A Cat at Bay Read online

“I promise.” I hope this is just a nightmare.

  It wasn’t. “I’m scared. And so is Mama, and the servants. And Opapa’s mad at someone.”

  Adele, why did you not shield the child? Rachel thought, and gently imposed a shield over him again. “Yes, they are scared. You know why, don’t you Hannes?”

  “Because they think Papa’s not coming home. And they are afraid of Opapa, that he might hurt them or hurt himself.”

  She closed her eye and reached around the boy, who leaned against her shoulder. “Oh, Hannes.”

  “You’re not scared, are you?”

  She shook her head. “No. Not of your Opapa, and not for your father. But I do get scared in water over my head,” and when a timeship passes too close to Ter Tri.

  “Is Papa going to be all right?”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to find a way to explain that he would understand. “I can’t tell you Hannes. When you are older, either your Opapa or I will tell you why, but right now I’m not allowed to say.”

  He drew back with a hurt expression. “That’s not fair!”

  “You are right, it’s not fair. And it hurts me to know and not be allowed to say anything.”

  He thought about it. As they sat in the darkness, the telephone rang and she felt the emotions surging through the house, lapping like bitter water against her shields. Hannes startled, looked at her with huge eyes, and started crying. Rachel pulled him into her lap. He clung to her and to his stuffed horse. “Shhh, shhh. It’s all right. It’s hard to be brave and strong all the time, isn’t it?” The child nodded, snuffled, and sobbed into her shoulder. She merged their shields, sending comfort and warmth.

  Rachel braced her good leg and shifted so that she could gently rock back and forth. As soon as she sensed Lise’s relief and joy at the news that her husband had been shaken but not seriously injured, Rachel whispered, “Hannes, your father is just fine. It’s all right.” She could feel him relax and she very carefully eased into his mind and started him drifting to sleep, half-humming an old lullaby.

  Joschka found them there some time later, the boy in deep sleep and the Wanderer rocking him slowly as she hummed. The noble eased himself onto the landing with a creak. Neither spoke for a very long time. At last he sighed. “Tell me again how you do not like children.”

  Rachel gave a warped half-smile. “Never said that. Said I don’t like seeing children suffer. And someone had better get put back in his bed before his mother and Tante Adele get worried. Can you . . ?” Great-grandfather leaned over and took the boy, who snuggled sleepily against his chest.

  Joschka returned. He sat down again and despite the dimness Rachel could see angry red in his eyes. “You knew.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Yes. No details or names, but I know that your heir will live to succeed you.”

  He slammed his hand down onto the stone, hissing with fury. “Sod it, bitch! You arrogant, selfish, hateful bitch! You let me and my family suffer for nothing!” Rachel sat and looked at him, silent, as he pounded the worn stone under the carpet. “You God damn smug Wanderers, so happy to just watch and blame the ‘Rule of Detachment’ or ‘Travelers’ Laws’ when you decide not to help us and go on your way. You knew! You could have spared me this, damn you!” Stung to the quick, she snarled, claws starting to extend as she fought for control.

  Before his hand could connect with the stone again, she slid hers underneath and caught the blow. “Yes, my lord, I am damned, as you know very well by now. Now let it go. You’ve scared half the household, or so your successor says.” The HalfDragon and Wanderer glowered at eachother. Then she looked away, sliding her bruised hand out from under his fist and wiggling the fingers to make sure nothing was broken.

  With a sigh he leaned back against the wall, anger gone. “You’re right, Rada. I just, well, it’s not fair.”

  She removed her patch as she rolled her good eye and massaged under its scarred-over partner. “That’s what Hannes said. And you are both right.” She closed her eyes. “Adele said that Helmut is better?”

  “What? Oh, yes. His headache is almost gone and the cuts are healing quickly.”

  “Well, at least I did one thing right. Unless you need me, I’ll leave after breakfast tomorrow. This morning. Whenever this is.”

  “Are you running away again?” Adele asked, emerging from the darkness.

  “Getting out from underfoot, my lady. You are going to have your hands full with keeping the children and Joschka out of mischief and there is a message waiting for me in my ship,” Rachel replied, looking up at the countess, who laid a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

  Joschka started reaching towards the secure cell-phone now clipped to his belt. “Do you need to contact Jones?”

