When Virdon showed up at the racetrack, the kennels were already empty; the racers were out on the track for their morning workout, he was told.
For a moment, he stood in the sunny patch between the kennels - small log cabins that looked like vacation homes, save for the barred windows, and the doors that could only be locked from the outside - and couldn't decide if he wanted to sit down on the steps to Burke's... cabin, or if he wanted to drag his bad leg over to the tracks.
In the end, he opted for the tracks. The kennels made him restless, no matter how often he called them 'cabins' in his head. The distance wasn't too great, and it was a nice walk under the trees, down a sandy, sun-spotted path that was flanked by freshly mown lawn on both sides.
The racers were on the far side of the field, only going for short sprints that never led them around the turn and closer towards him, but they'd have to pass him on their way back to the kennels, so Virdon leaned against the white railing and just watched. He couldn't make out Burke from this distance - the racers were all wearing uniform gray training silks.
He wondered how his friend was dealing with the fact that he was sleeping in what was basically a cage every night now. Ever since they had rescued Burke from Urko's hands, the major had been unable to tolerate confined spaces - in the beginning, he hadn't even been able to sleep inside the wagon. Unless it rained - then it had been a battle between his claustrophobia and his panic attacks when his face got wet. Another souvenir from Urko, this one from the gorilla's version of waterboarding.
Burke never said a word about his problems, the insomnia, the nightmares, the panic attacks; he just dealt with them, silently, stubbornly, and Virdon had no idea how to break the subject without appearing intrusive or overbearing.
Until now.
Pete's latest breakdown, his decision to avoid their group and rather sleep in an environment that blatantly treated him as nothing more than an animal, had convinced Virdon that it was time for an intervention. Maybe it was long overdue; maybe he had neglected his duty of care for his subordinate because he had been too wrapped up in his own medical problems... and his own homesickness.
I'm sorry, Pete. I should've acted much sooner.
"Are you waiting for someone?"
The voice was a friendly croak, from a throat that had been abused by too much alcohol, and too much tobacco, for too many years.
Virdon turned around and found himself face to face with an old, weathered chimpanzee. The ape was wearing a battered robe that hadn't seen a washboard for some time, but his stance was relaxed and non-threatening. He probably really just wanted to chat.
"I'm waiting for my friend to finish his morning workout, sir," Virdon said politely. It was always a good idea to be extra polite with unknown apes.
The old face lit up. "Liquid Fire?"
"That's... that's his racing name, yes." It still felt ridiculous to hear Pete referred to by a name that rightfully belonged to a horse, or a dog.
Until he remembered that this was exactly what Burke was to these people.
The ape smiled a toothless smile. "What a boy! I saw him run in the last race, such a fighter! I lost a bit of money because of him," he added confidentially, "I had placed my bet on Dark Intentions. I wouldn't have won much - everyone always bets on Dark Intentions, unless they're feeling adventurous." He leaned against the railing and stared across the lawn to where the racers had taken up position for yet another sprint.
"I've been betting in these races since I was a boy," he continued. "I know every single racer from every single kennel." He tipped his finger at his temple. "I remember them all. Makes it easy to place my bets, unless they throw in a wildcard." He laughed. "But that's alright, keeps it interesting."
Virdon found himself relaxing as he listened to the old ape's chatter. For all his attitude towards humans, which wasn't in the least bit different from the attitude of every other ape around here, he couldn't feel any malicious intent in the chimp. This guy was simply happy that he had found an audience that didn't have the right to cut him off and leave. Virdon shrugged internally, and settled against the railing again, listening with half an ear while he waited for Burke to finish his workout.
"I already won a bit of money with Dark Intention's sire, Made To Win," the chimp was reminiscing. "That was a great racer, true to his name! Always liked to run from behind the field and then pull ahead in the home stretch. That one knew how to give a great performance, always such spectacular wins." The ape dug out a pipe and a pouch of tobacco, and began to pack his pipe.
"I think he was younger than your friend when he retired," he continued, and lit his pipe. "Went on to make lots and lots of little racers, most of them were sold off to the South, 's far as I heard. For fantastic prices, too - that mansion on the hill? That's all built from the auction proceeds."
