The Crimson Claw

by Deborah Chester

  “What have I got to lose?” she asked, exasperated. “My head?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But I’m already condemned to the arena, Elrabin,” she said softly. “Don’t you see? I can’t be safe, no matter what.”

  He swung away from her, whining low in his throat.

  She could see his fear, his worry. “I guess it’s no deal after all,” she said after a moment. “If you’ll tell me how to adjust the link signal feed, I’ll do it myself. Then they can’t blame you if I get caught.”

  “Can’t they?” he echoed.

  “All right, then. I’ll—”

  “Besides, you’re no good at this,” he went on as though she hadn’t spoken. “Everything you think is right out on your face. You learn not to trust everyone at first sight. You keep your secrets. Yeah, and don’t say everything you know. Hold back some, Goldie.”

  She nodded. “That’s the way things were at Bizsi Mo’ad. Spies and tattles, everyone wanting to betray everyone else in hopes of currying favor. I hoped it would be different here.”

  Elrabin laughed. “Here, everything is exactly the same as Bizsi Mo’ad. Don’t let these fancy quarters and all the toys fool you. No matter how it looks, the purpose is the same. You remember that, Goldie. Have you noticed that little plaque outside your door? It’s to display your number of victories this season. They keep you up in style so you can kill in the competitions that Lord Galard bets on. That’s all you’re good for. You haven’t faced it yet, the horror, but you will. And that’s when you’re going to need to be strong, inside yourself. No one can help you face that. You’ll face it alone.”

  She shivered, refusing to deal with what he was talking about. Why did he feel he had to prepare her for what lay ahead? She dreaded it too much already. “Are you with me, then?” she asked.

  He met her eyes, and his own were clear and steady. “Me? I’ll watch your back, Goldie. I’ll warn you when I can if Ylea is planning to get at you in the ring. I’ll guard your quarters and your gear. I’ll help you survive and live a long time with the Blues, so we can both prosper.”

  Tears came to her, stinging the backs of her eyes while she struggled to hold them in. “That’s a long answer,” she whispered. “But it says nothing.”

  “It says all I can say,” he told her.

  “Elrabin—”

  “You think you got nothing to lose, Goldie, but I got plenty,” he said. “This is a pretty good place, see? If you win enough, you stay here, get the good treatment. If you win big, you can become team leader. Then we get the biggest quarters, and I have a room for myself. You can stockpile a fortune, if you let me place your bets for you. Maybe, one day, you can escape with your winnings and lose yourself in a backwater where the bounty hunters won’t find you.”

  She stared at him in dismay, beginning finally to comprehend.

  “It’s that chance you were talking about,” he said eagerly. “Making your own opportunity. See, I don’t know yet how you are in the arena, but the Blues paid top credits for you. A lot more than they paid for Ylea years ago. Why do you think she’s so mad at you?”

  Ampris’s head was spinning at his change of subject. “No,” she said. “You don’t understand—”

  “I do,” he said, gripping her hand hard. “Believe me, Goldie, I do. They paid so much for you that Halehl didn’t punish you for that stunt you pulled today. You could have killed him, and old Ruar’s getting drunk on sour beer tonight wishing it had happened. So the Blues think you’re great. But that won’t last long if you spoil everything you got going for you now. You got to reach for what you have a real chance of getting, see?”

  Weariness washed over her. Whatever he might promise, she realized he didn’t really believe anything she’d said tonight. “I want that link, Elrabin,” she said with determination.

  He sighed and tilted his head to one side. “I don’t know, Goldie. It still don’t seem worth it. Why don’t you go to bed and think it over another day?”

  “Don’t you care?” she whispered. “Don’t you care at all?”

  “I care,” he replied, his voice flat and unsympathetic. “I care about saving my hide. If we can strike a deal where we help each other . . . then I guess I care about saving your hide too. I can’t get more honest than that.”

  She could no longer hold back her disappointment. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes.

