A Cat of Silvery Hue

by Robert Adams

  Mairee wanted to bid Ehrik desist, wanted to close her eyes to what she could see coming, but she sat mute, staring in horrified fascination. At the first swish and solid whack of the swordbelt, the lady emitted a piercing shriek, and the left eye—the only one Mairee could see—seemed about to spring from its socket Ehrik exacted his suffering price thoroughly, methodically. When he had done and stood panting, the thick belt trailing on the floor tiles, the lady's back was one red-purple weal, from nape to knees, and the blood from innumerable cuts and splits in her soft skin trickled down to drop from her toes.

  Ehrik rebuckled his blood-smeared belt, snapped on the weapons, wrapped a rich coverlet about his wife, then gathered her up and stalked out of Horse Hall.

  As Ehrik descended the broad steps and paced resolutely toward the gate, no one who saw what lay within his eyes even asked him his destination, much less moved to block his way—not even the old komees.

  Geros Lahvoheetos, since he was one of the few who had ever been in Horse County, had been sent by young Thoheeks Bili as one of Lieutenant Hohguhn's score of Freefighters. He had but just ridden into the familiar courtyard and stiffly dismounted from his mare when he observed the press of men parting, making way for that big, black-bearded farmer who had led first that frightening ambush back in the forest, then the raiding party which had cleared the way and opened the gate to the rest He saw in the smoky red glare of the torches that the farmer bore in his arms a willow slip of a pretty girl. She was wrapped about with a splendid dark-red coverlet of woven silk and her slender arms were clasped about the big man's bull neck, while her head lay pillowed on his chest.

  The circumstances which had, almost overnight, transformed Geros into a respected warrior had failed to rob him of his gentle, polite demeanor or helpful nature. He had, of course, heard the shocking tale of what had befallen this man and his lovely young wife, and he surmised that, having freed her of that odious bondage, Ehrik was now bearing her home to the village, which was a long walk to Geros' mind.

  Still leading his mare, he stepped out into the farmer's path. The blackbeard halted abruptly an arm's length away, stood glowering for a long moment, men snarled, "Out of my way, damn you! I be done in this place!

  He might have added more, but was disconcerted by Geros' obviously sincere smile. The dirty, dog-tired sometime valet-musician said softly, "Sir, your wounds are still almost fresh, nor are you as young as the men you led here this night; it is a long walk to your village and you must be near to exhaustion now at its beginning. My mare," he proffered the reins, "is strong enough to carry two for that distance and more. Will not you and your lady wife accept the loan of my sweet Ahnah?"

  Ehrik glowered a minute longer into Geros' open, honest eyes, then, with a smile that was almost shy, he closed the gap between them, saying, "Freefighter, would you then hold my wife and hand her up to me, an' I be mounted on your pretty mare? Ah… be you careful of her feet, man! She be… hurt."

  When Ehrik had swung up and was settled betwixt the high cantle and flaring pommel of the battle kak, Geros gingerly passed the feather-light girl back to him. The headman reined about, heading the mare toward the entry passage, then thrust his big, callused hand down to grip Geros' own crushingly. Geros was shocked to see tears glistening in the deep-blue eyes of this man who had suffered so much so stoically.

  "What be your name, Freefighter?" asked Ehrik huskily.

  "Geros Lahvoheetos, sir."

  The thick black brows rose perceptibly. "A Ehleenee Freefighter?

  Geros shook his helmeted head. I'm not really a Freefighter, sir, though I've ridden with them much of late."

  "Well, Geros Lahvoheetos, be you whatever you be, you done been a good friend to me and my Mairee. When you need a friend, you yell for Ehrik Goontehros, an' sure as Sacred Sun's a-comin' at dawn, I'll be with you. Heah?"

  He trotted the mare to the mouth of the entry passage, one big arm steadying his wife on the mare's withers. Then he reined about one last time and roared the length of the courtyard. "Cousin Hari, your lady warnt dead, whin I left her. But I took sufferin' price out'n her fat carcass, give her a good hidin', I did! I'll git this here lil mare back here't'marra mornin'. An' you tek good care of Master Geros Lahvoheetos—he be a friend o' mine."

