From howell_g@kosmos.wcc.govt.nz Wed Jun 14 06:48:41 PDT 1995 Article: 32328 of alt.fan.furry Xref: netcom.com alt.fan.furry:32328 Path: netcom.com!ix.netcom.com!howland.reston.ans.net!math.ohio-state.edu!uwm.edu!lll-winken.llnl.gov!enews.sgi.com!ames!waikato!comp.vuw.ac.nz!newshost.wcc.govt.nz!usenet From: howell_g@kosmos.wcc.govt.nz Newsgroups: alt.fan.furry Subject: Story: Human Memoirs Part 12 Date: Wed, 14 Jun 95 23:11:03 +1200 Organization: Wellington City Council Lines: 1434 Message-ID: <3rmg53$oot@golem.wcc.govt.nz> NNTP-Posting-Host: ix.wcc.govt.nz The Human Memoirs Part 3 Section D Workers swarmed over the docks, shouting and snarling at each other as they milled round in well-ordered chaos, grabbing for the ropes thrown from ship. Sailors leaned over the railing, yelling suggestions and cautions as the ship was brought in to bump against the wharf. Home again. Huh, I smiled to find myself thinking of Mainport as home. Still, it would be good to be back on dry land, in a room that doesn't move, and be able to relieve myself without hanging over the side of a ship. The twelve Sathe I'd been training were watching their home as well, laughing and whiling away the time with idle chatter. Watching them, I grinned. Twelve Sathe perched around and on the ship's central cabin, stripped to the waist and wearing old US army issue camouflage trousers, some with their decorated scabbards strung from equipment belts. It was almost amusing. Four and a half weeks and they had changed. Experienced soldiers, they knew how to follow orders. As archers they understood missile weapons and the principles involved, but the guns left them in awe, and not a little fearful. As it was something they'd had no experience with they were leery at first, flinching at a gunshot. Only to be expected; I'd known enough people in basic training with the same reaction, but for Sathe it was something a little more physical: I think the noise hurt their ears. The flinch they could overcome, the noise . . . There wasn't much I could do about that. Whenever they used the rifles, they did so with ears flattened back into their manes. Uniforms. Uniforms were something else I hadn't considered. Sathe leather armour is bulky, not exactly inconspicuous, and also has a tendency to creak, but there wasn't much we could do about that. That was until a trooper asked a passing question about my fatigues. Could he get a shirt like that? Why not? Three of those cases held shirts - green t-shirts and tank-tops, another two of trousers and jackets as well as others with a scattering of belts, old Claymore carrybags and universal pouches, M-16 clip bandoliers and miscellaneous other junk. There'd been socks and boots in the inventory, articles that must have gone up with the truck. No great loss there. It was the pants and jackets I had plans for. Back aboard the ship, the sailmaker-come-seamstress grumbled and swore when she heard what I needed, but still she managed to work wonders. The results . . . they wouldn't win any fashion awards back home, but they worked and the Sathe liked them. The trousers were taken in, turning them into something like the breeches so popular among Sathe. The jackets were cut into things almost resembling safari jackets, with ventilation slits along the sleeves and across the back. Useless in a sword fight they were, but the Sathe testified they were more comfortable than the armour, and the pockets were great novelties. They laughed outright at the pants' zippers. They had changed. I leaned on the railing and watched teams of dockhands transferring crates to the waiting wagons. They worked methodically and naked in the heat of the midday sun. It seemed that no two were the same, their fur marking had all the disparity of snowflakes. They weren't the only dock crews working; further up and down the docks other labourers were loading bigger vessels. One of the ships was taking on a contingent of Eastern soldiers. A hand clapped me on the shoulder. "Are you coming, or waiting for the tide?" S'sahr asked. "Yeah, coming." There were wagons waiting for us, along with more Royal guards. On cobbled streets the unsprung cart was more of a pain in the ass than a bike without a saddle, and on some of the steeper thoroughfares you held on or kissed the pavement. I held on, watching Mainport pass by. The narrow, winding streets with their rounded paving stones, the precarious buildings that'd never known an architect's touch. At the northeastern tip of the peninsula I'd once known as Staten Island, the tiers of the Citadel's walls stood over the town like a sculpted mountain. It all looked normal, just everyday life going on as normal. Shops and stalls were open, Sathe dickering over the price of some trinket. Farmers came and went, selling their wares. A side street was blocked by a dozen or so carts and wagons, their drivers shouting and snarling over just who had the right of way. A Sathe on a llama threaded his way through the snarl of vehicles and animals, hardly slowing. From an alley in this city made of alleys erupted a pack of squealing cubs, gleefully engrossed in a ball game with no rules that were immediately apparent. They chased after us for a time before barrelling off down another street. The carefree days of childhood. Sigh. They probably didn't know what was happening. Even if they did, how could they care? It was a world beyond their ken. Like the cubs in Traders Meet, in Bay Town . . . like the cubs in Hunter's Moon. They'd deserved more; they'd a least deserved a life. How many more towns had to go like that? At least now I had some say in the matter. I watched the other Sathe as they bantered and jawed among themselves. The world's first rifle platoon . . . this world's first. Okay, so they weren't Marines or SEALs: their training was haphazard and brief, their equipment was still new to them and they'd never fired a shot in battle. Neophytes. Unblooded. Nevertheless, they packed more firepower than a world war one infantry company - an overwhelming advantage against Sathe weapons. It was a start. Looking back on that day now: those guards probably got labelled with the moniker the instant they stepped ashore. Green was the color of their clothes and equipment and, hell, the name stuck. They became known as Greens; among friend and foe alike. ****** The walls of the passage were solid and rough, hewn from the granite outcropping upon which the Citadel stood. The air was damp and slightly stale, with only the tiniest breeze to move the atmosphere through the warren of passages and corridors under the Keep. Tahr watched as guards locked and bolted the heavy door to the strongroom where the cargo from the wreck had been stacked. Some crates were filled with items useless to Sathe: boots, helmets, gloves. Others held more valuable things: ammunition, guns, grenades, mortar rounds and fuzes, things that could kill, could maim . . . "M-16s." I muttered. Mostly to myself. "What?" Tahr turned her shoulders to look at me as we climbed the steps back to more habitable areas of the Keep. Three guards followed us at a discrete distance. "I wish I had something a bit more powerful than those." I jerked my thumb back down the stairs. A couple of gunships or tanks, even a few heavy machine guns. "You have those bigger guns," she said, referring to the M-60s. "There are larger ones available. I wish we had a few." Her ears flattened and she gestured at the storeroom. "Then you think that those will not help?" If my ears were as expressive as her's they'd have also laid back. "Sure, they will help, but they will not win the war. That is up to your soldiers. I will do the best that I can." She reached up and put her hand on my shoulder. Squeezed, claws just denting my skin. "And I am grateful. You will be well paid when this is over." If I survive, I thought to myself. Aloud, I said, "Thank you, but I am not sure what I would do with money." She laughed. "It does not have to be money. Anything within my power. You could lord over a town if you wished." I chuckled at that, then had second thoughts. "I'll have to think on that one. There are possibilities there . . " Surprise made her ears dance, maybe a bit of