I just don’t know if that’s what I want or not.
CHAPTER8
Anya
Well. It’s not what I was expecting out of ‘dinner,’ but now that I give it the tiniest bit of thought, the image I conjured in my mind—of a feast set out on a medieval-like table with medieval-looking knights around it—was pretty ridiculous.
Rysethk, the Kapsuk (I guess, whatever that means) collected me from Trasmea in front of a very large set of doors. I got the impression that she wasn’t allowed to enter. He is behind me now, to the left of me slightly, and I can feel his presence as though he’s touching me. I look back and up at him, and I’m not sure why; he should be the last person I look to for reassurance.
But he’s all I have.
“I thought this was…” I whisper.
He places his hand in the center of my back, very gently. The way he does it, he seems to be trying not to reveal the gesture to anyone else. His fingers are solid and warm, and he presses firmly, but gently, without moving the rest of his huge arm. His touch travels through my body, as his touch seems to, igniting small fires in my belly, chest, and in the center of my legs.
A staircase fans out before us, leading down a dozen steps or so to a vast hallway, and in this sense, my imaginings of some medieval scene from Earth are not far off; the floor is stone, the windows are large and intricate, and they also look quite old. But that is where the similarity ends.
On either side of a center aisle, there are many, many large and foreboding Kerz. Like the Kapsuk and the general, they are dressed in black robes, and I sense that something about the elaborate colors and insignias of the embroidery on their collars and along the hems indicates rank or whatever these Kerz use to establish a hierarchy amongst themselves.
But they are all large, with violent yellow streaks ofkrythsomewhere on their flesh, and yellow-green eyes that flash with hunger when they turn, in unison, to look at me.
Rysethk pushes me gently forward. I’m not sure whether it really happens, or if I imagine it, but I think I hear him say, “Do not fear them, they will not touch you yet.”
This would have been a reassuring statement, if not for the addition of the word ‘yet.’
I descend the steps as carefully as I can. I’m relieved that I’m wearing slippers, because if someone is going to take a tumble at an inopportune time, it’s me.
As I near them, I begin to hear a sound that I can’t identify—but I know that it comes from them. Theirkrythbegin to shimmer and glow, and the feral growl that I hear bounces around the room. Without knowing or understanding Kerz very well, I know that this has deep sexual undercurrents.
I’m no idiot.
There is a Kerz at the end of the walkway who leaves little doubt as to his status; he’s older, though I can’t say how I can tell. His skin seems faded, and his hair, while not streaked with gray as an older human’s would be, is duller than the hair of the Kerz who surround him. Hiskrythis dull as well.
But his eyes flash with a frightening intelligence, and he seems to see everything at once. He is scowling, and the way he holds himself, he’s obviously some bigwig. I assume it’s the general’s father: head of the family, or the clan, or the gang, or whatever these guys are. The general himself is standing next to him, and the family resemblance is obvious.
The general has a different demeanor though, the same one he exhibited back at the ballroom. He is the kind who makes jokes while he slits throats, you can see. Unpredictable, and probably quite cruel. His eyes are moving up and down my body, and his lips are turned up in a grin of satisfaction. I don’t know whether this is a good or a bad thing for me.
I stall a little, as I give it all thought, but the Kapsuk pushes me forward with his fingertips. I don’t know why, but his touch does have the effect of reassuring me. There’s no reason for it. He’s a class-A jerk, I remind myself. He’s the only Kerz here who has actually touched me physically, and that was largely to spank me. So if there’s anyone I should be afraid of, it’s him.
And yet, I want him to keep his fingers at my back, and not remove them. As long as I have contact with him I feel like I know what I can expect. With the rest of these guys? Not so much.
The bigwig looks me up and down. He seems skeptical. He frowns and addresses himself to the Kapsuk in Kerz.
Rysethk answers him from behind me, his voice a neutral calm compared to the scolding and skeptical tone of the terrifying Kerz before me.
But whatever he says seems to change his assessment. He looks me up and down again, and makes an announcement in a loud voice, presumably for all to hear.
At that point, movement seems to happen in every direction, all at once. I see only a few glimpses of it, because my vision is blocked suddenly by the falling of a curtain of red. I realize from the soft feel over my eyes, and the small pressure at the back of my head, that I’ve been blindfolded.
Not very well, I might add; I can see out of the bottom crack at the floor.
The Kapsuk moves to my side and takes my hand. When he does, the panic that began to build up inside of me is dispersed. Sure, it’s silly, but as long as he’s there, holding my hand, I feel better. He is drawing me forward across the floor, and I go with him, bringing my right hand to my face to tug on the blindfold—a movement I’m not even aware that I’m making.
“Is this a blind dinner?” I hear myself saying.
This is a thing I do, making jokes to ease tension. I never stop myself in time. I think it’s part of the reason my father finds me a little embarrassing.
I hear a staccato of sharp-sounding words in Kerz, and the Kapsuk translates for me, even though I don’t need it. I got the gist.
