35. And Three Men Returned

"Ready?"

Avocato crouched down on the ice, the clawed gloves still feeling odd to his hands as he dug the sharp-tipped talons into the slick surface. This was the first time in his life he had worn gloves for prolonged periods of time. Prior to visiting the Far Reaches, gloves were only for ceremonial purposes, usually when an audience with the king or other royalty was in order. As a general rule, Ventrexians didn't care for them, but wearing gloves was a traditional sign of being disarmed, as they impeded the use of one's claws.

"Ready!"

Unless you were such an utter savage that you put claws on the gloves, of course.

He grinned to himself at the thought and the irony of those who disdained Ventrexia's violent history and turned gloves into a fashion accessory. Oh, the hypocrisy! He was gloved, but he was reinforcing the barbarism of the past, so he supposed he was a hypocrite as well, just from the opposite direction. Avocato could only imagine what his family would say if they saw him right now, balanced on his hands and toes like the primal hunters of early history.

Catowba had always said he was anticipating the moment Avocato really unleashed. Claimed the second heir of House Cato, "You weren't born just to cause scandals, Little Cato. You were born to be the scandal!"

Well, he was making his brother proud. His parents? Not so much.

"Go!" cried Keyvish, his childish voice rising in excitement.

He pushed off with his legs, reaching out his arms and extending his spine as he dove forward. First his right, then his left hand landed, the clawed gloves gouging furrows into the ice and helping to propel him forward. Right foot, left foot, kicking off. Lunge forward, back arching. He found a rhythm that felt comfortable and right, something he could maintain for extended periods.

This was natural, he realized. He could never achieve such speed on two feet. What had Kotikat said earlier? "Two feet will never outrun four." Wise words, and very accurate. Even the slowest runner on four feet would still beat anyone going upright.

He was much better at running the ice now. This was the fifth time they had gone, the second time since he'd recovered from the frost lizard venom. For their first lesson, Avocato and Nikos had spent more time slipping and falling than running, as gangly as newborn runner beasts, and about as stable until they got the hang of it. Practice, an understanding of body dynamics, and sheer determination had helped bring him here, tearing across the distance.

Nikos' critical voice came across the radio. "Are you out for a stroll, Little Cato? This is supposed to be a race! Kedi says he's seen faster glaciers."

The Kotiks wanted to see how their foreign guests stacked up against the natives. They were fast, but they had grown up running this way. All were curious if Avocato and Nikos' lighter, sleeker builds gave them any advantage. Keya, the fastest of the Kotik brothers, had gone first, followed by their faster cousin Ronevno. Lithe little Nikos had smashed Ronevno's record by a minute, but Avocato, with his height and long legs, was the favorite.

He wanted to laugh, but he couldn't speak. All his breath was going into running. He kept an eye on the terrain, keeping the tracks from the earlier races to his right. Already, the drifting show was filling in the marks. The three moons shining overhead were bright enough to cast shadows, giving the landscape an eerie glow. Even at a glance, he could tell Nikos was faster than his northern competition – the distance and depth between furrows showed the length of Nikos' stride versus that of Keya and Ronevno. Nikos had practically flown over the distance. And now . . . Avocato was going to leave Nikos in the dust.

It was like swimming – it was the last thing Avocato had ever expected to enjoy doing, but he could not deny this thrill of speed or the weightless grace of gliding under water. There was also the added, unspoken allure of the forbidden, of the profane. He wondered if his friends felt this way about dancing . . .

Instinct and training overtook him. He lost himself in the rhythm of motion and breath, and it felt to Avocato as if he was watching himself run. It was like the times he sparred or did martial arts forms so automatically that he had no memory of doing them. Suddenly, he would be done, standing still, and he had to assume he had completed the form.

The remaining distance seemed to vanish, and abruptly he reached the end where a cheering crowd of Kotiks waited. He raced past them, then dug in the claws into the ice to slide to a halt, turning as he stopped. For a few moments he remained in place, panting heavily and letting his heart slow down as he came back to himself. Sound and sensation returned, and suddenly he was tired. By the time he stood up, Kochet and Keyvish and little Ronca had swarmed around him, all of them shouting with excitement.

"You were the fastest ever!" Ronca squeaked, jumping up and down.

"How fast?" he asked Kochet, deactivating his helmet. The bracing cold air was a relief, though he wouldn't be able to stay like this long.

