Besieged Page 10

  “But also pleasant and joy-filled.” He crouched by a hole in the lattice-work. “The water is precious and limited. Stand under me one at a time and open your mouth.”

  Excited squeals mixed with rustling sounds. Why did they want the river water? She set her eye against another hole to watch. The leader was first in line, head tilted back, mouth open as wide as it could possibly go. Just as a baby bird responds when its mama returns with a worm.

  Its neck worked to swallow. Its body shook. Its eyes were closed. Its antennae waved. It began to hum. Could an insect feel ecstasy?

  Deep rumbles, punctuated with chirps, filled the basket. A yellow feline kneaded the trunk with its front claws. Whiskers twitched and its tail swished as it slurped its share.

  The next, a tri-colored female, paced and chirped. It rushed to the resre as soon as the yellow pulled back. Cierra had once seen cats fed milk squeezed straight from the cow’s udder. This was much the same.

  “They’re acting like exuberant kittens.”

  The first canine, a wolf-gray animal with a deep chest, pranced in place. Its yips sounded almost tortured. It rushed to the tree, mouth already open when the second feline withdrew. Its tail was a blur of movement.

  Next to her Castoff whined encouragement, his tail whipping almost as rapidly as the one below. Both her males were ranged against her. Again. She sighed. They were usually right.

  Pressing her eye to the hole again she saw the canine wiggling from pointed ears to tail tip with delight. For a second she forgot the werf wanted to kill them and smiled. It seemed almost cuddly.

  The final werf, a biscuit and brown mix, grew impatient and shoved the gray out of its way. Front paws extended as high up the trunk as it could, its tongue lolling, it waited for its portion of The Masters’ water.

  Kyam poured a thin stream. Slurping and bouncing in place, it panted with excitement. Kyam chuckled, “Makes you want to ruffle its ears.”

  “And pull back a stump.”

  He winked at her. “I’ll settle for ruffling your hair. Those curls have called to me from the first I saw you.”

  She sat and stared. He liked her messy curls, her ordinary brown hair? Her fingers ran through her tangled mop. He had slid his fingers into her hair to wake her on their last river ride. And he had wrapped a curl around his finger several times. Maybe—yes, she was almost sure she liked her hair too—since he did.

  Kyam re-corked the pouch and jiggled it. “Still about half.”

  “What if they can climb in? What if they stay for weeks? What if fulcarries arrive? What if—?

  “Peace, Cierra, speak peace to your heart. Deep breaths, retreat to your heart. Sit at The Masters’ feet. I’ll keep watch.”

  She tried several times before she could discipline herself to do so. Ya-Owni was there to greet her. ‘Beloved, welcome.’

  ‘My plume. Have I betrayed us again?’

  ‘Merlick saw it, but your compassion on my wayward creatures will be your shelter. His attack will be delayed long enough.’

  ‘Werfs.’

  ‘Thank you for redeeming them. How we delighted in their creation. Their hearts were vast and eager to please.’

  ‘That is hard to imagine.’

  ‘I always measure potential by the size of the heart.’

  ‘My heart—'

  ‘Is even wider and deeper than theirs.’

  ‘Frightening.’

  ‘That is why I chose Kyam as your mate.’

  Chapter 6

  Pleaz.” The lead werf’s voice drew her from The Masters’ presence.

  “What do you wish?” Kyam stood at the rim and looked over the side.

  “The wat-er. Itsh sourz.”

  “It flows from The Masters’ Empire.”

  “Ah. Heard an-cent stories of ‘em. Iz true?”

  “Creators of all. Benevolent. Powerful.”

  “Lost plaz in Ther Em-ire. Ver bad.”

  “Ya-Ray took all our badness. Gave us His goodness.”

  “Com dow. Tel us mo.”

  Cierra grabbed Kyam’s tunic. Her insides shook. “No. It could be a trap.”

  He patted her hand. “The decision is not ours to make—there is no way down. Yet.” How could he consider their request?

  “Good.” The knot in her throat eased.

  He tapped her nose. So playful and calm while she fought to keep the screams inside. “At least consider the possibility that they are redeemable.”

  “Redeemed.” She blinked. Oh, no. “Ya-Owni thanked me for the werfs’ redemption.”

