Slave of Akrona Part Three

by G. Lawrence

A mysterious soldier makes dangerous enemies

This science fiction novel features romance but is light on erotic content. It's the story of a young soldier from Earth captured by an alien species and sent to the mines of Akrona to live among slaves. But this warrior from another world is no slave. The book is being presented in 9 parts.

* * * * * *

Chapter Three

FOOLISH GAMBLES

Later that morning, Grey gathered Ferret Camp in front of the community tent. Though Bab had returned to Deer Camp, Nole and Sal stayed to hear Grey's plan. He was glad to see old friendships renewed. Myra and Cot sat near Clagg, who was propped up, the broken leg extended. Shalli sat at Grey's feet, a puppy love in her eyes that had him concerned.

"We can't take what we need from the mountain, so we will have the mountain give it to us," Grey said.

"Will the mountain be so generous?" Hernet asked.

"I don't know. It's possible the mountain will be angry," Grey responded.

"Why would the mountain be angry, Ben?" Shalli asked.

"Because I'm going to blow a hole in it," he said. "The jars in the mine are chemical bases. Some are used for cleansing and purifying ores. Others are used to make explosives. I've used such chemicals before."

He walked to the entrance of the tent, pointing to a section of steep cliff above the canyon separating Ferret Camp's mountain from Deer Camp's mines on the other side of a broad ravine.

"This may benefit Deer Camp, too, if you're interested," Grey said. He could tell Nole and Sal were more than interested, sitting forward on their knees to hear. "We'll need to move our tracks to the edge of the gully. There are rich veins just beneath the surface. There, on the north face, where those two deep crevices come together. After we drop the hillside, much of what we need will come down with it. We'll use the jackhammers I've been repairing to break up the larger fragments and shatter out the ore with sledge hammers."

"How do you know where the mountain hides its treasure?" Sal asked.

Grey thought it a fair question.

"I was raised on a mining colony. My mentors taught me how to search for the best results," he explained.

"Much of the face is solid rock. Bringing it down will be hard," Nole said.

"It would be if we were blasting from the outside," Grey explained. "There's an old ventilation shaft on top of the ridge that drops down into the mountain. I can crawl within fifteen meters of the crevice and set the charges off from there."

"Meters?" Clagg asked.

"About fifty feet," Grey said. "The inner strata are fractured. One blast should initiate a cascade of copper, zinc, and silver. And at least a half unit of Akronium."

The miners smiled. Used as a strengthening element in the construction of spaceship hulls, no mineral was more sought after than the elusive Akronium. Such a discovery would involve many rewards.

"Will the masters punish us for removing tools from the mine?" Burne asked, the young teenager's voice nearly cracking.

"We will not remove tools from the mine," Clagg said. "Nole, can you bring us a roll of yellow ribbon?"

"Danger ribbon?" Nole asked.

"Yes. We'll section off the blast area and declare it a mine, like our fathers did at the old camp," Clagg said.

"A quarry. We'll call it a quarry," Nole said.

"We can move a tent to the area and leave the tools there," Sal suggested.

Soon other ideas were being discussed and agreed on with rapid speed. Grey sat down next to Shalli and Pie, listening to the discussion but not participating. The miners fully grasped his idea and were quickly improving on it.

"You must have priority," Nole said. "Clagg and Ben must not go to the pens. But Deer Camp would like to help and perhaps benefit if there's a surplus."

"Are we agreed?" Clagg asked.

The hands of everyone in the camp went up, which surprised Grey. He had no idea he was participating in a democracy. And he wasn't especially happy about it.

"Are you sure this can be done?" Nole asked Grey.

"Preparing the explosives will take time, and accidents are always a possibility," he said. "I plan to take the materials up to the abandoned shack on the ridge and mix them there. If you hear a loud boom, you'll know it didn't work."

Grey smiled, enjoying his joke. No one else thought it was funny.

Experts at laying track, moving the narrow aluminum rails only took a few days. Workers from both Ferret and Deer Camps participated, excited by the possibilities. None of them saw Grey, who gathered supplies and disappeared into the rocks atop the ridge.

"Tak! It's good to see you," Myra greeted.

Now dressed in a knee-length blue tunic and sandals provided by Deer Camp instead of rags, Myra was joyed to see Shalli's friend looking well. Tak wore a brown cotton dress that came up to her neckline, fitting snugly at the waist.

"I want to help. Mother won't let me go to the gardens, so I've come here," Tak said, her long dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail.

"Only the older women are going to the gardens for now," Myra said, getting ready to leave with Beknar. "When Clagg is better, he and Nole are going to speak with Squirrel and Sparrow Camps. There hasn't been a council in more than a year."

"Marne will not permit it," Beknar said, grouchy in her used gray tunic.

"We must try," Myra said.

"Tak!" Shalli called out, running to give her friend a hug.

Pie followed, just as happy to see their childhood playmate. Myra smiled to see them together again, and was pleased that Shalli and Pie did not have to meet their friend wearing rags.

"Stay close to the men today," Myra cautioned.

Myra, Beknar and the other older women left for the gardens carrying their baskets, singing a song to lighten the morning.

"Where's Ben?" Tak asked as they walked toward the new work area, taking a dirt trail through the thick woods.

"He's on the mountain," Shalli answered, pointing to the hill above the old mine.

"What did he say to help you wake up?" Pie asked.

"I'm not sure. I know he told me a story, and it was very sad. There were other worlds and strange people. And strange machines. Then suddenly I was hitting him. I shouldn't have hit him. I want to tell him I'm sorry."

Shalli laughed.

"Ben wanted to help you, and he did. That's all that matters to him. I think that's all that ever matters to him," Shalli said.

"Not getting enough attention?" Tak asked, her dark eyes showing interest.

"I'll get more, somehow," Shalli swore, clenching her fists.

They reached the canyon and found a large tent erected on a knoll overlooking the new site. Thirty-two men and eight young women were arranging tools and ore carts, looking from time to time towards the ridge. Several members of Squirrel Camp were watching from a distance.

"Is it time?" Shalli asked, jumping with excitement.

"Soon. Wart will go up to see if Ben is ready," Cot said, glancing at the lithe twelve-year-old with wild brown hair who eagerly awaited the signal.

"Let me go," Shalli said.

"I can do it," Wart said, frowning with resentment.

"I've been up there before. Wart could get lost," Shalli insisted.

"It's dangerous," Hernet said. "Wart is fast. If--"

Shalli ran to the edge of the cliff and scrambled up the side, grabbing rock ledges and thick brush to pull herself to the top. In hardly a minute, she had disappeared.

"Shalli grows headstrong," Nole observed.

"Shalli's in love," Tak said, clinging to her father's arm.

The old shack wasn't hard to find. Shalli had snuck up there when she was a little girl even though she wasn't supposed to. She remembered there had been markers in the area warning workers away, but the markers were gone now. She wondered if Ben had removed them, then decided he had. This way, if an Arikhan sentry came to inspect, which was rare, he could claim he didn't know the area was off limits.

He's very smart, Shalli thought with an extra skip in her step.

Though much of the shack was in ruins, Shalli noticed one corner had been repaired. An old door was now a workbench and torn floor boards had become shelves. She saw Grey sitting on a tall stool.

"The device is ready, Wart," he said without looking up. "I'm just adjusting the fuse. Tell Cot it should be in place by midday."

"You should tell him," Shalli said, suppressing a mischievous grin.

He looked up in surprise, double-clutching the blue steel canister on the bench. Shalli hadn't realized he could be startled so easily.

"What happened to Wart?" he said, brow furrowed with displeasure.

"Wart is too slow," Shalli laughed, stepping over and around broken floor boards to reach the workbench. Though the cotton outfit gifted to her by Deer Camp was better than the tatters she had before, it was still revealing. A bit too much, with a low neckline and high skirt. Grey needed to avoid looking too hard. Despite difficult times and a great deal of stress, he was not immune to his natural instincts.

The smelly jars of chemicals were carefully laid out around two mixing bowls. The canister Grey held had a blasting cap sealed with tar attached to a coil of fuse wire.

"Tell Cot and Nole to draw everyone back from the canyon," he said. "And don't come here again. It's too dangerous."

"Too dangerous for who?" Shalli said, pressing close.

"Too dangerous for foolish young children."

"I'm not a child. I'm a woman. Many have already mated at my age," she protested.

"You should mate with one of your own people. Someone your own age," Grey responded.

"You're one of us now, and you're not so old," Shalli said, her hand on his shoulder.

