by Andre Norton
Allitta:
At least I could read the older script. Kassca lay at the other end of the table, now and then opening an eye to check on me—perhaps with pity—as I labored over the rolls of family history. I had been taking notes and wherever I added one, I wondered whether I would ever absorb even a fraction of what I was finding. So far, though I had finished the roll left at the destruction of the House, I discovered no clue as to who had been our enemy. The difficulty was that the later entries had, I thought, been too scant and too occupied with the general business of the household.
I had progressed backward and was now puzzling out the very crooked script of some scribe whose talent was certainly not to be commended. But then I found a passage which thoroughly aroused me. So, this unknown had also, for some reason been searching history. His or her note sent me once more to the shelves, where I flicked over the labels hanging from a time-darkened collection, which must have come into being near the day when Vurope had first claimed House standing. The labels were so dark and worn it was hard to translate them and finally I chose the second roll in line, hoping that luck was with me and that this would explain that hazy comment in the later record. Had the writer deliberately clouded it for some need of secrecy? Returning to the roll-burdened table I read once more what I had found and thought that that suggestion was possible. Then I re-rolled my first choice and carefully opened the other. The skin was cracked, spotted here and there, to the detriment of speedy reading. I sat down to explore, for that dim note excited me strangely.
Hynkkel-ji:
The only collections of history rolls I had ever known had been the very scant number of those kept by my own family. I entered the library of the Palace and came to a halt just within the curtained doorway. The room was nearly as long as the inner court, and it arose to a height about four times my own. I looked back through the doorway and snapped my fingers. Four of the bubble lights answered and swung in to give more light. All the wall sections I could see were partitioned to hold record rolls. Each was fronted by a glass panel. But looking at that display I did not think that any living person would ever be able to absorb what was stored here. Where would one begin and was there any end?
“August one, how might I serve you?” The woman who approached me almost might have been one of those rolls given half-life. Most of the courtiers made bright displays in robes and jewelry. Her garment was a dark brown, lacking even a touch of gold or copper thread; she had no jewels nor had her pale face been painted in customary fashion, and her hair was bundled into a net. Perhaps this added to the impression she gave of age, though she was unbent and carried herself with an air of confidence.
“Lady—you are Arguyia who rules here?”
She smiled, “As much as the kapper beetles allow. We must wage war ever against those, August One.”
“Beetles now! Exists there any place without enemies? I look to your aid, Lady Arguyia. Having but lately come to my position, it is my desire to learn what I can about those who have ruled before me and how were certain problems handled by them.”
“Those problems being, August One?”
“Rats!” I answered at once. “Then, also the water shortage in the reign of Zastaff-ji.”
Now she stared at me. “A dire time, August One,” she said slowly.
There—perhaps I had aroused curiosity, which I wanted the least. Watch ever your tongue, I told myself again.
“A dire time,” I echoed her. “Was it not that when the Plain of Desolation became a menace? Our present plague of rats is reported to come from that direction.”
She nodded and turned briskly, starting down the long room and I followed at her heels, still marveling at the walls of records about.
In the Palace of the Empire:
Murri lay stretched out behind the cushions of his furless brother. His eyes were closed but he did not doze, as was the custom of his kind. Rather his frustration grew. He was very tired of the way they lived now. This pile of caves had piqued his interest at first but the novelty had quickly faded. The blue furred one called Akeea and the rest of his kind never ventured beyond the walls unless the Emperor went.
Now there was no journeying across the sands of the outer world, no challenge from what might lay behind a rise of rock, no singing in the night, no—Too many nos. His whole body ached with the desire for the freedom he had known since a cub. He wanted out!
He raised his head from his paws and uttered a small cry. In the outer world his protest might not be heard at all, in this silent room it echoed. And his brother-one turned to him.
“What would you have?”
“Out.” Murri answered with the truth born of his ever-growing impatience.
For a long moment their eyes met and they shared, in a fraction, senses. Then his brother-one answered.
“I have treated you ill indeed, my brother. You are of those who run free, who go by their own will where they please, and, because you followed me you have been in a place which is no life for you. Murri, can you forgive me this binding?”
“We are one,” Murri’s rough tongue now touched his brother’s cheek. “There awaits danger.”
Strong hands caressed his head and shoulders.
“Yes, danger. Therefore desert warrior, I ask of you a better task than lying to guard my back. This palace is a strange place—I cannot go exploring without being noted, but you—Can you be my eyes and ears? Can you venture forth during the hours of sleep and learn how that, if trouble strikes, we can move with ease?”
“This you wish? It will leave you alone—”
“There are many guards—do they not stand ever at the doors? You I trust, but what you could learn may be of great service.”
His brother meant that. And should danger arise suddenly, he could answer a thought-summons—He had found few of these smooth skins to his own liking.
“Yes, that tie between us is not known to most others,” his brother agreed. “Seek and learn, Murri, for from your people little can be hid. Within a few days we shall be out for I must, in turn, visit each of the Queendoms. Even as we went traveling before, we shall be out together.”
