She inclined her head. "Yes, you do."

Storm frowned at her. "They are my friends, Shaw, and they've helped me."

Shaw sighed. "In my youth, I was not in favor of telshee involvement with land animals. I said it would lead to wars and death, and I was right. I argued with Keesha for days over his decision to get involved with ferryshaft matters. It will amuse him no end to learn that I am now providing denning arrangements for a pack of curbs."

Storm smiled. "You must have been desperate when you sent that ely-ary after me."

"I was," agreed Shaw.

Eyal observed this exchange in respectful silence. He did not seem offended by Shaw's rude behavior. "We are grateful for your folly," he said, when Shaw paused.

That made her laugh. "As long as you understand that's what it is."

"How soon will you have pups?" asked Storm. "Do you have them only in spring like ferryshaft do, or..."

"We will have our first litters as soon as the females have gained enough weight to come into season," said Eyal. "Right now, they are too thin. It won't be long, though, on this kind of diet."

"Will they both...be your mates?" Storm had been curious about this from the start, but uncertain of how to ask. He'd seen no fighting among the curbs as they crossed the plain, even though there were only two females and eight males. He'd wondered whether Eyal received mating rights by default because he was the leader.

Eyal c.o.c.ked his head. "We are a pack. The pups will be pups of the pack."

Shaw snorted above Storm's head. "Curbs believe a pup can have eight fathers," she said. "Perhaps their pups can...but I doubt it."

A look of annoyance crossed Eyal's face. Storm thought he would have liked to say something rude to Shaw, but held it back out of grat.i.tude for her gifts.

"Curbs are very odd animals," continued Shaw airily.

Storm turned to stare at her. "You...who lay eggs and are both male and female...you are calling someone else an 'odd animal'?"

Eyal gave a bark of laughter.

Shaw looked irritated at both of them. "Wait until you see their pups," she told Storm. "You will understand what I mean."

"Our pups will be charming and delightful," Eyal a.s.sured Storm, still grinning. "Now I will help the others gather bedding material. Thank you again, Shaw."

Storm watched as several curbs trotted away up the long, steep pa.s.sage that lead, eventually, to the boulder mazes. The curbs had refused to stay in Syriot without some sort of path to the surface, and they'd been shown four caves before approving this one. Storm had used every appeal to Shaw's good will to get her to allow it. "We can barely protect ourselves!" she had argued. "How are we supposed to protect a pack of curbs?"

"They don't need protection," Storm had said. "They just need a place to hide from the lowland curbs while they have their babies."

"They will be having babies indefinitely!" exclaimed Shaw.

"Well, until there are more of them, then."

"And what happens when your friends get killed by lishties? I won't be responsible for that."

"They think they've got a better chance down here," Storm had said. "Please, Shaw."

Storm hoped he'd done the right thing. The curbs certainly seemed grateful. Almost unwillingly, Storm said, "I should go see Sauny."

Shaw hesitated. "It will be a while yet before we know-"

"Yes," said Storm, trying to keep the snap out of his voice. "You've said that." The brief joy of seeing the curbs settling into their new home evaporated, and he felt suddenly tired and cold. But it's not Shaw's fault. He thought of trying to apologize and decided it would be better to just remove himself.

"I know the way," he said over his shoulder. He was relieved that she did not try to escort him. In spite of her concerns about lishties, this part of Syriot was telshee-dominated territory not far from the Cave of Histories. From what Storm could gather, lishty sightings here were rare.

He followed the tunnels deeper into the earth, sometimes wading through shallow water, occasionally swimming small rivers. Sometimes the acriss lit his way, and sometimes Storm walked in darkness. He'd gotten used to that-to finding his way by feel and smell and memory. He did not think he would ever get used to never feeling the sun on his face. But Sauny may have to. That thought chilled him.

Storm pa.s.sed telshees occasionally in the caves. They'd grown accustomed to his presence and paid no attention to him. The distant strains of their humming mingled oddly and echoed from far off in the caverns. Storm heard the healing cave before he reached it-a low, throbbing, harmonized hum that made him feel simultaneously wide-eyed and sleepy.