"I have fifteen more years than you. Almost twice your lifetime. On my world, you would be wearing the latest bad fashions, dying stripes in your hair, and spending endless hours on the com gossiping with girlfriends. Soon you would be going to college and studying for a career."

"It sounds like a vile place," Shalli said. "Is that how you spent your middle years?"

"No," he said, sorry to have raised the subject. And embarrassed to realize that, on a slave planet, life can be short. In Shalli's world, she was in her middle years. The oldest person he knew was Sal, who probably wasn't more than forty.

Shalli looked into his perceptive gray eyes. She couldn't guess what he was thinking, but something had suddenly troubled him. She remembered seeing the expression before, when an idle remark would transform into a sad memory. She worried for him.

"Is there anything wrong with me loving you?" Shalli asked.

"No, it's not wrong. But I think it would be better if you look for someone else."

"I won't be blind. If I can find someone braver than you, and smarter than you, and more caring than you, then I will mate with him instead. Until I make you change your mind!"

Shalli smiled, blue eyes sparking with hope, and she ran from the shack to deliver Grey's message. He watched her go with a sigh, the firm round figure squeezed into the tight tunic inspiring a sense of longing.

With the explosive device prepared, Grey set it down next to the old ventilation shaft and clawed through some thick bushes to reach the edge of the ridge. He was pleased to see the new track nearly complete, and surprised by the size of the crowd working at the bottom of the hill. Deer Camp had apparently abandoned their own mine, putting their faith in his plan. It wasn't a responsibility he relished.

He waved until he knew Cot and Nole had seen him. He also noticed Clagg had been carried on a litter to sit in the newly erected tool tent. Grey pointed at Clagg and shook his finger in disapproval. Clagg grinned and waved back.

The ventilation shaft dropped straight down into the heart of the mountain, its only access a rotting wooden ladder bolted into the rock wall. Grey assembled a bracket over the shaft, rigged a pulley, and put the canister in a basket along with a solar lamp and some hand tools. Then he started down, feeding the pulley with a thin rope coiled around his shoulder.

He had been in the shaft several times and found it surprising the project had been abandoned. The ore strains running north from the shaft were far richer than those found on the lower levels where Ferret Camp had been working, though access was an issue. He had no doubt the explosive would be adequate for his purpose, having experience with nitroglycerin. But accidents happen, especially as he'd been unable to mix a proper desensitization agent. As much as he would have appreciated help getting down the shaft, he felt more confident handling the volatile mixture alone. Life in a slave camp hadn't prepared the people there for such dangerous technologies.

The branch tunnel appeared. He crawled in, pulling the basket behind him, and secured the rope. Grey remembered the shaft being reasonably straight and long. It would need to be, having about two hundred yards to cover before reaching the north face. He wanted to rig a guideline to draw the explosive along, the roof being too low for walking, but he lacked the time and materials. He would need to crawl, clutching the bomb in one arm and dragging the tools with his foot.

The tunnel was dark. Ominous. He guessed the shaft had been carved dozens of years before with laser cutters, but the equipment had long since disappeared. He growled. He sure wished he had a laser cutter now. Even a life support hood would have been nice, the stuffy tunnel filled with a fine-grained dust.

Deep in the mountain, he encountered a side access blocked by a partial slide. Knowing he would need a place to shelter after setting the fuse, he put the canister aside and dug out enough of the offshoot to reach an old metal hatch.

Grey was startled to suddenly find himself in a large chamber. Lamplight revealed a workbench with testing apparatus and hand tools. It was an old Arikhan research station with no evidence that a human had ever been there. The slide he had dug through was a blocked vent. Another hatch exited to the west. Glistening mineral samples lay in well-organized bins along the walls, and something was sparkling in a tray below the workbench. Diamonds. Dozens of small pink, white, and blue diamonds. Highly valuable, from what he could tell, and even more interesting, two skeletons lay locked in mortal combat, the bones covered by rotting engineering suits. The bones were Arikhan.

Master Shao once claimed Grey had an ability to fathom much with few actual facts. His intuition now asserted itself again. He knew rare minerals had great value in the Arikhan economy, yet this promising area had been abandoned years before. Even slaves had not been permitted to enter. Could it be these two Arikhan, possibly prospecting on their own, told their superiors the upper strata was dry only to work it secretly? Did the position of the bodies indicate the thieves had betrayed each other?

Though not an expert on the Arikhan compensation system, he vaguely knew a mine's surplus provided rewards for the guards and transporters, and most particularly, for the supervisors. Could this discovery be used to benefit Ferret Camp? He wasn't sure. The California gold rush of 1849 certainly hadn't helped the indigenous peoples who lived there.

With a mission to accomplish, he performed a quick clean-up of the crime scene, dug a niche to hide the diamonds, and crawled another hundred yards before reaching the north face. He found no diamond deposits along the route, nor did he expect to. The indications were wrong for such a discovery.

At the end of the tunnel, where a narrow air passage had once penetrated to the surface, he carved out a hole for the explosive and attached the detonator. In theory, a slow burning fuse should give him enough time to crawl clear. He packed the canister in with boulders to give the explosion more force before unreeling a hundred meters of twine saturated with potassium nitrate. It was all he had.

As he prepared to light the fuse, he paused to plan his retreat to the abandoned chamber, taking an extra breath of the stale air. He didn't want to die under the mountain because of an error in judgment, and wondered if the project had been such a good idea after all. But it was too late for idle worries. It would be better to suffer the mountain than be broiled alive on Nabbatron's spit.

Grey struck a flint, blew the spark to life, and crawled away with the speed of a frightened cockroach, reaching the chamber seconds before the tunnel shook. He dove to the floor of the research lab under a workbench, covering the back of his head with his hands as a deafening earthquake shook the walls. The workbench toppled over, his lamp went out, and within seconds all around him was thundering darkness.

From the low hill overlooking the ravine between their mines, members of Ferret Camp and Deer Camp stood side by side in silence. The ore tracks had been laid, the tool tent readied. The mated women had returned from the gardens early to see if the bold experiment would work or become another failure in a long year of disappointments.

"Soon. It should be soon," Wart said, so excited he was jumping around.

Hardly a minute later, there was a low rumble. The ground beneath their feet trembled. Frightened birds flew from their sanctuaries on the hilltop. The spectators looked to the north face of Ferret Camp's mountain that suddenly exploded in a ferocious ball of yellow flame followed by a thick black plume of smoke. Trees and boulders were hurled through the air, and a gray cloud blotted out the afternoon sky.

Through the swirling dust, the spectators saw tons of rock pouring down from a gaping hole in the mountainside, first in a hesitant wave, and then in a crashing torrent that tumbled halfway across the ravine. The people murmured with approval. Some were crying. The young people stared wide-eyed, never before having witnessed such awesome power.

"I've not seen such since we were children," Clagg said, an arm wrapped around Myra. Myra hugged him with relief.

"Long has it been since our people used more than shovels and picks," Nole agreed, kneeling next to Clagg outside the tool tent.

"I doubt even the masters know how to use such magic," Court suggested, hanging close to her husband.

"It's not magic," Wart said. "It's science. Chemicals mixed into the proper combinations. Ben even showed me the markings on the jars."

"When a mountain falls to the ground, I call it magic," Clagg said.

"I think the magic is in the man, not the potions," Nole observed. "Ferret Camp is fortunate to have such a member."

"Ben doesn't seem shy about helping Deer Camp," Myra remarked.

"We're not unhappy that he looks on us favorably," Nole was quick to say. "Though after what he did for Tak, we'd be his friend even if he didn't challenge the mountain."

As the dust gradually settled, they saw the results of the blast, a gaping crater in the cliff wall revealing glistening traces of freshly exposed minerals. Spread across the canyon floor was enough shattered ore to meet several quotas. The excited workers moved forward with their sledgehammers and shovels.

"I should help," Clagg said, trying to swing his legs off the bed of hay bales.

"You should sit still like Ben told you to," Myra scolded. "He has risked enough without you being foolish."

"He should not have made that wager with Nabbatron," Clagg said, shaking his head.

"He is your friend," Myra replied. "Now you must be his friend by staying out of trouble."

"Yes, my sweet flower," he agreed, pulling her closer.

"Just because everyone else is in the field doesn't make this our mating tent," Myra protested, slapping his hand away.

"Since when do we need a tent?" Clagg asked, grabbing her hips.

Footsteps interrupted them a moment later.

"Clagg won't be going to the pens this season," Nole said, returning to the tent after completing a survey of the debris field. He was holding several ore-laden rocks and smiling.

"Nor will Ben grace Nabbatron's spit, if the master keeps his word," Cot added, sitting on the ground to shake stones from his boots.

