Hunters Unlucky Part 22

"Did I?" Kelsy bent his head to drink.

Storm felt like kicking him. Instead, he said, "You destroyed my clique."

Kelsy sighed. "I didn't know Mylo would react that way."

Storm said nothing.

Kelsy tried again. "You seem to be doing well. You've got an attractive mate, you flout the creasia, and your friends still seem reasonably friendly."

Storm turned in surprise. "Attractive mate?"

"Well...yes. That fluffy little female who follows you around. She appears to be yours."

Storm scowled. "She's not mine. She's from my clique. Her rogan was killed during the last creasia raid. She's just sleeping near me because she's lonely."

Kelsy's laugh rang against the rocks.

Storm didn't like being laughed at. He turned to leave.

Kelsy trotted after him. "Wait! Please, wait. I forget that you're only three years old. This female has obviously chosen you as her mate. Accept it, and be happy."

Storm sputtered. "Kelsy, I'm good at running away, not fighting. The first ferryshaft who challenges me over Valla will win."

Kelsy fell into step beside him. "I don't think anyone will challenge you. They're in awe of you, and many of them owe you their lives. But in case someone does, I'd be happy to teach you to fight. I can't teach you anything about running, but I could teach you some things about fighting."

Storm turned to him suspiciously. "You just want to be seen talking to me, because then other ferryshaft will think I support you."

Kelsy c.o.c.ked his head. "Do you not support me?"

"About splitting the herd?"

"About getting away from the cats. About ending the raids forever."

Storm hesitated. Tollee's words rang in his head. "If you encourage them, and if you're wrong..."

"At least hear what I have to say about fighting," said Kelsy. "If you think that'll give me too much status, we can meet secretly."

I'm already doing too many things in secret. "My little sister," he heard himself say, "will you teach her, too?"

Kelsy looked surprised. "I suppose. What's her na-"

"Good," interrupted Storm. "Meet us by this stream tomorrow just before sunrise." He smiled. "You might learn a few things, too."

That evening, Storm did not return to his accustomed spot to sleep. Instead, he found a little hollow beneath a rock, well away from other ferryshaft, and made himself comfortable. He wanted time to think. He wasn't sure why it bothered him that others thought Valla was his mate. She knows she's not. I know she's not. What else matters?

Tollee. The thought came unbidden. What must she think?

It doesn't matter, he told himself. She's made her choice.

Storm allowed himself to consider the possibility that Valla did want to be his mate. It was foolishness, of course. Some large, aggressive male like Callaris would claim her by fall. And, anyway, she did not want him. Still... He thought of her soft, brown eyes, always fixed so earnestly on his face whenever he spoke. He thought of her downy fur, her warmth pressed against him at night, the way she'd washed his face after he'd saved them all from the creasia the first time. He thought...

And then something enormous fell on him from above.

Storm tried to bolt to his feet, but they were pinned beneath him. He turned his head to snap, but there was suddenly great pressure against the back of his skull, forcing his chin to the ground. He could feel the points of contact against his head. He knew, in a flash of despair, that they were teeth, and that the jaws were too wide for a ferryshaft or a curb. A creasia was sitting directly on top of him, and it had his skull in its mouth. He wondered if he would even have time to feel his death. He tried to buck again and found that he could not move at all. His breath came short and quick through his nose. He was ashamed of the little whimper that escaped through his teeth as the cat s.h.i.+fted its weight, and he felt the p.r.i.c.k of its claws against his back.

To his horror, a paw came down over his face, the claws a carelessly splayed crescent across his nose. What is it going to do to me? The pressure against the back of his skull loosened, but Storm dared not lift his head. One of the claws was directly over his left eye.

Hot breath stirred the hair above his ears. "Now," murmured his attacker, "I'd like to talk to you, Storm Ela-ferry. I apologize for this rude greeting, but I didn't think you'd stand still to be introduced."

The cat s.h.i.+fted his paw away from Storm's face. Storm raised his chin a little, and the cat did nothing. Storm had an idea that the cat expected him to say something. Instead, he tried leaping to his feet. The cat's weight was too much, however, even without its teeth pinning his head. He scrabbled uselessly for a moment before subsiding. The cat made a chuffing noise that might have been a laugh. "You're smart enough not to waste your breath screaming, but you don't have enough self-control not to waste your energy struggling."

