by Alma Boykin
Rada finally escaped from the Mistress of Robes’ clutches, changed back into something familiar, and buried herself in her office in the Defenders’ barracks. The familiar sound of clanging weapons and yells from the practice salle soothed her nerves, and the seneschal would never come looking for her here. Rada thumbed through the battle reports from Lord Ganday, smiling at the approval for two new scout posts, one on Silto that would be staffed by both Imperial and Defense troops. Someone scratched politely on the doorframe and she looked up to see Major Bakii looking concerned. “Lord Defender, you need to come to the salle. Now. Honor challenge.” Rada buckled on her swordbelt and darted out the door, wondering which two idiots were about to face her wrath or if she should leave them for the senior sergeant’s pleasure.
Snarls and clangs of metal and talon on armor rang through the stone walled practice area, where a large crowd of soldiers and courtiers had gathered to watch. Courtiers? What the hell? Rada growled her way through the onlookers, then screeched to a halt. Lo-dan and Ro-diit’s son circled warily, watching each other for signs of weakness. Of the two, Ro-diit the younger seemed to be coming out the worst and had blood seeping from cuts on his hind leg and dented armor, but Lo-dan hadn’t escaped unscathed. Reh-dakh unsheathed her sword, eye furious.
“What the names of all the hells do you two young idiots think you are doing?” she snarled, voice ringing through the salle. Neither male answered and she advanced on the pair, ready to beat both of them with the flat of her blade.
Lo-dan froze, lowering his defenses as the small mammal bore down on him. Ro-diit, caught up in bloodlust, charged the prince. “No!” Rada yelled, interposing herself between her liege and the Great Lord’s son, blade at the ready. Some of the audience gasped, certain they were about to see the Lord Defender die. Instead, she met Ro-diit’s charge by cutting low, then rotating her blade to knock his foreleg out from under him. He stumbled, giving Lo-dan time to brace as the heavier noble slammed into him. Reh-dakh dove out of the way of the collision, then got to her feet and slammed her sword’s pommel against Ro-diit’s helmet with all her strength, making his head ring.
“To repeat myself, just what sort of game are you fools playing at?” The young reptiles cringed, neck spines flat, heads low.
Lo-dan spoke first. “Lord Defender, Ro-diit said that my sire was a fool and that I was as bad as he was, hiding behind a mammal instead of fighting my own battles.”
Reh-dakh turned to the other fighter, her tone cold enough to chill an erupting volcano. “What say you, Ro-diit?”
“Lan-zhe was a fool, Lord Defender. And it’s high time a real Azdhag served as Lord Defender. What good is an emperor who never fights?” Ro-diit challenged. His attempt at bravado failed as he staggered a little, still dizzy from her clout to his head.
Rada glared at both of them in turn. “Ro-diit, when you have finished your military service, done your duty to the Empire, and perhaps in so doing gained insight and intelligence enough to match your oversize mouth, then you can advise the King-Emperor on his choice of personnel. My regards to your sire and get out of my sight before I dock your tail.” She pointed towards the exit farthest from the trio, and the gathered soldiers parted like a shootee herd sighting a roklat.
“Stupid mammal,” Ro-diit muttered as he turned.
“Repeat that please.”
He snarled at her. “I said stupid mam—,” he hadn’t finished before she slapped him across the nose with the iron war fan.
“Next time it will be my blade. Or your father’s. Go.” Humiliated, the noble’s son slunk out, not daring to challenge her further.
Reh-dakh turned to Lo-dan. She sheathed her sword and folded her arms, regarding him with a disappointed expression. “Your Majesty, I’d have thought that your training was better than this. One insult, perhaps two, and you call an honor challenge? Do you know how many honor challenges I have called?”
“No, Lord Defender.”
“None in two hundred fifty years. Think on that, your Majesty, and keep your guard up next time.” She glared at him until he dropped his neck to the floor.
“Yes, Lord Mammal, Lord Defender.”
“Now release the salle so your soldiers can get back to training, unless you want to practice, in which case I suggest you work with the Senior Sergeant on close-in defenses,” she finished, turning away and walking towards the closest exit, cooling herself with the iron fan.