The young teen waved his wrist chronometer. "You were nearly two minutes faster than Nikos! That makes you more than three minutes faster than Ronevno!"

"She says it's a good thing you two are leaving next week!" Keyvish added tactlessly.

Avocato laughed, but he hoped Ronevno hadn't joined the ranks of young women who despised him for existing. This ability to annoy the opposite sex so completely did not bode well for his married life. Perhaps it was just as well his parents would pick his bride. If he couldn't lose that particular skill, he'd never get married without it being arranged. Still laughing at their enthusiasm, he let the younger kits lead him back to the rest of the party. Nikos met him with a pleased smirk, clasping Avocato's arm with exaggerated annoyance.

"And for seven glorious minutes, I was the fastest runner in the Far Reaches."

"I'll still never beat you climbing," he countered.

"That's because your dinner comes to you. I have to go catch mine," Nikos shot back, laughing. "Makes you wonder how fast you could go outside of the snowsuit."

"Or in bare feet . . ."

Avocato paused as the quick, playful exchange struck him. The inkling of an idea was forming, the start of a new scheme that might very well shake the academy to its foundation. He stared at his friend, focused on the idea, and hardly noticed when Kedi joined them or the slow smile spreading across his face. Avocato completely missed Kedi's interest and Nikos rolling his eyes.

"Stop it, Avocato," ordered Nikos.

"He didn't do anything," Kedi insisted, rising to Avocato's defense.

Nikos snorted. "I know that look. He's thinking."

"Stop it, Cato," agreed Kedi instantly, then demanded, "What are you thinking?"

Still lost in his own musings, Avocato raised his hand and said, "Ask me later. I need to . . ." He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished and dropping his hand as he was distracted by his own idea.

Nikos let out a quiet groan, pointing at his roommate. "This is when he's at his most dangerous."

"This is why we let him plan things," countered Kedi brightly, "and why he's fun at parties."

"Someday you two will appreciate the hell you put me through."

Kedi laughed and began to shoo them along to join the rest of his family. "Helmets on before your ears freeze. Come! Help me get him home. We have a feast tonight! We can't miss it!"

"Not if we want to eat. Another celebration?" wondered Nikos, activating Avocato's helmet and his own. Every fourth day seemed a holiday in the Far Reaches. Then again, at this time of year, there wasn't much else to do.

"Yes! We have new hunters in our ranks to salute. They deserve a feast and recognition."

"Sounds fun. Let's go." Out of habit, Nikos fell in behind Avocato and pushed him along. "Move it, Cadet!"

And Avocato laughed.

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"Explain again what it is we're celebrating, Kedi."

With a broad smile, Kedi handed Avocato and Nikos each a large mug of the bitter red ale they drank here. They sat in a corner of the dining hall, by the windows overlooking the old village. Kedi was dressed as splendidly as he had been when he had visited the Cato estate for Catomar's wedding, in a long, pull-over tunic. The hem, sleeves, and collar were embroidered with traditional motifs, framed by narrow bands of frost lizard down. Dressed in the finest winter wear that Catowba's money could buy, Nikos and Avocato were positively drab by comparison.

"Here in the Far Reaches, when a young man or woman successfully bags certain predators and returns alive, they have earned the right to be called a hunter and wear a hunter's tunic." He gestured at his knee-length blue coat. "It's no easy feat, especially in winter, and some beasts gain you more prestige than others."

"Such as?" pressed Avocato.

Kedi considered. "Vorsk, fishen wolvens, butcher buzzarns."

"Which are . . . ?"

"Birds. Four meter wingspans. Vicious."

"Lovely."

"A rite of passage," concluded Nikos.

"Very much so. Not everybody cares to do it, and not everybody can, but those who do give us an excuse to eat and drink."

"We have something along those lines, though no hunting is involved. Not directly, anyway. In Vel Pitten, it's more a question of the elders reviewing and approving your work, and acknowledging you as an adult. For my father, it was woodworking. For my mother, it was her skill at traditional crafts."

"Like the pins?" asked Avocato.

"Exactly. It's an annual ceremony. Do you have anything like that, Cato?"

