Swords Above the Stars

by Roman Zlotnikov

  Yv whistled inadvertently and frowned again. “Where are Beer Keg and Grey Mustache?”

  “We’re here.” A faint but cheerful voice came from behind the door, and Don Kior appeared in the doorway with a pitcher in his hand.

  Yv howled, “No, not that!”

  Beer Keg laughed softly. “Don’t worry, this is medication.”

  “Is there a cure for this?’

  Grey Mustache appeared in the doorway. “I can’t say that it is very strong, but you will feel a little better. It’s brine.”

  Lucky listened to his feelings and with a heavy sigh, agreed. “Give it to me.”

  ***

  Lunch threatened to become a similar ordeal, but luckily, Don Charleman stood up, and gave an ornate toast, politely asking their hosts to slow down. Their hosts looked at each other and muttered good-naturedly. "That’s the Pope's Children for you.”

  They did not watch so strictly that the guest’s goblets were not refilled after each toast.

  Finally, the leisurely lunch came to an end. When the guests of the local boyars politely excused themselves, and left the dining hall, Stubborn Bull leaned over the boyar’s ear, and asked him impatiently, “Noble Putyata when can we finally start work on our ship?”

  Putyata chuckled good-naturedly, slapped Don Diaz on the back, almost knocking him over with his bearlike paws, and reassured him. “We’re already on it.”

  “What do you mean?” Don Diaz didn’t understand.

  Putyata shrugged. “Why waste time. My raid was easy, and the Ushkuynik ships are all in good order, so the shipyards are free. Since we landed yesterday, my guys began the work immediately. We, Ushkuyniks have a rule—first put the ship in order, then party later. Sometimes, we get stuck in the dockyards for weeks before it's time to feast.”

  “Yes, but …”

  “You are our guests,” the boyar replied seriously, then he smiled. “Also, our Ushkuynik ships are all in good order, so we can have a good time.”

  They stayed for a long time on New City. They all built themselves up considerably. Even Grey Mustache, who had looked more like an illustration in the study of human anatomy, developed a noticeable belly. Every day, in the afternoon, they promenaded on horseback. In the centre of Rurik, the use of any transport except for horses was prohibited. All the transport arteries ended at the District monorail. In fact, at first, it was not too pleasant. The Dons sat in the saddle like sacks. Only Pip did not lie when he said that he could ride a horse—he really did know how to ride, but only at a walk. Gradually, everybody started to get used to it, and Lucky began to take on the attributes of a proper rider. Don Diaz spent day and night on the ship, appearing only for a snack or to agree something with Boyar Putyata. At the same time, he looked feverishly excited, and his eyes sparkled.

  When Don Kior met him once in the hallway, Stubborn Bull grabbed his sleeve and whispered to him excitedly. “Listen, Beer Keg, you would not believe what they are doing with the ships here. It’s incredible! Of course, they can’t build a battleship or even a cruiser, because the dockyards are too small, but if they put these Ushkuynik ships on stream commercially, then the Mail Goddard Company shipyards, and perhaps even Samsung Shipbuilding will go down the pan. Nobody even takes notice of their corvettes and destroyers.” Full of excitement, Don Diaz slammed his right fist onto the palm of his left hand. “I will have the fastest and best-armed medium-class ship in inhabited space. Obviously, that is, except for the Ushkuynik, of course,” he corrected himself, and narrowing his eyes, he added, “it is hard to imagine what price I could get for being hired next time.”

  Don Kior chuckled. “So now, who is to pay for the repairs?”

  The captain broke into a broad smile. “My contract states that in the case of damage to the ship during the mission, the Curia will cover the repair costs, and I also get to choose the contractor myself.”

  Beer Keg laughed. “So, does that mean that the cardinal gets to pay for everything? I swear by Saint Fungilda, it's a great joke! Firstly, he gets stripped of everything he just found on Zovros, and now we make his purse even lighter. From what I gather, you have no hesitation in spending? I'd like to see his face when he finds out how much the expedition has cost him…”

  “I see him every evening,” said Stubborn Bull, choking with laughter. “He has a credit card from the Curia, which pays out immediately. As soon as the people of New City calculate the cost of my next order, he …” Don Diaz could not manage to finish, and they both laughed like hyenas.

