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THE WEIGHER

Eric Vinicoff and Marcia Martin

Editor's Introduction by Jerry Pournelle

Graduate departments of political science often claim that comparative government is the heart of their discipline. Certainly the claim has a venerable history. Aristotle made a collection of constitutions of the various Mediterranean city states, and his study of that data base led him to conclude that history is cyclical: monarchy becomes aristocracy, which becomes oligarchy, which becomes republic, which becomes democracy, which decays until rescued by a dictator; dictator becomes tyrant, whose children become monarchs, beginning the process all over. One or another stage may be skipped, and the time required varies, but the cycles are inevitable.

One may not believe the cycles absolutely to see merit in Aristotle's observations. Certainly the study of comparative government is worth while; enough so that we can see the value of examining comparative cultures. Alas, the academic discipline best suited to study comparative civilizations has apparently made a pact that excludes the anthropologists from looking at successful cultures. We're running out of primitive peoples for anthropologists to look at; while data gathered by sociologists is generally treated with the respect that discipline deserves.

Science fiction allows us to escape some of those limits. In addition to real governments and cultures we can construct alien societies to examine. Of course that isn't easy to do; at least, not easy to do well. Many writers violate the most elementary rules of self consistency. Fortunately, help is at hand. Jim Funaro of Santa Cruz has put together CONTACT, an annual conference of science fiction writers and anthropologists that promises to teach both professions a very great deal—and is a lot of fun as well.

Some writers don't need conferences. Eric Vinicoff and Marcia Martin have constructed an alien society with rivets—and at the same time showed a glimpse of what humans might be like in a society with clones and near immortality.

The Weigher

Groundplant was a springy blur under my striding paws. The commonland trail followed a gap between two barren mounds—fancifully named Worldgod's Fangs. Ahead I could see the slope running down to the bend in the river and Coalgathering. A gray pelt of fog spread beyond the far bank. The morning was clear but breath-misting cold.

Overslept again, curse it. Even making the best speed my middle-aged bones could manage, I was going to be late opening my stall. At least I wasn't the only one; I smelled that Flatpaws the tanner and a couple of other late risers had passed recently.

I started down. To my left a claw of the eastern mountains reached out almost to the river. On its lower slopes were the mining territories that accounted for Coalgathering's name and existence. The town was a haphazard clustering of dirt streets and black-shingled roofs.

I slowed to a trot as I neared the South Gate, and inspected the town wall. Its poor condition was a continuing headache for me. It was still sturdy enough to keep out dangerous beasts, but just barely. In several places the strongwood logs were loose in their foundations, and many of the crossbeam nails were rusted through.

I dreaded the job of getting the necessary repairs made. The wall was still the only common project ever completed in Coalgathering's turbulent history. It had gone up before my time, after six years of squabbling and eleven death duels, using up no less than four Weighers. Getting unanimous agreement on anything from over four hundred adults was a spinesnapping task. My own pet project—paving the streets so we wouldn't have to mud-wade during the wet season—was tied up by the eternal pawful of adults unwilling to pledge their twilga even for something so generally useful.

But I would keep on haggling, and if necessary I too would meet stubborn holdouts on the challenge lawn. Aggravation was a way of life for a Weigher.

I stood up on my hindlegs and walked under the stone arch. Even after a night of airing out, the town-smells set my fangs to aching. Most of the stalls were open for business. Many adults were browsing and/or buying, and tagnami were scurrying about on errands. Two boats were tied up at the docks, loading coal. Both thunderfish pullers were thrashing in their harnesses, blowing tall plumes of dirty water, anxious to be away from the shore.

The Weigher's stall had a place of honor in the center of town, on the edge of the lush almost scarlet challenge lawn—kept lush by the constant infusions of blood. Since rain hadn't threatened overnight, I had left the wall flaps rolled up to let the river breeze air it out.

I dropped to four legs and loped once around the stall sniffing for any intruders. No fresh scents of adult, tagnami or animal. I went in.

I settled gratefully into the chair behind the big old desk. The five other chairs were for clients. Two tall cabinets bracketed my view of the challenge lawn; behind their glass-and-wood doors the shelves were crammed with leatherbound volumes of past twilga transactions.

"Slasher! About time you opened! I've been stalking your stall like a nightflier on the hunt for the last half hour!"

I knew him by his scent and hollow-jug voice before I looked up. "Good morning to you, too, Treesap." I said in my best placating tone. Weighers couldn't afford to take offense easily.

I gestured permission to enter. He stomped over and leaned across the desk. "No time to waste, Slasher! I can't see any patients until we settle this."

"Settle what?"

"You won't believe it until you see and smell it. Come on!"

"Will you slow down, for Kraal's sake, and explain what the problem is instead of blowing like a thunderfish?" I pointed to one of the chairs. "Why don't you sit down, take a deep breath, then tell me about it from the beginning?"

"I want you to come over to my stall," he said less violently, but still standing. "There's something there that … I don't understand. Not that I expect you to explain it to me. But it creates a twilga problem that's way beyond me."

I gave up, stood up and followed him out into the bright sunlight.

His stall was at the end of Doctor Street, near the docks. A crowd was gathered around it, in an ugly, snarling mood. As we edged through I found out the reason for the mood. Something was giving off a loathsome, dangerous smell. The fur on the back of my neck rose, and my fangs bared. Protective instinct shoved judgment aside.

No one was getting too close to the stall. Emerging from the crowd, I followed him warily on four legs.

And saw it lying on the planked floor.

Some kind of animal, unlike anything I had ever seen before. Almost as big as an adult, but thinner. It looked arboreal, with hindlegs that ended in lumpy silver paws, and spindly forelegs well suited to hanging onto branches. A slender neck supported a truly hideous head; black knotted fur on top but raw brown flesh everywhere else. Its flat face included round eyes, stubby ears, a monstrous nose and plant-chewing teeth. Its frail body was wrapped in a loose, slick white hide, with a decided lump on its back.

It was dead, of course. I gathered that the claw slashes across its throat had been put there by Treesap. "What happened?" I asked.

"I found it in here rummaging through my medical tools when I arrived this morning, so I killed it."

Perfectly understandable. With a spoor like that you wouldn't want to take any chances. This sort of thing happened every now and then; the wall wasn't a perfect defense against trespassing beasts.

It was a very odd corpse. "I don't think that hide is hide at all. It looks like a covering of some sort. And that lump could almost be a strange style of carrysack."

"So what?"

I hissed at his lack of imagination. "I've never seen, heard or read of any animal like that. Have you?"

Treesap hadn't.

There were several priests in the crowd, who suggested it might be a demon—though unlike any known to serve the Ninety-Nine Gods. The savants present were equally mystified.

"What do you want from me?" I asked Treesap.

"Well, this carcass belongs to me, doesn't it?"

I thought. "No one has claimed ownership?"

"Are you joking! If this monster belongs to someone, I'll deathduel him for unleashing it on me! It's ruining my business—no patients for sure until this place airs out!"

"Hmmm. Since no one has claimed it by now, I see no reason why you can't."

"Good. Rubbertail wants to buy it to cut up and study." The elderly biologist with patches of fur falling out entered the stall, her notebook out. "We haven't been able to negotiate a twilga."

"Let's go back to my stall," I said. "I can't think in this reek. It makes me want to kill something."

Once seated in my stall we went to work. It was a long and difficult session. I dug into my books and managed to find a few vaguely similar transactions. I finally named a compensation amount. They agreed—Treesap was unhappy, but not enough to take it to the challenge lawn. We inscribed the transaction, including my fee, in our notebooks. Then they left to haul the corpse over to Science Street.

The rest of the day was pretty dull. All my decisions were accepted. To survive as a Weigher your negotiating skills had to increase as your fighting skills aged. I was still one tough lady, but not quite as tough as in years past. A priest dragged in a worshiper who had fallen behind in his payments for religious instruction. A lovers' spat proved to be less convoluted and emotional than usual. The books yielded ready compensations for the loan of a tool, returning a strayed tagnami, letting a neighbor cross a territory and so on.

Things were so slow that I took a break soon after sunzenith. I loped over to Tavern Street, and settled into my usual chair under the painted leather awnings at Snakelegs' Place. The Snake, as everybody called him, brought over a mug of fermented direbeast milk spiced with darter blood. I sipped it, enjoying the warm glow, and chatted with the other regulars.

I smelled Irongut coming up behind me. The short fur on the back of my neck rose, and I felt the wonderful tingling just above the hindthighs. I turned. "Good day."

"Likewise." He smiled broadly. He was big, shaggy and muscular, with the thick fur of young adulthood. Not my usual type. But the charming, mature professionals were getting staid. Irongut was hardly an intellectual predator, but he was pleasant, aromatic and very energetic.

"Care to join me?" I asked.

In answer he sat lithely in the nearest chair, his long tail sticking straight down from the butthole. "Can't stay long. I've got a big pot in the kiln. Just stopped by to find out how you're keeping."

"Not too badly for an old bag of fur. I haven't caught scent of you in a few days. Where have you been hiding?" His soft growl was sweetly bashful in such a savage young male. I remembered the frame of my bed straining almost to the breaking point, his paws raking my back, the buds of pleasure blossoming one after another. I took deep breaths and managed to retain my dignity. Let him come to me—it wouldn't be fitting for one of my years and stature to howl for him as if he were my first cublove. He pulled himself together. "I wasn't sure you would want my company again."

"Don't try to fool a Weigher. You were hoping I would come to you. But you must remember that my pride is older and stronger than yours."

"I know that now," he said softly. "Which is why I'm here."

I growled laughter. While we were batting at each other with words, we were both struggling to keep our lust-scents from rising and revealing. But neither of us was being very successful—more of an embarrassment to me than him. If things got any more out of control, the adults in the nearby chairs would notice.

So I tried to push the thoughts and sensations into the back of my mind, and said, "Your pot might crack if you don't get back to it."

His smile turned rigid. "You're right. Maybe we'll catch scent of each other again soon."

"Maybe we will." If he had a nose worthy of the name, he wouldn't need more of an answer.

He trotted off stiffly, trying to look unconcerned. I finished my drink, settled up and went back to my stall.

Finally the sun slanted down behind the hills beyond the river. The boats pulled away from the docks and headed upstream. The stalls closed, and everyone streamed through the gates. The last adults out of town shut and barred the gates.

