Part 59: Strangers

Note: Um...actually...this part didn't even NEED a rewrite. o_o As it turns out, it was pretty much complete as it was! All that has been changed are minor details--a new sentence here, a changed word there--followed by a proofread. Please enjoy this newly public version of Part 59 and be on the lookout for updates to the next parts!


LIEUTENANT RESIKH PACED about the halls of General Mahakhi's household, his look preoccupied. He didn't say hello to or even acknowledge any of the Kana he passed, which was odd for him. He did glance into every room he went by, but his purpose seemed frustrated, whatever it was; on he walked.

Further down a door opened and Lieutenant Nehef emerged from his room, yawning and stretching. He smiled and winked at the Moru who crept out and made her way toward the Moru quarters, blowing a kiss at him and giggling as she went. He rubbed an eye and blinked at Resikh as he approached, the other Kana not even casting one glance at the female as she hurried by.

"Hey, Brother!" Nehef exclaimed. "I didn't know this was your shift."

Resikh didn't reply. He glanced into Nehef's room and went on. Nehef blinked again and hurried to catch up, grabbing at his elbow.

"Hey! That's no way to say good morning." He frowned, noticing Resikh's unusually pensive look. "Have I caught you at a bad time--? What's eating at your skull today?" He made a face. "Let me guess! You and Djuta had another falling out--?"

"Djuta's gone." Resikh said it very matter-of-factly, and didn't bother looking Nehef in the eye when he did so. He looked into another room and continued walking.

Nehef's brow furrowed. "Gone? What do you mean?"

"As I said. He's gone." Resikh's voice was flat, mechanical. "Left the tribe."

"He left the tribe?" This came out so loudly that finally Nehef managed to capture Resikh's attention; the other Kana whirled around and clamped a hand over the first lieutenant's mouth, hissing as he did so.

"Not so loud! You want me to get in trouble?"

Nehef brushed Resikh's hand away with an affronted look. "If anyone should be afraid of getting in trouble, it's he! What do you mean, left the tribe? What on earth for? Surely you're joking?"

Resikh's troubled look returned and he glanced down the hall, wings shifting. "But that I were. I've looked for him high and low and he's nowhere to be found."

"That doesn't necessarily mean..."

"Rithukh'het's been waiting for him all night and all the morning. He never leaves her alone for that long. Hiath'ikh claimed he was acting as if he were saying his goodbyes to everyone, the last time he saw him. K'tasai said he asked him to take over one of his duties, which he never does; and Ameni-human claims he saw him departing with the Yellow Sands Tribe."

Nehef's eyes goggled. "You are serious?"

Resikh nodded. "I see no reason for them all to make this up. He's gone. He is not with us anymore."

He started past Nehef, back down the hall, reflexively looking into rooms even though Djuta would not be there. Nehef hurried after him again, whispering loudly.

"Why would he do a scatterbrained thing like that? Djuta has always been somewhat odd, but this is bizarre even for him!"

"I do not know," Resikh said. "He gave no reason." His step slowed. "He didn't even say his goodbye to me," he murmured, brow furrowing. He shook his head a bit and picked up his pace again.

Nehef simply flailed his arms and continued ranting as they proceeded down the hall. "Of all the addlebrained stunts he could pull...what sort of point is he trying to make? I thought they let him off pretty easy at the trial, but after this, he'll be lucky if he can even..."

"This is not a joke," Resikh snapped, turning to him again and causing Nehef to fall silent. "He's not doing this to play a joke. It's not just some scatterbrained idea he decided to pursue for fun. Djuta would never simply up and leave the tribe."

Nehef stared at him for so long that he began to fidget uneasily. "But he did," he said, and Resikh bit the inside of his mouth. He sighed and turned away.

"I know...I mean, he left. But there has to have been some reason."

"Like what?" Nehef crossed his arms. "Name one and I will believe it!"

"I don't know...this is what I'm trying to figure out."

Nehef paused for a moment, then sighed, wings sinking. He chewed on his claw a little. "Well...if it had been myself at that trial...I am a relatively easy person to get along with, but I think even I would get fed up eventually...I do not think Lord Mahakhi has shown the greatest patience with him lately..."

"What are you saying?" Resikh asked, a bit too sharply.

Nehef's ear flicked a bit and he gave the other Kana a frank look. "You must admit, Res, that Djuta hasn't been treated very welcomely hereabouts lately. Perhaps he just got fed up."

"Do not be ridiculous," Resikh said, still in the same sharp tone. "He would never leave for such a petty reason as that."

The first lieutenant spread his arms. "Then why did he leave? You have any other reasonable explanation? As I said, I would be the first to believe it."

Resikh opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He closed it and sighed, rubbing at his head.

"No...not yet. But there must be one...somewhere..."

Nehef was silent for a moment, then sighed again as well and lifted a shoulder. "Well, I think the why is of little consequence anyway; the what, on the other hand, is bound to be rather interesting, once Mahakhi finds out..."

"He wouldn't leave for no good reason," Resikh murmured, brow furrowing pensively. He gnawed on one claw as he thought. "I know that he would never..." He trailed off and stared at the floor for a moment or two before his face lit up. He lifted his head.

"Rithukh'het. I know it now! He wouldn't leave for no good reason!"

Nehef frowned, puzzled. "What...?"

Resikh grabbed hold of his arm. "Rithukh'het. She's with child now. Djuta's been trying to sire a pup for absolutely ages. He would never leave her behind now of all times if he didn't have a good reason!"

Nehef's look grew slightly apprehensive. "I already believe he wouldn't just up and abandon us, Res-Brother, but that still doesn't explain why he did just that. You're saying you believe he'll come back--?"

Resikh's eyes lit up. "Yes! He would never abandon the tribe with a pup on the way. If so, he would have taken Rithukh'het with him." He let go of Nehef's arm, whispering excitedly. "He must have had a good reason, then. A very good reason, else he would never have gone like this."

"And this reason is...?"

Resikh's enthusiasm faded just a bit. "I...do not know," he said, voice slightly subdued. It picked up again when he next spoke. "But it must have something to do with the other tribes. Else he wouldn't have used their cover to leave the city."

"You think he has some plans on them?" Nehef grimaced. "The fool! Why didn't he come to us first? Does he really think he stands a chance against an entire tribe?"

"He must think so, or he wouldn't have risked it. Do not put so little faith in him. He's smarter than that. He must have some sort of plan in motion already."

"And so why did he not at least tell us? Or his mate?"

"Because he did not wish any of us to get..." Resikh's response slowed as he realized the meaning himself. "...In trouble along with him, if worst comes to worst." He paused, then murmured, "He was thinking of the rest of us. He didn't want to risk any of us along with him. This is why he didn't take or tell Rithukh'het."

Nehef's confusion grew. "And so now, you think he won't be coming back--?"

Resikh shook his head. "No...he will...if he can. But this is just it. He does not know if he can." His hand slowly rose to his mouth and he started chewing on his claw again. "He's seen how his actions affect everyone else, and so he took control of his life for a change...what is he going to do now?"

Nehef waited for a moment or two before speaking. "The gods only know," he said, and nudged Resikh's arm. "But don't dwell on it too much! I may not know Djuta-Kana as well as you, but still I know him well enough! He may be a fool...but he's a lucky fool. If he can stand up to the grand tribunal and Mahakhi himself, then he can certainly take on the Yellow Sands Tribe with ease!" He grinned, showing all of his teeth, and Resikh lifted his head.

"You think...?" he asked in a small voice.

