A Double Edged Wish (A Cat Among Dragons Book 3)

by Alma Boykin

  “Perhaps someone felt that it was in the best interests of the people for them to know what their rulers discussed and the options being considered,” Prince Daetak’s low voice rumbled. He took a step forward, eyes narrowing with challenge.

  And so it starts. Rada felt nothing but resignation at the realization. She closed her eye for a brief moment, trying to shut out what would surely come next.

  “You are dismissed, except Lord Ni Drako and Daetak,” Shar replied, the tip of his tail starting to vibrate. “Lord Defender, take your place,” he ordered as the others bowed very low and left as quickly as was seemly and safe. Rada bowed as well, then climbed the dais, taking the Lord Defender’s place on the fourth step at the King-Emperor’s left forefoot. The heavy wood and iron door shut behind Lord Blee’s tail and Shar flipped a switch in his hindleg rest. The steel bar slid across the double doors and an energy shield hummed to life, further sealing the exit. The hum, and the reptiles’ breathing, were the only sounds in the wood-paneled hall.

  “So your oath means less to you than do your wild ideas,” Shar stated quietly. He could have been a statue except for the tremor in his tail.

  Daetak took a deep breath. “No, little brother, my oath is voided when the government does nothing for the people it is supposedly sworn to protect.” He sounded as conversational and calm as the King–Emperor.

  “We have released supplies and made arrangements for their distribution. We have signed into law the protection of Healers, and are considering limiting or even forbidding expropriations from merchants not under liege-oath or House-oath to the noble in question. We are also considering inviting a mycorrhizal botanist to come to Drakon IV to find a cure for the kurstem blight.” Rada blinked hard at the last statement. That would be unprecedented both in terms of admitting a problem and because gen-mod was banned. “What more would you have Us do, Prince Daetak?” Shar concluded.

  “You should give the people the rights of governance that are theirs by birth. Azdhagi are sentient and fully capable of self-governance. All of us, little brother, not just the favored nobles and those who buy their privileges at others’ expense.” Daetak advanced a pace as if forgetting to whom he spoke. His brown eyes narrowed further and a shiver rippled over his tawny hide, making the fabric of his robe whisper. Rada’s ears flattened against her skull and she unfastened the safety tie on her sword. Her blaster was already free with a shot charged. “I was once Prince Imperial, Shar. I studied the files; I know what you know, and more, about governing and justice.”

  “Then you know that what you propose will cause chaos at the exact time that Our people don’t need it!” Shar riposted. “First We must end the hunger deaths and the attacks on merchants and secure law and order for the stability of the Pack. Then, and only then, can We even consider what you suggest, Daetak. Now is not the time for change—only bloodshed will come of it now.”

  The heavier reptile turned and paced, then spun back to his lord and half-brother. “Shar, you are a complete fool if you don’t think that blood has been and will be shed, one way or another! I was trained to rule: I know what Drakon IV needs right now and secrets and concealment are not it. Damn it, Shar, get off your damn throne and serve your people!” Daetak’s light-brown tail slammed into the floor with each word, emphasizing his points and his anger. The two siblings glared at each other and Rada’s left hand drifted up to the butt of her blast pistol. If Daetak went after the King-Emperor, she would only have seconds to kill the former crown prince.

  Instead, after what felt like three moons of silence, Daetak swore. He pulled the bone-hilted knife from his sash and slid it across the floor toward the foot of the dais before charging out of the room via the door to the Imperial chambers. Rada started to intercept him but the King-Emperor’s voice cracked like a whip, “No, Commander. Let him go. Don’t make him a symbol, even if it is only in his own mind.” The younger reptile bowed his head for a moment, then gestured toward the far door. “You are dismissed. No word of what passed here shall leave Our presence.”

