The Ringworld Throne

recognized the scent of a lover!

That old scent of lust and death was into Valavirgillin’s nose and nibbling on her brain.

The Grass Giant warriors were still shadows amid the moving shadows of women. But… they were fewer.

The Grass Giant women had noticed, too. Breathy screams of rage and fear; then two, four, ran down the embankment shouting for the Thurl. Another ran the wrong way down, moaning, out onto the stubbly field.

Vala moved among the remaining defenders, sloshing fuel on towels. Women, men, whoever she could find. Haste would kill. Fuel would protect. Herbs? Well, the smell of the Thurl’s herbs might last longer.

In every direction she could see pale hominid shapes. So little detail. You had to imagine what they looked like; and with the scent tickling your hindbrain, you saw glorious fantasies.

They were closer. Why wasn’t she hearing guns? She’d reached Anthrantillin’s cruiser. Up onto the running board. “Hello? Anth?”

The payload shell was empty.

She used the trick lock and climbed into the payload shell.

All gone. No damage, no trace of a fight; just gone.

Soak a towel. Then: the cannon. The vampires were bunching nicely to spin. Bunching around Anth or Forn or Himp, somewhere down there? It didn’t matter. She fired and saw half of them fall.

Sometime during that night she heard a repeated whisper of sound. “Anthrantillin?”

“Gone,” she said, and couldn’t hear her own voice. She screamed, “Gone! It’s Valavirgillin!” and barely heard that. Her bellow, his bellow, reduced to whispers by the cannon’s ear-shattering roar.

It was time to move the cruiser. The vampires had pulled way back here, they’d learned not to bunch, but she might find fresh prey elsewhere. Guns weren’t needed on the starboard and spin sides. Upwind from the vampires, crossbows would reach them.

“It’s Kay. Are they all gone?”

“Yes.”

“We’re low on firepower. You?”

“Plenty.”

“We won’t have any fuel come morning.”

“No. I set all mine out and told the women about it. I thought-Moonwa, the Grass Giant who was forcing towels on the warriors-teach her to use the cannon? Do we want—”

“No, Boss, no. Secrets!”

“Take too long to train her anyway.”

Kay’s head rose into the cannoneer’s chamber. He pulled out a jug of gunpowder, hefted it with a grunt. “Back to work.”

“Do you need smallshot?”

“Plenty of rocks.” He looked at her. Froze. He set the jug down.

She slid down. They moved together.

“Should have soaked that towel again,” she said unsteadily. It was her last coherent thought for some time.

He, not Vala, Kay wriggled out of the door and splashed into mud in a blowing rain. Vala followed, to snatch him back.

He ripped her shirt off. She pressed herself against him, but he howled and ripped it again, and turned in her arms, and turned back with two dripping half shirts and pushed one into her face and one into his own.

She breathed deeply of alcohol fumes. Choked. “All right.”

He gave it to her. He tied the other around his own neck. “I’m going back,” he said. “You’d better fight your gun alone. Under the—”

“-circumstances.” They laughed shakily. “Are you safe? Alone?”

“Have to try it.”

She watched him go.

She should never. Never. Never have mated with another man. Her mind, her self had washed away. in a tide of lust. What would Tarb think of her?

Mating with Tarablilliast had never been so intense.

But now her mind was flowing back. She was mated.

She lifted the towel to her face. The alcohol went straight to her head and cleared it, unless that was an illusion. She looked along the wall and saw big shadows, too few, but some. Hominid shapes in the black fields were also fewer, but very close. They were taller, more slender than her own species. They sang; they implored; they were bunched almost beneath the cruiser.

She climbed up and loaded her cannon.

CHAPTER TWO — RECOVERY

A pale light was growing, lighter to spin. The song was over. Vala hadn’t heard a crossbow twang in some time. Vampires had become hard to find.

Unnoticed, the dreadful night had ended.

If she had ever been this tired, exhaustion must have wiped the memory clean. And here was Kaywerbrimmis asking, “Do you have any smallshot left?”

“Some. We never got our gravel.”

“Barok and Forn were both gone when I got back to the cruiser.”

Vala rubbed her eyes. There didn’t seem to be anything to say.

Whandernothtee and Sopashintay came up leaning on each other. Whand said, “What a night.”

Spash said, “Chit liked the singing overmuch. We had to tie him up. I think I put too much fuel, in his towel. He’s sleeping like… like I would if I could just—” She hugged herself. “-just stop jittering.”

Sleep. And several hundred Grass Giant males were expecting—”I couldn’t handle rishathra now,” Vala said. She’d put off the memory of mating with Kay. That could have consequences.

Kaywerbrimmis said, “Sleep in the cruisers. At least for tonight. Hello—” His hand on her shoulder turned her around.

Company. Nine Grass Giants and a suit of silver armor had come among them. You could see their exhaustion, and smell it. The Thurl asked, “How is it with you Machine People?”

“Half of us are missing,” Valavirgillin said.

Whand said, “Thurl, we never expected so many. We thought we had weapons for anything.”

“Travelers tell that vampires sing us to our doom.”

Kay said, “Half of wisdom is learning what to unlearn.”

“We were prepared for the wrong enemy. Vampire scent! We never guessed. But we’ve set the vampires running!” the Thurl boomed. “Shall we hunt them through the grass?”

Whand threw up his arms and staggered away.

Vala and Kay and Spash looked at each other. If Grass Giant warriors could still fight… Whand was done, used up, but someone had to stand up for the Machine People.

They trailed the warriors down into the wet stubble.

Shapes stirred at the foot of the wall. Two hominids, naked. Crossbows and guns swung around. Arms batted them aside, voices barked. No! Not vampires! A big woman and a little male were helping each other to stand.

Not vampires, no. A Grass Giant woman and—”Barok!”

Sabarokaresh’s face was slack with a terror too deep to touch surface. He looked at Valavirgillin as if she were the ghost, not he. Half mad, dirty, exhausted, scarred, alive.

I thought -I- was tired! Vala thumped his shoulder, glad to feel him solid under her hand. Where was his daughter? She didn’t ask. She said, “You must have quite a tale to tell. Later?”

The Thurl spoke to the crossbowman, Paroom. Paroom led / pulled Barok and the Grass Giant woman up