by Alma Boykin
Oh what a crock of, ow, and Rada winced at the stab of pain from her head and the sting in her arm. That’s not Shi-dan, you hair-covered rejects from the reptile kingdom. She opened her mouth to give the traitors a piece of her mind, then stopped. The Azdhagi saw the mammal’s black ears swivel as if she were listening to something.
The mammal twisted, got her legs beneath her and rose to her feet. The dark, smoky form seemed to turn its attention upon the crippled warrior, the vague slivers of light marking its eyes growing brighter. Ni Drako took a step forward, then another, slowly walking towards the being, her expression changing from anger to curiosity. She stopped five paces from the darkness and dropped awkwardly onto one knee, her bound hands affecting her balance. The watching reptiles held their breaths. For a long moment nothing in the chamber moved. Then the “ghost” raised its forefoot, the gaseous material reforming into the razor-taloned gauntlet of the Imperial Guard. Ni Drako dipped her head in understanding, shifted so that she knelt on both knees, then bent at the waist and leaned forward. The gauntleted forefoot rose over the kneeling mammal, hesitated, and struck as if to behead the Lord Defender. With perfect control the creature instead stopped, its talons resting on the extended bare neck. Then the being lifted the “forefoot” and moved forward, enveloping the motionless mammal in darkness and shadow.
Rada’s foes and their priest watched with growing fear. This was not supposed to happen! Shi-dan should have killed the mammal for breaking her oaths to him, should have appeared in his mortal form. Instead the smoke-creature with glowing, flame-like eyes seemed to reach into itself. The Azdhagi backed away as the form turned and stared around the chamber, its attention stopping on the false priest. Again the forefoot solidified and this time it swung back, then forwards, hurling something at the pink-robed oath-breaker. Then the smoky form vanished, leaving the Lord Defender behind.
The Azdhagi saw the Lord Defender laying on his flank. One foreleg was bent under his head, cushioning it from the cold stone floor. The other rested on his other flank and his hind legs were stretched out full length. No chains bound him any longer and his expression was one of profound peace and contentment.
The same could not be said of the false priest. The chains that had held the Lord Defender now crushed his throat. He tried to claw them away but the tight metal band refused to budge, and no one would help him—not with that sign of Shi-dan’s wrath. Nothing mortal could have closed a cuff that held the mammal’s foreleg around the much larger throat of an Azdhag. The false priest’s eyes bulged and his tongue thrust forward as he collapsed and died.
The Defenders’ priest gathered his courage and approached Ni Drako’s body. The mammal’s chest moved, showing that he still lived.
Rada awoke in a dimly lit, unfamiliar room. Instead of her uniform she wore something soft and slippers had replaced the combat boots she’d been wearing. She smelled a hint of incense and flowers and opened her eye slowly. An ornately carved and painted ceiling seemed to float above her and for an instant she wondered if she had finally died. The pain from her leg and wrists suggested otherwise and she closed her eye again, reluctant to return to the world. What had happened? She remembered . . . very little. There was an impression of irritation, as if someone had been disturbed for no reason. She though she recalled a sense of disappointment, not with her but about her, as if someone were unhappy at someone else for her sake. But that made no sense and Rada let the memory fade away as awareness slid into sleep.
“You say that he did not hesitate or show any fear?” the King-Emperor inquired quietly of his uncle.
“None,” the old reptile affirmed. “I would not have believed it, Imperial Majesty, if I had not been there to witness.” The two Azdhagi looked toward the sleeping Lord Defender. He had been brought into the Imperial chambers for examination by the King-Emperor’s own Healer. She pronounced Rada sound aside from a thin cut across the back of his neck but suggested that he remain under observation until he woke of his own accord. The Defenders’ priest had agreed, pointing out that it was very bad fortune to disturb one who had been god-touched. The King-Emperor worried more about a belated assassination attempt but gestured his agreement.
“Why no fear? From your words, he should have been as terrified as the others, if the stories about his knowing Great Shi-dan are true.”
Lord Heersi considered Lord Ni Drako and his brother’s son in turn, running a talon under his muzzle as he thought about the night’s strange events. “I think the reason is two-fold, Imperial Majesty. First, his religion is very different from ours. Second,” he paused, looking for the best words, “Ni Drako signed a contract with Shi-dan, and it is said that there was Talon Oath between them. It may be that the Lord Defender was so certain that he was fulfilling that contract that he was content to let Shi-dan judge, accepting whatever the Great King decided: release, discipline, or death.”
Ten hours later, Rada sat in the window seat, staring out at the early stars. A few wisps of cloud, precursors of the promised first snow, blew across the silvery stream of the Royal Highway. Soon the stars would vanish, hidden by the lowering overcast, but for now twinkling silver and blue stretched overhead above the Palace. Rada had listened to the others’ tale of the false priest and “Shi-dan” and did not know what to think. She greatly doubted that anyone could force Shi-dan’s spirit to do anything it did not care to any more than they could have coerced the living reptile. Rada played with the tip of her braid, twirling it between her fingers and combing the small tail below the holdfast band. She had no memory of anything after waking up in the summoning chamber, her hands chained behind her back.
