A Cat at Bay Read online

  The Crown Prince raised his head at the interruption and Rada cringed. “My apologies, your Highness. Zabet is more forthright than is always wise.” Di-dosk set the frame down on the table and looked over his shoulder as a sinuous form flowed into the public reception area, blue eyes serious for once.

  «Imperial Highness, my lord, pardon the interruption but you need to know something.»

  “Speak freely, Zabet,” the prince ordered.

  «One of the humans wishes to compromise Lord Reh-dakh.»

  Rada stiffened as Di-dosk prodded, “In what way, silver dancer?”

  The blue-silver True-dragon looked very unhappy and with a protective gesture rested her muzzle atop Rada’s shoulder. «Physically, if what I sense is true. Diplomatically as well, from what the servants are gossiping.»

  Rada felt a little sick. “I feared this might happen, Imperial Highness.” Her fingers traced the carvings on the hilt of the bahn’leh tucked into the sash covering her gun belt.

  “Go to Singing Pines on the morrow, Lord Reh-dakh. I will speak with his Imperial Majesty about these matters. You will tell no one else of what has been said here, either of you,” Di-dosk ordered, rising to his feet. Reh-dakh rose only far enough to kneel as he left the room.

  «You’re in deep shit, aren’t you?» Zabet said, as she sat back down and sighed.

  “No more than usual.” Rada helped herself to a few of the scant remains of the Crown Prince’s tea before starting to pack.

  After Rada left, Zabet decided to take matters into her own forefeet. She kept an eye on Assistant Ambassador Juan Ch’ien and tipped the servants assigned to the Sapient Republic delegation to let her know his schedule. The next day, as he rounded a corner he found someone waiting for him. “May I be of service?” he asked, taking the initiative.

  «I apologize for delaying you, Assistant Ambassador, but I wished to have a word with you, if I might. I am Lady Zabet of House Nagali.»

  “I have a few minutes, Lady Zabet, but only a few. What do you wish to discuss?”

  «I will be brief and to the point, Your Honor, as I know that your time is valuable. Your assumptions and aspirations towards my business partner are both unfounded and unwelcomed. I do not want you to find yourself challenged on a point of honor or doing something that might compromise either the treaty negotiations or Lord Reh-dakh’s person.»

  “I assure you, Zabet, I will do no such thing nor did I intend to!” He acted innocent and affronted, although Zabet could tell that he understood exactly what she was talking about. She smelled guilt as well as hearing it.

  Her whiskers fluttered and she made a graceful gesture with her forefoot. «Thank you. I’d hate to lose my best business partner yet to the executioner’s block for someone else’s, ah, ‘cultural misunderstanding’.»

  He stepped back a pace, tan skin going pale, and he gulped. “What do you mean?”

  «Although the honor blade allows its holders to defend their honor if challenged, and is a mark of great regard and esteem, there are also grave penalties should the bearer come under suspicion of misconduct. It is truly a two-edged gift,» she explained. «And I apologize for delaying you, Your Honor. My regards to Ambassador Bolton and have a good rest of the day.»

  With that Zabet bowed and left him to puzzle over her words and their implications as he hurried to his meeting. She probably shouldn’t have confronted him, but after she’d spent this long training Rada Ni Drako, she wasn’t going to let a hormonal idiot ruin all her hard work.

  Two days later, one of the household servants ushered Lord Reh-dakh into His Imperial Highness’s “office.” Reh-dakh dropped to one knee, bowed her head, and waited for his acknowledgment. She could hear writing stick on paper, then a snap and a muttered curse. She hid a grin of sympathy. At last, after perhaps five minutes, she heard, “You may rise.” She stood carefully, so as not to put too much weight on her bad leg.

  “Report, Lord Reh-dakh. What did you find at His Majesty’s estates?” The Crown Prince regarded her steadily, waiting.

  “Your Imperial Highness, things were not as good as your Imperial Sire’s former steward suggested.” That was a rank understatement, in truth. She had, alas only metaphorically, kicked the idiot’s tail from the Singing Pines manor house, over the northern pole, and back to Drakon IV’s equator when she saw the state of things. “Instead of tending to his duties, former Steward Ksskt apparently found other pursuits to fill his time. There is enough food to get through the rest of the winter and seed for the spring. And access to Burnt Mountain should be restored by a twelve-night after Breakdark unless a truly severe storm comes through. But the manor and villages were left unprepared for the cold, my lord, and there has been suffering. Of the two estates, Burnt Mountain has fared better, with much credit due to Manager Tiisk,” she finished.

