A Cat Among Dragons

by Alma Boykin

  Rada awoke to hissing over her head. A winter storm battered the manor, piling snow into meters-high drifts and making any movement outside the walls or village gates foolish at best. Zabet, showing “the greater wisdom inherent in reptilian life forms,” ate breakfast and went back to sleep under a mountain of quilts and blankets. Rada insisted on going into the courtyard and running a weapons drill, then practiced shooting using the weakest setting on her favorite rifle. She finished, stowed her weapon, and was promptly bowled over as a muscular Azdhag slammed into her, drawing his blade as he did. She rolled with the blow, scrambled to her feet and met Shi-dan’s next attack with a “clang” of steel. Bits of snow stung her face as the opponents circled, attacked, and parried.

  The match lasted perhaps ten exhausting minutes. As usual Shi-dan won, wearing his smaller opponent down until she fell for a gambit. Rada found herself flat on her back, the King-Emperor’s talons closing around her throat until her vision faded and she nearly passed out. “Good bout,” he grunted. Shi-dan released his grip, kicked snow over the supine mammal as she gasped for air, and went back to whatever he had been doing. Rada hauled herself to her feet and staggered indoors, where she found a bench and sat with a thump.

  “My lord, do you need aid?” one of her guards inquired, his neck spines twitching with concern.

  Rada took a deep breath and coughed hard. “No, thank you, Corporal. Go on about your business. I just need a moment to catch my breath is all. I fell wrong.” With a little help from a Tirbal armorhead, she snarled. Blessed Bookkeeper, he’s sneaky! Well, that’s why he was still alive, she reminded herself. The Azdhag soldier regarded his commander with some healthy skepticism as to the state of her physical and mental health, then backed up and took himself off so he could be the first to spread the tale.

  Half an hour later, a very sore Rada submerged up to her nose in the soaking pool. Despite her heavy winter gear, Shi-dan’s attack left spectacular bruises on his Lord Defender and a few of them felt like they went to the bone. The sensation reminded the mercenary a little too much of basic training for her taste. “Commanding officers should be past hurting like this while in garrison,” she groaned as she braced to stand and leave the blissfully hot water.

  “Not if they are to be an example to their men they are not,” a deep voice growled. Rada opened her eyes to find her liege lord inches away from her nose. “Nor should they grow so complacent as to fall asleep with unlocked doors,” and he pushed her head under the water. She’d anticipated his move and emerged from the pool in cat shape, her claws and fangs bared and ready to attack if Shi-dan did.

  Instead, the reptile started laughing! Rada looked around, then glanced at herself and cringed. If she’d been in humanoid form, she would have blushed to look so bedraggled. Instead she mustered what little dignity remained to her and stalked off, her wet fur sticking out in all directions where it wasn’t flattened against her body, tail drooping limply behind and streaming water. Shi-dan’s deep-voiced guffaws followed the mammal around the corner as she ignored the clothing and drying cloths in favor of retreating to her quarters to sulk. A damp trail marked her progress through the manor.

  «Well, that’s better than drowning you,» Zabet observed from the safety of the hallway.

  Her “Pet” didn’t grace the comment with a reply.

  The next day, Rada slept in. So did everything else in the manor house and in the village, because they would be awake all night waiting for the sunrise after the solstice. After sunset, the villagers would light a bonfire in the central market area and keep it burning all night long, while some manor folk did the same just outside the gates of the keep. The reptiles busied themselves getting gifts ready, baking and cooking seasonal specialties, and slipping off to go roll in the snow.

  That tradition completely flummoxed Rada and Zabet. «There’s been snow on the ground for two months already, there will be snow for the next three moons, and they are out rolling in the stuff today?» The pair were on the north wall, watching discretely as individuals snuck out from the manor house, shed their heavy robes, and burrowed or spun in the fluffy white.

  “Apparently it’s good luck. If you roll today, it won’t stick to you for the rest of winter and you’ll be protected if you get caught out,” Rada had read.

  «Maybe you should test it,» the True-dragon suggested, a wicked glint in her bright-blue eyes.

  “The story doesn’t apply to mammals,” Rada pointed out logically.

