Shaking his head the healer warned, “It could never work, Ranowr. The Liskash are armed and they are more than we are. We can’t just all decide to go, it’s impossible. Think of what the great goddess will do! Think of the kits!”
“I am,” Ranowr said grimly. “I’m thinking of them growing up thinking the Liskash are gods and therefore impossible to fight. I am thinking of something we’ve never known, Tral. Freedom! We can do it, I know we can. If I can work it right they’ll be too busy to worry about us. But first I need to know how many wagons we have, how many krelprep, how much food we can carry. Where are the bundor and hamsticorn herds and how many of them can we take with us. And we need to know all of this soon.”
“What makes you say that?” Tral was clearly frightened.
Perhaps by the size of the idea, perhaps thinking his friend had gone mad.
“They’ve sent out a scout, the one the Liskash have captured. The Liskash have moved our training forward. Why else have these things happened if not because the free Mrem are close and coming closer every day.”
Ranowr clawed the air before his own face and lashed his tail. “We must act!” He put a hand on Tral’s shoulder. “Are you with me?”
The healer took a deep breath and held it, then nodded.
“Maybe freedom is worth dying for,” he muttered. He looked up at Ranowr. “Can I tell the female healer why we’re doing this? She’ll want to know; she’s not stupid.”
Ranowr thought about it; it was a danger, but Tral was right. He was going to have to trust people if this was going to happen. Hard to do; the Liskash had raised them all to watch one another and to report any strange behavior. But for this to work it couldn’t just be him and the healer.
“Yes,” he said. “And she should tell those she trusts.” He smiled. “Be convincing, my friend, be very convincing.”
When they got back to the circle before the dormitory Ranowr began to question Retys, who supplied the herders. Asking him what exactly he did and how many he served.
“There are eighteen herders for the hamsticorns, we have less of those, only about three hundred or so. Twenty-three take care of the bundor, four hundred of them at least and they’re more frisky. I just bring them supplies and take their count of the herds for the steward’s records. What I mostly do is stare at the back end of my krelprep as I go from one herd to another.”
“What’s it like to drive a krelprep?” Ranowr asked. “Are they difficult to manage?”
“Why do you ask? Are you angling for my job, Ranowr? Being the young goddess’s favorite too hard on you?”
They all laughed, for by now the others were listening.
“No,” Ranowr said casually. “I was just curious. Sesh once said to me that knowledge is never wasted.”
He shrugged. “And I’ve always had an interest in krelprep. Did you ever ride one?”
Retys burst our laughing. “Me? Do you think the Liskash would let a slave mount their precious riding beasts? They’d whip me for thinking of it, and you too, so you’d better watch out.”
Ranowr decided to take that advice and watch out. Tomorrow he’d ask someone else something just as casually. The need to hurry was on him. Who knew what shape the Mrem prisoner was in by now or would be in a few days?
And the great crowd of free Mrem were on the move; he couldn’t risk his people being left behind.
Thress had taken to carrying a club for the sole purpose of using it on Ranowr. He could always get in at least a few solid hits before Hisshah stopped him.
“Why do you persist in annoying me?” Hisshah asked the captain after once again catching him at beating her messenger. “You know I’m the great goddess’s only heir. One day I will sit on her throne and your life will be in my hands.”
“In your hands?” Thress sneered. “What would you do to me? Pout me to death? You will never sit on her throne, never! She could still have a clutch. And then you would have a whole new set of young rivals to worry about.”
He stopped short as though shocked at his own temerity. But he didn’t back down. Hisshah felt as though she’d been doused in icy water. She glared at him.
“One day,” she said softly, “you will regret those words.”
Then she turned on her heel and walked away, Ranowr following.
“Young goddess,” he asked, “why do they think you have no powers?”
“Because it’s true,” she snapped. “I can move small objects with my mind and that’s it.”
“Could you tie a knot inside a bottle?” he asked.
She hissed a scornful laugh. “Yes, easily. And what good would that do me?”
“If I could do such a thing,” Ranowr said fervently, “I wouldn’t have an enemy left alive.”
Hisshah missed a step and then continued on her way.
“You have enemies?” she asked casually.
“Not many, but I do have them. Thress for one.”
She spun and slapped his face. “You grow overbold,” she snarled. “Do not think because you can use a practice sword that you are more than a slave. You will be silent now.”
They walked on in silence, but Ranowr was pleased. He knew he’d planted the idea he wanted in her mind.
Hisshah’s mind churned. Thress would never have suggested the great goddess having another clutch if he hadn’t heard her mother mention such a thing. This was bad. Her whole life hinged on being the goddess’s sole heir. Without that prospect she’d be nothing.
And what did the slave mean about tying a knot inside a bottle? Did he mean what she thought; that you could tie a knot inside someone’s head and kill them that way?
She liked the idea. No one had ever thought of it before. It was…it was deliciously sneaky. It meant you didn’t need to be strong enough to destroy in bulk, from the outside, battering at someone.
It hinted that the Mrem were even more vicious than her people, which was unnerving. She listened to the slave’s footsteps behind her. She should practice…
No, this one is too useful. I don’t think Thress would be as insulted if I sent a new Mrem messenger. I’ll start on small animals. There are always smerp in the barns.
Satisfied she walked on, busily thinking up tonight’s new password.
Then she hissed laughter. She would make the password Mighty is Thress.
Because if you pronounced that with the soft, wet, mushy accent a Mrem’s mouth-parts gave to the words, it meant something a little different, or could be mistaken for such. If you had been driven mad by frustration anyway.
Tickle me, Thress.
Her hissing grew as loud as water flicked on a heated bronze griddle.
In the short time he’d had Ranowr had collected just about all the information he needed. People were growing curious about his newfound thirst for knowledge, but so far no one seemed to find it too strange. The kind of strange they’d report to an overseer.
But now he needed to bring in more people. Today he would start with the hardest to convince. Krar.
He did not like Krar, who was a rival and a close one at that. Ranowr was speaker solely because he was marginally more popular. There was no room in their relationship for being friends. But he respected the other Mrem. Krar was smart and capable when he wasn’t letting jealousy get in his way and would be a valuable
