Mark of the Cat and Year of the Rat

by Andre Norton

  Our party halted. The monster that had been towing my oryxen dropped the reins and pushed his three-horned mount towards Ravinga. She gave no sign of either hearing or seeing the warrior who had spoken.

  Suddenly I felt those invisible bonds, which had held me, were gone. I swiftly caught up my dangling reins but the troop was so close about us I could see no possible escape. Nor could I have taken one, if it had existed, without Ravinga.

  Now the warrior threw the broken doll at her face. Still she did not move though she swayed a little as part of it stuck against her shoulder.

  The man-rat who had led me squealed (there was no other way to describe the sound he made) and another hooded one dismounted to gather up the pieces of the doll while he faced the warrior directly.

  “The August One has decreed,” he used understandable speech now. “These are his.” For a long moment they confronted one another. I could sense the rage of the man—anger, yes—and disgust. He might ride in this company but not in comradeship.

  He gave first, turning his mount away. They withdrew, leaving him space to reach the edge of the troop again. The man-rat glanced back at me but he did not return to take my reins once more, rather remained in a position near to Ravinga as we started on again.

  We had gone but a little farther when the curtain disappeared giving clear sight ahead. There we saw, not too far away, the spread of a city. It was walled and around those walls arose tall vegetation, which formed patterns. Towards this we headed.

  Hynkkel-ji:

  Somehow, with Kalikku’s aid, we made it back to the carts. There others joined us and we were able to get Murri over the barrier and into the crowded circle. When he was under the shelter of a storm hide I was at last able to care for him.

  As I pulled aside the covering, which had been about him, Commander Ortaga came, a healing box in his hands,

  “Brother?” I sent my thought call with all the energy I could summon. Murri’s great luminous eyes opened.

  “Evil—” his thought came slowly and faintly. “Out of sand—burning light—your she—Wise One—taken—”

  I shivered. So the menace had struck—who—or what? I did not know enough. I must go. Only the storm was raging. First Murri must be tended. His eyes were closed again and there came no answer when I strove with the touch.

  The wound was not a cut, such as one would bear from a sword or spear, but rather a long streak from which charred fur sifted, showing badly burned skin. Burns were common enough caused by campfires, wind stirred. I knew I could find the answer in the healing box. I worked with all the care I could summon to treat this one.

  When Murri was bandaged and asleep, I held council with those sharing our shelter. We had only Murri’s few words and our suspicions to guide us and we could not guess how long the storm would hold. I had to grind my hands together to conceal their shaking. Imagination was only too quick to suggest what might be happening to Allitta and Ravinga. I hoped that they had been taken as hostages and so, safe for the moment.

  Allitta:

  This city was nothing like the major ones of the Queendoms. Such odd buildings, many of them three and four stories high with here and there a tower reaching even higher, were unknown where the storms came. Had that gate transported us in some fashion from the Outer Regions to a strange site, perhaps to the inner lands about which we knew so little?

  Kassca’s head bumped against my chin again as she edged around within the folds of my cloak to face outwards and view the spread of buildings along the street, which had met us beyond the wall.

  There was no sign of life in the streets. No one watched from any window. Save for the sounds of our own company there was heavy silence. We might be riding through some long deserted ruin, save there was no crumbling of any of the structures.

  The walls were bright, to be seen directly now, for the sun was well up. Colored stones had been set in the duller rock to make patterns. Many of those I recognized as designs which recalled House badges. They were not all of one Queendom. Diamonds shone brightly next to sapphires or rubies.

  We passed by a number of structures so enhanced until we came out in a square not unlike that of Valapa where an Emperor, having passed the Five Tests, was proclaimed. Hynkkel-ji—almost I could close my eyes and see him as he stood, his well-muscled body bare save for loincloth, to face the world. In his one hand was the Leopard Staff and in the other the one bearing a Sand Cat, which Ravinga had made.