amusement. "Well, we can sort that out when the time is right. Why do you not go and get cleaned up." She snuffled. "You are rather . . . aromatic." I guess I was. I couldn't remember when my last bath had been. Tahr cuffed my arm. "Then you go and groom yourself. I will meet you afterwards, there is much to talk about. Go to the room of your mate, alright?" My mate? Maxine? "She is not my . . . " The sound of Tahr's claws spattering on the granite were fading as she disappeared off down a side passage. " . . . mate," I finished. I looked at the guard who had remained with me, dogging my heels; he stared back at me. "Oh well. Come on then, shadow of mine." ****** After scratching Sathe-style on the door, I leaned against the jamb, waiting. A pause, voices, the latch rattled and the door opened and Maxine stared. "Good afternoon," I smiled. "Have you ever considered the advantages of owning a really good set of encyclopedias?" "Kelly!" Her surprise transformed into a grin then it was my turn to be surprised when she jumped forward to hug me, then just as quickly let go and stepped back, looking suddenly embarrassed. "Hey, it's good to see you." "Same here. You're looking good, Ms Wayne." "Max," she corrected immediately and her smile flickered for a second as she stared at me, then it flashed back again. "Come in. We've been waiting for you." The room was still cluttered with poignant reminders of a place I'd left behind. The lantern was on the desk alongside with pens, several textbooks and papers, as if she'd been working at night and needed more light than candles could provide. Her leather bomber jacket hung from the back of a chair. A Sony DCC walkman, earplugs and tapes perched on a shelf beside a small stack of dogeared paperbacks. Unlike mine, her quarters were on the inner walls of the Keep, with a small balcony built onto one of the tiers overlooking the central Circle. Sunlight streamed in through the open doors, and Tahr was leaning against the carved stone balustrade, watching our greeting with her ears perked up in interest. I don't know if she could understand: we were speaking in English. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting." I said to Maxine. "Don't worry about it." Max waved my apology aside then changed to the modulated coughing, hisses and growling of Sathe, "Tahr . . . explained to me. You have been on the road a long time." "Could've knocked a skunk cold at fifty paces . . . Hey, your Sathe's improving." She smiled proudly. "I have something for you, a home-come gift." "Accent needs work though," I mused and grinned as she shot me a sharp look. "Hey! Just kidding! Peace!" "Bastard!" She produced a chilly bin and rooted around inside then tossed me an object I plucked out of the air. "My God! Heiniken! I never thought I'd see that again." "Been saving it," she smiled and ushered me outside onto the balcony where Tahr was waiting. "Feeling better?" the Sathe asked. I ran my hand through my still-damp hair. "Yes, much." "Smelling better as well," she smiled, then motioned toward the can I was still holding. "What is that stuff?" "Ale," I said and popped the tab. Tahr blinked, flared her nostrils at the can as it spat and hissed. I proffered the can to her. "Try some." She took the can, sniffed it, then spent a while trying to find the best way to wrap her almost-nonexistant lips around the opening. She finally managed a swig and almost choked on it. Her ears twisted until they stuck out sideways, she took several rasping breaths. "My Ancestors . . you actually DRINK this?!" I took the can from her and took a swing myself. Maxine stared: I hadn't bothered to even wipe the rim. "Bit warm," I judged, "otherwise nothing wrong with it." Tahr hissed and shook her head. "You must have gullets of iron. I will stay with something a bit milder. Come, K'hy, tell us what happened. How are the midland towns taking the news of the war?" "You would be better off asking that of S'Sahr. Sathe in the towns never got very . . . friendly with me for some reason." I grinned. "What I saw seemed obvious enough. Storing food, preparing defences. There were already garrison troopers recruiting." So Tahr sipped Sathe wine while Maxine and I drank beer and filled each other in on what had been happening over the past few weeks. Another village had been hit, farther along the border than the others. It seemed that the Invaders weren't going for a direct lunge at the heart of the Eastern Realm. They were advancing slowly in three points across the Realm, wiping out anything that stood against them. "At that rate they will not have anything left to conquer," I said. "This tactic is only temporary." Tahr flexed her claws. "They terrorise the settlements. Soon they will not even try to resist; they will surrender straight away." "You cannot really blame them, can you," Maxine said softly. The death of your family and yourself as well as the destruction of your town . . . or surrender. No, you couldn't blame them. And there was no way the Eastern Realm could quickly field and army to help. Even if they had one ready, it would have to reach the enemy. Shit, it took two weeks for just a couple of dozen of us to travel less than half the length of the Eastern Realm. And the Realm was in Tahr's hands. Nursing my drink, I leaned against the granite balustrade beside Tahr. "There are going to be hard times." Tahr took a pull of her drink, then stared at it as if wishing it were something stronger. "A," she muttered. "Hard times indeed." I reached across and took her furry hand and gently squeezed it, drawing forth a flicker of her ears before she returned the pressure. "Kelly?" "What?" "You . . . " Maxine was staring at us, looking from our hands to me to Tahr to me. "You two . . . What is between you two?" For a second I all I could think about was that that was how I must have sounded; heavily accented Sathe from a throat that was never meant to make those sounds. Then the actual question registered. "What?" Tahr beat me to it. Maxine looked at the can she was holding. "You two. I talk to a guard, he say . . . he . . . " She swallowed and made vague motions with her hands, a bit of beer spilled. "Have you . . . ah . . . " She couldn't find the words in Sathe and switched to English. "Kelly, have you two . . . slept together?" For a second the beating of my heart seemed to be the only sound in the world. Even though she couldn't understand exactly what was being said, Tahr must have guessed the question. Her ears slowly flattened back and she looked to me. It had to happen . . . "You would find out about it sooner or later," I sighed. "Look, Tahr, please, this would be easier in our own language." Tahr ducked her head, "All right. I understand." I could feel her eyes on us as Maxine and I retreated back into her room. Sex. Most Sathe wouldn't . . . they couldn't understand. Already I'd bedded - or perhaps been bedded by - two and propositioned by a third. They had no problems with it, to them it was just sex, just enjoyment and pleasure. For me . . . Only Tahr really had an inkling how different it was for me and she watched, partially understanding just what was happening. How much did she really comprehend? Maxine was staring at me. "So," I began, moving behind the high-backed wooden chair, using it as a podium to hide behind, "now you know." Maxine Wayne sat down on the edge of the desk, looking stunned. This was not going well. "Shit. I never belived it. I thought he was joking. You really . . . did it." I nodded, glancing at Tahr. Out on the balcony she ducked her head, turning away to stare out across the Circle. "Jesus Christ," the human woman was shaking her head. "I didn't believe it. You really did it, you actually screwed her?! That's sick! God's sake, how the hell could you DO it?!" She was almost shouting, gesturing with clenched hands. My own were gripping the back of the chair. Shit, the way she was putting it . . . "Look, I was cold, confused, scared and lonely. I didn't really know what was happening, it just . . . " "You saying she raped you?" Maxine snorted. Stung, I softly answered, "That's not funny." "Oh? Why!" "She'd been raped." Maxine's mouth opened, then closed