“The hunnakaku asked me to.”
Orange astonishment rippled across Kjakakun’s mantle.
“Why should you do its bidding? It’s nothing but a slave—a sub-gukuy.”
Anger boiled over, and this time Nukurren made no effort to control her mantle. Blue blazed. Despite her own impressive self-control, the caravan master could not prevent a pink flush from entering her own mantle.
And when Nukurren stepped suddenly near, the pink was replaced by scarlet terror.
“I work for you, slave-master,” said Nukurren softly, “because I have to. I need the money, and—”
She did not complete the thought. Nor, even though she could have, did the caravan master.
Because only a filthy slaver would hire a pervert.
Nukurren waited, wondering if the caravan master was bold enough to sneer the words. But Kjakukun was silent.
Very wise, slave master. Very wise.
The blue faded from Nukurren’s mantle.
“I work for you, Kjakukun. But I am much closer to the Kiktu in how I see the Old Ones.”
The red faded from the caravan master.
“The Kiktu will kill you as quick as anyone!”
“True. Even quicker, for they would look upon me as a traitor.”
Nukurren turned away, then back.
“Do not ever ask me questions, slave-master. I am your bodyguard, no more.”
“I am your employer,” protested Kjakukun.
Nukurren allowed a tinge of contempt to yellow her mantle, as she walked toward her yurt.
Dhowifa was in his usual place, perched on the cushions in a corner. After Nukurren entered, the two lovers stared at each other in silence.
“It’s been a bad day,” she said finally.
Dhowifa’s mantle rippled with the chromatic complexity of which only truemales are capable. Sadness. Sympathy. Empathy. And, the undertone beneath and the sharpest accents, green love.
“I know. I watched from here.”
After some silence, he spoke again.
“I have brought much misery into your life.”
“Much happiness, also.”
An intricate wave of pastel humor washed over him. “True. True. But still, I wish—”
“Wish what?” demanded Nurukken. “That we hadn’t fallen in love?”
“No—never that! But—”
“The world is the way it is, Dhowifa. Why should you complain? Isn’t that the heart of your dukuna?”
Dhowifa’s arms coiled in a manner suggesting respectful disagreement leavened by good feeling. Not for the first time, Nukurren was struck by the truemale’s incredible delicacy of expression.
“Not exactly,” he demurred. “The concept of dukuna has a more impersonal philosophical thrust. It’s not really—”
“Enough!” barked Nukurren. But the good humor was obvious on her mantle. And, glowing ever brighter, the white of passion.
“You’re insatiable,” complained Dhowifa. But his own mantle rippled ivory, and there was no reluctance in the way the tiny truemale came toward her, his arms extended.
As he climbed into her mantle cavity, his tentacles gripping her head firmly while he extended his arms deep inside, Nurukken whistled her pleasure at his touch.
Yes, she thought, you have brought me anguish, Dhowifa. But I wouldn’t give you up for anything. Joy of my life. My love, who had none.
His arms found what they were seeking. Pleasure turned into ecstasy, and forgetfulness of all pain.
Chapter 2
The demons attacked at dawn.
Nukurren was awakened by a shrill hoot of fear and alarm. With a veteran’s instinct, she was instantly awake and scrambling for her weapons. She hesitated for a moment at the thought of donning her ganahide armor, but decided she didn’t have time.
“Wait here!” she said to Dhowifa, who was stirring to life in his cushions.
She rushed through the hide flaps of the yurt and onto the ground beyond. There, she crouched for a moment in battle stance, fork and flail ready, to gain her bearings.
What she saw, in the faint light of the dawn, was at first more confusing that anything else.
What are those—things?
They were like nothing she had ever seen. Very tall and slender, like reeds. They moved with blinding speed, in a strange, jerky motion that she found hard to follow.
Before she could register anything else, she saw one of the demons spring toward a caravan guard. The guard was crouched, holding up her fork and flail in trembling palps, whistling with terror. In a movement faster than anything Nukurren had ever seen, the demon thrust forth some sort of huge stinger. As the stinger hurtled at the guard, Nukurren saw a brief gleam from its tip.
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