The Man-Kzin Wars 12

IX

Once they were back in the car, the first thing Perpetua said was, "Incredible."

"Having never spoken with Jotoki who have been free for the past nine centuries, I am in no position to judge," Ginger remarked. "At least now we know why they've never been found. I hope my sense of smell comes back. I wonder what those trees are?"

"Cedar," she said absently. "From Earth. Must have intended the wood as trade goods… I meant all that gold is incredible!"

"I suppose the Jotoki had to find something to keep themselves busy for nine hundred years," Ginger said.

"They certainly haven't been sitting on their hands," Perpetua said.

Ginger thought about it. "Yes they have," he finally said. "Where else could they?"

"It's a metaphor," she said.

"Oh." Ginger, like most Wunderkzin, understood metaphors, though many other kzinti simply found them annoying-a race which occasionally resorts to disembowelment in the course of reasoned debate has little motivation to search for subtle means of expression. "Would that be why Marcus Augustus warned me against garlic? An unusually obscure metaphor?"

"Garlic? When was this?"

"When you and Jinvaretsimok were talking about how to get hold of phase initiators."

"Garlic," she said, puzzled. "I have no idea. Maybe they've bred poisonous insects that attack anything that smells like it? They certainly had plenty of other schemes in the works!"

"Not that one," Ginger said positively. "The kz’eerkti on the hunt had been eating it, and so had the Jotoki. The local kzinti have actually developed a taste for the stuff." He blew out air through his mouth to expel the memory of the taste of a particularly concentrated mouthful.

"You never mentioned that."

"I noticed the details were troubling you. Arm yourself. The car is not going where I'm telling it to."

Perpetua leaped up to look out the windscreen, then got down and opened an access panel. Then she said, "There's something that's probably an autopilot override, and a transceiver, and a booby trap in case I try to remove them. I think somebody can hear us."

"Let me in there." Ginger got down and looked it over. It was a good booby trap. It wouldn't blow up the car; just the control circuitry, crashing them. "Well, this is hopeless," he said, picking up a pad to write her a note.

The car landed in the courtyard of Trrask-Rarr's castle-an almost traditional structure-and shut down. The troops standing by kept it covered, and Trrask-Rarr went to the hatch himself and opened it.

Trader was on the deck, using his w'tsai to hack frantically though a mass of seat restraints he'd evidently tried to make into a net. He seemed pretty well immobilized. Trrask-Rarr stepped in, amused, and the monkey appeared overhead, head down, and dropped a bomb on him.

It was a can of emergency patching foam, rigged to burst open; and, as it was designed to do, the foam stuck to everything it touched. Trrask-Rarr tried to take a swing at the monkey before the stuff could set, but Trader turned out not to be tangled, naturally, and whipped the webwork around Trrask-Rarr's arm and jerked it off course.

Trrask-Rarr inhaled deeply and held his breath until the foam went rigid-not long-then exhaled, disdaining to notice the yanks on his fur as he breathed.

The monkey dropped down, landing on its feet as they always seemed to do, and said, "Please excuse the poor hospitality." In formal Kzin. Not a bad accent, either. "We are still recovering from the interruption in our efforts to arrange the removal of all kz’eerkti from Kzrral."

It took Trrask-Rarr a moment to absorb this. He stopped planning the details of their vivisection and said, "I'm listening."

"May I offer our guest some solvent?" said Trader, putting Trrask-Rarr on the spot.

Soon, bound by hospitality and his honor, instead of the less-definitely-confining hull-repair material, Trrask-Rarr was brushing conditioner through his fur and taking in the most amazing scheme he'd ever heard. The monkey kept speaking without permission, but as Trrask-Rarr was now in the role of guest, and Trader didn't object, he treated this as if it were normal. A Jotok was brought in to remove the monitor and override, and worked as they discussed the plan.

