The day of the race was bright and windy, and although the breeze wasn't exactly cold, Burke shivered inside his jacket. He'd have to shed it later, for the race; he'd be wearing nothing but shorts then. He supposed he should be grateful that the apes didn't insist on having him run stark naked, but they needed something to fasten the numbers to... and to show off their kennel's colors.

His color was white, since he didn't belong to any of the local kennels; all outsiders were wearing white, Marpo had told him, but today, he'd be the only one. He'd stick out of the rainbow throng of the other racers... but he'd stick out anyway, like a Clydesdale among Arabians.

These humans were narrow-framed, long-limbed, stalking around with the nervous air of racehorses, which they actually were. They had been bred for this, for centuries, and Burke forcibly turned his mind away from that fact, because it was freaking him out every time it wormed its way back into his thoughts, and today, he couldn't let it distract him.

He still hadn't decided if he would run for real, or just lose by a mile and be done with. He hadn't had a chance to talk to Al again, so he didn't know if the colonel had been successfully haggled for a share of the prize money. And Al had been right - they desperately needed the money, for whenever they made it across the mountains...

"Limber up, boy, race is starting in a quarter atseht," Marpo interrupted his thoughts. An atseht was something like an hour, but their length changed with the season, and Burke had no idea if he had fifteen minutes, or ten... or half of a human hour. In any case, it would be too short. He felt exposed and scrutinized, both by the apes and by the other humans, who were already jogging across the cordoned-off warm-up paddock.

Everyone was staring at him. Burke felt sweat break out all over his body.

I can't do this.

He had never been shy - hell, when he had been surfing, he'd worn less than now, and he'd basked in the admiring stares of the girls, gleefully showing off his goods. But this was different. The apes looked at him as if they were calculating his price tag.

Marpo gave him a little push. "Get to it, boy. Warm up, then do your stretches. You don't wanna tear a muscle out there. It'll be brutal enough without that, believe me."

Burke drew a deep breath, and began to slowly jog across the place - he didn't want to jog along the fence, where apes were clustering, staring at him, calculating who they'd put their bets on. He determinedly kept his gaze on the sandy ground, and his focus on the sensation of fine grains under his naked soles, the hardness of the trampled soil as his toes pushed against it with each step-

Someone shoved into him, and he stumbled several steps sideways. When he looked up, whoever had crashed into him had already vanished into the weaving crowd of humans again.

Maybe it had been his fault, for not watching where he was going...

Something hit him between the shoulderblades, hard, and Burke swung around without thinking, and crashed his fist into the racer's face. Bone crunched, and the man toppled to the ground, clutching his head. Blood oozed from between his fingers.

Shouts erupted from the fence, and suddenly, Burke and the writhing racer were alone on a wide plain. The other humans had vanished to the far end of the paddock as one man, as several apes leaped over the fence and came running towards him. Burke stumbled back two steps, and fell into a defensive stance.

Then Marpo was at his side. "Back to the fence," he snarled. "I'll take care of this. Move, boy!" He gave Burke a rough push, and positioned himself between him and the enraged apes who had reached them by now. One of them crouched down over the human who was still lying on the ground.

Pussy. I didn't hit him that hard.

Burke slowly retreated to the fence, while Marpo and the other ape engaged in a shouting match. He felt as if he had already run for miles. Everyone was watching him now, as well as the drama in the middle of the paddock, and suddenly Burke wanted to run, and not stop until he was deep in the mountains.

"Oh Peet, are you alright? I'm so sorry..."

Burke jerked around - Zana. She was standing at the fence behind him, staring at him with a doleful expression. He hadn't expected her to be here. She hadn't seemed too interested in this whole racing thing... or in anything concerning him or Al. They had to deal with Galen on their own now. The only time she paid any attention to him was when she called him for cuddles, which he had come to dread more than her negligence.

But she was a familiar face in a sea of ape visages, and he went over to where she was standing, because he didn't know where else to go.

Zana stretched out her hand and patted him on the arm. "He shoved you on purpose," she said, "I saw it with my own eyes. Don't mind all these people, Pe... Dehni. You were right to hit back."

"I'm not a sprinter... Alta," Burke said, hating his pleading tone. "I ran marathons back home... long distances. I don't know if I can do this."