  “Excellent.”

  Of course he would think so.

  “But the redemption may not be complete.” She stood on tiptoe to stare down at their foes. “Heart changes are not quickly seen. How are we to be sure?”

  “There must be a way—” Kyam watched the five werfs. “They no longer prowl nor growl.”

  “That could be a ruse. Or a temporary softening. I’ve known of men who met The Masters, yet walked away.” She rummaged in her pack. “It’s past time to break our fast. Fruit and rolls.” If she got his attention away from the werfs—and what better way than food?— perhaps he would have time to reconsider.

  He crouched beside her. “Ya-Wyn knows their hearts. He will...” He grabbed her hand. “Of course, the resre. Pure hearts embraced will release the stairs.”

  She bit her lip. “Which would also eliminate our being stranded. They could be our way down.” Now even she was considering the possibility. Where was her common sense when she needed it?

  “Which is exactly the kind of dual results The Masters delight in creating.” Kyam looked at the lead werf. “Embrace the tree.”

  She pressed an eye to the widest opening in the basket’s weave. It gave her an excellent view of the tree’s base. The werf wrapped both jointed arms around the trunk and laid his head against the bark. The stem-like protrusions on his head swayed from side to side. Almost immediately, whirrs and hums began which matched the vibrations she could feel in the wood at her feet.

  Kyam shouted, “It’s opening! I will descend first. Castoff next. And when all is well, you can come down with our supplies.”

  She stared at the gaping hole where moments earlier there had been sturdy woven branches. She crawled closer. It was such a long way down. What if the stairs closed before Kyam was down? What if Castoff slipped? Just how trustworthy was the resre? Cierra clutched his arm. “Be watchful, husband.”

  “Be peaceful, wife.” Kyam turned to the dog. “Can you manage the stairs? Or shall I rig a harness?”

  Castoff yelped and lowered his ears, apparently insulted by Kyam’s question.

  “Forgive me, friend. I stand corrected.” Kyam slipped through the basket’s opening, lowering himself until his foot found the first rung. When only his head was still visible, Castoff backed into the opening. Cierra steadied him until his hind feet were on the first step.

  A slurp of the tongue and he too disappeared down the resre. Moments later the opening disappeared as the weave moved back into place. She yelled and stumbled back. Hurrying to the rim, she started to call out but stopped. Kyam, with Castoff at his side, faced the werf leader. Just one scenton separated them.

  Equal in height, they stared at each other.

  The leader spoke but she couldn't distinguish the words, garbled as they were at the best of times.

  How was it that she accepted their speaking as natural? Was the water changing her? Or perhaps Kyam’s expectation of Castoff talking? Or just the cumulation of so many unnatural occurrences that everything now seemed possible, if not probable?

  The insect werf moved toward Kyam with arms raised, its tail scoring a groove in the ground. Kyam didn’t move so she stifled her cry of alarm. She clutched the rim as the leader tesoed closer. When it stood less than five tesos from him, it dropped to its knees and pressed its head against his chest. Its head stems bobbed and swayed under Kyam’s nose.

  Like a father comforting his child, her h
usband cradled the werf’s head and held it close. She shuddered. That bloodless texture and hard shell. No matter how the insect had changed she could never do that.

  The leader’s shoulders began to rise and fall. It began to wail. “Ie—ee-ah. Ie-ee-ah.”

  The other four werfs pressed so close Kyam changed his stance: a lesser man would have lost his balance in the undulating wave of furry bodies rubbing against his legs or Castoff’s back. From the look on his face, she suspected the dog was enduring, not enjoying, the youngest feline nestling against his side.

  Their yowls and howls rose and fell in time with the leader’s mourning. The beginnings of a new ringing echoed in her heart. It started slow, with deep notes, but ended in an exultant peal.

  ✽✽✽

  “Hur’s.” The leader rubbed its forearm across its chest.

  “It hurts?” Kyam remember the soothing rhythm of his mother rocking him as a child with a bruised knee. He did his best to imitate it.

  “Yez.” Eyes closed, the werf leaned all its weight on him. It was like clutching a sturdy branch.

  “I am Kyam. You are?”

  “‘ezzer.”

