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undisturbed by hideous intrusion. Nearby, the great humped mass of the black litah lay on its side,
snoring softly.
The swordsman sat back on his heels. Hoy, I don t know what dream you were having, but don t share
it with me.
Ehomba raised up on one elbow and considered his memories. The first part was good. I am ashamed
to admit it, but it was good.
Ah! In the darkness the worldly swordsman grinned knowingly. A woman, then. Your wife?
Ehomba did not meet his gaze. No. It was not Mirhanja.
A gratified Simna slapped one knee to punctuate his satisfaction. By Geuvar, you are human, then. Tell
me what she was like. His voice dripped eagerness.
Ehomba eyed him distastefully. I would rather not. I am not happy with my reaction.
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It was only a dream, bruther! The swordsman was chuckling at his stolid companion s obvious
discomfiture. Wedded or not, a man cannot be acclaimed guilty for enjoying his sleep. A dream is not a
prosecutable offense no matter what women think.
It is not that. It was not just any woman, Simna. It was her.
Hoy then there was significance to it. The swordsman s smile was replaced by a look of grave
concern. What did you learn from it?
Nothing, except that she may somehow know that we are coming to try and help her. That, and the
realization that she is more ravishing than even the image we saw above the fire that night on the veldt.
So beautiful, Simna murmured, a far-off look in his eye. Too beautiful for simple mortals like you and
I, methinks. His grin returned, its lubriciousness muted. That doesn t mean we can t look, at least in
dreams. But that wasn t her you were seeing there at the last. You were moaning and rolling about.
Hymneth the Possessed. It had to be, I think. Ehomba had lain back down, staring up at the stars, his
head resting on the cup formed by his linked fingers. As before, his face was hidden. I wonder if he is
hideous to look upon in person.
With luck we ll never find out. Returning to his own bedroll, the swordsman slipped back beneath the
blanket. Having climbed beyond the hills into the gentle mountains, they were now high above sea level,
and along with fresh air and quilted silence the night brought with it a creeping chill.
Ehomba lay still for a long time, listening to the quick, sharp calls of nocturnal birds and the muffled
voices of inquiring insects. He was both eager and afraid of returning to the dream. But when he finally
drifted off, it was into that restful and rejuvenating region where nothing stirred not even the vaporous
images of imagination.
The next day they continued to ascend, but at such a gentle incline and over such accommodating
gradients that the increasing altitude imposed no burden on them and did not slow their progress. They
saw small herds of moose and sivatherium, camelops and wapiti. Ahlitah made a fine swift kill of a young
bull bison, and they feasted luxuriantly.
Small tarns glittered like pendants of peridot and aquamarine at the foot of pure white snowpacks,
casting reflections that shone like inverse cameos among the bare gray granites. At this altitude trees were
stunted, whipped and twisted like taffy by relentless winter winds. Diminutive wildflowers burst forth in
knots of blue and lavender, corn red and old butter yellow. None of them attempted to trip, seduce, or
otherwise restrain the impassive hikers in their midst. Small rodents and marsupials dove for cover among
the rock piles whenever the marchers approached, and Ahlitah amused himself by stalking them,
pouncing, and then magnanimously letting the less-than-bite-size snacks scamper free.
They had already begun to descend from the heights when they encountered the sheep. Simna
pronounced them to be quite ordinary sheep, but to the man from the far south they were strikingly
different from the animals he had grown up with. Their fleece was thick and billowy where that of the
Naumkib s herds tended to be straight and stringy. Their narrowing faces were black or dirty white
instead of brown and yellow. And their feet were smaller, to the point of being dainty. These were
coddled animals, he decided, not one of which would survive for a week in the wilds of the dry country
inland from the village. Yet they remained, indisputably, sheep.
At the strangers approach they showed they were not as helpless as they looked. Amid much distraught
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baaing and bleating, they hastened to form a circle; lambs in the middle, ewes facing determinedly
outward, young rams spacing themselves efficiently along the outermost rim.
One old ram, obviously the herd dominant and leader, lowered his head and pawed angrily at the
ground. Bleating furiously, he took several challenging pronks in the direction of the newcomers. At this
point Ahlitah, who had been dawdling behind his human companions, trotted forward to rejoin them.
Espying and taking nonchalant note of the ram s challenge, he vouchsafed to give forth a midrange snarl,
whereupon the suddenly paralyzed ram froze at the end of an advancing pronk, stood tottering on all
fours for an instant or two, and proceeded to keel over onto one side in a dead faint, all four legs locked
sideways and straight, parallel to the ground.
Easy meat, the litah commented idly as they strolled past the trembling herd.
Mind your manners, Ehomba chided his four-legged companion. You cannot be hungry. Not after
that half an animal you just devoured.
You re right; I m not hungry. But I ve run too many hot mornings in pursuit of prey that eventually
escaped ever to ignore something that looks like roast on a stick. The maned head gestured scornfully in
the direction of the herd, and thin, hoofed legs quaked at the casual nod. These things are domesticated.
They are become the vassals of human appetite.
You can say that again. I love mutton. Simna was eyeing several plump members of the herd more
covetously than the big cat.
Ehomba sighed. Belying his stocky frame, the swordsman s appetites were outsized in every way. If not
the shepherd, we may encounter the landholder. Perhaps we can bargain for some chops, if you must
have some.
Walking on, they stumbled not on the landowner but upon his dwelling, a modest and unprepossessing
structure of stone walls and thatched roof. There was a well out front, and a small garden fenced to keep
out the wild vermin as well as sheep and goats. Smoke rose unhurriedly from the stone chimney, and
flowering wisteria vined its way up the walls and around the door and the single window. Several young
lambs grazed in a stone paddock back of the main building. At the travelers approach, an old dog lifted
its head to check them out. Broad bands of white streaked her long black fur. Apparently satisfied, it laid
its lower jaw back down on its paws. It did not bark, not even at the sight and smell of the litah.
Quiet, tidy little place, Simna declared grudgingly. Simple lodgings for simple folk.
Even simple folk may have useful information to give. Tilting back his head, the herdsman squinted at
the sky. And there are clouds gathering. If we are polite, and pleasant, perhaps the owner will let us stay
the night. Trying to see inside, Ehomba bent low and shaded his eyes with one hand. When traveling in
a strange land, any known direction is welcome. Advancing on the half-open swinging door, the lower
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