The Heart of Dog

by Doranna Durgin

  Besides, she might have a nose, but she couldn't match his speed.

  "Oowh! Oowh!" he bellowed, demanding and impatient, finally—and rudely—shoving her aside to pass at top speed.

  Show-off speed.

  The kind of speed to run him straight into trouble. Into—

  Sabre yelped as a whip lashed across his head, popping a welt on one sensitive ear; he flung himself aside, yipping like a pup as the spellrunner's lash landed again. "Git on, you cur!" the man jeered, and Sabre tumbled down, rolling aside, Shiba gone silent—in flight?—and leaving him alone—

  "Watch out!" the other spellrunner cried, too late for his partner to avoid the black and silver blur.

  Shiba uttered not a sound as the lash fell across her back, but leapt up to grab the stout leather whip handle, as intent on it as on any trail-prey. Beyond her, the other man took flight.

  "Shiba—call!" shouted her lineman—not so far away, now—and Shiba barked treed for him, dropping the whip.

  "Sabre! Call!" Taliya shouted as Sabre climbed to his feet and shook off, sending leaves and dirt and grit flying. He managed a half-hearted bark and ruefully pawed his stinging ear.

  Shiba made enough noise for both of them.

  He got his first good look at her, then, as the linemen approached from their separate directions.

  Beautiful, she was—well-muscled, long-limbed, a graceful neck and lovely curve to her tail.

  Where Sabre was heavily marked with black—his blueing so thick it looked mottled instead of ticked, his head and chest heavy and masculine—Shiba stood a sturdy but clean-lined bitch, her back and head glossy black, her ticking so perfectly distributed that it appeared silver-blue from even a short distance.

  Sabre felt an immediate and intense dislike.

  And she was the one backing the spellrunner against a stout oak while Sabre stood bleeding, spraddle-legged and dazed as the two linemen arrived.

  She wore bramble-guard, a leather chest plate and canvas body jacket of the sort Sabre never tolerated. She probably hadn't even felt the whip.

  Taliya left Shiba's man to handle the magic smuggler as she kicked the whip well out of reach and dropped to her knees beside Sabre. "There should be two of them," she said, over her shoulder and breathless. Her long, tawny braid fell over her shoulder to brush the top of Sabre's head. "There, now, son. Got you a good one, didn't he?"

  Despite himself, desperately wishing Shiba's sharp brown gaze pointed elsewhere, Sabre whined in response. Hurts. And when Taliya soothed him, he wagged his tail tip in silly submission. Couldn't help it. Never could, where Taliya was concerned.

  Shiba looked away as though embarrassed for the both of them.

  "Well, there's only this one." Shiba's man—Tallon, that was his name—sounded frustrated. "The other's gone. Sons of bitches, taking a whip to him—"

  Taliya looked up from Sabre, who'd managed to insinuate himself into her lap, even though she was kneeling and had no real lap of which to speak. "How'd you train her to grab that whip? These dogs don't have an aggressive hair on their bodies."

  Tallon shook his head, still pensively looking off in the direction in which the smuggler had escaped. "Ever since the critter-based magic smuggling ring last fall, she's been impossible to keep off anything that might be a dangling critter tail. Laundry, ropes, hair, you name it."

  It had almost worked, that critter-based spellrunning ring. No little wonder—for linehounds were trained off critter trail, and the spellrunners had therefore used them to carry minor magics and amulets. For both the hounds and their linemen, who had no tolerance for a dog who broke trail to chase critter.

  So yes, it had almost worked.

  "They all hate the critters," Taliya said, a tone of polite disbelief at this explanation. But she dropped it, nodding at Shiba. "Is she sound? Send her on."

  Tallon shook his head. "We're too near the border. I won't send her into that alone."

  But she would have gone. Even Sabre could see that—and he would have joined her.

  That's what they did, the linehounds—patrolled the border between Ours and Theirs, sniffing out spellrunners who wanted to contaminate Ours with Theirs.

  The captive sneered at Tallon. "Smart man," he said, derisive despite his restraints. "Give up on those damn curs right now, you should. They do you no good, soon enough."

