"Ann Maxwell - Fire Dancer 3 - Dancer's Illusion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maxwell Ann)

of the earlier Cycles. The result was a resilient, nearly indestructible translator who
needed only a few phrases to learn any new language.

In response to the languages pouring out of the snake, people hurried out of the control
room. When the illusionists turned to go, Kirtn stopped them. “Not you two.”

He waited until only four plus Fssireeme were left in the room. He stretched with
obvious pleasure, flexing his powerful body. TheDevalon had been designed originally
for twelve crew members and hurriedly rigged for the two who had survived Deva’s solar
flare. Even after dropping off people on five planets, the remainder of the refugees from
Loo’s slave pens seriously overloaded the ship’s facilities. As a result, Kirtn spent most
of his time trying not to crush smaller beings.

“Now,” he said, focusing on i’sNara and f’lTiri, “what’s the problem?”

The illusionists looked at each other, then at him, then at Rheba. “We’re not sure we
should go home,” said i’sNara simply.

“Why?” asked Rheba, slipping Fssa back into her hair.

The illusionists looked at each other again. “We are appearing naked before you,” said
f’lTiri, his voice strained.

Rheba blinked and began to object that they were fully dressed as far as she could tell,
then realized that they meant naked of illusions, not clothes. “That’s rare in your culture,
isn’t it?”

“Yes,” they said together. “Only with children, very close friends and sometimes with
lovers. A sign of deep trust.”

“I see.” Rheba hesitated, knowing the illusionists were proud as only ex-slaves could be.
“You didn’t leave your planet voluntarily ... ?”

“No.”

Rheba and Kirtn exchanged a long look. She slid her fingers between his. They did not
have the intraspecies telepathy of the J/taals or the interspecies telepathy of master mind
dancers, yet they sometimes could catch each other’s thoughts when they were In
physical contact. Once, on Daemon, telepathy had come without contact; but Kirtn had
been dying then, too high a price to pay for soundless speech. Now there was no urgency,
just a long sigh and the wordtrouble shared between them.

“Tell us.” Rheba’s tone was more commanding than inviting, but her smile was
sympathetic.

“It’s a long story.” began f’lTiri, “and rather complex.”

Kirtn laughed shortly. “I’d expect nothing else from a culture based on pure illusions.”

“Don’t leave anything out,” added Rheba. “If we’d known more about Daemen, we