Nehef made a scoffing noise. "Of course! I just wish he would have let us in on it. It is just like him to hog all the fun. I'll tear off his tail when he gets back, so he won't be able to sit for a week!" Resikh turned away and started to go in the opposite direction, and Nehef furrowed his brow. "Res--? I merely joked--you can have his tail, if you like!"

"I have to fetch Rithukh'het," Resikh called back absently. "I'll house her in my quarters...until he comes back. He wouldn't want her to be alone." As if suddenly thinking of something, he turned back and strode toward Nehef, grasping his arm once more. "Nehef. Don't tell anyone about any of this. If they ask you about Djuta, play dumb. Do not tell Tas'hukh or Ahen or even Mahakhi. Only Ahai'ikh. I'll trust you two, but no one else."

"And what of you?" Nehef asked, a bit startled. "What are you going to do if asked--?"

"I'll do exactly the same. I'll let Rithukh'het know just as much as she needs to know, so she knows he hasn't abandoned her; and you can tell Ahai'ikh, but absolutely no one else. Not even a Moru." He squeezed his comrade's elbow. "Do you promise, Nehef?"

Nehef blinked at the forceful tone of Resikh's voice, and nodded hurriedly. "Of course, Brother! I promise."

Resikh let go of his arm, and the other Kana drew it toward himself, rubbing at the bruised flesh. "I'll let you know if I discover anything else," Resikh said, and he whirled away and jogged off up the hall and out of sight.

* * * * *

A halloo echoed across the desert. Lieutenant Djuta's head jerked up and he rubbed at one sand-crusted eye. He'd gotten too soft; days spent traveling across the sands had wearied him, when before, in his days training with the Kana army, he could have gone much longer and stayed perfectly alert. He blinked a few times and noticed that the other Kana around him were stirring a bit as well, their ears flicking and their Sha picking up their pace. He glanced ahead of them, toward Lieutenant She'hekha, who led the band; a city shimmered in the distance.

He squinted to try to make it out better.

"It's not a mirage, if that's what you were thinking," a voice said, and Djuta looked to the side to see Lieutenant Fa'rukha. The other Kana nodded at the image ahead of them. "It's real, so you can stop blinking like a frog out of the water."

Djuta would have retorted at any other time; right now, though, he was too tired to. The halloo came again and only now did he notice several riders approaching from the city. He felt his muscles tense up, and actually started to reach for his sword before remembering that he was here of his own free will. He forced himself to relax; unfortunately, he could tell that Fa'rukha had seen the reaction. The other Kana frowned but continued on his way.

"Lord She'hekha!" a voice yelled, and one of the approaching Sha reared up a bit, its rider raising an arm. "We were starting to think the desert swallowed you up!"

"Either that, or you were very taken with the enemy general!" another voice said, and laughter could be heard. She'hekha's muzzle wrinkled but he raised his own arm in greeting.

"And I see you two are still most likely bedmates as usual, since you share the same sense of humor!"

The laughter turned into guffaws and now Djuta could make out the approaching Kana. There were only three of them, which led him to believe that the city was in a rather relaxed state, not expecting attack. The two in the lead were a stocky pale gray one and a thinner tan one; they grinned at She'hekha and slapped him on the back as soon as they were close enough, while the third, a darker gray one, started to make his way around the soldiers. The two lead Kana started chattering.

"Honestly, Brother!" the stocky one said informally. "How long have you been gone now? What took you so much time over there? Was the food any good?"

"Or the Moru? Kheten!" The tan one nudged his friend. "I'm willing to bet it was the Moru that kept him!"

"No, we all know he goes for fancier types than that...but hold...what's this over here?" The stocky Kana--Kheten, Djuta assumed his name was--noticed Ze'thet now, and moved his Sha closer to hers. She bared her teeth at him and he laughed and pointed at her, yelling back at the other Kana.

"Look, Tes'khi! She's friendly!"

"Awww," Tes'khi cooed. "So that's what took you so long. You needn't have traveled all the way to the enemy then. Nehara would have gladly lent you Yekh'iet if you'd asked!"

"I have no interest in Yekh'iet," She'hekha replied. "And if you two lardheads haven't noticed, we were on our way back to the city to rest and refresh ourselves."

The two Kana laughed again. Djuta's nostrils flared; they were far too relaxed, for warriors. "Oh all right then," Kheten said in a mock grumble. "If you insist..." He finally caught sight of Djuta and his grin vanished, replaced by a confused look. Tes'khi noticed his stare and followed it to its source, then looked just as confused as his comrade.

Djuta was saved from explaining himself by the third Kana. He rode around the opposite side of the group and lifted his head to be heard across the distance.

"Lord She'hekha. I'm counting only your own men here. Where are the prisoners?"

Djuta saw She'hekha's wings tense a little bit. The other lieutenant turned to address the third Kana.

"There are none. We return by ourselves."

"What?" Kheten's voice was incredulous. "Don't tell me they defeated you! You are the best besides Nehara!"

"And you have Fa'rukha with you," Tes'khi added. "There's no way those mongrels beat you." He made a gesture of searching around. "Now where are you hiding all those prisoners, 'Hekha, up your ass?"

"Take us back to the city, or kindly get out of the way," She'hekha replied. "It's been a long journey and if I do not get a drink soon, I may very well cut one of your throats and suck the juice out of there instead."

"He's in a good mood," Kheten said conspiratorially to the third Kana. "I think he really does have those Moru stashed up his ass."

"They're probably tickling his balls as we speak," Tes'khi agreed. "We really should get him back to town before they try anything else." He turned his Sha away, toward the city, and he and Kheten started off. The third Kana was the only one to give She'hekha a dubious look; he glanced likewise at Djuta, but said nothing, merely turning his Sha about as well. They made their way again across the burning sands, but this time Djuta was fully alert.

* * * * *

The city was not what Djuta had expected. The Yellow Sands Tribe had been defeated thoroughly long ago, and though he knew they had had plenty of time to reestablish themselves, still, they had done a much better job than he had thought possible. The place was smaller than Mahakhi's tribe, granted, but even more busy and bustling. Rather than the sometimes slovenly disorder of the Kana and the taverns of the Great Red Tribe, this one appeared much more efficient and orderly; Djuta couldn't see one drunkard or lascivious stare among them. Although there were plenty of stares aimed his way; he could tell that the tribe was more closely knit than his own, also, with how easily he was recognized as an outsider even among the bustle. To his surprise, none of the looks seemed openly hostile; they were more curious, then their owners would turn away and return to their own business. Their disinterest in him was unnerving. Either they really were far too relaxed here...or else they were so confident of their skills that they felt they didn't have to be alert.

"Nehara's going to be pissed if you don't pull out those prisoners soon, 'Hekha," Kheten murmured to the lieutenant. "Truthfully, where are they? Surely you spared a few of the lot?"

"You know he wanted the pups and females kept alive, don't you?" Tes'khi added. "Surely you didn't get carried away?"

"There was no carrying away. There are no prisoners." She'hekha's ear flicked, and the two sergeants glanced up, noticing now how torn it was; they shared a look. "I'll be going directly to Nehara if he's not indisposed at the moment."

"He's waiting as we speak," the third Kana said. "But I don't think he'll be very happy to see you return emptyhanded."

"Then he will just have to be unhappy."

Kheten looked uneasy. "You really aren't kidding, are you?" he said, then rubbed at the back of his neck. "This won't go over very well at all..."

"But, 'Hekha!" Tes'khi persisted. "You said that you were bringing somebody back with you! We just figured you meant prisoners!"

