by Paul Chafe
“Needles are trivial possessions. Why not just get another one?”
“Well, you would normally.” Tskombe laughed, his mood improving slightly. “What I mean is, we're wasting our time here.”
Far Hunter put a paw to his nose, where four parallel lines of white fur marked the scars from the blood oath he had sworn. “Hrrr. I am pledged to take vengeance on the Tzaatz for my father's death, and my fealty belongs to the Rrit. I have no time in my life which is not bent to this task.” He took his paw away and unfurled his ears as he contemplated Tskombe. “Have you some priority higher than your search for your mate?”
And when you put it like that… Tskombe shook his head. “No. No I don't.”
Far Hunter growled in deep satisfaction. “Then it is settled. We will search on.” He spun the gravcar for another pass up the valley from the river.
“Look over there.” Trina pointed. “Something's different.”
They followed her finger. The valley fell into the river bed, cutting through a steep bluff that the river itself had etched eons earlier. Along the river bank the area between the water and the bluff was burnt over as well, the blackened and denuded spire trees reaching for the sky like the twisted pillars of some dark cathedral, but the burn was darker, the edges sharper, unrelieved by the sprigs of green that softened the harshness of the fire ravaged valley.
“Yes.” Far Hunter slid the gravcar down to the ground at the border between the two areas and got out again, crouching to examine the ground cover, standing again to inspect a tree. “This was another fire. It burned between the bluff and the river, and stopped when it reached the old burn.” He moved to examine a spire trunk as Tskombe and Trina got out to follow him. “The trunks are still sooty, the ground crust is intact. This fire happened at the start of this dry season.”
“Lasers?”
“Hrrr. We must search to know. Perhaps…”
They got back in the gravcar and patrolled up the river in silence, Far Hunter zigzagging the car slowly. The fire had burned hot, and even the stones were carbonized funereal black. The area was probably safer than the rest of the jungle, but Tskombe still kept a careful eye out for danger. Days earlier they had seen the footprints of a grlor pack, but big herbivores could find no food here, and so they and the big carnivores that preyed on them would avoid the area. Still the blackened, dead landscape felt dangerous. That's a good thing, it will keep us alert in our search. Tskombe leaned forward in his seat, straining to pick up some shape that didn't belong, but there was nothing but the unending blackness. As the day wore on the ground stopped steaming as the unrelenting sun baked the moisture from it and heat waves began to ripple the stagnant air instead. By midafternoon they were powerful enough to make the more distant of the burned trunks appear to twist and warp. The strip between the bluff and the river was a kilometer wide and seemed to go on forever. Tskombe counted himself lucky. If they had just ten or twenty square kilometers to search a meter at a time, their haystack had gotten a lot smaller. If they were in the right place. If not I no longer have anything of value except time.
They came to a rockslide where the whole face of the bluff had given way, chunks of rock as big as houses torn from the cliff in a slide that stretched two hundred meters. The rocks were fire blackened too, but still sharp edged. The fall had happened before the fire, but it was recent. It might even have occurred during it, perhaps triggered by the heat.
Trina pointed. “Look there.”
He looked. It was a bone, sticking out from beneath a massive boulder, bleached white by rain and sun in stark contrast with the blackened landscape. They set down and got out to examine it.
Up close they could see it was a tibia. The foot was gone, along with the fibula. Far Hunter examined it closely, sniffed at it.
“It is kzinti.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. A male.”
“Is it Pouncer?” Tskombe felt a sudden dread. If it were Pouncer then the odds were high Ayla was under the slide as well. His throat tightened as he pushed the thought away.
“We cannot know.” Far Hunter looked up. “This area is important. We must search it thoroughly.”
They did, on foot, clambering over the semi-stable slide. Tskombe thought they would get filthy with soot, but what remained on the rocks after the heavy rains was baked onto their surfaces and didn't come off that easily. They found nothing else on the slide, but Tskombe did find what looked like a steep trail leading up the face of the bluff. They followed it and found a cave mouth on a ledge. It would have been invisible from below. Inside was a large, sand-floored cavern and signs of a large bonfire. Other signs of inhabitation were plentiful.
