The Search for Kä Read online

  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.

  15

  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.”

  She clapped her hands together. “Baby sha’um?” she said. “May I see them?”

  “If they’re outside, you can probably see them from the window,” I said, and went to sit on the ledge that ran along the wall below the two tall, narrow windows. They were made of small, diamond-shaped pieces of glass fitted into a lattice-style frame made of small strips of wood. The frames were divided into two sections, and I opened the lower section of this window, motioning Illia to sit in front of me and look out.

  One of the male cubs was just coming out of the sha’um house, using the instinctive stalking movement to sneak up on the female, who was propped unsteadily on her hind legs against the side of the brick building. She was absorbed in batting at Keeshah’s twitching tail, which hung over the roof of the house, along with one hind foot. The tail was just within her reach—until her brother knocked her over.

  The noise brought the other male on the run, and it was another three-way free-for-all. Keeshah stirred, lifted his head, growled, and relaxed again. Yayshah appeared from behind the building and tromped through the fight, dragging one of the males off and trapping him under a forepaw. She started licking him and he rolled over obligingly, nipping and licking at her jaw and neck as she cleaned him.

  “She is beautiful,” Illia breathed, touching my arm for emphasis. “And the cubs—Rikardon, this is a wondrous thing. How did it happen?”

  The family scene seemed to have a special significance to me, with Illia sitting so close. Markasset’s body had known hers very well, and continued to appreciate it. I stood up, trying not to be obvious about avoiding her touch.

  “It has to do with—with the woman who came back with you,” Illia said.

  “Her name is Tarani,” I said, “and yes, the female sha’um is hers. It’s a long story that I’ve told too often lately. Besides, I want to hear about you. Are you still teaching? How is Zaddron?”

  “I am still teaching,” she answered, then sighed. “As for Zaddorn, his duties keep him well occupied. I suppose you’ve heard about the sickness.”

  “Sickness?”

  “The worker vineh—there has been an epidemic of some sort. It spread quickly through the entire colony. They say the pain of it enrages the beast who has it, and that it lasts a long time. Most of the vineh tore their way through the confinement walls at the colony, and are roaming about the countryside. Zaddorn has nearly doubled his Peace and Security Force to provide guards along the roads and try to locate the vineh free of the disease, who simply wandered off because the way was open for them.”

  She paused, puzzled.

  “Surely Thanasset mentioned this to you?”

  “He did say something about trouble with the vineh,” I hedged, “but to tell you the truth, we’ve been too preoccupied with the sha’um to think of much else.”

  So this is how the Council has explained the sudden hostility of the vineh, I thought. I wonder if Zaddorn knows the truth.

  Illia stood up. “I really must go, Rikardon—I have tomorrow’s lesson to plan.”

  I walked her to the door. “Give my best to Zaddorn when you see him,” I said, “and take my greetings and good wishes to your parents.”

  She turned on the paving stone in front of Thanasset’s doorway and smiled at me. “I am glad to have se
en you again, Rikardon,” she said. “And I do thank you for writing to me—it is only another sign of your thoughtfulness and honesty. If, as you say, you will be leaving Raithskar soon, I will say goodbye now.”

  She stretched up to kiss my cheek, and I reached down to hug her.

  Tarani and Thanasset chose that moment to come walking up the street, arm in arm.

  “Hello, Illia,” Thanasset said, without embarrassment, but flashing me a quick wink to see he appreciated the situation. “May I present our guest, a traveler from Eddarta? Tarani, this is Illia, our good friend.”

  The two women presented startling contrasts—Illia short and golden, Tarani tall and dark-furred. Illia, in spite of a quick attempt to hide her reaction, looked at Tarani with the air of a competitor assessing an opponent. Tarani had natural poise and years of stage experience to help her maintain her composure, but her smile and verbal greeting to Illia were devoid of real warmth.

  When Illia had hurried off down the street, I noticed that both Thanasset and Tarani were carrying bundles. They came inside the house and opened them—Tarani had been to the market to buy extra water bags for our foray into the desert, and Thanasset had brought home some dry and faded charts which he hoped would give me an idea where to start looking for the Raithskar end of the pipeline, if any of it remained to be found.

  “I have this for you, as well,” Thanasset said, sorting a fresher-looking sheet from the mass of old paper and handing it to me. “Ferrathyn was in his offices for a short while this morning. I took the liberty of speaking for you, Rikardon. I invited him to stop by and learn the results of your trip firsthand. I fear I teased him unfairly,” he said, smiling, “with a description of Keeshah’s family. He seemed intrigued, but complained of pain in his joints—indeed, movement seemed to cost him much effort.