  Elrabin glared at her, then flattened his ears. “Hush now,” he said. “Don’t do that. Don’t cry.”

  Angrily she wiped her face. “I don’t want to. I’m not doing it to get your sympathy.”

  A slow cynical grin parted his jaws. “Yeah? Okay. Come on, then. You go to bed and rest. You’re too tired, and we got no business plotting this stuff tonight.”

  “Plotting?” she said, a little hysterically, wanting to laugh but finding herself crying instead. “Is that what we’re doing? Talking to you is like trying to catch windblown sand.”

  “Yeah, it’s kind of bred in me,” he said with pride. “Never mind, Goldie. You forget about half of what I said, see?”

  “Which half?”

  He yipped, his eyes gleaming. “You let me check folks out first, see? Then if I think it’s okay, you can talk treason to them. Fair enough?”

  She caught her breath and wiped her eyes, hoping again. She tried to read his eyes for sincerity. “Is that a promise?”

  “Here’s the rest of the deal,” he said, squirming a bit before he squared his shoulders and finally looked her in the eye. “I’ll help you like you want, within reason, see? And in exchange you make something of yourself in the arena.”

  Ampris backed her ears. “What?”

  “Don’t just get by. You become the star, take the team leader spot. Yeah, you do that.”

  She stared at him in astonishment. “Just like that,” she said sarcastically.

  “Come on. You’re a big, healthy Aaroun. You’re supposed to be good. Halehl don’t blunder when it comes to picking out fighters. And you had him on the rails today.”

  “But that was just catching him by surprise—”

  Elrabin pointed his finger at her and said fiercely, “No, Goldie. No buts. You take top spot away from Ylea, and you hold it. No slacking. No just getting by. No bottom spot on the team, or our deal’s off.”

  Her astonishment was spreading, along with irritation. “You’re serious about making money, betting on me.”

  “Sure,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve told me your dream tonight. So now I’m telling you mine. You want to save the universe. I want to afford a bolt hole where no bounty hunter can get me. See, I got it all planned. All I needed was the right fighter to come along. You’re the one. You help me, and I’ll help you.”

  “But—”

  “That’s the way it works,” he said flatly. “Or it don’t work at all. You decide.”

  “But, Elrabin, can’t we—”

  “Sleep on it,” he said, shutting off the running water. “You let me know when you’re ready.”

  She wanted to protest further, but with the water shut off there was nothing to mask their conversation from the surveillance devices. Elrabin left the bathing chamber to put away the vids in the sitting room. By the time she got there, he was at the door.

  “Get your rest,” he said. “If there’s nothing else, I’m gone.”

  His eyes met hers, sharp and merciless. Ampris opened her mouth, then closed it again. This wasn’t how she’d planned things. But somehow Elrabin had managed to out-maneuver her.

  The door clicked, and she heard the locks engage. Glancing up, she realized he was gone—as elusive and hard to pin down as smoke.

  Ampris sighed to herself, her heart heavy with disillusionment. Yes, she saw how the abiru races could eventually free themselves, but how did she carry her ideal to others when no one—not even her one friend, Elrabin—wanted to believe in it?

  One step at a time, she told herself. Back when she still lived in the palace and asked B
ish to teach her the true history of her people, he had told her she must learn patience. It seemed she had many other lessons to learn as well.

  So she would begin with compromise. If Elrabin had to be paid with winnings for his help, then she would give him winnings. After all, if she had to be a fighter, she might as well be the best one in the arena. And if she became the best, then her name would be famous, so famous even Israi in her shining palace would hear it spoken.

  Israi might have thrown her away, but Ampris was not going to let herself be forgotten.

  “I am the splinter in your foot,” Ampris whispered, making it a vow. “I will fester in your heel until you cry out. Somehow, someday, I will shake the foundation of your empire.”

  She clutched the Eye of Clarity and shut her eyes. “This, I swear.”

