“Come! Eat!” the Mighty said from his fire nearby.
He waited for me to sit on a pillow, and then sat opposite me. He was handsomer in firelight, not as old as I assumed. His features were almost aquiline. The nose was broad and his whiskers thick.
He dipped a paw into a pot which straddled the fire, drew something to his mouth, then barked a command and one of the minions appeared and carried the pot to me.
“I prefer utensils,” I said.
He laughed, and slapped his knee with a paw. “And I prefer to be king of the universe! Alas! Neither of us attains what we prefer!”
My hunger overcoming my reticence, I scooped some of the glop within the pot up with one paw, and managed to spill half of it bringing it to my mouth.
“No!” the Mighty laughed. “Like this!”
The minion scurried back to him with the pot and he proceeded to instruct me how to properly eat with my paws, scooping it gently into the hollow of his palm then bringing it almost elegantly to his lips.
I had to admit that the stew, if that’s what it was, was very good.
“You like F’rar stew, then?” the Mighty asked after I had eaten my fill. He began to laugh as my eyes widened in horror.
I began to retch and stood up.
“No! No!” He continued to laugh, urging me to sit back down. He waved his paws. “It is only poultry!”
He waited until I had regained my seat to announce, “We will have F’rar for dessert!”
Again he laughed, and then added quickly, “We are nomads, but not savages. Please do not think of us as so.”
“I...had my doubts,” I said.
His grin widened. “I am sure you did! And now I will tell you about the battle today.”
My interest heightened. “Please.”
With his paw, he drew a line in the air, and then, higher, another, and then another. Then he laid his paw flat above the third line.
“This is where your people stood on the high bluff,” he said. “We have excellent spy glasses, and saw it all.” He moved his paw down to where he had drawn the second line. “And your people had their outer defenses here, to the rim of the crater.” He traced the original, lower line, again. “And here were the F’rar, beyond that line.” He took both paws and bent the line upward and around.
“A flanking maneuver,” I said.
He nodded vigorously. “Yes! And a good one. There were many more F’rar than your people. The F’rar, being stupid, waited for dawn to break. Your defenses then went to work, and did well for a time. But after a while they were overwhelmed.”
He hunched himself closer to the fire. “Then the main attack began. It went on for a long time, almost two meal’s worth. Your people had picked the bluff well, and they defended it with vigor. The airship attacks, I think, eventually made the difference. That and the fact that the F’rar had fifty times the ground attackers as your defenders. And then, of course, there were betrayals.”
I must have looked surprised, because he laughed.
“Yes! There are always betrayals! With my own eyes I watched through a spyglass as two of your defenders on the crater rim took money to abandon their posts. They were later killed by the F’rar. I’m sure there were others.”
“Tell me more!”
“So eager!” He laughed again. “Eventually, the F’rar got into the south defenses of the bluff. But before that happened, I saw a curious thing, what looked like a wine cart being ridden off to the East. A band of F’rar chased it, and eventually they overtook it. And I said to myself, ‘I must have that cart!’”
I must have looked pensive, because he leaned closer to the fire and said, “What are you thinking, Ransom? That will be my name for you, I believe, since you refuse to give me your own.”
I nodded absently, thinking of general Xarr...
“And now,” the Mighty announced, “we will have that dessert! My women are excellent cooks!”
“Your...harem?”
“Of course! Every Yern of import must have one. And the women fight to be part of it!”
“Don’t the women ever...object?”
His smile faded. “What is this silliness? Are we going to discuss Yern savagery again? These are the ways of my people, how it ever was!”
My own ire was building. “And if the women were to object?”
“They would be beaten! And rightly so!”
“This is just?”
He threw his paws up. “I should have known better than to discuss things of import with one like you. You are not Yern! You do not understand!”
“I don’t suppose you consider me part of your harem now, do you?” I said defiantly.
“Who are you, that you speak to the Mighty like this!” He stood, angry. “You are a guest, and one with kith! Of course you are not part of my harem! But tonight you will sleep with them!”
He stalked off, and in a moment one of the women I had seen in the large tent appeared out of the shadows.
“You must come with me.” She had a sly smile on her face.
When I started to protest, she said, “Now. He is very angry.”
I followed her into the tent, where the other woman was making up a bed of pillows in one corner.
“You will sleep here,” she said in the direct tones of a head servant brooking no discussion. When she turned to regard me she had the same cunning smile on her face.
“Very well,” I said.
The two of them retreated behind a curtain deeper into the tent.
“He will be angry, but it will be worth it,” one of them said to the other, and then the two of them tittered.
I lay down on the bed they had made me, and immediately noticed an odd smell, which only grew in intensity. I began to gag.
Almost immediately the Mighty appeared, and when he saw me his face flushed in anger.
“What is the meaning of this? Who told you to sleep with the dogs?”
I got up, disgusted. “And your dogs are not trained to relieve themselves outside?”
“They do what they wish. As do I.”
