Wild Dog City (Darkeye Volume 1) (11 page)

"Leave that poor whistle girl alone,
police!"

The dogs behind him were laughing too, at
least with their mouths, but Mhumhi noticed that they seemed to be
fanning out, making a line of rusty fur and teeth.

The painted dogs drew close to one another,
seeming to confer for a moment, and then their leader said, "What's
your name?"

"My name's Rakshasa, ol' spot," said the lead
dhole. "I guess you'll remember it, huh? I can tell you all the
names of my brothers here, too. That one's Lal-"

"Quiet," said the painted dog, exposing a
canine. "We will remember it." She flicked her tail at her
companions, and they retreated, legs and tails stiff as they walked
around the edge of the line of dholes. The dholes let loose
derisive whistles and chirps as they passed, until Rakshasa stopped
them with a look.

"That's enough," he said, and his brothers
came and bunched up around him again, wagging and whining. The
painted dogs were disappearing over the hill, Liduma dragging her
dusty self with them.

"You clear off too, you dumb spotty," said
one of the other dholes to Mhumhi.

"That's enough from
you
," said Sacha,
shooting him a glare. "He's not police. What are all of you up
to?"

"What're we up to?" exclaimed Rakshasa,
letting his tongue hang out. "Hey, we can't let the police bully
another whistle, can we?"

His brothers whistled and chirruped their
agreement, and Mhumhi noticed Rakshasa looking hopefully at Kutta.
Someone from the back called, "Have you got any sisters?"

Rakshasa laughed, and even Mhumhi smiled a
little, feeling the tension ebb, but Sacha lifted her lip.

"I see what you're after. Well, you can
plainly see she doesn't want anything to do with any of you. So go
on! Move along!"

"Sure, sure, little war-dog," said Rakshasa,
shooting one last wistful look at Kutta, who was still sitting
pressed against the concrete, head turned away. "Come on, let's go,
before we have our ankles bitten off, then."

Sacha growled at them, but they merely
laughed and made their noisy way off again, over the hill in the
direction the painted dogs had gone in. Mhumhi was almost sad to
see them go- almost, until he saw how relieved Kutta looked. Sacha
had already gone over to her and stood on her shoulder to lick her
neck.

"You get yourself into trouble quick," she
was saying, but there was nothing reproving to her tone. Mhumhi
whined and went to roll over and lick under Kutta's chin as
well.

"Let's eat our meat and go home," was all
Kutta said, after a little while.

"Right," said Sacha, giving her one last
lick, and then trundled over to her meat packet, where it lay
untouched. She paused suddenly. Sitting curled up beside it was the
little fennec fox.

"I thought you might need someone to get
those police off your back," he said, wagging his tail against the
ground.

"And get a little meat for yourself, as
well?" said Sacha, looking displeased, but the fennec stood and
they saw he'd been lying on top of his own tiny packet.

"For the little one," he said, and then bared
his teeth in a grin. "I mean Bii, of course."

Sacha sniffed at the meat suspiciously.
"What's this all about?"

"Take it," said the fennec, getting up. "I
bet we'll be seeing less of it soon, and I at least can catch mice.
You big dogs should fill up while you can."

"What do you mean by that?" Sacha's small
eyes had gone flinty again. "What do you know?"

The fox merely blinked at her, and walked
away, swishing his little tail. Sacha glared after him.

"You eat it, Kutta," she said.

"Me?" said Kutta, faintly.

"Yes, you, you're too skinny and tired."
Sacha gave a little growl and batted at the tiny packet with her
front paws. "Not that it'll make much of a difference, really."

Kutta did not respond to this, only glanced
at Mhumhi and drew him to one side while Sacha tried to tear her
packet open.

"You've got to go to visit the puppies
tonight," she murmured. "I'll give you some of my meat…"

"What? Why now?"

"They haven't had enough today- Tareq is
getting sicker- and Sacha's right." She exhaled softly. "I am too
tired."

Mhumhi stepped back a little, staring at her,
and was frightened to realize how tired she looked- how skinny she
looked.

"You're giving up too much meat for them," he
hissed.

