Renaissance: A Novel of Azdhag Survival

by Alma Boykin

  “So, what’s the news from the southland?” one of the males asked after they’d placed their order.

  “Eh, nothing good,” his companion grunted. “Not enough juniors. Even that mining town, Snowcatch is it?”

  “The one in the pass? That’s Snowcatch.”

  “Even Snowcatch can’t keep the mines running, not even after cutting back to three active and two dormant. Between the people who left and the people who aren’t having juniors, there’s no one to run things.”

  Tartai listened, nursing his ale, as the first speaker made a negation with his forefoot. “Damn, that means we’ll have to buy ore from the Big Lizards. I’d rather keep the money at home.”

  After their drinks and snack arrived, the second speaker rumpled his tail. “It was only a matter of time. Ain’t no one in their right mind that will work down there, even in the mountains. Try telling the youngsters that it should be okay because the winds blew the death cloud the other way. They look at you as if your scales started sprouting fur and then they make warding signs.” Tartai heard several loud swallows, followed by, “Can’t say I blame them.”

  “Not after the last stories about the outClan still down there. Trying to rebuild in the Death Lands?” The second male snorted.

  “Hey!”

  “Sorry, thought I’d gotten the foam off. Anyway, the last salvage group that the Royal Council authorized came back with a lot less than planned. They found bodies. Rumor has it they were really weird looking bodies—not just Bonecrush, either.” His voice dropped and Tartai strained to hear, “Really, really strange misborn, with bones in places the Ancestors never meant bones to be—that kind of weird.” Tartai hid a shiver. “Nothing down there but trouble. Especially since the Pack Lords are still trying to keep their land claims active.”

  “What a bunch of fewmets,” the first speaker laughed. “Claims to what? A bone pile and poison pit? I’ll take snow to kissing some noble’s tail-tip any day.”

  The conversation shifted to a local wrestling tournament, and Tartai finished the last of his ale.

  “Refill?” the server asked, forefoot poised over the mug.

  “No, thanks. Good night.”

  Without any sun, the air cooled, encouraging Tartai not to linger on his way home. He reached the door to his dwelling block in time to meet one of the neighbors, also coming in. He entered his pass code, then jammed the entry open with his tail as she trotted the last few steps through the door. “Thank you, Tartai.”

  “You’re welcome.” Her jacket looked odd. It sported a purple stripe on the collar and sleeves. He asked, “Are the colors your lineage?”

  “No. All Healers wear purple somewhere now, in addition to lineage colors if we have them. Helps people spot us.” She followed him up the ramp one level, then turned aside to her own dwelling. Tartai continued up two more levels before taking the strong-side doorway and going to his bright orange door. He still wondered what had moved Seelah to pick that color, but it was easy to find against the gray walls. He knocked twice, then once, and the door opened. “Hello.”

  Seelah backed up, giving her mate space to enter and nuzzling him as he passed. “You’re just in time. Would you like sausage or shootee steaks with the lakebread and greens?”

  “Steak, please.” He allowed himself one luxury: fresh animal protein. Seelah nuzzled her mate again and pivoted, disappearing into the small food storage and preparation area. She barely fit through the doorway and Tartai smiled to himself, hoping that she carried a male. Be happy that it’s healthy, whatever it is, he reminded himself. Fewer and fewer juniors were born with gross malformations or the death conditions, but the chance remained. One of Seelah’s dam’s sire’s brothers had been an early victim of Deathtouch and the very faint chance remained that she could be a carrier, even though that had been the only afflicted junior in her lineage since the Relocation. He still had not decided which was worse: the solid-black males who died blind and brainless before they reached the first growth phase, or the females with bonecrush, who lived through the second growth phase and then died in lingering agony as their bones dissolved, tail to skull. The smell of hot meat reached his nostrils and Tartai made a warding off sign with his strong-side forefoot and shook himself, hurrying to put away his work gear and footcovers.

  He found a new lounging robe in the sleeping room. “What’s this?”

