other Tsurani had been gathering up small rocks and tossing them into the fires. Now they fished the red-hot rocks out of the flames and, laughing, tossed them bare-handed to the two butchers who grabbed the rocks and plopped them into the stuffed bags as well.
Finally a couple of pins, made from a Tsurani wood almost as hard as metal, were fished out of haversacks and used to stitch the neck holes shut. Broken sticks were used to plug the arrow-holes in the hides and the two bags were tossed into the flames.
Every Kingdom soldier had gone quiet and a bit wide-eyed, while the Tsurani seemed to be in near-celebratory mood, chattering amongst themselves, pushing in around the butchers, and obviously exclaiming over the strange feast being prepared.
Gregory watched the show, grinning slightly. 'I once slipped up on a Tsurani camp at night and saw this. Near as I can figure their lingo they got something like marmots on their world and they're considered a rare delicacy fit only for the nobility.'
The air was thick with the stench of fur burning off the carcasses.
The two self-appointed cooks rolled the marmots back and forth in the flames and the marmots swelled up like balloons, reminding Dennis of nothing other than a dead body floating in the water, bloating up beneath a hot summer sun.
Finally it looked as if the marmots were ready to burst asunder when suddenly juice and steam started spraying out of holes in the bodies that nature had originally placed in the marmot and which had not been plugged shut. Loud shouts of laughter erupted from the Tsurani as the two marmots were rolled out of the flames. One of the cooks, hands now protected with gloves picked one of them up and with juice still squirting out approached Asayaga, who grinned and bowed ritualistically, then knelt down while the cook held the marmot over his head. A stream of juice shot into Asayaga's mouth.
He licked his lips, and said something that caused a great burst of laughter.
The second cook held up his marmot and began to approach Asayaga, but the Tsurani commander said something and pointed towards Dennis. The laughter stopped and all looked over at Hartraft.
'The first juice of the marmot,' Asayaga announced in the common tongue, 'is reserved for nobles and leaders. You drink now.'
'Like hell I will,' Dennis grumbled under his breath, his words drowned out by the crackling roar of the fire.
The second cook, approached Dennis, grinning.
'Better do it,' Gregory whispered. 'It's obviously considered a sign of respect.'
'Damn it, I won't drink juice spraying out of a marmot's backside.'
'Do it!' Gregory hissed, 'or we might have a fight on our hands. This is the first sign they've given that they respect you as a leader; don't cock it up!'
Dennis spared a sidelong glance at his men. There was a mixture of reactions. Some were obviously disgusted with the entire affair, but more than one, especially the older hands, were grinning at the predicament Dennis was now in.
His angry glare killed most of the smiles. Then, cursing under his breath, he knelt down on one knee. The Tsurani cook held the marmot up, steam still spouting out of the marmot's rearend. The Tsurani squeezed the body and a stream of juice shot out.
Dennis managed to take a single gulp. The liquid was oily, thick, and scalding hot. He struggled to swallow and the cook turned away, shouting something. Laughter erupted from the Tsurani and was soon joined by the Kingdom troops, obviously delighted by the discomfort of their leader.
Asayaga approached Dennis, pulling a sac out from under his tunic and uncorking it. 'Here, drink this, to wash it down.'
Dennis looked at him coldly and Asayaga, smiling, tilted his head back and squeezed the sac. A stream of white fluid shooting into his mouth. He pointed the sack at Dennis and squeezed.
The sour bitterness hit Dennis's palate and this time he did gag.
'What in the name of all the devils is that?' he cried.
'Aureg.'
'What? It tastes like horse piss.'
'Ha! The wrong end of a horse, if it came from a horse. It's fermented needra milk.' The needra were the six-legged beasts of burden the Tsurani had imported from their homeworld. They served as oxen and draft-horses for the Tsurani, who had no horses on their world. 'Cools one in the summer heat and warms the stomach in winter.'
'Oh damn,' Dennis said.
As he spat out the rest, the Tsurani erupted in gales of laughter. Dennis looked