The Blood Jaguar

by Michael H. Payne

  Everyone in the room was blinking at him, and after a moment, the Ramon nodded. "How did you like the chili?"

  Bobcat swallowed, took a shaky breath. "It was fine. Thanks. Really."

  The others turned back to their bowls, and the meal ended quietly, the Ramon dabbing at his whiskers with a napkin before getting up from his chair. "Feel free to remain here as long as you wish; I shall post my assistants outside to see that you are not disturbed. You may take with you any of the provisions I have provided, and I wish you the safest of journeys. May the Twelve keep and follow you."

  Fisher and Skink accompanied the Ramon and his assistants to the door, exchanged murmured parting comments, but Bobcat stayed put, gnawing a paw, his ears burning. When the others returned, Bobcat couldn't make himself look at them. "I'm going back to sleep," he said into the silence. "We'll be walking all night, right?"

  "Yeah," he heard Fisher say. He winced at her tone, waited for her to start yelling, but she didn't. After another minute, he decided she wasn't going to, so he rose, padded back to the mattress, and flopped down onto it.

  #

  He slept some--at least, he was fairly sure that he did. Music began in the distance after a while, the daylight from the little windows turning to torchlight, and Bobcat figured it must be evening. He rolled over to see Fisher drowsing against her pack, now stuffed as full as he had seen it back when they had left her sycamore.

  How long ago had that been? he wondered suddenly. A week to get to Kazirazif and another week, apparently, out on the Savannah. With a week now to get home, this whole thing would take the better part of a month. It felt like years already.

  Bobcat got up, stretched, saw Skink scuttle out between the mattresses. "Ah, Bobcat. Fisher and I have seen to our provisions, and I have made certain we have two apples for our crossing the Kingdom of the Buffalo. We are prepared to depart."

  Fisher stirred, blinked, scratched at her back. "Yeah. Might as well get ourselves gone."

  "Okay." Bobcat padded over, shrugged on his pack. "I... I'm sorry I yelled and everything."

  "Hey, don't tell me." Fisher was adjusting the straps on her pack. "Tell the Ramon. Come on, Skink." The lizard scurried up onto her back; she moved to the door, pushed it open, and walked out.

  "Well, I will." Bobcat followed her outside into the arch of the Basharah gate. Two meerkats stood there, one of them the little meerkat Bobcat remembered leading them up to the roof of the palace. She bowed to him, and he surprised himself a little when he bent his knees to bow back. "Please tell the Ramon that I'm sorry I snapped at him earlier. Tell him... Tell him I'll send him something for his accounts after I, well, after I figure it all out. Okay?"

  "Of course, sir," the little meerkat said. "I shall be honored to bear your message."

  "Uhh, yeah. Well, thanks." He tried another bow, then headed for the outer gate.

  Fisher was standing there. "Manners. I'm shocked."

  He gave her a glare, but a call from the other side made him turn, the Raj Tevirye coming up. "What is this? You're not staying for your own festival?"

  "Nah." Fisher tapped her snout. "Remember? We hate being predictable."

  The Raj laughed. "Well, I predict that I will be getting some mileage out of this story for a number of years to come." She held out her paw, and Fisher shook it, Skink reaching down to tap his claws against hers. She turned to Bobcat, but just as he was raising his paw, she rushed forward, threw her arms around his neck, and gave him a little peck below the ear. "Thank you," she said quietly.

  Bobcat rubbed his check and blinked at her. "You... You're welcome."

  Tevirye stepped back, snapped out a salute, spun, and scurried to her post beside the gate, Bobcat only able to stare after her. "Come on," he heard Fisher say then. "Let's go." He turned, saw her disappearing into the darkness beyond the torchlight, and he had to hurry to catch up. "We might as well keep on to the milestone," she was saying. "We can cut across the desert again to the milestone on the Meerkat Road and avoid most of the traffic around the city that way." She looked over her shoulder. "Sound good?"

  "Yeah." Bobcat shifted his pack, heavier again, into a better position. "Avoiding traffic sounds real good to me."

