by Lindsay Peet
* * * *
Caliuga City had thrived on animal husbandry, and like as not even some animal wifery. With their beasts the original Caliugans had come well-prepared to start a colony and a new life, free of the strictures and burdens of Old Caliuga. While they hadn’t anticipated disappearing from the known universe, this preparation stood them in good stead, as their experience, traditions and resources left them well able to survive and eventually thrive. Then, when others dropped in on them to everybody’s surprise, their animals and simple technology left them in good position to shape and dominate. The simple community of religious believers had prospered, and when confronted with new settlers they’d welcomed them, and grown relatively wealthy by trading, but keeping their strict beliefs to themselves (although what Sirah’s beliefs were was a mystery. I was hesitant to question her about them as I feared she might suddenly realize having sex with me was wrong). Thus, Caliuga City had prospered, and become a de facto commercial leader of the planet.
One of the things they traded was their animals, as they had beasts which everybody needed, at least until the Solip City bunch had landed with their speeders. So our horses, as befit the IG’s party, were among the best on the planet. I didn’t read much into this at the time, but Sirah selected a frisky dappled mare for herself, a chestnut stallion for me, and a roan gelding for Wanliet.
All this history Sirah explained as we rode south to the ranch. The company this trip was better than on Mobahey – W was always interesting, and I loved the way Sirah sat her horse. But after a few klicks it was getting to be late afternoon, and clouds were piling high upon themselves and roiling darkly.
“Sirah, I’m not from these parts, but are those clouds cause for concern?”
“No, your Excellency, the clouds can’t do much harm,” she smiled innocently. “The lightning and rainstorm and hail and flash floods, on the other hand, could play hell on your nifty uniforms. It’ll be another little while until we reach Pex al-Pex’s lair at this clip, and since we have the best horses in Caliuga, if your Excellency feels up to it, I’d like to do an easy gallop.”
“Easy for who?” asked W.
“That sounds fine, Sirah. Let’s give them their head.”
Now, I know how fast a space ship travels, and I’ve skimmed in a speeder a few inches above the ground, even whizzed in a dirigible skimming Mobahey’s surface, and I know how fast I was going at those other times. But nothing compared with the sense of speed I felt on those beasts, and the joy we shared as they unlimbered and let themselves fly.
When we arrived at the ranch it felt too soon. The most ‘ranch’ thing about the place was our horses, and I guess the smell. The building itself was low and rambling, and there were pens and a barn, or a stable – I can’t tell unless I get downwind – but it just wasn’t dusty enough for me, I guess. Maybe it was because I wasn’t wearing a hat. Or, maybe because the area around Caliuga City probably gets about a hundred fifty centimeters of rain during one of their years, and there was a fair amount of mud around as we approached. The mud was mixed with horse and cattle droppings, and as the wind and thinning sun brewed we could smell them more. Altogether too sloppy and rain-washed, I guess, not that I’m complaining.
“Ya know something, Mr. Daskal?” asked Wanliet.
“What, Your Excellency?”
“I’ve been around horses and cattle on different planets, and you might think that what with their all having the same constitutions, that their dung would smell the same. But it doesn’t. This here smells, oh, cleaner, resinous.”
Sure, he was sharp, but he was still strange. “Okay, Your Excellency. I guess. Never paid it much heed, before.”
“You should heed your steeds and tend their needs, Mr. Daskal. That’s my creed.”
Following Sirah’s lead and Wanliet’s creed, we rode to the stable and found stalls with water and hay for our mounts.
