by Alma Boykin
“I’m sure they do.”
The two males turned back to Singing Pines village. Tartai wondered who had named the settlement. Whoever it was had been gifted with a black sense of humor, because the name stemmed from the sound of the bitterly cold winter wind as it hissed through the trees, making them sigh and hum. He had dim memories of a winter so cold that some trees exploded, but that couldn’t be right, could it? He shook his head as if he had water in one ear hole.
“Oh, and you need to know,” Ahksi began. “Daesarae has holdings on Pokara and Sidara. His line claimed a large farming property on the smaller of the three southern landmasses on Pokara, and his third daughter’s mate is a retired Imperial officer with several businesses in Sidara City that he runs for the Lineage.”
“Hmm,” came the reply. The news surprised Tartai, but it shouldn’t have, as he thought about it. Everyone else has property on the colony worlds, so why not Daesarae? I wonder if he’s as much a pain-in-the-tail there as he is here?
They wound their way back to the house. Ahksi stopped there. “Tahdak sent a message last night. He wants you at court next sixt.”
“Seelah as well?” She’d be a hostage, or she’d be safe, or both.
Ahksi swirled one forefoot. “No. She’s safer here.”
Tartai discovered very quickly that his dam’s accounts of the complexity and formality of life in the palace had been understatements. On the other forefoot, he also realized that following her directions for navigating the palace’s physical space, or the ones that he remembered her giving, would be disastrous, because she’d been coming and going through the staff wing and females’ chambers. He’d been assigned a small set of rooms in the central wing of the palace, not far from those given to the Lord Defender. Tartai wondered if the servants had as much trouble with the Lord Defender, a huge green-and-tan male named Brreetai, as they did with him. Tartai did not want any help or service, something the palace staff found distressing.
Tartai tugged on his new court robe. He preferred his own robes and footcovers, but since he had to look at least as important as the minor nobles, he’d agreed to a set of Court gear. The funds had come from his share of Moyteek’s dividends instead of his Court allowance from the crown, something that he suspected irritated the crown prince. Tartai allowed himself a brief smile at the thought before settling down. After one final inspection, he set off from his quarters to the door of the lesser reception room.
Two guards opened the door for him and he sauntered in. As Tartai waited, he studied the wooden paneling. He’d have used a thicker cut for greater depth, but whoever did the finish work had known their business. Glad to see they didn’t bury the figuring in paint. He heard the door open at the head of the room and Tartai bowed. Tahdak and Dak-lee came in and took their places on the dais. “You may rise,” Tahdak’s voice rumbled.
Tartai studied the King-Emperor. Tahdak’s mass reminded the younger male of the enormous blackwood tree in the middle of the Reedknot Swamp northwest of Schree’s Rest. The tree towered over the surrounding forest, and the loggers had all agreed not to touch the thing. Just getting to it would be nearly impossible, because of the swamp, but the looming black-and-dark-green king-of-trees inspired such respect and awe that none of the Azdhagi dared to molest it, not even Daesarae. Tahdak inspired similar feelings, although perhaps not as much awe.
Tahdak approved of Tartai’s looks and stance, although he’d have preferred a touch more formality in the youngster’s bearing. Well, that will come with time and duties. The Pack will see to that. Although, as he thought about it, Tahdak recalled his sire and grandsire sighing over Tarkeela’s informal approach to life. The King-Emperor rumpled his tail. “Well met, Tartai of Tarkeela. We trust that you are aware of why you have been summoned to the palace?”
“Yes, Imperial Majesty. His Imperial Highness and Prince Ahksi have been most informative.”
“Good.” Tahdak tapped the side of the throne with his iron war fan. “We, the Azdhagi, face a divided path. We can stalk one large prey, hunting together. Or we can scatter out after smaller targets, each trying to carve out our own territory. The problem, Tartai, is that we are no longer the apex predators, and we must hunt as a Pack for safety.”
