The Color of Distance Read Free Page A

rest.”
    “He’s as stubborn as an old kular,” the tall, slender elder agreed.
    Blue and green amusement flowed over Ani. She had no trouble seeing Ilto as a spiny, irascible anteater.
    “There’s no arguing with him when he’s like this,” cautioned Ninto. “He was like this when I was his bami. I don’t think I remember him ever changing his mind, not in all the years I’ve known him. Once he makes up his mind to do something there’s no arguing him out of it.”
    Ani suppressed a brown flush of embarrassment at Ninto’s glancing mention of her relationship with Ilto. Most elders raised only one bami, and once it was ready, its sitik either died or left the village. But an elder had died without a bami to succeed him. The village chief chose Ilto’s bami, Ni-ne, to fill the’dead elder’s place. Ni-ne became the elder Ninto. Ten years later, Ilto selected Ani as his second bami. That made Ninto her tareena.
    Ani had been with Ilto for many years. Trees they had planted during their first year together now spread their leaves in the sunshine at the top of the jungle’s canopy. But Ninto had been there before her. She knew Ilto as both sitik and fellow elder. Ani and Ninto were the only tareena in the village. It was an unusual relationship, and it set Ani apart from the other bami.
    Ninto brushed Ani’s shoulder affectionately, and set aside the gathering bag she was weaving. “I’ll see what I can do,” she reassured her.
    Ilto was linked with the new creature when they came in. Ninto joined the link and gently pulled Ilto out of allu-a.
    Ilto turned brilliant yellow with irritation. “Can’t you see I’m too busy to be interrupted!” he flared at Ninto. “I thought I trained you better than that!” He launched into a long tirade about manners, lecturing Ninto as though she were still a bami.
    To Ani’s surprise, Ninto listened politely. Only a tiny blue flicker of amusement running down Ninto’s back showed she paid absolutely no attention to Ilto’s scolding. Ani’s ears lifted, and she fought back her own amusement.
    “Kene,” Ninto said, when Ilto was done, “you are being selfish.”
    “In what way am I being selfish?” Ilto asked, his words stiff and formal in response to Ninto’s use of his title.
    “You are neglecting the future of our village by mistreating your bami.”
    Ani sat up, insulted. “He is not!” But her words went unnoticed. A cautionary pattern flared briefly on Ninto’s back, telling Ani to be still.
    “Look how thin and tired she is. You’re asking too much of her.” Ninto motioned to Ani, who came forward out of the shadows.
    Ilto linked with Ani. She could feel him probing her physical condition. Brown shame coursed over his skin as he broke the link.
    “You’re right,” he told Ninto. “I will put the creature into jeetho tomorrow.” Grey regret clouded his words.
    “Not tomorrow,” Ninto said. “Give Ani a day of rest before you work any more with the new animal. The creature’s stabilized. It can wait another day.”
    “But—” Ilto protested.
    Ani, realizing that by giving her a day of rest Ilto would also be resting, interrupted him with a touch on the shoulder. “Please, siti, I won’t be able to do it tomorrow. I’m too tired.” She turned a pale, sickly white, hating herself for the lie she was telling. “I’m sorry, siti.” That much, at least, was true.
    Ani glanced at Ninto’s back, and saw a faint ripple of approval.
    “Ani will rest tomorrow. We will put the creature into jeetho the day after tomorrow,” Ilto announced, never admitting he had changed his mind.
    Ani glanced over at Ninto, impressed with her skill at manipulating Ilto. She hoped someday she would be that clever. Ninto met her glance and flicked an ear at her.
    “Ilto is right,” Ninto said when Ani followed her out to thank her. “You are ready to become an elder. You handled that well.” A mist of regret clouded the colors of her words. “I’ll