Hubris: The Azdhagi Reborn

by Alma Boykin

  “Cleaning?”

  Kirlin swished his tail. “Yes, Imperial Majesty. Healer Neela made a bit of a mess when she fought off the attacker, and Azdhag blood is difficult to remove from white tooroi fleece.” A few of the males laughed as Shu swayed side to side, stung by the charge.

  Seetoh remained impassive, as did Kirlin and Tarkeela. “This is our ruling. First, all claims are denied. Tarkeela, speak to Lord Defender Deek about the value of the vehicles and weapons you seized. He will buy them from you. Lord Kirlin, you have first claim on the cost of repairing your aircraft,” he smiled a little, “and your cleaning, within reason.”

  “Thank you, Imperial Majesty,” Tarkeela murmured and Kirlin bowed his assent.

  Seetoh turned to Shu. “You are to ensure that all your Clansibs know the laws regarding Healers, and are to keep better watch, so that their side hunts do not endanger the Clan.” He glared at the tan reptile, who rustled, then dipped his head. “Furthermore, any attack on Kirlin or Tarkeela will be your fault unless they say otherwise.”

  Shu’s mouth gaped open. “I’m not the one who forced a breach in the Clan truce by permitting a corrupted, undersize female to live!”

  As Tarkeela laid a restraining foot on Kirlin’s tail, Seetoh rose to his feet and descended the dais to loom over Shu. “We claim all Healers, Shu, for the good of the Azdhag pack. Their service is not for their Clans alone, but to benefit all Azdhagi. Is that clear? Is it clear?” he thundered.

  The disgraced noble dropped to his belly. “It is clear, Imperial Majesty.”

  Seetoh stalked among the other nobles, looking into each one’s eyes in turn. “All Healers will be trained here,” he pointed down, “until we have sufficient Healers to be able to allow them to remain with their Clans. They are too precious to kill. All Azdhagi are too precious to kill. If we hear of ‘culling’ of other than the fatally malformed or the already dying, we will step in for the good of the greater Pack.” His roar shook the room. “Is this clear?”

  “Yes!” came the unison answer. Tarkeela and Kirlin both relaxed.

  Shu risked glaring at Tarkeela, then looked away as Seetoh passed by, returning to his throne. They had Seetoh, but Shu had time. I will win, he swore. Laugh now, for I will win.

  11. Talon to Talon, Blood for Blood

  12 AGR

  Tarkeela marveled again at the sprawl of life flowing out of Mountains’ Edge village. More families built houses in the small settlement, enough that a new junior den now sat on the edge of a business district. He could not quite see the town from his perch on the manor’s inner walkway, but he could smell a little wood smoke. Someone had re-invented the meat smoker and Tarkeela turned a blind eye to the discrete woodpile near the small, snug smoker tower. So long as the village residents did not clear-cut or attack the precious blood-wood trees that a TeerClaw forester had located, Tarkeela did not intend to interfere with their pursuits in the forest. Would that the other nobles could do the same, he sighed. Time to resume the hunt, the grey-brown noble sighed, leaving the wall and returning to his office.

  Cheerka had summed up the problem a few nights before. “My lord, Shu is predictable, like foul-weed. As soon as you see him you know that he is going to object to everything, even if it has no bearing on Clan Shu or Shu Corp. interests. Blee and Daesarae came at us from under cover.” Tarkeela growled again as he read the latest report from Schree’s Rest and the plea from Silverock. Damn it Blee, why couldn’t you be more like your sire?

  That was part of the problem, Tarkeela knew. He’d grown too used to working with, and around, old Lord Blee, and had failed to anticipate that the new Clan head might want to hunt along a different track. Tarkeela and the metal works managers at Silverock had no objections to paying a reasonable toll for using the road through Blee’s lands between the mines and smelters and the main fabrication facility. Yes, TeerClaw had financed half of the road’s construction, but it did cross Blee lands and Tarkeela did not want to antagonize anyone right now. But now Blee wanted a percentage of the value of the raw metals crossing his lands in addition to the toll. “For security and for environmental remediation,” he’d claimed. When Tarkeela inquired as to how Blee’s new manor house was progressing, and pointed out that if Blee wanted to have his people apprentice to TeerClaw it would be better to ask permission rather than sending them in as spies, Blee threatened to sue for the damages and seize the mines. A raid on Silverock by unknown bullies failed miserably, causing Blee to protest to the Throne.