Zana looked at him with pity in her eyes, and Burke realized that he had just begged her to take him out of the race.

"I disagreed with G... Faro about letting you run," she said. "You have to believe me. But he... he didn't listen to me. And I can't take back the nomination without his approval, since he was the one who had you listed in the first place. I'm... I'm sorry, Dehni. I know you don't want to be here."

"He'll do just fine, ma'am, don't you worry." Marpo had joined them; behind him, Burke could see the apes leading their human to the other end of the paddock. "Don't you worry about that beast," Marpo continued, following his gaze. "Everyone saw that it started the whole thing. Tuolom can count himself lucky that I didn't file a complaint against him and had his creature disqualified for that stunt. Sit, boy, I need to tape your ankles. No more time for warming up, more's the pity."

With a last desperate glance to Zana, Burke sat down and leaned against a post. Marpo grabbed his leg and began to tightly wrap a bandage around his left ankle, and Burke fought against the intense feeling of being bridled like a horse.

"What happens now?" he heard Zana's nervous voice above his head.

"Now we'll go over to the race track, and get him into his box, and when the signal rings, the doors will open, and this good boy will run like the wind, and not stop until he crosses the finish line," Marpo said. He patted Burke's knee. "Preferably coming in first." He set down Burke's left leg, took up the other one and began wrapping his ankle with sure, swift movements.

"This is a nice, small race," he continued. "Nice middle distance, nothing too demanding. They're all older racers, too, though not as old as yours, ma'am. Truth be told, he's a bit too old to race at all - but since he hasn't run since he was twelve, his joints aren't that worn down. He's got a good fighting chance, or I wouldn't have trained him. Too bad I didn't get my hands on him sooner - with his talent, we could've run him in the big stadium, in the City. Ah, maybe his offspring will get the chance."

He set down Burke's foot and dragged him up by his arm. "No time for dawdling, now. Give me that." He slipped off Burke's jacket, and took a step back to admire his naked chest. "You know, that was a nice idea of yours, to decorate him like that. What did you use, a branding iron?"

Zana stared at his black scars with disgust, and Burke fought the urge to cross his arms over his chest like a virgin. He had totally forgotten about the damn things.

"He already had them when I got him," Zana said. "We don't brand our humans. That's cruel."

Marpo shook his head. "Take my advice, it's good advice - brand them. Papers can get lost, and around here, they don't count much, anyway. You don't want to lose your human to an ape who puts his iron on it while you weren't looking."

"Thank you for your concern," Zana said stiffly. "I'll take your advice under consideration."

Marpo shook his head, and put his hand on Burke's neck. "You do that, ma'am, and I'll talk to Faro about it, too." He steered Burke to the exit.

Burke kept his gaze fixed on the ground and let Marpo lead him to the start line, glad not to have to look up and see the leering faces of the simian audience. The trainer's offhand remarks were still echoing in his mind. Galen... Galen wouldn't brand them. He wouldn't want to keep them... unless he was making money with them.

Maybe he should lose on purpose.

"Try to get ahead of the field as soon as you're out of the box," Marpo murmured into his ear. "These creatures are vicious - they aren't allowed to grapple, but they can sure trip you up, or throw dirt in your eyes. You don't want to be caught up inside the field, and believe me, you don't want to try and overtake the field, either. Don't hold back - give everything, right from the start. You got me?"

Burke's throat was dry. The cage was tiny, narrow, he wouldn't be able to sleep in there, and they'd poke him with burning splinters if he tried to...

He blinked. It wasn't that kind of cage...

"Yessir," he croaked, and stumbled into the start box.

"Let's get you to your seat, ma'am," Marpo said, when he returned from the start line. The gates were shut now, all racers waiting for the signal, ready to explode from their boxes. Zana wondered how Peet managed, in there. Ever since his captivity, he couldn't stand being in confined spaces.

"My seat?" she asked, confused.

Marpo gestured towards the grandstand at the far side of the racetrack. "You do wanna see them crossing the finish line, right? Owners and trainers are entitled to seats there," he explained while he led her through the crowd of spectators bustling and shoving all around them. "For the rest, it's first come, first served. In the big stadium in the City, they have private suites for the owners and the VIPs, but this one's just a minor track. So let's hurry up - you don't wanna miss Liquid Fire's first triumph, do you?"

