                        A GIFT OF FIRE, A GIFT OF BLOOD

                            A novella in four parts
                                by Watts Martin

                      Copyright (c) 1990,1991 Watts Martin
                              All Rights Reserved


                          -=:(* ABOUT THIS FILE *):=-

     "A Gift of Fire, a Gift of Blood"  originally  appeared  in  the  fanzine
  YARF!, running from issues five through eight. The original version featured
  seven illustrations (four full-page) by Zjonni Perchalski. Those back issues
  are still available (the cover price is $3 apiece except for #6, which has a
  price  of  $4,  but  the  reprint price may have increased); contact them at
  YARF!, P.O. Box 1200, Cupertino, CA 95015-1200 for more information.
     While I was generally happy with the published version of  "Gift,"  there
  were  a  few changes the editors made I didn't agree with (or find out about
  until it was printed -- although in  fairness,  I  readily  admit  they  are
  sufficiently  small that it might take me days to find them again now). More
  importantly, there are differences in the way  I  would  have  handled  some
  things if I was writing the story now than I did a year ago.
     If you have read the original version, you can rest assured that there is
  no  change  in  the plot, either development or outcome; some of the details
  have  been  refined.  When  a  publisher  friend  and  I  talked  about  the
  possibility  of  producing  a  "collected  limited"  edition  featuring  the
  original story and one or two others featuring the same characters (bringing
  the total volume up to novel length), I knew I would want to rewrite "Gift."
  Although the collected volume is still in the planning stages, what you have
  in your hands (or on your screen)  is  the  first  draft  of  the  rewritten
  version.
     I  am aware that any time a new version of something is produced, whether
  it is a piece of computer software, an album whose artist chose to remix  it
  for  CD release, or a story whose author wasn't satisfied with it even after
  publication, there is a strong likelihood that  some  people  somewhere  are
  going  to  prefer  the first version. If you have read the first version and
  don't like the changes, I apologize--but I still stand  by  my  belief  that
  this  rewrite  makes "A Gift of Fire, A Gift of Blood" a stronger tale. If a
  character comes across differently, it is because I have learned more  about
  him  or her; if some dialogue, even some of your favorite, is changed, it is
  because I feel the first lines were not as  true  to  the  speaker  as  they
  should  have been. With me it is not a case of "it's my story, so there"--in
  some way, I don't think this is my story at all. It  is  Mika's  story,  and
  also  Dahlu's  story, Jack's story, and Revar's story. Since I believe I can
  now tell their story more effectively, it would be  a  grave  disservice  to
  them not to have tried.
     The  files are formatted for printers that respond correctly to CR and LF
  codes, i.e., a carriage return alone will overprint the last line instead of
  advancing the paper without the linefeed. This is how the word  processor  I
  used  underlines passages in ASCII files. The format also assumes a standard
  66-line/page printer. Be forewarned that the  entire  story  runs  53  pages
  (26,700 words, in case you're interested).
     This  is  effectively  being distributed as "freeware" over Internet. All
  the considerations that would apply to copyrighted software  are  in  effect
  here,  which  means  you  are violating my copyright if you sell this in any
  form. This includes (in fact, it ESPECIALLY includes) selling printed copies
  (or photocopies) that you have made. I also ask that you do not redistribute
  this to any other information service, network or bulletin board, or make it
  available from any other place in Internet than the "furry ftp".
     The sequel to "A Gift of Fire," entitled "The Lighthouse," will begin  in
  YARF  #15  and  run  for  four issues, again with art (including a cover) by
  Zjonni. Write to them at the above address for more information.
     If you have any comments about the story, please send them to Jimmy  Chin
  on  Internet  at  "jc@cis.ufl.edu". Or better yet, send them directly to me:
  Watts Martin, 33515 Westwood Drive, Ridge Manor, FL 33525.

  July 27, 1991





                                      Copyright (c) 1990, 1991 Watts Martin
                                                        All Rights Reserved






                        A GIFT OF FIRE, A GIFT OF BLOOD
                                  Watts Martin






     Twelve o'clock.
     Along the reaches of the street
     Held in a lunar synthesis,
     Whispering lunar incantations
     Dissolve the floors of memory
     And all its clear relations,
     Its divisions and precisions.

     (from "Rhapsody on a Windy Night," by T.S. Eliot)



     1.
           Mika Radgers hadn't wanted to get the little weasel killed.  He
     had just wanted to lose him.
           It wasn't that Jesse didn't deserve being put away.  The cat
     simply wasn't the type to wish someone dead.  He knew he shouldn't
     have gone into the bar at all, not looking the way he did.  Not at
     this time of night.  But he had had just enough stupid pride to keep
     him from closing the door and hightailing it back to safety.
           Mika recognized Jesse dimly, an acquaintance of an acquaintance
     of someone he didn't normally associate with.  They had never met;
     Jesse was someone he had been warned about.  If Jesse recognized Mika,
     it was only as a potential target.  And if the weasel were guilty of
     only half what he had been accused of, he certainly wouldn't balk at a
     simple mugging.
           The young tabby had gone down the alley because he thought it
     would head toward familiar parts, and because he knew there were
     almost no dead ends in Old City.  It was one of the place's perverse
     attractions.  Unfortunately, when the alley opened up into an
     abandoned lot fenced in by decaying buildings, he couldn't tell which
     of the dozen alleys leading away would take him where he needed to
     get.  If any would.  He paused under an old streetlamp, perhaps placed
     here long ago to stand watch over a brighter, well-travelled path. 
     Now it cast its light over feathery cobwebs and dust.
           The cat's hesitation gave the weasel enough time to close. 
     Jesse wasn't much the speaking type; he just pulled out a long, thin
     switchblade, flicked it open and advanced.
           "I don't have anything you'd want," Mika forced out, backing
     away.  His assailant just grinned, stepping closer--and then stopped,






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 1 /  2



     lowering the blade slightly.  He looked around, as if realizing where
     he was for the first time, and his dark eyes showed a trace of fear.
           Mika whirled around, his own fear lurching into panic.  Jesse
     surely hadn't decided the unarmed cat was a dangerous target; the
     tabby didn't want to learn just what he did consider dangerous.  Jesse
     looked in the direction Mika was facing--toward the roof of an old
     slaughterhouse--and in that moment the cat broke for the nearest
     alley.
           "Hey!" he heard from behind, followed by quickly moving feet. 
     He ran faster.  "HEY!" the weasel snarled again.  The footsteps became
     the clatter of running.
           Then they stopped with a loud whap! and a hiss that made Mika's                                         _____                            
                                                                          
     fur stand up all across his body.
           Jesse screamed.  Once.
           Mika thought briefly about turning around, then thought better
     of it.  Then he turned around anyway.
           A shadow took up most of the alley where Jesse had been.  The
     cat blinked, and it resolved into a dark shape rising to its feet,
     folding blackness around itself.  Jesse lay against the wall, his
     switchblade buried in his neck.  The shape had a hand to the blood
     flowing freely from the wound.  As Mika watched, it raised its finger
     to its head.  Then it turned slightly, and he got the impression it
     was looking directly at him.  "Oh, fuck," he breathed, backing away,                                        _____                            
                                                                         
     then sprinting down the alley twice as fast as before.
           He didn't hear anything more until he sprinted into a cross
     alley and realized he was about to hit something.  He slowed and
     ducked, but the something moved down to catch him.  He identified it
     as a hand just as it grabbed his face, pushing down with a force great
     enough to slam him to his knees.  Another hand moved around the back
     of his head and pulled down his mane, twisting its claws into the fur
     and yanking his head back further.  As he struggled for balance, the
     first hand moved away, and he was staring at stars.  Then he was
     staring at a face.
           He had never expected to see a bat, at least not this close. 
     They moved through society without being a part of it, tolerated
     without being liked, dogged by stories that contained more outrageous
     superstition than concrete truth--so said enlightened members of
     society.  None of these enlightened members, Mika realized, had ever
     come face to face with one.
           Its fur was short and reddish-black, its face foxlike with high
     cheekbones, huge fennec ears and a surprisingly delicate nose.  Its
     long eyelashes and general cast suggested it was female; it would have
     been pretty but for the long, thin fangs, gleaming in the moonlight,
     and the unreadable, solid ebony eyes.
           The hand that had first grabbed him rested itself against his
     throat.  It was slim but strong-looking, tipped with frighteningly
     long curved claws that pressed into the skin beneath.  He felt the
     weight of the wing, sweeping back from the wrist, sliding against his
     chest.  "What were you doing with him?" the bat asked softly.  Her
     quite female voice was low, pitched in a way Mika usually found
     attractive.  Now he barely noticed.
           "Uh--"  It occured to him that to kill him, all she would have
     to do was merely sink those claws right through his neck.  He tried to
     pull away, starting to hyperventilate.
           Her grip tightened painfully.  "You were one of his friends?" 
     Her voice remained quiet, but she didn't close her mouth as she






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 1 /  3



     finished, instead running her tongue across her lower fangs.
           "No!" he said, gasping and struggling wildly in her claws.
           "He was trying to mug you."
           He nodded frantically.
           "I thought so," she said, sounding grimly satisfied.  She
     released him and straightened up; he fell to the ground, backing away,
     then rose slowly, trembling.
           She stood at five feet, some six inches shorter than he was; her
     wings, each one longer than her body, were supported by fingerlike
     bones longer than her arm.  They were closed now, black folds held
     against her forearms.  She was slim and well-formed, wearing the
     barest wisp of clothes that highlighted her shape--a tight, strapless
     top and pants barely larger than underwear.  Maybe the less you had on
     when flying, the better off you were.  Or maybe she was just an
     exhibitionist; not many would have the nerve to complain to her.
           If she had been a fox, he would find her attractive, but Mika
     would not realize that until many hours after the encounter ended.  At
     that moment, all he could picture was how he would feel seeing her
     swooping down on him from the sky like an eagle after a field mouse. 
     She wouldn't have to kill him when she landed; he would have already
     died from heart failure.
           "If you've lied to me to save your neck," she said, flexing her
     wings slightly, "then when I get a chance I will remove it from you,
     as slowly and painfully as possible.  Do you understand that?"
           He nodded, not trusting himself to speak without a whimper.
           She looked him over slowly with her black mirror eyes, studying
     his too-clean, neat clothes, his precisely trimmed fur.  When they met
     his own again, he thought they registered humor.  "You came to this
     part of town for a lark, didn't you?  You don't have any excitement in
     your nice, middle-class life, and came looking for some.  Is this the
     first time you've done this, or just the first time you've found it?"
           Mika didn't answer.  She laughed; the sound was an eerie hiss
     that would have made him jump if he hadn't been focusing his entire
     attention on not bolting.  "What's your name, little cat?"
           He looked at her, paralyzed.  She smiled unnervingly and stepped
     closer.  "I asked you a question."
           "Mika," he blurted.
           The bat laughed again and ran a claw along his chin.  He
     couldn't keep from flinching, which only amused her further.  "When
     you leave here, Mika, try to keep yourself from running away
     screaming," she said softly.  "No one likes cowards.
           "And if you're looking for a little excitement, stay away from
     people like that weasel.  He used to kill people for being in the
     wrong place at the wrong time; I've just returned the favor.  Feeding
     me tonight might be the first good he's ever done for someone else."
           "You're going to...."  Mika stared, shuddering.
           She turned toward the alley, where Jesse's body was still
     visible as a dark lump against one wall.  "Vampire bats live on blood,
     kitten."  She turned back to face him, a mocking smile playing across
     her lips.  "Surely you don't expect me to let him go to waste?"
           Mika didn't stay any longer.  He did manage to keep from running
     away screaming.  But when he got home he spent the hours until sunrise
     sitting on the floor in the corner, staring at a point just to one
     side of the door and trembling.
                                       #
           Dahlu never threw bad parties.  This one hadn't been an






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 1 /  4



     exception to the rule; in fact, it was better than most, still going
     strong hours after midnight.  Mika often spent the night with her
     after a party was over, but as the evening had worn on he became more
     morose, increasingly impatient with each new conversation someone
     tried to start, each drinking game that proved a source of endless
     fascination for the others.  Dahlu had, as usual, gotten smashingly
     drunk.  She only permitted herself to do so at her own parties,
     something that had never struck Mika as odd until now.
           He knew that his pretty, fluffy white lover wasn't sorry to see
     him leave.  In her eyes, he hadn't been much fun since he had started
     wandering around the docks, and had been positively morose since his
     return from the last one.  She had never liked the idea of these
     trips, telling him--correctly, he supposed--that aimless wandering was
     far too dangerous to be a hobby.
           Mika walked briskly away from Dalhu's mansion-like
     home--actually her parents' house.  They seemed to have effectively
     moved out when she turned seventeen two years ago, travelling around
     the whole of the Ranean Empire occasionally sending postcards.  In the
     two years he had known Dahlu, had she ever just walked for the sake of
     walking?  He couldn't recall it.
           Of course, he hadn't walked like this until recently.  When
     Dahlu asked him why he had started, he couldn't tell her; that only
     maddened her further.  But he wasn't being secretive.  He didn't know
     himself.  He briefly contemplated going back to the docks, but instead
     chose to return to his apartment.  The waterfront had become his
     favorite area--despite the dangerous characters who inhabited the
     docks, especially at night, there was something... inspiring about the
     salt air, the moon over the water.  But he was not a courageous cat. 
     Since meeting the bat a week ago, he hadn't been able to bring himself
     to return there.
           He lived on the cheapest outskirts of the Northwestern district,
     the most popular neighborhood for young, starving artists in search of
     themselves.  The flat wasn't really his--or it didn't feel like it. 
     It had been purchased by his parents for him when he left home.  They
     had helped choose it, furnish it, and secure the job he still held. 
     When he was in a dark mood he suspected they had helped set up his
     relationship with Dahlu ("she's such a nice girl, so charming--").
           Instead of going to sleep he pulled up a chair to the one large
     window and gazed out at the waning moon.  The docks were the opposite
     of everything his life was supposed to be.  They were the place
     respectable people--like him--didn't go.  The place where people like
     Jesse lived out their lives.
           And, sometimes, where they died.
           Mika had learned a little about bats in the last week, all from
     books.  Society, at least here in Rionar, had no "respectable" bats;
     few people could get used to being around a race that required warm,
     fresh blood to survive.  Most of them tended to be loners, and were
     often outlaws.  Very few lived in cities, being aware of the
     reputation they had.  They only had to drink blood once or twice a
     week, but they took a lot from a victim, always leaving them
     weak--often in need of medical attention.  A starving bat could drain
     enough to kill someone their own size.  Most bats had given up trying
     to be part of "conventional" society, and some were said to enjoy the
     reputation they had as coldhearted killers--though few of them really
     were.
           Had he found one that was?  He didn't think so--but a killer,






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 1 /  5



     most certainly....  He thought about what Dahlu would say if she
     realized he was contemplating heading back to the docks.  She would
     have been right.
           Mika fell asleep in the chair, face still turned toward the
     moon.
           The docks were far different in daylight.  Respectable people
     still didn't go down to the waterfront for pleasure, but Mika knew
     they were missing something unique.  Not the smells of salt and fish,
     the sights of weathered buildings and seedy dockworkers, but a
     special, needed experience in life.
           Ted's Bar was quiet in the afternoon.  The few people in the
     place sat around the bar and at tables, drinking beer and eating
     sandwiches and talking in what they considered quiet tones.
           The bartender brought him his order, taking his money with an
     affable grunt.  As he walked past a second time, heading toward
     another customer, Mika hurriedly swallowed the bite of tasteless
     sandwich he was chewing on.  "Wait," he said.  The human, who looked
     like the archetypal pirate right down to the bandanna and eyepatch,
     stopped and turned toward him impatiently.  "Uh, are there any bats
     who come in here?"
           "Yes," the man said after a moment, continuing toward the other
     customer before Mika spoke again.  The next time he walked by, though,
     he stopped and folded his arms on the counter in front of the cat. 
     "You lookin' for a particular bat, or you just wanna tangle wit'
     someone who got leather wings?"
           "I don't know," Mika said, irritated.  "The last time I was here
     I saw a bat, and I was wondering if you... knew her name or where she
     was.  I don't know if...."
           "Right," the man grunted again.  "You see her in here?"
           "No.  But this is about the only decent place to get a beer at
     the docks."
           The man smiled for an instant, showing yellowed teeth.  "I don't
     think she care about decent," he said. Then he frowned, his features
     trying unsuccessfully to register thoughtfulness.  "You talkin' 'bout
     a kind of pretty bat, right? For a furry."
           "I don't know if she's pretty, exactly...."  Mika stared down at
     his mug, suddenly wondering why he had brought the subject up.
           "Yeah, brown fur, wit' a thick stripe of hair 'tween her ears,
     right?  Gives the feelin' she would just casual bite out your spleen
     if you piss her off?"
           "That's her."
           He laughed.  "Then you right, you don't know.  She don't make
     friends, boy, if that's what you look for."
           "That's not true," a voice said close by.  Mika jumped and
     turned to see a short, slightly plump fox standing nearby.  She
     appeared to be about ten years older than he was, with a puggy,
     unattractive muzzle but good-humored eyes.  "Revar don't make friends
     easy, but she makes them.  Why you lookin' for her?"     ____                                                
                                                         
           Mika gulped slightly.  "I guess after... meeting her, I was just
     perversely curious.  That's all."  He scooped up his sandwich and
     stood up quickly.
           "What's your name?"
           He looked at the fox, considering.  "It doesn't really matter."
     He quickly left, ignoring her puzzled look.
           He spent the rest of the day sitting on the edge of a dock,
     watching the ships and the tide, and, as the hours passed, the sun






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 1 /  6



     oozing into the sea.
                                       #
           It wasn't Dahlu's fault that she didn't understand, he knew; she
     was certainly trying.  When she asked Mika where he had been--a
     reasonable question, considering he had been gone all day and smelled
     faintly of salt and beer--he had told her.  This had been, he now
     decided, a mistake.  "You still haven't said why you wanted to talk
     with her again at all," she snapped.
           "She saved my life," he said, knowing it wasn't the reason.
           "If you hadn't been down there in the first place she wouldn't
     have had to.  And what if you hadn't convinced her you weren't friends
     with that weasel?"
           It was a question he had asked himself many times, and he didn't
     like the answers he kept coming up with.  "Well, I did."
           "That's not an answer."  Dahlu crossed over to the couch Mika
     sat on and slid up against him.  "When you go places like that, it
     worries me."
           Mika didn't respond to her attempt at cuddling, instead pulling
     himself forward, hands clasped in his lap.  "I don't see why. 
     Especially during daylight."
           "Well, it just does," she said, her voice rising slightly.  Her
     tail flicked once; Mika sighed and stared resolutely at the carpet. 
     The next time they fought, he knew she would use this evening as an
     example of what she called Mika's "muteness," an unwillingness to
     share private thoughts.  She was no less guilty of it than he was, but
     she had a talent for making him feel like he was solely responsible
     for any problem between them.
           "I can't tell what you're thinking when you get like this," she
     said suddenly.  Mika flinched.
           "I'm sorry," he said.  She pulled herself a little closer to
     him, and he put his arm around her, stroking her leg gently. 
     Beginning to purr, she rested her head on his shoulder; he fought the
     urge to pull away again, and continuing petting absently.
           She nuzzled the side of his neck and traced his leg with two
     fingers, moving to his inner thigh and caressing in response to his
     own strokes.  Mika was aroused in spite of his mood.  Returning her
     nuzzles, he slid his hand down her back, loosening her blouse and
     running his claws through the fur at the base of her spine.
           Dahlu moved onto his lap, entwining her legs with his own, and
     they embraced, hips together.  In short order they had stretched out
     prone on the couch, their clothes managing to come off in the process,
     and their embrace became complete.
           Two hours later, Dahlu was asleep and Mika was standing outside
     her door, bathed in moonlight.  The lovemaking had seemed to make her
     forget the "muteness"--or perhaps it was her solution to it.  If she
     could not comfort with words, she could use her body, pushing out
     stressful emotions with physical pleasure.
           When they said goodnight, she told him he was happier than when
     he had come over.  She certainly was.  But standing in the cool night
     air, he felt curiously empty.
           The streets in Dahlu's neighborhood were almost deserted,
     although it was only a few minutes after midnight.  As he walked
     closer toward the city and his own flat, rooted in a low apartment
     building just inside the official town boundaries, Mika passed only a
     handful of people, mostly tall, lanky humans.  None spared him a
     second glance.