He threw open the back curtain to reveal the two cowering women behind it. In a moment the curtain dropped, and I heard the sounds of paw striking flesh and pitiful mewling.
I was about to push open the curtain and intercede when he reappeared, flushed with his exertions. But his ire had subsided.
“They will wait on you hand and foot from now on,” he said, in an apologetic tone. “I should have known something like this would happen. The ways of women...”
He must not have liked the look on my face, because he stormed toward me, his anger rising again. “For your information, Ransom,” he said, “my mother headed this tribe before me. She had her own harem – of men.”
He stalked out.
In another moment the two chastened women appeared from behind the curtain. The older one approached me, eyes downcast, but I caught the sullen look of smoldering hatred on the other’s face as she held the curtain open.
“Please,” the older one said, indicating that I should enter the rear chamber.
They followed me in, and the younger one bent to arrange the pillows, now luxuriously heaped in one corner, of what had undoubtedly been their own beds.
As they left the young one lingered before letting the curtain fall behind her, and fixed me with her murderous stare. I saw that the older one was already rearranging the dog’s bed into two separate sleep areas.
I slept that night with one eye open.
Five
The next morning I awoke eye to eye with a dog.
He was not a large one, which surprised me. He was obviously used to being kicked because he jumped back, giving a single hoarse bark, when I opened my eyes. There was no reason to like dogs, and this one would obviously not change my mind – it was dirty and fearful and, I could already tell, spoiled and needy. My father had briefly owned one, which promptly ran away the first time it was unleashed. As pets, dogs were, as far as I could
tell, burdensome; as companions, unpredictable; and as protectors, useless. In short, I didn’t like them.
The creature, making a piteous sound in the back of its throat, sat on its haunches and then tried to advance on me again. I brushed it away.
“Go,” I said.
“It is his house, much more than yours!” the booming voice of the Mighty sounded from behind the curtain. He sounded in a good mood. “May I enter, Ransom?”
I arranged myself and sat up. “Of course.”
“It is a beautiful morning,” he said, throwing the curtain aside, “and we must soon be away. You will breakfast with me?”
“Do I have a choice?”
He smiled broadly. “You have every choice at your disposal. You may dine with me, or not dine at all. You may fly, if you have wings. Or you may make a friend of a dog.”
Through all of this his pet had sat crying and barking hoarsely, waiting for his master’s attention. When it came, and the Mighty looked on it and held down a paw, the beast jumped up joyously and licked at it, running its tongue over the outstretched fingers.
“His name is Little One. Do you not find their needs to be curious?” the Mighty said. He looked down at the dog with unabashed affection. “It is said that they are content to be subservient, unlike our own species.”
He looked to me for confirmation, and I nodded. “I have heard that. I have also heard that they are stupid.” I cringed, as the creature had left off debasing itself in front of its master and now advanced on me, tongue lolling.
“He likes you. And that is significant, because he likes almost no one.”
As if on cue, the younger of the Mighty’s harem stuck her head into the tent. The dog immediately turned, growling angrily in the back of its throat.
The Mighty surveyed the scene and laughed. When the woman had withdrawn, he turned to me and said, “I had a little chat with Myra this morning, about her plans to slit your throat. I’m sure you may have sensed her displeasure with you. Suffice it to say there will be no further offence to you. Besides, you will have your own tent tonight.”
“Thank you,” I said, letting some of the sarcasm in my voice reach him.
The dog had crept to within a foot of me, and put out a paw as if to shake my own.
Tentatively, I took it.
“Friends for life!” the Mighty roared, laughing. He turned away, and the dog instantly left me to trot along behind him. “And now, breakfast!”
He looked back at me and smiled. “Or not?”
“I’m hungry,” I replied.
“Good. I will see you at the fire, then.” He looked down at the dog. “No more need to share a bed with Ransom, Little One!”
The morning had dawned cloudy. In the distant west I could see a building dust storm. Overhead there were water clouds, but not heavy enough to drop rain. The air smelled tart and moist.
“You said we would be heading north?” I asked as I sat down to dine with the Mighty.
He nodded. “It is our season to spend in Terra Meridiani. I have family there, many cousins and uncles and nieces. You will like it, though it is mostly infertile and inhospitable. Especially to one like yourself, used to the lushness of the south.”
“I have seen pictures of the region. Does much grow there?”
“Very little.” He smiled. “It is a good place to be left alone by the F’rar and other bothersome clans.”
I said nothing, but ate, dipping my paw into the pot which was this time suspended between us, over the smouldering fire from the night before.
“You are already very good,” he said admiring my eating technique.
“Hunger is a good teacher,” I said. “I held a bit of the flavorful mass up for his inspection. “F’rar?” I asked, sarcastically.
He chuckled. “No, dog.”
I hesitated, and then waited for him to confirm his joke.
“It really is dog,” he explained. “We breed them, as cattle. Little One is an exception. He is the best breeder among them, and so has escaped the knife. And once he found his way into my affections...”
He shrugged, and smiled at me.
