Harry Turtledove: Clan of the Claw

The Liskash guards behind them lifted the latch from the door.

Cleotra looked as if she might storm out. Scaro speculated on whether any of them would make it out of there alive. His task, should all things go awry, was to see to the Dancers’ safety. He stood on the balls of his feet, ready to spring to their defense. Liskash took a long time to die, but they were slow moving. He could probably kill six or seven of them before getting the Dancers out of the room.

Cleotra lifted her chin. She was still angry.

“For the sake of my people, then, I break my vows. Ysella!”

The girl ran to her side. Cleotra assumed a pose with her hands outstretched, palms down. Her fingers moved gracefully as if each was a bird flying through the air. Ysella moved at once to a distance of two Mrem-lengths and composed herself, her eyes cast modestly down, shoulders turned inward. She must be playing Assirra to Cleotra’s Aedonniss.

Cleotra leaped into the air. Her hands and feet kicked out, and her tail lashed. She was a storm, she was a cataract, she was a whirlwind! The mighty powers of nature were all contained in one slender, lithe body. Scaro could not take his eyes off her. She kicked high and twirled in midair, coming down on her toes. Then, staying poised on the ball of one foot, she crouched low, watchful and wary. The world was created, but Aedonniss was alone and lonely.

Ysella moved then, wafting her arms in gentle waves. As the dombek thrummed, she moved sinuously around the circle, exploring the domain that had been made. She stopped, withdrawing into herself, as she saw the hulking figure of Aedonniss. He was powerful and fierce, but she was clearly attracted to him. She held back, not knowing what she should do. She was alluring in her grace. She seemed to rub affectionately against the air, seeking someone to share that caress. Scaro yearned to be the one that she sought. He could give her the love she craved.

Then he gave himself a mental kick. That was Ysella up there! An immature girl! But she had a mastery of the art that he would not have dreamed. What she would be when she was older! Scaro glanced at the throne to see what Lord Tae thought of their performance.

The Liskash noble wasn’t even looking at them! He had his eyes closed. And so they remained throughout the rest of the magnificent dance.

Scaro shrugged. If he wanted to miss what he had asked to see, that was his problem. As long as no threat was imminent, he was going to enjoy the command performance. It must be good to be the lord of a whole domain.

Petru soothed and fussed over Cleotra all the way back to the guest quarters. He had wrapped her in a light cloak against the cool air. Night, thankfully, covered most of the horrors of Liskash architecture, artwork and decor. Nothing, sadly, could be done about the ugliness of their escort. It was even larger than the contingent that had brought them to the high keep.

“You channeled your anger at Lord Tae magnificently, Your Sinuousness. It was most impressive,” he said.

“It was odd to Dance without my sisters,” Cleotra said thoughtfully. “That ugly little worm did not show much appreciation.”

“He had his eyes closed, my lady,” Emoro repeated.

“The whole time?” Cleotra asked, outraged, as if she could not believe it.

“The whole time,” Sherril said glumly. “And he did not want to hear any of my poems.”

“No surprise there,” Scaro commented, from the ranks. “The Liskash already hate us.” Sherril shot an annoyed look over his shoulder. There would be ear-biting and rolling on the floor if they were safely at home.

“What I fear,” Sherril said, “is why.”

Petru massaged Cleotra’s hand. The tension in it was extreme enough that she would need a thorough rubdown once he got her settled in her chamber. Once the performance was over, he had collared one of the less dazed-looking servants and gotten her to agree to bring food to their quarters. He could have eaten an entire arosh by himself, but the Dancers had to have meat too after their exertion. Lord Tae had a lot to answer for, not letting them prepare properly and asking for a forbidden Dance. Petru did not like him. His attire, and how ridiculously heavily Liskash dressed, was an eyesore, as was the entire stronghold. A waste of craftsmanship and materials. If he had been in charge, and perhaps he could offer some guidance when they were permitted to cross Ckotliss to the west, he would correct their color sense at least. It pained him that his personal adornments clashed with his surroundings no matter how he arranged himself. He had a headache that made his temper short, but his duty was to Cleotra. He cosseted and soothed her.

“Why do you think?” she asked Sherril.

The counselor looked around them. Too many of the dinos were close enough to hear. Petru knew that what they heard, Lord Tae heard. He shot a warning look at Sherril, who waved it away impatiently.

“I think he was enjoying the drumming,” Sherril said.

Petru preened. He had been very good.

“How did our Dance look?” Ysella asked, sidling up to Scaro.

“Good,” the lieutenant grunted.

“I thought you were wonderful,” Gilas said, from behind her. “You move like leaves on the trees, or grain waving. I have never seen anything so graceful.”

Ysella startled, her tail fluffing.

“Thank you,” she said, pleased. Gilas beamed at her.

Petru chuckled to himself. Ah, young love. But that lad had many years ahead of him before he could settle down with a wife, let alone win a Dancer.

Up the wretched ladders and down into their deep, dank box again. Petru took both of his ladies into the room prepared for them. He was pleased to see that none of their possessions had been tampered with by Lord Tae’s servants. Cleotra was exhausted, but restless. He brushed her entire body over and over again until she dozed on the clean bedding. She would have been better for fresh food. Where was that servant girl with the food he had ordered? All that was available was the stores they had brought with them from the camp. Dried fish would be too hard to chew. Petru resolved to simmer some in water to make a nourishing soup as soon as he had settled both Dancers.

Ysella had fallen asleep in a corner. He lifted her into her own nest of bedding. What a little, light thing she was. He felt very protective of his Dancers. Petru went through his various cases until he found a vial of calming oils and dabbed a little on her throat at the pulse points. She let out a happy buzz in her sleep. Petru patted her and went about his other tasks. Their jewelry had to be put away, as did his own. He rubbed an unguent into his hands. They became so dry after a night of drumming. But he had been good, hadn’t he?

How irritating of Lord Tae to keep his eyes closed through the performance. He didn’t understand the meaning of what he had seen, or not seen. The Dance spoke of the very essence of Mrem, the savagery in their souls that they channeled into beauty and grace.

A thin crescent moon was just hanging on the western lip of the roof in a lapis-blue sky. Morning was not that far away.

He had a chamber of his own, but he was reluctant to make use of it. Instead, he sat on the stone seat along the fountain and watched the water trickle by torchlight. Something troubled him. It lurked at the corners of his mind like the warriors lurking in the corners of the courtyard. He had faith in the Dance that protected them, but the power of the Liskash was undeniable. The pain in his head increased. He had powders and herbs to soothe ills, but this was an intense hurt.

Lord Tae could help him, he mused. If he obeyed the Liskash lord, he would never feel pain again. Peace awaited him. He must go to his god.