"Ben must love you greatly to make such an offer," Nole said, expressing the awe Deer Camp felt over Grey's wager. An awe shared by Ferret Camp.

"What has happened here? What is this?" Frontra said, marching into the tent without notice. It was rare for the tall Arikhan guard to show such agitation.

Everyone quickly dropped to their knees except Clagg, who could only bow his head.

"We are making a new mine, mistress. A quarry," Cot said.

"A quarry? There was a volcano. Great smoke. Half your mountain is gone," Frontra exaggerated, claws twitching in excitement. Her cheeks flushed black.

"There is still much mountain left, mistress," Clagg said, trying not to smile.

Soon Nabbatron, Bortro, and Dhartro arrived, storming through the area and stopping work. The ore carts were examined and the tent searched. Workers were called up from the debris field, kneeling in groups as their masters gazed about in confusion.

"I would have an explanation," Nabbatron demanded, eye-rings protruding with skin drawn tightly around his face.

"This is a quarry, master," Clagg said. "We had such in the old days. At the gravel camp. The ore is easier to gather."

"Where did you get explosives? How did you learn to use them? Such knowledge is forbidden," Nabbatron said.

"They were used in the old days," Clagg dared to repeat.

"This is a trick to avoid the pens. You and the half-meat seek to trick me," Nabbatron cursed, reaching for a shock wand.

"We seek to make quota, master," Clagg said, his voice angry.

Nabbatron's eyes bulged as he stepped forward with the weapon raised to strike. Frontra stepped in front of him.

"This is my zone. My workers," Frontra declared. "They are working an open mine with my permission. Have you no respect for the proper order of command?"

"You knew nothing of this," Nabbatron said.

"That is for Romtra to decide," Frontra responded.

"No, it is for me to decide," a tall Arikhan said, entering the tent unexpectedly.

"Lord Gamtro! Forgive us, Sarden Leader," Nabbatron said, bowing his head.

Karak's commandant wore no weapons on his belt or badges of office on his vest. His supreme authority required no extra trappings.

"Welcome to our sector, Sarden Leader," Frontra said with equal respect.

"Is there an explanation for the cloud of smoke hanging over my camp?" Gamtro asked. "And I would like to know why my guards are found arguing before the workers. Have we fallen so low that honor means nothing?"

"We are sorry, Sarden Leader," Frontra said, eye-rings dipped in shame.

"There is the true cause of our difficulty," Nabbatron said, pointing to the line of tracks where Grey was slowly approaching the worksite.

"Is that the half-meat? It has gained weight," Gamtro said in surprise, his naturally blue facial features turning lighter.

"It works hard. Much does it strive to please," Frontra said.

"Remain here. Raise not your voices again, lest you wish to hammer the rocks yourself," Gamtro instructed his staff.

"We obey, Sarden Leader," the sentries complied, thumping their chests with clenched fists.

Gamtro returned the salute with a casual wave of his claw and walked down the knoll to the tracks, reaching a partially loaded ore cart in Grey's path. He glanced in the cart and noticed the contents, a fine grade that would go far toward meeting quota. If enough such carts could be filled, it would mean bonuses for his unit. Gamtro was not displeased.

"Food creature, come here," Gamtro ordered.

Grey squinted against the sun, recognized an Arikhan accent but not the owner, and dropped to his knees next to the ore cart. Gamtro saw he was covered in dust, his face and arms streaked with black powder. The creature appeared blinded by soot.

"Wash," Gamtro said, giving the slave a canteen of water from his own belt.

"Thank you, master," he said, gratefully splashing his face. He looked up but still didn't recognize who he was addressing.

"I am Gamtro, Sarden Leader of Karak. Is it you who blew up my camp?" the aristocratic alien asked in precise Arikhan, the pronunciation indicating an advanced degree of education.

"Yes, Sarden Leader," Grey said, bowing low to the ground.

Gamtro noticed the slave spoke Arikhan fairly well, but with an unusual accent. Not one he had heard before.

"Have you no explanation? No apology?"

"Clagg was condemned to the pens if we could not meet quota, master. Clagg is my friend. Ferret Camp will make quota."

"Now you may be sent to the pens instead," Gamtro warned.

"That is only just, master. I mixed the explosives."

"You are experienced in this art?"

"Yes, master," he said.

Gamtro leaned against the ore cart, looked again at the minerals, and studied the prisoner. It not only appeared submissive, it seemed to readily accept his judgment. But the creature was not stupid. It could not be. Setting such a charge required training and intelligence. And from what Gamtro had seen, the results were precisely calculated. The food creature before him was no common worker.

"This zone belongs to Frontra. She decides what must be done," Gamtro said. "If no offense is given, there will be no punishment."

The slave said nothing. He had not been asked a question, so he remained kneeling with his head down. Gamtro liked that.

"I have heard a rumor," Gamtro said. "It was about a wager. If one lost, it would go to the pens. If the other lost, extra supplies would be sent to a camp. Have you heard this story?"

"I have heard there was a proposition, master. Would it not be disrespectful for a slave to wager against a being of great superiority?"

"Perhaps it would. Wash in the creek and resume your duties."

"Thank you, master," Grey said, backing away.

Gamtro watched him go with keen interest. A very clever animal, Gamtro thought. And the Sarden Leader was not fooled by its feigned humility.

* * * * * *

For the next five weeks, Ferret Camp and Deer Camp worked side by side. As the ore carts filled and were pushed to the loading platforms near the front gate, they became hopeful of not merely making quota but exceeding it. They were helped by the two jackhammers Grey had repaired, the loud tools breaking boulders with the speed of ten workers. He was also sure to show others how to operate the devices, especially Hernet, Burne, and Turk, the strapping youngsters allowed to assist in the maintenance.

"The rest day approaches," Nole said as the men walked together to Ferret Camp. "Do you think the quota is made?"

"Clagg has been counting the carts. He says the quota was made on the last double moon," Cot said, taking off his sweat-soaked shirt and throwing it around his shoulders as he often did. The tallest of the group, he was also the most prone to sunburn.

"Clagg is not a good counter," Sal said, wearing a broad brim straw hat against the sun. The oldest of the group, he was more vulnerable to the heat, though many who were accustomed to laboring underground were struggling with the adjustment to working outdoors.

"He has more time now. Ben will not let him walk for fear of bending the leg," young Burne remarked, enjoying a late afternoon breeze. The fifteen-year-old youth was enjoying the new environment, quietly wishing never to work underground again.

"Clagg still does not count well. Does Ben think we made quota?" Nole asked, adjusting his felt hat when the sun moved out from behind a cloud.

"Ben does not say much," Hernet mentioned.

"He seems to dwell much in thought. Is there so much to worry about?" Sal asked.

"It's true he doesn't satisfy easily," Cot said. "We have food now, tunics for the women, and we should make quota. Some believe he should rest more often."

"You don't have so much food," Nole cautioned. "Your tunics are old. Many men have rags for shirts. The women have no fur boots."

"Deer Camp is not wealthy, either," Hernet protested, his round face red. "Just because you have shared some of your cast off--"

"I mean no disrespect," Nole quickly apologized, holding up his hands for peace. "Winter will be hard for us, too. I just say that Ben wants more for our camps. What's good enough for us is not good enough for him."

"As Sal has said, he worries about many things," Cot agreed.

"Mostly Shalli," Hernet said, tugging up his pants as he laughed.

Others laughed as well, especially Medim. Short and stout with long black hair and a thin beard, Deer Camp's young stonecutter had not yet found a mate.

"I don't understand that," Medim said. "If a beautiful woman like Shalli took such an interest in me, I'd have her on her back begging for more. Does Ben not appreciate women?"

"He appreciates Shalli. Many times have I caught his eye on her when he thinks no one is watching," Cot gossiped.

"Does Ben have a conflicting interest?" Nole asked.

"If he does, no one knows of it," Cot replied.

Sal shook his head. "Except for Tak, Shalli is the prettiest unmated girl in Karak. Marne would kill to take her. Maybe he will. Ben surprises me."

"Clagg may know more. If Ben opens his thoughts to anyone, it would be Clagg," Hernet said.

They reached Ferret Camp to discover most of the women already there. Nole ran to Court who was sitting with Myra, Bab, and Beknar.

"Were there problems at the gardens?" Nole asked.

"Not today," Court said, rising to give him a kiss. "Wolf Camp is struggling to make quota. They're too busy to cause trouble."

"The new count begins after the rest day. There might be trouble then," Beknar warned.

"Have the camps agreed to a council?" Myra asked.

"Not yet. Some say they are jealous of our quarry," Court answered.

