by Alma Boykin
“Yes, ma’am,” the two juniors chorused as Teek opened a door, revealing four sleeping pads on separate raised platforms. A set of shelves divided into cubbies stood beside each sleeping pad’s platform.
“Each of you gets a sleeping platform. It is warmer in winter than sleeping on the floor as we used to do, and provides more storage space. You have robes?” Teek pointed to the cubbies. “They go in there, tightly folded and then rolled. Your winter outer robe will go under the summer robes, and your winter foot covers at the bottom.” The females put their things in their cubbies, then turned around and Teek gestured toward an empty set of shelves. “As you assemble your medical kits, they and your carry harness will stay here. Do not ever shove your kits in with your robes, is that clear? You will learn why later.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Khae replied for both juniors. They followed Teek out of their sleeping chamber, as they learned to call it, back through the infirmary and down the hallway, past the washing rooms, and into a large room with white-painted walls and long tables in it. A wave of dizziness almost knocked Neela off her feet as the scent of food hit her nostrils.
“This is the dining hall. We get food here, unless we have to work through meal times, and then food will be sent to a special room for us,” and Teek led the juniors to a small table near a lifting door. “Nortee, I need food for two starving juniors and one famished medic,” Teek called into a talk-box by the door. “Go sit,” she ordered.
A grey-robed female emerged from the door as it rose open, giving Neela a glimpse into a kitchen bigger than her family’s entire kitchen and living spaces had been. The female pushed a cart laden with bowls of greens, stew, a purple grain Neela had never seen before, and purple-black fruit-looking things, and left it beside their table. “Good. Neela, Khae, eat your fill. Mix the stew in with the kurstem and eat them together,” Teek explained, putting words into action. Both juniors ate until they could barely walk, their bellies stretched so full.
Teek chivvied the two juniors back to their sleeping quarters and left them there. She smiled a little at the loud snores, and then growled. Kirlin would hear about this, and she decided to write to him, Lady Shartee, and Keeshti directly. The Clan Lords should not be tolerating the abuse and waste of the Azdhagi’s single most scarce resource!
Elsewhere on Likhala, Lord Tarkeela ate without tasting the food on his plate as he listened to Sarka’s latest report from the new facility on the Silverock River. “My lord, I’m a little concerned,” Sarka concluded.
“Why? From what you describe, everything should be finished on schedule and as much over budget as we allowed for.” Which would have been under budget, Tarkeela fumed, if the Shu Corp. and Wave Cross, Inc. shipping firms had not raised their rates after the Sea Gate’s destruction.
“That’s exactly it, my lord. The tracks are too clear, the trail too easy to follow. I keep waiting to charge around a corner and fall into a mud pit or collide with a brain-sick talkak sow.” Sarka swirled his hindfoot and tail in a warding-off gesture.
“Hmmm, I see your point.” Tarkeela chewed another grain ball. “I’m a manager, not an engineer or technician. Trust them and do not let anyone cut short any safety checks is all I’d suggest. How is the housing situation?”
Sarka scrolled through a data projection, looking for something. “Just checking the morning update, my lord. We are doing well here, and construction has slowed a little at Mountains’ Edge because of planting and because of marking nut root plants. The secondary settlements at Mountains’ Edge are well underway.” He smiled, adding, “It seems that having snow-covered mountains in sight inspires great efforts, my lord, at least when building heated housing and workshops are involved.”
“I can well imagine. Good work, give my regards to your mate, and Tarkeela out.”
The noble finished his meal, belatedly noticing his cook’s use of several new grains and herbs. Tarkeela really needed to tell the cook how much the household appreciated his efforts, and the noble made another note. The door to his office slid open and someone coughed politely. “Yes?”
«Just checking to see if you’d dropped dead from the new herb sauce, my lord,» Rosilia teased. «And seeing if you had anything I needed to do before this evening’s meeting.»
“Yes, I do, actually. I need information on fabrics,” Tarkeela told his new assistant. “Especially cold-weather fabrics.”
«Ah, very good, my lord. Just those from Drakon IV or should I look for information about imports as well?»
