Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
I think of her pressing her lips to my cheek again and my tail twitches. I want that lip-touch again more than anything.
“Show me the strangers,” I tell Kin’far, hating that I must use him to get what I want. “And be silent.”
He puts one hand over his mouth even as he giggles to himself, then turns and points to a branching tunnel. I follow after him, hating every step, and he continues to lead me down a twisting series of unused tunnels that have no value to our people. There are no water pools to drink from, no moss for harvesting, no mushrooms. It is no wonder he hides them out here. No one would think to look here unless they knew someone was hiding.
Sometimes I worry at what else Kin’far the Exile hides out in these tunnels that he doesn’t tell us about.
But then he turns down another narrowing tunnel and stops. “This place has not been used for some time,” he says. “Not since we warred with the strangers above. It seemed a shame not to utilize the rooms when so much work has gone into them.”
What is he jabbering about? I push past him…and then I see it.
A cell. A cell with metal bars to enclose it.
There are a few of them scattered in the tunnels, most of them far-flung and inconvenient. Only one is actually located inside our village, and the bars there have grown smooth from the hands that have rubbed and touched the metal repeatedly. The metal on these bars is rougher, not worn smooth, and enclose a small side-cavern with a latching metal door.
I don’t blame Kin’far for being impressed with all the metalwork. It is a skill our people are losing. Most of the metalworkers died during the great sickness, and there is not enough need for more metalworking for those of us that are left. Have I not heard Gar’duk the Forge complain bitterly about how no one needs his skills?
The enclosure is a small one, with a patch of moss crawling over the ceiling to provide enough lighting to see by. At the back of the enclosure, wrapped around each other, are the strangers. I see pale blue skin like the strangers have, paired against pasty white skin and a strangely yellow mane. The male has horns rather like ours, but his tail and body are lacking fur, and he only has two arms.
The female looks both a bit like Tia and nothing like her at all. This one is soft and rounded everywhere, with plump thighs and too-pale coloring. She wears one of our people’s wraps, made from stem fibers, and appears to be burrowing against the male for warmth. There is a low thrumming in the air, like a buzzing in the ears, and it takes me a few moments to realize that I am hearing them resonating.
“Only the male has a khui,” Kin’far says in a low voice, just behind me. “The female’s has died. Her eyes are dull and she grows weak.”
The sickness? I cover my mouth with the crook of one elbow and step back, glaring at Kin’far. “They have the sickness? And you did not tell my father?”
The male rolls his eyes as if I am the crazy one. “Not that sickness. Neither of them has a rash. She is sick with something else.”
Even so, I take another step back, not wanting to breathe the same air. The Great Sickness decimated our people not long after my birth. So many died that our entire village was at risk. It was the reason my father took such drastic measures to ensure the safety of the women we have left. Even if there is a chance of sickness returning to our people, I cannot bring it back. “Where is Set’nef the Wanderer?” I ask Kin’far. “I would speak to him.”
I need to find out more.
A short time later, Set’nef the Wanderer emerges from the tunnels and sets my mind at ease.
“There is no sickness,” he says scornfully. “Kin’far the Exile causes trouble. That is all.”
“But the female is dying,” I point out. “He says her eyes are dead.” I have not seen this for myself, as neither of them have awoken since I arrived. Perhaps all of the surface strangers are heavy sleepers, but I suspect it is more that Kin’far tampers with their food.
“Her eyes are not dead. She has no khui.”
I frown at him, uncomprehending. “How is that possible?”
Set’nef spreads his hands in a silent gesture of confusion. “I do not know, but it is the truth. I have watched the male and the female interact and he does not act as if she is dying, but he is concerned that she needs to be taken away. I think he wants to get her a khui to replace the one she lost.”