Page 111 of Tiger's Trek
“We’ll die,” Veru finished. “We understand.”
“Okay, here goes,” Danik said.
“Wait!” Veru said. “You need to hold these.” Veru passed the flasks containing the sesame seeds as well as the containers filled with rice over to the knight. “It’s part of the contract. I don’t want to leave any part of it undone.”
“Very good,” the knight said. “I’ll hold on to these. You may proceed, then,” he said to Danik.
Lifting the pipe to his lips, Danik began playing and closed his eyes. The song was sweet and happy, a bright tune for such an awful place. A little yellow bird arrived and landed at his feet. Then a second one, this one blue, and then a third bird came, this one red and brown. They danced and pecked at the ground around him.
“Good,” the knight instructed. “That’s very good for a first try. I’ve never been able to summon so much as a cricket.”
“But they aren’t white mice. Do you think that matters?” Veru asked.
“I don’t think we can spare the time to figure it out,” the knight replied. “Now, Danik, tell them to collect the tares.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. You must instruct them in the music somehow.”
Danik piped a new tune, and soon the little birds lifted overhead and began circling. Then, almost as one, they flew out and landed in the field. They started pulling on the tares and eating them, and then, suddenly, they screamed, and one by one, they began exploding in a mass of blood and feathers.
“Danik!” Veru shouted. “Get them out of there!”
“I’m trying!” he spat and played faster. One little bird almost made it out, but it screamed, and its neck broke just before escaping. Its little body rolled and landed near their feet. Veru started crying and bent to pick up the tiny bird, but the knight stopped her.
“It’s best if you don’t touch him,” he said. “You’ll have to try again, young man. This time targeting the white mice. Apparently, it matters a great deal which animal enters the field.”
Danik shook his head and tried to hand back the pipe. “I can’t do it.”
“You have to.”
“I won’t,” he insisted. “I won’t be responsible for killing any more creatures.”
“Then you’ll be her slave,” the knight said, taking the pipe reluctantly.
“It’s a better end than killing others. At least I’ll be able to live with myself.”
“Perhaps. But think. You’re also making this choice for your young woman. Would you have her suffer in this way as well? I promise you, a lifetime of servitude to my mistress will not go well with you. She has a way of, shall we say, extending life, making your vassalage an endless toil.”
“Danik?” Veru put her hands on his cheeks. His whole body was trembling. She knew how much he hated killing. “Close your eyes.” She waited for him to comply. “Do you remember when you had to catch mice once to feed two very hungry tigers? We were starving, and that’s all we had to eat.”
“We were in a church barn,” he said softly. “It was snowing.”
“That’s right. You set traps.”
“I did.” He smiled. “Zakhar was so frightened.”
“You remember,” she said.
“Pieces come back sometimes.”
“You did what was necessary so we could survive. That is the reason you hunted. To help your family. This is not much different. But we will spare them if we can. This time we’ll do it intentionally, properly. Focus on only the mice. Tell them you’re going to feed them, but they’ll need to be very careful. They’ll know what to do because they’ve done it before. Play them a little tune. Tell them there’s good food waiting for them. They’re hungry. Lots to eat. They’ll be safe if they do it like last time. But only the mice. Spare the wheat, take the tares.”
“I don’t want them to suffer,” he said.
“Then they won’t. You can do this. Tell them in your song to tread carefully.”
He began to hum with his eyes closed. “Only the mice, lots to eat, you’ll be safe, just spare the wheat.” Lifting the pipe, he pursed his lips and began blowing a little marching tune. Soon the underbrush began moving, and hundreds of tiny white mice scurried out onto the field. Danik played and played until every mouse had eaten their fill and had left, then he collapsed at Veru’s feet, his limbs quivering with fatigue, beads of sweat on his brow.