"We don't even know if we've made quota yet," Nole said.

"Everyone thinks we have. Some feel our quarry is cheating," Court replied.

"That's nonsense," Nole objected.

"It's what some say," Beknar confirmed.

"Look! It's Clagg!" someone shouted.

Everyone looked to see Clagg hobbling along on a pair of thick crutches with Grey and Burne standing nearby to ensure his balance. Clagg was all smiles as Myra ran to help.

"Be careful, you oaf," Myra said.

"Stand aside! If Clagg falls, the earth will shake again!" Hernet yelled.

"Come within reach, insolent cousin. I'll shake some earth," Clagg shouted back, freeing one hand to playfully wave his fist.

"Grip the crutch or I'll send you back to the tent," Grey ordered.

"You speak loudly for one half my size," Clagg boasted.

"I'm only a third your size, but if you don't obey Ben, we'll see who speaks most loudly," Myra warned.

"It's only my leg that's broken, woman. Let's borrow a fur and see which of us makes the most noise," Clagg suggested.

"Clagg!" Myra exclaimed, her cheeks flushing.

Grey guided Clagg to a large rock and made him sit, kneeling to check the fresh splints on his leg. Burne helped secure the knots. Shalli and Tak arrived with water and bread rolls for the returning workers.

"Frontra is coming," someone called from the edge of camp.

The combined camps, some eighty people in all, rushed to the central hearth and knelt, heads lowered as Frontra arrived followed by four heavily laden two-wheeled carts. Frontra ordered the cart drivers to unload the bundles and leave. The Rabbit Camp members, generally better dressed, frowned before departing. Many thought they looked envious.

"Greetings, food creatures," Frontra said, holding up a claw in salute.

Having helped Clagg to the community tent before kneeling at the entrance, Grey noticed for the first time a peculiar inflection in Frontra's voice. When the other Arikhan referred to the people as food creatures, they meant it literally. Frontra seemed to be using it as an expression.

"Welcome, mistress," Myra said, kneeling close to her feet.

"Thank you Myra, wife of Clagg, leader of Ferret Camp," Frontra responded, signaling that it was an official visit. "I bring good news. Your camps have exceeded quota by fifteen percent. You will not work the next two days or on the rest day. Here are the fall supplies for Ferret Camp. Others are leaving supplies at Deer Camp. You have done well."

"Thank you, mistress," dozens of voices answered in unison.

"You may rise," Frontra said. "There is mauck and apple grog in the kegs. Red melon for the little ones. There is also freshly killed venison for your cooking fires. Tonight you have earned much celebration."

Ferret Camp surged forward to the waiting bundles, finding new clothing, boots, hats, blankets, and a pile of sleeping furs. Most of Deer Camp's members went to check on their reward, but they would be back soon.

"These are riches beyond expectation, mistress," Myra said with tears in her eyes.

"The half-meat is much responsible," Frontra said, moved by her sincerity as indicated by the soft clicking of her tongue. "Where is he?"

Grey came forward to kneel at her feet. Frontra thought he seemed very pleased by the excitement. He was almost smiling.

"You have given me much amusement," Frontra said.

"I do not understand, mistress," he questioned.

"Bring me a stool and a cup of mauck," Frontra ordered. "Sit and take heed, for it is rare such good stories are told."

The women hurried to serve the mauck as a stool was found for Frontra. Everyone else sat cross-legged on the ground. Grey continued to kneel until Frontra specifically ordered him to sit back.

"It was obvious some days ago that quota had been exceeded," Frontra explained. "And the quality of the ore is the best found in many years. Sarden Leader Gamtro is greatly satisfied. Each day he has required reports on your progress. He sends praise to Clagg and Nole for the quarry, believing their initiative a good thing. And much has he praised me for allowing it."

There was a mumbling among the people at this. Many looked embarrassed, especially Clagg and Nole. It was Clagg who spoke first.

"Mistress, there is something we must say," Clagg started.

Frontra held up her claw.

"There is no need, leader of Ferret Camp. That is part of the amusement," Frontra explained. "Gamtro knows the quarry was not your conception, and he knows I did not approve use of the explosives. Gamtro sees all with a clear eye. After Nabbatron's outburst in your tent, Gamtro went to the half-meat and threatened him with the pens for blowing up the mountain, yet still did Ben claim the deed as his own."

Now eyes were turning toward Grey, most with disapproval.

"You should not have done that, my brother," Clagg said. "Too often do you risk yourself on our behalf. All agreed to attack the mountain. All should share the punishment."

"All would have been punished if Gamtro had so chosen," Frontra warned. "But Gamtro is a just leader. He was once high in the councils of government before jealousy brought him to his present post. Now he strives to regain his former place. To my shame, I knew this before accepting responsibility for your quarry, confident Gamtro would be lenient. Such is his pleasure that many of these gifts come from him."

"You honor us, mistress, to share your thoughts in this manner," Nole said, expressing everybody's opinion.

"A good story should be shared," Frontra said. "As the quota was reached, and then much surpassed, I went to Nabbatron and reminded him of his wager."

Grey looked up with a frown. Frontra slapped her knees and clicked her tongue loudly.

"Excuse me, half-meat. I should say that I reminded Nabbatron of your proposition," Frontra corrected. The camp members laughed.

"Nabbatron said the proposition was a trick. No payment would be made," Frontra said a bit more seriously. "He also threatened Ben with the pens at the next opportunity. These words were overheard by Lord Gamtro, who flew into such a rage as I have not seen. Nabbatron was drawn into the Sarden Leader's office, and even through the closed door, I heard language that dried my egg sacs. The Sarden Leader berated Nabbatron for losing his temper, hampering production, and compromising the honor of our race. Thus has Nabbatron lost a step in rank, and he pays double on the wager that was not a wager."

Frontra reached into her tunic and pulled out a finely sewn raccoon hat with ear flaps. All were dazzled by the quality. Frontra stood up and gave the cap to Myra.

"With the compliments of Nabbatron, as promised," Frontra said.

"It is beautiful, mistress. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," Myra said, afraid to put it on.

"Remember, the wager is paid double," Frontra said.

She reached into a knapsack and pulled out a lush ermine shawl, holding it up for everyone to see before draping it over Myra's shoulders.

"Myra, you look like a queen!" Shalli said, stroking the soft fur.

"In the bales among the new tunics and foot coverings there is a scarf for each female and a hide hat for each male," Frontra said. "You will also find woven blankets for the little ones. These are gifts from me, purchased from the bonus to be received for your effort."

Ferret Camp was stunned into silence. Frontra had always been kind, for an Arikhan, but this was unexpected.

"Thank you, mistress. There is none in this camp we would rather serve," Clagg finally said, speaking for everyone.

"I thank you, food creatures," Frontra replied. And this time Grey knew without doubt she was using the expression as an endearment, not a menu specification. "You have helped raise me in status. Your quarry will bring much profit. And I believe your new member will provide endless amusement. I am grateful."

Frontra finished her drink and stood to leave, smoothing down the edges of her brown tunic.

"Will you not join our feast, mistress?" Shalli asked.

"No, child. I am going to feast with Bortro tonight," Frontra said, a click at the end of her sentence indicating anticipation. "At sunrise we pay homage to Sherra for our good fortune. All have said duty on this depleted world ends careers. I believe we make a beginning."

Frontra went to the edge of camp and paused beside a sturdy footlocker.

"My promise is not forgotten, half-meat," Frontra said, throwing him a black leather medical bag. Then Frontra departed with a bounce in her long strides. Grey had never seen an Arikhan so happy.

It was fortunate that Frontra gave the camps extra rest days, for they celebrated deep into the star-studded night, making a bonfire of damaged timbers and dancing around the ferocious flames. Four of the young women, Shalli, Tak, Pie, and Leet, were especially energetic, gyrating to the rhythms of the drummers tapping out a primitive beat on hollow logs.

Sitting alone at the edge of the circle, almost in the dark, Grey sipped his cup of mauck and feasted on salted bread sticks. It was a fine evening in his opinion. Myra approached and sat on the log next to him.

"Always the outsider," Myra said, teasing rather than accusing.

"I'm accustomed to it," he said.

"But you would have it otherwise."

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Are the people you come from so different?"

"In some ways, very different. In things that matter, not so much."

Myra put her head against Grey's shoulder, her hands wrapped around his arm.

"Look at the pleasure with which the girls dance," Myra said. "Court was afraid her daughter would never smile again. Tonight she sings. I've known Court all my life. When we were children, we lived together in the desert camp. Before the older workers were harvested and the survivors sent here. I'm so glad you brought her daughter back."

