by David Weber
“These guests seem to have turned out to be able to take care of themselves, George,” Gwendolyn pointed out, and he smiled slightly.
“Indeed they do,” he agreed and shook hands with Karl. “Nicely done, Mr. Zivonik! In fact, all of you did remarkably well . . . including you, Lionheart.”
The earl went down on one elegantly tailored knee, showing rather more aplomb—and nerve—than most of the security and police personnel had as he extended his open palm to the bloodstained treecat. Lionheart cocked his head, looking at him for a moment, then laid his own three-fingered true-hand on the exposed palm. The earl stayed that way for several seconds, then nodded courteously to the treecat and stood.
“I realize this wasn’t exactly the beginning of the evening you had in mind when we invited you,” he told his guests. “Nonetheless, I do hope you’ll honor us with your company after all. I deeply regret having been out of the Star Kingdom until tonight, and I would consider it a personal favor to have the opportunity to speak with all of you—and especially you and Lionheart, Ms. Harrington.” He smiled winningly at Stephanie. “Speaking on behalf of the foundation, I believe this may be the beginning of a long and close relationship.”
* * *
Climbs Quickly rode on his two-leg’s shoulder as she, Shadowed Sunlight, and her parents moved towards the enormous living place. The echoes of combat still reverberated deep inside him, and he forced himself to draw a deep mental breath as he fought to damp them out.
It was hard, and not least because yet again he had discovered evildoers among the two-legs. He had no idea exactly what these evildoers had had in mind, but did it matter? How was he to convince the rest of the People that they could truly trust the two-legs when things like this kept happening? And did even the two-legs around him truly know what had just happened and why? The mind-glows were so brilliant, and so roiled by the two-legs’ reactions, that he could taste very little of their deeper emotions, and he reminded himself not to read too much into that stormy sea of feelings. There was a great deal of shock in most of them—and almost as much anger as shock, in some—and the intensity of it all made his head ache.
And, oddly enough, the two who seemed angriest of all were the ones who were clearly in charge of all the other two-legs in this living place. Perhaps, as its elders, they felt a special responsibility for what had almost happened? That much, at least, would make sense.
* * *
“Well, that didn’t work out very well, did it?” Oswald Morrow muttered as he and Gwendolyn followed Adair Hollow and the Harringtons across the park.
“No, it didn’t,” she conceded with an icy smile which contained very little humor.
At least she didn’t have to be concerned about anything leading back to her. She’d hired the thugs through an anonymous electronic intermediary. All they’d known was that someone was prepared to pay them upwards of a quarter million Manticoran dollars if they could deliver the treecat to him. They’d been informed that they would receive the location for the delivery once they had proof the treecat was in their possession. Nothing had been said one way or the other about the humans in the treecat’s vicinity, although given the caliber of her disposable henchmen she’d anticipated a certain amount of serious injury.
Of course, she’d also anticipated that they would never get off the Charleston Arms’ grounds with their prize. The access code she’d provided them with had gotten them in through the facility’s security, but their mysterious employer had obviously missed the fact that getting out again required a different code entirely. Besides, if things had gone properly, they would have been in no condition to think about going anywhere.
Anything that could hold a hexapuma at bay even briefly should have made short work out of shredding faces and throats with gory abandon, and that was exactly what she’d expected. What she’d planned on. Who would ever have imagined the treecat would show such restraint? Especially when Gwendolyn had gone to the trouble of making sure Stephanie’s parents would be present for the event. If anything could have been calculated to send her into a panic and goad Lionheart into an . . . extreme reaction, that should have done it. But had he cooperated? No, of course he hadn’t!
“Countess Frampton’s not going to be very happy about this,” Morrow whispered as they approached the restaurant’s front steps. She shot him a venomous glance, and he shrugged. “At least I’ll be able to tell her it wasn’t my fault,” he said.
“Well, she’s just going to have to be unhappy then, isn’t she?” Gwendolyn replied sharply. “It didn’t work out as planned, but the fact that the little monster didn’t kill anyone isn’t going to get anywhere near as much coverage as we’d have gotten if he had killed someone.” She showed her teeth in another humorless smile. “Like I said before, it’s not like we would’ve changed the foundation’s mind whatever happened, and I should be able to spin the ‘exotic animal poacher’ threat in a way to help encourage the protective reservation mindset. It’ll be a harder sell, of course, but I’ve had lots of practice managing Cousin George and his little band of philanthropists. And sweet little Stephanie and Karl are going to go home thinking of me as their friend. That offers all kinds of possibilities, don’t you think?”
Morrow started to reply, but they’d reached the stairs, and he contented himself with a short nod before the two of them started up.
19
Anders commed Jessica the morning after they’d found Survivor’s clan and caught her finishing up her morning chores.