again. "Oh. Sorry." Then: "They catch him?" "She killed him." There was a short silence, then Maxine almost pleaded: "Jesus, Kelly, she's not even Human!" She looked out the balcony doors at where Tahr was leaning on the balustrade, her back toward us. That coarse mane flowed down her back, sharply defined muscles rolling under fur turned golden by the sun. Red breeches were tied with white cord at her waist and calves. That silver ring glinted as her ears twitched toward us. "She's not ugly, is she?" I asked. "Just different. Inside, she's the most beautiful person I've ever met. I mean, you don't just fall in love with someone's looks." "You love her!?" Maxine's eyes went wide. I turned away, raked my hair back in frustration, then spun back to face the human girl. "Dammit! I don't know how else to say it! It's not that kind of love! We've been through shit together; she's been there when I've needed her, and I've helped her now and again." "I can imagine," she said drily, then her hands waved as she exploded again, "Shit, man! What about diseases. I mean she could be carrying something that makes AIDS look like a cold!" "I don't think so." "How'd you know?!" "How'd you know I didn't give HER something?!" That stopped her for a second, giving me time to continue: "We just did what seemed right at the time . . can't you stop acting so catty." "Me!? Acting catty!? What about her! THAT'S catty," she jab a thumb at Tahr who'd turned and was watching us with a troubled expression. She couldn't understand what we were saying, but she could follow the tone well enough. "That was not what I meant," I was feeling weary. "You don't understand." "What's to understand." "Everything! I've been here to nursemaid you. You haven't got a clue what it's like to be absolutely alone and never sure if you'd ever see another human again! Not able to understand anything of what's going on around you! If Tahr hadn't been there I'd be dead several times over; either from Sathe, wild animals, or my own stupidity! I owe her a lot!" "And that's how you repay it?" "It's not a question of payment! It just happened! Spontaneous. I think it took her as much by surprise as it did me." I shook my head and watched her, looking for some sign of softening, my heart sinking as she stared back. Chagrined, I continued in gentler tones, "I do love her . . . but you just can't understand, can you." "No. I can't," She shrugged. "I guess I shouldn't be prying. It's really your own affair . . . No pun intended." Again she looked at Tahr, then said, "It was her Time was it?" "You know about that?" "That guard came on to me . . . " "What?!" "I don't see what you're looking so shocked about, with what you've been doing. This guard came on to me. He asked me when my Time was and I asked him what the hell a Time was. They have seasons, don't they. Like cats." "They're not cats, dammit!" "That was the only reason you got together? She was too randy to keep her paws off you?" Oh, God. That hit hard. "Ms Wayne," My voice choked on me. I started again. "It wasn't like that. We didn't. . . I don't know; perhaps it started like that, but it changed. That first time, I was as shocked as you. I didn't know what the hell I'd done. I didn't know why I'd done it and the later times. . . I did it because I wanted to. I did it because it was the way to show how I really felt about her, everything she'd done for me." I didn't know how else to say it. She stared back at me, then looked at Tahr. "You were right: I don't understand." ****** Of course things changed. I knew they would. Over the next few days Maxine did her best to avoid me. When I did see her she had few words for me and always pressing business elsewhere. I could understand her reactions and didn't try to push it. Give her time. Meanwhile there were other things to keep me busy. The war was spreading. Fighting continued in the southern provinces of the Eastern Realm and all the time shiploads and wagon trains of troops left the city. Recruits drilled and trained continuously in the Citadel's courts. Much of the time Sathe I knew were occupied: S'sahr southbound for the central Eastern Realm, Remae and Tahr engaged for hours at a time in conference with Eastern commanders, sifting over the news filtering in from around the Realm. I couldn't sit in on any of these meetings: I would be too . . . distracting. The disjointed snippets of news I did pick up around the place through rumours and gossipmongering were more confusing than anything else. I spent most of my time working with the Greens, drilling with them. Even with the limited ammunition available some of them were becoming quite adequate marksmen, even though I found their eyes couldn't discern fine stationary detail nearly as well as I could. It was almost two weeks before Tahr sent for me to fill me in about just what the hell was going on. ****** "Here, here, here, and here," Remae's claws stabbed at points on the map. "We do not have enough troops down south to cover all this area. These villages will be defenceless." "We may have to evacuate some of them, move the inhabitants to towns that we can defend," Tahr said. The room was one I was familiar with, the conference room with the huge obsidian table and pile carpet. A wood and brass chandelier hung over the table, oil lamps hanging from it. Three Sathe and a human sat around the table on which maps and pieces of vellum and parchment were spread. Remae was looking terrible. Her ribs were showing through fur which itself lacked lustre, was actually coming out in places. The corners of her eyes were crusty with goop. I knew she'd been under stress, but she was going to kill herself. "The villagers would be vulnerable while they are being moved," Rehr observed. "Again they would need armed escorts. Could we spare that many?" "I do not think so," Remae said and ran her claws through her mane, staring dully at the handful of fur that came away. "We have lost several scouting parties without trace, and they were not small." "We have lost too many troops," Tahr sighed. Indeed, the map was dotted with small red triangles; places where battles and Sathe had been lost. "We just do not know exactly what they are doing," Remae said. "Their main host is reported to be about here . . and they have others scattered along here." She drew a line from east to west at the top of the Florida peninsula. "We are trying to muster forces to meet them." "And how many victories have been ours to date?" Rher asked softly. "Precious few I am afraid. Commander Rsef managed to defeat a flanking force much larger than his own by luring them into swampland where their own numbers were a liability. They lost over a thousand troops, but they will not make the mistake of baring their necks like that again." Remae rubbed her eyes. "K'hy, are your troops ready?" I frowned. "I would have liked to have given them a bit more time, but they are soldiers, they are ready." "Commander S'Sahr wishes to move a Company to this town." She pointed at a circle set on a squiggly line that led to the sea south of us. "Weather Rock. It lies on the river Broken Tooth, ten days south by sea. "It is not a large town, but wealthy, able to afford its own small garrison. And it controls the only bridge over that part of the river. The last news placed the Gulf forces about . . . here," she pointed at the line on the map, "but we simply cannot afford to spend a company holding a place the Gulf forces may never approach. The Greens are few, but you said they can stand against much greater numbers. Could they secure the bridge against a Gulf strike?" "What is the opposition likely to be?" "Ah . . . that we cannot be sure about, but if they do assault the town, it will most likely be with their easternmost force . . . this one. Reports are too sketchy to give an accurate size, but it will not be as large as their central one. I would go out on a ledge and guess perhaps two, three thousand." I nodded. "And the town? What kind of a position is it in? Defensible?" There were some troubled looks. "That . . . we are also not sure about." "Oh, great!" "We spoke with some traders who'd been through about seven months ago. According to them there were seige