  The prince’s expression grew more troubled with each detail of her report. “How much suffering has there been? Any avalanche losses?”

  “No deaths yet, although there have been illnesses. It seems that the former steward failed to distribute supplies before the storms started and the most remote settlements have been running short. Singing Pines village is better.” She looked down at the elaborate patterns decorating the marble floor. “I’d told the headman of the village and the manager of Burnt Mountain a number of years ago to use the Daimyo’s Tenth of the hunt if there was need. They have both done so and no one has starved. The granaries are being cleaned, grain sorted, and rodent traps and baits are now in place, and the juniors will get a copper per rodent they catch in and around the granaries until the harvest is in proper storage.” She kept her head down, waiting for an explosion. Neither of those had been requested of, or approved by, the estates’ owner.

  “I believe my Imperial Sire will confirm your decisions, Lord Reh-dakh,” Prince Di-dosk said. “Have you ever taken the Daimyo’s Tenth? It is your right, along with personal service.”

  “Yes, your Highness, and I have. But not if the worth was needed for improving the estates, or in a hard year,” Rada said, daring to look up.

  The brown Azdhag made a forefoot negation, an amused expression in his amber eyes. “Besides the steps you described, what is being done?”

  “I’ve ordered Manager Tiisk from Burnt Mountain to take over until after the treaty negotiations are ended. He was en route to Singing Pines when I left and should arrive late tonight. Grain has been distributed per the schedule, plus extra because of the pending storm, and some villagers have been bringing in extra fuel. If His Majesty grants permission, after the treaty is signed I will return to the estates and see what else is needed and begin looking for a new Steward, as Tiisk has said that he lacks the experience.”

  Di-dosk paced for a bit, then gave the Azhdag equivalent of a shrug, rumpling his tail. “You have done well, Lord Reh-dakh. Bring me a formal report tomorrow afternoon and I will give it to my honored Sire. Go take a hot soak, on my orders, and supper will be waiting in your quarters since I know you came directly here upon landing.” She knelt again, “You are dismissed, Lord-Defender.” The tired woman rose and left.

  Three nights later, Rada wondered which son of a dockside recreational professional had taught the bright idea fairy how to travel the stars. Lord Kii-Blee had formally petitioned to end their feud. “The Assistant Ambassador can serve as a neutral witness and peacemaker,” Kii-Blee’s message had read. “All feuds will end, no guilt will be assigned.” Well, I may have declared it but your ancestor deserved it. I should have killed him and his painted, perfumed, pandering popinjay of a King-Emperor both. Instead she was cooling her heels outside one of the imperial chapels, waiting for Juan Ch’ien and Kii-Blee both. She’d agreed to it why? Because I’m tired and because the Pack approves of ending this folly. And I of all people know better than to anger the Pack. I’m the only one living who has seen what can happen.

  Kii-Blee appeared and gestured for her to follow him into the chapel. Rada had participated in other feud-ends but
never been in this room, and she took her time studying the lovely chamber. It wasn’t large, but beautifully decorated with paintings of Azdhag deities of both sexes on a pale gold background. A silver altar stood against one wall, and Blee lit two sticks of incense that burned with a scent resembling the peaches of Ter Tri. A table stood in the center of the room, holding a tray with three cups and a large basin of water. The human coughed, and Blee beckoned for him to enter. Lord Kii-Blee wore his house colors of midnight navy embroidered with stylized hills, and Rada wore her basic court formal clothes. Both were armed with swords.

  Kii-Blee, as highest ranking, spoke first, with Rada interpreting. “I wish to begin by apologizing for the disturbance outside your quarters last sixt, Your Honor. In my anger over an affront to my honor, I brought my fight to your door, and for this I am truly sorry.”

  “My Lord, I accept your apology, although none is needed. No one was injured or inconvenienced and I thank you for your restraint and consideration,” Ch’ien replied just as formally.