  “That’s from your sister,” Seelah called from the cooking area. “She sent two. They are made from the remains of a fabric test batch.” Seelah appeared in the doorway and waved a talon at her mate. “Before you start lecturing me or her, it was a failed batch. They can’t get the material to take dye. Something about the process needed to get the fibers to spin makes them dye-proof. Her message explains it.”

  The material felt nice, but Tartai could certainly see why it needed to be dyed. The bland grey color reminded him of mud. He tied the robe and read Teekah’s message.

  “Dear Tartai,” it began, “I hope this finds you and Seelah well. Behold the results of our experiments with kurstem stems: sturdy, comfortable, easy-to-weave, ugly, and impossible to dye.” He could hear her frustration through the text and he smiled a little. “The good news is that the fibers are uniform in color and that they do not take up any chemical other than strong acids and bases. MoyTeek Textiles is going to see if we can interest the military or some of the industrial producers in the fabric for protective uses. Otherwise we will have to write it off as a research loss. We were overdue for a failure, so maybe our next experiments will go better. Yours,” and her forefinger print sealed the message.

  “Any other news from the family?” Tartai asked his mate as he returned to the main room.

  “No. Teekah’s first daughter, Kahtoh, is angry because she cannot take the tests for colonial service, but no major news.”

  “She knew that she would not be allowed to examine, so why is she angry?” Tartai settled onto his bench by the table as Seelah set the fresh animal protein on the table and took her place beside her bench. She preferred to eat standing up, at least until she delivered.

  After they ate several bites, Seelah sighed, wondering yet again how Tartai could be so dense at times. “She is angry because there is nothing saying that females cannot take the tests, only that all applicants must be at least one point five meters long and weigh ninety kilos. According to the latest report from the health inspectors, that eliminates ninety percent of females born on Drakon IV.”

  “Hmmm. Good supper. Is this a new spice?”

  “No, but I tried roasting the leaves before crumbling them into the sauce, and it changes the flavor. Do you like it?” If he did, than others would also like it, and she could trade the recipe with the other females for a few hours of junior care.

  “Yes, I do.” He got up and nuzzled her, then returned to his food. “So Kahtoh is angry because the regulations do not say that females cannot take the examinations.”

  “Yes and no. She is also angry because those females who are big enough to test do not want to, or at least none have. They get too many offers of mating and do not want to go into the trades or to work outside the residence.” Seelah did not understand her sister-by-mating’s daughter, but she could understand being frustrated.

  Tartai’s refusal to do his duty to his siblings frustrated her. Most oldest males took up the lineage name and led their families, overseeing businesses and making the major decisions for the lineage. But Tartai refused and Seelah wondered why. He said it was because his sire and dam ended Tarkeela Lineage and he abided by their wishes. Seelah wondered if there were other reasons. He was not sterile, that she knew very well indeed! He’d managed a branch of Tarlek Industries for several years before they mated and moved up here, to the empty lands, and Teekah and her spouse kept inviting him back to run one part of MoyTeek or Tarlek again. Maybe he feared that someone from Shu Lineage would hurt him, her, or their not-born if he took up his duties? Seelah made a warding sign under the table, out of
Tartai’s sight.

  Tartai finished his meal and drank some water. “If Kahtoh is frustrated now, I do not want to be around her when she learns of Lord Peitak’s proposed law.”

  “What now?” Peitak seemed to come up with a bad idea at least once every moon. She guessed, “Not another robe regulation. I thought he’d learned after the last try. Even the other lords thought he was a fool to restrict what people could wear and when, or so the news feed said.”

  “No, this is different. It has the backing of Daesarae, Shu, Ro-diit, and Kirlin is not entirely opposed, or so the last rumor had it. Peitak wants to tie legal status to Pack service. The more time and more family members serve the Pack, the more rights the Pack members and their lineages have.” Tartai watched Seelah closely, waiting to see if her reaction was close to what he thought it would be.

  She chewed the last of her meat and then almost choked. “Wait. Legal status is tied to Pack service. What kind of service? Do the lords mean general contribution to the good of the Pack?”

  Tartai made a negation and eased back on his bench. “They mean documented service in the military or councils.”

