Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 646
still reigned. It was bizarre.
A group of maybe twenty men on horseback, and some
odd animals had reached the edge of the encampment. One of
the figures had apparently dismounted, and was talking to the
sentries there. After a moment, the sentries backed off, and the
group moved forward. It was hard to tell what the animals
were; at first he’d thought they were mastiffs, but they moved
differently. Lavin ordered his camp chair and the banners of
his office and titles brought out. He refused to be a supplicant
now, after all that had happened, so he sat in the chair. It
would have been difficult to remain standing for any length of
time anyway.
The group came closer. He recognized the livery on
some of the men, but couldn’t really bring himself to think
about it, because his attention quickly became fixed on the
animals.
They were like cats, but they were the size of bears. And
their shoulders were too broad, giving them shallow flat chests.
Their hind legs also seemed overlong, crooked up more than
one might have expected to aid their walking. They moved
quickly and fluidly, though.
But their faces... they had huge, radiant eyes, whiskers
and tall nervous ears. Their snouts were long, and fanged, but
from the cheekbones up the structure of their skull was almost
human. One even had a mane of white hair like a woman’s
tresses draped across its shoulders. As they halted four meters
away he saw that their pelts were short and fine, and white as
snow.
The human riders did not dismount. Indeed, they stared
directly ahead, as if they had nothing to say. They were of a
comparatively minor House, and he was certain they would not
have had the temerity to bother him, on their own.