  “Thank you. Shall we begin?” Kii-Blee said, gesturing to the table in the center of the room. Rada bowed and moved to stand opposite him, her back to the altar. “Please stand here, facing the door,” Kii-blee directed, and the human did as bidden. Kii-Blee rose onto his hind legs and nodded to Rada. They drew their blades, touching the tips over the water and cups.

  “One hundred and sixty year-turns past, House Ni Drako did offense unto House Blee through usurpation and calumny: usurpation by taking as vassals those sworn to House Blee and unreleased, and calumny by accusation of negligence and unconcern,” Rada recited. Although your blasted ancestor did neglect and harm his people, and didn’t try and help them after the flood, so no wonder they refused to go back, she thought.

  Kii-blee took up the story. “Since that day, feud has ruled between House Blee and House Ni Drako, shading all dealings and coloring all duties. Such is the discord that other Houses have been tainted by this strife, even unto the feet of the royal throne. Now has come the time to end this strife and wash away the anger,” Kii-Blee concluded. The two nobles withdrew their blades, saluted, and presented them to Ch’ien hilt-first. He accepted them and took them to the altar, laying them there for the next part of the ceremony.

  “Heads of your Houses, do you renounce this feud?” Ch’ien asked after resuming his place at the table.

  “For my House, I so do,” Reh-dakh said in Azdhag, then in Republic standard.

  “For my House, I so do,” Kii-Blee repeated, grey-brown eyes never leaving the Assistant Ambassador’s face.

  Ch’ien took the two incense sticks and used them to light candles, which he presented to the Azdhagi nobles. “Then with this water quench the blaze of anger, that it may never flare again.” They dipped the tapers in the bowl, then returned them to the witness, who in turn replaced them on the altar. He then handed one cup to each of the nobles after raising each one to eye level. “With this wash away the conflict, that it never return,” and all three drank.

  Rada saw that the human had a cup of something creamy-looking and sweet, while hers and Blee’s were dark red-brown, like Azdhag blood. Kii-Blee stuck his tongue out. “Truly, even ending a feud is a bitter thing.”

  Ch’ien removed the swords from the altar and returned them to their owners, who saluted him, then each other, and sheathed them. “So ends the feud. We go in peace and peace between our houses,” Rada and Blee said in unison, bowing to each other and to the witness.

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” Kii-Blee said.

  “You are very welcome, Lord Kii-Blee. My best wishes for the prosperity of your House,” and Ch’ien turned to Rada, who waited politely for the higher-ranking noble to finish. “And yours, my lord.”

  “Thank you, and I bid you good night and fair skies Your Honor, Ni Drako,” Kii-Blee said.

  “Fair skies and good harvests unto your House, my Lord Kii-Blee,” Rada replied, bowing slightly as the Azhdag left the room.

  Juan Ch’ien turned to Rada. “Lord Reh-dakh, could you guide me back to the Sapient Republic Delegation’s rooms? I am not familiar with this part of the Palace,” he admitted.

  On her guard but polite, she gestured for him to precede her. “Of course, Your Honor.”

  They were about halfway to his rooms when he asked, “My Lord, could you explain your position in court? It seems rather ambiguous.”

  She nodded and smiled slightly, turning her head a little so she could see him. I’ll be honest, since he probably won’t believe me anyway. “Fluid would be a better term, Your Honor. Technically, I am within the middle ranks of all courtiers and hold the lowest rank of those within the Imperial Council. But—and this is where matters become very complicated—when acting as Lord-Defender I outrank everyone on the Planetary Council and at Court except His Imperial Majesty, his Imperial Highness, and the Minister of War. When commanding in battle, I outrank all save the King-Emperor, but only then.”

  “That’s rather confusing, Lord Reh-dakh.”

  “Yes, it is. It evolved over several hundred years, so I’m familiar with the patternings, but for someone not used to the Azdhag culture and ways it is confusing. There is much like this within Azdhagia, Your Honor—things that are not as they seem on the surface. That is part of what keeps me here,” and she stopped, turning to face him. “Like the sea, the Azdhag Empire seems unchanging but in truth it alters, turns over, and recreates itself almost constantly. But that is far more than you wanted to know and I apologize, Your Honor. We are just down the hall from your chambers. I bid you good night.” She bowed.

