Chapter Two
Riordan had walked halfway to the center of camp when he spotted Bey approaching from that direction. Nodding at each other, they angled toward a spot without sleeping circles.
“It is as I thought, Leader Caine,” she reported, face set in hard lines. “The two cavers from the caravan were behind the argument. They approached a pair of tinkers to help them prevent the trog scouts from rising in social rank and privileges.”
Riordan hoped his question sounded more intelligent and informed than it was. “And how did the cavers hope to achieve that?”
She shrugged. “By rallying the worker trogs to their cause. Between our group and the Legate forces under Sharat, there are over forty such urldi, whereas there are only eight scouts.
“The cavers also hoped that the other two dozen porters afflicted with milder s’rillor—the pawns—would side with them. But like most city trogs, the workers routinely abused and stole from the pawns: the group just beneath them. So the pawns aligned themselves with the scouts, instead.”
Riordan nodded. “How did it start?”
Bey leaned closer, as if someone might hear her. “An urldi rebuffed the tinker’s appeal to join the cavers. One of the cavers overheard and threatened the worker. A pawn saw the confrontation and blocked the caver.
“Anger became blows. Or in the case of the caver, stabs; his second thrust killed the pawn. A scout heard the cries and killed the caver, but not before being wounded himself.”
“And the injured tinker?”
“He was foolish enough to try breaking up the fight.”
Caine shook his head. “But what did the cavers hope to gain by displacing the scouts?”
“Cavers do not require a practical reason to satisfy their cravings for violence and control.” Bey’s tone was more sardonic than Riordan had ever heard. “Besides, tempers are already high, since there were few females among the caravan trogs.”
Riordan nodded. “Leader O’Garran speculated that there would be arguments over who got to sleep in which fur piles . . . and with whom.”
Bey’s brow became carefully straight. “Leader O’Garran is an excellent warrior, but his understanding of trog-ways remains . . . incomplete. The tension he noticed was not over mating. It was over safety, even survival.
“Please try to make your people understand, Leader Caine: among trogs, fur bonds are not just a group’s primary relationships, but crucial to individual survival. Even in the cities, one benefits from the warmth of other bodies on the coldest nights. But here in the often frigid wastes, it is a matter of life and death. So too is being able to sleep back-to-back with one whom you trust.”
Riordan frowned. “But didn’t the caravan trogs already have fur-mates and sleeping piles from before we captured them?”
“That might be the case if the caravan had all come from one source. But he who sent it, Liege Azhdrukh in Fragkork, only provided the commanders and senior x’qai. The rest of its forces were levied from Azhdrukh’s vassals and vavasors, including the two humans. So any trogs who have the least stature now will soon be on the outermost layer of the sleeping piles, exposed directly to the cold.”
Riordan wondered how trogs, particularly the lowest, endured at all. “Fur bonds don’t seem to guarantee safety.”
“‘Guarantee safety,’” Bey repeated wistfully. “I do not know where you are from, Leader Caine, but here, there is no such thing. Sometimes we are fortunate and keep the same fur-mates for many years. It was thus with Zaatkhur, but that is very, very rare among city trogs.”
Riordan nodded. “So this morning’s fight had nothing to do with, eh, mating?”
Bey sighed. “Not directly, no, but mating concerns do shape trog groups. That is why I cannot take a new fur-mate; I would be suspected of favoring that person in all ways.”
“So the cavers were also exploiting the workers’ fears that they’d be unable to find sexual mates?”
Bey nodded. “Cavers never cease striving to be the most feared, the most powerful, among trogs.” Her eyes grew hard. “And if they found mates of their own, that would only be the beginning of our troubles.”
“How so?”
She glanced at him. “Cavers have very different attitudes toward mating.”
Riordan heard hatred in her low tone. “Different in what way?”
Her look said: Do you really not hear what I mean? “Leader Caine, cavers compel unwilling urldi to submit to their rutting.”
