Baited and Stoned
The trees concealed the small, shallow depression from all sides. Few knew it was there, as the area was lightly wooded and this particular sinkhole wasn't close to any hiking paths. One would have to be right on the edge of it to see inside because of the lower elevation and the various trees providing cover.
Of all of the many nests Kohn Spatath had built, this one was the most isolated, the most private, and the most carefully protected. He was cautious about coming out here too often, and too regularly, for he could be followed. Leaving at different times of the day each time he came, and trying to take slightly different paths for each visit was time consuming, but worth it.
The green and black scaled reptilian had always been secretive about his nesting spots, but since no harm had ever come to his eggs aside from unforeseen difficulties in temperature control, natural disasters, or other unpredictable acts of nature, he had perhaps grown careless. His last clutch met with another sort of disaster: theft.
That nest had been on the other side of the settlement. He had always enjoyed getting back out into the wild when another clutch was on the way, a throwback thing to his vaguely remembered roots. Instead of staying indoors, as many of his short-lived descendants did, and having special incubating rooms devoted to the task of rearing the next generation, he felt the call of forests especially strongly and preferred coming out here.
It also helped him avoid questions about why he, who lived as a male, had a nest of eggs in his house with no mate in sight. It sometimes caused social discomfort. Hermaphrodites had been much more common in the original generations that he and the others in the original seventeen of his species had raised, but it was very rare now. None of their descendants had inherited their elflike longevity.
The previous nest had been raided, and by looking at footprints, it was obvious that the raiders were not unintelligent animals; they were Named beings. He hoped they were not Ryzentyls, his own kind. Such a crime would be unforgivable. The boots that made the tracks around that nest could have been worn by anything bigger than a dwarf and smaller than a troll. All but one of the eggs had been taken; the one that was not taken had been smashed, probably accidentally dropped.
Having to mask his grief, carrying it secretly inside, was a difficult thing. The grief had grown into fury at whoever had done this, which was equally difficult to mask. It had probably made him unstable enough to open up the details of his private life much more than he would normally have done when he met Zabel.
This clutch of eggs before him now had been sired by Zabel. "Another way I'm careless, lately," he said to himself. When whatever mechanisms in him irregularly chose the beginning of his fecund season, he found himself desiring male company, which led to indiscretions of all types with said males. In moments of weakness, or in times where he was carried away by the moment, things like this would happen: he'd become gravid, and he'd have to pick a spot to lay his eggs. Many times the hatchlings wouldn't know their other father...the other parent, who was usually a fling.
This time, the young ones would know both parents. This spot was chosen not only by Kohn but by Zabel, who seemed fascinated by the old Ryzentyl. Kohn wasn't sure if Zabel believed everything he had said about his long, long life, but it was all true, and the young one seemed to trust him regardless.
Zabel never visited the nest after the night Kohn laid the eggs. Kohn didn't consider it safe, since Zabel was young enough to be too reckless and careless for his own good. He was perhaps a bit young to be a parent, and due to inexperience he went along with whatever Kohn said.
"Just a matter of time, and of being careful," Kohn thought to himself as he sat at the edge of the nest, tail curled around one eggshell and coming into contact with another. They each had distinctive markings and coloration, but he had yet to learn them all to recognize them by sight. He had looked at them, and now had his back toward them and was trying to remember how they all lay in the nest by recalling the markings on their shells.
"The one with a T...is on the far side. The one with two spots about the same size and the blue shell is...right behind me. That just leaves the one with the long curl across the big end." He thought for a few more seconds, then shook his head, not remembering where it was. He turned to look.
There should have been seven eggs. It wasn't on the far side, it wasn't by his tail; it wasn't anywhere. He counted out loud. "One, two, three and four...five, six...NO!" He clenched his fists, glaring first at the nest, and then all around. "Where are you," he hissed, acidic saliva building in his mouth. "When were you here!? Where are you!" His voice raised, he charged out, scanning the ground for clues.
He was, in fact, observed during this display. The trees and brush provided camouflage to those inside the sinkhole. They also hid anyone standing near the lip, and the big leaves provided many places where one could peer into the pit.
After Kohn left, swearing and crashing through the brush, two individuals stepped through the leaves and branches, hopping a bit down the slope of the pit.
