by Andre Norton
The wrapped lump of the rider’s head turned. Then came a high-pitched squealing. The rats halted their advance. Again the stranger uttered that cry. Now the furred ones drew together, their heads all held high to watch the rider.
No squeal this time, rather a sing-song of words totally strange to Shank-ji. As if he commanded a war party of men, the rider continued. The rats drew back, retreating with their heads still turned to the stranger. Then they broke and raced down into the sand, fleeing at a surprising speed.
Shank-ji felt the same desire to—run! So, this stranger was able to command the rats. Therefore that could be done. With such power at his own command he could easily conquer the Outer Regions!
“Well met!” He gave that greeting in the same tone he might to one of his own party.
“You come to war.” A flat answer, cold as if one of the Dark Season winds carried it.
“We come to protect this land.”
The rider slipped from his saddle, his drapery loosed by the movement, yet no sign of his body was visible. He did not grip the reins of the oryxen to lead it, but the animal responded as if he had.
“How may we serve you?” Shank-ji took no step backward though the other headed straight towards him.
“That is not the question. Rather it is how can those of the Desolation aid you? We shall speak on that.”
Shank-ji gestured toward a seat on the rock. Not one of his troop showed himself. As he took his own opposite the stranger he said nothing. Let the other explain himself and his mission.
The stranger might have caught his thought. He shifted and his cloak loosened to fall away. Shank-ji closed his eyes then opened them again. He could hardly believe what sat before him now.
No body protection was apparent, no gleam of jewels, such as the speaker for a House might wear, nor was there any weapon in those hands—hand possessing fingers of abnormal length tipped by claws as long and strong as those of a Sand Cat. His body was bare to the waist, but the skin over the breast was covered with a growth of dark fur. The head—that was the least human—nose and mouth combined and jutting out, large furred ears flaring from a fur-covered skull. The eyes burned like sparks of red fire in their sockets.
Rat! Man-rat—if such a thing be.
“I am the voice of the August One. No, I do not mean the weakling who thinks he rules this land and will learn in due time that he is no more than flesh for the table. The August One knows all, man. You reached for the crown. Now you would reach the High Seat of your people. That will be the gift of the August One, but gifts must be matched. He has ways of learning what is done, what must not be done, and what will come. He can summon such ills as will blast all the Outer-Regions. Yet he can be merciful to those who lend their strength to his use.
“This he says to you: ‘there is a force gathering which might rip this land apart; Queendom after Queendom will fall leaving nothing but ruins.’ However, he can lend a part of this force to you, Shank-ji, Emperor who longs to be. The August One will remain apart as he always has. You may have the throne and all the power you wish over the Outer Regions. In turn you will listen to the August One and help to carry out his will.”
“And if such bargain is not made?” Somehow Shank-ji summoned the will to ask that. The eyes of this man-rat bored into his own. The stranger might be reading every thought. Still—the offer—he must have time to weigh it. Again the other followed his thoughts.
“Yes, the August one will grant you time. The weakling goes on his Progress soon. This is the time to strike at him. Do not hesitate too long, for the August One has little patience with those such as you who can gain by his favor and yet waver over the asking for it.”
Hynkkel-ji:
I relied on the skill of the two cats to get us to Mohambra’s chambers without being sighted. Somehow we did this though it was well into morning and the hallways were in use. Their ability to make every bit of cover serve was a lesson to benefit any scout.
As we went I attempted to think of some explanation for our wounds. Perhaps this was one time when only the truth would serve. For if there had been one monster in the waterways there undoubtedly were more. Whether those would attempt to invade us I could not know. Somehow I still hesitated over letting our discovery be widely known.
Mohambra was startled, aroused to instant questions, even as she brought out salves and nostrums. Murri and Akeea had collapsed and I saw that their blood now gathered in those stripes from which Allitta and I had cut and pulled slime bonds.
I dropped down on a pile of cushions stretching out my leg. Blood dripped from it also and the burning was worse. Was the slime poisoned? One could well believe that.
“August One,” the care keeper of the cats looked over her shoulder, “what has caused such wounds?”
Truth or tale? I choose truth.
“This must be kept secret for now, Mohambra. You are one who has the skill and learning we must use. But what I tell you must remain a secret.”
Her greasy hand went to her lips and, not touching her skin, she signed agreement. I made my tale short as she continued her work. At times she looked up to me in amazement. When I had finished she said:
“Old tales are sometimes true then?”
I pounced upon that, as Murri would take a rat. “Tales? What tales?”
“August One, my mother and her mother before her served the cats, even as I do. There is a coffer among our supplies that has been sealed for a long time. Ah—what am I thinking of?” She interrupted herself, was on her feet and across the room to fling open another cupboard, standing then on tip toe to fetch down from the top shelf a dark box she brought back to show me.
“See, August One?”
There was indeed a line of red characters interlaid on the lid of the coffer. Writing changes over the years; some words are forgot and new one take their place. I puzzled for a moment before I could read:
“Water Ones’ Bane.”