engines being built and the walls were in terrible condition. They cannot say if repairs have been made since then." "Wonderful," I scowled. "This is sounding better all the time." "The town . . . here," she pulled out another map. "It straddles the river, with quarters on the north and south banks. The river at this point is wide, but shallower and slower than elsewhere; suitable for a bridge and ferries." "Could it be forded?" "Ah . . . that is doubtful. In mid-summer during a heatwave, perhaps. Otherwise, I think not. The surrounding land is flat and open farmland surrounded by forest. There are three roads leading in through the forest: two from the north, one from the south." "How much open ground between the walls and the forest." "I have no idea. Can it be defended?" I considered, then nodded. "I think so. We will have some good fields of fire." "And, K'hy," Tahr leaned forward. "You will not be going." "What?" "You heard well enough. We do not want to lose you, K'hy. You will remain behind, and that is an order." "High One, they are my unit, I have to go with them. I will not sit around on my fundament while they go out there, maybe get hurt or killed!" "K'hy, you are staying even if I have to have you chained in the dungeons," growled Tahr. "No! We are a unit!" I protested. "I trained them to work as a team, like a machine! Listen, if you take a working part out of a machine you end up with junk! Also, I am the only one who understand how the weapons work, I know what their strengths and weaknesses are. If you send those Greens out without an experienced commander, it would be like having a huge army with a cub in charge; a shrewd enemy could beat them." She didn't look convinced. I turned to appeal to a professional soldier: "Remae, you must know what I am talking about." Remae rubbed the side of her muzzle. Tufts of fur drifted down and she quickly stopped. "Well, yes. I think he is right, High One." "Rehr?" "It does sound reasonable to me," the elderly advisor confessed. "Can you name any commander who would know how to use a gun?" He hiccuped a bit on the foreign name. "You too?" Tahr was outnumbered. "I shall have to think on this," Tahr tapped her claws together and looked at the black-furred Remae; her worn expression, the shedding fur. "Remae, when did you last rest?" Remae blinked at Tahr through crusty eyes. "Why just . . . It was . . . " "Go and get some sleep," Tahr snapped. "Before you fall on your face." "But . . . " "Go!" Remae hauled herself to her feet and went to the door, a very different kind of movement to her normal graceful stalking walk; heavy and tired. She hesitated at the door like she was going to say something, then she left. Tahr stared at the closing door. "She will kill herself if she keeps on like this. I should have said something before." "There is much to be done," Rehr said. "These are hard times for us all . . . You yourself look as if you could do with some rest." "I am fine," Tahr muttered. "If you say so High One," Rehr stood up with a rustle of red robes. "You will find decisions easier if you are rested . . . By your leave?" Tahr watched the door close behind the advisor then got up and went to the window, throwing it open. The breeze that blew into the room put the lamps out but was also welcome breath of fresh air. She stood in front of the window cutting a black swathe out of the stars, her mane moving in the breeze. "You actually want to go and fight." I shook my head. "No, I want to finish what I started. You cannot send them off by themselves. I KNOW they are not ready for that." She sighed, her shoulders rising and falling. "You make tried and proven soldiers sound like cubs." "They are like cubs," I said. "If they were soldiers in my world, one enemy could kill them while they all sat around their fire telling tales," I remembered what I had shown them, how chagrined they had been when I jumped them. They had had a guard posted, but in full camouflage and enough bush, a man can become almost invisible. That was how they learned that heavy armour is not the only kind of protection: What you can't see, you can't hurt. "By my Ancestors, Tahr. They were sitting guard duty around a goddamned CAMPFIRE!" "But this is not your world, K'hy, and they know it better than you do. What can you still teach them?" "They are too smart for their own goods." Her ears flicked: "Explain." "Those weapons do not make them . . . all powerful. They are simply tools, just like an axe or adze, and only as good as the person using them. It is good that they feel confident in themselves, but not foolishly so. A crossbow bolt or sword would have just the same effect on them as on any other. They are just raw recruits . . Green is a good name for them: they are as green as a new sapling." "Then do you really think they are ready to go?" "As you said, they are soldiers. They have to learn somewhere . . . why not there? Also, how many conventional troops would you have to send in their stead, ah? Troops you are going to need." The shadow moved away from the window and there was a muted footfall on the carpet behind my chair. Then smooth, hard crescents were running gently over the bare skin on my cheek and neck. "My furless strange one . . Down inside you are not so different from the rest of us. Why do you decide that you want to fight now?" "I have been trying to adapt, to fit in," I said. "There is so much to un-learn." She sat down on the empty chair to my right and hunched forward, toward me, her hands hanging between her knees. "You want to fit in by fighting? My Ancestors . . . K'hy, we fight, that I cannot and do not deny, but it is not a way of life for us. You do not have to try and prove yourself by doing that." I blinked in surprise. "I never said anything about proving myself." "I think that you do not always say what you want to say K'hy," she looked dour. "Is there nobody else who could go in your stead?" I shook my head. "Do not do that," the pads on the tips of her fingers touched my chin, rubbing against the stubble. "Very well, you impossible fool, go if you must." Then her breath was a warm breeze against my neck as she leaned close. "But I shall be very angry if you get yourself killed." ****** "Rehr? Sir?" The Born Ruler's Advisor looked up from his desk, starting to put paper away in a drawer before he saw who had spoken. "I am busy, K'hy. Can this not wait?" "Please sir, it will not take very long." "Very well." He stood his quill pen in a rack on the desk, beside an inkwell. "I think I can make time. What do you want?" I pulled the sealed envelope out of my breast pocket and stroked the creamy paper with a finger before dropping in front of Rehr. He picked it up and glanced at the handwritten English message on the outside: To Maxine Wayne. "What is this?" Rehr asked. "A letter," I replied, then took a deep breath. "If something should happen to me, could you see that Maxine gets this?" Rehr stared at me, then at the parchment in his hand, then back at me." Why did you not ask Tahr to do this? You are close." "I am not sure," I admitted. "We are maybe too close. Please. I am asking you because I think I can trust you." He slowly ducked his head, his greying mane bobbing. "You honour me. Very well. It shall be as you ask, but I hope I will not have to pass it on." ****** I worried about that letter. There were things written on that indifferent paper I'd lost sleep over. Amongst other things, I had left Maxine with a decision which I had had to make once. She knew a bit about firearms; she could certainly fire a gun well enough . . I had left the complete formula for black gunpowder and detailed instructions for forging cannon and muskets. ****** When we finally rode into Weather Rock I was hot, tired and covered with yellowish dust blown up from the road. We all were. The Broken Claw river flowing through the town beckoned invitingly, but there were formalities to go through first; time for bathing later. First impressions of the township of Weather Rock were of a set from a movie, a western. A single unpaved avenue split the town down the middle, from north to south, the river quartering it east to west. The buildings were slightly more