The Iron Breed (47 page)

“Again you are not sure,” Liliha countered. “It may be they have taken the younglings to study them, to see what manner of people are now in possession of the world they ruled so evilly in the old days.”

“I do not think so,” Furtig said. He was unable to prove that Foskatt was right in his reading of the Demons' motives. But somehow he was as sure of it as if he had indeed witnessed the outcome of the stealing of Broken Nose's young.

“Why did they not capture Ku-La and me in the same fashion?” he continued. Ever since he had heard of that seizure from the air which the flyer had practiced, this had puzzled him. It would have been very easy to capture the two of them from that open bridge. Of course, had the Demon tried it, Furtig had held the lightning weapon. Was that why they had escaped? Had the Demon seen and recognized from aloft the lightning thrower? If so—then Gammage's plan to arm as many of the People as they could had great merit.

It was as if Liliha now read his thoughts. “You were a warrior, armed—not a helpless and frightened youngling. It may be that the Demon wanted no trouble with captives so he chose the least dangerous that could be found. How much farther are these caves of yours?” she ended briskly.

“If we do not have to turn from the straight trail, we shall be there shortly after sunrise.”

They kept on under trees, using brush as a canopy where trees thinned or failed. They crossed any open space with a rush, always listening for ominous sounds from the air. Dawn found them working their way into the higher lands of the caves. Furtig heard the yowl of the first sentry, alerting the next. That cry would pass from one to the other until it reached the ears of the Elders. He did not know if he had been recognized for himself, or merely as one of the People.

But the fact that the three came openly was in their favor. Sentries and guards would loosely encircle them as they went but would not try to stop them. However, as the three breasted the next-to-the-last slope before they reached the cliff of the caves, they were fronted by one who rose out of the dried grass to await them. Her gray fur was silken, shining in the sun. And though she was small, she held herself proudly erect.

“Eu-La!” The sight of her brought back the warm memory of how she had sent him forth on this venture armed not only with the fighting claws she had found, but also with her belief in him.

“Cave brother,” she said gravely, as gravely as one who had mothered younglings, so dignified was she. But her eyes slid from him to Liliha and her lips parted on a hiss.

“You bring a strange Chooser—!” She spat the words as if they were an ill saying.

“Not so!” He should have known. Just as a warrior would flatten ears and twitch tail at the sight of a non-kinsman, so would female meet strange female. “This is Liliha, an In-born of the lairs. She has not chosen, nor will she, save among her own kin—that is lair law.”

Eu-La was openly suspicious, but she looked again to Liliha, studying her carefully.

“She is not like the cave Choosers. That is true.”

“And it is also true, as your kinsman has said,” Liliha uttered in the throaty, purring voice of friendship, “that I have not come to choose among you, but to speak of other things, things of danger, to your Elder Chooser.”

She moved closer, and, as if Eu-La were suddenly convinced, they each extended a pink tongue, touched it to the cheek of the other, in the touch-of-friend.

“Open is the cave of Eu-La to Liliha of the lairs,” Eu-La said. Then she looked to Foskatt, who had fallen a little behind. “But this is also a stranger.”

“Not quite so, cave kin. I was once of the caves before I went seeking Gammage. I am Foskatt, but perhaps you have not heard my name, for I went forth seasons ago.”

“Foskatt,” Eu-La repeated. “Ah, you are of the cave of Kay-Lin. The Elder Chooser there has spoken your name.”

He was startled. “And who is that Elder Chooser?”

“She is Fa-Ling.”

“Fa-Ling! Who was litter sister of my mother! Then indeed I still have close kin in the caves!”

“But you, Furtig, have you learned all Gammage's Secrets that you return?” There was a teasing purr in Eu-La's voice.

“Not all, sister. But a few—yes.” His hand went to the lightning thrower at his belt. “But more than any talk of secrets, we bring news for the Elders.”

“Two sets of Elders now,” she told him. “There have been changes at the caves. The western People have come to join us. They have taken over the lower caves. A new tribe of Barkers moved into their lands and they lost five warriors and an Elder in battle. There is much fear now that the Barkers move against us next. And it is a large pack.”