The pool where they'd placed Sauny was not deep. It was barely large enough for her body, though it connected to a larger pool nearby. A pup's pool, Storm found himself thinking. Well, she is a pup, isn't she?

He was pleased to find her awake today. Valla was talking to her quietly. Sauny did not appear to be attending. She was staring vacantly at the floor, her head draped over the side of the basin. Storm sat down opposite Valla. "h.e.l.lo, Sauny."

Her eyes flicked at him briefly and then away.

"Do you remember what I told you about the curbs?" asked Storm. "Well, they finally found a cave they like. They're going to have their babies down here. Would you like to play with curb pups?"

Sauny didn't answer. Valla glanced at Storm over Sauny's head. Her eyes looked tired.

"Have you tried to stand yet today?" asked Storm, refusing to be dismal.

For answer, Sauny heaved herself up in the water. She tottered there for a moment, balanced on three legs, trembling with effort and grimacing with pain. Her mangled left foreleg moved clumsily and did not support her weight. Half-healed wounds all along the left side of her body continued to gape and ooze. Sauny flopped back down in the water, facing away from Valla and Storm. "Leave me alone," she muttered.

"I think that's better than yesterday," Valla tried.

"No," interrupted Sauny, "it isn't. I want to sleep. Please let me sleep."

"You've slept for days," said Storm. "You need to move around."

"You should have let me die," whispered Sauny.

Bleak helplessness descended on Storm as it had so often over the last few days. The telshees didn't think that Sauny would ever walk normally again. When she'd first arrived in Syriot, they'd wanted to snip off her leg with their teeth-an idea that had horrified Valla. The telshees said that the leg would never work properly and that the wounds might poison the rest of Sauny's body. Valla had insisted that Sauny would rather take the chance. Storm thought she was probably right, although a lame leg wasn't much better than a stump in the end.

She will never again run on cliff trails, he thought. Never play tag on the ice, never hunt properly, never win another fight. The thought of his vivacious, beautiful sister limping her way painfully through life made him want to sit down and howl in desolation.

To make matters worse, Sauny was smart enough to understand the implications of her situation. Storm had not seen her smile once since he arrived. Last season, Sauny would have been thrilled to meet a telshee and fascinated by Syriot. She would have asked endless questions. Now, she said nothing and barely raised her head.

Valla admitted that, when Sauny woke, she'd insisted on hearing the truth about the battle. Valla had told her what little she knew, including several deaths of foals in Sauny's clique. Storm did not know these ferryshaft, but Sauny took the news hard. Storm did not want to tell either Sauny or Valla about Faralee or Mylo, but they eventually pried the truth out of him.

Since his arrival, Storm had spent at least as much time trying to arrange a denning site for the highland curbs as he'd spent with Sauny. He did not think he could bear sitting in that drowsy cave, thinking about everything he'd lost. Valla did-somehow. She'd gotten one of the humming telshees to teach her to read and sometimes practiced making their signs with little lines of pebbles on the stone floor.

When Storm stopped to puzzle out what she was writing, he found she'd written the names of dead friends...over and over. We all mourn in our own way.

Storm tried to get Valla to come with him to see the curbs. "We'll leave the cave for a while," he told her, "hunt outside."

"No," said Valla without looking at him. "Sauny can't leave. I'll stay with her."

"But she wants to be alone right now," said Storm. "She's safe here with the telshees."

Valla's eyes snapped up to Storm's. For the first time, he heard her growl. "I said no, Storm."

That was when Storm realized that he'd not only lost Tollee. He'd lost Valla, too.

Chapter 3. Bargain.

"Well, you wanted a chance to see him fight. I hope you got a good look." Treace opened his left eye with an effort to stare balefully at Moro. He'd dragged himself above ground for the first time in many days and was lying beneath a fir tree near the stream beside his den. He was still shivering a little in spite of the warm sun, but not so badly as he'd been a few days ago.

"You're improving," commented Moro. "Do you even remember the last time I was here?"

"No," muttered Treace. "Did I walk all the way back? I don't remember a lot of that, either."

