Steel dogs

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AANDRED WAITED IN the egress lock, jammed in with the horse and the dogs. In that small place, the air was dense with the stinks of machine oil and ozone and hydraulic fluid. The dogs were excited, and their bodies clashed together, metal against metal, making a thunderous din. “Calm down, puppies,” Aandred said, making his harsh voice soothing. “Droam's a little slower than usual tonight, I know, I know, but soon, soon…” The dogs quieted, waiting with only an occasional wriggle of eagerness, a muffled whimper.

Aandred flipped open the panel set into his forearm, studied the telltales there. All burned a steady green, except for an occasional amber flicker on the one that monitored Umber's olfactory transducer. Not bad enough to make Umber stay behind, he thought. Umber was a sweet puppy, not contentious; she would stay with the pack even if her nose failed her completely.

Droam spoke, using the direct mode. “Ready, Huntsman?” Aandred hated the sound of the castle's voice in his head; it was an intrusion, a reminder that he was Droam's property. Tonight the voice was a shade less unctuous than usual. Aandred imagined a quiver of apprehension in its smooth tones. Good, he thought. Suffer, monster. Be afraid. But all he said was, “Yes.”

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