The Abulon Dance by Caro Soles

child’s laughter held the sound of a tinkling music box as he stood erect again, his cheeks bright with color, his black eyes sparkling with fun. He threw back his curls with a toss of the head. “My name is Giazin Triani Orlato,” he announced in a lisping treble, “and I’m going to be a great dancer just like my daddy when I grow up.” He arched his back, raised his little arms and skipped around in a circle. With a final unsteady bow, the image vanished.
    “That’s wonderful! And he’s so cute!” Quana was still gazing at the cube in fascination. “Cham told me something about him.”
    “He looks just like you,” said her mother politely.
    “So everyone says.” Triani was looking fixedly at the tiny figure that had reappeared. “But he won’t have a childhood anything like mine. Not if I can help it.” He collapsed the cube with a snap and returned it to his pocket.
    “Is your wife here with you?” asked Quana’s mother.
    Triani blinked, going over the question in his mind before answering. “The child’s maternal parent and I are no longer together,” he said at last and folded his hands.
    The next hour went by with excruciating slowness as they sat together sipping sweet flower tea, nibbling sugared fruit slices and making polite conversation. Triani was unfailingly charming and attentive. He found it exhausting to nod and smile as he held back his frustration at not being able to talk openly to Quana as he wished. He told them entertaining tales about Giazin’s childish exploits and much edited versions of his own adventures with Cham. Finally, in spite of his ambiguous sexuality, his flashy rings and exaggerated gestures, he won the approval of Quana’s mother. She left them alone while she went to see to the ordering of the evening meal.
    Triani went limp. “Shit!”
    Quana collapsed in her chair laughing and pressing her hands to her mouth to stifle the noise. “You’re a marvelous actor!” she sputtered.
    “Thanks, sweetie, but I can’t take much more of that. Is she coming back?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Quana, did you notice anything at all while you were at the door of that bar?”
    She frowned at the floor, thinking. “I came back to look for Cham. You know, to say I’m sorry. By the time I got there, two men were hitting you and I didn’t see Cham anywhere. The men you were fighting with were Hunters.”
    “That means trained killers, doesn’t it?”
    “Well, I never thought of it like that before, but I guess it does. Did they take Cham? Why? What does it mean?”
    “Search me, sweetie. How do you know they were hunters?”
    “Because the top joint of the fourth finger of the left hand was missing.”
    “I’ve noticed that before here. Who do they work for? The Chief?”
    “Some of them do. Once they’re trained, anyone could hire them, I guess.”
    Triani studied his rings for a moment in silence. “They kept looking at Cham…wanting to touch him. Do you think they might be perverts?”
    She blushed and turned her head away. “I never heard any stories like that. They’re just Hunters. Soldiers.” She hesitated before going on. “I think one of them may be my uncle.”
    “What?”
    “Hush! I’m not sure. I didn’t get a good look at him and I haven’t seen my uncle for three years. That’s when he ran off to join the rebels in the hills. He’s a lot younger than my father. We don’t mention his name in this house any more. He’s dead to us, now.”
    “Which one was he?”
    “He wore a blue earring and what looked like a glass figure on a chain around his neck.”
    “You mentioned something about rebels in the hills. Do you mean there’s a revolution going on here?”
    “Not really. It’s just a few people who aren’t happy with things the way they are. There’s always someone like that around.”
    “Not kidnaping peaceful alien visitors off the street, there isn’t. No one told us anything about this.”
    “It’s not of major