Riordan crossed his arms. “Does this not happen among city trogs?”
She started. “If it did, what little order exists in a gang would be lost.”
“So, who prevents such violations?”
“Other urldi.”
“You mean, females?”
“No, I mean urldi.” One of her eyebrows edged up. “Cavers mate as much for power as to satisfy their urges. For many, it does not matter overmuch if they violate males or females.”
“So how do the urldi prevent violations?”
“By the certainty that they will exact vengeance. One does not need to be a warrior to wield an unseen knife at night in a fur pile.”
Riordan folded his arms. “What about the senior caver, the kajh? Did he become involved in the fight?”
“Not personally.” She frowned. “Unfortunately.”
“What do you recommend doing with him?”
Bey reflected a moment. “Speak to Sharat. He might add him into his formation.”
“And if he won’t?”
She shrugged. “Since neither caver is part of any plot that stretches back to Forkus, I suppose there would be little harm in releasing him.” Her tone said that she considered doing so more repugnant than cleaning a privy.
“I’ll ask Sharat. For now, take the caver’s weapons and keep him under guard. Now, what about the wounded tinker?”
“He must be disciplined. Sharply.” When Riordan frowned, she leaned in to press her point that much harder. “You have seen how the other tinkers have changed after the fight? How they are now always on the verge of groveling? That is because they know the eyes of the trogans are hard upon them, even harder than when they were the tinkers’ taskmasters in the caravan.” She met his eyes. “The trogans will be expecting orders from you. Harsh orders.”
Riordan thought for a moment. “What if this was purely a trog group, with you in charge of the trogans. What would you do?”
She nodded slowly, eyes not seeing him. “First, I would have already assigned one trogan as my assistant and another as my strong hand.”
“A lieutenant and an enforcer,” Riordan offered, managing to suppress a grin. No matter where you go, all gangs work the same way.
She glanced up and nodded, eyes slightly wider. “I would have my lieutenant inform the entire band of the tinker’s deeds and his punishment. He would summon the enforcer to mete out the punishment before the rest.”
Riordan unfolded his arms. “Then do that.”
“But I—”
“Bey, you told me that if the trogs took their oath through you, then both of us had the right to punish them if they broke it. So you’ll do just that. And I presume you’ve already identified the two trogans you’d choose as lieutenant and enforcer, respectively.”
When she hesitated, he leaned in. “I trust your judgment, and right now, we need fast action to settles the tinker’s disloyalty. As you said, it should be done in a manner that your people understand. Which, in turn, means it should come from the leader we’ve put in charge of them: you.”
Her eyes grew slightly wider. “The traitors from my gang in Forkus took the same oath there, also through me.” The cords in her well-muscled neck stood out in high relief as she waited for him to respond. When Riordan did not acknowledge her implicit request, she resorted to stone-eyed frankness: “They killed Zaatkhur.”
He sighed. “Punishing a tinker is one thing, but executing two—”
She almost pushed up against him. “You rightly executed eight in Forkus who only intended betrayal and murder. These two actually committed both crimes. And by your own words, they are my responsibility.”
Her appeal became guttural. “Leader Caine, every day they live, there is a chance that some unforeseeable event or accident will free them. They know our numbers, our intended destination, our strengths, and our weaknesses. They would seek those who have placed bounties on humans in the Orokrosir.”
Riordan paused long enough to hold her eyes. “Bey, is this justice or revenge?”
“Does it matter if it is both?” she hissed, before calming herself. “We cannot take any chances. They must be disposed of. Quickly.”
Riordan looked away. Well, you were the one who insisted that trogs be allowed to govern their own wherever possible. And these are the consequences. He turned back to her. “Carry out the executions according to your ways.”
Bey nodded deeply. “Thank you, Leader Caine. I will tend to all these matters. Immediately.”
Riordan watched her go, tried not to notice the eager quiver in her widening steps.