Part 64: Teacher

DISCLAIMER: Nonconsensual scene(s).
Underage character(s) involved.


Note: This item has been rewritten and edited. All text in rose is BRAND NEW MATERIAL for this chapter of the story. In addition there are many minor changes to the original text itself. Please enjoy this new, expanded version of Part 64 and be on the lookout for updates to the next and final part!


LIEUTENANT AHAI'IKH HAD never imagined that his duties would take him to the practically unused library in General Mahakhi's household, yet somehow they had, and it was here that he stood in the doorway, staring at the lone Kana within with a slight frown of confusion on his face. They had been here over an hour already. He looked continually at the shadows in the hallway, and wished that he hadn't decided to switch places with Nehef. Perhaps it would have been easier keeping an eye on the poor addled lieutenant, as he'd been doing. He'd thought that a change of pace might help his sense of unease...yet apparently stepping from one source of misery to another didn't help change the pace much.

General Dja'mui was hunched over the scrolls on the table, his wings drawn tightly to his back and a lone lamp burning beside him. He ran a claw over the words as he read--something Ahai'ikh's uncle and guardian had taken him to task for doing many times when he was a pup--so the lieutenant had to bite his tongue to keep from reprimanding the older Kana. Mahakhi didn't care much for scrolls--it had always been his scribes and physician who saw to the papyri the most, while the other Kana usually avoided the library as much as they could. Ahai'ikh had loved reading when he was young. He would have still loved it, had he simply had the time.

Upon switching charges, and watching Nehef go off with much relief to see to Lieutenant Intaka, Ahai'ikh had gone to Dja'mui and asked him what he wished to do for the day. The Hawk Tribe Kana hadn't been interested in doing anything. Still, Ahai'ikh had insisted, knowing that some sort of distraction would do him well to forget about his woes at least for a short time. He planned to find some way to lessen the nightmares Dja'mui kept having that kept waking up others in the household. The way that he saw it, if it lessened the general's anxiety, and got the rest of them some more sleep, then it could only be a good thing.

Dja'mui had finally given in and asked if they had a library. Ahai'ikh had blinked in surprise. Then had led him straight to the back of the household to see it for himself. They had been here ever since, and even though Ahai'ikh couldn't see what he could possibly be getting out of any of it, at least the older Kana seemed to be temporarily distracted. That had been his goal, after all.

"I take it you read little," Dja'mui murmured, not looking up from the table.

Ahai'ikh blinked and straightened up from the slouch he'd been sinking into. "On--on the contrary, Lord--I used to read frequently. I much enjoyed it, long ago."

"Yet your duties as second lieutenant prohibit you from engaging in it much, I take it."

The lieutenant shook his head. "This is merely one price to pay in exchange for the position, Lord. I do not mind much."

Dja'mui rolled up the scroll he'd been reading, yawned, and nudged it aside. He reached for another one. "I never read much, myself, in all honesty...my tutors tried to make it grow on me, to no avail...I was always more interested in swinging the sword. Having to read agonized me." His mouth twitched faintly. "I had not realized until now how calming it can be...magical spells...recipes...trifling little stories..." He frowned at the scroll, rolled it up, selected another. "All penned with a purpose. Not such a purpose as this, but I guess they'll do. As long as I am reading about how to mix poppy or how to kill your enemy with a wax doll, then I am not thinking of bigger things." He sighed and rubbed at his eyes, then peered at the scroll he'd just selected. "Ah, a story...yet another one...the great battle of Horus and Set." He yawned. "As if we do not know how that one ended. I rather wish someone would pen a new story, just for the sake of those looking for some way to distract their minds. If I read once more about Set this, Set that, I think maybe I would have been better off back in my city."

Ahai'ikh averted his eyes, fiddling his fingers against his spear. Dja'mui lifted his eyes and frowned at him, then cocked his head slightly to the side. "Lieutenant...?" When Ahai'ikh peered at him his frown grew. "I said something--?"

The lieutenant quickly shook his head. "Oh--no, Lord. Nothing."

Dja'mui's brow furrowed. "I said something offensive, didn't I." His ear tilted. "When I mentioned Set. I offended you. You believe in him?"

Ahai'ikh flushed and averted his eyes again, fingers fiddling even more quickly. Dja'mui's look quickly turned apologetic. "I am sorry," he said, his voice sincere. "I didn't realize...you must admit, there are not many who believe anymore. It is rare to meet one."

"It is nothing, Lord," Ahai'ikh insisted.

Dja'mui stared at him for a moment, then his eyes softened and he looked down at the scroll. "I never liked reading...but I used to love hearing the stories about him...Intaka, he did not even enjoy this. He does not believe in Set either. I do not know what I believe. When I am feeling victorious, perhaps I suspect he might be there, but when I am feeling as I am now, I wonder how he could truly be there and allow all this to happen." He traced a claw over the hieroglyphs. "I know all his stories by heart. Know you any?"

Ahai'ikh blinked again, then ducked his head, ears going pink. "I...my uncle used to tell them to me, when I was a pup, Lord. He raised me--he always made sure I learned right."

"Your father was killed in a battle, then--?"

"No, Lord." Ahai'ikh shook his head, ears burning. "My father--ah--my father was a Moru. I did not know him well. My uncle raised me, trained me, everything."

"And he gave you a good understanding of the old stories." Dja'mui smiled faintly. "Would that all Kana could claim such a thing. I tried to interest my sons in the old stories...even though I do not know if I believe them or not...my second oldest loved to hear them. He was the one who spent all his days in the library. I told him he was foolish since he should be training...he insisted he could do both. He did, too, you know; he became a first lieutenant. He was the bright one of the family...much like you, I suspect. His brothers, but for Intaka, all cared about fighting, but he was the one who actually had sense in him. My oldest, he was much like your comrade...but they were all good Kana in their own ways..."

He drifted off as if falling asleep, in truth lowering his head back to the scrolls. Ahai'ikh waited for a moment or two before standing down. He thought vaguely over the tales his uncle would tell him when he was little...the great tale of Horus and Set had been one of his favorites, the ways in which the dark god had tried to trick and fool and threaten the hawk god into surrendering the throne of Kemet. None of the ways had worked, of course...yet the Apsiu had told the stories anyway, exclaiming over Set's ingenuity and craftiness every time. Ahai'ikh's thoughts drifted.

"Thus was how Lord-King Set nearly won back the throne of Kemet," he could hear his uncle say, and his eyes slowly shut, and he could see the older Kana standing before him, leaning down toward him with his hands on his knees and a light in his eyes. He had been a captain first class and Ahai'ikh had only aspired to reach such an illustrious rank. "Keep these tales always in your head," he'd said, meeting Ahai'ikh's eyes, "and one day perhaps you too will show such craftiness, such courage as he, and prove yourself every bit the Kana that you are. An illustrious house you were born of! You take not after your father, but after your uncle, and your great-grandfather, and all those who went before. Your ancestors served in the army of Set. Perhaps you are truly a son of Set yourself! Just wait, and keep up your training, and someday you will see. You will prove what a Kana you are to everyone..."

His thoughts then drifted to several years later, after hearing another such story from his uncle when he was but thirteen or fourteen years of age...then going to the Moru quarters to announce his promotion from private to sergeant third class, and seeing those eyes which looked just like his, staring into his own, calm yet strangely disappointed seeming at the same time...and the voice murmuring, "Has he told you of how you will end up like Set-Kana, pupless and alone, as well...?"

Ahai'ikh's eyes popped open and he stiffened, feeling a chill settle over him. He surreptitiously tried shaking it off and glanced at Dja'mui again, wishing that he'd stayed with Intaka after all; at least Intaka had no interest in reading, and wouldn't have brought up such a memory. He bit his lip and readied himself to ask the general if he were about done when Dja'mui's wings jerked, his tail standing out straight and his eyes going wide.

Ahai'ikh blinked, then took a step forward. "Lord--? Are you all right--?"

Dja'mui didn't answer him. Ahai'ikh's alarm grew when he saw how his hands had started shaking, and before he knew it, the scroll he had been reading snapped shut and rolled to the floor, landing softly on the tiles. Dja'mui's arms and then his wings started trembling uncontrollably and his lips drew back from his teeth in a horrible grimace.

Memories of Captain Fe'kheru's incident after the duel came rushing back, and Ahai'ikh hurried toward him, grasping his arm and attempting to help him to his feet. Dja'mui didn't move, however, just stayed glued to his spot, shaking like a leaf. The lieutenant glanced down at the scroll that had hit the floor and stooped to retrieve it. His brow furrowed in confusion when he saw the name T'uris penned on the outside.

"T'uris--?" he said aloud, perplexed, and pulled it open. He scanned the hieroglyphs and was surprised to see that they were Kemeti, not Apsiu. He couldn't read most of them.

"This--this was one of T'uris-Kana's scrolls!" he exclaimed in surprise. "I had thought we destroyed them!" He leaned over the table and started pulling some of the other papyri toward him; a few bore the old general's name, though most were blank, just regular library scrolls. Somehow a few of T'uris's must have made their way back in amongst the rest.

"Mahakhi-Kana said we were to have burned these," he murmured, confused, and pulled another one open, skimming it but just as unable to understand it. "How did they get back in here?"

Dja'mui slowly held up one hand, and Ahai'ikh stared at it with a frown, seeing how badly it shook. "H--how--?" he whispered, and when the lieutenant could do nothing but furrow his brow in confusion he tried to force himself to speak again. "Wh--where--?"

"Where--?" Ahai'ikh glanced at the scroll, then back up at the general. "Our old general--T'uris--he was ousted in a coup. He'd been going mad before then. He kept insisting on raids on the Kemeti, to obtain their scrolls. But we were supposed to have destroyed these once he was killed." He looked at the papyrus in confusion.

