The Search for Kä (17 page)

“Thank you, Thanasset.” She put down her glass and stood up. The gown Milda had loaned her was inches too short, the sandals' soles far too wide for her delicate feet, yet she managed to look regal. Thanasset and I both stood up with her. “Rikardon has told me, in our few quiet moments together, of the beauty and comfort of Raithskar. I discounted some of his words as an expression of fondness for his birthplace, but I revise that opinion now. There is dignity and goodness here—errors, perhaps, as there must always be among men, but only sincere intentions.”

“You speak of the city that produced Worfit,” Thanasset said with a grim smile.

“I refer to the city which looks to the welfare of its people, and not to the profit of its rulers,” she replied. “In all of Eddarta, there is no one, Lord or landservant, who can achieve that viewpoint. There
was
one who would have understood and appreciated Raithskar, but he died in Dyskornis.”

Thanasset took Tarani's hand in both of his own. “You have suffered much sadness and trial in your few years, Tarani,” he said. “I hope you will regard this house as your home.”

She smiled a little shakily, pressing his hands. “I believe I will say goodnight now,” she said, and left the room.

“Tell me something,” I asked Thanasset. “When you greeted Tarani in the garden—you didn't know she was bound to Yayshah as a Rider?”

“No.”

“What you did—it was a very gracious, a very special greeting.”

“Of course,” Thanasset said. “How else should a father welcome the woman his son has chosen as a lifemate?”

“It's that obvious, is it?”

“It is that obvious,” he agreed. He frowned. “It is also obvious that something is troubling you, Rikardon. May I help?”

“Only if you can help me find Kä,” I said with a sigh. “The sword is important for what it can do toward getting the Ra'ira out of Eddarta,” I explained. “But I believe it has another use. Do you remember the day you gave me Rika?”

Thanasset was quick to see what I meant. “Do you mean to say that Tarani is a Visitor, as well?” he demanded.

“I only think so,” I admitted. “She doesn't even suspect it herself.”

“How can that be?”

I laughed and slapped him on the shoulder, aware that I was ducking the issue once again.

“You might as well ask why Rika helped me remember,” I said. “I don't know the answer to that, either.”

The next morning, I went down to the marketplace early and purchased a side of glith, brought it back, and stood in the garden, calling Keeshah. Out of the sha'um house came a parade—Keeshah, the cubs, and then Yayshah. I heard the back door of Thanasset's house open quietly, and I knew that Tarani, Thanasset and Milda were watching.

The cubs were well developed, with open eyes and good coordination. They were the size of full-grown leopards, but with thicker bodies, heavier legs, and a proportion problem that reminded me of the pups of large-breed dogs—their legs and paws seemed awkwardly large compared to the rest of their bodies.

The three kittens were not sleek, like their parents, but fuzzy. Their fur was longish and fine, and very pale. The little female's carried strong hints of darker, regular marking that resembled Yayshah's brindling, and by that evidence, I assumed the cubs would lose this “baby” fur somewhere on the road to adulthood.

I laid the meat on the ground. Keeshah paused to let the cubs move ahead. They sniffed at it, nipped delicately—their teeth were numerous and looked sharp, but were not fully emerged from their gums—then lost interest. Keeshah kept an eye on them while Yayshah attacked the glith meat. I was surprised that the adults did not drag the meat inside their house, then considered that it was probably cramped quarters in there for a family of five.

*
May I touch the cubs?
* I asked Keeshah.

*
Slow,
* the big sha'um cautioned me. *
Have woman tell female.
*

“Tarani,” I called softly, turning back to the house. “Will you ask Yayshah if she will let me approach the cubs?”

The girl came down the pathway from the house, moving with a studied grace so as not to startle the sha'um. “I have asked her if
we
may greet the cubs,” she answered. “She agrees—she is quite proud of them.”

The cubs had wandered toward the garden. One of the males felt a branch of a bush touch his back, whirled to bat at it with a forepaw, and lost his balance: The flailing paws and tail attracted the other two, and in an instant there was a noisy melee of fur, rolling through Thanasset's garden. The cubs
sounded
surprisingly adult, and it didn't take long for the noise to disturb Keeshah.