Murri’s purr rumbled and he ducked to rub his head against his brother’s shoulder. “I shall seek,” he agreed.
Thus at the hour of sleep he did not stretch out on cushions near his brother’s resting place. Rather he padded down the hall without.
The light bubbles had largely withdrawn and the light was dim, though that did not bother Murri; his sight was better than that of any human guard who paced the halls.
He had reached a level three below that from which he had come. There he paused; there was no mistaking that scent. Somewhere before him went Akeea and another of his kind. Also, senses honed by life facing the many perils of the outland told him something else. The leopards were on the hunt.
Swiftly he padded off in their wake. Rats? Had the rats somehow invaded this land? He drew a deep breath or two but not the faintest trace of that familiar stench reached him. He broke into a lope, his uneasiness rising.
It was yet another level down before he caught up with Akeea and his companion. The leopard chief swung around, his lip half lifted in a beginning snarl. The mind touch came.
“Why do you follow, Sand one?”
“Where and why do you go?” retorted Murri, “Do rats come?” The ridge of upstanding fur on Akeea’s back smoothed down. “Not rats, no rat here! But come if you will, perhaps there is something else for the hunting.”
Murri accepted the invitation. Akeea broke mind touch, a warning the Sand Cat accepted. Down they went, level by level. All signs of this being a palace disappeared. The walls were barren rock and the way they traveled grew narrower. It became harder to breathe yet the leopards went on with increased speed until they fronted a wall. Water dripped here and slime formed vines. There was also a sound, one Murri could not identify. However they had halted. This wall ended the passage.
Akeea turned his head mind tou
ched again. “There is wrongness here—there is—” He was interrupted by sound as though something had struck a blow against the wall. The leopards growled; Akeea’s lieutenant sprang straight for the slick surface, struck the runnels of slime, and slipped to the floor.
As he pulled himself up they listened to the fullest extent of their senses. Another sound; Murri suddenly had a mind picture of water swishing back and forth in a basin, held by a shaking hand. Then that also died away. Meanwhile, paying no attention to the slime spreading across the floor where the other leopard had sprung, Akeea was pacing along the wall, his head turned towards its surface. Only a continuing rumble was to be heard now. The blue leopard finally returned. “It is gone—for now,” he said. “But watch must be kept. Snaar will wait.”
“What lies behind there?” Murri was also watching the wall.
“We do not know as yet, but we shall learn,” Akeea promised.
He started toward the way down which they had come and Murri followed once more.
CHAPTER 5
On the caravan trail out of Kahulawe:
It was the last hour of the night and the caravan had come to a way stop on the road to Kahulawe. One of the pillar cats serving as a trail marker centered the collection of loaded transport carts. The caravaners were at work on the lines for yaksen and the riding oryxen. Kottis jumped down from several of the carts and spread out, encircling the site. Two of them reached the foot of the rock ridge, behind the trail marker.
They halted there, heads well back so they could look up the rise of the ridge.
Above lay two Sand Cats, their tawny bodies near flat, able so to lurk unseen. Unseen but not unscented. One of the Kottis turned to the camp to give warning and then stopped short.
“Younger sister,” the send reached her, “We do not hunt those you scout for. Have you not heard—your Emperor is blood of our blood, kin does not prey on kin?”
“You hide!”
“If we did not, our hides would be speedily filled with arrows. Your caravaners may not yet have heard of the peace.”
“What do you hear?”
“We watch for that which comes from the dead country. Your beasts, your caravaners, they may well bring forth the evil fully armed. Warn your—”
The mind speech snapped. With a snarl the great cat was on his feet, staring down, not at the Kotti now but rather beyond. There was movement, as if the rocks had opened upon caves packed with stinking bodies. Rats came, a wave of them. The first were the rats they had always known. However leaping among them, sometimes over the backs of their fellows, were some ready for battle. The Kottis, yowling, ran for the camp.
Along the ridge top above, the Sand Cats leaped into action, heading in a direction which would bring them behind the attackers. The caravaners were shouting. Someone beat a belt drum while the animals bellowed, jerking at the ropes which secured them, rearing and kicking for freedom.
One of the small rats, ahead of the rest, leaped at a Kotti. They struck screeching and clawing as they rolled in the sand.
Together the Sand Cats leaped out from the ridge. Almost they appeared to float, not landing behind the rat waves as they had hoped, but just in time to meet a second wave of only larger rats. Tangled fighters rolled here and there. No matter how ready the defenders, the attackers were twice more in number. There came shrieks, the terrible cries of the caravan animals, unable to shake off the rats. Fangs clamped deep into hide and flesh, weighing frantic animals down until some strike at leg tendons sent them sprawling, to be instantly covered by the enemy. Arrows flew, some successfully sinking deep into stinking matted rat fur—only still they still came—there was no end to them.
Kottis lay, torn apart. Some of the pa-oryxen were already reduced nearly to bones. And there were more piercing screams from where the caravaners stood, back to back. Upon those the large rats now moved, with a deadly purpose—and deadly they were, dragging one of the women down away from her companions.