We could abandon the colonies and resettle Sseekhala, although many would have to be forced to move there at blaster point. We could pull back, abandoning Pokara, your Majesty. But Tartai also knew that such moves would signal weakness just as the news of the Azdhagi Empire’s “little problem” became generally known. We’ve sunk our teeth and talons into something much bigger than we thought, and now we have to hold on, because to let go is to die. Our ancestors were idiots. But Tartai made a gesture acknowledging the truth in Tahdak’s words. “Indeed, Imperial Majesty. And it does not help the hunt when some Azdhagi seek to drive others off their prey, or to force them off the scent.”
Tahdak’s eyes narrowed. “Which is why we are beginning the resurvey of the northern lands with Schree’s Rest and Daesarae’s claims, then NightLast. We have also informed Lord Daesarae that any talon that he or his males set on Schree’s Rest will be removed. And he will obey.” Tahdak raised the war fan and Tartai saw just how many of Tahdak’s mannerisms Dak-lee had absorbed.
“Thank you, Imperial Majesty. That alone will ease some tensions.”
“However, we have a graver problem for you, and our heir, to address.” Tartai watched Dak-lee stiffen, as if caught by surprise. “Pokara.”
“Ah, the city self-government questions, your Majesty?” Tartai guessed.
“We suspect it is more than that, Tartai. We sent our sire’s son to Pokara to smooth the trail and unite the Pack.” Tahdak rolled his eyes and gestured with the forefoot not holding the war fan. “It seems he has succeeded.” The large male left a great deal unsaid, and Tartai tried to track the prey he thought he sensed in the underbrush.
Dak-lee made a coughing sound. “Ah, honored sire,” he began, a touch hesitant.
“Yes?”
Dak-lee and Tartai looked at each other and made identical questioning hindfoot swirls. “Honored sire, Prince Kalaki has united Pokara . . . against himself?” The crown prince sounded uncertain.
“You track well, Dak-lee.” Tahdak exhaled a long breath and rubbed under his muzzle with one steel-tipped talon. “Kalaki appears to have been born with a heretofore hidden gift: turning a challenge into a debacle. In fact, he shows such talent that we wonder if he carries more than just our warrant with him.”
Tartai leaned back without realizing it, his neck spines trembling a millimeter.
Tahdak caught the movement and seemed to lean forward. “Yes?”
“Ah, Imperial Majesty, pardon my bluntness, but you think he carries the mad streak?”
Dak-lee’s lower jaw sagged a centimeter and his eyes bulged at the affront. His sire, however made a slight negation with his forefoot. “We do not know, although it is possible. It is more likely, given his dam’s sire’s ancestry, that he carries the corrupt genes. Be that as it may, he has inspired petitions for his removal, or for redress from his decrees, or for a re-hearing of the initial requests, from almost every sector of Pokara. He also avers that the urban Azdhagi have united to oppose him and he demands the right to arrest a large number of people, in order to reassert royal authority.” Tahdak tapped the fan against the throne, making a sharp sound as the metal pinged against the carved stone and wood bench. “It is possible that he speaks the truth. It is possible that he has misunderstood the petitions. It is also possible that there are, indeed, outside forces working through the more foolish and susceptible on Pokara. Given the unrest coming from the direction of Mornic Loy and Teedar.” He turned a little to look at Dak-lee. “Teedar no longer communicates with anyone, and there are rumors that the Regis fled, along with as many of the Teerdalal as could find transport off their world.”
Both younger reptiles stared at Tahdak, gape-jawed, spines up. Dak-lee recovered first. “Honored sire, that means . .
. whatever destroyed Teedar is coming to us?”
A map appeared, floating in front of the throne, and at Tahdak’s gesture Dak-lee stood, leaving his bench to join Tartai where they could both see the display. Tartai saw Mornic Loy on his strong side, at the far edge of the map. Tahdak adjusted something and Teedar appeared, then De Shan’s System, and the Empire. All four lined up at the moment, and Tartai winced.
“Ah, honored sire, do we know why the Morinci Confederation collapsed and what sent the Morinci moving toward Teedar?”
“No, and it is certainly possible that the movement is completely unrelated to the disturbance on Teedar.”
And I’ll sprout wings and a swim bladder, Tartai groaned.