  “Hezzer, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. Is the pain easing?”

  “Yez. Insid. Ol’ shel brea-ing apart.”

  “Ah. You sloughed off a shell around your heart that was too small for a creature who tasted The Masters’ water.”

  “Yez.”

  “Tingling feeling of returning life.”

  “Yez.”

  “There are few things as satisfying as a good stretch after a cramp.”

  “Inside strich.” The werf drew a slow, deep breath. Its head tilted to one side. “Iz good.”

  Purrs and whines surrounded him as the four other werfs stretched. One feline rested its front paws on Kyam’s shoulders while the canines nudged his hands with their heads. He was knee deep in a boisterous family brood—just so would it be when he played with his sons and daughters.

  Camaraderie—how he missed that sense of unity. Lost since he left life-long friends behind in Elpan. He rubbed his chest. Hezzor was not the only one with a cracking heart shell.

  Tails switched in a happy rhythm, thumping his legs and smacking Castoff in the nose. “Come down, Mela Dolsi, I haven't sufficient hands for caressing and scratching.”

  “I would if I were able.”

  He looked up. Cierra’s nose and fingers rested on the rim, like a small child peering over a too high table. He looked at the tree. The stairs were gone. “As soon as I extricate myself, I will see to your release. It’s a pity we never discovered the key to opening it from within.”

  “Yes. I know. The information may be beneficial someday.”

  “You are beginning to know me well, kitten.”

  He wrapped his arms around the tree. When the opening was wide enough, she poked her head through, “Throwing packs, beware.”

  “Warning heeded. Proceed.”

  One by one, she tossed them down, then descended the resre ladder. Wet noses greeted her at the bottom as the younger werfs crowded around her. For a woman terrorized lately, she responded with commendable aplomb to their welcome.

  Hezzor approached more slowly, bowing at her feet, arms and legs folded multiple times. “For-ive, gra-ouz lady?” Kyam held his breath…to ask the most difficult of tasks for her so soon…

  ✽✽✽

  Cierra thought of their murderous rage just yesterday, and of her terror. Yet how could she withhold forgiveness when she herself struggled with deep anger? “Forgiven.”

  The lead werf took her hand and held it to his face. She gritted her teeth against a scream. Shivers coursed up and down her back like a thousand tiny spiders crawling under her skin…

  She’d been eight years old and planting a daisy when she ruptured the wall of a colony of angry arachnids. In the blink of an eye they scaled her arm, invaded her hair, traversed her back and filled her ears. The feel of minuscule legs scrambling everywhere, the bites from irritated insects persisted through numerous baths and slathers of lotion. And played large in her nightmares for years…

  She’d said she forgave. Were her words true if she reacted in revulsion to Hezzor’s touch? To offend him was unpardonable manners—this she had learned at her father’s side before she reached the age of six. Besides, Kyam expected better of her.

  “Noble to for-ive. Wor-hy con-sort for your king.” Hezzor’s words jerked her from her inner debate. Wait? What?

  “King? You mistake me for another.” Kyam brushed off a stump. “A throne for you, queen of my heart.” He bowed low, front leg extended, sweeping his arm across his body. Ah. Her court jester had made an appearance. Very well. Two could play this game.

  Cierra lifted her nose and placed two fingers in his palm. She minced toward the stump. “Where are my velvets and ermine, jester?”

  “Alas, my queen, they seemed to have fallen from my pack.” His sorrow looked almost genuine.

  “Such flagrant dereliction of duty must be punished.” She turned to Castoff and swept a pointing finger toward the resre. “Take him to the dungeon.”

  The dog rubbed his nose as if hiding a snicker. But the werfs stood frozen in place. Puzzlement and worry rippled across their furry faces. “No need to fear. My king delights in jesting and I have found it necessary to respond in kind.”

  Hezzor nodded once slowly, “We haf myths of hu-ans who act so. Be-for the great be-tray-al.” He turned to the younger werfs. “It’s call jokin. Thir words mean the oppos of what they should. And hu-ans respon with laugh.”

  The canine werfs cocked their heads as if asking for clarification.

  “Tha wor has no meanin for tem. We hav never hea the sound nor fel the emo that births it.”

