Fair Game - Part 1
Shaper of Swords charged down the hallway, his ears folded flat
against his head, his tail whipping back and forth. His claws flexed
impulsively, his teeth overhanging his lower lip, his mouth drawn into
an unpleasant snarl.
Normally, Kzin do not interrupt one another. Especially not when
one is in a rage such as Shaper's, although few Kzin in the hallway with
him could imagine the reason for such ferocious anger. So when K'narl
reached out a hand and grabbed Shaper by the shoulder, many took cover.
"Shaper," he called out.
Shaper spun, claws flying for the face of the interloper. But
K'narl was a named Kzin for good reason. Seizing the youth's wrist, he
slammed Shaper up against the wall and stared into his face. "CEASE."
Shaper blinked, his chest heaving, his claws flexing in and out of
their recesses in his hands. He snarled, a deep and angry sound, before
collapsing against the wall. He looked away. "Sir."
K'narl smiled tolerantly. "You have a problem, Shaper of Swords?"
"It is not something to be discussed in public." He paused, then
added, "Sir."
"If it is not to be discussed publicly, you will discuss it with me
privately. In my home, for meal, now."
Shaper's ears fanned open, as if unsure of what they had heard.
What K'narl inviting him to his house? A mentor? An offer? He was
dumbfounded. The rage he had felt drained away, leaving him shaken.
"Sir."
"Come," K'narl said, seizing the younger Kzin by the arm and
hauling him down the passageway. Out into the street, K'narl continued
to handle him like a bundle of meat until they reached the elder Kzin's
residence. Once inside, K'narl indicated a small chair made of wood.
"Sit, young Shaper. I will bring out food."
Still bewildered by the sudden turn of events, Shaper sat, staring
around. The walls were, predictably, covered with weapons. K'narl's
collection predominated with weapons of melee' rather than of range;
only two rifles were in evidence, and those were of exceptionally fine
modern design. The rest were knives, swords, hand-held weapons of
beauty. The blacksmithing knowledge that had granted Shaper his title
and what respect he owned came to him as he stared, appreciating the
artistry of such fine blades. He wished to rise and examine them, but
he had been so ordered to sit by his elder, and so he would remain.
The nets, bolas, whips, and other weapons meant to entangle rather
than kill a running prey fascinated Shaper. Those were not common
items; only scientists wanted to trap prey for examination rather than
for food. K'narl was not a scientist, but a warrior, one of great
strategic knowledge. He was known to be overly cautious at times, but
the Kzin empire had learned from its mistakes with humans in that far,
far too often it had screamed and it had leapt when it was not ready to
do so.
K'narl returned with two trays. "It is my understanding that you
enjoy the rare taste of Kandet."
Shaper turned, startled by K'narl's return, then ashamed by his
lack of attentiveness. He attempted to bluster through his
embarrassment. "A weakness."
"Nonsense," K'narl replied, placing a large tray with a Kandet leg
before Shaper. "Kandet is a fine meat, rare and difficult to preserve.
If you have the respect necessary to obtain it, you should enjoy that
privilege."
Shaper was stunned by K'narl's phrasing. K'narl had just come so
close to offering to petition for his name that his brain, already
confused by the day's events, refused to consider the offer. K'narl
gave him a fanged smile and said "Eat. Before the blood in that piece
runs cold."
Shaper looked down at the plate, picked up the meat where the bone
protruded, and proceeded to gnaw on it, tasting it carefully before
taking large chunks and swallowing it down. Kandet was a prized running
carnivore, and to have hauled one down by oneself was considered an
honor. To have permission just to hunt a *fooch* stocked with such
beasts was honor in and of itself.
When they were finished eating, K'narl sat back in his chair and
patted his belly. "Fine food."
"Agreed, sir," Shaper said.
"Now then, my young friend... tell me why you rode down the hall in
a mood to rip out the entrails of anyone who stood in your way."
"Sir..." Shaper began uneasily.
"You will tell me," K'narl said, a dark shadow crossing his face.
"Yes, sir," Shaper agreed. He swallowed momentarily. "I mated for
the first time today."
"Mated?" K'narl asked. "Or attempted to mate?"
"Mated, sir," Shaper said. "I did not fail in my duty to
contribute. It was an honor to myself and my father and his before him,
and I did not fail in that honor."
