Moonrise

'All the more reason,' Baj said, 'to see they respect us.'

'And your fathers,' Patience said, 'would have agreed. But they had armies at their back.'

'And therefore – since we do not have tumans, do not have regiments of the Army- United behind us, the more reason to earn their respect.'

'Baj… Baj.' Patience shook her head. 'Whether true or false, that is not the deeper truth of the matter, is it?'

'It is a truth,' Baj said, '- but the truth you look for is that I will not have Nancy abused. I'll kill whoever does it.'

'Baj… don't.'

'Sweetheart, this is already decided.'

'It is not.'

Errol, observing upset, began tongue-clicking. 'Baj,' Richard said, 'it's easy to talk of killing, and honor to you to intend it. But the doing would be… difficult. George-Brock is a serious soldier, or he would not be bearing the Wolf- General's banner.'

'Bigger than you, Baj,' Patience said, 'stronger, and swift… and has killed, no doubt, many many times.'

'I said he'd be missed. Unfortunately, he didn't keep his paws to himself.'

'He won't fight you,' Richard said. 'It would have to be a decided duel – and over-the-ditch from camp. He won't fight you; he'll laugh.'

'Will he laugh if I call him a liar?'

'Yes, he will. Everyone knows he's a liar.'

'A coward?'

'Baj – everyone knows he's not a coward.'

'Then I'll have to think of something that won't make him laugh.'

'Oh, this is just so unwise.' Patience leaned to touch his cheek. 'Baj… Prince… please let this go. Will you allow your pride to damage us all – damage the cause and reason we came here?'

'I think I've learned something of soldiers, now,' Baj said, 'though I've never been one. I'll let this pass, if Richard can say to me that two things are not so. – First, that justice requires the Banner-bearer to answer to Nancy, and to me. Second, that this camp – including the General and her officers – is waiting, curious to see what we do in answer. And in waiting, are judging whether we are serious in all our intentions.'

'Richard,' Nancy said, 'tell him no,'

'…I can't,' Richard said.

Patience stood, angry. 'So unwise!'

'Unwise, perhaps,' Baj said, 'as any sensible woman would likely say. But necessary, as any man would feel in his bones.'

'Listen, foolish… foolish boy,' Patience tapped her scimitar's hilt. 'I can fight two-handed, now, and could cut you crippled, prevent your stupid fight. Better you're crippled than dead.'

'Listen to her!'

'Nancy, I would fight you all to be free to deal with George Brock-Robin.' He smiled. 'Though I'd undoubtedly be somewhat whittled, come time to duel him.'

'He'll likely kill you,' Richard said. 'You know that?'

'He'll have an excellent chance, no question. Certainly frightens me.'

'He'll kill you,' Nancy said. 'Please please please…'

'No, sweetheart…' Baj tried to kiss her and was pushed away.

'Listen to her,' Patience said. 'You think she'll respect the memory of a fool?'

'No,' Baj said, 'listen to me. I'm not a fool, and while I've had no soldier's experience of battle as that Person has, I have considerable experience of duels… And I doubt if he's used to that lonely fighting, with no comrades by him, right and left.'

'Bigger,' Richard said. 'Stronger, and fast.'

'Well,' Baj smiled, 'of course, luck will have to come into it.' He got up, walked away into the camp, and didn't turn when they called to him.

… There was time enough, searching through the Infantry rows, stopping at camp-fires to curious glances – glances from eyes often reflecting silver circles by firelight – there was more than time enough to consider and reconsider. To say to himself, 'My God,' that ancient and most basic of Warm-time's copybook pleas for attention, salvation. 'My God…' What had seemed both clear and clearly necessary only a while before, now seemed dubious, badly mistaken.

Nancy – how would she do if he were killed? What slashing blow in a storm of fighting would catch her unaware, with him not there to parry it? What injury, even accidental, on the ice and surrounded by Shrike savages?… And he lying dead here in permafrost, broken by a brute, and left behind forever.

Certainly, it seemed to Baj – walking through freezing night past fires' warm shadows – certainly the woman in Nancy would forgive him if he decided on caution after all – and after all his speech-making. The woman in Nancy would be relieved, understand, and forgive what there might be to forgive.

But the fox in her – even the small portion contributed – would not. The vixen swimming through Nancy's veins, crested with russet fur, golden eyes slit-pupiled, would never quite trust herself to him again… nor wish Baj to sire her kits, who must be brave.

So, foolishness perhaps, and perhaps not – but he was surely, in the copybook phrase, 'stuck with it.'

At the eleventh fire, he found George Brock-Robin – recognized him by the broad, furred back, the wide flat skull and small, rounded ears. Very little Sunriser-human to be seen – at least from behind.

Brock-Robin was with other Moonrisers – four bear-bloods – so he sat the smallest at the fire.

Baj took a breath, and stepped beside him – watched though the smoke by brown eyes under great shelves of brow.

'You,' Baj said, 'need a lesson in keeping your hands to yourself.'

The badger-blood looked up, his thick neck requiring some shoulder-turn to do it. Brock-Robin's eyes were gray, their pupils very small. 'You're not the first to say so,' he said, the words sizzling a little liquidly, from the muzzle conformation of his mouth.

'The last, though,' Baj said, 'that you'll be hearing.'

One of the others chuckled.

'Sounds dire,' Brock-Robin said, '- but the girl's a whore, and our quarrel about money.' He turned back to the fire.

'I've been told it's no use to call you a liar -'

'Been told true, boy.' One of the others, his voice as deep and fine as Richard's. 'That's only description, not insult.'

Chuckles around the fire. They seemed jolly soldiers.

'And to call you coward – I was told everyone knew otherwise.'

'True.' Brock-Robin turned to look up at Baj again, and seemed to be smiling.

'Then, the rest of what you are must be due to your mother. In Boston's pens, instead of the Talents' tinkering, she must have preferred to go to all fours to be fucked in the ass by the boar-badger itself… to produce the shit you are.'

Then, no chuckles. The camp-fire's flames seemed to fall and flicker to the beat of Baj's heart.

Brock-Robin slowly stood, close enough so Baj could smell his harsh odor amid the dung-fire's stinging smoke.

'Say that what you just said, Sunriser-boy, is not so.'

'I will – after you come to Nancy-Thrush, kneel down before her, and beg her pardon.'

Standing, the Person was a little shorter than Baj – and easily twice as wide. In only hide trousers, hide jerkin, and boots – unarmed, unarmored – he still looked able to grip and break Baj's arms at the shoulder-joints, to lack and stave in his ribs… and considering fangs, tear out his throat.

'Not in camp!' One of the soldiers at the fire.

'No,' Brock-Robin said, 'not in camp. Will you fight a decided-duel, boy? Come over the ditch with me?'