A Cat at Bay Read online

  The violet-robed healer finished her careful inspection of the Lord-Defender, then stepped back and regarded her patient. “My Lord-Mammal, what is the last thing that you remember?”

  Rada frowned and tried to think back. “I was in the great Throne Room, following the signing of the Sapient Republic treaty, and it was very hot—so hot that I felt ill. Defender Kir and a human, Admiral Kundera I think, had come up and were asking me a question. I couldn’t catch my breath and my heart started pounding. That’s the last I recall, Lady Healer.”

  The olive-green Azdhag handed Rada a glass of a pale-blue liquid. “Drink this. All of it, now.” With some help Rada sat up and did as ordered, even though the drink was so bitter it made her stomach churn. “It’s a purge, to get the last of any remaining redleaf out of your body. You were given a large enough dose to kill every mammal in the imperial granaries, no offense.”

  “None taken.” The implications of the physician’s blunt statement hit abruptly. “I was poisoned?”

  «You damn near died! Twice over the past day and a half we thought we’d lost you, before you started improving. I should kill you for scaring me like that.»

  “It seems that Lord Kii-Blee decided to ensure that the feud between your Houses ended with your death, Lord-Defender,” a male voice remarked, and she turned her head far enough to see the Prince Imperial seated just beyond the edge of her private chamber. As she struggled to cover herself and bow he waved her off. “Don’t. Healer Panjhi says that you need to rest another twelve hours or so. And now, I’m going to report to my honored Sire. Lady Healer, once again you have the thanks of my House.”

  Reh-dakh’s muscles trembled, and she lay back down as Panjhi commanded, “Zabet, I’m leaving one of my assistants here. When next you wake, Lord-Mammal, drink this,” she pointed to a flask, “and eat something. And drink all the water you care to, in order to finish re-hydrating.”

  Rada didn’t protest. “As you command, Lady Healer, so shall it be. And my thanks for your care.”

  “Anything to keep Zabet quiet, Lord-Mammal. Good day,” and she departed.

  “My sleeping robe, please. I’m chilly.” Zabet handed her the warm silk and grass-fluff garment and helped her put it on. After a trip to the head, Reh-dakh returned to the sleeping platform and sank back into the thick cushions. Zabet stretched out along her side, head across the woman’s abdomen, eyes closed. “What happened, silver dancer?”

  «I’ll tell you when you wake up.» Sensing the futility of an argument, Rada fell asleep.

  It was a few hours before sunrise when she woke again. Zabet had moved away at some point and a heavy quilt spread over the sleeper. Rada stretched and began moving, taking her time. She felt hungry and a bit light-headed, but otherwise fine. She’d barely started to stand when a servant appeared and handed her a heavy over-robe. “Lord-Mammal, food is waiting.” Rada walked through the darkness to where a light meal had been laid out. After dutifully taking the last of Lady Panjhi’s medicines, Rada ate with a will, then sat back as the servants took the table away, leaving tea and water for her.

  Rada took her drinks and went to the window seat. The tall, drafty, ancient sand-glass window overlooked part of an inner courtyard and the end of the public gardens. Rada noticed that a platform and some other things had been added to the courtyard. “Ah. Justice will be swift,” she said aloud.

  «Indeed,» a satisfied voice said. «It seems that sunrise on Breakdark is a good time for one as dark as Kii-blee to die. His Imperial Majesty has decreed and it shall be done—by your hand if you choose.»

  “Zabet, what happened?”

  Zabet sat down next to her Pet and snarled, round ears tipped back, whiskers stiff with anger. «As the Prince Imperial said, that which was once Kii-Blee tried to win the feud between your houses and to cast doubts on the treaty as well. You should have had red wine or berry juice in your cup, not a redleaf decoction. He assumed that you would collapse and die before or just after signing, thus shattering the negotiations as well as eliminating you. And if that weren’t enough, he gave himself a weak dose so that the human witness would be blamed. You didn’t react the way he anticipated but you ran a terribly high fever, had heart problems, went into convulsions and scared the hell out of me and a few other people for a day and a half. It was near enough that Lady Panjhi had a death record prepared for you and the seneschal made arrangements for your cremation service.»