  CHAPTER•FIVE

  Across the empire, on the Viis homeworld Viisymel, the palace of the Kaa drowsed through the warm afternoon siesta. Only the servants were stirring, putting the finishing touches on preparations for the coming Festival. In the wives’ court, however, all was not entirely quiet.

  Israi, sri-Kaa and Daughter of the Empire, languished on her couch beneath slowly revolving fans only until the door shut behind her ancient Kelth nursemaid Subi. Then she arose from her couch, scattering tapestry cushions onto the floor, paused a moment to find her balance, and slipped on her jeweled sandals.

  She tiptoed silently across the polished stone floor. Halfway to the door, a strange sensation passed through the swollen egg sacs in her sides. She paused, clutching herself, feeling breathless and a little dizzy.

  For a moment she felt too unwell to continue, but she was determined not to let her carefully laid plans be spoiled by mere physical weakness. After all, she was the Imperial Daughter. What she willed came to pass. Even her own body had to obey.

  The sensation left her, and she shuddered with cold chills. Then those also passed, and Israi was able to straighten and become fully erect.

  She walked forward to the door, moving more slowly than ever. She realized she must take care, for she was very near her time. Tonight the bells would ring to mark the commencement of Sahvrazaa Festival. Tonight she would dine in the company of the Kaa and his favorite wives at the banquet feast. Then she would be expected to retire early in preparation for the call.

  Already she could hear it thrumming in her blood, a restless, primitive need to be alone, to prepare her nesting place, to utter the melodic cries that would bring fertile males to her freshly laid eggs.

  Israi flicked out her tongue, feeling thirsty and tired. This was her first laying, marking her true passage into full adulthood. Many gifts already filled the antechamber to her private apartments. The banquet tonight was supposed to feature special festivities to honor her.

  But Israi wasn’t thinking about tonight. She was thinking about now, and whether she could get out of here without being seen.

  Well, she was expert at slipping away from her attendants. She had been doing it all her life, first to play pranks when she was a little chune, then to meet vi-adult friends who did not meet with the approval of her attendants, and now to seize her future with both hands.

  She listened at her door and heard no sound in the room beyond where her attendants were napping or doing embroidery. Those not affected by egg laying were chatting to each other in soft voices pitched low to avoid disturbing Israi’s rest.

  Israi flicked out her tongue in satisfaction and turned away from the door to slip out through the secret passages. Servants used these, in order to come and go unobtrusively. Israi knew every centimeter of them.

  She met no one in the dark dusty corridors hidden within the walls. She had timed herself to slip through here when the servants would be occupied with tasks elsewhere. Unless one had received a summons, none of them would be in the passages now.

  Finally, she emerged into a loggia running parallel to the back garden where flowers were cut for arrangements inside the banqueting hall.

  She slapped dust from the hem of her loose silk gown, finding it a struggle to bend over. She had to lean a moment against a column to fight off another wave of dizziness, then she walked on.

  How heavy her body felt, how peculiar and clumsy. She had never in her life experienced such bloat, such a feeling of pressure. She wished now that she had arranged this meeting closer to her apartments, but that would have meant too great a risk of being seen. Anyhow, she hadn’t much farther to go.

  The sound of footsteps made Israi freeze a moment, listening. In the distance she heard shouting, but it was only someone berating a slave for a mistake. When no other sound reached her ear canals, Israi went on, making her way slowly up a flight of stairs. The effort caused that odd sensation to ripple through her sides again. She paused, breathing heavily, feeling her senses float and spin. Swallowing a moan, she pressed the side of her face against the cool surface of the wall, refusing to surrender to her weakness. Finally she walked on.

  The door she sought was located at the end of the passage, tucked into a corner. When she reached it, she knocked in the prearranged pattern.

  The door opened at once. She stepped over the threshold, and swayed.

  Strong male arms encircled her, helping her to a chair, while commotion broke out around her.

  “She’s unwell.”

  “She’s going to lay her eggs now.”

  “Hush, both of you! Get her refreshment.”