Dja'mui got to his feet, tail thrashing from side to side. "Who ordered them destroyed--?" he demanded, his voice coming out sharp; Ahai'ikh winced but met his eyes, and saw that they were wide and on fire, yet apparently the anger was not aimed at him. He shook his head.

"It was Mahakhi-Kana. He figured they were worthless since we had no interest in raiding the Kemeti for scrolls!" His brow furrowed further. "What is it, Lord--? You mean that you can read them--?"

"They are warnings," Dja'mui grated, tail still thrashing. "Warnings--which your general would have done well to heed! Why was it your old general was so interested in these--? Tell me what he knew!"

Ahai'ikh took a step back, suddenly fearful of the change in Dja'mui's demeanor. "I--I don't know! No one did! Only that he was obsessed with it to the point of madness! I mean, truly, Lord, who raids the Kemeti for their scrolls--? He did not fill us in on what all he was doing--"

"He said nothing at all? Not in all the time he had such scrolls?" Dja'mui's voice grew even more grating, and he even stepped toward Ahai'ikh in a threatening manner. The lieutenant put his hand on the butt of his sword, taking another step back but forcing himself to answer.

"He--no--he barely said a thing," he insisted, racking his brain for any bit of information. Why couldn't he remember anything? Usually he remembered things so well... "He said something about being rich," he blurted out at last, remembering T'uris's last words before the sword to his gut had killed him. "About our Moru not mattering in the end. And about us being as good as dead without these scrolls. This--this is all he ever said, Lord. I swear it."

Dja'mui glared into his eyes for such a long time that he had to struggle not to fidget. After a lengthy silence he let out his breath, and his wings and shoulders began to slump; the fire faded from his eyes, which grew dull and lifeless again. Ahai'ikh frowned, confused, as the old Dja'mui returned, and the general turned and dragged his feet back toward the table. He sank down into the seat.

"So he could have known...you all could have known...you all could have been away from here, by now." He lifted his head and rubbed blearily at one eye. "Lieutenant...forgive me. I did not mean to antagonize you. I wished merely to understand...how it is that these have been here all along, yet none of you have ever heard of the Blue Oasis Tribe until my men and I arrived."

"Most of us do not bother with the scrolls, Lord," Ahai'ikh admitted. "Especially not Kemeti ones. Mahakhi-Kana has never cared for reading, that I can tell. Most of these are medical papyri, and chronicles of historic events, and only physicians are interested in such things. Most other Kana simply do not care." When the general said nothing he took a step forward, ear flicking warily. "What...what is it that they say, Lord...?"

Dja'mui held up one and Ahai'ikh looked at it tensely before picking it from his fingers and rolling it open. He frowned at the gibberish within. "You know how to read, surely?" Dja'mui said, and Ahai'ikh blushed before nodding, trying to brush off the unintended insult. "Take a closer look at it then. You must have never looked closely at Kemeti writing, to not be able to see what it says."

I do not even read Kemeti writing... Ahai'ikh thought with irritation, yet he squinted at the squiggles anyway. He stared at them for so long that he was about ready to gnaw on his lip in frustration when a symbol--Kana--suddenly popped out at him, and his eyes opened wide, his mouth falling open.

Dja'mui stared at him dully. "Now you see it?"

"'Kana,'" Ahai'ikh read aloud, surprised. He glanced over the rest of the symbols and a piece here, a bit there, began to make sense right before his eyes. "'North'--'raid.' How is it that I can understand some of these words, Lord--? I never learned to read Kemeti in my life!"

"You do not have to, if you can read Apsiu," Dja'mui explained wearily. "We did not have our own written language, but for the one we took from the Kemeti. The language you see is but the original form of what we write."

The lieutenant just continued browsing the text, confused. He couldn't understand how he'd never even noticed this before, until he remembered that, while he had been taught to read, he'd never been properly taught to write, and so perhaps the exact meanings of all of the symbols had been taken for granted. He blushed a little, again, but focused his attention once more on the text.

"'Great tribe to the north,'" he read stiltedly, frowning. "This is how it seems to start out...'many Kana...accustomed to raiding...' He frowned a bit more as the text grew a little harder to understand. 'They kill all the citizens...all die beneath the sword...men, women, children...'" He fell silent for a moment, then read, "'They kill their own even and slaughter them all. Stay'...no...live...'Live in the western oasis north...to the north...'" He trailed off once more. "'Where the water is blue as the sky.'" His head jerked up and he stared at Dja'mui with wide eyes. "The Blue Oasis," he blurted out, although it was unnecessary.

"Now you understand why you should have heeded this warning?" Dja'mui said, without the least bit of surprise. "Even the Kemeti know and speak of them. Do you think your general would believe me now?"

Ahai'ikh blushed again and let the scroll roll shut; he clasped it in his hand. "He does not disbelieve you out of malice, Lord," he insisted. "He is merely...forgive me for speaking so, but he is merely stubborn! He is from an old family, and doesn't believe in fleeing. To do so would be an insult to him. Surely you understand--?"

Dja'mui's eyes darkened a little. "Once I would have," he said, "until I made the exact same mistake myself. My house went back over two hundred years, Lieutenant. And in one afternoon, it was practically ended." He pushed the rest of the scrolls away from him and stood, rubbing at his eyes. "I tire of reading these," he said. "I cannot keep my thoughts away from them wherever I turn...my mates...pups...perhaps Set does exist and he curses me now with forever remembering them as they ended, not as they once were. This is only what I deserve for failing them..."

Ahai'ikh stepped silently aside as the general passed him and went out into the hallway. He bit his lip a little before following, and was surprised to nearly run into Lieutenant Nehef, who was standing just outside. The two of them looked at each other, then uneasily eyed the other Kana as he continued up the hall. The silence was deafening; only the clack of Dja'mui's sandals punctuated it.

Nehef turned back to Ahai'ikh and fiddled his fingers. "'Hikh-Brother...would you mind if...?"

Ahai'ikh shook his head mutely. "Take him. I'll see to Intaka."

Nehef nodded, letting out his breath in relief. He turned to follow Dja'mui while Ahai'ikh went in the opposite direction, the two of them parting ways.

* * * * *

A slight noise came from the doorway, and Captain Khanef's eyes opened, blinking almost immediately at the bit of light that crept across the floor. He stared at it until his eyes began to hurt; then a shadow peered in, and then entered, shutting the door softly behind it. Khanef's brow furrowed and he watched it progress across the room, toward his bed, its step so soft that he could hear only the sound of the bed's drapes as his breath stirred them. When the figure got to his bed it reached out one hand and gently parted the drapes, peering within. Khanef's eyes widened when he recognized the face there, and he carefully sat up, frowning and squinting.

"Khetai-Moru...?"

"Lord Khanef...?" the voice came in response, seeming tentative; he leaned over toward the nearest oil lamp and fumbled to light it before holding it aloft. Khetai stood before him, biting her lip and staring in at him with large eyes. Khanef's frown grew.

"Khetai...?" He shifted his leg. "What are you doing here? You could get in trouble for entering Kana's rooms, do you know that?"

She chewed on her lip a bit more. "I know...but...I wished to come see you."

Khanef tilted his head in puzzlement, but carefully set the lamp aside and peered at her. "What is it?" he asked softly. "Is something wrong?"

"You called Djefet-Moru to keep me company," she murmured.

Khanef winced a little. "You are upset...?" When she shook her head his puzzlement grew.

"At...at first I was," she admitted, not meeting his eyes; she sat down on the edge of the bed and picked at the sheet. "But now...I know you were just trying to be friendly with me...you have to forgive me, but I've had so many bad experiences with Kana...I no longer know how to trust any of them anymore."

Khanef's brow furrowed. "You needn't be afraid of anyone here," he insisted, her eyes finally meeting his. "I realize you have no reason to trust anyone just yet...I can't even begin to imagine what things you must have been through...you see, Meteri won't tell me a bit worth anything, so I can only assume. He is a jackass sometimes--perhaps you shouldn't trust him. Such shifty Kana are only trouble." He hoped that she would take his comments in the spirit in which they were intended; when she smiled tentatively he did as well, feeling relieved that he got that much out of her. "Fe'kheru, though...don't be afraid of him for one moment. You could not have been bought by a better Kana. He practically raised Meteri, and kept me out of trouble for most of my life; I owe just about everything to him. Just see. You'll have no reason to regret being here."

"I heard bad things about this Sut'khut-Kana," Khetai said, staring at the sheet.

Khanef shook his head. "Don't even worry about him. Your general put his head on his sword, last I heard. And it's no big loss for this tribe." His eyes darkened slightly but then he shook the look out of them before she could see it. He reached out to touch her hand and felt her start to pull away, startled; he bit his lip and pulled his own hand back instead. "As I said...I know you have no reason yet to trust anyone here," he said softly, and she lifted her eyes to meet his. "But just wait a while. You'll see you do not need to keep a wall around yourself while you live here. If anything--Ikhi' and Djefet will be your walls." He smiled at her and very much liked it when she smiled back.

"What about you?" she said; and he blinked, immediately losing his smile. "You say nothing of your own trustworthiness," she said, and he blinked again. "Surely you have something to say...?"

Khanef stared at her in surprise for a moment, then lowered his eyes, brow furrowing. "I...well..." He tried to keep his face from screwing up when all of the words fled him--he'd never been at such a loss for words before!--usually when he was caught offguard, he could just come up with a joke or some witty retort. Yet now his mind went terribly blank and he felt his ears burn. "Ah...I guess you just have to wait and find out, as well," he finally said, feeling quite stupid, and was just relieved that she didn't start laughing at him in response.