  Rada bowed very low, drew her blade and saluted. “As you command, Imperial Majesty.” She backed the ritual five paces, bowed again, sheathed her weapon and turned. The hum of the energy barrier stopped and the door bar slid out of sight. She left the chamber silently and shut the heavy door behind her. I am so glad that Zabet is not here. First her child dead, now the closest thing she had to a home was probably about to rip itself apart and take her with it. At least Zabet was away and safe. Well, if a civil war does erupt any farther, the Traders won’t dare try and come after me, because their own hides will be in danger. Rada snorted as she walked back to her quarters. No, not tonight, and she diverted her path. Tonight the Lord Defender’s quarters held too many memories, even if Anna had never set foot on Drakon IV.

  Instead, Rada opted for “the Lord Defender’s Closet,” the tiny chamber attached to the wardroom where she stayed during alert drills or wartime. Oh fuck. Wartime. If a civil war erupted, Drakon IV and the entire Empire would seem like a very ripe target once word got out. Right, I need to talk to Lord Tseerr about the Imperials going on alert and augmenting the satellite coverage. As she entered the military wing, the floor changed to stone and her boot heels rang out a warning of her arrival. The Defenders positively vibrated with curiosity but didn’t dare ask what had sent their commanding officer running through the Palace. For her part, Rada acted as if nothing at all unusual had happened.

  After reviewing her current troop levels and skimming the latest intelligence reports from the Imperials, Rada summoned an orderly. He entered the doorway hesitantly, obviously afraid of getting flattened again. “Please give this, with my respects, to Minister Lord Tseer, and wait for his reply.”

  “Yes, Lord Mammal,” and he trotted off on his errand.

  That night, after treating her eye, the Lord Defender stared at the low ceiling, fingers laced together behind her neck as she wondered what she had done to have all this crash down on her head. Not that the universe had ever been kind or fair to her, even before her birth. As she lay in the darkness, the Wanderer sifted through the different philosophies she’d encountered and thought about the people who’d held them. Colonel Adamski’s people believed that existence was a pair of scales that always balanced—each good event countered by a bad one, and vice versa. Adamski’s system didn’t make sense to Rada, not least because it seemed that the universe owed her an awful lot to balance what had happened in the past few moons. Thinking back, she seemed to recall that Ingwe Adamski himself had not held to that philosophy, other than to make token noises much as Rada did for the Bookkeeper and Paymaster.

  In contrast, Capt. Sziliar had maintained that fate rewarded good deeds and punished bad ones, although he’d been vague as to how “fate” knew. Yes, well, we were all vague by that point, Rada smiled briefly. We were also very mellow and absolutely certain that we’d solved all the great philosophical questions of the Universe. And we were miserably hung-over the next morning, too, but it was worth it. Those had been good days, although she’d only vaguely known it at the time, and the woman let her memory dwell on the laughter in those long-ago decades. She heard the watch changing shifts, dragging her back to the present and its woes and crises. Blessed Bookkeeper, but what the fuck was I thinking when I signed a contract with Shi-dan? Or dragged a human child out of a plague-slaughtered village and into my life? And what am I supposed to do now? Sleep, or she’d be useless, and the Wanderer forced herself into a trance that deepened into coma-like unconsciousness.

  Chapter 3: Casting the Die

  Lord Ni Drako did not have anything resembling a delicate sensibility nor was she unaware of the cruelties that people could inflict on their neighbors in the name of philosophy, economics, or even less understandable causes. But even she was glad that the Azdhagi telecommunications system had not advanced to the point that smells were transmitted along with sound and visuals. She made note of the location and asked, “how many dead, Lieute
nant?”

  “We think eight, Commander Lord Ni Drako, but, well, it’s hard to be certain,” the junior officer admitted. He flipped his tail in a gesture of apology.

  “Understood, Lieutenant. I trust the situation has calmed down for the moment?”

  “Yes, my lord. Most people are out in the fields or otherwise at work. I took the precaution of closing the brewery and distillery, and only the Healer can get kacho,” the lieutenant reported, referring to the intoxicating stimulant leaves favored by some of the more aggressive reptiles.

  Not that the officer’s actions would do more than slow the locals’ consumption and irritate them, Rada knew. She’d smuggled her share of intoxicants into various places in her day. All for medicinal use of course—she smiled bitterly, then hauled her wandering mind back to the current reality. “Very well, Lieutenant. There are no changes to your orders.”

