The days were still long enough to break a human's back while he was working for his simian masters, but the air had cooled enough that breathing didn't feel like inhaling syrup anymore. Fall was coming, whatever 'fall' meant for the weather after all these centuries. Burke doubted that he'd see snow at this latitude, not even in the mountains; but the rains could make the streets so bad that they'd be stuck south of the mountains until next spring. The thought made his neck itch.
Or maybe it was the masses of apes surrounding him that did it. It was one thing to travel with Zana and Galen, no matter how much Galen had developed into an asshole lately... But these apes were strangers, and they were genuinely regarding him as an animal, and the way they moved, and talked, and glared at him reminded him too much of the guards in Urko's prison.
Burke rubbed his face and tried to focus on the smell of soup wafting down the line of humans shuffling towards the cook, on the back of the man before him, the feel of the tin bowl in his other hand - anything but the guards ambling among his fellow slaves, chatting and laughing, and kicking at the humans who didn't get out of their way quickly enough.
It didn't help. His neck was prickling now, as if one of them would descend on him any moment-
"Put that bowl away, boy, your day ain't over yet."
Burke froze; he knew that voice. It belonged to the damn foreman, the one who had made him strip naked for no reason. Maybe he got off on it - Burke had heard some stories from the other workers... granted, not about this particular chimp...
He slowly turned around. If the monkey tries anything funny, I'll... He didn't dare to finish the thought.
The chimp - Marpo, right? - clasped his shoulder and steered him towards the edge of the camp, and all of Burke's spider senses flared up in alarm. He dug his heels in, but the ape effortlessly shoved him on.
"Where we goin'?" Burke tore away from Marpo, and stumbled a few steps backward, keeping the ape in his sight. "I did all the work I had to do, I wanna eat now."
"Your owner and I have a deal," Marpo said, and for a moment, Burke was too stunned to even think. Galen? Galen had made a deal with Marpo to, to...
"What deal?" he asked when he had found his voice.
Marpo gave him a once over that turned Burke's stomach; he fervently wished for his knife, but Galen had confiscated it before he left him at the camp. Damn monkey!
"You have a lot of potential, boy," Marpo drawled. "You'll earn him a nice sum of money... and me, too." He smiled. "You can run, and I'll make you run faster - fast enough to win the coming race, and the one after that, and who knows, maybe we'll even nominate your for the big one next moon."
He closed in to Burke and grabbed his upper arm to continue towards the treeline; this time, there'd be no tearing away from the ape's grip, but Burke was too numb to put up any resistance.
He'd heard of the races; apparently, they were this world's football, the sports event everywhere in ape country, but especially in the mountains. According to what the other woodcutters had told him, apes were fucking breeding humans especially for racing. Burke's mind still reeled when he thought about the concept. Breeding. Like... like dogs. Or horses. Zana had mentioned breeders in passing, but somehow, it had never formed an image in his head, and he very much tried not to let one form now.
And now Galen had made a deal with another ape to make him run in those races, too, and win them money like a racehorse. He hadn't even been asked - and these two monkeys would split the money, money he'd win, money he'd cough out his lung for, his money...
That's not how I play this game, buddy.
He'd have a word or two with Galen when he'd meet him again, on his next free day. But right now, Burke had no choice but to clench his teeth and obey.
They had stepped on the main track that led down into the town where said ape was currently enjoying a nice dinner. The thought of it made Burke's stomach growl.
"Can't let you run on a full stomach," Marpo chuckled. "You'd just paint the trees with pea soup." He turned Burke around so that they were facing uphill. "This is a nice training track, up and down and around the side of the mountain, in beautiful nature, good air... You'll start running, and I'll get an overview of your technique, or lack of it, and then I'll work out a training plan for you. No need to get limbered up, your muscles are still warm from work."
He finally let go of Burke's arm and nodded up the path. "Go ahead, I'll catch up with you in a moment." He turned away and ambled towards a young tree. A horse was hitched to a low branch; Burke had been too enraged, too busy brooding about Galen, to notice it until now.
Marpo unhooked the reins and mounted the horse, and understanding dawned on Burke. He'd run, with an ape on horseback hot on his heels. It would just be like in the good old days, before... before Urko's goons had captured him.
They weren't here now. That was then, and this was now.
But his feet were bolted to the ground, and he felt like throwing up, even without dinner.
They weren't here now, nothing would happen if Marpo caught up with him. He wouldn't knock him out and take him to Urko, he wouldn't-
Marpo rode up to him and drew something from the saddle, something long and thin. "Are you a bit slow in the head today? We don't have much light left, so we gotta make good use of our time." He leaned down to Burke. "Now you run, and I'll be right behind you. And if you think of slacking off..." The thing touched Burke's neck, right below the jaw.
It was a riding crop.
"If you slack off," Marpo said, smiling, "I'll be right here to spur you on."
The scarf was lovely - a deep pine green, with yellow leaves and brown blobs that Zana assumed were meant to be nuts knitted in; it was light, but warm, made from a fuzzy material that was softer than wool. It would keep her warm, without feeling like a lead weight around her neck. Zana had no idea how cold it could get in the mountains, but even if the weather stayed as mild as it was now, she still wanted the scarf. It was so soft, and the color scheme reminded her...