She smiled again instead, and he let out his breath. He took it in again when he felt her hand over his, and glanced down at it, as if not knowing what it was. She curled her fingers around his and he returned the gesture without thinking; he lifted his head and saw the way that she looked at him, and this time his breath left him. Her eyes were heavy, glazed, much like Ikhi'et's had been that one night. He felt vaguely uneasy seeing that look there, but the other feelings that arose in him were much different.

"Must I wait so long for this...?" Khetai said softly, and at last he could breathe again, though all he managed to do was take in a sharp breath and let it out just as abruptly, unable to speak or think straight. His ears flicked and his mouth moved but nothing came out; not even when he tried to speak. His throat wouldn't work, and this fact startled him.

Khetai's wings flared slightly. "I suppose I could find out now," she murmured, and lifted her leg to place her knee on the bed. The fur on the back of Khanef's neck prickled when she started crawling toward him on hands and knees, her tail swishing from side to side; from this angle he could see somewhat down the front of her dress, the small hollow between her breasts. He stared at it until he noticed her own stare and then shook his head abruptly as if to clear it. She gave a slight smile and grasped his hand again.

"You do not need to turn your eyes away, Lord...this is how I get to know you..."

"You..." Khanef's voice came back at last in a pathetic croak; he put his hands against the bed and attempted to push himself back when she drew closer. "You said...you do not...like males."

"There is always an exception," she replied, and drew herself up to and against him, so that her face was barely a hand's breadth from his own; his breath started coming in quick panicked gasps, and he pressed his legs together, feeling the familiar uncomfortable tightness between them. He squinched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth when she trailed her fingers up his arm and to his shoulder, then back over the membrane of his wing; he started shaking, feeling her leg against his.

"L...L...Lady..." His voice rattled as much as his teeth did. "I...I...hope you d-do not m-mind...but i-if you k-k-keep..."

"I do not mind," she whispered, and pressed her muzzle to his neck; he bit off his protest with a whine, unable to stop himself from arching slightly. Her body pressed to his at that moment and he nearly yelped; her hips bumped against his, and he could tell that his sheath was swollen. He tried to squirm away from her before she could notice it but her hand on his thigh stopped him and the whine rose in his throat. He bit his lip nearly hard enough to bleed and clutched at the sheets.

"L--L--Lady," he blurted out, voice cracking, "if you w-w-wish us to st-stop--then I s-suggest we s-s-stop this...!!"

"I did not say I wish to stop," Khetai whispered, and her tongue entered his ear, tracing along the edge. When her hand ran over his loincloth he finally yelped, unable to help himself; the sound rang loud off of the walls and he winced, but she merely laughed under her breath and untied the cloth, caressing his sheath and running her thumb over him when he started to emerge. Khanef writhed and moaned, shaking hard and forcing himself not to grab at her, though by now he badly wanted to. She kissed his collarbones and neck, working her way up to his cheek; he dug his toes into the bedding and tensed.

"Wh--what..."

"I saw the way you looked at me," Khetai whispered in his ear, still rubbing his shaft; her fingers were cool, yet felt like fire searing him. "I know the reason why you called Djefet-Moru for me...I know you are disappointed that you could not come..."

He shook his head and tried to speak. "I...n...n..."

"Shh..." Her muzzle met his ear and he gave a small whine. "You said I should come to know you, Lord," she said, in a voice that only he could hear. "It is only fair that you know me as well..."

With her free hand she raked her dress up past her hips. Without bidding himself to Khanef bent his knees and grasped the sheets, spine arching as he fought down another whine; Khetai pressed her fingers to her wet nether-lips, spreading them open, and descended, smiling at him faintly as he pressed up inside her. A low groan arose in his throat the deeper he went, until at last he found full purchase and she sat upon him, and the groan rose into a howl, his body juddering in desire. She was so wet--so slick, yet so tight--and he couldn't help the spasm that passed through him, making his hips jerk upward. He speared deeper into her and she gasped, her head falling back; when he managed to lift his head and blink at her dazedly, he saw how she had lowered the strap of her dress, and now one of her small breasts was freed, and she dropped her head forward to meet his eyes, her own hazy, her mouth curling up slightly in a welcoming smile. Her fingers curled around her breast, squeezing it--and that was when he could take it no more--before she could even protest, if she'd intended to, he reached up to grab her arms, rolled her over to come atop her, and pinned her hips down to jam himself inside her with a vicious grunt, her body bucking and a gasp escaping her when he did.

"Khanef-Kana," she gasped, and at that moment Khanef sat up in the bed, eyes goggling and a wild yelp escaping him. He immediately clamped his hands down over the distinct protrusion below his waist, and wildly kicked away the sheet tangled around his ankle; stumbling for balance, he made his way out of the otherwise empty bed and tore aside the drapes. He bypassed the waterbowl in the corner and yanked open his door, sprinting out of the room and down the hallway--at least, as well as he could sprint, given that he had to run with his thighs clamped together and his hands pressed over his crotch. As it was he waddled along rather awkwardly, his face flushing hot and his teeth grating hard enough to hurt. His ears flicked and his wings flapped as if he wished to fly away--which wouldn't have been such a bad idea, now that his addled mind had a chance to think of it.

He rounded a corner and nearly ran into Lieutenant Meteri, who froze on seeing him in such a state. "Lord--?" he blurted out in confusion, watching Khanef approach and then pass. "Is anything wrong--?"

"Busy!!" Khanef cried, voice cracking, and sped past him and out into the courtyard, leaving the confused youth behind. He went for the pool and without a second thought, plunged down into it, his head disappearing beneath the water; a moment later he surfaced, sputtering, then disappeared again. He did this a few times, shaking the water from his ears and blinking, still shaking, but not quite so badly anymore. The water was frigid at this time of the day; already his swelling didn't seem nearly as distinct anymore, and he let out a quavery breath. He shut his eyes at last and sighed in relief, resting his head against the tiles. The water continued swirling around him and he felt like chattering, but it was better than keeping to his rooms, no matter how empty his bed.

He stood half submerged in the water for a good long while, trying to get his racing thoughts to settle. This took even longer than the physical effects, and he had to work hard at it before he felt even the slightest bit ready to step out; and even then, he did so gingerly, wincing and pressing his hand to his kilt as if to will down whatever might still be lurking there.

"Meteri," he croaked, and started walking stiffly back toward the building, up the hall, and into his room. "Why in the hells must you always be so right about everything!!"

He shut the door and headed for his bed, rubbing at his eye and grimacing. He started to pull off his soaked kilt, then thought better of it. In fact, he had a better idea. He retrieved a fresh loincloth and dipped it in the waterbowl, tying it upon himself and shuddering at its coldness yet also welcoming the quick unpleasant bite that it brought. It was only this discomfort that at last enabled him to shut his eyes and doze off without feeling ready to burst from the pressure yet again...though his dreams afterward weren't much different from before.

* * * * *

The harem of Lord Djetef's household was quiet at night. Too quiet for Rithukh'het's tastes.

She had grown used to being kept in male and female quarters, or else with her master; to be among only females again felt somewhat disconcerting. By now, it simply felt as if something were missing. She lay on her side near Heth'anet, staring off into space although there was little to see so late at night. Everyone else was sleeping; even Heth'anet, who up to now had been the closest thing to a companion that she had had since Djuta had gone.

Even this household was unfamiliar, the scents all wrong, and she felt lonelier than ever.

With her mind thus unoccupied, she dwelled again on her master, why he had left her behind, where he could have gone.

She had never before had a master like Lord Djuta. Twice before him she had been owned by Kana, but he was like neither of them. She thought about them now, as she had nothing else to do.

Her first master had not been exceedingly cruel, though he had been old, and she had been young, and he had seemed to assume this was all that was needed to start a family of Kana children. She remembered how difficult it had been at times simply to get him to come, as he had been long past his prime and she had been iat'ah and only fourteen years old, after all. The other females had taught her all that they could, as was the custom of females, but that had not prepared her for dealing with a master who was rather lacking as far as virility went. Most of their lovemaking sessions had consisted of little more than sweaty groping and grunting; she recalled that he tended to fall asleep sometimes before she could even draw him from his sheath. It wasn't that she minded this terribly, though it could be rather annoying when she herself had felt some need for relief.

The few times they had actually managed to mate with each other--she eventually discovered that rubbing his ears, oddly enough, was the quickest way to get him snorting and excited--had ended in little result. He had always been rather quick to finish, groaning and spurting before she even had the chance to become aroused herself. Once in a while a further nibble or two at his ear would convince him to climb atop her and rut again, quickly and madly, but if she was not satisfied by then she never would be. Many nights she had spent sitting off to the corner of the bed fingering herself or using the blunt handle of some object to relieve her needs instead.

She had never given him any pups--or rather, he had never gotten her with any--and so by the time that she was eighteen, he easily in his late sixties, he had grown angry and resorted to cuffing her in the side of the head when he could not become hard, which was only more often the older that he grew. Rithukh'het learned to take his slaps and blows in silence, for at least they were not too common, and they did not leave any bruises. Except for the last time, when as they coupled an explosive sound emitted from his behind; she couldn't have helped but to laugh, which had been the wrong thing to do. They had not finished their nesakh'ai that night. Rather he had spent the rest of the time yelling and hitting her in the face, pulling on her ears and punching her in the breasts until she curled up and begged for forgiveness. He had cuffed her atop the head a few more times, panting heavily and muttering curse words, but after that left her alone. When she awoke in the morning, bruised and sore, she found him lying dead beside her, his heart stopped.

She had resolved then and there never to laugh at any of her masters again.