  Rachel patted the phone-looking device on her own belt. “Ah, no. It will be interplanetary long distance to the captain of the King-Emperor’s guard. And I don’t think you want to pay the roaming charge on that call!”

  “No, he does not!” Adele shook her finger at them.

  Joschka caught and kissed his wife’s hand, “That settles it.”

  Rachel started trying to drag herself onto her feet, and Adele asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, just the usual, my lady. One of the rocks gave me a muscle bruise, and I sat longer than I should have. Glad to hear that Leopold wasn’t hurt.” Rachel kept a light tone in her voice as she struggled to get more purchase with her good leg.

  Adele hurried toward her as Joschka got to his feet and reached around Rachel’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you say anything? Damn it, Hairball! If you were one of mine I’d demote you for stupidity,” he hissed as he half-lifted her.

  “When you were one of mine, I almost did,” she retorted. “So honors are even.”

  Adele planted her hands on her hips. “I will never understand soldiers, even after marrying two of them!”

  Humans! The errant pair thought simultaneously—behind very thick shields.

  (AD 4170)

  Rachel blinked as the translucent tank near the back wall of the Dark Hart wavered in and out of focus. “Stop that. You’re making me sick again.” She blinked again and the fuzz cleared from her eye. “Right. So much for the nap. And so much for a quiet vacation.”

  An orange blob drifted by, brushing against the side of the tank before fading back into the depths of its habitat. The ’Hart’s psycho-symbiotic core let her know that it did not care for either her exhaustion or the timeship traces they’d encountered around Drakon IV. “Me either, but only an idiot would try and attack me on the throneworld,” she told the creature and herself. “And I don’t have the authority to ask the empire not to do business with them.”

  Of course, if Commander Rada Lord Ni Drako, better known as Lord Reh-dakh, didn’t get “his” tail to the Imperial Palace on time, the King-Emperor would render the Traders’ desires for Rada’s head moot. Rada triple checked the correct temporal and spatial location, and entered the codes for the last leg of the trip. She’d left the Drachental in spring and would be arriving in early winter on Drakon IV. She hummed a fragment of melody to establish the link with the ’Hart, then sang the link. The ship matched her melody before spinning into a wild harmony. Together they set the course, riding a thread of time to the fourth world in the Drakon system, well inside the galaxy humans called the Milky Way, almost 2100 years in the future from when she’d left Ter Tri.

  The Dark Hart landed on the far edge of the Imperial palace’s secure spaceport, far enough from the main traffic area that most guards and workers wouldn’t have to look at the twisting, shifting exterior of the scout ship. Rada stood, stretched, and buckled on her sword and blaster belt. She’d change into her Azdhag uniform once she got to her quarters. “Right. I’m Commander Rada Lord Ni Drako, Lord Defender of Drakon IV, called Lord Reh-dakh.” She ran a finger over the folded iron war fan of her name. “And I don’t have to look at another mammal for at least a sixt, thanks be to God.”
r />   She opened the door and strode into the cold night.

  Two days later King Emperor Huan-di summoned her to meet in the private imperial gardens. Rada looked at the talon-written invitation and felt her fur rising. What does he want? Nothing positive came to mind.

  “You may rise, Lord Reh-dakh,” King-Emperor Huan-di announced that afternoon, waving an elaborately gloved forefoot. His heavy winter robes covered everything but his head, revealing grey and green stripes that swept back from his blunt muzzle, over the broad skull, and disappearing under the coat collar behind his steel-tipped neck spines. “Come, walk with us in the winter garden.”

  “Thank you, Imperial Majesty,” Rada said, rising from a semi-crouch in the snow and following two paces behind His Majesty’s shoulder as they passed slowly through the boulders, evergreens, and ice sculptures of the emperor’s private garden. Although very curious as to why the King Emperor preferred the garden’s bitter chill to the warmth of his personal reception rooms, Rada stayed quiet, content to wait on Huan-di’s pleasure. Walking through a beautiful garden was, after all, a vast improvement over fighting battles during Drakon IV’s winter. She admired the contrast and balance of white snow, black water, dark grey stones and the varied evergreens. At the foot of a large Tear-of-Heaven tree Huan-di paused, then gestured. “Come face us, Reh-dakh.”