Amid a din of goodnight conversation we loped away, spreading out on the many commonland trails. The coal territory owners bounced and rattled in their runleg-pulled wagons.

At first I ran with many other adults and tagnami—some of the latter on their parents' choke leashes. We chatted as we climbed toward the gap between the Fangs, setting an easy pace. The wind was turning sharp, but the smell of open country was invigorating after the town-reek. Groundplant turned into shadowed forest around us. Our group dwindled as we came to territory after territory until, reaching mine, I also took my leave.

Violet tangletree and fireclaw bush scented the air, over the seasonal rankness of mouldering leaves. Shafts of yellow light slanted through gaps in the trees. Above the gaunt strongwood branches the day was beginning to darken. I was ready for a hearty dinner, and an early bed—I hoped not alone.

The cabin looked and smelled right as I approached it from downwind. It sat in the middle of a small clearing, straddling a creek that ran down to the river. Its strong-wood planks were stained black with a waterproofing concoction. I glanced unhappily at several upkeep jobs that needed doing before the first snow, then swung open the doorway bars and went in.

I lit candles to fend off the fast-falling night. Nikniks were starting to chirp beyond the door and windows. The wind carried faint, tantalizing promises of many tasty animals. No rain anywhere near. Perfect hunting weather. The creek was a trench-like space in the floor planking. I took no more than a sip from it. Hunting on a bloated bladder at my age was asking for indigestion.

The night was complete under the forest canopy. I couldn't see much, even after my darksight adjusted. But this was my territory. I knew every tree and fallen leaf. And I had my nose and ears.

I prowled along the river bank on four legs, and waited for some tasty nocturnal animal to arrive for a 'morning' drink. I settled in behind a millioneye shrub downwind of a favorite watering place for the local fauna. No scent of poachers or predators. Good.

I heard and smelled a family of lumpmeats waddle up to the bank. I tasted rising saliva. Lumpmeats were an acquired taste, but I had acquired it as a cub. Their hard shells and stubby legs gave them the defensive posture of a rock. You had to move like moonlight and decapitate them on the first swipe, before they could retreat into their shells.

I decided on the bulbous head of the family, and charged. The others hid in their shells, but I nailed papa. Out sprang my forepaw claws. Off went the head. The survivors scuttled into the river and floated away while I dined. Leaving pretty much an empty bowl for the scavengers, I drank from the river and wiped blood from the fur around my mouth. My tail waved happily.

I walked slowly back to the cabin, and stretched out on the bed to relax and digest. The draft blowing through was rich with the tale of the night, and a bit chilly. But not uncomfortably so; I didn't figure on having to use the firehearth until snow covered the ground. Drowsiness began to claim me.

Howling snapped me out of it. Faint howling from the northeast border of my territory. Not a danger call or a challenge. Not even an entry request from a visiting friend. It was a lusty mating call. I recognized Irongut's deep baritone.

I felt that tingling again, and suddenly wasn't the least bit sleepy. Should I tighten his leash even more? No, he had learned his lesson—there was an earnest sincerity in the growls. Moreover, my own self-control wasn't nearly as legendary as I sometimes liked to think. My body moaned for him. Enjoy, it said. You won't excite the young males much longer.

I sprang to a window and howled back my invitation. Returning to the bed. I waited and tried to pretend calmness.

Then, nearer, I heard him howl again. I leaped to four legs. A blood challenge! What in the great world womb could he be fighting here on my territory? Most of the large predators had learned better the hard way. Maybe a wild adult had wandered down from the hills, hungry or sick enough to have ignored my warnoffs.

Trespass on my territory! I ran out the door toward the howls, which were subsiding into fighting snarls. Something screamed—a high-pitched shriek that I didn't recognize. Then silence, except for the cautiously returning forest sounds.

I plunged through a thick tangle of shrubs.

In a meadow not far from the cabin, under the light of two newly risen moons, I found Irongut snarling a few strides upwind of his kill.

I caught a whiff of the corpse, and quickly joined Irongut upwind.

He was breathing hard, but otherwise intact. "I offer you twilga for hunting on your territory," he said apologetically.

It was a formality, of course. No one could have done anything except attack such an obvious enemy, no matter where encountered. I wasn't the type to worry about technicalities. "It was a trespasser, not part of my game stock. And it sure as death doesn't smell edible. No value, no twilga."

We both stared at the creature.

"What is it?" Irongut asked. "I've never seen or smelled the like."

"I have. One was killed in town today. But it's certainly a new item for the biology texts. Even the savants had no answers."

It was definitely the same species of puny, furless monster. My fangs bared in a soft growl. I edged closer for a careful sniff: all I could stand. "Something is wrong here."

"Huh?"

"This creature smells like the other one."

"So? Probably a pack of them are migrating over the mountains. Believe me, they're no fighters. This one hardly put up a struggle. If any more of them trespass, we'll slaughter them."

"I mean they smell exactly alike. Not like the same species or even the same pack—like the same creature. But that's impossible. The other one is dead, probably cut up and in jars of alcohol by now."

He shrugged. "One more riddle for the savants."

I noticed a small box lying on the ground next to the corpse. It was white, and slick like varnished wood, but the material didn't look familiar. It had odd tiny features on one side, and a rectangular opening. "Is that yours?" I asked.

"No. The creature was playing with it when I came into the clearing. "

"Playing?"

"Taking bits of plants, bugs, leaves and so on, shoving them into the hole in the box, then jabbing at those little bumps on the side."

I was inclined to laugh, but didn't want to hurt his feelings and ruin the night. "How do you think it came by the box?"

"Probably stole it from someone's cabin during the day. If so, we'll most likely hear about it tomorrow."

I took his forepaw in mine. "Let's leave the carcass for the crawlers. I'm in no mood for mysteries tonight." But I decided to return in a few nights, when the spoor would be blown to the winds, to have a better look at the box.

"I'm glad you invited me in," he said softly.

"I'm glad you came."

Our scents were definitely communicating now. I was very aware of my hindthighs rubbing together as I moved.

Without further words, and with ill-concealed haste, we loped toward the cabin.

I kicked the fur blanket aside and rolled out of bed, getting all four legs under me before landing. Pretty frisky for a mature lady, especially after such a night. Irongut had left shortly before moonset.

It was a fine morning, with a heady blend of forest aromas drifting in through the door and windows. The cloudless sky was beginning to brighten. I had overslept again.

Plunging my head into the creek-trench, I came up howling and shaking off frigid water. At the wall mirror I combed out my fur, one hundred strokes head to hindpaws. I admired myself in the mirror. Still a classic specimen of femininity. Glossy black fur. Gleaming fangs. Boldly jutting snout. Just the right amount of arch in the back. Stomach firm, with no middle-aged droop. The scars across my left shoulder and flank were healing well. They reminded me to check my trap before heading for town.

I went outside. No hostile scents. But, on the other hand, no nearby breakfast. First things first. I loped through the forest and across dew-covered meadows to the border of my territory.

Running the bounds at top speed, I came across no suspicious spoor except the one trail I expected. I squatted and defecated in the usual places. I didn't meet any of my neighbors—I was definitely running late—but I could tell they had already set their warnoffs.

I slunk along a game trail, and managed to chase down a pair of darters before they could scurry up a tree. Then I headed for the trap.

I had dug it on a high slope near the eastern border of my territory, where cubs sometimes wandered down from the hills to hunt. Game tended to be more plentiful in the territories because we had settled the best land to begin with, and then purged it of all predators but ourselves.

As I approached the trap, I could smell a cub in it. I peered over the edge of the six foot pit. A healthy looking little furball about seven or eight years old. Perfect. Younger than that they weren't mature enough to handle tagnami education. And older, if still wild, they were unteachable. But this one would do just fine.

It stood on its hindpaws, trying to claw its way out of the pit. It eyed me warily, and stank of fear. I wondered if it could have been one of mine. I had gone into the Wild four times to drop cubs. But no, the timing wasn't right for any of them.

Some education and discipline, and this one (a male) would make a fine replacement for Keeneyes. Too bad it hadn't been Keenbrain—my tagnami had been a bit too greedy and a bit too slow. A fatal combination. He had posted his challenge before reaching his fighting peak, convinced that the old lady had aged enough to be taken. He had been wrong, barely. So now I needed a new tagnami to do the scut work (and maybe someday take my job and territory and life from me as I had from my parent).

Enough daydreaming. I jabbed a forepaw down into the pit, managed to avoid the young claws, and got him by the scruff of the neck. Up and out. He yowled and squirmed, so I cuffed him unconscious. I perched the limp body on my back and set out for town.

The added weight slowed me a bit, and I arrived even later than yesterday. I went straight to School Street and old Bentback's stall. He was, as usual, at his chalkboard trying to beat some sense into about a dozen cubs. They were chained to two log benches while he alternately taught and applied his short rawhide whip.

"Morning, Slasher." Bentback growled, coming over to me. He took the cub and looked at it with a skilled eye, casually avoiding the tiny claws—it was waking up. "Going to try again, eh?"

"You know how it is. Can't live with them or without them."

"The real trick is outliving them. Got a name for this one?"

I hadn't thought about it, so I did now. The cub was a bit short for his age. "How about Runt?"

"With a name like that, he'll either grow up into a great fighter or die young."

"That's the general idea."

We brought out our notebooks and writing sticks. "What's your current rate?" I asked.

"Three per day for as long as it takes."

"Pretty steep. I can do better down the street."

"You get what you pay for. I limit my class size to give individual attention."

"So be it." We checked our notebooks and found a balance in my favor from a Weighing last month. We subtracted a day's fee and entered the new balance. My job gave me twilga with almost everyone in town; no need to play around with third party balances.

Bentback took Runt and a length of chain over to an empty spot at the end of a log. "See you at dusk," he growled to me.

I hurried along Breeder Street toward my stall. The aromas raised saliva even though I had just eaten. Growls, bleets, chitterings, cheeps, honks and haggling created an ear-curdling din. I admired the pens filled with direbeasts, lumpmeats, darters; literally every kind of game animal.

My territory was pretty well stocked at the moment. But come the end of snow season it would need restocking. Then I would make the necessary purchases. Reluctantly, because no one liked doing business with breeders. They were an odd, less-than-respectable lot, suspected of 'stalking' meals in their pens and other dark deeds.