Grey said nothing, but he did notice the contentment of Court and Nole, who held hands as they watched their daughter dance. Myra studied him by the light of the fire, trying to read his thoughts. It had brought him satisfaction to help Tak. Joy to help the camps. But he asked for nothing. Accepted no thanks.

"You're a proud creature, aren't you?" Myra questioned.

"Yes," he answered, not happy about it.

"Such pride is rare in a slave camp. And dangerous," Myra warned.

"I have been programmed to function in this manner," Grey said in his best robotic voice.

Myra laughed, though she didn't understand the implications.

"You're funny, when you want to be. And brave. Any woman in this camp would want you in her furs," she said, squeezing his arm.

"Even you?" he asked.

"I wouldn't object, and neither would Clagg, but you don't want me. You want Shalli."

"She's a beautiful young lady," he said, watching her dance.

Suddenly Shalli tore off her wrap and twisted naked near the flames, shaking her long hair loose and flinging her arms above her head.

"Okay, maybe lady is overstating it," he corrected.

"Everyone says you're fearless," Myra remarked. "The way you held up the mountain to save Clagg, and challenged Nabbatron. The way you won't back down if you think you're right. But I've seen your fear many times. It's different than ours. In some ways, I think maybe it's worse than ours."

"Are you making a point?" he asked.

"Yes, my friend. My brother. I'm saying Ferret Camp is your world now. We are your people. We're happy that it should be so. You don't have to sit in the dark."

"Myra, I accepted this world the day I was feeling sorry for myself while Clagg lay in pain. The shame reminds me that I'm needed. If I wasn't, I would have torn Nabbatron's heart from his chest and made him eat it."

Myra started to laugh before realizing Grey wasn't joking. She saw his clenched fists. Felt the tension.

"The masters are bigger than you. Stronger. They are well-armed. Even Clagg has been dropped by their shock sticks. Could you really hurt Nabbatron?" Myra asked.

"If Nabbatron were first rank infantry, it might be difficult. But he's not. He's a retired ranker put out to pasture a thousand light years from the frontlines."

Myra couldn't tell if Grey was bragging or merely exaggerating, and wasn't sure how to respond. She thought it good that he could defend himself, but feared the violence he might be capable of. She would need to think on it.

"Well, since you won't be eating Nabbatron's heart tonight, maybe you can join the celebration?" Myra suggested. "We owe this evening to you. The people will be disappointed if you don't take pleasure in it. They may think you scorn our ways."

"I don't scorn your ways," he defended.

"Then let's dance," Myra said, pulling him to his feet.

Grey followed her to the bonfire, accepting friendly nods from the camp. Myra waved to Court and Nole, then Burne and Leet, getting them to join in before Grey changed his mind. The hollow logs were beat faster, the mauck served more generously, and Shalli jumped in to take Myra's place, taking his hands as they danced with a daring gleam in her excited blue eyes.

* * * * * *

"There will be no council," Cot reported, returning to Ferret Camp at the end of a long day. "Nole has gone to tell Deer Camp. Bear Camp offered support, but Wolf Camp and Raven Camp refuse."

"What about Sparrow Camp?" Beknar asked, grinding grain on a flat rock to make bread.

"Old Ravo is mad we didn't share the quarry," Hernet said, removing his shirt to shake out the day's dust. The squat miner seated himself on a log near Beknar and slapped her butt, getting an annoyed look in return.

"Maybe Ben can help them find a mine?" Shalli asked, busily placing wood beneath the camp's new stone oven.

"They wouldn't listen," Cot said, sitting cross-legged on a fur while the women found food for him.

"And I will be angry if anyone mentions it to Ben," Clagg said. "What he's done for us is dangerous. He shouldn't risk himself every time we have a problem."

"Is Rabbit Camp no help?" Pie asked, kneading dough for the oven.

"They fear Wolf Camp," Cot said. "The young women will continue to avoid the northern fields for now. Perhaps a few men can join the mated women in the gardens."

"That might cause more trouble," Myra warned. "They broke Rorent's arms. Others have been hurt. Beknar and I will ask everyone to work harder."

The men could only nod, having no better solution.

Shalli and Pie finished their chores and walked away from the group disappointed. As they entered a heavy patch of woods, they found a trail to Deer Camp and started north, picking berries along the way.

"I miss my turn in the gardens," Pie said with a sigh.

"I do, too, but if you had seen Tak, you would not miss being near the wolves. It's even harder on Deer Camp. It sounds like their friendship with Sparrow Camp is over," Shalli mentioned.

"Many friendships are over. I never see Loto or Beez anymore. Why is everyone so mad?"

"I think maybe it's getting harder to make quota," Shalli guessed. "People are afraid the masters will break up the camps. Myra said when they broke up the desert camp, the older workers went to the pens. That's when she lost her father."

"That was twenty years ago. The masters say they need more workers now. They even want us to have babies. I would like a baby."

"Do you want a baby with Burne? Or Turk?"

"They're boys. I want a baby with Ben," Pie said, giggling.

"You're just saying that to hurt me!" Shalli protested.

"I tease you, cousin," Pie admitted. "But I wouldn't mind having a baby with Ben. Many would not mind."

"I'm going to have a baby with Ben. It will be a daughter, and she'll be smart just like he is."

"Have you been to Ben's tent?" Pie asked.

"No, he hasn't treated me like a woman yet," Shalli confessed. "But he will. Now that I'm of age, he has no more excuses. And for all his virtues, he still has a weakness."

"What weakness is that?" Pie asked.

"He's a man," Shalli laughed. Pie laughed, too.

"Where is Ben today?"

"At the quarry, I think," Shalli guessed.

"But it's the rest day."

"He won't be working. Clagg has forbidden him to work on rest days. He goes to pick stones. I think he is looking for something, but I don't know what."

"Ben does strange things," Pie said.

"Yes," Shalli agreed. "Look. It's Tak."

The young women ran to an overgrown trail that led away from the quarry. A creek ran through the area, the trees taller than in the southern portion of the compound. Tak was surprised to see them, quickly signaling for silence.

"What is it?" Shalli asked.

"A secret place," Tak whispered.

They followed Tak down a narrow path into the brush, crawling under thick vines into a hollow beneath tangled purple bushes. Shalli looked out through a hole in the leaves, startled. There, in a clearing, was Grey.

Pie started to say something but Tak hushed her up. Grey had stripped to a loincloth and was standing perfectly still. A pile of sharpened stones lay at his feet. Dangling from tree branches ten yards away were bales of weeds bound together with discarded wire. Behind him, the shallow creek had been damned with logs to form a pond.

"I've seen him here before. This is where he fights the ghosts," Tak confided.

"Ghosts?" Pie said almost too loudly.

The women settled back, watching as Grey began a well-practiced routine, striking forward with his hands, thrusting with his feet, going into a sudden spin and kicking invisible objects high in the air, then landing like a cat ready to strike again. Their young hearts beat faster as the speed of the exercise increased, Grey turning, twisting and dancing with a fierce determination.

As sweat made his muscles glisten, Grey picked up a long staff and performed a new series of exercises, probing, blocking and pounding phantom opponents. Sometimes the staff was a club, at other times a spear. The women had never seen a mere piece of wood look so dangerous. After twenty minutes of vigorous effort, Grey rinsed off in the pond and took a deep drink of the cool water.

"Is that it?" Shalli asked.

"Not yet," Tak whispered.

Grey returned to his starting position to pick up a handful of flat rocks. He looked at the bales hanging from the tree branches and rapidly threw the stones, some underhand, some overhand, all the while shifting from side to side and even spinning around. Every flying stone hit a mark, some with enough force to make the bales swing back and forth.

"Those could hurt," Pie whispered.

"The ghosts will cry tonight," Tak said with a smile.

Once the ritual was complete, Grey bowed deeply to the weed bales and dunked himself in the pond before getting dressed. When he left, he passed near enough to the women that they held their breaths.

"He was fighting ghosts," Pie said in awe.

"I think so," Shalli agreed.

"He's fought them here before. I think he's fought them many times," Tak guessed.

"I wish he would fight Marne so we could go back to the gardens," Pie sighed.

"Don't say that! Not ever!" Shalli shouted. "The wolves would go after him. They aren't ghosts. Marne would break his arms. That's why Myra won't let Clagg fight."

"Don't get upset, Shalli. Ben isn't stupid. He won't let Marne break his arms," Tak assured her with a hug.

"We must always watch out for Ben," Shalli said. "Clagg says he's like a child. He acts on impulse. He won't take care of himself. Let's not talk about Marne anymore."