“Does anyone outside the Imperial council know of these developments?” Dak-lee asked as Tartai tried to calculate transit times and to recall what other worlds might be in the quadrant.
“Not yet. You two alone know, because you must be aware of what lurks outside our borders so that you will work quickly once you reach Pokara.”
“Us, Pokara?” Tartai almost squeaked.
Dak-lee made a choking sound.
Tahdak bared his large and plentiful teeth. “Yes, you are going to Pokara, because you alone can reestablish the people’s confidence in the royal family, Dak-lee, and because you can command the Imperials if Governor Kalaki is the problem and not the outsiders whom he believes to be behind the situation. Tartai can talk to the ordinary and outClan, hearing what they desire and perhaps finding a way to bring an honorable compromise.” Tahdak’s demeanor changed and both males cringed back from the power looming over them. “Pokara cannot leave the Empire.” The force of the king-emperor’s words all but knocked Tartai off his feet. He and Dak-lee bowed as Tahdak surged to his feet and swept out of the reception hall, leaving the two staring at the chart.
“So all we have to do is save the Empire,” Tartai finally managed, almost laughing.
Dak-lee glared at him. “My honored sire’s command is not funny.”
Tartai shifted so he stood muzzle to muzzle with the dark green crown prince. “No, the command is not funny, Your Highness. The thought of sending two untried males to stave off a civil war and defend a planet is funny.”
Despite himself, and his growing dislike for Tartai, Dak-lee could see his point. A new thought occurred to him and he closed his eyes. “I wonder just what my uncle did to annoy everyone, if he indeed annoyed everyone.”
He heard Tartai take a long breath, then exhale slowly. “I suspect your honored sire will provide us with that information, Your Highness. I also suspect it will be something so totally silly that our descendants will look back and wonder what Prince Kalaki had been thinking to do something so obviously foolish.”
“Assuming we live to have descendants,” Dak-lee hissed under his breath. He’d seen what his father could do to those who failed him.
Two quiet males walked out of the reception chamber.
Prince Kalaki reread his report to the King-Emperor and wondered how his predecessor could have allowed matters to fester so badly. No one should have allowed the cities to go unorganized, especially not for this long. Kalaki tapped one talon against the surface of his new work desk, the only outward sign of anger that he allowed himself to show. He’d been more than fair, and in return the urban Azdhagi had behaved like a herd of ill-trained juniors. After this display, the King-Emperor would have no recourse but to allow Kalaki to take the necessary actions. If only the idiots had been willing to listen to reason!
Soarsa’s words about Lineage memberships had been correct. Kalaki excused those who had proven their descent from the Dead Clan, although he’d placed holds on those from Tarkeela. He’d heard a rumor that the Lineage would be reinstated, in which case the new Lineage lord needed to take proper action against those who refused to do their Pack duty. But Kalaki’d called in every other senior Lineage member, starting with the LowHills section of the capital city. He’d been careful, scheduling the meeting for mid-morning on the rest day, when the weather forecast called for heavy rain, so no one would lose time from their employment or from outdoor family activities. Two reptiles had begged off because of illness, and in both cases—after confirming with their physicians that, indeed, the males should not be exposing other Azdhagi to their viruses—he’d excused them. One male, a Peacekeeper, Kalaki released from attending because of the sensitive nature of the male’s duties. That left twenty-five males who should have been serving the Pack by acting as Lineage leaders and municipal council staff.
Kalaki growled under his breath as he thought back to the meeting. He’d been concerned about disturbances, so he’d brought his guards to augment the Peacekeepers keeping eyes on the meeting site. Ten minutes before the beginning of the meeting, Kalaki walked into the gathering hall to find all the males already waiting for him. The show of obedience had pleased Kalaki, and he’d decided to begin early. That had been the last pleasing moment of the encounter.
