She shook her head. It’s all that talk of my father’s last night, she told herself.
She glanced down below again. The gars were racing away from the area, stumbling over one another, tripping in their haste over rocks, stumps. The tang stood, the captured gar still struggling under its talons on the ground, whimpering, screaming.
The terror of the gars reached all the way up to the gig, up into Kasha’s bones. She could feel it. Taste it. She’d felt that same fear herself during a tang attack, desperate to escape, frantic to save her colleagues, her friends.
She had never realized that the gars felt the same way. Of course, she knew they were afraid to die or to feel pain, but today she saw something different.
Today she saw the similarities between the gars and the klees.
Not possible. Ridiculous. That’s like saying just because my zenzen gets hungry or resists a command, it is just like me because I get hungry and disobey orders from Durgen. We are not the same. They are—
“You’re right,” she declared to Durgen. “There is nothing we can do for them. We should get on our way.”
“Travel northeast. I will let you know when it is time to change direction.”
“Got it.” Kasha adjusted the controls. She pulled back hard on the throttle and the gig rocketed away, the screams of the gar growing faint behind them.
SEVEN
This is the big one!” Coach Jorsa declared. “This game determines who wins the championship. It’s now or never!” She strode back and forth in front of the Blue Team klees.
“Give it your all!” she continued. “Keep the gars working for you; remember to pay attention to one another. Claws in, but play hard. You know the Red Team will.”
“Kasha is our secret weapon!” someone piped up. “The way she played last game—”
“Not so secret,” Jorsa interrupted. “The other team will be going after her and going after her hard.”
“I’m ready,” Kasha said. She tossed her scoop from one paw to the other, eager to get started. She glanced at Boon and he gave her a huge grin. I may be hungry for a win, she thought, but Boon is ravenous for it.
“All right, Blue Team!” Jorsa shouted. “Mount your zenzens!”
The Blue Team klees roared together, then bounded toward the corral.
“We really have a shot!” Boon said. He paced on all fours as he and Kasha waited their turn to get their zenzens. If all that excitement could be harnessed, Boon would have powered a gig with his energy.
“I’ve never made it to the final games before! And it’s all thanks to you!”
“The whole team,” Kasha said. “We play well together.”
“Especially you and me,” Boon said.
Kasha grinned. “That’s true.”
The two teams trotted into the stadium to the sound of cheering. Klees waved red and blue banners, and Kasha could see that every seat was filled. The day was bright and crisp—perfect weather for wippen.
Gars ran out onto the field as klees barked orders at them to herd them into their opening positions.
Is it hard for them to get back out to play after last week’s death? she wondered. Then the game master sent the ball into play, and Kasha brought her full attention to the field.
The ball moved fast, Jorsa was right. The Red Team played hard, and no matter where Kasha rode, at least one Red Team klee and several gars were right there with her.
Boon got hold of the ball, and Kasha could see he was using the technique she’d employed last week. He kept throwing the ball to gars, even when they were behind the lines or off to the side. But the Red Team wasn’t surprised by this tactic—instead they kept their gars near the goals, knowing that at some point a klee would try to score. They successfully blocked three attempts by the Blue Team to get the ball into the goal.
We have to try something else, Kasha thought. But what?
Stick to the simple approach, she decided. Get the ball and get it into the goal.
“Open!” she cried, as once again Boon had the ball. He hurled it to her. A Red Team klee galloped straight at her, trying to intercept, but Kasha was too quick. She scooped the ball into her net.
A Red Team gar leaped up and tried to knock her scoop. She held it out of his reach and kicked her zenzen into a fast trot. The gar stumbled and fell.
Kasha’s heart froze. Did her zenzen trample the downed gar?
She turned to check, and in that moment, another gar grabbed for the ball. She whipped around and snatched it back, scratching his hand with her claws. He let out a yelp of pain and released the ball.
Focus! she admonished herself. The gars aren’t your concern. Winning the game is all that you should be thinking about.
A Red Team klee bore down on her, and she tossed the ball to a gar. She had to get her mind back in the game.
To regain her concentration she rode her zenzen around the perimeter of the field. She needed to feel at one with her mount, and in synch with the team. As she trotted along the outskirts of the field, the Red Team made another score. The Blue Team was behind.
Okay, she was ready. She hunkered down into the saddle and charged straight at the Red Team klee who had possession of the ball. The klee threw it to a gar, who raced away.
“Get it!” Kasha snarled at one of her gars. “And get it to me!”
The gar dashed after the ball, darting in and out among the snorting zenzens. Again, Kasha felt a chill as she watched the gar’s progress through the crowded field. She squirmed as the gar she’d sent after the ball was knocked aside by a Red Team player, the klee’s scoop hitting the gar hard. The gar fell, and was sent off the field.
As another gar came to take his place, Kasha’s eyes swept over the gar holding pen.
They look so small, she thought. And afraid.
The klees might call the wippen gars “players,” but this was no game to them. They weren’t having fun. They weren’t overjoyed by victory, excited to be competing, disappointed with defeat, and eager to prove themselves the next time. They hated this game. They just didn’t have a choice.