One was another lizardman, but not a Ryzentyl; he was a T'skrang. Much more inclined to a semi-aquatic life than Ryzentyls, with a slighter but more nimble build and crests on their heads, they were not enemies of the Ryzentyls-however, the T'skrangs' numbers were decreasing lately, while the Ryzentyls' were growing, making them occasional rivals for resources. This particular T'skrang was a collector.
The second was a strange, hunched over lizardlike being, but without clothing or any appearance of civilized demeanor; he had an extra pair of limbs that seemed twisted and weaker than his hind legs, on which he walked, or his forelegs, which had rather clumsy hands. He stared at the ground as he walked, having led the other here. He seemed familiar with the area; the T'skrang's excitement at having reached their destination caused him to surge past his guide and into the nesting area.
"Excellent," the T'skrang said. "And seeing him here was all the proof I need. I wasn't sure that the egg your associate brought was really from someone like him-or more properly, hir. I can tell these are from the other clutch I recently purchased, but knowing they came from a hermaphrodite parent is another matter. But watching him, hir, whatever-that maternal instinct, that sense of anger and despair-they're definitely hirs. I'll pay your companion the agreed price." He unfolded a large sack and stepped toward the nest.
"There were...last minute...negotiations," the larger reptile said slowly, in a somewhat dull voice.
The T'skrang turned with a condescending sneer on his face. "I doubt he'd trust negotiations to YOU. I have to say, I'm surprised there are actually six eggs here after you told me that's how many there were-because I'm surprised that you can count that high. Maybe you're smarter than I thought." He stepped into the nest and picked up one of the Ryzentyl eggs and held it. Gazing at it, he said "And that friend of yours...selling out his own kind! All this is going over your head, of course. I doubt any of you could understand the deeper joys of a collection. Eh?"
He turned to grin at his guide, when the expression on his face suddenly changed to surprise. The six-limbed reptile had been advancing on him as he spoke, and there was someone else behind the lumbering brute: the business associate of whom he had just been speaking.
"I do understand the joys of a good collection, Kyroraz," the new arrival to the nesting pit said calmly. His voice was emotionless, but his face betrayed a struggle with nervousness. The T'skrang stared at him, trying to understand what he was doing here and to decipher the expression on his face.
"I understand precious things very well," he continued. "And speaking of collections, did you know that Hauke collects things also?"
Kyroraz turned and looked Hauke as he approached, the egg still in his hand. "What...what do you collect?"
"Statues," hissed Hauke, as he reared up and stared the T'skrang in the face.
"Z-Zabel! Help me! What is he..." Kyroraz's voice died down as Zabel walked forward, keeping his eyes averted while Hauke stared at the T'skrang.
Zabel sat in the nest, among his eggs, and called out "Kohn! You can come back now."
Several branches parted, revealing the other Ryzentyl, who joined Zabel near the nest. He watched Hauke, who was close enough to Kyroraz's face to give the impression of an intimate press of their scaly snouts. But their eyes were locked, Kyroraz was slowly inhaling while Hauke exhaled; a silvery mist, ephemeral and hard to spot, drifted between their nostrils, and Kyroraz's scales began to lose their color.
"It's almost over," Kohn whispered to Zabel. Watch his extremities, and when they start to turn totally grey, watch him exhale. That will be the end. But don't accidentally look at their faces!"
It began to take place while Kohn was speaking. Hauke glared all the while, staring into Kyroraz's eyes and never breaking contact. The T'Skrang flinched a few times, but once his final breath began to leave him, there was no motion at all save for one last blink. His clothes remained intact, as did the sack, and even the egg that was somewhat precariously balanced on his thieving hand seemed unharmed.
Kohn stood, and carefully approached from the side so as not to look into the basilisk's eyes, and took his egg from Kyroraz. "He isn't who I expected," he said to Zabel as Hauke settled down to all sixes, facing away from them.
"He was the first one I went to," Zabel said. "When you told me about your previous clutch being stolen, he was the first one who occurred to me. And when I brought him one as bait, he recognized your pattern. Oh, by the way-here it is." He reached into a sack of his own, and produced the missing egg. Setting it back among its siblings, he said "I think you overacted your part just a bit, but he was convinced." He smiled toward the statue.
Kohn looked over the statue, and then spit across the face of the thief. Acid etched its way into the stone, disfiguring it. "That's better than you deserve," the Ryzentyl hissed. He settled into the nest amongst his eggs, with his mate, and slowly stroked the feathered shoulders of the helpful basilisk.