“Imports as well—hides, wools, silks, plant-fibers, and synthetic materials—anything that is currently worn in cold climates and that does not require heat packs or batteries.” Tarkeela finished his meal as Rosilia made notes, and sent her his earlier observations and what general data he’d found. “I realize that some forms of textile manufacture come under the Royal monopoly, but I suspect that there is a lot of room for introducing new materials, even if they are grown on the colonies and then shipped here for finishing.”
Rosilia looked up from her data pad and nodded her head, whiskers floating up and down. «What quality, my lord? Are you interested in, oh, luxury items such as furs, or more workaday fabrics, or military grade, or do you want whatever I can find?»
“Everything. I know that there will be a market for the upper end materials, especially if they have a nice finish to them and drape well, but we’ll need all grades. Oh, wait,” he caught himself, tail twitching. “No furs. The last thing we need is a bloody fight in Court because someone or his lady walks in wearing a fur and someone else calls him a ‘furbearer’,” he reminded the True-dragon. Although it might be entertaining to watch from a distance, Tarkeela grinned to himself.
Rosilia gave him a stern look, patting her tail against the floor tiles, but did not say anything more than, «Very good, my lord. I should be able to have you a basic list, sorted by composition and price, in two or three days. If you do not mind, I’ll omit the exceedingly rare and the experimental textiles.» He gestured his agreement. She added, «The second shipment of Kurstem beer arrived at Silverock, and the third to the Palace. Might I suggest waiting until after harvest before making any more dark beers, my lord? The goldgrain harvest looks poorer than initially forecast, and with reduced labor available, you may be leaning more heavily on kurstem than anticipated.»
“Let’s wait on that decision for a few more sixts, Rosilia, then update me and I’ll decide from there.” Brewing had become his new hobby, of a sort. That and hunting, something Mountain’s Edge offered in abundance.
«Yes, my lord.» She bowed herself out of his workroom and he heard her talons on the stone floor of the hallway. After the destruction of the Blue Azdhag, she’d been out of work. Tarkeela watched her, saw her skills at organizing data and managing people, and hired her to replace Sarka after the Azdhag went north to manage TeerClaw’s relocated factories. That she belonged to the House closest to Mountains’ Edge also influenced his decision, one that Tarkeela already thanked his luck for having made.
Thinking of luck reminded him of something else and Tarkeela called up his news feed, looking for Cheerka’s file. As well as the normal reports, Cheerka had added a second special section, again open to all readers, about the process of relocating to the north. Cheerka did not gloss over the rough parts, but he did not paint a scary picture, either. He spoke with both Clan and out-Clan Azdhagi, giving his readers a variety of stories. Today Cheerka’s report described the novelty of long northern twilights, and that while they allowed more outdoor work, they also meant that the days started very, very early indeed, especially if one had been working late. Or staying up late assisting in quality control testing at a noble’s new brewing operation, Cheerka admitted. The story-catcher added some juicy gossip about an encounter between an unnamed Court lady and an anonymous younger son of an “ancient and most respectable Clan” that culminated in a hasty departure out a window. Since it couldn’t have been one of his relations, Tarkeela laughed at the m
ental image Cheerka’s words summoned.
Lord Shu, however, found nothing at all amusing about Tarkeela’s pet’s latest calumny against Clan Shu’s ruling lineage. “Damn that lying, storm-caught, fur-bearing fool and a plague take his jumped-up merchant employer,” the solid tan reptile snarled, barely restraining himself in time to keep from smashing the display projector in his new office. The more he dealt with Tarkeela and TeerClaw Industries, the more Shu detested the mud-colored parasite. Shu growled, furious that the out-Clan story-catcher dared to write about the Clans in such disrespectful ways, and absolutely incandescent with rage that Tarkeela permitted it! After all the work Shu put into trying to preserve his Clan and clan finances, this was his repayment?
