by Andre Norton
I was out of the saddle to spring at Shank-ji, who was yelling as he jerked viciously at the reins. My mount snapped, huge teeth missing Shank-ji’s thigh by scarcely more than the thickness of his breeches. He still fought to keep his seat and I knew it was in his mind to ride me down if he could. Only the rage of the two oryxen, bred to be savage enemies in battle, defeated his purpose. I slammed against his leg, the edge of the metal band now across my knuckles tearing cloth, bringing blood. He screamed, dropped the reins to grab at a knife in his belt.
His mount reared again and he rolled from the saddle. I caught and pulled him away from the hooves of the two oryxen now fighting in earnest. My battle—not to be resigned to cat or enraged mount.
We hit the ground together and rolled apart. Freed from ceremonial robes or bulky uniform, I was glad of my ragged clothing, for I was on my knees as he thrashed to rise from the slippery sand. He now faced me, his face a mask of savage rage. We were both swordless and knifeless. Knowing his superior strength and warrior’s training outmatched me, I attacked. My upswept hand with its metal-clad knuckles struck his face just above the eyes and I dragged it down with all the strength I could summon. I met with bone. He screamed for the second time and threw himself at me so that blood and fragments of torn flesh spattered as I sidestepped. Avoiding his blundering rush, I swung at the back of his head. Once more I felt I had delivered a crushing blow.
He staggered on a step or two and went down face first. His legs kicked twice but he made no attempt to rise. His furred headgear was gone, having been knocked off at my first blow. I looked down now at a deeply gashed head, splintered bone. Lifting my hand I saw more blood—my own. The edge of the metal band had also marked me. I need not turn him over—Shank-ji was dead.
At the Edge of the Battlefield:
Yuikala’s hand flew to her mouth. She must get away! She knew as well as if they had shouted at her that the warriors below, deprived of their commander, would not attack unless the enemy threatened. Perhaps many of them had been dubious of the cause from the start. That—that—outlander down there would be assured of safety now. She looked over her shoulder to her guards, not daring to allow herself to wonder if they would still obey her orders. The barbarian’s personal conquest would plainly bring him renown among the warriors—his victory in hand-to-hand combat—the method that had historically settled many major disputes between Houses and was accepted as final.
“Ride!” she ordered curtly. “Back to Valapa.”
However, she was not to retreat very far, for there were two riders waiting for her, and with them one of the great cats, a female who stood a little apart watching. They blocked the way.
“YOU!” she spat at the one nearest the cat.
Allitta:
When Hynkkel made his decision to front Shank-ji in person, Ravinga drew me aside, saying: “He is right, this mate of yours. But there is another who must answer to us. Come—”
She rode on so quickly that I did not have time to say that the Emperor was not my mate, nor was I, in truth, anything to him. I had been trying for some time to avoid thinking of our own tangled future, but it must be decided soon.
We rode some distance westward before turning south, coming so to the back of the rebel army. None marked our going; they were too intent on Hynkkel. Again we turned, this time east, and only a short way ahead I sighted the well-marked trail to Valapa. Here Ravinga reined in. What or whom she awaited, she did not tell me. She was silent and that assuming of an invisible mask told me she was drawing on inner strength to face some danger.
Though I sought to be alert to my surroundings, my thoughts were also entangled. When I had first met Hynkkel in the days when he was close to being outlawed by his House for his aversion to becoming a warrior, I had believed him of little worth. I knew that Ravinga appeared to have an interest in him, but I could see no reason for it. Yes, he was very able in dealing with animals and suited probably for caravaner.
The changes in his life had come without warning. Amazement at his ability to survive the rigors of the trial for Emperor was my main emotion when he won his way to the throne. Then events moved very swiftly and mostly by chance, or so I believed. I had come to study him more closely when the secret of the river became ours. Now I could see how stupid had been my earlier judgment. Most of our heroes in the Outer Regions had gained acclaim in battle. Hynkkel’s had come in another way. One who held brotherhood with the Sand Cats had powers far beyond the sword and spear. I was sure that his like had not been known before, though Ravinga had hinted in some far past he had faced the Dark One before, though then he had been defeated.
I made a silent petition now to the Essence that the protection of Grace would now be given to him who was the Champion of the Light.
My thoughts held me so that I had stared back to that battlefield without truly seeing movement. The Sand Cat who had joined us padded closer and Ravinga shifted in the saddle.
A mounted company rode toward us—at its head was the Diamond Queen. Her swift pace suggested retreat and my heart began to pound.
Ravinga made no move to give her and her followers any room to pass and gain the road to Valapa. Yuikala was forced to rein in and face us. As Ravinga, she might be wearing a mask—her face was pale and expressionless but her eyes raked us with undisguised hate. It was toward me she looked now and her voice was meant to be a lash.
“You!”
I made no answer but there came a growl from the cat, echoed in lesser volume by Kassca who pushed around the edge of my cloak to face the enemy.