Virdon ducked his head and chewed on the inside of his lip, wishing to be on the other side of the racing ground by now. Even though this old ape wasn't talking about him, nor about Pete, he felt nauseous.
The chimp sighed, and pointed his pipe at the racers. "Too bad they discovered his talent too late. But maybe he'll sire some excellent offspring. That's another gamble - you never know if a good athlete is also a good sire." He turned his head and let his gaze wander over Virdon. "What about you?"
Virdon stiffened. "What about me?"
"Well, they can't test your potential, with that injury," the ape murmured, "and you're a bit more heavily built than Liquid Fire... but not too heavy... and you have long limbs..."
Virdon cleared his throat and tried to keep his features under control. "I'm not a racer. Never have been."
"Ah, all humans are, more or less," the ape chuckled, and sucked on his pipe. "You know the saying: 'Fish swims, bird flies, human runs'. Did you know that man is the only animal that can outrun every other animal in the world? They just run and run and run, until the animal drops dead from exhaustion. In the beginning, they'd let the humans just run around the track until all but one had dropped. But Cesar, that took so long that by the time they had a winner, everyone had long gone home!" He laughed. "Nobody had the patience to wait around until the humans had run their course, so today, we only have the sprint races. Your friend will run the Tassel Valley race in two days, too?"
"So I've heard," Virdon murmured. Galen had nominated Burke, again without asking him.
"If he makes at least third place, he'll be eligible for the nomination in the big race," the chimp said. "If he makes first place in the Tassel race, I'll bet on him in the big one - he'll have a massive overlay by then. Maybe I can retire then, huh?" He good-naturedly slapped Virdon's back. Virdon forced himself to smile politely.
"It'll be great," the ape gushed. "They have a big band, and Olman has his humans serving as waiters, so nobody has to stand in line for half a day just to get a sandwich and a mug of cider, and before the races begin, there's this big parade. And the winning ceremony, of course. The champions are all prettied up, with ribbons an' all, and then they make photos for anyone who wants a souvenir."
Virdon tried to tune out the old ape's prattle, but found it impossible; the croaky voice was piercing his right ear and went straight into his brain. "... I have a photo from every year since I started going to the races as a little boy. At first, my father would pay for the photos, of course, but when I started working for Tall Timber, I bought them myself, and the miniature trophies, too. I have a complete collection; there was this ape from the South, he offered me a nice sum for it, but I said no sir, it's not for sale. It has sentimental value, you know? All those memories..."
The racers were breaking up, a part of them leaving for some unknown destination on the far side of the field, the rest jogging over to where he was standing. Burke was slowly walking towards them, too; Virdon straightened, and pushed away from the railing.
"It was nice talking to you, sir," he lied, "but I need to take care of my friend now."
"Yes, I heard your owner fired his trainer, for cheating him out of his money," the chimp nodded.
Virdon rubbed his neck; he had noticed that Galen had fired Marpo, but both Galen and Burke had been tight-lipped about the reason. "Well, I can't talk behind my master's back about these things..."
The ape made a dismissive gesture. "Don't worry, boy, I'm not trying to pump you for information. Everyone knows that ol' Marpo was gettin' too greedy and started a little side hustling behind your master's back. The idiot - I bet whatever he got for mating fees won't make up half of what he could've gotten as share in the prize money if that boy wins the big race."
Virdon kept his face expressionless, but he felt his lips beginning to prickle as cold fury crept into him.
Mating fees.
"You alright?" Burke had come to a halt at a safe distance away from the old chimp, and was watching Virdon with a slight frown.
Virdon clenched his jaw and forced himself to smile. "I was just waiting for you to finish your workout, so we can start with mine."
"Okay," Burke said slowly, still watching him.
Virdon turned to the ape, resisting the urge to strangle the old fool. "If you'd excuse us, sir... but we have to work now." He grabbed Burke by the arm and began to limp away from the chimp as fast as possible.
Burke let himself get dragged along, craning his neck to throw a last glance at the smoking ape. "Did ol' Tovar chew your ear off? You can just ignore him, you know? Just walk away, he'll get the memo, he's not one to follow you around."
"I don't mind getting chatted up by the old drunkard," Virdon said grimly. "It was very... educational. I learned a lot about racing."
