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From: howell_g@kosmos.wcc.govt.nz
Newsgroups: alt.fan.furry
Subject: Story: Human Memoirs Part 11
Date: Wed, 14 Jun 95 23:01:01 +1200
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Human Memoirs Part 3 Section C
 
     When Rehr had said that the village of Singing Rock
was off the beaten track, he hadn't been kidding. One day
west by wagon, then another two and a half days on foot.
     The main road had been a joke, but this one . . .
     The parallel ruts someone had felt like calling a road
were overgrown with bushes and weeds, near nonexistent.
There were felled trees across the track, and in places
young trees were actually growing in the road. Getting a
wagon through that lot just wasn't worth it. The equipment
we needed we carted in on llama-back.
     Wary of 'bandit' activity in the area, Rehr had
provided us with an escort: fifteen Sathe troopers
altogether, all armed and all male. It was that time of
year, and a female coming into season could cause a few
problems amongst the troops. The commander was a Sathe I
already knew: the scarred veteran S'sahr.
     Singing Rock itself was a small village, self-
sufficient. With that road it wasn't surprising. The
buildings were mostly wood, just a few built from what
looked like fired clay bricks or adobe, arranged around a
larger central home. Streets were just dirt and dust,
riddled with rain-worn gulleys and ditches. Fields
surrounded the entire village, surrounded in turn by
forest, thinned by woodcutting and clearance for pastures.
Away on the edge of the fields a shallow river glittered
invitingly.
     It was late afternoon when we trooped into the
village, escorted by a few gawking cubs who had intercepted
us almost a kilometre out, alerted by their own information
network. Most of them had never even seen a Sathe soldier
before, let alone anything like me. Older Sathe  working in
the fields and around the village paused in their work. A
pair working at loading a kiln stopped their work,
exchanged some comments and began following us. There were
females, just a few who must have been in their last days
of estrus skittering nervously. I saw soldiers' heads turn
and nostrils twitch distractedly. Thankfully nothing more.
     The Clan lord met us at the door to his home in the
middle of the village; A big Sathe, just starting to turn
grey about the ears. He gaped at the procession in front of
his house.
     "My lord Scrai," S'sahr bowed his head. "We are here
at your call."
     "By my ancestors!" the Sathe lord scratched at his
heavy mane. "I did not expect they would send so many!"
     The three-quarter moon was creeping above the trees on
a ridge, huge and shining. Somewhere a wolf howled and was
answered with a more distant cry that wavered and echoed
between the hills.
     I shivered and tossed another branch on the fire that
burned outside the tent flaps. Beside me, a Sathe soldier
lying on his blanket muttered in his sleep and scratched
vigorously at a hitchhiker. Other tents were scattered
around in a rough circle, many of them with tired Sathe
sprawled asleep outside, taking advantage of the mild
weather.
     From where I was sitting, I could see other warriors
with more stamina enjoying themselves with the villagers.
Music and shouting drifted on the air. The incredible
silhouettes of Sathe weaved and bobbed in front of a
bonfire.
     There was a noise behind me; the sound of feet
rustling in grass. Five cubs - most of the small village's
complement of kids -  were standing half-hidden beside the
tent, staring at me.
     "Hi, Hello," I greeted them.
     They stared at me.
     "It is all right; I do not bite. See, I do not even
need a leash."
     They muttered and shifted, pushing each other forward
until one of them took a hesitant step. "S . . . sir, Lord
S'sahr wants to see you."
     "Oh? About what?"
     "I . . . I . . . I . . . I . . . " One of the others
hit him in the back and he blurted out, "I do n . . . n . .
 not know."
     Did the kid have a stutter? or was it just fear?
     "Alright, I will be right with you." I started pulling
on my boots. Their ears pricked up in surprise and they
watched in fascination as I tied the laces. "Lead on."
     S'sahr turned in his chair when I literally ducked in
through the door. "We have been waiting," he said simply.
     "I am sorry," I apologized.
     Lord Scrai, sitting opposite under a flickering
lantern, tapped the goblet he held with his claws and
invited me to make myself comfortable. He studied me for
some time before saying, "So you are K'hy . . . Honoured
S'sahr has told me why you are here . . . You can
understand me?"
     "Well enough, Sir."
     He stiffened and his tongue flicked at his lips like a
nervous little snake, "You speak very well."
     "Thank you."
     He cast a glance at S'Sahr, then leaned back and asked
me, "Do you really think that this animal could be another
 . . uh . . . another one of you?"
     "I had hoped . . . " I stopped, glancing down at my
clenched fists. I made a conscious effort to relax and
started over. "High one, I had hoped. I do not know for
sure, that is why I came; hoping to find out. Please, could
you tell me more about what has been going on?"
     "Most certainly. Ah . . .  we first saw it about four
weeks ago. A farmer heard something disturbing his stock,
he went to investigate and caught a glimpse of something
running across the fields. He thought perhaps it was a
Sathe, but the tracks he found were like nothing he had
ever seen before."
     "They would not still be there?" I asked hopefully.
     "Unfortunately not. We have had some heavy rain. They
were washed away," he said, lowering his ears in apology.
Of course they never thought to cover a couple.
     "Things also started to disappear. A farmer found that
some of his grain and meat stocks had gone, and also a
crossbow was taken, along with quarrels." The lord cocked
his head at me: "We are not wealthy and those things mean a
lot to the farmer that lost them. Does your kind steal a
lot?"
     I shrugged. "Sir, it would depend upon the
circumstances. If that is one of my people out there; he is
probably hungry, cold, scared," I remembered how I had felt
when I saw Traders Meet; that hollow feeling when the world
dropped out from under my feet, "and lonely."
     "There was something else as well," S'sahr scratched
his muzzle.
     "Yes . . . It was two nights before you arrived. A
wolf had killed a goat. The farmer who owned the animal was
in time to see the wolf dragging it into the forest. A
short time later there was a noise - like a small
thunderclap.
     "Several Sathe went to investigate the next morning.
They found the body of the wolf, the head had been split
open by something that had gone straight through it. The
goat had been dragged off and was nowhere to be seen. After
seeing what had happened to the wolf, they were reluctant
to follow the trail."
     Probably just as well.
     "They did find this." He reached into a pouch hanging
from his waist and pulled out a small object that flashed
dully in the light. He handed it to me. "Do you know what
it is?"
     I turned the small brass cylinder over in my hands. On
the baseplate, for all the world to see, there was a tiny
dimple and the legend 'FC 60 MATCH'.
     Someone was using a 9mm pistol round manufactured in
Wisconsin.
 