  Rada did as ordered. “You are prepared for the arrival of the Sapient Republic delegation on the morrow?” The emperor’s breath made puffs of steam as he spoke.

  “As well as can be, Imperial Majesty. Your forces have been briefed and I am given to understand that there will only be three military personnel in or with the delegation, as Your Imperial Majesty specified. None of those three are Special Forces. I took the liberty of vetting them as soon as the composition of the delegation was made known.”

  The medium-sized Azdhag considered what his head of planetary defense had just said before making a strong-side gesture of assent. “Very well. What about you, Lord Reh-dakh? Are you ready? We do not want you compromised.”

  Rada bowed slightly, acknowledging the King-Emperor’s concern. “I understand, Imperial Majesty. I am ready. The humans will, no doubt, underestimate me and misunderstand me, but that is the lot of translators.” Rada ventured a smile. “I stand to my word, Imperial Majesty.”

  Satisfied, the emperor rose onto his hind legs. “Kneel,” he ordered, and reached into his elaborate robes as Rada dropped to one knee into the snow. “It has come to our attention that despite your long service, you lack this,” and he withdrew a leather-wrapped bundle, which he held out to her. Rada bowed lower and unfastened the coverings, eye opening wide at the contents. Huan-di smiled slightly. “You have shown that you need no assistance to defend the Empire’s honor. Now we give you the means to defend your own, Lord Reh-dakh. And we hope that you are never called upon to use it!”

  Rada turned the bone-hilted knife in gloved claws before carefully sliding it into position in her sword belt. “Thank you, Imperial Majesty. I never hoped for such a gift.”

  “And it is for that reason we grant it to you, Reh-dakh. Rise.”

  Rada’s thoughts swirled like blowing snow as Huan-di led the way along the garden paths back to where they had entered. He paused at the simple gir-dakh, the iron gate leading back to the palace entrance. “You understand the bahn’leh. We presume the humans do not?”

  Rada sighed. “No, Imperial Majesty, most of them no longer do. They believe that they have ‘outgrown the need for archaic concepts’ such as honor and sacred vows—to their loss, I fear.” And I include Evelyn Jones in that number.

  The emperor’s grey and green striped head swiveled as he strained to look over his shoulder. “Are those your words, or those of a human, Reh-dakh?”

  “They belong to a human, Majesty. One of their scholar-politicians.”

  The emperor snorted steam from his nostrils and shook his head. “Foolishness indeed. You may leave us. We wish to enjoy the silence of the garden.” Rada bowed very deeply, then backed ten paces before turning and walking quickly towards the palace armory.

  A sixt of days later, Rada sat in the comparative warmth of the Defense Command Center in the depths of the Palace, watching the ambassadorial arrival. Huan-di had ordered her to remain out of sight of the humans until the formal presentation, which suited Rada just fine. She’d taken the time to sleep and train, two things she’d missed over the past months. Right oh, here we go, history in the making and all that. The technician on duty nudged the volume control up so the reptiles studiously not listening in could hear the audio.

  Out on the landing pad, at the base of a ramp leading to the door of the S.R.S. India, a large, green-brown Azdhag in a cobalt-blue robe advanced several paces ahead of the reception committee, and bowed to the human delegation. Ambassador Daniel Bolton, or the man Rada assumed to be Bolton, bowed in return and the slight human beside him did likewise, bending lower than Bolton. The Azdhag straightened up and spoke, breath puffing in the cold as he recited, “Imperial Vizier Shu offers you welcome and asks you to accept what poor hospitality the royal household can provide.” The slighter human translated the words into Republic Standard.

  “My great thanks for the most generous greeting, Great Vizier, but we are too lowly to accept such a magnificent gift,” the ambassador replied.

  Rada listened to the human interpreter. He’s good, but ouch, that accent! He’s not using the gutturals properly, either. Granted, after four hundred Azdhag year-turns she still had trouble voicing them, but that wasn’t an excuse, Rada sniffed.