He waded into the playful fight and started separating the combatants. The cubs had too much mass to allow for scruff-of-the-neck lifting, but the loose skin provided good purchase for dragging. Keeshah batted one of the males halfway to the bathhouse with one swipe of his paw, then grabbed the other male with his teeth and guided/forced it in our direction. The little female twisted to her feet and crouched with her ears and tail twitching, looking from one cub to the other. She barrelled after the unattached male and knocked him over. They rolled and squawled good-naturedly for a few seconds, then flopped down in a tangled ball of fur, panted heavily, and dropped off to sleep.

Tarani and I made friends with the cub Keeshah had brought us. The cub was unafraid and curious, sniffing at our hands and clothes, quickly acquiring Keeshah's fondness for being rubbed behind his ears.

Yayshah finished eating, and came over to us as Keeshah went to take his turn at the mass of raw meat and bone. The skin of Yayshah's belly sagged nearly to the ground, but it already showed signs of reshaping itself. The fur, which had looked patchy and thin across the distended skin, seemed darker and thicker now. Tarani went to Yayshah and stroked her; the female stretched out on the ground.

The cub I was playing with tired suddenly, and went to sleep with his head across my thigh. Just as suddenly, the other two cubs roused and, seeing their brother with a new toy, came to investigate. I had a moment's panic as I realized that I was momentarily pinned to the ground, and that most young predators “played” in ways that would train them to kill food—but the cubs had worn out their first burst of energy and were reasonably calm now. They nosed around me, accepting my touch and batting clawlessly at my arm when I offered it as a target, until they disturbed their brother. Then all three cubs seemed to notice Mama nearby and started nuzzling Yayshah's belly.

The female lumbered to her feet and led the kittens back into the dimness of the brick shelter. For the moment, playtime was over. So was breakfast. Keeshah jumped to the roof of the sha'um house and curled up to nap.

Tarani and I cleared away the glith carcass, then cleaned our hands and returned to the house. Milda had vanished into the kitchen, from which were coming the wonderful smells of a breakfast more appetizing than raw glith. Thanasset met us at the back door, put an arm around each of us, and hugged. His face sparkled with the same delight Ricardo might have expressed after watching a litter of domestic kittens at play. There is a special and tender charm about the young of any species.

“Sha'um cubs born outside the Valley,” Thanasset said. “It is still hard to believe. Do you think Keeshah and Yayshah would allow me to get to know them?”

“I certainly hope so,” I said. “I'll need to ask you and Milda to feed Yayshah and watch out for the cubs while we're out in the desert, looking for Kä.”

“As to that,” Thanasset said, drawing us across the midhall toward the door to the dining room, “you asked me for help in finding Kä, and I may have thought of something—”

“The desert?” interrupted Tarani. “Rikardon, the cubs have barely arrived.”

“I mean to take only Keeshah, of course,” I told her. “I think he will be willing to leave Yayshah and the kids with Thanasset—after all, this is his home.”

“But it is not yet Yayshah's,” she countered.

“She seems quite comfortable,” I said, somewhat testily. Thanasset, wisely, had stepped back from his position between us and watched us in silence. “Thanasset can provide her with food, and the cubs will continue to nurse for a while. She will be all right without us.”

“
Us
?” Tarani echoed. “I shall not leave her.”

“I wouldn't ask it, under any other circumstances,” I said. “But you know what's at stake here. The situation with the vineh—”

“Demands a greater speed than we anticipated, I grant you,” the girl said, with a wave of her hand. “If Keeshah will leave Yayshah, you are free to begin the search. But I,” she emphasized, “shall not leave her.”

“You have to come with us,” I said.

“If you both will excuse me,” Thanasset murmured, “I will assist Milda with her kitchen duties.” He escaped through the dining-room door; we hardly noticed his going.