  Seelah exploded, her tail rigid with fury. “How dare they!” She hissed. “Half of Drakon IV is supposed to lose our rights because we do not meet a size standard? Just where do the lords think the next generation is going to come from? Well?” She started panting. “And females on the colonies would have legal rights because they fit the size standard. That’s, that’s, no!”

  Tartai scrambled to get around the table and to press his flank against her, draping his tail over her back and trying to soothe her. He had no idea that she’d react so strongly. “Shhhh, shhhhh,” he whispered. “Colony females are not allowed to serve until they have three healthy juniors that have all finished their second growth phase,” he reminded her. “And I doubt they will remain larger than females on the throneworld for many more generations, heart of my heart, pride of my den. Males from the throneworld are in great demand on the colonies because of our temperature tolerance and size.” Which meant that the genetic twist that caused the males’ female offspring to be smaller than previous generations would continue to propagate. Not that Tartai ever said such a thing to Seelah—he knew better, especially this close to delivery.

  Seelah allowed him to calm her. The junior inside her required too much energy for her to stay angry for long, and soon she napped in the main room as Tartai cleaned up after dinner. At the time that they’d got it, he’d thought the washer and sterilizer in the cooking area was a waste of credits and an ostentation, even though no one else ever saw it. He changed his mind as he watched it clean everything to Seelah’s exacting standards. Would it take heartkiller or blackbark sap out of his coveralls? Did he want to try to live down the chagrin, and his mate’s wrath, if it did not? Tartai decided not to test his theory.

  Instead he dimmed the lights, found a blanket and draped it over his napping mate, and wondered just how the nobles and Great Lords thought they were going to remove the legal rights of half the population without triggering a civil war. And wondered how he and Seelah could stay out of the way of the unfolding debacle.

  Well, Prince-Imperial Dak-lee mused after reading the list of topics for discussion, This meeting won’t be dull. Long, but not dull. I wonder if I should have a medic on standby? He doubted that anyone would need a full Healer after the session, but a medic might keep the mess to a minimum.

  Dak-lee stretched, feeling his weak-side hip protesting. He’d pulled a muscle or four during a rough-and-tumble combat training match the day before, and the dark green male frowned, displeased. He should have anticipated the sergeant’s move better. He also needed to get moving, or he’d be anticipating just how hard his honored sire would thump him as they entered the council chamber. Dak-lee adjusted his robe one last time, slipped a data pad into the holster on his carry-harness, and strolled out of his chamber to meet the King-Emperor at the entrance to the large council room. Tahdak had called in all the councilors, and since harvest had ended but the winter storms had not yet begun, no one had any excuse for not attending.

  “Honored sire,” Dak-lee bowed to his father.

  “Good,” Tahdak grunted. “Who’s going to get thumped today?”

  Dak-lee shifted from side to side as he thought. “I’d guess Daesarae and Kaeshare, but there’s always a surprise motion from someone.”

  “True.” A guard opened the door from the Imperial family quarters and King-Emperor Tahdak marched into the council chamber, Dak-lee following on his strong side. Tahdak took his seat on the throne and his son settled onto a lower bench a little behind and to the side. They made themselves comfortable and confirmed that all the electronics and switches in their seats had been set correctly before Tahdak called, “You may rise.” The gathered nobles rose and moved to their places with a rustle and murmur.

  Dak-lee studied the assembly. Great Lord Kirlin sat closest to the emperor on the King-Emperor’s weak side, by virtue of age and experience. Solid-brown Sharlin-Kirlin, the last of the old generation still alive, had survived the Great Relocation and still had his wits. Beside him Great Lord Blee glared at his computer display, irritated as usual with something. The pale tan-and-yellow noble had much to be irritated about, Dak-lee knew, given the state of his hunting property after the last volcanic burp from the Wildlands. Beside Blee, Lord Beesh covered a yawn and skimmed over the agenda, while at Beesh’s strong side, Great Lord Daesarae kept glancing to the throne and back at a data pad that he’d laid on the tabletop. Daesarae, Dak-lee’s brother-by-mating, made Dak-lee’s teeth clench. They shared similar dark green coloring, but Daesarae’s head was harder than the granite of Drakon IV’s crust, and about as open to compromise. Lord Peitak’s seat remained empty, but he’d been excused to deal with a matter of justice on Peitak lands that required his full attention and tact.

