by Paul Chafe
Sraa-Vroo snorted. “I do not know what Ftzaal-Tzaatz will do, and neither do you. Call Ferlitz-Telepath and have him know the Black Priest's mind and we will find out.”
V'rli snarled. “You know he cannot know a mind that carries the mind-blank gene.”
“Give him the sthondat extract then, and that obstacle can be overcome.”
V'rli slashed the air with her claws. “If you want to see a telepath take sthondat, ask one of your own. I will not ask it of mine.”
“And yet you ask me to risk my pride in an Honor-War that is not mine.”
“You are free to decline, Sraa-Vroo, and free to leave this circle if you wish, as is everyone here.” Pouncer looked around the assembly. “I will make my proposal to those who stay.”
“Oh, I will stay, for amusement if nothing else,” Sraa-Vroo riposted.
“Hrrr.” He is staying, and he is silenced, for now. Pouncer raised his arms for attention again and continued where he had left off. “Honored Cousins, there are those of you who follow me now, and those who do not. For myself, I did not choose this path, it was chosen for me and I have no alternative but to take it to its end. I will lead those who will follow me to reclaim my birthright, and yours. For us, victory will mean victory in the Longest War, and defeat will mean extermination. Make no mistake, the cost will be high in czrav blood, and victory is not assured. I can offer nothing for your fealty except my own blood debt. With the support of Ztrak Pride and Dziit Pride and Mrrsel Pride I have shown what can be done, but that is not enough for final victory. Our strength depends on our unity, nothing else will give us success. For that reason I have decided…” He paused again, assessing his audience, making them wait on his words. “I have decided that if I do not have the support of every one of you here I will not press this campaign. Together we can win, together I believe we will win. Separate, it is better that we do not try. I will not see the czrav bloodline destroyed piecemeal. If I do not have your unanimous support, I will fight my own war, alone.” He paused again. “The decision is yours, Honored Cousins. I will leave you to make it.”
He turned and walked out into the darkened den passage, as snarls exploded behind him.
“…final victory…”
“…what of the risk?”
“…the Tzaatz…”
“…just a kitten…”
“…natural leader…”
The last voice was Czor-Dziit's, and though his opinion was not news it made Pouncer feel proud to realize that he had won the respect of that seasoned warrior. I have done my best. Now the Fanged God will guide my course. The voices faded behind him as he climbed up to the chambers of the outer den. The air was cooler there, the scents less intense. He went to the quarters he shared with C'mell. They were austere by any standard, but he felt at home there with her, comfortable in a way the Citadel had never been with its relentless crush of history. And yet I will be returning there, or dying in the attempt. It was a thought he did not want to think, and he turned his attention to C'mell. She was there, reclined on the frrch-skin prrstet, the kits piled up against her asleep, bellies plump, tails curled around their noses. He knelt and nuzzled them. Male and female, Whitepaws and W'neee, they were heavily spotted as czrav kits were, but already he could see the pattern in their fur that would become the distinctive Rrit striping when they came of age. They stirred but did not wake, and he lay down to nuzzle C'mell as well, taking strength from the contact of her firm flank. She swished her tail lazily and rubbed her whiskers on his chin.
“What did they say?”
“They are deciding now.”
“What will they say?”
“I don't know.”
“The full brother of Patriarch's Telepath doesn't know?” She rippled her ears. “What do you think they will say?”
“Sraa-Vroo is opposed. He is respected, others may side with him.”
She turned a paw over, considering. “It may not be a bad thing if he does. The Tzaatz are powerful. We risk a great deal by attacking them.”
“It is the path I must follow.”
“And I must follow you, but stealth is the czrav way.” There was worry in her eyes.
“If we win we will never have to hide again.”
“And the same if we lose.” She nuzzled him and they lay together in silence.
One of his lieutenants came to the entrance, Swift-Claw who had been Quicktail. “Pardon me, sire.”
Reluctantly Pouncer looked up from his mate. “What is it?”
“Our mazourk have returned from the jungle with the mothers and kits. They have brought an outsider.”
“An outsider?” Pouncer's ears fanned up. “Is there a reason he hasn't been killed?”
