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From: howell_g@kosmos.wcc.govt.nz
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Subject: Repost: Human Memoirs Part 15
Date: Tue, 20 Jun 95 00:00:14 +1200
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Human Memoirs Part 4 Section C
 
 
     Remae came in with the sun, bearing a tray laden with
food: A loaf of meal and meat, some fruit, and water. "How
is she?"
     I  glanced  at  Tahr, the skin showing through the
patchy fuzz on her muzzle, her ribs like sticks under
fabric.  "She  slept better last night," I said. "Quieter."
     Remae  handed me the tray and watched as I tore a hunk
off the loaf and bit into it.  "Did you have to say that to
the innkeeper last night?"
     "What?"
     "About you being hungry.  You scared him half to
moult.  He called the local guard and I had to answer some
questions by  the Clan Lord."
     "Well," I shrugged, "I was hungry. . . I just didn't
say what I ate."
     "K'hy!" Remae warned.
     "I  am sorry," I said,  feeling a deep ache when I
looked  at Tahr's  emancipated  figure.  It'd  been  a
typical  male  human reaction:  When worried,  act
flippant.  Be tough,  be  macho.  I stared at the half-
eaten bun in my hand then at Remae. "It worked out did it?
That business with the Clan Lord I mean."
     "Of  course.  We have their full cooperation," she
looked  a little surprised. "Who would refuse to help the
Shirai?"
     "Oh yeah, of course," I muttered as I took a bite out
of the bun.
     "We  have  been offered shelter in the town's  Keep,"
Remae said, "but I am thinking that this inn will serve us
well enough. And it is better that we do not move her too
much."
     Sounds  from  outside drifted  into  the  room:Sathe,
draft animals, wagons. The sounds of a town.
     "K'hy,"  Remae  asked,  her head tipped to one  side
and  a thoughtful expression on her face,  "I wanted to ask
you: are you happy about Tahr and H'rrasch?"
     I  stopped  chewing for a second;the question had
taken  me unaware.  I  swallowed the mouthful.  "Uh. . .
What exactly  do  you mean?  I am pleased that she found a
mate with whom she is happy. They seemed to get on well
enough. . . "
     "Yes," she agreed,  "They do.  I just know you were
close to her and was wondering if perhaps you might be
slightly. . . ah. . . "
     "Envious?"  I chuckled.  "You are right.  I am.  I
envy  him because  I know that anything between Tahr and I
would have  been impossible.  He is something that I could
never  replace. She is Sathe and I am human. East is east
and west is west.  It could never have worked."
     Remae's head tilted to one side as she regarded the
Shirai. "True.  Still  it is strange that one of her status
would take  a mate who is no more than just a common
soldier."
     I also looked at Tahr.  "Does it really matter who it
is  as long as they are right for each other?"
     "I suppose it does not.  Still, it is uncommon," she
sighed, then scratched her muzzle.  "I wonder what caused
them to meet in the first place.  She was with you during
her Time, then suddenly he appeared. . . "
     Remae  stopped  as two and two fell into  place  with
an almost  audible  click.  She stared at  me  with emerald
eyes: "You. . . you had a hand in this?"
     I considered lying,  just for a second. "Uh. . . sort
of. I did not actually think it would go this far."
     She was staring at me in open amusement.  "My
Ancestors, you seem  to have a claw in the flesh of
everyones'  lives.  I  would wonder how else you have
affected her life."
     I laughed with her then.  More than you  know,  Remae.
More than you know.
 
******
 
     I shook Tahr gently to try to wake her up.  Her jaw
quivered, then her eyes opened, her milky-white third
eyelid half extruded. Propping her up gently I tried to
persuade her to take a bit of soup. She mumbled incoherent
protests, struggled weakly, her eyes closing again.
     "No!  Tahr,  don't!"  I dampened a cloth and dabbed
at  her face, wiping the crusting stuff around her eyes and
nose,  trying  to keep her awake.  "Tahr you  must  eat!
Please! C'mon, just a sip. A little, please."
     She tried to turn her head aside, but I held her and
put the spout of the mug between her lips.  She swallowed a
few drops and I gently stroked her threadbare mane whilst
waiting for the  soup to settle on her empty stomach.
     After  a few minutes,  I made her take a bit more,
then a bit more, until  the mug  was half-empty and she
raised her hand to clumsily  paw  it away.
     "That  was good,  Tahr,  very good," I whispered
softly  and patted her shoulder as she snored and muttered.
It was the first sustenance she'd had in days.
 
******
 
     It was a slow,  anxious time patched with moments of
alarm, but over the following days she continued to
improve, starting to become more aware of her surroundings.
Sometimes I think she recognised me in her lucid moments.
I stayed in her room, eating my meals there and sleeping on
a pallet on the floor beside her sickbed, only occasionally
taking a brief walk outside when Remae insisted I stretch
and get some air.
     The  reactions of the townspeople were the usual  and
still succeeded in making me remember what I was.
     Tahr slept soundly and heavily,  but often she would
wake me in the middle of the night when her breathing
became laboured and she cried out;  sometimes in what
sounded like pain, sometimes in something else.
Occasionally I heard my name. For hours after she had
settled  down  again I would lie awake  and  listen  to
her rasping snores. What was she dreaming?
     The  weather  that day had been  miserable.  Low-lying
grey clouds  looking like lumps of half-molten lead roiled
across  the sky.  Strong gusts of wind rattled the shutters
in their  frames, driving  the  rain  against the slate
roof with  such  vigour  it sounded like hail.
     That was the way it stayed all day.  At night I leaned
back in the darkness,  dozing, listening to the sounds of
the wind, the creaking of the building, and Tahr's measured
breathing.
     The steady rhythm sped up, became deeper. There was a
small, puzzled-sounding mewl, then a silence, not even
breathing:
     "Tahr?" Fear clutched at me. "Tahr!"
     "Who. . . ? K'hy?"
     I groped after my jacket and fumbled the lighter out
of  the pocket, touching the flame to a lamp. The walls
danced with red ochre light as the flame sputtered, spat,
and caught. Tahr was flat on her back, her  head  turned to
watch me.  Her eyes glowed  when  the  light struck them,
the pupils contracting slightly. Threadbare patches in  her
fur and mane shone dull against the her tawny  pelt.  The
swelling  of her jaw had gone down but there were still
bruises. Slowly, she blinked at me: "How long have you been
there?"
     "A while. You have not been at your best."
     "Oh." She looked up to where the invisible rain was
drumming a  steady tattoo on the roof.  Distant thunder
rolled,  long  and low. "Where is this place?"
       "A  town  called  Ice Blue.  We  had  to  stop
here.  The travelling was not doing you any good."
     She  kept staring at the roof.  "I remember. . .   I
have  been sick some time."
     Sick? Oh, Jesus, Tahr. "Over a week. How do you feel?"
     A sigh,  then her head lolled over. "Alive," she
replied and raised  a stick-thin arm,  staring at it as if
it wasn't part  of her own body. "I look like an old rug."
     "No. . . "
     "Yes.  Look  at me.  You could have kept the moths
off  me, K'hy." Then she smiled and those eyes flickered
with a vibrancy I hadn't seen for too long. "We talk?"
     After  those  days of lying there playing tag with
the  old Reaper,  she suddenly wanted to chat.  "You are
sure?  Your mouth looks sore. You do not want to rest?"
     "No," she said calmly, meaning it.
     "All right," I nodded slowly. "If you think you can
manage it,  Okay,  talk. Talk about what?"
     "Huh," she looked up at the roof, gathering her
thoughts. "What has happened? The armies? What are the Lake
Traders doing? Hraasa? Has he been taken? Why did he
forfeit like that?"
     I tried to answer as best I could, telling her what I
knew. What I didn't know Remae could fill in later. Tahr
listened, staring up at the ceiling while her chest moved
slowly. When I told her about Hraasa she stiffened then
squinted at me. "Dead?"
     "Yes."
     "Suicide?"
     "No. Remae said he was murdered." I filled her in on
those details also, what Remae had told me, keeping it
brief.
     "Rot his honour," Tahr hissed when I was finished. "I
wanted the privelege. No ideas who did it?"
     "No. There was a lot of confusion that night. Please,
are you sure you do not want to rest."
     She raised her hand in a feeble swipe at me. "Ah! Do
not mother me. You look too strange for that." There was a
hesitation,  a faint clicking sound audible over the rain:
Tahr tapping her claws together,  then she said, "K'hy.
What are you going to do now? You and your female."
     I blinked.  "Why that?" Twenty Questions time and the
first thing she asks about's my private life.
     She squirmed, a pink tongue running over sharp teeth.
"I. . . I had some strange dreams. You and Mas. . ." she
searched for words, then surrendered. "I cannot explain.
What are you going to do with her?"
     "You make her sound like a possession.  Not MY female,
Tahr. She has a will of her own. I am not even sure what
her opinion of me is."
     Tahr out on the balcony watching Maxine and I arguing.
 .
     "You are afraid," Tahr said abruptly.  "Our mating.
You are afraid of what she thinks."
     I sat up and crossed my legs,  leaning back against
the rough wooden planks of the wall while staring at the
flickering lamp flame.  Dammit,  what had  she been
dreaming about in that delirium?  She'd hit the nail on
the head.  That WAS what I was worried about! How could I
ever expect Maxine to accept me after what I had done.
     "I am sorry, my strange one."
     I looked up, surprised. "What? Why"
     "I  never realised how it would affect you.  I had  no
idea that  anyone could be upset by what we did." She
lolled her  head back, staring up at the rafters. "I was
wrong to lead you on as I did. At first. . . I thought it a
game."
     "Tahr. . . " The floor creaked as I hauled myseelf to
my feet and perched myself on the edge of the bed. Her fur
was still soft under my hand. "Look, do not go around
blaming yourself.  I was as much a part of  that as  you
were.  I enjoyed it as much as you,  and I do not  regret
it."
     God, how to explain it to the human woman? I didn't
know how Maxine thought of the Sathe.  Did she regard them
as just  exotic animals,  or did she see them as people in
their own rights? Pray she'd learned to identify with that
side of them. After all, what is wrong with love between
two people?
     I  patted the fur beneath my hand.  "I worry about
what  she thinks,  but I may be worrying over nothing.  I
do not know. . . After all, who can understand the workings
of the female mind?"
     "You. . . !" Tahr gave a mock-hiss and swiped weakly
at my arm; claws pulled. "How can YOU say that?" she
sputtered in amusement.
     "It  is  true!  You  are  female and  many  times  I
cannot understand how your mind. . . "
     Although still weak,  the hand that grabbed my
shoulder  and pulled  me  over  backwards onto the bed
didn't  feel  like  one belonging to someone who had been
semi-comatose for over a  week. The  room seemed to lurch,
and suddenly I was lying on  my  back staring up into
brilliant emerald eyes. She was panting after the exertion,
her  breath warm as blood and harsh enough to blister paint
as she lightly  nuzzled  my bearded  cheek  and neck.
"K'hy,  why could you  not  have  been Sathe?"
     I  touched  her tufted ears and ran my fingers down
into  her mane. "Or you Human?"
     It  was soothing to just lie there;  her  fur  warm,
moving slightly with every breath she took.  I sighed and
relaxed,  with her  weight against me like a warm and heavy
blanket, my arms  around  her,  just holding her  close,
feeling  her  heart beating.
     "Anyway,  K'hy. What will you and Mas do now?" Tahr
murmured after too short a time.
     I  twisted around and looked at her face.  "The
fighting  is over?"
     "I believe so."
     "I have given it little thought, actually," I said,
glancing at the window as a gust rattled the shutters. "I
think that maybe it  would be  best if we went out on  our
own. Away  from  the Citadel, Mainport."
     "What?" She started slightly in surprise. "K'hy, why?"
     I  swallowed and swirled the fur on her stomach
between  my thumb and forefinger. "You have a life to lead,
and the two of us hanging around you may be a. . . burden."
     "No! K'hy, you would never be a. . . "
     "Yes,  Tahr! I. . . we would be just that," I
interjected. "You know things are never easy with us
around. The way Sathe react to us. . . You could not live a
normal life with us around and Maxine and I will have to
learn  to live without your help."
     She drew back slightly.  "Why? I can provide for you
as long as. . . " she trailed off as she remembered. "Oh."
     The  difference  in  our  lifespans.   Although
perhaps  we couldn't  expect to live as long as we would
back  home,  barring accidents we could live to sixty,
maybe seventy, maybe more.
     And the average Sathe lifespan is what? Forty five?
     "You cannot always be around;  we will have to learn
to fend for ourselves. Between us there must be some skills
or knowledge we can scrape a living from."
     "I think that you will manage.  I was told that you
built  a flying device. Is that true?"
     "We got lucky," I smiled.
     "K'hy,  just building and selling those devices alone
would make you wealthy for life."
     "Maybe,  but any idiot can look at one of those and
see  how to build another."
     "True,  but  they  would not understand it.  You
built  it. You  know how and why it works and how to use
it.  Perhaps  they could be used to go to the moon."
     I  laughed  at that,  and she growled,  then  pushed
closer against  me.  Difficult to carry out a constructive
conversation with  a hot,  soft body like that rubbing
against your  own.  She also knew a few things about me. .
 like where and how to touch  to elicit a response.
     "Tahr!"  I caught her wrist and pushed her hand  away.
"No! You are supposed to be sick for Christ's sake!
Besides,  you are mated now."
     She hissed and pushed back against my hand.  "So?  How
could H'rrasch be jealous of you?  It would be ridiculous."
She tried a smile with her mouth. I could just about count
her back teeth.
     "Ridiculous, huh?" I grinned back. "Well, I will tell
you an interesting tale. Something ridiculous happened to
me not so long ago.  I almost got my face ripped off by a
male who thought I was trying to. . . ah. . . seduce his
female."
     "You?!" Tahr did a poor job of stifling a laugh.
     "He  did have a good reason," I continued.  "It  would
seem there  is a rumour going around the citadel.
Something  about  a 'reputation' I have."
     "A. . . a  reputation?"  Tahr  asked,  suddenly
cautious. She wasn't laughing anymore.
     "Uh-huh.  Something about the way I am built.  Also,
that I have  'a  way with sex'." I propped myself up on  my
elbows  and raised an eyebrow, "I would wonder where that
came from, eh?"
     "Oh," said Tahr.
     "Tahr,  I  am flattered by the praise,  but it makes
things most  difficult  for me when Maxine hears of  our
exploits  from Sathe I do not even know,  and when angry
males feel the urge  to rebuild my face with their claws."
     Her ears went back in a hesitant,  almost sheepish
smile. "I was wrong. I had no idea that it would go this
far."
     "Just  please  do  not  talk about  us  anymore,"  I
asked. "Please."
     "Very well, K'hy," she sighed, then hissed in her
version of a giggle. "It will cost you," she smiled.
     I sat up; wary. "How much?"
     For  a  reply she stiffly rolled over onto her
stomach  and wriggled her shoulders, "Please, ease my
muscles."
     "You have a nerve," I half-snorted,  half-laughed,
amused at her  gall,  then  settled  beside her and
started  kneading  the threadbare hide of her back.  With a
low sigh she went limp under my hands,  luxuriating in the
massage.  Those times I'd  been bed-ridden sprang  to mind.
God,  could  I  have  used something like this back then.
Maybe it was fifteen minutes later when the scratch at the
flimsy door disturbed us.
     Remae was waiting there. The  faint,  flickering,
reddish-orange  from the guttering oil lamp out there did
weird things to her black  fur  and  green eyes. Off down
the corridor from the common room came the muted background
sound of crockery and ironmongery rattling, Sathe talking,
laughing.
     "High One," Remae murmured,  ducking her head in
surprise  and respect when she saw Tahr sprawled on the
bed, half-awake and watching her. "How are you feeling?"
     Tahr smiled back.  "Tired,  stiff and sore, but much
better, thank you."
     "I am pleased," Remae smiled. "I came to tell K'hy
that food is  ready  and to. . . " She looked from Tahr to
me to  the  rumpled sheets,  back to me,  and realization
dawned in her eyes that she may have committed a boo-boo.
"Saaa. . . I did not mean to intrude."
     For a second both Sathe were watching me.  Then Tahr's
ears flicked back in amusement,  "No,  Remae,  there was
nothing going on.  Please,  come in. . . and,  K'hy, there
is no need to look like that."
     I  felt  heat  rising  into  my  face  like  mercury
in   a thermometer.  Hastily I backed out of the room,
closing the door behind me. I tried not to imagine the two
friends laughing.
     The inn was busy that night. Other travellers
sheltering from the unseasonal  downpour. They  kept
pretty  much  to  themselves,  but  they  choked  and
sputtered on their food when I made my appearance.  The
fare  was simple:  a  meat  and vegetable stew,  bread,
and  a  choice  of  water (a risky choice from a village
well),  llama milk,  or ale, but the Eastern soldiers
seemed to enjoy it enough. I wondered if they ever got
splinters in their tongues from licking the  wooden bowls
clean.
 
