But, for whatever reason or reasons, the monster wolf was not seen, nor did it kill or feed within the burk of New Kuhmbuhluhn that night. Bright and early on the next morning, armed, armored search parties of men and Kleesahks led by Bili, Captain Fil Tyluh, Acting Captain Frehd Brakit, Vlahkos Kahmruhn, the Vahrohneeskos Gneedos Kahmruhn, Sir Yoo Folsom, Lieutenants Roopuht and Kahndoot—both gritty-eyed from lack of sleep but keen still to help put paid to the account of the bestial trespasser—Mikos of Eeahnopolis, Tsimbos of Ahnpolis and several Kuhmbuhluhn noble officers all fanned out through the multileveled galleries and chambers and winding corridors of the honeycombed mountain behind the palace and keep, lighting the way with torches and lamps and bull’s-eye lanthorns.
But they found no wolf, nor any sign of one, old or recent. They found a few stoats, semidomesticated ones whose ancestors had been deliberately released there to retard the proliferation of rats, mice and similar vermin among the stores in the magazines. They chanced across a long-forgotten chamber packed with pipes and casks and kegs of very old and very potent wines. They found other antique artifacts, some of them as old as the kingdom, or so the Kleesahks attested. But they could not discover even so much as the bare scent of their quarry, so with the sally scheduled for the night of this day, Bili called off the search and the various parties made their respective ways back to the palace.
It was not until on their return they reached the spot where keep abutted palace that Whitetip mindspoke Bili. “The creature was here, cat brother, perhaps a day ago, He left his scent there, on the angle of the wall, as any dog or jackal or wolf would do.”
Bending close to the indicated section of stonework, even Bili’s far less sensitive nose could detect the rank odor of animal urine ... and he resisted the impulse to rub at his flesh to lay the goosebumps, for just here the narrow stairway led upward into the wing of the Kleesahks and the chamber wherin lay the helpless, comatose King Byruhn; downward, three flights of stairs would deliver the person or the thing which descended them only bare yards from the suite which now housed him, the infant twins and Rahksahnah.
“You are certain that this mark is that old, brother?” he beamed to his big, furry companion. “It was not done last night?”
The cat’s beaming bore a touch of impatience. “You sniffed at it yourself—did that smell like a recent marking to you?”
Bili sighed. “Brother, you have again misremembered, we twolegs do not have such keen noses as do you and the Kleesahks.* I can smell that the spot has been pissed upon, but that is all that my nose tells me of it.”
“I am sorry, cat brother,” apologized the prairiecat, “but so well developed is your mind that I sometimes forget how retarded are others of your senses. Yes, I am indeed certain that this is not fresh scent. It is at least one day old, maybe even two.”
Bili nodded to himself. “Then it surely must be denning up back there in the caverns, whether we found traces of it or not.”
The cat wrinkled his nose, then suddenly dropped onto his haunches and began to scratch vigorously at his neck with one hind paw, mindspeaking all the while, “Unless it is denning here, in the keep or the palace, cat brother.”
“Then why have you not smelled it out long ago?” Bili beamed inquiringly.
Reversing paws, Whitetip went savagely at the other side of his thick, muscular neck, eyes closed to mere slits. “For a very good reason, cat brother: Before it began to kill in the town, I never before had sniffed a scent like this one, so if I had chanced across it here in the palace, I would most likely have dismissed it as just an unpleasant variant of the usual twoleg stench. For, as I have said before, there is a tone of twoleg stench to this scent although the cleanlier, animal scent predominates, Sacred Sun be thanked.”
“Well, after tonight’s sally,” decided Bili, “I mean to set you and some of the younger Kleesahks to prowl these corridors and stairways every night until the creature is apprehended, or tracked down and scotched for good and all.”
The cat’s reply bore a tinge of sulkiness. “But cat brother, Whitetip enjoys spying upon the camp of the men-of—the-long-long-spears. Besides, their cattle are most tasty. Why cannot he continue at that which he does best?”
Bili rubbed a hand across the top of the cat’s big head, between his ears, and kneaded the neck muscles, eliciting a deep, deep purr in response. “Brother, you will be continuing to keep track of what the Skohshuns are up to on most nights. Only on a couple of nights in each six-day will you be here.
“Understand, please, brother, there will be times when I must be absent from my suite for long periods and I need to know that a strong, fierce and dedicated brother will be about to competently protect my female and our cubs.”
“My brother-chief need not fear,” replied the huge feline. “His female and his cubs will be as safe as any cat could keep them.”
Bili kept his sally force small, for their principal aim was not to kill large numbers of Skohshuns, but to reach and destroy the assault devices and regain to the burk with as little wasted time and effort as would be possible. Pah-Elmuh and Oodehn were the two Kleesahks he finally had chosen, for their mighty thews mould be necessary to silently remove the cyclopean stones blocking the particular hidden sallyport he had decided was best situated for this excursion. Immediately the stones were removed and the way cleared, Bili mindspoke Fil Tyluh and Frehd Brakit, each of whom was, for this night exercise, commanding two of the oversized engines constructed under the supervision of Brakit; too large to be mounted on the walls, they squatted in cleared areas just behind the front wall.
In receipt of Bili’s telepathic command, the two officers issued their own orders and triggering devices were released, almost as one. There were four tooth-jarring, contrabasso thumps of massive beams against equally massive, thickly padded crossbars, and four fiercely blazing pitchballs—each bigger than a bushel basket—sailed up and out in a parabolic flight that came finally to ground in the highly flammable canvas—and-wood camp of the Skohshuns.
Assisted by teams of draft animals, as well as several of the preternaturally powerful Kleesahks, the crews of the engines quickly recocked and reloaded their throwers, this time with bushels of fist- to head-sized stones, of which a goodly supply was ready to hand, each load premeasured out in strong wicker containers.
When Bili, standing in the now-open mouth of the previously concealed tunnel, saw the first tongues of yellow-red flame spring up, high overtopping the wooden palisades of the Skohshun camp, he took a fresh grip on the steel haft of his axe and mindspoke his score and a half of fighters; “All right, let’s go.”
Instead of keeping watch into the darkness which was the west, Pikeman Edgar Makellahr was, naturally, watching the blazing camp and scurrying dark figures, thanking God that he was not over there this night and keeping a wary eye out for the sergeant of the guard or a wandering officer. Therefore, the sixteen-year-old junior pikeman’s very first intimation that anything might be amiss closer to his post than the camp was when, all at once, a hard hand—big and stinking of garlic—clamped over his mouth, a rocklike knee slammed into the small of his back and something traced a line of agonizing fire across his throat. Abruptly the hand was removed and Edgar tried to scream, but he could not, nor could he draw in the air for which his lungs were clamoring. Then infinite blackness closed about him.