resolved from the shadowy silver of the night.
“Might as well be chasing a wild thaka!” grumbled a deep voice. “I say the stone’s somewhere in the city.”
“Aw, you been singing that fleabitten tune for hours, Devok. It don’t matter
what
you think. Orders is orders. Anyway, Klareth’s group is still searching the city.”
A third voice added, “Yeah, Devok, and if the fleabitten thing
did
get shipped out with the caravan, we’d best catch it now. If they get to Chizan or Dyskornis with it, we’ll
never
get it back.”
I could see them clearly now: a dozen men, each leading a pack-vlek.
“What we ought to have done is arrest the fleabitten old man and persuade him to tell us all about it.”
“Arrest a City Supervisor with no evidence? You’re crazy, Devok. Shut up and march. We want to make it to Yafnaar before sundown tomorrow.”
They marched in silence for a while, drawing nearer. Then I heard a new voice.
“What
I
can’t figure is why anybody’d try to steal the Ra’ira. It’d ruin its value to cut it up, and if you leave it like it is, anybody in Gandalara would know what it was and whose it was.”
“Not if it was kept hid for a while.” That sounded like the first voice which had replied to Devok.
“How’s that? What good would that do?”
An exaggerated sigh. “One of these days, Mord, you ought to go to a Recorder and pick up a little education. That’s how
we
got the fleabitten jewel.”
“Awww. That thing has been in Raithskar for hundreds of hundreds of years.”
Another voice. “Not that long. Several tens or hundreds, maybe. But he’s right, I’ve heard the story myself. Tell him, Ganneth.”
“Serkajon himself stole it from Kä,” Ganneth supplied. “Brought it to Raithskar and set up the Council.”
“Didn’t know that!” said a voice down the line.
“Dummy!” came another voice, disgusted. “Whatcha think Commemoration Day is all about?”
The words brought a flash of memory. Parades and celebration, the statue of a man riding a sha’um carried through the city, and his image miniaturized and multiplied in banners displayed everywhere. In one large building, encased in glass so that it might be viewed and appreciated by the public during that annual celebration, a pale blue stone about the size of a glass doorknob. Its surface was unfaceted, but the blue color darkened as one looked deeply into it, and hinted at an imperceptible crystalline structure.
The Ra’ira.
“Him?” another voice bantered. “Give him free faen and he’d drink to his mother-in-law!”
Laughter, then Devok’s voice again, challenging. “So what? Kä’s been long deserted; nobody even knows where it is, anymore. And that was a long time ago. Way I hear it, we never even got a complaint from Kä when Serkajon ran off with it. But you can bet we’ll raise a holler if some other city has heisted it from us! Raithskar ain’t deserted by a long ways.
“Naw, no other city’d have the nerve to swipe the Ra’ira; I still say it’s inside Raithskar!”
“Not again!”
“Knock it off, will you Devok?”
“Yeah, ain’t it bad enough we gotta march—”
The straggly column was abreast of us. I hadn’t noticed that there was a slight breeze … until it changed direction. The vleks caught Keeshah’s scent, and all hell broke loose.
I’ve never heard any sound that can compare with the harsh bawling of a frightened vlek. The pack animals screamed and stamped, straining against their leads and doing their best to trample anybody who got in their way.
Two or three of the vleks seemed to be carrying live cargo of some sort. A horrendous, terrified clacking rose from the woven-reed cages and drove the vleks into an even higher frenzy.
Beside me, Keeshah was tense as coiled wire. I tried to see what was in his mind, but it was seething and unreadable. Anger and contempt for the vleks mingled with predatory desire, frustration and a flash of … guilt? If a sha’um
“Might as well be chasing a wild thaka!” grumbled a deep voice. “I say the stone’s somewhere in the city.”
“Aw, you been singing that fleabitten tune for hours, Devok. It don’t matter
what
you think. Orders is orders. Anyway, Klareth’s group is still searching the city.”
A third voice added, “Yeah, Devok, and if the fleabitten thing
did
get shipped out with the caravan, we’d best catch it now. If they get to Chizan or Dyskornis with it, we’ll
never
get it back.”
I could see them clearly now: a dozen men, each leading a pack-vlek.
“What we ought to have done is arrest the fleabitten old man and persuade him to tell us all about it.”
“Arrest a City Supervisor with no evidence? You’re crazy, Devok. Shut up and march. We want to make it to Yafnaar before sundown tomorrow.”
They marched in silence for a while, drawing nearer. Then I heard a new voice.
“What
I
can’t figure is why anybody’d try to steal the Ra’ira. It’d ruin its value to cut it up, and if you leave it like it is, anybody in Gandalara would know what it was and whose it was.”
“Not if it was kept hid for a while.” That sounded like the first voice which had replied to Devok.
“How’s that? What good would that do?”
An exaggerated sigh. “One of these days, Mord, you ought to go to a Recorder and pick up a little education. That’s how
we
got the fleabitten jewel.”
“Awww. That thing has been in Raithskar for hundreds of hundreds of years.”
Another voice. “Not that long. Several tens or hundreds, maybe. But he’s right, I’ve heard the story myself. Tell him, Ganneth.”
“Serkajon himself stole it from Kä,” Ganneth supplied. “Brought it to Raithskar and set up the Council.”
“Didn’t know that!” said a voice down the line.
“Dummy!” came another voice, disgusted. “Whatcha think Commemoration Day is all about?”
The words brought a flash of memory. Parades and celebration, the statue of a man riding a sha’um carried through the city, and his image miniaturized and multiplied in banners displayed everywhere. In one large building, encased in glass so that it might be viewed and appreciated by the public during that annual celebration, a pale blue stone about the size of a glass doorknob. Its surface was unfaceted, but the blue color darkened as one looked deeply into it, and hinted at an imperceptible crystalline structure.
The Ra’ira.
“Him?” another voice bantered. “Give him free faen and he’d drink to his mother-in-law!”
Laughter, then Devok’s voice again, challenging. “So what? Kä’s been long deserted; nobody even knows where it is, anymore. And that was a long time ago. Way I hear it, we never even got a complaint from Kä when Serkajon ran off with it. But you can bet we’ll raise a holler if some other city has heisted it from us! Raithskar ain’t deserted by a long ways.
“Naw, no other city’d have the nerve to swipe the Ra’ira; I still say it’s inside Raithskar!”
“Not again!”
“Knock it off, will you Devok?”
“Yeah, ain’t it bad enough we gotta march—”
The straggly column was abreast of us. I hadn’t noticed that there was a slight breeze … until it changed direction. The vleks caught Keeshah’s scent, and all hell broke loose.
I’ve never heard any sound that can compare with the harsh bawling of a frightened vlek. The pack animals screamed and stamped, straining against their leads and doing their best to trample anybody who got in their way.
Two or three of the vleks seemed to be carrying live cargo of some sort. A horrendous, terrified clacking rose from the woven-reed cages and drove the vleks into an even higher frenzy.
Beside me, Keeshah was tense as coiled wire. I tried to see what was in his mind, but it was seething and unreadable. Anger and contempt for the vleks mingled with predatory desire, frustration and a flash of … guilt? If a sha’um
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