  Following more back and forth polite protestations and declarations, the vizier gestured with his strong-side forefoot and tail towards the palace. “No, please, I insist. Night will be here, and no traveler should face the Dark Lady’s veil at this time of year. Come,” and he turned, as the other Azdhagi spread out to form a double-line. This, apparently, was the sign Ambassador Bolton had been waiting for, and he strode off behind the vizier, beckoning the other members of the party to follow. The group followed their host and the ambassador into the palace under the careful eyes of the minor nobles attending the vizier and the palace guards. And the Lord Defender, who counted the humans. No spares visible. Good. I’m getting tired of surprises.

  Since she was there and on duty, Rada spot-checked several Defender bases, ordering the technicians to call up the various communication centers and depots. Two failed to respond promptly, and the remote camera at Three Trees revealed two Azdhagi engaged in a most un-military operation. Stunned silence filled the DCC, followed by a wave of the snorting gurgles of Azdhagi snickers. Rada sat back in her chair and studied the ceiling. “Pull the recording and send it to Defender Kir.”

  A quiet hiss ran through the soldiers. “Yes, Lord Mammal,” the comm tech replied, talons tapping on his command board. Rada stood, logged out, and strode down the corridors to her own quarters. Kir would deal with the offenders more effectively than she could. I wonder if he’ll leave any remains? Probably not. He’s neater than I am.

  Rada opened the door to her quarters and found three servants and supper waiting. “Thank you. You are dismissed. If I need anything further, my orderly will attend to me,” she said. Given the long days and nights of official events coming up, Rada saw no reason to keep the servitors longer than necessary. They would be working harder than anyone else. The trio bowed low and saw themselves out, no doubt anxious to go catch up on the latest gossip about the newcomers.

  The spicy perfume of the main course tickled Rada’s nose, summoning an even larger smile. A real treat! Double-cooked gantak, spiced with ground lii nuts and served over “invisible” noodles was one of her favorites and a dish only served in winter. Rada settled ungracefully at the low table and savored the meal.

  Act one in the play had concluded successfully, Rada thought. Now for the exciting part: tomorrow would be the first time the humans met Lord Reh-dakh, and vice versa. I wonder what they’ll do? A number of things quite possi
bly, starting with a major double take. The humans might accept the Lord-Defender at face value and go on as if nothing were unusual. Or they might make some assumptions that could cause a diplomatic disaster. Rada sipped the last of the tea and decided not to worry about it. If they act stupid, it’s their fault, not mine.

  Rada set the dishes by the door and retreated to the private section of the suite. Since protocol forbade assassination ambushes in a noble’s inner sanctum, Rada could relax. Not that anyone was currently calling an active feud with the Lord-Defender, but the current Lord Blee might decide to reopen the old one between House Blee and House Ni Drako. Rada cleaned up, changed into a sleeping robe, and yawned so hard her jaw threatened to unhinge. I’m not two hundred anymore, alas. Rada considered studying her new weapon but opted for something less worrisome and flipped to some ancient poetry on her reader. “Let me not to the marriage of true minds / Admit impediments. Love is not love / Which alters when it alteration finds, / Or bends with the remover to remove.”

  A barely-audible scrape of claws on wood and the faint hint of cinnabar and clove warned her that someone had slipped in through the passage behind the wall. “To what do I own the pleasure of your company tonight?” Rada inquired of the sliver-scaled figure settling down on the edge of the sleeping platform.

  «I happened to be in the area and I heard you reading,» Zabet’s warm voice answered. «Unless you don’t want company?» Rada reached over and caressed the True-dragon’s chin, scratching underneath her jaw. «Ahhhhh, you can do that until sunrise,» Zabet sighed, stretching out on the thick mattress, sapphire eyes closed in pleasure. «Interesting choice of sonnets, by the way.»

  Rada nodded in the darkness. “Yes, given the situation, Sonnet 121 or perhaps 25 would be more appropriate, but they require too much thought. Shall I give you your sonnet, oh silver dancer?”

  «Yes, please. And then to sleep. For both of us.»

  Rada turned pages until the desired poem appeared. “When in the sessions of sweet silent thought / I summon up remembrance of things past . . .” The visitor’s throat hummed with contentment, a slight vibration that continued after they both drifted to sleep.