Beholder's Eye by Julie E. Czerneda Read Free Book Online Page A

you.”
    Proud? If she’d cycled into a moonbeam, I’d have been less surprised. Suspicious was a better word. I snagged an apple from a bowl and pulled a chair from the wall, dropping on it heavily. I watched them posing in front of the mirror as I considered Ersh’s comment.
    “Where’re the others?” I asked finally, still tasting their memories and feelings as if something was missing.
    Skalet grinned evilly and winked at me. “You know Mixs won’t go humanoid if she can avoid it, tween.”
    I didn’t rise to the nickname—it was an old joke. Anyway, I hadn’t been stuck midcycle once in the last hundred years. “So where are she and Ansky?”
    Lesy looked unhappy. “Hurried, packed, left,” she blurted, not yet comfortable with the Kraosian tongue. She turned back to her dresses. I didn’t push the issue, not so much to avoid upsetting Lesy as because I had a pretty good idea myself why the others left so quickly. My shared memory had some very unusual components. My web-mates had left me to Ersh.
    I settled back, knowing that Ersh would talk when she was good and ready. At least her kitchen was an improvement over the Kraosian dungeon.

6:
    Dungeon Night
    THEY had taken us—the Human, Ethrem, and I—into Suddmusal late that same evening. The Jesrith was in spate, swollen from the mountain storms that had stretched long pale fingers to blot out the stars and rumble deeply in the distance. Always an intermittent boil of mud and froth, at Suddmusal the Jesrith fought its masters, chewing the edges of the rough channel that bound it to two-thirds of the city’s perimeter.
    The bridge was stained with rust-colored splatters of mud along its length. I paced in my cage, watching the roiling water as we crossed, permitted this much by virtue of size; in a similar prison, the unfortunate Human was forced to crouch when he stood. I thought it likely that he was in shock. There was no sign that he was aware of what was occurring. Or if he was, he wisely chose not to care. They had taken his clothes, forced him into some threadbare garments suitable for a servant of the rural caste. He looked thoroughly disreputable, and passably Kraosian to eyes that did not measure proportions or matters of grace.
    My cage was placed between the Human’s and Ethrem’s on the back of the truck which had awaited us at the base of the mountain. An empty precaution, I thought sadly. Ethrem was unable to bother anyone else. More accurately, what was left of Ethrem was unlikely to do so. I avoided looking into his vacant staring eyes. He had finally found a way to flee his fear.
    I had no doubts of our destination, nor the purpose for this hurried, after-dark travel. The Protark had been forced to play his hand openly against the offworlders. Whatever blameless treachery he had planned had been laid waste by Ethrem’s public assassination of the Humans. There would be panic-ridden conferences tonight with the heads of the other castes, frantic efforts planned to either appease or eradicate the remaining offworlders—and witness. But first, he needed us securely in his grasp and safely out of sight.
     
    I had been correct in my assessment, but I took no satisfaction from it. The heavy overhanging arch of the prison quarter swallowed the light from the few bulbs that lined its ceiling as we waited permission to pass its gate. The rain was near enough to give a damp chill to the evening air. I felt my fur rise in response and pitied my less protected companions. The door opened at last, letting the truck and its foot escort move inside a paved courtyard, closing behind with a sullen thud. I shook myself before forcing my body to lie down.
    Something made me glance up. I met the Human’s level gaze. There was pain in his eyes and more—recognition. I considered for a long moment, then eased one of my paws forward, unrolling its slim, useful, toes as if in an idle stretch. His eyes blinked slowly, then again. His own hand repeated my