For a year she ended up upon the block, with no buyers, though the Moru trader was kind enough to her. For a while she had the recurring fancy that he would decide to keep her for himself; she had even coyly let him take her into the back room of the tent and press her against the post, she giggling and shivering the one time he made love to her. He had been very tender, and thoughtful...but of course the lure of money was stronger and in the end she had been sold again.

Her second master had not been as generous as her first. From the very start he was brutal with her, not minding that his blows left visible bruises upon her face and body. He was decent enough to her when he was sober, and she did remember a few times when they had both laughed with pleasure during nesakh'ai; but those times had been very few, as he liked to drink. He did not become drunk, but rather became angrier and more sullen, and matched his cups of beer with strikes from his fists. Rithukh'het shivered when she remembered how he had raped her while she was pregnant with her first pup, in her twenty-second year, though she supposed it could not really have been a rape, as he had been her master and it had been his right to twist her arm and shove her head down onto the table and violently thrust into her from behind. She could even feel the pup kicking as her master pushed at her, but her quivering belly had never stopped him before, why should then have been an exception? She had fought back at first, fearing for the pup's safety more than for her own, but looking back she realized how foolish that had been, since she was nothing more than a slave and she had had no right to protest.

The child she bore was a Kana boy, which was fortunate for her, as her master had threatened her with death if she dared to deliver him a Moru or a girl. And for a little while, at least, he had not hit her nearly as much as he had before; she remembered the last time she had enjoyed making love to him, the feel of his fingers over her skin, his breath upon her cheek and his lips to her ear.

That had been only once. Shortly after this he had taken to satisfying himself by thrusting into her anus, which had been excruciating at first; but she had grown used to it. She still couldn't understand why once he had screamed and beaten her for not getting with child quickly enough, when to her knowledge they had not even been coupling in the right way to do that--but again, it was not her place to question it. At least a few times he took her properly, albeit just as brutally, most of the times hard enough to make her bleed; she was surprised that she could even become pregnant again, but she did. This time, as if angry that her advancing state was taking the pleasure away from their lovemaking, he had beaten her daily, blacking her eyes and cheeks and thighs with his fists. Rithukh'het had had the presence of mind to learn to cross her arms over her belly every time he did this, so her pup was protected from the brunt of the assaults, though she could not help it when he decided to couple with her. Thankfully he most often took her in behind now, and for a change she preferred that to what would have happened otherwise.

After nine months she delivered another Kana boy. From the look on his face she could tell that her master had been pleased with the child, who had been promptly taken away...and for her troubles, Rithukh'het, still weak and pained from labor, had received a swift punch to the stomach.

She still wasn't certain what she had done wrong to deserve that, but she must have done something.

She had remained his slave until her twenty-fifth year, when, growing increasingly frustrated with her apparent inability to bear him any further children, he had thrashed her soundly before selling her to the trader Ukuti. Ukuti, at least, had muttered curses and vile names under his breath as he tended to her cuts and bruises, though she knew he had not been appreciative of the sale. She had never been a high-quality Moru, and she knew this. She reminded herself to be grateful for the treatment she had received, as she was lucky to have had any masters at all.

Ukuti had cajoled her once or twice for massages, during which she gave him hakh'tua, but he had never forced her into nesakh'ai. And upon learning that she had received the unwanted attentions of one of the male Moru, he had separated them all, so the females were kept in one section of the tent, the males in the other. Back then, Rithukh'het had been grateful for the separation.

That had been before Djuta, though. Before him, she had not known that a Kana could be so kindly and gentle. Even the Moru trader had ended up selling her in the end.

She still remembered the look on his face as he had come toward her, passing by Ukuti's other females--even nudging a slender one out of the way--his gaze fixed solely on her. His companions had been surprised, but he hadn't even cared. He had looked as if he had been searching for her all along. She hadn't been able to believe it as he walked in circles around her and pinched her thigh, but not long after that she had been accompanying him back to the main household, as his slave...and once back in his quarters, he had not even demanded nesakh'ai from her.

He never had, since.

And her body had yet to become used again to the feel of bruises, for he had not done anything to give her any. Once in a while, they clawed and squeezed and bit one another as they coupled...but there was nothing wrong with that. Rithukh'het found her ears burning as she thought of this, and she ached inside.

She placed her hands over her belly and lay silent. It was far too early to feel, but some part of her could feel it already, the pup growing inside her. She knew that she would not have to protect this one from its father.

She knew also that Lord Djuta had bought her only to continue his family line...she had never met any members of his family, and to the best of her knowledge there were none, only the Kana Resikh who was not related to him by blood but whom he still called "Brother"...but she had been convinced that since then his feelings had changed. They must have. He had been so happy when she had told him the news...

She did not mind having to share him with Resikh-Kana. From what she knew of the other lieutenant, he was a good Kana, and they had known each other for a long time. She could tell that they loved one another deeply, and rather than envy that love, she found that the thought of it made her feel happy for her master. He had never neglected her for anyone. Not even when Khetai-Moru had been forced to share his bed had she felt jealous; though she had been a little worried about how things would turn out. From the look of it, it had not worked...which was why she was doubly grateful for the child growing inside her. She mourned Khetai's lost pup, and wondered whether it would have been a boy or a girl. It was not good for a female to be unable to bear children.

Deep down, she suspected that this was part of why he had left her. She didn't know everything that was happening, only that there was an ominous feeling in the air...one that she did not like. The Moru had already learned of other Kana dwelling among them, and claimed that they carried the stink of death everywhere they went. Even more Kana were on the way, they said, and from these ones, even the Moru would not be safe. Often Moruhood ensured one's safety from conquering tribes looking for fresh slaves...but this was not so, with this new enemy.

Rithukh'het shivered and held onto her belly as if to protect the unborn one within from these strangers.

She had not been able, however, to find out where her master had gone, or why. Resikh-Kana had assured her not to worry, and she decided to believe him, as he was a good Kana, just like Djuta-Master. He had even taken her in with him, when he had not needed to. He had even been reluctant to leave her in the Moru quarters when she insisted on giving him privacy to be with his own mate...certainly, he had nearly forgotten her, but he could not be expected to remember everything. Especially now. He would not tell her of where Djuta had gone, and she felt that he did not know, himself. If Djuta had not told Resikh, she knew he would not have told her, either. And so whatever he had done, he had done on his own.

Resikh said he would be back. She believed him.

But she still missed her master.

She sighed and felt the tears come to her eyes. Barely a night had gone by when they had not held each other and made love, and now she felt empty here, without him. She refused to think that she might ever need a fourth master...yet her instinct to be with someone took over, and she sniffled miserably, tears streaming down her muzzle. She tried to suppress her whimpers, but it was difficult.

She had just reached up to rub at one eye when a soft voice murmured, "To miss him?"

Rithukh'het lifted her head and looked over her shoulder. Heth'anet was awake, sitting upright and staring at her. Rithukh'het slowly pushed herself up and nodded, choking back a sob. Heth'anet's face filled with sympathy.

"To be good master?"

Rithukh'het nodded again, more vigorously this time. She scootched forward a bit, rubbing at her eyes and sniffling.

"Very good master. Never to hurt Rithukh'het, not once. Even when angry, to destroy room rather than touch Rithukh'het!"

Heth'anet offered a gentle smile. "To sound very kind."

Another nod. "Very kind!" Rithukh'het echoed. She wiped her tears away and gestured. "Ever to be with mate--? And mate to come quickly, leave Heth'anet needing?"

Heth'anet nodded.

Rithukh'het lifted her head proudly. "Lord Djuta never to do. To come, Rithukh'het not happy, to continue and make happy! Sometimes twice!"

Heth'anet's smile spread across her face, her eyes crinkling. She giggled, and Rithukh'het did the same. They could very well have burst into full-fledged laughter had not Rithukh'het remembered where they were, and quieted, sighing and lowering her arms. Heth'anet noticed the change and looked at her again; the older female placed her hands upon her belly, wishing that it were rounder for once. She rubbed it and tried to imagine the pup inside.

Heth'anet noticed the gesture and leaned forward. "Pups...?" she inquired, and Rithukh'het nodded proudly. They smiled at each other. "To have others?" the younger female continued, and Rithukh'het nodded again.

"Two Kana. Heth'anet?"

"Two, boy and girl."

"To be proud of them!"

Heth'anet's smile turned sad and she nodded. "Yes..." She touched her own belly thoughtfully. "To hope to give one to Resikh-Master...Lord Resikh to be close to Lord Djuta...?"

Rithukh'het blinked. She wasn't certain how Heth'anet would know that, but nodded anyway. The other female noticed her confused look and hastened to explain.

"To see Lord Djuta at night. To come in and kiss Resikh-Master's face, then leave."

Rithukh'het paled. "When?" she asked, moving forward again and taking Heth'anet's hand. Heth'anet seemed surprised by the reaction, and frowned a little.

"Not long ago...before strange Kana come."

Rithukh'het slowly let go of Heth'anet's hand, and the other female pulled it away. She stared into space for a long while, trying to understand what she'd just heard. So...Lord Djuta had said a farewell...to Resikh...but not to her. What did it mean...?

"Rithukh'het?" Heth'anet asked softly. Rithukh'het forced the worry to leave her face, and smiled, although she did not feel it. Heth'anet appeared to accept it anyway, and smiled in return. "To be tired?"

"Yes," Rithukh'het said quickly, using the excuse. "To need rest...especially now." She bit her lip and glanced around meekly. "Rithukh'het not used to sleeping here..."

"To not worry," Heth'anet reassured her. "Good Moru. To know most of them. Rithukh'het and Heth'anet to talk to them tomorrow? Become friends?"

This time Rithukh'het's smile was genuine. "Yes! To like!"

Heth'anet smiled again. "To rest now, then. Good sleep, Sister."

The other Moru nodded. "Good sleep, Little Sister!"