  Young Blee’s follies were a nuisance. Daesaere’s attacks on Schree’s Rest made Tarkeela want to kill something. “Damn it you rock-for-brains,” Tarkeela fumed yet again, “can’t you leave them well enough alone?” Daesarae did not want the land. Schree’s Rest perched at the far northern edge of the central plains, just below an enormous cold swamp and wet forest that extended north for hundreds of kliqs before shifting into tundra. The only resources were timber, some very small furs, leather, and specialized fruits and water grains. And some very creative people who just wanted to be left alone.

  Daesarae insisted that they owed homage and payments to his Clan for his protection and assistance. When the settlement’s leaders objected, he’d tried to raid them and got his talons clipped for his efforts. Schree’s Rest could defend itself quite well, thank you. So now Daesarae turned to the Throne, petitioning to have the settlement given to him. “No one can survive outside of a Clan, and it is vital for everyone to survive, given the past ten year-turns events,” he’d argued. Tarkeela supported a counter-petition, asking the Throne to affirm the rights of the free towns and to order the nobles to leave them in peace.

  Damn it, even Kirlin and Peitak sided against the out-Clan now. “Without the population we do not have the resources to support the out-Clan,” Kirlin had insisted. “The experiment failed, Tarkeela. We Azdhagi just do not do well without our lineages and packs.”

  They had done just fine until twenty years ago, Tarkeela fumed as he glared at the documents. He wished Sarka had not retired, or that someone of Sarka’s skill with management and personnel had turned up. Sarka and Cheerka between them had managed to sooth tempers and navigate the twisted trails, keeping some peace between the Clans and the out-Clan. Without more out-Clan, however, the Clan Lords seemed to forget that their people had not dominated life prior to the great relocation. Peitak even broached a proposal to require those in the Free Towns to select a Clan to be associated with, “For their own security. Not this generation, of course,” he’d assured Tarkeela. “But their juniors will need support and the Clans certainly provide that better than individuals can.”

  And then Cheerka had dug up the real reason for the threatened rule. Someone, and Tarkeela suspected he knew exactly who, had been whispering that the out-Clan caused the plague and the Disaster by attempting to turn themselves into a force capable of overturning the Clan Lords and seizing political control of Drakon IV and the Empire. Another variation on the rumor held that the out-Clan wanted the genetic modification in order to prove that they were superior to the Clans, and the Lone God or the Clan Lords’ ancestors (both got credit) had punished their effrontery with the plague. “What sort of foolish, superstitious creatures have we become?” Tarkeela asked the air.

  As he outlined his arguments against forcing the residents of Silverock, Schree’s Rest, Zhangki City, and Nightlast into the Clans, a servant tapped on his door. “Lord Tarkeela, a message from the Palace and Lord Kirlin for you.”

  Tarkeela skimmed his letter once before forwarding the draft to Rosilia for her to polish and to find any holes in his logic or data. Then he trotted to the main communication room. “Tarkeela here,” he logged in.

  Kirlin’s head and shoulders appeared. “Tarkeela, you need to come to Court as soon as you can. A situation has developed and his Imperial Majesty wants you here, along with me, Beesh, Beerkali, Peitak, and the rest of the Royal Council.”

  “If it is the Free Town legislation you know very well where
I stand and I am not changing my position,” Tarkeela began.

  “No, my lord, it is Shu. He’s gone too far and, well, we have a Clan petition for redress and aid.”

  That changed things entirely. “Very well. I’ll be there tomorrow, early. Can you send me the data files?”

  Kirlin raised his forefoot and flashed the military sign for “security compromised,” as he replied, “They will not be ready for another two days at least, my lord. We need your opinion and presence.”

  “Understood. I’ll be there early tomorrow.” As he spoke he twirled a talon twice.

  “Thank you. We’ll expect you then. Kirlin out.”

  Tarkeela got up and called for Korlee. “Get my aircraft ready. I need to leave for the capital as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Korlee hurried off as Tarkeela went in search of Neetai. He found her, and Tartai and his daughter, in the courtyard. They’d just returned from gathering nutroots, judging by the muddy talons and full carry sacks on their harnesses.