The Sand Cats, also facing the giants, their coats plastered with spurting blood, had retreated to the base of the ridge. Piles of rats lay along their line of withdrawal. Still they faced and fought, an unbroken force.
Suddenly there came full-throated shouts, not screams, but battle cries accompanied by the throb of charge drum. Riders came at full speed—their war trained oryxen leaping, smashing down to crush rats, swords and spears busy.
The caravaners broke their ring of defense and attacked also. Some whose supply of arrows had been exhausted were using herdsmen’s slings to loose rocks and split skulls.
Farther into the open came the mounted troop. Without warning the rats broke, save for the cadre of the giants. Fleeing rats were everywhere cut down but the giants withdrew in better order. The killing ended at last. One could choke on the heavy scent of blood.
He who led the mounted force headed toward to the caravaners. There he jerked the reins of his mount with force enough to make the oryxen rear.
Along the base of the ridge came the Sand Cats. One was limping and the other lifted a head from which a great strip of fur had been torn to hide one eye.
The leader of the troop swung up his bow. One of the caravaners behind him shouted, running between bloody heaps of rats.
“No!” she shouted again. “Do not—!”
He glanced calmly at her and then back at the cats. His bow cord thrummed and the shaft of an arrow danced up and down in the throat of the limper.
“No!” The caravaner had nearly reached his side.
He paid no heed. The cat with the torn skin stood for a moment, from its clear eye the man’s second shaft suddenly protruded, and the noble animal crumpled beside its companion.
“They fought for us!” The caravaner was now beside him. “Such are kin to the Emperor. What shall we tell him?”
“The Emperor?” Blazing eyes stared at her. “There is no rightful Emperor—there is a liar and a cheat, one who has no right to the power he has seized. It is well known that he was the lowest of the low, even in his own Queendom. Such is certainly not favored by the Essence, Trail Mistress. Look you upon the banner under which we ride. Soon it will be seen in Valapa and the unfit will answer to the Essence in the ancient way. Sand Cats are prey; they shall remain prey. Otherwise the balance is disturbed. I give you good advice, Trail Mistress. Do not raise voice in defense of such.”
He gestured and one of his men moved forward carrying a white standard bearing the diamond of Valapa and below that an insignia she thought she had never seen. Then she remembered. So had been the standard of Shank-ji, Emperor’s son, in the days before he had failed the Testing.
Allitta:
“Allitta!” As if someone had shouted my name in the sleeping chamber, that call brought me awake, pulled me up from my cushions. Kassca jumped from my side, staring towards the middle space beyond. There was no one there, but I knew who had summoned me.
Against my will I slid from under the covers. Kassca came to rub about my legs, looking up into my face and uttering soft cries. I went to the clothes chest, tossing out the heavy court robes. At the very bottom I found what I sought. The plain, short-skirted garment could be that of an underservant—though it had no house crest. I pulled it on hastily; it seemed as if that summons still rung in my ears. Bare footed and twisting my hair up in a kerchief as I moved, I went to the nearest window.
Late dawn layered the sky. My labors among the records had been long. I knelt by the sill and gathered Kassca to me. The Kottis, when they bind with one, are able to understand speech.
“Little one,” I half whispered. “I must go, but stay you here. I shall return as speedily as I can.”
Kassca uttered a small cry, which I interpreted as agreement. Several days before, I had studied what lay beyond the window. Once I had escaped through here when enemies had struck. Then I had been a child. It remained that within these walls even now I hunted ways about business of my own. A certain deep fear lay always dormant within me.
T
he glass pane swung open; I perched on the wide sill. From there I swung by my hands to a ledge of carving where I must watch my footing carefully. There was more light below, where several bubble lights drifted in the outer court.
With great care, I reached the end of the carving and was able to lower myself to the edge of the courtyard wall. This I inched along. There were guards and it was nearly time for the watch to change. I had no wish to be detected even by those owing me allegiance. At last, drawing a deep breath of relief, I stood in the street.
Back against the wall I edged my way along, dodging, as best I could, the light of the street bubbles. When I turned into another way I wondered at the ease of my exit. It was almost as if I had become invisible. This had happened twice before in my life—I had chosen to pass unnoted and so it had been.
Again, having crossed a good quarter of the city, I came to the back courtyard door of Ravinga’s shop. Nor was I surprised to see one of her Kottis sitting in the crack of a half open door.
Wiu escorted me to the workroom where Ravinga was seated holding a flat tray on her knees. On this blazed a scattering of large gems: sapphire, ruby, emerald, topaz and diamond, the insignias of all the Queendoms.
I was startled by her expression. She might have aged a flight of seasons since we had last met. Though I had lived with her for ten years, she had never appeared to age. Now her eyes looked sunken and there were harsh lines bracketing her mouth.
“What has happened?” I broke the silence when she did not.
She laid fingertips on the tray near the topaz. I noted that the jewel had a reddish tinge, or rather a sullen red spot colored the tray beneath it.