“I’ve been looking at maps, Jess,” he began excitedly. “I didn’t realize how much of the unburned land east of the mountains is already in use by humans, and I’m guessing that population pressure’s definitely part of the picture with those treecats.”
“Interesting. Link me to your map.” When she’d had a chance to look at it, she said, “I see what you mean, but there’s still a lot of unclaimed land.”
“Unclaimed as far as we know,” Anders said. “Remember that third treecat body. We all agreed that from Scott’s autopsy evidence that it really looked like another clan was involved, like this wasn’t infighting in one clan. If we find that other clan, then we can add their location to the map and color in the zone with their probable holdings. No one knows exactly how much land a treecat clan needs, but from hanging around with anthropologists I’ve learned that hunter-gatherers—like treecats—need a lot of it. I think we should go find out how much the other clan—if there is one—is using, where it is relative to our Skinny ’Cat Clan, and how badly it’s being pinched by the human-occupied areas.”
Jessica nodded. “It sounds like a good idea to me. And I was going to call you anyway. I’ve got some babysitting money saved. I called the discount warehouse and they have a crate of freezer-burned poultry they’ll sell me cheap. I was going to drop it off for the Skinny ’Cats.”
Pleased that she hadn’t rejected his theory out of hand, Anders risked teasing. “But what would Dr. Hidalgo say? Aren’t we interfering with a pristine indigenous culture?”
“I am, and with pleasure—and so are you, Mr. Population Pressure. Somehow, I don’t think you plan to stop with coloring in a map.”
Anders grew serious. “I don’t, but I think we’re going to need some help. I almost messaged Stephanie with this, but I remembered that she’s giving her big talk today. I’m sure she won’t have any trouble at all, but I didn’t want to distract her. Still, if anyone can help us talk the SFS around to relocating Survivor’s people, it’s going to be Steph. Let’s get her all the ammunition we can.”
“I’m with you,” Jessica said. “I’ll pick you up, then we’ll get the stuff from the warehouse, and go. Mom’s already given me the day off. She’s taken all the kids over to the Harringtons’ steading. Some sort of berry is coming ripe. The bigger kids are going to help pick and we’re going to have berry ice cream. I was told you could come, too.”
“I’d love that,” Anders said. “Okay. Listen, since you’re givi
ng me dinner, let me chip in for the treecat chow, okay?”
Jessica paused, but she was too practical to be proud. “Okay.”
* * *
Dirt Grubber was pleased by the taste of Windswept’s mind-glow. As soon as she awoke that morning, she turned to the image showing thing and studied the images she and Bleached Fur had captured of the Landless Clan. Her sorrow for the terrible straits to which Keen Eyes’ clan had been reduced flowed to him through their link, and with it the determination to do something about it.
That determination stayed with her, burning in the depths of her mind-glow as she bustled about, clearly preparing for another lengthy trip. Relieved that she seemed to want to go where he did, Dirt Grubber concentrated on convincing her to pack extra healing things.
He knew the boxes in which they were kept, both within the large stone place where the family lived and in the flying thing. The problem was telling her she should bring them, and he resolved it by taking the smaller box from the flying thing and going and sitting on the larger box. When Windswept called for him, he bleeked until she found him.
He tasted the interest and delight that flashed through her mind as she figured out what he wanted. The surging cadence of mouth noises she made meant nothing, but the efficiency with which she gathered a large selection of items from the bigger box and moved them not only into the small box he held but into another box showed she was willing to help many more than Nimble Fingers.
When they got into the flying thing, he snuggled up close to her, patting her and purring. She chuckled warmly and patted him back. Wrapped in the warmth of mutual love and approval, they sped off to collect Bleached Fur.
* * *
Valiant was first out of the air car when they set down a short distance from where they’d found the Skinny ’Cats the day before. He bleeked at them, holding up his hand in the stop/wait gesture, then flowed off through the branches.
“I hope he’ll be okay,” Jessica said nervously. “Things seemed to go pretty well yesterday, but we know these ’cats aren’t exactly friendly to everybody.”
But Valiant was back before Anders could frame a reassuring reply. With him were two other male treecats. Anders thought they might even be the same ones from the day before. Valiant leapt down to join the humans, bouncing up on the lid to the air car’s storage compartment, just in case they’d missed that they could unload.
“I’ll take the ’cat chow,” Anders said. “Even with counter-grav, it’s a big enough crate that steering it through the trees could get tricky.”
Jessica tilted her head and thought. “Let’s stack all three boxes, and then I’ll go in front and steer. You can be manly and push.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” Anders said. When the boxes were stacked, he found he could just see over the top. Following Valiant’s guidance, they quickly came upon the treecat clan’s settlement.
Jessica looked at Valiant. “Food first?” She asked, tapping the crate. “Or medicine?”
“Bleek!” Valiant said, pointing to the crate of poultry. “Bleek! Bleek!”
