Skeen's Leap by Jo Clayton Read Free Book Online Page A

the inside of a root.
    At intervals along the gnarly hall, below patches of glow globes, oval areas of wood were smoothed flat and embellished with stylized animal carvings, low relief, boxy abstractions imbued with the essence of the beast. Her trained eye recognized at least three different artists. Beautiful work. Her fingers itched, every acquisitive nerve in her body vibrated. Djabo gnaw their pointy heads for cutting such lovelies into the wood of the wall. One could hope, though, that more portable examples of Min work existed, waiting for her to get her hands on them. Talk about uniques!
    A few more crooked turns, more than a few narrow escapes from tripping over gnarls, knobs, and rough spots or banging her head on ceiling dips, and she was sure of one other thing. The Min didn’t build this place; they grew the damn thing, then made a few swipes at civilizing it.
    Every third patch of glow globes there was another of the leather curtain-doors. Behind some Skeen heard voices, from behind one, a snore. Others hid silence.
    Telka led her into a side branch, then into another, then into a third, this last one barely wide enough for her shoulders and low enough that she had to stoop or bash her head; one thing sure, she wasn’t being taken to any grand guestroom. No carvings at all in this hole, even the glowglobes were scarce. Lucky I don’t suffer from claustrophobia.
    Telka stopped by one of leather curtains, swept it aside, and motioned to Skeen to go in.
    Skeen wasn’t overly enthusiastic about turning her back on the little Min, but she didn’t hesitate—to hesitate would offer insult and make an enemy out of someone neutral and possibly a source of the Min work Skeen needed to buy her way off Kildun Aalda. She walked quickly through the doorway, crossed the room, and swung round to face Telka.
    The little Min didn’t leave the doorway. “You must be very tired,” she said. “Sleep as long as you like and when you wake, pull the bell cord by the bed, there, that embroidered strip, good, that’s right. Pull that and one of the firamayin will bring you something to eat. I have to ask; don’t try finding your way about before I come for you, it wouldn’t be safe.” She made a throw-away gesture with her left hand. “I’m sure you understand.” She pointed to a side wall where there was another of the woven leather curtains, this one with a flimsier look. “Water in there, void holes, a bathing basin. Are you hungry?”
    â€œMy stomach thinks my throat is cut.”
    Telka looked doubtfully at her then produced a brief pained smile. “None of the waves have had trouble eating our food—even the Skirrik who are the strangest. I will send a firamay with something. It will have to be cold food, I’m afraid. Will you drink cider or do you prefer something hot? That I can arrange.”
    â€œCider will do.”
    â€œOne other thing I must ask, though it is a discourtesy to a guest. Please do not speak to the firamay. She would find it very disturbing and I do not wish more difficulty spread before me. I hope you understand. My sister, my twin sister, is a slave, degraded nightly by that filthy Pallah who owns her. I cannot rest until she is free again.”
    â€œNo talking. Fine with me.”
    â€œSleep well, Skeen Pass-through. Don’t worry, you’re safe here.” Telka stepped back, letting the door-curtain fall in place. A moment later Skeen heard the soft patter of her feet leaving.
    â€œDjabo’s loving toes, what a world.” She looked around her. There were several glow globes set in clusters on the walls. “So we sleep with the light on.” No corners, like everything else she’d seen so far. A squarish room like an ice cube with the corners melted off. A brick bed; even that wasn’t square but a long oval, built over a firehole, nothing burning there this warm night. On top of the