“You killed an army,” Tegger said. “Vampires lie everywhere. Your neighbors must be glad.”
Warvia asked, “The Ghouls, have they come?”
The Thurl said, “An army of vampires came the night before last. An army was gone when the shadow withdrew from the sun. You have seen the dead they left behind, but our own dead have gone with the Ghouls. They were half as many or a bit more, plus a hundred of Gleaners and four of our Machine People. The vampires are a terrible foe. Welcome to you.”
“We have seen nothing of the terror,” Tegger said. “Young hunters disappear. Our teachers lose their skill, we said, or some new hunting thing has found us. Paroom, if we did show disbelief, forgive us.”
Paroom nodded graciously. The Thurl said, “What we knew of vampires was half false. The Machine People empire came in time to help us.”
Vala was beginning to realize that no other Grass Giant could say such a thing. To disparage the tribe was to disparage the Thurl. “We must show you our defenses,” he continued, “but have you eaten? Should you cook while there is still light?”
“We eat our meat uncooked. We like variety. Grass Giants eat no meat, but what of Gleaners and Machine People? May we share? Let us show you what we have.”
They had five loadbeasts and the cage atop their wagon. The thing in the cage felt their gaze and roared. It was a beast as massive as a Grass Giant, and a killer, Vala realized. She asked, “What is that?”
“Hakarrch,” Tegger said with visible pride. “A hunter of the Barrier Hills. Two were sent us by the Gardener People for our sport. Hunted outside its familiar terrain, the male still killed one of us before we brought it down.”
It was a brag. Mighty hunters we are. We hunt the lesser hunters, and we’ll hunt your vampires. Vala suggested, “Perilack, shall we sample this? Not tonight, but tomorrow at our one meal.”
The Gleaner woman said, “Bargain. Warvia, tonight you may kill a loadbeast. Tomorrow and after, let us play host. We will feed all until the—” Shadow’s edge had bitten a piece from the sun, but the light was still bright. “-eaters of the dead deign to speak. You’ll want to taste smeerp meat.”
“We thank you.”
The fire had become the only light: not enough light to cook, but the cooking was over. Of the other Reds, Anakrin hooki-Whanhurhur was an old man, wrinkled but still agile. Chaychind hooki-Karashk, another male, was badly scarred and had lost an arm in some old battle.
They had brought a gift of their own, a sizable ceramic jug of a strong, dark beer. Not bad at all. Vala saw Kay react, too. Let’s see how Kay handles it.
Kay exclaimed, “Do you make this yourselves? Do you make a lot?”
“Yes. Do you think of trade?”
“Chaychind, it might be worth moving if it’s cheap enough—”
“Tales of the Machine People are not exaggerated.”
Kay looked flustered. Too bad, but Vala had better step in. “Kaywerbrimmis means that if we can distill enough of this, we would have fuel for our cruisers. Our cruisers carry weapons and can carry much more. They move faster than loadbeasts, but they cannot move without fuel.”
“A gift you want?” Chaychind asked, while Tegger exclaimed, “You would boil our beer for fuel?”
“Gifts for the war. All must contribute. Grass Giant fighters, Gleaner spies, your fuel—”
“Our eyes.”
“Ah?”
“We know of no species that can see as far as any Red Herder.”
“Your eyes. Our cruisers, our cannon, our flamers. Can you contribute three hundred manweights of beer to the war against the vampires? It would distill to thirty manweights of fuel. We carry a distilling system simple enough to be copied.”
Warvia exclaimed, “That’s enough to souse whole civilizations!”
But Tegger asked, “What size of manweights?”
Hah! Vala said, “Your size.” Tegger had asked the obvious question, but it implied agreement… and a Machine People manweight would have been a sixth higher. “I’m thinking of taking two cruisers. Leave the third here. Let the Thurl fuel the third cruiser.”
“Whand and Chit can supervise that,” Kay said.
“Oh?” She’d wondered why both were absent.
“They’ve had enough, Boss. Spash is wavering, too. So’s Barok.”
“Any foray would be to murder selves,” red Warvia said, “unless we can know our enemy. Have the Ghouls spoken?”
The Thurl said, “Some bodies are gone,” and shrugged.
“We’re paying for our good manners,” Vala said. A trader must know how to project her voice on demand. “The bodies we guarded from vermin, the lords of the night will take last. They took our Gleaner dead because they died a day earlier.” The night would hear her.
Tonight Kay and Whand were on the wall with Barok, watching over them with the cannon. Spash and Chit had traded places with them.
This night looked to be less exhausting, but less joyful, too. The Gleaners and Machine People and an undersized Grass Giant woman named Twuk tried to get something going. The Thurl kept his armor on. The four Red Herders watched gleefully from beyond touching distance, and chattered in their own language, and it all sort of fell apart.
The Reds weren’t unfriendly. They might be a little stiff around the Thurl himself, but around others they were relaxed and talkative. Spash and three Reds were trading stories now. The Reds had considerable experience with hominids, despite their handicap.
Vala listened idly. The Reds were guided by their diet. They ate live meat, and they were herder-gourmets. Herding one life-form, rarely two, was easier than trying to keep several types of meatbeast together. The Red tribes mapped their routes to cross each others’ paths, to trade feasts.
They traded stories, too, and met hominids in a variety of environments. Now they were speaking of two types of Water People, apparently not the same two Vala was familiar with.
The fourth Red, Tegger, was on watch with Chit.
The Thurl was asleep in full armor. He clearly wasn’t interested in rishathra, or Ghouls, either, Vala thought.
Sopashintay lay propped against a tent pole. “I wonder what it’s like inside the wall tonight,” she said.
Vala considered. “The Thurl’s out here. Beedj is in there, on defense. ‘What the Thurl does not see did not happen.’”
Spash came up on an elbow. “Where did you hear that?”
“From the Thurl. The beta males are doing a lot of mating, I expect, and some fighting, too. I suppose we’re missing all the fun—”
“Again, in my case,” Spash said.
“-but they wouldn’t rish anyway if they can mate. And I can use the rest.”
“So can the Thurl. He sleeps like a near-dormant volcano,” Spash said.
Chit looked at the women and smiled, and stepped lightly out of the tent. A dense mist cloaked the night. Chit picked up a bone from dinner and threw it. Vala heard a tiny muffled tock.
A silver bulk was at her shoulders, sensed but never heard. The Thurl sniffed, while his hands cocked a crossbow without sound or effort. He said, “They are not near, vampires or Night People. Chitakumishad, did you see anything? Smell anything?”
“Nothing.”
The Thurl seemed exceedingly alert for one who had been sleeping moments ago. He pulled his helm closed and stepped out. A Grass Giant guard, Tarun, followed him.
Spash said, “I had it wrong, didn’t I? But why—”
Vala whispered, “Reds. They’re the ancient enemy, and they’re all around him. That’s why he kept his armor on, and that’s why he pretends to sleep. Bet on it.”
In the morning there were no dead between the wall and the tall grass, save for those that lay on sheets. The Ghouls had taken Vala at her word, it seemed.