"Andrew J. Offutt - Spaceways 01 - Of Alien Bondage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Offutt Andrew J)

strength, firmness of more than body. And Tarkij knew about the aura of firmly
curbed sensuality. It simmered beneath the taut surface of her, needing only
the touch of flame to boil over. Now it was their own private, joyous war
game, about the only conflict their people had to cope with. Tarkij sought to
apply the spark while Janja kept her fires banked-until after the Visit, and
the Announce- 18 ment, and the Dedication, and the mingling of their blood
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in the eyes of the Sunmother and Her lifemate. "It is not easy for me,
Tarkij," she said now. "Please -do not make it harder." His smile faded. "We
promised together, Janja. I would have stopped. Were you to offer yourself
naked, I would turn from you. We promised." She gazed at him a moment. Then
she hurled herself forward. She crushed her body against his, molding the
tunicked forms at chest and belly and pelvis and thigh. A rumble of thunder,
closer, went unnoticed. Her arms were strong and firm about him; her hands
were tight at the hard muscle of Ms back. "I love you Tarkij, love you!" "Oh,
I love you, Janja." "I am yours Tarkij, yours, yours." Her voice was fierce.
It emerged through clenched teeth that wanted to taste Mm, to consume Mm, to
welcome him again in the union of their bodies. The words were of the rite
they had not yet undergone, and so were his: "I will protect you always, from
all things, and come to cusp with you, JanjaherioMr, and clear new fields for
our planting, and seek meat in season." For they were planters, seldom
hunters, and never warriors. For their Aglaya was a gentle world. "My blood is
your blood!" "My blood is your blood." "My loins are yours. I bare fang and
claw for you, Tarkjadar'rahj," she said, from the rite, and none knew how old
the ritual words were. "I accept the fertile fields of your loins and vow claw
and fang for your protection, Janja," he murmured into the pale hood of her
hair. It was ritual, only ritual; what on Aglaya might he ever need to protect
her from-or she him from? "We will bear each other many-Tarkij! Look!" It was
gray and blue arid white-streaked, designed to be invisible against the sky of
other worlds. It swept down and down, seemingly diving upon them for some
1.9 reason of its own. Janja thought of the clawbeak that swooped down on the
fringebird and the diminutive longtails that inhabited the tall grass of the
savannah. "Tarkij-what is it?" "I don't-Janja, run! It must be ... it must be
the Sky-demons!" Her little cry became an un-pretty snarl. She was strange,
Janja was, and her hand rose to the short flint knife she wore high on her
left arm. Her eyes were suddenly feral, dangerous. Tarkij was shocked as he
glimpsed in her something he had not known existed. Even then he was turning
her. Pushing her. They ran, racing and leaping through the tall chartreuse
grass as the leapfoots had run. On their backs a dark shadow grew. It flitted
over the grass, pacing them. The tall spears of grass rustled and swished back
into place behind them. It quivered as if in fear of the adumbral darkness
that swept, rippling, over it. They reached the place where they had emerged
from the rain forest. He pushed her so that she sprawled amid convolvulus
underbrush and enormous blue orchids. Her own fell from her hair. Its young
beauty was crushed forever beneath one flailing arm. There was good reason for
the orchid's having been in her hair; there was no reason for its
destruction. Yet there was reason for fear. They knew about the Sky-demons.