by Paul Kidd
“Take a rest! We’ll try again when we’ve had some food. This time I want you to take the position of Forward Rover.”
“F-Forward Rover…? I-I don’t know if I can.”
“Surely now? But I need you! I need my best people up the front, and you’re the fastest flier in the tribe!”
“I-I am?”
“Can you think of anyone in the forest who can outrace you?” Kotaru warmed her with his smile. “Why else do you think we specially asked the King to place you on the team? Please accept the position. We need you. We really do.”
Mrrimïmei looked up at Kotaru then licked her lips, turning the information over in her mind. Suddenly the girl stood and wiped her hands.
“I… Alright. I’ll try. I’ll do better this time, just you see!”
She actually laughed as they flitted out across the open meadow. Kotaru tried to outdistance her, and Mrrimïmei shot ahead at an amazing turn of speed. She looked back across her shoulders and grinned at him in triumph.
Kotaru gazed at his companions and paused in silent thought. The King had asked Kotaru to form a team for the tribal games; it was to be Kotaru’s reward for his ‘good sense’ during the raid against the Katakanii tribe. His teamfolk were an odd selection. They were the strange ones - the folk that always seemed slightly out of place no matter where they went. The team contained none of the popular pinwheels of sport, and the nobility were completely unrepresented, even to the point of having a commoner as captain! A very strange team, to say the least.
“Well boy! So fierce, so thoughtful. A mighty captain pondering his tactics, eh?”
Kotaru whirled around. King Latikai loomed through the ferns, his huge swag belly swaying as he waded through the underbrush.
“So lad! An impressive show of talents. Fast, decisive! That’s what I want from my star team! You’ll win the tribal championships without a doubt.”
The young hunter felt a clench of awe about his heart. The King! He was actually speaking to the King! He nervously fell into a bow, trying to find his voice.
“Sir, uh, Sire. I-I thank you!”
“A fine team my boy. Just the type of talents that I’m looking for.”
Kotaru tugged nervously at the collar of his armour.
“Sire? About the collision, my lord, it won’t happen again! It was a mistaken signal, nothing more. My folk are tired, sire…”
The King spread his hands and beamed forgiveness down at Kotaru.
“Think no more about it lad. No more about it! Recklessness is the better part of bravery.”
“Yes sire!”
“Good! Good lad.” The King threw a huge arm about Kotaru’s shoulder, nearly crushing the youngster flat. “So boy, tell me what y’ need. You have the players, you have the gear. Is there anythin’ I can provide you?”
Kotaru coughed.
“Uh, well my lord… I was just…”
“Speak out boy! I’m listening. Anything you want at all!”
“Sire, these players you’ve given me - are you sure… I mean, there’s none of them as has any real practice with the game an’ all. They’re lovely people, but I’m wonderin’ if you’ve not made a wee bit of a mistake…”
The King patiently shook his head. He dragged Kotaru closer and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial bellow.
“Nay lad! You’ve fallen fer it yourself, y’ see? Always people look for the obvious talent. They think because you’re big or tall or handsome, or because your family is wealthy, that you’ve the makin’s of greatness!” A huge finger waggled at Kotaru’s nose. “Untrue! Greatness comes from the heart. And you, my lad, have that greatness within you!”
“I, sir?”
“That you do, lad, that you do! You have a spark, my boy! A spark that I want cherished. So here’s the test! Do you feel the dizzy scent of victory callin’ out to you?”
Kotaru saw a dazzling vision of beautiful green eyes, and his heart leapt as he thought once more of the girl.
“Yes sire!”
“Ha! That’s fine, lad. That’s just fine!” He slapped Kotaru on the back “Now go back to your practice, and don’t make me regret my confidence in you!”
Kotaru cracked out a clumsy salute.
“Yes sir! I mean no sir! I’ll do it. I’ll make us win, just you see! I’ll make you proud of all of us!”
Kotaru sketched a bow and sped back to his men. He gathered up his troops around him and began to fire them with a speech. Suddenly they were spilling back onto the playing field, the air ringing to the sound of battle yells.
The King watched with wicked eyes, his teeth clenched brightly in a grin.
That’s my boy! You take them and you make the bravest show since Mother Rain fought Lady Poison. You take all that optimism, and dash it straight into the Katakanii’s faces!
They’ll eat you for breakfast, boy. You and all your team of weeds and failures!
A loss to the Katakanii would salve the other tribe’s pride. With a hearty laugh the King strolled back towards the village. It was all going perfectly; the game would be an utterly splendid failure.
***
Mistress Traveesha planted her snout to earth in a profoundly graceful bow, remaining poised for just exactly the required amount of time before she raised her eyes to face the elders.
The leaders of Clan Swallow-Tail met once more in solemn council¹. Old Chitoochii stirred her teacup with a sprig of herbs and bored her gaze into the younger woman.
“So Traveesha, what mischief have your girls brought upon us now? Fights in the village; girls tearing one another into bits, our rules of conduct flagrantly abused! We hope that you have an explanation for this sorry plight?”
The Dancing mistress folded her hands within her lap, her voice the very model of control.