I opened my stall. Business was brisk, so much so that I almost forgot about the less pleasant of my two nocturnal visitors. Irongut, however, was a warm and finely etched memory, and a promise of even better nights to come.

After a morning flurry of decisions and non-lethal challenges stemming mostly from a by-all-accounts excellent hunt-party at Treeroot's place, I took advantage of the lull to relax. Leaning back in my chair, I put my hindlegs up on the desk. I was too comfortable to get up. I wished a mug of warm fermented milk would appear on my desk in a bolt of sorcerous lightning.

Peripherally I noticed something was happening outside. I couldn't tell what, but from all around town adults were converging on the challenge lawn. No ordinary fight would draw such a big crowd, and besides everyone was looking at the sky. Curiosity got the better of comfort. I got up and went outside.

Leaden gray clouds hung low overhead, and a cold rain was imminent. But that wasn't the object of everyone's attention.

Something was falling from the sky. Not really falling, but coming down slowly, like a swampflower's seed sac. But this was round, white and huge—bigger than a demonflier. A smaller object was dangling underneath it, attached by long ropes.

It was coming down in the middle of the challenge lawn.

The losers of the morning's festivities had long since left to visit their doctors. A napping Traveler hastily vacated the lawn, and the entire circle was empty. But, by the time the thing was about to land, it was ringed by curious adults. Including me.

The smaller object settled onto the red groundplant. Somehow I wasn't surprised to see it was another of the outlandish creatures that suddenly seemed determined to plague my life. Standing erect on its hindlegs, it touched its chest with a forepaw and the ropes pulled free. The huge white ball rose sharply, taking the ropes along. In seconds all were swallowed by the clouds.

The creature had a glass bowl over its head, but otherwise it looked exactly like the other two. Its spoor hadn't reached me yet on the still air, but I would have taken any wager that it smelled the same, too.

Everyone was enjoying the unique show. A few priests were crying of a divine coming, but no rational adult could really believe that this puny, tailless, evil creature hailed from any god-home.

The creature lifted the bowl from its head, and dropped it on the lawn. It stared at us in silence. Slowly it raised its odd right forepaw in the air, the pad facing front and all five claw-tips sticking up.

Savants were arguing eagerly among themselves. The upshot of one debate near me was that this must certainly be an intelligent being, maybe even as intelligent as an adult. The ball-and-ropes could have been some sort of monstrous unknown animal. But the white hide of yesterday's corpse had turned out to be a manufactured garment, like harsh weather cloaks though exotic in design and material. Under it Rubbertail had found more of the hideous brown flesh. This hide looked identical. And the carrysack was also identical—the carrysack that had turned out to be filled with things that were mostly total mysteries.

The priests, on the other hand, were stirring themselves up with talk about demons and ill omens.

The situation was definitely novel. Everybody was waiting for someone to take the initiative in doing something about it. There wasn't any time for a town meeting. I could see that some of our more notorious hotheads, notably Farrunner the iron-worker, were baring their fangs. That terrible spoor was beginning to spread. Many others in the crowd were awaiting a rare battle with hopeful grins.

I remembered the box I had seen last night, and was prepared to go along with the idea that the creature was intelligent. Though not very, or it wouldn't have come so docilely to its dying place. But the questions the savants were asking each other were also bouncing around inside my skull. What was it? Where did it come from? How many more of them were there? Why were they popping up all of a sudden?

But it didn't look like the savants would get the chance to put their questions to the creature. Farrunner took three strides toward it, then turned to face us. "I post a challenge! This beast is evil and dangerous; you can all smell that! Do any of you want to interfere?"

The priests looked pleased with this development. Some of the other hotheads were upset at being excluded from the fun, but Farrunner had a well deserved reputation. No one challenged his posting. He smiled smugly at the savants, who growled under their breaths but didn't dare object aloud. Savants were rarely great fighters. The creature didn't react.

Howls were coming from all around the ring. The mood was definitely for blood. I felt the rage too, but fought to control it. Weighers were supposed to look beyond obvious answers, and exercise self-discipline while doing so. Killing these creatures every time one turned up wouldn't solve any of the riddles.

I stepped forward. "Wait up, Farrunner. This is something that has never happened before. It may be more complicated than it seems."

"No complications, Slasher. I'll just let its blood out."

"I think you should let some of the savants have it. I'll work out a fair twilga."

"I'll be very glad to sell the carcass," Farrunner growled. "Don't interfere, you old bitch."

That did it. I had tried to be polite. I had tried to be reasonable. But the young punk had a venom-soaked tongue. I wasn't sure I could take him, but life without pride was a cold thing anyway. Moreover, I had a hunch that the answers to my questions might be too important—and not just to the savants—to let them bleed to death on the challenge lawn.

"I challenge, mudworm."

So much for the formalities. He dropped to four legs, and so did I. The nearest spectators moved back. The creature continued to watch in patient silence.

We circled each other warily. He knew my reputation, too. We hissed at each other, but spoke no more words.

Strategy, girl. Strategy. He was too big, strong and mean to charge. So what did I have in my favor? Experience, maybe. I would have to try to outguess him.

An all or nothing proposition.

I slunk forward to within three strides of him. Pouncing range. A wary veteran would have looked over all the angles first, but he wasn't known for his patience.

He lunged, a furry blur almost too quick to be seen. Claws raked for my throat.

But my planned countermove was also a blur. Not sideways; that was the expected reaction. His horizontal slash covered too wide an arc for me to avoid. I dropped under the claws, and sprang forward.

My timing had to be perfect. It was. There was his undefended neck right in front of me.

His claws tore desperately at my back. I lost some fur and flesh. But my fangs bit deeply into the tough neck muscle. Arterial blood spurted. My jaws clamped shut, and ripped.

I spat out fur and warm meat; cannibalism was considered in very bad taste. Farrunner dropped. His life poured out onto the lawn, at first swiftly, then sluggishly, then no more.

My regular doctor loped toward me with that twilga gleam in his eye, but I growled him back. Time enough for that later. The blood staining the fur on my left flank wasn't too wide a stream, and the pain was no worse than I had known and endured many times before.

The creature was still standing and staring.

Now I owned everything that had been Farrunner's. I didn't want any of it—his territory wasn't nearly as nice as mine—so I would probably sell it to his tagnami. But now I had a more urgent matter to worry about.

"I'm claiming the challenge-right for this creature!" I shouted to the spectators. "Anyone feel luckier than Farrunner?"

Several other hotheads looked and smelled inclined to take me up on my invitation. The general mood was definitely getting ugly. I felt the same unreasoning hatred of the creature distorting my own judgment. Any moment now we would all fall upon it in a slaughtering frenzy, despite my challenge-right. How could something so puny and helpless have such a dangerous scent?

It was as simple as that.

"Rubbertail!" I shouted at the nearby cluster of savants. "Do you have any jars of alcohol in your stall?"

She looked wounded. "A tragedy is about to happen here! This is no time for guzzling!"

"You old fool! If you want to save this creature for science, run like a cub and bring me a big jar of alcohol!"

She reflected for a moment, then smiled broadly. She vanished beyond the ring, but quickly returned with a sizeable ceramic jar. "Here you are, Slasher," she panted.

I took it. "We'll settle the twilga later!"

Just in time. Some adults had dropped to four legs and were slinking toward the creature, fangs bared. I shouted, "Wait, my friends! Please! A moment for your Weigher! I think I can end the danger!"

There were growls of protest, but the slinking stopped momentarily.

I took a deep breath, and walked toward the creature. What would it do? If it tried to bolt, we were both out of luck.

It stood still. It watched me steadily, though, as I removed the jar's lid and poured the contents all over it. It flinched, but didn't try to avoid the stinging alcohol. Maybe it understood.

I breathed as shallowly as possible. The alcohol murdered my nose, but the scent of the creature was totally drowned. I found I could now deal with it with a Weigher's proper dispassion.

It stood as if it never dropped to four legs. The forepaws were slender and frail-looking, but well shaped for working with tools. The lack of a tail made it seem unbalanced.

I could feel the blood-rage seeping out of the spectators. The prospects for a unique death-duel were fading fast; some adults were already drifting back to their stalls. The attitude of the rest was subsiding into curiosity.

The creature reached into its carrysack and pulled out a small gray box with two short black strings dangling from it. The strings ended in a pair of black bulbs like half-eggs. It put one of them to its forehead, and it stuck there. The creature held out the other one to me, twisting its mouth in some kind of expression.

I thought I knew what it wanted, but wasn't sure I wanted to oblige. It could have been a harmless friendship ritual. Or something else.

Some savants were edging up behind me, chattering like grakklbirds in mating season. A few priests came with them. To the netherworld with it! I stuck the other bulb to my forehead.

The creature touched a red circle on the box. Three seconds later I ripped the bulb from my forehead, and howled like a cub.

Images had stampeded through my mind like a herd of spooked bigmeats. Hundreds. Hundreds of hundreds. Much too fast to be seen, but I sensed that some of them were my own memories. Others were … from somewhere else. I shivered, and had no desire to see those more clearly.

The creature put the demon-box back in its carrysack. "Are you able to understand me?" it asked.

The discussion behind me jumped several notches in volume. The words from the oddly flat muzzle were just barely understandable. "Yes," I replied, "If you speak very slowly."

"That's good. My name is Ralphayers."

"I'm Slasher. What did you just do to me?"

"The box is a tool for learning languages quickly. It isn't harmful."

I didn't believe in magic. But if it was a product of science, this ugly monster knew things of which our savants only dreamed. "We can settle the twilga for that later, Ralphayers, and for my other service."

"Other service?"

"Keeping you alive. So far, at least."

"I see. I'm a stranger here, with different customs. But I'll follow yours as soon as I can learn them."

"What are you? Where do you come from?"

The creature paused before answering. "Just as this world circles your sun, other worlds circle other stars. I'm from one of them called Earth."

That was a mighty big bite to get down. Still, the astronomy matched certain radical theories. And nothing even remotely like this creature was known to our biology—or demonology for that matter. So accept it as a working hypothesis. "How did you get here? And why?"

"My people built a … a skyboat. It sailed here on a voyage of many years, crewed only by machines, and it now circles this world. When the machines found that living conditions here were like Earth's, they … grew three of me from embryos stored aboard. Each of us landed in turn to learn what we could about this world before dying. That wasn't long for my two brothers."

