Implied Spaces by Walter Jon Williams Page B

in surprise. “I see.” Then he turned in his saddle and without preamble ran the older bandit through with his lance. As the man kicked and thrashed his way to his next incarnation, Grax began making his dispositions.
    Aristide rode ahead to where the scouts were hovering in the fringes of the trees, looking up at a boulder-strewn slope marked with evergreen scrub.
    “Bitsy,” he said. “Take a look, will you?”
    The cat jumped from his perch behind Aristide’s saddle. The barb snorted and made an uneasy sideways movement. Bitsy ignored the animal and sprang ahead, out of the shadow of the pines and onto the slope, and stayed close to the ground as she took a zigzag path to the crest, darting from cover to cover.
    The nearest scout—a green-haired woman—gave Aristide a look.
    “Your cat understands you,” she said.
    Aristide affected nonchalance. “Most of the time, yes.”
    Grax rode forward on his giant lizard to give instructions to the scouts, and seemed surprised to find Aristide there.
    “I’ve sent a scout ahead,” Aristide said. “She should be reporting back any time.”
    And in fact Bitsy was soon observed returning from her mission. She didn’t bother weaving from cover to cover, but instead came straight back.
    “You sent your cat?” Grax laughed, and then Bitsy arrived and spoke.
    “No guards,” she said. “It seems they’ve all been called in to witness punishment.”
    “Punishment?” Aristide asked.
    “Your cat talks!” Grax said, wide-eyed. His green-haired scout made a sign to ward evil.
    “I counted twenty-two outlaws, variously armed,” Bitsy went on. “Three priests in black, and eleven bound captives. I believe these latter are the group we’ve been following—it seems the priests are unhappy with the failure of their mission.”
    “Your cat talks!” said Grax.
    “The waterfall and pool are ahead on the right,” Bitsy continued. “On the left is a plantation of date palms, and that’s where the outlaws are congregated. Behind the pool is a stock pen, where their mounts are confined.”
    “ Your cat talks!” said Grax. Bitsy looked at him.
    “Yes,” she said. “I do. May I suggest that you attack soon while one-third of their strength remain bound and helpless?”
    Grax looked from Aristide to Bitsy and back again, his huge grey head bobbing on its thick neck.
    “I believe Bitsy’s advice is sound,” Aristide said. “But let me tell you first about the priests.”
    He related what the captives had told him about the priests’ abilities. Grax listened with grim attention, his eyes darting toward Bitsy now and then, as if to discover if she had sprouted wings, or a second head, or demonstrated some other unexpected talent.
    “What do you recommend?” Grax said finally.
    “Don’t close with the priests. Tell your archers to keep shooting at them, from as many directions as possible.”
    “You can’t make them… go away?”
    “Perhaps.” Aristide rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I wish we could take them alive. I’d like to know what they can tell me.”
    “If their powers are what you say, it may be easier to kill them.”
    “Yes. And what happens to them is going to be more their choice than ours.”
    “You’re wasting time ,” said Bitsy sharply.
    “True,” Grax looked over his saddle at his forces, now waiting his command. He turned his great lizard and rejoined his guards, to give his orders.
    Aristide also rode back, but only to join his guide, the young outlaw. The bandit flinched as Aristide drew a knife from his belt. Aristide reached out and placed the knife in one of the young man’s bound hands.
    “What you do from this point is your choice,” he said, “but I’d run like hell if I were you.”
    The outlaw’s face flushed. “Thank you!” he said. “I’m a law-abiding man from this point forward!”
    “Don’t make any promises you can’t keep,” Aristide said, and turned to rejoin the caravan guards. The outlaw called