Heth'anet sighed and settled back to the floor, leaving Rithukh'het alone with her thoughts. She still worried about Djuta's strange behavior, and wondered why he had not told her farewell...but Lord Resikh had told her everything would be all right...perhaps if she simply believed him, then what he said would come true. She'd been taught always to believe her masters, and for now, Lord Resikh was as close to a master as she had.

With this thought in mind, her worries settled, at least for now; and she laid her head down and drifted into sleep.

* * * * *

Lieutenant Be'shen awoke early and his first stop was at Resikh's room. The other lieutenant was still sound asleep, even though the sun was just beginning to rise; but Be'shen wasn't surprised. The younger Kana could grow soft from living in his father's house, without Mahakhi's guard watch to keep him on his toes. Be'shen let him sleep and tiptoed off down the hall. He remembered how, if it wouldn't have been for Djuta's constant drive to fight, Resikh would probably have slept in his entire life.

He quickly checked on the females and found them all to be sleeping as well, including the plump one, Djuta's mate. He went next to the courtyard pool and had a quick swim in the still-chilly water, climbing out and shaking himself off before his blood could freeze; he dressed himself in a simple kilt which did not allow room for his sword, so he slipped a dagger into the belt instead. He had left the household within twenty minutes of his awakening, and was already well down the street before the sun was even a quarter above the horizon.

He knew the worst to expect of the place he intended to visit, but that did not mean that he did expect it to be at its worst. It pretty much was, though. He did bother to knock at the front door, though he didn't wait long for an answer, if there was even going to be one; instead he pushed it open and went inside.

Once within, he nearly ran into another Kana, a young sergeant still hastily pulling on his kilt and loincloth. He spotted Be'shen and froze, eyes wide; but the lieutenant merely jerked his head at the door, and the younger Kana was gone instantly. He went further into the house and found that all he had to do was follow the scent of beer to find who he was looking for. Be'shen's muzzle wrinkled with distaste but he forced himself to enter the room anyway.

Lieutenant Tefkha lay asleep, snoring slightly; he was naked and the bed was surrounded by emptied jars. Most of them were of a smaller size than used for storage, so at least his story of finishing off only one or two in a night could still be true. Be'shen didn't care. He kicked one aside as he went toward the bed; it clanked against another, almost toppling it, but Tefkha didn't awaken. Be'shen picked up his stray clothing, then leaned down and grabbed hold of his arm, dragging him upright. The other Kana groaned, still unconscious; Be'shen half-carried, half-dragged him from the room, hoping that the layout of Tefkha's house was the same as that of most other Kana houses. It was, and he found the courtyard exactly where it should be; the pool was not as big as Lord Djetef's, but it would do, just the same. While Tefkha was still murmuring and shaking his head, trying to come to, Be'shen lent him a hand and pushed him forward over the edge, so that Tefkha toppled into the pool with a terrific splash.

For a brief moment, nothing happened and Be'shen waited. Then with another splash Tefkha's head broke the surface, the Kana gasping and sputtering in shock. He paddled frantically for the pool's edge and only spotted Be'shen standing nearby as he was trying to pull himself out. The surprise immediately left his eyes, replaced by rage; Be'shen just stood and watched him climb out of the water, staggering and shuddering from the cold.

"W-what are you d-d-doing?!" Tefkha screamed, grasping his upper arms in his hands and hopping from foot to foot, trying not to slip and fall. His teeth clacked wildly. "Have you gone insane?"

Be'shen's mouth twitched. "I thought I would help you wake up, since I don't think you had plans to do so anytime soon."

"W-what do you c-care?" Tefkha snapped. "How I s-spend my time and how long I s-sleep is my own business, not yours!"

"It is now."

"Who says it is?"

"I say it is." Be'shen kicked forward Tefkha's clothes. "If you want to remain an honored member of Mahakhi's army, then you'll listen."

Tefkha bared his teeth. "Maybe I don't!"

"It's hardly your decision to make, so early in the morning." Be'shen crossed his arms. "Now get dressed. You don't look your best when you're stinking drunk and freezing cold."

Tefkha's muzzle wrinkled and he started growling under his breath, but Be'shen could tell that it was more from humiliation than anything else. He stooped and snatched up his clothes, not even bothering with the loincloth as he wrapped his kilt around himself, still shaking. Be'shen tossed him another kilt from the scattered pile.

"Use this. The sun won't be up enough to dry you off for a while, and I don't want you catching a cold."

Tefkha grudgingly accepted the piece of cloth and used it to dry himself off. When he was done he still looked rather ruffled and irritated, but at least he was awake.

"I sent your friend home," Be'shen said. "So you do not have to worry about him." He turned and picked up the remaining clothes, heading back toward the house. He had almost reached the door when he turned back again and gave Tefkha a look. The other Kana still stood shivering near the pool.

"Well?" Be'shen prompted, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

Tefkha scowled at him. "Well what? This is my own house. If you expect me to leave..."

"I expected you to come in. Even I don't like to spend so much time outside this early in the morning. You do not strike me as a morning person."

Tefkha's temper flared. "My shift at the barracks today does not begin until the noon hour. Get your facts straight! Or did you train at your father's knee, coddled by all the captains?"

Be'shen smiled broadly. "Actually, I trained in Barracks Area Three of my old tribe, and if anyone coddled me it was Lord Djetef. I think you know him already."

Tefkha blinked, looking surprised; then he simply looked annoyed. He came forward and pushed past Be'shen into the house.

"So you grew up with the troublemaker," he muttered, taking his loincloth from Be'shen's hands and reaching underneath his kilt to tie it on as he went. Be'shen's mouth twitched and he moved to follow.

"Yes, I pretty much did. Resikh as well. If by 'troublemaker' you mean who I think you mean."

"You know who I mean."

"I doubt I should say though that either of us truly grew up with him. Djuta-Kana grew up on his own."

"This is why he always hangs about at Mahakhi's place?"

"Actually, that would be because he is one of Mahakhi's top lieutenants..."

"Do not speak down to me, dung beetle! You know what I meant."

"I was merely replying to what you stated. But since you insist on being so pissy, then yes, this is why he 'hangs about' at Mahakhi's place so often. In case you have not noticed, he does not have his own place to return to as Resikh-Kana does."

Tefkha paused in the doorway to the main hall and Be'shen sensed that he wished to ask more, yet he didn't. He continued into the hall and rubbed at his head.

"Do you see now? You've wasted a few hours I could have spent sleeping."

"You seemed quite worried just recently that you would not be in the proper shape should Lord Dja'mui's warning come true," Be'shen stated, and Tefkha glared at him.

"So what? Are you my appointed keeper now?"

"No, but I so hate to hear you whine."

"I am not whining!"

"Then you will not object to joining me at Lord Djetef's and sparring a bit."

Tefkha didn't reply, though his look said that he hadn't been expecting that. His nostrils flared, then he rubbed at his head again.

"I hardly feel like it, right now. My head is not awake yet."

"I'll fetch you something to wake it up once we get there. Lord Djetef's cellars are very deep."

That made a look of hope enter Tefkha's eyes, and Be'shen had to keep himself from rolling his. He waved. "Come on. We'd best go before the rest of the town wakes up and sees us dressed like this. You must carry your own sword as I haven't room for even one of my own."

Tefkha paused before disappearing into another room. He returned with his sword, which he had to carry in his hand at his side as, like Be'shen, he wore no scabbard. They left the household and made their way back to Djetef's house, where most of the occupants still hadn't arisen. Be'shen led the other Kana out to the courtyard that they had occupied not long before, waving at the benches.

"I must fetch my sword now."

"Remember what else you promised to fetch," Tefkha said in a peevish voice. Be'shen made a show of sighing gustily but obeyed. He went first to his quarters to retrieve his weapon; then onward to Djetef's cellars, where he selected a small jar of beer from a cool corner. He stopped by the physician's quarters on his way back and procured a little papyrus envelope, the contents of which he poured into the jar, closing it and shaking it for good measure; when he returned to the courtyard Tefkha was pacing by the pool, but his face lit up on seeing the jar. Be'shen held it out.

"See, as I told you. Try not to drink it too quickly. I give this to you only to wake up your head, remember."

"Yes, yes, yes," Tefkha groused, taking the jar. He removed the top and downed the contents faster than Be'shen would have thought possible, lowering the container and wiping his mouth with a hiccup. He gave Be'shen a dirty look over his arm.

"Surprised? Did you expect me to keel over and pass out?"

Be'shen smiled. "Not exactly. Is your head clear now?"

Tefkha set the jar aside and hefted his sword. "You have a very patronizing tongue," he said. Be'shen lifted his sword as well. Admittedly, he was surprised by how steady Tefkha was, despite being obviously hung over. They touched swords and backed away from each other a short distance.

"So," Be'shen said. "You are ready to spar now?"

"Only to get you off my back. Why you've decided to become my mother, I have no clue."

"Somebody must mother you sometime; I thought it might as well be me."

Tefkha's muzzle wrinkled and he swung his sword. Be'shen ducked to the side and the blow went wide. There was a clang when their swords met the second time, then another clang when Tefkha dropped his, immediately hunching over with his hands clasped to his stomach as if his intestines were falling out. He let out a gasp and crumpled in on himself.

Be'shen lowered his sword. "Lord?" he inquired mildly. Tefkha responded by turning and rushing toward the pool as quickly as he could, stumbling to his knees at the edge and catching himself just before he could plunge in. He opened his mouth as if to cough and vomited instead, spraying the contents of his stomach into the water. He did this a second and a third time, the stream lesser each time; Be'shen grimaced at the unappealing sight when Tefkha started coughing and dry-heaving, clutching at his stomach again, his ribs rising and falling. He walked over toward the barracks lieutenant.

