For the first time Etienne saw Na females, along with two-meter-tall cubs. Unlike the children of most species, the offspring of the Na were not cute. They moved nervously in their sleep, their bare feet kicking toward the warmth of the fire.
Vegetation was unusually abundant in the depression, not only due to the presence of nutrients unintentionally supplied by Na but also because the hollow served as a watertrap. The pool lay directly below Etienne, the fire on the far side. A large pile of dried animal dung helped to reflect as well as freshen the blaze.
Yulour pointed and whispered with childlike excitement. “Look there, Teacher, look there!”
Etienne’s gaze traveled to the right of the fire. Stone and bone had been heaped together to create a crude kitchen. Attached to a long bone suspended over a smoking fire was a shape that he didn’t immediately recognize. It took him a moment to see that it was a dead Tsla shorn of its fur. He glanced sideways at his companion. There was no fury, no hatred in the porter’s face.
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“What bother me, Teacher?”
Etienne gestured toward the firepit. “They’re cooking one of your own kind down there.”
“Everyone must eat,” Yulour said ingenuously.
Etienne turned away. Obviously a great deal more research would have to be performed before they could fully understand the Tsla.
Of more immediate interest was the cage that rested against the far right-hand base of the depression. It was made of the curving rib bones of some big creature, lashed together with cured sinew. Four—no, five—Tsla were clustered together within. Along with one figure clad in bright blue. His pulse raced, threatening to set his fingers trembling.
Lyra was alive and apparently intact, from what he could see. The collar of her shirt was buttoned all the way up over her neck and her long hair was wrapped around her face. The Na had left their carrying sacks in with the prey, and Lyra lay beneath one for further protection from the cold.
A single young male squatted sleepily in front of the cage, idly tossing pebbles into the fire and ignoring his charges.
“Soon he may sleep, Teacher,” Yulour said of the guard.
“He’d better.” Etienne checked to make sure both pistols were readily accessible, along with the supplementary breathers. Then he backed carefully down the slope and circled the depression.
When they climbed up again they topped the rise directly behind the cage. Then they waited.
It was well after midnight when Etienne stirred himself for another look down into the hollow. Tslamaina’s moons were masked by cloud and most of the light in the depression came from the central bonfire. He watched the motionless guard for another half hour before he could be certain the Na was asleep.
“What must I do, Teacher?” asked Yulour.
“Just stay here and keep quiet, and wait for us.”
“Be careful, Teacher.”
“I will, Yulour.”
“I will come down if thee need me,” he added anxiously as Etienne slid on his belly over the top.
“I know you will. You’re a good friend, Yulour.”
“I thank thee, Teacher,” whispered the porter, overwhelmed by the compliment.
Etienne half-slid half-crawled down the incline. The tribe dozed like the dead beneath the rocky overhang. He checked his wrist. It was twelve degrees below freezing. He was quite comfortable but he worried about Lyra. If the temperature fell much further she would have difficulty walking until he could get her into her own thermal suit, which was stuffed into Yulour’s copious backpack.
He reached for a purchase only to see the rock tumble down the slope. It came to rest against the back of the cage. The guard did not stir. Etienne followed the stone as rapidly as practicable, assuming a kneeling position behind the cage.
“Lyra,” he whispered intently, shifting his gaze from her to the guard and back again. Bodies stirred within the cave but no one rose from sleep.
“Lyra!” Her head jerked around in the darkness and she shoved her hair aside.
“Etienne?”
“Who the hell else would it be?” He pulled one of the pistols and carefully adjusted the setting after quickly inspecting the lashings holding the cage together. “I’m going to try and burn through the material holding these bones. Be ready, for God’s sake!”
He started working, the pistol’s faint hum absorbed by the wind overhead and the crackle of the central fire. Lyra moved quietly to wake her fellow prisoners. They had enough presence of mind to keep quiet, save for one who whispered in surprise, “It is the mate of the stranger who is with us!” Lyra shushed him.
“Here, as Etienne cuts these loose, take them up and lay them somewhere aside.” The Tsla moved silently to comply.
He smiled to himself. Fatalistic in philosophy the Tsla might be, but clearly that didn’t extend to sitting dumbly by if the chance of escape presented itself.
“Etienne, what the devil are you doing here?”
“Saving fair maiden from an incipient barbeque.” Another lashing split and he started on the bonds above it. One of the Tsla males gripped the base of the loosened section to prevent its falling.
Lyra sat clear of the humming pistol, shook her head. “Somehow I never thought you capable of the heroic gesture, Etienne.”
“Lyra, shut up. I’m busy.” Another series of sinews gave way and he started on those holding a second bar as the Tsla carefully removed the first.
The second bone popped clear easily and again the Tsla moved it aside. Lyra was first out and Etienne caught her as she stumbled. Her muscles were numb from cold and confinement.
For an instant he thought she might have suffered some unseen injury. She quickly dispelled that concern.
“I’m in one piece, though I thought I’d suffocate in that damn stuffsack.” The Tsla were filing out wordlessly behind her, looking around in bewilderment. “We’re up on the Guntali, aren’t we? The sack was opaque, so I couldn’t get any bearings.” He nodded. “No wonder I’m so cold.”
“Fill me in on the details later,” he advised her, looking anxiously past her toward the dozing guard.