auspicious. Large - some of them actually had two floors - and made of wood, brick and something like adobe. The Sathe inhabitants quickly dispelled any illusion of similarity that Weather Rock had to Dodge City. By then I was used to the kind of welcome we received; locals stoping and staring at us from the street and their dwellings, bolder cubs falling in behind the soldiers in an impromptu procession. I just smiled wearily at them and blinked dust out of my eyes. The curtain wall around the town was not very imposing, in fact it was rather pathetic. Parts lay in disrepair with ivy and lichen growing over fallen stones. In a couple of places - mainly around the gates - the walls had been repaired, I suppose for appearances's sake, but still there were a few merlons missing and one tower bore the blackening of a fire. Weather Rock was not a prime example of a fortified stronghold. We definitely didn't look any better; worse if anything. The Greens were only wearing their trousers, rolled up to their knees, and these were all a uniform shade of mud brown from airborne dust. Sathe fur was caked with grime and the llamas were exhausted. An awe-inspiring sight we were not. The ruling clan in Weather Rock was the Fres's Clan. R'R'Rhasct had told me that it was a powerful Clan, and one friendly to the Shirai Clan so their loyalty was assured. They had control over two towns in the Eastern Realm and were purely traders; their Clan Elders had never had any desire for any power other than that brought from trading. So the Fres's clan had always remained totally loyal to the Eastern Realm, and despite the attempts of rival clans to use them as political leverage, they had prospered. The dilapidated state of the city walls belied the wealth of the town behind them. The buildings were well- maintained, painted, glass in the windows. The streets were clean with the populace looking well-fed. The air of affluence exuded by the Keep more than made up for any unfavourable impressions the walls may have given. Pennants and flags waved at us in the breeze while sunlight glittered off a multitude of windows; far more than a building designed to keep people out would have. Servants stopped in their tracks and gaped at us, at me. We clattered into a courtyard while guards still stumbled out of their barracks to intercept us. Their armour was spotless and highly embossed while their weapons had that air of something straight off the rack. Probably still had the price tags on them. If they were the police around here, who upheld the law? Amongst us, we had already agreed that the Green called Fen would meet with the Clan Lord as our representative. He was educated, intelligent and being raised in a wealthy family, knew something about court protocol. It would make things easier if the Clan Lord only had talk to him, and not try and get used to someone like me. Fen dropped stiffly from his saddle and waited while the guards approached him, surrounding us. Up on towers around the courtyard, archers were taking up positions, their crossbows cocked but not levelled. An officer stepped forward and there followed a spirited conversation that I couldn't hear. Fen eventually produced the sealed document from Tahr and brandished it in front of the other's nose. The officer's muzzle wrinkled when he saw the red seal on the document and he looked us over again, then he gestured and led Fen off through the surrounding ring of guards. A small entourage of soldiers followed the pair. They disappeared through a wrought iron gateway and I looked around at the remaining Fres's guards. They were watching us, but all of the crystal-green eyes surrounding us seemed to be fixed on one object; Me. I raised my face to the sky, squinting into the glare of the sun. Anything but look at them. The Sathe up on the walls stared back at me. ****** Chirthi and R'R'Rhasct walked with me along the southern fortifications of Weather Rock. "This is pitiful," R'R'Rhasct gestured angrily at the wall. "If any modest number of cubs ever attacked these walls, they could take it within the day!" She was absolutely right. The gatehouses on the roads leading into the town was solid and sound, as were the gates over the river, but the walls on either side of the town, each curving around to meet the river, were low and falling apart.. Barely three metres tall, the walls' catwalks were crumbling and eroded. Lichen and ivy were growing over the ramparts and we disturbed birds in their nests as we passed. The only things that were in decent repair were the few arbalest and catapults, mainly maintained, I suspected, for show. "The only chance this town would have would be to stop an attacker from getting near the walls," said Chirthi. The ground out there was flat, just fields and grazing land away to the forest. Even with crossbows a determined charge could swarm the walls. As we walked back to the keep where the Greens were barracked, the two Sathe carried on a spirited conversation, recalling old battles where defenders were in similar conditions, and what they had done. I found the references they were using totally meaningless, instead I watched the stalls and shops, the Sathe who went to and fro, until a stall caught my eye. "Chirthi, Rhasct. Hold on," I tapped their shoulders to stall then ducked across the dusty throughfare to take a closer look. It was one of those shops with front shutters that rotated on a central pivot. At night they'd be swung up to close up the shop while during business hours they hinged down to produce instant display tables. The tables were covered with small metal trinkets and jewellery of all kinds, from tiny locks to spring-loaded flint and steel fire strikers to gold and jade earrings. I bent low to admired the craftsmanship. Without machinery or advanced tools someone had made these from scratch and they were as much pieces of art as pieces of metal. Delicate shapes hand-crafted from gold and silver wire, a small quarter-sized medallion that was unmistakeably a bald eagle. That one caught my eye: I'd been wondering what I could use for a sort of cease-fire offering to a certain non-Sathe I knew and that might to the job. If I ever had the chance. The proprietor of the shop, an oldster with long fingers and much grey in his fur, watched me with his ears flattened back as I picked up the medallion. He looked like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to watch and laugh or run for help. Strands of gold filigree made up the body and outstretched wings while silver wire outlined the head, feathers. The chain was also solid silver. I'd have never believed Sathe fingers were nimble enough to make something like that. Whoever'd made it must have used a microscope. I whistled softly and turned to the proprietor, "Sir, how much does this cost?" "You . . . speak?" He gaped. I sighed, "Yes, I speak. Now, is this for sale or not?" A businessman through and through. Almost instantly he had pulled himself together and quoted a ridiculous price. I got the idea and countered with an offer of my own. We bantered back and forth and when a price was finally settled on and I dropped three pieces of gold into his palm, he seemed inordinately cheerful. No guesses who'd ended up with the better end of the deal. Chirthi and R'R'Rhasct were waiting, sitting on the stoop, leaning against each other and chuckling at something. They squinted up at me as I came out. "We are at war and you go shopping?" R'R'Rhasct smiled. I shrugged and scratched at my jaw. My beard needed a trim. "What can I say? It is a dirty job, but someone has to do it." "Ahh . . . true," Chirthi chuckled. "What have you got there?" I showed them. They both laughed when I told them how much I had paid for it, saying I had been done out of a gold piece. R'R'Rhasct was ready to go and get it back, but I stopped her, "He probably needs it more than I do." "You would throw away a gold piece?!" They were astonished. I shrugged and grinned, "I have to learn the right way to do it. If I make a mistake, I should pay." "The place you come from, do you buy things there?" Chirthi asked. "Yes, pretty much the same." I was thinking about check books and credit cards. "But there is