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though I suspect the money and gifts flow north from the new animal. In any case, these creatures all have reason to hate Humans. Accidents, most of all. I think that is why this Forest has become the main rendezvous point in the north.”
“Why do Accidents hate us so much?” Josh demanded.
Lon raised his eyebrows, as if he’d been asked a simple question by a child. Jasmine said, “Humans created Accidents, Joshua. That’s why.” Josh remained unclear. Jasmine added, “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you another time.”
Lon went ahead, “It may be as simple as slave trade on a large scale. All the marauding groups meet at the southeast of the Forest and the hostages are pooled and taken to one of the pirate cities by a few of the leaders. The rest of the raiders remain here for continued abductions and general terrorism.”
“Do you know what route they follow?” asked Beauty.
Lon shook his head. “No, though I have some suspicions. This Sire Bal, I’m certain, is one of the captains. He will be making the journey south with the captives, I can almost guarantee. And I know the trails he’s likely to follow. We used to hunt the Rain Forest together. Many years ago.”
“The Terrarium?” questioned Jasmine.
Lon nodded. “You know the area well, Jasmine. From the North Saddlebacks down to the pirates’ cove.”
Jasmine looked hard into the fireplace at an image only she could see. “That was a long time ago.”
“As I said, many years,” repeated Lon. “And I ran there with Bal-Sire even before I knew you.”
She turned to Josh. “Yes, I know the area,” she said.
“It is difficult terrain to navigate,” commented Beauty. “It would be preferable to catch them before they get that far. We should leave now.”
Lon laughed. “Only a fool would attempt my Forest at night.” Beauty stiffened. Lon caught himself. “My intent was not to imply you a fool, sir. I merely fear for your safety. This wood is black at night, and it is common to underestimate the savvy of these Accidents. A common, fatal mistake. They are cunning, these pauvres bêtes. Ugly brutes, but clever. And they know their woods. Best to stay here tonight, I think, and sally out in the morning.”
“He’s right,” said Josh.
Beauty frowned. “You have been kind to lead us here,” he said to Jasmine. Then, to Lon, “And you, to shelter us.” Finally, to the floor, “But I hunt alone. This tracking party is getting far out of hand. We might as well hire a trumpeter to announce us. Please, do not think me ungrateful but this is a thing for two of us, not an army.”
Josh found himself agreeing with the Centaur. Isis hissed softly. Lon puffed meditatively on his pipe. Jasmine waited a moment until she was certain Beauty had nothing further to say, then answered him. “You’re letting Venge-right cloud your judgment, both of you. Three times over. First, you have no idea how many creatures will be escorting the hostages – it may be an army. I suspect you’ll need as may allies as you can find. Second, I’m your equal or better in a fight – Lon can vouch for that. What’s more, I’ll bet that little Cat can hold her own.” Isis growled approval. Jasmine stood up. “Third, I’m the only one among you who knows Dundee’s Terrarium well enough to track Bal, if he gets that far.” She scolded Beauty. “That’s why you should want me to go, but by Neptune’s Middle Fin, that’s not why I’m going. I’m going because this boy saved my life, and I always repay my debts.” She picked a glass of wine off the table and drank.
“Her words have merit,” said Josh.
“Words,” scowled Beauty. Then to the Neuroman woman: “I cannot stop you. Still, I do not like it.”
“You mistrust words?” Jasmine asked him, her manner softer now.
“Words are a sorry attempt to describe what is.”
“Words can approximate the truth,” she replied.
“You cannot convince me with words of something I know to be false by experience or feeling.”
“Words are their own truth,” asserted Joshua. Normally this was a topic he and Beauty avoided discussing, but they were all a little heady from the liquor and the moment. Sentiments were bubbling up like steam in a simmering kettle.
“Words just reflect the truths of their times and their places,” said Jasmine, warming to the subject. “For example, when I was still young, in the early 22nd century, people rarely used verbs except in the present tense. The past was so depressing, and the future so frightening, that it became chic to discard all grammars but the present indicative. We said, ‘I eat,’ and that had to do, since nobody cared if you had eaten, or were going to eat. The words were just reflections of the way things were, though. Make sense?”
Beauty’s expression looked as much like a wall as an expression could. “I hope you do not talk so much when you hunt,” he said.
Jasmine smiled. “That reminds me of a story,” she began. “I was walking with a Captain of Clones, some 100 years ago, stalking a renegade Hedon in the jungle south of the Line. I just talked and talked about this and that, and after a while, the Hedon jumped out of the trees at us, knife in hand. I got him, though – dropped him at the Captain’s feet.
“The Clone Captain was a little peeved, just like you. ‘You always talk so much when you hunt?’ he said. Thing is, if I hadn’t been making so much noise, that Hedon never would have found us, and we might not have caught him. See, it’s all a question of definition – whether you think of yourself as hunter or hunted, and how you make use of that. Which gets us back to words again, right?”
Beauty stared at her as if she’d come from another planet. He had never wanted a hunting partner less. She’d been helpful, true, but so much chatter turned his stomach. It made him positively disharmonious, tilted his equanimity. Once more, he measured his words, “I hope you do not talk so much when you hunt.”
There was a second of silence, punctuated by an eruption of laughter so loud that the Flutterby woke up. Lon raised his glass. “To the hunt,” he said.
“To the hunt!” they all toasted, and a cheer went up. Soon everyone was talking at once. Even Beauty relented to the mood. Toasts were answered with vows, the music resumed, the dancers whirled in every corner. Humbelly fluttered until she fell asleep again. Isis got up on her hind legs to do a rowdy jig.
Josh was so sated, he was moved to sing a song, which he seldom did in the company of strangers. So he bade the musicians follow him as he sang out melodically:
“The hunter, he did cross the plain, And then he ventured home again, The merry merry feast will soon begin, Among the leaves so green-o.” At which point Beauty joined in with his gravelly baritone: “Well it’s hey down down, Ho down down, Hey down ho down derry derry down, Among the leaves so green-o.”
Followed by more cheers, more music. More drink, talk. Stories, gloriously told, of battles heroically fought, of journeys unconditionally traveled, of mortal trials tried.
Until finally, some time later, Lon stood and said he would be going to sleep. He showed the guests to their sleeping quarters – a lush, private room for each – telling them it would be his honor if each of them would take to bed a chosen favorite from the harem. Josh and Beauty politely refused; Lon intimated that he understood, though Josh saw the Vampire felt hurt, if not insulted by the rebuff. Jasmine selected the beautiful young servant boy with the jewelry, picked him up easily in her arms, and carried him off into her bedroom.
Lon had a special surprise for Isis: a champion Persian with long violet fur. The two Cats eyed each other and sidled up next to each other. “Mnnnnnn,” said Isis, as the Persian followed her hotly up a dark corridor into a seldom-used section of the cave.
Humbelly woke up long enough to flutter a bit nearer the glowing coals. Finally, the whole house-hold was asleep.