"How many creasia do you think we have in Leeshwood right now?"

"About fifteen hundred," said Arcove. "I counted them at the last Volontaro."

"I think it's closer to two thousand," said Roup. "Possibly more."

Arcove's eyes narrowed. "The dens you pa.s.sed-"

"Were too close together. At first, I thought the mothers might be related, or perhaps the males are friends like you and I, but the scents were wrong for that. I don't think those cats have any special fondness for each other; I think they're just crowded. Also, every one of those dens had at least fifteen cubs playing outside. That's more than any den should have if they're following your breeding restrictions."

Arcove drew a long breath. "Well...that does explain a lot." He thought for a moment. "I always said we would have this problem eventually. Overpopulation and starvation-the punishment for success."

"Good game management and breeding restrictions would have prevented it," said Roup.

"Most of the dens actually like the breeding restrictions," muttered Arcove. "Bitterleaf makes the females come into season faster...and they don't seem to object to being in season...or to not having a litter every two years. It's less work for the den to feed fewer mouths-"

Roup snorted. "I don't think it's about that. I think Treace wants...well, what Halvery said-the largest clutter in Leeshwood. Truth to tell, I think he already has it. I think he likely has twice as many adult males as any other clutter."

Arcove grew very still.

"I think the time to force Treace to do anything may have pa.s.sed," said Roup. "I'll tell you this much: if Halvery goes in there, he won't come out."

Arcove growled. "The Volontaros..."

"I know," said Roup, "we should get an accurate count during those storms, but not everyone runs for shelter, Arcove. The lowest ranking muddle through the storm down here in the forest. We did it once, remember?"

Arcove chuffed. "How could I ever forget?"

"I think Treace has been leaving his excess population behind to fool you. Some of them die, certainly, but not all. From what I saw, I suspect he's been working on this for several years."

Arcove scratched an ear. The fleas were particularly bad this summer. "Do you think the females would put up with that? I'm surprised I haven't heard from the dens about it."

Roup considered. "What do you know about Treace's alpha female? Iska? Is that her name?"

"Yes..." Arcove thought for a moment. "I've only met her once, but...now that you mention it...my chief impression was 'young and inexperienced.'"

Roup grimaced. "That's what I remember, too. It's a strange choice of alpha female for a ranking officer like Treace...unless..."

"Unless he doesn't want her to know any better," finished Arcove. His tail lashed. "I'll talk to Nadine. She'll know something if anyone does."

Roup inclined his head. Nadine had been alpha female to the two previous creasia kings. Arcove had won her along with the leadership of Leeshwood. Nadine was ten years Arcove's senior, and Roup suspected that she'd been more than a little disconcerted to find herself with a seven-year-old mate who knew far more about fighting than about females, dens, or cubs. All things considered, Nadine had been quite gracious. Her knowledge of the state and bloodlines of the various dens of Leeshwood was unparalleled.

"Do you think they've been poaching ferryshaft out of hunger?" asked Arcove. "Perhaps using the pit traps for the same reason?"

Roup looked unsatisfied. "Possibly."

"So what happened to Roup?" asked Halvery when Arcove came to visit him a few days later.

Arcove looked at him quizzically.

Halvery's short tail twitched. They'd met by the edge of the lake in the pleasant cool of evening. A deer had been killed a little distance away along the sh.o.r.e. The highest ranking members of the den had already fed, and now the lower ranking and juvenile cats were gathered round, occasionally snarling at each other or fighting over a choice morsel.

"Roup looked like something had chewed him up and spit him out by the time he dragged himself into my territory," continued Halvery. "I think he and Lyndi swam all the way back. Of course, he wouldn't tell me anything. Did he fight with Treace and Moro?"

Arcove considered. Don't make me regret this, Halvery. "No, he fell into a pit trap they'd dug."

Halvery looked surprised. "A pit trap?"

"Yes. He thinks that could be why they're catching does. Treace claimed that curbs set the trap. What do you think?"

Halvery flexed his claws against the muddy bank with a thoughtful expression. "We do see curbs here from time to time, especially along the edge of the lake. They're usually hunting mice and rabbits-not our level of game. I let them pa.s.s. I figure we're not at war, and I've never seen one take a cub. Occasionally, a loner tries to feed at one of our kills and gets himself a broken back for his trouble, but mostly we just ignore them." Halvery hesitated. "Would you prefer that we do otherwise?"

"No," said Arcove. "Do they set traps here?"

"Not often. I'd hunt them for that. I've only found curb traps in my territory a couple of times since the war. A pit...that's not even the kind of trap curbs set. It sounds more like something Moro would try-just to see whether it works. He's like that. I doubt he's setting them all over the wood, though. Roup was probably just unlucky."

"Moro threatened to kill him," said Arcove.