  ******
 
     All the Sathe were panting hard by the time we got to
the top of the ridge. S'sahr barked an order and there were
groans, but the troopers spread out keeping eyes open for
any traces or tracks. Way below us the village nestled in
the elbow of the river bend, looking like a model.
     "Good view, a?" S'sahr panted, his tongue lolling out
the side of his mouth. "You do not even look tired."
     They were fast, unbelievably so, but they little
stamina.
     I glanced at the swords and crossbows. "Perhaps if you
didn't have to carry those . . . "
     "There are things out here that do not like Sathe," he
grunted and turned to watch the Sathe troopers searching
the ridgeline, shading his eyes with his hands. "You heard
the wolves last night."
     "I would bet they like chasing Sathe." I grinned. In
joke: he wouldn't understand.
     "At a scent. Vicious creatures."
     "You have never tried to tame them?"
     He looked disgusted at the mere idea. "Tame them? What
for? They cannot pull wagons or ploughs. You cannot even
eat them! Stringy meat."
     Difference in priorities. Why would natural predators
need help?
     We kept moving, following the ridgeline looking for
tracks, leftovers, anything. It took a while, but finally a
warrior hit paydirt: "There is spoor here!"
     I scrambled across to where he was using a stick to
trace out a shoe-shaped impression in the dirt. He looked
up at me, "Sir, could you just put your foot here."
     I planted my foot where he indicated, right beside the
marks. He compared the prints. Whoever had left the tracks
was wearing sneakers. Reeboks.
     "Smaller than you are," the soldier said. "And quite
recent. Perhaps this morning. Obviously went off that way."
He pointed along the top of the ridge, in a southerly
direction.
     "Alright," S'sahr said. "Lead the way."
     The soldier glared at him, but complied. I wondered if
they had been hearing tales about the dead wolf. That would
make them a bit leery about charging around hunting for a
creature that could do that.
     The spoor crested the ridge, then started down the far
side of the hill, into a gully carved by a stream running
down to the river, almost hidden in the dappled shadows
beneath the overhanging trees. The Sathe tracker stopped to
examine the tracks where they appeared to cross the stream.
"These are more recent than I thought . . . a few hours at
most."
     He poked a stick at the tracks, measuring their depth,
then started poking around on the same side of the stream.
"Hah!" he grinned, showing an impressive array of dentures.
"Tried to fool us . . . look, you can see where he stood on
the rocks to hide the tracks." There were flakes of mud on
the rocks, and some looked like they had been moved, but I
wouldn't have spotted it if it hadn't been pointed out to
me. The tracks began again, heading upstream.
     S'sahr snorted and flicked his ears as a sandfly tried
to settle. "Looks like whoever it is does not want
company." He turned to the archers, "Load up."
     "Hey!"  They were cocking the bows. "No! What are you
doing! We are not here to kill him!"
     "And we are not here to sacrifice our lives," he
replied as he shifted his sword around. "K'hy, I put the
lives of my troops first. We will not do anything unless
our lives are threatened. All right?"
     I forced myself to think, to try and see it his way.
It wasn't easy; another human, so close!
     "All right," I reluctantly nodded.
     We pushed on. In some places we had to force our way
through heavy undergrowth, while in others we could walk
unimpeded on a carpet of pine needle between the huge
trunks of ancient conifers. The tracks turned into a
distinct path through the grass alongside the river.
     "Whoever it is comes this way a lot," S'sahr said and
pointed to a prominent footprint. "And he is not very
careful."
     "He is probably watching the village a lot of the
time," I replied. "From that ridge. It is the best place
around here."
     "See here!" A warrior called, pointing at something on
the ground a little way off the track.
     A rabbit was hanging dead in a nylon snare.
     "We may be getting close." S'sahr said. "I would not
put a trap too far from my camp. Cut that down and bring it
with us."
     One of the soldiers grabbed the cord and tugged,
trying to snap the deceptively thin string. Of course
nothing happened. He tugged harder.
     "Cut it," I suggested.
     He glared at the thin cord, but pulled out a small
utility knife and sawed through it, hanging the dead rabbit
from his belt.
     We walked for another fifty metres before the soldier
on point yelped and fell on his face. Cursing, he rolled
over and squinted at something like a thick spiderweb
stretched across the path at ankle height.
     "Plagues! What is it?" the soldier asked, squinting at
the fine stuff.
     I knelt down and squinted at it. "Fishing line. Well,
whoever it is, now he knows we are here." I flicked the
line with a finger, it was stretched taut, looped around a
tree-trunk and headed off in the direction we were going.
Probably tied to a bell of some kind
     Fifty metres down the track we found the camp. The
clearing at the edge of the river was broad and warmed in
the midday sun. A lazy breeze stirred the grass around the
wheels of the red Toyota SR5 pickup and stole the smoke
from the fire smouldering in front of the blue Alpine tent.
The wailing of a slide guitar sounded faintly from the cab
of the truck, but otherwise there wasn't a sign of life.
     "He knows that we are here alright," I muttered.
"Nobody around."
     "What about the noise from that thing," S'sahr
whispered, pointing at the truck with his sword pommel.
     I sighed. I wasn't about to try and explain stereos to
him at that time. "Don't worry about it. It is just a
machine making the noise . . . and will you put that goat-
sticker away!" I hissed at him. He stared at me, and
reluctantly sheathed his sword.
     "Thank you. Hold this," I handed him the M-16 then
pushed aside the bushes, stepping into the clearing.
     "Hi!" I shouted in English. "HEY! Anyone here?"
     I slowly walked across to the Toyota. From a
sophisticated stereo system in the dash came the voice of
Freddie Mercury, the almost operatic strains of the
Bohemian Rhapsody wailing above the sound of the river. I
reached in and punched STOP. The silence was deafening.
There was a Sathe crossbow in the footwell, a few books on
the dash: Ben Elton, Roget's Thesaurus, a college text on
Revolution and Triumph, a Shell road atlas. I popped the
glovebox: a flashlight, a box of 9mm shells: half empty.
Hmmm. A glance in the backseat and I saw the underwear.
     Scanty, lace.
     I swallowed:hard.
     "HEY! HELLO!" I stood in front of the truck and
scanned the edges of the clearing, seeing nothing but
leaves moving in the wind.
     "Hey! I know you're out there!" I called again. "It's
all right; I'm here to help."
     Nothing.
     "Listen. I can help you, but if you don't want it, I'm
out of here. Okay? Your choice."
     This time the shadows under an old oak moved.
     She stepped into the clearing.
     I'd swear my heart stopped. She. It was beyond
anything I could have dreamed of, the most beautiful thing
in this world. Short, almost on average with a Sathe, with
angular, elfin features, bright blue eyes contrasting
sharply with aburn hair.
     Those baby blues were staring at me over the barrel of
a pistol; incredible those small hands could hold a cannon
like that.
     "Hey! Hold it lady," I backed into the grill of the
truck, holding my hands in front of me. "I'm not armed."
     She slowly straightened, lowering the gun. I caught a
glimpse of the grip of another weapon tucked into the
waistband of her blue jeans and concealed by the bomber
jacket she wore. "God! At last. Where the hell have you
been?"
     "Huh? What?" That was not what I had expected.
     "I've been waiting for weeks for somebody to show up!"
she stormed over and jabbed a finger at my chest. "Do you
realize there's a town full of fucking ALIENS over there!"
She jabbed the gun in the direction of Singing Rock.
     I couldn't believe this.
     "What? Lady, I hate to break this to you . . . Do you
think we're . . . HEY!" I threw out my arms as the gun
pointed at me again.
     "SHIT! They're here!"
     Not me. Sathe were emerging from the bushes behind me,
S'sahr and the others. "NO!" I lunged, hitting her wrists
just as the pistol went off, the slug whining away into the
treetops. "No! Don't, dammit! They're . . . "
     That was when her knee came up, fast and well aimed
and I dropped like a rock.
     Doubled up on the ground, clutching myself and choking
on bile. Ohshitohshit . . . Phosphors exploded behind my
eyes, muscles went to jelly. Worse than torture. Blood
pounding in my ears, cries and screams that I scarcely
heard, closing my eyes and grasping my aching balls.
     "You are all right?" S'sahr knelt beside me, his sword
in hand.
     "Gnnnnnaggh . . . " I moaned.
     "What is the matter? You are hurt? Where?"
     Through gritted teeth I moaned, "Shit! Where do you
think! Oh, shitohshitohshit!"
     There were more of them around me while I lay there,
biting back the vomit. They didn't know what was wrong with
me, searching for a stab wound and finding nothing. When
they finally twigged to my problem I didn't get a whole lot
of sympathy. The minutes that passed before I could move
without threatening to toss my cookies they spent laughing.
As if my pride also needed bruising. Troopers grinned and
snickered as I limped across to where the soliders
surrounded the human girl lying crumpled face-down in the
grass with blood seeping into her hair. "She dead?" I
asked.
     "She? That is a female?" He looked at her again, "She
looks even stranger than you do . . . No, she is not dead."
     I sighed in relief.
 
******
 
     Lying in the shade of a sycamore tree, the girl
twitched in her sleep.
     Another one.
     The third human to drop in here since I'd arrived. The
third in a year. Why'd this link between the worlds choose
to start up now? How much longer was it going to continue?
Had this happened before in Sathe history? Maybe Humans had
come through before, long ago. If so, what had happened to
them? Were there any records or stories of strange animals?
Maybe some of the other Realms would know something. And
there were other continents. That thing, that portal,
whatever it was, seemed to like metal: First the truck,
then that helicopter crewman, now a pickup, one out at sea
the others scattered around on land.  Would there be more?
     If I said I wished there would be, would that be too
selfish? It's not a fate I'd want someone to wish on me. At
least now there was someone else, someone I could actually
talk to in my own language.
     I watched her, just trying to figure my emotions out;
On one hand I found her beautiful, but on the other, she
seemed wrong . . . alien. I'd been seeing only Sathe for so
long, they appeared to be the norm. This human girl didn't
have enough fur . . . hair, except for the thick crop of
wavy hair on  her head. The face was the wrong shape, and
those breasts . . .
     I sighed.
     She was beautiful, but strange . . . Much as Tahr had
seemed the first time I saw her.
     I turned my attention to the pair of firearms in my
lap. The one she'd had tucked into her waistband was a
Walther PPK automatic. The other one was a pistol I'd never
seen before.
     Heckler & Koch VP70Z, Made in West Germany, 9 9400 ts,
or so the stamp on the side read. Streamlined. The thing
had no right angles on it, just rounded metal and a
flowing, synthetic grip. No safety either. I buttoned the
magazine out and checked the rounds. 9mm. Eighteen of them.
When I hefted it, the gun felt solid in my hand and took
definite pressure on the trigger before the hammer clicked.
     I dropped the guns and stared at them. Why was she
packing artillery like this?
     She stirred and muttered something.
     I uncapped my canteen and cradled her head in my lap.
"Hey you alright?"
     She blinked up at me, still not focusing.
     "You took a nasty knock," I told her. "Here, try this.
It's just water." She groggily gulped the water, then her
eyes widened and she knocked the canteen out of my hand.
     "You bastard!" Nails slashed at my face. I ducked back
and caught her flailing wrists.
     "Cut that out! God's sake, I'm trying to help you."
     She struggled against my grip for a second, then
slumped back against the tree. I let her go and retreated a
couple of steps. She looked at me, then reached around to
touch the back of her neck, wincing. Then her face froze
when she saw the two Sathe guards watching us.
     "They won't hurt you," I assured her. She stared at
them, and they stared back. "Look, you can have these
back." I handed her the pistols, with their magazines out.
Grabbing them, she rammed the clips back into the wells and
actually cocked the weapons, then hesitated, glancing from
me to the motionless guards. Slowly she lowered the guns
and I could see the suspicion written all over her face.
     "Who the hell are you anyway?" she demanded.
     "My name is Kelly . . . Kelly Davies. From New York.
Pleased to meet you."
     "Maxine Wayne," she replied automatically. "What the
fuck is going on here?!"
     I shook my head. She really didn't know. "I don't know
exactly. Didn't you notice things were a bit . . .
different? What happened to you?"
     She shrugged. "I was camping out, just getting away
from home for a while. I don't know, I was driving at
night, on a back road looking for a campsite. There was one
hell of a weird lightning strike and I just about drove
into the river. The road was gone and everything was
different." She gestured at the wilderness around us. "I
waited around for days, but no-one came. I couldn't get
anything on the raido. I tried to walk out down the river,
until I found that . . . village. I was just about to walk
into it when I saw them. What the hell are they?"
     "They're called Sathe."
     "They bite?"
     "I told you they won't hurt you. You don't have to be
scared of them."
     She looked at the guards and at the other Sathe who
were resting in the sun, talking, looking in the Toyota's
windows. "Why? For Christsake, how could you not be scared
of things that look like casting rejects from The Howling?!
AND they shot me."
     "What?"
     "They shot me! I went down there to see if I could
scrounge up some food . . . Hey, I was starving, okay? I
turned a corner and just about  walked slap bam into one of
them. It tried to shoot me with a crossbow. It missed. I
ran before it could reload."
     I frowned. They hadn't told me about that. "You scared
the farmer as much as he scared you. They're really just
like humans . . . Well, some of the time."
     "How do you know? How long have you been here?"
     "I've been here about a year," I told her.
     Her nostril dilated as she sucked breath and there was
a hesitation. "A year?" I could see the panic building and
wished I'd kept my trap shut.
     "Yeah . . . Well, anyway it looks like we'll be
spending the night here. I think the commander would be
interested in meeting who he came all this way to find. His
name is S'sahr. Don't worry: he acts tough but underneath
he's really a pussycat."
     She wasn't amused.
 
