And a shout of anger beyond, from her asuthe the kallia, who had stumbled after, gun in hand. Tejef’s eyes widened, foreknowing.
Aiela fired, left-handed, saw Isande and the iduve hit the floor at once. He tried to reach her, but it was all he could do to lean against the wall and hold himself on his feet. Daniel was first to her side, gathered her up and held her, assuring him over and over again that she was alive. Above them both stood Khasif, whose sharp glance away from Isande warned Aiela even as a soft step sounded behind him.
Chaikhe.
The very act of breathing grew difficult, concentration impossible. The gun tumbled from Aiela’s fingers and crashed against the flooring, sounding distant.
“She is dhisais,” said Khasif. “And it was not wise for you to have interfered among iduve, kamethi. You have interfered in vaikka.”
Run, Daniel thought desperately; burdened with Isande’s weight, he tensed his muscles to try.
No! Aiela protested. He leaned against the wall, shut his eyes to remove the contact of Chaikhe’s; and hearing her move, he dared to look again.
She had turned, and walked back in the direction of controls.
Doors closed between them, and Khasif at last stirred from where he stood, looking down at Tejef with a long soft hiss.
The ship’s engines stirred to life.
“We are about to lift,” said Khasif softly, “and Tejef will give account of himself before Chimele; perhaps that is the greater vaikka. But it was not wise, kameth.”
“Ashakh,” Aiela exclaimed, remembering, hardly recognizing his own voice. “Ashakh—is still out there.”
“I am instructing Teysel on the base ship to take him up to Ashanome. For Priamos there is no longer need of haste. For us, there is. See to yourselves, kamethi.”
Chapter 15
THE MELAKHIS WAS in session, and the entire body of the nasul with them, in the great hall beyond the paredre. The paredre projected itself and a hundred Chimeles, reflection into reflection, down the long central aisle of the hall, and thousands of iduve gathered, a sea of indigo faces, some projections, some not. There were no whisperings, for the synpathic iduve when assembled used other than words. Takkhenes gathered thick in the room, a heaviness of the air, a possession, a power that made it difficult even to draw breath, let alone to speak. Words seemed out of place; hearing came as through some vast gulf of distance.
And for a handful of m’metanei summoned into the heart of the nasul, the silence was overwhelming. Hundreds, thousands of iduve faces were the walls of the paredre; and Chimele and Khasif were in the center of it. Another pair of figures materialized among those that lined the hall, Ashakh’s slim dark form and the shorter, stouter one of Rakhi—solid, both of them, who silently joined the company in the center. Ashakh’s presence surprised Aiela. The base ship had hardly more than made itself secure in the hangar deck, and here was the nasith, stiff with his injuries, but immaculately clean, bearing little resemblance to the dusty, bloody being that had exited the collapse of the basement. He joined Chimele, and received a nod of great respect from her, as did Rakhi.
Then Chimele looked toward the kamethi and beckoned. They moved carefully in that closeness of iduve, and Daniel kept a tight grip on Arle’s shoulder. Chimele greeted them courteously, but only Aiela and Isande responded to it: Daniel kept staring at her with ill-concealed anger. It rose in a surge of panic when he saw her take a black case and open it. The platinum band of an idoikkhe gleamed within.
No! was in Daniel’s mind, frightening his asuthi. But they were by him, and Arle was there; and Daniel was prisoner of more than the iduve. He took it upon his wrist with that same helpless panic that Aiela had once felt, and was bitterly ashamed.
Is this what takkhenes does to m’metanei? Aiela wondered to himself. Daniel hated Ashanome; indeed, he had not feared Tejef half so much as he feared Chimele. But he yielded, and Aiela himself could not imagine the degree of courage it would take for one m’metane to have defied the nasul.
Outsiders both of you, Isande judged sadly. Oh, I am glad I never had to wrestle with your doubts. You are simply afraid of the iduve. Can’t you accept that? We are weaker than they. What does it take to make you content?
Chimele had grown interested in Arle now, and gazed upon the child’s face with that look Aiela knew and Daniel most hated, that bird-of-prey concentration that cast a spell over the recipient. Arle was drawn into that stillness and seemed more hypnotized than afraid.
“This is the child that was so important to you, Daniel-kameth, so important that your asuthi could not restrain you?”
Daniel’s heart thudded and seemed to stop as he realized that vaikka need not involve the real offender, that reward and punishment had no human virtue with the starlords. He would have said something if he could have gathered the words; as it was, he met Chimele’s eyes and fell into that amethyst gaze, that chill calm without pity as m’metanei knew it. Perhaps Chimele was laughing. None of the kamethi could detect it in her. Perhaps it was a vaikka in itself, a demonstration of power.
“She has a certain chanokhia,” said Chimele. “Arrangements will be made for her proper care.”
“I can manage that,” said Daniel. It was the most restrained thing he could manage to say.
And suddenly the center of the paredre itself gave way to a projection, red and violet, Tashavodh and Mijanothe, Kharxanen and Thiane.
“Hail Ashanome,” said Thiane. “Are you satisfied?”
Chimele arose and inclined her head in reverence to the eldest of all iduve. “You are punctual, o Thiane, long-living.”
“It is the hour, o Ashanome, hunter of worlds, and Priamos still exists. We have seen ships rejoining you. I ask again: are you satisfied?”
“You have then noted, o Thiane, that all of our interference on the world of Priamos has ceased ahead of the time, and that all equipment and personnel have been evacuated.”
Thiane frowned, nettled by this mild vaikka. “There is only one being whose whereabouts matters, o Ashanome.”
“Then see.” Chimele looked to her left and extended her hand. Another projection took shape, a man in dark clothing, seated. His eyes widened as he realized where he was: he arose and Arle began an outcry, stopped by Isande’s fierce grip on her arm.
“This person,” said Chimele softly, “was once of Ashanome. We have him among us again, and we are capable of settling our own internal matters. We give you honor, Mijanothe, for the propriety you constantly observed in harathos. And, o Kharxanen of Tashavodh, be advised that Ashanome will be ranging these zones for some time. In the interests of the ban on vaikka which the Orithanhe set upon us both, it seems to us that it would be proper for the nasul Tashavodh to seek some other field. We are in prior occupation of this space, and it is not proper for two orith-nasuli to share so close quarters without the decency of akkhres-nasuli and its binding oaths.”
There was a silence. Kharxanen’s heavy face settled into yet a deeper frown; but he inclined himself in a stiff bow. “Hail Ashanome. We part without vaikka. These zones are without interest to us; we delight that Ashanome is pleased to possess them. It seems to us an excellent means of disentangling our affairs. I give you farewell, Chimele.”
And without further courtesy, his image winked out.
It seemed, though one could not be certain, that a smile touched the face of Thiane, a smile which was no longer present as she turned to stare at the being who stood in the shaft of pale light. Then she inclined her head in respect to Chimele.
“Honor is yours, Ashanome,” declared Thiane. She set both hands on her staff and looked about her at all the assembly, the confident attitude of a great power among the iduve. Chimele resumed her chair, easy and comfortable in the gesture, undisturbed by the harachia of Thiane.