******
 
     It  was another three days before the storm abated
and  the mud  on the roads had dried out enough to make
travel  possible. The  innkeeper was not unhappy to see us
depart,  even though  he made a handsome profit from our
layover.
     Very  quickly the fields and pastures surrounding the
small town gave way to wilderness. The road forded small
creeks swollen from the rain,  wound its way through
evergreen woodland, crossed broad stretches of gold and
green grassland.
     We  worked  our  way  north;  a  single  covered
wagon  and seventeen housecarls mounted upon lamas. We took
our time; taking it slow and easy.  The weather remained
fine after the storm, the skies were crystal clear and the
nights warm.
     And  Tahr had recovered with a vengeance.  During the
first few  days  she ate enough for two,  rapidly filling
out  the  gap beneath her ribs that she'd cultivated during
her  convalescence. When we stopped for  the night, her
almost hyperactive restlessness would  often  lead  her  to
disappear  into   the wilderness, causing consternation
amongst her guard.
     And I had a lot of thinking to do.
     Light shifted through the intertwining branches of the
trees above  the small pool,  playing across the surface of
the  water that  rippled every so slightly as invisible
cat's  paws  stirred it.  A  rivulet  of water trickled
through  moss-covered  rocks; sparkling  and glittering as
it dropped the metre or so into  the pond.
     A soft splash. Ripples spread.
     Settled in a patch of grass, my back against the solid
trunk of a sugar maple, I flicked another pebble from the
small horde I clutched in my hand. Light twinkled as more
ripples spread before the first had entirely stilled.
     Tahr had been in the right with her questioning at the
inn; what WAS I going to do with my life now?
     I'd  been born and raised in a culture where it  was
always someone  else  who had the  knowledge,  the  skills.
Whatever  I needed,  I just went out and bought and all the
skill needed  was the ability to drive a car and write a
check.
     Oh,  I was pretty mechanically inclined.  More than
average. Certainly  I  was no technical prodigy,  but  I
was  comfortable around machinery.  My general knowledge
was pretty good,  I  knew how things worked and how they
were made.  I was capable in metal and woodworking,  but
that was with tools far more advanced  than anything the
Sathe used. I could easily plane a length of wood or weld
up sheet metal,  but would I be as effective if all I had
to work with was an adze or forge?
     And how many gaps were there in my knowledge?
     Another stone plunked into the water.
     For  my entire life up to the point when I arrived
here,  I had  been deluged with the continual flood of
disjointed  snippets of  information I picked up from
television,  radio,  and  casual reading. I could draw a
detailed diagram of an internal combustion engine and how
it's supposed to work,  but what of the materials it's made
from?  How exactly do you make a magneto?
     I shifted the M-16 into my lap,  running a finger
along  the scratched  and scarred stock.  The gun had taken
a lot of  abuse, the metal itself was nicked in places;
gleaming steel exposed on the  raised sections of the mat
black surfaces.  I wasn't sure  I knew  how to forge a
metal like that,  let alone how to make  the synthetic
compounds that made the stock and foregrip.
     No, I frowned, that was still not the real problem.
     Would  I. . . we  - aliens -  be able to make a  home
in  this society;  not live out our entire, overly long
lives as freaks on display for all to see?  I mean,  we
couldn't exactly settle down in the town, could we. . .
     I say, George. Look what's just moved in next door.
     Oh, shit. There goes the neighbourhood.
     No.
     And what about children. . .
     My God, children.
     My thoughts were interrupted by a splash. I looked up
to see ripples spreading out across the water. I hadn't
thrown that. . .
     "Why  so dour,  K'hy?"
     Tahr got up from where she  had  been crouched on a
boulder across the other side of the small pool,  her head
cocked to one side in her study of me.
     "You followed me," I accused her.
     There  wasn't a sound as she dropped from a rock  onto
deep moss.  The  worn blue and brown cuirass and kilt she
wore  didn't quite  blend in with the foliage behind her:
"No.  I was out  by myself. I just found you here."
     My thumb flicked the safety catch back on as I looked
up  at her.  Twigs and small leaves were matted into her
mane as  though she'd  been lying on the ground.  "You have
been running  off  by yourself a lot lately. Any reason?"
     She laughed and flopped down beside me,  leaning up
against my arm.  "Just restless.  My legs just want to
stretch after  all that  time doing nothing." I reached out
and plucked a twig  from her  fur.  "It  is good to have a
chance to run,  to  hunt."  She stretched,  then craned
around to look at me.  "Do you never have the urge to do
that?"
     I blinked. "To run. . . sometimes, but not usually to
hunt."
     She  gave  a  half-hearted snort and watched  as  I
flipped another pebble into the water.  "I was watching you
for a while," she said. "What was troubling you?"
     "Troubling me?"
     "Oh,  K'hy."  She flashed teeth in annoyance.  "No
games! Your  face has more expressions tucked away than a
piece of  soft clay. I think I can read many of them well
enough to see that you were. . . well. . . not happy."
     "Okay, point taken," I sighed and told her.
     "Children?" she was puzzled. "I do not think I
understand."
     I got up and paced a couple of times before slumping
against a boulder.  "Tahr,  if Maxine and I reproduce, the
result will be human children."
     "'Reproduce'," Tahr's ears twitched in a smile while
the velvet of her nose wrinkled  at the same time.  "You
know,  there  are  words for that  which  bear  more
warmth."
     "I was not trying to be poetic."
     "Sorry. Please continue."
     "If we have children, they will be human. Eventually
Max and I will both die and they would be alone here.
Absolutely alone." I  swung around to face Tahr.  "Do you
understand now?  All  they would  know of where they
originally came from would be what  Max and  I told them.
They would be. . . different.  All their lives."
     Tahr got up and slowly ambled past me. Leaves rustled
as she pushed aside a branch. "Yes, I can understand that."
     I  fell in beside her as she padded through the
forest.  My boots  made a lot more noise than her bare
pads.  Aside from  the wind and the incidental sounds of
nature, that was the only noise there  was for a quite a
while,  then:  "K'hy,  what do you  know about Hraasa's
death?"
     Ohshit!
     "Well, Remae told me he had died in his sleep."
     She  paused before answering.  "He was killed in his
sleep; yes,"  she  agreed.   "Strangled. . . his  throat
crushed.  Not  an accidental  death.  There is no assassin
I know of who would  use such  tactics."  Her  green eyes
latched  upon  mine.  "No  Sathe assassin."
     I stopped in my tracks and stared at her.
     She also drew up short,  folding her arms,  hands
hooked over her shoulders.  "K'hy,  the Marshal has done
some asking around, and the thing that strikes both her and
myself as peculiar is the fact  that  nobody can remember
seeing you on the  night  of  the Challenge."
     I felt my jaw twitch.
     "Remae  has  also seen Hraasa's  corpse.  She
inspected  it perhaps  a little more thoroughly than did
the guards  who  found him. He did not die peacefully; he
fought. His bedding was soiled with blood that did not come
from the scratches I had given  him. There were traces of a
strange scent on his body.  There was more blood  on his
fingers and claws and chest.  She also found shreds of
flesh under  his claws that did not come from the
challenge.  They  did not come from a Sathe. She saw you
the next day. You smelt of blood and medicine.
     "K'hy, your tunic. Take it off."
     I  swallowed  and stepped back a pace,  backed up
against  a  tree. "Tahr. . . I. . . ." I shook my head and
bit my lip.
     "I  thought  as  much," she  rumbled.  "Did  you  also
have something to do with his loss in the Challenge?"
     My shoulders sagged. I gave her a feeble, glum nod.
     "Saaaa ! "
     Birds startled by her cry flapped into the air.
"K'hy!" she blazed,  turning  to howl at the forest.  "You
could have  ruined everything!  Why,  in  the name of my
Ancestors!  Why did you  do it?!"
     I shook my head helplessly, despairing at her anger.
"He was going to kill Maxine."
     Tahr  stopped in mid snarl,  half-turning with bared
teeth. "No, K'hy, impossible! Hraasa gave his surrender!
His troops saw! He could not have!"
     "He  was going to use a Scirth Warrior," I  told  her.
"Are they  not  outside  the agreements that bind you  and
the  other Clans?"
     "Scirth Warriors?!" she choked on the title. "K'hy,
they are lethal!  I  hold  no  power over them;  no Clan
does!"  Her  jaw twitched violently. "If he has hired one
to kill Mas she is. . . "
     "I took care of it," I said.
     She gaped at me,  her expressions spinning between
fury  and astonishment  at a mile a minute.  Finally:  "I
am  lost.  Now  - from the beginning - tell me what
happened that night."
     We started walking again while I talked.  I
reluctantly told her  about the accidental part I had
played in Hraasa losing  the Challenge  and went on to tell
her about the conversation  I  had later overheard.
     "I swam the river.  Your kind are not the best
swimmers,  so there  were very few guards.  Hraasa's tent
was around the  other side  of their camp. . . Anyway,  I
dodged the sentries and  circled around.
     "He had a physician come to dress his wounds,  then
someone in a black cloak was brought to see him.  I was
able  to get close enough to hear their conversation.  He
was talking with a Scirth Warrior,  hiring him. . .  Did
you know that the going rate for the assassination of a
human is twenty five gold pieces?"
     Tahr said nothing.
     "Well, anyway, I followed the Scirth Warrior when he
left. I caught  up with him and managed to persuade him to
forget  about his job."
     "How did you do that?" Tahr queried.  "I cannot see
even you defeating a Scirth warrior unarmed and walking
away from it."
     I  fished a small metal circlet out of my pocket and
tossed  it  to her.
     She snatched the ring out of the air,  turned it
over,  and stared in surprise again. "This. . . Where did
you get this?!"
     "Hymath. Remember her? She gave it to me."
     Tahr  stared at the ring,  then slowly gave it back
to  me. "When? Why did you not tell me?"
     "You never asked."
     Tahr made a disgusted noise.  "K'hy,  take good care
of that ring. I think that you do not know just how
valuable it is."
     That ring;  the tiny silver Sathe's head baring minute
fangs in  a snarl.  She was absolutely right;  it was
valuable in  ways that went far beyond just the exquisite
craftsmanship.  I  closed my hand over it and slipped it
back within my pocket.  "Where was I? Oh yeah. He was
reluctant about going back on his word, but he agreed not
to take the assignment. Before he left, he gave me the gold
he had accepted. . . to return to Hraasa.
     "I went back to the camp and hid until the lamp in
Hraasa's tent  went  out.  Their whole camp was. . . it was
like  they  were going mad.  There were fires and fights
all over the  place.  The guards were watching a group
fighting nearby. I got in under the side of the tent. They
never saw  me.
     "There  was just enough light for me to see by.  I
guess  I wasn't  as  quiet as I should have been," I licked
my  lips  and turned away from Tahr,  suddenly finding
something of interest in the patterns of pine bark.  "He
must have heard me. . . he  woke.  I hit him hard. . .
here,  in the throat. I crushed his throat, but it took
time.   He  was. . . was  awake  -  fighting  -   the
whole time. . . I. . . he. . . "
     I choked off and slumped against a tree.  Tahr said
nothing while I pulled myself together again. "I left the
money there and just. . . put  my hood up and just walked
away. . . nobody noticed  me. That was the only reason I
got away. . . Nobody noticed. Sheer, dumb luck.  I swam
across the river and circled around to come back in the
northern gate."
     "K'hy," Tahr stared at me. "It was suicide."
     I didn't respond. I had known.
     Her  ears  went back flat against her skull  and  she
moved closer,  her eyes about level with my shoulders.
Reaching up she fumbled  with my shirt buttons.  I caught
her hand.  "K'hy,"  she almost growled, her ears going
down.
     I let my hand drop.
     Buttons,  one  at a time down my chest,  then she
spread  my shirt open.  "My Ancestors!" Another tug and my
arms were  bared. Her wide eyes met mine, like pain-filled
greenstone. "K'hy!"
     The smooth curve of a claw traced a line of red  scar
and scab up my chest to the point where it ended  just
below my throat.  Just one of a multitude.  "My Strange
One," she  moaned, gently  touching my chest again,  then
stepping away.  "It is  an ancient  tradition  you  have
violated.  It is not  so  much  you killing  him,  as  the
fact that you biased the  outcome  of  the Challenge. . .
you were NOT supposed to be there!"
     I  started walking again,  rebuttoning my shirt.  Tahr
fell into  step, slightly behind me.  High above us the
wind set  the  treetops swaying and rustling. "What will
you do with me now?" I asked.
     Tahr  grimaced  and  took a swipe at a  pine  tree
she  was passing.  Four horizontal scrapes appeared across
the bark. "I am not  sure.  In a sense I am the law,  but
there are limits to  my jurisdiction.  I am the Shirai, but
even I cannot change what has always been, and what will
probably always be."
     "I understand."
     "Did you understand before?"
     I bit my lip and studied the ground in front of me.
"Yeah."
     She breathed a steam-kettle hiss, her lips pulling
away from her  teeth.  "And  if you were found?!  Did you
think  what  your discovery  could have meant for the
Shirai clan,  for the  entire Eastern Realm?!  You could
have destroyed everything that we have fought  to achieve!
All the loss and sacrifice,  all  the  death, everything
would have been for nothing!"
     I  flinched away from the claws that were now hovering
near  my face,  turned  and sat on a fallen log smothered
in  moss.  Tahr stood,  keeping her distance, a shaft of
sunlight cutting the air between  us,  glittering  on the
wings  of  insects.  Suddenly  I remembered a time a
headstrong creature had tried to make her own way  back to
her people with her side held together  with  string and  a
prayer.  Memories of chasing after her  and  finding  her
waiting for me, calmly waiting with her wound seeping
blood.
     Now her eyes burned with anger.
     "Tahr," I said, "look at me."
     She tossed her mane,  her teeth flaring white.  "I
have been looking at you for the best part of two years
now. What else. . . "
     "Damnation!  LOOK  AT ME!" I exploded.  "Look at me
as other Sathe see me!"
     Her eyes narrowed,  then she spun and took a few steps
away before turning back to study me again.  Then she
slowly  squatted and took a stick in her hands,  twisting
it in her fingers. "What are you trying to say?"
     I sighed. "You have grown too familiar with me. What
am I? I am not of the Shirai clan.  I am not of the Eastern
Realm.  I  am not  even  Sathe!  I am as an animal under
your  laws!  If  a. . . a squirrel  had made Hraasa forfeit
the challenge,  could he  blame the Eastern Realm?"
     The Shirai stabbed at the ground with her stick, then
slowly twitched her ears: "No, I think not."
     "I  made  my decision and I am prepared to stand by
it  and take  the  consequences.  I think that you would
have  done  the same."
     The  stick moved again as Tahr pondered.  "You  have
thought this out, haven't you," she growled.
     "I tried to. It happened so fast."
     "Then  you  know  that  while  your. . . status  may
give  you immunity from the laws of the Realms and Clans -
and even that  I am not sure of - it also means that you
have no rights at all  in our Realm,  that you are,  in
fact,  an animal in the care of the Shirai Clan. You could
be brought and sold or even killed without the  stigma
that  would  be attached  to  such  treatment  of  a
normal. . . person."
     I nodded. "I had suspected."
     Tahr's  muzzle wrinkled so as much of her teeth and
gums  as possible  were  bared.  Her ears vanished into her
mane  and  the stick scratched violent patterns into the
forest floor, then she snarled and sent the stick bouncing
off a tree trunk, splitting into two pieces. When she
looked at me it was the look predator gave prey. "Rot it
all, K'hy! When I think you understand, you go and do
something like this. If anyone learns. . . "
     I stood, carefully went to lay a hand on her shoulder.
"He would have killed you. I . . ."
     She snarled again and her hand whipped up, catching me
across the side of the head. I yelped and staggered back.
My face burned. I touched that place and there was blood on
my hand. I stared at her in shock.
     Tahr's snarl evaporated, turning to confusion, then. .
 something else. She opened her mouth, then turned and
bolted into the forest. Undergrowth hissed around her, then
the foilage stilled and she was gone.
     "Shit." I said, touched my bleeding face again,
winced. Gone. No way I could catch her. Did I want to? I
turned and set off back to camp.
     Remae caught me as I walked back into camp. "K'hy,
they need. . . what happened to your face?"
     "Branch scratched it," I mumbled.
     "Angry branch," she observed. She knew. Of course she
knew, but she let it lie.
     I went and sat by myself. The Sathe muttered and
gossiped, glancing at me, but they left me alone. I touched
the scratches on my face again. Why had she done that?
     Anger? Fear? Exasperation?
     Perhaps everything. Perhaps I deserved it. I didn't
know. And she's never told me.
     Goddamn it! A Sathe might be able to stand aside and
watch while a friend was torn apart, but I'm not a Sathe.
What I did I did of my own volition. If it came down to it
I would take the blame, but no-one could drag Tahr or her
clan into it. Hell, if someone  wanted to they could pick a
fight with the Davies clan. Good luck to finding them.
     Tahr returned that night. A stiff wind whipped sparks
into the night sky while we ate. I never noticed until
Remae flinched, then laid her platter aside and went to
join a figure standing in the gloom of the treeline. They
exchanged a few words and eyes flashed metallic light as
they glanced my way. I stared down at my meal. When I
looked up again they were gone, into the trees: out of
sight and earshot. I put my plate aside, not hungry
anymore.
 
