“Is that significant?”
“Perhaps not in terms of our mission. But it does mean the country could be rich in minerals. Especially in the vicinity of the rivers. These are the roots of mountains we are flying over, exposed anticlines and synclines. I can see granite in those outcrops, quartz and limestone. Traces of other minerals, too—jasper, copper, and more than traces of gold. This planet is bigger than Earth but has a much smaller core. I speculate that core formation hasn't progressed as far, taking fewer heavy elements out of the crust.
“You might have kzinti mines here if the local moons weren't so mineral-rich,” he went on. “In fact I'd say they have mined it sometime in the past—see those low mounds? They look to me like the spoil of mining dumps, but somebody's spread them out as if to hide them. I desire that we had our own ship, with its deep-radar.”
They flew on. A cloud of dust below resolved itself into a group of fleeing animals, vaguely caninoid, certainly carnivorous.
“Pack raiders,” said Ginger. “There must be prey for them.”
“And there's a river,” said Perpetua. “See that line of darker trees?”
“I saw it ten minutes ago. But as we get closer you'll see its bed is dry sand. Dig in it and you probably will find water eventually. I'd guess that, apart from the aftermath of the occasional cloudburst, the rivers in this country flow underground.”
“There's a big hole.”
“And there are others—see, they are in a line. I'd say it's a series of roof collapses in a big cave system. Mines and caves—they probably join up… I would expect more vegetation. It seems to be concentrated around the riverbeds. Perhaps they divert water from outlying areas with underground tunnels, to grow heavier cover?”
“Maybe that's another reason we don't see kz’eerkti. They'd use the cave lines for travel, too.”
“How far would cave lines reach? I suppose that's like asking: How long is a river? But when you look there are a lot of sinkholes, and they do seem to follow lines. Still, collapsed tunnels would transport water.”
“Yes. And the lines don't look entirely natural. There are a lot of odd things about this planet.”
“Want to land and investigate?”
“Not yet, thanks! We'd better get the big picture first.”
Ginger crouched forward, ears spreading and knotting, tail rigid. “Let's get a bit of height well before we reach those hills,” he said after a time. “There's something about them…”
“What do you mean?”
“I'm getting something from my ziirgrah now. It's hard to define… but there's a lot more than one pair of eyes looking at us. They're in those hills.”
“They can hardly hurt a car like this with bows and arrows.”
“They are an unknown,” said Ginger. “Don't you think unknown means danger, on a kzinti world to boot? We're going up.”
“All right. And I have suspicions of my own.” The horizon widened dramatically as the car climbed. Perpetua pointed. “See there!”
“By the Fanged God! Stone walls!”
“And see there! Real mining dumps!”
“Warrgh-Churrg hass been falsse with uss. Why did he not tell uss of thesse thingss? Urrrgh!”
“Careful, Ginger!” The hissing in her companion's accent was a danger sign to Perpetua. Outright lying between kzinti was a mortal insult, and, unlike some other mortal offenses, such as open taunts and mockery, the worse because it was rare. “If he has been economical with truth, so have we… Calm, my friend.”
“S-sorry. But he must have known. Satellitess would have shown. And these have been here long.”
“There's no point in hanging about up here. We'll have to go down,” said Perpetua after they had examined the scene for a while.
“They'll see it's a kzinti car.”
“But if a human gets out of it? And a human female should look especially harmless.”
“It's a risk for you.”
“We're paid to take risks. Should we take her down slowly? Give them a chance to get out of the way?”
“Or a chance to prepare some really nasty surprise for us?”
“We've detected nothing on the instruments. But descending slowly might show we mean no harm.”
“If you were fighting the kzinti on a kzinti planet,” said Ginger, “and you saw a kzinti craft descending, fast or slow, would you think it meant no harm?”
“I take your point. But look at that!”
“A statue! Of a kzin!”
“Not just a kzin. See the length of the fangs?”
“Does that mean anything?”
“It might. The God has such fangs. I don't understand… Perhaps we could broadcast an audio signal to them,” said Ginger. “Tell them we come in peace. If the translator knows enough of the language yet.”
“I think I know more of the language than the translator.”
The car descended, its bullhorn shouting a message. Perpetua, in a white robe with narrow gold edging, which covered her body armor, alighted. The car rose and remained hovering above her, beyond the reach of primitive weapons. One hand upraised in a peculiar gesture, Perpetua walked toward the dark, rectangular apertures in the stone wall.
At first everything seemed deserted. Then, cautiously, a small group of men appeared. Ginger, watching from above, saw them exchange a complex pattern of arm movements, and, gathered round Perpetua, move back into the structure. He waited. In ancient reflex his fur rose and fell to compensate for the movement of his breathing. Then Perpetua's face appeared on the communicator.
“Come down,” she said. “Their leaders are here, and I think I've convinced them you're foederati—an ally. They seem prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt for the moment. Bring no weapons but your w'tsai. They expect that. Keep your communicator on. Tread carefully. We are being met by none other than Marcus Augustus himself.”
VI
They were led by two humans, one introduced as Marcus Augustus, in white robes bordered with purple strips. Others followed, carrying long knives, and other things, hidden under clothes, that were plainly weapons. “What is that?” Ginger asked Marcus Augustus, pointing at the statue.
“Why, your Feline god of course. We promised to give him worship in our Pantheon in return for certain favors.”
“Fair enough,” Ginger mused. “There are kdaptists who have become Christians. And did he actually grant those favors?”
“Obviously. We are here and alive.”
“How did you know the Fanged God looked like that?”
“Some of our slaves make statues of him for kzinti nobles.”
“I see… I think,” said Ginger, “that perhaps I am beginning to understand a little more.”
Marcus Augustus nodded and moved ahead.
“I see at least three classes of humans here,” said Ginger to Perpetua.
“Classes?”
“Yes. A concept we got to know fairly well on Wunderland. We haven't exactly been top dogs—top cats?—the whole time, you know. You get to recognize these things. The humans in white and purple are the bosses, of course. The ones with the checkered trousers and the funny hair seem an intermediate class. And there are slaves.”
“Slaves?”
They were led out the far side of the building, which proved startlingly small. Now they were moving though a mass of closely spaced trees, the needle foliage obscuring the sky. It was a tight fit for Ginger in spots.
“Yes. Look at their clothes. More importantly, look at their gait. I may know more about some aspects of human society than you, and I would say this is not one of your democracies. And if they're fighting a war against modern kzinti with the odd patchwork of technology we've seen so far, I'm not surprised. You don't fight a species war with majority resolutions.
“But slave societies are always looking for more slaves,” he continued. “They may see us in that category. Not me, perhaps. If they know anything about kzinti they'd know we don't make slaves. But you… who knows? And by human standards of beauty you are attractive. A good prize. Keep your weapon handy.”