She looked up, startled to be spoken to. “What?”
Lion was off ahead of them. Tiger was back a ways, out of earshot. Lynx said softly, “The other day. You fought well. I think you would’ve beaten him, if I hadn’t interfered. Beaten a templar. You should be proud of that.”
“Oh,” she said, puzzled. “Thank you.”
“Sure,” Lynx said awkwardly, and hurried off.
The monkeyman sidled up from behind him. “Why did you do that?”
Lynx maintained a stony silence for a moment, then said, “I . . . I was just . . . ”
“Curious,” the monkeyman said.
Lynx sighed.
The monkeyman added, “Curiosity is no sin. If you’re not curious, you’ll never learn.”
“That’s blasphemy,” Lynx said, but his tone was flat.
The monkeyman didn’t respond.
After a time, Lynx said, “Even if I agreed with you—about the dogmen, I mean—what can I do?”
The monkeyman whispered, “You can pretend to be asleep tonight, and when I create a distraction you can crawl over to the dogmen and cut their bonds, and let them escape.”
Lynx was startled. “I didn’t mean . . . ”
“I know.” The monkeyman gave him a thin smile. “But think about it. I’ll create the distraction. What you do then is up to you.”
“Wait,” Lynx said. This was too much. “What sort of distraction?”
“You’ll see. Your little outburst the other night gave me an idea.”
Lynx considered this. “During whose watch?”
“Whose do you think?”
Lion’s, of course. He was by far the more easily distracted.
“Think about it,” the monkeyman repeated, and fell behind again.
As night came on, the templars made camp atop a low hill. Tiger slumbered, and Lynx pretended to. He still couldn’t decide whether to help the dogmen. After several hours, he heard movement and peeked out one eye. The monkeyman came up to stand behind Lion and said, “You seem like the religious type.”
Lion turned to him. “Do not mock me, monkeyman.” Lion was now facing away from Lynx and the prisoners.
The monkeyman sat down on a stone. “Not at all. I just thought you might be interested in some of the religious ideas of the monkeymen.”
“The chattering of abominations does not interest me.” Lion began to turn away.
“Wait,” the monkeyman said. “For example, did you know that many monkeymen believed that they were made in the image of the creator of the universe?”
Lion laughed at that. “Did they ever look in a mirror? Surely they could not believe that the creator of the universe was so ungainly and absurd.”
The monkeyman shrugged. “Others had another idea about how they came to be. It was called ‘evolution by natural selection.’ ”
Lion’s back was still turned. Lynx glanced at the prisoners. He thought he could crawl to them without attracting attention.
If he was caught at this, the templars would kill him. And what if Father Cougar was right, about Cat and the Victory and all of it? Lynx stared at the female. He was impressed by her, liked her, though they’d barely spoken. He didn’t want to see her die. If he helped her escape, the catmen would have other opportunities to apprehend her, if necessary. But if she died . . .
He began to crawl toward her.
Lion was saying, “Even if that were possible, it would take thousands of years.”
“Millions,” the monkeyman corrected.
“The world is not that old.”
“Well, these monkeymen had some ideas about that too.”
The female’s eyes were wide as Lynx crawled up beside her. He glanced over her shoulder at Lion, who was absorbed in the argument. Lynx drew the shortsword and whispered, “If I set you free, will you swear to run away and never come back, and never trouble any catman ever again?”
She stared at him a moment, then nodded quickly.
“All right.” Lynx sliced her bonds, then squirmed over to the male to cut those ropes too.
Lion exclaimed, “That is heresy!”
The monkeyman replied, “That is fact.”
Lion stood up. He towered over the monkeyman and said, “Take it back!”
“I’m just telling you what—”
“Silence!” Lion used the back of his fist to strike the monkeyman across the face, knocking him to the dirt.
Lynx freed the male, and together the prisoners began to crawl off.
Lion drew his sword and strode toward the monkeyman, who sprang up and backed away. Lion said, “Come here.”
“No. Get away from me.” The monkeyman turned and stumbled down the hill, and Lion went after him.
Lynx thought: Lion will kill him. The monkeyman knew this would happen. He knew he was sacrificing himself.
Lynx glanced at the prisoners, who were now on their feet and hurrying away.
Lion and the monkeyman were soon lost in the darkness, but Lynx could hear them cursing. He considered waking Tiger, who might restrain Lion. But Tiger might also notice the prisoners fleeing.
Then the monkeyman let out an anguished wail, and Tiger opened his eyes. Lynx had no choice. He cried, “Tiger!”
The templar reached for his sword. “What?”
Lynx pointed. “Lion. He’s gone crazy!”
Tiger leapt up, and Lynx followed. As they reached the bottom of the hill, Lion stepped from the shadows.
Tiger shouted, “What have you done?”
Lion was smug. “The monkeyman blasphemed with every word. I have silenced him.”
No! Lynx thought, hurrying forward, scanning the ground for a corpse.
But the monkeyman was alive, weeping, kneeling over the smashed remains of his magic amulet. There was a gash over his brow, and his eyes were forlorn as he uttered a string of gibberish.
Lion had spared the monkeyman’s life, but now there wasn’t a single being on Earth that the monkeyman could talk to.
Lynx said, “I’m so sorry . . . Charles.”
At the sound of his name, the monkeyman looked up. “Charles,” he repeated. He took a deep breath, wiped his eyes, and rose to his feet. Lynx took him by the arm, and they hiked back up the hill.
They entered camp just behind Tiger, who said, “Where are the prisoners?”
Lion looked stricken. He glanced about.
Tiger cursed. He ran across the camp and stared off down the far side of the hill. “Nothing. They’re gone.”
“I . . . ” Lion hesitated. Then he pointed to the monkeyman. “It’s his fault!”
“His fault?” Tiger raged. “Was it his job to watch the prisoners? Or was it yours?”
Lion stomped away, then turned back and glared at the monkeyman. “He knows something.”
“Maybe,” Tiger said. “No one’s ever freed themselves from my ropes before. We could question him . . . if you hadn’t ‘silenced’ him.”
Lion scowled.
Tiger gathered up some belongings. “It won’t matter. We’ll catch the dogmen again, and we’ll have the truth from their own lips.” His tone was grim. “And we’ll take no more chances. No more prisoners. The dogmen die.”
The catmen walked all through the night, and at dawn they came upon a shallow cave in which the dogmen were huddled together, sick and weary.
The templars strode forward, drawing their swords and advancing on the dogmen, who stood to meet them. The male pounded his meaty fist into his palm—a futile gesture of defiance. The dogmen were unarmed, and would
