And Thiane turned last to the image of Tejef in its shaft of light, and he bowed his head. All threat, all strength was gone from him; he looked far less imposing than Thiane.
“He is near,” said Chimele softly. “He is not held from joining us in the paredre: it has not been necessary to restrain him. Perhaps to honor you he would come to your summons.”
“Tejef,” said aged Thiane, looking full at him, and he glanced up. A low murmuring came from the nasul, the first sound and an ugly one. Suddenly Tejef tore himself from the area of the projection and vanished.
He was not long in coming, tangible amid the multitude of projections that lined the paredre. Isande’s mind went cold and fearful even to look upon him, but he passed her without giving her notice, though her fair complexion made her most obvious in the gathering. He stopped before Chimele and Thiane, and gave Thiane a bow of courtesy, lifting his eyes again to Thiane, as if the action were painful.
“Tejef,” said Thiane, “if you have a message for Tashavodh, I will bear it.”
“No, eldest of us all,” answered Tejef softly, and bowed again at this exceptional courtesy from Thiane.
“Was it properly done?” asked Thiane.
Tejef’s eyes went to Aiela; but perhaps to blame a m’metane was too great a shame. There was no anger, only recognition; he did not answer Thiane.
“You have seen,” said Chimele to Thiane. “Harathos is satisfied. And hereafter he is Ashanome’s and it is the business of the nasul what we do.”
“Hail Ashanome, ancient and akita. May we always meet in such a mind as we part now.”
“Hail Mijanothe, far-seeing. May your seekings be satisfied and your prosperity endless. And hail Thiane, whose honor and chanokhia will be remembered in Ashanome.”
“As that of Chimele among us,” murmured Thiane, greatly pleased, and flicked out so quickly that her echoes were still dying.
Then it broke, the anger of Ashanome, a murmuring against Tejef that sent him to the center of the paredre, looking about at them and trying to show defiance when they crowded him. Two dhis-guardians, Tahjekh and Nophres, drew their ghiakai and rested them point-down on the priceless carpets, crossed, barring his way to Chimele.
An iduve hand caught Aiela’s arm and the idoikkhei stung the three of them simultaneously. “Out,” said Ashakh. “This is no place for m’metanei.”
Isande took a step to obey, but stopped, for Daniel was not coming, and Aiela stayed, terrified for what Daniel was likely to do.
Get the child out of here, Aiela appealed to him. But there was chaos already in the hall, iduve bodies intruding into the projection area, seeming to invade the paredre, real and unreal mingling in kaleidoscope combination. Tejef shrank back, less and less space for him. Someone dealt him a heavy blow; bodies were between and the kamethi could not see.
“Hold!” Khasif’s voice roared, bringing order; and Chimele arose and the iduve melted back from her. An uneasy silence settled.
“Tejef,” said Chimele.
He attempted to give a hiss of defiance. It was so subdued that it sounded far otherwise.
“There is a human female who claims to be your mate,” said Chimele. “She will have treatment for her injuries. It was remiss of you to neglect that—but of course, your abilities were limited. The amaut who sheltered in your protection have realized their error and are leaving Priamos in all possible haste. Your okkitan-as Gerlach perished in the lifting of your ship: Chaikhe found no particular reason to clear him from beside the vessel. And as for karsh Gomek in general, I do not yet know whether we will choose to notice the inconvenience these beings have occasioned us. It is even possible the nasul would choose not to notice your offenses, Tejef, if you were wise, if you made submission.”
The oppressive feeling in the air grew stronger. Tejef stood among them, sides heaving, sweat pouring down his indigo face. He shook his face to clear the sweat from his eyes and seemed likely to faint, a creature sadly fallen from the whole and terrible man who had faced them onworld. To yield, Daniel had heard from him once, is to die; morally and physically, it is to die; and if ever a man looked apt to die from such a cause, this one did, torn apart within.
Tejef’s wild shout of anger drowned all the rising murmur of the nasul. Iduve scattered from his first blows, voices shrieked and hissed. Isande snatched Arle and hugged; the human child’s face against her breast, trying to shut out the awful sight and sound, for the ghiakai of the guardians faced Tejef now, points level. When he would try to break free of the circle they would crowd him; and by now he was dazed and bleeding. With a shout he flung himself for Chimele; but there were the guardians and there was Khasif, and Khasif’s blow struck him to the floor.
Daniel thrust his way into the circle, jerked at the shoulder of a young iduve to push his way past before the youth realized what had happened—and cried out in pain, collapsing under the discipline of the idoikkhe.
Pain backwashed: Aiela forced his own way through the breach, trying to aid his stricken asuthe, cried out Chimele’s name and felt the impact of all that attention suddenly upon himself.
“M’metanei,” said Chimele, “this is not a place for you. You are not noticed.” She lifted her hand and the iduve parted like grass before the wind, opening the way to the door. When Daniel opened his mouth to protest the dismissaclass="underline" “Aiela,” she said most quietly. It was a last warning. He knew the tone of it.
Daniel rose, turned his face to Tejef, appealing to him; he wanted to speak, wanted desperately, but Daniel’s courage was the kind that could act: he had no eloquence, and words always came out badly. In pity, Aiela said it. Daniel would not yield otherwise.
“We interfered. I did. We are sorry.”
And to Aiela’s dismay the iduve gave back all about them, and they were alone in the center with Tejef—and Daniel moved closer to Isande, who clenched Arle’s hand tightly in hers, and gazed fearfully as Tejef gained his feet.
“Kamethi,” said Chimele, “I have not heard, I have not noticed this behavior. You are dismissed. Go away.”
“He had honor among his kamethi,” said Aiela, echoing what was in Daniel’s heart. It was important Tejef know that before they left. The idoikkhe touched, began and ceased. Isande radiated panic, she with the child, wanting to run, foreseeing Daniel’s death before their eyes—Aiela’s with him. It was her unhappiness to have asuthi as stubborn as herself—her pride, too. They were both mad, her asuthi, but she had accepted that already.
And Chimele looked upon the three of them: a kallia’s eyes might have varied, shown some emotion. Hers scarcely could, no more than they could shed tears. But Aiela pitied her: if he had disadvantaged her once before her nasithi alone and merited her anger, he could only surmise what he did to her now with the entire Melakhis and nasul to witness.
“Chimele-Orithain,” he said in a tone of great respect, “we have obeyed all your orders. If a kameth can ask anything of you—“
A tall shadow joined them—Ashakh, who folded his arms and gave a nod in curt deference to Chimele.
“This kameth,” said Ashakh, “is about to encounter trouble with which he cannot deal. He is a peculiar being, this m’metane, a little rash with us, and without any sense of takkhenes to feel his way over most deadly ground; but his chanokhia appeals to me. I oppose his disrespect, but I am not willing to see harm come to him or to his asuthi—one of whom is, after all, human as well as outsider, and even more ignorant of propriety than this one. I have borne with much, Chimele. I have suffered and my sra has suffered for the sake of Ashanome. But this kameth and his asuthi are of worth to the nasul. Here I say no, Chimele.”