Larry Niven: The Ringworld Throne

She breathed deeply of alcohol fumes. Choked. “All right.”

He gave it to her. He tied the other around his own neck. “I’m going back,” he said. “You’d better fight your gun alone. Under the—”

“-circumstances.” They laughed shakily. “Are you safe? Alone?”

“Have to try it.”

She watched him go.

She should never. Never. Never have mated with another man. Her mind, her self had washed away. in a tide of lust. What would Tarb think of her?

Mating with Tarablilliast had never been so intense.

But now her mind was flowing back. She was mated.

She lifted the towel to her face. The alcohol went straight to her head and cleared it, unless that was an illusion. She looked along the wall and saw big shadows, too few, but some. Hominid shapes in the black fields were also fewer, but very close. They were taller, more slender than her own species. They sang; they implored; they were bunched almost beneath the cruiser.

She climbed up and loaded her cannon.

A pale light was growing, lighter to spin. The song was over. Vala hadn’t heard a crossbow twang in some time. Vampires had become hard to find.

Unnoticed, the dreadful night had ended.

If she had ever been this tired, exhaustion must have wiped the memory clean. And here was Kaywerbrimmis asking, “Do you have any smallshot left?”

“Some. We never got our gravel.”

“Barok and Forn were both gone when I got back to the cruiser.”

Vala rubbed her eyes. There didn’t seem to be anything to say.

Whandernothtee and Sopashintay came up leaning on each other. Whand said, “What a night.”

Spash said, “Chit liked the singing overmuch. We had to tie him up. I think I put too much fuel, in his towel. He’s sleeping like… like I would if I could just—” She hugged herself. “-just stop jittering.”

Sleep. And several hundred Grass Giant males were expecting—”I couldn’t handle rishathra now,” Vala said. She’d put off the memory of mating with Kay. That could have consequences.

Kaywerbrimmis said, “Sleep in the cruisers. At least for tonight. Hello—” His hand on her shoulder turned her around.

Company. Nine Grass Giants and a suit of silver armor had come among them. You could see their exhaustion, and smell it. The Thurl asked, “How is it with you Machine People?”

“Half of us are missing,” Valavirgillin said.

Whand said, “Thurl, we never expected so many. We thought we had weapons for anything.”

“Travelers tell that vampires sing us to our doom.”

Kay said, “Half of wisdom is learning what to unlearn.”

“We were prepared for the wrong enemy. Vampire scent! We never guessed. But we’ve set the vampires running!” the Thurl boomed. “Shall we hunt them through the grass?”

Whand threw up his arms and staggered away.

Vala and Kay and Spash looked at each other. If Grass Giant warriors could still fight… Whand was done, used up, but someone had to stand up for the Machine People.

They trailed the warriors down into the wet stubble.

Shapes stirred at the foot of the wall. Two hominids, naked. Crossbows and guns swung around. Arms batted them aside, voices barked. No! Not vampires! A big woman and a little male were helping each other to stand.

Not vampires, no. A Grass Giant woman and—”Barok!”

Sabarokaresh’s face was slack with a terror too deep to touch surface. He looked at Valavirgillin as if she were the ghost, not he. Half mad, dirty, exhausted, scarred, alive.

I thought -I- was tired! Vala thumped his shoulder, glad to feel him solid under her hand. Where was his daughter? She didn’t ask. She said, “You must have quite a tale to tell. Later?”

The Thurl spoke to the crossbowman, Paroom. Paroom led / pulled Barok and the Grass Giant woman up the slope.

The Thurl moved at a trot, away from the wall, to starboard-spin. His people followed, and then the Machine People. A night of sleepless terror and wild mating had left them all without strength.

They passed vampire corpses. None of their beauty survived into death. A Grass Giant stopped to examine a female skewered by a crossbow. Spash stopped too.

Vala remembered doing that, forty-three falans ago. First you smell rotting flesh. Then the other scent explodes under your mind -

The Grass Giant lurched clear. He stayed head down, vomiting, then slowly straightened, still hiding his face. Spash straightened suddenly, then wobbled toward Vala and hid her face against her shoulder.

Valavirgillin said, “Spash. You haven’t done anything, love. It feels like you want to mate with a corpse, but that’s not your mind talking.”

“Not my mind. Vala, if we can’t examine them, we can’t learn about them!”

“It’s part of what makes them so scary.” Lust and the smell of rotting meat do not belong together in one brain.

Vampires near the wall had crossbow bolts in them. Farther out, they were chewed by balls or smallshot. Vala saw that Machine People had scored as many kills as a hundred times as many Grass Giants.

Two hundred paces beyond the wall, they weren’t finding vampires any more. Dead Grass Giants lay naked or half clothed, gaunt, with sunken eyes and cheeks, and savage wounds in their necks, wrists, elbows.

That slack face… Vala had seen this woman run out into the dark hours ago. Where were the wounds? Her throat seemed untouched. Left arm thrown wide, wrist unmarred; right arm across her body, no blood on the rucked-up tunic… Vala stepped forward and lifted her right hand.

Her armpit was torn and bloody. A Grass Giant man turned and wobbled back toward the wall, retching.

Big woman, small vampire. Couldn’t reach her neck. Spash is right, we have to learn.

Farther along, bright cloth lay near the grass border. Vala began to run, then stopped as suddenly. That was Taratarafasht’s work suit.

Vala picked it up. It was clean. No blood, no ground-in dirt. Why had Tarfa been brought so far? Where was she?

The Thurl had outrun his party by a good distance. He’d almost reached uncut grass. How much did that armor weigh? He scrambled up a ten-pace-high knoll, then paused at the top, waiting while the rest straggled up.

“No sign of vampires,” he said. “They’ve gone to cover somewhere. Travelers say they can’t stand sunlight…?”

Kay said, “That tale’s true.”

The Thurl continued, “Then I’d say they’re gone.”

Nobody spoke.

The Thurl boomed, “Beedj!”

“Thurl!” A male trotted up: mature, bigger than most, eager, indecently energetic.

“With me, Beedj. Tarun, you’ll circle and meet us on the other side. If you’re not there I’ll assume you found a fight.”

“Yes.”

Beedj and the Thurl went one way, the rest of the Giants went the other. Vala dithered, then followed the Thurl.

The Thurl noticed her. He slowed and let her catch up. Beedj would have waited, too, but the Thurl’s gesture sent him on.

The Thurl said, “We won’t find live vampires hiding in the grass. Grass grows straight up. Night slides across the sun, but the sun never moves, not anymore. Where can a vampire hide from sunlight?”

Vala asked, “Do you remember when the sun moved?”

“I was a child. A frightening time.” He didn’t seem frightened enough, Vala thought. Louis Wu had been among these people; but what Louis had told Valavirgillin, he didn’t seem to have told them.

It’s a ring, he said. The Arch is the part of the ring you’re not standing on. The sun has started to wobble because the ring is off center. In several falans the ring will brush the sun. But I swear I will stop it, or die trying.