"Would it be all right to sit in Ben's pond?" Pie asked. "It's deeper than the creek, and I see soap root. We can wash our hair."

"Not afraid of the ghosts?" Tak asked.

"A little," Pie confessed. "But I think Ben has chased them away."

Grey was planning to relax at Ferret Camp for the rest of the day, knowing Clagg was unhappy with his prolonged work schedules, but he decided on a visit to the quarry first while the light was still good. On work days, it was harder to concentrate with so many people around. He was surprised to find Frontra and Nabbatron sitting on stools outside the tool tent.

"Greetings beings of great superiority," Grey said, approaching to kneel at their feet.

"Greetings, half-meat," Frontra said, amused by his salutation.

"Your greeting is returned, impertinent food creature," Nabbatron said, unusually civil.

Grey glanced around, but there was no one else in the area. The quarry was well-organized now, with paths cut through the rock strewn canyon and ore tracks laid to best advantage. Thirty transport carts were lined up waiting for work to resume the following morning. Timber once used in the mines had been made into sorting bins, allowing the best minerals to have priority.

"Your camp progresses well. At this pace, you will exceed quota for the fall season," Frontra said.

"It is my hope that we will, mistress," Grey said.

"See that you succeed," Nabbatron cautioned. "Still do I long to have you on my spit, but a production bonus would be better. Serve well and live."

"Thank you, master," Grey said, pressing his forehead to the ground.

Nabbatron clicked his tongue with impatience and left the quarry, walking at a quick pace toward Squirrel Camp.

"Have I displeased master Nabbatron?" Grey asked.

"You annoy him. He no more believes your acts of feigned submission than I do. He is correct to call you impertinent."

"I am sorry to disappoint you, mistress."

"When we are alone, you may call me Frontra. Now get up from your knees, I think you mock me."

Grey shifted position and sat on the ground cross-legged before her, declining the stool he might have accepted.

"I would not mock you, Frontra. Much have I learned to respect your generosity."

"High praise indeed," Frontra said.

"Now who is mocked?" he replied.

"Why are you here, Ben? Has Clagg not forbidden you to work on the rest day?"

"Clagg makes hard rules, but I have not disobeyed him. The quarry is quiet on the rest day. I come to search the ore for trace elements. Before the next season ends, it will be time to bring down another layer of rock."

"Will you provide warning this time?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Frontra," she corrected, lowering eye-rings for emphasis.

"Yes, Frontra," he said.

"Stand. Remove your body covering," Frontra ordered.

Grey did as instructed, kicking off his rawhide moccasins, peeling off the blue cotton shirt, and dropping the beige knee length britches before standing naked with his arms at his sides. Frontra walked around him, occasionally poking a muscle or testing a reflex.

"You are no longer a half-meat," Frontra observed.

"Working the rock has improved my strength," Grey replied, growing embarrassed.

"You appear uncomfortable," she remarked.

"I am not accustomed to being inspected in such a manner."

"The lack of attire? Is your culture so much different than the slaves?"

Grey did not answer. Did Frontra know he came from another world? What would it mean if she did?

Suddenly Frontra lashed out with her claw, aiming directly at his face. He instinctively ducked aside and fell into a fighting stance: feet set apart, his left hand open and held forward, the right cocked back in a fist. The flash in his eyes sought an angle of attack. For a moment, it looked like he was going to hurt her. Maybe badly. Frontra merely stood her ground, tongue clicking with interest.

"Forgive me, Frontra," Grey said, catching control of himself. He dropped to his knees, head bent low.

"You are no slave. No breaker of rocks. Well do I know the gaze of a warrior," Frontra said.

Grey said nothing. No question had been asked. Frontra kneeled and raised his head, her claw supporting his chin. She looked deeply into his steel gray eyes.

"In your days of the sword, were you good?" Frontra asked.

"That person died long ago," Grey answered, trying to look away. "Now I am a slave of Karak. A member of Ferret camp."

"Answer my question," Frontra demanded, squeezing his face.

"The warrior you speak of was among the first rank," Grey said with a trace of defiance.

"I suspect your words are true," Frontra said, returning to her stool. She reached into her knapsack and took out a black bottle with a cork stopper. "Put on your covering and taste bruna with me."

"Thank you," Grey said, getting dressed and accepting a tin cup that Frontra filled to the rim. "May I ask a question of the zone leader?"

"Ask," Frontra said, taking a sip of her fermented grain brew.

Grey took a sip as well, noticing a fine, copper-cooked taste. Similar to the moonshine he had enjoyed in the lush green hills of another world.

"I am much a stranger to the ways of these people. Nor do I understand the Arikhan methods of controlling their slaves. How is it that Wolf Camp is allowed to wreak havoc on the weaker camps?"

"No camp on this world is permanent," Frontra explained. "As resources in one area dwindle, camps are moved. The societies the slaves develop maintain a hierarchy. Because no guard unit remains intact, it is easier for us to let the workers settle their own affairs provided quotas are met."

"Does not the loss of workers impair efficiency? I have heard the wolves hurt some so seriously they go to the pens," Grey said.

"It is true, but this system has served us well for a hundred years," Frontra explained. "The workers remain under control. Guards from successful camps receive promotions. A wealthy camp may allow a guard to purchase a homestead, establish a trade, or even join a Sanctuary. I hope someday to serve Sherra at the Great Temple of Jurat, if I can afford a post in her lodge."

"Sherra's service comes with a high price," Grey warned.

"I hear the sadness in your voice, Ben. They say warriors stand nearest Sherra's heart. How close have you stood?"

"I have stood in the flames, Frontra. I have stood in the flames so long, I no longer feel the fire," he replied, both hands wrapped tightly around the cup as he drank.

"Or fear it," Frontra observed. "Much have you asked about our ways. And the wolves. Are your questions answered?"

Grey finished his drink and stood up, returning the cup to Frontra. It was late afternoon. He would not hunt for stones today.

"Yes, your insight has great value. Once again I am in your debt," he answered. The thin membranes above Frontra's eyes rose.

"Perhaps someone should be careful," Frontra advised.

"I will not be rash. If the Arikhan choose not to interfere, the task will be easier."

Frontra clicked her tongue with curiosity.

* * * * * *

As the fall season reached the halfway point, it seemed to Grey that the quarry would exceed quota. He even suggested that Squirrel Camp be allowed to share the bounty, though Clagg and Nole were sufficiently angry with them that no agreements were reached. Then Grey made a surprising request.

"I would go to the gardens tomorrow," he announced.

"What do you know about growing food?" Beknar asked, grouchy as always.

"You're needed in the quarry," Myra said.

"I've worked on farms before, and Clagg now leads the quarry crews," Grey replied. "I've yet to be beyond the border of Deer Camp. Haven't I earned a reward?"

"Working the fields is hard work, not a reward," Beknar said with insult.

"It would be a reward for me," Grey mumbled quietly.

"There could be trouble," Myra feared. "We already... they..."

"Wolf Camp makes everything difficult. They are selfish. They envy our mine," Beknar complained.

"Marne and his wolves may slap us a little and make rude jokes, but nothing worse," Myra defended. "We are mated women. At least they still respect that."

"It's not right that they harass you," Cot said, intruding on their conversation. "Maybe Clagg and I should come, too. Tell Marne to leave you alone."

"That would cause more trouble. What if six or seven of them gang up on you? Break your arms?" Myra objected.

"If the wolves want trouble, no one can prevent it," Beknar grumbled.

"I won't cause trouble. I just want to spend a day in the gardens," Grey pleaded.

"Let Ben go," Cot decided.

"Let Ben go where?" Clagg asked, walking up to the quarreling group.

"Ben wants to help in the gardens," Beknar said, expecting Clagg to object.

"There could be trouble," Myra warned.

"Does our camp grow too small for you, little brother?" Clagg asked.

"Is it such an unfair request?" Grey responded.

The women, particularly Myra, felt embarrassed by the resentment in Grey's voice. They did not wish him angry with them.

"Come with us if you must, but be careful. No fighting. Promise?" Myra said.

"I promise. No fighting when I go to the gardens tomorrow," Grey agreed.

"Have you really been on a farm before?" Pie asked.

"Several farms," Grey recalled, looking forward to seeing a new one. "My skills are only fair, but I learn fast."

"You can use the shovel. Men are best with the shovel," Myra said.

"I've heard Clagg is best with his plow," Beknar giggled in a sultry voice.

"Beknar!" Myra protested with crimson cheeks.

Clagg laughed heartily, putting an arm around her shoulders.

"We have been busy in the furs, but times are good. Maybe we will give Garn a brother," Clagg boasted.

