The female demon reached up with her tentacles—upper limbs, rather—and untied the cords which bound together the strips of lacquered yopo stems which made up her body armor. She drew the armor aside, and Nukurren could see that beneath, protruding from the light brown skin of her mantle, were two bizarre, soft-looking growths. Looking over at the male demons, Nukurren saw that no such growths protruded from their mantles.
“There are other differences,” said the female demon, in a voice which, though harsh, was much lighter in tone than that of the male demons. Her Kiktu was better than that of the black and white demons, with a less pronounced accent.
The female demon retied her armor. “But we won’t get into that now. Or else we’ll waste half the day while” (here came a strange word, which Nukurren was sure was a name) “shows off.”
All the demons except the big white one began barking loudly. The big white one, to Nukurren’s amazement, suddenly changed color. It was a subtle change, but there was no mistaking it—the monster was turning pink!
Apprehension? wondered Nukurren. That doesn’t make sense.
It made even less sense when the white demon’s beak slowly began to gape wide open, in the gesture of amusement.
He’s embarrassed, Nukurren suddenly realized. But, I think, not displeased.
The white demon spoke again: “Tell him what you told me.”
To the demonlord, Nukurren repeated the explanation for her presence, and Dhowifa’s, among the slavers.
For a moment, the demonlord was silent. Then he made a peculiar jerking motion with his head and turned away. He said something to the white demon in the strange-sounding demon language, and began rapidly stick-pedding away, barking out commands. Moments later the caravan was in motion again. All of the demons left the vicinity of the litter, except the big white one and the female one who had stripped away her armor.
“I think you just saved your life,” said the white demon softly. (Here a strange word, but Nukurren was sure it was the name of the demonlord) “was beginning to have second thoughts about not killing you immediately when we captured you. Now he won’t.”
Dhowifa began to speak, but Nukurren cut him off.
“Why not?”
The white demon did something odd with its mantle, as if quickly raising and lowering its upper torso—where its cowl would be if it had one.
“You were not entirely with the slavers by choice. He hates slavers. We all do. And besides, he’s curious.”
“About us?”
“Yes.”
Dhowifa now spoke, very softly, in his broken Kiktu. “You is—are, not by us, offended?”
“Offended?” asked the white demon. “Because you are”—he struggled with the unfamiliar word— “perverts?”
Dhowifa made the gesture of assent, and it was obvious to Nukurren that the demon understood the meaning of the arm-curls.
Again, the two demons gaped wide their beaks.
“It means nothing to us,” said the female one. She moved closer to the white demon, and reached out one of her limbs. Then, with the odd little stick-tentacles at its tip, she began slowly caressing the back of the male demon’s head, under the long, soft, bright yellow head-growths.
“My name is”—here she spoke slowly, carefully enunciating— “Ludumilaroshokavashiki, and this is Dzhenushkunutushen. We have often been lovers. More and more often, now, in preference to others.” Her beak gaped. “Soon I think he will ask me to be his mate, if he can muster the courage.”
The male demon’s white hide was again suffused with pink.
“And what will you say?” asked Nukurren.
“I will say `yes,’ ” replied the female demon, very softly.
Nukurren stared at the big white demon, Dzhenushkunutushen. The demon stared back at her.
And suddenly, uncertainly, deep within a monster’s eyes, eyes the color of insensate blue fury, Nukurren caught a glimpse of something she had never thought to find in her bleak and lonely existence.
Chapter 8
Once the survival of the colony was assured, Indira had began looking toward the future. Just a few days after the discovery of the maia-food, she had proposed, and the five other surviving adults had agreed, to begin a school for the children. They were faced with the fact that the technological base which they had always assumed would be the underpinning of the colony was almost gone. One of the landing boats was a wreck, not good for much beyond storage and scrap metal. The equipment on the other boat was still functioning (other than the engines, which were almost out of the complex synthetic chemical which they used for fuel). But Hector pointed out that the batteries which powered the equipment would soon be inoperative.
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