The savants were taking all this in avidly, as were the few others who remained. I understood maybe a third of what it had said, but I went on doggedly. "What do you do with this information you gather?"

"The skyboat … hears everything that happens to us. It sends messages back to our world. They will take years to arrive there, so we can't talk to our world. But we can communicate with the skyboat."

So that was why the other creature had been putting plants and bugs in its box. It had been doing some kind of research. Fascinating. Obviously this was a venture involving more participants and twilga than I had ever imagined possible. What incredible Weighers they must have!

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "What could possibly repay such a huge effort?"

"Pure knowledge. We're a very curious people. Plus we've found that indulging our hunger for knowledge can be profitable in practical terms. To learn about your people and your world I hope to live among you."

"That won't be easy," I pointed out. "You know nothing of our customs, and one mistake will most likely be your last. You can't even come near us without being doused in something with an overpowering smell."

"I think I understand why your people killed my brothers," the creature said softly. "An instinctive scent-hostility trigger. An oddly primitive trait to find in an intelligent species. So I smell like an enemy, do I?"

I growled yes. What a prize this creature would be if I could handle the opportunity properly. It clearly knew things many adults would pay through the snout to learn. And it would need an intermediary, someone with the imagination to exploit its knowledge for everyone's good, and the skill to keep it alive. Who better than a Weigher? Who else would have the wisdom to work for the town as well as herself? Who else would be able to unravel the unique twilga involved?

The gods don't like to hear us praise our abilities too much, even in our thoughts. As I dreamed, my common sense slept. And I saw a blurred motion behind the creature. I had forgotten there was one person who would hold a grudge against the creature not based on scent. One to whom the honor won by finishing his father's last task would justify the deadly risk of offending me by usurping my challenge-right.

Before I could react the creature dropped, bright red blood puddling under it, the head almost detached from the scrawny neck. I glared across the carcass at Farrunner's tagnami.

A more impetuous adult in my place would have challenged him for his audacity. But I was a Weigher, and anyway I admired his loyalty. A rare trait in today's youth.

"I offer twilga in apology," he said formally.

I stared at the creature, feeling a sadness greater than I understood. So many things we might have learned.

To the tagnami I said, "I accept. Wait for me a moment. We'll go to my stall and settle the amount."

Those who had been hoping for a last bit of blood from us headed back to their stalls. A few closed in to gawk at the carcass. I quickly made deals with two savants for it and its carrysack. Then I let my doctor guide my less-than-steady legs toward his stall for the overdue patch job. Farrunner's heir—tagnami no longer—followed me dutifully. I intended to punish his insolence with a twilga settlement he would be years repaying.

Weeks passed, and life settled back to normal, though speculations about the creatures were growing into epic legends. The first snows came, draping the forests and meadows in scattered whiteness. The days became shorter. Adults spent less time in town and more time laired in their territories, living on scarce game and winter-fat.

But Weighers were expected to be available as many days as possible. So it was that on a gray threatening afternoon I sat in my stall, warming my hindpaws over a small hearthfire.

I had just settled a debt problem without any challenges, and I felt indecently pleased with myself. Longfur had been dragged in by a pawful of adults with whom he had been tardy in paying his twilga. Had he been a real deadbeat I would have given him the usual options of settling up at once or fighting his creditors in a circle challenge. But he was a responsible adult whose fermented milk trade had temporarily slumped. So I worked out a twilga increase and installment payments that satisfied everyone.

My relaxed mood was interrupted when someone outside shouted, "More of them! Come and see, everyone! More of them!"

I stepped out into the windless but still biting chill. A priest was pointing at the clouds. Everyone within earshot also looked, but most of them, having seen it before, paid no further attention.

Still, a pawful of savants and priests joined me in hurrying to the challenge lawn.

Not one, but two creatures were falling from the sky.

They landed the same way the other had, and removed the bowls from their heads. One was another exact copy. But the other was shorter, a bit thinner and curiously curved.

"Welcome!" I shouted. The other adults stood silently at the lawn's edge, honoring my outstanding challenge-right.

"Good to see you again, Slasher," the Ralphayers copy answered.

"Are you trying to make me believe in ghosts?" I asked after a pause. "The others like you are all dead."

"Everything my brothers did I remember. So I feel I know you." He and the other creature started to walk toward me.

"Stay where you are." I warned them, "unless you want to be turned into memories, too. Stay where we can't smell you."

Their faces twisted. The smaller creature said in a high-pitched tone. "I think we'll be safe from that danger at least."

I realized two startling facts just as shouts from some of the savants announced them. First, both creatures were speaking our language just as naturally as any townfolk. Second and more important, the faint whiffs of their spoor were totally unlike the evil scent of the others.

They smelled like … like groundflowers! Harmless, pleasant flowers. There were no growls from those gathered behind me. If anything, there were a few purrs.

"Are you like the nightslitherer that can change its scent?" I asked.

"No," the copy said. "But when the machines aboard the skyboat grew us after my last brother died, they made changes in our body design so that we can live among you. My brothers had collected the necessary knowledge. We can eat your plants and animals—we're omnivores."

Roots and leaves? I shuddered.

"We want to learn as much as possible about you and your world," the smaller one added. "This will be a long study, one we hope our tagnami will continue when we die. They must, since the skyboat machines can grow no more of us."

Here was a second chance at their incredible knowledge. If I could keep these two alive. "You must learn our customs quickly. You obviously aren't fighters, so you must learn how not to offend."

The copy paused. "We're more dangerous fighters than you can imagine. But we're here to make friends and learn. Like my brothers, we would rather die than fight you. We love life as much as you do, but we believe in what we're doing even more."

I would attempt to figure that out later. Right now I had the greatest twilga transaction in history to arrange. It would be the stuff of legends among Weighers, and would of course compensate me handsomely.

"You'll need someone to teach you our customs and vouch for you with fang and claw until the town accepts you."

The smaller one said, "We have a store of scientific and technological information aboard the skyboat, which we can summon through our machines. Some of it should be of use to you. We'll give it to you."

I shuddered again. Luckily no one else had been close enough to hear. "Never offer to give an adult anything!" I said sharply. "It could prove fatal."

"Why?"

They had so much to learn. What kind of crazy customs did they live by? "To suggest an adult needs help as if she were a tagnami is the worst possible insult. You must sell your knowledge for a good price, and thereby establish your worth."

The creatures jabbered at each other in low voices. Then the smaller one said, "We'll have to hire the services of someone who can teach us what we need to know."

"Of course, and I recommend myself for the job. I'm the town Weigher, an excellent haggler, well educated—and a tough fighter, to deal with any challenges that come your way."

"What's a Weigher?" the copy asked.

"We balance the values of goods, services and violations of custom so adults can interact more constructively. And less violently."

"You  … run the town?"

"I don't understand your question. Adults run their own territories and town affairs."

The creatures jabbered some more. "We accept your offer," the copy said, "and trust you to set a fair price for your agent and guide services. How do we begin?"

I thought. "First we have to get you a territory. Let me think .. . ah, the Coldcrag place. I'm sure I can get it for you cheaply. The game stock is lousy."

"No problem there. We can eat many plants that grow in this area."

"Good." I hid my real reaction to their diet. "I'll get you installed there, start your education in our customs, and smooth the trail for you here in town."

That last didn't look as though it would be too difficult. The savants and priests were gathered around, hanging on every word. Not too close—they had heard my commitment to handle challenges for the creatures. That claw slashed both ways.

"Go back to whatever you were doing!" I shouted at them. "You'll all have the chance to quench your curiosity later, at a very modest twilga."

The adults drifted away reluctantly. The three of us were soon alone on the challenge lawn. "Come with me while I negotiate for the territory and some other essentials for you." I said to them. "I strongly suggest you say and do nothing unless I tell you to."

I set out for Broker Street, and they followed behind like a pair of well-trained tagnami.

The next few ten-days were as hectic as any I could recall. As well as tending my territory, my new tagnami and my Weighing, I had the two humans (their name for themselves) to look after. And in many ways they were as helpless as Runt.

I negotiated a very good twilga with the broker handling the Coldcrag territory. On the long walk out to it I learned the copy was also named Ralphayers, and was a male adult, while the other was Pamayers, a female adult. The scarcity of game and the dilapidated cabin didn't bother them; they found plenty of edible plants. I was surprised by how they acted like a single adult in many things (even their living arrangements!). But they seemed even more surprised when I explained how they had to mark their bounds.

Artisans were hired to patch up the cabin—including such bizarre notions as a solid wood door and glass window covers. Others scratched behind their ears in confusion, then produced furniture unlike anything ever seen before. I was at their cabin when another balloon dropped from the sky, bringing an adult-high metal cylinder from which the humans removed an amazing assortment of items. I was right about their ineptness as hunters, but with new breeding stock and a cheat they called a bow they managed to bring down some meat.

Coming up with the twilga for all this was no problem. The humans were able to supply valuable knowledge on just about any subject. Savants, artisans, professionals, tradesfolk, adults in every field; the trickle of customers became a rushing stream, then a broad and powerful river. Thanks in no small part to my agenting. The humans rejected some requests because the knowledge was too advanced to be of use, and others because it might be dangerous. But that still left more than enough business.

Teaching them civilized behavior was the hardest part of my job, and for the first few ten-days I had all I could handle keeping them alive. But by the time the days reached their shortest they were settled in and reasonably accepted.

As usual, I was puffing for breath when I reached the border of the humans' territory. The scrawny woods climbing the mountain's paws were as far from town as you could get before finding yourself in the Wild. The snow-draped pricklytrees and redberry bushes were far apart and positively anemic.

I howled for permission to enter. Moments later I heard the three horn blasts granting permission—neither human had the lung power for entry calls.

Their cabin sat on a granite shelf overlooking the river valley below Coalgathering. It was now by far the largest I have ever seen, with no less than five rooms for the various odd human activities.

Ralphayers stood by the open door. "Welcome, Slasher. Care to come inside?"

Flower smell or not, being inside their boarded-up cabin made my jaws ache. But I knew the humans found snow and near-freezing temperatures uncomfortable. "Okay."