******
 
     The Citadel loomed above us as the tiny convoy made
its  way along  the  narrow lane between massive inner  and
outer  walls. Covered  walkways spanned the gap high above
our  heads,  arching over  from  one towering vertice to
another.  It was a  lot  like being in an alley between two
skyscrapers.
     The  inner  gate was open,  the uphill-sloping tunnel
beneath the gatehouse  dark  and chill.  The  sounds  of
llamas'  hooves  and  iron-bound  wheels clattering  and
grinding echoed from the walls of solid  granite, then we
were through.
     For a second the sunlight breaking through the clouds
above the  vast courtyard dazzled me,  then the  monumental
bulk of the Citadel's Keep blotted out the sky;  layer upon
layer of walls and towers enveloping the granite crown of
the hill, dwarfing even the outer walls.
     Tahr's small fist tapped my shoulder: "Home." Her ears
flicked in her smile. I blinked blearily and twitched my
own lips at her.
     The last few days and nights had been spent on the
road, travelling nonstop, doing our best to catch forty
winks in the wagons. I hadn't got much sleep. None of us
had. The walking dead, that was us.  I just wanted to lie
down and die for a week  or two.
     The  stir  we'd caused in the town below had  reached
the Citadel ahead of us.  Two ranks of Citadel Guards lined
the steps and  approach to the Keep.  Faces massed at
windows and  parapets all around the courtyard as the small
convoy drew to a halt.
     As Tahr adjusted her armour and dropped from the back
of the wagon, Remae caught my arm. "Walk with me." It
wasn't a request.
     Tahr  preceeded us,  her head held high and the  clean
armour  she  had materialised from  God-knows-where
flashing  as inlaid silver caught the sun.  Remae had no
clean armour, but the blue and silver cloak she wore hid
the scars,  nicks,  and stains in  the purely functional
battle dress she was  wearing.  Against them, I stood out
like a cow in church.
     Head and shoulders above the Sathe, my hair had grown
so long the last couple of months that it resembled a Sathe
mane escaping  from  beneath  my helmet,  even if the
copper  was  so different   from  the  more  subdued,
earthy  tones  of   Sathe coloration. My cloak flapped
around my ankles, not quite hiding my tattered, stained
fatigues. I looked around at the continuously growing crowd
and nervously hitched up the battle-scarred assault rifle,
feeling exposed and vulnerable crossing that huge
courtyard.
     Cheering  had started as soon as Tahr had appeared
from  the wagon,  the  howling sound of Sathe cheering.
With Remae's  claw hooked  into my sleeve,  I stepped out
into a confusion of  faces and sound.  The Marshal noticed
my nervousness.  "K'hy, this way!" she  hissed and  tugged
me  along. "Don't worry so."
     I'd been shot at, burned and beaten and given a choice
I'd have rather been on the battlefield than in that
courtyard anyday. Sathe everywhere, more than I'd ever seen
in one place before, the entire population of the Citadel
it appeared and most of them were looking at me. I scanned
the balconies and ramparts and windows and doors, looking
for distinctive non-Sathe features. If she was there I
didn't see her.
     More Sathe awaited us within the massive doors of the
Keep. The entry hall echoed with hushed Sathe voices, the
clatter of claws and metal accessories. Expansive  cloaks
with  clan crests  embroidered  in  glittering thread
brushed against the lacquered parquetry in the wooden floor
as their wearers bowed their heads before Tahr.
     "High  One," the honorific murmured from the  tapestry-
hung walls  of  the  chamber,   resounding  among  the
galleries  and balconies that rose to the vaulted ceiling
far above.
     Tahr respectfully returned the bows to the Clan Lords
ranked before  her and murmured something that caused ears
to twitch  in amusement;  quickly suppressed.  Finally Tahr
approached the red-robed figure patiently awaiting her.
"Shirai," he bowed when she stopped in front of him.
     And there was one more Sathe waiting for her. Not a
Clan Lord or high-ranking official.  It took a second to
sink in just who he was. A far cry from the embarrassed
trooper who had worried about Tahr in the corridor so long
ago. Now wearing the armour of the royal guards, a silver
ring in his ear.
     H'rrasch bowed.  "Shirai," he said, and  there was  an
emotion running far deeper than  respect  there.  She
touched his shoulder and he looked up. "I am glad you made
it back," then he ducked his head again as though he was
embarrassed. Tahr gave a stuttering hiss, then they were
embracing  and nuzzling each other.
     Been doing some matchmaking, Kelly ?
     Behind them,  Rehr made an Excuse-Me-For-Butting-In
kind  of sound,   interrupting  Tahr's  personal
homecoming.  "Excuse  me, Shirai, but there are a few
thousand people clamouring to see you."
     Welcome home, Tahr ai Shirai.
 