  On into the night they walked, coming to the milestone along the Coati Road before cutting left and starting off across the sand. They wove in and out among the dunes, the city a constant glow on their left, until Bobcat caught sight of a pinprick of torch flame up ahead. It appeared and disappeared, getting larger and larger, until he followed Fisher out into a flatter area, the milestone clumped just ahead. Fisher padded past it, onto the road, and continued off into the night.

  But Bobcat had to stop and turn. Kazirazif sat shining like a jewel, light everywhere, snatches of music still reaching his ears. He smiled at it, then spun around and loped up the road after Fisher.

  #

  The night passed quietly, the sliver of the moon sinking early in the evening, the desert trudging past and the stars drifting overhead till Bobcat saw the horizon to his right grow gray with the dawn. Fisher left the road at the fern grottoes around the spring above Fekadh, and they camped there in the same secluded spot, sleeping all day and setting off when evening came down. Bobcat saw lights glowing in the little valley as they passed the outskirts of town; then they were off into the darkness again.

  A larger slice of moon hovered along behind them, still sinking fairly early, and Bobcat couldn't help thinking about the Lady Raven, about Fisher saying she was the Night, about the old story of her working the phases of the moon, about the way she had promised to send Garson a dream telling her he was thinking about her. But if the Curials weren't gods, if the world worked despite them, what did the Lady Raven really do? What did any of them really do? Whom could he even ask?

  But this night passed, too, the sun coming up over the plateaus of the eastern desert. A little more walking brought the road to Canyon Pienta, and they slid down the sandstone walls to settle for the day in one of the caves there. Bobcat pretended to be more tired than he was, curling up after eating a few pawfuls of trail mix, ignoring the mutters of the other two till he finally fell asleep.

  Around the stove before they set off that evening, and again the next morning after they'd trekked all night to the grove of pinon pines at the base of the trail leading up to the western border of the Kingdom of the Buffalo, Bobcat waited for the questions to start, for Fisher to do more than look sideways at him, for Skink to do more than make comments about the favorable weather.

  But it never happened. And lying in the shade of the pines, Fisher and Skink stretched out in their places, their breathing making him think they were asleep, Bobcat wondered why. Were they waiting for him to bring the subject up? He knew they had to be curious about what had happened between him and the Blood Jaguar, but what could he tell them?

  He drowsed through the day, no way of telling them the basics without telling them the whole thing occurring to him, so it was quiet again around the stove as they ate Fisher's stew. The way that night led up the switchbacks into the mountains, and they arrived at the buffalo's western border station while the moon was still in the sky.

  They had no problem getting through this time, Fisher just smiling while Bobcat got the two apples out for himself and Skink. He couldn't tell if these were the same buffalo sentries they'd spooked the last time through; they just took the apples, nodded their shaggy heads, and walked the treadmill that raised the gate.

  The three were just coming out of the mountains into the short grass of the plains when the sun started sparking the horizon ahead. Bobcat grimaced. No Curial magic this time; it was going to take them the regular four days to cross the kingdom.

  Which meant more mornings and evenings of sitting and eating in silence, Fisher's face getting more sour, even Skink giving up his attempts at conversation the farther they inched their way across the face of the prairie. It got worse and worse, Bobcat feeling the weight of Fisher's glare even when she was i
n front of him, and on the third night, they passed the lights of the Bison King's palace without Fisher even slowing, though Bobcat didn't feel much like stopping, either. So on they stalked, camping in the grass beside the road when dawn came up, not a word passing between them.

  Sleeping that day wasn't easy, Bobcat tossing till noon, Fisher's narrow eyes and mouth floating behind his eyes. But what could he do? What could he say? Not a thing came to him, not then and not that evening when they set off, the only sound the rattle of their packs. The sky spun above, the moon nearly a quarter full in the sky behind and just settling at the horizon while they waited in silence for the bison sentries to bow them through the northern border station.

  Things had slowly begun smelling more familiar to Bobcat, and now, the grass waving under the stars, no bluffs standing up against the horizon ahead, it would've been nice if he could've started relaxing a bit. But Fisher and Skink weren't even muttering to themselves in front of him, and the quiet seemed to cling to Bobcat's fur, made him want to shake himself with every step.

  It just kept on all night, and the first gray strokes of dawn found Bobcat wrung out and constipated, a familiar sign coming into view: Crossroad Ahead.