******
 
     Several of the Sathe soldiers jumped backward with fur
bottling when the pickup's engine started up. S'sahr
himself nearly bolted, taking a couple of steps back with
teeth bared before composing himself.
     Through the windscreen I could see Maxine grinning at
their shock. The engine revved as she gunned it, then
inched it forward and down over the bank onto the solid
gravel beside the water. There she stopped and waited,
engine idling.
     "It is impossible!" S'sahr tried to assure himself.
     "No, it is a Toyota," I grinned.
     The ute moved down the river in midstream, its wheels
flinging water left right and centre as it powered its way
downstream. Over their initial shock the Sathe taking their
turn on the bed laughed and shouted ribaldry at the others
slogging their way through the water. They got used to the
truck quickly enough, and like most cats, Sathe aren't
overly fond of cold, running water.
     The sound of the engine carried. By the time we
arrived at back at the village, an armed reception
committee was waiting for us. Farmers armed with farm
implements and a few crossbows retreated as the truck
hauled itself out of the river, its wheels churning the
loam. Maxine parked on the edge of the village and turned
the engine off, then just sat there staring out the
windows. The truck rocked as Sathe leapt off the bed.
Outside, villagers were starting to gather around. "What
now?" she asked.
     "Stay close. They aren't going to hurt you."
     Sodden troopers gathered around us to escort us to the
village Lord's central house. Villagers gathered around to
stare at the pair of us while Maxine stared back, jumping
in alarm when a group of cubs scampered across in front of
us. Several farmers pushed through and started shouting at
S'sahr, demanding recompense for the damages done to their
stocks.
     I stood beside Maxine and S'sahr in the Lord's home.
Maxine was nervous, flinching as Scrai made a sudden
movement. Unconsciously, she pressed up against my arm.
"What's going on. Are they talking? What are they saying?"
she whispered, referring to the discussion going on between
Scrai and S'sahr.
     "S'sahr is telling the chief there that you didn't
mean any harm and that the Shir . . . Uh, the government
will reimburse for any damages done," I translated quietly.
"I'm afraid you caused a bit of a stir around here."
     She hung her head and shuddered. I could feel it.
     That night I lay awake in my tent, listening to the
snores of the Sathe around me.  After the day's activities
I was exhausted, but still had a buzz singing through me. I
couldn't sleep.
     The night air was cool on my bare skin as I pulled
aside the flaps of the tent. A Sathe inside stirred, rolled
over, and went to sleep again. A piece of wood dropped on
the dying embers in the fire soon burst into flame.
     Across the way was a dome-shaped tent; un-Sathe. An
electric lamp blazed steadily inside, a silhouette cast
upon the side of the tent: Maxine was sitting in the middle
of her tent, head in her hands. I think she was crying.
     The light went out after a few more minutes.
     "K'hy, " S'sahr quietly acknowledged me as he sat down
and looked across at the dark tent, then back at me. "What
are you doing?"
     "Nothing," I sighed.
     "You have been doing nothing for quite a while now,"
he said, his one ear tilted back. "Something the matter?"
     I picked up a stick and idly poked at the fire, then
in the direction of the dark tent. "She is . . . she is. I
do not know how to say it." I rubbed my face. "I have been
waiting for a year, and now . . . I do
not know. I feel as if I am whole again."
     "That sounds serious," he gave me an amused smile.
     "It is," I grinned back. "I never dreamed this would
happen . . . A female human."
     His claws gleamed black as they slid out. He clicked
them together softly. "She looks so different from you.
That fur and breasts," he cupped a hand over his chest to
emphasize and I also chuckled, " . . . and those eyes . . .
Do all female h'mans have blue eyes?"
     "No, there are other colours: greens, browns, greys .
 . "
     "It looks so . . . strange." He suddenly stared
intently at me. "Is she with child?"
     "What? . . . I doubt it. Why do you say that?"
     "Females' breasts grow when they are pregnant . . .
Sathe females to be more specific," he said. "H'man
females?"
     I shook my head, "I guess so, a little, but I did not
know about Sathe."
     He looked into that fire. "That is right," he
murmured, seemingly to himself. "Tahr has taught you, has
she not? . . . Yes, well she would not have spoken much
about that."
     I remembered the look in her eyes, the wildness, when
I asked her about Sathe childbirth. I shuddered. "She told
me never to ask a female Sathe about that. I found out
why."
     There was a moment's silence. "They change," he said
eventually. "I knew a man. He accidentally came across his
mate in the hayloft while she was giving birth . . . he
still has the scars."
     The scars across his own face stood out in the
firelight. I decided not to say anything, to change the
subject, "Tahr told me that you were her teacher once."
     "Huh . . . a long time ago. For her swordcraft. She
was still a cub."
     "What was she like?"
     He blinked,then smiled. "Mischief in fur. She was
everywhere she was not wanted and never where she was."
Emerald eyes turned to the stars, "I taught her how to hold
a sword, and she was a natural at it . . . which was just
as well. Every chance she had, she was down in the town
playing with other cubs.
     "I remember a particularly unsociable farmer who
caught them playing on his land. He punished several of
Tahr's friends," S'sahr grinned; half-humour, half-
something else. "He returned home from market one day to
find his house and barn had been painted the most hideous
shade of pink imaginable."
     "Tahr did that?!"
     "Nobody could ever prove it."
     "Oh, God!" I laughed. "That I cannot believe."
     "You have never played jokes? done something like
that?"
     I smiled at a memory, "Once, a long time ago."
     Senior high-school days, the end of term.
     There were always pranks played at that time of year.
It had come to be a sort of ritual; loved by the students
and feared by the teachers. Sticking the Head's furniture
to the ceiling, a car in the corridors, Cherry Kool-aid in
shower heads, crank phone calls. . . all those had become
mundane, we wanted to go a step better, bigger. . .
     The staff are probably still trying to figure out how
we got that bus onto the stage in the auditorium. After I
explained what a bus was, S'sahr laughed:
     "YOU playing jokes? Just the idea of you going to a
school is strange."
     "Sometimes we are not so different."
     There was a silence which S'sahr used to toss another
branch upon the fire. Sparks jumped.
     "Who was her mother?" I asked.
     "Ah . . . her mother." S'sahr gave a sad smile.
"Looking at Tahr, it is like seeing Saja in her youth all
over again: same eyes, fur . . . " He broke off and trailed
a finger in the sand, the clawtip drawing patterns I
couldn't see through the fire." She died when Tahr was at
the Manor . . . An illness that the physicians could not
cure."
     God, she would've only been in her mid twenties. Their
lives were so short, less than half a human life span. Not
even just a modern human life span: there was that guy back
in the eighteenth century who lived to one hundred and
thirteen. I would probably live to see the Sathe I knew
grow old and die, their children, and maybe even their
grandchildren.
     There were a few Sathe moving around the tents. Dark
shadows, their sibilant voices carrying even though they
spoke quietly.
     "I will have to do some teaching of my own," I said
absently.
     "Teaching whom?" S'sahr asked.
     "Maxine," I replied. "She will have to learn to speak
Sathe, to learn your ways. That will be difficult, I am not
sure of them myself. Just as I think I understand you,
something comes up to confuse me." I pursed my lips, "It is
not going to be easy."
     There was no sign of movement from her darkened tent.
 