Ravinga moved her mount a pace or so forward. Yuikala’s oryxen showed his fear of the Sand Cat, snorting, shaking his head and striving to back away.
“Well met, Highness,” Ravinga used the formal court speech. “There is that to be said here and now.”
She waited a moment and then uttered a single word—one I had never heard. Her reins were dropped and her mount stood quietly as she lifted her hands and gestured.
The Queen lost all mask-like control. Her mouth opened as though to shriek. Instead she snapped her jaws together before she spoke another unknown word:
“Zacaki,” The whip edge had left her voice.
Ravinga nodded. “So you are one who knows, as I have suspected. The twists of the Dark hold you.”
“Sand devil!” the Queen’s voice scaled upward to near a scream. “Essence—take this one who would rend the world apart!”
Wind touched me, lifted the ragged edge of Ravinga’s cloak, but did not linger with us. Leaping across the baked earth, it seized upon Yuikala. Her mount reared and the reins snapped in her hands. She pitched from the saddle and before she could regain her feet, the oryxen plunged, bellowing, away from her. Sand arose to encircle her. Covering her face she screamed. She did not run, I believed; rather the wind and sand dragged her. Now we saw only a pillar of sand that tottered from side to side toward the waiting desert.
Two of the guard would have followed her, but Ravinga waved them back. “She appealed to the Essence. Now she will answer to what she summoned and that will decide.” We watched as the erratic pillar disappeared.
In the Palace of Valapa:
Hynkkel-ji:
Much lay behind, but more waited ahead. I had been able to rid myself of those who had come to welcome me and was alone in my old chamber. The ringing music of mobiles chimed loudly. I wanted nothing more than a place I could sit in silence. However, if one can stuff one’s fingers in one’s ears, one cannot so stifle thoughts.
My world had changed, in great part from my own efforts. There was a new Queendom in the Outer Regions—for it there must be a Queen, a trusted one—for that I had the answer. The future of those who had rebelled must also be settled. There must also be exploration of the under waters. Already all the algae pools of the Queendoms were swelling, giving birth to streams.
The Sand Cats were safe from men, their own lands granted them, not to be invaded. As this thought, Murri rubbed his head
against my arm. There would come others to bond with his kind and good will would come of it.
A flood was rising about me—a flood of decisions, orders to be given, explorations to be made of the onetime Plain of Desolation. Already I sensed the coming of the overwhelming fatigue.
There was one door curtain I had not raised since I had been shown to these quarters at a time, which now seemed long ago. I shrugged off the heavy robe that had been my wear before the welcoming court. Feeling more at ease, I pushed aside that curtain.
Allitta arose from the cushions. She did not seem surprised at my coming. Yes, there was my promise I would release her. Release her—no! But I feared that she would release me.
Allitta:
This was the meeting I knew we had been moving toward for many days. There was a strange warmth in me—a warmth not unlike that which had come from the amulet. What—? I was—not in heat—there had been no warning. I curbed the desire to reach for him, the longing that he would take me into his arms.
Suddenly he smiled and threw up his hands in a gesture one would make when a difficult task has been safely accomplished. Then he did reach, but I eluded him in spite of my longing.
“I will not be a Companion,” I summoned my pride.
“A Mate—” his voice was caressing, as were the eyes meeting mine.
“But the Emperor—”
“This land has seen many changes during my short reign.” He was laughing and the strain had disappeared from his face. “There will now be an Empress; never question that.”
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH ANDRE NORTON
One of the best-loved and most famous science fiction and fantasy authors of all time, Andre Norton was named Grand Master by the Science Fiction Writers of America and was awarded a Life Achievement Award by the World Fantasy Convention. She wrote over a hundred novels which have sold millions of copies worldwide, including her Witch World, Beast Master, Solar Queen, and Time Traders series, among others. She passed away in 2005. More can be learned at www.andre-norton-books.com.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH KAREN KUYKENDALL
Karen Kuykendall studied illustration and motion picture design at Art Center and Chouinard Art Instituted, Los Angeles. She held as M.A. in Education/Art History from the University of Arizona and was for nine years a teacher of English, history, and art.
Ms. Kuykendall’s unique creations, which she evoked in multiple media including costumes, sculpture, paintings, jewelry, and dolls, were frequently inspired by her fantasy world of the “Outer Regions.” In 1992, that universe received an additional incarnation as a novel when fantasy Grand Master Andre Norton translated the artist’s vision from a visual to a verbal form as the novel Mark of the Cat. Many of Karen’s pieces are now held in private collections in the United States and Australia. Examples of her work are also on permanent display at the Mesa Museum near her long-time home in Case Grande, Arizona. She died in 1998, after a long and valiant battle against cancer.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication Page
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction to the Outer Regions
Mark of the Cat
Year of the Rat
Andre Norton Biographical Sketch
Karen Kuykendall Biographical Sketch