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 1 /  7



           His lock rattled loudly as the tumblers turned, letting the door
     swing open on the larget of the two rooms in the apartment.  Really,
     it was just one room; the wall separating the bedroom from the
     den/kitchen ended an arm's length below the ceiling, and was barely
     strong enough to support the two unframed posters held to it by
     tacks.  The quarters were described by the building's owners as
     "cozy," a word Mika translated as "small and badly lit," but it was
     comfortable enough for one person.  Dahlu still talked occasionally of
     moving in with him, of going out on her own, but he knew she was no
     more likely to move in with him than her parents were likely to let
     him move in with their daughter.
           He locked the door behind him, took off his shoes and padded
     across the shaggy carpet to the kitchen, produced a handful of cookies
     from a shelf and started a pot of coffee.  You_still_haven't_said_why                                                __________________________
                                                                          
     you_wanted_to_talk_with_her_again_at_all.  Dammit, I don't know.      _________________________________________                        
                                                                      
     That's_not_an_answer.  No, it isn't, is it?     _____________________                      
                                                
           A soft, slightly hesitant rap came at the door, characteristic
     of Dahlu.  Even the way she knocks on doors is consciously cute, Mika
     thought wryly.  He started to say, "Coming--" but stopped himself.  He
     turned back to the coffee pot and watched its brew cycle intently,
     hoping that he'd either be able to collect his thoughts for her or she
     would assume he stopped somewhere on his way back and wasn't home.
           The knock came again, still hesitant, a little louder.  "I'm not
     really sure I want to talk to you," he said under his breath, crossing
     halfway to the door.
           The third time the rap was sharp and unexpectedly violent,
     accompanied by a growled "Wake up, furball!"
           Mika sucked in his breath and quickly opened the door.  The bat
     stood there, looking somewhat amused.  He gasped--which seemed to
     amuse her more--and stepped back.
           "You were looking for me," she said flatly, the light in the
     room reflecting eerily off her solid eyes.
           He swallowed, trying to find his voice again.  "How...."
           "How did I find you?  I've been following you since sunset. 
     You've been so busy looking down that you never looked up."  She
     looked behind him into the apartment.  "Nice place.  Not nearly as
     pretty as where your girl lives.  She's pretty, too.  Too bad she's a
     pastahead."
           "What do you want?"
           "What do I want?" She laughed.  "If it wasn't for you going                    _                                                 
                                                                      
     around asking for me today, we'd probably have never met again. 
     Hasn't anyone ever told you to be careful what you wish for?"  She
     leaned one hand against the doorframe.  "Am I going to keep standing
     outside?"
           He hesitated in front of her, wondering if he really wanted to
     let her in.
           "If you're worried I'm going to kill you, I could do it from
     here without straining myself," she said levelly.  "And if I'm just
     planning to do it later this evening, there's little you can do about
     it.  It might as well be in the comfort of your own home."  She
     stepped inside; after a heartbeat's pause, Mika locked the door behind
     her.
           She crossed to one of the two beanbag chairs and carefully
     stretched into it, holding her wings up and slightly open until she
     was settled, then folding them around her like a cloak.  Her bright
     black eyes remained on Mika, who sat down on the floor across from






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 1 /  8



     her, his back against the wall.  "You draw?" she asked.
           He looked around, confused, before he realized she was looking
     past him at an open sketchbook on his drawing table, the half-finished
     picture of a boat coming into the docks clearly visible from her
     position.  He nodded.
           "You're good."  She studied the drawing a moment longer before
     turning to him.  "So why did you want to talk to me?"                              ___                         
                                                          
           Mika stared at her for a moment, then looked away.  She was more
     than a head shorter than he was, but he was fighting the feeling of
     talking to a giantess who would reach down and crush him into pulp if
     he said the wrong thing.  "That's what Dahlu asked, too.  I...."  He
     looked back at her; her mirror eyes still seemed to be focused on his
     face.  Or_maybe_your_neck.  He coughed.  "I didn't thank you for            ___________________                                      
                                                                     
     saving me."
           She snorted.  "I saved your wallet.  And you know as well as I
     do that it was incidental to killing Jesse."
           "You didn't have to kill him," he suddenly said.
           "No, I didn't."  She folded her arms across her chest, seeming
     to unconsciously rearrange her wings as she moved, and leaned back in
     the beanbag.  "I wanted to."  Then she sat up slightly.  "Are you
     making coffee?"
           "Uh?  Yes."  He stood up and went over to the coffee pot;
     walking in a straight line seemed to require a lot more concentration
     than it should.  What had the fox said her name was?  Revar.  He
     poured a mug for himself and looked back at the bat; her enigmatic
     eyes were still locked on him.  He poured another mug, and she smiled,
     this time not showing any more of her fearsome teeth than necessary.
           When he handed her the mug, she immediately took a swallow, then
     nodded appreciatively.  "You want to know why I killed him?"
           Mika froze for an instant, then shook himself.  "No."
           "Then what?  I surely haven't given you any reason to like me,
     Mika.  In fact, I think I scare the hell out of you."
           He stiffened, staring at her, then looked down.  "Yes, I suppose
     you do.  I mean--God, you stabbed him in the throat."
           She held up a hand, her wing rustling against the beanbag.  "I
     could have ripped it out with my claws.  Or held him down and bit it
     out.  Killing isn't pretty."
           "I know bats don't have to kill for blood."
           "But we have to take it from living creatures."  She took
     another sip of coffee.  "In a city, sapients are the best prey.  And
     even if we do kill someone like Jesse, who'll mourn for his loss?"
           "If--if you didn't have to kill him--"
           "I told you, I wanted to.  I don't know how much you knew about
     that weasel; he had two other friends who ran an extortion racket for
     him.  Very small, very unprofessional, and very nasty.
           "Not too long ago, I wasn't the only bat on the waterfront. 
     People there look the other way if you nab a derelict, as long as he
     wakes up the next morning.  A few months ago, a friend of mine had
     found one--you know, you're looking distinctly ill."
           "I don't like blood," Mika said.
           She laughed, then looked contemplatively at the cup.  "She was
     one of the few bats I knew who could feed on someone without waking
     them up.  But this time she got someone that Jesse and his pals wanted
     to beat up first.  They didn't like the fact that he was too weak
     after being fed on to be properly terrorized.
           "So they took it out on her with brass pipes.  After she got out






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 1 /  9



     of the hospital, she ran away."  Revar sighed.  "I'll never see her
     again.  And she'll probably never fly again.  Without wings a bat is
     good as dead.  She's just a target for people like you."
           "You killed the other two?"
           She nodded slowly; Mika shuddered again, then looked at her
     sharply.  "What do you mean, 'people like me?'"
           "If I was caught in a neighborhood like your pretty girl's, I'd
     be in jail.  To the world you're from I'm committing a crime just by
     being a bat.  And living near the docks just makes me double-damned. 
     You're as dangerous to me, in a fumbling way, as I am to you."
           "But you don't know what I think," Mika protested, his voice
     rising for the first time since she had been there.  "All you know
     about me is my name.  And whatever you picked up by eavesdropping on
     Dahlu and me.  And you have no right to insult her!"
           "Ooooh," she said mockingly, setting down her coffee.  "This is
     where you tell me to stay away from her or you'll have to mess me up,
     right?"
           "Should I have to worry about that?"
           "No.  I don't terrorize people through others.  And even if
     she's not sexually innocent, your little fluffball is far too innocent
     in other respects for me to be bothered with."
           He glowered.  "How much were you listening to?"
           Revar laughed at his tone.  "Very little.  Only your greeting
     and your farewell.  From your greeting, I'd say something was wrong
     between you.  From your farewell, I'd say you had sex, that it didn't
     resolve the problem--you still looked upset.  But she was happy,
     because she believes firmly in sweeping problems under the
     bedcovers."
           "I didn't ask you what you thought," Mika snarled in a tone that
     made the bat blink.  Then her eyes narrowed and she leaned forward.
           "Yes, you did," she said, her voice ominously flat.  "If you
     don't like my answers, too damn bad, kitten.  What the hell is it you
     want from me?  You don't want to know my lifestyle.  You don't want to
     talk to me.  You don't act like you want to sleep with me.  What is
     it?  You want to be the hero and bring me to justice?"
           "No--"
           "You've decided to commit suicide and instead of jumping off a
     bridge, you want to piss me off enough that I rip out your throat.  If
     that's what you want, just ask.  I've done it before."
           Mika just looked at her.
           She shrugged.  "They wanted to off themselves but they were too
     chickenshit.  Or maybe they thought it was an interesting way to go."
           "And you did it?"
           "If they're going to be stupid enough to suicide, why not make
     their deaths useful to me instead of completely pointless?"
           "God."  Mika looked away, then picked up his own coffee and
     drained it.  "I had no right to snap at you.  But what goes on between
     Dahlu and me is my business alone."
           "Granted."
           Her eyes showed none of the sarcasm dripping from her tone, but
     they reflected the room's single lantern as a glowing red point in
     each pupil.  Mika cleared his throat.  "Do you want more coffee?"
           Revar immediately held out her empty mug.
           Mika divided the rest of the pot between the two cups, studying
     the bat as he did so.  She wore no more clothes than she had the first
     time they had met--short black briefs, almost hidden in her dark






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 1 / 10



     chocolate fur, and a blood-red halter whose straps were tied in the
     front, rather than being one piece.  She wouldn't be able to wear a
     normal halter because of the wings, would she?  He shook his head and
     brought the mug out to her, looking over her shoulder as she took it.
     The wings were thicker than he had thought, falling from the entire
     length of her arms in a flap, merging with her back near the base of
     her spine.  Enough room was left between her arms and where the wings
     joined for clothing straps--although fastening them must be quite a
     trick.  The upper half of her torso was normal--if muscled far more
     powerfully than any other 'morph he had seen.
           She looked up, following his gaze.  "If I lean forward you can
     get a better view of my butt," she said acidly.
           "Sorry," he said, backing away.  "I was looking at your wings."
     He sat down again, this time in the second beanbag a few feet away
     from her.
           "Oh.  They're not as much of a problem as they look when you're
     born with them."  She nestled down in the chair and seemed to examine
     him, as if Mika were as much an enigma to her as she was to him.  "Now
     what?"
           "I don't know."  He looked into his mug.  "I don't really know
     why I wanted to see you again.  Hell, you threatened to kill me and
     then called me a coward for being scared of you."
           "So you wanted to face me to prove I was wrong."  He looked up,
     but the expected mocking expression was absent.
           "Maybe."
           "At least you're honest.  Most people would rather be cowards,
     then lie about it.  It's much easier."
           "I don't think being scared of you makes me a coward, Revar."
     Her big ears pricked up slightly at her name.  "I think you like being
     intimidating."
           She hissed her laugh again.  "Perhaps."
           "You're not sure?"
           She looked down, her smile fading.  "If I walk into a bar,
     everyone stops talking and stares.  When I sit down, they move away
     from me.  Sometimes I can't even get a drink because the bartender
     refuses to come within arm's length."
           "I wouldn't have come that close voluntarily, either," Mika
     said, without thinking.
           Revar snapped her head up, eyes filled with venom.  He fought
     the urge to jump back; unexpectedly, she dropped her eyes again.  "I
     know," she said quietly, setting her mug on the floor.
           "When your fluffball was a kitten, I was the villain in the
     bedtime stories her mother lulled her to sleep with.  When someone
     dares to become friends with me, he's told it's a death sentence. 
     That bats can't be trusted, that when we get hungry, we'll take
     whoever's nearest.  Just ask anyone who isn't a bat.
           "Being able to fly is incredible--soaring on a strong wind under
     a full moon, going in a night to places other people couldn't get to
     in a week on horseback--it's the most beautiful gift anyone could
     have.  But sometimes I wonder if living as a nightmare come true is
     too steep a price."  Revar finished in a whisper, head downward, one
     hand playing idly with the carpet.
           Mika found himself leaning toward her, searching for something
     to say.  She raised her head, a half-smile on her mouth.  "So, yes, I
     suppose I enjoy being intimidating.  Sometimes I feel like it's all I
     have."






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 1 / 11



           "You make it sound like you don't have any friends," he said                                                  ___                  
                                                                       
     softly.
           "There's Orlonda, I guess.  The fox you met."  She shrugged,
     sitting up suddenly and downing the rest of her coffee.  "I should be
     nice and let you get to sleep.  You must do something for a living
     besides draw."
           "Run a printing press.  In the afternoon, part-time."
           "I've only been up a few hours, and I haven't eaten yet.  So I'm
     going to take my leave, kitten."  She stood up and stretched her arms,
     her wings partly unfolding to resemble a cape tied at her wrists.
           "What can you get after midnight?"
           "There are places open all night downtown.  Some donuts, a
     waffle.  Maybe a small child."  She grinned evilly.
           Mika smiled uncertainly as he got up and unlocked the door for
     her, feeling peculiarly giddy.  "Well.  Goodnight."
           Revar stopped, standing next to him in the doorway, and cocked
     her head to one side.  "Yes.  It is."  She took his right hand with
     hers, holding it in a crushingly firm grip, and looked up at him.  "If
     you ever... want to talk to someone and can't get anyone else, look me
     up."
           "How can I find you?"
           She stroked his arm briefly with her other hand, her long claws
     sending a buzz up its length, then let go, her mocking smile
     returning.  "Don't worry about that.  I'll find you."  She stepped
     outside and gently closed the door.
           Mika stood in place a moment longer, then locked the door, drew
     the shades shut on the window, stripped and fell into bed.  As he
     turned off the lantern, an image of Revar holding a donut in one hand
     and a cute baby fox screaming for its mother in the other formed in
     his mind; the dream bat downed the donut in three bites, then raised
     the struggling kit to her mouth.  He willed the scene away, then drew
     the covers over his head, burying his face in the pillow.






























                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 2 / 12













     What might have been and what has been
     Point to one end, which is always present.
     Footfalls echo in the memory
     Down the passage which we did not take
     Toward the door we never opened
     Into the rose-garden.