******
 
     "A year!" Maxine Wayne didn't sound enthused. "You've
been stuck in this hell for a year?! Haven't you TRIED to
get out?"
     "Tried? Sure, how?" I rolled the smooth stone in my
hand, then snorted and hurled it. The rock skipped eight
times across the water  before vanishing into the bushes on
the other side of the river. I turned to Maxine. "What,
exactly, could I do? I don't have any more idea of how I
got here than you do!"
     Maxine dropped onto a rock and hugged her knee up
against her chest, biting on her knuckles.
     I swore to myself and felt like tearing my hair out.
Crouching down beside her I said, "Miss Wayne, I know what
it's like. Believe me. When I came here I had absolutely no
idea what was going on. It was pure fluke I was able to
make friends with a local. I had to learn everything
firsthand, including the language, the customs."
     "Tough shit!" she shouted. "That's supposed to help
me?!"
     "Look. It isn't that bad . . . "
     "Not that bad. . . Not that bad?! They don't even have
electricity for Christ's sake! You think I don't know my
history? I KNOW what medieval societies were like, and I
DON'T want to live the rest of my life in one!" Now she
clutched at her leg again, rocking back and forth. "And
they aren't even human, they aren't even fucking HUMAN!"
     After her outburst the countryside seemed quiet.
Distant birds still sang, the river flowed, lapping at its
banks. Smoke rose from chimneys in the distant village, the
traceries of smoke vertical in the crisp morning air. A few
farmers in their fields glanced over our way.
     And I could understand the girl's anger. She'd been
scared, disorientated, confused, now angry. I sympathised.
How had Tahr seen me those first weeks? The day we spied
Traders Meet? I'd been in much the same way.
     "I know," I said. "I know. I've been through it."
     "Why the hell should I go with you anyway?!" she
demanded. "Why shouldn't I just take off and find my own
way home?!"
     "If you really want to . . . "I waved a hand in a
sweeping gesture taking in the wilderness around us. "All I
can offer is a warm roof over your head and regular meals."
     But for how long?
     I didn't tell her about the dark clouds brewing over
the Gulf Realm.
 
******
 
     S'shar was a veteran warrior. He'd been in skirmishes
ranging in size and viciousness from simple brawls up to
full-blown battles. He had killed and had many an
opportunity to see his own blood.
     However the ride back to Mainport had him scared to
death.
     Along with another guard who'd been hyperventilating
in near-panic, he sat silent in the back seat, staring wide-
eyed out the window and digging his claws into the seat's
upholstery.
     The sight of the pair of them in their blue and silver
leather cuirasses and segmented kilts, strapped into human-
sized seats with seatbelts and surrounded by plastic,
glass, and rubber was incongruous to say the least. Hell,
it was downright bizarre.
     Already we had left the rest of the troops far behind.
They'd take two days to reach their wagons, but that rutted
track didn't pose too much of a problem for the pickup and
even though we had to take it carefully, we could still
travel much faster than foot infantry. Holding the truck
back to their speed would be tough on both the engine and
fuel consumption. There were two jerry cans of gas in the
back: both full. We didn't have to worry about running out
before making Mainport.
     Maxine was driving. She'd insisted and, well . . . it
was her truck. I glanced sidelong at her. Her window was
down a little, the breeze blowing through ruffling her
hair, her eyes hidden behind wraparound Bolli cycling
glasses tinted like oily water . She kept the vehicle on
the narrow, winding track with the languid ease born of
long experience. I wondered how old she was. I wondered
where she had come from.
     "You done ogling me yet?" Maxine asked dryly.
     "Huh? What?"
     "You've been staring at me for the past five minutes."
She frowned behind the glasses savagely worked the shift,
changing down.
     "Sorry," I said. "I was thinking."
     "I bet," she said. "You've been here a year. No women.
I bet you were thinking."
     "Hey! No!" I protested. "Not about that! I swear!"
     Ummm . . . well, not entirely about that.
     An eyebrow arched. "What then?"
     "Ah . . . who was first man on the moon?"
     "Armstrong, of course."
     Uh-huh. That fit.
     "Okay . . . What was Martin Luther King's famous
speech?"
     "'I have a dream'," she said instantly. "What is . . .
"
     "How many died in the Challenger disaster?"
     "Seven. Hold it soldier! What's with the Mastermind
routine?"
     "I was wondering whether your USA is the same one I'm
from."
     "Huh?"
     "You familiar with the parallel universe theorems?"
     "Other earths in the same place but not the same
universe, like in that TV series, what was it called?
Otherworld? Something like that." Her knuckles whitened on
the wheel. "I'd usually call it sci-fi crap . . . " she
dropped the sentence with a shrug.
     "This is earth," I said, waiting for a second for that
to sink in. "I've seen Sathe maps and the eastern United
States - that's all they've really charted - from Lake
Ontario down to the Florida Keys is pretty much identical.
Only difference is that here the big cats evolved."
     She was looking a bit white. Perhaps she should pull
over . . .
     "You sure it's the same?" she asked.
     "Miss Wayne. From where we're going you can look out
your window and see Long Island as it was before the
settlers."
     "Oh joy," she laughed bitterly. "And you think that we
could actually be from different worlds. Did my answers
satisfy you?"
     "No," I shook my head. "Not really. Your world could
be identical to mine in every respect but one. One tiny,
insignificant detail. Hell, you could be from a world where
I never got into this mess in the first place!"
     "Or perhaps I'm just dreaming all this," she said.
     "Want me to pinch you and see?" I asked.
     The glasses turned my way, like a tank turret
traversing. I couldn't see her eyes but I could imagine a
glare fit to freeze methane.
     "Sorry," I flashed her a smile in return.
     She didn't answer. Instead she reached over to the
stereo, turned a dial, and pressed PLAY. I found myself
busy trying to stop our Sathe passengers from bailing out
as Joe Satriani began blasting the cab with quadrophonic
sound. Surfing with the Alien: appropriate.
 
******
 
     We passed though two more settlements on the way back
to Mainport. Neither was large, little more than villages.
Too small to warrant walls.
     Of course we drew stares as we passed. Villagers -
farmers and merchants and tradesmen - gaped as the ute
slowed to a crawl to pass through their hamlets. Even cubs
were reluctant to trail behind us.
     Each time we left the boundaries of the towns Maxine
would put her foot down in a surge of acceleration. I
noticed her face: chalk-white, jaw set so rigid the tendons
in her neck stood out.
     Damnation! this would be even harder for her than it
had been for me! I'd travelled with Tahr for weeks before I
stumbled across that first Sathe town. I'd had time to
acclimatize. Here she was, barely twenty four hours since
learning what had happened, travelling through three alien
townsteads, soon to come to a capital where Sathe numbered
in their thousands.
     How would she handle that?
     Finally we topped one last rise, the one where so long
ago I'd caught my first glimpse of Mainport.
     Mainport sat beside the bay on the point that had been
Staten island, the towers of the Citadel looming over it.
Massive guardians of granite. Several errant beams of
sunlight flickered through the heavy cloud, spearing down
upon the town and spotlighting it in patches of shifting
light.
     "That's it?" Maxine finally asked after a stark
silence
     "That's it," I confirmed.
     "Jesus," she finally said, staring at the sprawling
edifice and the dark skies behind it. "Is Dracula in?"
 
 ******
 
     I knocked on the door and waited. There was no reply.
I tried again, "Ms Wayne?" I called in English. The two
Sathe guards looked curiously at me.
     There was another pause, then the latch clicked. I
pushed the door open. Maxine was backing away from the
door. Before she turned away I saw her eyes.
     "You've been crying."
     She sank down on the sofa in front of the cold fire. I
crouched down on the floor beside her, "Hey, you've only
been here a day. I felt the same way when I first arrived.
You get used it."
     "How?!"  She grabbed my shoulder. "How the hell can
you get used to them?!"
     "That's what really bothers you? The Sathe?"
     She nodded.
     I gently took her hand. She made no move to pull it
away; glad for the human contact. The bare skin felt . . .
strange. "Listen, Ms Wayne. They're not bad, not at all. In
some ways they're a lot like us . . . only hairier."
     She only shook her head.
     "You know, you're going to have to make a start on the
language. You'll at least have me here to help, I had to
learn on my own."
     "Why are there guards outside the door?" she muttered.
     "I've got them too. They're there for our protection.
Look, there are some things I'll have to tell you about the
situation here . . . "
     But I didn't have a chance to, there was a scratch at
the door. "Who is it?" I called in Sathe.
     "Tahr . . . may I enter?"
     I looked at Maxine. "It's a Sathe called Tahr. She's
the . . . umm . . . I guess you'd have to call her the
queen." I grinned weakly. "Pun not intended . . . Can she
come in?"
     Maxine looked scared, then swallowed. "I guess I have
to get used to them sometime . . . It's not a bad dream is
it."
     "'Fraid not."
     Tahr moved slowly, keeping her hands in sight, as if
she were dealing with a skittish animal. If she was trying
to make a good first impression, she probably succeeded:
Finely woven green and blue cotton breeks came down to the
top of her calves, an intricate golden armlet wound around
her upper-right arm; two lengths of gold, winding and
entwining around each other, embracing a dark blue opal.
The silver earring she habitually wore glinted as her ear
flicked.
     "She's always been a snappy dresser," I confided to
Maxine.
     Maxine blinked at me, then stared at Tahr. "Do I have
to bow or something?" she asked as Tahr slowly sat down in
a chair opposite her, drawing her legs up so they were
curled under her.
     "No, she's a friend," I replied.
     "F'nd," Tahr echoed, trying an english word she knew.
     The two females stared at each other across a gulf
that was far larger than the couple of metres physically
separating them. Finally Maxine broke the silence: "Can I
touch her?"
     That surprised me a little. I asked Tahr and she
mutely nodded; a human gesture Maxine could understand.
     Kneeling, Maxine reached out and gently touched Tahr's
wrist, running her fingers through the fur on her arm.
"Soft," she murmured. "But not like my cat back home."
     Tahr lifted her other arm. Maxine just bit her lip as
a clawed fingertip moved toward her face and traced her
jawbone. "She has no face fur like you do," Tahr said;
puzzled.
     "That is quite normal," I smiled.
     Tahr's hand moved down. Gently she touched one of
Maxine's breasts. Maxine stiffened, pulling back slightly.
"Hey!"
     "Tahr," I touched her shoulder. "Don't. Not there."
     "Oh," The Sathe dropped her arm. "Sorry."
     Maxine looked down at herself. "What'd she do that
for?"
     "Curiosity. They don't have the extra padding . . .
She said she's sorry."
     "Oh."
     There was another uncomfortable silence while the two
females stared at each other.
     "Is she comfortable?" Tahr asked. I translated.
     "Well, she wonders where her possessions are. She
would like to have a change of clothes."
     Tahr looked at the dirty and worn denims and shirt
Maxine was wearing, "We can give her breeches. Satin. And a
cloak."
     "I think she will want her own clothes. She will want
to keep her breasts covered. Custom."
     "Oh," Tahr said. Then: "I will have them sent up
here."
     I passed that on to Maxine. She looked a bit relieved,
"At least they don't lose the luggage . . . Can I get
cleaned up as well?"
     I grinned. "Well, that's one luxury you won't have to
go without. They've got baths here. Hot springs actually.
Sort of a cross between a swimming pool and a jacuzzi.
Better than some motels."
 
