“What says the lizard?” Bau Dibsea demanded.
Sherril looked longingly at the cushions, but Bau Dibsea did not invite him to sit down. Cassa Fisook was kinder. She waved to Petru, who arranged a seat just under the lip of the tent where the heat would beat down on Sherril’s back but his face and toes would be cold. That’s two, he thought. But he curled up on the down-stuffed pouch and tucked his feet beneath him.
“Greetings to you, Dancer Cassa Fisook, and Talonmaster Bau Dibsea, from Tae Shanissi, lord and self-proclaimed deity of the sovereign city-state of Ckotliss, master of ten thousand and a domain of great span and fertility.”
“Gack!” Bau Dibsea spat. “Even their names are sickening to say.”
“Did he hear you out?” Cassa Fisook asked, ignoring the male’s interruption.
“All my words and movements were heard, lady,” Sherril said. He sipped more wine to wet his tongue. The heady fragrance helped dispel the foul dust of the road and the cloying smell of the Liskash city. “He and his lords listened to me in the great hall of that stone keep that we observed from the ridge. He gave me sweet water to drink and flat cakes of some foul grain or bean that I ate only out of courtesy. I explained exactly as I was instructed to that we are peaceful travelers in Lord Tae’s land. The mountains and the sea preclude our passing to either side of this valley, so we must go through. That we want to do as swiftly as possible. I also requested to trade for supplies to see us on our way.”
“And…?” Bau Dibsea asked, impatiently.
Sherril hated to be rushed. The Liskash were more appreciative of his full explanations and the spooling out of the Lailah’s journey from their homeland. He wrinkled his nose slightly, sweeping his whiskers back.
“He is agreed, Talonmaster.”
Bau sprang to his feet. “Excellent! Then we will break camp at once. Will he provide us with guides or maps?”
Sherril patted the air with his palms. “Not so swiftly, my leader. There is a price.”
“A price?” piped up Ysella Ehe, the young Dancer who had stumbled. “What price? They enslave our kind. I hear they even eat them.”
“Ysella!” exclaimed Cleotra, the Dancer with lush, sleek fur dusted with red. “It is not your time to speak.” But it was not a formal council, and the young one had asked a question the rest of them wanted answered.
“We are not to their taste, except as slaves,” Cassa Fisook said. “But it is true, Lord Tae might demand such a price.”
“In truth, I saw many Mrem in the city,” Sherril admitted. The sight of scrawny, ill-kempt Mrem yoked to a wagon as if they were beasts of burden or carrying heavy loads behind their Liskash masters was a deep insult. Their faces wore despair that he could not and did not want to imagine. The Mrem in the noble household looked as miserable, though not as ill-fed or groomed.
“None of us will submit,” Ysella insisted.
Cassa Fisook gave her a look of kindly patience. “No gift is ever really free, my daughter. There is always a price, even if that is simple gratitude. What do they want?”
“It is not as onerous as slavery, Your Sinuousness,” Sherril said. “Lord Tae said that he is a student of our race. He wishes to know more about us. He admitted that once a Mrem’s mind is in his thrall it ceases to think as one of us. Lord Tae said he was perhaps too quick to subsume something interesting. He would know more of our culture and customs.”
The Dancers murmured among themselves.
“So he can conquer ones like us more easily?” Bau growled. “Knowledge is power!”
“How does he want to learn about us?” Cassa Fisook asked.
Sherril opened a hand. “Before we pass through his land, Lord Tae proposes to have representatives of our tribe visit him in his citadel. They will be welcomed as guests, free to come and go as they please-with certain restrictions, naturally. He would hear our songs and poetry, see our art, and learn the history of our people. He specifically said he wished to meet the Dancers.”
“To deprive us of their magic,” Bau said at once. “Once in, the visitors are certain to become prisoners. I am wary of his intentions. My warriors will feel the same.”
“It is quite understandable that he wants to know us,” Cassa Fisook said, blinking her wise green eyes. “It is also undeniable that it might be a trap.”
“Whoever goes in will have no assurance of getting out,” Sherril said. He felt his own sacrifice was going unnoticed. After all he had been through! “As I had.”
Bau snorted. His golden eyes gleamed. “We are well aware that you have just gone into the serpent’s mouth and emerged unscathed,” he said. “You want gratitude; you have it. Well done. Now, we must plan to achieve the same with a greater number.”
Cassa Fisook saw the disappointed expression on Sherril’s face and regarded him with sympathy.
“Your deed will not be forgotten, my friend. It shall be added to the annals of our tribe. Rest now.”
Sherril feigned a convincing collapse into exhaustion though he held up a hand to protest. “That won’t be necessary, Your Sinuousness. I am prepared to lead our visitors back to Lord Tae’s stronghold, immediately if necessary.”
Bau was fooled neither by the sudden show of weakness nor Sherril’s self-sacrificing offer.
“The elders and warriors need to hear slimy Lord Tae’s proposal,” Bau said. He flicked a hand toward a white-and-black mottled servant. “Go tell them to gather in the hollow up on the ridge. I will address them there. We will decide which of us will go into the trap.” The servant bounded away, running.
“I will give them a full report, of course,” Sherril said, complacently. “They will want to know how many doors lie where, how high the walls are and how many guards stand upon them.”
Bau had to hand it to the old scamp. He would gladly have done without him-would rather have done without him-but he realized now that he could not. For the same reason that they had sent Sherril there as their emissary, he would be of great use on the return journey. Sherril had well-developed survival instincts. He seemed to sleep with one eye open, and no one had yet caught him off guard for any of the beatings that he had earned and undoubtedly deserved. Sherril was capable of preceding you through a doorway but ending up behind you as if he had the dinos’ own evil magic. His powers of observation were legendary throughout the camp as he had been in their own land, many leagues behind them to the east. If he had been able to wield a spear or hold up that bulk of his longer than three breaths in a fight, he could easily have maneuvered himself into the position of talonmaster. But no one would ever trust him. Bau knew better than that. But he always managed to find himself a vantage point. He was a Mrem. Better to give him his chance than to have him working against the group because he was thwarted.
“Very well, then. Come and make your case.”
The high hollow amid the thin-branched trees made a natural amphitheater. The remaining warriors, only three hundred sixty in number, settled themselves on the cool earth. With a hiss and a meaningful look, Cleotra made the younger females settle down and stop whispering. Only twenty-three Dancers and apprentices, out of fifty that had lived in the old land before the floods came, had made it this far. She fervently hoped they would lose no more. Her friend and fellow Dancer Nolda Ilu lay in a cool spot on the grass, attended to by a couple of the apprentices. She was due to kitten any day. Her last pregnancy, even in the safety of their old home, had almost finished her. Cleotra feared that having to give birth on the road would be too much for her. The baby in her belly kicked once in a while, showing the outline of a tiny foot, as if impatient to be free. Cleotra begged the tiny one to wait, at least until they knew they had safe passage through Ckotliss.