Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...

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strength-oath. Well, we are anyway, by not telling."
It doesn't even cross her mind that he's a friend. She shook off the feeling of Chevenga's face and
shoulders under her studying hands.Only two iron-cycles ago, we swore , Megan thought.Lady Koru,
forgive me. I would only do this for kin . "We'll see what Fishhook finds."
The next note appeared on Megan's saddle-bags just before the march began, two days later.
She crumpled it in her fist and thrust it into her pouch to destroy later.Why am I not surprised that he
has an affinity for meeting near latrines , she thought sourly, and swung the bags across her pony.
"Fishhook!" She offered her folded cloak as a saddlepad in front of her. "Here, puss puss, here!"
Orange tabby bat-wings flipped and folded primly as the cat settled and started to wash. Megan yawned,
wishing her night forays left her with a bit more sleeping time.
"Form u-u-u-up!" The pony ambled over to its place, rolling an eye. Megan stroked the wing-cat until
she was a sprawled bundle of purring fur, wing-tips bobbing gently to the pony's walk.
Playlater? She thought at Fishhook. The cat's mind was fuzzy, half snoozing.Finehunt, follow. Sneaky
. Fishhook shook her head, waking up from her snooze, blinked. Megan desisted then, but took time
several more times during the day to repeat the thought-threads to the wing-cat.Have to get her to think
it's her own idea .
They camped. Shkai'ra asked no questions. Not that Megan showed anything but a closed face; but in
the years that the Kommanza had lived with the Zak, she'd watched, with hope, Megan's habitual
expression change from closed-in suspicion, a mask, to a more serene, open look. When this sort of
thing happened, the mask came back. Megan kept Fishhook on her shoulder, one wing draped over her
shoulder and tail wrapped firmly around one wrist, primarily through slipping her slivers of boneless pork.
"Meoew?" Fishhook pawed at Megan's cheek,more-good nobonessmacklick
Later. A hard concept for the cat, future; she meowed peevishly. Megan refused wine, drinking only a
swallow or two of the cider, her stomach knotting against food. She'd only taken meat to bribe the cat.
She pressed a hand flat to her stomach.I'll eat later, too, after I get back .
When it was dark, she put on her full cloak and hid the wing-cat cradled in her arms. Fishhook was
content enough to travel that way.
When she got close to the latrine, before she stepped out of shadow, she thought at the cat:followman,
good-meat . She could feel Fishhook sniffing. The cat sneezed—I don't blame you, in this stink, beast
—and crawled out of the cloak, swooping in a low arc into the bushes.I hope you want to follow.
Koru, Goddess, make her want to follow him .
She stepped out into a patch of starlight.
"So." The smooth whisper came from her left and in front of her. "Well?"
She sighed. "You leave me little choice."