arosh by himself, but the Dancers had to have meat too after their exertion. Lord Tae had a lot to answer for, not letting them prepare properly and asking for a forbidden Dance. Petru did not like him. His attire, and how ridiculously heavily Liskash dressed, was an eyesore, as was the entire stronghold. A waste of craftsmanship and materials. If he had been in charge, and perhaps he could offer some guidance when they were permitted to cross Ckotliss to the west, he would correct their color sense at least. It pained him that his personal adornments clashed with his surroundings no matter how he arranged himself. He had a headache that made his temper short, but his duty was to Cleotra. He cosseted and soothed her.
“Why do you think?” she asked Sherril.
The counselor looked around them. Too many of the dinos were close enough to hear. Petru knew that what they heard, Lord Tae heard. He shot a warning look at Sherril, who waved it away impatiently.
“I think he was enjoying the drumming,” Sherril said.
Petru preened. He had been very good.
“How did our Dance look?” Ysella asked, sidling up to Scaro.
“Good,” the lieutenant grunted.
“I thought you were wonderful,” Gilas said, from behind her. “You move like leaves on the trees, or grain waving. I have never seen anything so graceful.”
Ysella startled, her tail fluffing.
“Thank you,” she said, pleased. Gilas beamed at her.
Petru chuckled to himself. Ah, young love. But that lad had many years ahead of him before he could settle down with a wife, let alone win a Dancer.
Up the wretched ladders and down into their deep, dank box again. Petru took both of his ladies into the room prepared for them. He was pleased to see that none of their possessions had been tampered with by Lord Tae’s servants. Cleotra was exhausted, but restless. He brushed her entire body over and over again until she dozed on the clean bedding. She would have been better for fresh food. Where was that servant girl with the food he had ordered? All that was available was the stores they had brought with them from the camp. Dried fish would be too hard to chew. Petru resolved to simmer some in water to make a nourishing soup as soon as he had settled both Dancers.
Ysella had fallen asleep in a corner. He lifted her into her own nest of bedding. What a little, light thing she was. He felt very protective of his Dancers. Petru went through his various cases until he found a vial of calming oils and dabbed a little on her throat at the pulse points. She let out a happy buzz in her sleep. Petru patted her and went about his other tasks. Their jewelry had to be put away, as did his own. He rubbed an unguent into his hands. They became so dry after a night of drumming. But he had been good, hadn’t he?
How irritating of Lord Tae to keep his eyes closed through the performance. He didn’t understand the meaning of what he had seen, or not seen. The Dance spoke of the very essence of Mrem, the savagery in their souls that they channeled into beauty and grace.
A thin crescent moon was just hanging on the western lip of the roof in a lapis-blue sky. Morning was not that far away.
He had a chamber of his own, but he was reluctant to make use of it. Instead, he sat on the stone seat along the fountain and watched the water trickle by torchlight. Something troubled him. It lurked at the corners of his mind like the warriors lurking in the corners of the courtyard. He had faith in the Dance that protected them, but the power of the Liskash was undeniable. The pain in his head increased. He had powders and herbs to soothe ills, but this was an intense hurt.
Lord Tae could help him, he mused. If he obeyed the Liskash lord, he would never feel pain again. Peace awaited him. He must go to his god.
Petru wrinkled his nose. A terrible smell filled the courtyard, distracting him from his thoughts. He sniffed, trying to determine the source of it, and realized it was not in the air, but in his head.
He had to go to Lord Tae.
No! Petru clutched at his forehead, as if trying to pull the thought out. Fury filled him, making his tail lash. That ugly worm was trying to take over his mind! The Dancers. He needed them to strengthen the Dance. Then he would scratch the Liskash’s beady eyes out.
He slipped into the Dancers’ chamber. They were both restless, sensing the intrusion. He must waste no time.
“Priestess,” he whispered, touching Cleotra gently on the shoulder.
She came awake all at once, her claws at his throat. Petru took her by the arms and thrust her away.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he asked.
“And smell it,” Cleotra said, furiously. “Awaken the others. We must escape as soon as we can. Ysella!”
The girl sat up in her nest, chirping to herself fearfully.
Cleotra sprang up and grabbed her by the hand. “Come out into the courtyard. Lord Tae works against us. We must Dance to strengthen the bond with our sisters and the gods.”
Petru strode out in their wake. The warriors on duty were less sensitive than he was, but they heard and saw what was happening. They had sent an emissary to wake Emoro before he could. The stocky clawmaster came out to meet him, wiping sleep out of his eyes. Together, the Dancers began to circle one another. Their hands moved in and out toward one another as if feigning blows. Petru recognized it as a ritual to raise energy quickly. He felt the pressure ease considerably, though it did not go away.
“What is going on?” Emoro demanded.
“Don’t you feel it?” Petru asked. “Don’t you smell it?”
“Lord Tae? From all the way over there?” Emoro asked.
“All the city is under his control,” Sherril said, coming out of his chamber. “The city and most of the region.”
“He seeks to take control of us now,” Petru said.
Sherril eyed him haughtily. “What makes you think so?”
“Because I felt an urge to serve him, that’s what.” Petru crossed his huge arms. “My duty is to Priestess Cassa and the Dancers, no one else. I don’t expect you to believe me, but what do you smell?”
“Besides your cloying perfumes?”
“Counselor, enough!” Cleotra said, stepping away from the circle. She closed her hands, sealing the energy she had raised within herself. “This is deadly serious. If we are under attack, we must defend.”
Sherril scowled. He hated it when anyone knew something before him. Petru felt a moment of triumph for having been right first, but the tightening sensation around his brows increased again. He winced. So did Sherril.
“He is trying to pierce through the veil the Dancers put around us,” the counselor said. “He didn’t want an exchange of culture. He wanted to learn how the Dance protects us so he could learn how to combat our rituals.”
“We could ask Lord Tae. I must go to him,” young Gilas piped up, at Emoro’s elbow. The warrior’s eyes looked hazy. “He is calling me.”
Ysella marched to him and slapped him, hard. He staggered backward a pace on the black and white tiles, his feet slipping. He looked at her in shock, but his wits were restored.
“We are doomed,” Sherril said glumly.
“No,” Emoro said. “We must fight free. Lord Tae is too treacherous. We were wrong to trust him.”
“We had to try,” Sherril reminded them. “The alternative is weeks more on the road without adequate supplies. The rest of the clan is behind us. The gates of the city will open at dawn. We must make our way there now.”
“With every Liskash in the city under his control?” Petru said, horrified at the thought of being overwhelmed by lizards. He brushed at his fur frantically. “We would never make it.”
“Then we must make him let us go,” Emoro said, with a fearsome snarl.
“If he hasn’t foreseen our response and moved to counter it,” Sherril retorted.
Almost as he said it, Liskash in full uniform with knives and spears began to pour over the front wall, exactly where Emoro had told him he feared they would.
“Halt! Surrender in Lord Tae’s name!”
