Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

General Markanyin rose and paced in the small space the table, and its massed kings and generals, left him. "With our armies spread thin, the pirates don't need strategy. They could attack Bearn en masse." He stopped between Tae and General Sutton, hand falling to the arm of Tae's chair. "These scouts of your father's…"

Darris held his breath. Rumors about Weile Kahn's followers abounded, and only the worst of them were true. Tae's father had gathered criminals as followers and served as their lord for decades. Survival had daily required stronger and more convoluted security than kings saw in a lifetime. His enemies included all of the world's power, above and beneath the law. Tae's mother had paid for Weile's antics with her life; and Tae, himself, had been left for dead on more than one occasion.

"… can they infiltrate the enemy?"

Tae shook his head. "Not without knowing the language, I'm afraid. I'm not even sure I could do that; many little things, most I don't even know about, would give me away. But, at least, I could spy on them and understand what they tell one another."

"Can you teach it to others?" the only Western general who had not yet spoken piped in. He was a small man, compared with the others, and the youngest in the room.

Tae's brows rose in increments. "Sure I could. Just give me students with a knack for both languages and stealth for two to three years."

"Two to three years? Is that how long it took you?"

"No," Tae admitted. "But I learned under rather unique circumstances." He glanced toward Griff, who was hanging on Tae's every word, even though he knew most of the answer. "From two native speakers." He switched from the ubiquitous Common Trading tongue to Western, then Northern, then Pudarian. Darris did not know Northern, but he did the other two. Even the accents were spot on. "I was exposed to innumerable languages from infancy, and I obviously have a god-granted knack that few share."

General Sutton looked around Markanyin to address Griff. "You're right,Your Majesty. That's a talent we dare not risk."

"Except," Tae added, "that the Pudarian general is quite correct. We need to know where to position our armies, because we don't have the numbers to spread them even as thin as we have." He sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly, then proclaimed without allowing an opening for argument, "So, I'm going in."

The steady lap of water against ships' hulls, the watery sounds of leaping fish and bobbing wood, the sharp wind blowing across the ocean all became too familiar to Tae. He and Imorelda had spent three days paddling cautiously between the massed warships on a hunk of old ship wood meant to look like ancient flotsam to anyone glimpsing it from a distance. He kept the cat focused on the proper wavelength for the alsona's communication. They had heard just enough of sailor orders and warrior commands to assure that all the pirates used the same pitch level of mental communication.

The arrangement had initially seemed bewildering to Tae; mental communication did not allow much leeway for whispering, shouting, or mishearing. He wondered how the alsona kept myriad conversations going without interfering with one another. The last couple of days afloat, however, had brought answers. Apparently, they used regular speech for close, intimate conversations and reserved the mind calls for times when distance or numbers required it. At first, that bothered Tae. All that came to him were coarse discourses between sailors regarding chores, minor problems, and issues with the riggings. He worried that he was missing all the important exchanges.

Over time, however, Tae gathered a bit more from the stray bits and conversations that wafted clearly through the mental connection. He located the flagship in the middle of the formation, larger than the others and carrying their highest commander, the only Kjempemagiska they had brought. *I'm cold,* Imorelda lamented.*I'm cold and wet and hungry. And, worst of all, I'm wet.*

Tae hated to lose his ability to scan for enemy communications. He just knew the moments focused directly on the cat, instead of the pirates, would turn out to be the most revealing ones. Also, when Imorelda was helping him listen, she could not complain.*You said 'wet' twice.* *I hate wet.Wet's twice as bad as the others.*

Though tired of Imorelda's whining, Tae could not help feeling responsible for her misery. She had perched upon his shoulders for so long, he had already passed the points of pain and numbness.*I really am sorry, Imorelda. You know that. I'd have left you at the castle if I could, warm and overfed. But I can't do this without you.* *I'm cold and wet and hungry.* *And wet,* Tae reminded.

Imorelda shivered suddenly, and Tae had to grab hold of the sides of his makeshift boat to keep from teetering into the water. *Get some food from the pack, Imorelda. Eat as much as you want.* Tae knew he could moderate his own rations to make up for whatever extra she ate.

Imorelda snubbed Tae's offer as if only a fool would have made it.*I'm not hungry.*

Tae sighed and closed his eyes, seeing no need to argue.*Then crawl inside my cloak. It's warmer and relatively dry.*

Imorelda remained in position. Apparently, she preferred complaining to action. *Imorelda, please go back to scanning. I need you.* *But I don't understand anything they're saying.* Imorelda rearranged herself on Tae's shoulders, much to his relief.*And it's boring.* *I understand.* Tae meant it and hoped his sincerity came through with his words.*Saving our world may seem boring to you, but it's survival to me and everyone we know and love.* *Like Subikahn?*

Tae stiffened. He had managed to shove thoughts of his only son out of conscious memory for longer than he would have believed possible. Can't afford distractions. He put an emphasis just short of anger into his sending,*Just go back to scanning, Imorelda. If we lose this war, every human of our world will die. And these alsona don't seem to like cats much, either.*

Imorelda gave Tae just enough mental sending to demonstrate her displeasure with him, before going back into listening mode.

Tae found himself hopelessly entwined with thoughts of Subikahn. He remembered romping with his son, the boy's cherubic cheeks shining, and the day toddler Subikahn had discovered Imorelda's eyes. The poking had not endeared him to her, and it had taken six scratchings to teach Subikahn not to pull her tail or try to cut her whiskers. Imorelda did not like children; she had made that abundantly clear. Yet, once Subikahn turned six or seven, they had become close friends. She would chase him through the fields of Stalmize, finding him rodents and butterflies to capture and bring triumphantly home.

In later years, whenever Subikahn sneaked into the kitchen for snacks, much to the staff 's chagrin, he always snagged a bit of meat or cheese for Imorelda. For her, Subikahn could do no wrong. And, once, it was the same for his father.

Violently, Tae drove the thought from his mind, forcing himself to absorb every nuance of communication with a single-mindedness that precluded other thought.When a mind-call finally did come through, the intensity of his concentration turned it into a shout that echoed painfully through his mind.*Firuz wants all second-level commanders in his quarters at sunrise.* Tae's heart rate doubled. The moment had come. The Kjempemagiska had called a strategy meeting. Now, Tae only had to figure out a way to be there when it happened.

Queen Matrinka paced the rooftop of Bearn Castle, peering down over the Southern Sea. She no longer noticed the bunched, gray warships or the squealing gulls overhead; and the salt wind whipping off the sea no longer bothered her. Her gaze could not pick out the tiny speck that represented Tae and his flotsam raft, and the mind-calls she sent repeatedly to Imorelda went unanswered. She had known their mental bond would not endure at such a distance; she had had to stay reasonably close to Mior to hear her, too. But Matrinka felt she had to try.