She stooped and picked up one of the thin, blunt edged knives she had used to spread liniment. Using this she pried off a second lid. Within were two smaller boxes. She selected one and opened that in turn. How long that had been closed might not even be guessed but again she had work to force it open. Mohambra’s treatment room was always a battlefield of odors but now such scent issued forth as seemed to clear one’s head. She took a bit of yellow paste on a fingertip and held it close to her nose.
“It is so old—”
“So old it is of no use now?” I asked.
“That may be so—we can only try it.”
Both of the cats had their heads up, looking more alert. “It is good!” Murri’s thought reached me.
Could I depend upon his judgment? I had no wish to see the cats suffer from a mistake.
Reaching up I pressed one of my fingers into the paste, gouged out a ball of it, to smear across my own hurt. There followed a burning, stronger, more of a torment than that the slime had left. Then it was gone, to be followed by a soothing coolness. Murri was right, I was now sure of that.
Mohambra and I went to work, covering those plucked bare lines of skin with the paste. When we had finished both cats were on their feet.
As I wiped my hands on the towel Mohambra tossed to me, I nodded toward the box. She had lidded it again and was inserting it into the coffer.
“Where did that come from?”
“It is not of my making—” she answered.
I knew from our past conversations about cats and their care that part of her duties was concocting herbal remedies.
“As I said, this is old, old.”
Yet it signified by the name on the cover that at one time the water creatures had been known well enough that this had been prepared to counter their slime.
“Take good care of that,” I was on my feet. “We may need it if we go exploring again.”
“Be sure I will!” she answered.
I hesitated, remembering Allitta’s map with the far spread of lines we believed mar
ked waterways.
“The Progress is near at hand; can you give me a store of this paste to take with me?”
Mohambra looked from the casket to me. “You believe that these creatures may be found elsewhere?”
“It is always well to be prepared when a menace is discovered.” I did not explain that one of my reasons for visiting the Queendoms was to prove our guess either true or false.
“I shall do more,” she said slowly. “I shall test this and try to find what ingredients went into it that we may make more if needed.”
I nodded. “Yes, that would be well. Let Murri and Akeea stay here. It is best that their hurts not be seen as yet.”
She had again taken the paste from the larger box and was weighing it in her hand. “It shall be as you say, August One.”
On the desert isle of the Outlaws:
Shank-ji had climbed past the uppermost sentry post to crouch high on a precarious knob. The messenger was on his way, riding as if he followed a trail clearly marked with the tall stone cats of the Queendoms. Only none such led any way into the Plain of Desolation. Shank-ji could sight black dots escorting the rider—rats.
He was aware of his own men waiting. None had overheard the offer. Had it been an offer—or was it a warning? What was plain was that the unknown leader had resources, perhaps greater than any available to him. But how might he himself learn the extent of those? He was sure that there was no possible way for any scout to get into the Plain of Desolation.
There was no way of telling either how much that “August One” knew of Shank-ji’s own defenses. He dropped down from his perch; the rolling sand dunes had hidden the rider now. It was time to do what he could to strengthen his own hand—His hand? He looked down to his handless right wrist. That must be paid for.
He came into camp. Most of his followers were gathered there—only the sentries missing. He must choose his words carefully.
He did. That the visitor had been a messenger, yes, it was well to admit. That there had been an offer of an alliance—that could be hinted at. However, he must make clear that no decision had been made. Now he would need messengers of his own.
Choosing his words with care Shank-ji started his action. This troop had been drawn from all the Queendoms; that was an advantage. He named names and then signaled that the general meeting was over. Left with him were those he had selected. One after another they were dispatched, each to their own home to gather the news, to recruit, to trade for arms, oryxen and supplies.
At last, only Valatan from Valapa and Kalikku of Kahulawe remained. It was not necessary to give Valatan any orders, he had long been a follower and supporter and he well knew the contacts Shank-ji could depend upon.
He had his own sources in the very heart of the court. He needed only be told it was time to put their network into action. And in a moment he was on his way to ride out.
Kalikku remained and Shank-ji surveyed him critically. He was well trained; any son of a one-time commander of forces would be. And—he was close to the usurper. But how good was he at dissembling?
“There is a special task for you, Kalikku, something only you can accomplish. It will mean that you must change outwardly. Your brother preens himself with crown and court—he is not aware how unsteady both of those may be. Were you to go to him, make him believe that the call of House is so strong you cannot resist it, that you are now willing to swear loyalty to him and that you have come to think what I do and say is not of the Essence, would he not be willing to accept you?”
Kalikku was scowling now as he burst out: “In what way have I failed you that you could think I would do this?”
“You have not failed, no. You will be serving our cause as no other does. We need one within the close company of the usurper—who better can we find? For, Hynkkel is of your blood, you have long known him, his weaknesses, those he depends upon. Thus you can learn much of his plans.”
Kalikku shook his head vigorously. “He will not believe that I have changed so. If I know him, he also knows me.”
“But I do not think that he does,” Shank-ji set himself to the task of influencing this youngling. He must control his temper and exert himself to this task.
