Narr-Souwa stroked his chin. “Honor has been satisfied. High Admiral Ress-Chiuu made a decision and issued orders that proved disastrous. It cost us a warship's whole complement. Worse, it let that ship fall into the hands of the humans. Their naval intelligence has surely been dissecting it ever since. When condemned, Ress-Chiuu went boldly into the Patriarchal Arena and acquitted himself well against the beasts. It was good sport.”

Ghrul-Captain drew breath. “So their spokesmales have graciously informed his kin. But, sire—my lord will understand that we want to make full redemption.”

Narr-Souwa's eyes narrowed a bit. “And thus regain his holdings, as well as the prestige,” he said shrewdly. “The database has told me that you would inherit his estate in the Hrungn Valley.”

For an instant the memory and the yearning stabbed Ghrul-Captain, lands broad beneath the Mooncatcher Mountains, castle raised in olden days when kzin fought kzin hand-to-hand, graves of his forebears, a wilderness to rove in freedom. He curbed himself. “My lord is wise. But I wish yet more to win back the trust, the favor, that raises to leadership.”

He had kept the title to his half-name, but been relieved of command over the Venomous Fang that had been his. Small she was, but swift, agile, deadly. Ah-hai, the beautiful guns and missiles, the standing among his peers and over his crew, the tautness of close maneuver, and space, space, the stars for a hunting ground! “More than life do I want to take a real part in the next war,” and gain repute, a whole name, the right to breed.

Narr-Souwa folded his ears a bit, unfolded them again and murmured, “So you expect a second war with the humans?”

“Doesn't everyone, sire?”

Contempt spat. “They hope otherwise. Most of them.”

Ghrul-Captain deemed it best to wait.