  Rada, eye wide, stared at her friend. “Blessed Lord! Oh Zabet, I’m so sorry.”

  She stopped when the dragon reached up and waved a talon. «The condemned is the one who owes me, and I’m going to let others collect my debt. His Imperial Majesty wishes you to carry out the final sentence. Will you?»

  Rada didn’t answer. Instead, she got cleaned up and dressed. Once finished, she looked in the mirror. Hair mostly loose down her back, dress in her House color of blue-green, black underskirt, breeches, and boots, she seemed even paler than usual. The Lord-Defender fastened her modified sword belt tight, checking the charge in her pistol before hanging her bahn’leh above the sword. On the other side she clipped her namesake, then threw a heavy black cloak over everything and pulled on black gloves. “Come,” she ordered, and Zabet followed. Two soldiers fell in behind them as an escort.

  Her boots rang on the frost-washed stones of the courtyard and she stopped off to the side of the temporary dais and watched, impassive, as the court and S.R. party assembled. Just before dawn on the shortest day of the year, the King-Emperor, Prince Imperial, vizier, and seneschal walked onto the dais and the assembled court knelt. “Rise. Lord Reh-dakh, join Us.” She climbed onto the platform and drew her sword, resting the point on the wood, gloved hands lying over the pommel.

  The King-Emperor looked over the nobles, servants and soldiers. “The creature which was once called Lord Kii-Blee has been accused and found guilty of attempted murder. It also broke truce-oath, and brought suspicion onto an innocent party, while simultaneously violating diplomatic protection, and attempted to disrupt Imperial negotiations. Although Our interests and honor were threatened, We find Lord Reh-dakh the most aggrieved party. We give him the life of the convicted, if he chooses to take it.”

  “Imperial Majesty, I do.” She unfastened her cloak and handed it down to Zabet.

  She could see the humans exchanging puzzled looks. At the Emperor’s wave, guards hauled the former noble forward. He had been stripped, muzzled, and chained, and struggled against the soldiers, eyes dilated with fear. They threw him down at the foot of the dais just as the first sunlight touched the stone walls above the crowd. Rada took a deep breath. “You forfeited your life when you betrayed your ruler, your House, and your honor,” she told him, loud enough for all to hear. “It is the Empire’s right, not yours, to decree life and death for those of us sworn to its service.” Her breath steamed in the crisp winter air.

  She jumped off the low platform and nodded to the soldiers, who hauled the terrified Azdhag up onto two legs. “Know that I take no joy in the justice you will receive, oathbreaker.” He tried to protest and the stink of excrement and fear tainted the clean morning air. Before he could do anything more, her sword stroke opened him from neck to hips. Red-brown blood and pale tan intestines gushed steaming onto the cobbles and Rada paused and nodded again. The soldiers dropped the mewling creature and stepped away as he thrashed in agony. After a minute or so of watching his torment, Rada’s blade sliced down again, ending the Azdhag’s suffering. Another pair of guards bundled the remains in canvas before dragging them out of the courtyard. Defender Kir handed the woman a bit of cloth and she cleaned her blade before sheathing it with a crisp “click.”

  “You are merciful, Lord-Defender,” the King-Emperor observed.

  “I take no pleasure in suffering, Imperial Majesty. That is why I am here,” and she bowed as he looked out at the witnesses and called, “Blee-zhi, come forward.”

  A lean, nervous Azdhag stepped out of the assembly, carefully avoiding
the bloody puddle where his uncle had died. Blee-zhi genuflected before the dais. “You may rise,” Hunag-di commanded.

  The reptile stood on four feet, eyes downcast. Di-dosk left the platform and joined Reh-dakh and Blee-zhi on the cold stones. “Nephew of House Blee, are you willing to take leadership of your House, serving Us in Court and caring for your people?” the King-Emperor asked.

  “I am, Imperial Majesty,” he said in a weak voice.

  “Lord Reh-dakh, do you uphold to end the feud with House Blee?”