“This is a czrav den.” For the first time ever Far Hunter sounded apprehensive. “We must not stay here.”
“Why not?”
“The czrav… Few have ever seen one, fewer still live to tell of it.”
“Pouncer thought he would find sanctuary with them.”
“If he has, he is lucky. They are ferocious warriors, unwelcoming of strangers. We are transgressing on their territory. We must leave and make a proper border gift at the edge of their territory.”
“It looks like they have already left.”
“They are migratory, but they will return.”
“Where do they migrate to?”
“No one knows.”
“When will they be back?”
“I cannot say.”
“So we're supposed to wait at the edge of their territory for some indefinite period of time.”
“This is the tradition. It is important that we follow it.”
Tskombe nodded. “We might as well look around while we're here, to see if we can find any proof that Pouncer did arrive here.”
Far Hunter hesitated, the war between courage and fear plain in his expression. “Yes. We must be fast.”
Trina had been exploring deeper in the cavern. “I found an inukshuk,” she said.
Near the round fire place was a large rock, its surface worn smooth. Beside it, neatly piled, was another manlike stone sculpture. Tskombe breathed out. Ayla had been here, literally in the lion's den. Its presence showed she had stayed some time, which in turn meant Pouncer must have been with her, to extend his protection to her, and T'suuz, to make whatever connection she had to these frightening alien primitives. She made it this far. Now where did she go from here?
So in war the way is to avoid what is strong and strike at what is weak.
— Sun Tzu
Ayla Cherenkova stood in the den mouth, watching the setting sun paint the sky in rich tones of red and orange, its last rays turning the towering cumulus cloud to the west into jagged spires, like predatory fangs set to devour heavens. Below the sandstone dome of the den four tuskvor turned south at their mazourk's urging, another deep patrol heading over the mountains to raid the Tzaatz. It was frustrating to watch them go and have to stay behind. She was, after all, a warrior, and the czrav were her tribe now, her pride. Her instinct was to hunt with them, raid with them, to build the bonds of trust and respect that warriors built together. Pouncer had denied it of her and, though that was frustrating, his word was law. There was no question that Pouncer was leading the pride now, Patriarch in all but name. He was close to becoming Great Patriarch of the czrav. Dziit Pride followed him, and Fvaar Pride, and others were lending support, if not yet fealty. That would come soon, as czrav victories gained momentum. The slaughter of Mrrsel Pride by the Tzaatz had galvanized the czrav prides and turned them against eons of self-imposed isolation. Ztrak Pride had made the decision to send only its nursing mothers and kits back to the jungle on the countermigration, not to their own jungle den, compromised as it was by the Tzaatz, but to that of Mrrsel Pride, along with the few straggling Mrrsel survivors who'd been away when the Tzaatz had come to kill them. For them it was simply logical, but many other czrav prides had made the decision to stay in the high forest over the next migration as well, laying in provisio
ns to last over the barren season, simply because they could better launch raids against the Tzaatz from there. Several hundred balky tuskvor had been held back from the countermigration to carry the raiders from their high forest bases into the mountains, to descend on Tzaatz positions in the foothills at the northern edge of the Plain of Stgrat. They were a force to be reckoned with.