  Zabet grinned, whiskers twitching. «Let’s find out,» and she tackled Rada. The pair grappled, then the Wanderer managed to get a hold of Zabet’s foreleg joint and dug in with her fingers. «Oooowww! That hurts,» the reptile howled, backing off.

  “So would falling into the courtyard, you scaly idiot! By the Bookkeeper’s Tally Zabet, what the fuck were you thinking!?” Rada brushed snow off and pointed to the unprotected edge of the walk. “Maybe you can drop ten meters onto stone and ice and walk away, but I certainly can’t.” The mammal stalked off, furious.

  The True-dragon began to snarl back and then caught herself. Rada had a point. In her desire to play, Zabet forgot the unguarded height. It was one thing to ambush her friend when both were armed and on the ground and quite another to risk major injury or death. Zabet drooped at her momentary stupidity.

  Half an hour later the repentant True-dragon scratched on her Pet’s door. “Come in,” Rada growled. Zabet eased the heavy wooden door open and slipped inside. Rada stood beside the sleeping platform, frowning as she tried on a heavy, brocaded dress. It was in her house colors, with a repeating pattern of a dragon and star tracing up the sleeves and around the hem of the narrow, shin-length skirt. “This is not going to work,” she stated flatly.

  «Why not?» Rada tried to take a defensive stance. «Ah, you’re right. Those sleeves are impossible.» Zabet walked over and tried to find any slack in the fabric around the Wanderer’s upper arm. «Utterly impossible. Can you kick or lunge at all?» Rada began swinging her leg for a standing kick and stopped abruptly when she heard a quiet “rriipp” starting. Zabet leaned down, noting the strained material along the side seam. She puffed out a breath as she studied the rest of the problematic garment. «Is there a seamstress or fabricator here?»

  “I assume so, boss,” Rada said after managing to get the dress off. “This material is wonderful and I appreciate the workmanship, but I’ve got to be able to fight!”

  «Give it to me and I’ll see what I can come up with. I hate interrupting the pattern of the brocading, but... Well, hand it over and we’ll see just how good the local stitchers are. Did they send along any extra material?» Rada pointed to the shipping bundle and Zabet found several additional lengths of similar material. «This will help.» An expert in woven textiles, Zabet knew much more about clothes than did Rada, who happily gave the True-dragon the dress and changed back into her usual shirt and breeches. Rada understood uniforms, button replacement, seam repair, and that was about the extent of it.

  A while later Zabet returned, added coal to the stove, and curled up in her “nest” of spark-resistant leather cushions in front of the open grate. «You should have the dress back in a couple of hours, Pet. However, do you have black breeches?»

  “Yes. I’ve got the heavy ones that fit into my dress boots,” Rada said without looking up from a spray of printouts covering her desk.

  «Good, because you’ll need to wear them under the dress unless you want to have blue knees or wear very fancy shoes.» Zabet draped her tail over her ears, then added, «I’m sorry for messing around on the walkway. I didn’t think.»

  Rada smiled at her boss. “Apology accepted. Thank you for taking on that dress. I’m supposed to wear it for the ceremonies at dawn and there was no possible way I could do what I’m supposed to.” She leaned back in her chair, black tail swishing slowly. “I suspect that the Mistress of the Robes is not used to thinking about how people move, since she does only formal robes and jackets.”

  «Go
od point. Don’t Azdhagi usually shed their robes for an honor combat?»

  “Yes. And that’s not an option,” Rada wagged her finger as soon as she caught sight of Zabet’s twitching whiskers. “I’m not a Polani berserker.” The True-dragon, without moving a scale, managed to look both innocent and affronted. Then she fell asleep.

  The smell of food tickled the reptile’s nose and stirred her to wakefulness. Instead of stew, there were thick slices of roasted shootee with braised blueroot and groundnuts. Zabet also noticed a long, thick box lying in front of her muzzle, with a tag reading “Zabet.” She took all of point zero three seconds to open the box and shred the paper wrapping the contents. Ooooh, she breathed, getting up from her nest and finding space to put on the contents of the box. It was a specially made coat in blues and grays with carved wooden buttons and an attached tooroi fleece scarf. The inside sported a leather half-lining, as did the cuffs around her forefeet, while a detachable extension went halfway down her tail. «This is very nice,» and the reptile twisted and turned, checking the fit. «From you?»