******
 
     I was exhausted and hungry and exhausted and tired.
The dust of the weeks on the road had ground its way into
my very pores; a gritty feeling like sandpaper rubbing
against my flesh. That last day had been the toughest,
travelling all night so that we would make it to Mainport
while there was still light.
     The sounds of cheering and jubilation were swallowed
by  the tremendous solidity of the walls of the Keep; the
stone absorbing sounds so that none reached the deserted
corridor where I  walked. Occasionally a servant would
scurry past, but otherwise the place had all the air of a
mausoleum. All along the corridors the walls between the
doors were  carved  in  bas-relief, ancient depictions  of
tailed Sathe:  living and dying,  laughing and  crying.
The  joy  and sheer  exuberance  of  felinoid  life
immortalized in stone. I gave a jaw-cracking yawned and
concentrated on planting one foot in front of the other.
     The  corridor  opened  into a T-junction  in  a  groin
vault serving as a landing for a broad,  dimly-lit
staircase. The steps were bare, undressed rock stairs cut
directly into the hill and worn to almost-marble smoothness
by the buffing of countless feet.  How long ago had this
part of the Keep been hewn? A passage to be measured in
centuries or millennia?
     "Kelly!"
     The  shout echoed down the corridor behind me,
followed  by the  pounding  of footsteps as a  figure  in
checkered  flannel  shirt and blue jeans ran  towards  me.
I lowered  my pack to the floor and gave her a weary smile
as  she slowed  down to a walk,  staring as she approached.
"I know,"  I forestalled her with an upraised hand, "I look
like shit."
     She  flinched  and gave me rueful grin.  "Sorry."
Then  she stepped close and hugged me.  I stiffened, then
slowly hugged her back,  uncomfortably  aware of the
feelings her human femininity sparked off inside me. Her
hair  was  clean,  soft,  and  smelling of. . . womanhood.
     She suddenly stepped back,  nervously avoiding my
eyes, then smiled shyly. "Welcome home."
     I blinked. "Last I knew you weren't talking to me."
     She flashed a tight smile, like the ones I did with
Sathe; trying not to show teeth. Was she developing that
habit also? Whatever it was she smiled and said, "I'm just
glad you made it back in one piece."
     I managed a smile in return. "Thanks. . . Max."
     "Here,  I'll take that," she said and before I could
protest she'd caught up my pack and slung it over her
shoulder.  "I tried to catch you back there with the
others, but you took off alone."
     "Yeah, well I wasn't expecting anyone to meet me. I
thought  I'd  skip   the homecoming. They  won't  miss  me,
and I'm beat."
     It was a familiar route, one I'd walked many times
before. The corridors became better lit, the tapestries,
murals, and friezes covering the bare stone of the walls
became more and more ornate  and well-kept;  banishing the
spartan atmosphere  of  the less-populated areas of the
Keep.
     Maxine  was keeping up a cheerful banter all the way
to  my rooms,  but by then I was too tired to reply in more
than monosyllables between the yawns. I fumbled with the
latch, then stumbled inside.
     The room was just as I had left it: papers sitting on
the desk,  a  pair of breeches carelessly draped over the
back  of  a chair.  Although  the air was stuffy with an
atmosphere like a house that hasn't been lived in for a
while, there wasn't a  speck  of dust to be seen anywhere.
     ". . . realised  what  you must have felt like  when
you  were here," Maxine was saying.  "I wasn't sure if you
were coming back or not."
     I  looked  at her,  then unslung the rifle  and
propped  it against the desk. It overbalanced, clattering
to the floor. "Hold on.  Sorry,  I've just got to sit down
for a while. . . I'm stuffed."  I nearly collapsed into a
chair.
     Maxine  was  suddenly kneeling beside me in  a  near
panic. "Hey, c'mon! Don't flake out on me here! I can't
carry you!"
     I mumbled an incoherent protest as she hauled me to my
feet again and guided me as I stumbled through to the
bedroom. I don't even remember hitting the bed.
 
******
 
     I was still rubbing my hair dry as I approached my
quarters, whistling cheerfully. With the layers of  grime
I'd  collected  on the  roads  sloughed  off  in  a
blissfully hot bath, I felt ready to take on the world: any
of them, or even all at once. That morning there was
someone  waiting at my door.  I broke into  a  grin  and
called out, "Morning, Ms Wayne."
     "Afternoon you mean. I've never seen anyone go out
like that."
     She  didn't blame me for sleeping in.  I had - she
agreed  - looked  like shit.  While I changed in the
bedroom  we  exchanged smalltalk through the open door.  I
had countless shirts,  all in a stylish shade of olive
drab:  part of the cargo from the  wreck of  the truck,
but only a single pair of  pants.  The  hardships these'd
been through were beginning to show in the  worn  knees,
the stains and holes in the heavy fabric. I glumly poked a
finger through  a  rent in the seat,  then chucked the
pants  aside  and fished  a pair of Sathe-made breeches
from the chest.  They  were the  type that finished around
the knees,  and I felt  absolutely ridiculous in them.
     "Why don't you try one of those kilts?" Maxine
giggled.
     "Too  cold," I replied.  "You know what the draughts
in  this place are like."
     She  laughed  and watched as I tied the laces on  my
boots. "You know,  I learned a lot about them while you
were  away.  The Sathe that is."
     I looked up at her. "You feel better about them now?"
     "I don't really know.  They're easier to get along
with, but they're still . . . weird. Sometimes I just feel
like it's not real, like it's all just a dream."  She
sighed deeply and looked at me. "How was it for you?"
     "Eating,  sleeping, drinking and crapping together.
You have to get used to them," I replied absently,  then
looked up at her. "I never said it was easy, Max."
     "Was the fighting bad?"
     I felt my jaw tighten. There's no way I'll ever forget
those weeks.  "How can it ever be good?  You know:  war is
hell and the food sucks."
     She forced a smile,  then said,  "If you don't want to
talk about it. . . "
     "Thanks," I pushed my fingers through my overgrown
thatch of hair, "Maybe. . . later, I think."
     The rifle was on the desk,  black and vicious  against
the  creamy  sheets of parchment lying underneath it.  I
picked  the weapon up and touched the scarred and nicked
receiver. There were gouges  in the stock and the paint had
chipped off  the  selector switch.
     "So what do I do with this?" I asked myself.
 
******
 
     The vault was buried deep underground, as is a vault's
wont. The air  was chill, the rough-hewn granite walls  and
vaulted  ceiling glittering with moisture, streaked  with
soot from the sputtering torches in  sconces.  It was just
one of a string of such rooms storing the wealth of a
realm. Inside, in the dimness, I could catch the glitter of
gold and silver: Bars of precious metal, ornate weapons
slung in racks. Locked iron-bound chests  labelled with
Sathe script were  everywhere. Maxine picked up a gold
staute the size of her hand, weighing it. It looked like
solid gold. Nearer  the door  olive-green  boxes  and
crates were stacked  in  neat  rows around the walls, black
stencilled letters and numbers seeming to twist and writhe
in the shifting light.
     Sathe guards and a single human woman were watching me
as  I checked the seals on the last case. The Sathe-made
laminated box would remain airtight until either the wood
rotted away or someone broke the seal around the lid.  The
rifle and  ammunition inside  were  sealed in a solid block
of  wax,  preserving  both indefinitely.
     I hefted the box and set it on a rack with the other
cases.
     The guards took the torches and swung the heavy door
to as I left. The dull boom as it closed echoed down the
dim corridor and the guards returned to their station.  It
was a safe bet that  as soon  as Max and I were out of
sight they would be back to  their game of dice.  You
couldn't really blame them; it was a boring duty to pull.
     Maxine  flicked  on the electric lantern she  was
carrying, filling the corridor with a crisp,  bluish light
that was strange after the faint orange illumination of the
torches.
     I  had  that sensation you feel when you've been
wearing  a watch  for years and suddenly it comes off for
some  reason:  You feel  as if part of your wrist is
missing.  That rifle  had  been near at hand for so long it
had almost seemed a part of  me.  Now it  was locked away
behind more than a dozen metres  of  rock,  I felt. . .
naked. A comforting and familiar weight was gone. My hand
kept reaching for a shoulder strap that was no longer
there.
     Maxine noticed my twitching.  "Withdrawal symptoms
already. You going to be all right without your little
toy?"
     "No problem, I'll just use the one you're carrying."
     She looked startled. "How'd you know?"
     "If you want to keep it hidden,  you shouldn't bend
over like that. Why are you carrying it anyway?"
     "After what happened down in the town, I didn't want
to take any chances."
     THAT  wasn't  still  an issue,  was it?  I thought it
was history, just 'a day in the life of' to me.  I  suppose
it had been a real shock for  her,  but  it concerned me
that she was still nervous about it. How long had it been
now? Months, at least.
     Sathe claws spattered on stone.  A servant dashed down
a staircase ahead of us and pulled up short, blinking, in
the glare of the electric lantern. "High one, the Shirai's
advisor requests your  presence  as soon as is convenient."
I saw him glance at Maxine. "Ah. . . alone."
     Maxine shrugged and held up the light. "You're going
to need this. I'll walk you up a few levels."
     The guard was bobbing tensely.  "All right," I told
him. "Lead on."
 
******
 
     There was no reply to my knock.
     "You are sure that he is here?" I asked.
     "He must be," the guard outside the door  replied,
puzzled. "He has not left."
     The  door  was unlocked,  opening easily when I
lifted  the latch.  The guard was close behind me  as  I
stepped inside the room,  expecting the worst.  Rehr wasn't
getting any younger. . .
     He was sitting in his chair at the desk,  his back to
me  as he stared out the window.  All I could see was the
back of his head  and his pointed ears.  It was all  I
needed to see.  Grinning,  I assured  the guard everything
was alright.  He  frowned,  but  he left.
     I  reached for the Sony DAC Walkman on the desk and
switched  it off.
     The Advisor was fast for his age.  He jumped with a
yelp  of surprise,  turning,  his shock turning to a glare.
He plucked the earphones out.  "K'hy," he said softly;
dangerously.  "You could have thought about announcing
yourself."
     "I  am  sorry,  sir," I bowed  my  head.  "I  did. . .
scratch; several times. You did not answer and I was
concerned for you."
     He glared  at me, then looked at the Walkman.   The
thunderclouds  behind his eyes cleared and his  grey-tufted
ears flickered.  "Ah. . . No.  The fault was not yours. I
borrowed this thing from your mate. She said it was music
from your world."
     I  took the proffered earphones and held one to my
ear;  the  music he'd  been so engrossed in was Nigel
Kennedy's rendition  of  The Four  Seasons.  I pressed the
reverse button.  The  flipside  was halfway through
QueensRyche,  Silent Lucidity.  Hmmm,  eclectic tastes.
     "You like it?" I asked.
     "It is a change," he answered diplomatically.  "So
many different kinds  of instruments,  different  music. .
 " The Sathe gave a  steam-kettle hiss  as  he  laid  the
Walkman on  his  lap.  "Some  of  it  is appealing,  some
of it is just. . . unusual." He tapped the stereo with a
claw and looked up at me. "K'hy,  I look at this object and
I am afraid.  Your  people can  make  objects like this.
They can build devices  like  that vehicle  of your mate's.
What would happen if your people  could find a way to
travel between our worlds at will?"
     I shrugged helplessly and picked up a spare tape from
the desk: Robert Plant, Fate of Nations. "I cannot say. I
just do not know. In our exploration of our own world, we
made many mistakes, but I am not certain that we would not
make the same mistakes here."
     "You speak against your own people?!"
     "I  merely say what is the truth. . . or what I
believe  to  be the truth."
     The Advisor rested his chin upon steepled fingers and
stared at me, thoughtful. Had I said something wrong? Then
his ears flicked like a fly had buzzed him and he asked,
"What could your people do?"
     I stared back at him. That was one question I didn't
want to answer, for several reasons, the least being the
paranoia it might generate toward the humans who were here.
"I. . . I do not know exactly," I hedged. "I suppose it
would depend on who found whom. Is this why you sent for
me?"
     "Not entirely," he said,  looking momentarily
disappointed. "I  thought  that you would want this back."
He  reached  into  a drawer  and pulled out a yellowish
rectangle of parchment with  a glaring red wax seal:  the
letter I given him for safekeeping.
     "Thank  you,  Sir," I took the letter and tucked  it
safely inside my jacket.
     "I  am  pleased to be able to return it to you."  He
hissed again as he sank back into his chair,  then smiled.
"Hearing  of some of your. . . ah,  exploits,  I am mildly
surprised that you are standing before me today."
     "I got lucky."
     "Lucky! Saaa! There is the understatement of a
lifetime!" He pulled another scroll from a wooden stand
beside the desk and held it up in front of me.  "Some of
your Greens have given a written report on your actions and
the Shirai is still trying to decide just what is to be
done with you."
     Oh shit!
     Seeing  me  stiffen,  he hastily set the  scroll
aside  and coughed,  almost apologetically. "Huh. . . I
think that can wait. Ah yes,  there  was  one  other thing
that I am not  sure  you  know about."
     In  five  days time there was to  be  a. . . a  party?
No, that wasn't the word for it; I think reception, or
perhaps formal ball would  be  more accurate.  It was a
celebration  of  the  Eastern Realms victory amongst the
high fliers of Sathe society: the Clan Lords of surrounding
towns and the most prominent merchants.
     "It  is  for  them to pay their respects  and  pledge
their loyalty to the Shirai," Rehr told me. "There will
also be Gulfers present. A formal surender of their Clan
lands before an assembly after Tahr proved herself at the
challenge."
     THAT  was something I'd screwed up royally.  If I
hadn't interfered in Sathe business - in that Challenge -
Tahr would be dead. However, I had, and she was alive. Did
that make her any less capable of ruling the Eastern Realm?
I doubted it. Hraasa, now that was one I would definitely
NOT like to see in the  White House. Having Gengis Khan as
your lord would've been only marginally worse.
     "K'hy?"
     "Huh?"
     "Is something bothering you?"
     "Oh,  no.  No." I gave him a weak grin. "A party; and
here I am without a thing to wear."
     "Something will be provided," he assured me.
 