Tarkeela’s insistence that Cheerka operated without any supervision meant next to nothing to Lord Shu. He knew very well that no loose-born would dare write what Cheerka did without being protected and sponsored by at least one noble. “Blast and shred it, why is Kirlin not stopping the idiot? Between them Kirlin and Beesh could force the Councils to discipline that upstart traitor.” Shu harbored no doubt about Tarkeela’s treachery. The very fact of Tarkeela’s continued existence betrayed everything Azdhagia and its nobility stood for: order, Clan leadership, and now the very survival of the species! This latest “news-feed” from Tarkeela’s pet tipped the balance in Shu’s mind. If Kirlin, Blee, and the others would not contain Tarkeela, then Clan Shu would. And it that meant ruining Tarkeela and TeerClaw Industries in order to stop Cheerka, well, someone had to do it.
However, first Shu had to limit the damage that damned story-catcher had inflicted on Clan Shu’s reputation. The noble called his younger son, the spare heir. Shu-karee’s image appeared in the projected display. As soon as the display showed that Shu-karee could hear, his sire snarled, “I do not care what you do, Shu-karee, but you had best never, ever get caught again. You’ve given Tarkeela’s pet enough material to make Shu the laughing stock of the planet.”
“My lord sire, get caught doing what? I’ve been out on training maneuvers prior to—” Shu-karee began, but his sire cut him off.
“Then you are doubly stupid for chasing a bit of tail instead of studying and working harder to bring credit to your lineage! I do not want to ever hear your getting caught out like this again, is that clear? Or I will declare you a storm-catch in front of the full Court, do you hear me? Shu out.” He terminated the transmission, satisfied that the young male had gotten the point.
Shu stormed out of his office, still angry at the latest slight. Two of his bodymen fell in behind him as Shu marched through the halls en route to the weapons practice area. He needed the release of a training bout. Shu smiled, baring his fangs: one thing Tarkeela would never be able to do was best Shu at weapons work. Especially now that personal shields had been forbidden by Imperial edict. That rule had cut the male mortality rate among younger Clan members by half at least. It had also stopped Clan delinquents’ random attacks on loose-borns, a less desirable result in Lord Shu’s opinion.
He considered the array of weapons available for his use and selected the long blaster. Half an hour later, having blown several large pieces of tree into sawdust from up to a kliq away, the noble calmed down enough to focus on other matters, such as Shu Corp. business. He left the blaster for the weapons master to care for and returned to his office.
The first report sent his blood boiling again. “While sympathetic to Shu Corporation’s recent difficulties,” the painfully correct missive began, “we are unable to extend payment deadlines any farther. As a result, Tarqi Da Kavalle, official agent for BlueStar Materials, requests payment in full on Shu Corporation’s outstanding invoices. We have registered our request with the Minister of Trade due to the large sum involved, in order to ensure ease in currency conversion.” More standard wording followed the blatant threat.
Shu clenched his jaws so tightly that his teeth creaked. Damn the bastards in the regional council and especially the Makers who refused to release Clan Shu’s goods from New Southdown! He had a legal right to salvage, and if the loose-born fools would let his people remove Shu’s goods from the warehouses and factory sites, then he would not be in this bind.
A very polite note from Sheerlal, Shu’s business manager, followed the Traders’ message. “Great my lord,” it began, “I most humbly and respectfully recommend that your lordship pay this balance. His Highness Prince Ahtik is planning to implement new trade restrictions, including currency transfer limits much lower than those currently allowed, even with additional data submission. It is not my wish to do more than offer a recommendation, but payment of this account would release credits from BlueStar and Khor-Pak Industries that could be used toward acquisition of the new alloy samples your lordship’s plans require. Your most humble servant, Sheerlal.” Well, at least Sheerlal knew how to conduct himself, Shu thought, still unhappy.
If only Ahtik, Tarkeela and the others would leave well enough alone! At least on Clan lands Shu faced no such competition or challenge. Especially not now, when he’d been so generous to his fellow Clan members with his offers of land and livings. All he required in return was labor. Well, labor, respect, and a small privilege. Still unhappy at the outsiders’ effrontery, Shu entered his passcodes and released the funds to pay BlueStar Materials, and sent half of the amount required by Khor-Pak as well. It cut close to the bone, but at least he no longer had to worry about credit outlays for payroll. Clan labor now covered that.
