The Ringworld Throne

In the space where he had been, something huge flicked in on all fours. It stood erect, as big as an orange bear, holding a small ca

The knobby man spun and ducked and swept Louis’s variable-knife past the big intruder … the Kzin. The Kzin’s weapon flew away with big clawed fingers still attached. The Kzin froze in a crouch, throttling a howl. The knobby man held the flash, too, in a clear threat.

“You don’t move,” it said. “Web Dweller, you don’t move, either. Louis Wu, you don’t move. Does your contract call for you to die?”

The knobby man’s lips had withdrawn from the gums; the gums had hardened almost to bone, and jawbone had grown through in a jagged pattern. His face was hard, almost a beak. He spoke with a breathy speech impediment, but in Interspeak. How would the knobby man have learned Interspeak? Eavesdropping on the Hindmost?

Contract?

Reality came in waves washing past pain. Eleven years since he’d been in this much trouble. Louis said, stalling, “Yes, under conditions subject to my own sole judgment. Do you accept my contract?”

“Yes,” said the knobby man.

Despite what had gone before, that was astonishing.

The Kzin male was bleeding freely from a hand sliced down to one thumb. He was hugging that arm, trying to squeeze arteries shut. His eyes were on Louis. He said, also in Interspeak, “What shall I do?”

“Raise your arm above your head. Keep squeezing the wrist. Squeeze the blood vessels. Don’t try to fight. That’s a protector. Hindmost, set th—Hindmost! Nap time is over. For all of us.”

The puppeteer uncurled. “Speak, Louis.”

The black coffin—“Your autodoc, you said you could set it to treat a Kzin?”

“Yes?”

“Do that. Then you can tell me what happened. I’m on triple time, by the way, because this has the authentic feel of an emergency.”

The Hindmost wasn’t at his best. He said, “Heal an injured strange Kzin?”

“Do it now.”

“But Louis—”

“I’m under contract! This is for our benefit. Can’t you see who this must be?”

The puppeteer knelt before the ’doc and began mouthing the controls.

The protector still had the flash and variable-knife. Louis couldn’t think of anything to do about that, or the sudden strange Kzin, or the constant flicker of dancing puppeteers in his peripheral vision.

One tanj thing at a time!

The Kzin. “Who are you?”

“Acolyte.”

“Son of Chmeee,” Louis guessed. He’d forgotten how huge a Kzin male became when you stood next to him. This one couldn’t be more than eleven years old, not quite full-grown. “No true name?”

“Not yet. Eldest son of Chmeee. I challenged. We fought. Father won. He told me, learn wisdom. Stalk Louis Wu. Acolyte.”

“Aww … Hindmost, how long to set the ’doc for Kzin metabolism?”

“Minutes. Give the Kzin a tourniquet.”

Louis moved to the wardrobe dispenser, slowly, hands visible to the protector. His right hand and wrist were hugely swollen. He held that arm raised above his head. His left hand felt numb, but it would work, he thought.

The kitchen wall had menus for kzinti and human cuisine, diet supplements, allergy suppressants, clothing, and more. Louis hadn’t seen pharmacy menus, but he didn’t doubt they were there. The Hindmost had found him as a wirehead. He would not have shown him how to access recreational chemicals.

Louis dialed {Sol / Nordik / formal} and a selection of cravats. Resisting temptation, he chose an orange and yellow pattern that would look good on a Kzin. Not even his eyes moved toward the Slaver digging tool he’d taped under the dispenser port a lifetime ago.

The smell of the Kzin was faint. Acolyte must have washed himself scentless, to stalk him, Louis Wu thought. His orange fur bore three parallel ridges across the belly. Otherwise he wore Halloween markings: both ears tipped with bitter chocolate, nearly black; a broad chocolate stripe down the back, a smaller chocolate comma down his tail and leg. He was shorter than Chmeee, seven feet even, but just as wide: a hybrid. His mother would be of the archaic kzinti from the Map of Kzin.

Acolyte sat down, bringing his arm in reach. Louis bound the thick wrist with his tie, using his left hand and his teeth. The blood slowed to a dribble.

The Kzin rumbled, “Who is my attacker?”

“Tanj if I know, but if I had to guess … Hello, knobby man?”

“Speak.”

“The Hindmost and I, we both guessed that a protector must be in the Repair Center. You’ve been shooting down invading ships. The timing made it obvious you were working from here. The Hindmost left stepping disks all over the place. A protector might reprogram a disk to link with this one as soon as it was turned on …”

“Yes.”

“Then pop through just ahead of me. Finicky timing. You needed me for a distraction, and you counted on puppeteer reflexes. That’s interesting, isn’t it, Hindmost? You had an instant to escape, but you used it to kick?”

“That old argument. Very well, I reflexively turned my back to fight—you win.”

Louis gri

“Looked like just another hominid.” The Kzin shook his great furry head.

“How long did you watch me?” Louis asked.

“Two days now. I thought, learn from you before I show myself.”

“Wisdom?”

“Father spoke of you. He believes he learned what he has of wisdom from you, and so can I. But one of the scavengers saw me.”

“The boy?”

“Yes. You named him Kazarp.”

“I talked to his father, too.”

“The boy and I, we talked. His father was not far, listening, thinking he hides. I spoke what I knew of you. I don’t know secrets worth hiding. I did not speak of the Hindmost.”

“How does he think we got to the Ringworld, then?”

“You mean Arch? I said you brought a ship. I did not speak to Kazarp of instant transportation. Didn’t believe Father. When you linked the transfer booths—”

“Stepping disks. Transfer booths are what we use in known space and the Patriarchy. They’re a lot less sophisticated.”

“—stepping disks. I jumped. Catch Kazarp and his father by surprise. Leave them gaping. Surprise!” the Kzin whispered, and slumped. His eyes closed.

“Hindmost?”

“Ready. Bring him.”

Louis set his shoulder in Acolyte’s armpit and lifted. Acolyte found the strength to stand, wobbled to the surgery well, and toppled in.

Louis pulled his tourniquet loose and straightened the Kzin a bit. He found the Kzin’s severed hand, and the two useless halves of the heavy metal handgun he’d carried. He picked up the half hand.

The Hindmost took it in his mouth. “Close the lid,” he said, and fed the hand into another aperture. Then he folded his legs and tucked his heads between his forelegs.

Going into shock, Louis thought. The knobby man said, “Suicide?”

One head came up. “I demonstrate helplessness. This is surrender,” the Hindmost said.

“Surrender, good.”

The Kzin would likely be in there for days.

Louis might have fainted for an instant.

Agony snapped him awake. The protector’s knobby hands were moving the bones in Louis’s right wrist. Louis’s other hand closed hard on the protector’s arm. He moaned and whimpered. Reality came in waves of pain.

Not before the protector withdrew did Louis think to look for the protector’s weapons. Just as well. The knobby man’s vest bore an amazing variety of pockets, and he saw the shape of the flash in one of those.

Now, what must he do before he fainted again?

Contract. He fished out his notepad and offered it to the puppeteer. “This is what you’ve agreed to. You should read it aloud, given that our companion has bound himself, too.”

The puppeteer took the pad. His other head turned to the knobby man. “Why did you do that?”