Only this was no kind of harp he recognized. The thing was a tall thin wooden triangle, with a circular opening near the base and three rows of pegs below that.
“But it is broken,” she said sadly, picking it up. “See, the strings are gone, and most of the pegs along the top, and there is no bow.”
“Bow?” But again her meaning was registering: this was an instrument played with a bow across the strings, though it was unlike any he had seen before.
“Where there is one, there may be another,” she said. “But buried, out of sight. It may be broken too, but perhaps I can fix it. If only I can find it.”
“Could you get a familiar to search it out?” he asked. “I mean, a small creature, a little mite, something that can go down between the rocks, through the crevices—”
“A gnat!” she said. “There are some in here.” She stooped, feeling through the air with her hands. “Help me, Seqiro,” she murmured.
Then she had it: she had located and tamed a gnat, just as she had the bat on Oria. “Go down through the crevices,” she told the gnat. “Show me what you see.”
There was a noise, but not of any gnat. Darius stared back toward the entrance tunnel. A pair of eyes were staring back at him. “Trouble, I think,” he muttered.
A rat. Seqiro thought. I can sense it, but can not enter its mind to control it. That is a vicious creature.
“A weapon,” Darius said. “I need a weapon.”
Nona picked up a chip of rock. In her hands it became a great broadsword with a shiny steel blade. She gave it to him. Then she made a long spear with a trident tip for herself. “I have no flair for combat,” she said. “But maybe I can at least hold it at bay from me,”
“Combat isn’t my specialty either,” he admitted. He had carried a sword, but lost it when the despots made them change to green tunics. He had not had any skill with its use; it was merely better than bare hands against animals.
He stepped toward the rat. He saw now that the thing was close to the size of a horse, but short-legged so that it could fit through the small tunnel. It must have come in from an offshoot along the way, smelling them. “Back! Back!” he cried. “Away, vermin!”
The rat moved to the side. It evinced no fear, only caution. It wasn’t sure about them, and had no intention of leaving until it knew whether they represented prey.
They had to get rid of it. Darius stepped toward it—and his ankle turned on a loose stone, making him stumble.
Instantly the rat charged. Darius lunged with the sword, stabbing it in the shoulder, but its tough hide snagged the blade and wrenched the sword out of Darius’ hand. The rat crashed into him, biting at his face, and he fell on his back, helpless.
The rat pinned him to the floor and bit at his left shoulder. He felt the sharp front teeth sink in, slicing through tunic and flesh, but there was no pain.
“Back! Back!” Nona cried, poking at the rat’s snout with her trident. The beast made a sound that might have been a squeak had it been small, but was a hissing snarl now. Its head whipped around, and it caught the shaft of the spear between its teeth. The thing was hauled from Nona’s hands, and she fell back, terrified.
“Dagger!” Darius cried, still pinned.
One appeared in Nona’s hand, then floated across to his right hand, which was closest to her. He clutched it so that it pointed up, moved his hand down under the beast’s throat, and stabbed up. He seemed to score only on loose folds of skin, which moved aside without being penetrated. So he moved farther down, trying for the belly as the rat tried again for his face. The mouth opened, and its hot breath came down on his face as his hand rammed up with all the force he could muster.
This time he scored. The blade dug into the soft, tight underbelly of the rodent. Darius hauled it forward, sawing open a gash. He felt blood pouring out, soaking his tunic, but that was good, because it was the rat’s.
The rat’s head paused. Then the thing scrambled off and away. The dagger was hauled away with it, embedded. He might not have hurt the creature seriously, but he had given it something to think about, and it probably wouldn’t return in a hurry.
Now his left shoulder started hurting. His mind had cut off the pain before, but it could do so no longer. He was gravely injured. He struggled to get to his feet, but the pain overwhelmed him.
“Darius!” It was Nona, trying to help him up.
“It’s no use,” he gasped. “My shoulder—any motion—the pain—”
“I can help,” she said. “Let me touch the wound.” She kneeled beside him and slid her left hand into his torn tunic, around to his shoulder.
To his amazement, the pain faded. “You have anesthetic magic!” he gasped.
“Yes.” She kept her hand on him, but changed her position, sitting down, leaning back against the cave wall, her legs extended beside him. “Let me get you closer.” She tried to haul him up with her free hand, but couldn’t.
Darius took advantage of the cessation of pain to sit up. Then she put her right arm around him from behind and hauled him back down against her. His head landed on her soft bosom. He tried to protest, but she held him close, reaching farther around him with her right arm until her right hand joined her left inside his tunic. She had him pinned to her, but it was a far different sensation than that of the rat pinning.
Then he realized that not only was the pain abating, so was the injury. He could feel the torn tendons and flesh knitting themselves together, the blood clearing. She wasn’t just making him comfortable, she was healing him!
“Yes,” she murmured in his ear. “But it works best when I am closest. Please don’t move.”
He started to turn his head, but that only put his cheek against her breast. He decided to follow orders and remain quite still. It wasn’t as if there was anything unpleasant about this position. He was suffering the most delicious type of captivity imaginable. But if Colene caught him like this—
I’ll settle with you later, Colene’s thought came.
Oh, that mind communication! Sometimes it was downright inconvenient.
Yes, Colene’s thought came. But there was laughter in it. She understood the situation. Thank God I got her to put on a halter.
Darius thought about that—and decided not to think about it. So he thought about Colene instead.
Good.
Which was one of the things about Colene: she really wasn’t the jealous type. She got upset when she saw him with other women—there had been one very awkward scene with a cat-woman called Pussy—but that was because she felt he should be paying such attention to Colene herself. He frustrated her by refusing to take advantage of her in her youth. So Colene had reason for her reactions. She did not react from misunderstandings. She would torment him about this present situation, but never lose sight of the reality.
Oh, yeah?
He hoped.
The bosom moved. Nona was laughing now. She had been picking this up too. Damn that horse!
You can not expect an animal to appreciate the nuances of the human condition.
And that was Seqiro himself—who could indeed appreciate such nuances, when in contact with human minds.
“Have your fun, beast,” Darius muttered.
In a surprisingly brief time his shoulder was entirely healed. He flexed his arm and could find no pain, no problem. Now Nona let him get up; she was done with him.
“How can I thank you?” he asked her sincerely.
“You gained your injury defending me from the monster,” she pointed out. “It was only right that I help you recover.”