******
 
     Lights,  torches and lanterns,  were burning
throughout  the Citadel.  Windows  small  and  large all
over the  faces  of  the ancient structure were lit;
thousands of points of light against the dark vertices of
stone walls and towers.
     The air that night was warm. A breeze curling in
through the open window made the lamps in my quarters
flicker and carried the raucous sound of Sathe carrying out
preparations for the night to come.
     Two  females,  each  so different  from  the  other,
turned together when I walked through the door.  Remae had
never seen me in   anything   other   than  worn   army
fatigues   or   Sathe clothing, altered  and cobbled
together to fit my frame.  Now  she blinked in surprise.
     Both tunic and trousers were black, with aquamarine
trim, silver piping on sleeves and legs. The broad leather
belt was glossy black with a simple silver buckle matching
the buttons. The cut was a sort of cross between dress
uniform and a tuxedo, except neither of those styles would
have the cloak slung across my shoulder: night black.
      "Isn't this overdoing it?" I asked Max. "Didn't you
have a tux?"
     "Quit  complaining!" she snapped back. "You look
great."  She fiddled  with something on my collar and asked
Remae,  "That  is good?"
     The  Sathe  Marshal rubbed at the small tuft of fur
on  her chin while she cast a critical eye over me.
"Good," she  finally proclaimed it.  "Very good.  Muted,
yet suits him well,  but you will have to something about
his fur. Rot you K'hy, stop squirming! You will be amongst
some of the most influential individuals in the realms,
you  must make a good impression upon them. Now sit and be
still!"
     I  was pushed down into a chair to endure their
fussing over  me; adjusting this and that detail, what
would look best. Fingers both hairless and furred yanked my
head this way and that,  claws raked and tugged at  my hair
and  beard:  pulling and rearranging while  the  two  women
debated between themselves what look I should have. A bit
off here? no, it looked better long, like a mane. Tie it
back. Did Sathe kids play with dolls? I didn't know.
     Maxine had indeed come a long way.  Her accent was
still strong and her vocabulary was not quite as extensive
as mine, but now  she was able to work hand in hand with a
Sathe.  It  wasn't that long ago that just a Sathe's touch
made her shy away.
     The sound of Sathe shouting drifted in through the
window on the  breeze and Maxine started to go to work on
my  patchy  beard with  a  pair of nail scissors she'd
produced  from  somewhere. While her hands tilted my head
this way and that I had to wonder what she would be wearing
to the reception the next night.
 
******
 
     I  rapped  my knuckles against  the  door.  "Ms
Wayne?  You ready?"
     Sathe  Clan  Lords and their retinues had been
arriving  in Mainport for the past week and the town was
buzzing as  merchants made  the  most of the sudden boom in
trade.  Further  down  the corridor a group of Sathe
soldiers stopped to stare openly at us: probably  out-of-
town troops just looking around the  Citadel.  I glared
back and they hastily moved off again.
     The  door opened.  I turned back and began to say
hello and left my jaw hanging open.
     "You like?" Max asked.
     I got a blurred impression of chiffon, lace, and
flesh.
     "I   take  it  that  drooling  means  yes?"  Maxine
smiled innocently, disarmingly.
     I nodded stupidly, blinked several  times. She   was
wearing. . . something  not quite like a jumpsuit,  not a
blouse  or dress, but unlike any evening gown I had ever
heard of: white and tantalisingly  semi-transparent  in
places.   An  intricate  and somewhat  daring  neckline
that would be completely lost on Sathe,   looping  down
around  her   modest cleavage,  melding  with bloused
sleeves.  Down the sides of  her thighs  and  hips the
light fabric bloused out  again,  cut  into vertical slits
that hid just enough.  Below the knees and  elbows the
white fabric was inlaid with silver and gold wire that
made it  hug  the contours of her forearms  and  calves.
More  silver filigree  wound  through  the  auburn hair
that  fell  about  her shoulders. Shoes must have been a
problem as the Sathe don't have anything approaching a
cobbler: she was wearing white leather moccasins.
     The evening-blue,  floor-length mantle was fastened at
her shoulder with  a  small disk of engraved silver. It
made her eyes seem to glow.
     "Well?" she smiled, "Are you going to stop gaping and
escort me?" She didn't wait  for me to answer,  but hooked
her arm  through  mine;  half-dragging me, the cloak
swirling behind her, brushing and flirting with mine.
     There were guards waiting for us. They stared
unabashedly as we passed, then hastily fell in behind us.
More bodyguards.
     "Where the hell DID you get that from?!" I finally
blurted.
     Maxine   laughed   and  touched  the  filmy  fabric
of   a sleeve. "Made  it. . . with a bit of help and a few
suggestions  from friends."
     "Who? Delmonte de Sathe?"
     She didn't answer that,  just smiled at me in a way
that had me wanting to climb the walls.
     The  corridors  throughout the uppermost tiers of  the
Keep were  flooded  with  light;  scores  of  servants
replacing  and relighting  torches and lamps that had burnt
themselves out.  The smoke hung to the ceiling like
inverted mist, escaping out open windows and doors. I could
feel Maxine  pressing  against  my  side  as  we  drew
nearer   our destination, then we ascended the final
staircase and through the final doorway.
     If I had harboured any fears that maybe we were
dressed a smidgen. . . flamboyantly,  those  doubts  were
dispelled  upon  the first glimpse of the reception area
ahead.
     One  entire wall of the massive room opened onto a
terraced garden that overlooked the central courtyard of
the Keep. Flowing arches  and trellises wrapped in greenery
blurred  the  interface between the interior and exterior,
almost making it difficult to tell where the marbled floors
and walls ended and the long  grass of the garden began.
     The  doorway we were standing in was flanked on either
side by  columns  towering up to the vaulted  ceiling  high
above.  A totally different type of architecture to that
used in the  great hall  where massive rafters supported
the weight of the  roof  by brute force.  Here,  the magic
of slender arches easily  shrugged off the mass of the
ceiling. A cascade of broad marble steps paved the way down
into a sea of furry bodies.
     The room was a riot of colour.  Clan devices and flags
festooned the walls  and ceiling while  the  Sathe
themselves  were an insane palette of color and styles:
breeches, parade armour, sashes, cloaks, furs, decorative
splashes  of  paint on fur. . . all  manner of Sathe
fashions  and  all  in brilliant colours: Reds,  greens,
blues,  pinks, yellows, purples, blacks. All these  colours
and more swirled  and mixed while the sometimes-discordant,
sometimes-smooth sound  of Sathe  music  from a small knot
of musicians drifted above the muted hiss of the  crowd.
     A  sea  of  catlike  faces  swinging  our  way,  green
eyes widening,  leathery nostrils flaring.  Sathe leaned
towards their neighbours,  whispered  questions spreading
in a susurrus  across the hall.  As we two humans moved
down into the room Sathe stared at us, some moving away,
others standing their ground, but laying their  ears back.
Claws slipped from fingertips  in  unconscious reflex  as
the  owners were faced with something  they  did  not
understand.
     Many  of  them  had  heard  that  the  Shirai  had. .
 strange. . . guests  but didn't realise just HOW
strange. Although nobody  felt inclined to start chatting
with us we did  make  a nice topic of conversation and a
babble of Sathe voices rose in our wake. Being alone in a
crowded room isn't a pleasant feeling.
     Maxine  and I moved across the room to an archway
bordering upon  the garden.  The Sathe ideal of an
aesthetically  pleasing garden  differed  from that of
neatly trimmed lawns  favoured  by most humans;  they
preferred the grass wild, burrs and weeds and all.
     I  snagged a couple of ales from a passing tray  and
handed one to Maxine.
     "Thanks."
     "You're welcome." I took a sip and pulled a face. "If
this's their best brew, it's going to be a long night."
     "Do you know anyone?"
     I looked back into the crowded room. "Can't see any
famliar ears."
     "What about her?" Maxine indicated someone standing
behind me.
     "K'hy, greetings."
     Surprised,  I turned and looked down at the  chocolate-
brown Sathe  who raised her goblet in salute and smiled up
at  me.  Her mane was still the rust-red it had been in
Weather Rock, but this time  it was set off by golden
strands of wire wound through  it, individual  strands
coming  together over  her  brow.  Both  her breeches  and
the light leather harness entwined about her  torso were
coloured  brick-red  and  dark  green,  sometimes  blending
into, sometimes in contrast to her fur. The needle-like
slashes of brilliant yellow and crimson across her harness
were not a  touch any human would have chosen. "It is good
to see you again. There is so much that I did not get a
chance to thank you for," Fres's said.
     "Please, High One"  I protested,  "that is not
necessary.  It was  my job. If you must thank someone,
thank Tahr. . . "
     "Ah,  no," she waved my words aside.  "You remember
what Hraasa said?  This was not your fight, yet you so
nearly gave your life for us.  For what you have done  the
Fres's  Clan shall always thank you.  You are welcome
within  our Clan circle and will always be welcome at any
of our holdings."
     "High One. I. . . I thank you." I didn't know what
else to say.
     The  Clan Lord showed amusement at my  confusion.  Her
ears flinched  and she looked back at the crowd of Sathe in
the  room. "You would seem to be a little out of place
here."
     "We  just do not seem to fit in,  High One," I
replied. " I cannot understand why."
     The ears of the Clan Lord of Weather Rock twitched in
mirth. "Aye,  I would wonder how that can be."  Then  she
turned to Maxine; blinked. "This is your mate? I had no
idea that she would look so different from you."
     Maxine looked sidelong at me. One of those 'give-me-a-
break' looks.
     "Uh, she is not exactly my mate."
     "No?  I would have thought that you would not have
much of a choice whom you took." Why did everyone say that?
"Tell me, does she have a name?"
     "I-am-sorry.  High One, this is Maxine. Maxine;
Fres's, Clan Lord of Weather Rock."
     Manners impeccable,  Maxine bowed her head.  "I am
honoured, High One, but most Sathe find it easier to call
me Mas."
     Fres's  ears  perked  up.   "She  speaks  as  well  as
you do!"
     "Thank you," Maxine smiled.
     By that time we had attracted a small congregation of
amused and  bemused  Sathe dignitaries.  A male decked  out
in  gaudily decorated leather armour that would only have
been of use on  the parade ground stepped forwards:
cautiously.  "Fres's. . . you  KNOW these?!"
     Wrinkles formed up Fres's's muzzle.  "Of course. I
make it a point to become acquainted with all potential
customers. Honoured folks,  these are K'hy and Mas.  They
are H'mans." She clapped  a hand on my shoulder - claws
pulled - and grinned,  "I should  say they are more nervous
of us than we are of them."
     As if that was a signal,  the Sathe moved closer,
curiosity beating  back their caution.  Soon I found myself
sitting upon  a dark  granite bench,  one of several
arranged in a circle in  the overgrown garden beneath the
dark branches of a Red Maple.  Sathe clustered around on
other benches,  questioning  me,  commenting, laughing.  I
put up with curious hands touching my skin and hair,
tracing unfamiliar bone structures, examining my hands.
     As  time  marched on,  Sathe drifted away,  but  there
were always more to take their places.  In so many ways
these cream of the  Sathe aristocracy were identical to the
Sathe cubs I'd  met: their curiosity,  their questioning
and touching. Curiosity killed. . . etc. , etc.
     Nearby, Maxine was engaged in conversation with a
young male in greens and golds. I glanced their way in time
to see him fondling her breasts.
     "HEY!"
     Sathe  eyes  went wide and ears laid back as I
vaulted  the back  of  the  bench and advanced  upon  the
youth,  my  fingers clenching  into  fists.  He turned at
my shout  then  yelped  and retreated before my advance.
Sathe turned to watch.  Several who had been talking to me
followed me and I couldn't be sure if they would help or
hinder me.
     "Kelly!"  Maxine had my arm.  "What the hell're you
doing?! God's sake, calm down! He was just looking."
     "Dammit, he TOUCHED you!"
     "So?   They've all been touching you," she snapped,
then her brows shot up and she grinned, "Jealousy?"
     "What?"
     "Kelly,  are you actually jealous?"  She gave an
incredulous laugh.
     I grimaced and scratched at my head as I turned to the
Sathe youth. "Sir, the mistake was mine. I misunderstood. I-
am-sorry."
     Maxine  smiled  at  the  Sathe.  "He  only  thought
he  was protecting me. Please understand; forgive."
     The youth looked from her to me,  then back again.
Abruptly his ears flicked.  "Ah. . . of course.  You are
mated.  Of course  I understand."  He  stalked  off to the
watching  crowd  where  he explained  - loudly - to his
friends that I was only thinking  to protect my mate. She
was, after all, the only one I had.
     Embarrassed, I brushed through the long grass to lean
on the railing of the garden.  Far below - beyond the
multitude of tiers - the granite of the ancient monoliths
of the Clan Circle gleamed in the moonlight.
     "Kelly?"
     I didn't answer.
     "Hey, it's nothing to get like that  over.  I  mean,
I'm flattered that you cared enough.  You did stand up for
what  you thought was right."
     I  started as I felt a hand come to rest upon  my
shoulder. Maxine was looking up at me,  amusement crinkling
the corners of  her eyes.  God,  but she was beautiful that
night.  Things, emotions, dreams stirred inside. Slowly,  I
raised my hand to her cheek, brushing my knuckles over her
skin. Wonder. Almost forgotten how soft it was.  She
smiled,  pressed against my chest.  I bent to meet her
upturned face.
     "K'hy! Mas!"
     It broke.
     That moment between us snapped and dissolved into the
ether, fading as if it had never been.
     Remae stood nearby, waiting with a puzzled tilt of her
head. The  Marshal  knew  she'd  interrupted  something,
but   didn't understand what. "K'hy?"
     Maxine stiffened and stepped away from me.
     I swear, Remae, this had better be good!
     "The Shirai has arrived. The ceremony is to begin."
 
