James Enge - The Wolf Age

Snellingu made a rude whistling sound with his wounded lips.

"My old gray-muzzle used to work the gears," Okhurokratu said. "Since they went to using slaves, he hasn't had an honest day's work and I've got to support him. A free citizen, supporting his gray-muzzled dad and half his brothers. Can you feature that?"

"The funiculars are working the same way they have been always doing, and you are just being angry about your sloppy-lazy family, which is boring to me."

"Ah. You don't know what it's like."

"I am knowing; you are all the time telling me. I am not caring."

"Ah. You-"

"So, Khretvarrgliu," said Snellingu. "You are being impressed by our funicular ways? Is it not being impressive? Don't be listening to my partner; he cannot be being happy unless he is being unhappy."

This turned the conversation back to Morlock, which was awkward, as he had the tip of the wire between his thumb and index finger. "Could be improved," he said. "It's a long walk up."

Both the watchers laughed. "Of course it's a long walk," Okhurokratu said. "What would you do about that? The funicular has to be high so it can clear the mesas."

"The same sort of gears that power the funicular could work ropes running up and down the tower. Put platforms on the ropes; people can ride up." He was hindered by the lack of a technical vocabulary in Sunspeech-and, anyway, he really only wanted to distract them.

The watchers fell silent, distracted by the image in their minds of elevators rising and falling. "Too much work for the tower-slaves," Okhurokratu said eventually. "They're only flesh and blood."

"Get other crews. The gears could be worked from the ground, or from the top of the tower. Adding another level there might be the best thing."

The two watchers looked at each other. Morlock deftly palmed the wire now freed from the seam.

"They would never be going for it," said scar-face doubtfully. "The big-teeth."

Morlock shrugged. He looked at a hand crank on the ceiling of the car. Nodding toward it, he said, "That's for-" He paused. He didn't know the Sunspeech word for emergency, though he had been in many and caused more than a few. "If the ropes stop," he concluded finally.

"Yes," grumbled Okhurokratu. "Happened to me, once-on the up way, which is the worst. Had to crank for half the afternoon just to get to the next tower. That never happened when they used free workers."

Snellingu rolled his eyes. "How would you be knowing? You have been saying you were only a pup when they were had starting to use slaves."

"My gray-muzzle told me."

Both watchers turned their gaze directly at Morlock, now-not especially interested in him, but efficiently minding him. There was nothing he could do while they were watching him, so he looked out the window.

They were riding high above the city. Morlock felt strangely inspired, almost the way he had felt when he was flying. The city had a kind of beauty, seen from here: it was full of trees, bristling with lair-towers. There were running streams, silvery in the bitter sunlight, and open pools that glared back at him. He saw the citizens going about their business in their day shapes in the cruel summery light. None of them looked up to see him pass on toward his death. They would go on doing the same thing tomorrow when he was dead. In that moment, they almost mattered more to him than he did to himself, even though they looked smaller than …than those ratlike things with the human faces.

"Were you two there when I was arrested?" he asked the guards.

They looked uncomfortable. "We were only doing our jobs," Okhurokratu said defensively.

"Yes," agreed Snellingu.

Morlock wondered why they said that-why they thought it would make a difference to him. But since they clearly had been there, he asked the question he really wanted an answer to. "Did you see that thing inside the old citizen-the thing running him like a puppet?"

"Were-rats," White-hair said, and scowled. "I hate those guys."

"Why are you hating them?"

"They smell bad, and I can't understand what they say, and they make me feel creepy. And that meat-puppet they had really bothered me."

"The old citizen," Morlock prompted him, when it seemed like he would say no more.

"Citizen my third testicle. That thing-didn't it bother you?" he asked his partner explosively. "Now I have nightmares that half the people I run into are just meat-puppets run by were-rats. It would explain a lot of what's wrong with this town. But you're not bothered; I can tell by the smug expression on your face."

"Not me. I would be knowing."

"How?"

"They are smelling bad. You are saying so."

"Where do the were-rats come from?" Morlock asked. "Do they have a borough, like Dogtown or Apetown?"

"The were-rats are living on Mount Dhaarnaiarnon. Everyone is knowing that."

"I'm not from around here."

"I am almost forgetting. Even though you are smelling like a never-wolf."

By now they had reached Runaiaklendon Tower. Morlock was hoping for a moment or two of distraction as they disembarked and reembarked on the funicular car-but they didn't disembark at all; the guards kept their seat and the tower crew hustled the car and its passengers from the Twine- Runaiaklendon line to the Runaiaklendon-Nekkuklendon line.

By now Morlock's cupped right hand was resting lightly on the manacle binding his thigh. If he could open that lock, it would effectively free his hand …and give him a weapon, as the leg manacle swung on the end of a short chain might do a lot of damage in the right hand (that is, Morlock's).

Unfortunately, it was no good. The wire rasped audibly against the metal of the manacle. Morlock could hear it, and he knew the two werewolf watchers heard something, too: their ears seemed to twitch. He moved his hand away from the manacle in a way he hoped did not look furtive. He would have to wait until there was more noise and less alertness.

The noise came at every changeover, but unfortunately the guards' alertness increased then also. When they were riding up the final line, from Iuiunioklendon to Wuruklendon, Morlock had to admit to himself that he would not be able to free himself before he arrived at his place of execution.

The funicular anchor on Wuruklendon was the lowest of all-not even a tower, really, just a raised platform. The door of the car was opened from the outside, and white-haired Okhurokratu, all friendliness dropped, stood and gestured with his spear at the door.

Morlock stood and walked out the door into the late-morning sun.

On the platform the crew was standing well clear of him, fearful looks on their faces. Around the anchor-station on the ground was a small army of campaign volunteers, divided into companies of the Sardhluun (black-andgreen tunics), the Neyuwuleiuun (red-and-green tunics) and the Aruukaiaduun (resplendent in blue and gold). They were armed, also, and their weapons were in their hands.

Wurnafenglu stood at the head of the Sardhluun volunteers. "Come down, Khretvarrgliu, come down!" he cried. "We have an errand at the Stone Tree!"

The Sardhluun werewolves cheered him enthusiastically, the others of the Alliance less so.

"That's our next First Wolf, partner," Okhurokratu remarked quietly to Snellingu behind Morlock. "And I hate that guy."

"I am not liking this," the scar-faced partner replied. "I am being glad the Sardhluun dogs will be doing the actual kill."

"What's to like? It's a job, partner. Citizens don't have to like their jobs; they just have to do them."

Morlock walked down the wooden steps, trying to conceal the wire in his hands without seeming to conceal anything.

This station was different from the others. Most of the gears were underground, but one set was exposed to the outer air, just below the platform. He gazed hungrily at it, and couldn't help speculating on how their efficiency might be increased.