"Some difficulty?" he said, still in the same unconcerned voice.

Tefkha continued gasping and wheezing, managing to lift his head and glare weakly over his shoulder, his eyes wet. "Wh...what did you give me...?" he panted, shaking with illness.

Be'shen smiled slightly. "A little deterrent, is all. You cannot enjoy drink if it will make you violently sick."

"You...poisoned...me?" Tefkha started to stagger to his feet, still clutching his stomach and baring his teeth.

Be'shen shook his head. "If I had wanted to do that, trust me, I would have chosen something a lot less pleasant. You will be fine shortly. I wouldn't suggest taking another drink any time soon, however."

Tefkha looked stricken. Be'shen held his sword up again. "Are you angry?"

The look Tefkha got on his face was more than enough of an answer. Be'shen had to hurry up to block him when he attacked, letting out a furious yell. He hadn't even a chance to get in any blows of his own, at first. Tefkha swung at him again and again, unrelenting; it was only when he started to run out of breath that Be'shen was able to swing back, and now the other lieutenant had to go on the defensive.

They didn't even bother trading insults anymore. If a stranger had seen them fighting, he would have guessed that they were hated enemies, judging by the ferocity of their blows and the looks on their faces. Now that he at least had something to fight about, Tefkha wasn't that bad, and Be'shen began to worry that perhaps he'd underestimated him. Even a drunken Kana could fight, if he were angry enough. He fought down this worry and concentrated on defending himself. They had been scuffling around the courtyard for about ten minutes now; it was purely a stroke of luck when Be'shen knocked Tefkha's sword away, his own slicing open the other Kana's arm. Tefkha immediately collapsed to his knees and Be'shen jumped back in surprise. It took him a moment or two to see that the wound was not as bad as it had seemed, but still, he couldn't figure out why he'd fallen like that.

Tefkha said nothing, simply stayed on his hands and knees, panting heavily.

Be'shen stared at him for a moment, then leaned down toward him and touched his shoulder. "Tefkha?" he asked with genuine concern. "Did I hit you hard?"

"No," Tefkha said weakly. He clasped a hand to his wound and blood trickled between his fingers. "Only a cut."

"Here." Be'shen tossed his sword to the side and took hold of Tefkha's arm, helping him up. Tefkha winced, but other than the cut he seemed to be fine. Be'shen helped him over to the bench anyway and set him down. Tefkha sat with his head hanging and Be'shen pulled at the hem of his kilt, tearing a strip of cloth free.

"If it helps your ego any, I hadn't planned that blow," he said, putting the cloth between his teeth and tearing it further. He knelt on the bench and took Tefkha's arm, wrapping one strip around the wound, then tying the other above it in a tight knot.

"This is not what bothers me," Tefkha replied. He didn't lift his head as Be'shen bound the cut and stepped away to fetch their swords, though he did touch the wound with his other hand.

"Oh?" Be'shen picked up the swords and turned around. "For once I feel better to have placed too much faith in myself. What is it that bothers you, then?"

"I was right." Tefkha paused while Be'shen put the swords down beside him. "If this tribe were to invade us today, I would not even be prepared to fight them."

"I doubt Dja'mui's prediction will come to pass so soon, Brother."

Tefkha glanced up at him, perhaps with some surprise at the word, then looked down again. "This isn't what I meant. Perhaps I never saw what was happening with Ri'hus because I was too plastered to notice it."

"If you were, then you are very excellent at disguising it." Be'shen tilted his head when this got no response. "I am not even humorous anymore? I'll have to think of some new jokes..."

"If I cannot even notice what is in front of me, and if I cannot fight properly, I have no place among the Kana, especially not training the soldiers."

"You speak only out of the sorrow of an upset stomach and an aching head. You will get over it."

"Imagine yourself telling me this four or five months ago, and then see if I have changed any since then."

Be'shen snorted lightly. "You pity yourself too much. This is your problem, more than drink." He held out his hand. "Come, I know how to set stitches so I like to think I can have that thing properly attended to."

Tefkha pulled his arm away when Be'shen touched it. "I cannot even defend myself!" he snapped. "Is this not the place of a Moru?"

"The last I saw, you still had your wings intact. Now stop crying and get up, before you bleed to death all over the tiles."

Tefkha gave up fighting and stood when Be'shen picked up their swords and pulled on his arm. He dropped his head again though, perhaps out of shame, perhaps out of sulkiness; Be'shen didn't know, and didn't much care. He followed the other Kana inside the household and down the hall, past Resikh's quarters and to Be'shen's own. Inside, Be'shen made the lieutenant sit on a folding chair while he dug around for thread and a needle. He pulled them out and came toward Tefkha, kneeling down and taking off the bandage, dabbing the wound with wine.

"I'd give you some poppy to drink, but I do not think you'd like it just now..."

"Just stitch it," Tefkha said wearily. "I have felt worse before."

Be'shen nodded. He threaded the needle and with a prick started stitching up the wound, Tefkha grimacing and turning his head away with a pained noise. Aside from clenching his fist he did nothing else. The cut was not too long, and Be'shen finished his work within a short time, dabbing it again and wrapping it with a fresh piece of linen. Tefkha's fist unclenched and he started flexing his fingers, his face white.

Be'shen put the needle and other accessories away. When he returned Tefkha had not moved from his dejected position one bit. He sighed and pulled out a cot, sitting down opposite the other lieutenant. He stared at Tefkha a good long while but the Kana didn't respond. Be'shen's mouth twitched.

"And so...I take it that that time we spent in the courtyard was wasted?"

"Not wasted." Tefkha sounded irritated. "I told you already what's on my mind."

"And I believe I told you to quit dwelling on it."

"Stuff yourself."

Be'shen smiled widely. "That sounds more like the Tefkha I've heard of."

"I will not even guess at what you've heard."

"You already dispelled all those stories, so I won't bother telling them again."

"This is good, as I wasn't in the mood for listening."

"You are a sulky baby when you're so inclined."

"And you should learn to stuff yourself."

Be'shen started laughing. "This is a weak comeback."

"I do not feel like arguing." Tefkha pressed a hand to his head and made a face, putting his other hand to his stomach. "How long does this stuff last?" he moaned.

Be'shen shrugged. "For a while, I'm afraid. You have yet to let it get through your system. I like to hope its effect on the mind and tongue is a lot longer. You need take only one dose, but even after it's long gone the mere scent of beer should be enough to make you retch."

"What sort of criminal are you? Putting things in my beer?" Tefkha leaned over his knees so that his voice came out muffled. "You are hardly any better than that other one..."

"Perhaps then the next time I try to put something in your beer, you'll be clearer minded and will have the sense to lop my head off. At least then I will have done some small service." Tefkha raised his head and Be'shen smiled again, not as widely this time. "Truly...I'm sorry the effects are so strong, but that's the only way it can work. You should feel well enough to eat by the afternoon, but I would keep to drinking water at the strongest if I were you."

Tefkha let out a miserable moan. Be'shen grinned and stood.

"I knew you'd whine about it the whole day though...all right, since you didn't get your sleep, you may kindly crash here for an hour or so, until I have to leave, and you have to get back to the barracks."

Tefkha groaned when Be'shen grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. Be'shen nearly staggered when the other Kana slumped against him. "Not even a cup?" he asked miserably. "Not even one...?"

"You could always try, but I already told you what would happen..."

They made their way across the room and Tefkha nearly fell over when Be'shen helped him to the bed. The barracks lieutenant collapsed in a disorganized heap and Be'shen had to roll him over, pulling the sheet up and over him. Tefkha curled up with his arms wrapped around himself, letting out whimpering noises; Be'shen sighed and poured some water into a bowl, setting it on the table beside the bed and placing the empty jar below it.

"If you feel the need to puke again, please do so in here. I'd much prefer it, and I'm certain my bed would, too."

Tefkha didn't reply, so he stood and crossed the room to his clothes chest. In here he poked around for his formal Kana wear; it was best not to wander the streets half naked in nothing but a kilt and loincloth. He was putting on his girdle when he heard Tefkha speak.

"Be'shen, what you said...when you called me 'Brother.' Do you really feel that way? Do you really consider me your brother?"

Be'shen looked over his shoulder. Tefkha was staring back at him with watery eyes. He shrugged a little and finished slipping on his clothes.

"When you think about it we are all brothers, are we not?"

"But we do not all call each other thus. 'Brother' is reserved only for siblings and the closest of comrades, and for..." He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished, and Be'shen saw his stare dart away. Be'shen's mouth twitched and he dug out a pectoral, placing it around his neck and reaching for his earrings, looping them through his ears. He picked up his sword and turned back to Tefkha.

"Well, as much as we are all comrades, you and I are not very close ones yet," he said, and the surprised look that Tefkha got was almost enough to make him laugh. He turned away once more and went for the door. "Be certain to get as much sleep as you can, for I think you owe me a rematch."

"What for?" Tefkha cried.

"For spitting up all over in the pool." He gave Tefkha a pointed look. "Lord Djetef's not going to appreciate that very much, but at least it was an amusing sight to see."

"YOU are the one responsible for that, not me!" The other lieutenant groaned and curled up again. "Ohhhh, my insides..."

Be'shen gave an informal gesture of farewell before disappearing outside, the smile returning to his face.

* * * * *

"Why are you crying?"

He came to sitting under one of the ornate trees in the courtyard, his arms crossed over his drawn-up knees, his face buried in them. He opened his eyes to see a crack of light over the edge of his arm and he could feel the tears sticky against his face and nose, making his fur runny. His eyes and throat were sore; he'd been here for a while, and when he tried to sniffle, his nose was too plugged to do so properly.

