The Oriolis left the Triad to prevent coelura extinction? she asked in the composed tone that only years of training could produce under this evenings circumstances.
I have offered you hospitality, Caissa. Murells voice was unaccountably gentle as if he knew the direction her thoughts were taking.
And I have accepted. Despite all her discipline, Caissa could not suppress the anguish she experienced at her invidious situation. Suddenly the fabric under her began to wrap itself about her legs but the ripple was reassuring, not aggressive. She stared down at the phenomenon of affectionate fabric.
Stop that, said Murell in an authoritative voice.
Startled, she looked up at him but he was staring at the couch. His command was directed at the covering. The material resumed its former quiescence. Then Murells eyes met hers.
You are a body-heir, Caissa. We have shared hospitality. You have come to my rescue. His quiet words reminded her of duty and tradition, of unwritten laws of conduct and exchange of life-debts.
Coelura is at risk right now. She tried to formulate a warning that would not violate her filial obligation.
Coelura has been at risk and no longer is. Murell stated this, so quietly vehement that she was bereft of all politic phrases. He touched her hand gently. Once you have put me back on the mainland, all will be well. Not to mince words, your fortuitous arrival will seal coeluras protection.
Whatever she might have been tempted to say in as direct speech as he had used was drowned by a savage shrieking howl. The fabric of the shelters outer wall was dinted inward by a large body. Caissa was on her feet in an instant, reaching for the weapons hanging from her discarded coverall.
Dont worry, Murell said, smiling at her alert reaction. The amphibian cannot pierce coelura-built walls.
The creature attacked again and Caissa positioned herself before Murell knowing that his injuries made movement awkward.
I really do appreciate your effort, my dear Caissa, and Murell sounded oddly amused, but weapons are unnecessary. He emitted a piercing whistle.
The creature outside snarled, more in pain than in anticipation. Murell repeated his whistle in a different and complex sequence. The sound was taken up all around them, the outer walls turning a brilliant purply-red as if emanating heat, though Caissa felt no increase in the temperature of the room. The attackers shrieks turned to agonized whines and its noise dwindled as it put distance between itself and the source of its discomfort.
Stop that, Murell said, once more in that authoritative voice.
Caissa swung back to him, immeasurably offended, and then saw that he was once again addressing whimsical coelura. The full skirts of his robe, now a purplish blue, had managed to wrap around her leg and tugged her gently towards Murell.
She caught his eyes and he gave her an embarrassed smile, snatching the fondling fold from her.
Caissa giggled. Her hands, which had tensed into flat defensive positions, went to her lips in a gesture reminiscent of her childhood. But the stresses of the last hour needed release and she had never been given to tears. At the sound of her irrepressible mirth, Murell, too, relaxed, his rich chuckle breaking into full laughter as dignity was forgotten.
Afterwards, Caissa supposed that she had clung to Murell as the excess of amusement overtook them. Somehow, his injured arm was not awkward as he held her to him, nor did she object in any way to being in his arms. He was exactly the right height for her. She laid her head gratefully against his shoulder, which needed no padding. She felt his cheek resting easily against her head as the embrace was extended long past the need of mutual support.
This time, as the robe enveloped her, Murell did not protest. Then, in an abrupt motion, he released her, stepping back, the fabric in danger of being torn by his energetic retreat.
My apologies, Caissa, he said stiffly
No apologies are needed. She held herself proudly, hurt by his sudden rejection. But the hem of his gown reached towards her.
Caissa, and he seemed to be arguing against himself to judge by the action and the conflict of color in his robe, whatever attraction you might have just felt for me, might be emotionally experiencing, is caused by proximity to coelura attuned to my needs… . He broke off, his face and robe flushing with embarrassment.