Man-Kzin Wars IV

Fanged God,” replied Long-Reach in the formal ritual of their conversations.
“Your official function in this hunt is as my scout. I have specific orders.”
“I am five ears.”
“The monkeys won’t survive until twilight without help. You will scout for them, not for me. Appear to me from time to time, for the sake of appearances, but scout for the beasts. Give them aid, but be careful never to tell me what you have done! I don’t want to know.”
“As my master commands.”
At first-light the hunting party began to assemble under the primary dome of the Jotok Run. The thin banners of Kasrriss-As hung in brilliant color, carried by four kzin servitors who were experienced hunters in this Run. Trainer-of-Slaves was without colors but he had been hastily outfitted in the light armor of the Kasrriss-As household. Three Jotoki in green and red striped livery remained respectfully on call but at a distance.
Chuut-Riit’s party was less formal, but nevertheless elegant. He wore a pale peacock-green armor of a leather style that pre-dated spaceflight. He had decreed no weapons and no devices and carried none. He had brought with him only Traat-Admiral—and a young recruit, Hssin-Liaison, proud of his new cognomen.
Trainer-of-Slaves felt one moment of shock—and then repressed, invisible rage. He stared straight ahead. How does my enemy do it? This pest had the persistence of a fur-tick! Could he lead even Chuut-Riit around by the nose?
Hssin-Liaison, whatever he was called, was never subtle. He did not return disregard. In front of Chuut-Riit and without preamble he grinned at Trainer-of-Slaves. “You will not live out the day—Coward-of-Cowards.”
“What is this?” inquired Chuut-Riit mildly.
“This Animal is unfit to carry the duties of a Conquest Hero.”
The ears of Chuut-Riit flicked in amusement. “I believe the tournament is settling such matters.”
“This cowardly Animal won’t be found in any tournament ring. I challenge him here.”
“I see.” Chuut-Riit seemed aloof from the menace and anger. He turned to Trainer-of-Slaves matter-of-factly. “Hssin-Liaison has been using his contacts among the young warriors to enlist troops for my Fourth Fleet.” He lapsed into silence, waiting, perhaps curious that Trainer-of-Slaves had chosen to ignore the challenge.
“Voice of the Patriarch, my duty is to the execution of the hunt,” Trainer replied stiffly.
“Good.” Chuut-Riit only glanced toward his liaison underling, then addressed the others. He was obviously not willing to interfere in local squabbles about which he knew nothing. “I am here for a slow hunt—no quick kill. We flush and pursue. We challenge and fall back. We play. We save the kill for twilight. Yes, I’m anticipating my first taste of human flesh, but I am far more interested in observing the response of the enemy under attack. No weapons. No devices. Those are the rules.”
Every other kzin at the meet added another rule silently. The harassing would be enjoyable, but the final kill must be given to Chuut-Riit alone.
The banners were staked into a circle. Noiselessly the hunters moved into the woods under the arching ceilings. Chuut-Riit loosened his leather armor and gave Trainer-of-Slaves one last noncommittal gaze. “So the hunter becomes the hunted.” Then he was gone.
Deeper into the trees a five-limbed beast dropped beside Trainer. “Hssin-Liaison threatened you with death.”
“He won’t be able to find me. Only you know the Run better than I. He’s good on rooftops. He’s a city-kzin.” Contempt. “I’m Mellow-Yellow, remember, who floats among the leaves like lamplight. I’ll take him in circles.” But the plan wasn’t to take him in circles; the plan was to lead Puller-of-Noses away from the man-beasts. It was the least he could do for them, to neutralize one of the hunters.
The man-beasts were trapped, and allowed to escape, twice before midday. Jotok-Tender’s slaves brought in a simple lunch for the hunters, served on collapsible canvas tables. Chuut-Riit paced about their vale making intellectual pronouncements upon the evasive tactics of the day’s game. “Innovative,” he called them. He liked that. Hssin-Liaison managed to mix some leaves into Trainer-of-Slaves’s meat. Kasrriss-As spent his time ingratiating himself into Chuut-Riit’s favor and discussing the textile trade with Traat-Admiral. He was the one who had stayed behind while the other warriors raided Alpha Centauri.
The canvas tables were folded and whisked away by the slaves. Chuut-Riit amiably resumed his tracking. However old his eyes, his nose was a marvel at spotting spoor, his mind superb at guessing the moves of his prey.
“We’ll wound them this time, and watch how they handle that.”
When Chuut-Riit smiled beside a craggy lava outcrop—and then moved left instead of right—a secret pleasure rippled under the fur of Trainer-of-Slaves. Last night he had not been able to determine for sure whether his man-beasts had understood this intricate back-track and feint move. A perfect execution. The maneuver had been taught to Trainer (too many times) by a wily old Jotok who was probably still at large, up there in the trees watching them, keeping his distance. It worked well on the kzin mind.
Trainer-of-Slaves followed the real trail, “carelessly” obscuring what spoor he found. He knew where they had gone, a broad and growth-sheltered ledgeway along the wall of a cavern that had all the appearance of a dead-end. It led to three good escape routes, but to anyone unfamiliar with the layout of the Run, the wide ledge smelled of trap. Prey avoided it—and hunters avoided it because they thought prey would be avoiding it. Trainer was in no hurry to get there, perhaps to lead another hunter to them. They needed a rest from terror. He urinated. He smelled the flowers which reminded him of his mother.
With a rustling of leaves, Long-Reach dropped from the branches bearing the news that their game was safe but exhausted, laying low. He had other news. Puller-of-Noses was following and had cut around and in front to intercept Trainer-of-Slaves.
“Where are Joker and Creepy?”
“I have given them instructions.”
“I’ll have to do a decoy. What do you suggest?”
“Climb up along the trinity hill—he will see you from there, being on the other slope. Then drop down through the Burr