  “Good afternoon, my lord,” Neetai greeted him. After a moment Tartai bobbed a quick bow, and the female junior smiled at her sire as she offered a more graceful greeting.

  Tarkeela nuzzled his mate and patted the two juniors with his tail. “Light of my heart, I have to go to the Capitol. A situation has developed and his Imperial Majesty called in Kirlin, Beesh, and I along with the Royal Council. I should be back in a few days.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder, then withdrew it with a reluctant noise. “Yes, my lord. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “You do so much already.” He nuzzled her again, not caring who saw. “If you need anything, make Cheerka do it with Rosi chasing him. He needs the exercise.”

  She giggled, a cheerful, bubbling sound. The juniors smiled too, and Tarkeela once again thanked whatever power had given him Neetai. “Your Court robes are in the press in the storage room, next to your fancy armor.” The female eyed her mate’s girth, adding, “They should fit better than your fancy armor.”

  “Yes, well, that is why no one wears ‘fancy armor’ anymore,” Tarkeela reminded her, sucking in his flanks as he did. He was not fatter, just more comfortable. “See you in a few days. Tartai, listen to your dam and do not harass your sister.” The male quickly set down the hind foot that had been reaching for her tail and he did his best to look harmless. “You are too much like me for your own good,” his sire said. The female flicked her tongue out at her half-brother and Tarkeela patted her with his tail again before trotting up the ramp to get ready to depart.

  As he waited for the pending confrontation, Kirlin studied the new, public section of the Palace gardens and wondered what had become of the quiet life. In the year and three moons since he’d left Neela at the Palace, he’d doubted the wisdom of letting her go. If only she’d been at Sunblast when Shartee fell ill, she could have saved Kirlin’s lady. But he himself had said that the pack took precedence. The words tasted bitter in his memory and he pushed the thoughts away, forcing himself to look at the trees and shrubs in the newest addition to the Palace. Shartee would have liked the colors. She’d found the first autumn’s foliage to be a delightful surprise and had looked forward to the changing leaves. Fireleaf especially intrigued her and she’d had several transplanted to shade and decorate part of the kitchen garden at Sunblast. Damn, but he missed her.

  “Great my lord?” a quiet voice intruded into his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder to see Neela standing on the path, her gray robe of an Imperial servant edged with the pale pink of mourning. “I apologize for intruding, great my lord, but the physicians and I have finished checking Shu’s females.”

  Kirlin turned to face her. “And?”

  “Two carry the Healer’s gift, although only one is strong enough to use it, at least right now. The other is very, very good with her forefeet and would make an excellent surgeon or birthing specialist. All three have been beaten severely, the Healer to the point that she has lost some use of her weak-side eye and ear.”

  Kirlin slammed his tail down, sending gravel flying and bruising the muscle. But he kept his voice steady and his spines down. “Did they say why?”

  “Yes, and I prefer not to say more until the full council meets, great my lord. I do not want to give Shu,” she spat the name, “any grounds for challenging the council’s decision.”

  He raised a talon. “Do not let your observations and testimony reflect your personal feelings, Healer Neela. You will be on trial as much as Shu.”

  She dipped her head, bowed, and turned to depart. “Thssssssth,” he heard as she flapped her tongue. Kirlin pretended to be deaf to the sound. He also ignored the rude forefoot gesture she made as she returned to the palace’s medical section. She’d aimed them at the situation, not at him, and in truth he sympathized a little. Neela lived in a transparent box, watched constantly by her students and by less friendly eyes.

  Tarkeela’s aircraft settled onto the Palace’s temporary landing area shortly before the evening meal. Kirlin had expected him and waited along with two Palace servants. Tarkeela’s pilot selected a spot well away from the main parking area for some reason and Kirlin frowned, not liking the prospect of a long walk. Then a guard came running toward him. “My lord, get back! We have an uncontrolled arrival.” Kirlin and the servants charged after the guard, running at full speed to get on the other side of the anti-debris shield in case the second arrival crashed.