  When they caught their breath, the captain slapped Don Kior on the back, and rushed off back to his ship. Beer Keg ran to find Grey Mustache and Lucky, so that together they could pop in on the cardinal, and marvel at the sour look on his face.

  At the end of the second month, Boyar Putyata disappeared somewhere from his estate. He did not show up for dinner for a week, and the guests asked the burly, powerful steward, what had happened to his master. He pondered a few minutes, then slowly said, “He’s in Chambers.”

  “Where?”

  He thought again.

  “On New Ladoga of course.”

  They all looked at each other in bewilderment, but the steward gradually gave a courteous bow in his usual manner, turned, and slowly left the room, making it clear that he did approve of such questioning.

  A few days later the owner reappeared. Waking up in the morning, the guests found the quiet, cozy manor filled with noise and crowds.

  ***

  The boyar’s army of vigilantes, who went with him on the last raid, then dispersed to their homes, had arrived before dawn. The first floor housed the "business chambers", and some of the people that scurried around looked like merchants’ clerks.

  Putyata also came to breakfast.

  Breakfast was held in silence. The guests were tempted to ask what had happened on New Ladoga, but the owner sat staring at his plate, and he only opened his mouth to put another piece of food in it. However, when they brought the fifth course, the boyar looked up and grinned at his guests.

  “I see you squirm with curiosity!” He sighed. “The Chamber decided to send a squad to Zovros. You dug up so much interesting information there, especially about them. In early times our forerunners clashed with the Enemy.” He turned to the cardinal, who could not help himself this morning, and had come to join the common meal. “We will return your goods to you, so take no offense. You, dear guests, go back to your homes if you so wish, or if you want to you can come with us.”

  The cardinal leaned forward excitedly.

  “So, can we expect that you will allow us to also engage in these researches?”

  The boyar nodded.

  “In this case, Captain Diaz, I think …” The cardinal began.

  Stubborn Bull did not let him finish.

  “Wait a minute, Cardinal. Our contract agreement was for only one raid, and that has already taken place. If you are planning on going home, then I am obliged to deliver you back there, and I will. If not, it will be a new contract. In this case, I am sorry, but I do not discuss financial matters in front of friends.” He stood up, bowing politely to all present, turned to the cardinal and pointed him in the direction of his designated chambers. “If you would be so kind.”

  As they climbed the stairs, Don Diaz turned and threw a sly glance at the people at the table. Beer Keg, Grey Mustache and Lucky looked at each other and burst out laughing. It was clear that the Curia’s wallet was about to be dealt a heavy blow.

  6

  Cleaver was standing on the Gallery of the Winds in the Palace, and he looked down at the swirling clouds in seven basis vectors. He was alone, and he was happy. As happy as he could be in his situation. A gust of wind parted the clouds for a few moments revealing tongues of flame, and he thought he could see the tip of the peak of Thunder. It was a good sign, but this time Cleaver was not happy. It wasn’t the right time for when there was such a sign, anything could change.

  Cleaver turned away, and spreadin
g his wings behind his back, he leaned against the wall. All of his life, good signs had brought him good luck. Until the time when …

  He closed his eyes.

  What had possessed him to leave the quiet, calm province and demand the right of the sword? Had he wanted to have some fun? Or had he wanted to prove to his ancestors that his generation, if they so wished, could carry the scarlet tide?

  Or perhaps, it had been pure vanity.

  He shuddered, remembering the details of that battle. No, not in vain had the Scarlet trapezium proposed to declare the existence of the threat, a race of "wildlings". There were so many of them. Previously, the Powerful Ones had been unafraid. They were used to ruling over multitudes of "wild" races, conquering them, and incorporating them into the caste system. However, this time, something incredible had happened. There were just so many of the "wildlings”. That would not be so bad, but they also turned out to be Homloks. It was absolutely clear, and he was now convinced of this. Cleaver remembered that in the past he had laughed at such speculation, simply refusing to trust the violent Scarlet representatives. At this time, he had been a famous Purple, but it was not so long since Cleaver synthesized the scarlet pigment in his skin and joined their ranks.