Back in her office she penned a note to Lord Ro-diit the Elder, letting him know what happened and sending it of with the orderly on messenger duty. Then she closed her eye and made herself relax, trying to push the last of the adrenaline out of her system. That was a bit closer than I care to come. He could have killed me and seriously injured Lo-dan, and only a week before the coronation! I am such an idiot for not wearing armor. Well, it hadn’t happened, and the worst would be if Great Lord Ro-diit decided to call feud on her. Not likely, though, from what she’d heard from the servants and soldiers at the Palace.
Supper with the King Emperor and his mother the Lady-queen Ro-zshi proved to be one of the best meals she’d eaten in years. There was no mention of the afternoon’s adventures, although Rada had a private wager that the Lady-queen had known about it before Lo-dan finished cleaning up. Instead the talk focused on the Imperial estates, the coronation rituals, and defense matters. The evening confirmed Rada’s suspicions that although females had at best very limited legal power on Drakon IV, they ran things very well from behind the scenes. Or at least Ro-zshi did. That she would take a meal with a strange male, even in the company of her son, suggested that the Lady-Queen was less conventional than the Great Lords on the councils would guess. Rada had figured that out the first time they had ever met, the day of Lan-zhe’s abdication.
As Rada prepared to leave, the Lady-queen stopped her. In a low, rough voice she said, “I’ve heard about this afternoon, Lord Defender. Thank you for protecting my son.”
Rada bowed. “You are welcome, but I was only doing my duty.”
The tan female Azdhag gave the mammal a cool look. “ ‘My life for his’ you swore to me five and a half year-turns ago. The males won’t say it but I will, Lord Reh-dakh: you are the most faithful and honorable person in this court, Azdhag, mammal or otherwise. You are dismissed,” and with that the Lady Queen retired to the Imperial family suite, leaving Rada standing.
Coronation day turned out cool and foggy, which everyone took to be a good omen. Rada managed to not bite the heads off the body-servants who insisted on helping her dress in her new robes. They were of the same basic cut as her everyday clothes, but with incredibly elaborate black and silver dragon and star patterns woven into the blue-green fabric. The light, silky material cost as much as Rada’s fighter and she had nightmares about getting something on it. The bodice had been cut tighter than she usually wore, making Lord Reh-dakh’s sex blatantly obvious to anyone who knew humanoid anatomy. Only her weapons went untouched, although she had a new sword-belt, modified for her different stance.
The ceremony was amazingly simple, since in theory Lo-dan had been King-Emperor for over five years. The Regency Council met in the great throne room, declared Lo-dan truly ready to rule on his own and then proclaimed him King-Emperor and dissolved the council. Lo-dan took an oath to defend the Empire, to honor the memory of his predecessors, and to serve his subjects. Then he took the throne and announced, “We, Lo-dan of House with Lan-zhe,” and all the previous King-Emperors back to “Shi-zhali, founder of Our lineage, begin Our reign.” For the first time the court gave him the full, head to the ground obeisance due the King-Emperor and then the festivities began. If he had been newly installed, there would have been a religious ceremony as well but the priests had deemed that unnecessary, much to Rada’s relief.
A cloud of murmurs rose from the glittering nobility as Lord Blee approached the throne to offer his congratulations. “We thank you, Lord of House Blee and of Blue Hills,” Lo-dan said, doing his best not to let his
dislike of the noble show.
“Imperial Majesty,” Blee said, “I have a small request.”
“What is that, Lord Blee?”
“Grant me the life of Rada Ni Drako,” Blee demanded. Conversation stopped abruptly and a sense of expectation settled on the court. This was the first challenge to Lo-dan’ sovereignty. He looked at the Lord Defender and gestured for her to come forward. She knelt off to the side, face expressionless.
“Why should We grant you the life of Lord Reh-dakh of House Ni Drako, Lord Blee? Has he broken the law so as to merit death?”
Blee snarled and pointed at the Lord Defender, “Ni Drako has offended my House, fomented rebellion among my workers, and killed my vassals! For these, I crave the mammal’s life!”
