The Long War

couple, one was female, the other male. The male was taller, towering, a magnificent – animal . Yet not an animal. Even as he computed the peril they were all in, part of Joshua rejoiced. Sapients – an entirely new kind – and one not extinct for millennia, like over in Rectangles.
    Bill gaped. ‘I’m dreaming. I know you told us about this, Lieutenant Jansson.’ He shook his head. ‘But this is mad.’
    The male turned to Bill, and pulled back his lips from a very wolf-like face, and Joshua was astonished anew when he spoke. ‘No. You a-hhre not in d-hrream.’ A dog-like growl, yet the English words were clear.
    Jansson said, ‘Joshua, Bill. Let me present Li-Li. And Snowy.’
    Despite Jansson’s briefing about all this, Joshua felt he was dreaming too. ‘ Snowy? ’
    Jansson pointed to the humans. ‘Joshua Valienté. Bill Chambers, his companion. Joshua is the one Sally promised.’
    ‘ “Promised”?’
    ‘One of her schemes. Given you were bound to be coming anyhow, she spun it for her advantage. She bigged you up as an ambassador of a greater power . . .’
    ‘Nice of her.’
    Snowy studied Joshua. ‘You are emissar-hrry of human Granddaughter-hrr.’
    ‘Granddaughter?’
    ‘He means ruler,’ Jansson said.
    ‘OK. Well, we don’t have a Granddaughter – umm, Snowy. Not the way you mean. But – an emissary. I guess that’s the right idea. I’m here to put things right with the trolls—’
    Before he could say any more Snowy, without moving a muscle, emitted a soft growl, and two of the dogs behind him moved forward in a blur. They were on Joshua before he could react, and they pinned his arms to his sides.
    Joshua fought an instinct to step away. ‘Hey. What are you doing?’
    Snowy nodded.
    And Joshua was thrown forward to the ground, his face pressed to the rutted dirt of the track.
    His injured shoulder ached like hell. He made himself not step out of this , not yet.
    He tried to lift his head. He found himself staring into the face of the female dog. Li-Li? She was unfolding a bundle of cloth that contained small wooden pots, blades of stone and iron, needles, thread. Like a crude field medicine kit. Her eyes were wolf-like, yet oddly tender.
    He asked, ‘Why – what—’
    ‘Sorr-hrry.’ She reached behind him, and he felt his shirt being ripped open.
    Even now he forced himself not to step.
    He heard Jansson, evidently distressed. ‘Joshua? I’m sorry. Sally did talk about you as an emissary. They must have planned this. We never suspected they’d treat you like this—’
    He heard no more, as what felt like a very heavy fist slammed into the back of his head, smashing his face into the dirt, and the option to step vanished anyhow.
    And the pain began, slicing, piercing, and he fell into oblivion.

64
    W HEN HE WOKE, he was sitting on some kind of hard chair, slumped forward. The pain in his back was exquisite, a tapestry.
    A face floated before him. A dog, a wolf . . . It showed tenderness.
    It was the one called Li-Li. She peered at him, lifted one eyelid with a leathery finger-like extension of one paw. Then she growled, ‘Sorr-hrry.’ She backed away.
    Now Sally was here, standing before him.
    Beyond her he could make out a room, a big chamber, stone walls and floor, well-built, roomy, drab, undecorated. The air was full of the scent of dog. There were other people here. And dogs. His head was clearing, slowly; he felt like he’d been drugged.
    ‘Joshua. Don’t step.’
    He focused on her with difficulty. ‘Sally?’
    ‘Don’t step. Whatever you do, don’t step . Well, you’re here at last. You took some tracking down, you and the professional Irishman here, in your travel-trailer in the sky. But I see the clue I had to leave finally percolated through your brain.’
    ‘The ring . . .’
    ‘Yes, the ring.’
    ‘Why’s it so important, suddenly?’
    ‘You’ll see. Sorry.’
    ‘Sorry? Why? And why the hell not step?’ He was mumbling, he discovered.
    She took his cheeks in her hands, making him face her. He tried to remember the last time she had touched him, save by the scruff of the neck to rescue him from some calamity or other, such as from the wreck of the Pennsylvania . ‘Because if you do, you’ll die.’
    He guessed, ‘My back?’
    ‘It’s a kind of staple, Joshua.’
    That was Jansson. He looked around, blearily. He saw Jansson sitting on the ground by the wall, a beefy-looking dog standing over her.
    He said, ‘A staple? Like