usually no haggling over prices." "But that takes all the fun out of it!" exclaimed R'R'Rhasct, sounding genuinely horrified. ****** The tiny bird of prey gleamed dully in my fingers as I lay under the rough grey blanket, holding the medallion in a pale moonbeam. The chain rattled almost inaudibly as I slipped it back into the pocket of my jacket lying beside the bed. Down the other end of the long, second floor room, I heard the surf-like sound of Sathe whispering; Chirthi had joined R'R'Rhasct in her bed where they murmured softly to each other. I couldn't hear what they were saying, and I didn't try to. The deep, steady breathing of the other sleeping Sathe filled the room. I stretched my legs off the end of the Sathe-sized pallet, then curled up and slept. The shouting woke me. "ATTACK! Rot it! THEY'RE ATTACKING!" Someone was shaking me and I scrambled out of bed, still wondering what time it was. It was still dark out, but a flickering red glow shone through the dusty windows. Coming from across the river. "What's going on?!" I snapped as I pulled my shirt on, grabbing my rifle and stuffing extra clips into my pockets. "Attack, sir," Eor'sf shouted. "The town is under attack!" Fasir clattered up the stairs with wild eyes. "From the south!" he yelled as he grabbed for his weapons. "They're burning the town! Trying for the bridge!" Outside was chaos. Sathe were starting to appear in other buildings while from across the river came the source of the glow. Buildings over there were burning, the bridge swarmed with the dark shapes of fleeing Sathe. Behind them I could hear screams and cries and see steel glinting in the firelight as weapons were swung. Figures escaping burning and collasping buildings milled in confusion before being cut down. Wolves in a flock. Armoured figures started to head for the bridge, swords and firebrands ready. "Two teams!" I yelled at the Greens. "Six on each side of the road. Crossfire on that bridge, then fire and manoeuvre. Let them come to us, try to get as many as possible on the bridge. . . Watch out for the civilians! Go!" Toe claws scrabbled on wooden stairs as they got, with me right behind them. By night and firelight Weather Rock had become downtown Pandemonium. Flickering orange-red light and the alien shapes of terrified Sathe. Someone bumped into me, and I got a glimpse of a terrified face and managed to duck a frenzied swipe at my face before I was past. Up ahead Greens, naked but for their belts and ammunition, were spreading out on each side of the bridge. Kneeling behind walls, barrels, and any other available cover to steady the M-16s. The Enemy were already on the bridge, dozens of them, red and black armour turned into something more sinister in the mad light. As they ran toward us they howled, and I saw bared fangs, eyes wide with battle-lust. Then the guns started chattering, the racket of concentrated gunfire mingling into a metallic-sounding snarl. I took cover beside a Green and added my own fire, her spent brass flying across in front of me in erratic bursts. On the bridge invading armoured Sathe caught in the gunfire went down like skittles, spun and fell, doubled over and fell, fell and died. Their assault melted away into piles of bodies on the bridge. A few survivors turned to dash back the way they'd come, howling ambush. Some of them made it back to the end of the bridge. None of the ones who'd chosen to run the other way made it. The Greens howled in triumph, but didn't rush to follow. Every second soldier ran forward under covering fire from the rest of us, then it was our turn to leapfrog them. Fire and manoeuvre until we had the bridge. That was a blessing. Their first fight and they didn't get carried away, go wild and charge off on their own. Wounded and dying Gulf Sathe shied away from me as I crossed the bridge, some rolling under the parapets and into the dark water below; the light, spinning rounds from the M-16 are not always mercifully quick. The Greens remedied much of that suffering; their claws and knives were messy, but fast. Across the bridge, the street was littered with bodies. A few Gulf corpses lay scattered around, but most of them were Eastern Sathe; Men, women, and children. Any sympathy I felt for the Gulf soldiers on the bridge vanished. The next half hour was a time of killing. All I can really remember is the light; that bloody, red light from burning buildings. Armed Sathe came at me and were cut down by my weapon, or the fire of other Greens. With only swords out they came from the buildings, being cut down before they came near. Blasts of gunfire cut through the night. Muzzle flashes strobed along the street as teams of Sathe moved and hunted down the Gulf forces. I remember a Gulf soldier standing over the bodies of a unarmed male and his cub, claws still dripping. I remember the look of surprised horror on his face as my gun butt stove in his skull. A group of Sathe with crossbows firing at us from the cover of a window. Greens firing a burst that stitched across the wall, letting me get close enough to throw a grenade in. The concussion kicked the door off its hinges and knocked wooden slats from the walls, then the top floor caved in. A Gulf warrior with a firebrand coming out of a building while flames licked up in the windows, he saw me, his eyes widening then the muzzle flash of my rifle strobed across him. I remember firing until my gun jammed, or ran dry, then using it as a club. I remember pain from minor wounds. I joined the chase as the remaining troops fled for the walls and the gun just clicked as I tried to fire on fleeing troops . . . "K'hy?" I stood on the crumbling town wall. The body of a guard lay at my feet, his throat slit by a Gulf blade. I stared down at the corpse, feeling utterly drained, like I'd run a marathon. There were still bursts of gunfire - on the wall and in the fields beyond - as Greens and local guards rooted out enemy troops, firing on the few who were retreating across the fields to the woods beyond. "K'hy?" Chirthi repeated my name. I looked at him, winded, unable to reply. His ears were back, blood matted his fur. I looked down at myself. Gore covered me; blood, my own and others', glistening black in the light of burning buildings. Gently he reached out and took the gun from my unresisting hands, then led me back down to mainstreet. That central street was still in chaos. Buildings burned, filling the air with sparks and smoke. Sathe were forming bucket chains to the river: soldiers and civilians. What good could that do? The buildings still burned, and would continue to do so: right to the ground. I stared, strangely detached as flames begin licking at another building. There was a movement at a window above the covered porch; a small head that barely reached above the sill and hands fighting at thick glass. Cries rose from behind me: "K'hy! NO! Stop! Stop him!" I was inside the building before I realised what I was doing, still going on automatic. The stairwell was filling with smoke. Red light and flames danced through cracks in the wooden stairs. I could feel the heat through the wood against my bare feet, but the stairs held. Smoke filled the corridor in the top floor . . . What the hell am I doing here!? The door was locked, barred from the inside, but gave way under a kick. Flames climbed one wall of the room and I choked and hacked as heat and smoke seared my lungs; blistering my skin. A small form hunched under a window, a stink of burning fur. I grabbed the cub and turned just as the lintel above the door collapsed in a shower of sparks, blocking the portal with flaming debris. I crouched over the cub, sheltering it as the heat tightened the skin on my face and hands. Below, on the street outside, Sathe milled about, pointing towards me, the heat rising from the flames making their images blur, twist, writhe . . . The window exploded into a thousand glittering shards of glass and wood as I heaved a chair through it, then as the flames exploded around me, fuelled by the influx of fresh oxygen. I hit the eaves outside the window, stumbled, and fell. The burning world spun and came up and missed me as I hit something soft that collapsed beneath me. Hands