“All related.” Cautious traced several with a finger. “Foxes, wolves, dingoes, like that. Doen often see species exclusivity so much.”
“Maybe they’re just part of a larger community,” Mudge suggested.
“Could be.” The raccoon nodded down the beach. “Goes that way. Fresh, or they would’ve been washed away by now. I think we better go careful from here, you bet, until we find out whose back yard we playing in.”
They abandoned the exposed beach in favor of moving through the trees. The village was not far. It was located on the far side of a clear stream. A number of double outriggered canoes lay drawn up on the sand. They looked solid and seaworthy, especially the larger ones.
“Transportation!” Jon-Tom was already selecting a favorite from the line of boats. “I told you we wouldn’t have to walk all the way to Chejiji.”
“’Old on a minim, mate. We don’t know as ’ow these ’ere chaps are in the boat rentin’ business, much less ’ow they’ll react if we go stompin’ into their town uninvited. Let’s just ’ave ourselves a bit o’ a sit-down ’ere and study our prospective suppliers, wot?”
“I thought you were sick of walking.”
“Sick in the feet, but not sick in the ’ead. ’Aven’t you learned anythin’ about me world yet? Fools rush in where sneaky types fear to tread. I ain’t no fool.”
“Remember the attitude of the last villagers we encountered.” Weegee was peering around a large fern.
“All right, but this looks like a completely different kind of village.”
He was right about that. The owners of the outriggers were in no wise similar to the primitives who’d sold them back to the pirates. On the other hand, Mudge’s caution proved well-founded as observation revealed they were not the type of folks to spend their time helping old ladies across the creek, either.
Most revealing was the high-walled wooden corral that dominated the center of the village. It did not look especially sturdy, but the tops of the walls curved inwards and were lined with sharp thorns. The intent was clear: to prevent anyone inside from climbing out. Presently the corral had a single occupant.
Each villager wore a single massive necklace from which hung long, brightly colored interlocking leather strips. Hammered breastplates of thin metal were secured to the leather. The individual in the corral was attired in a similar garment, but Jon-Tom didn’t think he wore it voluntarily. For one thing the leather was dyed dead black. There were no bright colors, no additional adornments of beads or quills. For another, he was pacing restlessly back and forth as he tried various sections of the wall. Nor was he related to canus or lupus.
Jon-Tom recognized the pattern. Appaloosa, and a handsome member of the breed he was. This world’s breed, for only in fantasy did any stallion of his own world sport broad wings like those attached to the shoulders and ribs of the corral’s inhabitant.
“Look there.” Cautious was pointing toward a big fire pit. Two spits were suspended over the shallow excavation. Villagers were filling it brimful with wood and coconut husks to make a hot blaze.
It looked as though the community was preparing for a large luau. But was the flying stallion secured in the corral to be an honored guest or the main course?
“What do you make of it?” Jon-Tom asked his companions.
“From the way that ’orse is runnin’ back and forth and nudgin’ at those posts I’d say ’e’d rather pass on tonight’s supper,” said Mudge. “But there’s one thing that don’t make no sense.”
Jon-Tom found himself nodding in agreement. Indeed, you’d have to be blind not to have noticed it already. For while the walls of the corral curved inward and were topped with sharp things, the enclosure remained open to the sky. The nervous fluttering of the stallion’s wings showed they were not broken or otherwise visibly damaged. Therefore the inexplicable question remained.
If he was in the kind of danger he appeared to be in, why didn’t he simply spread those powerful appendages and fly away?
XI
“THAT BLACK COLLAR they’ve got on him must be some kind of ceremonial harness.” Weegee was as puzzled by the apparent dichotomy of the stallion’s imprisonment as the rest of them. “Even if it was solid lead I don’t see it weighing him down enough to prevent him from taking off. He’s a big, strong animal.”
“Make no sense for sure,” Cautious agreed.
“’Tis all to our advantage.” Mudge pointed to a long outrigger with a sturdy mast set in the center. “Look at that beauty. If we can make off with ’er we’ll ’ave ourselves a leisurely cruise to Chejiji in no time. This is goin’ to be a cakewalk. While they’re ’avin’ themselves their barbecue me an Weegee will swim across an’ slip that pretty from its moorin’s. We can do this stream underwater easy.”
Jon-Tom made no effort to hide his shock. “Mudge, we can’t just run off and let them cannibalize a beautiful animal like that.”
“Who says?” He nodded toward Weegee. “That’s my idea o’ a beautiful animal, not somethin’ with hooves instead o’ toes.”
“But what about the commonality of intelligence among the warm-blooded? Have you forgotten that one of our best friends on our previous journey was a quadruped?”
“I ain’t forgot old Donnas. Who could? But she ain’t set for the banquet tonight and I don’t know that winged stallion from nothin’. Just because ’e’s got wings don’t make ’im anythin’ special.”
Cautious looked upset. “It ain’t right. Ain’t right that those who can speak an’ think should try to eat each other.”
“’Ow do you know that ’orse can speak an’ think? Maybe ’e’s a dumb throwback. Sure as ’ell’s somethin’ wrong with ’im. Otherwise why don’t ’e up and fly away? Maybe ’e’s livin’ out a deathwish.”
Jon-Tom watched the stallion as he endlessly paced the interior of his prison. “We could fly to Chejiji a lot faster than we could sail there. You’re right, Weegee, about his size. A flying percheron. He’s big enough to carry all of us.”
“I don’t like bein’ off the ground, mate. I get airsick, I do, if I ’ave to climb to the top o’ a small tree. You’re pissin’ into the wind anyways. ’E’s in there and we ain’t. Tonight we ’elp ourselves to a boat and slip out o’ ’ere an’ tomorrow mornin’ we’ll be out on the open sea. Worst you’ll ’ave out o’ this is a bad dream or two.”
“Logically you’re right, Mudge. Emotionally you’re all wrong.”
The otter found this amusing. “Now there’s a switch, wot?”
“How about this, then? Suppose we cross the stream and free him while the villagers are busy preparing for their feast.”
“’Ow about we tie an’ gag you an’ dump you in the boat, and untie you when you’ve come back to your senses.”
“I’m going in after him. Are either of you with me?”
The otters exchanged a glance. Weegee dropped her eyes and said nothing. Disappointed, Jon-Tom looked to the last member of their little party.
“What about you, Cautious?”
“Just my name, that. I go with you, man.” He looked back toward the village and the corral. “This not right for sure.”
