'Freeman, we grow tired of faring afoot. We asked directions of a yeoman driving a wagon down on the highroad. He told us you raised strong steeds.' Foist hoped the fat, squint-eyed peasant had been telling the truth. He knew about all there was to know about sled dogs but had little knowledge of riding dogs. The breeder relaxed.
'This way,' he said. He paused to scoop a small pouch from the nail where it hung by a red porch post, then stepped down onto the turf and led them around back of the house.
A wild clamor greeted them. Dogs of all descriptions and colors, stocky war mounts and whippet-lean racers, black and white and roan and brindle and spotted all penned in wooden kennels, flung themselves against the fence and barked madly. The breeder whistled. A tow-headed urchin of indeterminate sex appeared from a shack at the end of the long aisle between the cages, wiping his hands on a dun smock. 'Master?'
Fost pretended to study the caged beasts. His eyes left the animals and scanned the surrounding countryside. The fields, like the road, were well tended and dotted with the bulks of grazing horncows ambling over flower-decked pasture. He saw no sign of humans other than the kennel master and the urchin. That was strange; it took a goodly number of workers to keep a dog farm operational. The best maintained their own herds of cattle to feed the dogs, both to keep down prices and to control precisely the type and quality of feed the animals received. That took hands – and there were only two in view.
'It's hard times since the mountain upchucked this spring,' the kennel master drawled. 'Then them lizards came through here bound down for Wirix, or so 'twas said. 'Taint natural, those lizards. Didn't do nary a bit of lootin' and rapin'. Not a bit of it.' He dug a handful of green herb from the pouch and stuffed it into the bowl of his pipe. 'Then them fly in' thingies started floatin' overhead all the time. The hands got spooked. I don't mind admittin' I did, too.'
He smoothed his scalplock with a gnarly hand. The urchin stood by, tugging at the hem of its smock. Her smock, Fost judged, by the small peaks in the front of the dilapidated garment.
The breeder looked around at the cages of yammering dogs. Shiny beads of moisture appeared at the outer corners of his eyes. 'You folks come by at the right time. I'm sellin' out.' He made a gesture encompassing the whole establishment, dogs, dwellings, fields, cattle and urchin. 'Choose what you want and name a price. I'm movin' cross the river into the Empire. Cain't take more'n some good bitches and dogs for breedin' stock. Dogs is damn trickish to move overland.'
Fost stared in open amazement. The generosity of Realm dog breeders was legendary, along with that of Tolvirot bankers, Meduri-min tax collectors and clerics from Kolnith. If a successful kennel master – and there was little doubt this wrinkled man was successful, judging by the size of his spread and the way it was kept – was selling out at a loss, then the threat of the Zr'gsz was already making itself felt.
They'd made their journey to this point as idyllic as possible, a long holiday of riding through beautiful summer lands by day and making love all night with passion and skill, as if each time was the last. Both knew that the inevitable last time might arrive soon, too soon. Though they scarcely slept, each morning they rose refreshed and filled with energy. To Fost this was little short of miraculous. In emergencies he could go from sound sleep to alertness in a single heartbeat. But without danger to goad him, he generally took long minutes to come even half awake. The fact made it curious he had chosen the life of a courier, which called for agonizingly early rising. Every morning of his life on the road, Fost complained bitterly of the necessity of arising before noon to his companions or dogs, depending on who would listen.
They picked their way down from the Central Massif and curved northeast around the Mystic Mountains. No longer did they see Zr'gsz skyrafts. All traffic flowed south from Thendrun. With the skyrafts went their last barrier to enjoyment.
Or almost the last. With the leisure of hours on the road and lazy hours in camp after dinner and before lovemaking, the two spirits resumed their feuding. Only threats to tie them to long ropes and drag them behind the riding dogs ever shut them up, and that only for a while.
The kennel master hadn't lied about the prices he asked for his stock. For forty klenor he provided them with two mounts of their choice and complete tack. He even skirted the subject of selling the urchin, too, but Fost evinced complete disinterest, to what seemed the girl's disappointment. By a miracle, Erimenes said not one lewd word. In fact, both genies sensed the uneasiness of the breeder and the girl and kept silent to avoid panicking them.
