Novek hadn't gotten enough sleep to deal with another day of emergencies. And there was no way this wasn't something larger than it seemed — he could feel it in his bones. He'd ended up grabbing an extended nap by clearing some space atop the coach, opposite the dozing clackaw, where he could curl up among the canvas and the few smaller trunks that were lashed to the top. He'd sat up briefly to keep an eye out as they acquired Tanner, but then had laid back down immediately after and been out within seconds, while lighter discussion went on inside.

  When he awoke an hour later or so, the conversation had petered out. He moved carefully to avoid waking Siya, who was curled into a ball next to him, then patted Ellie on the shoulder and pointed to the kit, then himself, then the coach. With a nod — she'd keep an eye on Siya — Novek swung down to the side running board, where he opened the door and squeezed himself inside.

  Keeping his voice low, Novek nodded a greeting and then indicated to Nat to scoot over. He was watched warily by the small tawny pup sitting on Tanner's lap. “Howdy, Tanner. Cute kid. Sorry to crowd things, but I think we all should discuss plans. We are clearly in the middle of something larger than us, with partial information.”

  Lyn knocked in the air twice. Nat took on a serious look that put creases in his forehead, and nodded. He put his hand out, and Moira's light-show puppet sprang into being as well. Agreed.

  Novek continued without waiting on further comment. “I'd like to call Ceress back in. We're even closer than before, and I think she'd be interested in hearing about the creche, four armed and ugly, the tea maniacs, and the rest.”

  Lyn had started to nod, then aborted the motion. “I was going to suggest the same thing. Only with more precise naming.”

  “So, let's talk details — we aren't sure where our final destination is, but we know we're going to be at the creche for at least a couple of hours. If we signal now, that'd be more than enough time for Soot to get there.”

  “It's almost certain that the creche is our actual destination — Rezzan's certainly savvy, but subterfuge is not their strong point. Where else could they safely hide a wounded broodmother out here?”

  “You tell me, I'm not the expert here. How big would she be?”

  “Not that large. A couple meters in height, maybe a bit more since she's older — I've never seen one, personally. They're mostly wing, though — wingtip to wingtip can exceed five meters, but that'd only be in flight.”

  “Alright. So they'd fit anywhere. I thought this was going to be a Soot situation. Which brings me to Trant and his crew — Ber, Ber'Duun, Brin, and Humans. That's going to be a serious organization — those groups mixing is less like oil and water, and more like throwing water on a grease fire, which means someone's keeping them in line, or paying them to get along — probably both.”

  “No argument here.”

  “And if they're interested in the Clackaw, and the Vodat, and maybe other Brin — that's almost guaranteed to be a rushed conscription effort. Which means there's a war coming, or on. If they're going for young, it's not going to be some short decisive battles — this will be a war of attrition.”

  Nat raised an eyebrow. “I think I understand why they'd want kids — they want to train soldiers. But why not just hire mercenary companies — or recruit out of militia?”

  “Money. Mercenaries and Humans both have to be paid. Conscripts don't.”

  “So how is that different from slavery?”

  “It isn't.”

  “Oh.” Nat's response didn't quite have the sound of realization that Novek was listening for.

  He usually didn't bother trying for most people, but he thought it might be worth the time explaining to Nat. “Don't think it's just about race — everyone gets equal time in the meat grinder eventually. The Human penal battalions will come next, when they've run out of other cannon fodder. It's not about race — it's about those who lack the power to resist. If a war starts going the wrong way for one or both sides, rationale will be found to justify widening the net until any but the rich or powerful are eligible to fight for their country. They'll simply create more groups that lack the power to resist, one at a time: immigrants, the poor, children.”

  Nat looked down at his feet, then to Tanner. “We're not very good people, are we?”

  The wolfen reached out to put a hand on Nat's shoulder. “Given enough power, long enough, anyone corrupts. Ask me about packlands politics… some other time.”

  Lyn had been sitting quietly, but now re-entered the conversation. “Back to Ceress — I'd like to propose something. If our winged friends up top agree, I'd like to send them with a message.”

  Novek's eyebrow raised. “The clackaw? Why?”

  “It's a hunch. Trant was expecting her — those crossbowmen weren't for us — they wouldn't have been out of position to support the attack, otherwise. They underestimated us, and I think we were going to be bait for the next trap. Trant knows her methods, and he knows she's both impulsive, and willing to rush to the aid of her friends — even to her own detriment.”

  “Sure, no arguments here.” Novek opened the door and stood. The two clackaw, flew into the coach. Oh, those sneaky little—

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  They alighted next to Lyn on the bench — though one gave Tanner a quick up-down before committing to sit so close.

  Leaning forward, Lyn put out their hands in a manner that approached supplication, “We'd like you to take a message. Run it by Rezzan if you need, but this is time-sensitive. Is that okay?”

  The clackaw looked at one another, and then began a bout of feather ruffling and clicking beaks before they turned back to Lyn and bobbed their heads in unison.

  “Okay, we'll have a message ready for you soon, once we work out some details. The recipient is Ceress — a Ber commander, with a camp on a cliff-top to the northwest. Are you familiar with her or her camp?”

  Something in what Lyn had said bothered Novek, and as the birds bobbed their heads in acquiescence, it hit him. He put his paw to his forehead with a heavy thump. “Wait, they had someone who could command Ber. Argh! How did I not see it? They didn't intend to grab a few random Ber to chase us, that was to suppress or override her — they just used whatever was close by when we bolted. Well, now I'm just insulted.”

  Nat tilted his head to one side, “What? Why?”

  Lyn took the answer, “Well, clearly they didn't think we'd be a problem — we only rated a three-person team; two Brin, and one Ber'Duun.”