******
 
     Maxine had gone off for her bath, guided by her guards
who had orders that nobody was to go into the baths while
she was in there. They had accepted their orders deadpan.
They would have time later on to wonder at our weird
idiosyncrasies.
     "Do you think she will be able to adapt?" I asked
Tahr.
     Tahr clicked her claws together. "You managed."
     "I am not her. She seems so . . . uncomfortable with
Sathe around."
     "Give her some time." Tahr stretched. We were in the
corridor near my rooms, and she leaned up against one of
the walls, heedless of the ancient and expensive tapestry
draped there. "A year ago, you were very hesitant to touch
me."
     "A year ago you were ready to claw my eyes out if I
came too close!"
     Tahr's ears drooped sadly, but her eyes were laughing.
She reached out and cuffed me lightly on the cheek. "But
you have managed to change . . . H'rrasch is a very
surprised and pleased male indeed. Some of those things you
showed me can be used on a Sathe."
     Laughing, she nudged me as I blushed.
     "I must thank you for introducing us. He is a most
charming person, although, like you, he is a bit shy."
Still grinning in good humour, she disappeared off down the
corridor with a spattering of claws.
     Oh God. I stood in the middle of the corridor and
watched her leave, running my fingers through my hair. If
Maxine found out about us, then it would really hit the
fan.
     Absorbed in the ramifications of this, I automatically
lit a taper from a lamp in the hall and carried it through
to light the oil lantern that hung in my room. Sitting down
at the desk, I absently leafed through the papers I had
left there over a week ago, then paused at one particular
sheaf.
     On the flip side of the sketch I had done of Tahr,
there was another picture, one I hadn't done. Despite the
odd bone structure, the oversized eyes with slightly oval
pupils, the hair that looked more like fur, the picture was
unmistakably of me.
 
******
 
     I shook my head, sending beads of sweat flying from my
face, then crouched back behind my shield and squared off
with Remae.
     Panting, she held her scimitar upright in front of
her, both hands clasped around the hilt. Luck was the only
reason I'd been able to hold off her last onslaught. I'd
improved a lot, enough that we were using real blades that
would really hurt, but not nearly enough to make it an even
match. "Had enough?" she managed between pants.
     "Not likely," I gasped back.
     "Your face is leaking water."
     "Careful you do not trip over your tongue," I
retorted.
     She grinned, then her gaze went over my shoulder and
she stood up, lowering her blade. "Is that your female?"
     Sure enough, Maxine was sitting on the grass, watching
me and trying out her limited Sathe on the guard beside
her.
     In turning my head to watch her, I almost lost it.
Remae's sword hit my shield and stuck in the wood for an
instant, giving me the time I needed to recover.
     "Dirty trick," I swallowed as we faced off again.
     "Old trick. Foolish to lower your guard." She fleered
her lips back in a full grin and came at me again.
     For a few seconds we bandied back and forth, my shield
turning her tricky blows and her superb blade work
redirecting mine. Moving to dodge the shield as I shoved it
at her, she made a stupid mistake, brushing against my arm.
She yelped as I grabbed and swung her around, holding her
in a firm half-nelson with my sword at her throat.
     "Now," I grinned. "Had enough?"
     There was a sudden stinging pain in my stomach. She
craned her head around and grinned at me, needle-sharp
teeth gleaming. "Look down," she suggested.
     I did: "Shit!  Where did that come from?"
     In Remae's left hand was a slim dagger, its tip
digging through the cloth just below the edge of my armour.
"A draw?" she suggested.
     While tucking the dirk back into its sheath under her
skirt she reamed me out for what I had done. "Any good
warrior carries more than one weapon, and is not afraid to
use it . . . My ancestors, with your thin skin, I would
have been able to shred you with my bare claws. K'hy,
never, NEVER try to hold a Sathe like that! She could gut
you before you knew what was happening."
     I wiped my brow and unlaced my cuirass, hauling it off
over my head. My tunic was drenched, dark sweat-stains
under the arms and across the back. I bundled my weapons
and armour together while Remae finished her tirade.
     Maxine was looking confused when I dropped down beside
her. That was the first time she had seen me practising . .
 probably the first time she'd ever seen a sword fight.
     "Hey, it's only practice," I reassured her as I
flopped back on the grass. A pair of seagulls were
promenading along the balustrade that ran around the
perimeter of the balcony garden, watching us with beady
eyes.
     "Only practice?" Maxine brushed her hair back and
looked across at the Sathe Marshal. "It looked like you
were trying to kill each other. How often do you do that?"
     "First time for a while, Ms Wayne. I need the
practice."
     "Max," she said.
     "What?" I squinted at her, the sun in my eyes.
     "My name. Call me Max." She was watching the seagulls
watching us.
     "Oh . . . Okay then; Max it is," I nodded.
     "Who's that cat you're fighting with anyway? It came
to my rooms the other day, just to stare at me."
     " 'It's' a she. Remae. She a sort of military liason
to the Shirai."
     "You've got friends in high places."
     "Yeah, one's a window cleaner on the Empire State."
     She grinned, then asked, "Why's she doing it? I'd have
thought she'd have better things to do than give fencing
lessons."
     I shrugged. "Dunno. I guess you could say she's got a
vested interest in me. Someone said I'd never be any good
with a sword. She's trying to prove him wrong."
     "Was he?"
     "Well, she can still kick my ass most of the time," I
confessed and looked around to see just where Remae was.
She had her kit rolled up and was just leaving. I returned
her parting wave just as a servant in messenger livery
sprinted up to her, throwing a salute as he passed a scroll
over.
     Remae popped the seal. The messenger was dismissed
with a casual wave of her hand.
     "Davies? What is it?" Max was asking me.
     "Just a sec," I shushed her.
     Remae read the note, then read it again, then she
seemed to cave in.
     "Remae?" I called.
     She didn't even notice. With the scroll dangling
forgotten from her hand, she walked over to the carved
stone railing and collapsed against it, shoulders bowed.
     "Oh Jesus!" I muttered to Maxine as I scrambled to my
feet. "Something's happened."
     Remae didn't answer when I spoke her name, but she
flinched when I touched her shoulder. "Remae?"
     Her claws actually left scratches on the granite
balustrade, one of them snapping. She held her hand up and
dully watched the blood start to flow from the stub.
"Gone," she whispered, then turned wounded eyes on me: "It
is gone . . . all gone."
     "What is?"
     She just handed me the scroll. I held it helplessly,
the complex symbols meaningless. "Remae, I. . . I cannot
read this."
     Her muzzle twisted in a snarl, then she began telling
me.  Hunter's Moon . . . A small town in the southern
Eastern Realm, near the upper reaches of the Borderline
River. It wasn't that much, just rural community, not even
on the main trade routes. All it had to warrant the
presence of the small garrison was its value as a border
post. It was also Remae's hometown. Her Clan home.
     Was her Clan home. The attack had razed it. The
garrison barracks had burned, along with most of the town.
Most had died, only a few escaped to the surround hills . .
 just a few. The rest, the males, females, cubs were
slaughtered.
     Remae's home, her clan and family.
     Under Maxine's uncomprehending and shocked gaze, I
held the Eastern Marshal close while she shook.
 
