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As soon as Feyvorn was airborne, Ossoran ran at the wall, vaulted it and began mauling everyone he could reach, using his teeth and claws on his hands and feet.

##

Savant 4 (speaking to notepad):

… bloody debacle. Savants 1 and 2 are dead. Savant 3 has been sent to the meat farm with massive injuries including one arm torn from his body. Three techs were also killed or injured. Two of the guards panicked. Unfortunately, they were armed with the dart tubes. They killed the subjects, but also blew away several techs and Savants 8 and 9.

OBSERVATIONS: (1) the techs on duty at the data stations are to be commended, recommendation: honor bonuses for each.

(2) Preliminary analysis of readings indicates a reluctance to accept control from external sources that is far more powerful even than the kin-bond.

NOTE: We have a weakness that must be held in mind at all times when dealing with these Dyslaera. Their claws and fur lead us to think of them as beasts and this induces us to discount their intelligence. That is dangerous. On looking over the flakes of this disastrous event, I have noted that the plan was set and agreed upon in that first glance they shared. Without having to consult, they noted the best points of attack to achieve their goals, devised their plan, and set it in motion.

RECOMMENDATION: I must add my voice to that of Savant 1 in the course that he suggested: Acquire Dyslaera cubs, preferably before weaning. Also gravid females. These last should be kept comatose and their cubs surgically removed at term. If we can tame these creatures, they will be servants without peer, highly intelligent and physically magnificent.

Shadith (Kizra) On The Farm 3

1

Dinner over, her duties finally done, Matja Allina lay on her side, pillows tucked about her to help with the weight of the baby, hot water bottles spread around her, warming the aches out of her as the hot milk had warmed her inside. She was drowsing happily, sighing with pleasure as Tinoopa kneaded her back and shoulders; now and then she sang a few words to the music of the arranga.

Her grasp on the notes was sometimes shaky. She frowned when she was off, looked irritably at Kizra as if the arranga’s tuning were off, not her voice.

Kizra got the message; she played to minimize the clashes, mushing the accompaniment, shifting her fingering to follow the wanderings of the Matja’s voice. Crawl, Shadow, crawl, she sang under her breath. Her fingers faltered as she realized what her mindvoice had said. Shadow. Who… what… was Shadow? She gripped her lower lip between her teeth and forced a brittle calm over her nerves.

Ingva and Yla were sitting on the floor in a corner, a low table between them, playing a complicated game of cards but not absorbed in it. Kizra saw them looking repeatedly at their mother. She could.feel their anxiety. Confined in the room, they were confronted with her fragility and their inability to do anything about it.

The muted comfortable sounds of the Kuysstead shutting down for the evening came through the open casement; the sunset glittered crimson off the diamond-shaped panes; high overhead a hunting raptor screamed and stooped, then swooped away with its prey dangling from its talons. The wind was rising and a few clouds drifted past, high clouds pink and gold with the sunset.

##

Pirs came in. He waved Tinoopa away, settled on the stool beside the bed and drew his fingertips along Allina’s bare arm. Kizra continued to play quietly though her fingers shook with the impact of what lay under that gentle restrained gesture.

After a minute Allina caught his hand, sniffed at it. She didn’t say anything, just looked at him.

“Raid on the South Pasture,” he said. “Not Brushies. Tumaks. A dozen of them. It got hot there for a while, but we drove them off. Karr and Ritmin were hurt, flesh wounds, nothing to worry about. We chased the ones left alive past the boundmarks, they had a rover hidden away, got to it before we could get close enough. We let, it go, no chance of catching up with them on horses. Too much chance of ambush.”

“So close to the house. How they dare… Damage?”

“Slaughtered a herd of woollies, tried to fire the brush, but it’s not dry enough yet. Karr thinks they’re townbred, their landcraft was more notable by its absence.”

“Fire.”

“Yes. That was a mistake. I saw a Brushie watching and a pair of l’borrghas. I don’t think we’ll have more trouble with fires, Lina aklina. I don’t think the tumaks will have time to strike a match if they try it again. Just to make sure, though, I’m going into the Brush tomorrow for a limalima with Chul-Gop.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“I think it is, Mi-matja. You know Chul-Gop, he won’t lose his head.”

“If he kills you…”

“He hasn’t before, Lina mi’klien.”

“Tell no one. I’m not worried about the Brushies. Well, not much. It’s your kin that… brother Mingas drools in his beard when he thinks of this Kuyyot. And Rintirry…” She caught his hand, held tight to it. “I’d burn the Kuysstead and kill myself before I let Rintirry lay one finger on it or me.”

In their corner, the two girls had gone very quiet. Aghilo crossed her arms and hugged herself, her face blank.

Tinoopa stood in a shadowy corner, brooding over this new turn.

Kizra kept playing the same song over and over, the sound like water flowing, unobtrusive, gentling.

Pirs stood. “It’s time you slept, Mi-matja. Aghilo, cousin, take the girls and… wait. Come here, Ingva, Yla.” When they were standing before him, he touched each head, lightly, a small caress. “Say nothing of what you heard tonight, you hear, my lirrilirris?”

Yla blinked. “Not even to the Jili Arluja, Papay?”

“Particularly not to the Jili Arluja. Even if she asks, hmm? It’s for her protection, Yla-lirri, what she doesn’t know she can’t be expected to tell.”

“I won’t, Papay… I won’t tell anyone.”

“Ingva.”

The girl looked fierce. “I won’t, Papay; it’s none of their business.” She stroked her hand along his arm, took his hand. “You will see us soon’s you come back, huh, Pa-pay?”

He laughed, tapped her on the nose. “The very minute. Now go get your baths and go to bed.”

“Papay?”

“Ingva?”

“Take me with you. I won’t keep you back, I ride better than Wurro even, I do. You talk to the old ’uns, I’ll talk to the young ’uns. Babeyla and Tink and the rest. They’re as good as the old ’uns at looking out for strangers.”

“Not this time, lirri. It’s a good idea, but now’s not the time. I tell you what. We’ll do it in a week or so, when I see how things are going to jump. All right?”

Ingva gave a brisk quick nod, then took her sister’s hand and went out.

Tinoopa curtsied, said, “Arring Pirs, be sure we shan’t speak of this even to each other.” She hauled Kizra to her feet and hustled her out.

2

Pirs rode from the Kuysstead an hour before dawn. Kizra woke sweating and moaning from a nightmare whose details evaporated before she got her eyes open. She flung the covers back and went to the window where she saw him on the ferry, his uncovered head shining silver-gilt in the starlight. The rider beside him was long and lean, with plaits bumping against his back, blond, too, but duller, like rope braided from last season’s straw. P’murr the Loyal. Blood brother, as close to Pirs as chat ever got to Irrkuyon.

They rode the big Blacks, Pirs’ prize horses, skittish beasts, snorting and sidling, hooves noisy on the floorboards of the ferry, the sounds that they made as loud in the clean stillness of the predawn as if she were standing beside them; she could hear almost as clearly the put-put of the winch motor and the creaking of the windlass.