  He obviously wanted to know more but stopped himself. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Ni Drako out,” and she cut the comm link. In what was becoming a habit, the mammal rubbed under her blind eye as she finished her notes and got ready for the next incoming report. It was just as grim.

  Hsae and his mate and juniors had just barely been in the Azdhagi nobility, through distant cousinage with Clan Shu. Rada would have called them gentry, living in a fortified farmhouse even smaller than the hunting lodge at Burnt Mountain. Some stones remained of the dwelling and smoke rose from the hollow walls and empty doorway. “The entire household?” the Lord Defender asked Sergeant Kslii.

  “Affirmative, Commander Lord Mammal,” he agreed. He looked over his shoulder at the ruin, then back to the comm screen. “The housekeeper and junior-tender got out, but the other two servants didn’t make it. We’ve found Lord Hsae and his mate, and four of the five juniors. The smallest seems to be missing. He has less than one turning.”

  Rada hoped that one of the attackers or the junior-tender had felt pity for the little one and had taken him home to raise as a commoner. More likely, the body had burned completely. Juniors of less than a year had very thin bones. “And no witnesses, I assume.”

  Kslii made a negation gesture with his forefoot and shifted uncomfortably. “None that we’ve found so far, Lord Mammal.”

  Rada made more notes. “Thank you, Sergeant. Carry on, and try not to antagonize the locals too much.” The last thing she wanted was to lose Defenders to armed peasants. They’d already had a close run in Sunnyvalley, and only some quick thinking and luck had got the situation calmed down and the squad out of danger before an ugly pack turned deadly.

  “Yes, Commander Lord Mammal,” the senior noncom agreed. Rada signed off and turned away from the screen. It was a good thing that those were the last of the reports, because she’d had as much as even she could stomach for the nonce. The mammal felt no sorrow for the deaths of Great Lord Zhi-king and his heir, nor for the loss of some of the more unsavory merchants. There had been one reptile in particular that she would never shed any tears over. Slavery is banned and that’s what he was selling, even if he called it “long-term labor contractors.” I’m surprised he didn’t sell Dreamtapper as well, the slimy ngeedak. But the others...

  Rada looked at the impersonal numbers on the spreadsheet projection floating over her desk. Thus far the fatalities had been isolated and limited to single families or individuals, but thirty-six adults and twenty-three juniors were far too many. And those were the deaths that could be proven and were known. She suspected that there were more bodies rolling down the bottom of the Zhangki or buried in dung heaps or ditches. The mammal sat back and closed her eyes. Unbidden, an image of Anna floated up, the girl laughing at Zabet’s recounting of the misadventures of one of Singing Pines’s bolder juniors. She’d pestered Rada to let her come to Drakon IV, to see the juniors and the other Azdhagi, and to hunt at the side of the only mother that she could remember. Rada cut off the memory with a savage snarl.

  A few hours later, the Wanderer ate a solitary nooning and skimmed her personal messages. Zabet had scored a very promising contact and was following up with the individual and its company. There was a reminder that Rada and Zabet’s auction registration at Diomara was about to expire, and did they care to renew? Probably not, since Tarqi da Terbari had taken up the auctioneering contract, but Rada forwarded the notice to Zabet in case she wanted to maintain a solo bidder slot. And there was a personal note from Prince Daetak.

  Rada hesitated for several minutes before opening it. He had been banished from the Palace-Capitol by the King-Emperor, a move that Rada considered exceedingly stupid, because it would have been much easier for Daetak to suffer an unfortunate accident if he’d stayed within sight at the palace. However, no one had asked her. Shar was a decent creature at heart, which made life more difficult for those trying to keep him alive and in power. Rada would have terminated Daetak when it became obvious that he was incorrigible, despite her sympathies for his beliefs. Now she wondered if she should even open the message file. Consider it intelligence work, she told herself, and then read the missive.