     (from "Burnt Norton," by T.S. Eliot)



     2.
          "Until the next one, Radgers."  The shop lanterns shut off on cue
     as Frid stepped away from the wall and held the door open.
          "Right," Mika said as he walked out into the city's dim dusk
     brightness.  It was his standard response to Frid's standard
     farewell.  The two, like always, headed in opposite directions: Mika
     northwest, Frid eastward to his home in a bland, middle-class section
     of Old City.  The docks lay west and slightly south.  Frid didn't do
     quite well enough to relocate northward to the newer parts, but he got
     by.
          Dahlu arrived at his apartment just when expected.  If he didn't
     visit her after work, she showed up within five minutes of sevenchime,
     some forty minutes after he walked through the door.  He carefully set
     the bowl he was holding on the kitchen counter and answered the
     knock.  "You don't look well," she said after they kissed.
          "Thanks."
          "I mean you look... not sick, but--"
          "Tired?" he suggested.  "I didn't get very much sleep."
          "When did you get to bed?"
          "Not too much after the usual time.  Just didn't sleep very
     well.  I had a rather... unusual night."
          "Nightmares?"
          "Kind of."  (Momm-eeeee! wailed the baby fox.) He headed back                       ___________                                     
                                                                       
     toward the kitchen and resumed working with the bowl's contents.  "It
     seems I found the bat yesterday after all."
          Dahlu looked blank, then wide-eyed, ready to leap out of the
     beanbag she had settled in.  "You went back to the docks last night?"
          "She came here."
          "What did you do?"  The edge of her voice rose.
          He grinned wryly at her.  "Had coffee.  And talked."
          She stood up and clasped her sides with her arms, her tail wildly
     banging at the air.  "You should have called the police!"
          "How?"  He emptied the contents of the bowl into a square pan,
     spreading the stuff outward, and started grating cheese over it. 
     "Those of us who pay rent in the real world don't have silent






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 2 / 13



     summoning crystals."
          "But--"
          "Dahlu, she was paranoid enough about being here as it was.  If
     she thought I was going to cause her trouble, you'd be scrubbing me
     off the wall now.  Besides," he set down the grater, "she wasn't doing
     anything wrong."
          "She killed someone!"
          "I meant by being here.  And she was right.  Nobody would turn
     her in for killing Jesse, because nobody misses him."
          "That's--cold."
          "Evidently he beat one of her friends nearly to death for
     inadvertently screwing up a different beating he had planned.  That's                                                                    ______
                                                                          
     cold."  He touched the firing gem on the oven.  In a moment, it
     started glowing as the gas ignited.  He held a finger on it until it
     glowed a medium bright, then opened the door and shoved the pan
     inside.
          He came out of the kitchen and sat down on the floor by the
     bookshelf, looking up at Dahlu.  "So, anyway, there wasn't that much
     to worry about.  Relax."
          "Nothing to worry about," she echoed.  "She kills people.  I'm
     sorry if that worries me."  She folded her arms around and turned
     away, refusing to acknowledge him until he stood up and rubbed her
     shoulders.  It was a gambit he was used to, though; the response was
     automatic.
          "I can take care of myself," he said softly, his tone halfway
     between affection and reproach.
          "I know," she said, sighing.  "But you don't.  You're still just
     barely getting by.  Going to the docks isn't going to help.  And
     getting involved with people like that...."  She shook her head.
          "Going to the docks isn't going to hurt, either, is it? I think
     I'm getting by just fine."
          "But you're just getting by.  You're not going anywhere with                      ____                                            
                                                                      
     Frid.  You're hardly supporting yourself as it is."
          "And unless I get something better, I won't be able to support
     you, too?"  He smiled, but she pulled away.
          "That's not what I meant.  I'd like to move in with you, yes, but
     I'd keep working."
          Mika grunted noncommittally; Dahlu did work, but less for
     survival than for something to do with her mornings.  Her last "job"
     had been organizing a posh reception for a charity group; she got it
     less on merit than family connections.
          "Are you staying for dinner?"
          She looked surprised by the turn.  "I don't know."
          "It's tuna casserole."
          Dahlu sighed.  "That's just what I'm talking about."
          "Casserole?" Mika said, surprised.
          "No."
          "Tuna?"
          "No," she snapped, trying to remain sufficiently exasperated to
     continue.  "I mean... Oh, Mika, just look.  You're having that because
     it's all you can afford.  It's... bachelor food."
          "No, bachelor food is tuna sandwiches.  Anything that requires an
     oven is too much work for a true bachelor.  And I happen to like tuna                                                                 ____     
                                                                          
     casserole."
          She laughed.  "All right, you win."  When conversation resumed,
     it had moved on to Dahlu's own day; Mika listened attentively, but had






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 2 / 14



     little to comment on.  He wasn't sure he had even met some of the
     people she was gossiping about.
          The inevitable question came after they had finished dinner. 
     "When are you going to sell one of your sketches?"
          "When I'm good enough."  He drummed his fingers on the table. 
     "Trying before then won't do me much good."
          "Your sketches are as good as what I've seen out there."
          Mika smiled wanly.  "I know you think that, love.  You'll have to
     take my word for it."
          "But you're going to have to start somewhere."
          "Just selling a few pictures isn't going to bring in much money,
     if you think it's going to let me quit the printing job."
          "It'd be a start."  Dahlu's tail thumped the chair.  "I'm not
     going to be able to support you if I move in here."
          "I'm not going to be able to support you either.  I don't see
     what your point is."
          She was silent again, frowning delicately.  Mika shook his head
     and picked up the plates, heading into the kitchen.  He started a pot
     of water brewing for tea; it always seemed to calm Dahlu down, even if
     it couldn't ease her doubts.
          When he set a steaming cup in front of her, he looked at her
     curiously.  "Have you ever been down to the docks?"
          "I've passed through."
          "Have you ever stopped and looked around?"
          "No," she said, taking a sip.  "Why?"
          "Just for the sake of... seeing what's there."
          "Oh.  Do you think I should?"  Her voice held absolutely no
     interest in the prospect.
          Mika shook his head, taking a sip at his own tea.  "No, I suppose
     not."
                                       #
          Something snapped--tiny, but not insignificant--midway through
     the week, just as Mika left work.
          It had been a bad day, maybe the worst he'd had there so far. 
     The press had broken, spewing ink across Mika's chest.  He ignored all
     the looks as he walked home, cursing Frid for buying a fast,
     temperamental jet-press over a normal plate machine.  As soon as he
     scrubbed all the ink he could out of his fur, he changed clothes and
     headed down to Ted's.
          Orlonda, Revar's vulpine friend, was nowhere to be seen.  The bar
     was about half-full with unpleasant-looking patrons, although none as
     nasty as the night he had been followed out by Jesse.  Of course, it
     was still almost three hours to midnight.
          Dahlu hadn't mentioned his encounter with the bat again; she had
     made it clear she didn't want him to associate with "those types." If
     he continued to, she didn't want to be involved.  Well, fine--she
     didn't have to be.  He didn't want the comfort she would give him, and
     didn't want tacit encouragement to quit his job.  He had come all too
     close that afternoon, and he couldn't afford to.
          He sat down at the bar and ordered a beer and one of Ted's
     taste-free sandwiches, then sulked, almost daring people to come up
     and make trouble.  If anyone noticed the offer, they declined to take
     him up on it.  He finished his meal, then ordered another beer.  Then
     another, nursing it until eightchime sounded.  "Midnight," the barkeep
     grunted over the din.  "Finish your drinks and get your butts out."
          The cat looked around, surprised.  The bar had filled up while he






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 2 / 15



     had been sitting there; now it was almost empty.  By city law, alcohol
     was not served between midnight and threechime.  Mika paid his tab,
     threw down a too-large tip and wandered out.  This time no one
     followed.
          Picking a direction at random, he headed south along the docks,
     then cut east into downtown proper.  Most of the stores were closed,
     of course; some diners and "adult entertainment" shops would be open
     for another hour or two, and there were a few general stores and
     coffee shops that stayed open 'round the clock.  Mika headed toward
     one of the diners, looked in, and saw nothing interesting but one of
     the waitresses.  He grinned and moved on.
          A few minutes later, he was in front of a coffee house; several
     people he recognized as dock workers, burly humans and overmuscled
     canine zoomorphs, filled the front.  He started to pass by, then
     caught sight of a lone figure in a back booth.  It was nestled between
     the cushion and the wall, holding a mug in a fiercely taloned hand. 
     The face wasn't visible, but the species was unmistakable.
          Do_you_really_want_a_third_encounter_with_her?          ______________________________________________
                                                        
          He took a deep breath, arguing with himself.
          If_you_ever_want_to_talk_to_someone--          ___________________________________  
                                               
          She looked up as he approached, her face registering a degree of
     surprise it obviously wasn't used to reflecting.  "You're back," she
     said flatly.
          "Yes, I guess I am."  To his relief, the words came easily, with
     none of the hesitation he had feared.
          As he sat down across from her, she didn't quite smile, but set
     down her cup and leaned forward.  "I would have thought you'd have had
     more than enough of wandering around these parts after midnight."
          "I just like the waterfront."  He folded his hands in his lap. 
     "And you get your life threatened by such interesting people."
          She did smile at that, leaning back against the wall.  "You've
     earned points from everyone else here just by sitting down."
          "What do you mean?"
          When she pointed at the front of the restaurant, it was not with
     a finger but a wingtip.  "I've worked with some of the people sitting
     up there over a year.  Maybe three of them would have the guts to sit
     where you are now."
          He was fascinated by the wing gesture, but turned in the
     direction she indicated.  Incredibly, a few people were looking back
     at him nervously, as if talking about his boldness--or foolishness. 
     "You mean after a year they're still scared of you?"
          She nodded.  "They're polite enough on the job.  Too polite,
     even.  But see me after work, when supervisors aren't watching--not a
     chance."
          "Surely they don't think you're going to... eat them."
          "Don't you?"  Her eyes were as disconcertingly unreadable as
     ever.
          He shook his head.  "Not anymore."
          After holding her gaze on him a moment longer, she nodded again.
          "What do you do?"
          She laughed.  "I move big, heavy boxes on and off ships.  It's
     exciting stuff."
          The waitress, a yong, overendowed black sable, came over to take
     his order.  "Two crullers and a black tea," he said before she got any
     further than "Good evening, may I--."  She scurried back behind the
     counter.






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 2 / 16



          "You have a black spot on your hand," the bat observed.
          Mika growled.  "It's ink."  He quickly related the story of his
     day.
          "So get a better job."
          "It pays well, and I don't mind it.  Not most of the time."
          She grunted.  "Better than being a loader, I suppose.  Still, I
     only have to work a few hours a night to make as much money as you do
     in a day."
          "It pays that much?"
          "On the dead shift.  Most people don't want to work this late. 
     For me, it's an afternoon job.  My mornings--like now--and evenings
     are free to do whatever I want with."
          "Like what?"
          Revar raised an eyebrow.  "Getting curious, are we, kitten? 
     Reading.  Writing.  Flying.  Hunting.  Like I said, anything I want. 
     Although I need to pay attention to the hunting part tonight."
          The waitress reappeared with his donuts and tea.  He took a sip,
     staring carefully at the crullers.  "When's the last time you...
     ate?"
          "A week ago.  Waiting this long is very bad; I should feed at
     least twice a week."
          "Why?"  She favored him with her mocking grin in reply.  "I mean
     why so much?"
          "Just the way bats are put together.  We can take more than we
     need--but we can't take less.  The longer I wait, the more I'll drain
     from whatever I finally do catch.  Wait a few days, I'll hurt my prey
     a bit.  Wait a week, and I might send it to the hospital.  Wait two
     weeks, and if I'm still strong enough to catch something--which isn't
     likely--I might kill it.  I don't like to kill people without a good
     reason."
          He looked away, shivering involuntarily.  "You can't take
     animals?"
          "This is a city, kitten.  Pocket-sized pets don't help us, and
     there aren't any warm-blooded game animals near here.  And derelicts
     are a lot easier prey.  So I end up being an outlaw."
          She finished her coffee in silence, then set down the cup with a
     clank.  "Anything you want to talk about besides my feeding habits?"
          Mika coughed.  "Dahlu's having another party two weeks from
     now."
          "Hurrah.  Unity Day.  Nobody celebrates that.  They use it as an
     excuse to get drunk."  She shook her head in sarcastic disapproval,
     then glanced at him sideways, eyes glinting.  "You feel like doing
     anything tonight?"
          Mika gulped, swallowing a bite of cruller the wrong way.  He
     spluttered for a few seconds, to her obvious enjoyment.  "Like what?"
          "Don't be so suspicious.  If you think being seen with me on the
     town in public is unfaithful to pastahead, I won't put any pressure on
     you."
          "No.  That's not it.  And she's not a pastahead, dammit."
          "Would she think you were being unfaithful by talking with me                 ___                                                   
                                                                       
     now?"
          "No," he sighed.
          "But she doesn't want you associating with people like me.  She'd
     be upset if she knew you were here." Revar had a knowing, fanged
     smile.  "If she thinks that way, she's a pastahead."
          "That's not fair."






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 2 / 17



          "Nope," the bat agreed, standing up.  "All right, forget I
     asked.  Maybe you and I don't have enough in common to find anything
     interesting to do together anyway.  Will you at least deign to let me
     walk you home?"
          He glared up at her and bolted down his tea, taking the remaining
     untouched cruller with him as he dropped money on the table.
          "I'm not afraid of being seen with you," he said as they left the
     downtown area.  "Maybe we have more in common than you think."
          "Like what?  We both have fur?"
          Mika set his ears back.  "All right, you win.  The reason you
     don't have many friends isn't because you're a bat.  It's because
     you're too fucking hostile to get close to."
          "I'm sorry," Revar said after a moment.  "It's automatic."
          "Are you afraid someone'll hurt you if they get too close?"
          She laughed.  "Perhaps I'm too careful about choosing my friends,
     kitten.  But then again, I've very rarely made a bad choice."
          As they walked on, she continued speaking.  "If you're not afraid
     of being seen with me, you're a rare one."
          "Why?"
          "The same reason most dockworkers are deathly afraid of being
     seen with a homosexual.  They're afraid people will mistake them for
     one."
          "So you're saying people will mistake me for a vampire bat."
          Revar smiled.  "No, but you'll be identified as associating with
     a rogue."
          Mika shrugged.  "All right, your co-workers will believe I'm a
     homosexual rogue.  I can live with that."
          She touched an ink spot with one claw.  "How long are you going
     to live with that?"
          "What do you mean?"
          "I mean the docks aren't my life.  And you don't strike as the
     sort who would make printing his."
          The cat flicked his tail in irritation.  "If you're implying I
     should start selling my sketches, I'm not ready yet."
          "That's not the question.  The question is, are your sketches
     ready to be sold?"
          He glowered at her, but didn't reply.
          "Is it better to have scruples or food?"
          "You tell me."
          "Given what I live on, I can't afford scruples, kitten."
          He raised his eyebrows skeptically, then noticed she was looking
     past him.  He turned around.  Just off the street, a big, gaunt human
     in tattered clothing slept against the damp brick wall of a narrow
     alley.
          "Are you--"
          She broke off from their path, heading toward the man.  "I prefer
     catching drunks, but with any luck he won't wake up until it's too
     late."
          Mika gaped.  "Wait--"
          "I can't, kitten," she said softly, looking back at him.  Then
     she turned back to the alley, her demeanor changing; her arms moved
     slightly outward and she dropped to a crouch, her weight shifting
     forward.
          "Dammit, you don't know--stop!"  Mika ran in front of her.  She
     looked up.  Her eyes were as black and unforgiving as they had been
     when they first met, her fangs bared to their full length.  He






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 2 / 18



     flinched, but managed to stand his ground.
          Her hands wrapped around either side of his torso, claws digging
     in just enough to hurt a little.  She straightened and extended her
     arms, lifting him a foot off the ground with no apparent effort, then
     pivoted and set him down to one side.  Without a word, she resumed her
     hunting stance and stalked forward.
          Perhaps some god watched over the derelict that night; he woke up
     when she was within ten feet of him and stared blankly at her, then
     sat up, his eyes focusing on her teeth.  By the time his face
     registered comprehension, the god's attention had moved elsewhere.
          "No--" the man started to say, rising to one knee and swinging
     wildly.  The bat deflected the blow with a wing, catching his face in
     her claw.  As he grabbed her arm, she straddled him and pushed back
     hard with her other hand, forcing him against the wall.  The hand on
     his face moved to cover only his mouth and tightened, tilting his head
     back to expose a sunburned neck.  He struggled harder, knowing what
     was coming and that he would be unable to stop it.  As he twisted, he
     saw Mika, standing in the shadows, and stretched out a desperate arm
     to him.  When Mika didn't move, his eyes grew even wider, and he began
     to yell into Revar's palm.
          She lowered her head to the man's shoulder, mouth opening wide. 
     The hand grasping toward Mika came around, beating roughly but futiley
     against the bat's back.  Her wings closed around him, cloaking his
     torso; then he jerked, his entire body convulsing for a split second.
     The stifled scream seemed as loud as thunder, going on for ages,
     getting weaker but more desperate with each passing second.  Then he
     lapsed into a quiet whimper.  The sound of Revar's drinking became
     audible, and Mika turned away, trying not to gag.
          When she finally let go, she stood over her prey for a second,
     wiping her mouth.  The wounds on his neck were not the two neat holes
     from children's vampire stories.  They were big, diagonal gashes from
     her upper canines and a ragged slash from her lower teeth.  The blood
     was only a rivulet now, flowing down into his shirt.  He made no move
     to stop it, only drawing his legs against his chest and hugging them
     with both arms, staring off into space.  He whispered something Mika
     couldn't hear; Revar shook her head curtly, almost scornfully, and
     held out a bandage.  He stared at it blankly.  She dropped it in his
     lap and walked back to where Mika stood, still paralyzed; she glanced
     at him and continued down the treet.
          The man remained in a fetal position, the bandage draped
     uselessly over his leg, as Mika turned and caught up with Revar.
          It took several minutes for him to break the silence.  "You have
     blood on your lower lip."
          She wiped it off, not looking at him.
          "What did he say?"
          She sighed.  "He asked if he was going to die."
          "You could have...."
          "Could have what?" she snapped, whirling on him.  He felt a
     sudden, sharp anger from her, and stepped back involuntarily.  "Made
     it easier for him? How?"
          Mika looked at the ground.  "You could have...  apologized."
          "I'm not sorry!" she hissed.  He glanced back up at her.  "If
     there was an easier way to feed, I would.  But I am not sorry for
     doing what I need to do in order to stay alive!"
          "It just seems... so...."  his voice trailed off, and he shook
     his head.  "Aren't you afraid he'll recognize you later?"