“I asked you to come because the Pack needs you,” he’d begun. “As you know, this city and others on Pokara have grown too large to govern under the current system. I’m aware that several options have been presented to the Governor’s office, ranging from pure self-selection to a request for an appointed manager for each city. Unfortunately, there are not yet enough trained and experienced managers for the latter option to be practical.” Kalaki had made a little gesture to show that he sympathized with the problem. “Self-selection requires time and effort that, as you will agree, many if not most Azdhagi simply do not have available. That is why, after considering the requests and petitions presented to the throne, it has been decided to reinstate the Lineage management system.” Murmurs had greeted his announcement, but no disagreement or protests, and Kalaki had relaxed.
He’d called up a chart of the system so that any visual thinkers could see what he intended. “Each Lineage will look to its local head, in each district, for leadership and decisions. The senior sub-leaders from each district will meet in a municipal council, with the senior member of the senior Lineage acting as chief executive. Those chiefs, along with the senior rural Lineage heads, will form the planetary council. The Imperial Governor remains the final executive, with sole control over the Imperial forces stationed on Pokara, and the Governor will continue dealing with all external threats.” That remained as it had always been.
“This system does require more from the Lineage heads, but the needs of the Pack have always demanded the full attention of the Lineage leaders.” If necessary, he’d find a way to get a stipend to the few impoverished Lineage seniors who truly needed their daily employment to feed their families, freeing the males to resume their proper duties. Kalaki had been appalled to learn just how many local Lineage heads, and even senior Lineage members, on Pokara worked for themselves instead of for their Lineages. He’d even drawn up a proposal for the Lineages to take over several businesses in order to realign the economy to better serve the Pack and to allow the Lineages to take proper care of their members. No one should be forced to work for another Lineage or for a free corporation if they did not wish to, especially if other options existed.
Utter silence had greeted his demonstration, followed by quiet whispers and muttering. He’d waited, patient, for the first question. A tail had risen in the back of the pack. “Yes?”
A pale-tan male had stood up. “My lord governor, this is certainly a logical arrangement, but it does not fit the current situation, since at least half the population of this district alone is without a Lineage. What is to be done for those individuals?”
Kalaki had hidden his surprise. “There should be less than one percent who are without a Lineage. If you refer to those who look to Tarkeela, that Lineage will be reinstated, so those families look to Tarkeela. If anyone is from Reeschlee of RaeTee, then the dam-side Lineage is acceptable until an appropriate sire-side line is reestablished, or the families can rejoin an earlier sire-side Lineage.”
The murmur
s had surged and ebbed again and the room seemed to ripple as tails flicked and forefeet swirled. The questioner had rumpled his tail. “Thank you, royal governor, but I refer to those who prefer to remain outside the Lineage system. Will they be allowed to select their own council representatives?”
Kalaki had made a negation with his forefoot. “The Pack has little room for those who will not contribute or participate, as his Imperial Majesty has said and written repeatedly. Those who refuse to serve their Lineages will face penalties because of the extra administrative load and work they cause others.”
Several of the males in the group had shifted back on their benches, recoiling from the statement. Another tail had shot into the air, and after a suitable pause to allow the others to calm down, Kalaki had called on its owner. The dark-brown-and-light-green blotched male stood. “Royal governor, what are we to do if the senior Lineage member, as you call us, is incompetent or simply lacks the skills to manage Lineage affairs?”
“Then you do as we always have and select a deputy or proxy until the heir comes of age.”
The male gestured his understanding. “Can the Lineage select it’s head, at least for purposes of municipal governance?” he added hastily, before Kalaki could interrupt. “I ask because, as my associates will affirm, I can’t manage my household budget, let alone the affairs of my so-called Lineage. My eldest male suffers from stagger spells. The Lineage, and the Pack as a whole, would be much better off if my fellow Lineage members chose a better leader, such as my mate or her dam. The know how to manage finances. I don’t.”
The male’s declaration had horrified Kalaki. For a male to announce, in public, that he could not manage his family—why, Kalaki had never heard of such a thing. He’d hidden his reaction but it took most of his effort and attention. “The Lineage here on Pokara can petition the Lineage Lord on Drakon IV for a new sub-line and leader,” Kalaki had offered. “If you give me your name, I’ll have the Archivist look for an appropriate precedent.” Kalaki had not been able to think of one at the time of the meeting, and he still couldn’t.