  Rada sipped her tea and nodded. “Happy Breakdark, boss.”

  Shi-dan appeared mildly surprised when he found both Commander Ni Drako and Zabet attending the Breakdark ceremonies. They stayed out of the way, but at the proper time the mammal approached the bonfire and lit a torch from the flames. She handed it to the manor steward, who in turn lit other torches. Various members of the staff put them in the ancient holders that surrounded the courtyard of the manor house. The ritual dated to the Great Relocation, the King-Emperor had read at some point, as a way to mark that the sun, and light and heat, would return. All very foolish and superstitious, but still—Shi-dan found his own eager anticipation of sunrise amusing.

  After a clear and very cold night, the sun rose unobstructed over the lowlands east of Singing Pines. As soon as the first bit of the planet’s star became visible, the gathered reptiles cheered and thumped their tails on the frozen ground. Rada remained in the shadows, but she smiled. Once the yellow disk cleared the horizon, everyone retreated into the warmer buildings to start the all-day feast and to exchange gifts.

  The King-Emperor presided over the celebration but the Lord Defender took her turn as well. Again, Shi-dan was not completely pleased with her adaptation to Azdhagi customs but held his peace, at least for the time being. He did, however, like her gift to him.

  Somewhere Rada had found a book describing three thousand years of Pilwatl military history. It was a real book, printed in ink on wood pulp paper, and very well illustrated. The Lord Defender, mindful of Azdhagi anatomy, had it re-bound with additions to the edges of the pages so that talons would not destroy the ancient tome. She’d also translated a summary of each chapter and every caption into Azdhag. Shi-dan found the work intriguing, even knowing that it was almost two thousand years out of date. As he looked at the work, Shi-dan wondered what tales of battle and weapons development had been lost during the Great Relocation, along with other parts of Azdhagi history.

  The King-Emperor’s gift to his Lord Defender was rather more prosaic. It was a sword. She had been using a form of cutlass, one that matched her faster and more precise fighting style. Shi-dan presented Rada with a slightly heavier and a bit longer weapon than her customary blade. The new sword curved slightly towards the tip and sported cutting edges on both sides, making it a weapon for slashing as well as stabbing. Rada studied the weapon closely, noting the uneven thickness of the metal, almost as if someone had added a blade to the back of a cavalry saber. Instead of the basket hilt she’d been accustomed to, this sword had a simple and elegant hand guard. The hilt fit her hand perfectly and her eyes widened as she took in the quality of steels in the blade. The sword-smith had tinted both the nut at the end of the pommel and the blade with her House color of blue-green, while dark grey and black leather wrapped around metal studs on the hilt.

  The manor servants cleared a wide space when Lord Ni Drako drew the sword from its gray and blue-green sheath and took an appropriate stance. Shi-dan watched carefully, green-black eyes narrowed to slits as Rada ran through a basic practice pattern, then saluted, touched the blade to her hand to blood it, and then sheathed the weapon. Although he still had not mastered reading her body language, he sensed that she wanted to ask him a question but would not do so in front of the staff and soldiers.

  Instead, she resumed her place at the head of the lower table. Shi-dan and the other reptiles watched with amusement as she struggled with what she called “eating sticks” before giving up and using a small, four-pronged version of a meat-catching fork. If Rada sensed their well-hidden laughter, she ignored it and acted as if there were no problems. Her tiny claws, as compared with the Azdhagis’, were not suited to eating and Steward Lokat wondered what use they served and why Lord Mammal kept them so short. He also wondered if Shi-dan was pleased with the meal, and if there was enough food, and if the new kitchen helper was going to drop another platter, and...

