Dancer's Illusion by Ann Maxwell

Author:Ann Maxwell
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2012-01-07T08:57:49+00:00

XIII

The gate swung shut heavily on its hinges, turning the wall into a seamless whole once again. In the deepening gloom outside the Yaocoon clan compound, Rheba flamed like a torch. She damped her burning somewhat but could not fade from sight unless she released a lot more energy, too much, in fact. She did not want to be caught cold if an ambush came.

Night seemed to conceal rather than cool the humid heat of day. She was too hot to sweat. Akhenet lines rather than perspiration carried away her body heat now. Kirtn’s coppery skin/fur, however, was almost black with sweat. Where his weapon harness and Rainbow rubbed against his fur, traces of lather showed in pale streaks. Rainbow reflected dancer fire in every crystal facet, a molten necklace rippling against his broad chest.

“We’re about as inconspicuous as a nova at midnight,” said Kirtn grimly.

Ahead of them, various illusions merged invisibly with the night. A child’s laughter, a cat’s purple eyes, a flash of the black woman’s fingernails, those were all Kirtn had to mark the unknown trail. Their own group was invisible to him.

“I’m glad the veil isn’t far,” he said very softly as the land dipped beneath his feet.

His empty weapon harness annoyed him. In Serriolia, guns were an admission of failed illusions. Except for a few pragmatic Yaocoon rebels, only Soldiers of Ecstasy carried guns. There had been no weapon for him. It was a situation he planned to remedy with the first soldier he got his hands on.

They scrambled down the decline to the stream, using Rheba’s akhenet lines to see by. She would have made a ball of cold energy and sent it ahead to light their way, but feared being even more conspicuous than nature had made her.

When they got to the edge of the stream, they stopped. Kirtn watched the night with wide yellow eyes that were better adapted to darkness than gold-veined dancer eyes. He neither saw nor heard anything, not even the footsteps of the rest of their group. Calling out to them was tempting but foolish. So was blundering blindly up the opposite bank of the stream.

“Do you sense anything, snake?” whispered Kirtn.

“Water. Shallow, only a few strides across. Incline. Something at the top that could be trees.”

“Could be?” asked Rheba, her voice barely audible.

“Dancer,” Fssa murmured patiently, “on Yhelle, they could be anything.”

“Including Soldiers of Ecstasy?” she snapped.

“Including—” Fssa convulsed, reshaping himself into an array of scanning devices.

Balanced on the breakpoint of dance, Rheba sensed the Fssireeme’s changes and even, very slightly, the energies radiating from and returning to him. She grabbed Kirtn’s arm. He looked at her and saw the odd shapes of Fssa beneath her glowing hair. He froze, trying to make no sound that would obstruct the snake’s search.

Fssa’s whistle was a mere thread of sound. “I don’t like it. Not the trees—they’re real enough—but beyond. Sounds.”

“What kind of sounds?” asked Kirtn, his voice so soft that only a Fssireeme could have caught the words.

“Fourth People sounds.

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