“It is not the dancers who are at fault, respected elder. It is but a single rebel. A wilful girl who has brought the crime of violence to our village.” Traveesha kept her face held in a sad mask of regret. “Nochorku-Zha, it pains me to report that your daughter Shadarii is unbalanced. Perhaps her disability has overtaxed her fragile mind. We have tried to be kind, and she has paid us back with hate. She has ruthlessly attacked another girl without any provocation…”
“Ha!”
A sudden bark of scorn made the assembly turn. They stared in outrage at a lean figure leaning insolently against the doorpost of the lodge.
Zhukora wore the simple garments of a huntress, her straight black hair streaming unbound below her slender waist. Sharp eyes gleamed as she made a wave of greeting with her hand.
“Respected elders, pray forgive my tardiness. No one informed me that the council was in session.”
Nochorku-Zha glanced at his daughter with disdain.
“Zhukora, enough of your antics! We shall not forgive your ill manners again!”
“Ill manners father?” The girl seemed quite put out. “I mean no disrespect. Quite the opposite in fact. I have come here in order to obey the tribal law - a law I respect too deeply to allow it to be broken.”
“Broken?” Counselor Chitoochii folded her arms across her breasts. “What nonsense is this! Your father has told you most firmly…”
Leaf leather rippled as Zhukora moved, her thin body framed by her startling blue wings.
“Why surely you are aware that any person made the object of a council debate has the right to state their defence? My sister cannot speak, and so someone else must protect her reputation. Father, is it not right that I should protect my beloved sister’s honour?”
Nochorku-Zha was incensed enough to actually pour himself a cup of tea.
“Don’t be ridiculous, girl! That law is made only for matters of importance!”
“But surely father, isn’t the fate of any clansperson a matter of importance?”
“Eh? Don’t be absurd! It’s no one of any great position! Anyway, it’s only what’s-her-name.”
Zhukora seemed quite shocked.
“Father! As lor
d of the Swallow-tail clan, are you suggesting that there is a different law for the young as compared to the old? For high and low?”
There was a stir of motion from outside; a considerable audience of young tribesfolk had collected by the council lodge to listen. Zhukora had conducted her campaign with care, and Nochorku-Zha played clean into her hands.
“Eh? What’s that you say? Different law? Of course it’s a different law! Poison rot your insolence! You young idiots need putting in your place! Why in my day I’d never had of dreamed…”
Old counselor Fotoki hastily leapt in, drowning out Nochorku’s words.
“Why come now Nochorku-Zha! The council upholds the law for young and old alike!” He nervously glanced out the door. “The council would be most delighted to have you represent your sister.”
“My Lord, I thank you for your gracious reception. Pray forgive the disruption of your business.”
Zhukora sank gracefully down upon her shanks. Her sharp face twitched as she suddenly noted the High Priestess in the corner of the lodge. The High Priestess gave a nod of acknowledgement, sinking back into her talismans to watch events unfold.
Nochorku-Zha had hopelessly lost his train of thought. He stared in puzzlement at Traveesha and blinked his eyes.
“You there! What are you doing here?”
“Why my Lord, surely you remember! I am Traveesha, dancing mistress of the Past-holders. I came here at your request, Lord, to provide evidence against the dancing girl Shadarii.”
“Shadarii? Damned cheek! What’s she been up to this time?”
Traveesha heaved an impatient sigh.
“She has been implicated in a fight, my Lord! She struck another without just provocation.”
“Lie!”
The word struck home like an axe. The counselors blinked and stared over at Zhukora while Traveesha’s jaw dropped in outrage.
“I beg your pardon!”
Zhukora idly examined her gleaming claws.
“Are you hard of hearing? I said you were a liar.”
The High Priestess folded up her hands and smiled. Zhukora was a sheer pleasure to observe at work; the girl had a master’s touch.
Old Fotoki scratched his mangy neck.
“My dear! What exactly are you saying?”
“The Dancing Mistress is deliberately perjuring herself. She is hiding facts in order to mislead this sacred council.”
Mistress Traveesha’s fur stood stiff with shock.
“You dare! Why you arrogant little upstart!”
“Are you claiming that Shadarii acted without due provocation?”
Traveesha’s eyes were wide with anger.
“Respected elders. My niece was attacked by this-this cowardly Shadarii and beaten within an inch of her life!”
Zhukora studied the set of a silver ring upon her finger. The ring was Daimïru’s, borrowed just for the occasion, and Zhukora rather liked the effect against her smooth black fur.
“Mistress Traveesha neglects to inform the council that Shadarii was provoked beyond all reason. Law requires three acts of provocation as justification for a violent act. The girl was jeered at, pelted with filth and finally actually challenged to the fight! I can produce at least twenty eye witnesses who will so testify.”
A murmur of astonishment passed around the council, and Lord Nochorku glared down at the hapless Dancing mistress.
“Mistress Traveesha, were these facts known to you before you made your statements before this council?”
The woman gulped. “Well, ah, why no my lord. They-they were not…”
Nochorku-Zha gave a sniff.
