Ritl hesitated, nonplussed. She hopped back and forth, demanding serious attention. When the laughter just came louder, she charged the nearest of the tiered stands—and was hauled up short by Screwfloss’ leash. She darted off to the side, pulling on the leather. Meanwhile, Ravna noticed Screwfloss’ heads bobbing in surprised amusement. He slid a glance in Amdi’s direction, and then—still out of sight of the audience—very deliberately dropped the leash.
In the arena, poor Ritl almost fell over again. Then she recovered and ran along the edge of the stands, trailing her very long leash.
Screwfloss bumbled out into public view, his members covered with that checkered design, limping on two sides. He chased after the singleton’s leash, remarkably missing it again and again. Finally he did a four-way body flop on the stone flags, trapping the leather somewhere under himself. He rose, the leash grasped firmly in four pairs of jaws. He bowed triumphantly, and started making his own speech. But the fool’s pet was not cooperating: Ritl ran round and round the foursome, faster and closer as the length of free leash diminished.
Finally, Screwfloss tripped on the leash. He staggered around, squawking indignation. The crowd thought this was still funnier. More rotten vegetables splattered down, but this was crude applause. One caught Screwfloss on a shoulder, splashing color across his checkered design. Ritl seemed to be laughing about this, but she had her own missiles to avoid, and without success.
Screwfloss dithered in apparent panic, then all of him turned toward where Amdi and company were hidden. Even Ravna could see the melodrama in his pose. His Tinish plea meant something like: “Master.
And so Amdi was forced into action. He gave a low, heartfelt wail … and bounded into the arena.
The laughter changed to cheers, and the rain of rotten vegetables ebbed. Amdi was walking more proudly than Ravna had ever seen him, with the ones in the middle pointing their heads straight up. If this were a human, it would be a guy holding his arms up for the audience’s acclaim.
Jefri slid across the space Amdi had vacated. He had a huge, wondering grin on his face.
“What’s he saying?” asked Ravna.
“It’s too fast for me. He’s promising them things—”
Consider the local dialect differences, Amdi was probably talking too fast for much of his audience—but maybe that just added to the glamour. Amdi waved grandly to Screwfloss and Ritl. The two left the arena, still very much in character—though Ravna was convinced their behavior was only an act for one of them. Screwfloss slid under the awning and tied Ritl to one of the wood pillars. He was grinning and grumbling—and taking turns trying to swab the juice off his pelt. He glanced across at Ravna and Jefri and there was something wicked in his smile, something that seemed to say “your turn is next!”
“Jefri! Ravna!” Amdi’s human voice spoke as he continued his showman gobbling. “I’m just about ready to invite you out. Jefri comes to me and Ravna stays back out of mindsound range. Okay?” It was essentially what they had discussed back in the stable.
“Okay!” Jefri shouted back.
But then the clouds briefly parted and Amdi was standing in late afternoon sunlight, his cloaks’ beadwork aglitter, his painted footgear shining like real silver tines. Somewhere in the midst of him were the two members that didn’t have fancy costumes, but Ravna couldn’t see them.
Amdi glanced up at the sunlight, startled. Then: “Very good!” he boomed, now making a simultaneous translation. “I give you the wonders of the northern world, the creatures from beyond the sky, the creatures who can think without sound, who can think each by itself. I give you … the two-legs!” Four of him jammed their heads straight up, and the other four swung around to point where Ravna and Jefri were hidden beneath the awnings. By golly, there was even a musical fanfare coming from the eight.
“Do you suppose that’s our cue?” said Jefri.
“Unh,” said Ravna, finally feeling stage fright herself.
They walked out from under the awnings, and stood at their full height, visible to all. Just as when they emerged from the stable, the audience fell nearly silent. Jefri and Ravna turned in opposite directions, raising their arms to show off their hands. Ravna was scanning the crowd, watching for yam throwers. These stands were similar to Woodcarver’s meeting place at her old capital, but even larger. Each tier was built almost directly above the one below, and the “seating” was delimited mainly by quilted sound absorbers and premium boxes. Amdi’s moment of sunlight was past and the grandstands were in deepening gloom. It was hard to say how many packs were up there; they were crammed together closer than she had ever seen. There were heads everywhere, almost all focused downwards, on the two humans.
And then she and Jefri were face to face again. She reached out, brushed his sleeve with her hand. “I never guessed we’d end up here.”
Jef’s tense expression broke into a smile. “And I’ll bet you never guessed that my juggling was a survival skill.” He caught her hand for an instant and then they parted, Ravna retreating to the edge of the arena.
Amdi surrounded Jefri, continuing his showman’s spiel. He wasn’t translating anymore, but Ravna recognized the chord “five-tentacle paws.” He walked to the wheelbarrow that was set near center of the arena, and tossed three colored balls to Jefri.
Jefri began cautiously, with just the three balls in a simple up and across. Then he launched them higher and higher, brought them down low, bounced the cycle of tosses off the ground. Amdi threw him a fourth ball. That had worked well enough when they were practicing in the stable—but now Jefri lost control. It took him several tries to keep all four in the air. Ravna looked across the stands. Still no rotten yams, and the storm of clicking sounds was applause. To these packs, the impressive thing was that this monstrous, teetering singleton could juggle anything at all.
The most popular part of Jefri’s act was a bit of luck right at the end: A persistently rowdy pack in the second tier tossed a single yam down at Jefri. Jefri snagged it without getting splattered—and now he was juggling five!
“Toss it
Ravna held her breath. She had no idea what such an insult might mean to these creatures. But everyone was laughing. The fellow looked around, even its own heads bobbing with amusement. It had other veggies, and after a few tries—and a sturdier yam—the pack and the two-legs were playing catch.
Before there could be more audience participation, the Magnificent Amdi waved Jefri out of the arena—and gestured to Ravna. Her show business debut was at hand.
Alas, the knot-tying made a limp finale. Even with the heavy ropes the Innmaster supplied, there wasn’t much for the audience to see, especially in the fading light. On the other hand, it didn’t challenge her sense of balance—and no one tossed rotten yams at her. As she held up her latest creation, she looked across the stands. The applause wasn’t wild, but she sensed a kind of somber speculation looking back at her. Perhaps she had not proved her super-singleton intelligence, but she had demonstrated that, for close work, a two-legs was defter than any full-bodied pack.
In any case, her act did not go on as long as Jefri’s. Amdi began to wind things down, waving at Screwfloss to do one more comedy go-around. But as the remnant untied Ritl, the Innmaster came strolling out from his private box in the grandstands. His gobbling carried liquid overtones. He was asking for something, all very politely. Whatever he was saying met with loud approval from the audience.
Amdi dithered in surprise. Jefri was walking out onto the arena.
“What? What?” said Ravna.
Jefri gave her an odd smile. “I think our host wants permission for a select few of the audience to come down and … um … pet us.”
Amdi had turned his attention to Ravna and Jefri, and for the first time his posture slumped out of magnificence. “That’s exactly right. None of these packs have met humans before; if even a few are hostile … what do you want to do?” Now all of him was looking at Ravna. And so was Jefri.
“I—” she looked up at the crowd. At this moment the vast majority were actively friendly.