Fost and Moriana didn't actually benefit from the bargain. The smallest stone Sternbow had given them was worth easily ten times the price the breeder quoted. The two had between them only a few rusty sipans in the bottom of Erimenes's satchel. Finally, Moriana chose a rock at random and tossed it to the kennel master as payment. The man's amazement was so great his pipe dropped from his lips and threatened to kindle the sawdust between the rows of cages. The pair had mounted and quickly departed before he could press the urchin on them.
Moriana had picked a stocky red dog with a short, smooth fur and heavy tail for Fost. The animal wasn't quite a war mount but had the breadth of jaw to fight and looked durable enough to bear Fost's weight over a long haul. Also, it was an intelligent beast able to compensate for its rider's lack of experience. In travelling with Jennas, Fost had grown expert in riding the immense war bears of the Ust-alayakits, but riding a bear and riding a dog differed as much as flying a Sky City eagle and piloting a Zr'gsz skyraft.
For herself, Moriana chose a gray courser, huge of chest and narrow of skull, that could run down an antelope in a sprint. The beast was utterly neurotic, fearful of anything that lived except when it grew hungry enough to hunt, at which times it used its two-inch fangs to good effect. Moriana seemed able to gentle the creature, though it was prone to emit a shrill, unnerving keening for no apparent reason.
The mounts proved sound and the travellers made good time. Though time did not matter for them on this journey. At least, they pretended it didn't.
By unpoken agreement, Fost and Moriana had neither past nor future for the duration of their ride. But Fost privately broke the pact. There was a question that nagged him day and night and refused to go away.
The night they camped in sight of the dark line of the Great Nevrym Forest, Fost lay awake after Moriana drifted to sleep, sweetly exhausted from a bout of passionate lovemaking. For a time he watched the constellations perform their slow, circular dance overhead. Then he slipped into the forest. The scattered shunnak trees loomed above the mighty black anhak comprising most of the forest. There were few of the giants; had they grown close together they'd have prevented any light from reaching the thickly clustered trees below. 'Erimenes?' he called softly.
'Are you fishing for compliments, my boy? Your performance was adequate, I'd say. What it lacked in finesse, it certainly made up for in vigor.'
Fost sighed. Moriana slept a dozen paces away and was unlikely to be awakened. What he wanted from the garrulous genie might take a long time to extract – if it could be done at all. 'Why?'
'Why what? Why was the Universe created? Why does evil exist in the world? Why did -'
'No,' Fost said sharply, cutting off the spirit's diatribe before it gained too much momentum. 'Why did you help us when the Hissers held us captive? Or any other time, for that matter. Of late, you've been assisting more and more and hardly ever pulling your stunt of trying to get me killed in some grisly fashion.'
'It is out of the goodness of my soul. I would say heart, but alas! that noble organ has been defunct these fourteen centuries. Besides, I'm often moved to pity by the bumbling way in which you approach life. I wish to help you as a child wishes to help a sadly uncoordinated pup learn to walk without falling over.' Fost made a rude sound.
'You and Istu are equally noted for philanthropy,' he said.'And I've caught you at last! You've been dead thirteen hundred and ninety-nine years, not fourteen hundred. Ha!' Erimenes uttered a weary sigh.
'I have, since coming to know you, celebrated yet another anniversary of my tragic demise. Thus I came round to the fourteen hundredth year of my death. I wish I could remain thirteen hundred ninety-nine – or properly, fifteen hundred and seven – indefinitely.'
Fost ground his teeth together. Trying to pin down the shade when he wanted to be contrary was like trying to grab an eel. The more so now when he couldn't yell at the spirit without waking Moriana.
'Answer the question, you old dotard,' Ziore said from Moriana's pack laying nearby. Erimenes sniffed and said haughtily, 'I did.'
Moving quietly and carefully, Fost picked up Erimenes's jug. 'Erimenes, I want a straight answer from you. And I want it now.' 'Or what?'