  We came to a halt and those about were dismounting. The man-rat who appeared to be in command—at least of Ravinga and me—assisted her to dismount and then turned in my direction. Though I loathed the touch of his hand I prudently allowed him to help me down.

  I was startled, for Kassca, as soon as my feet touched the pavement, uttered the piercing scream which could only be a battle cry. The man-rat started back as the Kotti’s head pushed out of my cloak, teeth bared, following that first challenge with another.

  There appeared the gleam of a knife blade. He had drawn the weapon so quickly that he might have formed it by some gesture in the air. I retreated so that swing connected only with the edge of the cloak. The fact that a fragment of that garment was slashed free testified to the sharpness of the blade. As I held Kassca tightly with one hand, I jerked at the scarf that had served me during the storm. It billowed forth, so that my captor met it head on. I had not intended what followed, acting from instinct only, but it draped about his arm, covering the knife.

  He looked at it and then at me. The mindless rage of a desert rat in attack flared in his red eyes. He lowered his muzzle for a moment and tore at the flimsy cloth. Behind him one of his hooded people appeared, then another; they sprang not for me but at their own leader. They caught and held him fast in spite of his struggles, chittering and squealing in their own language. The struggling stopped; he had regained control. His underlings quickly released him and retreated hurriedly, but not before he loosed a fierce sound.

  I had continued to edge away. If those buildings around us were deserted, perhaps Ravinga and I had a slim chance. Free for only a few moments from those who had brought us here, escape into such a city proper might require the full military force of a whole Queendom to hunt us down.

  Kassca fought against my hold as the man-rat leader suddenly snapped his fingers and pointed to me. Again two of his force moved forward and one swung from a hand a short rod that ended in a small noose. That they were intent on taking Kassca I did not doubt.

  I risked a mind touch order: “Run—hide” and loosened my grip. She disappeared back under my cloak and I felt the thorn sharpness of her claws as she descended my body. Within the protection from sight that covering offered, she moved around to my back. Her movements under the cloak must indeed have been concealed, as the warrior continued to move in my direction.

  “Go—” the mind touch was like a swift pain within my head. I did not turn to watch but I knew that she left me, even as the first attacker grabbed a handful of the cloak, jerking it with force enough to bring me to my knees.

  CHAPTER 23

  In Kahulawe:

  The Diamond Queen stood looking out over the open land below. So far the storm had not reached the city, but there was no way the Progress could have escaped its full force, or so the weatherwise insisted.

  However, travelers had managed to survive in the past. That the Progress bore with them every possible aid against such fury was also true. Still—Yuikala crumpled the small square of parchment so that her painted and pointed nails cut into it. The messenger had arrived when they had been gone only one turn of the time wheel. There was a chance that what had been promised could not be carried through. Let the dolt ride now straight to his fate. The preparations she had started might not be needed.

  Impatience gnawed at her. There was so much to be done—she was needed in Valapa. Yet she would not dare to leave this provincial Queendom and the stupid pile they called their chief city until the storm was over.

  Someo
ne scratched discreetly on the wall outside the curtained door. She turned to face that. Her hand hovered near her sleeve knife as she called: “Come!”

  The woman who had failed her at the feasting slipped within, twitching the curtain straight behind her. She was silent, looking at her mistress, her fear plain to see. Yuikala’s low laugh carried a hint of warning.

  “What would you now?”

  The woman appeared to pull courage about her as a cloak. “What ever you will, Highness,” she answered. “He who brought that,” she nodded at what the Queen held, “says he must return at once. He waits only for an answer.”

  “So. Let me hope that they are more efficient than others I have trusted.”

  Her maid tensed visibly but she said nothing.

  “Well, perhaps I can still call upon some loyalty, even at a distance.” She had taken two strides and was now within touching distance. “Forget not; there is that between us which must be settled.”