They had a warm fire going in the wall hearth (one of their highly profitable innovations) of their "living room." Pamayers was seated at a table reading a book aloud. The strange box they called a "radio" was in front of her. The humans had a fantastic appetite for our books; recent purchases were stacked all around the floor. "Hi, Slasher," she said. "What's happening?"

My visit had an ulterior purpose. I didn't see how talking my problem over with them could help, but they were full of surprises and I was out of ideas. Still, politeness dictated some small talk first. "How are your studies coming?"

"Incredibly," Pamayers said, putting down the book. Ralphayers sat in a chair by the fire, while I stretched out on a rug. "There's so much data to collect, digest and relay to the skyboat for transmission home. We're beginning to unravel a few of the tough questions about your people."

"Such as?" I asked.

"Such as why you're intelligent."

They were always raising the sort of topics that caused me headaches. "I hope you're not looking at me for an answer. You should talk to old Rubbertail and the other biologists."

"We have. Our working hypothesis is that you evolved intelligence as protection against a danger bigger than starvation or hostile predators: yourselves. With your territorial instinct and year-round breeding there must have always been tremendous population pressure and competition for the best land. The smarter adults fought better, and figured out ways to avoid more fights. They tended to be the survivors and breeders."

That made a vague kind of sense. "Our earliest legends tell of adults fighting over territories to the verge of racial extinction, until the hero brings peace by establishing a primitive version of our present customs."

"They're probably accurate," Pamayers commented, "except the 'hero' was more likely a long and difficult socialization process. From simple live-and-let-live at watering holes to your towns, territories and twilga."

Ralphayers was staring at me. "You didn't come here for a scholarly discussion. Out with it, Slasher."

"Okay. But first we have to settle the twilga I'll owe you for your advice."

"Don't be silly." Ralphayers said. "It's the least we can do, after all that you've—" He caught himself, helped by Pamayers' frown as well as my rising growl. "Sorry. The standard fee will be fine by us. What's your problem?"

"You walk in it every time you go to town, or rather swim in it. The dirt streets. I've been trying for years to get everyone to pledge twilga to get them paved."

"We remember your sales pitch," Pamayers said. "Surely the whole town would want to chip in for something like that."

I laughed bitterly. "You couldn't get everyone to agree the sun rises in the east. I've whittled the holdouts down to four, but I can't budge them. Any suggestions?"

The humans jabbered at each other in their own language, then Ralphayers said to me, "Your problem is inherent in your social system. It's why you have progressed relatively slowly in fields requiring group effort. Don't you have any customs for resolving such impasses?"

"If the need were great enough, I could challenge them. But it isn't. All that leaves is persuasion."

"We have a suggestion. It stretches your ethical structure a bit, but we don't think it's an outright break."

"I'm listening."

"Check our twilga book, and see if we have balances with your holdouts."

I did. "Yes. Quite large ones."

"Good. What you do is use them as a lever. Since you do our shopping, suppose you decided to use all of our twilga with the holdouts right now?"

"They couldn't possibly cover that much additional debt. They would have to scramble to arrange extensions, the value of their twilga would go way down—it'd hurt."

"Suppose you pointed this danger out to them, but at the same time you offered not to do it—if they chip in on the street paving?"

The idea whirled around under my skull, making me dizzy. I didn't know how to react. It could work. But was it right?

"What  … what is the twilga balance? You supply your twilga  … "

"No, we haven't any twilga interest in this at all," Ralphayers said. "We get our debts paid either way. The only twilga transaction I see is between you, acting for the town, and the holdouts. The town gets its paved streets, the holdouts pay their share, and their paws stay unmuddy too."

I felt like I had drunk too much fermented milk. By Kraal, it might just be the answer! A whole herd of possibilities for town improvements stampeded past my mind's eye. "I'll give it a try."

We settled the twilga for the advice, talked a little longer, then I left. I was anxious to get back to town to try out the humans' idea.

I decided to test it on the most intractible of the holdouts. I found Shrub fur stoking her forge in preparation for working some iron. She took off her leather apron and walked over to me. Her hostile scent arrived first. "Afternoon, Slasher," she rumbled. "You here to harangue me about the paving again?"

"Afraid so."

"Look, I tell you and I tell you. I can't afford it. And even if I could, why waste hard-earned twilga on useless luxuries? A bit of mud never hurt anyone."

"That's a very narrow point of view."

She growled. "Are you insulting me?"

"No, of course not," I said quickly. "But … Shrub fur my friend, you have a problem. I'm here to help you with it if I can."

"What problem?"

"You've run up quite a large debt to the humans for the information about that metal they call steel. I hope you can cover it—all of it—since I'm going shopping for them today."

She bared her fangs nervously. "I … I assumed … with so many others owing them too … "

"That's true, of course. I could use other adults' twilga today. The choice is mine."

It took a few moments for the implication to penetrate the dense stuff between her ears. Then she tensed as if about to attack, and I tensed, too. But she managed to control herself. "I suppose the humans won't accept installment payments with interest?" she growled.

"You suppose correctly."

"I could challenge them over this!"

"I stand in their place," I reminded her. "Part of my job."

"I might still win," she said thoughtfully.

"Not likely. But even if you did, you would be known as an adult who doesn't honor her twilga. Who would sell to you or buy from you then?"

She just stood there, looking like she wanted to howl in pain. I knew how she felt. Finally she growled, "I agree to pay a share for the street paving. But don't think this ends the matter. You're doing a bad thing. Very bad!"

I quickly got out of range of the reek of her hate, and visited the other three holdouts in turn. The results and their reactions were all the same. Their anger didn't worry me; these things passed.

I was glowing with success as I handled Weighing cases in my stall the rest of the day. Tomorrow I would contract for the paving job and start redeeming pledges.

Which might explain why I didn't notice—then—the paucity of clients, or the groups of adults that stopped talking when I passed, or the whispers at my back.

At sundown I picked up Runt at school and loped for home. I was still lost in thoughts of which brickwrights could do the best and cheapest work, and didn't miss the usual friendly goodnights. Even Irongut's.

We reached the cabin as darkness closed around it. Runt was learning fast; he growled "Mommy" softly and didn't fight as I chained him in the corner on his training blanket.

"Yes, Mommy loves you," I said, scratching behind his ears. "But if you mess off of your blanket again you'll wear it. Are you hungry?"

Runt jumped up and down, and howled.

"Me too. I'll bring something tasty back for you."

The hunting was long and cold. The snow was so deep in the open that I made better time on two legs. I moved through the gaunt leafless trees like a spirit from a ghost legend. I was on the verge of giving up and going to bed hungry when I found and dug out a borer burrow. Not the most delicious meat, but in snow season you couldn't be choosy.

I was returning to the cabin with two of the dirty little fleshbags for Runt when I heard Irongut's entry cry.

An unexpected pleasure? Our relationship had cooled perceptibly since I started acting for the humans. He was pretty conservative for a young adult, and didn't approve of the changes they were causing.

If this was a romantic visit, I was all in favor. I howled permission, and hurried back to the chain to feed Runt and run a quick comb through my fur.

The moment he stepped through the doorway I smelled trouble. He wasn't lusty; he was trying to hide nervousness. "Evening," I said lightly. Be careful, I told myself. Something is up.

"Good to see you, Slasher." He went over to the hearth I had just lit. "I haven't caught scent of you much lately. You've been so busy with your creatures. I've missed you."

"Humans, gorwana." Love-words came naturally between us now. "And I've missed you too. How's business?"

"Lousy. The new kilning techniques you sold to the other ceramic artisans have almost made me obsolete."

"You can consult the humans too."

His scent turned hostile. "I don't want any unnatural knowledge, not a bit of it. Even if I never sell another pot." He stopped, and tried what he probably thought was a convincing show of passion. "But I didn't come here to argue morality, gorwana. I came to be with you." He closed, and started licking behind my left ear.

I backed away. "Okay, it's truth time. What are you trying to accomplish?"

"Huh?"

"Do you think I'm a fresh-caught tagnami you can trick? You insult me. You aren't in a romantic mood, so why are you really here?"

"I  … wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About  … uh … Weighing. You know I'm very interested. I thought we might—"

"Irongut, gorwana, you don't get enough practice to be a convincing liar. You're here for a reason you won't admit." I could only think of one subject about which he might feel the need to lie to me. "It's something to do with the humans, isn't it?"

Silence.

"Kraal curse it, Irongut, go home. You aren't welcome on my territory. I'm going to visit the humans, make sure they're okay."

He moved to block the doorway. "No. That's why I came, to keep you out of it."

"Out of what?" More silence. "If you aren't going to talk to me, get out. You won't fight me, but I may have to walk over you if you don't move."

He couldn't outglare me, and finally stepped aside. "Please stay here tonight," he begged. "With me or without me. You can't help the humans."

You could have sliced iron with my anger. "You know about my duty to them. I'm going. If you tell me what I'm walking into, it might help me avoid trouble."

He thought that through, then said in a low growl. "Word spread quickly about the immoral trick you used to put over the street paving. Many of us feel the humans are the source of this evil among many others. So Shrubfur and a pawful of others plan to visit Coldcrag tonight. For a circle challenge."

Overkill, I thought. Any one adult could kill both humans without much effort; I didn't see the need for multiple challenges, except maybe moral support. "Violating my challenge-right! Skulking behind my back! You thought I would ignore this shame if I had no chance to prevent it! No! I'll buy my honor back with blood, if it comes to that!"

"Go home, Irongut." My voice softened. "I forgive you. Your heart is in the right place, though Kraal knows where your brain is."

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"My job."

Irongut backed out the doorway, reeking worry and sorrow. "The humans are dangerous, and very bad luck. I hope you survive the night, gorwana." Then he was gone.

I rushed around the cabin, filling my carrysack with things I would need. I had enough imagination to see the only two possible outcomes of what I had to do. Neither was good. I would have felt ill except for the heat of anger that burned away all lesser emotions.

Unchaining Runt, I left him sleeping on his blanket.

"Sleep well, my little furball. Tomorrow it's back to the Wild for you, unless the new owner needs a tagnami."

The tears in my eyes dried quickly as I ran at top speed across meadows that were pale white in the moonlight, and through grave-black forest, to the commonland trail. Even during snow season there was gaunt beauty for the discerning eye; smells of life dying and awaiting rebirth. But my mind was busy adding details to my plan. It depended on my reaching Coldcrag first—a reasonable possibility, since my territory was closer to it than Shrub fur's. Plus the fact that circle challenges usually required a lot of negotiation to settle the individual rights.