Mating fees.
Did Pete even know what had happened? Or was he still blissfully unaware, believing that it was his charm and good looks that had attracted the women, just like it had been back home?
"You didn't come down here just for Tai Chi, Al, right?" Burke pulled his arm away and narrowed his eyes. "What's up?"
Virdon drew a deep breath and forced himself to meet his friend's wary eyes.
"Nothing's up," he said. "I'm here for my Tai Chi lesson. Shall we begin?"
One of the many peculiarities of growing up among Orangutans - and Zana still couldn't decide if it was an advantage or a disadvantage - was the decided lack of dinner parties, receptions, or other instances of social mingling. Orangutans didn't mingle; they were notoriously solitary creatures, who only took up the burden of governmental work - with all its meetings in and outside of Council sessions - out of a deep sense of duty towards apekind. Even married couples didn't live together - the men and women kept their separate apartments, the children living with their mothers and only visiting their fathers at pre-planned occasions.
As a result, Zana had had a hard time with staff meetings, back at the institute. Although her Chimp nature made her more socially-minded than an Orangutan, her childhood upbringing hadn't given her the necessary skills to navigate these events gracefully.
At least she never felt graceful on such occasions.
"Was it really necessary that I come, too?" she whispered to Galen who, she noticed with a stab of envy, seemed to be totally at ease here. No wonder - as the son of a Councillor, he had probably attended hundreds of these events.
Galen didn't look at her - he was watching the assembled crowd of Chimps: stable owners, trainers, sponsors... They had all been invited for hors d'oeuvres, wine, and a tour of the Three Valleys Racing stadium that had ended in front of a big map detailing the planned expansion of the stadium, big enough to encompass the entire back wall of the clubhouse. Olman was the main sponsor of the whole racing industry in the southern mountains; his timber company made big money by supplying both the steel industry in the western mountains, and almost every construction company in the wide swamp land of the southern plain, where trees didn't grow above shrub size, or were otherwise unsuited for building houses. This pre-racing reception had been his idea.
Zana gripped her wine glass, wishing to be anywhere but here; Galen popped a cheese-and-grape thingie into his mouth and bounced on the balls of his feet.
"Why?" he murmured back. "Do you have an appointment at that tavern?"
Zana suppressed a sigh and sipped at her wine. If Galen insisted on being like that, it was no use staying by his side; he'd either ignore her, or make little murmured snide remarks, and she was feeling out of her depth here even without that. And if he managed to make her cry in the bathroom, she wouldn't be able to forgive him, ever.
She invoked that bathroom as an excuse to leave, and began to slowly make her rounds through the crowd, smiling faintly at anyone who caught her gaze. Most of the other guests ignored her completely, though - well, Peet had cost their racers two wins in a row, and a nice sum of money. Since owners and trainers weren't allowed to bet, the prize money was one of their main sources of income. If a kennel didn't win a sufficient number of races, the prices for its cubs would also fall, and the whole enterprise could quickly spiral into bankruptcy.
No, none of these people had reason to make nice small talk with her. If anything, they'd talk about her, or rather, about Faro and his "wildcard wonder," as she had heard someone refer to Peet, and that was a notoriety she didn't care for. Whatever happened to our agreed strategy to stay inconspicuous, at least until we crossed the mountains, Galen? Are you so starved for privilege and recognition that you couldn't wait to make a name for yourself until you were out of Urko's reach?
They would have to leave immediately after the big race. They simply couldn't afford to stay any longer, and allow the gossip trickling South to reach Urko, or Nelva. Zana didn't know what annoyed her more - that she might have been unable to prove Levar's innocence by then, or that she had been unable to stop Galen from lighting a fresh beacon for Urko here.
Right now, though, she felt annoyed at him for dragging her here and then abandoning her. She put the glass to her lips, discovered that it was already empty, and exchanged it for another one from the tray of one of the many human waiters weaving through the crowd of Chimps. What an irony - Felga had been fighting for the townspeople to accept humans in functions other than woodcutters or racers, and almost had her tea house burnt down for her troubles, and here they were absently plucking wine glasses and snacks from the trays that Olman's humans were carrying, without batting an eye.
Hypocrites.
