“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 Patriarch’s 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: Chuut-Riit was the light leading him to Heroism.
Back in the slaver compound, Jotok-Tender tattooed a black splotch on Trainer-of-Slaves’s facial skin so that charcoal could be discreetly seen through the fine hair, and he ordered fitted for his charge a purple and mauve tunic of the distant W’kkai style, unfashionable on Hssin. None of this was a disguise, but it made it possible for a local kzin to face this pariah and say “Trainer-of-Slaves” and not think Eater-of-Grass.
The old slaver warned his youngling apprentice never to discuss his cowardly past. That way the subject would never come up. It was dangerous for a kzin to mention another kzin’s former life under a different name before the subject kzin mentioned it himself.
“In time you will have your own army of slaves, who are owned by others but loyal to you. You will need no other name than Trainer-of-Slaves to bring fear into the feet of kzin warriors. Dress well, pretend to no honors beyond your station, honor your timeless word—and keep your slaves close at hand.”
Trainer-of-Slaves was shown to his sparse lair, and taken on a tour of the Jotok dormitory, poles and platforms under a windowless dome. On the level below, underground, were the training simulators where Jotoki learned their trade.
“Why will Chuut-Riit want so many Jotok slaves? Many families of Hssin will not permit Jotoki in their houses.”
“I imagine that Chuut-Riit values them as mechanics.”
“They handle tools well! In the shipyards my supervisor commanded that I learn all that my slaves knew, but I must admit that when I needed three arms, I was at a loss! One plus three-octals of thumbs!”
“Recall that the Jotoki evolved the gravity polarizer while we were puzzling over flint. We were hired by the Jotoki for our abilities as warriors, not for our way with machines.”
“Is it really true that the Jotoki once ruled over us?”
“They commanded the ships that first took us out to the stars. But order evolves from disorder. Vegetation evolves to dominate the rock, the herbivore evolves to dominate the vegetation, and the carnivore evolves to dominate the plant-eater. Intelligence evolves in males to dominate the female. In the natural order of things the warrior rises above the mechanic.”
“And the wisdom of age rises above the untutored youth. Have I got that right?”
“You’ve had a bad beginning, but you may yet live to an age when your fur sheds without replacing itself—if your flattery doesn’t get you into trouble first.”
CHAPTER 7
(2392 A.D.)
Long-Reach
