hard to find; even the lowest position as a hunter paid better than other professions-and
since pay was based in part on how much he caught, Jules stood a chance to make
good money indeed.
Vonnie would have liked to get a hunting job, too; it sounded much more interesting than
any of the work available in town. But she knew that she and Jules should cover as wide
a cross section of Gastonian society as possible in order to find out what they needed to
know, so she ended up taking a menial job in one of the village’s tanneries. Their
combined salaries would be small, but they calculated that it would at least be enough to
pay for their food and rent, with a little left over to repay the loan quickly, before it
mounted out of all proportion. They straightened out all the financial arrangements and
the clerk directed them to their new home.
After half an hour of wandering through the narrow, twisting streets they finally located
the but that was theirs. It turned out to be a prefabricated, one-room hovel, crude and
lacking anything in the way of furniture. The “bed” was a pile of moldy furs thrown in one
corner of the floor; all cooking would have to be done in the fireplace-but they had no
kettle, no pots, no implements and no firewood. All would have to be purchased out of
the small and dwindling supply of money they had borrowed-money they had thought
would be needed only for food. As for personal hygiene, it soon became clear that they
would have to share the communal lavatory facilities with their other neighbors along this
street.
A lesser pair might have broken into tears at the turn their fortunes had taken. Instead,
the d’Alemberts merely stood for several silent minutes in the center of their hut, gazing
around themselves at the sorry conditions they would have to endure.
“Cherie,” Jules said at last, “if I ever decide to commit treason for real, do me a
favor-talk me out of it.”
Chapter 6
The Gastonian Way
They found a food stall that was open and bought a few staples to see themselves
through the night. They were learning to survive on Gastonia, though; they dickered over
the price instead of merely paying what the seller asked, saving themselves more than
half of the initial demand. They also had to buy firewood, since Jules had no axe with
which to chop his own; he did find a couple of long sticks, though, on which they could
roast their vegetables over the fire. It was not a connoisseur’s meal, but they were both
too ravenously hungry to care. The strain of this first day on Gastonia had taken its toll
on even their superhuman bodies, and they went to bed immediately after dinner, making
no attempt to explore the village further. It was cold inside their but despite the fire, and
they huddled together under the furs for warmth; that part, at least, was far from
objectionable.
Jules was up at dawn the next morning to report for work with his hunting team. There
would be half a dozen other men on this particular expedition, all under the supervision of
their group leader, a man named Dusabi. All the others had been on many hunts before
and knew each other well-although it was clear from some of the interchanges that they
didn’t all like one another. Jules braced himself for the inevitable kidding he would take; a
new man on a tough job was usually the butt of practical jokes, delivered in a spirit that
could sometimes be cruel. Jules, as the warmest of all possible “warmies,” was fair
game.
Each man was given his own spear, with a different number of notches on the haft for
identification; that way, they could tell which man had been responsible for which kill, and
judge his pay accordingly. Then the group started out on foot away from the village and
into the forest beyond. Some of the men sang as they marched, others chose not to.
Jules struck up a conversation with one man, a fellow named Bagheddes. Though the
other man was reluctant to talk much with this brash newcomer, Jules did manage to pry
some useful information out of him. This was a small hunting party, as such things went;
that was because they would be staying near the village and hunting only small
game-wolflike animals called sleekars that traveled in packs. It was not uncommon for
some of the hunting parties to take as many as thirty men and be gone from the village
for a week or more. The larger groups hunted bigger game, and usually took a sleigh
and yagi with them to bring back their catch. The bigger parties were considered the
choice assignments; pay and working conditions were much better there than in a small
group like this. The men in this particular party either were not very good hunters or else
were out of favor with the mayor and his gang.
They reached the forest after a two-hour walk, and spread out for the hunt. Group leader
Dusabi stayed close by Jules, explaining the procedures of the hunt. The sleekars were
animals about the size of large dogs with shaggy gray-brown fur, flat muzzles and sharp,
rending claws. They traveled mostly in packs through the trees and were slightly out of
their element on the ground-although with their sharp claws they could be fierce
opponents if cornered. They had been known to drop out of trees and attack humans,
though such attacks were rare; their usual prey was the small tree-dwelling rodents that
lived all through the forest.
They’d been hunting for more than an hour without success before a cry from one of their
fellow hunters drew their attention off to the right. Dusabi broke into a run in that
direction, and Jules was right at his heels. Even before they reached the man who’d
made the sighting, they spotted the pack of sleekars rushing through the treetops
straight toward them. Jules was frankly astounded at how fast such large creatures
could bound from branch to branch; the herd was almost upon him before he could stop
and take hold of his spear, preparing to throw.
Beside him, Dusabi planted his feet, took careful aim and hurled his stone-tipped spear
at his chosen target. The missile lodged cleanly in the beast’s neck, and was thrown with
such force that its tip went cleanly through the tissue and came out on the other side.
The sleekar gave a brief scream that was abruptly cut off in a gurgle, and fell from its
branch to land on the ground a few meters away from the men.
Jules’s throw was no less accurate. As he was taking aim his quarry seemed to sense
his intention. It turned suddenly and snarled at him, baring a mouthful of vicious fangs and
leaping down directly toward him. Jules hurled his spear instinctively with all his
DesPlainian strength-and the missile went straight into the beast’s gaping mouth and
completely through the back of the throat. The sleekar fell dead at his feet, while his
spear lodged into a tree branch high above.
The pack continued its panicked stampede through the branches overhead, and within
less than two minutes the entire confrontation between hunters and sleekars was over.
Jules, after checking that the treetops were now safe once again, climbed up into the
tree to retrieve his spear while Dusabi took count of this particular hunt. As Jules was
climbing down again, the group leader announced the results. “Four kills: one for Ashai,
one for Jeddman and two for me.”
Jules stared at him, unbelieving. “You only killed one. That other one is mine.”
“Your spear stuck in the tree,” Dusabi said calmly. “You just finished getting it out.”
“Sure it stuck in the tree-after it went clean through the throat. You were right beside me.
You saw me kill it.” “Did I.?”
Jules d’Alembert was normally a man of very even temper. An agent of his caliber could
seldom afford to let his emotions control his actions because his life depended on every
move be made. But he had suffered nothing but humiliation at the hands of these scum
for the past two days, and he was tired of being pushed around. If the law of the jungle
was all that applied here, he’d show these people he could roar with the loudest. It was
time he earned a little respect.
Taking his spear, he walked over to where Dusabi was standing next to Jules’s kill and,
with full DesPlainian strength, jammed his spear through the dead sleekar’s head. In the
forest silence, the crunching of the skull carried to the ears of each hunter; brains and
blood splattered on the ground and across the top of Jules’s boots. Jules ignored that.
He let go of the spear and it stood upright, while he focused his entire attention on