******
 
     Tahr was sitting at her desk, head buried in her
hands. She looked up when I came in.
     Without saying anything I walked over and unslung my
rifle, dropping it with a clatter on the desk in front of
her. "There are more weapons. I can get them. I can train
Sathe in their use."
     She didn't seem at all surprised. "What made you
change? Something to do with Remae's misfortune?"
     I didn't say anything.
     "Or maybe now you have something else to protect . . .
Hmm?" If she'd had eyebrows, they'd have shot up.
     "Tahr, I do not like what I am doing, but under the
circumstances I believe it is the right thing. What
happened to Hunter's Moon will happen again. I know that I
can help prevent it."
     "Why did you not tell me this earlier?"
     "I had hoped that you would be able to settle matters
at the conference table."
     Tahr tucked her legs up. "So far, I am sorry to say,
that has come to very little. The Gulf Realm is prepared
and we are not and they know it. Of course they are not
passing up such a chance." She sighed and turned back to
the assault rifle on the desk: "Where are these weapons?"
     "About two days walk from where we met. I would have
to go along to find them. Nobody else would have a hope."
     "That is quite a journey," Tahr said. "Long - and with
all the trouble brewing - dangerous. Are you sure that you
have to go?"
     I shrugged. "As I said, nobody else could find that
place, it would be like looking for a needle in a
haystack."
     "Cute metaphor. A h'man proverb?"
     "Yeah ," I sighed. "Also I have a promise to keep."
     "A promise?"
     "Just something I said I would do for a friend," I
said. "A long time ago."
     "What? You are referring to the other h'man? Your
friend?"
     "Yes."
     She looked puzzled. "He is dead, is he not?"
     I nodded slightly. Even after this time, thinking of
Tenny touched a sore spot. "Tahr, it is my business. Our
way of showing respect for the dead. I really do not want .
 . I think it would be best not to discuss it."
     "Huh." Tahr was confused, one ear canted back. She was
silent a moment, then shook her head and huffed again.
"Very well. You said something about training Sathe?"
     I told her what I needed: A dozen intelligent Sathe
who were capable with crossbows and willing to take orders
from me. No xenophobes. I also wanted to take them on the
journey to collect the hardware; it would give them time
both to become accustomed to me and to get used to using
the weapons."
     "A tall order," Tahr studied me, a claw tapping on the
desk, then she smiled. "Very well. You shall have them."
     An hour later, I was wandering the corridors on my way
back to my room. Even though I had become a familiar sight
around the Keep, Sathe still spotted me from a distance and
either found another route to their destination, or decide
that it wasn't really worth going to in the first place.
     Damnation! The guns again . . . Was there any other
option? I had weighed the choices  - few enough of them -
and made my decision.
     Giving Sathe gunpowder was out.
     The modern weapons they could use, but they couldn't
copy them. The machining was beyond them and the ammunition
was a far cry from primitive blackpowder. I doubted that
even the Sathe - despite their surprisingly advanced
chemists - could duplicate it. Perhaps they could find a
substitute: compressed air, springs, maybe develop their
own powder, but I'd be damned if they'd get any help from
me.
     Distracted, I recoiled in shock as a strange figure
abruptly rounded a corner before me.
     "Kelly!" Maxine spotted me and her face lit up.
     "Christ, Ms . . . Max," I caught a breath to settle my
heart, then smiled. "Lost, eh?"
     "Hey!" She looked dour. "It's not funny."
     "No, sorry. You're right. It's easy to do," I
sympathised. "Here, I'll walk you back."
     After a time, she spoke. "What was going on today?
Between you and that . . . Sathe? She's important isn't
she?"
     "She's a friend who's hit hard times," I said. "She
needed someone."
     "I'll bet," Maxine muttered.
     I stopped and glared at her. "Ms Wayne. She is one of
the only friends I have got here, one of the ones who
actually LIKES me." My voice was rising. "Today she just
found out that her home town was burned to the ground. Her
family, all of them, dead! Alright?!"
     "Hey!" she protested. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
     "You . . . " I began, then broke off. "No . . . You
couldn't."
     We continued in silence.
     And I had something else to worry about.
     Despite her denial, I'd heard the disapproval in her
voice. She was a borderline xenophobe. If she reacted like
that over a simple hug, then what would happen when she
found out about Tahr and I?
     I glanced sidelong at her. Aburn hair and smooth,
hairless face and breasts. Petite nose, wearing human
clothing: worn and faded blue jeans, printed sweatshirt,
leather bomber jacket with the Eagles' logo stencilled
across the back.
     Could she change? Could she accept their ways? Could
she learn to see Sathe as people beyond their fur and
claws? Damnation! She had to!
     My footsteps flagged as we approached a staircase. I
stopped. "You'll know the way from here," I told her.
"Straight ahead, second on the left, first on the right,
then up the stairs."
     "Hey!" She called after me as I started down the
stairs. "Wait up! Where're you going?"
     I stopped and turned. "I, Ms Wayne, am going to go
down to Mainport to find a certain establishment I know of
where I intend to get myself totally and absolutely
pissed."
     "It's been one of those days,huh?"
     "You said it."
     "Mind if I tag along?"
     That got me. I blinked at her, "You sure you want to?
I mean, the place will be full of cats."
     She grinned. "And you think I'm prejudiced."
     "Do I?"
     She stuck her hands on hips and cocked her head:
"C'mon!"
     "I had wondered," I confessed, then grinned back at
her. "Alright. You're on."
     "You'll have to buy," she said. "They don't take Visa,
do they."
 