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 2 / 19



          "Yes.  Most people on the docks won't care because they're too
     practical to be moralists.  They don't care what I feed on as long as
     it's not them.  But every meal is another risk.  And if I get caught,
     I'm dead."
          They had crossed into the Northwestern District, and Mika's
     building was visible.  They walked in silence another minute, then
     Revar turned toward him.  "I shouldn't have let you see that, I
     suppose."
          "It's not your fault," he said, looking away.  "I don't blame you
     for what you are."
          She touched his hand briefly, then crouched down, knees folded,
     wings extended, claws resting on the ground.  "I'll see you later,
     kitten."
          Revar raised her arms, wingtips rising above Mika's head, then
     leaped up, bringing her wings down hard as she moved.  The arc of her
     jump took her feet to his eye level; as she reached it, her wings had
     already come up and were pushing down again.  Her feet moved down,
     coming out of the jump, then her legs straightened and she moved up
     once more, as if she had jumped a second time starting in midair.  She
     flapped powerfully, seeming to balance precariously in space for a
     full second as her wings moved faster than he thought possible.  On
     the sixth flap, as she began to fall, it was as if a tether had been
     cut.  She soared into the sky, climbing far above the roof of his
     building in a heartbeat.  She circled higher, dipping a wing in
     farewell, and flew away southward, a dark wiry shadow slicing between
     ground and stars.
                                       #
          "You should hold the lead more loosely.  Move from the shoulder,
     not the wrist."
          Mika glanced up in irritation.  "This is why I don't draw with an
     audience."
          "I wouldn't be making you do this if you would show me anything
     else you've drawn."  Revar sat on the windowsill of Mika's flat, her
     back against one side and her right foot against the other, sharp
     toeclaws digging into the soft wood frame.  Her left leg hung loosely
     over the side, the foot barely resting on the floor.  Her right arm
     was stretched over her head, hand on the top of the window and wing
     partly unfolded, blocking most of the outside view.
          Mika was in a beanbag facing her posed figure, a sketchpad on his
     lap and a lead stick held--incorrectly, according to his model--in his
     right hand.  "I wouldn't do this for anyone else, except maybe
     Dahlu."
          "Of course.  She gets her way by sex.  I get mine by being a
     scary bitch."
          "Hold still."
          He drew for a few more minutes, then turned away, still
     sketching.
          "Trying to do it from memory?"
          Mika grunted.  "I have a basic rough done.  All I really have to
     do now is clean it up a bit."
          She hopped down from the sill and crossed over to him, staring
     over his shoulder.  "I don't have any clothes."
          "I have to get the figure first.  And considering that bathing
     suit you have on, I'll only have to add three or four lines to detail
     it."
          "It's not a bathing suit."






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 2 / 20



          "Sorry.  Lingerie."
          She made a hmph noise.  "I don't like formal clothes.  I wouldn't                     ____                                                  
                                                                           
     be wearing any at all if I could get away with it.  These don't get in
     the way when I'm flying or fighting."
          "And you enjoy the looks they get you."
          "Yes."  She grinned.  "Half the assholes I work with look like
     they want to jump me every time I bend over or lift something over my
     head."
          He looked up.  "Lift something...?"
          She picked up a chair and demonstrated, bending back slightly. 
     Her chest pressed against the little fabric that composed her top,
     outlining her breasts in explicit detail.
          Mika shook his head, forcing away any comment on her body (they
     weren't all that big, but they were impressive).  "You wouldn't be as                                    ____                                  
                                                                          
     likely to tease big male chauvinists if you didn't know they were
     already scared of you."
          Revar laughed softly.  "If they insist on being afraid to come
     near me, I might as well have a little fun with it.  Are you finished
     yet?"
          "Hold on."  He sketched furiously, then produced a gum eraser and
     started dabbing at the paper carefully.
          "Oh, give me that," she snapped, pushing the eraser aside.  "Do I
     really look like that?"
          "That's as close as I can get."
          "Not what I mean, kitten.  You made me... prettier than I am."
          "I don't think so," Mika said.  Then he quickly amended, "I don't
     know if I'd call you pretty.  Exactly."  For the first time, it
     occurred to him that he might, indeed, call her pretty; he cleared his
     throat, feeling a little disoriented.
          "I was thinking about bat standards, but even so..."  She studied
     it a few minutes more, then moved away, pushing it into his lap.  "So
     finish cleaning it up, ink it and sell it."
          "It's not that simple."
          "Sure it is.  You have nothing to lose but pride."
          He glared at her.
          A faint knock sounded on the door.  "Uh-oh," Mika said.  "I
     hadn't realized it was this late."
          "Late?"  Revar laughed.  "Being up this early is unholy.  But if
     you insist on hanging around me, we're bound to meet sooner or later.
     Might as well be now."
          Mika crossed to the door and opened it.  Dahlu kissed him warmly;
     as she let go of him and stepped inside, she saw the bat.
          "Hello," Revar said, standing up and extending a hand (relieving
     Mika of the nagging fear that she would say you_must_be_Pastahead!                                                 ______________________
                                                                       
     when she finally met Dahlu).  The cat said nothing, staring at the bat
     open-mouthed.  Revar's clothes did look like a cross between a bathing                                    ___                                    
                                                                           
     suit and lingerie.  Mika winced inwardly.  At least they weren't black
     lace.
          Dahlu opened her mouth, as if to say something to Revar, but
     finally whispered, "That's her?" to Mika.  He nodded.  "What's she
     doing here?"
          Revar dropped her hand, then folded her wings around her.  "I
     take it I don't get a kiss."
          Dahlu looked over at her, fear flickering in her eyes.  Revar
     snorted ungraciously.  "What she's doing here is getting sketched. 
     Come on, girl.  Are you too frightened to even say hello?"






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 2 / 21



          "That's... that's not it," Dahlu said, her voice trembling a
     little.  "H-hello."  She forced a smile.  "I just didn't...  expect
     anyone to be here."
          "Especially me."  Revar watched Dahlu stutter for a second, then
     laughed, a little sadly, and sighed.  "You're too polite to ask me the
     question that's been bothering you since Mika met me, aren't you?"
          "And what do you think that is?"
          "If I have any designs on him.  The answer is no, either as a
     lover or as food."  Dahlu shivered a little.  "And you don't have to
     worry about me doing anything to you, either."
          Dahlu smiled uncertainly, stepping into the room as if she
     expected the carpet to burst into flames.
          "Well," Mika said loudly, causing Dahlu to jump, "now that you've
     been so cordially introduced, I'll go start dinner."
          Revar rose to her feet.  "I should be going, then."  She glanced
     at Dahlu.  "I'm sorry if I caused you any... anxiety," she said, her
     tone completely unconvincing.
          "What?" Mika said.  "No.  You were invited."
          "Was I?" said Dahlu.
          "Of course--"
          Revar shook her head and flexed her wings, making Dahlu jump
     again.  "I don't want to put a strain on you, kitten.  Some other
     time.  Maybe I'll see you later tonight."  She stepped outside,
     closing the door softly behind her.
          "She called you 'kitten,'" Dahlu said, sitting down at the table
     and staring into space.
          "She called me that the first time we met."
          "When she tried to kill you."  Dahlu steepled her hands on the
     table and started fidgeting.  "Isn't it unusual to use a term of
     endearment when you're being threatening?"
          "I don't think it's a term of endearment."
          "It's a pet name."
          Mika shrugged, heading into the kitchen.
          "She was really here as a model?" she asked after a moment.
          "Yes.  The sketch is on the couch."
          Dahlu got up and examined it, pursing her lips.  "She's... quite
     model."
          "I suppose so."
          "That's all she was here for?"
          "A man can be friends with a woman without being her lover."
          "I know."  She fidgeted again.  "So you consider her a friend."
          "Yes."
          "You've been seeing her at night?"
          Mika laughed, feeling exasperated.  "That's when she's up.  This
     is the earliest I've ever seen her out, love.  I've only seen her a
     few times.  I spend time with the few friends I have.  It's one of my
     little quirks."
          "I'm not sure she's... well, that she's good to have as a
     friend."
          "Just because she doesn't have anything in common with you
     doesn't make her dangerous."
          Dahlu's voice rose almost an octave.  "Being a murderer does!"
          "She doesn't normally kill people.  Jesse's gang--"
          "You told me that.  But she told you that."  She let out a long,
     shuddering breath.  "I just don't think... you should be that... close
     to her."






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 2 / 22



          "Physically, or as a friend?"
          "Both."
          Mika looked over at her, then continued preparing the food.  "I'm
     sorry you feel that way," he said curtly.
          She went into the kitchen, surprised tinged with hurt on her
     face.  "I'm your lover, Mika.  What I think doesn't count?"                      _____                                     
                                                                
          "I'm your lover, too.  Does that mean I tell you who your friends
     should be?"
          Her lower lip trembled.  "That's not what I meant."
          "Yes, it is.  It's not what you said, but it's what you meant. 
     I'm sorry you two don't get along.  But I really think you're less
     willing to give her a chance than she is to give you one."
          Dahlu watched him for a moment longer, then went back to the
     couch, sitting down and drawing into a little ball.
          "I suppose I'm just asking you to trust my judgment," he said
     shortly.
          "How well do you know Revar?" she asked.
          He slammed a spoon down on the counter.  "I already told you--"
          "I don't mean whether you're sleeping with her.  You said you
     weren't--I believe you.  I meant, how well do you know her?"
          "In some ways, better than people I've known for much longer."
          Dahlu stared at him, her lip trembling again, then stood up.  "I
     really don't think I should stay for dinner tonight."
          Mika dropped what he was doing and came toward her.  "Oh, I'm
     sorry," he said, his voice softening.  "Dahlu, I don't want to--"
          "No," she said, holding up a hand.  "It's not you.  It's me.  I
     just need time to do a little thinking on my own.  Okay?"
          He watched her, biting his lip, then nodded, turning away.  "I'll
     see you tomorrow?"
          "Yes."
          "I love you, Dahlu."
          There was a long pause before she responded.  "I love you, too,
     Mika.  Please remember that."
          He turned back toward her, but she was gone.  He stared at the
     closed door for a moment longer, then went back into the kitchen, put
     away the food and stared at the wall as the sunlight faded from the
     window.
                                       #
          "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked Revar for the second
     time.
          "No," she said, grabbing the padlock in one hand and squeezing. 
     There was a loud, wrenching click, and it popped open; she unhooked it
     and swung the gate open silently.  "After you."
          Mika looked down at the lock.  The thick metal was crumpled and
     snapped, one of the tumblers physically pushed outside its case. 
     "Damn," he said, turning a little pale.
          "I'm a predator," she said simply.
          At sunset, the park had been cleaned and locked for the night. 
     The empty grounds were filled with mute shades of dark green, insect
     sounds, the faint smell of wood and flowers.  The moon shone brightly,
     illuminating the paved path down the garden's center as they strolled
     along.  It was the largest park in the city, east of the downtown area
     and spanning tens of city blocks in both directions.  Mika had never
     seen it at night, of course; under starlight, it was transformed from
     simple greenspace into an eerily beautiful world disconnected from the
     rest of creation.  He felt as if he had crossed a magical line into






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 2 / 23



     Faerie, accompanied by a dark and dangerous--yet, in her own way,
     breathtaking--lithe, winged elf.
          "Don't you worry about getting caught doing this?"
          "I can't get caught."
          "That sounds overconfident."
          "No, I mean that I can't afford to be caught.  It would kill me."
     Her tone was serious; he looked at her inquiringly.  "All prisoners
     get the same food, and most prisons can't--or won't--make allowances
     for bats.  Unless it's a simple in-one-day, out-the-next charge, the
     courts are lucky to take two weeks between the arrest date and the
     trial."
          "And if you went that long without blood, you might really be
     dead."  She nodded, and they walked on, passing by several smaller,
     unpaved paths that crisscrossed the park.
          "Do you think your fluffball is going to forgive you for being my
     friend?"
          "Yes.  But it's going to take some time," he sighed.  "She wasn't
     very happy when she left tonight."
          "Did she see the sketch?"
          "Yes."  He laughed.  "Seeing a sketch drawn by her lover as a
     woman she thinks of as a rival probably didn't make her feel any
     better."
          "Seeing how good it was should have."
          "It wasn't that good."
          "It was beautiful, Mika."  He looked over at her; it was one of
     the few times she had used his name.  "You do want to be an artist,
     don't you?"
          "I don't know," he muttered.  "It's not easy to make a living
     that way."
          They had reached the park's center; a pool of water blocked their
     path, a dragon-shaped fountain carved out of blue marble spraying
     water from its mouth high into the air.  Revar sat down on the edge of
     the pool and motioned Mika down beside her.
          "No.  That's what you have to make a living at," she said.                                 ____                                 
                                                                     
     "Anything else is just a job.  Loading--that's just a job.  I don't
     know what my living is yet.  You're luckier than I am.  You've already
     found yours."
          "You sound like Dahlu."
          "Then maybe she's not so much of a pastahead after all, kitten."
          "Come on."  He didn't try to keep the frustration from his
     voice.  "I can't just drop everything and do what I want."
          "You should always do what you want."
          "That's not true."  He shook his head vigorously.  "Think about
     what things would be like if everybody did what they wanted.  What if
     I wanted to go out and set fire to buildings? What if I wanted to go
     out and rape people?"
          "Oh, that line.  Follow responsibilities instead of your heart."
     She sighed.  "I've been to a church, Mika.  It doesn't matter which
     one; they all teach that morals are at war with emotions.  If you want
     to do what's right, you have to treat emotions like evil tricks sent
     to confound the righteous.
          "If there's anything I've learned in life, it's that those
     teachings are a load of shit."  She trailed one claw in the water,
     then hit the surface, splashing both of them and sending out waves of
     ripples.  "Answer me this.  Is rape your idea of fun?"
          "No," he said.  "But--"






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 2 / 24



          "What sort of person does enjoy rape?"
          "I don't know."
          "A normal person?"
          "No."
          "No," she agreed.  "So why should you base your morals on
     assuming the worst about yourself?  You can't live your life by making
     the choices that would be least dangerous if you were a maniac. 
     That's just a slow death.  And a pretty damn boring one, too."
          He watched the ripples smooth out and disappear.  "So what if I
     don't know what I want?"
          "Find out, kitten.  That's so obvious it's painful."
          "I can't make money by sketching."
          She shifted to stare in his eyes, locking her solid black orbs on
     his face in a way that made him feel like squirming.  "Can you make a
     life by it?"
          "You mean be happy?"  He looked down, laughing a little.  "I've
     heard this one before.  You tell me this: are you happy?"
          "Not all the time.  But when I get the chance, I take it.  Mika,
     I started with handicaps you'll never understand.  Even now, I'm
     inclined to divide the world into two categories: friends and prey. 
     It doesn't endear me to people.  I'm not sure I can make a living in a
     city like this, or anywhere else.  But I still love cities.  I've
     tried living in other places and I know I can't be happy in them. 
     Eventually I'll move away from here.  I want to go to Raneadhros.  I
     don't know what I'll do there.  But I'll still take happiness over
     security."
          "That's living day to day.  What about your future?"
          "What about yours? A lot of people can't understand my life. 
     Your fluffball will never understand it.  And I know it's likely to be
     a pretty short life, too; I could die any day.  But when I do, I can
     say that for all the time I could, I lived.  Not just existed.  How                                          _____                         
                                                                        
     many people twice my age can say that?"
          "I don't know." He stared into the water.  "You don't seem too
     happy most of the time."
          "Don't be so quick with that, kitten.  Recently I've been pretty
     happy."  She smiled; after a moment, he smiled back, a little
     sheepishly.
          "Thanks.  I think."
          "No.  Thank you," she said softly, looking down.  Mika watched
     her, unsure what to do.  Suddenly she stood up, extended her wings,
     and leaped onto the body of the dragon.
          "What the hell are you doing?" he said, standing up.
          She peered around the side of the dragon, then stuck her hand
     down its mouth.  The water spurted out in a ragged arc.  "Abusing
     public property."  She moved her hand slightly, and the water shot
     toward Mika.  He yelped and jumped out of the way.  Laughing, she kept
     the water focused on him until he got to the side of the dragon.
          "I'm soaked," he sputtered, looking wet and miserable.
          Revar started to climb down, then grimaced, trying to yank her
     hand out of the statue's mouth.  "I'm stuck."
          "Serves you right."
          She pulled hard, but the dragon refused to let go.  "You asked
     for it," she told the statue, and wrapped her legs around the dragon's
     side, reaching under its jaw with her free hand.  She gripped the side
     of its mouth with her claws, digging the thumb into its base with a
     bone-wrenching scrape, and pulled violently.  The jaw snapped off,






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 2 / 25



     falling into the water with a loud splash.  Revar fell with it,
     letting out a most undignified squawk! as she hit the pool.                                    _______                     
                                                                
          "Are you okay?" Mika said, running over to her.  "Your wings--"
          She spurted water into the air like a fish.  "I'm a pirahna," she
     said, shaking off.
          "You know, being soaked looks very nice on you."
          She laughed.  "You mean it makes my top indecently exposed."
          "Yes." He extended a hand, helping her out of the pool.
          Revar coughed and looked back at the dragon.  It looked sadly
     pathetic with only an upper jaw; the fountain's stream had acquired a
     sharp cant downward to the right, barely landing in the pool.  "Think
     anyone will notice?" she said.
          "I'm afraid so."  They walked away from the statue, heading back
     to the gate.  "Between the lock and the statue you've probably caused
     a few hundred vars worth of damage."
          "If you'd like, I could push over a few trees for good measure."
     She flexed her claws together.
          "Would you like to come to Dahlu's party?" he said after a
     moment.
          She laughed again.  "I don't think she'd approve."
          "Well, think about it.  Even if you two are never going to be
     friends, I'd like it if you didn't hate each other."
          "I don't hate her, kitten."
          "You keep calling her pastahead."
          "That doesn't mean I hate her.  I just don't respect her."
          He laughed in spite of himself.  They walked out of the park hand
     in hand.



































                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 3 / 26













     Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
     But merely fans to beat the air
     The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
     Smaller and dryer than the will
     Teach us to care and not to care
     Teach us to sit still.

