“Just the fire, Freay’ysh-Administrator. And this.” He proffered the leather pouch to his superior.
Who crossed his arms and shook his head. “No; you open it.”
With a nervous glance at Shraokh-Lieutenant, the captain undid the clasp. Carefully, as if reaching in to handle a venomous serpent, he removed its contents:
One half of a young kzin’s right ear.
Freay’ysh-Administrator drew in a rapid, surprised breath. Then, suddenly unsure of what reaction this object might provoke, he shot a fast glance at Shraokh-Lieutenant.
Who, eyes unfocused, let slip a long, thin stream of drool; it spattered on his foot. None of the three kzinti moved or made a sound.
After a long moment, Zhveeaor-Captain shrugged a shoulder away from his subordinate, whose downward stare was evidently focused upon the very core of the planet itself. Administrator and captain moved aside, walked to the far rim of the hillock’s crest.
“How long has he been like this?” the Administrator demanded.
“Just since we found his cub’s-since we found this.”
“And you will answer for his behavior?”
Zhveeaor looked as though someone was removing his claws with red-hot iron tongs. “Freay’ysh-Administrator, I must. I do not wish to. But our duty to those whose heads have been beneath our hands must come before our own preferences.”
The administrator rumbled approval deep in his chest; it was clear why Chuut-Riit liked this Hero so much. He spoke and acted as the kzinti of Old. “Very well. Now: you say that this token tells you the location of the humans. How? Was it near a stronghold?”
“No, Administrator: the ear was-well, it was on a threshold.”
“What do you mean? The threshold to what?”
“It was at the very mouth of the Susser Tal.”
Freay’ysh-Administrator leaned back. “They’ve gone in there? Into the swamps of the Sumpfrinne?”
The captain shrugged. “So it would seem. We found their tracks leading that way.”
“And you did not pursue?”
“The trail we found was a false one, Freay’ysh-Administrator, and the swamp was unsafe for a small probe.”
“What do you mean, unsafe?” It sounded like evidence of cowardice to the administrator, and he would have presumed it to be case had the speaker been anyone other than Zhveeaor-Captain.
“Freay’ysh-Administrator, the trail split five times within the first two hundred meters. At that point, the overhead cover from the trees was too thick for aerial reconnaissance, and floaters would have been easy prey for ground fire. And I lost one of my Heroes to a deadfall trap.”
“Set in anticipation of our probe?”
“No, Freay’ysh-Administrator: it was a game trap. And quite old, probably several years. But there were too few of us, the light was failing, and we are entirely unfamiliar with the terrain. Our chances of finding prey whose scent had been lost were slim, at best. Conversely, the chance to suffer further casualties, by enemy action or misadventure or both, was rising rapidly. Seeing that a more concerted effort would be required, it seemed that the best course of action was to bring this-object-back to you as soon as possible, and prepare for a more determined pursuit.”
“And the lieutenant compelled you to bring him along when you made your report?”
“He was insistent, but I was also fearful of his being shunned if I left him behind. His behavior has degraded precipitously. He cannot effectively command, and his demeanor dishonors his rank.”
“Yet you do not relieve him of his command.”
“Freay’ysh-Administrator, with respect, how may I do so? He would impale himself upon our collective claws if we try to remove him from the search: his thirst for his cubslayer’s blood has driven him beyond mere fury into the Unknowing Rage.”
Freay’ysh-Administrator shook his great head sadly: reduced to an animal by incessant, uncontrollable rage. Humans had similar psychological ailments, although rarely so extreme as this: their obsessive-compulsive disorders were more common, but infinitely more benign and passive afflictions. Obversely, losing control by slipping into the Unknowing Rage could not always be cured. And invariably, if a cure was possible, it required the satisfaction of the thwarted vengeance that was usually its cause. “So what do you recommend, Captain?”
Zhveeaor-Captain sighed. “That he be assigned special duty as a lone tracker, and a rogue killer.”
“Do you really believe we should make him a hseeraa aoshef? Would that not be suicide for him, pursuing the humans on his own, and in his current state?”
“Perhaps, but better he should have a chance to avenge himself or die trying than being slain by us should he become uncontrollable when removed from his command. Besides, given the prospect to engage his energies and anger in a vengeance hunt, I believe much of his current distraction will be replaced with intense focus.”
Freay’ysh-Administrator nodded sad approval. “Perhaps we can use him as a means of conducting advance reconnaissance into the Susser Tal and its swamps. Shraokh-Lieutenant will no doubt move quickly and range far, disdaining obstacles. If he were to be rigged with an adequate sensor cluster-”
“I have already ordered one be brought up from stores, Freay’ysh-Administrator.”
“Your foresight is admirable, Zhveeaor-Captain, as is your tactical thought. Speaking of which, we have a campaign to plan.”
“Yes, sir: that is why I returned in haste. A successful pursuit now becomes far more involved, and costly.”
Freay’ysh-Administrator let a growl echo in his throat. “Some treasure spent now-teaching the humans that they cannot dishonor us with impunity-is better than whole vaults of it spent later on. Because that is what will be required if the leaf-eaters become emboldened by our lack of resolve in pursuing and punishing the perpetrator of this outrage.”
“My thoughts precisely, Freay’ysh-Administrator. What do you command?”
“First, an assessment of the larger tactical picture. I am not so familiar with these regions.” It galled him to admit it; it galled him even more that the humans had chosen to lose themselves in the hellish morass that were the swamps of the Susser Tal. It was hard to tell whether their choice had been motivated by desperation or inspiration, but either way, it set a further challenge before the kzinti: since the biome was particularly unfriendly to their physiology, they had little experience with the region, and even less interest in it.
That was obviously soon to change. Zhveeaor-Captain had apparently prepared for this eventuality; he commenced what sounded very much like a prepared briefing: “The microclimate of the valley will undoubtedly be our greatest obstacle and adversary. It features the most dramatic shift in temperature and humidity on the entire planet, relative to the surrounding climate zone.” He called up a map on his data slate. “Down here at Munchen, with an elevation of about eighty meters above sea level, average daytime temperatures in the current season range between nineteen and twenty-four degrees centigrade, with humidity of seventy-five percent being considered somewhat high. Moving north eighty kilometers to Neue Ingolstadt, we find modest change. At one-hundred-ninety meters above sea level, average temperatures dip slightly, as does humidity. Then we go sixty kilometers further north, across the plains, and beyond the forest back there”-he pointed to the southeast-“which the humans call the Grunwald. Average temperatures and humidity remain relatively unchanged. Until we get here.” His finger thumped down on a valley mouth that looked like an opening into an eastward-stretching worm’s gut. “This is the entry to the Susser Tal, which, in the first three kilometers, descends over four hundred fifty meters to a valley floor that is nearly two hundred fifty meters below sea level.”
“A drainage ditch without any run-off,” growled Freay’ysh-Administrator in disgust.