Bad enough, that Oppuk had admitted to killing a member of his own service. But that deed, however barbarous, was a matter for Narvo to settle privately. Never—never—did the great kochan attack the service of another. They did not do so, for that matter, with the service of a minor kochan. Even a taif. That was the open road to civil war, which the Naukra existed to prevent—and the Bond would prevent even quicker. Had the Pluthrak fraghta not demanded Oppuk’s life, the Bond Preceptor would have done so.
In truth, Nikau was relieved. Oppuk’s unsanity—outright madness—was so obvious to all that Narvo itself could now escape with comparatively little damage from this hideous affair. They could be faulted for selecting Oppuk in the first place, and for leaving him in place, to be sure. But . . .
That could be explained away, over time. Eventually, it would be forgotten, as a clean wound leaves behind nothing worse than a scar. And, for the immediate purpose, Oppuk would serve splendidly as the focus of all outrage. At long last, the wretched creature would be of use.
Besides, Nikau thought there might be a small victory to gain here.
* * *
“Take his life,” the Narvo elder stated, firmly, her own eyes green with fury. “Narvo casts him out.”
Yaut grunted and began to position the dagger for the killing thrust.
“Not you!”
He looked up, puzzled. The old Narvo female was pointing toward Aille’s service.
“Not you, fraghta. Since the insult was delivered upon a human, let a human in the kroudh’s service take Oppuk’s life. Narvo insists.”
Yaut had to force himself to restrain his anger. The Narvo’s ploy was obvious—and petty. She would try to gain what little satisfaction Narvo could from the situation by having a human bungle the business. Driving a blade through heavy Jao vertebra in a proper killing stroke would be difficult. A human would most likely hack away, dissolving the ritual of the moment into crude butchery.
Petty . . . and stupid.
Now, Yaut had to restrain himself from showing any humor. The Narvo elder might not be unsane, but she shared Oppuk’s bigotry. There was at least one human in Aille’s service, Yaut was sure, who would serve the purpose admirably.
Not Caitlin herself or Kinsey, of course. Neither of them was strong enough. Nor Kralik. He was a soldier, in the end, not a warrior. And, besides, his personal ties with Caitlin would probably make him too angry to do the deed properly.
The choice was obvious. And Yaut found himself wondering, for a moment, if in some strange way Aille had sensed it, that very first day on Terra. Green eyes which had been willing to challenge Jao, as if they were Jao themselves.
“Tully!” he called out.
Tully came forward, moving in that easy, slender-but-strong manner which Yaut now knew humans would call “pantherish.”
“May I be of use, fraghta?” he asked. He even managed—would wonders never cease?—to assume a reasonable rendition of readiness-to-serve.
“Take this creature’s life.” Yaut flipped the dagger, now holding it by the blade and extending the hilt toward Tully.
“My pleasure,” Tully growled, taking the dagger and another step to bring him over Oppuk.
“It must be done well,” Yaut murmured. “One blow, quick and clean, killing him instantly.” He placed a finger over the exposed joint where the blade needed to penetrate.
Oppuk shuddered slightly at the touch. The former Governor was strong enough that he might still be conscious. Yaut hoped he was. Let the beast know that a human was about to put him down.
Tully eyed the target, nodded. Then, to Yaut’s surprise, shifted his grip on the dagger to bring the blade below his palm instead of above it.
Yaut felt an instant’s concern. That was the overhand grip of a novice blade-fighter.
But his worries were moot. Tully knew what he was doing. In a motion more swift than any Jao could have managed, Tully reared his body high and then coiled down like a striking serpent, driving the blade hilt-deep into Oppuk’s neck.
The massive body jerked, once, and Yaut let it fall. Oppuk was dead before he finished sprawling ungainly on the sand.