In the Lion’s Mouth

Dedication

Margie, again

Main Characters

Francine Thompson — d.b.a. Bridget ban, a Hound of the Ardry

Graceful Bintsaif — a junior Hound

Lucia D. Thompson — d.b.a. Méarana, a harper, daughter of Bridget ban

Ravn Olafsdottr — a Shadow of the CCW

Donovan (the scarred man) — d.b.a. the Fudir, sometime agent of the CCW

Rigardo-ji Edelwasser — a bonded smuggler

Swoswai Mashdasan — garrison commander on Henrietta

Dawshoo Yishohrann — Leader of the conspiracy

Gidula — an old Confederal Shadow (black, a white comet)

Oschous Dee Karnatika — field marshal of the rebel shadows (scarlet, a black horse)

Geshler Padaborn — a revolutionary

Poder Stoop — the Riff of Ashbanal (blood red, a Maltese cross)

Tina Zhi — a functionary in the Gayshot Bo

Rebel Shadows

Little Jacques — another rebel Shadow (swallowtail, red with border)

Manlius Metataxis — “brother” to Dawshoo (sky blue, a white dove)

Domino Tight — a young Shadow (tawny, a lyre proper)

Big Jacques Delamond — a large Shadow (white, a blue trident)

Loyal Shadows

Shadow Prime — Father of the Abattoir (black)

Ekadrina Sèanmazy — field marshal of the loyal Shadows (black, a taiji)

Epri Gunjinshow — a protégé of Prime (forest-green, a yellow lily)

Pendragon Jones — a loyal Shadow (silver, a golden mum)

Jimjim Shot — the Beautiful Name, the Mayshot Bo

* * *

Retainers, smugglers, boots, sheep, magpies, couriers, Shadows, Names

Map of the Confederal Borderlands

Planar projection of the Confederal Borderlands and the Triangles. View is from Galactic North. Not all worlds or roads are shown. Worlds are not all on the same plane.

Epigraph

Having dressed and painted their passionate dream of a beautiful life with all their powers of imagination and artfulness and wealth and molded it into a plastic form, they then pondered and realized that life was really not so beautiful—and then laughed.

The Autumn of the Middle Ages

Johan Huizinga

Processional

Sing, O harper, the anger of Donovan buigh,
That graced us all with boundless grief,
And left brave men a prey to dogs and kites
As we foresaw upon that fateful day
When Donovan buigh and Those of Name
First fell out.
When his wrath at first arose ’twas I he fixed it on.
Oh, yes. ’Twas I who hauled him from his happiness
Off those same Jehovan streets where once he walked,
And had he not his eye upon more distant joys affixed,
We’d twain lie dead in those same gutters, gutted
By each other’s skills. But he foreknew, and so forbore to fight
And did submit him to my plea. But know this now, O harper.
It was to thee that he was bound when I untimely snatched him up.
Attend my tale and learn
Why once great cities burn.

Prolegomenon

The winds whistling o’er the breasts of the Dōngodair Hills carry much of the loneliness that can be found in those remote peaks and scatter it like pollen across the eastern plains, so that the Beastie boys, and the Nolan Beasts they tend, suck it in with every breath, and even the bluestem and inching grass, and the rip-gut in the wet bottomlands whose leaves are serrated knives soak up despair like sunshine and release it to the breeze. Thus it is that the rustle of the tallgrass can wring a sigh from a strong man and drive a lonely woman to weeping.

When night falls over the gloaming prairies of the Out-in-back, it falls complete. The city lights, such as they are, glow like hearth fires on the far side of the Dōngodairs; but their gleam does little more than limn the crests with a narrow pale-white band. Otherwise, green is simply another kind of black, and for half the year even the sky holds little more than a second pale band: the distant shore of the Orion Arm across the Rift of stars. It too, is the glow of distant hearths: the ancient home-stars of mankind.

Amidst such engulfing shadows, what is one more shade drifting o’er the heath?

Clanthompson Hall sits an oasis of light on a swell of the prairie atop a deep, clean well; but the light is tightly held within fortress walls, and leaks out only through slits and windows. Her towers bespeak an earlier epoch in the history of Dangchao Waypoint, when her stone facing was more than mere decoration, and warring clans fought over water rights and control of the open range. The range wars are long over; and over the generations the squat functionality of her battlements has softened to more graceful and moderate lines. She stands now a stately matron, surrounded by her family of outbuildings, barracks and mess hall for the ranch hands, repair shops, a helipad, orchards, and a few tastefully hidden gun emplacements.

Oh, she is still a fortress in her heart! For Clanthompson Hall is the keep of Bridget ban, a Hound of the Ardry, and therefore for some a target. The rise the Hall sits upon is not much to speak of, let alone to speak of it as a hill. It does not so much as bear a name. But from it, and for miles around, nothing can approach unseen.

Or almost nothing.

* * *

It is called a “sitting room,” but two of the three women in it are standing. The first is Francine Thompson, d.b.a. Bridget ban, mistress of Clanthompson Hall. She stands by the large bay window that overlooks the endless prairie, though she herself overlooks nothing. The curtains are drawn open and the night without is held at bay only by lamps burning bravely on tables. Even so, night has won his victories here and there, in darkened corners, in shadowed alcoves. Bridget ban wears high riding boots and a casual, loose-fitting blouse in the reds and yellows that the Thompsons favor. Her hair is a bright red and her skin a deep gold. She stares into the night, her back to the room, while she listens to the report.

Graceful Bintsaif, who is delivering the report, is a junior Hound and wears the powder-blue undress uniform of that grade. It bears at present only a single blazon, but it is a worthy one and, quite properly, she will not speak of how she won it. She is lean as a whippet and seems always to be straining forward, as if against some unseen leash. She interrupts her report to say, “Shall I kill it?”

“Not yet,” says Bridget ban, who does not turn from the window.