nape hairs bristling at the male presence. She fought to subdue the rage that beat along her veins, and she felt Rakhi himself struggling against a very natural revulsion, for chanokhia forbade intimacy with a katasathe. She was for gift-giving and for honor, not for touching.

And there was his own distinctive harachia, a humorous, subdued presence. His arastiethe suffered terribly at close range, much more than hers did, for although folk judged Rakhi scandalously careless of his reputation, he was not really a person of kutikkase and his sense of chanokhia was keen in some regards. He cared most intensely what others thought of him, and found even the disapproval of a nas kame painful; but where others bristled and had recourse to the idoikkhei or engaged in petty vaikka, Rakhi laughed and turned inward. It was the shield of a nature as solitary in its own way as Ashakh’s, and of a man of surprising intelligence. Even Chimele scarcely understood how much Rakhi dreaded to be known, how much he loathed to be touched and to touch; but Chaikhe felt these things, and kept her distance.

“Nasith,” Rakhi voiced. He used this means, although other communication was swifter and carried sensory images as well; but this let him keep the essence of himself in reserve. “Nasith, Chimele is with me. She asks your state of health.”

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