by Alma Boykin
“Two generations, Imperial Majesty. Not since your grandsire’s and sire’s reign renewal,” the Minister of War said. “The aftermath of the Mercenary War,” he added as a mild reminder.
The Lord Defender needed no reminder and neither did Capt. Shiih or Sergeant Tauk. The Defenders held their peace, however. After some general comments and questions, Kai-tseera dismissed everyone but the two senior officers. Once the room was empty save for the King Emperor’s body men and his two commanders, he sighed and scratched his muzzle. “Lord Ni Drako, did you have to kill Captain Chae?”
Rada rumpled her tail. “Yes, Imperial Majesty, I did.” He gestured for her to explain and she obliged. “He refused to accept responsibility for his failure, he did not attempt to salvage the situation in any way, and he questioned your judgment. Then he tried an honor challenge in front of the Defenders and Imperials.” She frowned a little and allowed that, “I suppose I could have accepted his challenge and then killed him but it seemed unwise to allow him the privilege.”
Daesarae rippled his tail in a shrug. “I’d have executed him formally, had it been me.”
Kai-tseera’s green eyes closed for a moment and he rubbed under his muzzle again. To Rada it seemed as if her were mimicking her “irritated yet resigned” gesture and wondered where he had picked it up. “Commander Ni Drako, Chae was a sad excuse for an Azdhag officer, but he was also the son of Great Lord Kirlin’s sister. Kirlin has no problem with your killing the fool, but protested because his sister is making her mate’s life miserable.”
“You will pardon my ignorance, Imperial Majesty, but who is Kirlin’s sister?” Rada asked.
“Lady Tae-blee.”
The two nobles rolled their eyes while Kai-tseera’s bodymen remained studiously motionless. “I see, Imperial Majesty,” was all she said. Even during her absence she’d caught rumors about Tae-blee from the Defenders’ officers. The female was well en route to becoming legendary and not in a positive way.
Then Rada’s ears pricked and her tail-tip began twitching. Blee had no problem with his mate’s son getting killed—that could mean that Chae had not been Blee’s offspring, which raised all sorts of other interesting connections and connotations. So Chae might have been a bastard. Who cares, since he’s now fertilizing the tree plantations? But of course, Blee and Kirlin would have to act at least slightly unhappy with Ni Drako, since the deceased was a male relative. Oh, this is so stupid.
“And Lord Ni Drako, We understand that you have some proposals to put before the planetary council?” the King Emperor’s voice brought the mammal back with a snap.
She nodded. “Yes, Imperial Majesty, but if it is at all possible I would like to wait for another two moons, until my staff has finished looking at the proposals in detail and has run some additional calculations that I’m sure the Minister of Finance will want to have the results of.”
Yellowy-brown Daesarae looked intrigued but remained silent. Kai-tseera grunted his approval and began rising to his feet. Rada and Daesarae dropped to the floor until he had left the room and the door closed behind him. The greater noble rose to his feet as well and turned to go, saying over his shoulder, “The leftovers are yours, Ni Drako. Well fought.” Anywhere else, receiving the remains of the catering would be an insult, but not in the Azdhag court. Rada being what she was, she began salivating at the though of actually getting to eat more of the cheesali and other delicacies. After she sent some to her staff officers, of course. But no deviled cheesali for them, Rada decided firmly and helped herself to one of the three remaining servings. After all, she didn’t want them getting spoiled.
<
“Your ‘taste’ is almost as small as my ‘taste,’ Boss. And these are from the Imperial Household kitchen, for the Great Lord and King Emperor, and me. It would be rude in the extreme for me not to eat them myself,” Rada informed her. “You can have these,” and she scooted four stuffed korti tubers towards the True-dragon.
<
“I earned it, silver dancer. On a more serious note, what can you tell me about Lady Tae-blee that’s fit for my delicate ears?” The mammal leaned back from the table and sipped a little tea to wash the strong flavor of spiced shootee from her palate before savoring the cheesali.
Zabet’s brilliant blue eyes narrowed and her rounded ears flipped to the side, then back to normal as her tail-tip twitched. <
“Expensive? As in it cost Kirlin Lineage a lot to get Blee to take her as mate?”
<
“Oh,” the mammal shook her head and closed her eye. She hated being around creatures that indulged in what she called hysterics. “And I guess she’s been especially wild the past sixt or so.” Poor Blee Rada sighed silently. I’d rather pass the lineage over to a collateral branch than be stuck with someone like that for the rest of my life.
Zabet shook her head, her whiskers gracefully floating up and back down. <
“Hunh. I’d think having her son killed by a mammal would upset her at least a little bit.”
<
The mammal sighed. “True that. Apparently Blee and Kirlin decided to take offense as well.” After slowly chewing and swallowing the last of the cheesali, she added, “This whole thing seems a bit odd, you know? Lord Tak outright killed Lord Shu’s heir and all Shu did was ignore Tak for half a year. Chae was not the heir, apparently not that important to any of the three, and only after a moon and a bit do they decide to get upset?”
<
“Erm, third? Yes, third, after Seertar and Keesk,” Rada thought aloud. “Good point. I’m glad you can keep track of all this foolishness.”