******
 
     The massive rafters of the Red Sails were low, with
wisps of cooking smoke winding their way around the hanging
oil lamps. The warmth in there was a pleasant change from
the chilling night wind blasting its way through the
streets outside. The smell of mingled food and Sathe was
something you had to get used to.
     It was a busy night. With nothing else to do many
Sathe chose to while away the evenings down at the local
watering hole and the basement room hissed to the sound of
conversation and the chanting of a Sathe bard weaving a
story about the hopeless affair between two lovers from
different Realms. Over behind the bar the female bartender
had caught my eye as I came in and flashed me an
unmistakable wink that I prayed Maxine didn't notice.
      Many were the times Sathe patrons turned in their
chairs to stare at Maxine and I sitting at a table in a
secluded alcove with a single lantern hanging above it.
Some of those patrons knew me from the last time I had been
in there; they didn't pay us much attention, but the
newcomers really had something to gawk at.
     "Don't stare," I told Max after a mouthful of ale.
"It's not polite."
     "Don't stare?" She reached for a knife and fork that
weren't there, scowled, then resorted to her fingers. "I
can't believe you can be so blase about this. God, it's
unreal. Salvador Dali would have had a ball here." She
sniffed the food: "And this meat is almost raw."
     I pointed the way to the kitchen. "You can complain to
the chef if you like, but don't be surprised if he decides
to make you into a side dish. You're lucky you don't have
to hold your meal down on the plate. That's the way they
like their meat."
     Again she glared at the platter, then resignedly
picked up a rib and began working at it with juice running
down her chin.
     "Hi, K'hy."
     I jumped at the english greeting. The dun-furred
bartender, the one with whom I'd had my one night stand,
stood by our table wiping a tray with a towel that looked
like it could do with a little burning. She flicked me a
smile. "You come by without stopping to spare some
greetings? You wound me, K'hy."
     I grinned at that. "Sorry, but there was a mug of ale
with my name on it. Anyway, you looked busy."
     The female smiled and grinned back, like a piranha
trying to be friendly. She had learned a lot from me in
that one night. "Hah! Excuses! I will always have time for
you, K'hy. Now, who is your friend? Not very talkative."
She peered curiously at Maxine. "She, is it? Your mate?"
     "Ah . . . no," I hastily corrected. "I mean, she is a
female, but she is not my mate."
     She looked surprised. "Then there is another female
like that around here?"
     "No," I admitted. "But . . . "
     "Ah!" she swatted me on the arm. "Then with the way
you react to sex with Sathe, I think you do not have much
choice!"
     "Very funny!" I fumed. Thank God Max couldn't
understand.
     She laughed. "I trust the Shirai was not too harsh on
you after last time."
     I shook my head. "I think I managed to get away with
it," I said, then glared at her. "You have not been
spreading stories?"
     "I? No. I gave my word, did I not?"
     Yeah, she did. I only hoped I could hold her to it.
     "Kelly ," Maxine interrupted me in english. "What's
going on? Who is this? "
     "Just a second, " I told her. "She's a friend."
     Maxine looked up at the Sathe who stared back at her,
then twitched her ears.
     "I have never seen anything with blue eyes before,"
said the Sathe. "Is that the way you talk? How can you make
those sounds?"
     "Believe me, it is much easier than speaking your
way," I said. "I sometimes wonder how I make THESE sounds.
That can really dry you out."
     "Ah, a not-so-subtle way of saying you need another
drink. Very well," she flashed an overdone genuflection and
a grin and vanished back into the crowd.
     Maxine had a peculiar look on her face. "Who the hell
was that?"
     "She works here," I explained vaguely. "I met her last
time I down in town."
     "She seemed to like you."
     "Ummm," I nodded and toyed with my near-empty mug. How
clean did they keep things here? I'd bet my eye-teeth there
wasn't a health inspector. Things probably went on in those
kitchens that'd have one tossing his cookies in the back
alley.
     Maxine frowned and pushed the dish away. She propped
her chin up with her fist, elbow resting on the table-top
that had been scarred by hundreds of sets of claws. "What
happened, Kelly? What's going on here?"
     I looked at the food on her plate. "Finish that. They
don't chuck stuff out here. It's not the Waldorf you know,
but the food cost about the same. Now what are you talking
about?"
     "That cat . . . "
     "Sathe."
     "Whatever . . . up at the castle, when you hugged her.
Also all the soldiers around the place, the crossbows and
swords being forged. What's going on?"
     "Oh, shit. Complicated." I sighed and watched the
dregs of ale in my mug as they turned lazy circles. Then I
started to try and explain the situation she had fallen
into; about the fine balance of power between the five
Realms and the weight that was trying to tip that balance;
the Gulf Realm.
     She listened attentively, but I could see that she was
confused about some points . . . as was I. Rubbing my eyes,
I was just about to launch into an explanation of the
Sathes' low population growth when activity at the steps
that led down to the basement tavern caught my eye.
     Someone had just come in, and was receiving a welcome
much like the one Max and I had got. A wake of silence
marked the black-cloaked figure's progress between the
tables, then she was standing in front of us.
     "Hymath." I swallowed, my finger tightening on the
trigger of the M-16 under the table. "You are the last
person I expected to see around here."
     She held her hands in front of her, in clear view.
"May I sit down?" she asked.
     Maxine made a choked noise when I set the M-16 on top
of the table, so Hymath was staring down the muzzle. "I
should repay your favour and drill you full of holes . . .
"
     She didn't even blink. "I want to explain."
     I stared at her. That female could easily have killed
me that night . . . I clicked the safety on and set the gun
down. "Sit."
     Hymath glared at the watching Sathe around us. They
hastily averted their gaze and business in the tavern went
back to normal. She snagged a chair and sat down. "I am
glad to see you are still alive . . . I did not know had
badly I had hurt you. There was a lot of blood."
     I nodded. "I have a few new scars to remember you by.
So, why did you do it?"
     "K'hy, you have made yourself some powerful enemies."
She tossed her head, throwing the black hood back. "I was
only doing my job."
     There was a pause during which the bartender stepped
forward to place a mug of ale before me, grab my empty one,
then hastily retreat without so much as a word. Now THAT
wasn't like her. She was as wary of Hymath as the rest of
the surrounding Sathe, as if the Scirth warrior was someone
none of them wanted any truck with. I took a sip of honeyed
ale before asking, "Your job. Meet interesting people, then
kill them, ah?"
     She looked pained at that. "I do what I am paid to do.
No Scirth Warrior makes many friends, but the ones we do,
we would never deliberately harm them. I did not know it
was you"
     While I was digesting this, she turned to Maxine who
probably had been able to follow only a word in fifty,
maybe less. "Who is this?"
     I hesitated, then introduced them to each other. "A
female?" Hymath asked.
     I nodded: she was a Sathe who could understand that.
     "Strange . . . blue eyes," the mercenary mused.
     I tried to find out who had set her on to me, but she
confessed that she herself did not know. A masked
intermediary had given her half her fee in advance, the
rest forthcoming when she had completed her assignment. She
had never tried to find out the identity of her client. I
wondered that they would not try to cheat her.
     "Nobody would cheat a Scirth Warrior," was her
response, as if that explained everything. "K'hy, I know
apologies cannot really make a difference, so perhaps this
will help."
     I tensed as she reached inside her cape, but all she
produced was a small, silver circlet that she tossed onto
the table where it rolled to a stop before me. "A gift.
Take it."
     I took the trinket: a small earring made of silver;
intricately woven silver threads that wound around
themselves, all coming together in a tiny silver Sathe's
head. "What is it?" I asked.
     The answer she gave me didn't translate. She had to
elaborate: "If you ever have trouble that you cannot handle
yourself, show this to any Scirth Warrior. They will do
what they can to help you." She reached over the table and
cuffed me lightly on the cheek, then she was gone into the
crowd.
     "What was that about?" Maxine was asking.
     "Huh?" I rolled the ring in my fingers, then tucked it
into a pocket. "Oh, just an old friend."
     "Another?" her eyebrows arched. "Female also . . . You
must be popular."
     "Let's just say I stand out in a crowd," I said. "I
think we've attracted a bit too much attention around
here."
     If Hymath could learn of our whereabouts in Mainport,
probably just from local scuttlebutt and word of mouth,
then anyone else could also find us. Maybe they wouldn't be
as friendly. "Finish your meal." I told Max. "I think we'd
better make tracks."
     "Why? Something wrong?"
     "I hope not," I said.
     I held the door open for her as we ducked out onto the
street. The moon had hidden itself behind a cloud, and the
Sathe who passed spared us only a glance as they hurried to
wherever it was they were hurrying to. Nobody followed us
outside and there didn't seem to be any untoward interest
in us, so I relaxed a bit. Perhaps that should've alerted
me in the first place.
     "This place is incredible," Maxine said, rubbernecking
at the buildings. "It's just like the small places in
France and England, without the street lighting of course."
     "You've been there?"
     "Sure."
     "Oh. That's something I'd been wanting to do. Never
had the cash though."
     "My parent's paid for most of it."
     "Well off?"
     "Pretty much. Daddy's the managing director of
Integrated Solutions."
     "Oh, yeah. . . Integrated Solutions. Never heard of
it."
     "What?" She blinked at me. "You don't know anything
about software? Computers?"
     I shrugged. "Not really."
     "Oh," she looked somewhat surprised. "Well, anyway,
it's a big company, so we've got the money to travel."
     I shouldered the rifle. "Lucky. I wanted to see
Europe, but the money always seemed to go to more important
things . . . You know: college books, food, gas . . . Hey,
but not many people can say they've had the chance to see
another world."
     "Who're you going to tell?"
     "Good point. So what's Europe like?"
     We turned off into a side street, the Citadel visible
above the rooftops at the end of it. "The big places like
Paris and London are nothing really special," she said.
"They got some attractions, but after a while they all look
the same: big and dirty. You know, not much different from
Chicago, except the buildings are older. But the  small
European towns, they're really something you shouldn't
miss. There's a place in Normandie, that's in France, Mont
St. Michelle. It kind of looks like the  . . . do you have
any other friends that you might bump into tonight?"
     "What? No, I don't think so. Why?"
     She stopped suddenly and turned around, peering at the
shadows. "I think we're being followed."
     I stopped to look and saw nothing. Nevertheless I
tightened my grip on the rifle strap. "You're sure?"
     "Uh . . . I thought I heard something." She looked
doubtful.
     The darkness of the narrow uphill street with its low
steps, dim light gleaming from wet cobblestones, the
occasional black slit of an alleyway. If there was anything
there, I couldn't see it.
     "Don't worry about it," I told her, trying to reassure
her. "It's probably some drunk trying to sneak in the back
 . . Unghhh!"
     I didn't get to finish my sentence when something
struck me across the back hard enough to send me sprawling
face down in the muck on the street with lights exploding
behind my eyes. Hands were trying to pull the rife away. I
grabbed at the strap in desperation, the Sathe at the other
end drawing his sword and swinging. I rolled. The blade
struck sparks from the cobblestones beside me, but he
wouldn't miss a second time.
     I hauled back on the webbing, toppling him off-
balance. On his way down his head met my boot going up.
There was a wet crack and he dropped like a stone.
     A Sathe was levelling a crossbow at me.
     Gunshots slammed through the narrow street. The archer
squalled and went over backwards. The Walther in Maxine's
hands looked huge. It cracked and bucked again; a howling
Sathe with raised sword doubled over clutching his guts,
the sword clattering to the street.
     More Sathe, bolting from alleyways, some snarling and
sprinting toward us. Maxine was pulling the trigger again
and again and again, shifting from one Sathe to another,
the retorts blending into a single roar in the narrow
alley. Running Sathe twitched and fell under the impact of
the 9mm rounds.
     I grabbed the M-16, locked and loaded in one move.
Kneeling, I fired from the hip, hosing at Sathe figures
milling in confusion. Muzzleflash strobed in the darkness,
the hammering of the rifle and cracking of the pistol
merging and rolling of the alley walls in a roar that could
probably be heard on the other side of the city.
     Finally there were no more targets.
     Maxine and I were back to back in the darkness. I
could feel her gasping air. My own nostrils burned with the
stink of hot brass, lead, and propellant. Faint groans and
mewlings sounded in the darkness.
     There was a scratching of claws on cobbles at the far
end of the street and a single Sathe darted from the
doorway he'd been hiding him. He made it to the end of the
street before the pistol cracked twice more, sending him
sprawling, clutching at his upper leg. Max stood with the
gun aimed, then lowered it again and just stood there
staring at the Sathe writhing in agony.
     "Jesus . . . Max," that was all I could say.
     She waved the gun a bit to cool it, then tucked it
back inside her jacket while I hauled myself to my feet.
The Sathe who had been about to skewer me was lying on his
back near me, jaw slack and eyes glazed over in death.
Broken neck. I'd kicked harder than I thought.
     Maxine was nudging a corpse with her foot. I touched
her shoulder. "Come on. We'd better get out of here."
     She didn't speak all the way back to the Citadel. I
could sympathize with the way she felt; I'd been through it
before.
 