  Across the table, facing the empty seat, Lord Sheedak cleaned one talon and acted bored. Dak-lee knew better: Sheedak had a recording mind that made him the Empire’s foremost legal scholar and an utter pain in the tail. Great Lord Zhi-king loomed beside Sheedak. The tan-and-green noble weighed at least twenty kilos more than any other noble besides Kaeshare and the Imperial family members, and had a voice to match. He reminded Dak-lee of a talkak in rut, booming out through the forest. Lord Diisch seemed to vanish when compared to the others, his lean length marking the muddy-green male as a throwback to the Azdhagi of a century before. It also made his Lineage popular for crossing, since he seemed pure. Diisch glared at grey-blotched Kaeshare beside him. Kaeshare had Diische’s speed and Zhi-king’s mass, making him a ferocious warrior. On Kaeshare’s strong side, Lord Ro-diit attempted to sink into his bench. The only thing Dak-lee ever recalled about Ro-diit was how average he seemed, with his brown-grey coloring. The law of averages had put Sheedak at one end of the curve and Ro-diit at the other end, although what Ro-diit lacked in intelligence he made up for with methodical diligence. And beside Ro-Diit, closest to Dak-lee, Great Lord Shu fidgeted and twitched. The yellow-green noble, as thin as Diisch and as loud as Zhi-king, had joined the planetary council only two moons before, after his father died of age and stress.

  Dak-lee snorted, thinking If only half of my honored sire’s tales about Shu the Stinkwort are true, Shu the Elder’s stress predated the Great Relocation. Ugh, what a nasty beast his sire was. I wonder why he was allowed to live so long? The Pack should have acted sooner.

  Tahdak banged on the knocker in his hind-leg rest, drawing everyone’s attention. “This session of the planetary council is open. To begin, are there any objections to the budget that have not been presented earlier?”

  The males exchanged glances but no one voiced any new complaints.

  “Good. Because we have received a large number of comments concerning the legislation proposed by Lords Ro-diit, Peitak, Shu, and Daesarae concerning female inheritance.” Tahdak rubbed one talon along the side of his muzzle. “Let us say that the matter has
inspired much discussion, most notably among those females who serve their Lineages and the Pack as Healers, and among those males who are unable to serve in the Imperials or Defenders.” He turned his forefoot up, opening discussion.

  “Perhaps Healers should be included as active Pack-members,” Diisch ventured. “Only those with Healing gifts, not medics or herbalists,” he added before anyone attacked him. “And females who have delivered at least five juniors that live to oath age? They’ve certainly served their lineages and the Pack.”

  Daesarae swirled his forefoot in negation. “No exceptions, no matter how worthy, should be permitted. And while the Pack should most certainly honor any female who is so productive, her mate deserves even more praise, for supporting his mate and her offspring so well.”

  Beside him, Neekare growled, “And the males that cannot serve in the military?”

  Shu jumped in, “I believe Lord Peitak suggested that the number of such males is so small that there’s no point in making an exemption.”

  “And those who are not permitted to serve?” Zhi-king rumbled lazily. “I ask only because it is rumored that some Lineage heads are forbidding their young males from taking the military entrance examinations.” He glared at Daesarae.

  “If you are referring to Daesarae Lineage, that is correct. I have not permitted anyone to take the exams, and will not for at least another year-turn, until the security and order problem on my border is solved.”

  Dak-lee spoke up. “That is a topic for later discussion, Daesarae, and should have no bearing on members of your lineage being allowed to serve the Pack, either here or on the colony worlds. We do not have a large enough population to allow one Lineage to deny protection to the Pack.”

  “The Prince-Imperial raises a valid point,” Sheedak agreed. “The law codes state that no one who is able to pass the physical and mental tests is to be forbidden from service, unless it is a male who is the last male of his lineage and who has not yet left a male heir, in which case he is exempted until such time as he sires two healthy male juniors,” Sheedak recited.