slunk from the shadows of the house. Flick could not see his face, but could imagine its expression: sultry and sensuous. Ulaume had gone into survival mode.
‘A har was stolen from us,’ said the leader. ‘We thought him dead. Then we receive a call from him and we come back. Where is he?’
Ulaume put his hands together and bowed slowly. Pure grace. He straightened up and shook his hair, which in the still air moved as if in a breeze. ‘Terez was sick because of the incomplete inception. I re-incepted him and he decided to leave, to seek you out. He must have been calling to you since he regained his wits.’ A pause. ‘And I can see why.’
The troupe leader’s expression did not even flicker. ‘What are you doing here? Why are you in this human house? Who else is with you?’
‘There are two of us,’ Ulaume said. ‘We are staying here temporarily.’
‘You have no tribe. Why?’
‘We are shamans, taking leave of our kind in order to study.’
‘And who are your kind?’
Flick perceived Ulaume’s brief pause and hoped the others did not. He must be debating whether to say Kakkahaar or Saltrock.
‘Kakkahaar,’ Ulaume said.
‘Kakkahaar do not roam alone. They are scavengers who travel in packs.’
‘I am Kakkahaar,’ Ulaume said. ‘Why should I lie when you could so easily find out for yourself?’
The troupe leader curled his upper lip contemptuously, then gestured at the fanged har. ‘Taste it!’ he said.
What the fanged har did could not be described as sharing breath, because he simply grabbed hold of Ulaume and sucked the air from his lungs. Flick cringed, shrinking back against the table in the darkness of the kitchen. He imagined those monster teeth grinding against his own mouth. His heart was beating so fast, he thought he might lose consciousness. He realised he had never truly been afraid in his life before.
Outside, Ulaume was thrown to the ground, where he crouched gasping.
‘Kakkahaar,’ confirmed the fanged har, wiping his mouth.
‘Intriguing,’ said the troupe leader. ‘Was it cast out?’
‘No. He has secrets, but it was his choice to leave his tribe. He is concerned for the other one inside, who is not Kakkahaar. He couldn’t hide that.’
‘Bring it out,’ said the troupe leader. ‘I wish to view it.’
‘Aruhani, be my strength,’ Flick murmured. ‘Aruhani, creature of magic, be with me now.’
He knew he had to summon courage and perhaps there was the suggestion of a dark shadowy form hovering in the shadows of the kitchen. He must not let these savages into the house so they could drag him out. He must remember dignity.
Flick took a deep breath, clenched his fists at his sides and went to the doorway. At once, two hara took hold of him roughly and dragged him before the black horse, which was dancing nervily among the trampled flowers.
‘And where are you from, little white ghost?’ asked the troupe leader.
‘Saltrock,’ Flick said, chin high.
The troupe leader laughed. ‘This is an amusing alliance! Kakkahaar and Sarock. What is your reason for being here?’
‘I came to fulfil a promise,’ Flick said, ‘for a friend who is dead. I met Ulaume here. You don’t need to steal my breath to know that this is true. Sarocks do not lie.’
Again the troupe leader laughed, and Flick was surprised and relieved that his surly demeanour seemed to have found more favour than Ulaume’s attempts at seductiveness. This was important. ‘What promise was it, little one?’
‘A promise to Terez’s brother, who was incepted at Saltrock. I came back for Terez and I found him. Ulaume and I healed him and now he has left. There is nothing else to tell.’
‘I think there is probably a great deal more to tell,’ said the leader. ‘And I think that you will reveal it to me. I shall enjoy the experience.’
‘Who are you to infringe my freedom?’ Flick snapped.
‘I am Wraxilan,’ said the har on the horse. ‘I am the Lion of Oomar, lord of the Uigenna, and this is my territory now. All those within it are mine.’
The Uigenna took Flick and Ulaume to their camp, which they had established in the cable fields. They scorned human dwellings and clearly had no desire to set foot in the white house. They separated their captives and confined them in tepees with guards at the entrances. Flick sat in brown gloom, surrounded by the stink of untanned leather. He sat with his forehead pressed against his knees, his arms curled around his head. Think, think, and call upon