"Liquid Fire..." Zana repeated slowly.

"Your boy's racing name - we gotta call him something, right?"

The rows were almost filled to the last seat when they arrived; Marpo went in front of her, shoving and cursing and, occasionally, apologizing. Zana only noticed Galen when Marpo twisted sideways to let her through - her fiancé was standing in his seat, taking her from Marpo's hands. Zana wondered what a big race would look like, if this spectacle counted as a small one in Marpo's book.

She slowly sat down, flanked by Marpo and Galen; the row below her was conspicuously empty. It contradicted Marpo's claim that seats were occupied by whoever came first - these looked like reservations for the local high society; apes who probably found it necessary to make a fashionably late entrance, too. Zana hoped Peet wouldn't have another of his episodes in that box in the meantime.

Her fears were unfounded: a procession of Chimps in elegant robes, the women with extravagant hats, filed into the row below her and sat down with an amazing lack of fuss. Directly below her, the silver-haired patriarch of the family turned around in his seat, and studied Zana and her company with shrewd eyes. "You're the owners of that outsider that's running today, right?" He winked at Zana. "I placed a bet on it - I hope it won't cost me my meager pension." The ladies to either side of him giggled.

Zana smiled; this ape didn't look as if he had to worry about getting food on the table. "He'll do his best," she said. "But that's the appeal of betting, I've been told - the gamble."

"Oh, this has all become highly predictable." The old Chimp contemptuously waved his arm towards the race track. "Which is why I'm so happy that you threw your human into the ring. Maybe it'll surprise us today. I sure hope it will!" He turned back to face the track again, and waved at an official-looking ape with a bullhorn.

The ape raised the bullhorn to his lips. "Ladies and gents, welcome to the annual Sapan Valley Racing Competition! We have some fine racers lined up again, they've just been led to their starting boxes, and they're all eager to run!"

Cheers branded up all around her, like a huge wave, and Zana could feel the excitement rush up inside her as if she was porous, unable to keep the crowd's frenzy at bay. "We have fifteen loseht until go, listen for the whistle signal!" the announcer blared.

Zana didn't hear anything over the cries of the crowd, a huge sound cloud that rose and fell, but never really subsided, like the droning of the surf, but she saw the gates crash open all of a sudden, and a flurry of colors burst forth, as the humans shot out and flew over the track like arrows.

And then a human in white sprinted out of the last box. To her left, Marpo cursed.

"Liquid Fire is off to a late start," the announcer trumpeted, and Zana thought he was sounding inappropriately cheerful. "We have a dense field here, with Dark Intentions fighting for the lead, Hotfood Hero is close on his heels, true to name, then - Fat Chance, Able Boy, On Target..."

Zana stopped listening; her eyes were glued to the far stretch, where a white speck was slowly catching up to the rest of the racers. She knew what had happened: Peet inside the narrow box, flashing back to his time in Urko's hands, panicking... not realizing that the gate had opened, caught in that nightmare, confused, lost...

Oh Peet, I'm so sorry! I never should've allowed this to happen!

"I told him not to lose time in the damn box," Marpo muttered beside her. "It's a damn rookie mistake! Now he has to overtake the whole damn field, on the outer lane, to boot! He'll have to cover twice the distance!" He smacked his fists on his thighs in frustration.

The racers turned at the far end of the track and were now on their way to the grandstand. Peet had caught up with the field and was now slowly overtaking the last racers. Marpo was leaning forward, squinting at the track below.

Suddenly, a jerk went through the cluster of racers in the middle of the field. The humans were crashing into each other, as one racer changed lanes, veering towards the inner rail as he tried to overtake the runner in front of him.

And then he tumbled, and fell, and crashed headfirst into the nearest railing post. Zana thought she could hear the crack from where she was sitting. The crowd gave off a single shout. "Able Boy just went down," the announcer stated the obvious, "there was some shuffle, but no grappling. The stewards have given no signal for break-off." The field raced on.

The human didn't move. Zana saw Peet turn his head towards him, but he didn't stop, either.

"Mothers!" Zana stared at Marpo. "Is he... is he dead?"

