Free Beneath the Thirteen Moons by Kathryne Kennedy Page A

Mahri. Because every time you come within touching distance, I just have to touch. “We of the lower classes,” she replied, “Handle a physical attraction like we do all other things.”
    “And that is?” He stepped back, moonlight playing around the tightness of his curled lips, those round eyes narrowed to slits. She’d insulted him, somehow.
    Mahri shrugged. “We let it happen. Let it burn itself out, then go back to work.”
    “But what if,” he growled, “it doesn’t burn itself out? What if,” and he took a menacing step towards her, “the flame just gets hotter, and you just want more? And more?” His voice lowered to a huskiness that made her blink. He traveled the same path with his hands that she had earlier but cupped her bottom, lifted her off the deck, and with harsh angry movements rubbed her against him.
    Undaunted, Mahri wrapped her legs around his back and grinned. “But then you’re talking love, Great Prince, and we both know that between us, it’s an imposs…” She grabbed her head.
    “What is it?”
    “Hush, let me See.” For although she’d had little difficulty maintaining their passage through the channel with her Power, as if to Push had become as natural as breathing, this new ability to See into the thoughts of creatures demanded her full attention. And she dared not say anything to Korl about it.
    Slow thoughts reached her. Contented peace, a wisdom that could be detected but not understood, a language that could be interpreted just barely in her own words.
    “A narwhal,” she breathed.
    Korl peeled her off his body and spun. “Where? There’s no place big enough for it to be beached.”
    Mahri sagged to the deck, her head still held in her hands. She couldn’t tell him that the whale lay far below in deep ocean, too far to See its body but not its thoughts. The only time a narwhal could be seen was when it blew a spout on the open sea, or dying, washed amongst the trees like a mountain of black oil. What would he think if she told him she could hear one of the great beasts? He’d called her a freak and although she’d never admit it the remark had stung.
    “No, I meant my tent. My narwhal tent. I need to lay down.”
    He looked at her with sudden concern. “A little zabba, Mahri. Let me Heal you, if I can.”
    At least it would keep him occupied so she nodded, offered a tiny bit of root and let him See into her whileshe communed with the great creature. It swam far down the roots of the trees, sucked up the glowing plankton in a lazy, contented way, made clicking sounds to its brethren. There were more. Mahri shuddered.
    “The root’s already taken care of your bumps and bruises,” Korl murmured. “But there’s so much Power in you I can barely See further. There’s—something.” He sat on his heels and shook his head. “You’ve developed new pathways, I’ve never seen anything like it, and I couldn’t mess with them, anyway. Your nerve endings are traumatized—I’ve repaired as best I can, but expect the shakes.”
    Mahri barely heard his words, instead she concentrated on pulling away from the creatures below. They knew the leviathans! Those ancient ones that left their bones within the trees. Bones that could only be shaped by the Power, that were stronger than any substance known, that seemed, at times, to retain the life of their owner. She shuddered again. She was an ignorant water-rat. She’d have no connection with such as those, no matter how remote.
    Jaja suddenly snatched up her braid and played with the shells in her hair, whipped the dark red rope around and tickled her nose with the bottom strands of it. She looked up and although he scampered playfully, making Korl laugh, she saw the serious looks he threw her way, the question in those alien eyes.
    Why can’t I hear you anymore , she thought at him. Yet I can hear the narwhal, and even the small pathetic mind of a sea slug. It’s getting worse, the noise. And I can’t stop the