“Why?” she demanded. “You have the Recorder's guidance, and whatever advice it is that Thanasset can offer. Two sets of eyes seem to be inadequate advantage to justify the strain of Keeshah of carrying us both into the desert.”

She's right
, I thought.
Logically, she's right. So now what do I say to convince her? I could tell her the truth—
no,
not now
, I convinced myself—too easily.

“For some reason, I have absolutely no confidence in being able to find that sword alone,” I said. “Going without you doesn't
feel
right, Tarani—maybe because I think of that sword as yours, instead of mine.”

She put her hands on her hips, walked away, looked back at me thoughtfully.

“In Thagorn, you
commanded
my movement, and Yayshah's,” she said, “and I confess that, though I saw the worth in your judgment, I resented the tactic. But that pressure, at least, was clear and direct. I sense something else in your manner now, Rikardon; everything you say is true, but something remains hidden. You do not merely
want
me to go with you, you
need
my presence in some way—and I do not think it is associated with finding an ancient city.”

She dropped her arms and came closer, searching my face.

“If you will tell me why you desire it so strongly,” she said, “I will go with you.”

I faltered, and for a moment fought desperately with the habit of concealment—but old habits are hard to break.”

“I will tell you—when we reach Kä,” I hedged.

“That does not meet the terms,” she snapped.

“It is all I can offer,” I replied, and grabbed her arm as she turned away. “Please believe me, Tarani—you
will
understand, when we find the sword. And it is very, very important.”

She shrugged off my hand, took a step, turned back. “I will go,” she said. Her voice made the words of consent sound threatening.

It was early afternoon of that same day. I was alone in the sitting room, looking over some old maps Thanasset had brought me from his office that morning. He had returned after lunch to continue searching for information about the ceramic pipeline that had once carried fresh water from Raithskar to Kä. I had no idea where Tarani was; she had left the house after breakfast with the stated intent of exploring the city. Milda had taken one of the lightweight armchairs and her stitchwork out into the garden, to watch the sha'um and discourage fence climbing by the local children, who were understandably fascinated by the presence of the cats.

Someone knocked at the door, and I set aside the map to go and open it. A smallish woman stood in the doorway, sunlight sparkling from drops of mist trapped in her golden headfur. She smiled at me uncertainly.

“Hello, Rikardon.”

“Illia!” I said, truly pleased to see her. “Come in.”

“I—no, thank you, Rikardon, I cannot stay. I heard that you had returned and that—uh—there was someone with you. I only wanted to stop by and thank you for your letter.”

She was looking somewhere past my shoulder. I touched her hand, and her gaze finally rested directly on my face. I smiled. “Please come inside for a moment, Illia,” I asked. “I'll be leaving again, soon—probably tomorrow. This may be our only chance to visit.”

I tried to express the sincere welcome I felt, and the attempt was successful to the point that she smiled more naturally and nodded. I held the door for her, then showed her into the sitting room, cleared the maps from the table, and offered to ask Milda for some herb tea. Illia declined, and awkwardness threatened to take over again.

The girl had been Markassset's friend, actually his fiancee. Their relationship had been composed of one part physical attraction, one part her ambition to be the wife of the Supervisor she expected Markasset to be, and one part Markasset's need to feel appreciated. Illia had been present at the ceremony in which Thanasset presented Rika to me, and had learned, then, that I was a “Visitor” and that the Markasset she had loved was dead. She and I had spent some time together and discovered that the physical attraction lingered. We had made an attempt to “start over,” but I could not merely be a replacement for Markasset, and we had soon realized that building the new connection would not be simple.

In Dyskornis, faced with the frightening knowledge of the Ra'ira's power, I had seen the impossibility of a “normal” lifestyle, and had written to the golden-furred girl with good wishes but a clear rejection of any relationship closer than friendship.

“How have you been—” I began.

“I hear Keeshah has a friend—” she said, at precisely the same time.

We laughed, and I started over. “I thought the news would be all over town by now,” I said. “Keeshah has a
family
—his mate gave birth to three cubs last night.”