"I have brought two back," She'hekha said. He gestured at Ze'thet, then at Djuta. "A Moru for myself...and you will find out who this is should we ever reach Lord Nehara's. If you two would quit dawdling?"

The two Kana started grumbling to themselves, but obeyed, moving ahead of the crowd. The third pulled up close to She'hekha's mount and whispered in his ear. Djuta sensed that he wasn't meant to hear it, but he heard it anyway, not that it made much sense to him.

"Lord Hakh'tas is awaiting you in the north hall, but Nehara's word easily overrules his. I believe he is angry you didn't inform him of your departure. You would like me to keep him busy while you attend to more important matters?"

A vaguely irritated look flicked across She'hekha's face, and was gone. "Let him be. The less we deal with him the less I have to hear from him later. I hardly have that patience right now."

The sergeant nodded. "Very well. Though he was kind of fidgety, and he may decide to seek you out. Would you like me to detain him then?"

She'hekha shook his head, looking disinterested. The third Kana nodded again and pulled away with a short salute, going to join the others. Djuta watched as the lieutenant yawned and stretched.

"Already this place is tiring me to death."

"You are so reluctant to return home?" Djuta inquired.

She'hekha glanced at him and smirked. "If I could ride a Sha through the desert forever without getting saddle sores, then I do not believe any would ever see me in this city again." He turned back around and nudged his Sha. "We should pick up our pace. Lord Nehara can be impatient, especially once those dolts tell him I have no prisoners for him to play with." He picked up his reins and the others followed suit, heading toward the largest building in the city.

They were not challenged at the entrance, even though Djuta fully expected them to be; from the way that people acted toward him, he assumed that She'hekha must hold a position of power in the city, despite his relatively average rank. Perhaps it was merely respect that people showed him. They left their Sha at the gate and entered the household. Inside they met up with Fa'rukha, who had gone on ahead of them before; he had already washed up and changed his clothing, and Djuta almost didn't recognize him when he approached. He'd never seen a Kana dressed so sumptuously; Fa'rukha's earrings and pectoral alone looked like they were easily beyond Djuta's means. Fa'rukha nodded at She'hekha and gestured him toward the main room of the household.

"I've tried dampening the blow, but I think his enthusiasm is dampened enough already."

"Let me deal with him. It is my problem, after all."

"I told you we should have taken at least a few prisoners..."

"If he gets a show, then he will get what he wanted. Enough talking."

Djuta puzzled over what he meant by "show" but asked nothing. They entered the main hall and he nearly tripped over his own feet, it was so unlike what he had expected.

The hall bore the same basic structure as that of any Kana building, but it was greatly increased in size. One would have had to shout from one side of the room to the other in order to be heard, lengthwise. The span across to the opposite wall was longer than usual as well, and the dais upon which the general's chair usually sat was more ornate even than Mahakhi's. What seemed to be scores of oil lamps kept the room well lit; the floor was of polished stone, as smooth as a gem; looking down, Djuta could see himself looking back up. Everything--the floor, walls, columns--was of a dusty rose hue which he had never seen before except in occasional statuettes; this one room alone must have cost a fortune to build. He didn't dare to think of the rest of the household.

The Kana seated in the general's spot wasn't what he had expected, either. Most generals were of Mahakhi's stature, well built and muscular to the point of intimidation; this one looked as if he could easily stare Mahakhi in the eye in terms of height, but that was where the similarity ended. He was well built, but not in the thick muscular way of Mahakhi and T'uris; his build was relatively lean compared to them, and his hands and his features were almost delicate, his fur a pale creamy brown and the hairs on the end of his tail ivory white. He leaned on one elbow as if bored, dressed in the purple lappets and dress armor typical of a general; like Fa'rukha he also wore ornate jewelry, although even more so, and was additionally garbed in a long blue and gold cape. Djuta felt very common sharing the same room with him, in the tattered, dusty state that he and She'hekha were in compared to this other. The general tilted his head to look at She'hekha and Djuta as they and Fa'rukha approached, and for the briefest moment Djuta nearly froze on seeing the pale brown shade of his eyes. Fa'rukha ascended the dais to stand at the side of his chair and he sat up somewhat, gesturing at She'hekha.

"I've been told you've returned in a less than satisfactory state," he said, and his voice was just as surprising as his appearance. It was smooth and fluid, the voice of a politician or seducer, almost too well spoken for a warrior. She'hekha saluted and bowed his head slightly.

"Lieutenant Fa'rukha speaks a bit too abruptly, Lord."

"Still I fail to see any of what you were sent to retrieve." The cloaked Kana arched a brow. "There is a reason why you have no prisoners of the Great Red Tribe?"

"This is because we did not defeat the Great Red Tribe," She'hekha said in a weary-sounding voice.

"And I will assume you have an equally valid reason for this as well."

"Attacking them would not have been prudent at this time, Lord."

"Oh?" Another arch. "Please do not tell me I wasted my time and money sending you on this excursion, then. When would have been the appropriate time?"

"Plans did not go through as expected, Lord. My men would not have been nearly enough to overtake the tribe on our own."

"Do I assume incorrectly when I say I believed you had the assistance of the River Tribe at your disposal?"

"By the time we had reached the Great Red Tribe the River Tribe was no longer interested in revenge, Lord. They decided to settle their dispute in single combat between their commanders and returned home defeated. I felt it would not have been wise to attack at this point, though I informed General Mahakhi that Lord Fe'kheru's decision was not your own."

The cloaked Kana's nostrils flared a bit, but he lifted his head in what might have been a nod. His heavy-lidded eyes turned to Ze'thet next; Djuta had forgotten she was even with them, the Moru was so quiet. The cloaked Kana's eyes narrowed just a bit in a knowing manner.

"I see you did manage to return not quite emptyhanded, however. A prize for yourself?"

She'hekha saluted. "She came cheaply and I bought her with my own funds."

"I would not have argued had you bought her with mine. She looks worth the price." His gaze moved to Djuta next, and the lieutenant had to keep himself from fidgeting. The cloaked Kana looked him up and down before raising a brow at She'hekha.

"And another prize?"

She'hekha actually blinked. Djuta noticed his ears go red, but he gave no other sign that the comment had bothered him. "Not precisely, Lord. This one I actually brought for your benefit."

The cloaked Kana lifted one shoulder. "It was merely an observation. He looks as if he would have been worth the price, as well." He lifted his nose at Djuta. "Please explain his presence here."

"This is Lieutenant Elite Djuta," She'hekha said. "He served Lord Mahakhi closely and was an esteemed fighter in his army. He has decided to leave the Great Red Tribe to fight for the Yellow Sands."

"Oh?" Finally, the cloaked Kana showed a bit more than the usual interest. He sat upright and tilted his head. "And what prompted this decision? If I may ask?"

Djuta bit the inside of his mouth, trying to think of an explanation. She'hekha answered for him.

"His talents were not aptly recognized by his own tribe, Lord. I thought he might better serve a general who has a full understanding of his capabilities."

"And what are his capabilities?"

Silence. Djuta noticed that She'hekha was looking at him, and flushed. He took a step forward and saluted.

"Lord..."

"Nehara," the cloaked Kana said, with what might have been a twinge of annoyance in his voice.

"Lord Nehara. Please forgive me for not recognizing you by sight."

"You can hardly recognize one whom you have never seen, but this is hardly the matter. Tell me what your abilities are."

