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PART III:
Leviathan

When the Bond of Ebezon's agent learned of the whale hunt, he moved to the window in his human-designed residence and stared out over the ocean.

On one level, he was not surprised. Oppuk's hatred of humans had, years earlier, passed into the realm of unsanity. Still, even for Oppuk, this action was egregious.

Stupid, as well. The reports coming from Pascagoula had made clear already that the young scion of Pluthrak was, indeed, namth camiti. Foolish to leave one's guard open against such a one, regardless of his youth and inexperience.

Oppuk, of all people, should know that. He had been namth camiti himself once, Narvo's pride. And, within a short time after arriving on Terra, had proved himself by displacing the Hariv who had been possessed oudh before his arrival. Jita krinnu ava Hariv had not been as arrogant as Oppuk was now, but, secure in the shrewdness and sagacity of his age, had not taken the challenge of the Narvo namth camiti seriously enough—until it was too late, and he was forced to offer his life.

The agent had been there himself, at the assembly of the Naukra where Oppuk had taken the old Hariv's life. Oppuk had driven the ceremonial dagger into the neck vertebrae as surely and as forcefully as he had outmaneuvered Jita from the moment of his arrival on the planet. It had been a superbly delivered deathstroke—quick, clean, as custom demanded—even if the agent himself thought Oppuk had been a bit excessive in the use of his massive muscles. But then, that was always Oppuk's way. In that, if nothing else, he was truly namth camiti of Narvo.

For a moment, the agent considered whether there was any way he could be present himself, at the whale hunt. He would like to observe the dance more closely, in order to gain a better sense for the young Pluthrak.

But, leaving aside the obvious difficulties—no one had invited him, after all—it was probably still too early. And besides, he thought with some amusement, the center of the flow was coming toward him, in any event. Perhaps he would not have to do anything, beyond wait.

He was good at that, after all. The agent had now waited for twenty years.

 

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Framed