     (from "Ash Wednesday," by T.S. Eliot)



     3.
          "It is not a stupid holiday.  Where's your patriotism?"  Dahlu's                 ___                                                      
                                                                          
     voice had what Mika thought of as her "dip edge."  It was a particular
     testiness that only manifested itself when she was trying to make a
     fabulously complicated dip for her fabulously complicated party
     platters.
          "That's a complex question.  I could have patriotism for the
     Empire, or just for Rionar, or both.  Or both in different degrees. 
     Or--"
          "All right, it's a stupid holiday.  Shut up and taste this."  She
     held out a spoon with a small amount of thick, orangish goo at its
     tip.
          Mika paused at his task of meat-slicing, sniffed it suspiciously,
     and licked it.  "What's it supposed to go with?"
          "Cold cuts rolled around cheese."
          "A bit specialized, isn't it?"
          She thumped her foot impatiently.  "How does it taste?"
          "Good," he admitted.  "They'll probably go pretty well
     together."
          "Do you think it should be spicier?"
          "A bit hotter."
          "Okay."  She wrapped up the bowl in wax paper.  "Then it's
     finished."
          "Thanks," Mika snorted as she put it back in the icebox.  "How
     many are we expecting?"
          "Well, I told you.  It's an open party.  I've invited, oh, two
     dozen, but they're welcome to bring their friends."
          "Oh.  That's good."  He resumed slicing.
          Dahlu glanced over at him, eyes narrowed.  "You're thinking of
     inviting her, aren't you?"
          Mika faltered slightly, then cursed under his breath for letting
     her see he was afraid of her reaction.  "You said you wouldn't have a
     problem with me seeing her."
          "I didn't say I wouldn't have a problem with me seeing her."  She                                                       __                  
                                                                           
     sighed and shook her head.  "All right.  But I don't think she'll like






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 3 / 27



     it, even if you convince her to go."
          "Why not?"
          "We're not... her crowd."  She shrugged.
          "You're scared of how your friends will react to her."
          "Shouldn't I be?"  Her voice rose a little.  "You know more about
     bats than anyone else who'll be there, and she still makes you
     nervous!"
          "No, she doesn't," he said.  "Not anymore."
          "Really?"
          "Yes, really.  I've seen her two or three times a week for the
     past, what, month now."  He realized it wasn't the right thing to say
     after he had started.
          "I know," Dahlu said icily.  "Love, when I tell everyone that
     dinner is served, half of them will expect her to go for their throat
     rather than the table."
          "But she won't--"
          "I believe she'll be on good behavior for you.  But what if
     someone else starts trouble with her?  From what little you've told me
     of her"--she threw a pot into the sink as if for punctuation--"she
     doesn't seem the type to look the other way at an insult."
          "I thought 'our sort' didn't make trouble."
          The expression she turned on him was pained and unforgiving. 
     "Remember, it was your idea."
                                       #
          The drojaar leaned back in his chair, a picture in each hand, and
     pursed his lips.  After a moment, he set one of them back on his desk,
     and held the other one up.  "This is the best one."
          Mika looked across the desk.  It was the sketch of Revar, now pen
     and ink, toned with gray and brown ink wash.  "I like what you've done
     with the shadows here," the dwarf continued, fingering his beard. 
     "Some of the other ones you've shaded in similar ways are effective as
     well.  Your stippling needs work.  But the wash effects are quite
     creative.
          "I'd be interested in showing this one"--he gestured toward
     Revar's image--"and this." The second indicated was a dock scene, a
     ship being loaded at twilight; the colors were all subtle shades of
     cool, dark blue and grey.  It wasn't one Mika himself was that fond
     of.  "But," he continued, "I can make no promises.  The bat zoomorph
     might be a--how do they say--hard sell."
          "Even though you think it's the best one?"
          "It is not a matter of what I think, merely of what is.  But it
     has a more limited audience, especially in the local area.  The buyers
     here are looking for work that can be hung over the sofa and
     complement the carpet.  She--"  He tapped the mat around Revar.  "She
     is intense.  Even in the relaxed pose, you sense danger.  Your color
     scheme only highlights that.  It is a work to be appreciated more by
     gallery owners than by most interior decorators."
          His voice sounded slightly regretful as he continued.  "In
     Rionar, they want flowers and sunsets.  Not a portrait of someone they
     wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley." He frowned.  "Did you use a
     live model for her?  An actual bat?"
          "Yes," Mika said nervously.
          "Interesting.  Where did you find her?"
          "A dark alley."
          The drojaar looked at him, coming as close to smiling as the race
     seemed capable of.  "Well."  He pulled out a small stack of papers. 






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 3 / 28



     "Read these, and if you like them, sign.  There are art dealers with
     smaller commissions, but most require a higher fee up front.  And they
     are likely to display your work in the back, far away from the flowers
     and sunsets."
          A few minutes later Mika was standing outside Phisfir Galleries,
     his portfolio in one hand and the papers in the other.  He shook his
     head, wondering what had motivated him to actually take his work to
     someone who might be interested.
          Of course, he knew exactly what--who--had.
          He walked home, feeling a disorienting mixture of happiness and
     confusion.
                                       #
          "So, how's the criminal element?"
          The burly fox grinned as he passed by Mika.  He smiled
     mechanically in return, picturing the fox wearing Dahlu's gooey orange
     dip.
          "That's not nice, Jack," a female human who had been talking at
     Mika for the past ten minutes said.  "It sounds kind of exciting. 
     It'd be fun to do some of the things you're doing, Mikki--I just don't
     have the nerve for that sort of lifestyle, I guess."
          "I have a life now, not a lifestyle," he said.  She smiled at him
     blankly; he took the opportunity to excuse himself and head for the
     relative safety of the kitchen.  "And I hate that nickname," he said
     to the icebox.  It didn't reply.
          He had no idea where Dahlu was.  Scat, the bulldog, had been
     following her around about an hour ago.  He always did, but after
     being constantly rebuffed politely--and not so politely--for long
     enough, he usually gave up until the next party.
          The doorbell went off again, for at least the twentieth time. 
     None of the guests moved; Mika left the kitchen and got the door
     himself, opening it to yet another happy couple he didn't recognize. 
     He wondered if they even knew whose house this was.  Some of the
     guests, he was sure, were only there because they had smelled a party
     nearby.
          Revar was right.  The anniversary of the Ranean Empire's founding
     was a holiday whose traditional celebration consisted of getting
     smashed.  He preferred to think of the party as celebrating his first
     appearance in a gallery, however small.  But, with his characteristic
     shyness, he had wanted to share that only with a few friends.  Dahlu
     had made a point, though, to mention it to every being she came in
     contact with, and even this accomplishment--which had seemed so major
     earlier in the day--was beginning to make him somewhat numb.
          The doorbell went off again, and he opened it as a reflex action,
     barely noticing the strangers who stepped through.  He nodded
     perfunctorily and went back to the kitchen to refill his mead.  The
     honey wine was Mika's one alcoholic weakness, and this variety,
     produced in Raneadhros, the Empire's capital city-state some two
     hundred miles to the north, was particularly good.
          He wasn't even aware of opening the door the next time the bell
     sounded.  When it finally clicked who had just stepped through, he
     nearly dropped his glass.
          Revar was all in light brown, wearing a skirt--of sorts--for the
     first time since Mika had known her.  Her entire top, from where the
     skirt ended well below her midriff, was comprised of two narrow
     vertical strips of cloth, running straight up her sides under her
     breasts, across them and up to her shoulders, tying in a knot behind






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 3 / 29



     her neck.  The cleavage she had seemed all the more impressive in the
     arrangement.  The skirt itself barely covered her thighs, although by
     her standards it must have been a full-length evening gown.  Two
     strips in front, matching the top, hung down almost to her knees, and
     two wider strips in back hung to just below her thighs.  Over it all
     was a long, dark brown cloak, swooping close to the ground; as she
     moved, it swung enough to reveal her sides, the dress hiding almost
     nothing from that angle.  Although he had seen her wearing less, the
     effect was still heart-stopping.
          The conversation of those closest to the door stopped as she
     began to attract notice.  She looked around and smiled at Mika,
     seeming unusually self-conscious.  "Well, kitten, I made it."
          "You look... beautiful," he managed.
          "Thank you," she said, her smile widening.  "You look pretty
     handsome yourself."  She stepped past him, not noticing (or ignoring)
     the blush he felt sure was visible through his fur.
          "You're Revar?"  Jack, the fox, was the first one from the nearby
     group to speak.  The bat raised her eyebrows quizzically in response,
     nodding slightly.  Several people gasped audibly, passing comments
     about her night-black eyes in stage whispers between themselves, but
     Jack merely stuck out his hand.  "You're not what I expected."
          She regarded his hand with faint surprise, then shook it.  "And
     what were you expecting?"
          "Hard to say, really.  Someone with a lighter grip."  He rubbed
     his wrist with his other hand, chuckling.  "Dahlu's told us a bit
     about you."
          "Most of it's probably not true," she said.
          Jack grinned.  "Oh, it wasn't bad."  A few people nearby tittered
     nervously.  Conversation around them picked up again, Revar being the
     new topic of choice.
          "Would you like anything to drink?" Mika said.
          "Ale, if you have it."
          "Of course."
          He headed off to the kitchen, bumping into Dahlu on the way.  "Is
     that--?" she said, glancing toward the knot of people clustered around
     Jack and Revar.
          "It is.  So far Jack's the only one who's been bold enough to
     speak to her."
          She nodded.  "Speaking is fine," she said cryptically, heading
     back toward the patio.
          When he returned with Revar's drink, the bat had been guided to a
     couch.  Jack was still the only one speaking to her, although a small
     mouse girl Mika didn't recognize had found enough nerve to sit on the
     couch, too--albeit pressed into the cushions on the far end.  He
     handed the drink to Revar and smiled at the mouse, who was so nervous
     she didn't notice.
          "Yes, it does," the bat was saying, looking mildly trapped. 
     "There's not a whole lot I can do about it, either."
          Jack raised his hands in apology.  "I'm sorry.  It wasn't a good
     question, I suppose.  I can't help but be interested, but I shouldn't
     put you on the spot."
          Revar looked somewhat relieved and took a large swallow of ale.
          "Why don't you go after animals?" the mouse said suddenly, her
     voice timid.
          The bat turned toward her too quickly; the little rodent
     squeaked, her eyes widening, and shrank back into the pillows.






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 3 / 30



          "Don't hurt her," a woman nearby said anxiously.
          Revar glanced toward the voice.  Mika didn't think anyone else
     noticed the momentary clenched fist she made as she turned back to the
     mouse.  "Are you sure you want to ask me that?" she said softly.
          After a moment, the mouse nodded, not looking at all sure.
          "I can," Revar said.  "But if I do, I'll kill them.  The only
     warm-blooded animals in this city are pets.  And despite any stories
     you might have heard, most bats don't like to kill."
          "It'd be better to kill a pet than to attack someone in this
     room," the mouse said.
          "Most pet owners would disagree with you."
          "Well, can't you just take a little?"
          "How much I drink is involuntarily.  The longer I go without
     blood, the more I'll take when I finally can."  Revar paused.  "Are
     you really interested in this, or are you just trying to decide
     whether I'm going to eat you?"
          The mouse's blush was quite visible through her white fur.  She
     slunk down in her pillows further, setting her wine glass on the
     floor.  "If you were hungry, could you stop yourself?" she said.
          "Attacking isn't automatic for me any more than drinking that
     wine is for you."  Revar's tone was still polite, but it was obvious
     her patience was almost out.
          Before any other questions could be asked, Dahlu announced
     dinner.  The bat's sigh of relief was almost comical.
          As the guests poured into the dining room, one of Dahlu's
     predictions came true.  Most of the guests edged away from the bat at
     the mention of food.  When she realized what was going on, her
     expression only made people more nervous.  She ended up sitting with
     Mika to her left and Jack to her right, several empty seats on either
     side beyond them.  Dahlu sat across from Mika, with Scat--apparently
     not having given up his fruitless romancing for the evening--sitting
     on her left, opposite Revar.
          The dinner was buffet-style.  Revar sat by herself while the
     others went to fill their plates.  Mika returned with two, setting one
     heaping with food in front of her.
          "Thank you," she murmured, staring at it and picking at some of
     the items with a claw.
          "You don't seem very comfortable."
          "I'm not."  She leaned back in her chair, looking around at the
     other guests.  "I've never been to anything like this."
          "And?"
          "And maybe it's too pretty for me."  She laughed, sounding more
     nervous than Mika had imagined her ever being.
          When Dahlu noticed the bat wasn't eating, she became solicitous.
     "Don't you like it?"
          "It smells very good," Revar said.  "What I've tried I like.  But
     Mika took more than I'm going to be able to eat."
          Dahlu frowned.  "You're not hungry?"
          She shook her head, nibbling at a fruit roll.
          "Already ate?" Scat said, looking up from his plate at the bat. 
     He took a sip of wine.  "Anyone I know?"  A few people nearby dared to
     laugh.
          Revar fixed him with an unblinking stare; he assumed the stance
     of someone trying very hard not to flinch.  "That was uncalled for,"
     she said softly.
          He pursed his lips, then shrugged, wolfing down a meat roll.  "So






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 3 / 31



     were you."  Dahlu sucked in her breath sharply; the bulldog smiled,
     falsely apologetic.  "I mean, you weren't really invited.  I didn't
     mean to be insulting."
          Revar tensed, her claws digging into her napkin.
          "Be careful.  This is a game," Mika whispered very softly in
     Revar's ear and putting a cautioning hand on her arm.
          "It's not one I like," she replied, shaking his hand off.
          "We were asked to invite friends," Mika said.  "She's mine."
          Scat waved the explanation aside with a carrot stick.  "Nice of
     you," he said cheerfully.  "I suppose she hasn't been in a
     neighborhood like this before.  A chance to see how the other half
     lives and all that."
          "Perhaps if people like you weren't as quick to call the guard
     when they saw people like me, such visits wouldn't be so rare," she
     said quietly.
          Scat glanced up at her, his smile dropping a bit.  "I'm sure it's
     nothing personal.  People prefer to err on the side of caution."
          "Caution against what?"
          He leaned back in his chair.  "Possibly... dangerous people."
          "Like bats?"
          He flashed a look of superior boredom at her, downing another
     meat roll.  "Look.  It's very easy to assume that the only reason
     you'd be here if the cat hadn't invited you was to steal something. 
     Or to pursue someone."
          "And it might be wrong," Revar said, her voice rising in volume.
          "It might not be."  He spread his hands.
          Revar sat a moment longer, her eyes locked to his face, then
     abruptly pushed back from the table and stood.  "I don't need to be
     told I'm a criminal."  She turned.
          Scat laughed, a bit too loudly.  "What else can you call someone
     who kills people?"
          She whirled around again, glaring at him.
          "Well, you do," the mouse girl who had been on the couch said
     timidly.  Revar turned on her with an expression that read I_could                                                                _______
                                                                       
     suck_you_dry_in_five_minutes.  The mouse sank back in her chair,     _____________________________                                   
                                                                     
     looking like she wanted to slide under the table.
          "You're lucky someone's not calling the Guard now," Scat said.
          Jack suddenly stood up, dropping his empty plate to the table
     with a melodramatic clang.  "Give it a rest, Scat.  And the rest of                                            ____                        
                                                                        
     you.  She hasn't bothered anyone here."
          "Maybe I should start," Revar growled, walking around the table
     to stand over Scat's chair.  "If you don't like the way I live, that's
     your business.  I don't ask you to.  But I'll be damned if I'm going
     to apologize for it to you, or to anyone else.
          "Just look at you."  She looked as if she was about to spit on
     the bulldog.  "I came here because I wanted to do something I've never
     done before, and because Mika wanted me here.  And because I wanted to
     have fun--something you've succeeded in stopping.  But this is still
     just an evening for me.  For you it's your whole life, isn't it?"
          Scat watched her with a baffled expression.  She moved back and
     looked around the room; conversation had almost stopped at the tables
     and couches, most of the forty-odd guests focusing on her.  "This is
     it for all of you, isn't it?  You don't have anything else to do.  You
     have nice little jobs where you do work you don't like for someone you
     despise.  Or you're perpetual students, working at avoiding all of the
     real world.  And the rest of your life is coming to every glamorous






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 3 / 32



     social event your rich friends throw and getting drunk.
          "There are people like you on the docks, too.  You're not that
     different from them after all.  Except that they don't have anyone to
     feel superior to, so they're not as insufferable as people like that
     dog."  She ripped off her cloak and flexed her wings, eliciting gasps
     from the crowd.
          Scat stood now; he towered over the bat by more than a foot,
     outmassing her by almost three times.  "You're dangerously arrogant,"
     he said softly.
          "You're dangerously fat," she snapped, turning her back on him
     and starting to walk toward the door.  He grabbed her by one arm,
     spinning her back to face him.  She glared up with unfeigned hatred.
          Mika jumped to his feet, hurrying toward them.  "Let go of her!"
          "I'm not going to do anything to her."
          "Then let go of my arm."  Revar was hissing.
          "Unless," he continued, "she comes back when she isn't invited."                                                           _____          
                                                                          
     He wrenched her arm backward and she hissed more sharply.
          "Stop it," a woman said.  It might have even been the mouse girl,
     but it didn't matter.  He ignored it.
          "That wrist of yours looks pretty fragile, the way the wing
     connects."  He slid his hand up her arm, wrapping his fingers around
     the joint, and squeezed hard.  She yelped.
          "If you break her wings she won't be able to fly," Mika said,
     reaching toward Scat's arm.  He yanked it out of the cat's reach;
     Revar winced, snarling.
          "I don't like being lectured by people like you.  Five years from
     now, I'll be closer to the top.  You'll be lying dead in a gutter
     somewhere.  And if you press people like us too far, you might not
     make it that long."
          "Speak for yourself," Jack said, stepping toward them.  "Let go
     of her wing."  He reached for Scat's shoulders.
          "I don't know if I want her to fly out of here," he said,
     squeezing a little more.  Revar's eyes widened as she hissed again. 
     Then they narrowed, and she brought her shoulder forward, swinging her
     free arm lightly toward Scat.
          "Don't try--"  The bulldog was cut off with a choke, stiffening.
     Her other hand was now between his legs, claws dug into his pants in a
     graphically disturbing fashion.  He started to pull at her wing; she
     flexed the hand slightly and he cried out, then stood stock-still.
          "How about a trade, society man," she said softly.  "My wing for
     your future sex life."
          He stared down at her.  "You let go first," he gritted after a
     moment.
          She shook her head, smiling a little.  "I don't trust you to let
     go."
          "And why the hell should I trust you?"
          "Because if we both break what we're holding, my wing will
     heal."
          Scat held on a moment longer, trembling a little, then released
     her wing.
          "Good man," she said, giving him a little squeeze as she let go.
     He yowled and doubled over.
          Revar picked up her plate and headed toward the door.  "I am
     hungry now," she said to Dahlu, who had been watching the proceedings
     with a horrified expression.  "But I think I should call this an
     evening.  Or, by my schedule, early morning.  Do you mind if I take






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 3 / 33



     this plate?"
          Dahlu shook her head, wide-eyed.
          "I will return it.  After all, I wouldn't want you to think I was
     a thief.  Thank you for a most interesting, if not entirely pleasant,
     new experience."
          By the time Revar reached the door, the bulldog had recovered
     enough breath to look up at her, eyes filled with hatred.  "If you
     come anywhere near here again, you will be sorry." It carried the
     weight of a promise.
          She laughed.  "I'm sorry I'm near here now.  No offense to the
     rest of the guests."  She glanced over at the shivering mouse.  "That
     is, if there's anyone here I haven't offended already.  Good
     evening."  She stepped through the door, closing it softly behind
     her.
          Nobody spoke for several seconds.  Then the room exploded into
     conversation.  Several people went over to Scat, some to murmur
     sympathetic platitudes, some to berate him.  The mouse suggested he
     file assault charges with the Guard.
          Dahlu looked at Mika mournfully, not quite an I_told_you_so                                                        _____________
                                                                     
     expression but close enough to be uncomfortable.
          "I like her," Jack announced, to no one in particular.  Mika
     glanced back at Dahlu, then ran out the door after Revar.  She was
     already gone.
                                       #
          Dahlu looked angry enough to throw the plate she was holding at
     him, so Mika stepped back out of range.  "You don't see it at all, do
     you?" she screamed.
          He shook his head negatively.  She had already admitted it wasn't
     Revar's fault, but that appeared to be immaterial.  It was somehow
     Revar's fault anyway, and by association Mika's as well.
          "She was inviting trouble just by being here.  She knew it, and
     you knew it when you invited her."
          "You're saying she should have stayed in her place.  That's what
     Scat said, too."
          "Don't compare me to him," she snapped, slamming the plate into
     the sink.
          "You're the one who said it."  He thrust his hands into his
     pockets.
          She sighed.
          "You're holding her responsible for not fitting into your world
     view," he persisted.  "You're pretending it's entirely her fault for
     not knowing her place in society.  That makes Scat completely
     blameless."
          Dahlu stomped her foot.  "He is not completely blameless.  It's                                          ___                            
                                                                         
     as much that... that idiot's fault as it is hers."                          _______                      
                                                       
          "The only way you can believe that any of it was Revar's fault is
     to agree with Scat!  Do you or don't you?"
          "Oh, damn you," she said, rubbing her forehead.  "Mika, she
     killed my party."  Her voice became small and hurt.
          Mika snorted.  "Most people went right back to normal after she
     left.  She was the only one whose evening was damaged--except for
     Scat.  And I can't believe you have more sympathy for him than for
     her."
          "I don't."
          "Are you sure?"
          She remained silent, ears flattening.






