At least it was good to think that. A wizard would not have needed ropes to tie a captive. A nonhuman or a hostile Tribesman would have probably killed him outright. So his captor might be none of these things.
Or at least he could hope so.
Shangbari studied his captor. He was certainly a City man, from the way he dressed, but he was paler-skinned than anyone Shangbari had ever seen. He was also half a head taller than the hunter, with muscles in proportion. Certainly he'd have needed no wizardry to bring Shangbari down. He had a Doimari Oltec rifle across his knees, and he was munching on a piece of Newtec food from a pack beside him.
Shangbari's rifle also lay beside him, apparently undamaged. Then Shangbari saw who or what was sitting by the rifle, which started him thinking about wizardry again.
The creature was shaped like a man, except for its tail, but it was only about two feet high. Also, though it had no sign of wings, it was covered with feathers like a bird. The City man might be human, but surely his companion was not. Might the companion be the wizard, and the City man his servant? That frightened Shangbari all over again.
Then he remembered tales of the Little Men, who lived fat in the south after the Burning Time. It was said that some Tribes had made friends with them, although no one living had ever met a man from one of those Tribes-or one of the Little Men, either. To be sure, the Little Men had been covered with fur, not feathers. But perhaps the tales did not tell everything about them?
Yes. It made sense. This was a man from the lost Tribes. He and the Little Man had come north, seeking-what? Impossible to guess. At least they had not killed him as he lay helpless.
The warrior's ears were sharp enough to catch Shangbari's sigh of relief. He looked at the hunter and smiled. «So you're awake. I'm sorry I hit you so hard, but I was in a hurry. I didn't want you to call for help.» From the man's speech, he seemed to have learned the True Tongue in Kaldak.
«You have honor, then, to fight one against one?» If he did not, then Shangbari would have to force the man to kill him quickly.
«I have that honor. I also have no wish to fight you at all, without reason.» That made sense, if he was seeking a new home in the north. Or perhaps his Tribe was so weak that his chief had sent him out with orders like Ikhnan's, not to fight unless there was good cause. Then for the first time the man seemed to notice Shangbari's ears.
«Do all your people have ears like yours?»
Shangbari had to laugh, and wiggled them. «Many, at least.»
«Does your chief have them?»
Shangbari frowned. He did not understand what the man wanted, but so far the questions were not dishonorable. He nodded.
«And is your chief a young man, about twenty years old, with a wife and a baby?»
Again Shangbari thought of wizardry, and his frown deepened. There was still no dishonor, but could the warrior or the Little Man be drawing his thoughts from his head? Finally he nodded again.
«I hoped so. And did your chief once call himself a friend to the Seekers of Doimar, until a night when the Kaldakans came out of the sky to attack the Seekers? On that night, did not a warrior of Kaldak spare your chief and his wife and child, and tell them to flee because this was not their fight?»
Shangbari could barely breathe. Either his mind was being torn open by wizardry, or this warrior was nothing which any of the Tribes had any name for. No one outside the Red Cats-and only a few of them-knew the whole tale of the Night of the Seekers' Death. It was that Night which later brought the Doimari sky-killers, and broke forever the peace between the Red Cats and Doimar. Indeed, the men of Doimar were now greater enemies than those of Kaldak, until the blood debt was paid-if it ever was. Could this man have knowledge which would help the Red Cats pay that debt?
Shangbari decided he should lead this man to Ikhnan. This was a chief's and Grandfathers' matter, not one for even the finest hunter.
The man picked up Shangbari's rifle. «I want to go to your chief. I have things to say he must hear, and soon. If you will swear the most sacred oath you know, not to harm me or lead me astray, I will give you back your weapon. Two guns are always better than one, and also two sets of eyes.»
He spoke like an experienced warrior, and Shangbari saw no reason to doubt that he was one. «By the spirits of my prey, the true shooting of my rifle, and my faith in the hunter's oath, I swear to guard you as I would my brother, until you have said all that you have to say to Ikhnan, Chief of the Red Cats,» Shangbari replied.
The Little Man jumped up and down, clapping his hands and going yeep-yeep-yeep as though he understood and approved. With a City knife, the warrior cut Shangbari's bonds, then pulled him to his feet with one hand and gave him his rifle with the other.
«Do you wish more beer?» said Ikhnan.
Blade shook his head. He'd already drunk more than enough of the rough Tribal beer while telling Ikhnan his tale. «You have already done far more than the Laws for welcoming guests demanded of you.»
Ikhnan smiled grimly. «But not as much as you could have wished, or perhaps expected?»
«You are a wise leader of your people,» said Blade with a shrug. «You would be wiser if you believed me more.»
«That I doubt,» said Ikhnan. «Though you say you did not join the sky-riders of Kaldak of your own will, yet you came among us as one of them.»
«I did. And I did little harm to your people, and much to the Doimari, who are the enemies of everyone except themselves.»
«That is so. But that only gives me a reason to let you return to Kaldak with your tale. It does not give me reason to let the remaining warriors of the Red Cats follow you into the jaws of the Seekers.»
Blade was annoyed enough to think of several things it wouldn't be wise to say out loud. Perhaps he should give up and accept Ikhnan's offer of a guide to the Kaldakan border. That would save him a few days in getting back. Would that be enough if it took him weeks to convince the Kaldakans they should act? «Cadet Commander Voros» was probably under sentence of death for six or seven different crimes.
He would even need some luck to escape being shot on sight.
Then he heard a familiar yeeeeping behind him, the scrabble of Cheeky's paws, and the pad-pad-pad of some other animal about the same size. Ikhnan's eyes opened wide and his mouth opened wider, as he looked past Blade. Blade turned around, to see Cheeky walking into the tent with one of the sacred Red Cats following respectfully behind him. They sat down, Cheeky scratched the Red Cat behind its ears, and the beast started to purr!
Blade reached out a hand to pet the cat-and got bloody claw marks on his wrist for his pains. Then Cheeky yeeeeped angrily, jumped up and down, and pulled the Red Cat's tail hard. It laid its ears back, and for a moment Blade thought he would have to rescue Cheeky. The Red Cats had ferocious tempers, and this one was nearly as big as Cheeky.
The Red Cat and Cheeky glared at each other for a moment. Then slowly the Red Cat relaxed. A moment later it went over to Blade and licked the blood off his wrist, purring like a small outboard motor. Then, while Ikhnan looked as if his eyes were going to fall out of their sockets, the Red Cat climbed onto Blade's lap, curled its tail around itself, and went to sleep. Cheeky gave a small yeeep of satisfaction and hopped up onto Blade's shoulder.
With a heroic effort at self-control, Ikhnan spoke. «Is that Fija?»
Blade grinned. «How should I know? Ask Cheeky.»
Ikhnan swallowed. «You said that as if-he might answer-like a man. Is he-?»
«He is not one of the Little Men of the tales I have heard here in the Land,» said Blade. «That I can swear. As to what else he is-much I do not know myself, and most of the rest is not my secret but his.»