by Alma Boykin
Volume 2 of the Cat Among Dragons Series
Kindle edition 2013
Alma T C Boykin
Cover Illustration by Anthony Perri,
Cover Design by Saul Bottcher,
Editing by Nassau Hedron, and
Kindle File preparation by Saul Bottcher,
all on behalf of IndieBookLauncher.com
Published by
IndieBookLauncher.com
EPUB edition ISBN: 978-0-9916877-4-9
Kindle edition ISBN: 978-0-9916877-5-6
Copyright 2013 Alma T C Boykin, all rights reserved.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
1: Southern Stars
2: Weavers of Dreams
3: Borrowing Tools
4: Pack Law
5: Dreams for Sale
6: Juniors and Justice
7: Like As Flowers Pass Away...
8: Revenge: Slow but Sweet
About The Author
1: Southern Stars
Drakon IV – 748 After the Great Relocation (3648AD)
Commander Rada Lord Ni Drako studied the map projection floating over her desk and frowned at the very large blank area. “This is the most current map of Defender posts and resupply caches, correct Defender Diister?”
Her second-in-command, a lean, older reptile, made an affirmative gesture with his forefoot. “It is current, Lord Defender.” Rada’s ears twitched at the hesitation in his voice and she frowned through the image at the tan and muddy brown male. Instead of speaking, she circled the southern landmass, the one that purportedly did not exist, and waited for his reply.
His tail twitched and Diister shifted position slightly, the only signs of his overwhelming discomfort. He wanted to tell his commanding officer the whole truth, but for some reason could not. Even as hard as the Azdhagi were for Rada to read, she felt his torn emotions very clearly. He opened his muzzle a centimeter or two and then closed it.
“Very well. Thank you for updating me and you are dismissed,” Rada said at last. He dipped his body in acknowledgment and rustled out of the Lord Defender’s office, relieved that Ni Drako had not pushed matters further. The mammal sat back in her chair and considered the map and what it did not show. She tapped a code into the computer and the projection shimmered, reforming as a globe that began rotating over her work surface.
Drakon IV’s northern continent, with all its cities, estates, military bases and other Azdhag-made features passed before her eyes. The Storm Wrack Sea appeared, then the enormous collection of volcanic and atoll islands, erosional remnants, and microcontinents that formed the Unnumbered Islands. Again, the resorts, military bases, and a few fishing settlements could be seen, along with the symbols that marked where most of the planet’s True-dragon population chose to live. Rada thought about being surrounded by that much water and shuddered with distaste and a little fear. The globe continued turning and revealed the outline of the southern continent. Here Rada stopped the motion and studied the projection, frowning and letting her tail swish back and forth in frustration.
The southern landmass lay east of the inhabited northern continent. The two ground past each other as the southern plate shifted eastwards, and they had probably once touched or even been one if the scatter of volcanic islands and seamounts in the channel between them meant anything. Open ocean now separated the two, at least where the western third of the southlands lay under its northern neighbor. Mountains marched down the eastern side of the southern landmass, while a high central tableland marked the center of the northern half of the continent, reminding Rada of a huge version of the plateau where the Palace-Capitol sprawled. Otherwise the map revealed nothing: no settlements, no rivers, no deserts, and most importantly as far as Rada was concerned, no Defender posts. If the map was correct, the southern landmass formed a huge hole in Drakon IV’s defenses that all but screamed “Invaders welcome! Please drop in!”
It had to be wrong, she thought as she drummed her short claws on the top of her desk. No one left that much land undeveloped. Granted, the Azdhagi didn’t need to cultivate it just now. But their dangerously low population seemed all the more reason to put supply caches and military posts there, where they would serve as blocking forces. But why couldn’t she see anything depicted? And why were no rivers or other features shown, either? Was it nothing but desert? She’d exhausted her research skills and the Palace archivist had been exquisitely polite as he suggested that Lord Mammal just let it drop. Lord Mammal would do no such thing. She turned off the projection and wrote out, by hand, a very polite and formal request for a meeting and for information.