The King Emperor considered the charges. “Lord Reh-dakh, what say you to Lord Blee’s accusations?”
“They are true, Imperial Majesty.” The whispers and hisses rose and faded as Rada continued, “I cried feud against House Blee on grounds of neglecting his people’s welfare, offered succor to those of Blue Hills and other estates in need of food and shelter, and defended myself against attack.”
Her words gave Lo-dan an idea and he nodded, expression grave. “Indeed, Lord Blee, there is merit in your charges.” Blee’s made his delight obvious and the King Emperor’s eyes narrowed with distaste, while a disapproving murmur passed through the courtiers. “Reh-dakh of House Ni Drako, as you understand the law, what is the penalty for the charges against you?”
“As so stated? Death, Imperial Majesty.”
“And will you resist such a sentence, if handed down?” he asked quietly.
“No, Imperial Majesty. The Empire has given me my life and it is the Empire’s to take away,” she replied, catching his intent.
Lo-dan nodded, turning back to Lord Blee. The overweight noble seemed even happier and was actually running his talons along his sword in anticipation. “Lord Blee, if you can prove to Us that you are acting solely for the benefit of Drakon IV and the Azdhag Empire, We grant you the Lord Defender’s life.”
As Lo-dan and everyone else in the room knew, that was impossible. Blee spluttered and snarled. “That I cannot prove, Imperial Majesty.” He made a rude gesture toward Rada. “I thank you for considering my petition, Imperial Majesty, and yield the floor.” Blee stalked back to rejoin the ranks of the other nobles, who parted, distancing themselves from him. The King Emperor sent the Lord Defender back to her earlier position and resumed accepting congratulations and oaths.
Lord Reh-dakh approached the throne last of all the Court and knelt. “Imperial Majesty, I crave a boon of your generosity.”
“What do you wish of Us, Lord Defender?”
“Release me to return to my duties of Lord Defender and daimyo, Imperial Majesty.”
Lo-dan was disappointed but not surprised. “That is all, Lord Reh-dakh? We would prefer to have you continue serving Us here, as you have done so well during the past five and a half year-turns.”
Reh-dakh bent his head, weariness plain. “I am a foreigner and a soldier, Imperial Majesty, not a courtier. Please release me to my previous service,” the Wanderer begged.
Lo-dan took pity on her. “Although We would prefer you to seek another reward, We grant your desire. Go, Lord Defender. But know that We still require your services as Imperial Councilor, should the need arise.”
Rada bowed low. “Thank you, Imperial Majesty.” She rose, backed ten paces and bowed again before turning and limping out of the throne room. Lo-dan and the others watched her go. Then the celebrations resumed.
Of Gods and Juniors
A.D. 4155
Afterwards, Rada never could explain why she decided to go down to Singing Pines village that afternoon. She’d been stalking in the woods between the manor house and the settlement, looking for animal sign and thinking about the upcoming harvest and hunting season and trying to decide if she wanted to claim her daimyo’s tenth that year or not. Once she finished her scout, instead of going back to the manor, the one-eyed mammal changed course and walked down towards the cluster of buildings marking where most of the estate’s residents lived. She saw almost no activity in the streets or gardens. That set off her internal alarms: it was just after mid-day and the Azdhagi should have been out and about taking care of livestock, repairing and winterizing their houses before the rush of harvest and the onset of winter, or even draping wash on the lines running from the community laundry sticks. But Rada saw no one.
More curious than worried, she limped briskly into the settlement. She heard a murmur of deep voices and turned, tracking the sound down a curving land between the wood and stone houses on the river side of the village. Rada accelerated when she heard one especially loud male bellowing, “The Ancestors have cursed you! And if we don’t act now, they will curse the rest of us as well for not cleansing their village!” A few voices chimed in, agreeing with the as-yet unseen speaker, while others murmured in opposition. The mammal rounded a curve and stopped, gauging the situation and the crowd’s mood.