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 3 / 34



          "You just don't want to admit the possibility that I'm right, do
     you?"
          "No, I don't!" she hissed.  "Why did you have to find her in the
     first place?"  She stormed out of the kitchen.  By the time Mika
     followed her, she was sitting on the couch, legs drawn up, sniffling
     quietly.
          "I don't think she wanted this to happen," he said softly.
          "I know what she wanted," she muttered, looking down at the
     carpet.  "She wanted you.  And you wanted her."
          "What?"
          Dahlu sunk back into the couch, closing her eyes.  "She has you
     wrapped around one of her cute little fangs.  Don't tell me you don't
     see it."
          "I'm not interested in her that way, Dahlu.  I've--"
          "Maybe you aren't.  Not yet.  But how long do you think it will
     take?"
          Mika sat down beside her, reaching out an arm.  "You know you're
     just as pretty as she is.  Prettier."
          She smiled wanly at him.  "When you first met her, you told me
     you didn't think she was pretty at all."  He started to protest, but
     she shook her head.  "No.  I'm pretty, but I'm not exotic.  She's
     both.
          "You've been attracted to danger since you started going down to
     the docks, Mika.  And... I don't know.  I don't know why you started
     going down there at all.  I don't know why you want to be friends with
     someone who tried to kill you.  It doesn't make any sense to me."  She                                                         _____             
                                                                           
     sighed.  "Except that you're attracted to danger, and she's the most
     dangerous thing you know."
          "Cut it out," Mika said, taking her arm and pulling her toward
     her lap; she didn't resist, but didn't respond to the hug.  "You know
     that's not true."
          "What's not true?  That she's attractive?"
          He looked her in her eyes for a moment; they were challenging. 
     He dropped his first.  "She is."
          "To you."
          "Does that matter?"
          She nodded.  "Yes, I think it does."
          "But I love you," he said simply, as if it were an explanation
     for everything.
          "Stop seeing her," she said softly.  Her eyes were desperate.
          He stroked her hair away from her eyes, feeling a growing sense
     of loss he couldn't quite put into words.  After a moment with nothing
     spoken, Dahlu put her head against his chest and started to cry.
                                       #
          The dragon was still jawless, its spout having deteriorated over
     the week since its disfigurement into a sick spray almost completely
     missing the pool.  The water was low enough to see the bottom even in
     the partial moonlight, hundreds of tarnished coins glinting barely
     just out of Mika's reach.
          The lock on the gate had been replaced.  Lacking Revar's
     strength, he had broken in conventionally, climbing over the
     twelve-foot wall with a hook and rope, now stored in his pack.
          He sat down on the ground, his back against the fountain's side,
     and looked up at the stars.  The place seemed to have acquired a
     special magic for him; he had hoped to come here and think about
     Dahlu, about what he might say to her--about what they might be able






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 3 / 35



     to do.  But it was hard to think about anything at all.
          According to the drojaar at the gallery, several people had
     expressed interest in his pictures.  And, as he had predicted, most
     were other gallery owners.  None had offered to buy either at the
     drojaar's set price.  Mika had thought he had greatly overvalued them,
     but the dwarf had dourly insisted that they were priced too low, "even
     for Rionar."  Evidently it still wasn't low enough for purchasers,
     though.
          After some length of time passed, he didn't hear a noise behind
     him as much as feel a familiar presence.  Revar sat down on the edge
     of the fountain beside him.  "The snake's pretty screwed up, isn't
     it?" she said, studying the dragon.
          Her smile faded with Mika's silence.  She tapped him on the
     shoulder with a claw.  "I was flying overhead, saw you here, and
     thought it was unusual for you to be out trespassing on your own. 
     Anything wrong?"
          He smiled bitterly.  "It's not unusual for me anymore.  I must be
     hanging out with the wrong crowd."
          "Princess is on your back about me," she guessed.
          He tilted his head back to look up at her.  "Yes.  And no."  She
     started rubbing his neck lightly; he stiffened at first, then forced
     himself to relax.  "She doesn't want me to keep seeing you."
          "We already knew that."
          "No, it's more than that."  He leaned forward, and she moved her
     hand onto his shoulder, matching it with her other one.  The leading
     edge of her wings brushed up and down his forearms as she moved,
     sending pleasant but vaguely unsettling whispers up his spine.  "She
     accused me of being attracted to you."
          She rubbed a little harder, and he started purring softly under
     her touch.  "Are you?"
          "Yes."
          "It sounds like she's accusing me of trying to steal you from
     her," replied Revar.
          "And are you?"
          She laughed.  "I used to think along those lines, many years
     ago.  I've since learned that we choose our partners.  We don't kidnap
     them.  You might say that you'd have to want to be stolen for that to
     happen."
          "I think she's worried about that, too."
          Revar smiled, but said nothing.  She kept rubbing, moving down
     his chest.
          "I'm not selling any art, either," he said suddenly.  "I'm
     trying.  But I'm not succeeding."
          "It's only been a week," she admonished.
          "He says I might have to try in some bigger cities."
          "You could come with me to Raneadhros."
          He pulled away, twisting around to face her.  "You're leaving?"
          "Relax," she said, forcing him back to his original position. 
     "It's okay, kitten.  I've been thinking about leaving for a year now.
     It might be another year before I do."
          "But with you, it could be tomorrow."  Mika fought to keep his
     voice even.
          "If I go," she said softly, "you'll know where to find me."
          Mika remained silent for a few more minutes, his purr gradually
     fading.  Then he stood up, walking away from the fountain toward the
     manicured grass nearby.






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 3 / 36



          "Now what?" Revar called.
          "I'm losing her," he said.
          She studied him for a few seconds.  "You love her?"
          "What kind of question is that?"
          "An honest one.  But you do love her.  I can see that."
          "You sound disappointed," he said, looking over at the bat.
          Revar shrugged, smiling her most enigmatic smile.
          "I don't want to lose her over you."
          "You want to stop seeing me?"
          "No," he said, dropping down on the grass.  "I don't want to make
     a choice.  I shouldn't have to make a choice."                            ____                   
                                                   
          She sat down beside him, wings open, arms stretched out behind
     her.  "Are you worried she's right?"
          "Right about what?"
          "That we might become lovers."  She looked down, chuckling.  "A
     vampire bat and a starving artist kitten.  We would make a very
     strange couple indeed."
          He smiled.  Then something seemed to well up from inside, and
     without warning, he was crying.  "I'm trying--and I don't know what
     else to do...."  His voice trailed off into an unwilling sob.
          Somehow Revar's arm's were around him; he leaned against her, his
     hands on her shoulders and his cheek against her chest, the top of his
     head nestled under her chin.  She stroked his mane softly with one
     hand, her wings wrapped around him.  They were soft and much warmer
     than he had imagined, almost hot, but oddly comforting.
          "All we can ever do is try, kitten," she whispered.  "Try and
     hope."
          He looked up at her, her face less than an inch from his own, and
     stroked her arm, trembling.  "I'm not a kitten," he said very softly,
     moving closer still.
          She pursed her lips, then opened them slightly, her mouth moving
     to a hair's breadth from his own.  Then she put a claw on the tip of
     his nose and pushed him away, almost regretfully.  "If we do that,
     it'll be the end of you and Dahlu.  You know that."
          "Yes," he said, looking down.
          "I still think she's a pastahead," she said gently, "but she's
     your pastahead.  And even if I don't like it, I know she loves you.      ____                                                                
                                                                         
     You have to either end your relationship with her, or fix it."
          "Even if it means losing you?"
          Revar stroked his mane, letting her claws trail lightly down his
     shirt to the base of his tail.  "I won't fight her over you.  But
     maybe we can convince her that a man and a woman can just be
     friends."
          "But we're already something more," Mika said, huddling against
     her.
          "Maybe we are," she agreed, almost sadly.
          "Hold me?" he said at last.  She wrapped her wings around him
     again and buried her face in his mane.
                                       #
          The sun was setting as Mika walked up the street after work.  He
     wasn't sure what he would say, but he knew that Revar was right.  He
     wanted to keep both of them as friends--or lovers?  No.  Whether or
     not the bat believed in "multiple partner relationships," it wasn't an
     option.  Even if he could do it, Dahlu never could.
          But he knew the bat would be happy if their relationship stayed
     at the same level it was now--an non-physical intimacy that he and






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 3 / 37



     Dahlu had never really shared.  And he would be happy with that, too.
     But his feline love would never be happy with being "just friends." 
     So he would have to convince her that he and Revar would remain that
     way.
          And, perhaps, convince himself.
          A fine attorney you'd make, he thought bitterly.  It's difficult
     to make your case when you're not sure you believe it.
          We_would_make_a_very_strange_couple_indeed....          ______________________________________________
                                                        
          Two human Guardsmen, dressed in their near-immaculate red
     uniforms, nodded politely at they ran past Mika at top speed.  "Good
     day to you, too," the cat said perplexedly.
          He didn't start running, too, until he realized they were heading
     to the same house he was.
          As he reached Dahlu's door, another Guard appeared behind him,
     also politely nodding as he pushed Mika aside and raced through the
     doorway.  "What in the hell?" Mika snapped.
          The living room was, for Dahlu, a shambles.  All the couch
     pillows were on the floor, and a good china plate lay overturned in
     their midst.  Dahlu herself was suspended in the air, her neck firmly
     in the grip of one of Revar's taloned hands.  The bat was staring,
     wild-eyed and panicked, at the two guards already present.  Both had
     swords drawn.
          "Revar!" Mika yelled, trying to run past the Guard.  "Stop!"
          She looked over at him, fangs bared.  "I--"  She glared back up
     at Dahlu.  "She tricked me!"  Her voice was a howl of anguish.
          Dahlu shook her head frantically, pawing at Revar's arm.  "No,"
     she choked.
          "Put down the cat, ma'am," one of the Guard said politely,
     raising his sword.
          "What are you talking about?" Mika said to Revar, ignoring the
     human completely.
          "I'd appreciate you standing out of the way in case someone gets
     hurt, sir," the Guard behind him said.
          "She's not going to hurt anyone," Mika snapped.  "Put her down,"
     he said to Revar.
          "I...."  Revar swallowed.  "This wasn't what was supposed to
     happen.  I came over to talk and she... called them."  She backed away
     from the Guard, still holding the helpless cat like a toy.
          "She didn't, ma'am," the Guard closest to her said.  "Put the cat
     down now."
          "What's going on?" Mika said.
          "We may have assault charges pending on this suspect," one of the
     other Guards replied.  "Not to mention taking a hostage."
          "Please," Dahlu gasped.
          Revar stared up at her a moment longer; then, to Mika's shock, a
     tear rolled down the bat's cheek.  She set Dahlu down gently.
          As soon as Dahlu was on her feet, all three Guards moved toward
     Revar.  She crouched down, then leaped up, trying to clear them; one
     grabbed her legs, and she crashed to the floor.  One Guard produced a
     pair of handcuffs and tried to figure out how to put them on her as
     the other two held her down.  Her legs weren't strong enough to break
     free from the grip the two had on them, but when the one with the
     handcuffs leaned over her, she found a steel grip on his shoulders. 
     She screamed shrilly and threw him into the air; he sailed over the
     couch and landed at Mika's feet.  The cat stepped over him and raced
     to Revar's side.  "Stop it!" he yelled, not sure whether he was






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 3 / 38



     talking to her or to them.
          "Mika--" she gasped.  "Don't let them take me--"
          The two Guards holding her rolled her onto her back.  The third
     one crawled over to her and slipped a cuff on her wrist before getting
     slammed into the couch by the back of her hand.  All three of them
     working together held her long enough for the other wrist to be
     cuffed.  When she was finally shackled, she stared at the chain, then
     pulled on it experimentally.  Then she pulled with all her strength. 
     There was an unsettling crack, but the chain held.  She started to
     wail.
          "Let's move quickly," one of the Guard said.  Two of them lifted
     Revar to her feet, as gently as they could given her struggling.  The
     third one--the one who Revar had bounced across the room--walked over
     to Dahlu, rubbing his back with one hand and moving with a pronounced
     limp.  "Do you want to press charges, ma'am?"
          "No," she said after a moment.  "It's your fault she grabbed
     me."
          The Guard cleared his throat, looking dourly surprised, and
     turned away.  "Good day, then."
          "She's not pressing charges!" Mika said angrily.  "Why are you
     taking her?"
          "Sir, we followed her here because we have a pending assault
     charge on a bat who fits her description.  We are authorized to bring
     her in for identification purposes.  If she's not the one we're
     looking for, we will let her go."  The Guard spoke with difficulty;
     when he was close enough to hold Revar still, he was within range of
     her teeth, and the other Guardsmen were doing their best to keep each
     other's throats from being ripped out.
          Mika watched numbly, wondering if Dahlu would have been treated
     the same way if she matched a suspect's description.  He doubted it.
          Revar's eyes connected with Mika's, seeming to ask a question he
     didn't understand.  Then she was gone.
          He turned toward Dahlu, who was sitting on the floor, facing away
     from him.  "You called the Guard?"
          "No."
          "You're saying they just watch the entrance streets here to see
     if the riffraff wanders in?"  His voice rose.
          "For known riffraff, yes," she said tightly.  "The pending
     charges are probably from Scat, and that assault happened right here."
     She sighed.  "She didn't believe me, either.  That's why she grabbed
     me."
          Mika ran his hands through his mane.  "What was she here for?"
          "To return the plate."  She laughed bitterly.  "She was right. 
     She isn't a thief."
          Then she looked up at him.  "She was here to talk about you.  And
     about us.  She didn't get a chance to say much before they showed up.
     But she wanted to convince me that you're just friends."  She smiled
     slightly.  "I think she wants me to like her.  Because you like her,
     and because she doesn't want me to see her as a threat.  Without you I
     think the only way she'd ever see me is as a late night snack."
          "That's not--"
          "You know it's true."
          He did.  "Do you still think of her as a threat?"
          "In a way," she said very softly, "I do like her.  Even after
     having been picked up like a doll.  She's very charismatic.  And,
     yes," she sighed, "I think she's more of a threat to me now than






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 3 / 39



     ever."
          Mika walked to the door.  "Are you coming down to the station?"
          "If you're asking me to pay her bail, I can't do it."
          Just before he left, he turned, not quite looking at her.  "If
     you could, would you?"
          Her voice was barely a whisper.  "I hope so.  I really do hope
     so."
                                       #
          "She doesn't... do what you need.  And she doesn't see it.  I
     just wanted to get her to see a little more of you."  Revar spoke to
     him from the other side of a mesh screen.  She was no longer bound,
     but five Guardsmen stood watch over her.
          "You wanted to help me by getting yourself killed?"
          The bat sniffled.  Nothing looked more pathetic than a helpless
     predator, Mika decided.  "I thought she had called them somehow.  I'm
     sorry."  She started to growl.  "If I get out of here I'll show that
     damned dog what assault really means."                     _______               
                                           
          "You'll get out.  I'll get you out.  As soon as I can."
          Revar smiled, but didn't speak.
          "Time's up, sir," the guard on his side of the screen said.  Mika
     pressed one hand against the screen; she touched it briefly with her
     own, then allowed the Guard to lead her away with a quietness that
     chilled him.
          Mika waited in the station lobby another ten hours, through the
     rest of the night, drinking coffee and sharing donuts with a talkative
     ferret Guard until Revar's case was reviewed.
          As they had known, the assault charges had been filed by Scat. 
     "I was there," he told the officer.  "She didn't assault him.  He
     grabbed her.  She reacted in self-defense.  And she didn't hurt any
     more than his pride."
          The officer, an elderly, bespectacled skunk, cut him off.  "You
     may speak in her behalf at the trail, Mr. Radgers.  However, charges
     have been filed and a positive identification has been made, and under
     Ranean Law all felonies must go to trial unless the plaintiff chooses
     to waive that right and settle out of court.  Mr. Hozrin has made it
     clear this is not his choice.
          "Considering the circumstances in which the defendent was
     arrested--namely, in the process of committing another assault,
     regardless of whether or not charged were filed--I cannot, in good
     conscience, allow her to go free with minimum bail.  Therefore, bail
     is set at two thousand vars."
          Mika's heart dropped.  That was more than he made in two months;
     he had, at most, three hundred on hand.  Even if Dahlu could be
     convinced to loan him money, she would have to borrow it from her
     parents.  They would not be fond of the idea of paying bail for
     someone who assaulted their own daughter.  And they were probably
     friends with Scat's parents.
          The officer turned to the side of his desk and flipped through a
     calendar.  "Given the large backload of cases presently in this
     district, the earliest I can set the trail date is the 26th, one hour
     past threechime."  He wrote the date down on a card and handed it to
     Mika.  "If you wish to appear in the defendant's behalf at the trial,
     please be on time."
          Feeling cheated, Mika walked out of the station.  It was only the
     third of the month.  That meant more than three weeks in jail for
     Revar.  And if she had been right earlier, three weeks on normal






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 3 / 40



     prison food.
          I_can't_afford_to_get_caught.  It'd_kill_me.          _____________________________  _____________
                                                      
          Mika stopped outside the station, feeling the sun's heat on his
     fur but growing very cold inside, and closed his eyes.


























































                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 4 / 41













     Memory!
     You have the key.
     The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair.
     Mount.
     Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life.