  Tallon silenced the man with a look—and a shift of the walking stick he carried. Taliya swapped her appraisal from Shiba to her lineman, eyebrow raising.

  And Sabre lifted his nose to the subtle scent of new magic, a strange, rich magicsmell he'd not encountered before.

  He looked at Shiba, but she'd rediscovered the whip and snatched it up to administer a death shake. The tolerant affection on Tallon's face gave Sabre a funny itchy feeling—except he couldn't quite figure out where the itch was. Only that it was subtle and as invasive as a tick creeping across flesh.

  Whipped. Embarrassed. And now itchy.

  Sabre hid his aching head under Taliya's arm.

  2.

  Rumors flew. Sabre heard them while Taliya brushed him—curried him, actually, bringing the dirt up on his short, slick coat.

  "Something big going on," Taliya told him, knocking the brush clean against the side of their well-appointed log cabin. The line cabins ran along the border between Theirs and Ours, all more or less identical dwellings, personal touches aside.

  Taliya had added plenty of those. Curtains, a platform for Sabre's food bowl, a special niche below the raised porch for his cool summertime bed.

  He slept in the cabin with her anyway.

  Sabre applied a hind foot just behind his ear, still looking for the elusive itch, not concerned with Taliya's gossip so much as happy with the sound of her voice. He paused, examining his foot—yep, still his—and tried again, this time targeting his cheek and careful not to poke himself in the eye.

  "Something they think will put us out of business, Sabre-old-boy."

  Sabre-old-boy. One of his favorites. He stopped scratching again to pant happily at her. Early morning summer sunshine, just been brushed, about to go on patrol... Yes. Happy. He nibbled absently at his shoulder. And at some point he became aware of Tallon's approach, Shiba with him...and some stranger.

  Maybe if he pretended they weren't there, his morning would stay just between him and Taliya. Nibble, nibble.

  "Looks like it's time for a dip," Tallon said.

  As if Sabre had fleas.

  "Grmph," Sabre said, a half-hearted grumble of greeting. Not worth barking at. The strange man had had magic on him once, but no more, and besides, his hands were tied behind his back. And Shiba...she went without bramble-guards today, and her coat shone in the sun, deep glossy black.

  He still didn't like her.

  "Just did one," Taliya said easily, as if no flea-born insult had passed. She even looked downright glad to see Tallon. "Been out on patrol already?"

  "Had a tip yesterday—caught this one just after dawn. We were close, so..."

  "Let me get some water for Shiba," Taliya said, picking up Sabre's dish.

  My dish. Mine.

  "Grmph," he said, but no one seemed to be listening. And worse, he again detected the strange new magicsmell.

  Shiba's nose twitched; she had the same puzzled look in her eye that Sabre felt on his own wrinkling brow. But she merely took a polite drink from the water Taliya presented and stood by Tallon's side as Taliya gave him cellar-cooled tea and one of her own breakfast biscuits. And finally came to the point.

  "What's this one been up to?" she asked, jerking a thumb at the sullen prisoner, whom Tallon had put down on his knees for safekeeping.

  "Got a tip on him," Tallon said. "My source said he's a minor player—but that he's got information. I thought you might be interested."

  Taliya grinned, a surprisingly predatory expression. Sabre stopped sniffing the air to give her his full attention. Maybe the morning had lost its happy, but it had certainly turned interesting.


  "Not telling you nothing," the prisoner grumbled, though no one had, strictly, asked. "Don't lay a hand on me, rules say you can't."

  Taliya smiled beatifically; a slow grin spread across Tallon's face at the sight. "I'm not going to touch you," she said. "Tallon and I are going to discuss the dogs."

  "We are?"

  "We are. Sabre, son, come here."

  Sabre complied immediately, for she had her good dog voice on.

  Taliya repositioned his hindquarters slightly. "Thatta boy," she told him. "Tallon, I think you've heard about Sabre. He's the fastest thing on trail you can hope to see."

  Ohh, that was definitely the good boy voice. Sabre's tail waved with pleasure.

  "In fact," she said, positively gooey, "he's the best linehound I ever hope to be with. He's such a good boy."