******
 
     "Honoured Shirai. On the behalf of my Clan, I lay my
arms at your feet and bare my throat for your claws. We
shall follow your tail and may none stray from the path you
lead."
     The voice of the Clan Lord echoed in the quiet of the
room. The musicians had fallen silent while the multitude
of Sathe  had formed  into  ranked groups.  Individual
Clans  gathered  beneath their  standards whilst listening
to the litany being recited  on the raised dais at one end
of the room.
     Tahr  raised her arm to his throat and I saw claws
stroking the fur there.  "I return your arms to you," she
replied. "I stay my hand. I accept your submission and your
allegiance. In return, as your protector,  I swear to
defend you,  to aid you,  to watch over you and your kin.
My food is yours. My drink is yours drink, and my roof is
yours. All I ask of you is your allegiance."
     "High one, our hands are your own. We shall follow,"
he promised.
     Tahr leaned closer,  to breath into his face.  His
nostrils widened as he inhaled and she stepped back again.
     "Shirai,"  the  Clan Lord bowed then stepped down
from  the dais.
     Without  protraction  another Clan Lord  was  called
forth, toward the platform where Tahr ai Shirai awaited.
She was wearing orange  and red breeches,  tied just below
the knees and  at  the waist  with tassled cords.  Around
her shoulders rested  a  high-collared  mantle:  a light
reddish-ochre with patterns  of  black spots  like a
leopards hide.  The clasps that fastened it at  her throat
bore a blood-red stone the size of an egg.
     Again  and  again,  for  Lord  after  Lord  the
litany  was repeated.  Tahr  touched  claws to  throats,
breathed  into  the muzzles and accepted their allegiance,
one after another.
     A Lord in red and black with a jagged ear.
     My jaw clenched: Gulf Realm.
     The Gulf Lord wasn't openly hostile,  but there were
hints: the stiffness in his posture,  his clipped replies
as he took the oath  and  resigned  himself to the Claws of
the  Eastern Lord. Perhaps she applied a touch more
pressure than she had upon  the previous Lords; the muzzle
of the Gulf Lord twitched slightly, as if in discomfort.
     Finally  the last Clan Lord returned to his  retinue.
There was a pause, then the next name was called:
     "K'herry ai Yaviis."
     The  human name was pronounced with great strain,  a
lot  of practice behind it.  And it took a second or so for
me to realise that name was mine.
     Maxine nudged me out of my shock. "Go on, " she
grinned.
     A corridor lined with dumbfounded Sathe had opened
ahead  of me,  guiding the way to the dais.  My boots
echoed on the marbled floor as I crossed the huge room,
climbing the steps slowly until I was level with the green
eyes of the Shirai.
     "For  an Outsider to be adopted by a Clan is  not
unknown," she said,  almost as if she were speaking
intimately to  me,  yet loud enough for her voice to heard
throughout the room. "However, for  a  Clan  to accept one
who is not even  Sathe,  that  is  an unprecedented event."
     Tahr turned to confront the stares of the nobles
below. "Not Sathe,  but  a person of intelligence and
sensitivity  enough  to compare to any. It was nearly two
years ago when this being and I first met.  He saved my
life and agreed to aid me,  a time during which  we both
came to know each other and I say that  he  became much
more than a friend to me.  Were that he were Sathe,  I
would have taken him for a mate," she met my eyes again;
ice-cool green depths, nevertheless glowing with warmth.
     "That, however, was impossible.
     "He has been through great pain at the hands of
Sathe,  yet still  he bears us no malice,  freely sharing
gifts of  knowledge from a distant and powerful
civilization."
     That drew some subdued muttering.
     "And  it was through his courage and honour that this
Realm was  able  to hold its borders to itself.  He has
saved Sathe land and  lives, putting his own at risk, more
than once.
     "It  is  with great respect that I ask this one
whether  he would accept the protection and loyalty of the
Shirai Clan. Would he offer himself to the Shirai Clan."
     I met her level gaze and swallowed.  "High One,  I
would  be honoured."
     Claws touched my throat,  gently,  almost tickling.
Through the  pounding  in  my  ears I  heard  Tahr
speaking;  asking  me questions:  "Do  you  swear to follow
the Clan  wherever  it  may lead?. . . You shall defend the
common ground,  the  circle. . . Always uphold the name of
the Ancestors. . . "
     Questions, a lot of them. The ritual went on for
longer than the previous ones had.  It was a more important
ceremony, for taking  an  Outsider into a Clan was not
something  to  be  taken lightly,  the  Clan Lord had to
have complete confidence  in  the other's character.
     Tahr  knew me,  knew me with the intimacy with which I
knew myself.  I could almost see memories flickering like
pictures  in her  eyes as she gazed at my face.  She had to
know that some  of the things she was asking of me were
impossible,  meaningless.  A Sathe warrior would hold fast
to these oaths until the end, but I couldn't place the same
value on them.
     Her breath was warm and tartly sweet.
     "K'hy ai Shirai, you are now of the Clan."
     There  was  a  breath of silence,  then  hissing
cheers  of approval started. I turned to look out upon the
hundreds of Sathe faces, the noise crescendoing until it
sounded like a storm-swept sea  breaking upon a gravel
shore.  It took an effort to keep  my face  in a neutral
expression;  breaking into a grin could  prove disastrous
amongst  people to whom the baring of  teeth  was  an
insult or challenge.
     There  were  individuals and  small,  scattered
groups  who weren't   so   happy;   looking  either
puzzled   or   downright dissatisfied.  Notably, several
types in red and black turned and stalked from the room.
 
******
 
     Things turned far less formal afterwards.  The music
started up again and other stimulants were produced.  Some
Sathe nobility added  powders  to their drinks,  others
took  drags  from  small pipes,  producing  sickly-sweet
clouds of smoke I went out of  my way to avoid.  The food
was brought out on long tables  decorated with  patterned
cloths and elaborate candelabra  were laden  with
delicacies of all descriptions. . . well,  the Sathe would
call them delicacies.  I'd have to be damn hungry before
I'd get started on some of that stuff: raw and underdone
meat, bowls of pinkish-grey things that looked suspiciously
like brains;  other small,  round things that stared back
at you,  internal organs, external organs. I tried a small
pastie that looked safe,  but the meat inside was so tough
I  had to swallow it nearly whole after chewing for a
couple of minutes.
     Maxine was also exploring the tables. She'd found some
other kind of pasties,  nibbled at one, then taken a larger
bite. I was close enough to hear when she asked a servant
what was in it. The Sathe gave a brief, one-word answer and
bustled off in to the crowd.  Maxine  looked puzzle,  then
saw me,  "What was that?  Thifki? I don't know that word."
     I swallowed, fighting a lurch in my guts. "Uh. . . You
don't want to know."
     "Yes, I do."
     I shrugged and grimaced. "Alright. . . Testicles.
Llamas'."
     Maxine coughed and gagged,  dropping the pastie like
it  was burning and grabbing at her mouth.  Sathe  who'd
witnessed the exchange  gave  us  curious stares mingled
with sporadic laughter.
     "You okay?" I asked.
     "I think I need some air," Maxine gulped,  looking
decidedly green.
     It  was fresher outside.  We left the noise and  drug-
stinks and lights behind as we walked the garden tier.  Off
to the right the time-worn balustrade overlooked the other
levels leading down to the inner circle;  like a stadium
with the ranks of  bleachers rising up around the field.
Long, nightbound grasses parted like shadows before us as
we walked,  the music losing to the sound of the  wind in
the terrace trees and the soft voices of Sathe  also out
walking. Flickering oil lamps on poles were dotted around
the garden, throwing lonely little pools of light. More
lights burned around  the  interior of the Keep,  far more
lamps  than  usual, sparkling in the darkness like a grotto
of fireflies.
     "Feeling better?" I asked Max.
     "Uh. . . Yes. Thanks. Goddamn. I thought there was
supposed to be food here tonight."
     "Same here," I sighed and looked up at the stars. They
didn't twinkle in quite the same way as I remembered from
back home. "You  knew  what was going to happen tonight," I
said.  Not  really accusing her.
     Maxine glanced at me.  "Uh-huh.  Tahr and Rehr talked
to  me about it earlier."
     "Damnation, someone could have told me."
     A  grin creased her face.  Pure humour that almost
startled me. "We wanted it to be a surprise."
     "Well better luck next time," I said nonchalantly.
     "What?  Bullshit!"  she affected outrage.  "You should
have seen your face. If that wasn't surprise, I don't know
what is."
     "Okay, you got me. Guilty as charged."
     "Those pledges you had to take.  What where they?  I
didn't get all the words."
     "Sort of like 'I pledge allegiance to the flag'.  The
Sathe version though,  with things about following the High
Lord, never straying  from the trail,  share the kill with
clan  and  hearth. Etcetera, etcetera."
     "They really are hunters," she breathed.
     "Yeah.  I  wonder how old that ceremony is?  As old
as  the Circle maybe."
     She gave me a sidelong look: "How old's that?"
     I  was mildly surprised she didn't know.  Still there
was  a lot for both of us to learn about Sathe. So, as we
walked through  the  wild grass and trees and trimmed
bushes  and occasional oasis of lamplight, I told her.
     It was peaceful out there. That garden ran around the
interior of the Keep, a small park in itself. The Sathe we
did meet - in pairs or small groups - sometimes greeted us,
sometimes avoided us. The outer wall of the garden  was the
upper level of the Keep, hidden behind ivy-covered
trellises. Down the far end of the garden we came across a
simple  railess staircase climbing upwards to the  top  of
the wall.
     Maxine gazed up to where the wall eclipsed the stars.
"Shall we?"
     "Do you want to ruin that outfit?" I asked.
     "I'll chance it," she grinned  back.
     I followed close behind her up the narrow steps. The
view was worth it.
     The  Keep's ramparts and roofs dropped away below us
to  the courtyard where bonfires burned. Further out, like
contours lines on a map,  the staggered walls of the
Citadel wrapped the hill in concentric circles.  Then there
were the lights of  Mainport,  as bright as I had ever
remembered. North, boats at anchor bobbed in the  harbour
with  their lanterns shimmering on  the  water  and beyond
that the unbroken heartland of the continent stretched off
into   the  moonlight.   Millions  upon  millions  of
acres of unbroken wilderness. A new frontier.
     Maxine wrapped her cloak closer against the cool
breeze that wound  its  way  amongst the towers  of  the
Citadel,  her  hair stirring softly.
     The light that fell upon the trees was such that it
gave the illusion of moving water,as if the woodlands were
some vast  sea. Dotted  around the horizon - indescribably
faint - the lights  of small farms and settlements, like
ships in the night.
     "Times like this I don't regret leaving the rest
behind,"  I said.
     Maxine nodded agreement.  "Yeah,  I know what you
mean. It's beautiful." For a while we stood there; just
watching, then she asked, "How  did it happen?  All this I
mean,"  she  amended, turning  and  sweeping  her arm in an
arc  that  encompassed  the wilderness in front of us and
the Sathe civilization behind. "The land,  the plants,  the
animals, they're exactly the same as back home.  I mean,
if the Sathe evolved from native cats - something like the
mountain lion or lynx - then wouldn't that've screwed up
the food chain?  I  mean,  they were one of the major
predators.  If  they became agrarian, what happened to the
herbivores? "
     "Well, the Sathe still hunt  them, and there would
have been a corresponding increase in the number  of other
predators, you know: wolves and bears and all that."
     "Yeah," she sighed. "Still, there should have been
changes - major changes - right through the ecosystem.
It's like  tumbling Dominoes,  you topple one,  and the
whole lot goes, one after the other.  Something would've
changed.  Maybe new species popping up or  something.
There's  also the  geography;  it's  pretty  much
identical."
     "'Cept the Arthur Kill's gone," I pointed out. "This
isn't an island  anymore.  More like Staten peninsula.
There must be more changes.  I'd like to  get  a chance to
see Arizona.  You know, that meteor crater. Even Niagara
would do."
     "You could ask the Sathe about that. They've got
settlements up there haven't they?"
     I nodded.
     The  sounds  of music drifted up  from  behind  us.
Sliding strains  of  an alien melody.  Almost  oriental.  I
crossed  the battlements to look down on the garden where
the party was  still in  full swing.  Light spilled from
the arches of the hall  where multicolored figures moved
between the towering columns.  In the shadows  and darkness
of the garden there were glimpses of  half-seen figures
amongst the trees and bushes:  Sathe,  some walking, others
-  less inhibited than humans -  enjoying  themselves.  I
could still smell the food on the air and despite
everything,  it actually smelled pretty good.
     "Kelly?"
     "Hmmm?"
     Maxine  was  across  the  battlements,   leaning
against  a merlon stained by weather and moss.  "Can I ask
something?  About the fighting?"
     That  wasn't  something  I  really  wanted  to  talk
about, nevertheless I shrugged, "What?"
     Her  eyes  looked really strange in  this  light.  I
guess I'd  been seeing  only Sathe for far too long.  "I
did some asking  around. Some of the things they say about
you. . . are those things they say you  did  true?  Running
into a burning building to save a cub, defeating ten
warriors singlehanded?"
     I hesitated before answering. "Rumours."
     "Are they true?"
     "I  never defeated ten warriors in single  combat!
For  the most part I was just trying to stay alive."
     "But  you  did save a cub from a fire?" she  asked.
When I just shrugged vaguely,  she smiled and said,  "That
does sound like  the kind  of stuff legends are made of.
Kelly,  why'd you  think  they cheered  you in there?
They've heard what you've done for  them, they respect you.
Tahr  gave you what she feels is the greatest  honour  that
can be given. What you've done won't be forgotten in a
hurry."
     How  right  she was about that?  Was that  reason
Tahr  had adopted  me into the Clan?  Or was it something
else,  something political.  The  hierarchy  of  Sathe
nobility  was  a  snarl  of intrigues,   alliances,
misdirections,  and  misconceptions, all buried  so deeply
beneath facades of goodwill  that only  someone born  and
raised  into the system could truly  have  a  hope  of
understanding it; let alone manipulating it.
     My interference in the Challenge had really pissed
Tahr off. I still had the scratches. But there hadn't been
just anger in her reations, there was also fear. I hadn't
beent Eastern, not even Sathe; an enigma in the
metaphorical eyes  of the law. How could a person be
recognised as such if they didn't even have clan and
family? The Sathe word  'animal' translates as 'not Sathe'.
That was us. By  Sathe law I couldn't be called before a
tribunal  to  be judged as a proper 'person' could but
there was action could  be  taken against me. . . of an
unofficial sort, a terminal sort, in a back room or side-
street.
     Eliminate the only random factor:  Politics isn't a
personal affair  - it's cold and remote.  Like an iceberg,
most  of  it's hidden  beneath  the surface,  and it's that
part you  can't  see that's dangerous.
     Thinking about that clenched a cold hand around my
guts.  If I was found out,  if Sathe learned what had
actually learned what had happened at Weather Rock,  the
best I could've hoped for  was that  caution to anger the
Shirai Clan and reluctance to do  away with something that
could prove an asset to the entire Sathe race would at
least preserve my life. That ceremony wasn't just an honor;
it was an insurance policy, a shield. It wrapped me in the
protection of the Shirai Clan.
     But what would be done with Maxine?
     "Max,  has  anyone said anything about getting you
into  the clan?"
     She looked puzzled. "Uh. . . yeah. Tahr spoke about it
earlier. She said that it'd 'take care of itself and in
time you will join with the clan.' What'd she mean?"
     "I'm not sure," I frowned.  That certainly didn't
sound like Tahr; too corny. What was she talking about. . .
Then I put a couple of  those  words into the Sathe
context.  That could be  what  it meant. . . Could it?  No.
 . couldn't be.  Still,  thank God  Maxine's Sathe  wasn't
quite up to nuances,  riddles and puns.  "You  sure that's
what she said?"
     "Uh-huh. Word for word."
     I  shook  my head.  "I can't really say.  I think I
need  a little  talk with her." Again the smell of food
drifted up to  us and my stomach tried to remind me of all
the hours since I'd last had a good meal. "Say, you
hungry?"
     She also sniffed the air. "Yeah, but not for Llama
nuts."
     I grinned.  "Then how about we go somewhere we can get
some decent food."
     She brightened. "Sure. Where?"
     "Uh,  I  think the Red Sails is about the only place
in  town that'd serve us."
     At that her expression changed again.  "Oh.  What
about what happened last time."
     "That  won't happen.  They were in the Gulf payroll
and  we don't have to worry about that anymore.  If you
want we could get some Citadel guards to tag along."
     "No trouble?"
     I put one hand to my chest. "I swear. Scouts honour."
     She pursed her lips, then shrugged lightly. "Alright.
You're on. I'd like to get out of here for a while."
     "You don't want the guards?"
     "Nah, but do you mind if I get changed out of this
lot?" she indicated  the white eveningwear.  "It's not the
best  stuff  for walking around town in."
     "Sure." To tell the truth,  I wanted to get into
something a little less conspicuous.  I gave an exaggerated
bow and held  out my arm. "May I escort you to your
quarters, madam?"
     She  giggled and took my arm,  affecting a southern
accent, "Why, sah. I'd be downraht honoured."
 
