Continued from Digest #238

From: Frank & Stacie Giles <fsgiles_at_pixi.com>
Date: Thu, 30 Nov 1995 06:31:59 -1000


Ai! Warned at the last second by luck or magic the master ducked. A glancing blow that should have dropped any human sent the quarry reeling, but didn t kill. Humans as wealthy as he could pay for armor-enchanted skin. No time for further spells. The quarry bellowed like a wounded Aurochs. Tinglet feinted, dodged a clumsy Dart thrust, aimed for the head and this time struck true. The quarry lay at his feet. He held his breath. No steps. No stirring. A few sounds from the streets and a distant gong calling for twilight worship were all he could hear. The garden was still.

     Suppressing the urge to treat himself to a hunter s share, (Gommorah had ordered: No tusk marks on this victim) he drew the strange old ax she had given him, the momento mori. It was unwieldy, but would serve. Orders were clear, this was to be permanent. Needing two hands, he transferred the mace to his mouth, gripping the shaft between his teeth. The prey had no hair. He stuck his fingers in the quarry s mouth, and pulled on the jaw to extend the neck. With one blow he had the head off. With a second he plunged the ax into the twitching corpse. The job was half done. The head would make a good snack. He dropped it into his game bag and returned the mace to its sheath. Two silent strides got him out of the alcove and across the cloister. He pressed a moment against the pillar to scan the garden, then swung through the arch and clambered up the trellis to the floor above. For three heartbeats he clung to the vine-covered ballustrade just below the railing of an elevated gallery. No sound from above. Carefully he crept over the rail and crouched against it from the inside.

     From watching, and from the silk people Tinglet knew that the young heirs lived in the rooms off this gallery. They were now away at the evening meal. By the warped rules of human non-war they were his quarry too. Tinglet squinted. Human young were deliciously tender, but without their pale scrawny bodies before him, the taboo against harming children made it hard to keep his eyes open. He had planned for this, the silk people had no such compunctions. Tinglet drew a stiff leather tube from within his blouse and untied the end cap.

     A muffled shout from below, someone pounding on the sealed door. He didn't have much time. A few gentle taps and a high chirp coaxed them out. The elegant fangs. The clever legs. The many friendly eyes set on a cephalothorax the size of Tinglet s thumb. Silk people possessed a rare beauty. They did not reason as he did, or even as humans, but even the smaller members of their kind could speak through gestures. Through long trust and the teachings of their mother, they could be persuaded to serve. Bright eyes and Leaper had travelled with him from the distant Rockwood mountains. They were the only members of their clan for many days travel. At home they helped him hunt small game, stalking to within two or three paces of their prey, then spinging to bite. Their venom caused rapid death accompanied by tremendous tissue damage, and imparted an interesting sharpness to the meat. Waving his fingers in the pattern of their four forward legs Tinglet asked: "Hunt large prey in cave near? Leave dead, I feed you later?" They both spread their mandibles, extending the fangs, "Yes".


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