Page 32 of Clan and Crave

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The sun was peeking over the lowest hills ofthe forbidding mountains when Sletran landed his shuttle next toConyod’s near the kestarsh corral. He stepped through the hatch andinhaled the crisp air.

He was aware of the animosity Conyod felt forthe jagged peaks where his brother had vanished, but Sletran wasable to appreciate their stark beauty. He gazed admiringly at theirbackdrop to the tall grassland of the plains, shifting from brownto gold as the sun’s rays struck them. After a few moments, heturned toward the home of Clan Tuher.

Figures were moving in front of thehill-locked home. Sletran hadn’t worried about arriving atdaybreak. The residents and ranch staff began work while it wasstill dark. Sure enough, the first person he identified was MataraLafec, who halted and watched his approach.

He hadn’t seen her since Conyod was a teen.Sletran had visited the ranch only once, before it had becomeobvious he needed to put distance between himself and his youngadmirer. Lafec looked no friendlier than she had then.

Conyod had viewed him as his savior. Lafec,and to varying extents his fathers, viewed Sletran as part of thereason they’d lost their son to the court-appointed mentalinstitution for a year. At one point, Lafec had gone as far as toaccuse him, “You could have brought him home after you got him awayfrom those bullies, you know. There was no reason to involve theauthorities.”

Sletran didn’t take their sometimes-impolitedislike personally. They loved Conyod. Their love had turnedpoisonous for a little while, but he could understand andsympathize with the anguish they’d been through.

The years of grief hadn’t been kind to Lafec,but he felt she could have come off worse. Sorrow had etched itselfin her features, making her appear more careworn than her yearswarranted. It failed to detract from her strength, however. Sheappeared as formidable as an unmovable stone. She was dressed in aworn work shirt, padded riding trousers, and tall boots. Her thickwaist-length braid had a single thin streak of silver. Her jaw wasset as she stared at him making his way toward her.

He maintained a friendly expression despiteher obvious displeasure to have him on her property. He stoppedbefore he could be accused of encroaching on her personal space andbowed deeply in respect. “Matara Lafec, it is a pleasure to see youagain after so many years.”

“Not so many, Nobek Sletran. I hope thosearen’t your good clothes. Even when a man isn’t working, a kestarshranch has a habit of getting him filthy.”

“As Conyod warned me. These ancient thingsare a step removed from the trash bin.” He rose and grinned,refusing to take offense though his trousers were obviously frayedat the hems and his boots badly scuffed. His “good clothes”indeed.

“My son is in the stables.” She nodded at thefree-standing building beyond the shimmering containment corralwhere numerous kestarsh trotted around or nosed in the feedtroughs.

“Dresk is recovering?”

“He had us worried for a bit, but it appearshe’ll make it, thank the ancestors. Conyod hasn’t left his sidesince he got here. His presence made a big difference.” At last, hedetected a softening in her demeanor as she gazed at the stables.“Go on in, Sletran. Maybe Conyod will let you watch his kestarshand get some sleep, though he’ll probably do so in Dresk’sstall.”

“Matara.” The Nobek dipped another bow andhurried to the building where men wandered in and out.

Tuher and Sema were among a group of fourstanding near the entrance. Neither gave off the same level ofdisapproval Lafec had when they saw him, but they were distant allthe same. After Sletran greeted them, Sema directed him to thetwelfth stable on the right in the vast structure. “Conyod’s inthere.”

Sletran was only a couple steps in when heran into the final obstacle of the parent gauntlet. A smudged anddisheveled Vel, who appeared to be working on the pipeworkresponsible for carrying water to a basin in an empty stall, haltedto stare at him. Sletran offered the customary greeting andbow.

At first, he thought Vel would simply starerather than acknowledge him. At last, the elder Nobek accorded hima slight bow. “It’s been a several years since we’ve spoken. Youmade squad leader, I believe Conyod said?”

“I did.”

“Congratulations. I’m sure it waswell-earned.”

“Thank you.”

Another few seconds of awkward silencepassed, then Vel jerked his head in the direction of Dresk’s stall.“My son will be happy to see you. Dresk shows signs ofrecovery.”

“I’m glad the prognosis has improved. Dreskmeans a great deal to him.”

Vel nodded and turned away, pleasantriesapparently finished. Relieved to have gotten off so lightly,Sletran hurried on.

He would have been able to find Conyod andDresk without help. All the stalls save the herd leader’s wereempty.

The convalescent stood on six widespreadlegs, as if he had to brace himself to keep from falling over.Straw clung to his curly black coat and snow-white mane, whichbrushed the ground because Dresk’s head hung so low. His wheezingwas audible. If this was improvement, Sletran wondered how bad ithad been at his worst.

Conyod stood close, murmuring encouragementto the beast as he offered Sletran a tired smile by way ofgreeting. It was obvious he hadn’t slept a wink, judging from thepuffy circles under his eyes that were nearly as dark as Dresk’sfur. He was still gorgeous as far as the Nobek was concerned.

“We have a visitor, Dresk. Maybe he’ll comeon our walk before you have another rest.”

“I’d be happy to. I’m delighted you’re onyour feet, Dresk. I heard you had a tough time of it.”

The kestarsh’s tapered muzzle lifted, and heregarded Sletran. A soft rumble answered his greeting.

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