... reminded her of that other scarf, emerald green and gold, cool silk between her fingers, and the rest of the scarves swaying in the hot breeze of noon, while Urko's guards were prowling the market; Alan cowering at her feet, hidden from view, and she hastily throwing the scarf over her head, to make herself invisible...
Zana squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as if she could shake off the memory like drops of water from her fur. But the energy still lingered - an echo, trembling through her, that fear, that drunk elation.
She had been so young then. So daring. So full of vigor and... and potential. Able to do anything, be anything.
She had still been whole.
Don't think about that. It's pointless.
Zana opened her eyes with a tiny sigh, and smiled at the vendor. "How much do you want for this one?"
"Alta! What a nice surprise!"
Felga's voice was right behind her shoulder all of a sudden, a little too loud as always, and Zana's heart made a little jump. She turned around with a wide smile. What an unexpected, welcome surprise. "Same! I wasn't expecting you here today, I thought you had to work..."
"Oh, I did!" Felga laughed and casually fingered the scarf Zana was holding. "Don't let the old haggler trick you out of your money, sweetheart. That thing isn't worth more than five sembles, at most."
Zana grimaced apologetically at the vendor and handed her the scarf. "It'll be just a moment," she whispered. The Gorilla woman took it without a word and began to fold it, glaring at Felga all the time.
But Felga's attention was riveted at Zana. "Racing season starts, which means I get lots of new stories to write. Somehow, every season seems to offer a new level of depravity, but hey, at least I'll never be out of material, you know?" She smiled sweetly, and Zana began to feel uneasy; Felga's stare didn't match her smile. It was too intense, too... fixed at her face.
"That... sounds like a dilemma," she said diffidently, "you love your work, but you hate the races..."
"Oh. Yes. I hate a lot of things," Felga nodded. "Most of all I hate people who pretend to care about humans when they really, really don't. That's so disappointing, you know? And also..." she snapped her fingers, "so damn aggravating."
Zana blinked. "I'm not sure I understand..."
Felga was still staring her down, her voice flat and controlled. She was about to explode in her face any moment now, Zana realized, but she hadn't the faintest idea why.
"Really. You have no idea what I'm talking about, right? In a moment, you're going to tell me that you urgently needed the money, that no humans are being harmed, and that it's not worth terminating our friendship, right?"
Zana took a step back; Felga's voice had risen with each word, and the last one had been shouted. From the corner of her eyes, Zana saw that vendors and customers alike had stopped their activities and were now silently watching the drama unfolding between the stalls.
"I'd like you to stop putting words in my mouth, Felga." She wished the ground would open up under her.
Instead, Felga made that step forward, and was in her face again. "But hey, maybe it's my fault. Maybe I'm just too damn trusting of other women! Maybe I should stick to men, because I never seem to be tempted to assume they're anything else but assholes!" Her booming voice seemed to reverberate from the wooden stalls around them.
For a moment, all that Zana could focus on was the dragging pain in her pelvis, stabbing upwards into her stomach, and the wave of nausea that accompanied it. She was ill, couldn't Felga see that? She wasn't up to this fight, she felt exhausted and shaky, and she didn't even know what her friend was accusing her of. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said faintly.
"Don't give me that line!" Felga stabbed an accusing finger into Zana's breastbone. "Don't try to tell me that you had no idea that your husband sold your other human, the one you're not parading around in town, to that brute Marpo for training! You're making money of that poor beast, and you don't give a flying fuck if it breaks its neck, or ruptures its lungs, or gets a heart attack, as long as you can cash in the money! You're just like everyone else, I have no idea how I could ever think otherwise!"
Zana closed her eyes for a moment. Peet. Of course Felga would have found out about Galen's latest money-making scheme by now. And the worst thing was that she had used all of Felga's words - sans the cussing - in her huge fight with him over it. She was completely on Felga's side, but admitting that would mean that she'd also have to admit that Galen had gone through with this project, despite her disapproval.
"Dehni likes to run," she murmured, mortified. "And he's mostly running outside the competition, we're not really counting on-"
"Oh, spare me the bullshit!" Felga spat. "This whole racing business is nothing but a money making machine! Money extracted from the suffering of innocent animals! Think of that when you cash in your prize, Alta - it's blood money! I hope you choke on it!" She whirled around and stomped away; the crowd parted before her, as if people were afraid she'd snap at their throats.
Zana turned towards the vendor, mostly to avoid the stares of the bystanders. The woman had already wrapped the scarf in brown cotton. Zana cleared her throat. "Uhm, how much for..."
The Gorilla pressed the package into her hand. "It's a free giveaway." She nodded in the direction of the retreating Felga. "Don't mind her. She's not right in the head."
Zana took the package with a quick bow, even more embarrassed than before, and hurried back towards the inn, not daring to look up and meet the stares of the townspeople. She didn't know what would be worse - amused looks, or pitying ones.
Not right in the head, she thought. But I don't want Peet to run, either.
If Felga's a madwoman, so am I.