  Oh, joyful! Sabre's tail whipped the air, impeded only by something soft and yielding and inconsequential and oddly whimpering. His linewoman, cooing at him, admiring him, praising him...oh, delight! His tail exploded into frenzied activity.

  "Ahhhh! I'll talk! I'll talk!"

  Startled, Sabre glanced back to discover the man behind him now a strange shade of pale green, hunched over on his knees with his hands still tied behind him and offering the distinct impression that he was trying to cover his groin with his elbows.

  Even more strangely, he nearly succeeded.

  Taliya gave him a partial reprieve. "Sit, Sabre," she said, and Sabre plunked his bottom down, his tail sweeping back and forth across the earth. She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head at the man. "Talk, then. Make it good. I still haven't said hello to Shiba."

  "No, nono—have mercy! Please, mercy!"

  "Just talk," Tallon growled, but Sabre thought he hid a smile.

  "All I know...they've got a way to smuggle in a receiver spell and then they'll trigger the other half from over the border. Soon! It'll make a safe null corridor—they'll be able to bring magic right through."

  Taliya and Tallon exchanged a glance. Tallon said, "How're they going to get the first spell past the dogs?"

  "I don't know," the man said, but he'd turned sullen, and wouldn't look either of them in the eye. Or at the dogs, for that matter—for Shiba had inched closer, eyes glinting with intensity, watching Taliya...following the swaying path of her long, thick braid against her lower back.

  And Sabre scented it again, that strange magic, the one that swirled around so close to imperceptible, not attached to any one person or thing. Although...

  He turned a suspicious eye on Tallon.

  Tallon was in no position to notice. "Taliya," he said, one firm hand keeping the man on his knees, "What was it you were saying about Sabre? What an excellent linehound he is?"

  "Skunk!" the man squealed.

  Tallon tightened his grip. "Watch your mouth!"

  "No, skunk, skunk!" Desperately trying to protect himself, the man did a strange twisting dance on his knees and babbled away. "They've got a skunk! Two skunks! Enhanced ones! They'll dump 'em right in front of the dogs, damn curs won't be able to sniff an outhouse in a sweet spring meadow." He jerked his head at Shiba. "Her, especially. After she broke up the [critter]-smuggling ring last season, they know they'll never get by her nose with this."

  Crude! He'd said the true-name for critter right there in front of Taliya! Sabre, increasingly irritated by both the untraceable magicsmell and his undefined itch, went so far as to growl.

  "Softly, son," Taliya said, though she, too, had a gleam in her eye.

  Shiba moved forward, her head low, her expression intent. The kind of expression that meant a linehound had scented prey, and scented it so close that nothing mattered but the nose and the prey. And Sabre, agitated, lifted his nose to the new surge of magicsmell and felt himself slipping into that same state; he growled again, despite himself, eyeing Tallon. The source.

  "Sabre!" Taliya said sharply, turning to point a warning finger at him...turning suddenly enough that her braid swung briefly out from her body, then thumped gently against her back.

  Shiba leapt, belling trail and treed in a strange combination of voice and bearing straight down on Taliya.

  Astonished Taliya, standing there with her arms akimbo and her jaw dropped, crouching slightly as though to run and knowing better.

  Sabre belled trail and treed and bounded right over top of Shiba, bearing straight down on Tallon.

  Astonished Tallon, standing there with his arms akimbo and his jaw dropped, crouching slightly as though to run and knowing better.

  Magicsmell! Magicsmell! Oowh! Treetreetree! Bellowing humans!

  The trail-haze slowly lifted from Sabre's mind.

  Tallon bellowed call-off at Shiba—as best he could with Sabre perched on his chest and bawling in his face—his head twisted aside, his eyes squinched shut, one hand cupped protectively over that particular soft and yielding spot and the other ineffectually shoving at Sabre's broad chest.

  Taliya bellowed call-off at Sabre—as best she could with her hands clamped firmly around her long braid and Shiba hanging off the end of it.

  "Get off!" they finally managed. "Bad dogs!"

  Uh-oh.

  No more happy.

  3.

  How and when the prisoner escaped, no one was quite sure.

  How and when Taliya and Tallon came up with the idea to work together, Sabre couldn't imagine.

  How and when they come up with the idea to work each other's dogs, he didn't want to know.