  After the last course, tubers stuffed with nutroot and minced seer meat, the King-Emperor departed the main hall, leaving it to the servants and staff. He was not in a mood to watch foolishness, but he didn’t want to upset the manor folk’s festivities, either. As he rose and the others prostrated themselves, he gestured to the Lord Defender. She nodded and followed him out of the hall. He stopped after they had gone a few meters and ordered, “Bring your music maker to Our quarters.” Then he continued on his way. Shi-dan took his seat beside the well-stoked metal and ceramic stove and his body-servant arranged a leather spark-guard over the King-Emperor’s flank as Rada appeared in the doorway with her instrument. Once he was comfortable, with a pot of tea in easy reach, Shi-dan gestured for Rada to entertain him.

  She dragged a second bench to where she could sit on the end of it. She took the stringed instrument from its case, tuned it, and played quietly. After two songs the tone changed entirely and she snapped the strings into a brash, snarling march. That was more to Shi-dan’s taste and the big reptile showed his approval, tail tapping along with the beat. Rada followed that with several marches or martial airs before changing to a quieter song. On impulse she took a deep breath and sang “Sindark’s Lament.” Shi-dan didn’t understand the language, but he recognized the feelings the female invoked: sorrow, defiance and pride, a promise of retribution. When she finished the selection Rada stopped playing, stilling the strings with her forefeet and setting the instrument on the floor as she stretched her digits. “Play something you like,” he ordered, accepting a cup of tea from his servant. She hesitated, then picked up the instrument again, checked the sound from the strings and began a slow, flowing piece. “My young love said to me ‘my mother won’t mind/ and my father won’t slight you for your lack of kine’...” Again, the words made no sense, but Shi-dan felt the narrator’s longing, hope, and admiration of his dream-mate. His Lord Defender finished the song and Shi-dan studied her. Did she want a mate? If she did, it could complicate his plans. Or not.

  Rada settled the instrument into its case and wondered why she’d chosen that song. It was about impossible love and was one she’d picked up from one of the humans in the Komets. Well, it was a pretty tune and easy to play. She flexed her fingers and wrists, then rolled her shoulders to ease the stiffness.

  The King-Emperor broke the quiet. “You had a question, Ni Drako?” Shi-dan rumbled.

  She tried to remember. After several moments the memory came to her of what she’d wanted to ask him. “Imperial Majesty, why the emphasis on blade skills? Your forces train with and use blasters, Azdhagi starship drives are very well known for their efficiency and workmanship, yet here on Drakon IV the primary weapons are blades, cross-bows, and other low technology weapons. Forgive my ignorance, but it is a most unusual combination,” Rada pointed out.

  He considered the matter for a while. “Come with Us,” he ordered. His body servant handed him thick gloves and his heavy winter coat and Rada trailed behind her liege as Shi-dan strode down the corri
dor and up to the battlement of the northern wall. Their breath steamed in the dry cold and Shi-dan more than ever resembled the legendary dragons of Terran myth, except for the heavily embroidered and insulated leather coat he wore. The King-Emperor stalked along the wall, then spun to face his Lord Defender.

  “The reason is this, Ni Drako. Azdhagi society, even on the larger colony worlds, is personal. So our weapons are personal. Any creature can learn to point and fire a blaster or flip a switch to turn on a body shield. But sword and dagger require both skill and personal contact—there is nothing casual. And blades and crossbows are works of art, are they not?”

  Rada considered his words. “Yes, Imperial Majesty, they are, or can be. Likewise with the sidebows the foresters use.”

  Shi-dan nodded once. “War and battle are arts, as their tools are. There is a time and place for blasters and shields, for nuclear weapons and chemical strikes and orbital bombardment, is there not?”

  “There is, Imperial Majesty. And there is a time for precision, for meeting one’s enemy face to face.” Although I’d rather do it with a heavy blaster in my hand at half a kilometer while she’s tied to a tree, Rada thought.

  Shi-dan rose onto his hind legs and gestured to the starry sky. “Those connections hold this together,” and he fisted his forefoot, clenching his talons. “We alone command the identity and loyalty of every Azdhag, here or on the colony worlds. In turn, We are responsible for their welfare, through Our vassals.” He paced forward, still on his hind legs, and Rada backed a little despite herself. “Just as you are responsible for the soldiers under your command and for the manor residents. Do you understand?” Shi-dan loomed against the starry darkness.