“Sire, he carries your father's sigil! And he brings kz'eerkti with him.”
“Cherenkova-Captain? She is leading the raids to the south.”
“No, sire! There are two kz'eerkti, strange ones. I thought it best…”
“You were right.” Pouncer jumped up, trading one last glance with C'mell. “Take me there.” As he went out Whitepaws stirred in his sleep, and C'mell ran a rough tongue over the kitten to settle him.
The afternoon sun was sending its rays slanting through the treetops, and Pouncer blinked as he emerged from the den. Twice-eight tuskvor milled beneath the den mouth, grunting as mazourk supervised the unloading of the laden tsvasztet. M'mewr was ushering the mothers and kits up the rocky trail to the den. The pride was whole again, and that was a good thing. Those who had stayed over the change of the seasons to fight were spilling out of the den. Snarling and purring rose as long-separated mates were reunited and old friends traded greetings. Soon the mating season would begin once more, continuing the cycle of generations. A tuskvor bellowed and another answered. Swift-Claw led him down the mounting ledge, where a lone kzin waited, apart from the turmoil of the returning migration. His muzzle bore four narrow stripes of white fur, the scar sign of a blood oath, and more white on his chest, sign of battle injury. It took Pouncer a moment to recognize him.
“I know you… Far Hunter! How did you come here? Welcome! How is your father?” The questions spilled out.
The other claw-raked. “My father is dead, sire. Killed by the Tzaatz as we helped the kz'eerkti to escape.” He stepped aside to show two smaller figures. “I have brought you these.”
This time recognition was instantaneous. “Tskombe-kz'eerkti! Welcome! I should have expected it would be you. And which one is this?”
Tskombe smiled, carefully not showing teeth. “This is Trina, First-Son.”
“I am Zree-Rrit now, much has changed. Why have you come back?”
“To bring Captain Cherenkova home again.”
“Your loyalty is impressive.”
“Is she here?” Even Pouncer could hear the eagerness in Tskombe's voice.
“She was here. Now she leads our advance base in raids against the Tzaatz.”
“Raids against…” Tskombe's puzzlement showed. “She leads kzinti raids, you mean?”
“You kz'eerkti are skilled and subtle planners. She has proven her worth as a warrior.”
Tskombe opened his mouth, closed it again. “When can I see her?”
“Now that the tuskvor are back we will be sending her supplies and reinforcements, this coming Hunter's Moon, or the next. You can go with them.”
The human breathed deep. It was not the answer he was hoping for, but he accepted it. More waiting. Pouncer noticed his reaction. “She has a telepath with her, Mind-Seer. We can let her know you are here.”
“I would like that very much.” Tskombe smiled. I am getting closer to her, and I know she's alive. “It's good to see you again, First…” He caught himself. “Zree-Rrit.”
“To you, I am always Pouncer.” He gestured for the newcomers to follow him. “Far Hunter, you have sworn a blood oath.”
“To avenge my father.” The rangy kzin gestured to the ears on his belt. “I have killed many Tzaatz, in Hero's Square and other
places.”
“You do justice to his memory.”
Far Hunter riffled a paw through the ears. “I hope to have strakh enough here to claim a name at your circle…” He hesitated, then went on. “And your sister, if she is still unmated.”
“Hrrr.” Pouncer looked away. “You can have any name you choose. But my sister…” He paused. “My sister is dead too, killed by the Tzaatz.”
Far Hunter was silent, but his lips twitched over his fangs. The moment stretched uncomfortably long, and Trina reflexively edged herself closer to Tskombe.
“They will pay in blood.” Far Hunter snarled the words under his breath.
“They will pay higher than you imagine. Right now the czrav High Circle are meeting to discuss the future. If they agree, I will lead an army against Kchula-Tzaatz.”
“And if they do not?”
“Then you and I will fight our own war.” Pouncer looked to the horizon, then back to Far Hunter. “But vengeance will wait for a full belly tonight. You must be hungry from the journey.” Pouncer gestured to one of the youngsters who was unloading a tuskvor. “Sharp Ears! Get a fresh kill for our new arrivals.”