  “Imperial Majesty, the feud ended when the Head of House Blee and I washed away the conflict three suns ago. There is naught between our Houses save shared loyalty and duty to the Empire.”

  Huang-di smiled. “Lord Blee-zhi, I confirm you in lordship of House Blee, and all the lands and rights and duties therewith.” At his nod, the Crown Prince presented the new Lord of Blee with his titles and assigns. Blee-zhi touched head to ground three times to the King-Emperor and once to the Crown Prince, then turned to Lord Reh-dakh.

  “Congratulations on your accession, my Lord,” she said, smiling and bowing as was proper.

  “Thank you, Lord Defender. Health and long life to your House,” he returned the courtesy.

  The accession ceremony finished quickly and the King-Emperor, Crown Prince, and others returned indoors, followed by anyone with enough sense to get out of the bitter cold. Thus, only Zabet, Reh-dakh, Admiral Kundera, and Assistant Ambassador Juan Ch’ien remained as a group of servants began removing the dais and other items. Zabet gave her Pet back her heavy cloak and Rada pulled it tight around her shoulders as the two humans approached. Ch’ien was still green from the morning’s display and looked very uncomfortable, while the Admiral was nonchalant.

  “It’s good to see you well, Lord-Defender,” Kundera said, offering his hand.

  She shook it, then bowed. “Thank you. I apologize for not being able to answer your question the other evening.”

  “I understand. You were a bit distracted.”

  Juan Ch’ien listened to this understated conversation with growing confusion. “I don’t understand, Lord Reh-dakh,” he admitted at last. “How can you be so calm after what happened to you and what you just did?”

  She folded her arms over her chest, still smiling slightly. “Your Honor, this is not my first brush with Death’s forefoot. After this long, any day when I wake up breathing, with all my limbs attached and functional, is a good day. As for administering justice, the nameless one committed suicide when he betrayed us both, Your Honor. I just killed his body—that which made him a person had gone long before.” Zabet nodded her agreement, as did the Admiral.

  “And His Majesty was serious when he called me merciful. By right and custom I should have killed the condemned slowly, with a short blade so that he only expired when the first light touched the cobbles.” Ch’ien looked at the band of sunlight just now dropping below the top windows of the courtyard wall and blanched.

  «As your poet said, “The quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: It blesseth both him that gives and him that takes.”» Zabet quoted into their minds, and her friend chuckled appreciatively.

  “Merchant of Venice, Act IV, Scene I. Not my favorite of Shakespeare’s plays, but not bad at all.”

  «Can we go inside, my lord? My toes are frozen and there are all sorts of good things for breakfast.» Zabet bounced lightly back and forth on alternating feet.

  “Excuse our discourtesy, Lady Zabet,” Ambassador Ch’ien said, giving a most courtly bow. “We have no intention of delaying your meals.”

  «Wise young man. Keep your head out of your trousers and you just may have a future in the diplomatic corps.»

  “A valid observation, Lady Zabet,” Ch’ien managed with commendable aplomb as he turned and walked inside.

  That afternoon as she half-napped, her stomach happily full of meaty treats, Rada decided to stay on Drakon IV until her mind healed, orders and leave times be damned. I’ll go back to when I’m supposed to. And if General Jones needs me earlier, well, Rahoul knows how to contact Joschka who can call . . . She fell asleep.

  (August 2007)

  “. . . and I expect everyone to do their part to . . .”

  Rachel scratched another square off her mental scorecard. Performance evaluation time is a pain. Even outside the chain of command it’s a pain. Because General Jones droned on, and on, and on at the staff meetings. One thing about the Azdhagi, Rachel mused, their version of a performance review is short and to the point—occasionally lethal, but short.

  At last came the words Rachel had longed to hear. “Cdr. Na Gael? Do you have anything to report?”