Halvery glanced up quickly. For all he did not like Roup, Halvery had no patience with insubordination. "Are you going to do anything?"

"I considered burying Moro in his own pit. There's a bigger issue here, though." Arcove told him Roup's suspicions about the size of Treace's clutter. "I talked to Nadine, and she confirmed that the dens in Treace's territory favor very young females. They don't mingle their blood very much with the other dens."

Halvery looked skeptical. "Arcove...do you really want to hear what I think?"

"Of course." Unless it's just more complaining about Roup.

"I know Roup doesn't like Treace," said Halvery, "but Roup doesn't like anyone other than you."

Arcove decided that a debate on this point would be unproductive.

"Roup does like ferryshaft," continued Halvery, "as a species, I mean. I don't know how else to say it. He positively likes the vicious little beasts, and he has always favored more lenient policies towards them." Arcove opened his mouth, but Halvery risked interrupting him. "And I know Roup is loyal. There's not a cat in Leeshwood who would get between you and danger faster than Roup, but he has this one quirk. Treace doesn't like ferryshaft. He has always favored more aggressive policies towards them. Roup looks at Treace and sees something more sinister than is warranted."

"He thinks Treace and Moro would have killed you," said Arcove quietly.

Halvery's ears flattened. "He must not think much of my ability to defend myself. Arcove, Treace can't take you or me in a fight. He knows this. Truthfully, I doubt he could take Roup, although Roup would get more respect if he demonstrated his abilities more often. I think Treace will eventually fight Sharmel, and he'll probably win. He'll stop there for a while. I don't think he's plotting to take over Leeshwood. I do think he's collecting a lot of rogues and possibly overpopulating, although not to the degree that Roup imagines. Treace has more power than he knows what to do with right now."

"And your dens? What kind of exchange goes on between them?"

Halvery snorted. "Well, the leftovers always trickle to the bottom, don't they? Until recently, Treace's territory was the bottom. No female in her right mind wants to go to the lowest ranking officer. When females decide to leave my territory, they try Sharmel's. Until recently, they would have tried Ariand's. Ghosts help them, they even try Roup's, although he hardly ever takes anyone...and if you're looking into inbred clutters, I suggest you start there."

Halvery saw Arcove's tail lash and spoke quickly. "It was a joke!"

Don't push your luck.

When Arcove said nothing, Halvery continued. "So, yes, the females who leave my territory for Treace's do tend to be inexperienced misfits. That doesn't mean they're unaware of the breeding restrictions. Only a few of his females are accepted into my dens because we can afford to be picky. My dens get excellent offers from Sharmel and Ariand's dens all the time."

Arcove decided that further dissection of this issue would be fruitless. "How often do Treace's cats move through your territory?"

Halvery flicked his ears. "We let them pa.s.s along a couple of common routes. It's the Ghost Wood, you know? Some cats just aren't happy unless they can make that trek to the Wood with part of a dead friend. I understand that. As long as they stay on those paths through my territory, I don't pay much attention to them."

He hesitated. "I still say we should extend our territory along the edge of Chelby Lake all the way to the Ghost Wood. It makes cats uncomfortable-not having that connection."

Arcove shook his ears. "Charder doesn't think the ferryshaft will survive without access to Chelby Lake in the summer. Most of the springs near the cliff dry up. They're already on the most game-poor stretch of plain."

"So let their territory overlap with ours," said Halvery. "What does it matter?"

Arcove snorted. "What does it matter if they see us outside the raiding season? Teaching two-year-old cubs to swim and setting up mouse circles?"

Halvery smiled. "Point taken."

"I don't want them anywhere near cubs," said Arcove. "The sooner they forget how easy it is to kill cubs, the better. The less we're seen outside the raiding season, the more they'll fear us."

"So you think the problem with Treace has been dealt with?" asked Halvery. "He's been warned, and whatever inappropriate hunting techniques he's been using will cease?"

"I'd like to think so," said Arcove.

"Roup should challenge Moro," said Halvery with a growl. "Only blood will solve that problem."

"Possibly." Arcove stood up. "Were you planning on talking to Treace yourself?"

Halvery made a grumbling noise. "You don't want me over there, do you?"

"No."

"You think Roup is right?"

"I have not yet decided what I think, but a warning has been given. Let us see how they respond." Arcove watched him. Don't make me regret it, Halvery. He decided to add incentive. "Roup didn't tell you because he thought you might go charging over there."

Halvery made a face. "Oh, that's precious. I don't know how I survive my daily activities without Roup to protect me. Of course, I will do as you ask, Arcove."

Chapter 10. A Conference Concluded.

"Did Arcove really win the war that night?" asked Storm.