  “Lord Ni Drako,” it started, “I know that you are wiser and more knowledgeable than we Azdhagi often give you credit for.” Rada snorted at the flattery. “And that you have sources of information prohibited to Azdhagi and to many other species.” Uh oh, and she braced herself for the next lines. “You no doubt know what the future holds for Drakon IV and how best to shape that future to serve the people of this world. I do not ask you to support me, but only to think about your vows and promises to the greater population of the Empire and of Drakon IV.” The message closed with the usual phrases and signature. Rada noted that it had been sent through two other comm nodes, blinding easy track-back to wherever the prince was. The Lord Defender stripped her personal address from the data, forwarded the message to the vizier and after a moment to Lord Zlee-Kae as well, and then purged it from her own files.

  By the end of the day, even with only partial reports from the Defender bases closest to towns and cities, it was obvious that a civil war was about to break out on Drakon IV unless Shar moved very fast. Prince Daetak had given a rallying point and a cause to those who were unhappy, discontented, or just interested in personal gain. And enough cities, towns, and guilds did have councils and did contain rudimentary democratic institutions that the average reptile could imagine ruling himself.

  All the ingredients were there, the Lord Defender sighed, they just needed the right ignition point. The kurstem blight and subsequent dearth and dearness, the cold winter that made hunger worse in many places, an untried King-Emperor, seemingly corrupt nobility that appeared out-of-contact with most reptiles’ daily reality, unfair traditions that remained extant even if they were never enforced, and merchants caught between the peasants who thought they were being gouged and starved and nobles who looked at them as parasites or walking cash-boxes or both—they all fed the flames. Yeah, all we need is plague or some geologic or meteorological disaster to make life perfect Rada groaned. The Pack is divided against itself and the Pack leaders are squabbling, so why not form a new Pack with new leaders? What could go wrong?

  The next Royal Council session came to order two days later. Rada brought her mental defenses up as high as she could against the emotions churning under the reptiles’ calm demeanors. If even she could feel them, things were at a breaking point and she braced for chaos. The meeting began with good news—according to the latest reports, the early kurstem crop was budding well with no sign of the previous year’s blight. And the severe cold had killed field pests as well as Azdhagi, so there would be less crop loss on that count. The Foreign Minister reported that quiet trade negotiations for grain and other non-perishable foodstuffs were proceeding apace, although Minister Tseer worried that buying food might suggest weakness when the news got out. Those were the only pieces of good news, however. After the ministerial reports, the King-Emperor raised a talon and stilled the chamber. “Our half-brother Daetak has been stripped of his rank. He has chose
n to disobey Our orders and has broken his oaths to Us.” The grey-green eyes looked sad for an instant, then hardened as they swept over the nobles.

  I really hope Daetak didn’t just become a martyr of some kind Rada thought. Shar’s next words brought any musings to a sudden halt and made Rada’s fur stand on end.

  “We are informed that you are planning to sell one of the settlements on your property, Lord Shu,” the King-Emperor stated. “Is this correct?”

  Dark green Shu twisted a little. “Ah, that is, yes, Imperial-Majesty. Under the law I have the right to sell ThreeRocks and I intended to do so. Lord Kaeseer has expressed interest because he needs the labor to expand his holdings.”

  Zlee-kae’s tail shot into the air and the King-Emperor acknowledged him. “Kaeseer’s holdings are on Sidara, are they not,” the fop inquired in a deceptive, quiet voice.

  “Yes. He has a mining and farming estate there,” Shu agreed.

  “With all due respect, honored and respected Great Lord Shu, are you too stupid to find your way out of an egg without printed instructions and outside aid?” Zlee-kae hissed. “What are the commons going to think? What wild rumors is this going to feed, you fool? There are already stories going around that we,” and his waved forefoot took in the entire council chamber, “have suborned the King-Emperor and are working with the merchants to reduce the commons to bond-slaves. And there is talk in some circles that the kurstem blight was deliberately introduced, in order to starve people into submission. Selling a village off-planet may be legal but it will cause a disaster, oh so wise Great Lord Shu.” Even Kirlin winced at the vicious sarcasm and bitterness in Zlee-kae’s tone.

  “Honor challenge!” Shu replied, leaping to his feet and drawing his blade.

  Rada’s blade slammed down on the table between Shu and Zlee-kae. “Hold!” she thundered before anyone else could move.