The Man-Kzin Wars 01 (31 page)

That was a risk they must take, she said. Some woods burned more cleanly than others. He argued that they should at least build their fires far from the
cave, and while they were at it, the cave entrance might be better disguised. She agreed, impressed with his strategy, and then went down on all-fours to inspect the dirt near a dry-wash. As he admired her lithe movements, she shook her head in an almost human gesture.
“
N
o good for clay.
”

“
I
t's not important."

“
I
t is vitally important!" Now she wheeled upright, impressive and fearsome.
“
R
ockear, if any kzintosh return here, we must be ready. For that, we must have the help of others-the two prret. And believe me, they will be helpful only if they see us as their (something).
”

She explained that the word meant, roughly, "paired household leaders." The basic requirements of a household, to a kzin female, included sleeping bowers
easily come by-and enough pottery for that household. A male kzin needed one more thing, she said, her eyes slitting: a
w
'tsai
.

“
Y
ou mean one of those knives they all wear?
”

“
Y
es. And you must have one in your belt." From the waggle of her ears, he decided she was amused by her next statement:
“
I
t is a-badge, of sorts. The edge is usually sharp but I cannot allow that, and the tip must be dull. I will show you why later."

“
Dammit, these things could take weeks!
”

“
N
ot if we find the clay, and if you can make a
w
'tsai
somehow. Trust me, Rockear; these are the basics. Other
kzinrett
will not obey us otherwise. They must see from the first that we are proper providers, proper leaders with the pottery of a settled tribe, not the wooden implements of wanderers. And they must take it for granted that you and I,
she added, "are (something)." With that, she rubbed lightly against him. He caught himself moving aside and swallowed hard.
“
M
iss Kitty, I don't want to offend you, but, uh, humans and kzinti do not mate."

“
W
hy do they not?
”

“
U
hm. Well, they never have."

Her eyes slitted, yet with a flicker of her ears:
“
B
ut they could?"
“
S
ome might. Not me.
”

“
T
hen they might be able to," she said as if to herself. I thought I felt
something familiar when we were sleeping." She studied his face
carefully.
“
W
hy does your skin change color?
”

“
B
ecause, goddammit, I'm upset!" He mastered his breathing after a moment
and continued, speaking as if to a small child, I don't know about
kzinti, but a man can not, uh, mate unless he is, uh,_
”

“
U
nless he is intent on the idea?
”

“
R
ight!
”

“
T
hen we will simply have to pretend that we do mate, Rockear. Otherwise,
those two
kzinrett
will spend most of their time trying to become your
mate and will be useless for work.
”

“
O
f all the," he began, and then dropped his chin and began to laugh
helplessly. Human tribal customs had been just as complicated, once, and
she was probably the only functioning expert in known space on the
customs of ancient
kzinrett
.
“
W
e'll pretend, then, up to a point. Try and
make that point, ah, not too pointed.
”

“
L
ike your
w
'tsai
," she retorted. I will try not to make your face change
color.
”

“
P
lease," he said fervently, and suggested that he might find the
material for a
w
'tsai
inside the cave while she sought a deposit of clay
.

She bounded away on all-fours with the lope of a hunting leopard, his jacket a somehow poignant touch as it flapped against her lean belly
.

When he looked back from the cave entrance, she was a tiny dot two
kilometers distant, coursing along a shallow creekbed.
“
M
aybe you won't
lie, and I've got no other ally, " he said to the swift saffron dot.
“
B
ut
you're not above misdirection with your own kind. I'll remember that."

Locklear cursed as he failed to locate any kind of tool chest or lab implements in those inner corridors. But he blessed his grooming tool when the tip of its pincer handle fitted screwheads in the cage that had held Miss Kitty prisoner for so long. He puzzled for minutes before he learned to turn screwheads a quarter-turn, release pressure to let the screwheads emerge, then another quarter-turn, and so on, nine times each. He felt quickening excitement as the cage cover detached, felt it stronger when he disassembled the base and realized its metal sheeting was probably one of a myriad stainless steel alloys. The diamond coating on his nailfile proved the sheet was no indestructible substance. It was thin enough to flex, even to be dented by a whack against an adjoining cage. It might take awhile, but he would soon have his
w
'tsai
blade
.

And two other devices now lay before him, ludicrously far advanced beyond an ornamental knife. The gravity polarizer's main bulk was a doughnut of ceramic and metal. Its switch, and that of the stasis field, both were energized by the sliding cage floor he had disassembled. The switches worked just as well with fingertip pressure. They boasted separate energy sources which Locklear dared not assault; anything that worked for forty thousand years
with
o
ut
harming the creatures near it would be more sophisticated than any fumble-fingered mechanic.