"More children already?" Leet said.

"Should it not be so?" Clagg asked.

"It should be so," Cot agreed.

"It will be so," Myra said, snuggling up to Clagg.

Grey sighed and said nothing. He did not think times were so good.

The next morning, Shalli sat down on a grass mat next to Grey as they ate breakfast, a warm porridge with nut root for fiber. The air was cool, the sky cloudy. So close to the equator, Grey didn't expect snow, but it didn't mean the temperatures couldn't get uncomfortable. He thought more blankets might be necessary.

"Are you excited about visiting the gardens?" Shalli asked.

"More nervous than excited. Meeting strangers has never been my best talent," he admitted.

"I'm so jealous. Pie is, too. We haven't been to the fields for the longest time. Not since they went after Tak. I wish we could go with you."

"I'm glad you aren't," Grey said, finishing the porridge so Myra wouldn't scold him.

The camp began to bustle around them, the men and younger women getting ready for the quarry, the mated women gathering baskets for the fields. All knew that Grey was going with them. Many looked concerned. Grey looked concerned, too.

"Don't you want me with you? You let me help at the quarry," Shalli said.

"This will not be my finest hour. By tonight, you may want one of the younger men after all."

"You won't get in trouble, will you? I don't want you hurt."

"You don't need to worry about that," he almost laughed.

"You're talking strangely. Are you expecting something to happen?" she asked. "It cannot be so funny that you would laugh."

"That all depends on your sense of humor."

"Maybe you shouldn't go. Myra and Beknar don't want you to."

"I'm going anyway."

"I don't think you're going to see the gardens. Or the lake. I think you're going to see Marne," Shalli decided.

Her insight surprised him. At times, Grey thought, Shalli can be very bright.

"I'm not going to fight anybody. I promised Myra," he assured her.

"Promise me," Shalli said, moving so close he felt her breath against his cheek. The nearness of her body stirred feelings he sought to avoid.

"Why should I do that?" he asked.

"Because someday I'm going to be your wife."

"You presume much," he responded.

Shalli suddenly leaned forward to kiss him, pushing him back on the mat. Her long hair flowed around his face. Her lips were soft, the smell of her distracting. Grey's resistance grew weak.

"Promise me," Shalli whispered.

"I'll do my best. That's all I ever promise," he agreed, pinned to the ground.

A stomping foot interrupted them.

"Are you tenting my husband's sister?" Myra asked, standing above them.

"Not today," Grey said.

"Then let's get to work. We don't have all morning to lay around," Myra insisted. "Shalli, I'm leaving Garn with you today. We aren't taking any of the children."

Grey went with Myra, Beknar, and four of the mated women through half a kilometer of sparse woods to a junction of ore tracks. A group of women from Deer Camp were waiting for them, surprised by Grey's presence. Myra shrugged, which answered their questions. Going north, the woods gradually grew thicker, separated by an occasional meadow. The trail was not wide but well-travelled.

Though he had seen most of the compound from the hill, it had been from a distance. Grey grew excited as they veered northeast through a brush-filled ravine. Near the south shore of the large oval lake, a line of tall bushy trees sheltered a wheat field from the wind. A row of rough wooden shacks acted as a tool depot and an area had been set aside for corralling the younger children. Plots farther to the east were growing a variety of crops.

"The fields are empty this morning," Beknar said, seeing only a handful of workers. "Rabbit Camp and some of Sparrow Camp."

"The northern camps work the other shore today," Myra hoped.

"Maybe there will be no trouble," Court said with relief.

Walking past the shacks, Grey noticed the largest one commonly used by the Arikhan guards was no better than the others. The lake was bluish green, reeds growing along the sides, and the surface broad enough to ripple in gentle waves. If it ever held fish, he guessed they had long since been depleted. Which was unfortunate. He knew a stocked lake would attract game birds, adding variety to the camp's diet. Though he had often trapped birds during his days on the mountain, most flocks tended to congregate farther north, near the large river at the mouth of the valley.

Grey liked the smell of the lake, so unlike the dry air of the southern camps. A primitive hand pump, somewhat rusted, was positioned to fill the irrigation ditches feeding the gardens. He studied the mechanism, put his hand up to feel the strength of the breeze, and wondered if he could rig a windmill to make irrigation more efficient.

He turned to study the fields. Acres of good growing land, though tired from overuse. Crop rotation and fertilizer would be helpful. The belt of irrigated land bent east around the lake until ending near Wolf Camp on the far side. A strand of scraggily trees, bearing what appeared to be orange fruit, lined a creek that emptied from the lake into the narrow valley. It occurred to Grey that a series of small dams could provide enough water for an orchard.

Grey looked along the western shore and saw where the land grew marshy. And he noticed an old wooden dock extending out into the lake. There had been fish at one time. Maybe there would be again.

"Going for a swim? Maybe you should work first and earn it," Myra said, coming up behind him.

"You've been angry with me since last night," Grey said.

"I'm worried. Yes, and I'm angry."

"Where's my shovel?"

The morning went quickly. Grey decided he would never identify all of the local vegetation, little of it resembling the vegetables he had grown for so many years on his own. They stopped to eat at midday, making a cooking fire to heat their broth. The break also allowed time to plan which areas to harvest. Near the end of the meal, a member of Rabbit Camp came over to inspect their work.

"Greetings, Carger. This is Ben of Ferret Camp," Court introduced.

The lean, middle-aged woman appeared uninterested. Her clothing was better than Court's, trimmed with strips of fur. She met Court's smile with a surly frown.

"Have your baskets ready for inspection early today," Carger said, quickly returning to the eastern gardens.

Grey waited until the rude crone was gone before asking questions.

"I know Rabbit Camp helps move ore carts to the loading docks, but I didn't realize they supervise food distribution, too," Grey said.

"They have no mine of their own," Myra said. "They have farms, move ore through the gates, and check to make sure no one exceeds their allotments."

"Such people would be powerful on my world," Grey mentioned.

Court and Myra laughed.

"They are worms," Court said.

As the day progressed, no one from the other camps spoke to Grey or even acknowledged his presence. He couldn't tell whether it was fear or resentment. Not that it mattered. Making small talk with strangers was never easy for him.

Toward the end of the afternoon, the women started gathering their baskets. In the distance, Grey saw the final ore carts being moved toward the loading docks. Before long the men would be returning to their camps. He had enjoyed being among edible plants again, feeling the churned earth beneath his feet, but felt disappointment that his objective hadn't been achieved. Then he heard someone shouting.

"Myra, look," Beknar said, pointing to the western edge of the lake.

"Oh, no," Myra whispered.

Grey looked up from the basket he was packing to see five large, well-proportioned men and a medium-sized woman coming in their direction. Dressed in gray woolen shirts, red leather vests, and deerskin pants with rawhide boots, they appeared to be in their early twenties, except for one teenager. None appeared to be carrying weapons, but the vests were long enough to hide objects in their belts. Grey hardly needed to guess who Marne was. A pace ahead of the rest, and the only one wearing a black bandana, he walked with the confidence of an unquestioned leader.

"Ben! Run!" Beknar shouted.

"Yes, maybe they haven't seen you yet," Myra said.

"They saw me from the dock," Grey said. "Is the big one Marne?"

"They're all big. Leave quickly," Myra pleaded.

Others needed no such urging, grabbing whatever food they could and fleeing beyond the edge of the fields into the brush. Some went east toward Rabbit Camp, a few west toward Sparrow Camp. Grey stood still, watching as the wolves approached.

"They will hurt you if you don't run," Beknar said, clutching her basket.

Grey could not blame the women for being afraid. The gang came on like they owned the world.

"There won't be much trouble," Grey said to Myra. "Take your baskets back to camp. I'll meet you there later."

"Myra, get your basket and come!" Beknar yelled, running from the smoldering fire pit where they had heated their lunch. Myra had no choice but to follow, running from the gardens until reaching the south trail. Then she paused in the overgrown ravine with Beknar and Court. When Myra looked back, Grey still hadn't moved.

"What have we here? A stranger?" one of the tall young men said, thinner than Marne with long brown hair and a ruddy complexion. A heavy drinker.

"Not a very big stranger," another remarked, smaller-boned than the others, hair cut above the shoulders, and squinting against the sun. The runt of the pack.

"What is it called?" the woman said, fingering Grey's cotton tunic and pulling out some of the shoulder stitches.

Half a head shorter than Grey, the female was shapely, with long black hair and a pretty face. Except for her smile, which held no warmth. Her black rawhide outfit showed her curves without displaying much skin.