  Novek's response was almost a growl. “Well, it cost them an arm to learn that lesson, so they still owe us a leg — but I'm not picky.”

  Ceress wasn't sure what to make of her tiny little visitors. The Sirp'Terry — Clackaw to just about everyone — were chattering about her beverage selection. Apparently it wasn't measuring up to some recent experiences of theirs.

  “No, I don't have any cranberry, I'm not familiar with that fruit. How about some Tea? I've got a wide selection — I'll steep a selection of them for you.”

  This was met with more enthusiasm — she couldn't quite grasp the entirety of the rapid back and forth commentary, but the sense of satisfaction they broadcast was unmistakable, if muted.

  She turned to the small black scaled ball, submerged within a stone basin adjacent to the fire pit. “Cimmer, could you put the kettle on to boil, please?”

  The ball unfolded with a rippling of scales that threw droplets of steaming water, revealing a rich red underneath. This was followed immediately by tiny red eyes blinking open, and a stretch that ended as a fanged yawn. Cimmer looked to the kettle sitting atop one of the stones ringing the tent's cooking pit, then around the room, then back to Ceress. Her long tail curled one way, then back the other — a behavior that indicated confusion in the young Ceni'sae.

  “Boyle not here. Can I help?”

  “No, Cimmer. Just put the kettle on — heat the water.”

  The small face looked down at the steaming basin it occupied, then back up to Ceress.

  “Not your water. Tea. For guests, please.”

  Clapping her tiny clawed hands together in understanding, Cimmer leaned out of her basin and swung the tea kettle over the fire.

  “Thank you, Cimmy.”

  With a cough of steam, the Ceni'sae slid back under the water and half-curled — watching Ceress out of the corner of her eye for further requests.

  Ceress turned to the clackaw, who had been waiting patiently. “That will be a few minutes. Would you mind delivering the message, please?”

  They started to gesture and squawk a summary, but Ceress held up a claw. “As you heard it, if you wouldn't mind, please.”

  The two clackaw looked at each other, then back to her. “Please,” she repeated.

  One of them — slightly larger than the other, huffed, and took on a serious posture. Then began to replay the conversation, exactly as it had sounded as Lyn recorded it.

  Ceress listened for a few minutes without interruption, until Lyn's voice indicated the message was over, and the tent went silent as the sounds of a noisy coach ride faded.

  “Ba'chus!” Her exclamation startled the entire population of the tent. Eyes peeked out at her from various nooks and crannies.

  Only a few seconds later, the tent flap was pulled aside, and a two-meter tall, fawn-colored Ber'Duun, closely resembling an Ankarran canid entered — her second in command.

  “Trouble?”

  Ceress stood to her near three “Lyn's group just sent a message — they had some trouble, and they think Trant might have tried to lay a trap for us. The reasoning's solid, if circumstantial.”

  Ba'chus huffed out a lungful of air. “You wouldn't have called me in here just for that. What else?”

  “They've been asked to heal a wounded broodmother — parent of these two here.” she indicated the two clackaw with a nod, “Who was swarmed the day — after — the pulses. Who is probably stuck in a creche. That Trant's group — which included Brin and Humans — might be blocking a local pack from retrieving their pups from.”

  Ba'chus turned to the two clackaw and cupped his hands together close to his chest, then opened them as they dropped forward. “Grounded broodmother? I'm so sorry to hear that. Give her our well-wishes when you see her, please.”

  Ceress put a hand to her forehead as she said the next bit. “Okay, so here's the bad part. They've got a Skilled Ber commander working for them, apparently. Trant was acting as a relay, so they didn't see them.”

  “Wonderful. So it really was a trap for us. It also shows that Trant still doesn't get it though — he never could understand asking instead of issuing a command.”

  “Anyway, there might also be a second wing of Clackaw, potentially cross-purposes. Don't worry you two, we'll be gentle.” She nodded at the two, who ruffled their feathers in return — a complex response that she didn't quite catch the full nuance of. “Anyway, they want us to ignore any flare signals that don't come in threes entirely, and to ignore the first regardless.”

  With a long-suffering look upon his canid face, Ba'chus half-sighed, “You know what I'm going to say — I think it's long past time we moved camp.”

  “Yeah, you've said. Let's get packing — I know it's overdue.”

  “Alright. Straight to a new site, or swing past the creche behind a recon sweep? No, wait, let me guess — you headed to the creche alone, because an escort would be too slow.”

  “No, I'm not going to fly out solo. That'd be stupid. Yes to a recon team, but we need to watch out for suborned fliers — no Ber this time.”

  “I'm glad you're finally seeing reason. I'll assemble…”

  “Hang on — I'm not done. I'm not going alone, but I am going to play big dumb distraction while you get in place. Trant will be expecting me and Soot — so we'll bait him out by playing exactly the incompetents he is convinced we are. But I want a vanguard of fast moving heavy hitters no more than two minutes behind me, ready to haul my tail out of the fire.”

  “Alright. It will be a real two minutes. No flying out ahead — circle in an updraft if you outpace us. When do you want to do this?”

  “I want the camp packed up and ready to move just after dawn. I'll hang back until it's time to bring the drama. If this really is a trap, we have to spring it prematurely, and draw them out of position.”

  Ba'chus nodded. “Understood, commander.” He then turned and exited the tent — Ceress could hear him immediately barking orders.

  Ceress turned to the clackaw, who had been quietly soaking up the discussion. “Okay guys, drink up fast. We're going to need to swap that tea for coffee. Also, repeat any of this, and we'll have words — we're mobilizing to help protect your mother, so don't screw us on this.”

  The two clackaw bobbed their heads in unison and then simultaneously replayed the same voice from only a few moments before. “Understood, commander.”