Kalikku continued to shake his head. His hands were knotted into fists.
“You are a key, Kalikku, and you have it in you to do a great service to our cause. Yes, you will have to play a part, which you dislike. But I say to you it is worth it. You come from a House of great warriors—look to your father. Has he not sworn allegiance? But to the office and not to the man—or he may now recognize some hidden talent in Hynkkel—”
“Not so!” Kalikku burst out. “It may be right that my father honors the office—he would never honor Hynkkel.”
“Then would you not be honoring your father? And it would be very good to have close contact with him. As time passes he may realize that he is wrong. If you went to him and agreed to be at peace with your brother, he may be pleased with you. Your father has a high standing among those of Kahulawe; his example and beliefs could influence many. If he could be brought to see the justice of our cause it will be greatly to our advantage. Your brother is about to start his Progress. He will go first to Kahulawe, since he is born of that Queendom and will follow custom. This is an excellent time for you to ask for peace. No—” he held up his hand to silence the other’s continued protest. “If you can serve us best this way, it is what you must do. Make your peace, then use your eyes and ears with ability. Who are his real supporters? What guards are in his train and for what purpose? What kind of reception awaits him in the Queendom? Has he any marked enemies now in his train?”
Kalikku did not answer for a long moment. Was he going to remain stubborn?
“You believe that this will be of service?”
“If I did not, why would I ask you to do this? Wars are often fought with other weapons than you are trained to.”
“Wars?”
“Wars—we may have to sweep all the Outer Regions. We must be prepared for that.”
“What I can do, I will. I will go to my father.” Kalikku voiced no other farewell but headed for the pool valley where the oryxen grazed.
Shank-ji stared at the rock where the man-rat had sat in all his arrogance. He raised his arm and regarded the stump of his wrist. Payment—there must be that. Could the price be too high?
CHAPTER 10
Hynkkel-ji:
There were four report rolls waiting for me. And Giarribari was impatient for my choice of the date for the Progress. Many of the preparations were made, guards selected. But I was waiting for the recovery of Murri. I would not leave Valapa until the Sand Cat could accompany me.
“The season of storms is not too far distant.” There was irritation in the Chancellor’s voice. Perhaps she was right and I had waited too long.
“You are right. Shall we say five days from now?”
I knew from her expression she would have chosen an earlier departure. If it had been her will we might be setting off this very evening.
“There needs to be the Leave Taking,” she reminded me.
Here was another court festival I could do without but could not dispense with.
“Make what arrangements are necessary. I leave such in your hands.”
Having received the answer she had been long waiting for, she made the formal gesture of withdrawal. Once she had gone I pulled aside the heavy spread of my court robe and rolled up the inner one to examine the wound on my leg. Mohambra’s ancient treatment had worked. There were some reddish patches on my skin but no other sign. Could I hope that the medication worked as well for the cats? I pointed to one of the chime mobiles and at its sound, the waiting messenger came from the outer chamber.
“There is one asking audience,” he said. “The August One’s sister, High Maid Melora Kura.”
“Bid her enter. And do you go to the Imperial Cat Keeper and ask her to attend upon me.”
He saluted and vanished. I rose to greet
Melora as she entered and placed my hands on her shoulders to signify our closeness, avoiding formal courtesy.
“What brings that frown, heart held one?”
It was plain that she was indeed disturbed and I was instantly alert, knowing that under the surface of the court there was much which threatened. I drew her with me to the cushion seat by the wide window, hoping that I could in some manner reassure her.
“You go on Progress,” she began.
“In five days. I can not put it off any longer.”
“Have you selected your company, one perhaps to be your companion?”
I was startled. Had Allitta talked? I had not heard from her though I knew I must very soon.
“A companion?” I asked.
“Yes. Oh, Hynkkel, this I have heard—perhaps it is gossip only, but it was spoken as fact. It is said that Queen Yuikala’s granddaughter Berneen will be our chosen one.”
“But she is only a child. If she is in heat it is not apparent.”
My sister was turning a small packet around and around.
“It is also said that there is a potion which can bring one to heat—”
“But that is meddling with the Law of the Essence! Who dares to do that?”
“The Queen—but she will not, she cannot, go against the Essence! Brother,” she dropped the packet, “what has happened that one could break one of the Inner Laws? Would there not follow some great ill? A woman comes to heat at the time the Essence foresees—this has always been so. Yuikala is a Queen, answering to the Essence for this Queendom. She is accountable to her people, for the safety of Valapa. If she herself breaks the bond will not the whole of Valapa suffer?”
That was certainly the belief I had held all my life.
“Who carried this tale?” I demanded. “We must learn the truth!”
“I—I heard it as gossip. One who spoke so appeared to have some connection with the court. But I cannot not name her!” She burst out with the story of a visit to Ravinga’s shop and there overhearing this nasty tale.
“Such could not be spread without some truth behind it. However, I do not know how we could learn more. There is none whom I can truly trust within the Queen’s court. As it is, I must test each person who comes to me as well as I can. To make such an accusation without full proof would bring the wrath of the Essence.”