“Thank you, Murell,” she said, putting as much and as little meaning as she could in that trite phrase. Then quickly she walked past him into the sun-dappled forest.
As they climbed slowly up to her speedster, for the path the coelura had found for Murell wound in steep but manageable gradients, the aerial rainbows encouraged them with trills and whistles. Their song seemed to be aimed at Caissa, trying to lighten her spirits. She wished that somehow there could be a more joyous conclusion for herself, Murell and Murell’s faithful coelura. But they, above all, and he for whatever reason, must be protected by her silence.
Fortunately, he had to sit behind her in the speedster, there being but one pilot’s seat. She concentrated on her flying and the directions he gave in a composed voice. She could feel his presence in every pore of her skin. She tried to discount this tremendous attraction for him to the coelura he wore but somehow…
He gave her a heading due east of the island and then pointed out the shoreline features where she was to turn inland. She marked one hundred kilometers in silence until he asked her to reduce altitude. The landing site was visible as a rocklined square in the midst of tossing vegetation that pushed against rocky upthrusts of what had once been one of Demeathorn’s myriad volcanoes. She landed. She released the doorlock. He covered her hand with his.
“Go safely, Caissa. Be well!” His deep voice was charged with emotion. He stepped down, with an awkwardness that now endeared her last vision of him.
It was then that she realized no coelura were in evidence, dancing about him. She couldn’t question that. Lifting the speedster to leave Murell was the hardest task she had ever performed. She did catch a final glimpse of him ducking into the jungle, the colorlessness of his clothes reflecting his regret at leaving her more than the most polished phrase.
When she was well within range, she contacted Blue City Tower, a smooth explanation of malfunction ready for the Chief Guardian. He responded by advising her of heavy air traffic into Blue Triad City and that she must surrender manual operation within sixty kilometers of the Tower. So, she hadn’t even been missed. She could easily have remained with Murell a few days… She abruptly cancelled such thoughts. No one must ever suspect that she had been northeast or anywhere near the interdicted Oriolis shores.
Trin had missed her and been keenly worried, Caissa discovered when she finally reached her apartments through the crowded grav channels.
“What’s going on, Trin?” Caissa demanded. “No, I’m perfectly all right. I forgot to check my fuel tanks yesterday and had to wait until the batteries recharged this morning. I was completely safe from harm. Now, what is causing such furor? Cavernii seem to be assembling here like nathus on mired rerbok.”
“Both Triads are in the Council Room, my lady,” Trin said, her eyes wide in her grey face. “Not a whisper why. None whatever!”
“Both Triads in the Council Room?” Caissa recognized a meeting of premier significance. No secret had ever been extracted from that shielded chamber. Further, Red Ruler had been reputed mortally ill. Yet, if he were here in Blue City and so many Cavernii congregating, an executive decision was imminent. She shook with an apprehensive seizure as devastating as large-fever. “I’ll change and see what I can learn from my sire.” She had to know what was happening from Baythan for Murell’s and the coelura’s sakes.
She hesitated as she unfastened the garment that Murell had touched. With reluctant hands, she stripped it off and watched Trin bundle the clothing aside. Caissa had herself well composed by the time Trin had dressed her appropriately.
The many-leveled Blue Tower was a massive ziggurat, its square base eight kilometers broad, its subterranean facilities even broader. The upper tiers with their fine, far views were reserved for ranking residents but even the serving classes had windows. The public facilities included an enormous Hall off which lay the shielded Council Room and the Rulers’ private quarters and offices as well as an immense Function Room where the favored could promenade, enjoying spectacular views of forest, cliff and sea Amenities such as dining alcoves for large or small parties, dancing and entertainment arenas were situated on levels adjacent to the Public Complex.
When Caissa reached the Function Room, it was crowded. She had never seen her languid peers so animated. She ought to have enjoyed that evening for rumor and speculation raised conversations out of the platitudinous to the provocative and amusing. But she found herself falling into reveries of her encounter with Murell. She re-examined every nuance and word, every caress and glance. She couldn’t concentrate on what anyone said to her, no matter how witty or outrageous. Nor could she find her sire among the milling horde of elegant people. Curiously enough, no one inquired from her of his health or whereabouts. She didn’t at first notice that omission, being required to greet visiting Cavernii and parry their urgent queries as to the Council’s extraordinary invocation. She even remembered to laugh as if she ought to know and couldn’t tell. Finally, she gave up searching for Baythan, to find herself looking out to the northeast. Surely that was a coincidence but she permitted herself to gaze long into the twilight distance, seeing but not seeing the lights of transports homing in on the Blue City Tower.
Then she had to admit that she might be just slightly infatuated by Murell. Although she’d experienced that sort of shallow lustfulness before, her thoughts of Murell dwelt less on the sensuality of that brief relationship and more on the concepts exchanged and her intense desire to see him just once more. While loving, they had continued to converse, silent only when their mutual need demanded satiation. But they had talked with rare candidness, in total empathy, one with the other, for that short night. How different Murell had been, mused Caissa, sighing as she forced herself back to the social exigencies of the company she now graced.
Then she saw her sire, making his way quickly towards her through the crowds. He had a compliment for her film-mist costume. The hazy dress was the nearest thing in her wardrobe to coelura. Indeed she ached within her fashionable mist for the rare and personal touch of coelura: Murell’s coelura, a garment that fitted the wearer as more than skin and soul!
“The Cavernus Gustin met you?” Baythan’s expression was politely attentive. Nor did his eyes betray more than a casual interest in her answer.
“I met him, my sire, and rejected him as well as his casket of badly cut bluestones!” Caissa allowed contempt to seep into her formal words.
“Too bad,” said Baythan insincerely. “Look about you, my dear heir. The best and the worst are gathered. Including some you may not have previously encountered.”
Caissa inclined her head. “Was your hunt productive?” she asked, feigning indifference to the answer.
“My hunting gave me great satisfaction.” The quiet note in his voice, the slight raising of his chest, the tiniest suspicion of a glint in his eyes told Caissa more than she wanted to know.
“Oh?”
“Yes, my heir. Look for a Cavernus to please you-just long enough to supply your need.”
He smoothly glided past her towards an important Caverna and her escort. Caissa knew that Baythan had told her all he intended her to know.
And she desperately needed to know more. She must discover with whom he had hunted that previous day, where he had been hunting lately. She questioned his usual companions discreetly but each thought Baythan had hunted with someone else.
“He does hunt solitary sometimes, Caissa,” one frequent comrade told her. “Says it’s more sporting for the prey if he’s got no back-up. Reckless of him, but that’s Baythan!”