Her father was right. Foraging was an activity vital to the survival of all—gars and klees alike. Klees and gars equally faced danger every time they went out to the fields for the good of Leeandra.
But wippen was a game, a sport—an entertainment for those who watched and an exhilarating competition for those who participated. Those klees who participated, Kasha corrected herself. It was unfair to expect gars to feel the same way.
Someone threw Kasha the ball and she fumbled, dropping it. One of the Blue Team gars retrieved it for her, but it was too late. A Red Team player easily snatched it away from her. And made another goal.
The Blue Team was behind.
The horn blew—it was time for the break.
The Blue Team headed for the break area. The crackling energy they’d all shared at the start of the game had evaporated. Even the zenzens seemed defeated.
Coach Jorsa approached Kasha, a look of concern on her face. “Do I need to take you out?” she asked. “You seem to be hesitating. Do you have injuries from last week? You played very hard. It would be no dishonor.”
“I’m fine,” Kasha said. How could she explain to the coach that she couldn’t see the game the same way anymore? She wanted to win, she wanted the team to be proud and victorious. But for some reason she just couldn’t do it at the expense of the gars.
Boon slumped beside her. “Well, at least we got this close,” he said with a sad smile. “That’s better than nothing, I guess.”
Kasha looked at her friend’s disappointed face and felt a flash of defiance. “Don’t count us out yet,” she told him.
I will get this team to victory, Kasha vowed. For Boon. For them all.
Now she just had to figure out a way to do it without putting any gars in danger.
EIGHT
It’s not over yet,” Coach Jorsa told the disheartened Blue Team. “If you go out there thinking you have alr
eady lost, then you definitely will. So if there’s anyone feeling that way, dismount and I’ll put someone else in!”
All of the klees glanced at one another, wondering if anyone would take themselves out of the game.
Kasha stared down at her zenzen, not wanting to catch anyone’s eyes. Can I really do this? she asked herself. Could she avoid using the gars? Or would that guarantee that the team would lose? That wouldn’t be fair either.
She just couldn’t bring herself to abandon the game. She’d come so far—and she knew she was one of the strongest players.
But was she strong enough to score without gars?
She was determined to try.
“All right then!” Coach Jorsa declared. “If you’re staying in, then you’re committed to win!”
The Blue Team klees let out a group roar and charged back out onto the field, fired up and ready to play. Gars from both teams scattered across the turf, ready to move quickly.
Kasha took a breath. She’d given herself an impossible task. Simply being on the field put gars at risk. Everywhere she looked there were dangers: fast-moving zenzens and determined klees wielding powerful scoops.
Yet if she avoided the ball, she’d lose the game. Maybe she should just play guard? Keep the klees from scoring?
“Kasha. Face-off!” Coach Jorsa shouted.
There went the “guard only” plan.
Kasha trotted to the center of the field. This time her opponent was a large black-and-white-spotted klee. Gars surrounded them, ready to follow klee orders to catch or steal the ball.
This is stupid, she thought. Just play the way you always play. With or without gars, go for the goal.
The game master tossed the ball into play, and Kasha lunged for it. The ball landed neatly in her net and the game was on.
Kasha kicked her zenzen and took off. She swerved to avoid the gars surrounding her, trying to block and distract her. Who was open? She scanned the field. There weren’t any gars around Boon. She hurled the ball in his direction.
The ball whizzed by him, as Kasha watched in dismay. How could he have missed the pass? Then she realized—the reason he’d been open was that he wasn’t in a good position, so he hadn’t been expecting the ball.
Red Team and Blue Team gars raced over and flung themselves onto the ball. Kasha winced. The pileups were another way gars were injured—just the kind of thing she was trying to avoid.
A Red Team gar emerged from the pile with the ball. Boon galloped to him and used the handle of his scoop to try to knock the ball away, while a Red Team klee rode up to defend. The gar looked panicked.
“Here!” Kasha screamed. “Throw it to me!”
Without thinking, the gar flung the ball to Kasha. She was as startled as the other players and nearly missed the catch. In the heat of the moment, the gar had simply followed a klee order.
As soon as the ball left his hands he must have realized his mistake—he raced toward her. But Kasha dug her heels into her zenzen’s sides and loped toward the goal.
Gars scrambled to block her but she made it all the way—to score!
Scoring the first goal in this half energized her teammates. Their determination seemed to renew as the ball went back into play.
As the game continued, both teams played aggressively. Kasha watched disheartened as several injured gars were removed from play. She hadn’t harmed a single one of them herself, but for the first time in her life, the sight sickened her.
The game was close now. Once again the Blue Team had a shot at winning the championship. Kasha wanted that win as badly as her teammates; she could taste the sweetness of the victory as strongly as she could smell the mud spatters on her fur. But she just wouldn’t put the gars at risk. As they neared the end of the game, that was getting more and more difficult. Both teams were rigorously defending their positions.
But how? Keep them out of the line of fire somehow.
The Red Team would expect her to play the standard strategies. Maybe she could win by confusing them. It had worked before—like in the game when she had only passed to gars. Could it work again by never passing to them?