"Truthfully...yes," said Keesha, "although Coden and the ferryshaft fought on for another season. I was hurt more badly than I'd realized-fighting with Arcove in my weakened state. First the bleeding wouldn't stop. Then the wounds festered. It took me half the summer to find my way out of the lake and back to Syriot. Most of the telshees thought I was dead."

"I never did," said Shaw, and Keesha smiled.

"When I did find my way home, I fell asleep in a healing pool. I was sick in body and spirit. Old friends were dead because they'd followed me. I drifted. I do remember that Coden came to visit me once."

"He visited several times," said Shaw. "He was happy to find you alive."

"He tried to give me back the Shable," continued Keesha, "but I wouldn't let him. I pointed out that Kuwee Island might be of use to them again that winter, when rivers cannot be dammed. He agreed, mostly, I think, to pacify me. I tried to ask him about the war, but he was vague. He seemed...sad...not himself. He wanted to talk of other sh.o.r.es. He wanted me to tell him stories of places he'd dreamed of visiting. I think he knew, then, that he would never see them."

Keesha's hum had become so sorrowful that Storm grew restless. He half-swam his way over to a loop of Keesha's great body and laid his head across the coa.r.s.e, white fur. Keesha seemed startled by this gesture. Then he smiled-a sad expression. "Ah, foal." He brought his body around in a loop that cradled Storm and brought him half out of the water. "You are not afraid of me? I, who could crush you in one breath or sing you to sleep forever?"

Storm laughed. "You, who sacrificed so much for my herd? Who still mourn them? Why should I be afraid of you?"

Keesha looked pleased by this answer. After a moment, he continued. "Coden and his party rejoined the ferryshaft who'd gone with Pathar. They fled over the cliffs, along the beach, and back to their caves on the southern plains. The war went poorly for them after that. Coden's mate was killed-a thing that must have broken him; he loved her so much.

"Coden died one night in fall-the night of that famous hunter's moon. The rains had come again. The rivers had risen, and I believe he was trying to reach Kuwee Island to see whether it might be used once more as a sanctuary for the desperate ferryshaft. The creasia had all-but trapped them in their caves. They were starving.

"Coden never reached Kuwee. The story goes that Arcove chased him and killed all of his companions. Coden fled and hid for three days before the creasia caught him. I dared to send a telshee pup into the rivers of Leeshwood, just to see if we could do anything. My spy did catch a glimpse of Coden crossing a river. He had the Shable with him at that time, which is why I'm surprised that you found it in Groth.

"Coden and Arcove fought on Turis-a high rock on the cliffs above Leeshwood that overhangs the sea. I'm told it was an impressive fight, but the outcome was certain. Shortly before that fight, Arcove killed Lirsy-Coden's only surviving foal-as Charder was trying to bring her to me for protection."

"Charder," muttered Storm. He'd made himself comfortable in the loop of Keesha's body. "He's the one who surrendered to Arcove...and agreed to his terms?"

"Yes," said Keesha. "Charder didn't have many choices by then. I don't think he can be blamed for what happened."

"You haven't seen those raids," muttered Storm.

"Tell him what happened after Roup talked to you," prompted Shaw. "Tell him about your...singing." She grinned.

So Storm told Keesha about his flight from Roup on the beach. He told him about his telshee song, which met with great amus.e.m.e.nt. He even told them how he ultimately escaped-a thing which he'd told no one else. He talked about his friends, his sister, his mother. He talked about that terrible evening when Arcove and all his officers had appeared and chased Storm out onto the plain-how he'd run all night through the dark and rain and had ultimately been trapped against Groth.

"It's often called the Ghost Wood," said Shaw quietly.

"Pathar took me there once when I was little," said Storm. "He said that those who drink from the plants dream the future, but that's not what I dreamed. I dreamed of a meadow and a wood where the dead played. And I saw Coden. He asked me whether I wanted to stay, and I said no, and then...somehow I followed him out into the real world. Everything hurt, and half the time I was seeing double. I couldn't walk straight. All I wanted to do was crawl back into one of those plants and go to sleep. But he kept calling me, and I followed him...and he led me to this old, withered plant with the Shable in it. Then the ely-ary grabbed me."

Keesha and Shaw looked at each other. Storm glanced between them. "Do you think he was real?"

Keesha didn't answer.

"Well, you found the Shable, didn't you?" offered Shaw. "I still wonder how it ended up there."

"Did he say...anything else?" asked Keesha.

Storm was tempted to invent something comforting, but couldn't bring himself to lie. "Not much. I can't remember very well. It's all jumbled together in my head."

"That's the Ghost Wood," said Shaw, "trying to make a ghost of you."

Storm looked at Keesha. "That's all I've known, Syra-lay. All winter-just running and hiding and trying to understand." He laughed. "And everyone trying to make a ghost of me. Even my own herd."