“Dog...” I said, losing part of my appetite. “I had heard there were some clans that ate dog...”
“We are not the only ones. The Ferals, of the extreme north, are known to dine on nothing else. And of course the Baldies, who will eat anything...”
At the mention of that other childhood ogre I must have shivered.
“You have never seen a Baldie?” he asked.
“No.”
“They are interesting creatures. Insane, but interesting.”
“So I’ve heard.”
He laughed. “Where have you been in your life, Ransom?”
“Wells City, and Lowell City, and a few summers at Hellas, at one of the lakes.”
“Playpens all!” he scoffed. “You have never been anywhere outside these comfortable places?”
“No.”
“A pity! My mother used to call city people ‘bum wipers.’”
“Without civilization, what do you have?”
“Me!” he laughed. “The rest of the world! Oh, there is much for you to see in this world, Ransom. The great Northern volcanoes, the Ocean of Utopia. Perhaps you will see some wonderful things with me!”
I nodded absently. Despite my distaste, I had finished my meal.
The Mighty belched. “That was fine! And now we go!”
As we had talked, the camp had been breaking up around us. I saw now that there were more than just the three male companions and the two women I had seen before. Other tents dotted the near hillsides, and these were falling like deflated balloons as I watched. The sky overhead had darkened. The dust storm that had been at the western horizon looked ominously closer, curlicues of pink sand touching ground and sky.
“We will have interesting weather before the day is out,” the Mighty said. He rose and clapped his hands.
Two men came running; one of them took the pot and ran off while the other smoothed out the remains of the fire until there were no signs that it had ever been there.
Wagons were being loaded, and a tribesman had already climbed into the cab of Xarr’s wine wagon. Its horses snuffled impatiently, no doubt sensing the coming storm.
I briefly thought of the ravaged-faced general, who had vowed to die for me, and wondered what had happened to him.
“Do you wish to travel in your hiding place, or with me?” the Mighty said, standing beside me. He indicated two bridled horses nearby.
“I don’t ride well,” I said.
“And I have no time to teach you now. Ride in the wine wagon, then, but up top, with Horn.”
Horn, one of the three figures I had first met the night before, appeared and bowed. He held out his paw and I took it.
“My lady,” he said.
The Mighty laughed at the sarcasm, and made as if to swat Horn, who cringed away from the feigned blow.
“He mocks you,” the Mighty said. “Her name is Ransom,” he instructed Horn, who nodded.
“Come then,” Horn said, turning away. When I reached the wagon he was already mounted, and let me climb up by myself.
Without a word he snapped the reins, and the wagon began to roll.
Soon we were a caravan, and the day darkened.
At what I judged to be noon by the light of the sun, which shone like a sour shadow through the thickening clouds, our kilo-long line of carts and horses came to an abrupt halt.
Without a word, Horn, who had been less than communicative since we set out, threw the reins aside and climbed down.
He joined the others, including the Mighty, flanked by the two women, who walked a good distance from the caravan and formed an impromptu circle.
I had heard of this ritual of the Noon, but had never witnessed it.
Soon, on all fours, heads bowed to the ground and, eyes closed, they began to chant, a rhythmic mewling that was nearly borne away by the wind before it reached me.
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It was very dark now, and the wind had begun to pick up. Tickles of sand swirled around the wheels of the wagon. Dust devils played up from the ground before vanishing like ghosts. The highlands were behind us. We were heading into more desolate territory, with only cactus and an occasional plot of tall yellow grass to break the dusty terrain.
I looked back the way we had come. It was still brighter there. I might be able to out-walk the storm.
Stealthily, I climbed down from the wagon and crept off.
Not thirty paces later, the dust storm closed in around me, and I was instantly lost.
Knowing that the winds had been coming from the west, I headed east, with their back to me.
With any luck, I might find my way to the highlands, or at least to another, more hospitable clan.
I walked, on two legs and then on four, and then, after what seemed hours, I could walk no more, and thought to rest for a moment, my face to the ground–
“She has courage, I’ll give her that. It is the most foolish sort of courage, of course, but I do admire it.”
Someone laughed, a woman’s voice, and I opened my eyes to find myself in my tent, with bright sun blazing through the opening.
“Did I dream?” I said, trying to get up and then wincing in pain.
I was wearing a loose garment. My own clothes were gone.
One of the women, Myra, the younger of the harem, was standing beside me. She had not lost the look of burning hatred in her eyes.
The Mighty bent down over me and smiled. “You have very little pelt left on your back,” he explained. “The wind shredded your garments, and then began to shred you. Luckily we found you as soon as the storm lifted.” His grin widened. “Two days ago!”
“Two days...” I tried not to move, but sought to return the Mighty’s look of defiance. “How far did I get?”
“Not very. A few kilometers. And I have very little understanding of why you were heading west.”
“I was walking east, with the wind at my back.”
He barked a laugh. “The winds in these storms can change in a moment! Not like those baby storms you have in your playpens in the south! I imagine you were headed to each of the compass points for an equal time.”
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