  He winced.

  Today, in the Aala of the Scarlet trapezium, he would be denied trust.

  Beyond the narrow parapet of the Galleries of the Winds something popped, and at the entrance, a powerful figure with skin dyed with a purple pigment appeared. Cleaver moved away from the wall and adopted the posture of greeting. The Purple folded its wings, took a step forward, and also stood in a posture of greeting, but Cleaver noted that the ends of the claws on its wings were turned toward him. It meant that the guest knew about the accusation. They almost simultaneously changed posture, standing in the postures of a timid guest and a welcoming host. However, the guest still hesitated a little—and this also indicated his awareness.

  Next, as Cleaver expected, the posture offering conversation followed, and of course, the posture of consent from Cleaver’s side.

  “My name is Harmonious. I come here at the request of the Lawmaker. He reminds you that you have recently worn our colors, and he would like to talk to you in the Gallery of the Sunset.

  Cleaver adopted the posture of passionate desire, and raised the claws on the end of his elbows in a gesture of extreme sadness. “I must beat my Aala trapezium.”

  “The Lawmaker knows that, and he is expecting to see you after Aala.”

  Cleaver was startled. Incredible! It even suggested for a moment that he had misunderstood the posture of continued time. Just to imagine that one of the older generation would meet with one Denied Trust… It may be a good sign–perhaps the sharp peak of Thunder would still bring him luck… At this point, there was a loud sound from a scarlet bell inviting him to Aala, where the Powerful Ones waited in the Hall of the Wisest. Cleaver adopted the posture of unwavering desire to fulfill the promise and said curtly, “I will come.”

  The Chamber of Aala of the Scarlet trapezium had the same attributes as the Purple one, so Cleaver was familiar with the interior. He had participated in the Aala of the Purple trapezium over a dozen times, but the ritual this time…

  He had an escort of two, whose elbow, knee, and wing claws were painted red.

  Everybody in the Aala stood. When they went into the center of the circle, one of the escorts grabbed him by the base of the wing, then pushed against a pressure point, forcing him to prostrate himself in the circle, facing the floor. All the rest were still standing. A senior of the Generations of the Ancient stepped forward, turning in his lips, and let out the court roulade. Cleaver knew about this part of the ceremony from the time of his initial training, but to see it with his own eyes, especially knowing that he was one of the main players, was a real shock. As soon as the last note of the roulade ended, the second escort pushed his ritual partisan spear into Cleaver’s back. This was the end of everything for him.

  Now, from this minute, the Aala would allow him to be questioned, and before the verdict, he should respond as an inferior being who was not allowed to express his feelings and shades of thought by using postures, and especially to look into the eyes of the questioner. He felt a terrible sense of doom, and before even the first word was uttered, Cleaver tried to lift his face and look at Reach, but the point of the partisan’s spear poked him mercilessly in the back, and he could see only the foundation stones on the lower terrace. Then came Reach’s squeaky, raspy voice.

  “Scarlet, by the name of Cleaver, have you come here to the Aala of your own free will?

  “Yes, Reach.”

  “Do you realize, what brings you here?”

  “Yes, Reach.”

  “Are you ready to accept the decision of the Aala?”

  “Yes, Reach.”

  “Will you agree to the verdict, even if you find it unfair or unduly harsh or soft?”

  “Yes, Reach.”

  Reach paused, then said solemnly, “You are given over for questioning.”

  The Scarlet trapezium was the most ancient, and because of this its rituals were the most archaic of the three trapeziums of power. Even though the Orange trapezium had the reputation of being the most truthful, no other Generation of another trapezium could influence the decision of the Scarlet. All members of the ancient Generations once came from the Scarlet trapezium themselves.