Freezer-burned or not, the poultry proved to be a huge success. Soon the surrounding trees were filled with treecats shredding their way into what might have been their first big meal in weeks. Anders found himself particularly delighted by a cluster of kittens who had claimed an entire bird for themselves. One even climbed right inside the body cavity, like a particularly furry bit of stuffing.
“Look,” Jessica said softly. “Those ’cats are carrying food to some of the others, even though they haven’t had any themselves. I bet they’re feeding the injured ones.”
Her guess proved correct. A moment later, Valiant returned. He picked up the smaller first aid kit and motioned for them to follow him with the larger box, into which Jessica had dropped quick heal, bandages, sponges, and a huge thermos of hot water. She’d had only a little of the other medications Dr. Richard had approved for treecat use, but Anders had insisted on buying more at a local pharmacy before they set out.
“I’m not a doctor,” Jessica was muttering. “I’m certainly not a vet. Survivor was unconscious. Most of these are awake.”
“I’m not a doctor, either,” Anders said. “But Valiant believes you can do what he thinks needs doing. We’ve got the guidelines Dr. Richard wrote down for you so you could care for Valiant in an emergency. If we come across something we can’t deal with, we’ll com Scott. We’re in this together, remember? If you take the risk of getting bitten or clawed, then so will I.”
She smiled bravely. “Thanks, Anders. That means a lot.”
Valiant seemed particularly eager that they treat one of the younger males first, even though his injuries were not the worst. He’d been badly slashed and seemed to have trouble moving. One eye was swollen nearly shut, as well, and the tip of an ear was missing. Giving him a dose of pain medication first, they concentrated on cleaning and disinfecting the ugly, open wounds, spraying them with quick heal, and gently washing out his injured eye with the same sterile solution Richard Harrington used for similar injuries. They followed that with a Richard Harrington-approved broadband antibiotic and, although neither of them would ever confuse their skills with those of a trained xenovet, they were pleased to see him sitting up so that he could chew on a chicken leg when they’d finished.
They didn’t stay to watch, but moved on to others, starting with those with more recent battle wounds.
“Frankly,” Anders said, spraying on more quick heal, “it’s easier to figure out what to do with a cut or a gouge than the older injuries.”
“I agree,” Jessica said, “but I want to look at those, too. We have a couple of the same inhalers Dr. Richard used for Valiant and the twins. Maybe it’s not too late for some respiratory therapy.”
Valiant hovered near as they worked, making the same thrumming purr he had when they’d been treating the injured Survivor. Several other treecats, mostly females, joined him. Anders quickly noticed that these females watched what he and Jessica did very carefully—not as if they were suspicious but as if . . .
“Jess, I think we have the local doctors here,” he said, as one of the females moved his current patient’s limb so he could see a nasty cut he might otherwise have missed. “If treecats have healers, it would make sense that many of them would be female, since they’d be staying ‘home’ with the kittens and the injured. I bet they have field medics, too . . .”
“You’re beginning to sound like an anthropologist,” Jessica warned teasingly. “But I bet you’re right. A lot of the wounds I’ve been looking at have been kept clean, the fur around them trimmed back so it won’t grow into the scabs, stuff like that.”
Eventually, they finished. Valiant had been a great deal of help, especially demonstrating how the inhalers worked and convincing the treecats to use them. Then, when Jessica and Anders were packing away their gear, he stiffened, turned, and went loping off in the direction of the young male who’d been their first patient.
“Wonder what that was about?” Anders said.
Jessica grinned. Although she was tired, she was also radiant with pleasure that they’d been able to do so much. “No idea. The other one called him. That’s all I know, but I can assure you, if Valiant thinks we need to know, he’ll figure out a way to tell us.”
* * *
Dirt Grubber considered the other Person with concern.
range, but even though I have told him otherwise, he is certain I am a prisoner. The traces of pain he tastes in my mind-voice only affirm his certainty. For the safety of these poor People who have already suffered so much, I must get away from here before his sanity becomes completely unbalanced. Too many would be hurt as he fought to get to me. If you doubt how ferocious he can be, I tell you this, it was Swimmer’s Scourge who nearly killed Keen Eyes.>
Dirt Grubber flipped his tail in comprehension.
Dirt Grubber agreed. No Person, not even one driven by stress, would attack a Person of another clan and—especially—a pair of two-legs. The prohibitions against becoming involved with the two-legs had lasted for many turnings before Climbs Quickly had accidentally broken them. Although they had been gently bent these last few seasons, still they were firmly in place in most clans.
As with his last attempt, Dirt Grubber found his task made easier because his two-legs already had a similar idea. When he came up to them, they were sitting on the front of the flying thing, eating some food they had brought along and watching the now replete Landless Clan with definite satisfaction.