Ayla picked up a rock and idly threw it over the cliff, watching it vanish. The czrav were ferocious warriors. Even though raids were forbidden to her she was still part of the struggle. She was a commander, trained in the organizational skills and tactical finesse the czrav needed to turn their embryonic rebellion into a victory. The plan of attack Pouncer was now leading was Ayla's, a strategy crafted from ten thousand human years of human conflict. The czrav lacked the strength to stand in a face-to-face fight against Tzaatz rapsari, but they didn't need to. Instead they had moved fast and deep into enemy territory, struck hard and vanished again like ghosts. The Tzaatz had responded at first with large-scale sweeps, but they lacked the czrav standard of fieldcraft, and their unwieldy formations were too big to move fast enough to catch the night raiders. With the failure of that strategy they had begun garrisoning themselves, staying in larger groups and sticking to their fortifications, and that had the effect of isolating them from the Lesser Prides they purported to rule. Tzaatz authority in the northern plains was thoroughly undermined. A czrav raiding party pressed hard by Tzaatz gravcars could find shelter with any smallholder now, and the Lesser Prides were beginning to lend food, shelter and weapons, and most importantly information. All of Ztrak Pride carried variable swords now, and Pouncer drilled them relentlessly in the group combat form. It was guerrilla war, nothing less. They fought dirty, and they fought to win, and it was working, at least locally. The future was less certain. To be more than an annoyance to the Tzaatz, Pouncer would have to take the Citadel of the Patriarch. That would require facing the Tzaatz head on, there was no other way.
She had become closer to the young leader through the process, but there was more to their relationship than that. Pouncer still relied heavily on the advice of V'rli, on Kdtronai, on Kr-Pathfinder, but she was different. She still wore the Sigil of the Patriarch around her neck, the magical talisman that let her live in the lion's den in perfect safety. If Pouncer were to die, his protection would die with him, and so her loyalty was absolute in a way that theirs was not, despite the bonds of blood and honor. Ayla herself had total faith in the commitment of the czrav warriors to him. She saw how they reacted to his presence, how even Pride-Patriarchs tried to emulate him in every way. Pouncer never expressed anything less than complete trust in them himself, but he had been betrayed by his own brother, and she knew that faith was a jealously guarded commodity for him.
She watched the tuskvor grow small on the horizon, vanishing as 61 Ursae Majoris slipped beneath the horizon and the velvet night enveloped the forest. They moved according to her plan, but she wanted a position on the raids herself. Pouncer was right to deny that of me. It was an uncomfortable reality to accept. She was small and weak next to the kzinti, her reflexes slow, her senses dull. She would be nothing but a liability in an engagement restricted to muscle-powered weapons. She could, perhaps, claim that she was not bound by the rules of skalazaal, that the weapons she could carry would make her invaluable in combat, but she did not push the point. She was accepted now in the tribe, if not as a kzin, then as a worthy ally and a member of an unconquered species. To suggest anything that might put that status into question, much less something that smacked of questionable honor, was unthinkable. To be recognized as equal to even the smallest and weakest kzin was important. Ayla had no desire to be seen as a member of a slave species. Or as prey. The thought rose unbidden, and her hand went to the sigil around her neck.
Still, I can do more. She turned away from the den mouth as the sun sank below the horizon and the warm wind began to cool. I can bring the future forward. The hunt-cloth cover that camouflaged its opening fell into place behind her and she made her way to the deeper level where Pouncer kept his command post.
He was there by himself, working on a screen, planning the future of the campaign. He drove himself harder than anyone. During the day he trained the warriors, and at night he trained their leaders, and after they had all gone to sleep he planned strategy and organized the next attack. He insisted on leading every raid he could. The strain was not showing on him yet, but privately Ayla wondered if he had the reserves necessary to keep up the pace for what was destined to be a long, hard fight.
He looked up as she came in. She didn't hesitate. “Pouncer. I want to be on the next raid.”
He blinked. “Cherenkova-Captain, you have already heard my reasoning on that issue.”
“I have more reasons you should let me.”
Pouncer fanned his ears up. “I will listen.”
“You are attacking the Tzaatz now, doing damage. Have you a plan to finalize the victory?”
“It is too early yet to consider victory. We must first show the kzintzag that we can fight effectively.”
“No, it is never too early to start planning how you're going to win. I can help you with that.”
“I rely on your strategic skills, Cherenkova-Captain. It is your physical prowess that gives me pause. You are too vulnerable, and too valuable to risk.”
“I have killed kzinti in combat.”
“Strength and reflex are not factors in space combat.”
“I have killed them in person, side by side with your uncle at the Citadel.”