Could it have really been Shi-dan’s spirit that everyone else described? Perhaps it had been and he’d returned to punish those who tried to defy the Ancestors. The mammal highly doubted that her god had sent a guardian spirit in ghostly form to protect her, and the most likely and logical explanations all fell apart when she examined the chamber herself after the fact. Rada shrugged: it was another mystery and not one she was going to worry about. If Shi-dan had returned, as he supposedly had in the attack on Burnt Mountain during the Mercenaries’ War, then he had returned. If not, then he had not. The Wanderer said her evening prayers and went to her sleeping chamber, smiling at the whistling snore of her very live business partner.
Seven moons later, Commander Lord Ni Drako wondered yet again why the Imperial reception chambers and the Defenders’ offices sat so far apart. Overly optimistic, she’d left her walking cane in her office and the weakness in her leg warned that she’d best not do that again any time soon. Since she’d planed on going into the field to observe amphibious exercises in a few days, Rada kicked herself (mentally) yet again as she navigated the various corridors and courtyards between her and her destination.
The weather, at least, made up for some of her irritation. A sweet-scented little breeze found its way between the wings of the palace-capital complex and tickled the mammal’s nose with scents of warming soil and early blooming plants. The sunlight felt warm but not overwhelming as it would be come full summer, and for the moment the humidity had declined to “pleasant.” The combination tempted Rada to imagine slipping away from her duties to go strolling in the forest on the north side of the plateau, or meandering through the public gardens. She swished her tail with pleasure at the thought, then brought her wandering mind back where it belonged. At least if she had to work so did her subordinates, the mammal mused, a faintly evil grin flickering in her eye before she schooled her expression back where it should be.
The Lord Defender opted to cut back into the building, slipping along through a very dusty concealed passage inside the wall. Once it had been the main corridor, but had been lost in the centuries of construction until only Rada, her “concubine” Zabet, and a handful of others knew that it existed, part of a network of back passages and tunnels in the Palace. This one extended almost all the way to the Defender’s section of the military wing, but Rada eased out of a
panel behind a tapestry, emerging into the open among the disused officers’ quarters between the Imperials’ and Defenders’ spaces. No need to reveal everything, she thought, nor to ambush anyone on a day when she wasn’t wearing body armor.
Armed Azdhagi filled the corridor almost to bursting. She didn’t recognize most of the troopers and her mental alarms began sounding as she threaded her way between the large reptiles. There wasn’t even enough room for them to salute or bow, and Rada wondered if it would be easier for her to climb on top of them and go from back to back until she reached the door to her office. Probably not.
Sergeant Shoi greeted her with a look of combined agitation and resignation. “Good morning, Lord Mammal. The personnel department is descended from tree-rats.”
“All of them or just the officer in charge?”
Shoi considered for a moment, sidestepping to get out of the doorway a touch more. “All of them, my lord.” He pointed to the overflowing wardroom with his tail. “Seems no one thought to tell either the Minister of War’s secondary staff or us that they’d moved the transfer dates up by two sixts.”
Rada pointed to the hall with her tail tip. “Thus the military surplus piling up outside our door.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Rada eased past him to her office, relieved to find it empty. “Is there space in the practice area or are you stacking them there until we can get the storage rooms unlocked?”
He blinked as he tried to decide if she was serious. “It’s open, my lord, although that is a distinct possibility. Hmm . . .” Shoi turned to look over his shoulder and she could all but see the gears turning over his head.
Rada just wanted to stretch and run a few simple moves, not engage in full combat practice, so she shed her jacket, picked up a practice blade, and threaded her way between the soldiers cramming the Defenders’ offices. She darted into the practice area and screeched to a halt, eye bulging.
Dear holy Lord God! Her heart seemed to stop as a large Azdhag in the uniform of an Imperial officer turned towards her. Dark green eyes studied her with curiosity from within a head so dark brown that it might have been black. No. It’s not possible! He’s been dead for centuries! It was Shi-dan! Commander Ni Drako almost began dropping to her knee before the rest of her mind registered the Lieutenant’s insignia and spine-tips, marking him as a member of the Imperial Special Forces, and his pale brown tail.
Rada recovered enough to ask, “Are you planning a practice bout, Lieutenant? If not, move clear of the warm-up ring.”
He bowed and moved clear. Rada took his place and began stretching and twisting, working every joint and muscle. She ran through a basic defense pattern and decided to quit before anything new started hurting. All the time she sensed the lieutenant’s eyes on her. Well, she usually had witnesses. After she finished Rada bowed in the direction of the Imperial wing and announced in her parade ground voice, “The practice area is clear.”
Back in her office, she turned around and studied the statue of Shi-dan on the small altar at the back of the cramped space. “One of your grand-get gave me a heart attack,” she told it in Trader under her breath. “Quit scaring me, please, Imperial Majesty.”
As she rotated her seat back to face the door, she could have sworn that the tiny obsidian and gold eye winked. Stop that! She told her imagination. And Shi-dan.
