Chapter 16: The Use Of A Prisoner Part 4

"Srav!" Trals whistled again, "Srav, down!"

The snatcher's feathers twitched and her head came around.

"Good girl, Srav, good girl." Trals put his hand out and Vrem passed him the purgator he'd shot. "Here's your treat." Njrea moved, and the snatcher's head darted back towards her human prey. The fan of feathers at the tip of her tail flexed open and closed. "No, Srav! I have a purgator for you. A good purgator. Come and get your treat. Good girl, Srav. Good girl."

The snatcher's head came around, her toothy jaws opened. She hissed.

Trals motioned with his other hand and Vrem flanked him, cutting off Njrea's landward escape route.

"Good girl," Trals dangled the purgator by one pink foot and flopped it invitingly. "Come get the treat. Come get it."

The snatcher leaped just as Trals let go. The furry corpse pinwheeled through the air and vanished in a blur of dark feathers. Srav landed, the purgator pinned under a foot. Her head darted down, came up bloody.

"Good girl," said Trals and flung himself on Njrea. He wasn't as fast as his snatcher, but he caught the woman before she could jump into the river.

She fought him, but not hard enough.

"I'm disappointed you aren't more intelligent," he told Njrea as she struggled against him, "you don't seem to realize that the more of my people you cause to die, the less useful you become to me."

She snarled something.

"Do you understand?" he pulled her arms behind her back. "Vrem, strip off the sash around her chest and wind it around her wrists. Yes. Exactly. Now back to the camp." He hoisted her onto his shoulder, head and bound hands dangling over his back, and clamped his hand around her ankles.

She tried to flip him over, and Trals smacked her thigh where it brushed his chin. "You will die here, I'll kill you myself." He told her. "Or you will be useful and stay alive long enough to see your Ship of Years again someday."

"I doubt she understands you," Vrem said.

Trals grunted agreement. "I wonder if Srav might be smarter of this pair. No, Srav!"

The snatcher checked her attack and crouched, feathers sleeked. When movement in the undergrowth caught her yellow eye, she vanished off to kill something smaller.

"So who gets her first?" Vrem asked after some walking.

"I do," Trals said. "First, middle, and last. She is mine."

"You can't keep loot to yourself, Trals. We who Speak Alike also share alike, right?"

Trals could wheel around, plunge his sword into the belly of - no. Vrem did not know how much he sounded like a Slaver. "She is not loot. She is a person."

Vrem made a thoughtful noise. "If she's a person, she has the right to choose not to come with us."

"And I have the right to choose to bring her back."

"Maybe she's a person and she's loot - "

"Njrea is not a slave. No other man may touch her."

"None of the rest of us got women on this raid," Vrem grumbled.

"Well, that's hardly surprising, since our raid was on a Slaver military installation and only two women were present." Trals squinted up through the canopy. "We have wasted a great deal of time." The light was stronger now, the sky pale blue between the dark, lobed leaves, the daytime birds and beasts filling the forest with their racket. Lizards and purgators skittered up braches as the strange party passed, and the undergrowth rustled with small fleeing animals. In the distance, a male edmontosaur boomed.

"Ah," said Vrem, "a good sign."

"Not good enough, I fear." Trals hoisted Njrea. "For the silence of the foreigner on my shoulder presages worse than the noise of the beasts. You're watching her?"

"I am trying," said Vrem.

"Good. Now pick up the pace. Every moment we spend in this forest is another chance for the Slavers or some other enemy to happen upon us." The weapons and triceratops cows they'd looted from the Slavers would make tempting targets to other bands of raiders. And there were political dangers as well.

The groundwork Trals had laid in the morning might keep Vrem on his side, but Trals would certainly lose Jgghav as an ally. It was his brother-in-law Njrea had killed. And while Vrem was the Driver's son, Jgghav was the Sayer's nephew. The Sayer had never said much in Trals's favor in any case, but he hardly needed to add more darts to that old harridan's rhetorical blowgun.

A cracking branch and Trals stopped just in time to avoid the thescelosaur that emerged from the undergrowth. The animal froze, the muscles on its hind legs tense to flee or fight. It tilted its narrow, fierce-eyed face at Trals's strange party. The mane of quills down its long tail lifted. Rattled.

The clack of Vrem's blowgun swinging free. "Should we?"

"Of course not," said Trals. "The beast crossed our path west to east. That means someone is thinking of killing one of us."

"Will he succeed?"

"Are you watching Njrea's face?"

One three-toed foot lifted. The other came down. The thescelosaur flowed past them in a blur of green and black and white.

Trals let out a breath. "The murderer will fail. We continue." He got a firmer grip on Njrea's legs, muttering, "It all makes me wonder if this is the right decision. Perhaps my life will be easier if I simply kill - "

Njrea jackknifed like a garfish. One foot slipped out of his hold. Trals twisted to smash the woman into a tree, but Vrem cried out and grabbed her by her bound arms. Trals stumbled into Vrem, around whom Njrea wrapped her suddenly unbound hands.

In a blink, the strange woman swarmed over Vrem and smashed him against the ground. She crouched on top of him, gathered herself to spring up, and stopped when Trals pressed his blade against her neck.

He whistled and Srav slid from the shadows. The snatcher cocked her head, eyes level with Njrea's, and fluffed out her feathers. Talons flexed in readiness.

"Now," said Trals, both his weapons trained on the woman. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you."

She looked at him, dark eyes wide. Vrem groaned under her.

"You have no idea of the balances I must upset if I am to keep you alive," said Trals. "So am I scattering jewels for the triceratops to store in its gizzard? Or can I hope for some return for my generosity and mercy?"

Njrea fell backward, brown hands slapping aside his sword. Trals whistled again to stop Srav from pouncing, but could not bring his sword around before Njrea stood, the heel of her foot planted on Vrem's throat. A clever move. Trals would have to remember it.

She spoke. Trals didn't understand the liquid syllables, but he did not need to. He smiled, "See, I withdraw my weapon. You are safe." He kept his eyes on Njrea's face, but when Srav tensed and bobbed her head, he did not whistle to stop her.

The snatcher hit Njrea on the upper back, taloned feet reaching out to hook into skin, arms flapping to drive the prey down. Njrea toppled, but turned the fall into a roll. It was a good tactic, and a larger person might have crushed Srav that way. The snatcher, however, was strong and heavy enough to pull the other way, and curved claws ripped through Njrea's back.