"No," said Kutta. "Not enough…"

"Eat all your meat, Kutta," said Mhumhi.
"I'll give them some of mine."

She looked at him, surprised. "But you
haven't eaten since this morning-"

"Well, I mean, I'll take a little," he
admitted. He'd sort of forgotten about that.

Kutta gave him a small smile, but it faded
fast. "Mhumhi," she said softly, "what do you think the police will
do if they discover…?"

"If they discover Kebero?"

They both jumped, for that had been Sacha,
who had moved to sit down by their feet and glare up at them.

"You two and your little secrets," she
growled. "Liduma wouldn't care, but if these upper city dogs
discover Kebero, I don't expect them to show us any mercy."

"But we weren't the ones who…"

"Doesn't matter," said Sacha, and she cast
her eyes over to the distant horde of dogs still waiting to receive
their daily meat. "The fewer mouths there are to feed, the
better."

Playing with
the Puppies

Mhumhi navigated the sewers for the second
time with some difficulty, only half-remembering the route Kutta
had led him on before. She had left a few marks behind, but not
many, likely worried about someone less sympathetic finding them
and following them. Mhumhi had to wonder himself whether or not any
hungry foxes ever wandered to that part of the sewer. If Sacha was
right, they'd be down there even more soon, and hungrier.

After some backtracking and false starts, he
managed to make his way to the massive cavern where the sewage fell
from pipes. He couldn't help but take a whiff, wondering,
perversely, if the commingled waste from his own house fell in
there as well. It had been a long time since the police had put in
place the rule that toilets must be used, to keep the waste off the
streets. Oldtown citizens tended to be a bit lax about it, but he'd
heard that it was rigidly enforced in other districts.

That made him wonder where, exactly, this
massive cavern was located aboveground. He had no way of knowing.
He might not even be in Oldtown anymore. It was a curious thought,
but Mhumhi shrugged it off, steeling himself instead for the
unpleasant task he had to perform.

He made his way down the little side-tunnel
and finally to the door. It was a few inches ajar, and light was
spilling into the corridor.

Give them the food, then leave, he promised
himself, and nudged it open with his nose.

At once something came flying down with a
whap
and clipped the end of his nose. He yelped and jumped
back.

"Go away!"

Mhumhi growled, and seeing that someone was
shutting the door, threw his whole weight on it and shoved it open.
There was a shrill hulker scream, and something
whapped
him
hard on the head.

"Stop that!" he shouted, whirling around, and
snapped at the thing. It turned out to be a wooden plank, which
splintered under his teeth as he yanked it out of Maha's hand. She
gave a startled cry of pain and fell back.

"Dog!"

That was Tareq, sitting up in his little nest
as Mhumhi growled and vented his frustration on the board by
tearing it into splinters.

"Oh!" said Maha, who had caught herself with
one paw against the wall. "Oh, it's Mhumhi."

Her voice was a little uncertain, as if she
was unsure if in fact this was an improvement. Mhumhi spat out bits
of wood.

"Of course it's me! Who else would come down
this stinking place to feed stinking hulkers!"

"Well, Kutta always scratches to let us know
it's her," Maha said defensively, drifting back over to Tareq.

That was actually a decent point, so Mhumhi
decided to drop it. His nose was still smarting.

"Come over here and get the food from me, so
I can leave."

They both stared at him with their weird
hulker eyes. Mhumhi scratched the concrete floor impatiently with
one paw.

"If you two are puppies, come and act like
it!"

Maha gave Tareq a light pat on his bony
shoulder and then stood up on two legs. Mhumhi put his ears back
and rumbled.

Maha bit her lip and crouched down and came
towards him in that horrible half-crawl. When she got close enough
she reached out her paw…

"What are you doing with your paw?" Mhumhi
demanded.

"It's not a paw, it's a
hand
," said
Maha. "And these are my fingers." She wriggled her weird little
talons at him, as if Mhumhi hadn't been uncomfortable enough.

"You haven't answered my question."

"I'm coming to take the meat," she said,
tilting her head at him.

Mhumhi stared at her. "Are you planning to
bat it out of me?"

