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months away.   “If you are to ransom me, it cannot wait till winter!”
    He grunted a laugh.   “We follow no calendar but our own.   Come, you may eat with me.   Food is prepared.”
    Without waiting for my reply, he strode off, nudging the nearest of the three minions aside with a growl.
    Seeing no alternative, I followed.
    The camp was not a large one.   I counted three tents, one larger than the others.   As I passed the opening I saw two women within, overdressed in silks and jewels.   They stared at me with baleful eyes.
    â€œCome!   Eat!” the Mighty said from his fire nearby.
    He waited for me to sit on a pillow, and then sat opposite me.   He was handsomer in firelight, not as old as I assumed.   His features were almost aquiline.   The nose was broad and his whiskers thick.
    He dipped a paw into a pot which straddled the fire, drew something to his mouth, then barked a command and one of the minions appeared and carried the pot to me.
    â€œI prefer utensils,” I said.
    He laughed, and slapped his knee with a paw.   “And I prefer to be king of the universe!   Alas!   Neither of us attains what we prefer!”
    My hunger overcoming my reticence, I scooped some of the glop within the pot up with one paw, and managed to spill half of it bringing it to my mouth.
    â€œNo!” the Mighty laughed.   “Like this!”
    The minion scurried back to him with the pot and he proceeded to instruct me how to properly eat with my paws, scooping it gently into the hollow of his palm then bringing it almost elegantly to his lips.
    I had to admit that the stew, if that’s what it was, was very good.
    â€œYou like F’rar stew, then?” the Mighty asked after I had eaten my fill.   He began to laugh as my eyes widened in horror.
    I began to retch and stood up.
    â€œNo!   No!” He continued to laugh, urging me to sit back down.   He waved his paws.   “It is only poultry!”
    He waited until I had regained my seat to announce, “We will have F’rar for dessert!”
    Again he laughed, and then added quickly, “We are nomads, but not savages.   Please do not think of us as so.”
    â€œI...had my doubts,” I said.
    His grin widened.   “I am sure you did!   And now I will tell you about the battle today.”
    My interest heightened.   “Please.”
    With his paw, he drew a line in the air, and then, higher, another, and then another.   Then he laid his paw flat above the third line.
    â€œThis is where your people stood on the high bluff,” he said.   “We have excellent spy glasses, and saw it all.”   He moved his paw down to where he had drawn the second line.   “And your people had their outer defenses here, to the rim of the crater.”   He traced the original, lower line, again.   “And here were the F’rar, beyond that line.”   He took both paws and bent the line upward and around.
    â€œA flanking maneuver,” I said.
    He nodded vigorously.   “Yes!   And a good one.   There were many more F’rar than your people.   The F’rar, being stupid, waited for dawn to break.   Your defenses then went to work, and did well for a time.   But after a while they were overwhelmed.”
    He hunched himself closer to the fire.   “Then the main attack began.   It went on for a long time, almost two meal’s worth.   Your people had picked the bluff well, and they defended it with vigor.   The airship attacks, I think, eventually made the difference.   That and the fact that the F’rar had fifty times the ground attackers as your defenders.   And then, of course, there were betrayals.”
    I must have looked surprised, because he laughed.
    â€œYes!   There are always betrayals!   With my own eyes I watched through a spyglass as two of your defenders on