Mox’l turned his rounded, black-armoured head, his eyes lost in shadow beneath his plumed helm. ‘I have strength sufficient for the purpose,’ he intoned. ‘Perhaps I should crouch lower for you to mount?’
Lujan cringed inwardly. ‘No,’ he said quickly. ‘That’s not necessary.’ He decided that he would rather split his breeches than allow the cho-ja officer to act in the least bit subservient. He wondered, as he searched for a nearby rock to use for a mounting block, whether if their roles were reversed, the human warriors in his company would take as kindly to the dictates of necessity. Perhaps Kevin was right, that the Tsurani concept of honour was self-limiting. Then, as Lujan scrabbled ungracefully to find purchase on the smooth, chitinous shell of his mount, he banished such impious thoughts. It was ill to contemplate blasphemy with battle in the offing. If the Acoma had earned the wrath of the gods, he would find out soon enough.
Feeling a trepidation that for honour must never be revealed, Lujan gripped the cho-ja behind its neck segment and swung his leg over its rounded, faintly ridged middle. He sprang, and hauled himself astride. The creature’s triple sets of legs depressed and recovered to compensate for his weight; and around him, the company of human warriors paired off with an equal number of cho-ja followed his bold lead and mounted. If they found their seats slippery or uncomfortable, they withheld complaint.
‘How do you feel, Mox’l?’ Lujan asked.
The cho-ja’s voice sounded strange coming from a point to the front of and below him. The creatures habitually walked upright when in the presence of humans, using all six of their legs only to run at need. ‘You are considerate to ask of me, Force Commander. I am not in distress. Instead I would ask that you have a care for the safety of your lower hind leg limb, that my bladed lower fore hand limb not give you injury when We run.’
Lujan looked down, and saw that, indeed, his ankles and shins would be at risk of getting diced when the cho-ja extended to full stride.
‘I presume to suggest,’ Mox’l continued politely. ‘Fix your knee behind the lateral knob on my carapace. The protrusion might offer you support.’
‘You presume in kindness, and I thank you,’ Lujan replied, in somewhat stilted politeness that marked the etiquette of the hive-born. He slid his leg farther underneath himself and found that the bodily feature Mox’l mentioned did indeed serve as a wedge to steady his seat. Then, at a loss, he searched the top of the insectoid shell for somewhere to grip with his hands.
His efforts met with Mox’l’s tinny laugh. The creature tilted its head and managed to twist its face around to look at him in a manner no human could repeat. ‘Force Commander, my parts are not soft, like yours. Your hands may grasp my throat joint with safety. My windpipe is protected quite sufficiently by my exoskeleton and will not be disturbed by your strength.’
Still gingerly, Lujan did as he was bid. The moment his fingers found their place, Mox’l faced forward. ‘We are ready, Force Commander. It is time now for haste.’
The cho-ja scuttled ahead with the startling shift into motion that characterized his race. All but thrown from his perch, Lujan clutched and precariously maintained balance. Around him, with near-mechanical precision and never a single vocal order, the cho-ja company formed ranks. Then perhaps newly appreciative of his rider’s fragile balance, Mox’l poised and held his company, awaiting Lujan’s order.
The Acoma Force Leader raised his arm to signal his half of the mounted strike force to move out. Then a voice called out from the sidelines.
‘Don’t pinch so hard with your calves, or you’re certain to land on your butt!’
Lujan turned his head and found his Lady’s barbarian slave grinning from ear to ear on the sidelines. The Force Commander considered a retort, but decided that ignoring the taunt would be more dignified. Kevin was a master of crudities, but lost when it came to subtle insult. Then, belatedly, Lujan recalled that in Midkemia the barbarians were said to ride upon great beasts into battle; the advice, perhaps, was quite valid and genuinely offered as well. ‘Worry instead about the safety of my Lady,’ the Acoma Force Commander called back. Then he waved to the ranks surrounding him, and the cho-ja surged forward into a run.
Their long, many-jointed legs adjusted to the uneven terrain with inhuman agility. Heat did not trouble them. Their gait had a slight surge to it, back and forth, but almost no sway. A rider did not feel the jolt of each leg striking ground. Lujan revelled in the sensation of speed beyond his imagination; he felt the wind whip his officer’s plumes and trappings, and the snap of loose hair against his cheek. His heart surged with the thrill of the unknown, and before he realized the lapse in manners, he found himself grinning like a boy. His levity vanished soon after, as Mox’l reached the edge of the tableland and rushed headlong down a rocky gully toward the lowlands backing the hills.