The two of them were engaged in an effort to collect humans from wherever they were being kept as slaves, for some reason-it might be a religious ritual, if it mattered-and, working to that end, were practicing subtlety and deceit on Warrgh-Churrg. Successfully, so far. Still, they had never encountered such a large human population, and were unprepared to deal with it. The feral Jotoki, however, sneaking little beasts, had worked out plans for all kinds of situations, and had one that could be adapted now. Once he heard it, Trrask-Rarr immediately pointed out, "Warrgh-Churrg doesn't own the ships in orbit outright. He'll need to buy out the other partners before he'll agree-he wouldn't do anything that he thinks benefits them."

"The Jotoki can provide the gold," Trader said.

"Not without a reason he'll believe. But if you give me the gold, I can claim I captured it on a raid, and use it to buy land from him."

"You'd need to do a real raid," said the monkey-their many faults didn't include stupidity.

"Of course," Trrask-Rarr said tolerantly. "Have them collect it somewhere and flee at our approach. I buy land, Warrgh-Churrg buys out the ships and starts refitting them, and you take his gold and go off to wherever you go, and bring back what you need to."

"Aren't you concerned about the possible consequences to the Patriarchy?" said the monkey, then leapt back when he grinned at it. (Not stupid at all.)

"If the Patriarch desires my assistance," Trrask-Rarr rumbled, "let the Patriarch send an investigator to find how Warrgh-Churrg's Hunt Master managed to get my two best sons killed but bring the foolish ones back alive. Warrgh-Churrg is using kz’eerkti to weaken every clan but his own, which means he's acting against the Patriarchy himself. Anything that keeps him from doing that helps the Patriarch."

They discussed money. It was going to be expensive to buy back the land that should be his-more than the ships cost. Trrask-Rarr didn't like the idea of Warrgh-Churrg having the surplus, but the monkey said, "If we get you more gold than that, you can spend it on other things after you buy the land, and prices will go up."

"Why should they do that?" said Trrask-Rarr.

"Inflation. More money in circulation," said the monkey unhelpfully. Trrask-Rarr puzzled over the images this called up.

"Everybody will want some," Trader explained.

That was reasonable. "So the ships will cost more," Trrask-Rarr said, to be certain.

Both agreed. "Parts shouldn't. Refitting will, though," said the monkey.

"I doubt the slaves will be getting higher pay," he said ironically.

"Supplies."

Trrask-Rarr ran the brush along his leg, then turned to the Jotok that had been waiting nearby for a little while and said, "Report."

"Potent Trrask-Rarr, the adjuncts are removed. Shall we do engine maintenance, so as to provide evidence of why a landing here was necessary?"

"Yes. Good thinking." As the Jotok left, Trrask-Rarr said, "Marrrkusarrg-tuss was very probably warning you not to go on another hunt when he warned about garlic, Trader. They eat it constantly, and no doubt another group of assassinations is planned."

"I…don't think Warrgh-Churrg makes direct arrangements with the kz’eerkti," said Trader doubtfully.

"Of course not. I don't make them either. And yet, arrangements seem to have been made," Trrask-Rarr said dryly.

"Urr. I see what you mean. I believe the press of business will be too heavy for me to join another hunt in any case."

"Of course. So: First you propose the plan to Warrgh-Churrg, then I get the gold and buy land. He buys out the ships and sends you for what he needs, and the refit begins…?"

"While we're gone," the monkey said.

"Urr. Good." He was beginning to understand how Trader could put up with it: The monkey tended to be interesting. "When will you get back with the key parts?"

Trader and the monkey looked at one another. "Two hundred days?" Trader hazarded.

"Two hundred!"

"We'll have to go to more than one place," the monkey said, misunderstanding.

Trader got it. "Trrask-Rarr was expecting it to be longer," he explained. "It's hard to get used to how fast hyperdrive is."

"Oh."

"It occurs to me that the fastest way for the Patriarch to learn of Warrgh-Churrg's folly would be through you," Trrask-Rarr said. "Have you some means of contacting someone who can reach him?"

"Somebody will have it," the monkey said confidently.