Later that evening, Shu took advantage of the small privilege his Clan members now granted him, in the form of a young female he’d spotted a few days before. Her sire and dam had yet to find a mate for her, so Shu claimed the female’s services for a few sixts. He preferred plumper mates, but her attempts to resist his attentions made her even more intriguing and he enjoyed the challenge.
Four sixts later, Shu, Tarkeela, Kirlin, and the majority of the nobles found places in the Great Reception Hall of the new palace. King-Emperor Seetoh’s summons, timed between harvest rushes, had allowed no absences except in cases of grave illness. The large, high-ceilinged hall felt smaller with all the bodies filing into it. Peitak found Tarkeela standing by the wall, watching the others. “Any idea why the summons?”
Tarkeela rumpled his tail and frowned as he caught sight of Shu and Sheedai in what seemed to be an increasingly heated exchange. “I have some suspicions, but nothing that left footprints or scat, Peitak. My guesses would be a change in the order of succession, a change in export policy, a change in military policy, or some new security threat that we need to know about.”
Peitak looked toward the elevated platform and the throne centered there. “Succession makes sense. It is past time for Seetoh to shift the line from his brother to one of his sons.” A mild commotion boiled up and Peitak turned around to see Sheedai stalking away from Shu, tail tip rigid with outrage. Peitak grunted, “Shu has all the grace of a shootee bull in rut.”
Tarkeela ignored the comment as he saw a door opening to the side of the dais. All the Azdhagi bowed low as King-Emperor Seetoh stalked into the chamber, followed by Princes Ahtik, Tsarli, and Seedak, and two of the emperor’s bodymen. Seetoh took his place on the throne and called, “You may rise.” Rustles and creaks filled the chamber as the gathered nobles returned to their feet.
Seetoh studied the leaders of Drakon IV’s surviving population. Kirlin, Blee, Sheedai, Beerkali, and a few others had submitted petitions and memoranda over the past few double-moons that would need to be dealt with. Tarkeela’s policies displeased Seetoh, but the King-Emperor found little to fault in the noble’s conduct of his population relocations and resettlements, and so Seetoh ignored the so-called “free-towns.” Shu created more problems than Seetoh wished to deal with, and yet Shu remained within the bounds of the law, causing Seetoh to clench his teeth every time he read or heard about the obnoxious fool’s latest unpunishable abuses. Seetoh gestured to his brother Tsarli with his tail tip.
“This meeting forms a join
t Imperial and Royal Council session, with the assembled nobility acting as pack council for the Azdhagi species,” Prince Tsarli thundered, his voice carrying to all corners of the chamber. “His Imperial Majesty wishes to announce new policies concerning defense, economic pursuits, and scientific research.” A ripple and rustle flowed through the room as the nobles nudged each other or hissed comments. Tsarli continued, “Other, less critical matters, including succession, can wait.” Tsarli bowed to his brother, “Imperial Majesty,” and backed away to join his siblings on the King-Emperor’s strong side.
“First,” Seetoh began, meeting everyone’s eyes in turn. “Because of our reduced population, it has become necessary to reorganize the military in order to protect the colonies and other Azdhag interests. For this reason we are dividing the Imperials. The largest number of troops and resources, including all interplanetary transports and weapons, will remain in the Imperial Forces, under the command of the Minister of War, formerly called the Ministry of Conquest, and led by Prince Laek. They remain the primary defense of both the greater empire and Drakon IV. However, Captain Deek, currently head of the palace guard, formerly of the Imperials, is elevated to the nobility to serve as the Lord Defender of Drakon IV, commander of the throneworld’s defenses. As such he will oversee planetary defense, the reserves currently active, and the True-dragon militia. Lord Defender Deek serves below the Minister of War but does not answer to him, rather directly to me and my successors.”
Seetoh stopped, allowing the others to discuss the matter. As he’d anticipated, the nobles found no difficulties in the new force distribution, although Lord Ro-diit waved his tail. “Yes, Ro-diit?”
“Imperial Majesty, will the troops defending Drakon IV come from the Imperials or will they form a separate recruiting and service path?” Ro-diit’s question started more murmurs and several nobles frowned.