  A cup of cold, thick fruit juice was pressed into her hand. Israi opened her eyes and managed to focus on the three concerned faces hovering above her. She sipped the juice a moment, feeling it revive her.

  “Shut the door,” she said.

  One of the males hastened to obey her. “How stupid of me,” he said, puffing out his air sacs in embarrassment. “I keep forgetting I have no servant to close it for me.”

  Israi leaned back in her chair and smiled up at Baneen, the tallest and oldest of her three chosen ones. He had been fully adult for two years, while the others had entered that life cycle only recently. In him the urge to go on the migration was strongest. She had to plead long, cajole much, offer him many promises to get him to stay here, concealed inside the palace. Baneen with his dusky red skin shaded with darkest blue at his throat and wrists, Baneen so handsome in his uniform of the Palace Guards, Baneen so strong and glorious in looks, yet no more than average in intelligence . . . he was her favorite, her most loyal supporter. The others did what he said without question, and Baneen served her, body and soul. She had many plans for him, plans she had been formulating since the day at parade inspection when she first saw him and knew him to be ideal for her purposes.

  Baneen was here to fertilize her eggs, along with these other two selected males. He would help her create offspring that were gorgeous, but not more intelligent than she. Thus would she be able to easily control and manipulate them as they grew up. Israi had watched her father sort through and manage his numerous offspring over the years. She knew he had selected her mother from among his favorites, isolating her eggs from the others. When Israi was chosen as the Kaa’s successor, it was a paramount honor for Israi’s mother. So great an honor, in fact, that the lady had been put away in a country villa far from court, living her days pampered and separate, never again to see the Kaa. Each year during Sahvrazaa Festival, her eggs were collected by hatchery attendants and destroyed privately so that no possible rival to Israi could be born.

  Now it was Israi’s turn to follow her father’s example and create her own successor.

  But Israi liked to spread the odds, and so although she had chosen Baneen, she selected these two other young officers as well. All three were besotted with her, enough to do whatever she commanded, no matter how great the risk.

  Someday, she told herself, gazing up at them, she would make Baneen her Commander General. The others she would deploy offworld, as governors of colonies, far from her so that their ambitions could not become a problem.

  Catching her b
reath at last, she held out her hand to Baneen, and when he stepped forward to take it in his strong one, she looked around.

  The room was small and plain, clearly servant quarters not in use. The males had made some effort to improve it. Hangings concealed the plain plaster walls. Rugs covered the floor. The furniture was of pleasing line and quality. Over in one corner stood a screen. Behind it, she knew, must be the birthing stone.

  An involuntary shiver passed through her. For the first time she considered the risk she was taking and grew afraid. Then she shut it away, refusing to pay heed. Fear had no place in her character.

  “Is everything ready?” she asked.

  “Yes, highness,” Baneen said. “We have the birthing stone there.” He pointed at the screen. “We have the candles ready to be lit, the incense ready to burn, the swaddlings waiting in those baskets. We have purified ourselves. We will do what you require.”

  Baneen made his obeisance. She admired his lithe, masculine form and knew she had chosen well. On the day she finally ascended to the throne, she might even take him as consort, for when he held her in his arms and stroked her jaws in the places of pleasure, her body sang in ways that astonished her.

  “Forgive me, highness,” said Nulalan. The youngest of the three, he was pale yellow in color, with bold green streaks shading the underside of his rill. His green eyes looked troubled, and she wondered if his courage was failing him in these final moments. “Are you certain this is safe? For you? I fear for your welfare.”

  Baneen puffed out his air sacs and moved toward Nulalan, but Israi chose to be charmed rather than annoyed by his remarks.

  “Your concern is pleasing,” she said loftily. “Would I not be here in private, trusting myself to your care alone without my attendants, if I had fears?”

  Outside a bell rang the hour, and Israi jumped.

  The males shifted uneasily, and Baneen came to her side. “It is time, if you intend to do this. Are you sure—”

  “Have courage, all of you,” she said fiercely and drew forth from her pocket two vials.