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each to show the people they met that these cats were under her protection. She hoped she wouldn't run
into anyone as thick as the denizens of Cabbage Town.
"Come along," she said to the cats, setting a light pace once she was out of sight of the town. "We've got
a long way to go, and I've always found a story helps to pass the time. Now, let me tell you about the
siege of Valorin . . ."
The kittens against her chest purred their approval.
Of Mice and Chicks
Harry Turtledove
It is a wide country, and a steep one, and how it can be both those things at once no one is quite certain,
but nonetheless no one doubts that it is. There are rivers in the valleys and castles atop the hills; here,
everybody would be surprised if this were reversed, but it is not, and so nobody is. Some of the rivers
have fish in them and brush growing along their banks. None of the castles has fish in it, save only when
the fish is smoked or salted. Nor do the castles have brush around them, because otherwise the serfs
might have time on their hands, and it just doesn't wash off.
* * *
At this point, the narrative goes, uh, went from present to past tense. Gods knew, uh, know why.
* * *
"Tell me about the rabbits again, Georgia," Lani said.
"Aw, for cryin' out loud." Georgia was a short, compact woman with a scar on her cheek who wore her
mail shirt as if she'd been born with it for skin. Her face was tanned and weathered, her eyes narrow and
shrewd. She looked over at Lani with affectionate annoyance. "I done told you about 'em a million times
already."
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"Tell me again. You know how I forget things." Lani paused. "Tell me again. You know how I forget
things." She was twice Georgia's size, four times Georgia's strength, and had not a brain concealed
anywhere about her person. Other things, yes, but brains? Afraid not; they must have been plumb out
that day. "Tell me again. You know how I "
"For gods' sake, how can you forget about gods-damned rabbits?" Georgia broke in. "You're riding
one, you miserable dummy!"
"Well, yeah." Lani reached out a large, callused hand to pat Thumper between his fine, upstanding ears.
Thumper was about the size of a horse, but since they didn't have horses in that world the comparison
makes more sense to you than it would have to Lani and Georgia. Nobody, but nobody not even
Lani would have thought about carrying a rabbit's foot around there. Trust me on that one. Lani went
on, "Tell me how we're gonna raise 'em, Georgia."
"Oh, all right. Maybe it'll shut you up." Georgia lolloped along on Clumper, a war bunny much like
Thumper except for an ear with a bend in it. Once upon a time, Thumper had been called Floppy, but
then everything went to CD-ROMs and DVDs. "We're gonna get us a stake I reckon six hundred
pieces o' silver'll do it. We're gonna get us a stake, and we're gonna buy us a farm, and we're gonna raise
rabbits to sell to other knights instead of goin' off to war ourselves. We're gonna raise 'em, and they're
gonna breed "
"They're gonna breed like bunnies! Like bunnies, Georgia!" Lani clapped her hands with excitement.
"Yeah. Like bunnies." When Georgia promised Lani's old Uncle Hugo she'd help take care of her after
he kicked off, she hadn't known just how much fun it would be. Every day brought a new lesson. If
Uncle Hugo hadn't dropped dead, she would've killed him. As things were, she pointed toward the castle
on the hill. "Come on. That's where we're going."
"Where we're going to raise the rabbits?"
"No. Gods, but you're an idiot. We've got to fight for Baron Howard. That's the guy the castle belongs
to. With what we get paid and whatever loot we grab on the field, we ought to have enough to buy us a
bunny ranch. Have you got that through your thick head?"
"I sure have, Georgia," Lani said. Georgia doubted it, but Lani went on, "First we fight, then we get the
rabbits. Did I say it right?"
"You said it right," Georgia admitted wearily. "But when we get up there, you keep your big mouth shut,
you hear? I'll do the talking for both of us. Have you gotthat?"
"Yeah," Lani said, and then, "Tell me about the rabbits, Georgia." Georgia clanged the visor down on her
helmet.
* * *
Baron Howard's castle was like most of the ones in that part of the country: gray stone, foursquare,
towered at each corner of the outwall, with a moat full of waterweeds around it that stank to high heaven.
Given the castle's sanitary arrangements, such as they were, the stench was hardly surprising.
After the portcullis went up and the drawbridge came down, Georgia and Lani's rabbits hopped into the
courtyard. Baron Howard's son, a handsome almost pretty young man in fancy parade armor, came
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out of the keep and met the mercenaries there. "I'm Curls," he declared. "What can you girls do?"
Georgia gave her name. Then she said, "Lance, sword, bow you want it dead, I'll make it dead for
you."
Curls rounded on Lani. "How about you, sister?"
Lani didn't say anything. Quickly, Georgia did: "She's good with the same weapons I am."
"Well, how come she doesn't talk for herself?" the baron's son demanded.
"She ain't real bright," Georgia said, which would do for an understatement till a bigger one came
hopping out of the old briar patch. "She ain't bright, but she'll kill anybody you reckon needs killing. Point
her at 'em, turn her loose, and get the devils out of the way."
"Well, she'll have her chance." Curls strode off, clattering.
"Ooh, Georgia, he's cute," Lani breathed. "Can we keep him instead of the bunnies?" Her taste in men
was as bad as it was in everything else: it would have had to improve to make it catastrophic, in other
words. Georgia knew a cold-hearted serpent when she saw one. That he was a baron's son only made
things worse; it turned him into a spoiled, cold-hearted serpent.
"Let's get the rabbits into the hutch," she said. "After that, I'd like to dump you in the bunny trough to get
the heat out of your britches." Lani laughed, for all the world as if Georgia had been joking. She wished
to the gods she were.
Once Georgia saw the rostler knew what she was doing and the hutch hands were reliable, she left
Thumper and Clumper with them without too many regrets. Then, carrying their weapons and their few
personal belongings, she and Lani went to get settled. The top sergeant was a weathered veteran people
seemed to call Slim Jim. He was more to Georgia's taste than the baron's son; she had no interest in
handsome beef if it was jerky, too.
Slim Jim led her and Lani to the women's dorm and pointed out a couple of empty straw pallets on the
slate floor. Some of the other women warriors greeted them as they set down their gear. Slim Jim was
just leaving when another woman came to the doorway and said, "Anybody seen Curls? I've been
looking for him."
She was no warrior. She didn't fight. People fought over her. She knew it, too, knew it and reveled in it.
Her dress, such as it was, clung to every curve. She wore enough perfume for a portside joyhouse the
day the war galleys came in. Not even Slim Jim was immune to her. That disappointed Georgia without
much surprising her. The sergeant said, "You weren't lookin' real hard, were you? He just went back to
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