  And thus was that friendship which was to affect the lives of so many—noble and common, Kindred and Ehleenoee— born in the crowded, torchlit courtyard where the legend of Geros first began, with a mule and a spear.

  Chapter Seven

  The city of Morguhnpolis had never before seen such activity. While about its walls camped near twenty thousand soldiers of the Confederation, the city itself housed the persons and retinues of High Lord Milo, High Lady Aldora, an arhkeethoheeks, no less than six thoheeksee, and scores of komeesee, vahrohnoee, vahrohneeskoee and untitled Kindred noblemen. Chief Hwahltuh of Sanderz and his clansmen lodged, too, in the city not because they liked city life—they one and all hated it!—but because the lovesmitten Hwahltuh had taken to heart the beauteous Mother Behrnees Morguhn's parting admonition to "look out for our Bili." Though, to the thinking of Clanbard Gil Sanderz, if any one of these mostly softer eastern Kindred definitely did not need the services of a bodyguard—much less a clan of them—it was that grim, Stark warrior, Thoheeks Bili, Chief of Morguhn.

  Awaiting the arrivals of the remaining three thoheeksee and certain other tardy nobles, Bili began to wonder if his duchy would be stripped bare in sustenance of the swelling hordes. One night in the soft bed he now shared with the Undying High Lady Aldora, he mindspoke of his apprehensions, and within a week, Confederation commissary wagons were stocking his larders to the very rafters. He remarked, lightly he thought, in her presence that it was a shame there were no more unemployed Freefighters about, as late arrivals would find themselves unable to field more than what swords they brought with them from their demesnes. Shortly, the north and east traderoads seemed to swarm with bands of Freefighters, ranging in size from two or three bravos to a score. Yet Bili knew that not even the legendary Confederation Gallopers could have so rapidly spread the word.

  On the large bed in the sumptuous suite which had been Vahrohnos Myros' own while he had governed Morguhnpolis, Bili and Aldora lay entwined. The dim light thrown by the low lamps glinted on their sweat-shiny bodies. His long arms enfolded her, his thin, pale lips were locked to her full, dark ones, while the palms of her small, hard hands moved in lazy, sensuous circles on the fair, freckled skin of his thick-muscled back and wide, massive shoulders.

  When first Aldora had actually seen the young thoheeks, she had felt almost repelled, for though handsome enough, his waist was thicker than she preferred and his hips were far wider than were those of the average man. It was not until she actually fought beside him against a desperate force of cornered Vawnee horsemen, saw the ease with which he managed that ten-pound axe, making of it both shield and fearsome weapon, that she came to appreciate his atypical build. The classic masculine form—wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and slim hips—would never have been able to develop or give purchase to the almost abnormal musculature of back, buttocks and belly which were requisite in a skilled and accomplished axe wielder.

  But in the weeks since that first meeting, his hard, scarred body—so very fair where sun and wind had not browned it, the skin so soft and smooth where the puckered cicatrices of old wounds did not roughen it—and the fine young man that body housed had become very dear to her. Few men she could recall in nearly a hundred and fifty years had become so dear so soon.

  As his deadly efficiency as a warrior impressed all who witnessed it, as his almost immediate grasp of problems of strategy, tactics, logistics and the proper marshaling of a large, heterogeneous force impressed his peers and the High Lord, so did his understanding of the theory and application of the skills of the bedly arts amaze and enrapture the High Lady Aldora. His beautiful blending of tenderness and fire, of fierce passion and gentle regard, never failed to leave her trembli
ng and gasping, sometimes weeping her pure joy and gratitude. Then he would kiss the tears from her cheeks and eyelids, while their warm breaths mingled and the caressing hands did delightful things to the ultrasensitive parts of her blissfully tired body… and would continue doing those things until her tiredness was once more drowned in a surging flood of fresh desire.

  So it was this night his lips left hers to first nuzzle at her soft throat, then kiss their way downward to end suckling her red-brown nipple, while a big band crept from beneath her back to gently roll the other nipple between thumb and forefinger. When the uncommitted hand glided over her flat belly, she moaned, then softly gasped as his hard but tender fingers continued on into the damp tangle beyond. And even as that hand moved slowly, engulfing all of her being in joy-drenched agony, his lips forsook her nipple and returned to her throat But now it was his even white teeth which served, inflicting tiny, stinging bites from the hollow of that throat around to the nape, then back up the slender column of her neck to her ear.

