him to drink wine, for he was already drunk.
For the strange light that shone in her eyes when she looked at him he thought he knew. He had seen that light once before in the eyes of a woman, and it was like the glow that glimmers in Paradise.
7. The Jest of Kiki
While the people only feast together in family groups or during certain festivities, it is traditional for them to drink together, rather than apart. And this was particularly true in towns like Yhakhah which are under Water Truce, for technically the Truce does not include travelers until they have drunk water and wine in common with strangers. It was the only form of water-sharing which does not place the Martian equivalent of blood-brotherhood upon two chance-met travelers, yet the obligation to hold the Truce is somewhat similar. And woe to him who breaks it.
Thus, although they were weary from the day's travel, they went down into the common room to drink with the caravan men, and to listen to the latest gossip. The relayer of this was a scrawny, bright-eyed little man with a comic puckered mouth and a nubbin of a nose, called a Juhangir. The Juhangir is the People's version of a medieval troubadour, itinerant clown, juggler and entertainer, all rolled into one in an amalgam uniquely Martian.
Between snatches of song and sketches of comic patter, the Juhangir relays the latest news and gossip, some of it months, even years, old, gathered by him during his lifelong, endless journey from town to town, city to city, camp to camp.
The Martians have no daily newsfax or stereovision commentators, they have only the wandering gossip mongerers they call Juhangir.
This particular clown, a little man named Goro, had
gathered his gossip in many far places, but had—Ryker was sincerely relieved to find out—heard naught of the latest events in Yeolarn. The big Outlander had tensed himself for the bad news that a zhaggua (whatever that meant to the People) had nearly been torn apart by a mob in Yeolarn, until a F'yagh rescued her, killing a priest with his power-guns.
Ryker breathed a sigh of relief when Goro finished, collected a few coins from the audience, and bowed himself away to his cubby. If gossip of their adventures had already reached Yhakhah, it could have been bad for them.
For there were priests here, even here.
After the skinny-shanked clown was through, a dancing girl came on. She looked hardly more than twelve or thirteen, her breasts scarcely budded, and she danced with coltish grace, but with none of the breathtaking artistry of Valarda. Her dance was frankly obscene, a naked wriggling invitation, and she simpered and giggled while undulating her bare tummy and loins before the grinning men. It was a disgusting thing to see, thought Ryker, although he was no prude and once he might have found it crudely exciting.
If they needed to replenish their dwindling store of coins here in Yhakhah, he thought to himself, Valarda could earn a fortune. The awkward nymphet barely wrung enough from her audience to buy a bauble, and went off to her grubby pallet accompanied by a leering, swaggering lout who would pay her scarcely more for a more intimate form of entertainment.
The room was large and long and low ceilinged, walled and roofed with stone, and floored with ancient, subtly colored tiles most likely thieved from one of the Dead Cities. It had a carved stone fireplace at one end, its
He gasped and half-rose. In the next instant warm, supple limbs twined about him, pressing him down, and a mouth was upon his own. He returned the kiss avidly, hungrily, his hands gliding down a curved back to slim thighs, his heart drumming.
Then he froze incredulously, scarce daring to think.
He caught slim shoulders, pried the body from his own, and slid his hands up between them.
Instead of soft, yielding roundness, he touched the smooth, hard breast of a boy.
Roaring a furious oath in a voice half-strangled with fury, he jerked free and pulled away.
"You
For the strange light that shone in her eyes when she looked at him he thought he knew. He had seen that light once before in the eyes of a woman, and it was like the glow that glimmers in Paradise.
7. The Jest of Kiki
While the people only feast together in family groups or during certain festivities, it is traditional for them to drink together, rather than apart. And this was particularly true in towns like Yhakhah which are under Water Truce, for technically the Truce does not include travelers until they have drunk water and wine in common with strangers. It was the only form of water-sharing which does not place the Martian equivalent of blood-brotherhood upon two chance-met travelers, yet the obligation to hold the Truce is somewhat similar. And woe to him who breaks it.
Thus, although they were weary from the day's travel, they went down into the common room to drink with the caravan men, and to listen to the latest gossip. The relayer of this was a scrawny, bright-eyed little man with a comic puckered mouth and a nubbin of a nose, called a Juhangir. The Juhangir is the People's version of a medieval troubadour, itinerant clown, juggler and entertainer, all rolled into one in an amalgam uniquely Martian.
Between snatches of song and sketches of comic patter, the Juhangir relays the latest news and gossip, some of it months, even years, old, gathered by him during his lifelong, endless journey from town to town, city to city, camp to camp.
The Martians have no daily newsfax or stereovision commentators, they have only the wandering gossip mongerers they call Juhangir.
This particular clown, a little man named Goro, had
gathered his gossip in many far places, but had—Ryker was sincerely relieved to find out—heard naught of the latest events in Yeolarn. The big Outlander had tensed himself for the bad news that a zhaggua (whatever that meant to the People) had nearly been torn apart by a mob in Yeolarn, until a F'yagh rescued her, killing a priest with his power-guns.
Ryker breathed a sigh of relief when Goro finished, collected a few coins from the audience, and bowed himself away to his cubby. If gossip of their adventures had already reached Yhakhah, it could have been bad for them.
For there were priests here, even here.
After the skinny-shanked clown was through, a dancing girl came on. She looked hardly more than twelve or thirteen, her breasts scarcely budded, and she danced with coltish grace, but with none of the breathtaking artistry of Valarda. Her dance was frankly obscene, a naked wriggling invitation, and she simpered and giggled while undulating her bare tummy and loins before the grinning men. It was a disgusting thing to see, thought Ryker, although he was no prude and once he might have found it crudely exciting.
If they needed to replenish their dwindling store of coins here in Yhakhah, he thought to himself, Valarda could earn a fortune. The awkward nymphet barely wrung enough from her audience to buy a bauble, and went off to her grubby pallet accompanied by a leering, swaggering lout who would pay her scarcely more for a more intimate form of entertainment.
The room was large and long and low ceilinged, walled and roofed with stone, and floored with ancient, subtly colored tiles most likely thieved from one of the Dead Cities. It had a carved stone fireplace at one end, its
He gasped and half-rose. In the next instant warm, supple limbs twined about him, pressing him down, and a mouth was upon his own. He returned the kiss avidly, hungrily, his hands gliding down a curved back to slim thighs, his heart drumming.
Then he froze incredulously, scarce daring to think.
He caught slim shoulders, pried the body from his own, and slid his hands up between them.
Instead of soft, yielding roundness, he touched the smooth, hard breast of a boy.
Roaring a furious oath in a voice half-strangled with fury, he jerked free and pulled away.
"You
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