Tareq gave his bubbly little hulker laugh.
Maha reached for him again, and he jerked away, raising a lip. She
scooted closer along the floor and reached for him again. He
growled, shaking from the urge to move away from the horrible
talons, and forced himself to hold still.

She took her fingers and stroked him along
the chin. It was a bizarre sensation, very different from something
like Kebero licking him- more pressure, less dampness- and he did
not think he liked it, but it had the desired effect. He turned his
head away and up came Kutta's meat.

Maha snatched the goopy handful of it at once
and backed away, as Mhumhi licked his lips and gulped. He was
becoming a regurgitation machine lately.

He saw Maha moving to hand it all to Tareq,
who was reaching his little paws- hands- out eagerly, and snapped,
"No! You both eat."

"I ate this morning," said Maha.

"Don't lie to me," said Mhumhi, stepping
forward threateningly, tail raised. "Your older sister gave up that
meat for you, now
eat
it."

Maha stiffened her shoulders, but she took
the meat and divided it into two not-quite-equal halves. Mhumhi
noticed that she took the smaller portion for herself. He stepped
closer to the two of them.

Tareq cringed away with a whimper, but Mhumhi
was slightly distracted, sniffing at the nest of blankets. They
smelled like old urine, though a kind of pale, watery hulker urine
that he did not approve of.

"Where do you drink from?" he asked, hoping
that the answer wasn't in the sewage.

"There's a tap right there," said Maha,
raising her arm with one talon extended. He stared at it
uncomprehendingly.

"
That
way," Maha repeated, and looked
to his left. He followed her gaze and saw that there was a tiny
little side room attached to the one they were in, with a sink and
a little toilet. He supposed at least the waste didn't have far to
travel.

"Doesn't the little one know how to use the
toilet?"

"He does," said Maha, "he's just sick
now."

Mhumhi gave Tareq another sniff-over as the
little boy cringed. He wished that he'd stop whimpering like that,
because it was making Mhumhi salivate again.

He did smell a kind of rubbery sickness on
the puppy, evident in the urine and in the snot dripping from his
nose.

"He'll make himself worse if he sits in it
like that."

"We don't have any other blankets," said
Maha. "He's too cold."

Mhumhi licked his lips. It was indeed very
cold in the sewers; he would not fancy spending a night down here
even while healthy and covered in fur.

"What about those wrappings you have on
you?"

Maha seemed surprised, and looked down at
herself. She plucked at the front of her wrapping.

"You mean clothes?"

Mhumhi gave her a blank look.

"I could get more, but I'm afraid," said
Maha. "Mother brought us these from outside a long time ago, but
the way she used isn't any good anymore."

"Isn't any good?" asked Mhumhi, distracted by
the notion of his mother carrying wrappings to the little
hulkers.

"Something uses it now," Maha told him.

"What uses it?"

"Something," Maha informed him, pulling the
corners of her lips down.

Mhumhi thought of what Bii had been telling
him about the things that lurked in the darkness of the sewers, and
decided not to press the issue.

"Are there any other ways to the outside
around here?"

Maha looked up, and Mhumhi followed her gaze.
In the concrete ceiling was carved a circular tunnel going straight
up, with iron rungs every foot or so.

"So there isn't," he said.

"I can climb up there!" said Maha. "You
couldn't, but I could. I used to, but then more dogs came here, and
I was too scared."

Mhumhi craned his neck up, trying to fathom
how anyone would be able to make it up there. "Where does it let
out?"

"On a big street," Maha told him. "Lots of
tall buildings. Lots of stores. You could get clothes and candles
and everything."

"What's a candle?"

"It's made of waxy stuff," said Maha,
wiggling her hands around, "and you can light it with a match, and
it gets warm and makes light."

"Like a lightbulb?" Mhumhi asked,
puzzled.

"No, not a lightbulb, 'cause there's no
glass. And it hurts if you touch the fire."

Mhumhi put his ears back- he knew what fire
was, as he'd once seen a house- electrical wires laid bare by
excessive chewing- go up in flames and take out half an Oldtown
block before it wore itself out. It had indeed been warm, if
demonic.

"It's just a little fire," Maha said. "This
big." She moved her hands about again.