"I am trained in swordfighting, Lord, as well as in the use of small weapons. I have served as a scout and a runner and can also wield the ax and spear."

"These are usual abilities." This time Nehara looked at She'hekha, who simply shrugged.

"They are still abilities overlooked by his own tribe, Lord." He paused, then added, "I would not have wasted your time bringing him here if I did not feel he was qualified to join your army."

"You would not?" Nehara said; then he leaned back in his seat, mouth twitching. "We will see, then." He gestured at Djuta. "You carry your own sword, surely, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Lord."

"Then let us see just how well you are able to use it." He gestured now over his shoulder, at Fa'rukha, standing at his side. "Lord Fa'rukha. Your own sword." The other lieutenant blinked and looked at him in surprise; when he hesitated, Nehara gestured again, a bit impatiently.

"Lord?" Fa'rukha asked, confused.

"You heard me. Aside from Lord She'hekha you are my best fighter. Please use your sword to convince Lord Djuta to use his own."

Fa'rukha appeared to be genuinely flustered. "But--I am hardly--"

"You may always refuse, Lieutenant," Nehara said in a warning tone, "yet you know I will not be happy if you do." He waved from one lieutenant to the other, then gave Fa'rukha a look over his shoulder. "Your decision?"

Fa'rukha flushed but obeyed this time, bowing and descending from the dais, drawing his sword as he did so. Djuta watched him approach; the other Kana had to nod at him before he drew his own sword. He'd heard of such tests before, but had never actually been put through one. He guessed now was as good a time as any to learn.

Nehara sat back again. "Whenever you are ready, Lieutenants."

Djuta glanced at him, then back at Fa'rukha. He could tell that the other lieutenant wasn't too happy about this for some reason. Fa'rukha didn't give him much time to wonder, however. With a yell he jumped forward, bringing his sword down; Djuta was surprised by how routine the move was, and blocked it easily. If this was one of Nehara's best fighters, then no wonder She'hekha had asked Djuta to come along.

This opinion changed gradually the longer they fought, however. What Fa'rukha might have lacked in imagination, he made up for in endurance; Djuta was able to parry all of his blows, but Fa'rukha was able to take everything handed out to him, and even when Djuta began to tire the other Kana didn't. The muscles in his arms practically screamed for relief. He didn't wish to go on the offensive against the other lieutenant, but decided that he had no choice, if he wished to make a good impression on the general. It was easy enough to block one final blow from Fa'rukha's sword, then swing his own up underneath it, pulling back so that his blade locked against the hilt, sending the weapon flying from Fa'rukha's hands. It landed with a clatter at the general's feet; Fa'rukha simply stood where he was with an astonished look on his face, gaping at his empty hands. Djuta could tell that he wasn't used to losing. Judging by the looks on Kheten's and Tes'khi's faces--they had entered the room during the fight--they had not expected this, either. Only She'hekha, Ze'thet, and Nehara seemed unmoved by the victory, although the first two seemed to have gained a slightly smug look. Nehara raised an eyebrow.

"Impressive, but not quite surprising, for a Kana elite. Lord Fa'rukha merely grows soft from lack of opportunity...I had thought perhaps a bout with the Great Red Tribe would be enough to put him back in shape."

Fa'rukha flushed. He started forward to retrieve his sword, but Djuta reached it before he did and tossed it at him. Fa'rukha caught it with a surprised look, then gave him a halfhearted salute. Nehara gestured at him to resume his place upon the dais, and he did so.

"As I said," Nehara continued, "excellent swordwork, but not surprising. You claimed you are trained in small weapons? Could I assume this includes daggers?"

"Yes, Lord," Djuta said.

Nehara waved at Tes'khi. The Kana blinked but stepped forward. "Go ahead, then, and see how you stand up against Lord Tes'khi. He is not one of my most skilled fighters...but before he joined the Kana army, he was one of the most skilled thieves and knife-fighters you would ever find in any tavern."

Tes'khi seemed a bit mortified to have so much of his personal history laid bare, but pulled out a dagger accordingly. Djuta suppressed a sigh and did the same. He didn't care to engage in another drawn-out battle, and so while Tes'khi was still apparently preparing himself, or else trying to psych Djuta out, the lieutenant simply flicked his wrist and knocked the dagger out of his hands. This time it thudded into the chair just several hairs from Nehara's leg; even She'hekha's face paled considerably on seeing this. After a brief pause Kheten looked as if he had to keep himself from laughing.

Tes'khi scowled. "A lucky strike," he muttered, stalking toward Nehara's seat. He gasped and just barely managed to catch his own dagger when the general tossed it back at him.

"Not quite," Nehara said mildly. "You would not have lost your opportunity if you hadn't insisted on playing around. This is why you were a good thief, not a good fighter." He looked Djuta up and down. "And so you are too comfortable with yourself to present a good battle either way, whether with swords or with daggers. You look to be of average weight and height; average physical capabilities." Djuta's nostrils flared and Nehara waved Kheten forward so they stood side by side. "I believe Lord Kheten has at least a little weight on you, and a few fingers in height. I should also mention," he added, and Kheten's face lit up when he did so, "that his skill does not happen to be the sword or the dagger or any weapon, save himself. I hope you know how to wrestle, or else he could easily snap your head off of your neck."

This time Djuta did sigh. This whole presentation was beginning to tire him. He caught a look from She'hekha, however, and resisted the urge to drop Kheten right then and there, as he was pretty sure he could. It was obvious that the general wanted a show, as She'hekha had said earlier; in the absence of prisoners to toy with, perhaps this was his only means of entertainment for the day. So he sheathed his dagger and braced his legs, lowering himself slightly. Kheten, unlike the previous two, seemed more than willing to obey; with a grin he lowered himself into the same crouch, leaving himself so open to attack that Djuta was sorely tempted. Instead, he waited until the other Kana lunged at him; their arms locked and they used their necks to push against each other, Djuta's feet sliding against the floor under Kheten's greater weight. He was still weakened by his fight with Fa'rukha, and so at a slight disadvantage; he started to slide across the floor before remembering that it wasn't the slightly rougher tiles of Mahakhi's house, but Nehara's glassy smooth ones.

From the corner of his eye, under his arm, he spotted She'hekha and Ze'thet both watching him. She'hekha kept his face neutral, but he could tell that, oddly enough, the female was rooting for him. Perhaps she was not so bad after all. He glanced under his other arm and was somewhat surprised to see the same look on Fa'rukha's face. The other Kana still stood beside Nehara, but he clenched and unclenched one fist as if urging Djuta on.

Nehara took a sip of a drink that had been sitting beside him. Djuta decided that that was what annoyed him the most. This wasn't even a game; it was a waste of time. With a deep breath, he grabbed onto Kheten's arms; before the bigger Kana could so much as let out a yell, Djuta had flung him up over his head, and slammed him down against the floor. Fa'rukha's, Tes'khi's, and She'hekha's faces went white. Ze'thet grinned, and Nehara raised an eyebrow.

Kheten let out a pained wheeze. Djuta had flung him at just the right angle to spare his wings from snapping, and he rolled slowly onto his belly, clutching at the floor and grimacing. He put a hand to the small of his back and gave Djuta a dirty look from teary eyes.

Fa'rukha had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. Ze'thet did laugh.

Djuta rubbed at one sore arm before stepping toward the winded Kana. He held out his hand; Kheten glanced up at it in surprise before giving him an ugly glare. He refused the offered hand and stood on his own, still rubbing at his back. Djuta resisted the urge to shrug and turned back to Nehara. The general set down his drink as if hardly anything at all had happened, and wiped his mouth with one hand.