******
 
 
      Ten  minutes later I met Maxine at her door where
she  was still brushing her hair.  She'd changed into
levis,  sweater, her leather bomber jacket,  and solid
hiking boots, all human made. I painted quite a different
picture in a mixture of human OD shirt, boots,  and my
Sathe cloak and black breeches.  Max looked me  up and
down.
     "Sorry," I shrugged apologetically.  "My other suit's
at the cleaners."
     She laughed. "Don't worry. You look. . . uh, great."
     "Right.  'Uh,  great' she says.  Hell, who knows -
maybe the look'll catch on. So, shall we go?" I fell into
step beside her.
     "You know," she said as we walked, "I don't really
know much about you. I mean, where're you from? What did
you do? What about your family? Huh?"
     "Alright." I sighed and gathered my thoughts.  "I'm
from New Jersey originally.  My parents, were killed in
train crash when I was about two. I was adopted by friends
of the family and grew up acros the water in New York."
     "Oh.  I'm  sorry," she said.  I'd heard that too
often.  It seemed to be an automatic response from anyone
who heard I'd lost someone.
     "What? That I grew up in New York?"
     She looked surprised. "No, that your parents were
killed."
     "There's no need  to  be.  My foster  parents were a
great couple.  I had a childhood a lot  of kids would
gladly trade their own parents to have. Anyway, it was a
long time ago. Another world."
     "Oh," she said again. "Why'd you join up?"
     "Pay  my way through the final years of college
mostly,"  I said. "And I thought it'd be a change."
     "No shit? Was it?"
     "Well,  yeah. I tell you though, I'd never realised
how much I hated other people telling me what to do. I
wonder what they've got me down as now: missing, AWOL,
deserter. . . "
     "I wouldn't worry about it," Maxine grinned.  "What
are they going to do anyway. Arrest you?"
     "I don't know.  If we ever get back there it could
make  it difficult.  'Gee,  well you see Sarge,  there was
this planet inhabited by cats and they had a war and I was
invited. Did I miss anything?'"
     Max laughed.
     Guards   in   ornamental  armour   stationed   at
corridor intersections stared as we passed,  those who knew
me standing to attention.
     "Anyway," I said.  "What about you? Your family? You
told me your father's big in computer circles."
     "Yeah. Well, he's got his Integrated Solutions and
mom has her teaching job.  We don't really need the money,
but she enjoys it. The last of the philanthropists, I
guess."
     "Brothers or sisters?"
     "Nope.  Only  child.  I was on break from college  and
just wanted to get away from it all for a few days.  I've
got. . . had  a thesis  due and thought I might get some
inspirations out in  the mountains. Huh! Got a bit more
than that, didn't I."
     "What're you studying?"
     "Ahhh. . . Textile designs, some of the soft sciences:
biology, psychology, English, struggling through calculus."
     "Textile design," I noted. "That explains the dress."
     She laughed, "Yeah. I showed Tahr sketches from my
portfolio and she picked it out. I don't know what she
thought of the other stuff in there."
     The  main  entry hall of the Keep was  around  us
now,  our voices  taking  on the hollow tone they may
acquire  in  a  great cathedral.  "I wish I could have seen
that," I smiled,  picturing it. "I think we confuse her
enough as it is."
     And  we were down the steps and in  the  courtyard,
walking through  the pools of heat surrounding the bonfires
that  burned there,  still  chatting and learning.
Servants  bustled  around, stacking  wagonload upon
wagonload of wood and keeping the  fires stoked.
     "You want to take the ute down?" Maxine asked me.
     "Uhh. . . I  don't think that'd work very well;  we'd
probably start  a  riot.  Anyway,  the parking's  hopeless;
probably  get clamped. How about public transport instead?"
     "Huh? What public transport?"
     "I'll show you."
     A few minutes later and we were riding. It hadn't
taken much fast talking to get one of the Sathe carting
wood up to  give us a lift down; I think he was too
terrified to argue. Anyway, he just sat there and drove,
holding the reigns and trembling violently while Maxine and
I sat back on the bed chatting away. We got off at the
bottom  of the switchback road down from the Citadel and
thanked him.  He didn't speak, just continued to sit and
stare at us with a stupified expression.
     Despite the hour,  the town was busy and festive.
There were stalls  in  the  streets  lit  with  strings  of
colorful  paper lanterns.  Merchants  shouted,  cheerfully
praising  their  wares while decrying their competitors'
produce. There were troubadours and  acrobats  performing.
Maxine and I paused to join  a  small crowd  watching a
troupe tumbling and leaping with a little  less facility
than  human acrobats could achieve and when  we  turned
away we found there was a larger crowd watching us.
     Oh, well. Only to be expected I suppose.
     The Red Sails was a welcome haven. I greeted the
bouncers at the  door and they admitted us without a fifth
glance.  From  the top of the stairs the crowd inside
seemed about normal; the usual mix of wharfies,  traders,
craftsmen,  and a few guards on their off-shift. The smoke
of cooking and the oil lamps used still gave the  place its
own cloud ceiling.  The odours of Sathe  and  food mixed
and  mingled with the clatter of  mugs  and  cutlery,  the
snarls and spats of voices.  Some Sathe stared,  which was
usual, and some actually greeted me,  which wasn't. I
suppose hearsay of the Red Sail's unusual patrons had
spread.
     "Hi,  K'hy!"  The  cheerful greeting in a  familiar
mangled English came from behind the bar.  Dun colored fur
and a flash of white   teeth  came  from  behind  a  pile
of  dished   balanced precariously  on  a  tray.  "Be
right  with  you,"  she  called, navigating  with  the ease
of long practice through  the  clutter behind the bar to
the door leading to the kitchens.
     She returned half a minute later wiping her hands on a
grimy rag  and  once again I wondered about the health
regulations  in this place.  "K'hy.  Mas.  It has been a
long time.  Good to  see you."
     "Same here," I smiled back. "How is life treating
you?"
     "A?"  she  blinked,  then  grinned and  leaned
against  the stained countertop.  "Ah!  Not too badly.  Not
too badly at  all. Now, what have you been doing with
yourselves?"
     "Not a lot. Max has been working on her speaking."
     She looked at Maxine. "Any improvement?"
     "I like to think so," Maxine replied.
     "Hah!"  the  Sathe female flinched back  in  surprise.
"She speaks as well as you!"
     "Well,"  I  waggled  my hand in an 'iffy' sort of way,
"almost  as well. . . uhnn!" I drew back as Max cocked her
elbow  again."Alright! Uncle ! As well as I do!"
     "You  are lucky she does not have claws,  K'hy,"  the
Sathe chuckled. "Now, are you drinking?"
     "Oh, sure. Max?"
     "You have any Steinlager? Thought not. . . Ah, ale for
me."
     "Same here,  two ales please," I asked.  "Also a meal
if you could."
     "Ah," she grimaced.  "Your burnt meat? I thought there
would be ample food at the Citadel this night."
     I glanced at Maxine who made a face  "It is not to our
taste.  Too. . . fancy for us.  We prefer something
simpler; like last time,  no internal organs. Oh, and
you'll also want this." I handed my knife across.
     She took it, flipped it over, then slipped it under
the bar. "Remind me to return it,  all right?  Very well.
There is something cooking back there; I'll make sure it is
dead and burnt. Find a table."
     "Thanks. . . " I started to say, but she was already
skittering off to the kitchen.
     We found our table,  scratched black wood in a dim
alcove. A single beeswax candle flickered, the wax running
down the side to puddle on the tabletop.  Jeeze, against
this just the formica and cheap  plastic  of  a  truck stop
would  look  like  a  five-star restaurant.  Maxine
squeezed in opposite me,  settling herself on the  rough
planks that served for seats.  The candle  threw  deep
shadows across her face,  but her eyes glittered.  "Kelly,
what's her name?"
     I shrugged. "I don't know."
     "I thought so. How long have you known her?"
     I  scratched my head.  "Ahhh. . . Not sure.  I met her
a  while back,  before you arrived. She almost put a
quarrel through me. I guess things went uphill from there."
     "Friendly, though."
     "Yeah." God, that she was alright. No prejudices
neither, as that night way back when had proven. "It helps,
you know."
     "How do you mean?"
     I drummed a short tattoo on the claw-torn tabletop: "A
Sathe being so openly friendly. I mean, you know the looks
you get just walking around the Citadel. When they're
friendly it makes me feel like a person."
     She nodded. "Oh. Gives you hope they'll maybe be able
to treat us a human beings and not some kind of freaks?"
     The  two are kind of synonymous here,  but I knew
what  she meant.  "I  hope so.  Kind of weird though:
humans of  different races  still  haven't learned to live
together and  here  we  are trying to do that with a
different species."
     "You  really  think  we'll have  better  luck?"  she
asked, brushing a strand of dark hair back.
     "I hope so," I replied. "Damn, I hope so."
     We  were quiet a while,  watching the Sathe watching
us.  I wondered  what  they were thinking when they saw the
two  of  us sitting here.  So many of them covertly glanced
our way,  met  my eye, then hastily turned away again.
     "Max."
     "Hmmm?" she turned back to me.
     "Something I picked up." I reached into  a  pocket
and pulled  out the heavy little circlet.  It glittered
dully in  the candlelight,  the filigree head of the eagle
shining  silver.  "I thought you might like it."
     She  blinked at me,  then picked up the amulet by  the
thin chain,  holding  it  dangling and twisting in  the
light  before breaking into a smile. "Kelly, it's. . .
thank you."
     I smiled back. "Try it on."
     She did so,  tossing her hair forward to slip the
chain over her  head - it didn't have a clasp - then she
touched  the  dime-sized  circlet  where  it  nestled
against  her  throat.   "It's beautiful."
     "Yeah,  it is," I agreed,  meeting her eyes.  "But it
can't compete."
     I think she blushed then.  Damn candlelight: you can't
see a thing.
     Two pewter mugs banged down in front of us, spilling
liquid. Furry  muscular  arms  leaned on the table  and  a
muzzled  face grinned down.  After that brief normality of
Maxine it came as  a slight shock.  "Alright," she said,
"Two ales. Warm and honeyed." Then she spied the pendant.
"Ah. . . Very nice. A gift?"
     "From Kelly," replied Maxine.
     "Sathe made?  I thought so, but I don't recognise the
style. Not local?"
     Max shrugged:  "I do not know. Kelly? did you find
this down south?"
     "Uh-huh."
     The Sathe started.  "South?  What were you doing down
there? The war. . . " Then it clicked: "Weather Rock?"
     "Yes."
     "Then it WAS you!  My Ancestors! I heard stories
coming back about  the fighting there.  There was talking
about a handful  of Eastern warriors stopping the Gulf
advance in its tracks and leaving the  fields  covered
with their  bodies.  They  said  there  was a  monst. . .
uh,  something not-Sathe helping us and I thought  it might
be you,  but every description I heard was different.  Hai,
were  some  of  those things they  said  you  did  true?
Killing hundreds of them? Tearing a Gulf officer's heart
out?"
     I flinched in shock. "Where did you hear THAT?"
     "I do not know. Just some troopers. Rumours."
     Rumours.  More  stories.  Lies.  I  felt a surge  of
anger. "Shit, rumours like that I do not need."
     I think she noticed my irritation;  Her nostrils
flared.  "I get your food."
     I  watched her melt back into the crowd,  one cat
among  so many, then I sighed.
     "Hey." Maxine swatted at my hand. "Don't let it get
you. Not all of those rumours are bullshit.  I mean,  you
did save  lives. You had to take sides somewhere."
     A  flash  of  waves of Sathe  going  down  under
machinegun fire. . .
     I shook my head: "Did I? We could've run."
     "Where?  They'd  just  come  after  us,  wouldn't
they?  We couldn't hide forever. . . What's so funny?"
     I shook my head.  "It's just an argument I had with
myself a while back. Do I run? Where do I go?"