He lifted his head to see the blue waters of the pool lapping quietly nearby. He looked up further to see Be'shen staring down at him. Be'shen, his closest friend...a few years his senior, but as close to him as the brothers he had hardly even known. All of them had been killed when he was even younger. But Be'shen was always there.

He tried to sniffle again and Be'shen frowned. The expression was odd on his normally cheerful face.

"What are you crying about?"

He lifted one sticky hand and wiped it across his nose, the motion making a slurping noise. He felt humiliated to be out here, bawling like a child, but he didn't know what else to do...

"I can never beat him. He's too good for me! He never lets me win!"

Be'shen's brow furrowed. "You want him to let you win?"

"No...but...if I could beat him, just once..."

"Then what? What would you do after you beat him?"

"Well..." He paused, trailing off...and found that he had no answer ready. He'd never considered that before, because the possibility had just seemed nonexistent.

If I beat Djuta...then what? What will there be left to do after I do that?

"I don't know," he said defensively. "But anything's better than losing all the time!"

Be'shen laughed. He was only fifteen, but he seemed so much like an adult to him. "You think that's the whole point of sparring? You'll never learn with that attitude! Sparring isn't about winning, it's about what you take away."

He frowned in confusion. "Take away?"

A nod. "So what if Djuta keeps beating you? He beats you because he's good at it. You don't beat him because you're not as good at it as he is. But the more times he beats you, the more you learn. Every time he takes your sword away, you take something away from the fight. If you won all the time, what would you take away? Except a little empty pride?"

He wiped at his eyes and sniffled. "But if I never beat him, how can I tell I'm learning anything?"

The other boy gave him a sympathetic look. "Do you think that Djuta is fighting every day, not learning anything? Not improving himself? Just staying the same?"

This question brought indignation into his voice when he responded. "Of course not! He's got to be getting a lot better!"

"There's your answer, then. Just as he's learning just enough each day to keep beating you, you're learning just enough each day to keep fighting him. I don't think he would keep sparring with you if you were a lousy fighter...what would be the challenge in that? I think he keeps fighting you because you teach him."

"Teach--teach him...?" And with that realization, the memory faded from Resikh's mind.

It was replaced by a series of images through the years...Djuta and himself, as mere boys, swinging at each other with makeshift wooden swords...their official entrance into the Kana army at the age of fourteen, when they had first started bunking in the Kana barracks...their promotions to sergeant, to sergeant first class, to lieutenant, to lieutenant first class...their encounters with other tribes, sometimes friendly, sometimes not...their duties as scouts and messengers to Captain Tas'hukh and the general...and finally, their promotion to lieutenant elite, when they received the gold-embossed lappets bearing the insignia of lieutenants to the general himself. Every step of the way, Djuta had been just one step ahead of him...but only a hair's breadth of a step...and Resikh was always immediately behind him. Eternally frustrated that he could never be quite as good as Djuta was...yet eternally respectful and admiring of him, hoping that someday they could be equals.

That day had never truly come. But he had received Djuta's respect in return, as well as his love...and most of the time, that was enough.

From the moment that Djuta had first kissed him, when they were still both young, he'd known that he'd loved him, but had never hoped to live up to his expectations. Sometimes he wondered if Djuta pretended to be weaker than he really was, so their fights would seem more equal...but why would he do that? Many times after their fights, which could last for hours and nearly lay waste to the courtyards, Djuta had seemed exhausted enough to have not been faking it...

And in the barracks, Djuta had finally proven his feelings for Resikh, and Resikh his feelings for him, by consummating their love. By now Resikh could not remember how it had even started, only that it had. And he had been grateful, if only hazily so, that once in a while the barracks were empty of all others, so that he and his beloved could share the moment in privacy. For it had felt like nothing more than a moment, though he knew it had been longer...but not much so...as there had never been much time or privacy while training among the Kana...

He felt a jolt now, and surprise...for he did remember what had happened before then. He and Djuta had been sparring...as usual...in the empty barracks. He didn't know why they had been doing that there, but it had seemed normal at the time; Djuta convinced him to fight every chance that he got, and Resikh was not one to turn him down. As always, Djuta had won, knocking Resikh's sword away from his hand...and Resikh had slumped to the floor, panting heavily, his head and wings sinking. He could feel Djuta's stare upon him, but said nothing, not even when he'd heard the other Kana's footsteps approaching him. He hated that tears had come to his eyes, yet they had, and he hadn't bothered trying to stop them. He'd been too ashamed to look up into Djuta's eyes.

Then a voice:

"Are you crying?"

It sounded disbelieving. For some reason this had filled Resikh with anger.

"Why do you ask?"

"You are crying?" A shuffling noise, then, more adamant sounding, "Why are you crying?"

He couldn't answer that one, so just stayed with his head hanging. He sensed Djuta fidgeting for a moment or two before he spoke again, his voice loud and sharp. It made him jump.

"If you're crying you'd best have a damned good reason why!"

"Why should I?" Resikh had finally managed to shoot back. "As if it matters if I cry or not? Would you lose any sleep over it?"

"Tell me why you're sniveling like that!"

"Because you ALWAYS win!"

Silence. It drilled through Resikh's ears until they stung. When Djuta's voice came once more, it was in a deadly hiss, even more startling than before.

"What?"

That one word made him lift his head to see the look on Djuta's face. He had never seen him look so furious before, except in his dealings with the tribunal and with Rik'hia, most recently. But that had been much later. In this memory, none of that had even happened yet. He saw Djuta's fist clench; his muzzle wrinkled as his lips pulled back from his teeth.

"You heard me," Resikh said.

"You're crying because I always win?" He could see the fire rising up in Djuta and prepared himself for the blast; when it came, Djuta grasped his sword and swung it up in the air, waving his free fist and making Resikh cringe again.

"You think this is about winning?" he snarled. "You honestly believe THIS is the reason why I fight you day after day? To WIN?"

"It's the truth, isn't it?" Resikh stood up now and faced him. "Every single time we fight--you win! Never have you even FEIGNED losing just to give me the slightest chance!"

"And what good would THAT do? You want me to fake fighting? After all these years, you don't even know me THAT well?"

"I know that you are a sore loser!"

Djuta flung his sword down and it crashed against the floor. "THIS ISN'T ABOUT WINNING! STUPID! THIS IS ABOUT LEARNING!"

What Be'shen had said to him before flashed in his mind and he fell still. Djuta bared his teeth in a silent snarl and clenched both of his fists now.

"You really think that all of these times I've fought with you it was to beat you and rub your face in the dirt? If it were about winning I could have probably had you long dead by now! I would have done it in the first place and spared myself all the trouble of dealing with you!"

"So why didn't you?" Resikh challenged him. "To spare me the trouble as well?"

"Because then I would not have LEARNED anything!" Djuta stooped to pick up his sword, jamming it into its scabbard; Resikh couldn't find his voice. "You think that I would kill my teacher just for the thrill of winning a match that means nothing?"

Teacher? Resikh couldn't believe it. "You...you think I was teaching you--?" he asked in disbelief.

Djuta's lip curled back. "I did, once, but apparently you thought otherwise! I guess I made a mistake! If winning is what matters to you so badly, then I'll quit bothering you and go elsewhere!"

He turned away, toward the exit. As he started to walk away Resikh found his voice and took a step after him, stretching out his arm.

"Wait!"

Djuta paused. He turned slightly to look over his shoulder, scowling. Resikh felt his heartbeat pick up and his ears grow warm and struggled to speak again.

"You...you said I was teaching you. You really believed that...?"

Djuta's nostrils flared. "Yes," he said, as if in annoyance. "Why else do you think I would have spent so much time fighting you? Unlike you, I wasn't even interested in winning. I guess I assumed too much of you."

"But why me?" Resikh couldn't understand. "Why pick me to teach you? If anything I thought that I would learn from you! Not that it ever showed!"

Djuta finally turned around, sighing now. "Why would I pick you?" he echoed. "Out of everyone in the tribe, you are one of the most skilled with the sword. I know because we grew up together and I saw you use it every day. Would a student seek out an inferior and train under him? One doesn't learn that way. One learns by seeking out the best. You seriously still wonder why I trained with you?"

"But...I am not the best. You are! I could never even defeat you!"

Djuta tilted his head with a frown. "And do you know what? Every single time we have fought, you have come one step closer to beating me. You are so close that you do not even see it. I leave the courtyard with my arms and knees shaking because of how close you got. You may not have beaten me yet, but every day you get a little closer, and every day I have to fight a little harder just to keep ahead of you." He rested his hand on his pommel and snorted. "And you do not believe that you were training me. I could never have taught you anything anyway because almost everything I've learned, I got from you. If you were to beat me, that would be the day I have learned everything there is to learn."

Resikh could only stare at him dumbly. No words would come; he couldn't believe everything he'd just heard. After all these years, believing himself to be the student...Djuta had just told him that he was the teacher. But...that couldn't be true...could it? Teachers never lost...they won...didn't they? What he had said seemed to make sense, but then again, it went against everything he'd learned about the Kana...

He felt his wings lower, and his arm lowered his own sword as well so its tip touched the floor.

"Then...that means I have nothing left to teach, if I ever had anything. For I can't even begin to teach you if I can't win..."

There was a pause, then he heard Djuta sigh. The other Kana approached and knelt down in front of him so they faced one another, and he reached out and grasped Resikh's shoulder and squeezed.

"Every time I win, I learn from you," he murmured. "Do not think for a moment that any win is an easy one. Every win I have over you is more difficult than the last. You have no clue how close you came to knocking away my sword a moment ago, if it had not been for blind luck for me."

Resikh stared miserably at the floor. "Then luck will continue to suit you fine, for I cannot. A teacher cannot always lose, no matter what you say."