  Maybe it had something to do with events when they'd tried to team up.

  Disgrace.

  Not happy.

  But who could blame a linehound for being a linehound? Not Sabre's fault that the magicsmell led him unerringly to Tallon. Not Shiba's that it somehow led her straight to Taliya...who now bound her long braid up. A believer.

  Sent out to patrol in sweeps, the linehounds inevitably ended up back with the linemen, barking a subdued and chagrined treed. Over and over, until both humans were flushed and embarrassed and frustrated.

  At that, the strange magicsmell had seemed to fade, and Shiba—critterspawn, but she did have a fine nose—had picked up the scent of familiar magic, leading until the trail came clear to Sabre, too.

  They had worked it slowly, carefully—up a deeply running creek, around the dead ends and overlapping circles. Together, they closed on the smuggler, running side by side, picking up speed—

  Together, they had run into the skunk.

  4.

  "God and goddess," Tallon said, his eyes watering visibly as he dumped another container of stewed tomatoes over Shiba's back, there in the side yard of his little cabin where both linemen and both dogs shared their stench. "There's got to be a better way to handle this. We've got to find them." He took a rough scrub brush to Shiba's back, smearing tomato into her coat. She plastered her ears flat to her skull, making them long and woeful.

  Taliya did the same to Sabre, rubbing sticky tomato into his face, between his paws, along the velvet length of his ears, all while doing nothing for the itch that ever plagued him...

  Not Happy.

  "They'll be back, " Tallon persisted, "and we can't take the chance that they'll get through."

  "No," Taliya said, dumping a big cold bucket of water over Sabre, a gleam coming into her eye. "We can't."

  That might have been it, right there—the beginning of the idea.

  Not that Taliya had had a chance to say so just then, as she and Tallon emptied their buckets, leaving the two hounds with heads scrunched down between their shoulders, water streaming off their ears, dripping off their tails, running off their brows.

  They exchanged a glance, the dogs did. Sabre felt a sudden kinship with Shiba the too-perfect, an admiration for the sly way she lowered and cocked her head, a sudden desire to emulate...

  Humans distracted...

  Wait till they lean closer...

  Wait...wait....

  Shake! Double shake!

  Much bett
er.

  5.

  Yes, maybe that had done it. This partner-swapping was meant to be some sort of punishment.

  It seemed entirely likely to Sabre. He'd somehow gotten used to patrolling with Shiba. Now he missed her.

  And he missed Taliya, even though he knew his linewoman and Shiba weren't far behind. Shiba was probably harnessed and leashed, just as he was, probably even wearing her bramble-guard.

  Humiliation.

  And why did Tallon call ahead to him, constant encouragements, using Shiba's name?

  Humiliation and woe.

  Until he struck the scent of magic, and forgot woe in the thick glory of it. He forgot Shiba, he forgot Taliya...he even forgot about the skunk. He loped swiftly through the woods, nose to ground, thoughts consumed by magicsmell, humansmell, horsesmell. Vaguely, he heard Shiba backing him, but the rough frustration in her voice meant she remained harnessed.

  The scent was his, and he took it. Gloryglory magicsmell! He poured on the speed, glorying in that too, in his strength and confidence and certainty that these smugglers had no chance to escape—

  Skunk!

  He literally tripped over the creature, staked right in the scent trail on a short chain. Skunk skunk SKUNK!

  Mad skunk.

  Mad skunk lifting its tail.

  Sabre's eyes snapped shut, his voice lost in a wretched gag. His sinuses instantly swelled; his nose ran. The skunk stamped its front feet imperiously—again—and Sabre flung himself blindly away from the creature and onto the ground, rolling and whimpering and rubbing his face in a frantic effort to relieve the sting.

  At last, someone snagged his collar and dragged him away from the skunk. Taliya!

  He threw himself into her lap and met not her rangy curves, but unfamiliar angles of muscle and bone. Tallon. All wrong!

  But as Sabre gathered himself to dive for the ground again, Tallon caught him up by the jowls and held him firmly, rubbing a wet cloth over his eyes and nose. Cool, soothing, something herbal...Sabre stopped struggling, if not whining.