  Instead, the aircraft landed directly in the center of the parking field, blocking any further arrivals or departures. The landing manager weakened the protective shield, allowing Kirlin and the others to return, then stormed out of his office, tail straight out with indignation. He marched up to the door just as it opened. Kirlin and the guard followed and caught up with the manager in time to hear him begin, “You do not have permission to land, you are blocking the landing field, and—”

  A very large male emerged from the vehicle, lumbered over and slammed his tail into the ramp manager, knocking him off his feet. “Great Lord Shu has full landing rights,” the bodymale announced.

  “He may have landing rights but he does not have the right to endanger others,” Kirlin stated in a loud voice. The bully turned and began advancing, then saw Kirlin’s insignia and returned to the door. Lord Shu walked down the short ramp, looked around, and signaled to his guard to follow as a personal servant emerged and caught up with his lord. They stalked past Kirlin. Shu gave the other noble a look of disgust, sniffed, and continued toward the Palace.

  Kirlin started to snarl at the other reptile. “Let it go, Kirlin. Just because it has the brains and manners of a talkak boar in rut doesn’t mean that the rest of us have to abandon civilized behavior.” Tarkeela’s voice carried across the entire landing area and Kirlin stepped back in case Shu decided to charge his enemy. Shu stopped, but just gave Tarkeela a very long look and smiled, then proceeded on.

  “I’d call him a slime ball, but that would be an undeserved insult to slime balls and creeping mold,” Tarkeela continued more quietly as he strolled up to Kirlin. “He does not seem to be pleased to see us.”

  “No. I suspect he hoped to beat you here and monopolize the council. In fact,” Kirlin turned from watching Shu to give Tarkeela and his head of security a grave look, “He was not to arrive until noon tomorrow.”

  “So I guessed.” Tarkeela shook all over. “I’m getting too old for this sort of thing.”

  The landing area manager finished talking to the Palace guard. “Great my lords, my apology for interrupting, but it will be safer for you on the other side of the debris shield. We need to move the obstacle,” and he pointed at Shu’s aircraft with his hind foot.

  Tarkeela and Kirlin took the hint and led their guards, a servant, and Tarkeela’s pilot toward the guest wing of the Palace. “It still looks small,” Tarkeela said, craning his neck to see if anything new had been added in the previous year and a bit.

  “I suspect it will sprawl before too many
more generations. There’s still barely any room for the colonial administration, let alone visitors.” Kirlin turned slightly, steering the party. “The next phase has a third section added on the other side of that courtyard, with a suite for each Clan’s head and his immediate family.”

  Korlee made an unhappy sound and Tarkeela flicked his tail tip, acknowledging his security chief’s protest. They all knew why the Throne so generously provided living quarters for the Clan Lord’s dependents. “Can you tell me more about the Council tomorrow?”

  “No. The Throne is keeping things very quiet, in part to reduce Shu’s ability to appeal if he does not like whatever happens tomorrow.”

  Tarkeela grunted. “What time tomorrow?”

  Kirlin looked to one of the servants who whipped out a small data pad. “Noon, great my lords.”

  “Thank you. How are your juniors?”

  Tarkeela swirled his tail and smiled. “Not junior for much longer—Tartai is starting his second growth phase and I fear he will be at least as big as Cheerka. And eat as much.”

  “They do grow quickly,” Kirlin sympathized. “Have you found him a mate yet?”

  “Cheerka or Tartai? No, neither one. I’ve settled property and funds on all my juniors. And Cheerka maintains that he is too young to settle down.”

  Kirlin laughed, as did Tarkeela. “Whatever he’s sprinkling on his food, I want a few bottles for myself.”

  Tarkeela gave his younger associate a long look, then snorted. They strolled in companionable silence to the door of Tarkeela’s temporary quarters. “I’ll just eat here,” he told the Palace servant who appeared when he opened the door.

  “I’ll leave you to your rest, then.” The servant took the hint and Kirlin dipped his head in respect to the older reptile.

  “Thank you. Good hunting, a quiet night, and a bright dawn,” Tarkeela offered.

  “Thank you.” Kirlin waited until the door closed before leaving.

  “Healer Neela! Healer Neela!” the guard pounded on her door, then threw it open. “There’s an emergency in the guest wing, second level.”