"Easy for you to say," snapped Storm.

"If I was going to hurt you, I would have done it already."

"I get the idea." Please get off me...before I really do start screaming.

The weight was suddenly gone. Storm shot to his feet, stumbled, and almost ran straight into a boulder. His legs felt alarmingly wobbly. In that moment, he wanted to run out of sheer humiliation, but curiosity and his own shaking held him in place. Storm spun around to look at the creasia. It was sitting where he'd been resting-a male of average size. Its fur was tawny gold-glossy in the moonlight.

Storm blinked. He was certain that he'd never seen this cat before-not during any raid. He would have remembered that fur.

"h.e.l.lo," said the cat, "my name is Roup. I'd like to ask you some questions. What would it take to get you to answer truthfully?"

Storm stared at the creasia. Charder said they would get better. Still... Halvery had been exactly Storm's idea of an alpha cat. Roup was...not.

"Do you have a raiding party?" he blurted.

Roup beamed. "An excellent idea! I will answer your questions...truthfully...if you answer an equal number of my own." As though as an afterthought, he added. "You don't have to crouch over there. If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. You get tonight gratis. I do not promise I will not kill you tomorrow."

"Why didn't you kill me just now?" asked Storm.

"That's two questions, and I haven't even asked one. Yes, I have a raiding party. We call it a clutter. They're off that way." He jerked his head south. "They don't know I'm here. You needn't worry about them tonight. I didn't kill you because I'd rather talk to you."

Storm opened his mouth, but Roup continued. "My turn. Who's your father?"

Storm looked long and hard at the cat. He was reminded of Treace trying to capture him with pretty lies. But this felt different. This cat had already had Storm's head in its mouth for one thing. Storm thought about lying, but couldn't think of a good reason to do so. "My father's name was Alaran. That's all I know about him. Cats killed him before I was born."

"And your mother?" continued Roup.

Storm stiffened. I shouldn't be playing this game.

As though reading his thoughts, Roup said, "She's in no danger from me. In fact, I'll make sure no ferryshaft suffers for anything you say to me."

Storm sneered. "As though you could guarantee something like that."

The cat regarded him with honey-gold eyes. "I am, arguably, the second most powerful person on this island. So, yes, I think I can."

Storm stared at him. "You're-?"

"Who is your mother?"

"She's...she's n.o.body," Storm stammered. "Her name is So-fet. She was an orphan, raised by her rogan. She didn't know her own parents. Why do you care if you don't want to hurt her?"

Roup's mouth twitched up, and Storm knew that he'd asked the right question. The night was fully dark now, and Roup looked up at the stars. It was, Storm thought, a deliberately disarming gesture-carelessly exposing his throat. "Pretty night," said the cat.

Storm could hardly believe he was having this conversation. "Why?" he demanded. "Why do you want to know about my parents?"

"Because you remind me of someone I once knew," said Roup. "I thought you might be related, although I don't see how. All of his offspring died."

"Coden," whispered Storm.

Roup didn't look at him. "Yes. My turn. How do you know that name?"

"I overheard Sharmel's cats talking," said Storm.

Roup glanced at him, as though trying to decide whether he was lying.

"They said they thought I was his ghost," offered Storm.

Roup grinned broadly. "They were saying that. None of the ferryshaft mentioned him?"

"No. Who was he?"

Roup considered. "He was a ferryshaft. He tried to turn the tide of the war and almost succeeded. After the war, it was feared that his name and memory would be a rally cry for rebellion. So, ferryshaft were forbidden to speak of him or to name their foals after him."

His voice sounded so sad that Storm asked, "Was he a friend of yours?"

Roup's expression changed to something that Storm could not read. "It's not your turn," he said softly. "Who trained you?"

Storm hesitated. "I taught myself to run on the sheep trails."

"That's not what I mean. You're a small half-orphan, born to a young mother of low rank. Someone taught you survival skills. Who?"

Storm said nothing. He badly wished he had not let himself be drawn into this.

"If it's a ferryshaft, he's got nothing to fear from me," said Roup patiently. "If it's not a ferryshaft, I probably couldn't touch him anyway."

