Title-- The Demon-God of Jubagh (book two, part four)
Rating and Warnings-- G; mild language.
Cast-- Rai Gerring, defected black magician (human man); Brandon Styhan, exiled paladin-warrior (human man); Lhafa Softstep, blind voodoo warrior (baghan woman); an unknown Sivefi.
Previously-- Book One: Jubagh. Earlier parts of Book Two: Sivef. The part right before this one.



The song was strange - it consisted of a howling, crooning sound interspersed with croaking words in a dialect that was not the common tongue of Sivef. She wasn't sure what its meaning was, but she was very silent as she leaned forward to listen. The singer was passing through the forest, and the noise echoed strangely, filtered by the barren trees between it and them. She couldn't tell anything about how far away it might be, other than it was many trees away. But she did not know how dense the forest was.

A rustle of cloth to her left was too loud; she jumped slightly as the robed man moved closer and just slightly in front of her, without blocking the sound of singing. Was he defending her? That wasn't how it went. Spirit warriors stood between the holy men and the danger.

Her tail ached from coiling too tightly around her thigh on the flight from wooden boat to new world; she uncurled it and swept the tuft in front of her hooves, checking for obstacles. Careful not to step on any twigs that might snap too loudly, she moved past the robed man, ignoring the light touch on her arm that asked her to stay. She stood in front, face angled blindly at the source of the sound as it seemed to draw closer. None of the words made sense, and it did not strike her as musical, but she did not need to understand what it sang to track its location. She wondered which of the Sivefi it was.

Dry, half-frozen soil crunched beneath the holy man's boots as he drew even with the robed man, but a rustle of cloth must have given him pause. He didn't move to join her.

Abruptly, the song was unfiltered by trees leaning between the singer and her - and just as abruptly, the song stopped mid-creel. It had probably just now glimpsed them. The wind whistled, chilling her face and neck, and she understood why the hood of her cloak would be useful. "Peaceful greetings," she murmured in the sivefan language, striving to speak as naturally as she could. She wondered how poor her pronunciation was.

"You'reoffworlders! Whatareyoudoinghere!" The singer spoke in bursts of syllables, strung together with no noticeable pause, nearly too fast to understand. Its voice was rough and half-growled, half-groaned.

"We are going north," she replied calmly, feeling her body ease itself into a wary stance. Her hooves were firm and sure on the dirt. She would not be taken by surprise. "Will you offer your name?"

"Softstep," the holy man growled in the baghan tongue, "careful... It's one of the shapechangers, and it's in its animal body."

She nodded very slightly, extending an empty hand towards the source of the creature's voice. She had wondered why it sounded so low to the ground. "My name is Lhafa," she murmured. Rai had told her about different greeting rituals, but all of them applied to the other Sivefi - not the changers. Giving her name could be a sign of courtesy or insult, especially given her gender. She had no way of knowing.

There was a rustle of ... fur, this time. The ground whispered dustily and betrayed the changer's steps forward. "Youarenothuman! Youspeakslow. Whydoyouspeakslow? IamcalledJujinkajou. Whyareyougoingnorth? Howdidyougethere? Didyouridetheskyworm?" The sentence-clusters helped her track its movements - it was walking straight towards her.

She remained calm, keeping her breathing steady and her palm extended. Her tail coiled behind her, balancing her weight to allow for ease of instantaneous movement. "I am a baghan," she murmured, "and I speak slowly because I am new to your language, and it is difficult for me to understand very fast speech. We are going north because our destination is north. And, yes, we did ride the sky worm."

"Oh." The changer paused thoughtfully, no longer advancing. "Yourfriends donotlook happy toseeme."

She switched to her native tongue briefly, "It realizes you are both tense. Please relax."

"Us relax?" the holy man replied, skeptically. "You look like you're ready to tackle it, and it's commenting about us? And, Softstep, you know it's only about two feet from your hand, right? You can hear it move?"

"Yes," she replied, then resumed speaking in the sivefan tongue. "They do not know what to expect. We have never met a Sivefi before. We are still very new to your home."

"Oh! Whydidn'tyousayso!" The changer's tone changed to something lighter and raspier; she could not interpret the meaning behind the switch. "Whatareyourfriends..." It coughed, a hacking sound like a great cat with a hairball. "What are yourfriends called? Iwill try tospeak moreslowly, but it's veryhard."

She allowed herself to smile. "The taller man is called Brandon, and the other is Rai," she said carefully, gesturing very generally towards the two men with the hand she had not extended towards the Sivefi. "They do not speak your language very well yet, but they can probably understand some words."

There was another pregnant pause, then an explosive sneeze. "Whoof! Howfarnorthareyou..." Another hacking cough. "Howfar north are youthree going? Do you know theway?"

"We will travel for three or more days," she replied, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "I am unsure of the exact distance. We do not know of any one way there, but we will find one." Finally, the bitingly cold wind died down, and she got her first good whiff of the changer's scent. It smelled strongly of musk, fur, maleness, and evergreen.

"I canguide you there if you want! I am agoodguide! I havehelped otheroffworlders manytimesbefore." Fur whispered and she suddenly felt a cold nose pressed into her palm. As delicately as she could manage, she closed her fingers around the thick muzzle and stroked along the grain of the fur. "Youtouch!" the changer exclaimed.

"I do," she agreed simply, pausing. "Should I not?"

He started making an effort to slow his speech again, fur rustling rhythmically as though he were repeatedly moving his tail side to side. "Somepeople don'ttouch! We like touch. Do they touch?"

"I do not think they do," she replied, slowly bringing herself to a kneeling position, guessing that she would be at eye-level with the standing Sivefi now. Carefully, she switched to the baghan tongue. "He has offered to guide us north."

"I thought I caught that much," the robed man remarked quietly. "You've gotten him to slow down, which helps. I think we could use the help, really. What do you think, Brandon?"

"I could take 'im," the holy man muttered in a calculating tone. He shifted his weight. "Sure. Native guides are always a good thing to have around. I mean, just look where Softstep got us." He chuckled.

She nodded, keeping her face angled alertly towards the changer, whose muzzle still rested in her outstretched palm. "We would like a guide, very much."

The rhythmic movement of fur became louder, and the holy man commented in baghan about 'tail-wagging' being amusing in an intelligent creature. "Thisiswonderfulthen!" the changer proclaimed, shoving his muzzle under her hand and then pressing himself against her torso and knees and arm. She was startled at the physical contact, but she did not recoil, even though his tail was now thumping loudly against her ankle. "I willguide youthree verywell!"

Carefully, she moved her hand to rest her palm between his shoulderblades. When she heard no protest, she patted his dense fur gently, surprised at the thick softness. Perhaps they grew winter coats like some of the southern baghans. "You will tell us if we offend?" she asked, all too aware of the gaps in her knowledge of the Sivefi.

"You willnotoffend. You touch! I know yourheart through yourtouch." His tone lifted, almost hopefully. "Maybe you canteach theothertwo totouch aswell?"

"I will try," she murmured, smiling at the shapechanger pressed against her.