“In the future, I suggest that you avail yourself of full information before daring to approach the council! To do otherwise could compromise our judgment, a situation that is quite unthinkable!”
“Yes Lord!”
“Hmph! So are we to understand that this girl, uh…”
“Shadarii.”
“Eh?” Nochorku blinked. ”Oh Shadarii - yes. That Shadarii has actually caused no fights?”
Traveesha tried to salvage damaged pride.
“My Lord, I have told you the truth as I see it. Shadarii-kai-Nochorku-Zha has been central in two incidents of public violence! I say that she is a disruptive influence and a danger to the other girls. My poor Javïra has lost three teeth! The healers have had a dreadful time grafting her fangs back into place.”
A soft, calm voice gently soothed the ïsha as the High Priestess radiated matronly good sense.
“Please good people, there’s no need to unbalance our harmonies over such a little thing. Perhaps this honoured council might allow a poor old woman to make a small suggestion.”
Nochorku-Zha dared not risk a bow - his back was in no condition to withstand the strain. Instead he gave the High Priestess a firm nod of consent.
“By all means, Revered Mother. This-this whole damned argument has lasted far too long!”
The fat Priestess folded her hands across her bulging belly.
“A simple solution seems to suggest itself; since the girl unwittingly causes trouble, perhaps she should be eased out of such a public profession. Future harm will thus be avoided before it ever gains the chance to form.”
Nochorku-Zha seemed utterly delighted. Now here was wisdom! He looked about in satisfaction at his council, noting with some puzzlement the look upon Traveesha’s face.
The Dancing Mistress coldly laid her antennae flat.
“And what, pray, would the Revered Mother suggest as an alternative future for this newly freed young dancer?”
“Oh, she might prosper better in an atmosphere of calm reflection. I’m sure the wise Nochorku-Zha and his talented eldest daughter would agree.”
“Calm?” Traveesha’s fur bristled instantly with fight. “You mean the priesthood!”
The Priestess spread her hands in logical appeal.
“If this is where Shadarii can find true happiness, then I suppose it must be so. I’m sure we can find a way to welcome this poor unwanted little waif.”
The lean grey dancer whirled towards the council.
“The Past-holders have precedence! My Lord, this is utterly forbidden! Shadarii is ours. Ours by right and custom!”
Old Nochorku-Zha seemed a touch confused.
“But my dear, you were just now saying that you wanted to be rid of her!”
“I? Never! I merely dutifully pointed out the troubles she had caused.”
A polite interruption came unexpectedly from the sidelines. Zhukora’s voice shone with pure, sweet reason.
“My father has always been most pleased to see his youngest daughter prospering as a dancer.”
“Have I?” The old man looked confused until Zhukora gave him a reassuring smile. “Yes, well I suppose I have.”
“Why Father, of course you have!” Zhukora’s ïsha field stoked across her father’s mind. “It’s a family tradition. Shadarii is following in the wind-wake of our beloved mother. You really have no intention of releasing Shadarii to the Priests.”
“Don’t I?” Suddenly the old man’s stubbornness took hold. “Yes, of course I don’t! The very thought of it. She can stay where she is and learn to like it!”
Zhukora gave the High Priestess a look of triumph. The older woman narrowed her eyes, not yet content to concede victory.
“Zhukora-Ki, I wonder if you aren’t overstepping yourself in this regard?”
“I think not, Reverence,” Zhukora smiled, “I think you might find I know exactly what I am doing.”
The look that they exchanged spoke far more than mere words, and the Priestess cursed herself for letting greed force her hand too soon.
“Bah. The girl shouldn’t remain a Past-holder if she can’t fulfill her function. The girl can’t even speak a word!”
Zhukora combed her hand through her exquisite hair.
“There’s a simple way to meet your challenge. Shadarii should prove her skill. If she can truly dance, then surely the Pas
t-holders is where she belongs. If she proves that she lacks talent, then perhaps another profession might reasonably lay claim to her.”
A capital suggestion! The elders murmured in approval, muttering eagerly to one another.
“Very well Zhukora. Produce this sister of yours one hour after the evening meal and we shall judge this tongueless storyteller’s talents.”
Fotoki smiled and nodded.
“You are a most honourable girl, Zhukora. Your duty to your sister has been nobly discharged.”
There was a general motion of assent, and Zhukora graciously bowed.
“Respected elders, I thank you. My heart flutters when I try to imagine how our tribe would fare without your leadership.”
The girl cruised serenely from the lodge while the council members congratulated themselves upon another job well done. The High Priestess heaved herself up onto her feet and stalked off on Zhukora’s trail.
Outside the lodge, the trees were filled with loitering young hunters. The High Priestess saw Zhukora waiting for her on a branch, and the two women walked side by side in silence. The High Priestess slyly tried to probe Zhukora’s aura, but her efforts were to no avail; like her younger sister, Zhukora’s field burned with terrifying power. The old woman glanced sidewise at Zhukora’s face.
“I congratulate you on your rhetoric, Zhukora-ki. The council are like putty in your hands. You handle them well.”
