Snowburn

by E J Frost

“There is a whisper underground,” the

  rat-girl says, matching my tone. “That

  Lightfoot has brought her Reaper-Man to the

  Clouds. I came to see if it was true.”

  I don’t see anything to be gained by lying.

  “Yeah, it’s true. Who are you?”

  “She’s Tiancha. Wisdom of the Deep

  Whites,” Kez says. I didn’t hear her wake, or

  roll over, but she’s lying propped on her

  forearms, watching us. She rises from the

  bed, pulling the thermoblanket around her.

  Takes the few steps that separate us to stand

  next to me, and offers me the edge of the

  thermoblanket.

  If she’s offering me the blanket, which

  will prevent the ready use of my blade, then

  she doesn’t think there’s any imminent

  danger from the Wisdom of the Deep Whites.

  To be fair, Rat-Girl doesn’t look particularly

  threatening. Squatting, she’s at my waist-

  level, but judging from the length of torso

  and leg, even standing she won’t come up to

  my collar. She has the long, black claws that

  the rat-men of Kuus had and they might be

  poisoned, but they’re hard to be afraid of

  when she’s painted them with white stripes

  and spots and chevrons, and on each thumb-

  claw, fuck me if that isn’t a smiley-face.

  She’s also got the thickest, longest lashes of

  any creature I’ve ever seen, coupled with the

  big dark eyes, she looks harmless.

  But appearances can be deceiving.

  Usually are, in my experience.

  “Lightfoot,” says Rat-Girl. I like the way

  the rats, and the surf-punks we’ve met, say

  Kez’s moniker. There’s a certain respect to

  it. Respect I know that Kez has earned.

  Doesn’t hurt to be associated with that.

  I put my arm around Kez and pull her

  against my side. She wraps the blanket

  around me, which is a relief because the

  night air has developed a definite bite and

  the cold is doing embarrassing things to a

  place I’ve usually got nothing to be

  embarrassed about.

  Kez nods. Then she yawns, and covers it

  with her hand.

  “Apologies for waking you,” Rat-Girl

  says. “I usually pass unseen.” She glares at

  the cer-cer grass. I can’t help but smile. I

  knew that would come in handy.

  “S’okay.” Kez stifles another yawn. I

  resolve to make this a short interview so we

  can get back to sleep. “I’m sorry we have

  nothing to offer you.”

  “Nor I you. Not even the hospitality of

  the Deeps. My alpha will not allow it.” Rat-

  Girl washes her paws again. “I’d planned to

  wait until dawn to speak with you. But now

  that you’re awake, can I ask . . . have you

  heard from C.J.? She’s mentioned you many

  times. We were sisters in the change. I

  haven’t heard from her in over a standard

  month. There’s been no word from Kuus

  except from Diamond, who says you’ve

  broken the Underlaw.”

  Kez shakes her head and mutters,

  “Bastard,” under her breath.

  Remembering Rat One and his exchange

  with Kez, I say, “Kez wasn’t the one in the

  wrong—”

  “Leave it.” Kez knocks my shoulder.

  “The Deep Whites won’t side with an

  outsider against the Pack.” She shifts slightly

  to address Rat-Girl. “Look, we’re on the

  first hover in the morning, okay? Tell your

  alpha. I stayed out of White territory last

  night and we’re leaving as soon as we can.

  Okay?”

  “I will tell him. He didn’t send me. He

  doesn’t plan to come against your Reaper-

  Man unless you bring him into the Deeps.”

  “I won’t. And C.J.? I’m sorry, but I

  haven’t heard anything from her since Java

  died. But—” Kez pauses and bites her lip,

  then shakes her head as she comes to some

  internal decision. I’ve seen her do this

  before as she decides to do something that

  worries her. “The Pack is in trouble. They’re

  starving.”

  Rat-Girl stands up – I was right, she’s

  tiny – and trembles from her whiskers to the

  tips of her toe-claws. “Starving, how?”

  “The water riots. I don’t know where the

  Pack gets their supplies, but the water riots

  must be choking off their source somehow.”

  Rat-Girl washes her paws faster, more

  anxiously. “My alpha needs to hear this.

  Please, if I bring him, will you speak to him?

  Please? Nacht is his brother as much as C.J.

  is my sister. He will listen to you if you can

  tell him of Nacht.”

  Kez shrugs. “I’m sorry, I haven’t spoken

  to Nacht. I saw Java before he was killed,

  but he didn’t say anything about this. I can

  . . . I can tell you what we saw. Snow saw it,

  too.”

  I nod. I don’t owe the rat-men anything,

  but if Kez wants to try to repair her

  relationship with them, I’ll back her. Not at

  the cost of what Kez and I both need, though.

  “Bring him at seven. We’ll talk then.”

  Kez looks up at me quizzically. I kiss the

  tip of her nose. “We need more sleep.”

  She’s about to protest, when her jaw

  cracks in a huge yawn. She covers it ruefully.

  “Okay.”

  Rat-Girl shakes her head. “He won’t

  come up after dawn.”