Djuta let go of his shoulder. "Then you're telling me I have wasted all my time training with you?" He stood up again, and Resikh hastily followed.

"I didn't say this!"

"It sounded like it."

Djuta turned to leave again. Resikh fought to find words, any words, to convince him that he was wrong. But nothing would come. In frustration he finally yelled, feeling that it wouldn't convince Djuta of anything, but having to say something anyway.

"If I thought you had wasted your time then I would have to say the same thing of me! I refuse to say that I ever wasted any moment I was with you!"

He felt stupid after saying it, even if it was true. He let his sword fall to the floor and it clattered loudly. His chest hitched and he felt angrier than ever about the tears; real Kana did not cry, unless they were being made Moru. He wasn't supposed to be Moru. So why were his eyes leaking so much?

He didn't even hear Djuta approach him again, the other Kana was so quiet. He gasped and flinched when he felt a hand against his face, cradling his cheek. It tilted his head up and he and Djuta stared at each other in silence.

That had been the very first time that he'd ever noticed the exact color of Djuta's eyes. Before he had always assumed they were brown, or amber; now he found out that they were bronze flecked with copper and smoke, like burnished metal. He'd wondered what Djuta had thought of his own eyes, ordinary brown that they were. Even Djuta's fur had always been an unusual color compared to his; he felt plain, almost as if they didn't deserve to be wearing the same color lappets together. He knew that he wasn't an ugly Kana; but when he was next to Djuta, Djuta was so much more beautiful.

He let out a shaky sigh and closed his eyes, the tears trickling down his face. He felt Djuta press his forehead to his in a familiar gesture, and they stayed that way for a while as Resikh tried to gather himself. Djuta's hand never left his face, and he liked the feel of it. He even nestled his head against it and sighed again.

Before this, Djuta had kissed him once. When they were both still boys, and it had caught Resikh by surprise. It had been quick and almost joking, but the feel of it had remained with him through the years. That day, he'd known for certain that Djuta was the one he wished to spend his life with, even before he knew whether this was an option or not.

He opened his eyes now and they looked at each other once more. He'd never been certain if Djuta had felt the same way...why would he? There were other Kana who were much more than himself...braver, stronger, faster, handsomer. The list went on and on.

Djuta's fingers against his face were warm. Resikh couldn't tell the look on his own face, but they moved closer to each other, so their bodies nearly touched. Djuta's muzzle brushed against his cheek and it could have been an accidental gesture, although it set his body aflame with the possibilities. He could hear the other Kana's breath in his ear and it made him shiver. He longed to do nothing more than to nuzzle him back, though he didn't know if it were proper, or expected. He placed his own hand over Djuta's and their fingers twined; he opened his eyes, and Djuta's mouth pressed softly but insistently to his.

It was as if a hundred bolts had coursed up and down his spine. He grasped Djuta's hand tighter and opened himself up to the taste of him; he had not even done this much with another female before. They parted, and Djuta's nostrils snorted lightly against his neck; he arched it and their bodies pressed close now, breast to breast, and Resikh finally dared to reach out and touch the one he had loved for so long.

Their first time together had not been much. After a few moments spent kissing and caressing, their hands sliding and fumbling over each other until their breath came hard and heated, Resikh had felt his first real excitement for anybody. True, he had relieved himself with ahi'akhta in the past...but that lust had been imaginary...this was real. He would have hated even to call it that, with how deep and soul consuming it was, but at the moment he was too far gone to care what it was called.

They had backed against the wall of the barracks, rather than fallen down over one of the cots. Their need was too great to bother with habit. They had not unclothed one another, as it was the middle of the afternoon, in a public building; instead they had slid their hands up beneath each other's kilt, fondling and squeezing each other's buttocks, fingers exploring. They untied their loincloths and tossed them aside; that was all the disrobing they had done. Their mouths devoured one another hungrily. They murmured and their tails flicked in impatience, and Resikh's body groaned inside.

As he had remembered, it had been very brief. No more than ten minutes spent, with Djuta first grasping his arms and carefully turning him about. Resikh had put his arms up against the wall, his claws digging into it. He'd shut his eyes to feel the rest. His kilt being lifted...hot fingers running up and down his backside, eventually working their way into his cleft...then over his hips and thighs, to his groin, to massage the swelling sheath there. He'd felt his tail rise in expectation before a body pressed to his, and the smell of musk was almost overpowering. From then on, pure instinct had taken over. The scent and touch acted as stimulants to him, and he felt himself sliding free of his sheath. He panted heavily and waited. Claws dug slightly into his skin, separating his legs; he arched himself open, and let out a silent moan when he felt a hardness bury itself deep inside him, tinged with delicious pleasure-pain. He had tilted his head back and breathed in quick spurts, trembling from head to foot; then Djuta had bitten at his nape, and he had gasped and stiffened, then gone loose and limp, and then nesakh'ai began.

Djuta had not plunged into him like some wild rutting animal. Instead they had stayed pressed tightly to the wall, Djuta's hips moving quickly and purposefully, their bodies bouncing slightly with the rapid movements, but aside from this the act was unusually restrained. This did not mean it was not passionate; all throughout it Resikh moaned softly and trembled, rocking on the balls of his feet as the slick hot shaft thrust in and out, in and out. Their sex was not the frenzied, violent motions of two hormone-heavy teenagers beyond control, but was instead the intense, purposeful pairing of two mates who had staked their claim on each other. This was what they did--they mated, their union finally making them one. Resikh clutched the wall and panted thickly as Djuta bit at the back of his neck and pushed, again, again, again, their hips quivering in need and desire. But this was not about lust or pleasure--it was about who belonged to whom, and why--and at this moment, Resikh would have given Djuta his very soul from his breast had he been able.

The acrid smell of their sweat and musk, the rapid spurt of Djuta's panting, and the sound of his feet scuffling against the floor as he thrust himself at Resikh finally began to draw him back to reality. Djuta hooked an ankle about his and Resikh arched his back, groaning aloud as he rode on his hot shaft, his wings rising and falling in anticipation of the ending. Which was not long in coming. For after about eight or ten minutes of rapid coupling, it was finally over. Resikh had felt Djuta's teeth sink into the fleshy part of his neck, making him moan, the Kana's claws likewise digging into his thighs. But the flood of heat that he'd felt deep inside him then, his body consumed by fire, made him stiffen and arch once more, crying out huskily at the air and not caring who might hear. Djuta's seed released within him, his own released against the wall, and after a quick pause spent panting and heaving, they separated. And Resikh's body had never felt so cold or alone.

This feeling had been allayed temporarily when Djuta had turned him about and put his arms around him, pressing his mouth to Resikh's once again. Resikh returned the embrace and they touched each other's face as they kissed, Resikh trembling and whimpering softly into his lover's mouth. Djuta had had to separate them, although they still held one another; he pressed his muzzle to the side of Resikh's face, and his breath on Resikh's ear had made him shiver.

"Not now," he'd whispered huskily. "Tonight. When we're alone."

Resikh nodded mutely, eyes shut tight. He took in a breath to keep Djuta's scent in his memory, although he knew that he would never forget it. He'd sensed Djuta doing the same, and they stood this way for a while, not kissing or fondling or lusting, simply holding one another in silence, their heads touching. The returning sounds of Kana training outside slowly brought them back to where they were, and with great reluctance Resikh had at last let go, his fingers trailing against Djuta's before they broke contact.

They had spent the next few moments straightening their clothing and retrieving their weapons and leaving the barracks, as if nothing had ever happened between them.

The rest of that day, fighting and sparring like every other day, had been excruciating for Resikh...but the night had been exquisite, and very long...he was grateful for the rank of lieutenant, for that meant that he could skip training for the day, which he gladly did; the activities of the bed had left him too sore to even think of training, but they had left him immensely pleased, as well...

And so had begun their relationship, grown out of an argument...Resikh had long known that Djuta could have a stormy temper, but now he knew that his lovemaking was just as passionate and unpredictable. Many nights they had spent tenderly holding one another, kissing and touching and mating slowly; but just as many were the nights--and days, sometimes in brief stolen moments--when they had clawed and bitten and snarled and lunged at each other in a heated frenzy. One time they had even coupled wildly in Lord Djetef's chair, while Be'shen and Djetef himself were almost assuredly in the next room; as such their snarls had been silent, but they had still panted heavily as Resikh clung tightly to Djuta's shoulders, his knees bent up at his sides and their hips pushing fast as they bounced atop the chair's seat. Thinking back on this now, Resikh wondered if Be'shen had seen them after all. Neither he nor Djetef had made any mention of the two of them, until recently...but Resikh had sprayed the arm of the chair in his climax...

He felt himself coming to now, out of the pleasant memories, and sighed as he thought of his beloved, longing to touch him now. Knuckles brushed against his cheek and a soft voice whispered, "Goodbye, Brother..."

He rolled over in his bed with a murmur and reached out to touch the sheets beside him. His fingers found them empty and cold.

Resikh's eyes dragged themselves open to stare at the lonely bed. He was the only one in it. There was no Djuta, not even Heth'anet. He blinked a few times in surprise before more recent memories came to his mind...then he groaned in frustration and rolled over again, onto his other side, balling the sheets up around himself and shutting his eyes tight.

Djuta...where are you when I need you most? Why did you have to leave? What am I supposed to do without you? You have always been my teacher...

He knew that Djuta had had his reasons for leaving. He had to have. He had to. He knew that he and Rithukh'het, and Djuta's unborn child, meant too much for him to ever betray Mahakhi.

But why had he not trusted Resikh enough to let him know for certain...?

Resikh bit his lip and suppressed a whimper. This thought, and many other unpleasant things, played themselves over and over again in his head, until sleep was but a memory.

Continue:

"Part 65: Traitor" 


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