"So you can wrestle," he said.

"And swordfight," Djuta added. He couldn't keep a note of irritation from his voice. "And dagger-fight, and fly, and swim, and pierce with the spear. I am not so proficient with a bow and arrow. Yet you have no target set up in here, so I suppose you did not mean to test me on this."

Nehara's men, aside from She'hekha, glared at him as if he'd just called the general a Moru. But Nehara merely smiled. He leaned toward Fa'rukha and gestured him near; the lieutenant complied with a puzzled look. Nehara then waved at Djuta.

"Find him some quarters, then. It wouldn't do well to have our honored guest on his feet all day."

Fa'rukha saluted. "Yes, Lord!" He stepped down from the dais and approached Djuta, not even bothering to keep the grin from his face. Djuta sighed inwardly.

"Do you wish for a Moru to keep you company, Lieutenant Djuta?" Nehara asked mildly.

Djuta saluted. "No, Lord. Not for tonight."

"Very well. Fa'rukha, I leave you in charge of him for now. Lord She'hekha--you'd best accompany them until the east garden...Lord Hakh'tas is in a mood today."

"Yes, Lord."

"I will speak with you again on the morrow," Nehara said to Djuta, who saluted once more.

"Gracious thanks, Lord."

The general nodded, then appeared to lose interest, signalling Kheten to refill his cup. As Djuta left with Fa'rukha, She'hekha, and Ze'thet, he noticed the looks that the two remaining Kana gave him. It did not look as if Kheten and Tes'khi would be his friends.

* * * * *

"Lord Hakh'tas," Fa'rukha muttered as they walked down a hallway softly lit by numerous oil lamps. "Every day, Lord Hakh'tas! I am sick of hearing from him!"

"You imagine yourself sick?" She'hekha said as if bored.

Fa'rukha rolled his eyes. "When you are gone, guess who he seeks out first. As if I am your damned keeper! The next time he asks, I will gladly tell him you are locked in a cage in my room!"

"He would probably insist on seeing this for himself, then."

"Yes, well, that's unfortunate, isn't it? I am sick unto death of Lord Hakh'tas. One of these days I'll yank his brain out of his nose and kick his body into the desert."

Ze'thet wouldn't stop grinning. Djuta made certain to walk a few paces away from her, lest she get any ideas.

"Be silent," She'hekha said, as if reading his mind. "You're exciting the Moru."

Fa'rukha cast a quick, nervous glance over his shoulder at Ze'thet. A noise came from before them, and they turned back to face the end of the hallway. A courtyard lay to the left, and from it was coming yet another Kana, dressed almost as well as the general but without the cape. His eyes flashed in the lamplight and the small group halted in its tracks.

"Right out of his nose," Fa'rukha grumbled under his breath. She'hekha nudged him and the other Kana came their way, walking briskly, his earrings and bracelets jangling. He stopped before them with such a disapproving look that even Ze'thet stopped grinning, and Djuta felt as if he should vanish into thin air.

She'hekha crossed his arm to his breast and slightly nodded his head. "Greetings, Lord."

The other Kana's nostrils flared. "Has it become custom for you to leave the tribe with no advance warning?" he snapped, and for a brief bizarre moment, Djuta was certain that he was addressing him. She'hekha saluted again.

"General Nehara was the one who decided I was to leave, Lord."

"And for some reason there was no way I could have been informed?"

"The matter was an immediate one, Lord, and there was not much time for preparation, much less for notifying everyone of where I would be going."

"Yet your own men were important enough to inform. Not I, as always."

Djuta saw She'hekha's ear twitch. "With respect, Lord," he said in a calm voice, "my men were the ones who went with me. Not you."

Fa'rukha started to smirk. The newcomer scowled, then noticed Djuta standing off to the side. He blinked in surprise, then glared at She'hekha again.

"And what is this you've dragged back with you?" he demanded, pointing as if Djuta were an animal carcass. "I sincerely hope the general already knows who you have wandering around underneath his roof."

"The general was the one who insisted that we find him a room." She'hekha saluted. "If you do not mind, Lord, that is what I was attending to. I'll make certain to brief you on everything I've been up to since we last met...when I get the time." He waved at the others with him and stepped around the well-dressed Kana, who simply stood with his fists clenched and watched them in disbelief. Djuta cast a glance over his shoulder--just a furtive one, as he didn't like the seeming temper of this Kana--and saw the rage burning just behind his eyes as the rest of them walked away. At this moment he was very glad for Nehara's power in the tribe, and his ability to keep this one in check.

"I assume that was Lord Hakh'tas," he said as they went on their way.

"Correctly," Fa'rukha said shortly, and his muzzle wrinkled. "Pity that I did not get the chance to pull his brain out of his nose."

"You may do that another day," She'hekha replied. "Right now we have other things to attend to." He came to a stop outside one of the rooms and gestured at Fa'rukha. "Make certain he gets a good room, and make certain that you--" he looked at Djuta "--get a good night's rest. Lord Nehara may very well have something else planned for you come morning." He saluted when Fa'rukha did, and then they clasped arms like comrades. Djuta could tell that they knew each other well. "I'll see you whenever time permits," She'hekha added, and turned back to the door, leading Ze'thet into the room with him. Djuta had to hurry to catch up with Fa'rukha, who had already started off once more.

"You are old friends," he stated, coming up beside the other Kana, who glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"Well, yes. I suppose. I used to train him."

"You were his lieutenant, then? One could not guess."

"We are not all too different in age. He was a little late in his training, as you may not have known."

"I cannot assume the same friendship of this Lord Hakh'tas."

"You would be correct. There is no love lost. If She'hekha would not insist that I keep him alive, I would have murdered him long ago." Fa'rukha's eyes went black and glittery. "In his sleep would be a good option..."

"Yet he has a valid reason for harping after She'hekha so? One would think he is a jilted lover with how peevishly he acts."

Fa'rukha's head whirled around to stare at him, and Djuta wondered if he'd said something odd. After a moment of silence the other Kana reached up to rub at his neck, looking mildly apprehensive.

"Yes...well...that's the way Lord Hakh'tas is. You will grow to know this in time. Unfortunately."

The silence resumed until they had nearly reached where Djuta supposed his rooms to be. "She'hekha could very easily snap him if he wished," he mused aloud while Fa'rukha worked at the door. "He hardly looks strong enough to stand up to him."

"Well, I have suggested the same myself." Fa'rukha got the door open and gestured for Djuta to enter. Djuta did so, nearly tripping over his own feet when the other Kana spoke next. "Unfortunately, She'hekha seems to have this thing against killing one's own father."

Djuta whirled back to face him. "That is his father?" he blurted out.

Fa'rukha gave him a look before nodding and following him into the room. "I thought you had known this already..."

"Why does he still dwell beneath this roof?" Djuta found that he couldn't keep the anger out of his voice as he spoke.

"And not in some dingy cell with his wings flayed? This is a good question." Fa'rukha's wings flared, then settled. "She'hekha apparently told you about him. I like to think that it is because of me that She'hekha doesn't have more scars to show off. Yet he swore me to secrecy concerning 'Lord' Hakh'tas."

Djuta's muzzle wrinkled up. "What for? He is protecting that piece of dung?"

Fa'rukha shrugged. "I cannot hope to explain his mind." He gestured at the room and then grimaced in distaste. "It's a bit musty in here...not lived in for some time. Give me a moment to fix it up for you."

"I can manage..."