  I shrug. I don’t really give a shit about the

  rats. We need at least an hour to get in

  another deep-sleep cycle. Anyone who

  disturbs us between now and then is going to

  have a close encounter with the business end

  of my knife.

  “If I can guarantee you safe passage, will

  you come to the Deeps?”

  “No,” I say firmly before Kez can

  answer. Last time we went into the Deeps

  with guaranteed safe passage, it cost Kez a

  liter of blood. She can’t afford to lose

  anymore and I’ll be fucked if anyone’s

  getting mine.

  “Snow,” Kez says softly, looking up at

  me. I know that tone, and that look. She’s

  trying to plead with me without letting Rat-

  Girl know she’s pleading.

  Fuck, she knows how to manage me.

  “Dawn’s at zero-six-twenty,” I growl. “If

  he’s here at zero-six-hundred, we’ll talk to

  him.” We can go back to sleep afterwards.

  Rat-Girl nods and drops onto all fours.

  “I’ll go now and try to persuade him. Thank

  you.” She scrambles up the slope, moving

  much faster on all fours than I would have

  expected. I file that away for future dealings

  with the rats.

  Kez nods at Rat-Girl’s departing

  haunches and yawns again. Definitely time

  for bed. I sweep her up off her feet,

  wrapping the thermoblanket around my arm

  to avoid tripping in it. My shoulder twinges


  but holds as I carry her the few steps to our

  bed and settle her in it. She flares the

  thermoblanket over us when I climb in next

  to her. Rolls onto her side and puts her arm

  and leg across me. Bare skin on bare skin.

  Where’d her dress go? I run my hand down

  her back until I find it hiked to her waist.

  “Sex,” she says.

  “Behave,” I tell her. “You can have sex

  after you’ve gotten another hour of sleep.”

  She kisses my shoulder, props her chin

  on her hand and pouts up at me. “Delayed

  gratification isn’t my best thing.”

  “Neither’s your tiger breath. We all have

  these little trials to endure.”

  She claps her hand over her mouth and

  buries her face in my shoulder. Her breath

  isn’t actually all that bad, although there’s a

  buggish acidity to it that’s off-putting, but if I

  take her from behind, it won’t bother me.

  What’s more important is that she’s still

  hollow-eyed with exhaustion and we’ll both

  enjoy the sex a lot more when she’s not so

  tired. I’ve also got this idea rattling around

  in the back of my brain about where I want to

  fuck her next, and it’s not in a sandy sewer

  pipe. “You’re such a prick,” she mumbles

  into my skin.

  “Which is why you want to fuck me when

  you can barely keep your eyes open,” I say.

  “Have you always had a thing for bad boys?”

  She turns her head so her mouth’s

  downwind. I curl my hand around the back of

  her head and cuddle her against my shoulder.

  Pull her a little more firmly on top of me.

  We’ve slept this way before so I’m confident

  she can fall asleep in this position, and I like

  her warmth and weight on me. She stretches.

  Sides her arm around my neck. Nice and

  tight. Only thing better would be sleeping

  inside her, but there’s no way I’m going to

  manage that without fucking her first. I’ve

  never slept inside a woman, but I’d like to. I

  tuck that idea away for another time.

  Oblivious to the little monster’s designs,

  Kez murmurs, “I’ve actually always gone for

  guys who seemed sweet. At least at first.”

  No wonder they didn’t last. “Look at me,

  kitten.” I want to see her eyes before we

  sleep.

  She turns her head, looks up at me,

  puzzled. I stroke my fingers down the side of

  her face. Admire the sweet curves of her

  forehead and cheek. The pale lids of her eyes

  when she closes them. The fan of her lashes,

  sooty in the soft light.

  “I’m not sweet,” I whisper to her. “But

  I’ll never fuck you over.”

  “Never?” It’s not really a question.

  “Ever.” I’ve never promised anyone

  forever before. Right now, it doesn’t feel

  long enough. “’Course, you might get bored

  and dump me before then.”

  She snorts. It could be a snore, but then

  she murmurs, “I didn’t stalk you for three

  months to dump you when I finally got what I

  wanted.”

  “So you were stalkin’ me.” I stroke her

  back, gently over her scar, but including it in

  the caress. So she knows I accept every part

  of her. “Psycho kitten.”

  Her next response is a snore. I stroke her

  until I fall asleep.

  I’ve always been able to wake when I

  needed to. Even before I had the chrono

  implanted. Which doesn’t have an alarm

  feature. That was more credits than I had at

  the time.

  So I wake at zero-five-fifty. Smoothly.

  Transitioning from sleep to wakefulness

  without disorientation. I know exactly where

  I am. Who I’m with. And that we’re not

  alone.

  Fucking rats are early.

  I roll slowly and settle Kez on the

  ground. Smooth the thermoblanket over her.