Furtig listened closely. Perhaps now the Elders might agree to Gammage's plan. If they believed that they could not hold the caves, even uniting two tribes, they might be pushed into trekking to the lairs.

Save—the Demons and what had happened to the younglings of the Tuskers. Perhaps one could suggest that the cave clans take to flight, yes. But away from both Barkers and lairs, not into the buildings where Rattons and Demons alike waited. Bad or good, Furtig could not judge. He could only deliver the message and warning he carried.

Resolutely Furtig continued on, Eu-La matching him step to step. Now and then she glanced at him measuringly, as if so trying to read his thoughts. But she asked no questions, seemed pleased enough that he had returned.

Her acceptance of Liliha had been quick. Furtig hoped that was a sign that the other females would do the same. If the In-born could continue to make it clear that she was no threat to their mate-choice, he did not see why they would be hostile. Compared to Eu-La—or Fas-Tan—her scantily furred body might not please, might seem to be ugly. Though being used now to the In-born Furtig did not consider it so. But he hoped, for the sake of their mission, that the others would.

If Liliha had any vanity she had not displayed it. And perhaps now she was quick enough to see that the uglier and stranger she made herself seem, the more acceptable she would be. Ugly, strange—the two things Liliha could never truly be!

* * *

Ayana moved in the medic cabin. Her body was stiff; she had held herself so tense, her muscles had cramped. At least she had a plan, but its success depended upon a great many factors. And most of those could only be resolved by time. She had no idea how long she had crouched here, considering what Tan might do, and then what she could do to oppose him.

Yes, time and patience. She must hold on to patience as if it were a safety line. Yet patience had never been a strong part of her.

She rubbed her hands down her cheeks; her face was cold, she shivered slightly. Nervous chill. Suddenly she wished for a mirror, to look into it and see the new Ayana, how much she had been changed by this time of facing black truths and learning that she might live and die by uncertain choices. Just as Tan would never again look to her as when he wore that mask he must always have assumed before her.

As she arose she swayed, clutched for a hand-hold. Not only was she stiff, but movement brought vertigo, as if the whole world were unstable. But Ayana reached a cabinet in the wall, brought out a tube of tablets. One of those she held to dissolve under her tongue. She did not mind its bitter taste.

Now she worked swiftly, stripping the shelves of certain things, until a small pile of vials and tubes lay on the bunk. Possession of those gave her weapons and defenses. But she must find somewhere to conceal them.

14

“Thus it is.” Furtig faced the Elders, and not only them but all those in the caves, who had crowded in crouching rows behind. He could read no emotion in their eyes, which, when the light of Gammage's lamps touched them, were like disks of glowing fires, orange, red, and green. At least the messengers had been given cave hospitality—not warned off.

Before him lay the weapons they had brought. And he had demonstrated each. There were two lightning throwers, another producing a thin stream which made ice congeal about the target, even though this was not the cold season.

The fourth, which Liliha had carried and which she alone knew how to operate, was the strangest of all. For a warrior might escape by luck or chance the other two. However, from this tube spun small threads at Liliha's twirling. Those floated as might a windborne spider's web. That web, once launched, was drawn instantly to the warrior at whom Liliha had aimed it, in this case Foskatt.

Once it had touched his shoulder, as if that touch was a signal, it straightaway wrapped itself about his body so he could not move. Nor could he break that hold, though the cords of the web were very fine and thin. Liliha had to cut it in two places, and then the whole thing withered and fell in small black particles to the ground.

The Elders, in spite of this display, kept impassive faces. But from the others came growls and small hisses of wonder and alarm that such things existed. Liliha was frank: these tanglers were few, some did not work at all. But the lairs held endless caches of other wonders.

“But you say”—it was Ha-Hang, one of the Elders of the western tribe, who spoke—“there are others in the lairs. You have spoken of Rattons in force, and Demons, at least as a scouting party. If the Demons have indeed returned, it is best to let them have the lairs. Those of our kind saved their lives before by taking to the wilds when the Demons hunted.”

For the first time Foskatt spoke. “Only just, Elder. Remember the tales? It was only because the Demons sickened and died, fought among themselves, that our mother kin and a few mates escaped. It took many seasons thereafter of hiding and bearing litters, in which too many younglings died, before the clans could do more than run and hide.