"Hello, my name is Ben. Of the Ferret Camp," Grey said, finding himself surrounded.

"What kind of name is Ben?" the biggest one said, the one Grey guessed was Marne.

The wolf leader was the oldest of the group, about twenty-five, with long reddish blond hair tied back in a ponytail, a closely trimmed red beard, and blazing blue eyes. The others tended to have darker hair and brown eyes. All looked eager to have unpleasant fun.

"It means wanderer. What are your names?" Grey asked, offering a frightened smile.

"Our names?" Marne laughed. "We're the wolves, you ignorant stick. I'm Marne. This is Lace." Marne indicated the slender woman who continued to pluck at Grey's clothing with her long black-painted fingernails. "My mates are Logis, Ar, Carp and Winso."

Each smiled as their names were mentioned, but not in a friendly manner. All of the men were taller than Grey, except the skinny youngster, Winso. Miners or cart drivers, like most slaves in the compound, their muscle tone was good. Grey studied the way they walked and stood. How they held their arms. Their reflexes. Which appeared to see well, and which might be nearsighted. He tried to sense a command structure, determining those most likely to act first if confronted.

"What are you doing in our garden?" Ar asked, a stout pig-eyed brute with a scythe-shaped tattoo on his right cheek.

"I thought this was a community field, but if I'm mistaken, I'll gladly leave," Grey said. He looked for their reactions before reaching down to pick up the half-filled basket at his feet.

"Look, Marne, he's stealing our food," Lace said in a smooth drawl.

"Brothers, we have a thief," Marne announced, thumbs tucked in his wide belt. His clothes were better made than the others, the gray shirt tailored for a tighter fit. He would not want to get them dirty.

"I'm sorry. I meant no offense," Grey said, putting the basket down.

From fifty yards away, Myra, Beknar, and Court watched the encounter. Most of the other women were hiding nearby, crouched in the bushes. From the eastern side of the lake, nearly all of Rabbit Camp was observing as well.

"He should have run. Maybe he can knock one down and get away," Court said.

"He should try," Myra hoped, hands clutched so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

"You made him promise not to fight," Beknar reminded.

"It looks like he's trying to be friends. They'll hurt him for that," Court said.

Grey was beginning to suspect the same thing, but he continued with a nervous smile, pretending nothing was wrong. The wolves seemed to enjoy the game, walking around him in a circle. The woman tore his shirt open down the back, then ripped it off and threw it on the ground.

"We punish thieves. We punish them bad," Ar said, clearly Marne's second-in-command. He had been the first to speak when the wolves approached. Now his fists were curled, ready for a fight. Grey realized he was the group's enforcer.

"I didn't mean to do anything wrong," Grey apologized, turning around slowly.

"Someone needs to be punished," Carp said, finally speaking up. A bully seeking to prove himself, Grey thought. Brave in a crowd.

"Please don't hurt me," Grey said, looking scared.

"Didn't someone at Ferret Camp put black hands on Thal? Was it you?" Logis asked, big but not well-coordinated. He limped on the right side, perhaps the result of a childhood injury. He was the youngest except for Winso.

"Me? No, I would never do anything like that. It would be disrespectful," Grey said.

"I think it was you. What do you think, Lace? Isn't Thal your friend?" Logis asked, possibly the brightest of the group, as evidenced by the crafty gleam in his eyes.

"Thal didn't like running naked through the camps. Not with black hands on her ass," Lace said, the playful smile turning to a frown.

Ar turned Grey around and slapped him across the face. Not hard. It was a test.

"Please don't hurt me. I'd like to leave now," Grey said, putting his hands up.

"Marne, he'd like to leave now," Carp laughed, hitting Grey with the back of his hand.

From the ravine, Myra saw the blow and was sure Grey would strike back. She had seen him knock Cot down. Heard how he'd thrown Clagg. Court had said how Turk was brought to his knees with hardly an effort. But Grey did not fight back. He didn't even try. The more aggressive the wolves were, the meeker he became. Myra felt embarrassed for him. And ashamed.

Ar slapped Grey again. Carp punched him in the gut. Winso dared to step on his foot. Lace pulled Grey's trousers down to his ankles. Then someone struck him on the head from behind and he toppled over, only to be kicked while on the ground. Lace grinned as she tore off his pants, leaving him naked before his persecutors.

"Please, masters! Please don't hurt me!" Grey shouted so loud that onlookers from Rabbit and Sparrow camps could hear him.

"We should do something," Myra said, getting up to leave the ravine.

Beknar pulled her back, holding firmly. "There is nothing we can do," she said.

"I never realized Ben is such a coward. He should have knocked one down and ran," Court said in disappointment.

"Never have I seen him so afraid," Myra agreed. "Prey Sherra they don't break his arms."

As Grey curled in a ball, Carp dragged him to the cooking pit, dropping him near the hot coals. Ar put a knee against Grey's spine as he tied his hands behind his back with a strip of leather. Carp tied his ankles. Lace laughed as she threw Grey's torn clothes in the pit, watching them catch fire. Grey pulled up his legs to avoid being kicked in a sensitive area.

"Please don't, masters. I beg you," he said.

"It whimpers well," Logis grinned. "Too bad Gronar isn't here. He would enjoy putting this one on its knees."

"Someone said the stranger was brave. This can't be the same one," Ar said in disgust.

"It makes me sick. It's not even a man," Marne remarked.

"Maybe it is," Lace said with a nasty smirk, grabbing Grey's crotch and digging with her nails. Grey screeched and tried to wiggle away. The laughter of his tormentors echoed off the lake.

"What should we do with it? Should I stomp its arms?" Winso asked, looking to Marne for direction.

"It's a spineless bug. When the camps hear how it begged for mercy, they will laugh," Marne decided.

"Let's put black hands on it," Lace suggested.

"A wonderful idea!" Carp eagerly agreed.

Each of the wolves rubbed their hands on the blackened firewood before putting handprints on Grey's body, leaving a dozen charcoal impressions. Carp dumped ashes in Grey's hair. Ar painted streaks on his face. Finally, Lace poured a thick porridge on his lower region and added dirt, grinning as she worked it with her hand into a sticky mud.

"Let's visit the east field. Maybe Gurlap is stupid enough to show his face today," Marne suggested.

"Or his sister," Carp said, smacking a fist into his open palm.

"It's not her face I want to see," Ar said, pumping his hips.

The group walked away laughing, young Winso turning back to give Grey one last kick.

Grey lay on the ground, tightly bound and breathing hard, his body decorated with wolfish humor. Once his attackers were sufficiently far away, he rolled over to watch them go. The fear he had shown was replaced by a steely glint in his studious gray eyes. Hardly a moment later, Frontra appeared from behind the wood shacks.

"You look ready for the spit, half-meat, though the aroma is none too pleasing," Frontra said, squatting down but not touching him. "What if they had broken your arms?"

"They had me worried for a moment," he admitted, struggling to catch his breath. "But I doubted they would break my arms if I groveled enough."

"Did you find out what you wanted to know?" Frontra asked.

"These wolves don't speak well for my species, do they?"

"They are large and strong. Especially Marne," Frontra said.

"Yes, they are large and strong," he agreed.

Myra ran up, panting from the sprint across the fields, and checked Grey's eye where there was a bruise. He looked for Beknar and Court, but they were gone. All of the women were gone.

"Are you hurt?" Myra asked, looking for more injuries.

"Mildly," Grey said, twisting his back.

Myra tried to untie the leather but the binding was too tight. Frontra handed her a small knife so she could cut Grey loose.

"They could have killed you. Or sent you to the pens," Myra shouted. "Why didn't you knock one down and run?"

"They didn't leave much, did they?" Grey said, finding only a few shreds of his shirt.

"Here, take this," Myra said, starting to remove her tunic. "Wash off in the lake before more people see you."

"No, that's okay," he said, declining her offer.

Grey stood up, held his ribs were a hard kick had landed, and walked back toward Ferret Camp wearing nothing but the black hands the wolves had given him.

"Poor Shalli. Maybe she'll find a younger man after all," Myra said to Frontra.

"Why would your sister do that?" Frontra asked, eye-rings going up in surprise.

"We didn't know Ben was such a coward, mistress. Soon everyone will know. He'll be the shame of Ferret Camp."

"You believe Ben a coward?" Frontra asked, astonishment in the tone followed by a derisive click of her tongue.

"You saw everything we saw," Myra explained.

"Yes, I saw everything you saw," Frontra said. "But we did not see the same thing."

* * * * * *

Grey's plan to challenge the wolves grows more dangerous, and his life grows more complicated in chapter four, Shalli Loves a Coward.