     "Oh." She glanced out of the booth at the room.  "You
talked yourself out of it."
     "Yeah.  Like you said,  I couldn't spend the rest of
my life running."
     "No." She took a sip from her mug,  grimaced. "If you
hadn't got involved in the first place. . . "
     "Hmmm? How do you mean?"
     "Tahr.  When  you first saw her. . . I mean,  why did
you  help her?"
     I tasted my own drink:  warm and malt and slightly
sweet. I'd had a conversation along these lines before. "I
didn't  have much of a choice at the time.  They were
trying  to kill me.  Afterwards. . . well,  she was almost
dead and I wanted to find out just what the hell was going
on.  I just couldn't  leave her."  I  watched another bead
of wax run down the  side  of  the candle.
     "You weren't scared of her? I think I would've run."
     "Scared?  Of  her?" I chuckled.  "Bleeding, half-dead.
 . Hell, yeah,  she scared  me shitless at first. I mean,
I didn't know her language, I expected to   wake   up  with
my  throat  ripped  out.   It   took   time before. . .
well. . . before we. . . before we knew each other."
     There was an awkward silence.  Maxine took a hasty
drag from her  drink  and  I stared uncomfortably down at
my  own  mug  and mentally  kicked myself in the head.  Why
did THAT have  to  rear its head? however unintentionally?
     Then she cleared her throat. I saw something awkward
coming. "Ah, Kelly. . .  I never really apologised."
     "Huh? What for?"
     "What I said about you and Tahr," she replied,  not
able  to meet my gaze. "You were right: I didn't
understand. I thought. . . I didn't know what you'd been
through together. I'm sorry."
     Those words. Amazing how just that little bit of
forgiveness lifted a weight. "Thank you."
     She  touched  the amulet.  "While you  were  gone,
she  was worried about you.  I've never seen her. . . She
was scared,  Kelly, scared for you!"
     "So was I."
     And  our  food arrived ,  stacked high on  a  tray
adroitly waltzed through the crowed by the female
bartender.  Back to  her buoyant self she handed out the
steaming dishes.  "As you wanted: just flesh and burnt."
     Burnt. . . Now that was a relative turn.  Medium-rare
was  more like it.  Still, it looked one hell of a lot more
appetizing than that stuff lurking in the bowls back up at
the citadel.  The meat was actually cooked,  and there were
more plants than any  Sathe would want: potatoes and a leaf
that looked a bit like lettuce. A thick  gravy  smelling
like peanuts spread across  the  meat  and chunks of rough
bread perched on the side of the dishes.
     "Hrilya  likes  a challenge,  but he cannot
understand  why you would want to ruin a perfectly good
meal. 'Why not just throw it into the fire', he said."
     I poked at a steak. "It looks fine to me."
     She hissed.  "I would imagine they would have
delicacies you could only dream at up there tonight. A rare
occasion indeed."
     "Has this kind of occasion happened before?"
     She scratched her chin.  "Ahhh, I cannot say for sure.
There was something.  It was way before my life though.
There was also the Lake Traders,  but they settled their
differences.  Now  they are  gaining more land in the
South.  You would have  seen  their representatives at the
Citadel this night."
     "Yes, they took oaths from several Gulf Clan Lords."
     "Only fair. They helped us, so we repay them." She
picked up the tray and seemed about to leave,  then stopped
and cocked  her head  at me,  then at Maxine.  "What about
you two.  How did  the Shirai thank you?"
     "A new name."
     She nearly dropped the tray: "You are serious?!"
     "Yes."
     She stared, the tip of her tongue lolling from a
corner of her mouth.  "I would never have believed it.  So,
now what is your name?"
     "Kelly ai Shirai."
     "The Shirai herself. K'hy, you have some powerful
friends. I would   never  have  thought  anyone  would
bring. . . people,"   a hesitation there,  "like you and
Mas into their clan. I mean, you are. . . " she trailed
off, looking embarrassed.
     "Yeah  ," I nodded.  "But she only named me into  the
Clan. What about Mas?"
     "Huh?" she blinked,  then her ears flickered. "No,
K'hy. You do not understand; You have been named into the
Clan so your mate also carries the name."
     "But we are not mated."
     "What?" She looked taken aback at that. "Not mated?"
     "No."
     "I would have thought. . . "
     "HAI! FERHIA!"
     She looked up at the shout from across the room.  That
male who'd  stopped  me the first time I'd come here was
glaring  our way.  "Shave you, Ferhia! You are not paid to
move your mouth all night!"
     "I'm  not  paid enough to do anything else!"  she
muttered. "Alright!" she called back, then gave us an
apologetic smile as I paid her. "Sorry. If you need
anything else. . .
     "Ferhia!"
     "ALRIGHT!"  she  bellowed  back.   "Clear  the  way!
Coming through!"  and  she was weaving her ways through the
tables  and Sathe back toward the bar.
     We were quiet for a while.
     "Uh,  yeah, well." I picked up a rib and was about to
take a mouthful.
     Max was just watching me,  ignoring her meal.  "That's
what Tahr was talking about, isn't it. That shit about 'in
time'. I'm supposed to be your. . . mate, as she so
delicately put it. Shit! Why'd she DO that?!"
     I shook my head.  "I don't know. Perhaps she thought
she was helping us. . . "
     "Helping?!" she looked insulted.
     "Look.  She  was pretty torn up when she found out you
were upset  about. . . us  sleeping  together.  She
thought  she'd  been helping  me,  then  she  saw  you were
so  shocked  by  what  had happened.  It  confused  her.
She would  never  deliberately  do anything that'd hurt
us."
     "No."  Maxine quietened.  "She wouldn't." Then she
startled me: "She really loves you, you know."
     I  shrugged vaguely,  trying to damp down the
emotions  her words  stirred.  What had they talked about
while I was  away?  A lot,  by  the sounds of things,  and
Maxine had come to  learn  a little more about Sathe. . .
and me.  "It. . . it wouldn't have  worked out."
     "No." A corner of her mouth twitched. "I don't think
so."
     The next few minutes there wasn't much said.  Three
meals  a day and not a lot of hope of anything in between,
cold buildings, it all added up; You got hungry, and when
food was available, you ate.
     We  ate.  In  silence.  Every so often I'd look up  to
meet Maxine's blue eyes,  watching me.  The amulet at her
neck  burned warm  red-gold in the candlelight,  a circlet
of  reflected  fire against the paleness of her skin.
     Not fur; skin.
     It wouldn't have worked.
     She  glanced up,  her eyes meeting mine,  then ducking
away again. Blue eyes, with their whites startling in the
dimness. It wasn't fear; it was normal.
     Normal? What was normal?
     Two females,  one not even human,  the other. . .
Well, when we first   met  she'd  tried  to  give  me
three adam's apples. Normal?
     But she was beautiful. Not in the same way Tahr  was;
it wasn't  that  lean,   predatory sleekness. It was
something different: the delicacy of the face, the
cheekbones and nose, the eyes, the waves of dark hair of a
texture and sheen no Sathe mane could ever match.
     "Kelly?"
     "Huh?" I'd been staring. I blinked and smiled. "Yeah?"
     She  ran a piece of bread around the remnants of  her
meal, sponging up gravy.  "What're we going to do now?  I
mean. . . can we go home?"
     Home. . .
     I  shook my head.  "I don't know. . . Tahr. . . you
know  a  while back  she offered some land.  I laughed
then,  but  now. . . well  I might just take her up on
that."
     "Land? What for?"
     "Make  our own home," I said.  "Get used to living
here  and find some way to make it on our own. I can't keep
freeloading off her forever."
     "Oh," she tore a piece of dark bread off and nibbled
at  it. "Somehow  I can't see myself spending the rest of
my  life  here, with them. It just doesn't. . . I mean,
forever: it's a long time. . . "
     "Hey," I reached over to touch her hand as she trailed
off, getting  that anxious look about her.  She flinched,
but  didn't pull away.  "Look; you're one hell of a gutsy
and beautiful woman. You're not the kind to let this get to
you." I held her hand.
     She clenched mine back,  then mumbled,  "I can't," and
slid out  of  the  alcove, turning and stopping  like
she'd  forgotten something;  just standing staring across a
smoky room of Sathe. A few  turned  to stare as she stood
there,  green  eyes  blinking curiously,  voices
muttering. More looked and she continued to  just  stand
there,  frozen on the spot, like a kid out on stage for the
first time staring  dumbly  back  at the  audience.  I saw
her hand trembling.
     "Hey."
     Table  legs  squeaked  on the floor as I  pushed  it
aside, touched her shoulder. "Hey. Max?"
     She just grabbed me and held on,  her face  buried
against  my  neck as if trying to block the world out and I
was holding  her  tightly,  feeling her heart racing  and
her  hands digging into my back.
     The noise around us died.
     Damn!  I'd never thought! What had she been through?
I'd had Tahr.  I'd had a close friend,  someone I could
talk to,  someone who'd been a warm presence on those dark
nights.  Soft words  and gentle hands to comfort me when
I'd had enough of the world, when I didn't understand.
Max. . . she'd had no-one.  I'd gone away  and she hadn't
known if I'd ever be coming back.  For her Tahr was  a
stranger,  even stranger than me,  who'd had the best
intentions, but who probably still frightened her.
     How often had she woken up from nightmares? as I'd
done.
     So,  in  that crowded tavern,  reeking of food and
staring, overheated Sathe,  I just held her,  murmuring
reassurances while she clutched me and shook. I don't know
how long it was until a hand touched my shoulder.
Greenstone eyes, ears tipped, concern:
     "You are all right?" the barkeeper - Ferhia - asked.
     "Max?" I whispered.
     She pulled back a little with eyes running water,
nodded.
     "You want to go back now?"
     She flinched. "Kelly, it's cold. . . empty. . . "
     Cold. Yeah, it was. Perhaps I'd grown used to it. . .
She'd never spoken and the Sathe had never known; how could
they?
     "Ferhia?  Could  we. . . ?"  I glanced  toward  the
ceiling. She understood.
     "Ah. . . certainly. Here, this way."
     We  followed and I felt eyes on us as we left and  I
really couldn't give a damn.
     It  was a different room.  She had the decorum for
that  at least. There was a window and a bed and a tiny
fireplace. Ferhia lit a few  candles and pointed at the
logs in the hearth.  "If you  are cold. . . " she trailed
off, then gave me a subdued smile and closed the door
behind her.
     Maxine slumped on the bed,  her English out of place
in that dark little room. "Oh, God. I made a dork of myself
down there."
     "I've done worse," I smiled as I checked the  window.
Quiet outside; Gibbous blue moon over the harbour. "Just
get some rest, okay? It'll help."
     In the dim candlelight she nodded. That bowl-shaped
bed creaked as she leaned back into the furs and sheets.  I
moved to snuff a candle.  "I'll sleep on the floor, okay?
Just get some blankets and that. Used to do it all the time
when I was with Tahr. I'm used to it."
     "Kelly?"
     "Yeah?" I hesitated with my arm outstretched, ready to
snuff another candle.
     "Would you stay? I mean, with me?. . . Please?"
     I clenched my fist to hide the sudden trembling in my
hand. Unexpected? Of course the idea we'd get horizontal
had reared its head. How could it not? That 'if I was the
last guy on Earth. . . ' line taken to extremes. But that's
all they'd been: ideas. Dreams.
     Now, by the light of one candle she was mostly
shadows, eyes watching me. Carefully, like I was walking on
ice, I settled beside her, just sitting and putting an arm
around her, holding her close. Strange muscles shifted and
smooth fingertips stroked my arm, my hand. "Max." I choked.
I didn't know how to tell her. "We can't. . . If you get. .
"
     Her hand took mine and guided it, touching her forearm
and the tiny tube just under the skin. "Norplant." Her
voice husked. "No kids, guaranteed."
     Now, by the light of one candle the shadows shifted, a
corner of her mouth quirked in a smile, the rest of her
face hidden behind a fan of hair.  Like mist on my hand
when I brushed it aside. . .
 
 
End Human Memoirs Part 4 Section c