I stretched my stride until icicles tore at my lungs, but the snow dragged at my legs. Before long I was panting and aching. Kraal, I was getting old!

I sniffed the light breeze, and paused every so often to listen, but I seemed to be alone in the night. The territories I passed were quiet. Was I early, or too late?

I reached the border of Coldcrag still without any sign of the circle challengers. Even in an emergency like this I couldn't enter without the humans' permission—I wasn't here to issue a challenge. I howled an entry cry.

Minutes passed. If the deed was already done, I would return home. In the morning I would set out to identify the challengers and regain my honor. But that wouldn't bring the humans back to life. I was beginning to think of them as friends as well as business associates.

The horn sounded entry permission. I must have roused them from sleep. Good, so far. I ran up the slope as though demons were on my trail. Maybe there were.

Ralphayers opened the door, shivering from the cold. Pamayers stood behind him; her candle was the only light in the dark cabin. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Very wrong. Get your traveling gear, quick. We're leaving here now."

"Huh? Why?" Ralphayers stifled a yawn.

"A group of adults is heading here to kill you two. They may be closing in right now."

"You're  … you're sure about this?"

"Yes, yes, yes! But don't believe me—stick around and see them for yourself. You'll get to participate in one of our quaint rituals called a circle challenge. You won't enjoy it."

"Why? What have we done?"

"You didn't do it; I did. I listened to you instead of my common sense. No time for this now. Move or stay!"

They had carrysacks filled with equipment for their frequent research trips into the Wild; they stuffed them with food, then slung them over their backs after putting on more of their strange pelt substitutes for warmth. They kept talking to each other in their own language, I poked my head out the door.

The breeze was rolling down the slope, so I heard them before I smelled them. They were on the humans' territory, spread out to prevent escape, and closing in on the cabin clearing. At least seven. I couldn't see them; a broken twig here, a whisper there told me where they were. They weren't being particularly stealthy, since they didn't expect much opposition from the humans.

Time to enlighten them. I howled the traditional trespass challenge, then added, "I'm here! Slasher! I'm here to accept any and all challenges of Ralphayers and Pamayers! I suggest you turn around and slink away before your debt becomes too large to let you survive!"

I admired my bravado. I might win the first two or three challenges, but even my ego couldn't pretend I'd live to complete the circle. They knew it, too. Shrubfur's voice came from the black forest eaves. "Return to your territory, Slasher, while you can. You've been seduced by these evil creatures, but when their influence is gone you'll be one of us again."

"I'm more respectable than any of you! I'm not afraid of new ideas, or in need of a skulking pack when an adult would hunt alone!"

That insult ended rational discussion. Howling rose in all directions, coming closer, a din that sent all nocturnal beasts scurrying or flying to safety. The humans crowded behind me, jerking at each cry. "Ready?" I demanded

"Yes," Ralphayers said. "But what can we do? They're all around. We can't fight them, wouldn't even if we could. And we can't run fast enough to escape."

"Too true. Remember those animals you told me about, horses? Well, pretend I'm one. Straddle my back and hang onto my fur."

"You're strong, but not that strong," Ralphayers said.

"You better hope I am. Get on."

They did, awkwardly, sitting in front of and behind my carrysack. My legs almost buckled. They were heavier than they looked. But I figured I could still make better speed than their pitiful excuse for running.

"Here we go!" I bounded off the porch and crossed the white-crusted rocky ground away from the cliff and Coalgathering, toward the Wild.

"Where are we going?" Pamayers shouted over the drum rhythm of my four driving legs and the hissing wind.

"Away from the hunters," I gasped. "If we manage that … we'll see."

I could have tried to dart between two of the slower challengers. But such a show of cowardice would make us legitimate prey; they would hunt us to the death. Besides, I was mad from tail to snout. If I had to abandon everything I owned except my honor, I would go with style and at least a small victory.

I ran straight at Shrubfur.

She loped out of the underbrush, a black shadowy shape. I would have approached a fight with her cautiously under the best of circumstances; with the burden on my back it was downright crazy. Which I was, a little bit. "Stay right there!" I shouted. "I'm coming with a red welcome for you!"

My scent was so strong I could smell it, rage and death.

The other challengers kept their distance—this was between Shrubfur and me now. She held her ground, tensing to defend and counterattack. She didn't smell the least bit afraid, but … maybe … uncertain.

The gap between us was closing fast. My back ached. The humans were shouting questions that I didn't bother to hear. Shrubfur had become my entire universe. If she didn't step aside, I was going to claw a path right through her. Or go down trying.

I understood her uncertainty. The still rational part of my mind was counting on it. She wasn't sure she could beat me, and her reason to try wasn't very strong—her challenge was against the humans. And they were abandoning their territory under challenge. It rarely happened, but it was as effective a banishment as death.

Her snarling face loomed in front of me. I spread my jaws to tear out her throat, and wondered where her claws would rake me.

Then she was gone, a stride to my right, and I hurtled by. The scrawny woods wrapped darkness around me. The snow under my paws thinned to frozen patches, and plant-smells cleared the evil reek from my nostrils. The humans were still shouting questions.

Just as I thought we were clear, Shrubfur apparently regretted her indecisiveness. Her howl was promptly answered by the other challengers. Running legs pounded the ground behind us. The hunt was up.

My rage began to cool, allowing me to concentrate fully on the agony each stride wrung from my breaking back. But it would have to agonize even more if it weren't to stop permanently. "Are you two okay?" I shouted to the humans.

"Yes!" Ralphayers answered. "What happened back there? Were you going to fight?"

"Later  … !" I gasped. "They're on our … trail! Have to …  outrun them! Need all my strength!"

"You can't possibly outrun them, not while carrying us!"

That deserved and got no answer. Of course I couldn't, but there was no honorable alternative to trying.

I was heading upslope, toward a low pass over the mountains and into the Wild. The stunted trees and bushes became more sparse, giving way to snowcovered granite. I gasped with each stride. My running was ragged; I could hear and smell the hunters on both sides and behind, closing in on us cautiously.

I hadn't expected pursuit, and had no clever scheme to escape. But I kept doggedly at it, ignoring further questions from the humans. The summit of the pass was just ahead now. If I could make it through, at least I would be running downhill.

The hunters were within a ten-stride or two of bringing us down. My back hurt so badly I almost looked forward to it.

Suddenly and dramatically in the wan moonlight, the white trail curved downward. I saw the Wild below, tree-tops and rivers and broad meadows reaching to the horizon. I started down, staggering, hindknees buckling.

It took me several moments to realize that the humans and I were alone on the downward trail. The hunters had stopped at the summit. I could feel their eyes even though I was beyond their view. I pulled up slowly on trembling legs. "Off!"

They scrambled onto their own legs. "Are we safe now?" Pamayers asked. "Why did they stop?"

"Safe from them, yes. Seems they just wanted to chase us out. But we're in the Wild now, so keep a sharp lookout. There are many dangerous creatures here, large and small, ones we've purged from our territories."

I continued down the trail—a rough path blazed by Travelers as well as mothers-to-be—and the humans followed. Walking, not running, I felt light enough to glide, but my back and legs still ached.

"Can you tell us where we're going now?" Ralphayers asked.

I paused. "There's a lot I could say in answer to that. Our immediate need is for a safe place to sleep. I don't know the Wild well; I rarely have business out here. But I remember a place near here that should do."

"What happens to us tomorrow?" Pamayers asked.

"I don't know," I snapped, short-tempered in my pain and loss. "This is a new experience for me too. So far I've been concentrating on keeping us alive tonight."

"Is there any hope we'll be able to return to Coalgathering?"

"No. The circle challenge still stands. And we would find the same kind of trouble if we tried to establish ourselves in another town. The news of what happened tonight will spread fast, and we would be considered undesirable neighbors wherever we went. That leaves a pair of choices. Turning Traveler or Wilder."

"Traveling might suit us," Ralphayers said. "We could learn more that way. But I'm not sure I understand the concept completely. Travelers are artisans, savants, craftsmen, explorers et al who wander from town to town. But how do they fit into your social and economic systems?"

"They're somewhat disreputable," I admitted, "since they don't share our need for territory. They earn a bit of twilga in a town, buy what they need and move on. They eat, drink and sleep in the Wild. Frankly, I don't think you two would last long. But if that's your choice, I'll help you as much as I can."

The humans jabbered at each other. I looked up past bare branches at the cold stars, and felt empty. I was no Traveler. I had to have land of my own under my paws, a fixed place in the universe. But my territory would belong to someone else tomorrow.

"You're right," Pamayers said to me. "We wouldn't survive. What about the other possibility?"

"Wilders," I growled. "Even lower than Travelers. Cowards, criminals, perverts, eccentrics—anyone who can't accept the customs of society—flee into the Wild, living scarcely any better than truly wild adults. But I don't see a third choice for us."

"You mean we just find a likely piece of land and take up residence?" Pamayers asked.

"Two territories," I reminded them sharply. "Ones with adequate food and water won't be easy to find out here. That's why it's the Wild. But yes, we claim them, challenging the current owners—quality land will almost certainly have a Wilder or wild adult on it. If we win, the territories are ours. I'll have to fight for you, of course."

More jabbering. "That plan sounds more suitable to our needs," she said. "With the tools in our carrysacks we should be able to build cabins, hunt and grow food, make clothes … But none of us are in any shape to decide our future tonight. Let's take it up again in the morning."

"I agree," I said. For awhile we walked in weary silence. We were on an icy rock shelf following a cliff face. Below the bare slope descended to the eaves of a forest, all dark and indistinct shapes.

"Why?" Ralphayers asked so softly that I might have thought he was talking to himself, except that he wasn't using his own strange language.

"Why what?" I responded.

"Why all of this? What did we do wrong, to be driven out like this? I thought your fellow townsfolk were beginning to accept us."

"Some were," I agreed. "But I made a bad error in judgment. I used your idea to put over the street paving, and it convinced some of the town conservatives that your notions about cooperation are dangerous. Ergo, the challenge."

"But  … but cooperation is a cornerstone of any social system. Your individualism has held back your rate of progress. There is so much you just can't do without group effort."