“With energy weapons.”
“The weapons issue is beside the point. I am a trained strategist, but I can apply my strategy better if I lead while I do it.”
“Hrrr.” Pouncer turned a paw over, considering. “What would you do with your strategic thinking, if I gave you free rein?”
“I would establish a forward base in the Long Range and from there I would launch raids against Tzaatz positions down the eastern plains.”
“That is a long journey from here, much longer than the direct route to the Plain of Stgrat. What will you accomplish there?”
“They'll be forced to respond to us. The terrain in the mountains is tremendously difficult. They will have to commit more forces to the area in an attempt to flush us out. The Citadel is the center of power on Kzinhome, and we will turn their attention away from it. Also, by moving the center of our attacks to a different area we will prevent them from isolating our exact location, and we'll appear to be increasing our strength to the Lesser Prides and the kzintzag. Weather conditions are difficult in the Long Range, which favors us too. We remain vulnerable to space reconnaissance.”
“We know the orbital parameters of the fortresses. So long as we move with the tuskvor they cannot track us.”
“They'll learn that trick and we will follow the fate of Mrrsel Pride.” Ayla leaned forward. “Give me a small force, let me show what I can do with it.”
“An independent force. It is a clever idea, whoever leads it. What else do you suggest?”
“We need to form an alliance with other Great Prides, somehow.”
Pouncer rippled his ears. “You are losing your reason. If I had access to a ship you would already be on your homeworld.”
“It's vital. Eventually we have to take the Citadel. Kchula-Tzaatz respects the rules of skalazaal now because we are little more than a thorn in his side, but when we launch the final attack he's going to be faced with the loss of everything. Do you trust his honor not to use energy weapons then, even space weapons?”
“Hrrr.” Pouncer turned a paw over. “You are correct.”
“We must have the Great Prides watching, and in a position to intervene if necessary. If they have ships in orbit, Kchula will be constrained.”
“There are Great Prides who will side with me, perhaps.” Pouncer thought back to the time he had put in memorizing the Pride Leaders, their strengths and weaknesses, their alliances and interests. Tzaatz Pride
had its rivals, Churrt Pride for one. Now that information is becoming useful. “How will we achieve this, with no ship and no access to a spaceport?”
“It will take time, but it can be done. We need to plan to send an emissary to any Great Pride you think will lend its support.”
“Perhaps only to one, if its Pride-Patriarch has enough influence. He will be able to bring others with him.”
“You have one in mind?”
“Zraa-Churrt, of Churrt Pride. But who to send as emissary?”
“You yourself would be the best choice.”
“I cannot leave, you know that. It cannot be a czrav either, Zraa-Churrt may take that as an insult.”
“Or a kz'eerkti, for the same reason.” Cherenkova smiled sardonically. Now I'm planning to get a kzin off-world before I go myself. I've committed myself to Pouncer's victory. “Vsar-Chiuu perhaps?”
“Perhaps, but he is old. I will think on this awhile.”
“Send a message to Kzin-Conserver too. Declare skalazaal formally through him. We can't give the Tzaatz any room to break the rules.”
Pouncer cocked an ear and regarded her curiously. “You have learned a lot about my world, Cherenkova-Captain.”
“It is my job to know my enemy. I have learned all I can about the Tzaatz from this distance. Let me lead warriors and I will learn more.”
Pouncer considered, then. “No. You are too important to risk.”
She shook her head, frustrated. “I'm no more important than any other warrior here.”
“You forget I am still sworn to your safety.”
“You have saved my life many times now. I discharge you from your obligation.”
“The only thing that will absolve me of my responsibility is your safe departure from my world.”
“And I believe that the best thing I can do to ensure my own safety is to ensure your swift victory against the Tzaatz.”
“Cherenkova-Captain, I respect your skills, I am lucky to have you as an ally, and proud to have you as a friend, but I cannot allow it. You are kz'eerkti, not kzinti. No kzin will follow you as leader, however wise your strategies.”