"Alta. I hope you're enjoying yourself?"
Zana took a hasty sip from her wineglass to get her face under control, and turned to Olman with a bright smile. "Olman! Yes, I'm... this is all very fascinating. I've never been on a racing party before. Well..." She giggled. "I've never owned a racer before, either."
Olman's eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. He wore a robe made of fine, blue-gray wool that Zana bet had cost a fortune, and had probably been brought up here from the City, or even one of the southern towns that specialized in producing fine textiles. "You certainly had a lucky hand in selecting your human. Do you have any plans for it after the big race?"
Zana took another sip from her glass to buy time. She was absolutely certain that the 'big race' would be Peet's last; she'd make sure of that. He hadn't been exactly stable ever since they had snatched him from Urko, and being treated like a commodity, a thing without intelligence or feelings, had sharply deteriorated his mental state. That latest outburst of his had shocked her. "We'll retire him," she said. "Everyone agrees that he's actually too old to start a racing career. He'll have three good runs, and we'll have three good stories to tell."
"And maybe three nice sums of money to carry home," Olman added with a smile. "But it would be a shame not to exploit its potential."
"He's not for sale," Zana clarified.
"Ah." Olman sipped at his glass. "Maybe you'll talk this over with your husband first, before you close the door to that deal for good. I'd pay you a nice sum - nicer even than that prize money, should you win."
"My husband and I are agreed on this matter," Zana said, and carefully kept smiling, although the muscles in her face seemed to have frozen on their bones.
"I don't want to rain on your parade," Olman said fatherly, "but breeding involves more than just putting a male and a female into a cage together. You need to select your matches carefully, and frankly, you and Faro are amateurs. Incredibly lucky amateurs, which makes it doubly painful for me to see Liquid Fire's potential wasted."
"Oh, I think I picked up some things here and there," Zana said breezily, "like supporting the males' staying power with... herbs... for example."
Olman's gaze was suddenly piercing. "If you don't know what you're doing there, this can get dangerous for your human very quickly."
"Especially when you're not using the herb, but a herbal extract," Zana nodded, holding his gaze. "Yes, I've heard that some humans were killed that way. Although they weren't in a breeding program at the time."
"Really? Where did you hear that?" Olman wasn't smiling anymore, although he didn't exactly look worried. Zana regarded him for a moment.
"Felga told me about Blaze before she was murdered," she said. "The way it's poured into the poor creatures, there seems to be an inexhaustible supply, which is amazing when you consider how much goat weed you need to produce a tiny flask of Blaze . One could think it's being cultivated like cabbage here... but of course that's nonsense." She produced a small, completely artificial sounding laugh. "Everyone knows Sapan and the surrounding valleys aren't farming communities. It's all mountains and forests here." She smiled at Olman, and this time, she made sure her smile was blatantly suggestive. "It's all about the timber, right?"
Olman's gaze was distant all of a sudden. "Ah yes, Felga. A very angry young woman. Of course you can't know it - you're not from around here -" and now his smile was suggestive, although Zana couldn't say about what, "but Felga had held some long-standing grudges against certain members of this community. She blatantly made it about the humans, but humans were just the vehicle for her wrath. She had an axe to grind with Sapan, and she used the humans for that vendetta, just as I use the humans to fell the trees in the mountains." He emptied his glass, his eyes never leaving Zana's face.
"And look where that has taken her," he continued. "Felga lit a fire that consumed her in the end. She saw that Tall Timber had opened a side branch in the medical sector - we're the biggest supplier of Horny Goat Weed south of the Iron Mountains; perfectly legal, I might add - and twisted it into some lurid tale about force-mating and race fixing..."
"Interesting that you mention the race fixing," Zana cut in, "Felga had some pretty damning things to say about Vilam's role in that - you know, that Vilam who had that 'business meeting' regarding the expansion of the stadium..." She vaguely gestured to the giant map at the far wall.
"Oh, I have no doubts that she had," Olman said dryly. "But I'm a bit worried about you, my dear - you're so young, so idealistic. Don't think you have to pick up the torch that Felga carried. It would be a shame if Felga's fervor would consume you like it consumed her, Alta..." He leaned in with a conspiratorial smile.
"... if that is your name."