  Her husband knelt so that he was eye to eye with the puzzled creatures. “It is a sound we make when joyful or merry.”

  “That will have no meaning either.” Hezzor’s voice was resigned.

  “A feeling like an interior tickle which is soothed by the sound of laughter. Like this.” He demonstrated with a soft chuckle. How respectful of their ignorance—he made sure his eyes and face matched the sound. The werfs leaned closer, whiskers quivering. Then Kyam switched from chuckles to chortles. The werfs were on their feet straining toward him yet without moving. Looks of hunger and yearning had her wanting to hug them. And then Kyam threw back his head and laughed—full and freely. The werfs were squirming and dancing in place. Did they want to respond, but knew not how?

  Castoff must have had the same thought. He pounced on Kyam’s chest, tunneled his nose under his hair, and slurped his chin. As if released from invisible chains, the four werfs piled on top of Kyam.

  Time lost meaning as the werfs learned of joy and laughter.

  ✽✽✽

  “Would you join us for our repast? And perhaps tell us the story of the Great Betrayal?” Kyam dug through Cierra’s pack. “Our offerings are limited, but the peace between us should give it exceptional flavor.”

  “Yu hon-or uz, yur hi-nez.” Hezzor’s stems twitched and two of the younger werfs—a feline and a canine left the circle. “We will con-trib-ut to the mel if we may.”

  “While you prepare our feast, I will search for my Signature and token.” Before Cierra could take two steps, Hezzor was beside her. “Ma I asist? My folt iz lost.”

  When Kyam nodded approval she said, “Yes, please.”

  The lead werf found them before Kyam had his fire established.

  “Many thanks.” Cierra carefully wiped away dirt and leaf bits then kissed them before reattaching them to her necklet. Things thought to be lost reveal their value—she hadn’t realized just how precious were The Masters’ Signature and marriage symbol until she’d despaired of ever regaining them.

  “The mar-le, is ver impotan. Yo hrt sing to hav bak.” Hezzor touched the Signature lightly.

  She squashed the impulse to move away. The werf meant no disrespect. “Yes. Very important. The Masters’ S
ignature was given to celebrate the day I became a loyalist.”

  “Loy-ty ver good. Werf’s gra-tes shame iz to be disloy-l.”

  She rubbed the orb, tracing the three comet heads, enjoying the brilliant colors and how they created new hues. “Yes. I can see that. Disloyalty betrays trust…and shows great selfishness.”

  “Ver wiz, gra-sous keen.”

  Wise? If Hezzor had been with her since Landend, he’d have a very different word to describe her. “Not yet wise, but learning.” Cierra leaned close to Kyam and whispered, “Will you interpret? I find Hezzor difficult to understand and I’m eager to hear their story?”

  “There may be another way—if the legends hold true.”

  “Intriguing.”

  Kyam turned to Hezzor. “Were your ancestors able to speak mind to mind with humans?”

  The insect tilted his head as if listening to memories inside its head. Its eyes widened and gleamed. “Yez. Ther iz an-cent storie. Iz true?”

  “After our meal, we will see if the stories speak true.”

  The leader trembled. “Har to wait.”

  “Yes.” Cierra touched Hezzor’s hard shell. The better she knew him, the easier it was to overcome her aversion to his form. “Waiting to unwrap a gift is not easy.”

  The insect laid its head on her shoulder. That really did put her new found acceptance to the test. “My gra-cous keen.”

  She stared at Kyam. He needed to stop this royalty nonsense. She was certainly no queen—nor did she possess any of the qualities Hezzor attributed to her.

  Kyam sat down next to Hezzor. “We have no titles. We are just common citizens.”

  Hezzor shook his head. “See hart. We kno. Tru ‘ing iz in here.”

  “They can see into our hearts?” Her fingers dug into his arm. Was there no end to the creatures who could delve into her most secret thoughts? All her pretenses were useless. Every flaw visible, exposed. Her worst fear realized.

  “Peace, Mela Dolsi, grab hold of The Masters’ peace.”

  Peace! Didn't he recognize the dangers? Couldn’t he see their vulnerability? A picture began to form: Ya-Owni’s shield of light, taller than she, began to enclose her. The light was so bright, she had to look away or be blinded.