Ils’a continued to tremble, but her words seemed to have gotten the kelvic’s attention and that was some small comfort. In a flash of light, where there had been a huge white tiger, there crouched a naked man, with that mop of white hair that was becoming more and more familiar each time the Konti saw it. But he did not recover the clothes he had tossed aside, not immediately. First he hurried to one of the dead men and ripped the clothes off the still very warm body. With these, he cleaned himself off as best he could and then shoved the gory wad of cloth into his pack. Swiftly, he pulled on his own discarded garments and dressed. Ils’a would have looked away and given him his privacy but it seemed quite pointless. The horror of all that she was witnessing seemed to far outweigh any and all polite sensibilities and social niceties. As it was, she only half turned away, for she was growing more and more anxious with each passing moment. Surely the noise of the short battle would have attracted someone’s attention. All she could think of was getting gone from this awful place, and, for some reason, her urgency to find a safe place now included this creature who had twice helped her. This second time he had probably prevented her from being enslaved. That thought made her feel sick all over again.
“Hurry! Oh, please hurry!” she gasped, looking wildly about the street, sure that monks would be descending upon them any second now. But the kelvic did not heed her. Instead, he went next to one of the inert forms. But as he dragged what Ils’a had assumed was one of his victims, she heard a low moan and realized that this one was still alive. What he did next really turned her stomach and she felt its contents rise into her constricted throat. By a great effort, she kept herself from hurling. She wanted to ask him what in the world he had done that for, smashing the man’s head against the wall. But once again, her head was in a whirl and all she could think about was getting the hell out of there. So she only stared with a shocked expression, listening to his words, seeing his smile, both of which she was sure were meant to be reassuring. Not much was sinking in, though, at this point.
In fact, her legs were now shaking violently and her vision was beginning to blur. The ground seemed to be tilting and just as she lurched, the kelvic moved closer and easily caught her in one arm. Once again, like a child, he lifted her to his chest, and Ils’a could only lay her head against it, her eyes closing, willing herself not to retch. Her limbs felt like lead and her head felt like it was filled with cotton fluff. She had no idea what he planned to do next, but she had no strength left to protest or direct him. Limp in his arms, she could only go along and hope somehow this worked out without them both ending up in the gallows, just as he had thought too.
The kelvic walked at a fast pace and within just a few minutes he was whispering to her, telling her to trust him and follow his lead. Ils’a looked up into that face, those blue eyes so vibrant, so alive and so intense, and she wondered if this was what a person looked like when they killed. She nodded, silently, and placed her hand flat against his chest, feeling the beating of it, wondering if he was as scared as she was. In another breath, he was talking. She turned her face completely away, burrowing it into his chest, not trusting herself to look at the monk, and she heard the fear in his voice, as he lied. She felt the trembling of his arms, as he portrayed himself to be a complete coward, the exact opposite of what she had seen, back there. It was a convincing act, and she felt a great wave of relief wash through her body as the monk hurried away. Slumping against him, she let out a groan, half sigh, half whimper.
Then she felt those arms loosen, lowering her, gently, until her feet were on the ground. He held her a moment longer as she regained her balance, and then the kelvic stepped away. His words were politely dismissive, but his tone seemed wistful. He seemed weary too, as he leaned against the wall.
Swaying slightly, Ils’a ran her hand through her hair, pushing it back from her distraught face. The other she still held gingerly against her body. Her face was leached of all color, her lips practically white. Her eyes were as big as saucers, and her voice trembled as she spoke, softly.
“That, that was well done.” She looked at his strained face, thinking of what he had just done, for her. “I can’t begin to thank you. I, I think I owe you my freedom. I don’t know, don’t know what those men meant to do. Were they slavers?” She shook her head, almost numb from the paralyzing effect of the fear she had felt. “I can’t thank you enough, and, I don’t even know your name.” She shook her head, like a confused child. “This place, it’s awful! Is, is all the world like this?”