"You did," said Moro, "without stopping to rest...much to the admiration of the entire clutter. Iska says you may not lose the eye."

Treace grunted. "I can see light and shadow out of it. Maybe that'll improve with time. The leg is a little better, too."

"I told you it wasn't broken," said Moro. "You'll be walking straight again by midwinter. The fever was what worried me, but it sounds like that's better."

"Yes. Dare I ask what's been happening while I was lying in the dark, delirious and shivering? Are Halvery's cats p.i.s.sing themselves over the breeding infractions?"

Moro flipped his tail. "They're making some noise about it, but they've got no stomach for killing cubs, so there's not a lot they can do...except try to seed our territory with bitterleaf. Whether Arcove calls you an officer or not, you have more cats than any other clutter in Leeshwood. If you told them to attack, I think they would. We might even win."

Treace made a face. "And kill half the males in every clutter. I want their loyalty, not their corpses."

"Well, you made an impression with that speech on the plain. It was quite a risk."

"Not really. If I'd kept fighting, he would have killed me."

"I thought he was going to kill you anyway."

"So did I."

Moro smirked. "You should have seen the look on Roup's face when he didn't. Oh, that was not the way he planned it."

Treace gave a laugh that hurt his ribs and made him wince. "Pity I missed that."

"It won't be the last time."

Treace said nothing.

"I started a rumor that Roup's cubs are really Arcove's," said Moro.

"Oh?"

"Yes, they never look like Roup. He's sterile and requires his friend to do his breeding for him."

Treace chuffed. "Roup's cubs don't look like him because his color doesn't breed true."

"Yes, I know, but it makes a good rumor."

Not really. Treace thought for a moment. For a cat of such great inquisitiveness, Moro could be remarkably uncreative when it came to divining the possible motives of others. The most damaging rumors have a little bit of truth. "I've heard it whispered that Roup would rather lie down for Arcove than mount any female in Leeshwood." Such friendships were not uncommon between males who'd spent their bachelor years together. However, failure to sire one's own cubs certainly was uncommon. Such a thing would garner the immediate disdain of every alpha male in Leeshwood.

Moro snickered. "He's forgotten how to be on top?"

Treace shut his eyes. "If he ever knew. Anyway, that's a better rumor." It might even be true, although I doubt it. "Roup should share Arcove's den and not his council. His clutter is Arcove's, and everyone knows it. I suppose his cubs might as well be."

"And he hates you," put in Moro.

"And he hates me," agreed Treace.

"Do you know why they don't share a den?" asked Moro.

Treace snorted. "Because Nadine doesn't like competing with Roup for Arcove's attention?"

Moro c.o.c.ked his head. "That's what I thought, too, but I got some of Halvery's older cats talking when they were over here. Apparently, Nadine and Roup are cozy as cubs in a litter. But she told Arcove from the beginning that Roup shouldn't share his den because Arcove would need him on the council, and officers always have their own clutters."

Treace scowled. "Females have no business meddling in clutter affairs. If Roup weren't on the council, Arcove might listen to my ideas." He thought for a moment. "I wonder whether Nadine was so free with advice to the last king."

"I doubt it," said Moro. "Or maybe he was just wise enough not to listen."

Treace shook himself. "I look forward to pinning her down and reminding her of her place."

"And killing every black cub in that den," said Moro with a flash of teeth.

Treace stretched. "I'll leave that to you. I'm sure you can find something interesting to do with them. And while we're on happy topics-has anyone caught Storm?"

"No. I'm not sure Arcove has even tried."

That made Treace chuckle. "There's one ferryshaft for whom I have nothing but good will. Long may he run free...and make Arcove look a fool."

"I am sorry to hear you say that," came a voice from across the stream.

Treace's head jerked up, and Moro spun around. So far, Halvery's inspecting cats had not been so rude as to invade Treace's personal den during his recovery. Treace tried to struggle to his feet, outrage mixing with fear in his belly. How much had they overheard?

But the animal who stepped from the bushes was not a creasia. It was a curb. She came boldly to the edge of the water-easy pouncing distance. "Rumor has it," she said. "That you have been asking to parlay with us."