  The woman made no attempt to retreat. Instead she bowed her head and waited in silence. Sparing her no more attention Yuikala moved on to a small desk and dropped into a cushion seat before it. Smoothing out the note, she reached for a colored writing stick. It did not take her long to scrape the tip of it across the parchment. As the point touched the surface, heavy black words appeared. Once more Yuikala took up a small knife and slashed back and forth, leaving only thin strips. Twisting them together, she tossed them to the maid.

  “Fit only for a fire,” she commented. “Let them burn well. But give them to him who waits. Say that we pack to ride out as soon as we may.”

  As the woman left she settled back among the cushions. Her lips moved soundlessly as she counted. Though her eyes were turned to the wall she saw a scene her thoughts summoned. One, two, three—full-strength regiments, equipped with weapons carefully stored half a generation before. Shank-ji would be moving according to the plan they had discussed—the ploy that they had decided upon if he did not win the trials.

  Hynkkel-ji:

  I fought for control. To plunge out into the storm was the same as drawing my sword to fall upon it after the fashion of the heroes of old when deserted by fortune. To calm my raging impatience I demanded from Commander Ortaga—and my brother, whose far roving of the land as a hunter must have supplied him with a better knowledge than mine—to tell me all they could of the Plain of Desolation. Though both of them had ridden on caravan patrols against outlaws and rats, there was little they could say that I did not already know.

  We still awaited the heaviest blows of the storm, wondering how long it would be until floods of sand burst our flimsy shelter to bury us in fatal waves. So far we had survived but there was nothing more we could do to ensure that we would come out of this sane and whole.

  Murri still slept and I would not disturb him. I longed for a more detailed account of what had happened. This “burning light”—which certainly must have caused the wound I had dressed—“out of the sand”—what did it mean? Ortaga, my brother, and Jaclan who shared our shelter, had all advanced guesses. But my brother had ended:

  “They rode in the direction of the Plain when they left,” he said slowly. “No man has walked or ridden into that and returned. We cannot know what really exists there.”

  “Only,” Ortaga said, “any life which abides within that dead land will not be like that around us. These larger rats that have suddenly appeared must come from there. Yet it is a place of vile threat and dread memory. Those legends set down after the shadow war were wrung free, I have heard it said, of certain truths the survivors chose to forget.” Bleak words indeed but they would not keep me, once the Storm died, from heading into that forbidding country.

  It was very late in the day before the wind began to die. That the storm was shorter than most was a blessing from the Essence. We had not exchanged any more speculations on what might lie ahead. But I had made plans.

  We would again divide our force. Those in duty with the Progress must return to Valapa. Emperor or no, I would strike out to search for Allitta and Ravinga. Perhaps Murri, when he roused again, could give me the directions I needed. I refused to consider that my resources were much less than his and I had no clear trail to be followed.

  In the Forgotten City:

  Shank-ji rested his handless arm on the sill of the window as he stared down at the gathering below. Two women captives—they had not yet moved to a position where he could see more than the crowns of their heads. The rich embroidery on the travel cloak of the slender one spoke of a connection with some noble House. He watched her confrontation with Zhan and was perhaps the only one to mark that small Kotti dashing from behind her into the doorway of the nearest building where the shadow swallowed it up.

  Kotti! With his left hand he tugged the mouth-bracketing hairs of his carefully tended mustache. There was plenty to be known about Kottis and at the top of that list was their unbreakable loyalty to any human they chose to join. Such a one loosed in this maze of nearly deserted city must be reckoned with.

  Now Zhan clicked an order and a trio of guards—all man-rats—urged the women towards the steps leading to a raised entrance of the largest building. Though the crowd in the square scattered, Shank-ji remained where he was, still gazing after the captives. His thoughts again fastened on his main problem. His lips twisted as if pronouncing some curse he dared not speak aloud.