“At once, sire!” The youngster left on the bound.
Pouncer led the three up to the top of the sandstone dome to talk and admire the view. The experience seemed not-right somehow, the peaceful scene at odds with the gravity of the events unfolding around it. Above me the Tzaatz search me out from the orbital fortresses, below me the Pride Leaders are debating my future and my fate, and here in the middle I am feasting old companions as if nothing else mattered. He looked to Far Hunter “Tell me how you came to join the migration.”
“Hrrr.” The kzintzag warrior turned a paw over. “This kz'eerkti appeared at my stall and led me on an impossible quest. This other one” —he indicated Trina— “is a tracker of outlandish ability. We found the old jungle den of Ztrak Pride, and then found Ztrak border markers, where we waited with a border gift until M'mewr arrived and accepted it.”
Pouncer raised his ears, confused. “But that den is abandoned.”
“Abandoned, but the border we chose was the one with Mrrsel Pride. M'mewr led a hunting party there, and found us. They would have killed us on the spot, but Tskombe-kz'eerkti still carries your father's sigil. She recognized it as the same as the one Cherenkova-Captain wears.”
Pouncer rippled his ears. “You three have performed a feat of tracking the Tzaatz have been unable to duplicate.”
“Hrrr. The Tzaatz lack patience. They still overfly the jungle with gravcars, but they fear to walk in it. We camped on the jungle verge and went to the border marker to wait every day for the entire wet season, and into the dry again.”
Sharp Ears arrived then, with another youngster, carrying a dressed and gutted zianya not devoured at the Bloodfeast gorging. Although he was still replete Pouncer shared a haunch with Far Hunter, and was surprised when the humans ate their portions raw. Everything is in flux. Eventually the protocols of greeting and feasting had been satisfied and they sat as the sun went down, trading stories of recent events. Beneath them the hustle and bustle of the migration faded as the Pride went down into the den. Soon it was tale-telling-time, and Pouncer took them down to be introduced to the pride.
And still the High Circle remained in their sealed assembly in the chamber below. Pouncer found it hard to concentrate on the stories the tuskvor travelers were telling of the newcomer. Finally, at general insistence, Far Hunter stood to tell the tale of their search and their arrival. He called Trina up with him to act the kz'eerkti roles, and Pouncer took the opportunity to speak to Tskombe.
“Come, and talk with me. I have been missing my kz'eerkti advisor.”
They slipped out into the darkness and walked and talked, taking the high trail back up to the top of the sandstone dome and bringing each other up to date on the events since they had parted. At the top they sat on the smooth rocks, and Pouncer described his campaign as it had unfolded so far while Tskombe listened. He is becoming an experienced tactician.
Tskombe nodded as he listened. “You have done a lot.”
“Not as much as we need to do. Our raids here are just pinpricks. The czrav are ferocious warriors, but even with every pride behind me it will be a close fight. We must fight a single, decisive battle, but Cherenkova-Captain has identified a problem. If we force such an engagement the Tzaatz may transgress their honor.”
“Meaning what?”
“They may employ weapons prohibited in skalazaal. They will not do it if they are certain of victory, with Kzin-Conserver watching, but if they start to lose…” Pouncer trailed off. It was a problem he had avoided mentioning to anyone except Ayla; he hadn't wanted to dissuade the czrav leaders from supporting him. That didn't solve the problem though.
“So what can prevent them from doing that?”
“Hrrr. I need the Great Pride Circle to bear witness to the battle, with armed ships in orbit willing to intervene if the rules are broken.”
“How is that arranged?”
Pouncer rippled his ears and twitched his tail. “It is not to be arranged. A Great Pride Circle is not convened lightly, or in haste. Even in my father's day they were planned far in advance. Now half the Great Prides are locked in Honor-War themselves, and the rest are fighting your species.” Pouncer paused and looked away to the far horizon.
“I didn't know it had gone so far. We didn't have much news in the jungle den.” An image of Oorwinnig flashed before Tskombe's mind's eye, and the destruction it had wrought on ED1272. Muro Ravalla has his war. Bile welled up in his throat at the thought. How many will die for his vision of power?