  Before him lay the streambed, the bridge carrying the Meerkat Road over it to meet the Tundra Road rolling down from the north, the third road slicing toward the growing dawn and heading off across the plains. For a moment, he thought the place was deserted, but the rising light revealed a single figure in the dirt just this side of the bridge: an old kit fox with ragged ears leaning against a stained pack, his eyes closed, his paws crossed over his chest.

  Bobcat stopped in his tracks, but Fisher padded over and looked down at the figure. "I should've known," she said, her voice almost strange in Bobcat's ears after so long. "The least you could've done was have breakfast waiting."

  The kit fox scratched his side. "Ah, but you've tasted my cooking."

  "Oh, yeah." She shrugged off her pack. "Beetle gravy plays a large part in it, I seem to recall."

  A grin tugged at his whiskers, his eyes opening. "Well, it's good and good for you." He sat up and rubbed his paws together. "So, tell me all about it! What happened? I know you pulled it off--Dolphin was positively turning cartwheels--but I've got to know the details!"

  Oh, no. Bobcat took a step back and heard Fisher snort. "Wouldn't we all!" She gave him a look, then waved a paw at the kit fox. "It was apparently too horrible for words; we've been on the road a week now, and he hasn't said a thing!"

  "Really?" The Lord Kit Fox's grin sparkled.

  "Yeah! After everything I've done, the closest thing he's got to a friend, dragging him every step of the way, and now he won't even deign to tell me what went on out there!"

  "Hey!" Bobcat couldn't help barking out. "It was... I just...I don't want everyone to make a big deal out of it, that's all." What could he possibly say, and with the Lord Kit Fox standing right there!

  Fisher snorted again. "Oh, yeah, right. You're modesty itself, you are. We all survive the greatest transplanar event of the century, and out of spite you hold out the final information from me! That's what it is!"

  "Spite?" Bobcat blinked at her. "What are you--"

  "Yes, spite! I get you through this, keep you sober, share my knowledge and experience with you, finally educate you enough so you have a chance, and when it all finally comes out right, you--"

  "Now, hold on, Fisher!" Bobcat tried to keep his ears up. "You've been so high-and-mighty, telling me what's best for me through this, well, maybe I'm trying to do what's best for you for once!"

  Fisher's jaw dropped. "You what? You expect me to belive that you have any idea about--"

  A whistle split the air, and the Lord Kit Fox's raggedy head popped up between them. "Children, children, please! Some decorum, I must insist!"

  Fisher glared, but she pulled her mouth shut. The Lord Kit Fox nodded to her, then padded over and put a paw on Bobcat's shoulder. "Now, Bobcat, I've known this young fisher for a number of years, and if there's one thing she can't stand, it's being left out of a secret."

  Fisher gave a little laugh. "Look whose talking!"

  The Lord Kit Fox cleared his throat. "In my opinion, I'd say you'd better tell us the entire story before my favorite pupil pops a vein or two."

  Bobcat swallowed, couldn't look up at him. "But--"

  "It will be for the best." A paw touched his chin and pushed till he had to raise his head, had to meet the Lord Kit Fox's old eyes, bright and clear and friendly. "Believe me," he said quietly. "Just tell it as you remember it."

  The warmth of those eyes calmed him, made his shoulders unclench and his heart's pounding slow. "Well, okay. But don't blame me if you don't like it!"

  "Just tell," the kit fox whispered.

  "Well, I went out there and wandered around till she found me. And it turned out she was expecting me to fight. She said all those other bobcats had tried to beat her by fighting, had tried tricks and bargaining and stuff, sure, but, well, it had always come down to her fighting them. And she had just torn them all to bits."

  He looked over at Fisher. "Which I guess is why you couldn't find anything about the last bobcat, whoever he was. He went out there, tried to fight with her, and got shredded." He shrugged. "Well, I wasn't about to do that, so we talked for a while, and...and I was trying to think of something I could offer her, you know, some sort of deal I could make. And I made a little joke, sort of, about it, saying the only thing I had was my own self but that I couldn't imagine she'd be much interested in some mangy old bobcat hide."

