HUNTER OF WORLDS BY C. J. CHERRYH

And it was indicative of his confusion that he spoke such things aloud, within the hearing of a m’metane and an outsider. In another moment he looked aware, and his face took on its accustomed hardness.

“You are empaths,” Aiela realized, and said it without thinking.

“No—not—quite that, m’metane. But I feel the takkhenes of two minds from the port—Chaikhe—Tejef—I cannot sort them out. If she and he are diverting a great portion of their attention to managing ships’ systems, it could account for the oddness—but it is wrong, m’metane, it is wrong. And from Khasif, I receive nothing—at least I surmise that his mind is the silent one.” He had spoken in his native tongue, conceding this to Aiela, but not to Kleph, who huddled in terror against the wall, and now he turned a burning look on the amaut.

“We are still going to the port,” he said to Kleph, “and you are involved in our affairs to an extent no outsider may be. From now on you are okkitan-as to Ashanome, the nasul of which we two are part.”

“Ai, sir, great lord,” wailed Kleph, making that gulping deep in his throat which was amautish weeping. “I am nothing, I am no one, I am utterly insignificant. Please let this poor person go. I will show you the port, oh, most gladly, sir, most gladly, serving you. But I am a clerk, no fighter, and I am not accustomed to weapons and I do not wish to be okkitan-as and travel forever.”

Ashakh said nothing, nor glowered nor threatened; there was only a quiet thoughtfulness in his eyes, a wondering doubtless when would be the most rationally proper time to dispose of Kleph. Aiela moved quickly to interpose his calming harachia and to warn Kleph with a painful grip of his fingers that he was going too far.

“Kleph is indeed a clerk,” Aiela confirmed, “and wished to become a farmer, quite likely; his mind is unprepared for the idea of service to a nasul. But he is also sensible and resourceful, and he would be an asset.”

“He has a choice. I have a homing sense adequate to return us to the port even in these tunnels, but it would be a convenience if this person showed us the quickest way.”

“Yes, sir.” Kleph seemed to catch the implication of the alternative, for his pale saucer eyes grew very wide. “I shall do that.”

And the little fellow turned upon hands and feet and scrambled up to go, they following; and ever and again Aiela could detect small thudding sounds which were sobs from the amaut’s resonant throat. It was well for Kleph that the iduve allowed his species liberties in accordance with their (from the kalliran view) amoral nature. But quite probably Ashakh no more understood the workings of Kleph’s mind than he did that of a serpent. The drives and needs that animated this little fellow could scarcely be translated into iduve language, and it would probably be Ashakh’s choice to destroy him if the perplexity grew great enough to overpower advantage. The iduve were essentially a cautious people.

As for Kleph, Aiela thought, Ashakh might have bought him body and soul if he had offered him ten lioi of land; but it was too late for that now.

Suddenly Kleph thrust his light within the belly-pocket of his coveralls and Ashakh made a move for him that threw Aiela against the earthen wall, bruised; the little fellow hissed like a steam leak in the grip of the iduve, the wrong sound to make with an angry starlord; but he tried to gabble out words amid his hissing sounds of pain, and Aiela groped in the dark to try to stop the iduve from killing the creature.

“Stop, ai, stop,” wailed Kleph, when Ashakh let up enough that he could speak. He restored a bit of light from his pocket: his face was contorted with anguish. “No trick, sir, no trick—please, we are coming to an inhabited section. O be still, sirs, please.”

“Are there no other paths?” asked Ashakh.

“No, lord, not if my lord wishes to go to the port. Only a short distance through. All are sleeping. We post no guards. No humans dare come down. They hate the deeps.”

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