  And the palms which had caressed his back were short-nailed claws which dug deep into his shoulders, tore oozing scratches in that freckled skin. Long shudders racked Aldora's olive-tan body, her head lay thrown back, the eyelids tight closed and her lips skinned back from her teeth, while from her half-opened mouth issued an endless moan, interspersed with little whimpers of unbearable pleasure.

  At last she began to gasp, "Oh, Bili… Bili… oh, Bili, love… Oh, please, please, Bili… oh. dear, sweet Bili, enter now… I beg of you, Bili, as you love Sacred Sun… Please, Bili, please… Bili… Bili …"

  And much, much later, as they lay side by side, his hand clasping hers, a balmy nightwind flickering the lamp flames and soothing their bodies, his mind touched her own.

  "Aldora, I am ignorant of many things, but horses and riding I know well. It is ten days' hard riding from Morguhn to the nearest of the Middle Kingdoms, so it is just not possible that any galloper could have covered that distance and let it be known that there was a market here for Freefighters in time for them to start arriving in Morguhn only two weeks after I remarked the need for them. What sorcery do you practice, Aldora?"

  "Not sorcery, Bili, farspeak."

  "No!" He shook his shaven head, speaking aloud in his vehemence. "I know something of farspeak, Aldora. Most talented is the farspeaker who can range more than a score and ten miles, and even then he must know well the mind to which he speaks!"

  A smile flitted across her face. "Oh, darling Bili, there is truly much you now know not But you will. I doubt you could believe now the multitude of new skills you'll learn, the abilities you'll learn you possess and can develop once we get this devilish rebellion scotched and—but that is future, my love.

  "As for farspeak, generally speaking, you're right, though training and practice can' sometimes extend the range of one with minimal ability. Certain exceptional people, however, are born with fantastic range. I am one such, love. We have never had a way of determining just how great is my range. And the vast majority of farspeakers, who are normally limited to five or ten or twenty or forty miles, can still range far, far out if they take the time or are given the opportunity to acquire the skills of melding their minds with others in order to transmit with the combined force.

  "The Undying High Lady Mara and Milo—she is almost devoid of farspeak, and he, with Sun and Wind know how many centuries of practice, can, under ideal conditions, range all of fifteen miles!—this is how they range distances, by drawing on the added power of another mind. But the mind must be willing to be so used, and it must be conscious and rational."

  Bili interrupted. "Yes, Aldora, I know a little of this, come to think of it One of the Sanderz prairiecats, Whitetip, told me that the High Lord had contacted you through his mind on the night my brother was… slain. But he mentioned it sometime during that first, wild, hectic day of pursuit and, quite honestly, I'd forgotten it until now."

  She did not return to her discussion, but asked, "Hew many… on how many levels of mindspeak can you operate, Bili?

  "Uhhhh… lets see. Well, personal, of course, and broadbeam, farspeak… within limits, of course. That's about it, unless my, uhhh… ability to foresense danger be considered a part of mindspeak."

  She shrugged. "Some would say yes, some no, but the fact that you can is not really important in itself. What is important, Bili, is what your possession of that rare ability reveals to those who can recognize its hidden meanings."

  "I don't follow, Aldora."

  She sat up and crossed her shapely legs, running a fingertip along the scar of an old swordcut slanted across his chest. "Your formative years were spent either in warfare or in preparation for it, and is not your foresensing a very valuable ability for a warrior?"

  "Yes, Aldora, it's saved my skin on numerous occasions." ,

  Nodding, she then asked, "How many of your peers in Harzburk possessed mindspeak ability?"

  Reaching out, he brought her hand to his lips, kissing the fingertip which had brushed his chest. "Well, it's not really rare in the Middle Kingdoms, though it's not customarily used as much as it is in the Confederation for some reason. I'd say maybe three burkers out of five have it to a greater or lesser degree. Why?"

  "And," she inquired, arching her brows, "how many "of your peers possessed the ability to foresense danger as accurately as you do, love?"