  He swallowed. "Except, it turned out, she was. And, well, she agreed to take me instead of...of all those others."

  Nobody said anything, and Bobcat felt his neck tense again. Had he managed to tell them what had happened without getting into all the weird stuff? A smile pulled at his whiskers, but when he looked up, he found Fisher looking back with narrow eyes. "That's it?"

  "Well, yeah. Basically."

  She squinted at him. "I don't know how to tell you this, Bobcat, but she hasn't taken you. She's marked you, yes, but, as far as I can tell, you're still all here." She looked at the Lord Kit Fox. "Am I missing something?"

  The Lord Kit Fox shrugged and crossed his paws across his chest.

  Bobcat cleared his throat. "Well, see, she's going to take me after I die."

  He heard a rustle in the dirt, saw Skink raise a claw. "Forgive me, Bobcat. I know these memories must be painful for you, and I hope you will take my words in the spirit of one who is trying only to assist, but She of the Cold Fire takes us all after we die. That is her function, the domain over which she reigns. How is her taking of you to be any different?"

  Bobcat licked his lips, tried to think, but Fisher giving another snort interrupted him. "Oh, this is just great!" She waved a paw at the kit fox. "He still won't tell us!"

  "I'm trying! But it's just...I don't know how to--"

  "Oh, gods!" Fisher spun away. "Why do I even bother?! Any information in that head's gonna be locked up like diamonds in shale! We'd have to blast it out!"

  "Hey! I'm just trying to--!"

  She wasn't looking at him. "I'd have a better chance of teaching a pygmy shrew to talk than of getting anything useful outta this idiot!"

  "Shut up!" Bobcat leaped for her, but she slipped to the side, a double pawful of dirt suddenly dashing into his face; a crack at his knees knocked his paws out from under him, and he slammed into the ground, the teeth jarring in his head. "All right, damn it!" he found himself shouting. "Fine! I don't care anymore! You wanna know how wrong you were, you and Skink and the Ramon and all your stories and your talk, that's fine with me!"

  And he let it all burst out, the dirt in his eyes turning to mud. "It's all a lie, Fisher, all of it! That's what I learned out there! There are no Shroud Islands, the Blood Jaguar doesn't rule over any Kingdom of the Dead, doesn't have any say over who dies or how, and when she slashes them free of their bodies, she doesn't even know where they go
drifting off to! She doesn't know, isn't in control, isn't a god! And neither are any of the other Curials! All that stuff about their realms and ev'rything, it's lies! Nobody's in charge, Fisher! Nobody really knows anything!"

  He let himself collapse, wiped furiously at his eyes with his front paws, finally getting his vision clear, and when he looked up, Fisher and Skink were staring at him, the Lord Kit Fox sitting beside him and smiling, his ragged features knitting up, a liquid silver smoothing over his scars. "There now," he said, and Bobcat felt a paw cool as river water stroke his back. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

  Bobcat raised his eyes to the Lord Kit Fox's. "You...you knew? You knew what I was going to say?"

  "Well, of course. I have been doing the Curial thing for several thousand generations, you know, and I'm not quite as enamored of our godly image as certain of my brothers and sisters." He glanced around and lowered his voice. "Just don't let word get around, all right?"

  "What?" Bobcat stared at him. "I don't...I don't understand...."

  Only laughter shone in those silvery eyes. "That's all right. Just take my advice and don't take the whole thing too seriously."

  "What? You...you think this is funny?"

  The Lord Kit Fox grinned. "Everything is, my friend, if you look at it right." He tapped Bobcat on the nose. "Be seeing you." The air twitched around him, and he shot upward into the rising dawn, a streak of silver against the gold.

  Chapter Twelve: Bobcat's Bet

  Bobcat stared at the shining trail arcing overhead, then turned and looked at the others: Skink huddled to the ground, his eyes wide, Fisher leaning back against her pack. She gave a half-smile. "Okay, so I'm sorry. I should've guessed; it's not easy when you first learn nobody really knows anything."

  Bobcat blinked at her. "You mean you...you already..."

  Fisher shrugged. "It's the first lesson a shaman has to learn. When we get back to Ottersgate, I can set up some time with you, help you talk this through, if you want."