"Ventrex help me, but yes." Avocato made a face. "Being presented to the court when you turn fifteen. It's as awful and stuffy as it sounds. In the past it was to signify you were of age to be married. Today it's just pure ritual and boring food. All you have to do is show up and not disgrace yourself, your house, and a few hundred generations of your family reaching back to the dawn of time. Imagine standing around stiffly for hours in a hot room, wearing the finest clothes you'll never wear again, stuck with all the other obnoxious lordlings, waiting for your chance to bow to the king as your name and titles are called out. As if he hasn't known me all my life, or cares for anyone's titles. All the first heirs, then the second heirs, then the third, starting with the grand lords, then the arch lord, then the great lords . . . it certainly lets you know where you stand in the noble hierarchy."

Nikos and Kedi exchanged a look, trying not to laugh. "Such problems," teased Nikos.

"Lord Tabet caused a scandal by sneezing just as the king was about to speak. I don't think he's recovered even today. I was the tallest one in the room, and blue. Everyone was staring at me. It was awful."

"And yet, you survived."

"Somehow. Barely," he groused, though it was entirely for show.

"Drink your ale, Little Cato," Kedis said consolingly, patting him on the back. "There, there. The trauma will pass in time."

Avocato snorted softly into his mug.

"If it's any consolation, it hasn't happened to me yet," said Nikos. "I suppose graduating the royal academy might win me adulthood in the Answaar."

Insisted Kedi, "Only if you graduate with honors."

"You have higher standards than me, Cadet." Avocato saluted with his ale.

"Come!" Kedi slapped his knee and stood. "Time to feast!"

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"You could have told us," Avocato playfully complained.

"How could you not figure it out? Besides, it was fun to see your reactions."

It was well past midnight when they finally made it back to Kedi's room. It wasn't until they had reached the village square, and been hailed by all the hunters in the Far Reaches, that Nikos and Avocato realized they were the new hunters being celebrated. Lady Yvinka and Lord Kotikat had presented them with woolen tunics very similar to Kedi's, and in the same rich blue color of House Kotik. They had worn the tunics and spent the night dancing and eating and drinking around the huge bonfire in the center of the square, and they had told the story of facing the frost lizards over and over to rapt audiences. The plump and pretty girls had taught them traditional dances, endlessly giggling at how cute and tiny Nikos was compared to their brothers and amazed at Avocato's height.

Exhausted, they dropped onto the low beds piled with blankets and furs. Avocato spread the bottom of his long tunic across his knees to admire the rows of embroidered designs and narrow strips of frost lizard down decorating it.

"Ours is different from yours," he observed.

"Your story is different from mine," said Kedi. He sat beside Avocato and pointed out the geometric motifs as he explained. "Look, it says, A man and two boys from across the world set out in the heart of winter - that short blue line is you, Cato, since you're the youngest. Nikos is the cream-colored line."

"Ha!" crowed Nikos, pointing in not-quite-sober delight. "Taller than you!"

"There was a cloudy sky and coming storm. They sailed before the wind. A frost lizard barred their way. That's the lizard with its feathered ruff, and the sailers are these triangles. The youngest boy faced the frost lizard, killing it to defend his companions, but falling injured and poisoned. When it's inverted like that, it means it's been killed. That's you laying down in the jagged lines over you mean poison. The man and the boy were attacked by two more lizards, and defended their fallen companion as the storm struck. The two lizards were killed, when three more lizards came. Just as the fight began again, the man's family arrived and helped to drive the lizards off. A man and two boys set out in the heart of winter, and three men returned."

Avocato sat back with a smile, well satisfied with the story, with the day, the whole adventure. Each of them had been presented with the tanned hides and feathers from the lizards they had killed, and they had gifted the hide from the fourth lizard to their rescuers, and the feathers to the hospital - a generous and impressive gesture, but at the same time, a small price to pay not to have to explain to Catowba that his younger brother had been killed by a rampaging lizard.

He caught Nikos looking at him. Despite being tired and having drunk too much ale, it was the same sharp look his friend often favored him with, and Avocato braced for impact.

"You wore that same, smug smile earlier. What were you thinking before?" asked Nikos.

"The annual relay race at the academy," he admitted. "If we ran like that, we'd break every record in the academy's history."

They stared at him with equal amounts of astonishment and horror. The academy's annual relay race, which was based on an ancient historical event when messages were relayed on foot, was one of the oldest and most revered competitions they held. It was also the most prestigious. If they ran it on four feet, the scandal would create shockwaves. Finally Nikos managed to say,

"I can't believe you are suggesting that, Avocato!"

"I can't believe I like it," Kedi admitted.

"Don't encourage him," begged Nikos, knowing perfectly well he'd already lost this battle.