******
 
     "You are mad!" Tahr was aghast. "You must be! Going
into the town like that. With no escort and without telling
anyone! Were you LOOKING for trouble?"
     "No, it just found us. I-am-sorry Tahr, I did not mean
for anything to happen, it just did."
     Tahr sighed and drifted over to the window. Her
profile stood out against the light flooding in through the
panes. "Seven Sathe dead and four wounded, and it was not
even you who did it. Do all h'mans draw trouble upon
themselves like iron flakes to a lodestone?"
     I shrugged. "Most humans do not find themselves up to
their eyeballs in situations like this. Who were they,
anyway?"
     "Debris," she snorted. "Dockers, criminals. Someone
filled them with ale, then paid them to get you. They did
not know what they were getting into."
     "Not Gulf?"
     "No, but do not worry about that."
     "I wasn't, particularly."
     "Ah," She shrugged. "What about Mas?"
     "Max." I corrected automatically, before realising the
uselessness of it. She had gone straight to her quarters
and I hadn't seen hide nor hair of her for the past several
hours. "She is upset over what happened . . . I think." I
said.
     Tahr came over and batted me gently on a cheek. "I do
not think that your relationship is off to a very good
start."
     "You can say that again." I muttered. She had become
used to that little anecdote and only laughed.
     "Why do you not go and see her?" She said. "I have got
a . . . what did you call it? . . . A date with H'rrasch
and I am sure that Mas would be grateful of some company."
     There was no answer when I knocked at Max's door. I
persevered and eventually she answered. Her room was taking
on personality, in fact it was starting to look like a
second hand shop with the stuff she had Brought Through
with her cluttering it up.
     There were a few paperbacks on the shelves. The desk
was cluttered with scraps of notebook paper and pens, also
several college textbooks. A Coleman lantern stood on a
table alongside a useless radio while a blue Rockgas
cylinder squatted in a corner. An almost new Kathmandu
rucksack sat on a worn, tooled leather chair and modern
cotton clothes hung from hooks on ancient panelled walls.
Throughout the room, human trinkets and technology stood
out against Sathe craftmanship.
     Counterpoint.
     "You alright?" I asked. She said nothing, just stared
at out the window. "I know it's tough," I said, "but you'll
get over it."
     "Get over it!" she spat the words out, then turned on
me. "Fuck it, Davies! They tried to KILL me last night!
Fucking furballs! How do you 'Get Over' something like
that! Huh?"
     "It's hard," I agreed. "I'm sorry, but I don't have
any easy answers."
     She blinked at me, choking back her rage.
     "Ms. Wayne, this is a tough culture. The Sathe are
like we were a few hundred years back. They have a low rate
of childbirth, plus high mortality, plus primitive
agriculture, with no room for those who can't contribute.
It's not quite survival of the fittest, but it's close, and
it is a violent culture. There's something you haven't seen
 . . Here, look."
     I unbuttoned my shirt. Her face went slack at the
sight. The scars on my torso stood out: white worm-tracks
making twisting tangles across my chest. The marks that a
vindictive Sathe named Tarsha had gouged into my chest were
still very visible; almost making patterns. My ruined left
nipple was a twisted piece of scar tissue while the much
more recent marks on my shoulders and upper arms were red
and swollen. "Before I came here I didn't have a scratch on
me. That wasn't much over a year ago."
     "Let's see now . . . These ones on my arms and this
one on my back were done by that Sathe in the tavern, and
that was a mistake. If she had finished her job, you would
probably still be out there, with the village hunting you.
The others . . . I picked them up here and there. I repeat;
this is a tough place."
     She tried not to stare at the scars, but I saw her
eyes flickering to them as I rebuttoned my shirt.
     "Have you killed many of them. . . I mean, besides
last night?"
     "Yeah."
     She turned away and was quiet for a while, then her
shoulders started shaking. Feeling helpless I touched her
arm. "Hey, it's okay."
     "I just wanted to get away from it all for a few
days," she blurted, then raised her fists to the ceiling.
"Goddamit, I want to go HOME!"
     The hoarse scream rattled the windows.
     I couldn't say anything, promise anything.
     Eventually, she quietened down. "Please, get out.
Leave me alone for a while."
     I didn't move. "I've felt like that a few times.
Feeling lost and alone and scared. You won't do anything
stupid will you?"
     She didn't answer.
     "You know," I said, "guns are the best method for a
suicide. They're more stylish than a razor blade and drugs
are too chancy; you might get the dosage wrong and just
have a good time."
     Max looked at me strangely. "You're mad."
     I shrugged and grinned. "Probably, it's the only thing
that keeps me sane. Come on, cheer up. There is a cure for
depression."
     "What."
     "A long, hot bath."
     "Get serious."
     "Hey, it's always worked for me."
     She laughed and it was like the sun coming out. With
the tears still damp on her cheeks, she cocked her head at
me. "You're something else, you know that?"
     A woman's moods; they change with the wind, with the
seasons. She stared at me, then cleared her throat.
     "How did you survive?"
     I shrugged. "Luck mostly. I guess I've always been a
bit of a loner. It wasn't too hard once I found out what
was what. . . and Tahr helped me a lot."
     "You like her?"
     "She's. . . special to me." I wasn't sure if she
caught the hesitation, but there was an awkward silence. I
broke it. "I'm going to have to go away for a while. Maybe
a month, maybe longer, I'm not exactly sure."
     "Where?"
     "Down south." I gestured vaguely. "Some stuff the
Sathe want, and I gotta show them where it's at."
     "Do you have to go?"
     "'Fraid so."
 
******
 
     It took four and a half weeks, round trip.
     At first we travelled by sea, on a three-masted ship;
a fat-hulled cross between a trader and a warship that
looked like something out of an old pirate film. I almost
expected to see the Jolly Roger flying from the masthead.
     A larger vessel than Hafair's, with more crew, it was
both faster and could sail twenty four hours a day. The
prevailing winds bore us southwards against the gulf stream
while the coastline was a cloud-covered blur on the
horizon.
     A few seagulls found us and floated lazily alongside
the ship, resting their weary wings in the rigging for a
while before moving on again. They didn't hang around with
a beady eye out for food, nothing edible was wasted.
     It took us a week by sea to get from Mainport down to
another port called Sea Watch, a slowly growing city
further south than Bay Town, near the Pamlico Sound. From
there it was inland, westward to a small settlement called
Ch'ie's climb. That town was actually closer to the point
I'd arrived than Traders Meet had been.
     I said us.
     Besides S'sahr and the ten Royal Guards who went with
us, my request for a dozen good Sathe soldiers had been
granted.
     Chirthi, R'R'Rhasct, two friends of previous
acquaintance who had volunteered, along with ten others:
Hosf, Eor'sf, Hraisc, Fasir, H'Ses, Finder, Haiscraf, Fen,
Chir, and Ihhm.
     I was told they were all capable warriors, all of them
had seen combat of various kinds, and all of them were
crack shots with crossbows. The majority were males, with
three females including R'R'Rhasct. At first I thought that
might be a problem. I knew they could handle themselves all
right, I just wasn't sure if there might be some trouble
with relationships or jealousies. I guess I was thinking
like a human again. It was something I'd get over.
     Chirthi and R'R'Rhasct proved invaluable, both as
friends I could talk to and also as buffers between me and
the others who weren't so familair with me. There were
times when I wasn't around and I knew there was talk behind
my back: jokes, insults, complaining. I know they stuck up
for me on more than one occasion. It was with their help
that I was able to get the others to accept me as more than
an oversized, furless animal.
     Whilst on board the boat, there was precious little us
landlubbers could do but try and stay out of the way of the
crew. Once on the road however, I took every opportunity I
could to work with them, to teach them tactics and concepts
that would help them learn a way of fighting radically
different from anything in any Sathe army.
     We marched in shifts: ten klicks on foot, ten in
wagons, another ten on foot. Sathe may be faster than a
greyhound with a rocket up its ass when running, but they
don't have a lot of stamina. I wanted to see just how far I
could push them, then try for a bit further.
     Late at night, they would limp back to their tents. In
the wee small hours I could hear them bitching through the
tent canvass. Since I marched with them, I suffered also,
although I did my best to hide it.
     It took a long time just to find a place I found
familiar; several days. We followed the narrow trail north
until it linked up with the road to Traders Meet.
Disturbing. That branching in the trail was familar
territory, from way back when Tahr took me off down the
other road, the other choice, the other life. If I'd gone
the other way, what would have happened? Had it happened,
somewhere Else?
     The clearing was still there. I stood alone in the
middle of it, hands in pockets, staring moodily at the
place we'd camped. That place where we'd actually met,
where she'd almost shot me, where we'd first spoken,
however limited those first exchanges might have been.
     "You've come a long way, huh, Kelly?"
     Full circle.
     "What was that?"
     Startled, I jumped. S'sahr was right behind me. "Oh, I
did not notice you. It was nothing."
     "What are you doing?"
     "Just looking."
     "Ah." He turned full circle on the spot, trying to see
just what I  found so fascinating. "You have been here
before."
     "Yes. A while ago now."
     "Is there anything here?"
     Memories. Regrets. Wonder. . .
     I shook my head. "No. Not really. Come on, we should
keep moving."
     The river wasn't difficult to find at all. It was
smaller than I remembered it. Just a stream and a road
under the shady branches of huge old trees. There was no
sign there'd ever been a fight.
     "You are sure it was here?" S'sahr asked.
     Then a Sathe found the skeletons. A jumbled mix of
mouldy bones and skulls that stared out from the bushes
that had grown around them. What clothing and weapons
there'd been had either rotted away or been taken by other
travellers. A Sathe skull. I'd never seen one before. The
teeth were gone.
     Finding the place where I'd first stumbled across the
road was much harder. From there it was over a day's walk
through the wilderness to find that clearing.
     It was still there, but a year's worth of undergrowth
had claimed the site as home and already the wreck was
overgrown with ivy and other flora. Metal covered with rust
and glass was being buried by dust and dirt. The camouflage
over the crates had died away long ago, leaving the pile
covered with dead leaves and the remains of a squirrel
nest. Nature always reclaims its own.
     While Sathe labourers hired from the last town packed
olive-green crates with stencilled markings on them onto
the backs of draft llamas, my small force watched silently
from a diatance as I kept a promise.
     There wasn't much left to bury.
 
End Human Memoirs Part 3 Section C