Scales of Justice
A.D. 4022
Commander Rada, Lord Ni Drako, daimyo of Singing Pines and Burnt Mountain, wanted to go hunting, not to oversee the Azdhagi version of family court. Damn feudal system, she growled to herself as she took a seat in the meeting hall of Singing Pines village. She’d rather have held the hearing at the manor house, but the number of interested witnesses now crowding into the hall made that impossible. Rada tried not to drum her claws on the top of the improvised desk as reptiles filed in. Her guards were searching both the witnesses and the participants without regard to rank real or perceived, causing grumbling that continued until Rada pounded her dagger handle on the wooden table to call for order.
The plaintiff and defendants walked to the front of the room, followed by Helee, the village priest. He would administer the oaths. On Rada’s left, Assistant Village Headman Zhlee chivied his mate and daughter to the front bench. He glared at Rada, who glared right back. The merchant and craftsman Kikoree and his mate and their son took their places to Rada’s right. The priest and Rada’s guards stayed between the two parties. Father Helee administered the oaths as Rada wondered what in the name of the Blessed Bookkeeper she was supposed to do with the mess.
The night before, Zabet had read the complaint, peering over Rada’s shoulder. <
“Not for Azdhagi, and not with this much prestige and property at stake, silver dancer,” Rada had corrected her True-dragon business partner and “concubine.”
<
“The law does not permit me to do that, boss.” Rada raised her hand, forestalling a pungent description of the Azdhagi legal code. “I know, I know. We’ve tracked this prey before.”
Zabet just snorted, sending a mental picture of just what the long-dead nobles could do with their law code.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but Azdhag anatomy makes that pretty much impossible.”
Rada waited until everyone found bench space before getting to her feet. “This is Zhlee and family versus Kikoree and family, breach of contract. If any are here for Nakee versus Loshii, that has been rescheduled until the next market day due to travel difficulties.” She waited as five people got up and left. “Very well. Zhlee, state your complaint, facts only.” Rada raised one finger, claw extended, and admonished the brown reptile, “Honor claims come after confirmation of claims of fact.”
“Yes, Lord Mammal,” he agreed. Zhlee climbed onto the speaker’s platform and began. “Lord Mammal, two sixes of year-turns ago, at the summer turning, my female, Kahlee, was pledged in mating to Keekah son of Kikoree. Both families agreed to the mating, and no legal challenge arose at that time.”
Rada took notes on her electronic pad. She looked up, asking, “Father Helee, what are the relations between the pair?”
The old reptile thought for a moment. “They are fourth cousins by the dams’ lineages, third by their sires’. This is far enough apart for the mating to be legal.”
“Thank you, Father,” and Rada added the note to her file. “Zhlee, if there were no challenges, what is the current difficulty?”
“Keekah refuses to do his duty by my daughter.”
“What reason does he give?” Rada heard Keekah start protesting and glared at the young male. “Hold your peace until I call for your testimony,” she ordered. Kikoree reached over and rested his forefoot on Keekah’s head. The young male subsided, still glowering at all and sundry.
Zhlee, eyes narrowed, stared back at Keekah before answering. “Lord Mammal, he claims that she does not please him. When pressed, he cannot list compelling physical or financial problems, just repeating that he does not want to take her as mate.” Zhlee’s angry tone left no doubts as to his feelings, and Rada made another note.
“What mate gift was promised at the time of pledging?” Rada had already looked into the amount, but she needed confirmation that nothing had been changed since the documents had been filed.
“Access right to Black Rock and Far View mines, one hundred credits, plus the standard household goods.” The audience rustled, obviously impressed by the amounts. Rada could tell already that the town sided with Zhlee: that much in mate-gifts for an attractive female from a fertile lineage should have more than convinced Keekah to do his duty.
He swirled his forefoot in negation. “No, Lord Mammal.”
“Do you favor this contract?”
Kikoree replied without hesitation, “Yes, Lord Mammal. Ahsay and I favor this contract and look forward to bringing Kahlee of Zhlee into our lineage.” Rada sensed no doubts or falsehood in the male’s statement, and she made a note to that effect. She heard hissing and looked up to see Keekah, neck-spines rising, almost bouncing in place with agitation.
“Kikoree, is your son of legal age and competence to speak for himself?”
“Yes, Lord Mammal.”
Rada gave Keekah another stern glare. “Keekah, is it your wish that this contract be broken?”
“Yes!” He blurted, glaring at her. Rada gestured and one of her guards gave the younger male a stinging swat with his tail. “Yes, Lord Mammal,” Keekah grumbled.
“On what grounds should the contract be broken?”
“Because I do not love Kahlee and she does not love me.” Keekah stared around, defiant, neck spines up and tail thrashing.
A disapproving murmur ran through the witnesses at this declaration. Rada blinked, rubbing under her blind eye. Well that’s a first. She’d never heard of an Azdhag in love. They cared for their offspring and mates, and if not all mated pairs were what she would call love-matches, they usually found common ground for compatibility. But she’d never, ever heard of an Azdhag falling in love or not falling in love.
“You are aware that ‘love’ and lack there of is not grounds for the termination of a pledged mating?” Rada reminded the young male, “Only consanguinity, breach of contract by the other party or parties, proven infertility, or legal disability are grounds for breaking a mating pledge.”
