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Valentine stood a little dumbly as they piled the gear on his shoulders and around his feet. It was a dull gunmetal color, and made him think of a knight-errant.
"Zak," the Dispatcher called. "Where'd he get to? Zak!"
"Right here," Zak called, coming in from the gaping doorway to the barn, Tikka in tow, both looking a little disheveled.
"Zak, show David here how to wear his leathers."
Valentine, Zak, and Tikka picked up pieces of his new outfit and went outside. He'd seen breastplates like the one they strapped on before. They were an old army composite, hot as hell, made you feel like a turtle, but they could stop shrapnel. "You got ol' Snelling's rig," Zak observed. "He was a good reiner, if a bit flash for the Bulletproof. Dropped stone dead of a heart attack one hot summer day while climbing his mount. You never know."
"No, you don't," Valentine agreed, glad this Snelling hadn't been felled by a sniper working for the Cause.
"Zak says you're a flattie?" Tikka asked. She had a siren's voice, and her melodious accent begged a man to sit down and stay a while.
"Iowa," Valentine said. "But I left when I was young. I spent a lot of time in the Gulf."
"That where you picked up those scars?"
"Pretty much. What's this on the sleeve?" A series of hooks, reminding Valentine a little of sharpened alligator teeth, ran down the outside seam of the forearm of the jacket.
"Serrates," Tikka said. "They're for digging in when you mount, or hanging on to the side."
Zak showed him how to fix the spurs, which were a little more like the climbing spikes utility linemen wore to reach their wires. They could be flipped up and locked flush to the inner side of the boot. Locked down, they projected out and down from his ankle.
"Some guys put them on their boot points. I think that looks queer," Zak said.
Valentine explored the padding in the jacket shoulders and elbows. Military Kevlar plates were buttoned into the back and double-breasted front. The pants had stiff plastic caps on the knees and shins.
"You can take the bulletproofing out, but we generally wear it. Can be a lifesaver."
Valentine felt a bit like a porcupine. His old Cat claws would fit right in on this outfit. He could wear them openly and they'd just look like another set of spikes.
"How do you two kiss without harpooning each other?" Valentine asked.
A smile split Tikka's tan face and her eyes caught the firelight. "That's just part of the fun."
"Don't make fun of the leathers," Zak said. "A lot of effort goes into each one."
"Fine stitching," Valentine said. He wondered about the hides, though; they were thicker and pebblier than cowhide.
"I don't mean that. That's legworm egg-casing, stretched and dried. Getting it is trickier than threading a full-grown legworm for reins. You have to go into a breeding pile and get the egg right after it hatches, because it rots fast if you don't get it scraped out and dried. You have to help the little bugger inside out of it, or he'll eat almost the whole thing, and if you hurt a legworm grub doing that the adults stomp everything in sight."
"It's kind of a rite of passage for our youths," Tikka said. "They have to go into the winter dogpiles and check on the eggs. When they come out with a hide, they're considered full-grown members of the tribe."
"Thank you for skipping that step with me," Valentine said. "I'll wear it with pride."
"But be careful, Dave. There are lots in town that look down on riders. You'll get called a hillbilly and a Grogfucker and worse. Some think riding herd on a legworm's the same as cleaning up after a gaunt."
"He looks too fine for that kind of talk, Zak," Tikka said.
"How do you do the foxtails in your hair?" Valentine asked.
"Easy," Tikka said. "There's a cut-down pinecone attached to the tie. Some braid their hair around it. I can show you. Now that you've got a few worms, you should look the part."
"Zak, I want to talk to you about that. I'm passing through. Hoffman Price brought us up here in the hope that we'd get a guide to the Ohio River, up around Ironton or Portsmouth. I'll swap you my share of the recovered beasts for a ride."
Zak shook his head. "I've got a bigger string a little to the west. I'm leaving early tomorrow to get back to them."
"Then I'll drive you," Tikka said. "That way I'll get my string back."
