It was not long before the group of captives was entering the Great Hall of Kanan's keep. With his keen eye Dennis kept making note of all everything that was Gaelic or Celtic in this place. To him he might as well be standing in Dunvegan Castle on the Isle of Skye in Scotland. Tartan tapestries hung from every wall in brilliant red, green, blue and gold. Heavy furniture graced the room; the chairs alone must have weighed well over a hundred pounds each. Dennis wondered how anyone managed to slide them around the room since they appeared so heavy.
Colonel MacNeill was his usual cheeky self, smiling, nodding and saying 'How-do-you-do?' to everyone they passed on their way to the King. All around him eyes widened and mouths gaped open at the sight of them. Finally they were lead into what appeared to be Kanan's Throne Room. A large ornately carved wooded chair was the focal point of this room, its seat and back covered with red velvet, above which hung a large rendition of the King's Family Crest. Sitting on the throne was the same man they had seen giving his women away earlier in the night. Surrounding him was a group of fifteen or so men, all of whom had been engaged in heavy conversation (probably concerning the first white man they had encountered that night), startled they looked up at the sound of the guard's voice.
"Ginan kani Cok'Mon odank!" (We found these white men wandering in the town) The guard who had stood by Col.MacNeill's side announced to Kanan who sat upon his throne.
Kanan turned from his council and beheld several white men now waiting in for his attention. Yehwe was a night known to be full of mischief and magick; it seemed the festival would live up to its reputation tonight. "Madwan? E'gni hamesh?" (What do you want? Where do you come from?) Kanan asked in a voice that not betray the coolness in his eyes.
O'Neill shot Dennis a harsh look. "Looks like you're on, Dennis."
With more apprehension than usual, Dennis began the task of making first contact and communication with people from a new world. He began much as he always did, speaking in a very slow calm, almost hypnotic voice, "I'm Dennis." Dennis held out the palm of his hands and waited a moment but Kanan did not respond. The dark eyes of the man grew wide at the sound of Dennis' words. Using only his eyes, Dennis, looked around to see that the men were talking to each other in hushed whispers. "We have come for our friend. You," Dennis pointed to Kanan, "you took him away." Dennis put his hands together as though they had been bound, he motioned toward the dark man on the throne once again. Although his eyes seemed to grow larger with each word Dennis spoke, there did not seem to be any recognition in them. Dennis dropped his hands and then pointed toward the window behind him and the courtyard beyond. "Out there. Our friend," he bound his hands together again, "on the podium" he made a sort of box shape with his hands, "you took him...."
"Mowtot!" Kanan bolted from the seat upon which he had been sitting. "B'yon ye, Cha'Dech, nin." Dennis began to speak again but the man held up a large hand to silence him, he realized that the leader of this world was not speaking to him. "N'om!" One of the guards immediately left the room off on whatever errand Kanan the King had presently sent him on. Now the man's eyes were definitely upon Dennis and his friends, "Ciptu." The large black hand motioned toward the long table and chairs behind the group. "Ciptu."
"Sit?" Dennis asked and bent his knees slightly as though he were going to seat himself.
"Ciptu." Kanan repeated and nodded. "Pama."
"I think he wants us to sit and wait until the guard returns." Dennis said over his shoulder. They made their way to the chairs just behind them, eyes on everyone in the room as once, light smiles on their faces, and they sat in the heavy wooden chairs. "Ciptu." Dennis said looking at Kanan and watched as the large man nodded his head.
"So, what are we waiting for?" Lee asked through a smile so fake she thought it might freeze on her face.
"I don't know. Guess we'll find out soon enough."
**********
The lock on the outside of Naganti Kanan's chamber door slid back with a loud ca-chunk. The woman the men had called Dorothy looked up to see J'Quinn, Kanan's Captain of the Guard, making his way through the doorway. "Cok'Mon nes odank, nin gak, Naganti Kanan." (White men are here, you must speak for Master Kanan)
So, they had discovered that the new comer was a white man and Naganti Kanan wanted her to talk to him on his behalf. Why? Why didn't Naganti Kanan just kill him and be done with it? Tiberian law expressly stated that she as Cha'Dech was never to speak to, never to touch or be touched any man other than her Lord and Master, Naganti Kanan, unless hr gave permission and he hardly ever did unless it struck his fancy to do so. What was so important about one white man? "Co." Kanan's Cha'Dech waved her hand to shoo the guard away. "Gak bwe co, Naganti Kanan." (No. I will not speak for Master Kanan)
A black hand snatched out roughly and grasped her by the forearm, instantly the burning sensation appeared where his skin met her own. "Maen! Byan!" His fingers clasped tighter to her skin. (Now! Don't argue!)
She stumbled backwards away from his burning touch. "Ka'Nok re!" She cried out as she wrangled herself away from his grip. (Do not touch me!)
A large finger shook itself in front of her nose, hard eyes glared at her. "Byan." (Don't argue) His voice threatened in a low command.
Without further resistance, she followed the guard from Kanan's chamber back down the great staircase and into the great hall. As she made her way down the long passageway, she began to wonder if she could still make the talk? Never did they speak in any language that was familiar to her here. Not since she was no taller than a biyuk had she heard her own native speak. So long, so long, so long ago. For the first time in a very long time an oddly familiar feeling began to rise deep within the pit of her belly. She recognized it as being hope and tried to kill it.
The woman who had been the last item up for bid in this evening's auction walked with through the door of the Great Hall with her head bowed low, auburn hair covered her face and her gait was slow and unsure. Slowly she pushed her hair back to look at the strangers who had invaded her Master's home and brought her here. White skin flushed crimson and then drained of all color as she looked around to behold not one single white man, certainly not the man who had come to claim her, but five white men, one black man that she recognized as being Nuki, and one white woman sitting near the great table in Kanan's great hall.
Without thinking, the Cha'Dech looked down at her own hands and then up at Dennis' face, down and up, down and up went her eyes, with a drunkards pace she continued to make her way toward Naganti Kanan. Dennis watched carefully as the leader of this world rose to his feet upon seeing her and motioned for the rest of the team to do the same. Without speaking, she took her customary place on the steps that lead to Kanan's throne, two stairs down and to the left of where he sat. Slowly her eyes turned upward once again to meet those of the white people across the room from her.
Taking a deep breath, she raised her head to stare into the eyes of the man across the room from her, the one standing in front of the others. The one with the pale blue eyes. There was a sharp pain in her heart as her mouth dropped open in a small O and then closed quickly as she looked away from him. Those eyes were still with her. She knew those eyes.
"Ha ben esta, Cha'Dech." Kanan said in a low voice as he slithered forward in his chair and looked her directly in the eyes. "Co gak Shankuk, nin gak Cok'Mon." His dark eyes stared through her. "Gak kweman Cok'Mon."
With her head spinning and her knees weak, she struggled to convert the Shankukan language into what she remembered as English. So many years it had been since she had heard her own language. Remembering was a very slow and painful process and her voice did not attempt to hide that fact. "Does the woman speak your words?"
"Yes, she speaks English...Cok'Mon." Dennis replied.
"Hei, cok'won nen'de cas gake Cok'Mon." The Cha'Dech stopped for a second as she groped for the words and a dull thud began to ache behind her eyes.
Kanan appeared pensive as he eased himself forward on the throne. A large ebony finger raised itself and pointed at Lee. "Nin gak cok'wo keshan'abe?"