She gained control of the ball. Time to put her plan into action. She whistled for Blue Team gars. As she loped back and forth across the field, never approaching the goal, the gars dashed over to her.
“Cover Boon!” she ordered them. “Go!”
The gars raced to the other side of the field. Boon prepared for the pass.
It never came.
The Red Team saw the gars heading for Boon. They sent their own gars after them. That gave Kasha the opening she was hoping for.
“Yah!” she shrieked. She leaned far forward in her saddle and roared into the zenzen’s ears. The zenzen galloped fast across the field.
By the time the Red Team realized they’d been sent in the wrong direction, it was too late. Kasha was close enough to the goal to throw.
She stood in her stirrups and flung the ball hard. She squeezed her eyes tight, terrified she’d missed the shot.
A cheer went up—she’d scored!
And won the game!
Kasha’s eyes blinked open. The Blue Team went wild. Boon let out a roar and yanked on his reins so that his zenzen reared up and whinnied. Players tossed their scoops into the air while the crowd applauded. Coach Jorsa mounted and rode out onto the field to join her team in the victory circle around the stadium.
Kasha’s breath slowly returned to normal as she trotted around the arena. She pulled her zenzen to a stop for the trophy ceremony. Jorsa accepted the prize on behalf of the team, praising them all.
“We did it!” Boon beamed beside her. “I mean, you did it!”
“I—I can’t take any credit,” Kasha said.
She flicked the reins and followed the rest of her team off the field. She felt dazed. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was out of place, an imposter. Her teammates were jubilant and all she felt was…confused.
“You are a truly talented player, Kasha,” Coach Jorsa said as Kasha dismounted. “Each game you used a different technique to keep the Red Team off kilter.”
“Yes…,” Kasha said. “I guess I did.” She gave her zenzen water to drink and lapped up some herself.
“Brilliant strategy,” Jorsa continued. “By avoiding the gars entirely the Red Team couldn’t predict your moves. We will have to remember that for next year.”
“Truly,” Boon chimed in. “How did you think of that?”
Kasha dropped to all fours for a long stretch. How could she answer? They would never understand that she couldn’t bring herself to harm the gars. They would think she was crazy. As crazy as she feared her own father might be.
“I knew we would have a better chance if we stayed unpredictable,” she finally said.
“Your hunch paid off,” Jorsa said. “See you at the victory feast!” Jorsa left Kasha and Boon and went to congratulate the other players.
Victory feast. Kasha stood back up. “I—I think I’m going to skip the feast.”
Boon stared at her. “But the feast is the best part of winning!”
“I’m too tired, and I think I may have pulled a muscle,” Kasha said.
“Oh! Do you want me to—”
Kasha cut him off. “No! You should go! You’ve worked hard for this. You have waited three seasons for this honor.”
“If you’re really sure…,” Boon said.
Kasha smiled. “I’m going to go to my father’s. He and I have some things to talk about.”
She watched as Boon walked his zenzen to the corral and then joined the other celebrating players.
What is wrong with me? she wondered as she brought her zenzen to the corral. She strode out of the arena and headed toward the monorail. She noticed several gars being led by some klees, and as they walked by, she studied them. Here, out of the arena, she felt nothing for the inferior creatures. She felt no need to protect them, saw them simply as they were—animals that served many purposes in the
klee community.
You took an absurd risk, she admonished herself. Your misguided concern for the gars nearly cost the championship. It must have been all that talk of her father’s. It had sent her down the wrong path.
She abruptly turned around. She wouldn’t have dinner with Seegen tonight. And, she promised herself, she would not be compromised by misplaced compassion for the gars again.
Not now. Not ever.
And yet…
She strode past the arena and stopped. She stared up at the high walls.
Wippen mattered a lot to Boon. She wouldn’t want to take that away from him.
But that didn’t mean she had to keep playing.
The next season is a long way away, she told herself. Plenty of time to decide.
To decide many things.
GUNNY
PROLOGUE
Jeffrey Wright paced in a tight pattern, jingling the spare change in his pocket. The room was dark. Marvin Halliday’s jazz club, the Blue Moon, was still being built, and the light fixtures weren’t installed yet. The late afternoon sun cast dark shadows around the two men.
“We’ve got to do something,” Jeffrey told Marvin. “I can’t take the pressure anymore. And if you won’t help me, then I’ll do it myself.”
“Yeah?” a voice snarled behind Jeffrey. “You and what army?”
Jeffrey froze. He knew that voice. For a moment Marvin and Jeffrey locked eyes, sharing the same terrified look. Slowly—so that the goon behind him would know that he wasn’t about to try anything—Jeffrey turned.
There were three of them. All big. All smiling. Without a word, one guy took a sledgehammer and smashed a deep hole into the nearby painted pillar. Another knocked over a table, taking several chairs down with it.
Then there was the third guy, grinning.
Why is he just standing there? Jeffrey wondered. For one second Jeffrey didn’t understand what the sudden, searing pain in his arm was. Somehow he felt the bullet tearing into his flesh before he heard the gun go off.
Book One of the Travelers Page 5
