CHAPTER 6
(2392 A.D.)
Thumbs were pulling at his fur. He did not mind because Long-Reach was fascinated by his hairiness. The thumbs grew more insistent. They pulled his eyelids open. “Hunters, hunters, hunters,” the arms whispered, sometimes interrupting each other.
Eater-of-Grass was on his feet instantly, soundlessly moving. But it was soon evident that they were being tracked by experts. They hiked from the tall trees under the domes, ducking through tunnels, wading across dark swamps, climbing over blasted rock faces, squirming down through a crevasse to the treetops of the level below. Mostly Long-Reach chose their route. But evasions didn't shake their pursuers for long. All the while the desperate kzin youth gauged the hunting party, sniffing the wind, sometimes sending out a circumspect Long-Reach to reconnoiter through the rainforest's canopy.
The fugitives were being tracked by three Jotoki scouting among the branches and one kzin on the ground, in an unhurried manner but diligently.
The final backtrack was a mistake. They fell into the center of the Jotok shepherds, and the triangle moved with them no matter where they turned. Pinned. He caught a flash of yellow livery in the trees and knew who was hunting them. “Long-Reach, we won't escape. Stop.”
His Jotok slave did not fully understand. Arms waving, the beast ran ahead on three wrists, returned in confusion, ran up and down trees, and finally stopped close by, primed to run on five wrists, swaying with fear.
Eater-of-Grass waited, death resignation on him at the same time that his mind was trying out various phrases of flattery. Eventually the giant kzin appeared in the copse below, his age showing in his lame pace. He approached the youngling.
“Ah, you,” he said.
“I had no place else to go, honored warrior,” explained Eater-of-Grass sullenly.
This excuse for his crime was ignored. “You no longer have the youth-name of the house of Chirr-Nig. How shall I address you?” asked Jotok-Tender.
“Eater-of-Grass,” replied the ostracized kzin, defiantly.
“An inappropriate name,” growled Jotok-Tender. “Names must bear on the day's truth. Have you been eating grass? I think not—you've been hunting and eating my Jotoki, and various small warm creatures. Eater-of- Ferocious-Jotoki might be a better name.” He glanced down at Long-Reach.
“We run!” said Long-Reach. “Now!” admonished another of the arms, but the beast stood its ground.
The giant reached down gently to pop an eyeball out of its armor as far as it would go, examining the lubrication petals. Then he took one of Long-Reach's arms and examined the thumbs. “Exactly the right age. You will have an absolutely loyal slave if you train him as I shall instruct you. You didn't frighten him away?”
“Honored oldster, I had some recent experience with Jotoki at the shipyard. I speak the appropriate patois. Long-Reach, here, found me more than I found him.”
“Perhaps we could call you Trainer-of-Slaves. A good trade-name that. Does it suit you?” “Better than Eater-of-Grass.”
“Never use that name in front of me!” snarled Jotok-Tender. “I asked you a civil question. Answer! Does it suit you?”
“Trainer-of-Slaves at your service, honored halfear!” He paused. “Am I being offered employment?”
“A slaver like me offering employment? Perhaps I could give food and shelter in exchange for unquestioned service.”
“I am loyal to the warrior who gives honest leadership!”
“Said well for a recidivist.” He let his ears flap for effect. “We can't parade you around, of course, but I can keep you busy and out of sight. We have mutual needs. Are your ears erect? Have you been in contact?”
“In hiding one is deaf.”
“The startling news, then. By lightbeam, Hssin has had advance warning of a small armada coming through, long on its way, ruled by High Conquest Commander Chuut-Riit of the Kzin Admiralty. He will be stripping Hssin of Heroes and warships, including all the Jotoki slaves we can provide. His Conquest Campaign against the monkey- worlds has been authored by the Patriarchy itself. The Patriarch!
“I have already received my advance demands, and dare not be lax in meeting them. Who knows how this Chuut-Riit deals with failure? I am not of a mind to find out. I shall be busy and I need help. No one will begrudge me your services. As for those moralists who would have you wasted, a mere wave of Chuut-Riit's orders before the noses of such kit-eaters will lay flat their pompous fur.”
“Chuut-Riit?”
“Obviously a member of the Patriarch's family. Other than that we know nothing.”
“Coming here?”
“In truth, we don't see much of the Patriarchy in these dismal regions, and do quite well without it, but evidently news of our contact with the monkeys seems to have filtered inward and given our wealthier Heroes Long-Journey fever. The families of Ka'ashi” he gave the Kzin name for Wunderland “will not be pleased.”
“Not be pleased by the attention of the Patriarchy!”
“Youngling, for lifetimes this outback of the Empire has attracted only adventurers driven from the richer worlds by their fathers, by debts, by a desire to be where the Patriarchy isn't, driven here sometimes by kzin hubris, and sometimes, like me, by cowardice. Heroes with ragged fur. Who else would tolerate the cramped quarters of stinking ships for years on end? Wunderland was a gift of the hanged god. Why should its Heroes desire to roll on their backs and expose their throats to those who already have vast wealth? In rage they will challenge Chuut-Riit, but if Chuut-Riit proves able, they will submit. Chuut-Riit will prove able. Do you know history?”
“I listen to the Conservors.”
“Not them! The Collected Voices. Last night I put the memoirs of the Riits in my scanner. They scent victory and track it down at the leisurely pace of starlight. Then they impose their victory upon the victor. The Riits are the conquerors of successful Conquest Commanders. If we obey them, we get to keep a goodly portion of what we have conquered.”
“And if we don't?”
“Then they begin by taking our daughters. After that the air parches and the fur gets wet with fear.”
“I see many duels.”
“Yes, and as you watch the mayhem—if you are wise, from within a thick bunker—remember that only fools who wish to cleanse the race of their own fool's blood challenge the Patriarch's family. This is the Patriarchs family, not some wandering warlord. Are you with me?”
“I begin to serve your needs at this very moment, wise and merciful Hero! I will make no mistakes!”
“You will make mistakes, arrogant kit, and for that I will cuff your brains hard enough to rattle them in your skull, but not hard enough to damage them. Before you follow me, soothe your slave. Disarming his fear at this stage of his development is very important. He must feel free to leave us, though he has already hormonally locked-on to you and cannot leave you. And it is essential that he take direction from you, not me. As we travel back to my lair, make sure that your slave is always closer to you than to me. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, honored teacher.”
“I will try to trick you into violating my admonition. No matter what I do, keep your Jotok closer to your side than to mine! Your training has begun.” Jotok-Tender made a high Rrwrowr, and his liveried slaves dropped from the trees and formed a point for their return procession.
As Trainer-of-Slaves followed his new protector, he thought about the mysterious Chuut-Riit. An armada! The mythical Patriarchy was coming to Hssin! Because light was faster than the gravity polarizer, it would be impatient years before the High Conquest Commander arrived but the good in that was the time it gave Trainer-of- Slaves to make himself ready.
He would produce slaves for the Patriarch's family! The thought returned his attention to Long-Reach, who was following them with all the enthusiasm of a monkey tied to a nose-ring. He patted the beast's warty head and threw a stick for him to fetch in a direction which would keep him away from the giant.
But Trainer-of-Slaves was having a difficult time thinking about slaves. His mind was on the bridge of a Prowling Hunter, following Chuut-Riit through the starry reaches, seeking prey. His soul had already vowed eternal allegiance to this Hero whose miraculous message from space had saved his life. The miracle of it was an omen:
