Mark of the Cat and Year of the Rat

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Mark of the Cat and Year of the Rat Page 50

by Andre Norton


  “Out,” she rasped.

  With my support we made it to one of the doors in the other chamber. There both Kottis arose, growling and spitting. I hesitated. I lacked even a sleeve knife for defense. The stink from the door grew stronger with every breath I drew. Rats! The old enemy.

  “Out—” Ravinga freed herself from my aid to stand alone. Before I could prevent it, she passed into the waiting shadow. I followed.

  Rats indeed. The small fires of their eyes were uncountable. But they did not launch themselves at us; their advance was slow, but the unspeakable threat of being eaten alive remained. We stood, backs against the wall of a hall as they pushed nearer.

  Now they began squeaking. Still with our backs to the wall, moving sidewise, we inched along, they, suiting their pace to ours, ever following. A voice sounded through the squealing.

  “Guests do not leave so easily, Wise One. Come to me.” That restraint; the invisible bonds were back. I was sure, without trying, that we could go nowhere other than where the voice desired. The wave of rats behind prevented retreat, even had we been free.

  There was a stair. We had to turn our backs on the evil horde of vermin to climb. Up and up, holding, until fingers cramped, to a rail gritty with dust, doing what I could to steady Ravinga.

  From above came a brilliant light. Ravinga went very slowly. I heard the Kottis growling, but could not see them now. My eyes smarted and I kept blinking. We had come to the head of the stair.

  “Welcome—” The voice came out of the light, which was now a blaze. Having heard it once, I could never forget—we were again fronting Quinzell.

  Neither of us answered. No, but a powerful hand might have dug fingers into me. I was jerked ahead by the force of that pressure that caught and held me. Now I could see the master of the forgotten city.

  “Ah, the False One’s play toy,” he commented. A snap of fingers and guards moved in on either side of me—man-rats. They did not touch me, only stood waiting some order.

  Their master spoke—slurred words I did not understand.

  He laughed. “Waste no time hoping for escape. We shall provide you with other things to think on, Play Toy. We have not given these faithful ones of ours females. Now it is time to fulfill promises.”

  Did he think to send me to my knees with such a threat of horror, to scream a plea? His hand vanished into an inner pocket of his robe and he brought out the amulet Ravinga had given me, letting it swing on its chain.

  “These loyal warriors still possess some remnant of their vanished selves.” He came to me where I stood helpless, to toss the chain over my head. A faint scent had lingered about it, but when it rested again on my breast it was strong once more.

  “Take her,” he nodded to the man-rats.

  Even speech was denied me, I discovered, as take me they did. They gripped my arms, one on either side, the restraints on my feet and legs lessened. They pulled me with them, on to what Quinzell had planned.

  CHAPTER 26

  In Valapa, Audience Chamber of the Queen:

  The Diamond Queen waved the Imperial Chancellor to a seat. By tradition this officer owed allegiance only to the Emperor. And if, because of death of that ruler, there was no one on the throne, it would be she who would arrange the trials to select a new overlord. With the whole of the Outer Regions now threatened on two sides, the rat attacks and water failure, such a choice must be made as soon as possible.

  “Your Highness,” Giarribari said, “in this time of peril, should the tests be ordered? Would any gather to risk them? You have read the reports, which come now thick and fast. Attacks by rats such as we have not experienced since the days of the Great Dark.” She toyed with a pile of messages before her, chose one. “The pools of Azhengir are shrinking fast. To have Minister Mekkui give the fatal order now—” she did not finish that but simply regarded Yuikala somberly. After a moment she broke the silence.

  “Yesterday one Kaska-va-Klavdu was arrested by the city guard as he forced himself into the shop of Ravinga, a respectable and well regarded maker of mourning dolls. Since she had gone with the Progress and not returned, the shop was being kept by Kaverel-va-Melora-Kura. She is sister of the Emperor and a woman of outstanding repute. Klavdu was raving and demanding that some weighty secret be given openly to the whole city.”

  “Was he soused in old wine?”

  “One would think so from his first actions. However, by the time he was brought to the guard house he was like another man, bewildered and denying what had happened. A healer was called as it was thought that he might be suffering from some head injury. He was very distraught, swearing that he could remember nothing. Yet Melora-Kura and two other shop keepers who had come to her aid, plus the first guard on the scene, all swore to the same story.”

  “Old wine,” returned Yuikala. “What has the ravings of a drunkard to do with the troubles which have come upon us?”

  The Chancellor laid down a message and took up a second.

  “At near the same time Klavdu was engaged in this intrusion there was another such. The House of Vurope has been under guard since the news has come that its Head may have been storm slain. There is no heir of the Blood. Since she was the Companion, the throne will inherit.

  “Four men tried to enter the House. The servant who tried to stop them was beaten unconscious. Another servant was able to strike the alarm mobile. By the time the guard arrived three of the criminals were already in the lower part of the building—”

  Yuikala’s hand had knotted in a fist. “They were caught and identified?”

  “Two were killed—they resisted with force—too much force for what seems a case of trespass, for they had taken no loot. But the third and the fourth were indeed captured. The name of one caught in the lower part is Rakunnan-va-Rager. He claimed to be on a mission—then he attempted to swallow this.”

  She laid beside the reports an oval, the size of a little finger joint.

  The Queen stared at it. Long ago she had learned to control her emotions.

  “An Imperial seal—doubtless stolen, Giarribari.”

  But her attention was still centered on it. Now with fingertip she flipped it over. The device, which had been carved on the other side, was not repeated here. Rather there was incised the head of a leopard, plainly Imperial.

  “That is a counter of Haban-ji,” Yuikala said. It is truly Imperial, but of no worth now.”

  The Chancellor nodded. “The guard is questioning those taken. He who was the other is a guard for hire and may know nothing of importance. He is the murderer. Rakunnan-va-Rager now refuses to answer any questions. This much we do know, in the last reign he was a shield brother of the outlaw Shank-ji. Highness, I must ask you to support a search for any others who may have associated with these men. Rumors always fly about any city. For long we have kept careful count of such as might threaten the August One. When he won the crown he broke a tradition, which has held through five reigns, for he was not a man of Valapa, rather one of the desert Queendoms, an unknown. There are many who have no liking for him.”

  Now she was eye to eye with Yuikala, and she spoke slowly, as one who chooses words with care.

  “We all have our duties, Highness. For the honor of our posts we must follow them. Now I must meet with those who search, Highness. Have I your leave to go?”

  “Yes.” The Queen’s lips pressed closely together. She watched her go with a sweep of salute.

  Who were these fools risking all? The message from Shank-ji, which she had found waiting for her on her return, had been a worrying one, but another had come only the night before. He spoke of Dark power, a need to move swiftly now before another Emperor was chosen, and this Dark One emerged to give battle. She had given her secret order to assemble. Not the Chancellor, of course; Giarribari would follow only the well established patterns. Yuikala’s head had ached dully since that first message; now the pain was sharp. Events were coming to a head far too fast!

  Hynkkel-ji:


  The slaughter in the pond was whipping the water into a bloody soup. We had no way to escape as the fighting was at the far end of the very ledge where we had landed. There appeared to be no end to the force of rats gathered there, ready to leap into the water and engage the monsters. The enemy pulled them under when they could, but their very numbers were leading to the water ones’ defeat.

  Those around me held weapons ready as we waited. Return to the transport and the current would draw us straight into the conflict. I wondered how my brother’s arrows and my spear would deal with rat flesh.

  Murri regarded the roiling water intently. More and more torn bodies were rising. We could now see only two of the water things and a moment later one of those was pulled under the surface. Some of the rats were turning to swim for our ledge but its upper edge was out of their reach. They swam back and forth, many of them bleeding.

  “Perhaps they will turn on us if we try the water trail again.” Several of the squad had hands on the mooring rope.

  “Not so!” The great cat was right, none of the beasts looked in our direction. Those on the ledge paid no attention either to the swimmers of their kind. More and more of them were disappearing below the surface. There was no more sign of the water monsters save sickening refuse in the river.

  Murri moved. He could not go, as he would in the desert, protected by the fact his thick coat was the same color as the rocks about. Still as he took one stalking step alter another, he seemed to remain invisible to the rats. Then he paused and his thought reached me.

  “Stay—beyond one watches!”

  There were no crevices or hiding holes along that wall to my left. But I trusted Murri’s talent highly and I signaled a halt.

  Most of the rats had disappeared now either into the shadows behind them or into the depths of the pool.

  Again Murri thought touched. “Watcher gone.”

  We went with all possible care, passing by the first of the bloody waste bobbing in the current, which was sweeping away the battle filth.

  We might not be sure we had reached our goal, but we might discover how the rats had entered and perhaps gain a way to the outer world.

  There was a straggle of rats still to be seen. They had turned their backs on the water, disappearing into the shadows at the probable end of the ledge. There was no rear guard watching for pursuers. It might be that the water creatures never came on land.

  “New rats—” Murri’s pace had outstripped ours. Then came a sharp warning. “Wait!”

  I could now see a faint tracing in the air—Then—an arch of light marked on the green mist thicker and stronger than it had during our journey.

  “Gate—” Murri announced.

  If there were a gate we must make use of it—such an exit might be the only one. We must be ready—“Go for the light!” I passed the order to those behind me before I sprang behind Murri, who leaped up and forward.

  My body was gripped by a force that held me prisoner. There was a sensation of being wrung, nearly pulled in two. Then—it was as if I was spat forth—some great creature of the Dark might have mouthed and instantly ejected me.

  I sprawled on hard stone so forcibly that the air was driven from my lungs and I was left gasping.

  In the Outlaw Camp of the Desert:

  For a short time Shank-ji could only thankfully accept that he was indeed back in the world he knew. He ran his hands over the stone of the rock isle which held their camp, so that his touch assured him that he was out of the City—free of the Dark One.

  Not only he, but the remaining men who had dared the gate, were now headed toward the camp set higher, while around them gathered those they had left on guard.

  He chewed away on the reviving paste of algae, which contained those carefully mixed ingredients meant to supply energy for one who had been too long in the desert. While he did this he listened to reports.

  Three of his specially dispatched messengers were back, having been successful on their missions. There were more mounts in the grazing space, new weapons, and another score of men added to their force.

  However, where was the expected contingent from Kahulawe? At his question the man in charge of the camp shook his head.

  “Great One—there has been a storm. Any planning to come might well have been taken by it. Also—”

  He turned and called a name, which summoned a man from the group beyond.

  “Great One, this is Alvertos-va-Alver, out of Azhengir, a caravaner. He joined us only yesterday and brought late news.”

  Shank-ji nodded to the stranger and the man spoke eagerly.

  “The drums have not yet spoken, Great One, but we may hear them at any time. It is thought that the August One has been lost within the storm with his Progress.”

  Shank-ji stared at the speaker without truly seeing him. Matters were moving too fast; he was not prepared to meet them. If this news were true he might obtain his goal without the battle he had been preparing for—and not by the favor of the Dark One. Let another testing be held now—or would it be delayed because of the growing rat raids and the water shortage? He stroked the blunt end of flesh which was now his right wrist. Could he fight again through the tests? And—did the Dark One already know somehow of the empty throne? That one had many powers to serve him. Valapa might be the answer. He became aware of the caravaner again.

  “You have brought news of worth, Alver. When we have won, full honor will be yours. You have rightfully come to join with those who regain the proper rule.”

  Then he abruptly dismissed them all and settled on his private place higher in the rise. His body was still stiff from the tension of their escape, and he did not seem able to center on any plan well enough to work it through. Valapa continued to haunt him.

  Would the Dark One issue out of the Plain of Desolation to strike for his own purposes? Would that gate operate outside of the Plain? How long would it take to build an army of man-rats—unless there would be raids to capture men? Valapa, certainly Valapa held the greatest strength now of the Outer Regions, the largest army, the most knowledge and skill. If the barbarian had not been storm swept and buried, he must speedily be disposed of.

  There was the Queen. Yes, she had sent several subtle messages; he had been informed of the insult Hynkkel had given when he had ignored her granddaughter. Shank-ji knew he would have her aid—because of her own purposes. One could not have lived as many years as he had in Valapa, noted and listened to rumors and curtain tales as he had carefully done, and not realize that the Diamond Queen was practiced in intrigue and possessor of no small power. She was not one to be content with a small portion in any plan or in the division of spoils after the victory. Any promises she made must be most carefully studied.

  All at once, he was wearied as if he had been seriously wounded. There appeared to be a mist between his eyes and his maimed wrist where it rested against the rock. He—was—too tired. Too—tired—to—think.

  Allitta:

  Kassca was gone; in a small measure that gave me relief. That the creatures now pressing about me, the stench of their vile bodies thick in the air, would instantly slay her; I had no doubt. I might have been one of Ravinga’s death dolls, greatly enlarged and mounted on wheels to be so dragged along. Only by extreme determination could I resist the sickness gagging me as the man-rat to the right jerked at my journey jacket. He tore it open, the undershirt with it, so the chill air of the dead city struck my breasts. Only where the amulet rested against my skin was there a palm-sized stretch of warmth. I felt the scoring of his claws on my flesh as he reached for that crystal, reached but could not touch it.

  He snarled and then deliberately scratched so that I felt the pain and flow of blood, though I could not look down to see the wound. His mate to my left chittered angrily, and stopped short, bringing us all to a halt. His head flashed down and he bit, not at my exposed flesh, but at the other’s hand. Though those yellowed teeth did indeed scrape me, the hold on me from my right was gone. Then I wa
s given such a push forward that I near lost balance and stumbled ahead, while I heard the shrillness of rat battle cries behind me. They must be fighting, but I could not turn to see.

  Did I have a chance? I could again walk free; the hold on my legs was gone. Weaving and staggering, I lurched on, sure that any moment those claws would again grip my limp, useless arms.

  It was lighter ahead and I wavered that way, my breath coming in gasps. That I had not already been overtaken, I could scarcely believe. So, I came onto one of the balconies around the great hall, more light entering the carved apertures on the walling screens.

  Then, the flooring seemed to swing slightly. At the same time I flung out my arms, my fingers catching at the pierced holes in the screen—my hands were free! The spell, which had made me prisoner in my own body, had been broken. That I had not been recaptured remained a puzzle. I could only keep going. The heat that marked the stone on my breast was rising. Though most odds were certainly against me, I must go on as long as the evil here would let me.

  I dragged myself along from one handhold on the screen to the next. It was like making my way through the inside of some beast, for there was a surge in the air, a humming. Power spiraled to a fervent pitch—not too far away. Whether I was going toward the source or fleeing from it, I could not tell.

  Another doorway to the balcony loomed to my left. My badly scraped hands could hardly pull me on and I felt that in spite of the screens, I was too visible. Somehow I reached the doorway, half fell within. Unable to aid myself, I landed not on stone, but rather a thick softness. I might be lying on the cushioned floor of a tent. My legs were not again invisibly bound; it was rather all the energy had been withdrawn from the muscles. So I lay, my gasps turning to rough sobs, unable to lash myself to go farther.

  Murri in search:

  A great wind caught him up, but it did not carry scouring sand to tear his fur. He flew, but he had not fluffed his heavy coat and danced the proper dance. Murri whined as he tried vainly to master his flight, as a warrior should. He was blind also, or the storm had blown all the light out of the world.

 

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