“These Demons are neither sick nor fighting among themselves. If they come in strength, how long will it be before they hunt us again?”

Furtig did not wait for any to answer that question; he carried on the attack. “Also, Elders, in those days we had no Gammage, no seekers of Demon secrets, to aid us. Those who were our ancestors had no weapons and little knowledge. Compared to us they were as fangless, as clawless, as a newborn youngling. Perhaps these Demons are scouts, but among us how is the move to a new hunting ground made? We send scouts and if they return with ill news, or do not return, then what is the decision? We go not in that direction but seek another.

“These Demons' ancestors must have been those who fled the sickness and the fighting of their kind, even as we fled the lairs. Therefore their legends of the place are sinister; they will be ready to believe that evil awaits them here. And if their scouts do not return—”

It was the best argument he could offer, one which fit in with their own beliefs and customs.

“Demons and Rattons,” Fal-Kan said. “And Gammage wishes all, strangers and caves alike, to gather to make war. Perhaps he also speaks of a truce with Barkers?” His voice was a growl, and he was echoed by those about him.

Liliha spoke, and, because she was a Chooser, even Fal-Kan dared not hiss her down. She held out her hand with its strangely long fingers, pointed to where the Elder Chooser of Fal-Kan's cave sat on a cushion of grass and feathers, holding the newest youngling to her furry breast.

“Do you wish the little one to become Demon meat?”

Now the growl arose sharply, ears flattened, and tails lashed. Some of the youngest warriors rose, their claws ready for battle.

“The Tuskers believed they were safe. Would any of you dare to take a Tusker youngling from his mother's side?”

That picture startled them into silence. All knew there was no fiercer fighter in the whole wilds than the Tusker female when her young was threatened.

“Yet,” Liliha continued, “a Demon flying through the air did so. Can you now say that you will be safe in the wilds when this Demon can fly at will, attack from above, perhaps kill with such weapons as these?” She gestured to the display. “In the lairs we have hidden ways to travel, so small the Demons cannot enter. Our only chance is to turn on them, while they are still so few, the very deaths they used in the old days to destroy our kind.

“You war with the Barkers, but not the Tuskers—why is that so?”

It was not an Elder who answered when she paused but Furtig, hoping to impress at least the younger warriors of that company—those not so set in the ways of doing as always.

“Why do we fight the Barkers? Because we are both eaters of meat and there is a limit to hunting lands. The Tuskers we do not fight because they eat what is of no use to us. But there is food in the lairs, much of it, and no need for hunting. And if you saw before you a Barker and a Demon and had a single chance to kill—which would you choose? That is what Gammage now says—that between Barkers and Demons he chooses the Demons as the greater enemy. As for the Rattons, yes, they are a spreading evil within the lairs, and one must be on constant guard against them.

“But also they promise an even worse fate if they are not put down. For Gammage has proof they seek out the secrets of the Demons also. Do you want Rattons perhaps riding sky things and capturing warriors, and Choosers, and younglings with such as these?”

With his foot he edged forward the tangler so that they could understand his meaning. This time the growl of protest was louder. War with the Barkers was open and fierce, yet there was a grudging respect for the enemy on both sides. The Rattons were different; the very thought of them brought a disgusting taste to the mouth. There were far off, strange legends of individual Barkers and People living together when they were both Demon slaves in the lairs. But Rattons had always been prey.

Ha-Hang spoke first. “You say Barkers are less dangerous than Demons. We have lost warriors to Barkers, none to Demons. And what is a Tusker youngling to us?”

He had a gap on one side of his jaw where he had lost a fighting fang, and both ears were notched with old bite scars. It was plain he was a fighting Elder rather than a planning one.

“Truth spoken!” applauded Fal-Kan.

They were losing, Furtig knew. And perhaps the Elders were right to be cautious. He himself, until he had heard the Tuskers' story of the flyer, had been of two minds about the matter. But those moments when he had lain on the bridge with the Demon hovering over him had given him such a deepset fear of the flyers that he wished he could make it plain to these here what an attack from the air might mean.