were pulling me away from the small body I had wrapped mine around in an unthinking effort to protect it: an instinct I never knew I had. Voices were rising around me, calling and shouting. A Green - Finder - was propping me up, trying to get my attention, shouting something about the fingers he was holding up. I pushed his hand away and looked to where more Sathe were clustered around a small shape. "He is not breathing." A Sathe looked down at me. "I am sorry." "Bullshit!" I gasped and tore from their grasps, claws inadvertently tearing my skin as I half scrambled through the crowd. The cub lay sprawled on his side, his baby-fur scorched, shrivelled, and curled from heat. I didn't bother checking for a pulse. The ring of Sathe around us stirred and shifted in indecision as I tilted the limp head back and clamped my lips over the small mouth. His chest rose and fell as I breathed in and out; I could taste soot on his breath. Desperately I blew, watching the chest move feebly. I couldn't make a proper seal around the alien mouth! Damn you! BREATH, damn it ! A shudder in the body. I pulled back as the chest started to move on its own. Then the kid started convulsing, and I pawed him over onto his side. A thin trickle of vomit ran from the corner his mouth, pooling on the sand. His breathing settled down to a steady rhythm. I sat there with his head cradled in my lap, gently stroking the singed fur over and over and it was another cub I was holding, one I'd never had the chance to thank. "I'm sorry. Oh, god, I'm sorry I wasn't there. . ." Sathe hands gently took him away, then took me away. ****** The guard who'd been bending over me jumped back in alarm as I opened my eyes, then he dashed out. I listened to claws clattering in stone, a door slam, and looked around in bewilderment. Where the hell was I? The room was large, spacious, and spartan. Big shuttered windows along one wall were hanging open, a warm summer breeze blowing through. The off-white walls were covered with what looked like polished granite slabs, as was the floor. The round bed I was lying on was in the middle of the wall directly opposite the door, and I was lying stark naked on white satin-soft sheets. I had enough small cuts and bruises to add to my collection of scars. I ached, pain outside and in. Both my feet were bandaged, and there was another bandage around my right forearm, another around my stomach. My clothes were nowhere in sight. I sat up and gingerly put my feet on the floor, wincing at the pain. Running around on stones and broken glass with no boots. Not a good idea. Slowly I put more weight on them. Ouch. "K'hy!" Sathe burst through the door, R'R'Rhasct and Chirthi, with Weather Rock guards close behind. "Hi," I greeted the pair. "Out," R'R'Rhasct ordered the other guards, then strode over to stand over me, arms folded and wrinkles on her nose: "What do you think you are doing?!" "What does it look like? Where are my clothes?" "Oh, no. You are staying right there," Chirthi told me. R'R'Rhasct pushed me back onto the mattress and perched herself beside me. Belatedly, I realised what I wasn't wearing and made a grab for the sheets. Pointless really: she'd seen me in the buff before, and in a far more compromising situation: straight after my little soiree with the bartender at the Red Sail. "The physician said that you must stay offf your feet until they heal," she scolded me. "You are not to walk for at least a few days." "There is nothing wrong with them," I protested. "They are a little sore, but that . . . " "Sir," Chirthi said from where he was standing by the windows, "You looked half-dead when we carried you in here." He rubbed his mane. "The physician did good work on your feet. You'd been dancing on glass; they looked like burnt mincemeat." "Same as the rest of you. You are not fireproof," R'R'Rhasct added. "And you were not acting quite. . . normally." "Well, I feel fine now," I lied. Then blinked around at the opulent room. "Where am I anyway?" "A guest of the Clan Lord," Chirthi said. "In the Keep. We could not leave you with the other wounded. It was too crowded, and there would be some who would not accept you." The other wounded . . . "How many did we lose?" I asked fearfully. Chirthi looked at R'R'Rhasct. "Twenty-four wounded and thirty-seven dead. Thirteen of them soldiers." "Oh, shit!" I moaned to the ceiling. "Are you alright?" A hand touched my shoulder. I looked up at her. I wanted to cry. "Thirty-seven?" "There would have been many more if we had not been here." Chirthi stared at me, "Do all h'mans fight like that?" "Huh? Like what?" I asked, confused. "Never mind." They looked at each other. I ignored that, didn't really attach too much importance to it. Thirty-seven . . . I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. "Fuck doctor's orders. There are things to be done. I have work to do . . . where are my damn clothes?" "Please sir," Chirthi pleaded, "We are already doing everything. Do not do this!" "I am fine," I insisted as R'R'Rhasct passed me a mug half filled with water. Water . . . I was parched. Unthinkingly I drained it and tossed it aside. She retrieved it from the bedspread to set it back on a tray on the floor by the bed, smiling a bit. "I do not want to lie here like a fucking invalid!" I snapped. "Bring me my clothes, and that is an Goddamned ORDER!" "We cannot." 'Rhasct!" I snarled, furious. "Now!" The Sathe looked at each other, then Chirthi said, "Sir, before we left, the Shirai gave us other orders, to make sure . . . Sir, she outranks you. We cannot let you. "Tahr!" Goddamit, she had no business . . . giving me fucking BABYSITTERS! "I don't care what she told you! Bring me my clothes!" I managed to get to my feet, then my muscles turned to jello. The Sathe caught me as I collapsed and lowered me back to the bed. I tried to grab them, then lost the use of even my arm. I twitched helplessly. "The water," I croaked. "Rhasct, you bitch!" R'R'Rhasct straightened the sheets, brushed hair from my eyes, then stood up beside Chirthi who gently nuzzled her neck, his eyes still on me. "I am sorry, K'hy," R'R'Rhasct told me, even sounding sincere. "The Marshal told us it is quite safe for you. It will just help you relax and sleep. You will heal better." I tried to swear at them as they left, but my tongue had turned to a slab of dead meat. All that came out was an incoherent mumble and then the drug rolled over me like a velvet bulldozer. ****** Hands gently shook me awake. Faces, hovering over me. Blood pounded dully in my ears. There were noises, voices talking and words washing over me without registering. I mumbled some meaningless protest and let my eyes close. Again hands were slapping at my face. I tried to push them away and don't know if I even lifted my hands. Another face, a small face, pelted with long cinnamon fur shrivelled and curled, green eyes blinked down at me. A hand, fingers, white bandages, feather- touch my face. I moved my arm to catch fur, hold a small hand. Teeth bared, fear blossoming in the eyes before voices rang. Green blinked, curiosity and wonder . . . ****** To the south of the Broken Claw river the town of Weather Rock was in ruins. Great black swathes were burned in jumble of buildings, patches where the fires had burned unchecked, levelling the wooden structures as effectively as if they had been dynamited. Sathe were swarming through the streets. If there had been a time for mourning, I'd missed it. I'd been flat on my back for the better half of a week, dead to the world while the town pulled itself together again. Admittedly the Greens had done good work: the walls were being repaired and reinforced. Food and equipment being stored. Still, not all the Sathe were choosing to stay and fight. Over on the river, flat-bottomed barges being loaded with cargo and refugees headed off down the river. Occasional clusters of refugees were leaving by the main gates; going north in their search for protection. Those were the outsiders; the ones from outside the Fres's clan. The majority of the towns population had found shelter on the untouched northern bank. It was crowded, but they were coping. I leaned against the parapet to take some of the