  His initial wariness, the inner warning he had ignored, had been true. Here indeed was an overlord who had his own plans and ability, with strange and secret weapons to carry those out. Beside what that one could do, Shank-ji stood no better than a green, untrained recruit. His pride was threatened, but still his stubborn will held. The Kotti would be a way to reach the new captives and from them he might learn—

  One of Zhan’s followers came out of the Palace of Inutis (he had learned what he could about the city, trying to fit scraps of information together). The man-rat strode on in the open, heading for the door of the building where Shank-ji remained two stories above.

  Shank-ji moved away from the window. Following habit he hid his maimed arm under the edge of his riding cloak. He was not surprised when Gorgoal, one of his first and most loyal followers, shortly pushed aside the improvised curtain and ushered in the man-rat.

  As the creature raised a hand in salute, the man of the Outer Regions swallowed with all his might the bile that rose to his throat. He fought to hold control. To be sought out so awakened the ultimate fear. No—there was even something beyond that—that emotion itself would utterly destroy him.

  He remained silent. After a pause the man-rat—he who had been—NO! He would not think of that! A man’s brain might twist out of his skull to—The man-rat broke the silence.

  “The August One awaits—”

  He turned and Shank-ji perforce followed him.

  Allitta:

  I was able to join Ravinga as we entered a vast hall. Valapa’s Imperial palace was the standard against which all other buildings in the Queendoms were measured. There could be no thought of measurement here. Valapa’s glory and might, its pride, was no more than a herder’s cot when one viewed this. Walls towered up for four stories. Along each of these were latticed balconies. The carvings on the screens were inset with burnished metal and jewels. Under our feet, covering the entire floor was a mosaic of polished blocks set in intricate design. I noticed that the one we appeared to be following contained a pattern like that of a roadway.

  On the wall level of those passing here were slabs of grayish rock, the uneven surface of which was incised with markings I was sure was writing of a sort, but in no language known to me. Though I could not help staring about, Ravinga strode along the same way she might have with a caravan, looking neither to right nor left. One could almost believe she was familiar with her surroundings.

  We reached the other side of this entrance chamber to be fronted by a staircase. It was wide enough to allow, in marching order, a squad of five guards to pass. Yet there was no one e
lse to be seen now save the man-rat leader who kept ahead of us, and two of his command who came behind.

  The rails on each side of the stair were thick and heavily carved with patterns, which baffled the eye. I blinked and looked up ahead. The stair led past the balcony at the second floor where the rails swung up to form an arch on each side, but our guide continued to climb.

  Step by step we passed two more floors, then the stair ended and the rat thing turned right onto a balcony. Our captor-guide did not turn or issue any order; however the two behind us now remained at the end of the staircase. Only their leader continued. The other guards no longer focused any strict attention on us. I let my hand swing down, moved it until I touched a fold of Ravinga’s cloak. She did not glance at me.

  There was a black furred head rising with caution to the level of her chin. Wiu was still with her. A twitch of my fingers and my touch failed. I thought I understood. It might well be that our enemies had some method of communication which could pick up even thought casting.

  Almost immediately our journey came to an end. To our left was a doorway framed by two of the inscribed stones. The man-rat stood aside but waved us forward, jerked the door curtain open and commanded, “In!”

  Ravinga preceded me, but I was very close to her as we fronted the ruler of this dead city. To my eyes he was very tall, perhaps there was a head’s difference between him and his guards. He was without doubt the leader here but he wore none of the richly trimmed garments that marked our nobles. A robe, loosely girdled and heavily wrinkled, hung about his shoulders and upper body. He might have been wearing clothing intended for a much larger man—it was a colored a dull purple, completely unadorned. Unlike the men of the Queendoms he was closely shaven, lacking face hair. The strands on his head were drawn tightly back and up, held aloft by a ring of copper. That metal also formed the large beads of a necklace from which depended a disc, also copper, and centered by a blue-green stone. His only other ornaments were wide copper bracelets fitted on each arm from wrist to elbow, as might sleeves of metal.