Djuta trailed off, noticing that the other Kana didn't appear ready to take no for an answer. He started dusting at the bed and striking the sheets, letting out a sneeze. Djuta wandered around near the wall; though this room hadn't been lived in in a while, it was still more sumptuous than anything in Mahakhi's house.

"I hope I am not rude to ask," he said, halting by one of the columns, "but I do not remember Lord Nehara being the general when last we met the Yellow Sands Tribe."

"This is because I believe he was not. He came to power only after our defeat. If he had been general when we fought your tribe, I do believe we would have won."

"Oh?" Djuta cocked his head. "You'd explain your reasoning?"

"Simply that he is a much better general than the previous. It would not have taken a Mahakhi to defeat the old general."

"And so how did he come by this position?"

"After our defeat of course the men were looking for someone to blame. We could not very well take on your sort again. And so the blame fell upon the general. Lord Nehara was an up-and-coming captain. But he was not the one believed to be best suited to take the general's place. I believe there were at least four or five other Kana thought to be better suited for that role."

"So he surprised you?"

Fa'rukha nodded. "More or less...the general was not expecting one of his own captains to turn upon him, but that was what he did. Staged a coup one evening while the old general and his closest advisors were meeting with visiting Kana. It turns out that they were in on the whole thing. The general and three of his top men were murdered, but that is all the bloodshed that came about as a result. Nehara proved himself more than capable and no one has thought to overthrow him."

"Murdered?" Djuta frowned. "This is a strong word to use."

Fa'rukha gave him a frank look. "Perhaps it is the way of the Kana, and perhaps it was his right as a usurping general," he said, "but I honestly believe all lives could have been spared that day. Nehara is...well...a bit unusual. You know this for yourself already, though, so I needn't explain." He finished beating the bedcovers and commenced dusting off the canopy. "After that, he took command of the old general's men--most went willingly--and moved into his household. She'hekha and I were chosen from the barracks to be his lieutenants. He made certain to mate all of the general's females to stake his claim as the lead Kana--no small feat, as there were then forty-one of them of mating age. Twenty-six of them he got with child. Out of those, nineteen gave birth, and today, fourteen of those pups are still alive."

"Impressive for a general wet behind the ears."

Fa'rukha nodded. "This household has only gotten much larger since he came to power. He may not look to be much, but he is much more proficient with the sword than even She'hekha...and until today, She'hekha was the second-best swordfighter I knew."

"Until today? So who now holds that honor?"

Another look, and Djuta almost blinked. "Ah," he said, simply, and let it go. Fa'rukha's mouth twitched and he finished with his dusting, now brushing off his hands.

"Well...this is as presentable as I can make it. You are certain you will be comfortable here?"

"Yes. I have slept on much worse."

"I'll call a servant to fetch fresher bedclothes tomorrow."

He started for the door. Djuta waited until he had almost gone to ask, "I am confined here, then, for the night?"

The other lieutenant turned to look at him, frowning puzzledly. "No," he said after a moment. "You are not a prisoner...at least, Lord Nehara did not speak to you as one. You have free run of the household, as long as you do not cause trouble or take what is not yours." He paused again, then added, a bit uncertainly, "Though he did ask you if you wished for a Moru, so I suppose if you change your mind..."

"I will not," Djuta said. "I am not interested for now."

"Ah." Fa'rukha stared at him, then grinned. "Too bad. Because I was curious to ask you if you are sen'akha tonight or not."

Djuta rolled his eyes. "You wish to find out?" he asked; when that resulted in nothing more than a blank stare, he decided that it would be worth it to go over to Fa'rukha and give him a kiss. When he pulled away the Kana's blank stare had evolved into a goggle-eyed one; he blinked a few times before putting his hand to his mouth and rubbing at it, taking a step back as if Djuta had just contracted some kind of disease. His eyes looked ready to fall from their sockets; Djuta had to suppress a laugh on looking at him.

"Ah...er..." Fa'rukha stammered, wiping at his mouth. "...No...I'll be going now." He turned away and started off down the hall, his pace picking up more the further away that he got. When he sped around the corner and out of sight he nearly tripped in his haste, and Djuta smiled at last. He went back into his room and took off his sword, lying down upon the bed and staring up at the canopy, faded with dust.

He wondered how Rithukh'het and Resikh were doing, and his heart ached at the thought. He shut his eyes and attempted to rest in this strange new tribe.

* * * * *

He wasn't aware of how much time had passed by the time that he awoke from his doze, a strange dream of himself pressed between Mahakhi and Tas'hukh, the two Kana taking turns slowly making love to him, fading and drifting away like torn cobwebs on the breeze. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked up at the dusty canopy for a while before deciding that at least an hour or two had passed, if not more, judging by the angle of the light. The household was silent but for the occasional cry of a nightbird in the distance. Djuta rolled out of the bed, standing and stretching his wings; he rubbed the back of his neck and made his way for the door, stepping out into the hall and looking both ways. No one was in sight. If there had even been a dinner, he had missed it. Too awake now to bother going back to sleep, he wandered off down the hall, seeking anything to divert his attention.

The entire place was oddly devoid of guards, he noticed. Every so often he would spot an isolated one far away, but never in pairs as he was used to seeing them. And they appeared to be more concerned with guarding the household itself rather than the rooms within it. He did finally spot Fa'rukha again, but the other Kana was so far off down the hallway that only shouting would have gotten his attention; plus, he appeared to have been drinking a bit as he weaved while he walked, a buxom female Moru helping him along. Djuta's mouth twitched. She wasn't as plump as Rithukh'het, but neither was she as slender as the majority of favored females were; either Fa'rukha wasn't choosy, or he preferred his mates a bit on the round side as well. She giggled every time he stumbled, until they reached a door that Djuta assumed must lead to his room; he faltered a bit trying to open it up, then pulled her inside along with him, the door slamming shut behind them. She started giggling all the louder and Djuta again had to smile. At least the other Kana had found something to entertain him for the night.

Not so for Djuta. He wondered if he'd spoken too hastily, refusing a female of his own. As things stood, he had the entire night before him, and not a thing to do. With a sigh he went on his way, hoping to find at least something interesting to look at somewhere along the way. Perhaps Nehara had a library; Djuta had liked to read, when he was younger.

He didn't find a library, though he did find something even stranger. Or rather, it found him. As he paced the hall he heard footsteps approaching from the opposite direction and lifted his head; perhaps he could start a conversation with whatever random guard he happened across. He'd had no idea that he could ever be so bored. Instead, he froze in his steps and stared as a female came his way, not a single Kana or even a male chaperoning her as she went. Even more than this, Djuta couldn't believe the way she was dressed. Instead of the dull undyed rough shift of the typical Moru female, this one was clad in a gauzy white dress which hugged against her hips but slit open at the side to allow her legs movement, a matching shawl drifting over her shoulders on the breeze. She wore a pectoral, but her breasts peeked out just beneath it, small but firm, her nipples painted with rouge as if to accent them. Earrings, bracelets, and anklets adorned her body, and makeup adorned her eyes, but most astonishing of all was what she wore upon her head. For hanging down before her ears were not the undyed lappets of a Moru, but the white lappets of a physician or a priest.