The reptiles remained undecided about whatever it was they were arguing over. Three sixes of males had gathered in front of a dwelling, with more scattered back away from the main group. Some of the males had their neck spines up, whether with agitation or anger Rada couldn’t tell. Emotions were running very high and Rada sensed a definite current of hostility directed by a number of the villagers toward who or whatever was in the house. This is not going to end well the mammal decided, her ears starting to go flat against her skull. Time to get involved.
“What is going on here?” she called in her loudest military bellow. Startled, the gathered males turned around and several took advantage of the distraction to ease out of sight and away from the group, as if they had not really wanted to be involved in the scene. The others bowed and spread out a little, clearing a path between their lord and the group’s putative leader. But no one replied and she repeated, “What is going on? Has a crime been committed?”
Rada’s suspicions, roused by the vanishing acts, were confirmed when no one met her gaze aside from the gray and brown male closest to the dwelling’s entrance. “Not here, Lord Mammal, but there was in the past and it needs to be made right.” He sounded defensive and the mammal’s ears flattened completely and the tip of her tail started swinging.
“A crime in the past that has not been made right,” she repeated. “Do you know what was done, . . .” and she made a questioning gesture with her head and arm, asking for the speaker’s name. She thought she knew, but wasn’t completely certain.
The brown-eyed reptile dipped his body a little, acknowledging her question and his failure to introduce himself. “I’m Kleet, Lord Mammal. And no, we can’t tell exactly what was done, only that someone offended the Ancestors and that insult has yet to be righted. And it needs to be done now, before they strike the harvest or our juniors, or both.” His spines rose as he spoke and he gathered himself into the start of a defensive posture, as if anticipating her next questions.
“I see. Does anyone know when this . . . offense . . . occurred?” She looked around the crowd but only a few of the reptiles met her eye and they didn’t answer. “And what did the priest say?”
Silence. The mammal turned back to Kleet and locked eyes with him, waiting for an answer. He growled a bit and hissed, “He hasn’t, ah, that is to say that I’ve, no, that we’ve not—” Rada cut him off, her anger starting to rise.
“If the priest did not send you, and is not here,” she swept the group with her eye, “and no one knows what was done or when, then how can you be so certain that there was an offense committed?”
“Because the junior has bonecrush! The Ancestors are angry and we have to purify Singing Pines!” Kleet’s spines slammed up in a full anger/defense display and his tail went rigid as he took a step towards the offending house. He didn’t take a second one: Rada’s sword-cane blade was out of its sheath and in her hand as she surged forward, sliding between the vi
llagers and putting herself between Kleet and the door, her black tail a bottlebrush in her fury.
Her voice remained quiet but as cold as ice and she held the blade in readiness. “If the junior has bonecrush then the Ancestors are punishing her sire and dam twice over already, are they not? First by giving them a female and then by taking her back slowly, so that the junior is nothing but an expense and burden.” She didn’t believe a word of what she said but most of the males facing her did.
One dissident towards the back called, “How do you know? You don’t even have Ancest—Yaii!” He yelped as someone clawed his tail for insulting Lord Ni Drako.
“I don’t worship your Ancestors, true. That is because I knew them while they walked the land in bodied form, as the priest will no doubt remind you.” She went into full pissed-off-commanding-officer mode, stating firmly, “Go back about your business. If you have any questions about this junior and her sire and dam, I strongly suggest that you consult the priest. Now. He was just finishing up the noon offering when I passed by the shrine.” The reptiles, not eager to argue theology with a large, well-armed noble, scattered. Kleet acted as if he wanted to press his case but stopped when Rada began lowering the very sharp blade of her sword, aiming for his eyes, her other hand reaching for her blaster. He sketched a bow and departed. Rada waited a full minute after the last tail tip had vanished before sheathing her weapon and making herself calm down. Then she turned, backed up and tapped lightly on the door.
The thick wooden panel eased open a crack, then a bit more and a female hesitantly poked her muzzle out. She trembled as she asked very quietly, “How can I serve, Lord Mammal?”
Rada squatted down so that she was at eye level with the reptile. “You need a Healer.” It was a statement, not a question.