Marpo shrugged, his eyes glued to the track. "Maybe it just broke its skull. But could also have been the neck. They're vicious beasts, humans. Can't compare them to racehorses. That's why people prefer human racing - much better show."

Zana turned her gaze back to the race track, too, fearing for Peet's life.

He had gained more ground in the meantime, inching towards the first third of the field; as Marpo had predicted, he was taking the outer lane, staying clear of the thick throng of racers in the middle of the field. The first four racers were stretched farther apart now, though, and Zana saw him bearing in, cutting off one of the racers.

"Liquid Fire has made an amazing comeback," the announcer roared, "he's closing in to Rainy Day now, he's almost there, if he can keep this up, he'll make a respectable third place..."

Rainy Day, running in silver pants that Zana had learned were Vilam's colors, was giving his best, legs and arms pumping, but Peet was side by side with him now, slowly overtaking him.

And then Rainy Day's right arm jerked up and out, and Peet stumbled sideways, clutching his face, falling...

Zana jumped up with the rest of the crowd, booing and yelling. Below her, Peet was rolling forward, over his shoulder, and was up on his feet again, not even breaking his stride. Blood was running from his nose and over his chin. Zana could see his open mouth, teeth white under the red blood, lips peeled back, eyes staring at some fixed point ahead of him. She didn't know if he was even aware of the cacophony pouring down from the stands, he looked completely spooked.

"Liquid Fire is on his feet again, he's fallen back behind Rainy Day and Dare To Dream, catching up now, what a fighter, eh, let me remind you, he's not from any kennel, he's fresh from the work camp, Hotfoot Hero is now leading the field, Dark Intentions still hot on his foot, I mean heels..."

They still had one more round to run. Zana didn't know how Peet was still on his feet at all - how he could breathe, with all that blood pouring from his nose. The racers had passed the first turn again, and were now on the far side of the tribune.

She couldn't sit down again. She was standing on her seat like everyone else, fists clenched, but unable to join into the cheers and shouts of the people around her. That crack of the human crashing against the post was still in her ears. It hadn't even moved when a Chimp crew had carried it away.

I don't care if he finishes last. Please just let him finish whole and hale.

The racers had passed the far turn now, entering the home stretch, and the roar of the crowd was swelling to a deafening volume. Marpo was hopping in his seat, shaking his fist and urging on Peet who was now... Zana didn't trust her eyes... who was now behind Dark Intentions, and slowly, relentlessly, closing the distance. His whole chest was glistening red now, the blood pumping from his nose with every step and spraying his skin.

"Liquid Fire is giving it all!" The announcer's voice was cracking with excitement. "He's shoulder to shoulder with Dark Intentions... he's... that'll be a draw... no! No, he's overtaking Dark Intentions! He's pulling clear, he's... Liquid Fire is in the lead now, and he's not giving it away anymore! He's almost there... almost... and he's in! It's a win for Liquid Fire, then Dark Intentions, then Hotfoot Hero..."

Marpo was howling, grabbing her shoulders, shaking her, then letting her go just as abruptly and reaching around her to enthusiastically slap Galen on the back. He was grinning so widely that Zana feared he'd tear a muscle. "He did it!" Marpo roared. "He did it, that son of a monkey won our race! I told you! I told you so!"

Galen let Marpo shake him like a puppet, a dazed grin on his face. Zana felt equally dazed; she was gripping the backrest of the seat before her, trying to find Peet down at the tracks. It took her a moment to orient herself; then she saw that apes in the striped vests of the racing stewards were herding the humans back to the paddock where they had done their warming-up routines before the race.

The dignified Chimp who had told her that he had placed a bet on Peet, rose from his seat and turned around to her. "You have an amazing fighter there, lady," he said. "Made me a nice sum today, and who knows, maybe he'll do so again. I'll keep an eye on him - he's a wild one."

"You are Olman, aren't you?" Zana asked, following a sudden intuition.

"Yes, of course I am." The ape squinted at her. "Ah, so you're not from here."

"No, we're just traveling through." Zana threw a quick glance to Galen and Marpo, who were shuffling to the end of the row, probably to cash in their money. Or to take care of Peet's injury, hopefully. If not, she would have to do it. But right now, she just didn't have the time. She smiled at Olman.

"Would you, by any chance, have a moment for me?"