Djuta ogled her as she finally came up close to him, passing just to his left. She slowed as she passed, and gave him a curious look, her large eyes darkened with kohl. Djuta could do nothing more than stare at her in disbelief. She looked nothing like Khetai; yet those white lappets dangled as if to tease him into remembering the other female who had once played the part of a male. But--Khetai had also dressed like a male, to fool the other Kana. This one was dressed very much like a female, albeit in the garb of the Kemeti women. She stared at him for a moment before continuing up the hallway, her pace picking up. He turned on one heel to watch her go. She cast him a small glance over her shoulder, then went on, her sandals clacking. Only then, oddly enough, did he finally notice her wings.

Djuta watched her go. She had almost vanished from sight at the end of the hall before he noticed the burning need inside him to find out who she was, what she was doing walking around dressed like that, with not even a chaperone. Such behavior was madness for a female. He spun about and dashed off after her, hoping to catch sight of where she was going before he could lose her.

He rounded the corner just in time to catch her standing in the doorway of one of the rooms, a male speaking to her so quietly that he couldn't hear. Sucking in a breath, he ducked back behind the corner to avoid being seen, only to bite down a gasp of surprise. It was not just any male who addressed her, but Nehara. The female was very short and slight compared to him, and he stood perhaps two heads taller, speaking down to her; she stood before him with her hands clasped at the small of her back, feet pressed together and head tilted back to look up at him as he spoke. Djuta could tell they were familiar with one another just by the way that they stood. He wished he could hear what was being said, but was too far away, and Nehara kept his voice low. After a few moments the general took the female's arm in his own and gave her a slight smile before turning and guiding her into his room. The door swung shut, and Djuta seized his chance. He darted forward, keeping low to the ground, and skirted the wall until he reached the room.

There were no guards standing watch outside. This was madness as well. Every general had his personal guards to keep his quarters safe. Djuta supposed that this was yet one more example of Nehara's "oddness." His entire household was woefully underprotected.

Careful to keep his breathing in check, he knelt before the door and searched for any opening. There were none, but he did find a loose section of whitewash; when he chipped it away he found what he'd been looking for, a hole in the wood, where perhaps a spear or a sword or some such had pierced the door at some point in the past. The how didn't matter. He squatted and peered inside, and found that the hole was just big enough and just perfectly situated to afford him a clear view of the main part of the room, the bed standing off to the side.

Nehara and the female stood not too far away from it, near the middle of the room. Already their purpose here was obvious; he smiled down at her in a paternal manner, his hands upon her arms. While she stood silently he unlatched her pectoral and removed it, baring her breasts; he ran a claw over one, trailing to the other, and set the pectoral aside. He stepped closer to her so that their bodies almost touched, and leaned down to kiss her upon the cheek; then his fingers slipped to the straps of her dress, and he slowly worked them over her shoulders. She didn't move as he pushed the dress down until it fell from her body, baring her but for her gauzy shawl and jewelry; again he touched her face, and kissed her jawbone, but didn't go for her mouth just yet. The way the female reacted, Djuta could tell that she was more tolerating him than accepting; he didn't wish to think of how their relationship had started, if she had been even less willing then. Perhaps there had been a reason why he'd asked She'hekha to spare all the females of Mahakhi's tribe, if Fa'rukha's story about the old general's harem were any indication.

Nehara slowly ran his hand down the female's taut belly, coming to rest upon the slight curve that all females possessed, his fingers trailing over her navel. "How is it that, in all the times we have made love so far," he murmured huskily, "you have yet to give me a pup? There is simply something about your soil that is poison to my seed?" Her ears pinkened--her fur was a softly gleaming shade of silver--and Nehara smiled, nuzzling at her neck. His hand moved to her hip.

"No matter...you fulfill me in other ways." He finally tilted her head up and their mouths met, and her eyes fluttered shut. For a moment or two they simply stood kissing this way, before Nehara carefully broke away, his breath quicker than before. He reached for the belt of his kilt and began to undo it, unraveling the cloth. The female didn't wait for a command; she slowly sank to her knees and took hold of his leg, reaching for him only after he had removed his own clothing. She cupped the soft sac dangling between his legs, and ran her hand over his sheath, which began to swell.

Djuta lost his breath for just a moment. Nehara's body was beautiful, the most beautiful he had seen in some time now. Though the female seemed more interested in only doing her duty, on seeing the blaze of white hair between the general's legs, Djuta would have desired nothing more than to take her place, burying his face in those gleaming curls. Nehara's tail flicked from side to side as the female worked him from his sheath and Djuta smelled his musk, a sweet tang to his nostrils. His body started to ache and he squirmed uncomfortably. Nehara smiled down at the female and guided her to himself until he lightly clasped her head at his crotch; he shut his eyes and sighed as she nuzzled, and swayed forward and back, forward and back.

"And so what will you have to say to me tonight?" he whispered thickly, opening his eyes to look down at her again. She didn't respond, merely continued with her hakh'tua, caressing his tight buttocks. Djuta felt himself throbbing. He would have loved burying himself in that, or being buried in it; he couldn't quite understand why he was reacting like this to a near-total stranger. For all that he knew, Nehara did not accept males into his bed.

"No response?" Nehara said, and carefully drew the female's head away so that she wiped at her mouth. His shaft still quivered, glistening, in the air; he hadn't come yet. He bent to take the female's arm, and guided her to her feet with a crooked smile. He took hold of her shawl, draping it loosely around her neck.

"I know what it will take to loosen your tongue...just as it always does. One day I shall have to mouth you; then I bet you will have many things to say to me, indeed."

The female didn't reply. Djuta wondered why he didn't strike her for her stubbornness, but was relieved that he didn't, just the same. Arm again looped around hers, Nehara steered her about, and they walked toward the bed and vanished from sight. Djuta moved to the side, and strained his eyes to see them again; yet even after he heard the creak of the wood, they did not come back within his sight. Frustrated, he glanced all over the room, tried moving over a bit more, even considered taking his chances opening the door a crack; yet no matter how much he tried, he could no longer see the occupants of the room. By sheer luck did he finally look to the other side of the room, where the wall was in plain sight; and now he could tell that a lamp had been set up at bedside, as it cast the shadows of its occupants upon the wall, larger than life; he let out his breath and knelt on one knee, peering to get a better look.

He wasn't certain what exactly he was seeing at first. It was clear that the female knelt upon the bed, on all fours, with Nehara over her; yet what he was doing was not so obvious. He appeared to be playing again with her shawl, draping the long ends of it over his fingers; it was only when he moved up close to her, his shaft slipping inside her, that Djuta finally gasped, unable to stop it. For at the same moment that Nehara thrust, he also grasped hold of the shawl, and pulled upon it abruptly, so that it went taut in his grip; the female gasped brokenly as the cloth tightened around her neck, and Nehara relaxed.

Instant fury welled up inside Djuta on seeing this. He thought of Bakh'asu, nearly choking him in a deathgrip before raping him against a wall; and as if a floodgate had suddenly burst, similar images poured into his head unbidden, some of them real, some of them but nightmares--himself choking Ri'hus; Bakh'asu laughing as he nearly drowned him in the pool during a particularly brutal assault; Resikh's hands around his neck as he plunged into him; his own hands around Tas'hukh's as they made love slowly. Over and over an image of Bakh'asu's great fingers squeezing against his windpipe as the big Kana thrust into him at poolside replayed itself in his brain, himself every so often being replaced by I'anen, at which Bakh'asu's grip grew bonecrushingly tight, snapping the smaller Kana's neck. When this happened Djuta gasped again and returned to reality, shaking and sweating, his hands clammy cold. Within the room, the shadows of Nehara and his female still moved and Nehara still pulled upon the shawl as if riding a Sha, yet Djuta could tell now that this was no rape. The female still gasped brokenly as they swayed, but she was gasping...she could still breathe. She might not have come to Nehara's quarters with the full desire to be mated, yet she was not resisting either. Her head hung back, throat bared, mouth sucking in a ragged breath each time the general tightened the noose; yet even as their tempo increased, their growing movements indicating their oncoming climax, Nehara finally pulled the cloth from around her neck, and bent to nuzzle between her shoulderblades just before she bucked and cried out, her body stiffening as she shook. He froze as well, hands upon her breasts, and appeared to be listening to her reaction until she sank to the bed, panting weakly. Nehara's hips stayed joined to hers for a moment or two before he sighed, lifting his leg and pulling himself out. Djuta could see from his silhouette that even now he was still hard and full, and his brow furrowed in confusion. What...?