Storm was surprised. "Oh, it was a ferryshaft. It...it was Pathar. But he doesn't speak to me anymore. He certainly didn't tell me about Coden." Storm felt the desire to defend his old teacher.

Roup quirked a smile. "Pathar? Well, that is odd. The old barnacle hardly takes an interest in anything anymore."

"Who did you think might have talked to me...other than a ferryshaft?" Storm was intensely curious now.

Roup laughed. "Oh, that's not fair. I'm asking you about facts. You're asking me to speculate."

Storm grinned back. He felt silly, but he was enjoying himself.

Roup's tail twitched. "Any intelligent animal could have talked to you about the war-curbs, telshees, lishties, ely-ary...although the speech of ely-ary is difficult to understand if you're not accustomed."

Storm realized in that moment, that Roup had been speaking in flawless ferryshaft dialect throughout their conversation. Storm had become adept at parsing the creasia accent, so that he hardly thought about it anymore. However, Roup was not speaking like a creasia. He was speaking like a ferryshaft.

"About Coden-" began Storm, but Roup interrupted.

"It's my turn, and I'll stop there. Thank you for humoring me, Storm. I think we understand each other a little better, and that's never a bad thing."

Storm sat back on his haunches. He'd unconsciously moved forward, so that he was a comfortable conversational distance from Roup. His shaking had ceased. He fought down an absurd urge to invite the cat to come back and do this again sometime.

"You're a very strange cat," observed Storm.

"Halvery would agree."

Storm barked a laugh. "So he made it out of the river?"

"Yes. Sharmel was extremely amused."

Storm tried unsuccessfully to imagine his tormentors in a state of relaxed amus.e.m.e.nt.

"This truce ends at sunrise," said Roup as he turned to leave. "In the future, I'd advise you find a less accessible place to sleep. That, or make yourself less...conspicuous."

When Roup had gone, Storm went to Sauny's sleeping place and told her where to meet Kelsy in the morning. "I'll be busy," he said and hurried away before she could ask questions. Storm knew that he'd been given a reprieve, and he intended to use it.

He found Valla, curled up alone in his old sleeping spot. Storm felt a little guilty, although he was glad that she had not been present when Roup appeared. After a moment's thought, he invited her to join Sauny the next morning. We'll see how good Kelsy really is. If he can teach Valla to fight, he can teach anyone.

He then spent some time hunting and browsing until he had a full belly. At last, exhausted, Storm started up the cliffs. He moved along his favorite local sheep trail until he reached a roomy cave. At this time of year, the cave even boasted a trickle of water. Satisfied that he'd put himself beyond the reach of even Roup's dexterity, Storm lay down on the cave floor and slept.

Chapter 16. Round 5: Roup.

Storm stayed in the cave all day, dozing fitfully, and lapping up water from the trickle that ran down the cliff. He watched the herd ebb and flow through the boulders below him. He wasn't in a good spot to see the stream where he'd sent Sauny and Valla to meet with Kelsy. He wondered what they would say to each other and what they must think.

Last night was beginning to feel like a dream. Did I really play question and answer games with a creasia? A creasia who talked like a ferryshaft?

He waited for screams somewhere below, the thunder of hundreds of pounding hooves, the ripple of motion as every ferryshaft struggled not to be chosen. But nothing happened. It was simply a beautiful spring day. He even caught sight of a mother ferryshaft leading a wobbly, newborn foal from one of the birthing caves-a sign that the mother felt exceptionally safe.

Storm wondered how long he should stay in the cave if no raid occurred. Since the spring thaw, he had been unable to cache meat for long periods without it spoiling. He thought, belatedly, that he should have found some way to store roots or gra.s.s. By sunset, he would be hungry.

As the day wore on, Storm scanned the boulder mazes for creasia in a state of increasing frustration. Surely if they were down there, he would see them. Could I have dreamed the whole thing? Roup certainly seemed like a dream.

As the shadows lengthened, Storm found himself facing the same dilemma as when Ariand had trapped him. If I go another day without food, I will become weak and slow. If I leave my sanctuary, I expose myself to attack.

Of course, when Ariand had trapped him, he knew for certain that the creasia were waiting to pounce. In this case, he wasn't even sure they were still in the area...if they'd ever been in the area at all.