Using the glasslike cage as a test load, he learned which of the two switches flung the load into the air. The other, then, had to operate the stasis field-and both devices had simple internal levers for adjustments. When he learned how to stop the cage from spinning, and then how to make it hover only a hand's breadth above the device or to force it against the ceiling until it creaked, he was ecstatic. Then he energized the stasis switch with a chill of gooseflesh. Any prying paws into those devices would not pry for long, unless someone knew about that inconspicuous switch.
Rock
ear could see no interconnects between the stasis generator and the polarizer, but both were detachable. If he could get that polarizer outside . Locklear strode out of the cave laughing. It would be the damnedest vehicle ever, but its technologies would be wholly appropriate. He hid the device in nearby grass; the less his ally knew about such things, the more freedom he would have to pursue them. Miss Kitty returned in late afternoon with a sop
p
ing mass of clay wrapped in greenish yellow palm
leaves. The clay was poor quality, she said, but it
would have to serve
–
and why was he battering that
piece of metal with his stone axe?

If she knew a better way to cut off a
w
'tsai
-sized strip of steel than bending it back and forth, he replied, he'd love to hear it. Bickering like an old married couple, they sat near the cave mouth until dark and pursued their separate stone-age tasks.
Locklear
, whose hand calluses were still forming, had to admit that she had been wonderfully trained for domestic chores; under those quick four-digited hands of hers, rolled coils of clay soon became shallow bowls with thin sides, so nearly perfect they
might have been turned on a potter's wheel. By now he was calling her
“
K
it,
“
and she seemed genuinely pleased when he praised her work. Ah, she said, but wait until the pieces were sun-dried to leather hardness; then she would make the bowls lovely with talon-etched decoration. He objected that decoration took time. She replied curtly that
kzinrett
did not live for utility alone.

He helped pull flat fibers from the stalks of palm leaves, which she began to weave into a mat. For bedding, he asked? Certainly not, she said imperiously: for the clothing which modesty required of
kzinrett
. He pursued it: would they really care all that much with only a human to see them? A human
would
, she reminded him; if she considered him worthy of mating, the others would see him as a male first, and a non-kzin second. He was half amused but more than a little uneasy as they bedded down, she curled slightly facing away, he crowded close at her insistence, "-For companionship," as she put it
.

Their last exchange that night implied a difference between the rigorously truthful male kzin and their fe
m
ales.
“
K
it, you can't tell the others we're mated unless we are.
”

“
I
can ignore their questions and let them draw their own conclusions," she said sleepily
.

“
A
ren't you blurring that fine line between
half-truths’
and, uh, non-truths?
”

I do not intend to discuss it further," she said, and soon was purring in sleep with the faint growl of a predator.

He needed two more days, and a repair of the handaxe, before he got that jagged slice of steel pounded and, with abrasive stones, ground into something resembling a blade. Meanwhile, Kit built her
open-fired kiln of stones in a ravine some distance from the cave, ranging widely with that leopard lope of hers to gather firewood. Locklear was glad of her absence; it gave him time to finish a laminated shamboo handle for his blade, bound with thread, and to collect the thickest poles of shamboo he could find. The blade was sharp enough to trim the poles quickly, and tough enough to hold an edge.

He was tying crosspieces with plaited fiber to bind thick shamboo poles into a slender raft when, on the third day of those labors, he felt a presence behind him. Whirling, he brandished his blade.
“
O
h," he said, and lowered the
w
'tsai
.
“
S
orry, Kit. I keep worrying about the return of those kzintosh.
”

She was not amused.
“
G
ive it to me," she said, thrusting her hand out.

“
T
he
h
ell I will. I need this thing.
”

“
I
can see that it is too sharp
.

“
I
need it sharp."

“
I
am sure you do. I need it dull." Her gesture for the blade was more than impatient
.

Half straightening into a crouch, he brought the blade up again, eyes narrowed.
“
W
ell, by God, I've had about all your whims I can take. You want it? Come and get it.
”

She made a sound that was deeper than a purr, putting his hackles up, and went to all-fours, her furry tail-tip flicking as she began to pace around him. She was a lovely sight. She s
c
ared Locklear silly.
“
W
hen I take it, I will hurt you," she warned
.

“
I
f you take it," he said, turning to face her, moving the
w
'tsai
in what he hoped was an unpredictable pattern. Dammit, I can't back down now. A puncture wound might be fatal to her, so I've got to slash lightly. Or maybe he wouldn't have to, when she saw he meant business
.

But he did have to. She screamed and leaped toward his left, her own left hand sweeping out at his arm. He skipped aside and then felt her tail lash against his shins like a curled rope. He stumbled and whirled as she was twisting to repeat the charge, and by sheer chance his blade nicked her tail as she whisked it away from his vicinity
.

She stood erect, holding her tail in her hands, eyes wide and accusing.
“
Y
ou-you insulted my tail," she snarled.