The next day, King Emperor Shai-lak contemplated his Lord-Defender’s modest request for a current map with intense trepidation. No reason existed why the Lord-Defender should not know everything there was to know about the planet’s defenses, since she was indeed responsible for them. But there was every reason imaginable why Commander Rada Lord Ni Drako should not have any access to information regarding the southern continent. Shai-lak listed them silently: there was nothing down there that an invader would want; Azdhagi never went to the Ghost Continent; since there were no Defender bases there was no need for the Lord Defender to know about the area; and the Lord Defender was an alien, mammalian, outsider who could not be trusted. The last argument held sway over all the others in the mind of Shai-lak and in the minds of his advisors, or so he assumed.
The young King-Emperor thrashed his tail back and forth, venting his irritation while no one could see him. There had to be a solution, one that did not involve Lord Ni Drako learning more than absolutely necessary. Shai-lak wondered what his sire, Ku-Shkii, would have done. Thinking back further, the young reptile decided that if the Great Shi-dan had not given his chosen mammal information about the Ghost Continent, then he, Shai-lak, was certainly not going to! That solved everything and the reptile relaxed. Ni Drako would be informed of the matter at the next Planetary Council meeting and it would no longer be a concern. Decision made, the pale brown reptile turned his attention to more important matters.
Twelve days later Shai-lak wanted to murder his council, most especially Lord Kaeshiri, the Minister of War. The afternoon meeting failed to solve the matter of the Lord Defender and the map. Instead, the senile lizard, who should have been dead of old age at least ten winters ago, politely and firmly refuted the King Emperor’s argument. “Imperial Majesty,” he calmly stated, “If the actions and inactions of our honored ancestors determined all of our decisions, we would not be here discussing this matter. According to the Ministry records, your most reverend ancestor the Great Shi-dan initiated resettlement of the southern lands. It is highly unlikely that he intended for his most trusted advisor to remain in ignorance forever. Or so the writings of both the Great Shi-dan and your honored sire suggest, Imperial Majesty.” Kaeshiri finished, his tone most respectful.
From her seat at the far end of the Council chamber, Rada’s ears pricked as she made fast mental notes. Shai-lak calls it the Ghost Continent, but Kaeshiri doesn’t. Why? Something is very strange here.
The brunette moved imperceptibly as she studied the other councilors. The vizier and seneschal had their spines up a fraction of a centimeter, betraying the nobles’ discomfort with the topic at hand. Lords Blee, Kaeshiri, Shu, and Daestar appeared utterly relaxed, either unconcerned or letting their minds wander until something of specific interest came up in the discussion. Lord Kara’s tail twitched and his spines rose up a centimeter or two, but he never felt happy in the council meetings or at court and much preferred being on his estates. Kara especially detested being in the
council chamber because it reminded everyone that he was rather undersize for a noble. But Shai-lak had called him to the council at his accession, and so here he was. Lords Kirlin and Teetasha alternated between glaring at each other and glowering at Rada. They didn’t like having a mammal anywhere but on their dinner plates and were also fighting over the favors of one of the courtesans.
Or lack of favors, according to Rada’s “concubine.” Ni Drako smothered a wicked grin. Shui is probably going to contract with Blee’s eldest son and then won’t the talons dig! Once court returned to full session, the drama got worse than some of the bad holo-vids Rada used to watch back in the day. With effort she yanked her wandering attention back to the matter at hand.
Lord Blee raised his tail-tip and Shai-lak acknowledged him. The darker reptile rustled a little on his bench before speaking. “Imperial Majesty, what benefit does Drakon IV gain from the Lord Defender not knowing the condition of almost a third of the planet’s surface? And there is this: Lord Ni Drako is a mammal and thus impervious to the ghosts—assuming they linger, though we’ve seen no trace thus far.”
The younger reptile fought himself not to show any response, Rada could tell. Two of the others made warding signs at Blee’s words. Now utterly intrigued, Rada’s mind ran a thousand parsecs a second. What ghosts? And why can’t they affect a mammal? That sounds like a disease or something Azdhag-specific. Unless it’s a religious prohibition. Did the True-dragons ban Azdhagi from the southern continent but only Azdhagi? That makes no sense. And Zabet would have told me.
