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Authors: Marion Zimmer Bradley
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him.
“You did make it,” Kennard said, with a grin of satisfaction. “Somehow I’d had the feeling you wouldn’t be able to, but when I looked this afternoon, I realized you would.”
The words were confusing; Larry tried to make sense of them, finally decided that they must be some Darkovan idiom he didn’t understand too well. He said, “I thought, for a while, that I couldn’t come,” but he left it at that.
The nonhuman moved toward him, and Larry flinched and drew away involuntarily, remembering his encounter with one in the streets. Kennard said quickly, “Don’t be afraid of the kyrri . It’s true that if strangers brush against them they give off sparks, but he won’t hurt you now he knows you. They’re been servants to our families for generations.”
Larry allowed the nonhuman to take his cloak, looking curiously at the creature. It was erect and vaguely manlike, but covered with a pelt of long grayish fur, and it had long prehensile fingers and a face like a masked monkey. He wondered where the kyrri came from and what sort of curious relationships could exist between human and nonhuman. Would he ever know?
“I brought you the books I promised,” he told Kennard, and the other boy took them eagerly. “Oh, good! But I’ll look at them later. We needn’t stand here in the hall. Do you know how to play darts? Shall we have a game?”
Larry agreed with interest. Kennard showed him the game in a big downstairs room, wide and light, with translucent walls, evidently a game-room of some sort. The darts were light and perfectly balanced, feathered with crimson and green feathers from some exotic bird. Once Larry grew accustomed to their weight and balance, he found that they were well matched in the game. But they played it desultorily, Kennard breaking off now and again to leaf through the books, stare fascinated at the many photographs, and ask endless questions about star-travel.
They were in one such lull in the game when the curtained panels closing off the room swirled back and Valdir Alton came in, followed by another man—a tall Darkovan, with copper hair sweeping back from a high stern forehead marked with two wings of white hair. He wore an embroidered cloak of a curious cut. The boys broke off in their game, and Kennard, with a start of surprise, made the stranger a deep and formal bow. The newcomer glanced sharply at Larry, and, not wishing to seem rude, Larry repeated the gesture.
The man spoke some offhand phrase of polite acknowledgment, nodding pleasantly to both boys; but as his gray gaze crossed Larry’s, he started, narrowed his brows, then, turning his head to Valdir, said, “Terran?”
Valdir did not speak, but they looked at one another for a moment. The stranger nodded, crossed the room and stood in front of Larry. Slowly, as if compelled, Larry looked up at him, unable to draw his eyes away from his intense and compelling stare. He felt as if he were being weighed in the balance, sorted out, drawn out; as if the old man’s searching look went down beneath his borrowed clothes, down to the alien bones under his flesh, down to his deepest thoughts and memories. It was like being hypnotized. He found himself suddenly shivering, and then, suddenly, he could look away again, and the man was smiling down at him, and the strange gray eyes were kind.
He said to Valdir, speaking past the boys, “So this is why you brought me here, Valdir? Don’t worry; I have sons of my own. Introduce me to your friend, Kennard.”
Kennard said “The lord Lorill Hastur, one of the Elders of the Council.”
Larry had heard the name from his father, spoken with exasperation but a certain degree of respect. He thought, I hope my being here doesn’t mean trouble, after all, and for a brief instant almost regretted coming, then let it pass. The tension in the room slackened indefinably. Valdir picked up one of the books Larry had brought Kennard, turning the pages with interest; Lorill
“You did make it,” Kennard said, with a grin of satisfaction. “Somehow I’d had the feeling you wouldn’t be able to, but when I looked this afternoon, I realized you would.”
The words were confusing; Larry tried to make sense of them, finally decided that they must be some Darkovan idiom he didn’t understand too well. He said, “I thought, for a while, that I couldn’t come,” but he left it at that.
The nonhuman moved toward him, and Larry flinched and drew away involuntarily, remembering his encounter with one in the streets. Kennard said quickly, “Don’t be afraid of the kyrri . It’s true that if strangers brush against them they give off sparks, but he won’t hurt you now he knows you. They’re been servants to our families for generations.”
Larry allowed the nonhuman to take his cloak, looking curiously at the creature. It was erect and vaguely manlike, but covered with a pelt of long grayish fur, and it had long prehensile fingers and a face like a masked monkey. He wondered where the kyrri came from and what sort of curious relationships could exist between human and nonhuman. Would he ever know?
“I brought you the books I promised,” he told Kennard, and the other boy took them eagerly. “Oh, good! But I’ll look at them later. We needn’t stand here in the hall. Do you know how to play darts? Shall we have a game?”
Larry agreed with interest. Kennard showed him the game in a big downstairs room, wide and light, with translucent walls, evidently a game-room of some sort. The darts were light and perfectly balanced, feathered with crimson and green feathers from some exotic bird. Once Larry grew accustomed to their weight and balance, he found that they were well matched in the game. But they played it desultorily, Kennard breaking off now and again to leaf through the books, stare fascinated at the many photographs, and ask endless questions about star-travel.
They were in one such lull in the game when the curtained panels closing off the room swirled back and Valdir Alton came in, followed by another man—a tall Darkovan, with copper hair sweeping back from a high stern forehead marked with two wings of white hair. He wore an embroidered cloak of a curious cut. The boys broke off in their game, and Kennard, with a start of surprise, made the stranger a deep and formal bow. The newcomer glanced sharply at Larry, and, not wishing to seem rude, Larry repeated the gesture.
The man spoke some offhand phrase of polite acknowledgment, nodding pleasantly to both boys; but as his gray gaze crossed Larry’s, he started, narrowed his brows, then, turning his head to Valdir, said, “Terran?”
Valdir did not speak, but they looked at one another for a moment. The stranger nodded, crossed the room and stood in front of Larry. Slowly, as if compelled, Larry looked up at him, unable to draw his eyes away from his intense and compelling stare. He felt as if he were being weighed in the balance, sorted out, drawn out; as if the old man’s searching look went down beneath his borrowed clothes, down to the alien bones under his flesh, down to his deepest thoughts and memories. It was like being hypnotized. He found himself suddenly shivering, and then, suddenly, he could look away again, and the man was smiling down at him, and the strange gray eyes were kind.
He said to Valdir, speaking past the boys, “So this is why you brought me here, Valdir? Don’t worry; I have sons of my own. Introduce me to your friend, Kennard.”
Kennard said “The lord Lorill Hastur, one of the Elders of the Council.”
Larry had heard the name from his father, spoken with exasperation but a certain degree of respect. He thought, I hope my being here doesn’t mean trouble, after all, and for a brief instant almost regretted coming, then let it pass. The tension in the room slackened indefinably. Valdir picked up one of the books Larry had brought Kennard, turning the pages with interest; Lorill
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