The silvery-blue reptile gave her Pet a hard look and wondered yet again why Rada could not seem to understand just how important it was for her to stay aware of the lineage lines and feuds. For a Trader born and trained, Rada was so straightforward that it hurt. And she’s damn near unteachable, too, the reptile sighed for the thousandth time. What a pain in the tail.
Two sixts later, the mammal and Minister of War finished conferring over her proposals for the Council. “I will be blunt, Ni Drako,” he rumbled at last, and she bowed at the waist where she sat. “I concur with your ideas. Lifting the strict seniority requirement for promotion within the Defenders will encourage the junior officers to work harder, as well as clearing some of the dry grass. And allowing the Defender air support wings to operate outside the atmosphere and within the Drakon system frees up my resources to go where I need them more, as well as simplifying command and communication. Personally, the prospect of being shed of Drakon IV’s defenses makes me want to offer a dance of joy to the Ancestors. But,” his tail thwapped the bench so hard that it drove a puff of stuffing out of a cushion, “as Minister of War I cannot continence any loss of power by the Imperials Forces.”
Rada finger-groomed the end of her tail and did not sigh. “I understand, Minister Great Lord,” she replied formally. And she did, that was
why she couldn’t be any angrier or more irritated with him. “And of my compromise proposal?”
“Costs too much. And the Ancestors never did it, so why should we?” came the riposte.
“It would cost less than rebuilding the planet from scratch as was needed at Kilmaki.”
“Nothing will breach the Imperials’ screens so nothing like Kilmaki will ever happen,” Daesarae stated. Not that he, Daesarae, believed that for a heartbeat, but the Minister of War had to believe it because most of the Planetary Council would and did. “Ni Drako, you are too much a soldier, spend too much time looking for threats where none exist.”
The mammal remained silent, running his tail tip through his forefoot. After several minutes Ni Drako said quietly, “So despite everything the gate remains open.”
The yellowy-brown reptile gestured with his forefoot. “There is one Great Lord who can move the Council to accept your proposals, Lord Defender. If he backs them, then the Minister of War will as well, and Blee and several others.”
Rada chose her words with extreme care. “Your tone suggests that . . . persuading this Great Lord is . . . doubtful.”
“I will not disagree with your analysis.”
His words clenched her suspicion and Rada fought the sudden and overwhelming urge to track down Captain Chae’s commemorative urn and stomp his ashes into a mudhole or to use them as fertilizer. Instead she replied with utter and perfect formality, “I thank you for your council and cautions, Minister Great Lord. As always, your insights reveal much that lies hidden to an outlander’s eye.”
He did not laugh at her, although the tremor in his tail and spines suggested that he wanted to. “Tell me something, Ni Drako. You do not seem to reverence and consult your lineage as we do our ancestors. Why?”
He caught her so off guard that she answered honestly. “Because they cannot help me, Great Lord. They have gone beyond, or so both my dam and sire’s peoples claim.”
The reptile made a “whunf” of surprise. “Warrior to warrior, Ni Drako. Keep that to yourself unless you wish to face even greater resistance to your ideas and orders.” Before she could reply he ordered, “You are dismissed.”
“Thank you, Minister Great Lord,” and she stood, bowed and left his office.
As she thought about it, Rada realized that Daesarae had a good point. She dodged a slow servant in the corridor before turning down the back ramp leading to the open area between wings that led to the Defender’s section of the Palace. It would be faster and have less traffic. As she limped along, teeth gritted against the bite of the wet wind, she mulled over her problem. I have to talk to Kirlin, she decided. There’s no way around it, not if Blee is looking towards Kirlin for direction. “Sorry about offing your useless excuse for a nephew” was probably not going to go over well, either. And there wasn’t really a death-price she could offer, since as Lord Defender she had been in her rights and duties to terminate the incompetent oaf. If she’d been Kirlin, Rada thought, she’d have been relieved that he’d been killed with so little fuss and publicity.
Well, she was not Kirlin, she sighed. She seemed to do a lot of sighing when she was on Drakon IV, now that she thought about it. On that cheerful and uplifting note she activated the biometric lock on the “back door” and slid through the narrow opening into the main passageway inside the Defenders’ and Palace Guard’s section.
The Lord Defender perked up when she saw who was waiting on the benches outside her office. “Ah, well met indeed Defender Seertar, Captain Kiiroe,” she greeted her second and fourth in command. She studied the four reptiles and made a quick decision. “Sergeant Tauk?”
“Yes, Lord Mammal?” her chief of staff inquired.
“I believe I will need to borrow the wardroom,” Rada informed him and everyone within earshot. Her office had room for her, two Azdhagi on the benches and one in the doorway, but even then it was exceedingly crowded. Four Azdhagi would never fit.
“The wardroom is quite available, my lord,” Tauk informed her and the others. “I’ll just go make certain,” and the dark grey-brown NCO waddled off to chase any stragglers out of the room. He wasn’t overweight, just built exceedingly low to the ground, so much so that Rada wondered if he’d been malnourished during his second growth phase. He returned quickly and gestured for her and the others to go in. “My lord?”