  She stood up and waved toward the data now running through the projector. “Brigadier, gentlemen, Captain Monroe—a few weeks ago this signal was received by the Astronomical Institute and noticed by Captain Marsh. Neither they nor we were able to identify it, although it seemed vaguely familiar. As it turns out, a similar signal reached the Institute’s receivers shortly before the little incident with the assassination attempt in the lab, which explains why I did not follow up immediately. Between then and this report, at least two more similar signals were picked up by other observers. As you can see,” she ran the three traces together, “they match. I’ll spare you the technical details, but they are from a materials’ and resources bioscanner. The three triangulate to this area,” and she pulled up a map of the Moors of North Yorkshire.

  Evelyn Jones leaned forward, brown eyes intent. “Can you determine who’s scanning?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The signal matches a Keldak military scout scanner. And no, no one on Earth should have access to one, based on what I could find.”

  Captain John Marsh waved a finger and Rachel nodded towards him. “This is what I brought you the day before . . ?”

  “Yes. It was a very good catch. The other two transmissions have been logged within the past four days,” she added.

  “All right, Commander. What do you have on the, what did you call it?” Jones asked as the others started making notes.

  “Keldak, ma’am.” Rachel began reciting, “They are an expansionist species from about 145 light-years away, give or take a parsec. Technologically far advanced from Earth, and last I heard very interested in resource acquisition, mostly bioresources, since they lost a lot of their ecosystem support species after making major errors with an attempt at planetary climate modification. However, that information is somewhat out-of-date. If it is indeed a Keldak scout mission that has set up in the northern moors, you’re looking at, oh, probably five individual Keldaki, plus some robotic defenses.” Rachel stopped and thought. “Oh, and they’re amenable to negotiation sometimes. Depends on if it’s just scouts or if any others have come along,” she added with a pointed look at the commanding officer.

  Jones ignored the jab and tossed a sheaf of papers at her advisor, who missed the catch. “Here’s the morning’s report,” the Welshwoman said. “Seems some hikers were reported missing by a friend, and park rangers have found holes in the ground where there shouldn’t be any. Same area as your signals. Suggestions, if it does prove to be your Keldaks?”

  Rachel shrugged, rumpling her tail as she collected a wayward page. “Politely suggest that this planet is taken and that they be on their way would be my first thought. If they refuse, then threaten to eject them.”

  “Have you negotiated with this species before, Commander?” Major Rahoul Khan asked, looking up from his computer terminal.

  “No, sir. I’ve observed negotiations but never been directly involved.”

  Marsh frowned. “If they are scouts, we should block their communications out, in case they try and call for reinforcements,” he offered, and Jones nodded.

  “See what you can get started, Marsh. Khan, get people moving. Ngobo, I want you and the Commander to get a briefing packet ready within the hour. Dismissed,” Jones announced as she stood up,
followed by her men. Rachel, still on her feet, finished skimming the reports as Kwame Ngobo came around the table to get a closer look at the printout she had brought with her.

  “Your office or mine, Captain?”

  “Mine, assuming you’re already packed for the field,” he said, collecting his notes and her laptop.

  “Let’s go then.”

  Later that afternoon Jones waved her resident boffin over to where she stood next to her command car. “You’re riding with me today.” The smaller woman gave her an odd look—for safety’s sake she usually traveled in a separate vehicle from the CO and executive officer. “Another report came in. You can read as we go,” the officer explained tersely. “Khan will be following later. Vienna has something else they also want us to look into.”

  Half an hour later, Rachel emerged from the reports and fished what looked like a Personal Data Assistant out of a pouch on her belt. She tapped the screen with the stylus and frowned down at the results, then tapped some more before muttering an imprecation under her breath.

  “Care to share?” Jones inquired.

  “Oh, just trying to sort out how long before the rest of the Keldaki ships arrive within planetary orbit.”

  Jones yelped, “What?”

  “Got you.” Rachel grinned. “The ships are probably out beyond that mess of asteroids and junk, what is it, oh, the Oort Cloud you call it. Good place to lurk out of sensor range,” Rachel explained as she tucked away her data-link. “Actually, ma’am, I was looking up some information about Keldak ship capabilities. Engine thrust, power sources, weaponry, the usual.”

  Jones bit back a reprimand for the alien’s joking. Instead she settled into her seat and mentally reviewed the morning’s staff briefing. “You said you had observed the Keldaks before? What circumstances?”