Recently the light in the world had been altered, reduced to a level where only Kurii might see, this intended, presumably, to diminish the effectiveness, such as it was, of the revolution's human allies. Torches had been lit, and, where available, independent electronic lighting had been employed. Some beam devices, too, had proved of value, and flares, particularly in assisting humans to detect Kur patrols, Kur marches, the advance of raiding parties, and such. This intelligence then, usually by runners, would be communicated to rebel positions, from which countermeasures, engagements or withdrawals, might be contrived.
On the seventh night, however, one of the alternative power stations, designed to act in lieu of the central power source in the case of a failure in that facility, was seized by the rebels. This was utilized in such a way as to restore an approximation to the typical diurnal cycle, the difference being to eliminate those nights on which, in the world, no surrogate moonlight would be provided. The motivation of this departure from normalcy was conceived in order to prevent a periodic disadvantagement of the revolution's human allies.
The humans at the disposal of the rebels were ill-armed, most with sharpened sticks, and many of the killer humans, bred for the arena games, were not only unspeeched, but dangerous to their Kur allies and to one another, as well.
No contact had been made, despite the several days of the revolution, with the pleasure cylinder, and the men of Peisistratus.
It was supposed they were somewhere within the world.
Certainly they had managed to bring humans from the sport cylinder into Agamemnon's cylinder, the main world, and had released, for better or for worse, the killer humans from their cages and training areas.
It must be understood, of course, that the value of humans to the revolution was not as minimal or negligible as the hitherto-noted, disparaging assessment of Lord Grendel might suggest. For example, dozens of humans, armed with their stones and pointed sticks, suddenly swarming upon isolated Kurii were something seriously to be reckoned with. More than one shaggy head was brought back to the rebel camps.
Kurii in the field needed not be supplied, as they could feed, raw or cooked, on the bodies of their enemies. And, it might be mentioned, though with reluctance, that the protein in the diet of the humans, in particular, in that of the killer humans, was not all derived from the processed edibles confiscated from Kur commissaries.
Such unpleasantries are often associated with the altercations of rational species.
Needless to say, amongst the allies, it was understood that feeding on one another, Kur upon human, human upon Kur, was not to take place.
Indeed, interestingly, in the tensions, and the exigencies, and terrors, of war, each species was beginning to see the other in a different light, the one less as monster than colleague, the other less as food than friend.
Here and there, there were small herds of cattle humans about, rooting in abandoned gardens, gathering up fallen fruit, scavenging on the dead. Several had returned to the ashes of the stock yards, wandering about, making tiny noises, puzzled perhaps at the disappearance of the pens, and the feed troughs.
One or two of these bands, led by a behemoth of meat, became paramount, driving other groups away, sometimes seizing them, and feeding on them.
Clumsy wars were fought over patches of vegetables.
"It seems they are indeed human,” said Lord Grendel once, when he and Cabot had come upon some such scene of bovine carnage.
Bleary, stupid eyes, tiny in obese bodies, had looked at them.
"It only that they do not have their feed troughs,” said Cabot.
"Doubtless,” said Lord Grendel.
Then they had turned away.
The cattle humans were largely ignored by the warring parties, save as the loyalists might occasionally cull the herds for meat.
* * * *
Lord Grendel, and his human companion, Tarl Cabot, were on patrol.
"Do you think it wise?” asked Lord Grendel, “to teach the bow to the forest people?"
"Yes,” said Cabot, “but perhaps not to the killer humans."
Those from the forest world, it might be noted, were also being taught speech. In this way, their use of signs and certain guttural signals was significantly augmented.
"The killer humans are not stupid,” said Grendel. “If the humans from the sport cylinder learn the bow, the arena humans will not be far behind."
"What are you thinking of?” asked Cabot.
"Of the cattle humans,” said Lord Grendel.
"They are dangerous only to one another,” said Cabot.
"Now,” said Lord Grendel.
Suddenly Grendel lifted his head, and his hand.
"What is it?” whispered Cabot. His bow was already strung, as was that of Lord Grendel, for they were on patrol.
"There,” said Lord Grendel, pointing.
Cabot saw nothing.
"There,” said Lord Grendel, again, softly, pointing.
Then Cabot saw the head, which now lifted from the tall grass, several feet ahead of them.
He drew the bow.
"No,” said Lord Grendel, putting out his paw, and Cabot lowered the bow.
"See,” said Lord Grendel, “she has no scarf, no purple scarf."
"She?” said Cabot.
"Certainly,” said Lord Grendel. “Can you not tell?"
The creature then approached, to within a few feet, and turned her head to the side, and snarled.
"Rather unpleasant,” said Cabot. “You are sure it is a female?"
"Certainly,” said Lord Grendel. “It is not large."
"I assure you,” said Cabot, “it is large enough."
"See the pelt,” said Lord Grendel, “the smoothness, the glossiness."
"Oh, yes, of course,” said Cabot.
"That is a beautiful Kur female,” said Lord Grendel.
"I am sure of it,” said Cabot.
"Note the fangs,” said Lord Grendel.
"Of course,” said Cabot, uneasily.
"She is a beauty,” said Lord Grendel.
"Indisputably,” said Cabot.
The creature then snarled, again, and lifted a paw, and claws sprang from it. She snarled, again.
"Lovely claws,” said Lord Grendel. “Sharp, too. One blow could take the face from a human."
"She is hostile,” said Cabot. “What are those things behind it?"
There were some shaggy shapes in the background, some yards behind the nearer creature, which was glaring at them.
"She does not seem much interested in me,” said Cabot.
"Perhaps she is not hungry,” said Grendel.
"That is a joke, I trust,” said Cabot.
"Certainly,” said Grendel. “Most Kurii do not even like human."
"Probably it is an acquired taste,” said Cabot.
"Possibly,” said Grendel.
"She is looking at you,” said Cabot.
Lord Grendel handed his bow to Cabot, and slipped the quiver from his shoulder.
The Kur snarled again, viciously.
"She thinks I am a nondominant,” said Lord Grendel.
"Why is that?” asked Cabot.
"Probably because I am with a human, and one not leashed."
"I see,” said Cabot.
"She is thinking of adding me to her retinue of nondominants."
"Her harem?” asked Cabot.
"No,” said Lord Grendel, “to her retinue, her collection, her flock, her gaggle, her band, her small group of despised servitors. They are nondominants."
"It is not a harem?” asked Cabot.
"No,” said Lord Grendel. “It is not a sexual matter, but a social arrangement. You are familiar with pleasure gardens, harems, and such, I take it."
"Surely,” said Cabot.
"The females there,” he said, “are used for sport, and sexual pleasure, are they not?"
"Certainly,” said Cabot. “We use them as we will, frequently, and in a variety of ways, and get much pleasure from them."