“We would prefer that you had not suggested that, Lord Blee,” Shai-lak grated. “Unless the situation warrants, We see no cause for action at this time.” That should have been the final decision.
And it might have been, had not Kara piped up. “Imperial Majesty, if we wait that long, it may be moot because the invaders will have established a grip on this planet. In the highly unlikely event that anyone ever gets past the Imperials again,” he added quickly, with a placating forefoot gesture towards the Minister of War.
Shai-lak went absolutely still. Then his eyes swept the council and he growled, “The topic is at an end.” Later, as Commander Ni Drako thought about it in the relative privacy of her office, she understood what had happened. Shai-lak found himself backed into a corner, or so he thought. If he had not stopped the discussion, he might have had to yield and would have lost his position in so doing.
He’d only been King-Emperor for a year-turn and a cluster of moons and lacked his late father’s easy confidence. Of course, Ni Drako mused, by the time Shi-dan died, everyone with an ounce of matter inside their braincases was so tired of walking on talon-tips around the King-Emperor that it was fairly easy for Ku-Shkii to assert his position simply by not being as paranoid and terrifying as his late uncle. Mauling and de-ranking his first Minister of War hadn’t hurt either, she recalled with a bit too much smug satisfaction. But how could Shai-lak be so paranoid as to forget the oaths that Rada had sworn to him and to Drakon IV, she wondered.
Lord Blee cleared some of the mystery a few days later, as they waited for a formal court session to begin. The dark green, long-tailed reptile “happened” to stand near the Lord Defender, who always arrived early in order to watch and learn. Blee lifted a forefoot and adjusted the hilt of the bone-handled knife tucked into his bright orange sash. As he did, he observed, “His Imperial Majesty does not care for you, Lord Ni Drako,” in a very casual tone.
“Indeed?” She replied equally calmly, “I had hoped it might be otherwise, my lord.”
“You are an alien and so are not to be trusted,” Blee explained, gesturing with his tail towards a ripple of motion in the back of the great gathering hall. “Your opinion?”
Rada studied the new arrival and raised one black eyebrow. “I have seen less... harmonious... robes, my lord, but not for many year turns and not on a sober reptile of noble birth.” She hoped that Azdhag visual receptors possessed less color sensitivity than hers did. As it was, the hues sported by Lord Kara’s mate resembled none found in the environment of Drakon IV and the robe’s cut made Rada’s rather well trained sense of design ache. “The hemline is novel,” she added.
“Indeed,” Blee agreed. After a moment of quiet, Blee drifted towards a knot of courtiers closer to the throne platform.
«What did you think of Kara-ti’s outfit?» Zabet asked that evening. The True-dragon sprawled over the window seat in the Lord Defender’s quarters, being decorative and taking up the best spot in the room.
“Painful. I’ve never seen a ruffled robe on an Azdhag of either gender before,” Ni Drako shuddered.
«You probably won’t again, judging by the reactions today,» the reptile snickered into the mind of her Pet. «Ugh, she has no taste. And Lord Blee’s servant left a parcel for you.»
“Where?” The silvery-blue reptile pointed with her tail-tip to a small bundle hiding under the unlit ceramic and metal stove in the corner of the room. That was not the usual place to leave mail and Rada wondered what was going on. With some trepidation she unwrapped the object and found, “a treatise on dye plants of Drakon IV?” She turned the pages of the old manuscript carefully, noting how they had been reinforced to prevent talon tears. The mammal’s tail swished as she squinted at the ancient script, a now-archaic form of common Azdhag. Rada sounded out some of the text and then stopped, her fur starting to rise. “Oh.”
Zabet flowed off the window seat and over to her friend. She rose onto her haunches and braced with one forefoot on Rada’s shoulder. «What’s up?»
The Wanderer-hybrid replied with a very private sending. «This book describes plants found on both continents, including little maps and descriptions of the areas where they grow best. It also lists where minerals can be found for some mordants. There’s a written addition in the final pages,» and Rada flipped through to the carefully calligraphed section. «I wager it has something to do with why the manuscript was kept and what you can use instead if some things are no longer obtainable!» Which meant it might also say why they were no longer obtainable.
