Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
REM’EB
I t takes me some time to find Kin’far the Exile and where he lurks in the deeper tunnels, where nothing grows and the walls are too narrow for the village to spread in that direction. I know vaguely where he hides, since I have run across him on patrol in the past. Naturally, when I am seeking him out, he is impossible to locate.
When I finally do find him, he is eating fresh fruit from above, the juices dribbling down his chin and staining his pelt bright red. He leers at me with amusement. “Have you come to look at the yellow-mane female? Is the brown-maned one not to your liking? Or are you greedy and want both?”
“You do not speak of her,” I growl at him, pointing a finger in his face. “You do not ever speak of her. You endanger all of us when you do.”
“No one comes into these tunnels but exiles,” he says in a singsong voice. “Exiles and wanderers.”
“Then you should quit coming out of them,” I snarl, rapidly losing my temper. “Show me where R’jaal the Stranger is. I know you have him and the other female.”
“The dying one? I do. I would not separate them. They like to touch when they’re together, and I like to watch that.” His eyes flare with sick amusement.
Disgusting.
I should know better than to expect decency from Kin’far the Exile. When he was a youth, he killed his patrol partner while out in the tunnels and hid the body. No one knew that he’d murdered someone until he’d returned alone and his story of the missing warrior continued to change every day. The male’s corpse was eventually found and Kin’far exiled, but he lurks in the tunnels and causes trouble wherever he can. My father should ignore him completely, and yet if he had, Tia would not be waiting for my return.
I think of her pressing her lips to my cheek again and my tail twitches. I want that lip-touch again more than anything.
“Show me the strangers,” I tell Kin’far, hating that I must use him to get what I want. “And be silent.”
He puts one hand over his mouth even as he giggles to himself, then turns and points to a branching tunnel. I follow after him, hating every step, and he continues to lead me down a twisting series of unused tunnels that have no value to our people. There are no water pools to drink from, no moss for harvesting, no mushrooms. It is no wonder he hides them out here. No one would think to look here unless they knew someone was hiding.
Sometimes I worry at what else Kin’far the Exile hides out in these tunnels that he doesn’t tell us about.
But then he turns down another narrowing tunnel and stops. “This place has not been used for some time,” he says. “Not since we warred with the strangers above. It seemed a shame not to utilize the rooms when so much work has gone into them.”
What is he jabbering about? I push past him…and then I see it.
A cell. A cell with metal bars to enclose it.
There are a few of them scattered in the tunnels, most of them far-flung and inconvenient. Only one is actually located inside our village, and the bars there have grown smooth from the hands that have rubbed and touched the metal repeatedly. The metal on these bars is rougher, not worn smooth, and enclose a small side-cavern with a latching metal door.
I don’t blame Kin’far for being impressed with all the metalwork. It is a skill our people are losing. Most of the metalworkers died during the great sickness, and there is not enough need for more metalworking for those of us that are left. Have I not heard Gar’duk the Forge complain bitterly about how no one needs his skills?
The enclosure is a small one, with a patch of moss crawling over the ceiling to provide enough lighting to see by. At the back of the enclosure, wrapped around each other, are the strangers. I see pale blue skin like the strangers have, paired against pasty white skin and a strangely yellow mane. The male has horns rather like ours, but his tail and body are lacking fur, and he only has two arms.
The female looks both a bit like Tia and nothing like her at all. This one is soft and rounded everywhere, with plump thighs and too-pale coloring. She wears one of our people’s wraps, made from stem fibers, and appears to be burrowing against the male for warmth. There is a low thrumming in the air, like a buzzing in the ears, and it takes me a few moments to realize that I am hearing them resonating.
“Only the male has a khui,” Kin’far says in a low voice, just behind me. “The female’s has died. Her eyes are dull and she grows weak.”
The sickness? I cover my mouth with the crook of one elbow and step back, glaring at Kin’far. “They have the sickness? And you did not tell my father?”
The male rolls his eyes as if I am the crazy one. “Not that sickness. Neither of them has a rash. She is sick with something else.”
Even so, I take another step back, not wanting to breathe the same air. The Great Sickness decimated our people not long after my birth. So many died that our entire village was at risk. It was the reason my father took such drastic measures to ensure the safety of the women we have left. Even if there is a chance of sickness returning to our people, I cannot bring it back. “Where is Set’nef the Wanderer?” I ask Kin’far. “I would speak to him.”
I need to find out more.
A short time later, Set’nef the Wanderer emerges from the tunnels and sets my mind at ease.
“There is no sickness,” he says scornfully. “Kin’far the Exile causes trouble. That is all.”
“But the female is dying,” I point out. “He says her eyes are dead.” I have not seen this for myself, as neither of them have awoken since I arrived. Perhaps all of the surface strangers are heavy sleepers, but I suspect it is more that Kin’far tampers with their food.
“Her eyes are not dead. She has no khui.”
I frown at him, uncomprehending. “How is that possible?”
Set’nef spreads his hands in a silent gesture of confusion. “I do not know, but it is the truth. I have watched the male and the female interact and he does not act as if she is dying, but he is concerned that she needs to be taken away. I think he wants to get her a khui to replace the one she lost.”
How can someone lose a khui? We are born with one wrapped around our hearts. It makes no sense. “Then there is no disease? There is another female like her, and I want to make sure there is no danger to her, or to others.”
I might be besotted by Tia, but I will not risk the lives of the rest of my people, no matter how much my heart speeds when she looks at me.
“No disease.” Set’nef shakes his head again. “Kin’far thinks if the female is dying we should give her to him. The male is very protective of this one, though.”
Of course he is protective. They have resonated, and now there is no one to protect my Tia except me. She has lost her suitor…and I cannot help but be a little glad about that. She’s mine. Kin’far will not touch her. I eye Set’nef the Wanderer, because he seems unlikely to be pulled into Kin’far’s schemes. He is a quiet one, his mien somber, and happiest when he is exploring the tunnels and on patrol. He has a brother, Tal’nef the Swiftest, who is well-liked by all, but Set’nef holds himself apart. “How did you get wrapped up in this situation?”
Set’nef the Wanderer’s expression changes from calm to something darker. “I was checking the tunnels near the surface to see if any of them had been compromised. I have found many muddy footprints on my routes and knew someone was going to the surface. Imagine my surprise when I came across Kin’far and one of your father’s guards dragging the blue one and the brown female down here. Then we put the male behind the bars of the cage and I find out that Kin’far has stolen another female—this yellow-mane one.” He shakes his head. “No good can come of this. We should not antagonize the surface peoples. It is best for us if they forget we exist.”
He is not wrong. I am more troubled, however, by the knowledge that my father has been working with Kin’far prior to bringing the females in. That he lied to me. I had been under the impression that Kin’far had started the trouble and Father then claimed one of the females for me. Finding out that they planned the attack together is…troubling. Finding out that there is another male involved worries me, too. Every other person that knows of Tia means that she is in danger.
The oracle would have something to say about this. In times of trouble, we are to consult the Oracle’s Attendant, but my father does not want me to speak to her.
All of this grows more and more complicated, and I like none of it.
No, that is wrong. I like Tia. I like her too much to do the right thing, and that is most troubling of all.