I growled. "For a savant you aren't very quick on the uptake. We may not have the herd instinct of your kind, but we do cooperate. We do it in our own way. As for progress … " I stopped. All the times I had cursed the hindbound conservatism of my fellow adults, and here I was babbling their cant like Shrubfur or Irongut. Was my loss turning me against my own beliefs—and the humans?

"You're right," Pamayers said, "and we were wrong to suggest what we did. We're here to learn your mores, not change them."

"I was the one who bought your idea, and tried it. A Weigher should have known better. I was … tempted. And I've been properly punished. So let's not talk about this any more tonight."

More silent walking brought us to the place I remembered. A cave in the limestone of the cliff. Not much of a cave; more like a cabin-sized indentation, with fallen rocks piled in front like a low fence. I sniffed to make sure it didn't have a current inhabitant. It didn't. "Here's your cabin for tonight. Safe from predators, and some shelter from the cold."

"Aren't you joining us?" Pamayers asked.

I shuddered. "I'll sleep out here as a guard. The cliff is all the shelter I need."

The humans crawled over the rubble into the cave. They used their odd nonburning lamps to examine it, and reported it was messy from animals that had laired there, but habitable.

They got the cave cleaned up quickly, and went to sleep. I was just as tired, but I had trouble falling asleep. I wasn't as impervious to the cold as I had alleged.

But the worst was the stress of having no territory, of sharing this place with others. I had to stay with them to keep them safe, but there wasn't any precedent for adults sharing a territory … there was my out. They weren't really adults; they were more like tagnami I was raising. Not a perfect analogy, but good enough to let me finally sleep.

I woke up cold, stiff, and momentarily disoriented. When memory poured back between my ears, I managed to feel even worse. I just lay there on the leaves I had piled to cushion the bare rock. I watched the stars slowly fade as dawn came. I heard the forest sounds and the loud breathing of the humans. The smells were unchanged from the night before.

I felt unnaturally lethargic and hopeless. There were things that needed doing, I knew intellectually, but emotionally I couldn't stir up any motivation to move. The wan winter sun rose to warm me a bit. It looked like it was going to be a clear day.

The humans finally came out of the cave. They looked as worn out and haggard as I knew I must, and I was glad I didn't have a mirror to see. "Good morning," Pamayers said with a try at cheerfulness.

I creaked up onto my hindlegs and joined them. "If you say so. At least we have good weather. We'll need it."

Ralphayers nodded. "Well, Slasher, do we stay here or move on?"

I thought as I paced the kinks out of my joints. Finally I said, "This land isn't very good for game, though there is water. We'll want better for permanent territories. But I think we should winter here. I'll hunt game for all of us. Can you fix the cave up as a suitable temporary home?"

"Not easily or quickly, but yes. We have some tools. We can wall up the front, put in a simple hearth, a floor, build some furniture—"

"I suggest you get started then." I said curtly. "I'll have to protect you until you have a secure home, and on top of everything else that has happened I must disgrace myself by sleeping on your doorstep."

Ralphayers paused, then said, "I think I understand your problem. With luck we should be able to get the wall up today."

"That would be good news," I growled without conviction. "While you're at it, I'm going to hunt our breakfast. After that I'll scout around for a nearby site for my own winter haven. There are supposed to be more caves further south along the cliffs. Tomorrow we can run the bounds of our new territories and mark them."

"Is that important out here?" Pamayers asked.

"We're still civilized adults, Kraal curse it! I won't start behaving like an animal, and neither should you!"

They looked at me strangely. Kraal take them both, I had nothing to apologize for. I told them how to find the nearest mountain stream, warned them to keep watch for direbeasts and wild adults, and loped down the slope into the grim woods. I felt indecently glad to be getting away from them, if only briefly.

The strongwood giants and squat underbrush became thicker as I followed a game trail down toward the plain. The forest was, I knew, only a thin strip hugging the mountain range. Beyond were rolling meadowlands buried under snow and bereft of game.

I had half-hoped the familiar routine of the hunt would snap me out of my funk. But it didn't.

Much as we pride ourselves on our individualism, scratch us and you will find underneath creatures as socially interdependent as any hiving insect. I had been torn from my secure place in Coalgathering's social stucture. In one swipe of the claw I had been disgraced, lost my territory and tagnami, and been forced into exile. I was already beginning to feel lonely. The humans were intelligent and overly friendly, but they weren't adults. We had too little in common.

Kraal curse the day they had dropped into my life to destroy it!

No, it wasn't fair to blame them. They had provided the opportunity, but I had seized it to trample tradition and hurt others. Yes, hurt! Only now was I beginning to see, through their eyes, how wrongly I had dealt with them. In the arrogance of my convictions I had forgotten their right to their own. For that there had to be twilga, and I would pay it for the rest of my life.

I leaned against the slick black bark of a forest giant, and for the first time since the day I killed my father I cried.

How long I cried I don't know. What stopped me was a scent on the soft morning breeze. A half-familiar scent. A dangerous, hostile scent. Even in my present state it snapped me back to animal awareness.

A wild male adult, coming this way. Not a Wilder who had turned his back on civilization, but a cub who had never been brought in to become a tagnami. As an adult he would be a very successful predator, cunning though uneducated, a winner in the hard battle for survival in the Wild.

Worse yet, I could tell he was in rut. He wasn't looking to kill me for trespassing on his supposed territory. Not this time.

My nape fur should have risen in outrage, and I should have hurled to challenge and gut the savage for his effrontery. As a tagnami I had heard the dark tales of Wilders coupling with wild adults, but I hadn't really believed them. Some things were too disgusting to be conceivable. But I didn't move.

He crept cautiously from a stand of iceberry bushes. At this close range he had to know I didn't share his lust, but being a savage he wouldn't care. He was a magnificent physical specimen; huge, about Irongut's age, and scarred so that his pelt looked like a badly made quilt. He stank from the lack of a recent bath. Still I didn't move.

This would end it. The body and the brain would go on, fulfilling an unwanted obligation. But the soul would be extinguished. No pain, no loss, no loneliness. All I had to do was yield.

I made myself give off an acquiescent spoor, turned away, crouched low, tucked my tail to the side to save it from his brutal passion, and spread my hindlegs for him.

The sun was well past zenith and starting toward its evening rest when I loped out of the woods and approached the humans' cave. They were hard at work fitting young strongwood trunks they had cut and trimmed into a wall blocking up the cave mouth. They heard me and, dropping their tools, ran to meet me.

"Where have you been?" Pamayers demanded. I thought I was beginning to master some of their odd facial expressions, and she seemed worried as well as afraid for me. But their feelings meant nothing to me now.

"I've been doing what I should have done a long time ago. Thinking. Not just reacting to events." I paused. "I've changed my mind. I can't be a Wilder."

"What do you mean?"

"Just this. I'm returning to town. Now."

Ralphayers spoke before Pamayers could. "But last night you said we couldn't go back. You said the challengers would try to kill us."

I nodded.

"You've thought of a way around the challenge?"

The will to do something—anything—was like the glow of fermented milk spreading through my body. Recent memory still burned like a hearthfire, but I would again be true to my name. "I'm going to accept the challenge for you. I'll complete the circle, if my skill and luck last."

"You can't win a half dozen or more fights in a row!" Pamayers blurted. "What's wrong with you? Are you trying to commit suicide?"

"Why I do it is my own business. Still, we have a business agreement. If you come with me, I'll do my best to keep you safe."

"How are you going to manage that if they kill you?"

"If you want to find that out, come along. But you don't have to. We can terminate the agreement. With your strange talents and tools you might make a life as Wilders."

"Without your help we won't survive the winter," Ralphayers disagreed. "Starvation, attack, exposure—take your choice."

They were trapped, but so was I, and I had no sympathy for any of us. "I'm leaving now. If you plan to hold me to our agreement, get your sacks and come."

I walked slowly to the cliff trail that had brought us here. Behind me I heard hasty packing and paws running to catch up. They fell in on either side without a word.

The silence suited me. I didn't want to have to explain further, or to try. When you have lost everything you have to lose, right down to your self-respect, you reach at last a kind of peaceful equilibrium, the firmness of rock bottom. I wanted to enjoy it while I could.

I set a fast pace up to and over the pass, and the humans were hard put to keep up. They talked to each other from time to time. Starting down, I took the most direct commonland trail to town.

I wanted to arrive before the adults started home for the day. The sun hung low over the treetops beyond the river when I walked through the South Gate on my hindlegs, flanked by the humans.

I expected the whole town to know what had happened, and I was right. As I walked along Savant Street toward the challenge lawn, most adults and tagnami stopped whatever they were doing, stared at us, and began talking excitedly among themselves. I knew what they were looking forward to; I didn't plan to disappoint them.

No one spoke to me, but many followed us at a safe distance. Others spread the news, like the ripples created by a rock tossed in the river. We reached the reddish-purple groundplant, dumped our carrysacks, and went to the middle of the challenge lawn.

The late afternoon was golden with shafts of light coming through the treetops. Bloodlust and excitement saturated the air, which was dry but hard-edged with a chill. A beautiful day for fighting. Hundreds of adults and tagnami soon ringed the lawn—most of the town.

"Don't say or do anything unless I tell you to," I whispered to the humans.

Pamayers opened her mouth, but then closed it and touched my shoulder. Strangely, I found the gesture reassuring rather than offensive.

The onlookers suddenly became silent. From seven places in the ring adults stepped forward. I recognized them all by their scent. The circle challengers. I faced Shrubfur.

"I'm glad to see your courage has returned," Shrubfur growled. "One thing I never thought of you was that you were a coward."

"The grievances between us have become complicated," I said in a calm tone. "The humans and I are eager to settle them. I suggest that we get a judgment from the Weigher. You do have a new Weigher, don't you?"

Shrubfur laughed deeply. "That we do. One more to my taste than his predecessor. I wonder if you'll approve. Ah, here he is now."

Irongut stepped through the ring onto the lush lawn.

I wasn't surprised. I had known about his interest for a long time. Nor, knowing his feelings on the subject, could I expect any help from him. Love wouldn't stop him from doing his duty any more than it would me. He would be fair, but fair according to his own beliefs.

His expression when he looked at me was grim, but I smelled the scent of concern, too. "I'm the Weigher now," he said to me. "Are my services needed here?"