Rada did something she rarely ever did while in the Imperial Palace. “Bar the door please, Zabet.” Zabet slid the thick steel bar into place, not only locking the brass and wood outer doors but also activating a low-energy shield over them. Rada did not care to be disturbed, even if her actions fed the King-Emperor’s paranoia. Once Zabet secured the doors, Rada began reading through the old manuscript. With her jeweler’s loupe on she examined the maps, making notes on differences between modern locations and what they had been like when the manuscript was compiled. And she carefully copied everything she could glean about the mysterious southern land.
Someone, perhaps the book’s first owner, had added a talon-written appendix to the manuscript, and the age-faded ink forced Rada to go even more slowly. Even worse, the author had been writing quickly, and smudges and some blurs made the lettering that much more difficult to read. But the writer had also felt it necessary to include extra information not directly related to dyes and mordants and medical herbs.
“You know,” Rada observed when she finally finished a little before dawn, “I always assumed that Azdhag dates began with moving the capitol to this location. That that was the ‘Great Relocation.’ According to this manuscript, the Great Relocation involved moving their entire population to the northern continent, even abandoning some of the Numberless Islands.”
«We True-dragons claimed half the islands in 2 A.G.R.» Zabet tossed out. «Ask the locals what happened, House-Head to House-Head. You’re protecting their world, too.»
“As much as I hate working around channels, I just may have to do that.”
Later that day the woman sat back in her little office in the Defenders’ wing and let her mind roam through the past few days’ events and discoveries. Rada wondered if she should be more upset that King Emperor Shai-lak didn’t like her. Not really, she decided after some thought. It was a problem, but no cause for ruffled fur on
her part. Shai-lak did not have to like her and vice versa. After all, even she and Shi-dan had not exactly cared for each other. By the time he died they had learned to trust each other implicitly and they respected each other, but they’d certainly not been friends by any definition of the term. No, you were scared of him, the mammal reminded herself, drawing a wry smile. And some of that had washed over into Ku-shki’s reign. Then she’d proven herself once and for all, or so she’d thought. Apparently not, and Rada tried not to sigh with frustration.
The real problem stemmed from Shai-lak’s dislike of her as an alien mammal. The primary reason that Shi-dan hired Commander Ni Drako to serve as Lord Defender was to force Azdhagi to take aliens and non-Azdhag beings seriously in battle, trade, and diplomacy. Although the Wanderer-hybrid did not go around with a hologram projected over her head saying, “Hi! I’m an alien,” she made very few concessions to Azdhag mores and culture. If Shai-lak could not see his way through her mammalian nature, then he—and worse, the empire he now ruled—was going to be in for a number of nasty surprises.
The very fact that the Cygnids had managed to set foot on the Azdhagi throneworld, shattering at least one legend about Azdhag defensive capabilities, still caused murmurs on the fringes of the empire. Rada heard those murmurs because she kept a healthy system of contacts among the “professional security contractors” and other interesting individuals and organizations, as did Zabet. In light of all that, it was imperative that she learn what was on the southern continent, Imperial obstinacy be damned!
As the mammal contemplated information acquisition and a trip to “her” estates, and Zabet sent a discrete message to House Moytu, Minister Great Lord Kaeshiri stifled a groan. He rolled over onto his belly and very stiffly and reluctantly left the swath of spring sunlight that he’d been basking in. His bones ached and his joints ground, protesting the motion. “Ksssss,” he hissed. “Age is overrated.” The next poet to inscribe a paean of praise to the passing of years and the wisdom they brought would be beaten with the thickest stick Kaeshiri could find, if he had his way. Wisdom and respect they brought, yes, but that did not balance the aches, pains, aggravations, and irritations. A servant appeared with a thick lounging robe and hot tea and the old reptile grunted his thanks. He never seemed to get warm anymore, a sign that he only had moons left in this life. Which meant that he would have to act sooner rather than later.