  He heard a slight rustle of wings, and Cleaver heard a voice lamenting, “Let the one in stagnation say why he did not prevent the "wildlings" from overcoming the Swordsman.”

  Cleaver knew that because he was now considered to be the lowest, calling him the "stagnant one " was acceptable, but the words still cut him painfully.

  “May I have permission to answer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sensors recorded the presence of living beings on the boarding craft which was coming back to the Swordsman, but my assistant suggested that this was an evacuation of the wounded, and I agreed with him.”

  “Why was action not taken when it became clear that this was not so?”

  “May I have permission to answer?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was sure that the Swordsman would capture the enemy, before they had a chance to cause any damage.”

  “Why did you not prevent them returning?”

  “May I have permission to answer?”

  “Yes.”

  “The arrival of a few did not seem to play a special role in the balance of power.”

  “Why did you not prevent their escape?”

  “May I have permission to answer?”

  “Yes.”

  “The enemy firepower and protection fields were much greater than could have been anticipated. In addition, the damage caused by the new arrivals from the boarding craft was sufficient to deter an effective response.”

  With each answer, Cleaver wondered more and more. The questions were so pointless and formal, that he could not understand why they had been asked at all.

  After all, everything he told them, anyone could see by viewing the recording of the battle, and there could be no doubt that everyone present, had seen it.

  Nobody could put the blame of negligence or lack of competence on his head. Simply, none among the Powerful Ones could consider such a thing. His fault was simply one thing: he did not deliver. The Powerful Ones could take any action they wished against a lower caste. Cleaver could destroy any of his subordinates or "wild” ones: a hundred, a thousand, a clan, a caste, a planet, but the one right he did not have was not to deliver what he was instructed to do. Each of the forty Scarlet, who died during this Conquest, was considered by the Aala, and they all were posthumously considered Denied Trust.

  He expected the same fate. Nobody was interested in what he was doing or thinking at the moment of the battle. He was guilty simply because he had lost. However, what he was being asked about now had nothing to do with his actual guilt. Crush had always disliked him, because Cleaver held a hi
gher status of Trust, and he was entrusted first in command of the Swordsman. Perhaps they would just vent their anger, before dealing with him seriously?

  Finally, Crush was finished with him. For some time, there was silence in the Chamber, then Reach spoke again.

  “Who else wishes to ask a question?”

  The answer was silence. Cleaver realized that he no longer felt the partisan which had pushed him to the floor. He started to rise, then came Reach’s voice.

  “Get up and listen.”

  Aala raised her wings and took the posture of justice, and Cleaver suddenly realized that no one was bothering to stop him from adopting the same posture. It was incredible. He stared wide-eyed at Reach, automatically noting that his wing claws were twitching in a gesture of utter bewilderment. Reach gave him a stern look and said firmly, “You are forgiven.”

  Cleaver could not have been more stunned at what had occurred in the Aala, or he should have noticed at once that the Lawmaker not only adopted the posture of the meeting of an expected guest, but, in addition, his limbs were grouped together in a posture of making a decision. So, when after the ceremonial meeting was done, the Lawmaker asked him a question, he did not adopt a submissive posture, but blurted out a greeting of fulfilment. A puzzled rumble rolled along the Gallery of the Sunset. Cleaver came to his senses and immediately corrected the mistake. The Lawmaker just reared his wings slightly in a gesture of general irritation, but then moved his ears in a calming motion.

  “I am satisfied with our meeting, Cleaver.”

  “I am very pleased, Lawmaker.”

  The lawmaker smoothly adopted the posture of understanding.

  “I think you were shocked by the outcome at the Aala.”

  Cleaver silently adopted the posture of agreement. Oh, yes, he thought to himself. He expected to be Denied Trust for at least two revolutions, and maybe even the status of stagnation for a few dozen revolutions, but everything ended in forgiveness. Moreover, he was again entrusted with a Swordsman and instructed to become a leader to campaign in the Exile system. He was still puzzled over the reasons for this unusual decision.