“Thank you, Sergeant. If you could,” and she saw the array of tea and meaty snacks already waiting. “Very good, Sergeant. Thank you. Gentlemen?” She took her place at the head of the table, gesturing for the others to sit on either side of her.
The officers sat easily but the two cadets with them looked very uncomfortable. Di-Sor sort of lumped himself onto the bench, his neck spines trembling slightly as he wondered what he was supposed to do next. Cadet Saetee seemed a bit more relaxed, but only a bit. The Lord Defender didn’t make them suffer—much. “Please help yourselves, gentlemen,” and she accepted the cup of tea and pre-loaded plate of food from her aid.
The two officer cadets waited until their superiors had served themselves before daring to sample the various meat and grain options. Saetee wondered why he’d been ordered to come. He didn’t think he was in trouble and couldn’t remember doing anything wrong recently. Di-Sor was a noble, the Minister of War’s third son even if he was just a cadet at the moment. Could it have to do with the results of the field exercise three moons before, Saetee wondered? He’d been assigned as the Lord Defender’s bodyguard for part of the field time, but that didn’t explain why Lord Mammal wanted Di-Sor and him to meet with the Defender and training supervisor. Saetee carefully ate a meat-stuffed grain ball that seemed to grow three times larger when he tried to swallow it.
“I understand congratulations are in order, Captain Kiiroe?” the Lord Defender inquired.
The grey and yellow reptile made a tail gesture of affirmation and thanks. “Yes, Lord Mammal, thank you. And thank you for the generous mate gift, my lord.”
“You are most welcome, Captain. And is the rumor of your lineage’s newest addition true, Seertar?”
The big reptile bobbed his head up and down. “Yes, Lord Mammal. A male, healthy and loud.”
The fur line above the Lord Defender’s eye rose slightly. “Loud?”
“Very, my lord. He has his dam’s sire’s voice already,” Rada’s executive officer confirmed.
“Hmmm. Sounds as if I may have a new communication officer in a few year-turns, then,” the big mammal speculated. Seertar and Kiiroe got the joke, but Saetee didn’t understand what was funny. He chuckled anyway, just in case.
“On a more current topic,” the big mammal began and the others looked at him with new intensity and attention. “Cadet Di-Sor, your instructors speak very highly of your close-quarters combat skills, your self-restraint, and your attention to detail.”
“Thank you, Lord Mammal,” the burly reptile replied.
“For that reason, your officers and instructors present you with these, First Lieutenant Di-Sor.” The mammal nodded to Captain Kiiroe, who presented the younger reptile with an elaborate wood and steel box. Inside were the gauntlets of the Palace Guard and four steel spine-tips. Di-Sor looked at the weapons, then back up at his commander, then back at the box. “Congratulations, Lt. Di-Sor. You are a compliment to your lineage and to the Defenders.”
Saetee was jealous as Di-Sor pulled the box against his chest. “Thank you, Lord Mammal, Defender Seertar, Captain Kiiroe. I will do my best to bring honor to the Guard and to my instructors.”
“Saetee, Neet’s son, you have a talent for logistics and planning that I have not seen in several generations,” the Lord Defender began. “The Ancestors truly blessed the Defenders when they guided you to this career.” At the mammal’s head bob, Defender Seertar presented the confused cadet with a smaller box. Saetee opened it carefully and found four spine tips and two foreleg guards. He had not seen the style before and his puzzlement must have shown, or been anticipated. “First Lieutenant Saetee, you will b
e the first of a new group of Defenders, specializing in weapons development and acquisition for the Defenders. You will work with the Imperials as well as with civilian technicians. It is a position that demands as much tact and thought as is required of the Palace Guard, if not more so at times. Congratulations, Lt. Saetee.”
Saetee almost fell off his bench in his excitement and relief. “Thank you Lord Mammal, Defender Seertar, Captain Kiiroe. I will do my best to bring honor to the Defenders.”
“You may not thank me after the next sixts, Lieutenant,” Seertar growled in a cheerful tone. “You, and you Lt. Di-Sor, have two sixts leave. Then you will assume your new duties.” He turned back to the figure at the head of the table. “My Lord?”
“I grant it, Defender. Again, congratulations, Lieutenants, and you are dismissed.” After they left, the mammal leaned forward and rested his foreleg joints on the tabletop. “Saetee has no idea what’s about to hit him, does he?”
The two reptiles both grinned. “Not at all, my lord,” dark-green Seertar agreed, his yellowy tail-tip flicking with amusement. “Fight or fail, we’ll find out soon,” and he rumpled his tail.
“Indeed,” and the Lord Defender drank more tea and bared his teeth in a cool smile.
Two days later Great Lord Kirlin slid his bahn-leh into the sash of his new winter robe and gestured his approval. “It will do, Seelak.” Then he stripped and put on a heavy and comfortably shabby lounging robe before turning his attention to business matters. There were two reports from his estates and he watched and read them carefully, making note of some things he would need to have the estates’ managers look into more closely. No, he could not approve of transferring a village to one of the colony properties, the reptile decided. It was legal but not for much longer if he had his way in the Imperial Council.