  She might get a few more minutes of sleep

  while I play meet-and-greet. I shake out the

  skirt, dislodging any crawlies that might have

  bedded down in it overnight, and wrap it

  around my waist. Tie it off as I rise. I don’t

  look up yet. I know where the rats are from

  their breathing. They’ve come in the back

  entrance again. Picking their way through the

  cer-cer grass to prevent it rustling. I hear two

  distinct patterns of breathing. One faster and

  shallower than the other. Probably Rat-Girl

  and a male.

  I scoop up the knives, tuck them into the

  kukris’ sheaths. They don’t fit, but it’s better

  than having the naked blades rattling around

  under the fucking skirt. Dressed and armed, I

  walk towards the rats.

  Rat-Girl is back, sitting on her haunches

  again, with her head bowed. She’s brought a

  huge male with her. I’ve always thought of

  rats as small, but he’s easily as big as I am.

  Jet black fur covers him, but doesn’t hide the

  muscles of his arms and chest. He carries a

  sickle slung over one shoulder, and a

  sheathed sword at his waist. A full set of

  orclas teeth decorate his furred chest like

  medals. His fur is rippled and pocked with

  scars, so maybe he won those teeth himself,

  although I didn’t know rats could swim that

  well. The top half of one of his large, pink

  ears is missing, and the other one is pierced

  and hung with more rings than Kez has in her

  entire collection, shading from titanium at the

  top to cobaltymer at the bottom, glowing

  with its dark, radioactive light. I’ve got no

  doubt he’s Alpha Rat, but I wait for the girl

  to introduce him.

  He doesn’t wait. “I’m Acker,” he says.

  His voice is deep and resonant. Not ratty at

  all. And he pronounces it ‘Acre’ rather than

  ‘Acker.’

  I nod at him. “Snow.”

  He tilts his head to the side. Regards me

  unblinkingly.

  “Here-and-now,” I admit. “I used to have

  another name.” I don’t give it to him.

  “So did we all,” Alpha Rat says slowly.

  I nod in acknowledgement. Let the

  silence stretch and wait to see how he fills it.

  He does by taking one of my kukris out of

  a bag he’s set at his feet and laying it on the

  sand between us.

  “You buy that from Evvan?” I ask,

  naming the knifeseller. If the rats stole it, or

  hurt Evvan to get it, that’s going to piss me

  off, and this meet-and-greet is going to come

  to a fast and messy conclusion.

  “It is you brightworlders who are without

  honor,” Alpha Rat says stiffly.

  I consider that for a moment. He’s trying

  to provoke me. But my question wasn’t all

  that subtle, either. I shrug it off. “Enjoy it.

  It’s a good knife.”

  “It is. Why did you bring your good

  kni
ves to the Clouds, Reaper-Man?”

  I tilt my head in Kez’s direction. “To

  protect her.”

  “And why has Lightfoot come to the

  Clouds?”

  “Just dropping off a package. Nothin’ to

  do with you.”

  He chuckles, and there’s a dark edge to

  it. “Sooner or later, all things that come to

  the Clouds concern me. There’s blood in the

  air, Reaper-Man. Cloudlander blood. Did

  you spill it?”

  No, but Erin might have. I hold up my

  hands, palms to him. “Lotta blood here. None

  of it fresh.”

  Alpha Rat nods. “My Wisdom says there

  are things I must know. Things you can tell

  me.”

  “It’s really Kez’s story to tell.” I glance

  back over my shoulder. She’s curled on her

  side. Thermoblanket pulled up to her chin.

  “I’ll wake her.”

  Alpha Rat shakes his shaggy head. “We

  have come early. Let her sleep while she

  can.” He reaches out and runs his clawed

  hand over Rat-Girl’s head. “A man may be

  measured by how he cares for his women, I

  have found,” he says, and I realize that

  whatever a Wisdom is and does, Rat-Girl is

  more than that to her alpha.

  “Absolutely,” I agree.

  He squats down, reaches into the bag and

  pulls out a metal cylinder. He unscrews

  several sections, passes a metal disk to Rat-

  Wisdom and another to me. Rat-Wisdom

  twists hers, and it pops up into a cup. I

  follow her lead and hold out the cup to

  Alpha Rat, who pours me a measure of dark,

  scented liquid. I sit down across from Alpha

  Rat and take a sip. Chok. Richly spiced with

  cinnamon and a sweet heat I don’t recognize.

  Delicious. I swirl it around in my mouth

  appreciatively before swallowing.

  “Nice,” I say. Thinking of Kez’s constant

  apologies for her failure to supply food, I

  continue. “Sorry we don’t have anything to

  offer you.”

  Alpha Rat nods, roots around in the bag

  again and pulls out a crinkly plaz packet. He

  unfolds it to reveal a small pile of fried,

  powdered fritters. I swallow back a sudden

  rush of saliva.

  “Chok and wahda,” Kez says quietly

  from our bed. “I’ve died and gone to

  heaven.”

  “C’mere, kitten.” I pat my thigh.

  “Brekkie.”

  She climbs out of bed and joins me,

  sitting curled at my side with the blanket

  wrapped around her, rubbing her eyes.

  Alpha Rat nods at her. “Lightfoot.”

  “Acker.” She pronounces it the way he