"Excellent," K'narl agreed. "Then why such youthful rage?"
"Sir," Shaper began again. "Forgive me, sir, but the act... the
act is so unworthy of a Kzin as to be ridiculous!"
"Explain."
"The weak, soft, fat, pathetic whimpering of that passive female.
The way the priests watched. The position, the act itself... I have
never felt so ill. It made my shaft firm and it made my blood race in
ways that only occur in the *foochs* themselves, but I had to be so
controlled. I could not damage the female, yet my every urge told me to
be wild, to be a Kzin. I could not."
"Yes," K'narl said, his lips curled into a common snarl. "Combat
and mating; they both make our hearts pound, yet only one is truly the
act of an adult Kzin. The other is a sad shadow, necessary but
unpleasant."
"Not during the act," Shaper interrupted. "My head did not work
then; I was loosed upon her. But all the time I knew the priests were
there with their stunners and their nets to protect the females. It was
later, when I was leaving and knew what I had committed, and how ugly it
had been, that my rage became so..."
"I am told," K'narl said, interrupting Shaper, "That human females
have some fight in them, as far as a human's fighting strength is
concerned."
"Human females are not insentient!"
"No, they are not. But compared to the males they are not so much
better than ours. They have a little fight, but with the proper
training I am sure they are as pliable as our own. I imagine there is
always that little spark of fight, because they might find a knife or
some other weapon and turn upon their mate. But any proper male knows
how to control and take a female properly." Leaning forward across the
stone table, he said, "Shaper of Swords, what if I were to tell you that
I knew of a... an organization, that had an answer to your frustration."
Shaper gave K'narl a look of surprise. The wording of that offer
sounded like K'narl was proposing something improper. A heretic cult,
perhaps? "Your organization has human females to mate with?" he said,
allowing a little sarcasm to creep into his voice. The tone may have
seemed a little insubordinate, a risk to his very life.
K'narl smiled. "Better."
Shaper blinked. "What then?"
"In the northern hemisphere, there remain some small zones that
managed to escape the devastation of the War with Man. In some cases,
there is still tube service to those locations. We have a *fooch* in
one of those locations. The radiation is as low as background; it is
completely safe. The *fooch* is small, a little over two thousand
*yarrach*, but it is private, and safe."
Shaper waited. K'narl continued. "You have had a successful
mating, Shaper. Yet you found no pleasure in the act... there was no
blood, there is no memory to treasure. In this *fooch* we hunt the
deadliest of all game, not to kill, but to mate... in combat, with claws
and teeth. For there is only one thing on all of Kzandi worthy of the
aim of another Kzin's mating lust."
Shaper stared at K'narl, unfathoming. "What?"
Shaper's fur stood on edge to see the elder Kzin smile. "Another
male Kzin."
"WHAT!?" Shaper shouted, standing up and knocking over the chair he
had been sitting in.
"SIT!" K'narl commanded. Shaper stood, stunned, then slowly picked
up the chair and sat down again. "There is a hunt tomorrow, and I have
been given permission to invite you."
"But..." The obscenity of what K'narl was proposing horrified
Shaper. But worse than that... it fascinated him. He wanted to know
more.
"Losing is an indignity one faces in these games," K'narl said.
"It is painful, but not dangerous." He smiled that chilling smile
again. "It is something you bear with snarls and cries and clawing at
the ground. It is more painful in the lesson than the rape, young
Shaper. I have lost before." Shaper just stared, so K'narl went on.
"But to win! To mate, to climax buried deep in the struggling body of a
warrior who has lost to you, lost utterly... there is nothing better, my
young Kzin. The mating pressure, the fighting lust, all rolled into
one. There is no match in this universe, Shaper of Swords."
Shaper could find no words to express the outrage he felt... or the
desire. "So," K'narl said. "Now that you have heard my proposal, would
you like to attend such a game?"
Shaper did not hesitate. "I must participate?"
"You must. You have hunted; you have learned to be a warrior. You
have mated. Now you must learn to do all three."
"No easy matter."
"We have ways. Will you attend?"
Shaper nodded, slowly. "I shall."
"Excellent. You will not regret this. Meet me at the subkzandor
transit tube seventy-one six *izit* after dawn. Understood?"
"Understood, sir," Shaper said.