weight off my feet. They were almost healed, but I still treated them with respect. I turned around in time to see a Sathe messenger pop out of the stairwell . . . The clan lord wished to see me. The messenger was a talkative Sathe, as well as curious. He asked me all the usual questions: What am I? Where do I come from? Am I male or female? He shut up as we got near the centre of the keep. Four guards outside a set of reinforced oak doors sprang to attention as we approached. The messenger disappeared off down a side-passage, and the guards opened the doors as I approached. And closed them behind me again. "Sir," R'R'Rhasct greeted me in a small voice, her ears plastered back. "You . . . !" I pulled up short when she stepped back, baring her neck to me. "No! It was not her fault, sir." I turned around to face Chirthi and a bemused Fen. Chirthi continued: "We were only obeying orders," he saw me glance at Fen. "The others knew nothing about it . . . We did it for your own good." I looked down at my fists and forced my hands to relax. "NEVER do that again! Ever!" I snapped through my teeth. They said they wouldn't . . . I wish I could have believed them. "IF you have quite finished," a cold voice interrupted. Another pair of double doors were open, a female standing between them. She was wearing only dark green breeches, belted around her waist and fastened just above the knees by gold clasps. On her right arm there was another gold ornament, an armlet of fine gold wire that showed up well against her chocolate-brown fur. Her eyes glowed green from under a rust-red mane, and a silver earring glinted in the fold of her ear. Hanging at her waist, the hilt of a dagger protruded from its lacquered wooden scabbard. Fres's. The Clan Lord, The Sathe around me instantly adopted postures of submission; lowering their heads as her gaze swept over us. Her eyes locked with mine as I stared back at her, still silently fuming at R'R'Rhasct. The Clan Lord's ears flickered in amusement. "You are not a very docile one, are you. Now get in here!" The room that Fres's led us into was a private study. A large desk sat before a fireplace and the wooden floor was covered with fur rugs. There were seats arranged around the desk. "Sit down," Fres's told us as she settled down behind the desk, picking up a quill and absently stroking the feather. "You should have told me that. . . he," she indicated me with the tip of her quill, "is your commander." "We felt that it would be easier for you to talk to someone normal," Fen said, then his ears flattened and he hastily apologised to me, "No offence intended, sir." "None taken," I said. "I am really only an. . . uh. . advisor. I command them in battle. . . but that seems to be the only time I hold any authority," I glared at R'R'Rhasct. She wrinkled her muzzle in hurt. "Your wounds are healed?" "Well enough." She ran her gaze over me again, staring at my clawless fingers and flat face. "That was a brave thing that you did, saving the child. You have the clan's thanks." "Heroes do not usually live very long," R'R'Rhasct muttered. The Clan Lord glared at her, "Do you have a reason for disliking what he did?" The Green clicked her claws together nervously. "He has a knack for getting himself into trouble." "So?" "So," I said, "They were ordered - by the Shirai - not to let anything happen to me. I suspect there was a punishment involved?" Neither Chirthi nor R'R'Rhasct could meet my eyes. "Well," Fres's said grimly, "if she does not want you damaged, I would suggest you leave as soon as possible. If you will look at this:" I leaned forward as she pulled a map out of a drawer in the desk and smoothed it out. "You see Weather Rock is here, on the Broken Claw river. Up here it turns into lakes while downstream it becomes even wider and the land becomes like mud. If you want to cross it is either here or three hundred kilometres upstream. I can tell you that first attack was their outriders. They must have nearly killed their llamas to make such good time because they are almost two weeks ahead of their main body . . . and as best we can tell that is about here," she stabbed a claw into the map. "About five thousand Sathe, I would say they are now about four days out and coming this way." "Shit!" She spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness, "I know very little of warfare. The Fres's Clan have always been traders, not fighters. We are simply not prepared for an attack, as you have doubtless noticed. "The other night your warriors had stopped those motherless bastards almost before our guards were out of their beds. Your troops have done a lot of work helping us ready our fortifications. You seem to know what you are doing." The next thing she said obviously hurt her pride, "I think it best for all of us that I leave the defence of Weather Rock to you." "Thank you, High One," I nodded. "Can your weapons stop them?" Fres's asked, and the Greens looked at me. I walked across to the south-facing window. Even with what had been done to them, the pitiful excuses for town walls wouldn't hold that number for long. Beyond the walls, fields surrounded the town. Open fields stretching off for about one and a half kilometres until they ended in a solid line of trees. A single road led out of the forest. "The guns will help," I said. "But they are not going to be enough just by themselves. Your town will be difficult to defend. Being on flat, open ground and with the walls . . . " I shrugged. Fres's slumped behind her desk, "You do not have to stay." "Hey, that is what we are here for, to help you" I said. R'R'Rhasct started to say something but changed her mind at a sharp look from me. The Clan Lord flicked her ears wanly, "I thank you, but against five thousand, there is not much that you can do." "Do not be too sure of that," I replied. "There is more we can do to make life difficult for them. Smaller numbers than ours have held off vastly larger armies for some time." Fres's snorted. "But doubtless it was not in such an indefensible spot, and that is just part of the largest armies the world has ever seen." "Not that big," I shrugged. She stared at me then flashed an unsure smile; was that supposed to be a joke? The Clan Lord obviously wasn't sure. As if annoyed by that indecision, she dismissed Fen, R'R'Rhasct, and Chirthi. "We will be outside," Fen told me. The last to leave, he closed the ornate double doors behind them. Fres's bade me sit down again. "I am very curious about you," she said, coming around the desk and moving around behind me;a blur in my peripheral vision. "I had heard that the new Shirai had an . . . unusual favourite, but you . . . " The sentence trailed off. I just stared at an ornament on her desk, a glass paperweight riddled with air bubbles. She was reflected in it, standing behind me, one hand resting on her belt near the dagger. "The things that I have heard about you are difficult to believe," she said. "Are you truly from another world?" "Have you ever seen anything like me on this one?" I replied. A soft hiss of laughter. "No. Never in all my days." I also grinned, then said, "You seem to know quite a bit about me." "I have my sources," Fres's said. "There has been a lot said about you and your exploits. As your minder said, you have a gift for finding trouble." The reflection in the paperweight shifted. "As Clan Lord, I have a responsibility to my town," she said. "I have to know if there is any chance of holding the Gulf forces. I will not order my people to stand and be butchered for a hopeless task." I rubbed my temples with my fingers. "So you put the burden upon my shoulders . . . I cannot make promises that they can be stopped, but there is a good chance we can delay them. At least until reinforcements arrive, but we are going to have to work on the walls. We have brought some materials with us, but we are going to need help from you: mainly labour, also some materials . . . Chirthi has a list." There was absolute silence for a while, then a feather- light touch on my hair. "You will have whatever you need. We are not fighters, but we can learn." Fight: How I was coming to loath that word. ****** End of Human Memoirs Part 3 Section D