High Rhulain

The long, hot morning rolled on into noontide, with the far lake margins shimmering and the surface lying still as a sheet of glass. With his aide Atunra in tow, the warlord emerged from the fortress onto the pier. He sat beneath his awning, enjoying the shade. Of late, he had shunned the dog days of summer; the chain mail mask could get uncomfortably hot in constant direct sunlight. Groodl came out and joined his catguards to watch the prisoners.

Atunra went over and had a brief exchange with the scorecat, returning to inform the warlord, “The otterslaves have still not spoken, Master.”

Riggu appeared unconcerned. “Then that is their bad fortune. Tomorrow I will use them as an example to the other slaves. Spectacles like that always keep our otters aware of their position. What’s a few slavebeasts to me? The hardestlearned lessons are always the most effective.”

The wildcat’s reflections were rudely interrupted by the sounds of yowling, screeching and clattering from within the fortress. Riggu sank his claws into the velvet-covered chair arms. He waited a while, but still the din did not subside.

From between clenched teeth, he issued an order to Atunra. “Take those guards with you. Go in there and bring those sons of mine out here to me! Drag them out here if ye have to! Enough is enough, I’ll put an end to all this spitting and snarling!”

Flanked by catguards, the two young cats were marched out to stand before their father. As usual, Jeefra was blubbering and Pitru scowling.

Jeefra began complaining tearfully to Riggu. “He said that when we go to Deeplough, he’s going to push me in so the monster can eat me, and he said that he’s going to. . . .”

A growling noise that had been welling up in the warlord suddenly exploded, cutting Jeefra short. “Yahaaarg! Shut . . . up!”

Jeefra was totally silenced by the vehemence of his father. Slowly Riggu Felis stood. He prowled about the pair in a circle, his voice dripping contempt.

“My sons, eh? A whining coward and an impertinent bully! You are a disgrace and a shame to the name Felis. I curse the day you were spawned, both of ye!”

He ceased prowling and stood facing them, eye to eye. A cold smile stole across the eyes above the half-mask. “Well, my spoilt little kittens, it all ends right here. Your growing up starts today.”

Riggu called to Groodl, who was watching from a short distance, “You there, attend me!”

Groodl marched smartly up, presenting his spear in salute. The warlord appeared to ignore him, speaking instead to Atunra. “Tell me about this one.”

The pine marten replied. “Master, he is Groodl, one of Weilmark Scaut’s scorecats.”

Riggu looked Groodl up and down critically. “A scorecat, eh? And do you instill rigid discipline into your guards with that willow cane you carry beside your spear?”

The mean-featured feral cat rapped out tersely, “I never gives an order twice, Lord. When I gives the word, they jumps to it, sharpish!”

Riggu Felis nodded approvingly. “Good, I like that. Well, scorecat, you have two new recruits in your troop as of now. Take these two useless objects out of my sight. See if you can knock them into shape. Have them fitted out as the lowest of your guards.”

He paused, watching the effect upon his sons. Jeefra looked stunned with shock, but Pitru narrowed his eyes lazily and gave a scornful snort. Riggu continued. “Show them no favours and cut them no slack. Use that willow cane on both of them. Let the order be lots of chores, little sleep and plenty of guard duty. Understood?”

Keeping his eyes straight ahead, Groodl swished the willow. “Understood, Lord. Do I bring ’em back to you an’ their mother every night?”

The chain mail tinkled as the warlord shook his head. “No no, let them live in the barracks with the other guards. If Lady Kaltag asks to see them, send her to me.”

Jeefra fell down weeping as he grovelled at his father’s footpaws. “Please, Father, I beg you, don’t do this to me! Don’t send me to the barracks! I swear I’ll change, no more quarrelling or arguing anymore. Mercy, please!”

Riggu Felis turned his face away, nodding to Groodl. “You’ve had your orders, take them away.”

Jeefra had to be carried bodily between four guards, wailing and sobbing brokenly. Pitru did not resist; he merely sneered at his father. “I still have lots of seasons before me, but you’re growing older. I can wait, you’ll see.”

Ignoring Groodl, he sauntered off toward the barracks. The wildcat chieftain was silent a moment, then pointed at Pitru’s receding back.

“Atunra, mark him well. That one will grow to be a dangerous beast someday.”

The pine marten bowed. “Just as you were at his age, Master.”

The chain mail half-mask sucked inward briefly. “Aye, that’s what troubles me.”

Sunset’s crimson curtain faded to dusk, merging into restful darkness. Lights appeared at the fortress turret slits. Two sentry fires burned bright, one to the left of the pier, the other to the right side. Held between the otterwives, Chab’s young ones were sleeping.