  “Thank you, Lord Reh-dakh, Lord Defender. This evening has been most enlightening. Good night,” and he left her in the hall.

  «Pet, are you feeling okay?» Zabet asked the next afternoon as Rada leaned back against the stones framing the bay window, eyes closed. «You look flushed and your eye is bright.»

  “I’m fine. I’m just a little tired. Having to memorize that entire ceremony on short notice, plus dealing with the manor records, the negotiations, and then a training session this morning, have all taken it out of me,” Rada said. “Are things as messy as they looked?”

  Zabet nodded and closed the last of the old-fashioned account books, then walked over to her friend, resting her head on Rada’s lap so the woman could scratch around her ears. «Yes, but all the funds are present and accounted for, if not correctly. He was lazy, but not dishonest. At least not with the King-Emperor’s money.»

  “Thanks for wading through that.” Rada sighed and looked down at the True-dragon, noting the worry in her blue eyes. “Tell you what. Let’s forget the estates for the rest of the afternoon. I have a few hours before the ceremony, so I’ll get dressed early and read to you. Go pick something while I change.” She got up and the world spun a little. Too many things going on at once, she decided.

  «What are you wearing?»

  “The field grey outfit with the smoke embroidery, no headpiece. I need to fade into the stonework and let the great lords shine tonight,” the Wanderer said as she changed. “Find a book?”

  «Yes. Tales from a Wayside Inn by Longfellow. “Listen my children and you shall hear / of the midnight ride of Paul Revere . . .”» She recited a bit, then handed the old book to her associate before curling up in the sunny window seat. «Read me a story! Please o please o please!» The True-dragon sent to all hearers, mimicked a brainless bit of fluff as she struck a pose in the light. The servant checking the stove made a tail-tip wiggle of laughter, as Zabet had no doubt intended.

  “You are something else again, silver dancer.” Rada chuckled, then found a place to start.

  Three hours later Rada felt worse. She almost swayed on her feet as she watched the other court nobles and the S.R. delegation. As the lowest ranking member of the Imperial Council, Lord Reh-dakh’s signature was the first affixed to the treaty, then the seneschal’s, with His Imperial Majesty’s seal the final mark. Reh-dakh signed with her full titles, save for “former Ruling
Regent.” The Sapient Republic did not need that bit of information. She finished, laid the writing rod down, and stepped out of the way. Write fast, please. I need to go lie down. She had to remain until the final ratification—by tradition and law, the treaty was not valid unless all signers witnessed all signatures.

  Fortunately, the others all wrote quickly. At last King-Emperor Huan-di dipped a talon into the special lapis ink and drew his ornate sigil, then added his seal to the paper. “This marks the beginning of peace between our Houses, the Azdhag Empire and Sapient Republic. May it remain thus,” he declared, and servants appeared with small cups of golden ice-wine or fruit juice. Rada accepted hers and joined the S.R. delegation and other councilors in drinking to peace and prosperity. His Majesty took his seat and the doors to the throne room opened, allowing the rest of the court to enter.

  After the formal ceremonies concluded, Rada took a position towards the rear of the hall with the minor nobles. A few minutes later she began fanning herself discreetly.

  Admiral Kundera had also left the dais and was chatting, via Master Zhing, with Defender Kir. The two soldiers were deep in a discussion when Kir gestured towards the Lord-Defender, apparently suggesting that they ask Lord Reh-dakh about the topic. The three started towards her, then began walking faster as they drew close. As Rada watched, they faded in and out of her vision, and she had to concentrate on their words.

  “My Lord, is there a problem?” Kundera asked through Zhing. Rada looked confused and started to reply. Her face flushed, then abruptly turned pale and grey and she collapsed, metal fan clanging on the stone floor.

  Rada regained consciousness very slowly. She heard voices and tried to rise and see who was in her private chamber, but taloned forefeet held her down and she heard Zabet saying «Lie still, please. Let Healer Panjhi finish examining you.» It took a moment for the name to register, and when it did Rada snapped completely awake. Panjhi was the senior physician in the Palace and normally focused her attention only on the royal family. Her next realization was that she was stark naked, a state that made her blush crimson even though the Azdhag wouldn’t care in the slightest. «Well, your reactions are intact at least,» Zabet commented, relief plain to hear.