     (from "Rhapsody on a Windy Night," by T.S. Eliot)



     4.
           Her voice was quiet, the glow in her eyes less fierce than
     melancholy.  She had only been in prison a week, but Mika knew she
     hadn't really eaten since four days before that.  Even so, he wondered
     if the loss of freedom--of flight--wasn't more painful than the
     prospect of starvation.
           The bat's gaze sharpened slightly, with a touch of impatience,
     and he realized he hadn't answered her question.  "Yes.  Uh, well, he
     said he'd keep them for another week, but he didn't think I'd be able
     to seel either one in this market.  He thought I should go to
     Raneadhros."
           "I wish I could join you," she replied softly.  "And you, if you
     go with him," she said to Dahlu.  She picked at the wire mesh
     separating her from them with the claws of two fingers.
           Mika smiled awkwardly.  She knew he had no intention of leaving
     here, especially without her.  Dahlu looked worried, uncomfortable; he
     was surprised she had come with him to visit the bat.  "I'm trying to
     get you some sort of... food."
           She smiled thinly.  "So are they.  But they're idiots.  They
     keep giving me raw meat."
           "Is that all they'll do for you?"
           "They didn't believe I was beginning to starve until yesterday,
     when some asinine physician said I was looking a little sick."  She
     sighed.  "And I don't think they're going to throw me a derelict."
           Dahlu shivered involuntarily.  "I can't get your bail," she
     said.
           "I know."  Revar's tone was the friendliest he had ever heard
     her use toward his girlfriend.  "But I know you tried."
           "I don't know what else to do.  We can't get the trial moved
     forward, we can't get you out, we can't get food for you...."  Dahlu's
     voice trailed off.
           "Are you and Mika getting along?"
           Both cats looked up at Revar with expressions of surprise. 
     Dahlu was the first to speak.  "I don't know.  I can't blame you for
     what's going on between us."  She shook her head.
           "But you'd like to."  A hint of mischievousness sparked in






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 4 / 42



     Revar's eyes.
           "Hurry up please, it's time," a guard standing on the bat's side
     of the room said.  Revar stood up, sighing dramatically; Mika stood
     too, pressing his hand to the mesh.  She traced it lightly with one
     claw, making the wire rattle, and led the guard out of the room as if
     she were the one in charge.  Mika turned toward the door.
           "What is going on between us?" Dahlu asked, still sitting.  "I                 __                                                      
                                                                         
     don't know whether you're just upset, or drifting away for good."
           "Maybe we were never as close as we thought," Mika said softly.
           She walked past him out the door.
                                       #
           "Pardon, but I don't see how this helps."
           Mika straightened out his slouch and regarded the speaker.  Too
     much light behind her for him to recognize the figure, but the voice
     was familiar.  Dimly.  "How what helps?"
           "That," she said, gesturing with a brown paw to his half-empty
     stein.  She slid into the bench opposite his and stared at him across
     the booth's table."
           "You're the fox," he said, squinting.  "Orlonda."
           She nodded.  "We've all heard about you.  A little.  She really
     likes you, you know."
           He hiccuped.
           "That's your third one.  You've been here half the night."
           "It's my sixth," he said.  "I've been here most of the day." He
     looked past her at nothing.  "Maybe I should quit work."
           Orlonda reached across the table and yanked the mug from his
     hand.  "Get a grip, boy.  Between you and me we might be all the
     friends Revar has left.  And that means she needs us to be doing more
     than sitting around getting our whiskers soaked."
           "I've tried everything I can," he said miserably.
           "Getting her trial date moved up?"
           He nodded.
           "Getting charges just dropped."
           Mika laughed bitterly.  "Oh, right.  Convince Scat of that.  She
     got him where it hurts most."
           "I heard."  She grinned.  "An evil place to grab a man."
           "Huh?"  Mika looked confused, then waved the comment aside. 
     "No, not that.  That'd just hurt for a few hours."  He leaned forward
     conspiratorially.  "She got him in his pride.  That'll never heal."                                            _____                       
                                                                        
           "So we need to talk to him."
           "Great," he said, taking his mug back from her.  "Just march
     right up there and tell him he's going to drop charges."
           "You have any better ideas?"
           He just stared at her.
                                       #
           The idea didn't work, of course.  It was late evening by the
     time he tracked the fox down the next day and went uptown to Scat's
     flat, several blocks away from Dahlu's home.
           Scat raised his eyebrows when he opened the door, then turned
     away.  "I suppose I've been expecting you," he said.  "Come in."
           "You've got to drop the charges against her," Mika said without
     preamble.
           The bulldog sat down on his plush, light brown couch and
     regarded the cat with some amusement.  "And why would I want to do
     that?"
           "Because she's dying."






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 4 / 43



           "They'll keep her alive until the trial."
           "They're not.  And they shouldn't be holding her at all.  If you                    ___                                                    
                                                                           
     and the damn mouse hadn't convinced the Guard she was too dangerous to
     go free on her own recognizance, they wouldn't be," he said.
           "I doubt that."  Scat rose and poured himself a drink from a
     little bar against one wall.  "She was in the middle of attacking
     Dahlu, from what I heard.  Anything I told the Guard was probably
     quite secondary."  He sighed.  "The fact is, I'm not the one who
     committed the crime here."
           "The fact is you are," Mika snapped.  "You're the one who
     assaulted her in the first place."
           The dog sighed, rolling his eyes back.  "All right.  Maybe you
     think I'm being callous.  If you were the next person she decided to
     kill--or the next person she drank a little too much blood out of--you
     wouldn't feel that way."
           "Save the concerned citizen routine.  You know the charges will
     be dismissed at the trial.  You're just trying to torture her until
     then, and I don't think it bothers you at all that she might die
     before that, does it?"
           "If she's as tough as she says she is, a little starvation isn't
     going to hurt her," the dog said calmly.  "The worst that could happen
     to me is getting charged along with her at the trial, and I don't
     think that's likely to happen.  I don't have a record and don't have a
     reputation for legal trouble, and come from a good family.  I have
     standing in the community.  What's she have?  Fangs."
           He shook his head in condescending disapproval.  "If she had
     stayed down by the docks like she was told to, the Guard would never
     have caught her.  In a year or two, they would have forgotten about
     the charges.  But she didn't do that.  And so she got nailed."
           Orlonda stood in the doorway, staring at Scat.  "You bastard,"
     she suddenly said, launching herself at him.
           He jumped off the couch; she crashed into its back as he
     regained his balance.  The fox whirled around to face him again.  He
     stood in front of her, hands placidly by his side, and grinned.  "Go
     ahead."
           "Let it go," Mika warned.
           Orlonda glared up at the bulldog a moment more, than pushed him
     away and walked to the cat's side.
           "If you're concerned about her starving, talk to the Guard," the
     bulldog said, sitting back down and picking up his drink.
           "Fuck you," Orlonda said.  He laughed.
           Mika shook his head and walked to the door, motioning for the
     fox to follow.  She stormed past him into the hall, her anger an
     almost visible black cloud hovering over her tail.
           "Mika,"  Scat said, half-turning.  "She attacked your
     girlfriend.  Who do you care about more?"
           "I care about both of them."
           Scat frowned.  "You have an odd way of showing it.  I would take
     better care of such a treasure."  He took another drink, dismissing
     them.  "Have a pleasant evening."
           "When Revar gets free, I'm going to give her directions to your
     apartment," Mika said quietly.  "I hope she hunts you down and kills
     you.  Slowly.  Have a pleasant evening yourself."
                                       #
           Prisoners were only allowed to have visitors one day a week.  By
     the time Mika returned for his second visit, Revar had been in for






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 4 / 44



     over two weeks, far past the time she said she could go without
     blood.  It had only been two days since Mika had last been at the
     station, though; the day after the ill-fated attempt to get the
     charges dropped, he and Jack had tried, once again, to find some way
     to get food to the bat.  Jack claimed one of the Guards owed him a big
     favor--something about saving his life during a border skirmish a few
     years back--but there were no strings to be pulled.
           The station's waiting room was obscenely cheerful, with a
     spotless brown shag carpet perfectly complemeneted to the plush
     furniture, pleasingly lit by the soft glowplates in the ceiling.  A
     counter ran the length of the room down the middle; behind it, the
     carpet stopped, and a more mundane businesslike array of desks and
     files stretched back to the far wall and its large door that led into
     the prison wing.  The Guard that Mika had just spoken to made a
     beeline for this door, stopping at the desk just behind it and
     exchanging inaudible questions and answers with the cold-looking human
     male who sat there.
           After far too long, the Guard returned to the counter, heading
     toward the lower, left end so he could see over it.  "I'm sorry," he
     said, his naked tail flicking violently, "but that prisoner is no
     longer able to accept visitors."
           "What?"  Mika reached across the counter, almost grabbing the            _____                                                       
                                                                        
     rat's lapels and lifting him over it.
           "She has been moved to solitary confinement," he replied, his
     tone apologetic.  "There was a fight of some sort yesterday...."  He
     started flipping through the papers the desk guard had given him.
           "Was she hurt?"
           "Hm? Not seriously.  She attempted to... uh... bite out the
     throat of one of her fellow inmates."
           "You kept her locked up with someone?"  Mika cursed.  "I could
     have told you that would happen.  Dammit."
           The rat set down his papers.  "Excuse me?"
           "The day before yesterday I said she needed food.  Badly.  I've
     been saying that since she got here."
           "You're saying she was going to eat the other inmate, sir?"                                           ___                        
                                                                      
           "Just drink his blood."  He noticed the rat's wide-eyed
     expression.  "Look, she needs blood to live.  Haven't any of you
     figured that out yet?"
           "I've never seen her," the rat mumbled.  "Hold on."  He picked
     up the papers and riffled through them hurriedly.  "Aha.  Yes, we are
     trying to get her food."
           "And?"
           "And it's evidently not enough.  Yet.  We're still trying."
           "What did you do, give her a steak?"
           The rat looked annoyed now.  "We can't break laws to help this
     prisoner, sir.  The fact that she prefers sapient food does not give
     us authority to give it to her."
           "Couldn't you bring her an animal?"
           "It says that's been tried."
           "Did you try a big animal?"                          ___         
                                      
           "How long have you lived in Rionar, sir?"
           "All my life."
           "Well, according to the prisoner, she can't use cold-blooded
     animals for food.  And igla are the only meat-bearing herd animals in
     the area."
           "What about--what are they called--cows?"






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 4 / 45



           "The only cows in this city are cow steaks, sir.  Cows are big,
     smelly, stupid animals that require four times the grazing land an
     igla does.
           "We're trying to...."  The rat cleared his throat.  "We're
     trying to requisition a cow.  But under the best of circumstances it
     won't be here for five days.  We're not at all sure that delivering
     one to her won't violate animal abuse laws."
           Mika glared at him.  "What about prisoner abuse laws?  How is
     she doing?"
           "I don't really know--"
           Mika grabbed the sheaf of papers and shook them.  "In all of
     these, not one line is about her medical status?"
           "I said I_don't_know."  The rat yanked back the papers, rifling                   ____________                                           
                                                                          
     through them.  "I'm afraid I can't help you with that, sir," he said
     after a moment.  "It's against Guard policy."
           "It isn't if your prisoners are doing well," Mika said softly.
           The rat hesitantly nodded, looking down.  "I'm truly sorry if
     what we're doing isn't far enough, fast enough.  But our hands are
     tied, sir."
           Mika stared at the Guard dumbly, then ran out of the building.
                                       #
           "I'm coming, I'm coming.  You'll knock the bloody door down that
     way."  Mika stopped pounding when he heard the voice and waited.
           The sound of tumblers turning came after a moment.  Jack stood
     behind the opening door, surrounded by the aroma of brewing tea.
           "How well do you know that Guard friend of yours?"
           The fox blinked, scratching his chest fur.  "You're going to
     want me to do something that'll require putting my shirt on, aren't
     you? Come in."
           Mika closed the door behind him, sitting down on a low backless
     chair--more a thick, wide cushion with chair-like pretensions.  "How
     well do I know Verell?  Pretty damn well.  We go back a long time. 
     Longer than either one of us'd care to admit; we wouldn't be able to
     keep lying about our ages then."  He laughed.  "You know, he's still
     working on trying to find a way to get Revar food.  But he did get his
     point through to me.  It's not like they can lock her up with someone
     and look the other way while she attacks them."
           "Yes, they could have, but that's not important.  She's in
     solitary now."
           Jack, who had started to pour himself some tea, stopped and
     looked across at the cat.  "That's not good.  Not good at all."  He
     sat down beside Mika, the half-filled cup temporarily forgotten.  "She
     said she was able to keep herself from attacking people.  That's what
     happened, isn't it?"
           Mika nodded.  "She is.  She can't stop taking blood once she
     starts, but she won't start voluntarily."
           "Then she must have been damn desperate."  He rocked back on his
     cushion, leaning against an imaginary wall.  "So what do you want to
     do?"
           "We have to get her out, Jack," Mika said.  "Now."
           "I don't see how.  Verell and I have...."  His voice trailed
     off, stopped by an uncharacteristic edge in the cat's tone.  "Bloody
     hell.  I may be adventuresome in the tea party set, kitty cat, but
     there are adventuresome things and then there are highly illegal,
     insanely dangerous things."
           "You don't have to help.  Except for getting Verell to do it."






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 4 / 46



           "Oh, that's all!"  Jack threw his hands up in the air.  "What do
     you expect him to do?"
           "Listen.  There's a courtyard in the back of the prison, and
     it's not very well guarded.  Prisoners are supposed to get accompanied
     visits out there.  It's in the Guard charter."
           "And?"
           "And suppose she went out but didn't come back."
           "And suppose Verell gets court-martialled.  He doesn't owe me
     that much."     ____       
                
           "There are a lot of Guard in that building.  As long as he's
     careful nobody will know there even is an inside man."
           "But once she's out there--"
           "If she's left alone for a few minutes, we might not have to. 
     She can just fly."
           "They'll have her handcuffed."
           "Then we get to her and cut them off.  We could do that in under
     a minute."
           "So much for me not helping."  He stood up abruptly and finished
     filling his cup of tea, and started to gulp it down, still standing. 
     "I don't know if I can go along with something like this, Mika. 
     Helping a friend, pulling some strings, that's one thing.  But we're
     talking about committing a felony on our own.  Maybe you're prepared
     to defend yourself to the Guard if they catch you.  But I'm not sure I
     believe they'll be in much sympathy with our cause."
           "If you don't help, she dies.  It's that simple."
           Jack sighed and poured himself another cup of tea without
     speaking, and without offering a cup to Mika.  He drained it, still in
     silence, and looked over at the cat, then sighed again.  Then he went
     into the bedroom and came out carrying his shoes and shirt.
                                       #
           "There's got to be another way to do this," Jack grunted.
           "Quit bitchin'," Orlanda snarled.
           They crouched, with Mika, behind a tall iron fence around the
     small courtyard.  The moon was high in the sky, or would have been if
     the night hadn't been overcast.  That was good: it made them less
     noticeable.  Verell had said that prisoners always came out with two
     Guard; Mika hoped the other one would be human, like Verell himself. 
     Most of the zoomorphs' night vision would be good enough to pick them
     out the instant they moved.
           Verell had just stepped out from the single door set in the
     prison's blank stone wall.  He wandered aimlessly; when he came too
     close to the fence, he looked around nervously, then stood rigidly in
     place.  "She's coming," he said, appparently to the night air itself.
           After an interminable length of time, the door opened again, and
     another Guard stepped out.  He was human, and he was gently leading
     Revar.
           Her arm was around his shoulder, but only because he held her
     hand in place with his own.  Her body dragged limply; it was hard to
     tell if she was even walking under her own power.  The wings slid
     audibly over the grass as she moved.
           "She's not cuffed," Jack breathed in Mika's ear.  But the cat
     didn't reply; instead he bit his lower lip, trembling.  It was obvious
     there was no reason to bind her.
           Verell jogged over to help.  "There you go," the first Guard
     said, unhooking her arm from his neck.  She staggered, starting to
     fall; he caught her and gently lowered her to the ground.  She sat and






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 4 / 47



     stared at the stone wall.  Verell didn't move, looking even more
     self-conscious than before.
           "Can you hear me?" the other Guard said, kneeling down beside
     her.  Her eyes moved slightly in his direction, and she nodded.  "A
     week ago you'd have told us to drop dead when we came to get you." 
     His voice held unexpected pity.
           She whispered something slowly, painfully, that only the Guard
     could hear.  The one by her laughed; she bared her fangs at him, then
     turned back toward the wall.
           The Guard stood.  "There might have been medical orders against
     moving her."
           "I haven't seen any," Verell said.  "The fresh air might do her
     some good." He turned and paced.
           "Stop looking nervous, idiot," Orlonda whispered.
           "You know," Verell said suddenly, "you never struck me as the
     type who'd feel sympathy for her."
           "Shit, man.  She's dying of starvation.  If it was up to me, I
     would have just let her loose on Williams.  See if he makes a damn
     smartass remark to her."                        ___  
                             
           "Do you think you can watch her for a second?"
           "I don't think she's going anywhere."
           Verell nodded and walked into the building.
           "Now what?" Orlonda whispered.
           "Keep waiting.  He said he'd get rid of the other one, too.  You
     still with us, Mika?"
           The cat nodded dumbly, unable to take his eyes off Revar's
     crumpled form.
           Minutes passed; the Guard stood by the door, slowly smoking a
     cigarette.  He didn't even watch Revar.  She wrapped her wings around
     her torso and stared up at the sky.
           The door to the station opened and Verell poked his head out,
     saying something to the other Guard.  "Shit," the smoker said clearly,
     disappearing into the building after Verell.
           "What did he say?" Orlonda whispered.
           "I don't know, and it really doesn't matter," Jack said,
     standing up and swinging a rope over the fence.  They had practiced at
     the park; this fence was actually much easier to scale.
           "I hope you have some idea of what to do now," he continued,
     addressing Mika.  But the cat was at the top of the fence before Jack
     had even let go of the rope, swinging it over to the other side as he
     jumped down.
           "Come on," Orlonda said, gesturing wildly.  Jack stood by the
     rope, watching, his expression filled with doubt.  The entire plan had
     simply consisted of Mika crossing the fence, breaking her handcuff
     chains with a magic knife Orlonda had lent him, and jumping back over
     as Revar flew away.  But the bat was obviously in no condition to
     fly.
           Mika was at Revar's side, picking her up in his arms.  She was
     frighteningly light.  As she began to struggle, he hissed, "It's me."
           "Mika?" Revar whispered, focusing on him.  "What--"
           "No time."  He didn't stop to think about what he was doing; the
     part of his mind that had taken over was below his conscious mind.  He
     ran back to the fence, jumping onto it as he grabbed the rope.  When
     he got to the top, he lowered her--as gently as he could--into the
     arms of a mystified Jack, unhooked the rope from the fence and leaped
     down.






