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bed. And he played upon it, calling forth from the strings such sounds of
wrath and magnificence that my blood halted, ice-bound, in my veins. I heard
the scrabble of M tras s mind, near madness, as Khys replaced the ijiyr in its
case. I had not realized that the instrument meant so much to him. Slowly I
made my way to join the dharen, feet slippery on the metal plating, struggling
with my own emotions. Did he, I wondered, know of the threat to the hides? And
I answered myself that he must. Nor was I wrong to keep silent, lest I
belittle myself with the inadequacy of my conception.
Khys spoke a musical sounding. I guessed it some greeting in M tras tongue.
The tone of his skin near-matched the burnished metal. Easy, relaxed, was Khys
in his dark leathers before the M ksakkan, as if we hurtled not in some
wounded thing s stomach through the void. And while I thought it, the dharen
leaned upon the table, both hands clenching its edge. Not understanding, I
went to him, touched his arm, my mind sending support to the best of my
weakened ability. But it was no indisposition upon Khys then, no
sudden-revealed infirmity. Seeking, I saw a shore, cold and forbidding, and a
strangely formed rock, through which the wind keened. And then a sun spewing
gold-red tongues blinded me. Singed and blinking, I retreated, retrieving my
hand from Khys s arm. That one looked at me. His eyes had carried away the
solar flame. It burned in him for a moment, undamped. Then he pushed himself
back from the table s edge.
I am going to free your tongue, Trasyi Quenni-saleslor Stryl Yri Yrlvahl. You
will speak only at my bidding. I saw his lids barely perceptible flicker, as
he altered his flesh-lock upon the mechanic. M tras kept silent. His skin was
very gray as he sat there, unmoving, his hands in his lap, his mouth at last
his to close.
I have cause to do what I will with you. Your intentions, and those of your
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superiors, distress me. I will not, of course, allow any such to manifest in
the time. I granted you an opportunity to reconsider. You did not choose to
seize it. Did you think that by drugging the girl you could shut my eyes to
your machinations? He smiled grimly. There is the sort, and the hest. And
there is the assessing of minds, in the now. All are particulars of sensing.
One does not consider depth perception apart from seeing. You know, you are
thinking, nothing of sorting and hesting. I shall begin to teach you.
Silence, Khys snapped as M tras twitched his lips. He could not, I was sure,
even turn his head. I threw my leg upon the table. The metal was cool to my
bare flesh. As best I could, I hardened my heart to M tras plight. I had
craved this moment, that of the dharen s retribution. Upon me, I found it less
than savory, as grating upon my spirit as Khys s M ksakkan to the ears.
Let me divine for you the sort, offered the dharen, his eyes flashing. I
quaked, though I was not the subject of his displeasure. You have passed out
of the draw time, when you might have avoided this which here begins. In crux,
there comes an ending, from it new beginnings. That which will occur is, by my
will, fixed. In a situation where outward influence is denied you, you will
learn a thing: when one finds one s position untenable by reason of
preconception and context, all that remains is to alter one s perspective,
that comfort sufficient to secure survival may be maintained. That choice,
survival, is open to you. Choose well. He indicated that M tras might speak.
The time M tras stumbled is not up. You had promised another day. I would
have returned her.
Khys shook his head. You do not yet believe me, do you? I have complete
access to your thoughts, for what they are worth. I am aware of your decision
to use the return of Estri as sham behind which to conceal your true
intention that of destruction of the hides. I saw you reach it. I waited, set
that time limit, that I might flush from hiding him who conceived this thing,
him whose skills were sufficient to have kept him obscure. But all is now
accomplished. I have what I needed from this farce. Thought you, really, I
would spend life so extravagantly as to destroy a sphere of human habitation?
Or was it perhaps a machine s conception, that would credit such dementia to a
man? The dharen s voice, so calm, so saddened, diminished M tras as no
harangue would have. Speak, you who should have known better.
M tras face and hands were agleam with sweat. He seemed to have trouble
finding words. I am of some little value, he said, his voice trembling,
both to M ksakka and my home world. Return me to them.
It is not in the sort, said Khys.
V: Draw to Crux
I stood beside the Keening Rock of Fai-Teraer Moyhe. The wind, cold and
wailing, blew inland off the gray Embrodming Sea. It flogged me with salt
spray. I had confined my hair in a thick braid, safed the braid under the
cloak Khys had lent me. Beneath it I wore only the rumpled silk. My feet were
bare, upon the sea-slicked sand. At my left was the Keening Rock, ten times
the height of a man; a pierced monolith. Seven holes are there in that spire,
each singular. The northern winds long ago conceived it their instrument. And
over that instrument have they gained mastery, I thought, standing there in
the sullen midday, with the Embrodming pulsing bass to the wailing of the
gale. Loud it was, and eerie, with high-octave tones that demanded and
received sympathetic resonance from my very bones. Behind me, inland, amid the
ragged coastal rocks, began the eastern wilderness of which none are empowered
to speak. And yet, I stood here. Khys had bade me await him by the Keening
Rock while he meted out judgment to those who incurred his wrath.
It had been, of course, Khys s barrier against which the Oniar-M had crashed.
I squinted into the gray-green boiling sky, as if from here I could see it,
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