"And so," Nehara murmured, bending down toward the panting female and appearing to nuzzle at her face, "you have nothing to say to me this eve...you know this will not do at all, especially not now." He ran his hand over her back. "Perhaps your scarf got in the way of your tongue...though I had thought it would make for an interesting little variation." He kissed her, then sat up. "No matter. I will loosen your tongue yet, before morning. I know very well how you like it, precisely." With this he leaned down and brought the limp female up into his arms, kissing her briefly before turning her about. "Precisely how you like it..."

He laid her down upon the bed, on her back; as he still watched only their shadows in motion, Djuta couldn't see the expression she had on her face, but she looked to be near unconscious. This changed when the Kana bent down and placed his hand between her legs; from the way that she suddenly moaned and began to vibrate, Djuta could tell that he was touching her, perhaps fingering her thik'ahi. He heard her begin to pant heavily and she drew her legs up so her knees were bent, and pressed her head back into the pillows. One of Nehara's wings stretched a little bit, and the lieutenant heard amusement in his voice.

"Your tongue grows looser already...what do you have to say to me tonight?"

The Moru whimpered. Nehara's shadow rose, then descended upon her; their two shadows joined together and her moan grew louder.

"You have something to say to me yet?" Nehara whispered huskily, and started to thrust. The female cried out and lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, her feet pushing against him, urging him deeper; he lowered himself onto his elbows, and Djuta saw him appear to reach for her neck again. He tensed and could tell from the way her moaning changed that he was lightly squeezing her throat, but she didn't attempt to pull away from him. Indeed, the deeper he moved, and the harder that Djuta assumed he squeezed her neck, the more she arched and moved her legs, writhing at the bedclothes, until she let out a sudden straining gasp and convulsed, her chest heaving at the air. Her body went stiff and only now did Nehara lift himself up from her--yet instead of fondling her, as Djuta had rather expected him to do on their climax, he just stared down into her face, the rest of his body motionless. He appeared to be observing her, rather than making love to her.

And then the female spoke.

"To raid the humans," she said in a whispery voice, sounding dazed and faraway. "To send Kana in dead of night to surprise."

"Yes," Nehara said in a low voice, as if prompting her to continue.

"To lose one Kana," the female continued. "To die by his own foolishness. All the rest to return safely. To bring many prizes. Commanding lieutenant to try to bring a female concealed. To try to take her to his rooms today."

"The fool," Nehara muttered.

"To be found out by Master's men and suitably punished. Female to bear lieutenant's child."

"What?" Nehara blurted out, wings flaring. "You mean he has been visiting with them these past months--?" His wings hunched in again and Djuta could see him digging one hand into the bedclothes. "Of course...that explains a few things," he said in a dangerously low voice. "The stupid ass. I will have his wings flayed for compromising this raid...and then I have to figure out what to do with this bastard pup when it arrives." He looked down at the female again. "This is all? You have nothing else for me?"

"To find a new bedmate," she replied, still in the same dazed voice.

Nehara cocked his head in a curious fashion and flicked his tail. "Oh? I'm willing to guess who that will be...do you have anything else at all?" There was a brief silence; when the female didn't immediately reply, he prompted her again, sounding impatient. "What about the newcomer? Do you have any news concerning him? Anything at all?"

Instead of responding, the female let out a soft mew and sank back into the bed, going limp. Nehara paused for a moment, then sighed and pulled himself out of her, climbing from the bed. His shadow grew larger and he suddenly appeared within Djuta's sight, walking across the room; he stretched his wings and scratched at the back of his neck, one hand rubbing slowly against his penis, still extended from its sheath. Djuta blinked in surprise--he hadn't climaxed with the female after all? Nehara stopped before a small ornate table and poured himself a cup of wine while he masturbated; he turned back around with the cup raised to his lips, only for his spine to then stiffen, a long graceful spray of seed arcing across the room to splash against the floor. Djuta pulled his eye away from the hole for just a brief moment, his cheeks burning; when he looked back in Nehara had finished, his shaft sliding back into its swollen sheath, a lazy, satisfied look on his face. He downed his drink and again disappeared from Djuta's sight, returning to the bed. His shadow sat down upon the edge of it and reached out to rub the female's shoulder; Djuta heard her sigh, and Nehara tilted his head.

"Not quite the news I had hoped to hear," he said softly, "but useful nonetheless...perhaps you may tell me about our visitor...tomorrow." He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the cheek, and she rolled over in the bed to curl up on her side. He pulled his own legs up into the bed to settle down beside her, and only now did Djuta pull away from the hole for good.

Hands still shaking, thus making the task a bit more difficult, he retrieved what flakes of whitewash he could, pasting them over the hole to delay its discovery. Then he stood, casting a quick look here and there to make certain none had spotted him spying upon the general. The hall was still empty. He walked back to his room as quickly as he could without running, and it was only once he was safely behind the closed door that he let out his breath, wiping one hand against his clammy brow. He still wasn't certain what exactly had happened back there...but for some reason...he felt that Nehara had been talking about him.

What could this strange female possibly know about him--? He was new to the tribe, and had told no one of his purpose here; he had never even seen her before in his life. Why would Nehara be questioning her about him...?

He turned and started to head for his bed, only to be reminded of his own discomfort; pressing a hand to his kilt, he felt the obvious swelling there, the result of his own confused excitement. He paused, staring indecisively at the bed; he didn't like the thought of having to sleep in it, the sheets wet with his own seed. There were no extra sheets to be found in the room. Yet he had to relieve himself somehow.

Deciding a bit hastily, he went over to one of the columns supporting the ceiling and leaned his shoulder against it, panting thickly as he hiked up his kilt and loosened his loincloth, grasping his own sheath and stroking it vigorously. He let his eyes flutter shut and wrapped his free arm around the column, hugging himself to it and imagining that the cold stone was a warm Apsiu body. He pressed his muzzle to the rock and sucked in a deep breath, smelling his own musk, but pretended that it belonged to another; when his rod emerged he ran his hand up and down, simulating sex, his body shaking as it begged for relief.

He tried imagining Resikh...or even Nehara, with his hard lean body...but for some bizarre reason, it was the strange female who continued to occupy his thoughts. Although she was beautiful, he wasn't physically attracted to her...at least, he thought he wasn't. Rather, it was the thought that she knew something, possibly everything, about him that intrigued him. And so even though it was Resikh, and/or Nehara, whom he coupled with in his mind, it was the female whose face stayed before his mind's eye the whole time, until he sprayed the column with a small relieved groan. He managed to stumble back to his bed and collapse atop the covers, his breath heavy but slowing; and as his eyes once again went shut, this time in exhausted sleep, he made a resolution for the next day.

He had to find out who she was. And what she knew.

Continue:

"Part 60: Shelter" 


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