  "None," he answered flatly. 'I've never met anyone here or there who could actually sense as I do. Oh, many men have premonitions; I have those too, but it's not at all the same."

  "No," Aldora nodded slowly, "it's not. It's as a lampflame to Sacred Sun. But as I said, the ability itself, while valuable to one who is practically a professional warrior, means less than what your development of it means."

  "Sun and Wind, woman," he snapped, "will you stop speaking in ciphers? After all, I'm a poor, short-lived man. I lack the wisdom of an Undying."

  She threw back her head and pealed her silvery laughter at the high, frescoed ceiling. "If I knew a way to make you such, my young stallion, you would be, and less for your mattress prowess than for your wit.

  "But more seriously, what your rare talent indicates is an equally rare mind. Bill; a mind which not only recognized and fulfilled the need for a definite survival trait, but was capable of such fulfillment! For, if your mind is sufficiently versatile and adaptable without proper training, what stupendous feats might you accomplish when provided with the skills to consciously call forth who knows what from within yourself?

  "And, apropos hidden abilities, I spoke with a merchant in Kehnooryos Atheenahs who told me a very interesting tale. It seems that he and some of his associates were journeying from the Kaliphate to the Confederation by way of the Eastern Trade Road

  , their wagons loaded with rich goods. At some spring camp in the County of Getzburk they and their Freefighters were set upon by a large and determined pack of brigands, and though they fought with stern resolution, it seemed certain that they must all soon be slain.

  "Then, from the hill behind them came the unmistakable tumult of a full troop of kahtahfrahktoee or dragoons at the charge. Not only the merchants and their servants and Freefighters heard this troop, the robbers did too, and they consequently beat a quick, if disorganized, retreat—though because of rain and fog and ground mist, none could see the patrol.

  "Yet, when the brigands were all fled and the rescued would have thanked their rescuers, what did they discover but that there was no troop, only a single armored axeman and his black warhorse. Yet all had heard the shouted commands, the chorus of war cries, the clanking and clashing of arms and equipment; they'd felt the drumming of scores of hooves and seen brief glimpses of a full patrol!

  "And that merchant told me the name of his rescuer, as well. And do you know, love, the name he gave was yours. Sir Bili Morguhn?"

  Bill's mindshield snapped into place like a steel visor, and so his answer was, perforce, spoken aloud. "It's as I told the merchant, Yahseer—it was just
a case of fog and mist and, on the part of the brigands, fear, and, on the part of the others, wishful thinking, that let them imagine my sortie was the charge of a patrol… though, naturally, I did shout the orders and tell my horse to make lots of noise, but…"

  She only grinned, her disbelief obvious, then went on, "And I recently spoke with another man who told me of a grim little set-to under the walls of besieged Behreezburk. He told me of a young axeman who rode out as surrogate for his king to meet the lord of that burk in personal combat. He told me of how that burk lord had, most dishonorably, concealed two armed, armored and mounted members of his bodyguard and how, when it became clear to him that his strength and weapons skills could not prevail against his opponent, he basely whistled up his dogs to cut down a man who had met him with the understanding that theirs was to be a single combat.

  "This man told me of how the two guards charged in on their lord's flanks, yet suddenly threw up their shields and commenced to flail their swords at empty air, as if engaging enemies no one else could see! Then he told of how this young axeman cut down first the treacherous burk lord—who would, he said, have been slain by his own men had he survived, since he had so dishonored a sacred Swordoath—then the two bodyguards, who until their very deaths continued to flail away at nonexistent foemen.

  "This man said that throughout the rest of that siege all in both armies called that valiant fighter 'Bili the Axe' and that, as a result of his prowess in that encounter, the King of Harzburk knighted him who slew the burk lord. This man attests that this same Bili the Axe is now called thoheeks and Chief of Morguhn. Those are your titles, are they not, beloved?"

  "You know damned well they are!" Bili growled from betwixt clenched teeth.

  "Then," she asked lightly, "is there not another talent of which you wish to tell me, sweetling?"

  He glowered at her, snarling, "Damn that Hohguhn's wormy guts! He's Swordoathed to me, dammit. When he gets back from Horse County, I'll—"