“I have agents now, even in the Citadel. It is true, Tskombe-kz'eerkti. You and I are enemies now.”
“No.” Tskombe shook his head. “We are not enemies. You risked your life for me. What can I do for you?”
“Advise me as Cherenkova-Captain did. The Pride Leaders are deciding now which path to take. If they follow me, where should I lead them?”
“The only place you can lead them is to the Citadel, and the Patriarchy.”
“Hrrrr. I may be leading them all to destruction.”
“There are no guarantees in war. Once you start one, you can't control it.”
“Some things are more likely than others. We can win, perhaps, if the fight is fair. If it isn't, if the Tzaatz break tradition, we will be destroyed.”
“What do you need to ensure that, short of a Great Pride Circle?”
“I need support. I need witnesses while the battle takes place, witnesses powerful enough that Kchula will not dare violate the rules. There are Great Prides who oppose him. I am still First-Son-of-Meerz-Rrit. If several of them put warships in orbit, we would be safe.”
“Will they do it?”
“Perhaps, if I ask. I will have strakh with them, if I could reach them, but the Tzaatz guard the spaceports too tightly now.”
Tskombe smiled, being careful to keep his teeth from showing. “I know where I can get a starship.”
Pouncer's ears swiveled up. “Tell me.”
“I came here with a freerunner named Night Pilot. He's back in orbit after a trip, and now he's waiting for me. Far Hunter has arranged fuel for him, and can arrange more. He can take your emissary to the Great Prides.”
“Hrrr. This is good fortune. Can you contact him?”
Tskombe held up his beltcomp. “I have the codes right here, and his orbital data.” He tapped the small screen. “He will be overhead…” Tskombe tried to do the conversion math in his head and came up with a rough answer. “…overhead at midnight. He can come down by direct descent if we need him to.”
“We will have to be careful in contacting him, and in bringing him down. Ftzaal-Tzaatz is actively hunting for us, and the orbital fortresses are always watching and listening.”
Tskombe nodded. “Night Pilot knows how to get in and out without being seen.”
“Hrrr. I will still have to choose an emissary.
” Pouncer looked up at the sky, now flecked with stars. Some of the pinpoints moved, satellites or ships or docks or fortresses. Once upon a time only stars filled the sky. “If the Pride Leaders decide to follow where I lead.”
Tskombe nodded. Perhaps it would be better for him if they didn't. He had Black Saber in orbit, and Night Pilot was actively eager to have kz'eerkti passengers on board for his passage back to Known Space and out of the way of the United Nations' onslaught on the Patriarchy. He was almost in contact with Ayla. Best, perhaps, if we just get her and go. That thought had no honor. I owe blood debt to this kzin, who risked his life for me, blood debt to Far Hunter, who lost his father for me. I cannot do less than honor my obligation. All he could offer Pouncer was Black Saber. He would offer it.
Much later they walked back down and Pouncer laid out his plans. Tskombe nodded as he listened. He is bold, I'll give him that. He was amazed to learn the sheer size of the czrav population, but perhaps he shouldn't have been. They had half a continent to hide in. The czrav had won the support of the Northern Lesser Prides, and slowly extended their base of support south into the Plain of Stgrat. That gave them a safe corridor, where czrav agents could count on the support of the kzintzag and the nobility together. They had freedom of movement in those areas. The weakness of the czrav was the fierce independence that kept them from combining their power even as they worked toward their common goals.
Pouncer stopped at the lip of the den to look out into the night. “But if they will follow me, no force on this planet can stand against them.”
“Will they follow you?”
“They are debating that now.” Pouncer tried to keep the tension from his voice. Everything depends on this moment. The return of Tskombe-kz'eerkti could only be a good omen; the availability of a ship at this moment could not have been better timed. But I still need to choose an emissary.
In the den Far Hunter was still relating the tale of their search to the now rapt audience around the pride circle fire. He was a natural storyteller, as good as Swift Claw if less practiced. Inspiration dawned. Yes! He is not of the czrav, he speaks well, he will be acceptable to the Great Pride-Patriarchs. I will send him, if he will go.