If my scheme went wrong, I would have to fight him. I felt old. Too old.

Shrubfur growled, "Ashpelt, Crier, Fisheater, Shortlegs, Treeback, Stripedfur and I issued a circle challenge to the creatures called Ralphayers and Pamayers. Slasher intervened on their behalf. They fled from us and abandoned their territories. Now they have returned. We are reposting our challenge." The other six added their approval.

"Will you accept a twilga decision from me to settle your grievances?" Irongut asked.

Before I could speak Shrubfur answered, "No, this is a blood dispute." and the others agreed.

Irongut turned to the humans. "Then you must fight. Which of you will accept first?"

"No!" I shouted—everybody had to hear this. "I claim this challenge is unjust! I want the Weigher to judge if it's proper!"

For something as unusual as a circle challenge it was a fair request. The challengers agreed smugly, and we all entered the twilga for Irongut's Weighing in our notebooks.

"Why do you say it's unjust?" he asked.

"Because these adults have no legitimate grievance against the humans."

"No grievance!" Shrubfur howled. "They have spread strange ideas that damage our businesses. Worse, they have seduced you so that you think like them and deal dishonorably with your own kind. Everyone knows about the perverted trick you used on Fisheater, Shortlegs, Treeback and myself."

"Yes, my dishonor! I don't deny it! But the humans have done none of you any harm. They sell knowledge that improves our trades, sciences and arts. Many here have bought from them, and profited. If you refused the chance to improve while your competitors didn't, whose fault is that?

"It's nothing less than cowardice to try to put the blame on others for your own mistakes. Knowledge isn't evil, but it can be used for evil. If it is, blame the user. Surely you aren't claiming mere words can turn a good adult bad. If so, you're accusing all of us of being so weak-minded that we can't control ourselves."

I stopped, because my well-planned argument was having the desired effect. There were hostile scents and growls among the onlookers, directed at Shrubfur. Many of them had done business with the humans and hoped to do more. Moreover, accusations of cowardice and stupidity cut to the bone.

Irongut took a long time thinking, then said, "Slasher has made some valid points. I don't see that you have a legitimate grievance against the two creatures."

Tremendous relief surged through me. I wouldn't have to fight Irongut.

The challengers plainly realized how bad they would look if they tried to pursue the matter. Nor did any of them seem inclined to fight Irongut over his decision. "I accept the Weighing," each of us said in turn.

Irongut turned to me, his expression even grimmer. "But you've as much as admitted that their grievance against you is valid. You'll have to complete the circle if you can."

Shrubfur smiled broadly.

I motioned the humans to join Irongut at the edge of the lawn, then I dropped to four legs. Shrubfur slunk toward me slowly, also on four legs. Her pelt glistened like water in moonlight. "I hope you aren't going to run away again," she growled.

I returned her smile. "No, I'm going to fit you with a second mouth just under the first."

The preliminaries out of the way, we closed in on each other. The onlookers' conversations stopped as though cut with a knife.

I wanted Shrubfur's life. Whether I then fell to the second, third or fourth challenger didn't matter; she had chosen to make herself the symbol of my disaster. But it wouldn't be easy. She was a paw taller than I, and a mass of muscles from her trade. In age and quickness we were evenly matched. Well, maybe I had the edge in cunning. Maybe.

We circled warily, sniffing to check each other's mood. Shrubfur was hot with anger, but under rigid control; a good fighting attitude. I had no warning when she charged.

She leaped over me, a flashy but effective move. Her claws raked at my back. But I wasn't there—I had dropped to my belly, rolled and crouched. I tried to hook one of her hindlegs with my tail, but missed.

I swung around in time to meet Shrubfur's second attack. She dove at my left side, taking away a mouthful of fur and flesh. The wound bled, and hurt, but it would take a lot of nips like that to drop me. I sank a claw into her left foreleg and opened a deep slash. Her eyes glazed momentarily.

I jumped and came down on top of her, grappling with my claws. She rolled across the groundplant trying to knock me off. I hung on as long as I could, then jumped free.

I almost made it. She curled her tail around me, and bit into my right hindleg before I could squirm away. The pain was like a band of molten metal. I swallowed a howl of pain; Kraal curse it if I would shame myself any further.

We wrestled across the lawn as she gnawed at my leg. I had only a few seconds left to save it. Arching until I could feel my spine creak, I swung a foreleg back and down, and caught the end of her snout. Red blood spurted. During her momentary distraction I yanked my leg free.

I stood and faced her, wobbling a bit. Our pelts were matted with blood. We charged each other. She bit deep behind my neck and tried to grind through my right shoulder blade. I couldn't hold in a whimper, and a gray fog obscured my sight.

But, sure of her victory at last, she neglected her defense for less than a second. I hit the sides of her head with two closed paws as hard as I could. She dropped at my feet, stunned.

I reached down with my claws to keep my promise.

And stopped.

I stared at Shrubfur's bloody body, and felt dizzy with sudden insight. Thoughts flew through my mind. At least she would be dying true to her own beliefs, while I had clawed mine to shreds. I would die, and the humans too—without me they would soon ignorantly commit a fatal mistake. Their valuable knowledge and, yes, their even more valuable notion of mutual gain through group efort would be lost.

I had been only half-wrong, but too proud to bend rather than break. Now I understood. Too late; my course was set.

Or was it? I wasn't an animal or a wild adult. I was a Weigher, with a lifetime of accumulated experience. I thought hard and fast, searched my memories, fitted ideas together like puzzle pieces … .

A lot went on during the three or four seconds that I crouched over Shrubfur. Then I stood up slowly. Everyone stared at me in rapt silence, eager for the kill, wondering at my delay.

I knew what I had to do, but it still hurt like a doctor's scalpel. Shrubfur coughed. She was beginning to wake up. I took my twilga notebook and dropped it beside her. My belt followed it. I was naked.

After a moment of shock, a hundred whispers made the ring of onlookers buzz. The reek of disgust made me gag. Better get used to it, I told myself.

Irongut's scent and expression were unreadable. This situation was an extremely rare one, but he knew his Weigher lore. "The challenge is settled," he said, then turned and walked away. The ring was breaking up as adults and tagnami headed back to their stalls. Their eyes avoided mine. Shrubfur staggered off with my former property and a confused look.

The humans ran to me. "How badly are you hurt?" Pamayers demanded.

"I'll live."

"What happened?"

Each word hurt. "I surrendered to Shrubfur. My territory, my twilga, everything I owned is hers now."

A long pause. "Why did you do it?"

"To survive. I have work to do, more important than my property or even my honor."

Another pause, then Ralphayers said, "I think we understand. But what will you do without a territory or twilga?"

"I won't have to do without either. It's time for us to settle up for my services yesterday and today on your behalf. Saving your lives should be worth the price of a modest territory and the basic necessities."

"Of course," Pamayers said quickly. "As long as you include medical treatment on the top of your list. You're losing a lot of blood."

I swayed, and the gray fog was thickening. "Okay. Let's go. We don't have much time before dusk. We'll want to stay out of town for a few days, let things calm down."

If I could find adults willing to do business with me. I was publicly labeled a coward. No self-respecting adult would want to stain his pelt with my blood. I had lost all of my friends except the humans, and all of the respect of my fellow adults. Agenting the humans' knowledge would be my only trade; Weighing and all other professions were closed to me. In time I might win back some friends and respect, but for now I would have to cling precariously to the bottom rung of the social ladder.

The sun had gone to ground beyond the river, and the day was ending quickly under heavy clouds. I was finishing up a third day of repairing the dilapidated cabin of my new territory. I put away my tools, and tried to ignore the throbbing of my bandaged leg, side and shoulder.

I was about to hobble into the stunted hillside woods and try to bring down dinner, even more of a challenge due to the meager game stock, when I heard a familiar howl for entry permission.

I trembled from surprise as I gave permission, and rushed inside the cabin to run a quick comb through my pelt. Why was he here? Fears and hopes fought in my mind.

I met Irongut on the porch—the cabin wasn't ready for visitors yet. He looked well, with a more mature self-control. The responsibilities of Weighing seemed to agree with him. I felt a twinge of loss, but I was also proud for him. I tingled like a tagnami in cublove. Since the fight my moods had been swinging wildly.

"I'm glad you came," I said simply.

"I want to talk to you about what happened." I couldn't determine his attitude by sight or scent.

"Okay."

"At first I couldn't understand your surrender. I despised you for it, like everyone else, and hated you for not being the adult I loved. But the not understanding hurt me. I kept worrying it in my mind."

"You could have asked me. I would have explained."

"That didn't occur to me until after I figured it out. At least I think I have. You haven't given up the evil human notions that caused all this, have you?"

I took a deep breath. "No, I haven't. But I won't be forcing them on anyone. I've learned my lesson."

"Thank the gods for that. But why this fanaticism over something that only causes trouble?"

I looked up at the clouds, and the unseen stars. "The humans came here from another world. They've accomplished so much. We squabble over the smallest step forward, killing each other instead of working together to improve our lives."

"It's our way."

"It's stupid and wrong. We're intelligent beings; we can change, grow. The knowledge I'm agenting for the humans will begin the change, since much of it will take group efforts to implement. But the key is the philosophy of cooperation itself. We're explaining it to all of our customers, and they arrive from farther away every day. Travelers take the knowledge and new ideas and skills with them, telling tales wherever they go. Eventually the philosophy of cooperation will spread everywhere. Its clear advantages will bring about gradual acceptance, without any force being needed."

"I don't agree," Irongut said, frowning. "You underestimate the deep roots of our morality."

"Morals change to match changing social conditions. I read that once in a history text. Don't worry, gorwana, the change will be a slow one. We won't live to see much of it."

Irongut was quiet for a long time. "I still feel it's wrong. If we change to become like the humans, then we'll no longer be ourselves. I'll argue against it, and fight against it if necessary."

I laughed. "You can't fight ideas. But you should try if you feel you must. At the least, you can remind me not to be overzealous."

"I will. I … don't want you hurt anymore."

My heart pounded under my furry chest. "I was about to go and look for some dinner. Will you hunt with me, gorwana? Then we can come back here and build a nice warm hearthfire?"

I smelled his answer before he spoke. "Of course. I still love you."

Together we bounded from the porch, and ran like shadows across the new-fallen snow to the forest eaves.