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 4 / 48



           "Uh--" Jack said.
           "Go!" Mika said, running away from the station.
           Jack ran after him, the bat cradled in his arms.  "Where are we
     going?" he puffed.
           "I don't know," he replied.  "Back to my apartment."
           "Won't that be the first place they'll look?" Orlonda said.
           "All right."  He thought furiously.  "The park.  It's close, and
     it's closed.  They won't look there."
           "If you say so," grunted Jack.  "It's been about three minutes;
     Verell only guaranteed he could keep them occupied for about five. 
     When he gets back, he's probably going to be out here after us too."
           "Then keep running and shut up," Orlonda snapped.
           "Oh, I wish I hadn't done this," Jack said, increasing his
     speed.
           The city was almost deserted; even so, every person they passed,
     staring at the group in confusion, caused them a start.  It would only
     take one Guard, passed by chance, to land them all back in jail with
     Revar.
           After what seemed like hours, they were at the gate.  "How are
     we going to get over the wall?" Jack said.  "If you climb down, you'll
     leave the rope, and you can't jump twelve feet with her in your
     arms."
           Mika took the rope and threw it over the wall, latching onto the
     top.  "I'm going to have to."  He took Revar from the fox, shouldering
     her lightly, and climbed up the rope.
           "You're nuts," Jack said.
           The cat crouched at the top of the wall, pulling the rope up and
     throwing it int the park, then looking down.  Okay, he thought, you've
     made jumps like this when you were a kitten.  It's one of the things
     cats are supposed to be able to do, right?
           He took a deep breath, holding Revar up a bit, and jumped.
           A second later his feet hit the ground; he let his legs flex as
     loosely as possible, and his rump followed them into the grass,
     hitting painfully.  Revar let out a little whuff!, staring at him in                                                ______                   
                                                                         
     amazement.
           "I think I hear something up the street," Jack said tensely.
           "Then get out of here," Mika said.  "As long as you're not
     around, you're not suspects."  He ran into the darkness of the park,
     not waiting for a reply.
           When he was out of sight of the gate, he slowed down, walking
     the rest of the distance to the fountain.  He set Revar down, guiding
     her gently to a sitting position beside him.
           She looked awful.
           He had thought about the possibility of her not being able to
     fly away, even if he hadn't discussed it with the others.  He knew if
     he had they certainly wouldn't have gone through with it.
           "Stupid," she whispered, trying to smile.  "Now... escapee
     'stead of just assault."
           "We've got to get you someplace safe.  I was expecting you to be
     able to fly."
           She laughed.  "Can't walk."  Then her laugh became a wracking
     cough, and she squeezed her eyes shut, holding her stomach with one
     hand.
           "After the Guards leave the area, we can get you out somewhere,"
     Mika said, talking a little too quickly.  As Revar held her stomach,
     he felt a pain in his own.  "You can get... something to eat." 






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 4 / 49



     Someone, he amended silently.  "When you get your strength up--"
           Revar gently touched his mouth with a claw.  "Love, I'm dying."
           He stared at her numbly.
           "Final stage for us."  She looked up at him, forcing herself to
     continue.  "Surprised I lasted through the day.  Won't last the
     night.  Maybe... not hour."  Her voice trailed off.
           "Dammit, you're not going to die!  We can--"
           "Shhh."  She rested her head against his chest.  "It was too
     late days ago.  Hold me."
           Mika put his arms around her, shaking violently.
           "Remember... first time here?"  Her voice dropped back down to a
     bare, almost inaudible whisper.  "Told you my life would... pretty
     short."  She closed her eyes, almost smiling.  "Wanted to go out...
     more grandly."
           "Stop!  We can--I don't know--"
           "Hold me," she repeated, more softly.
           Mika started to cry, hugging her tightly, hands pressed into her
     soft wings.  She hugged him back weakly, dropping against him.  Her
     breathing grew relaxed; Mika panicked, wondering if that meant she was
     fading.
           He blinked, losing sight of her through his tears for a moment.
     Then he slowly breathed in, trying to calm himself.  He had thought
     about what to do if it came to this.
           "If you got blood," he said hoarsely, "could you fly out of
     here?"
           She shook her head.  "Need... so much."
           "But it would keep you alive for the night.  Jack and Orlonda
     will be back if I don't show up in an hour or so."  I_hope.  "They                                                         _______       
                                                                       
     could take you home with them."
           She smiled; the effort looked painful.  "I need more... than
     small animal has.  Or small derelict."
           Mika stroked her wing.  "I know."  He pulled away from her just
     a bit, then pressed her chest along his own, tilting his head back and
     pressing her muzzle against his neck.
           Revar stiffened, her eyes opening wide.  Then she started to
     struggle against him.
           "Do it," he said.
           "I can't!"  She turned her head away, squirming in his arms.
           Reaching down to his waist, he took the knife Orlonda had lent
     him and brought it up in front of her.  Then he laid the blade against
     his throat.  "Its teeth or yours."
           She whimpered, grabbing his arm with both of hers and pulling. 
     But she was so weak she could barely move it; he steeled himself,
     locking the blade in place.
           "I'm going to open my throat one way or another.  Whether or not
     it does anyone any good is up to you."
           "Please," Revar gasped.  "Stop... bleed to death!"
           "With the knife, yes.  With your teeth..  maybe not."
           "But I'll...."  Her eyes were sad and accusing. "Don't... make
     me do this.  I love you."
           "You've given me more than I can ever tell you," he whispered,
     running his fingers through her thick stripe of hair.  "I love you too
     much not to give this back." He bent down and kissed her mouth
     gently.  Then he guided it to his neck.
           Her lips were open against his fur forever, her breath hot, the
     occasional touch of her tongue hotter still.  Tears ran down her face,






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 4 / 50



     her eyes closed; her heartbeat and the darkly erotic movement of the
     almost-kiss were the only signs that Revar still lived.  "Please do
     it," he finally breathed, stroking the length of her spine lightly,
     encouraging.
           She sobbed out loud, then bit.
           Pain shot through him; Mika realized she wasn't strong enough to
     go through his flesh all at once, and he tried not to cry out as she
     chewed.  He wondered if it would have been this bad when she was in
     good health.
           The pain didn't go away after a few seconds like he had hoped. 
     Instead it was joined by a dull throb.  The blood flowed freely, but
     he couldn't tell if Revar was drinking or not.  He just felt it
     slipping out of him.
           He held her and leaned back in the grass until he was prone,
     with her stretched out on top.  If someone could have walked by then,
     he would have thought they were making love.
           Mika wrapped his arms around her, caressing the base of her
     spine.  She moved slightly, and he felt her tongue flick around the
     wound, then in and out of it.  It occured to him that he could hear
     her drinking him down.  He shivered, fighting back his own survival
     instinct.
           After a minute had passed it was easy to ignore the pain, and
     the sounds, and even the stars.  He closed his eyes, lying still,
     feeling her tears flow onto his face as if to replace the blood she
     was taking.
           When he opened them again, it was hard to tell the difference. 
     Wasn't sight one of the first senses to go?
           It seemed she had been at him far longer than she had been at
     the derelict he had watched her feed from.  Of course, how many times
     had she said she would always take as much blood as she needed? He
     felt kind of lightheaded.  Even if he wanted to fight her now, he
     wouldn't be able to.  His body felt glued to the ground, and it was as
     if he was getting smaller and smaller, all of him disappearing into
     her mouth.
           He passed his remaining time watching the light go away, star by
     star.
                                       #
           "And are we feeling like the Eighth Hell today?"
           The room--if it was a room--came slowly into focus, a field of
     white surrounding the face of an obnoxiously cute otter.  All otters
     were obnoxiously cute.
           "I'll take that as a yes," the voice continued.  He decided it
     must be the otter's.  "If so it's a marked improvement."
           Mika turned his head slightly, to see Dahlu sitting to his
     left.  She looked like she had been crying.  There was another fuzzy,
     foxlike form behind her.
           "About bloody time," the foxlike form said, resolving itself
     into Jack.  "You've been out three days."
           Trembling, Mika lifted a hand to his neck, extending a finger. 
     It sank into a mass of bandages.
           "You can explain that later.  But you probably won't.  Nobody
     else will," the otter snapped.  She stomped through the room door.
           There was a deep silence.  Everyone stared uncomfortably at one
     another.
           "I'm not dead?" Mika finally said.
           "No but it wasn't for lack of trying," Jack said, kneeling






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 4 / 51



     beside him.  "If we hadn't come back to find you, they would have had
     quite an interesting corpse on their hands when they opened the park
     the next morning."
           He closed his eyes.  "Revar?"
           "What about her?"
           "Is she..."
           "She's gone."
           Mika sat up, ignoring the pain.  "Gone? Where?"
           "We don't know."  The fox sighed, scratching his nose.  "She was
     still barely strong enough to stand when we got there.  We found her
     in a pile, near you, sobbing her head off.  Orlonda took her back to
     my apartment while I took you to the hospital.
           "So," he rested his arms on the bed, "by the time I got back,
     she was asleep.  The next day when I came home from work, she wasn't
     there.  And that's all I know."  He shook his head.  "You're pretty
     brave for an idiot."
           "Idiot," Mika repeated, leaning back against the pillow and
     smiling wistfully.  "I can't even become a martyr right.  Does she
     think she killed me?"
           Jack nodded.  "The last time Orlonda or I saw her, we thought
     she had, mate."
           "What?"
           "Kitty cat, it didn't take a detective to figure out what
     happened between you two, and the blood she left was in the process of
     leaking out on the grass.  When I picked you up, I couldn't get a
     pulse.  I thought I was carrying a warm corpse to the hospital.  And
     when I got here, all they could do was keep you a step above
     clinically dead while they looked for a blood donor."  He snorted. 
     "You would have the indecency to have a rare type to top it all off. 
     They had to find a donor within about an hour, Mika.  If we had missed
     getting the blood into you by another seven minutes, Revar would have
     been right."
            "Ohhh...."  He leaned back into the bed, almost curling up into
     a little ball.  "But I expected to be dead anyway.  I guess I was
     really lucky, then."
           "It wasn't all luck," Jack said.
           "What--"
           In answer, Dahlu raised her arm.  It had a thick bandage around
     it.  Mika stared at it.
           "I told you I was your type," Dahlu said, smiling.
           "They say they took enough to be dangerous to her, too, mate,"
     Jack said.  "Some of the doctors were afraid Dahlu might die trying to
     keep you alive.  The luck is that there was an idiot martyr available
     for you, too."
           Mika smiled weakly, then sat up, pulling Dahlu into bed with im
     and kissing her as passionately as someone in intensive care is able
     to.  She wrapped her tail around him, threading it around a leg a bit
     suggestively.
           Jack cleared his throat.  "As far I know the jailbreak is still
     a mystery to the police."
           "That's good."
           "Maybe, maybe not.  Verell says there's talk of suspending the
     sentence for escaping due to her physical condition--providing she
     turns herself in."
           "And the original charge?"
           "Still pending, as far as I know."






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 4 / 52



           Mika grunted.
           "Well, I have to be going."  Jack waved and walked out of the
     room.
           Dahlu sat on the edge of his bed, one leg resting on his thigh,
     her arms around him.  "We need to talk," she said softly.
           "I know."  He kissed her again.  "I owe you my life now."  He
     spoke almost wonderingly.
           "What kind of life is that?"
           He looked at her quizzically.
           She smiled and pushed him back on the pillow, stroking his
     chest.  "Eventually you're going to have to make this choice.  But I
     don't want you to put it off because you feel obligated to me."  Her
     smile faded and she leaned closer, bringing her face down to within
     inches of his.
           "I'm not going to follow you to Raneadhros if you go," she
     continued.  "I can't, not yet.  Too much of my life is here.  All of
     the society Revar made fun of--that's part of me.
           "But your life is different now.  Maybe I had just always hoped
     it was the same.  Everything's telling you to go away now, love.  Your
     art.  And now her, too.  Orlonda told me she thought that's where
     Revar would go."
           "I still love you," Mika said.  "I don't know what to tell you.
     I... don't want to leave you."
           "But you will," she said, gazing into his eyes.  "I still love
     you, too."  Dahlu kissed him again, nearly falling on top of him.  He
     reached up and pulled her down on him.
           "Hey," she giggled.  "I don't know what you're thinking, but if
     it's what it looks like, you may not be strong enough for this yet."
           Mika kicked off the sheets, then pulled them up over both of
     them.  "Then be gentle with me."
           After a few more minutes had passed, the otter doctor walked
     back in the room.  "I think you can probably be released in another
     day, Mr. Radgers," she was saying.  "You--oh, my."
           Mika lifted his head off of Dahlu's chest, looking up at the
     otter in guilty alarm, but she was already gone, slamming the door
     behind her.
           "Kiss her breasts later," Dahlu murmured, pulling his head back
     to her own.
                                       #
           "Will you ever come to visit?"
           "I'll try."  Dahlu smiled.  "Maybe sooner than you think.  There
     are advantages to being the sort of socialite your bat always made fun
     of--including lots of free time and money."
           He smiled.  "Please do," he said seriously.  "I don't want to
     stop being a part of your life."
           "You always will be."  She looked at his backpack and the small
     carrying bag he had on the doorstep.  "That's it?"
           "That's it.  And my portfolio."
           "Of course." She hugged him again.
           Despite her words at the hospital, she had put up a bit of a
     fight when he said he was going to move to Raneadhros.  But he
     wondered if she hadn't fought just to make sure he thought as clearly
     as he could about what he was doing.
           "Did Jack get in touch with his friend?"
           "He wrote him and warned him about me."  He grinned.  "He'll be
     looking him up on the trip.  But so far it looks like I'll have a room






                                                  "Gift of Fire" ch. 4 / 53



     with him for a while."
           "How long is Jack staying?"
           "Just a week.  Wezip doesn't have that much space, apparently."
           "I hope he has enough for you."
           "Do you think you should be leaving this late?"
           "It'll be fine.  Not that many people are out there now;
     besides, nobody's going to bother somebody built like Jack.  The
     temperature's nice.  It's the perfect time to be travelling."
           They stared at each other; Mika suddenly felt awkward.  He felt
     closer to her now, in a way, than he had in the two years they had
     been lovers.  If they were not lovers now--and not whatever he and
     Revar were to each other--they were still something more than
     friends.
           Of course, perhaps they had never been lovers in other than a
     physical sense.  He loved her--But he didn't know if he had ever been
     in_love with her.  They had tried to build their relationship as much     _______                                                              
                                                                          
     on lust as anything else; in a way, it was surprising it had lasted
     this long.  That it was ending in such a wonderful way--perhaps not
     truly ending at all--was nothing short of a miracle.
           He moved toward Dahlu, scooping her into his arms and kissing
     her a final time.  He had meant it to be a chaste, gentlemanly kiss,
     but when he started to draw away, she pulled him back, thrusting her
     tongue into his mouth and finishing the kiss with a violence that made
     him slightly dizzy.  "Wow," he said.
           She moved her muzzle to his ear, nipping it in a way she knew he
     found maddeningly arousing as she breathed into it.  "I want to make
     sure you have something to remember me by."
           Mika stepped back, looking at her.  She was beautiful.  She had                                                   ___                    
                                                                          
     given him something to remember her by, all right.  He grinned
     sheepishly, adjusting his pants.  She noticed the action and giggled,
     making him blush under his fur.
           "I'll always love you," she said softly.
           "I love you, too," he said quietly, turning away and heading
     down the steps.  The carriage depot was a good twenty minutes' walk. 
     He started down the road, joined by his lengthening twilight shadow.
           When he had gotten a hundred yards, Dahlu called to him again. 
     "Do you think she'll be there?"
           He paused and looked back.  "Yes.  I think so."
           There was silence for a moment.  "Be happy together."  She
     turned and went back into her house.
           The breeze blue coolly through his fur, and the rising moon was
     almost full, its pale light shading the world in delicate blue-white.
     It was, indeed, a perfect time to be travelling.

                                     (end)
















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