“Second Brigade is holding the railway bridge downriver,” Touchwit said. “We can pitch them in, but we’re feeding them to a meat-grinder.”
“What’s the plan of retreat?”
“Fall back and hold them at the bridge.”
But already the High Guard was bunching the young people in the Brigades towards the patio of the restaurant. And to the north, another High Guard formation materialized out of the foliage covering the office building. There was no escape to the north. Nor to the south. No escape anywhere.
***
Bandit caught Sensibella’s eye. She was standing proudly aloof from the huddle of City Elders and their sons and daughters now joined by their mothers who had climbed up on the stage. He knew what they were thinking. If the long-dreaded Revolution had come, the Leading Families would become teaching exhibits about the imaginary nature of social order. Here they were, displayed on stage like the specimens of an extinct species, guarded by their useless, decorative cheerleaders. Moreover, the shifty and temperamental ne’er-do-wells who made up the Peoples Corps couldn’t be trusted.
Sensibella’s face brightened. She’d thought of an idea. What on earth was she about to do, striding to the front of the stage with her tail in the air?
***
“I’m going down,” Touchwit said.
“If you choose. But why?” Mindwalker said.
“Mom’s down there. Plus I have no idea what stupid thing Bandit’s about to do on the stage.”
“He’s not stupid,” Mindwalker said.
“He’s besotted with Sensibella. Can you think of anything more stupid than that?”
“I can,” the seagull said.
“Besides, it’s not enough to sit back and lead. I have to get good and bloody.”
***
The Citizens Brigades were trying to hold a perimeter. The zone they defended encompassed the patio at the side of the café, and down to the dock. But they couldn’t hold their ground against the veterans of the Southern Frontier War. The High Guard soldiers were so efficient that the Peoples Corps Volunteers crunching French fries and pulled pork hung back and watched them do their work. Tricksters, skanks, and petty crime artists, they weren’t all that much up to combat anyway, apart from a good street brawl. Besides, their boss, the Director of Security, had flown the scene.
“Citizens and kin. Friends of the Commonwealth,” Sensibella called out to the crowded tables from the stage. Strutting back and forth with her glossy mane and her tail in the air.
“I don’t believe this,” Slypaws said. “She’s twerking.”
“She’s absolutely gross,” Twitch said.
Wolf whistles, mindless cheers, encouraging suggestions from the appreciative masses. Now this was worth coming for! The First Lady was offering them her wholesomeness as dinner entertainment. A reward for enduring the mind-numbing, hollow rhetoric of her spouse.
“Lift that tail, honey!”
“Let’s see you shimmy!”
Bella did an off-hand pretense of a shimmy. Applause up and down the lawn. Meanwhile, the sound of guttural spitting and shrieking continued from the lake side of the restaurant.
“Hey, you guys in the Corps. Enjoying the ribs?”
Cheering.
“Glad to see y’all here. Now let’s make this night a real party, right? Let’s make it our own. There’s loads of pork in the trucks. We just have to get those sticks out of the way. Tell them to piss off, eh?”
Everybody knew she meant the High Guard.
The Protector had watched long enough. The traitorous swamp bitch was trying to turn the ordinary folk against him. He strode to the front of the stage, knocking three Honour Guards out of his way.
“Where are you going, Big Guy?”
Who was this standing in his path? An alpha male. A yearling. Powerful and pumped. And he had a dark mask on his face. Could be one of his sons. “Do I know you?”
“You’ll get to know me a lot better if you don’t back off.”
“She your girl? Sorry, buddy. I’m renting her for the night. Clear out of my way.”
“Honour Guard. To me!” Bandit cried.
Flax was at his side instantly, and witnessing her spontaneous loyalty her Honour Guard comrades followed. Now they had a leader again. They formed a shell around the naïve outsider from across the river who was so sweet in his social awkwardness.
“See what we did? It’s easy,” Sensibel shouted.
The city folk put down their ribs and beer, and overwhelmed the High Guard soldiers still on the lawn. The Peoples Corps joined them without hesitation. And seeing the Protector immobilized, the soldiers didn’t resist. But the main body of the High Guard didn’t know what had happened. They were busy pushing the young people in the Brigades across the restaurant patio down toward the river and the dock below. The skirmish line swayed back and forth on the very edge of the riverbank. It could go either way. If the High Guard forced the city’s youth into the water, the Peoples Corps would change sides again and take the side of the victors. If the action surged the other way and the High Guard surrendered, the P.C.s would join with the Citizens Brigades. But there was one constant in this equation. The High Guard never surrendered.
***
From the roof of the Primate urinal, it was easy to hear the disaster-in-the-making. The noise of shrieking warriors had diminished from the direction of the lawn, indicating that a victory had been won there by Sensibella’s instant army, but on this river side of the café the Citizens Brigades were on the edge of defeat. And for raccoons defeat wasn’t physical, it was spiritual. A loser could survive wounds and fight again another day. But to back down, to be pushed off a branch or into a river, was a loss of prowess that couldn’t be survived. A broken spirit was forever.
“The Brigades are breaking. I’m going down there,” Mindwalker told the gull.
