A Double Edged Wish (A Cat Among Dragons Book 3)

by Alma Boykin

  Book 3 of the Cat Among Dragons Series

  Kindle edition 2013

  Alma T C Boykin

  Published by

  IndieBookLauncher.com

  EPUB edition ISBN: 978-0-9916877-6-3

  Kindle edition ISBN: 978-0-9916877-7-0

  Copyright 2013 Alma T C Boykin, all rights reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  1: Hunger

  2: Freebies

  3: A Failure of Discipline

  4: Building Storms and Mending Minds

  5: Stray

  6: Child Care

  7: Drak’s Café

  8: Autumn Haze

  9: Famine, Fortune, and Justice Chapter 1: Storm Warnings

  Chapter 2: Times that Try

  Chapter 3: Casting the Die

  10: Tyrolean Troubles

  11: The Seduction of Evil

  12: Juniors All in a Row

  About The Author

  Colophon

  1: Hunger

  The little girl in the blue dress spun around twice and then pointed at one of her playmates, proclaiming, “You’re the worble!”

  «No, you are! I’ve been the worble all morning,» the young True-dragon protested. «I don’ wanna be the worble, I wanna be a Rowfow.» And with that, the green and grey reptile tapped a blond-haired little boy with his tail and scampered off, calling «Tam’s the worble!» Four humanoids and two more young True-Dragons scattered as the “worble” roared and began chasing them around the playground.

  Rada Ni Drako sucked more of her meatshake and smiled wistfully at the pack of youngsters before returning to her reading. Not that she had anything else to do.

  Zabet’s business had brought them to Harlstaa on Roylee in search of new market contracts. Not long after the interview began, Zabet’s contract discussion metamorphosed into an offer of participation as an independent agent in a complicated three-way trade arrangement. Intent on business, Zabet completely forgot that her pilot happened to be in the room, growing increasingly bored. Finally, after standing and sitting around for almost an hour, Rada had begged to be excused.

  «What? You’re still here, Pet?» Zabet blinked, surprised that Rada had not left already. «Go on, then. I’ll call you when I’m ready.»

  Rada inclined her upper body in a slight bow to the silver-blue True-Dragon and hurried away before Zabet could change her mind or remember an errand that needed to be run. The Wanderer strolled out of the building into a lovely, not-too-warm late morning. You know, she thought as she tried to decide which direction to go, this must be one of the few colony worlds where pre-planning worked the way it was supposed to. Something must have been done wrong.

  Roylee had been House Trobak’s first colony world, and in deliberate contrast to the old cities on Tromari, Harlstaa’s founders had built distinctly old-fashioned garden blocks between the residential and mercantile buildings, leaving lots of open space for people to walk, bask, and enjoy the plantings. As she strolled, Rada read the dedication plaques on the art in several of the gardens, smiling at some of the more eccentric commemorations. Alfonse the Unsung must have been rather unusual, she mused, looking at a curling, climbing collection of brightly colored pipes rising at least three meters above the center of the park. Bits of the sculpture shifted in the wind, making a melodious, quiet chiming sound.

  The sound of laughter caught her ears and Rada kept walking. A splash of color caught her eye and she stopped in front of a clothing store, sighing over the luscious deep wine-colored pillows scattered around the holographic display. You have no place to put them, you’d have to carry them around all day, and you need to replace your uniforms, she reminded herself. And they are not for sale. Or so the small sign in the corner of the display proclaimed. Rada swished her tail with frustration and continued her meanderings.

  She followed the laughter to another park, this one full of leafy trees, soft green groundcover plants, benches, and children. True-Dragons, humans, and at least a handful of HalfDragons romped and played in the shady park, their parents and minders sitting or standing around the sides of the central play area. Rada walked on another half-kilometer or so until she found a take-away shop selling dairy products. She read the menu and her tail began wagging as her mouth watered. “Good morning,” she greeted the man working the front counter.

  “Good morning to you,” he replied. “What can I get you?”

  She tried not to lick her lips or slobber too much. “An extra-large meatshake, please. Liver.”

  “Extra large meatshake, liver,” he repeated. “We’re having a special today, Ma’am. You get a second meat free.”

  Rada bounced a little on her toes. “Heart, please.”

  “Heart it is.” The price appeared in the air beside him and she handed over her credit ring. He debited her account and returned the ring, followed not long after by a very large cup, a fat straw, and long-handled spoon. “Enjoy. Oh, and if you use a recycler within a kilometer of the shop, you get a deci-credit back.”

  “Thank you.” She almost drooled on his clean counter as she picked up the cool cup. Rada took her treat back to the children’s park and found a spot away from the central play area, where she could watch the fun but not look as if she were stalking. She ripped the wrapper off the tip of the straw, sunk it into the thick, meaty-creamy concoction, and pulled up a big milky mouthful. Ooooohhhh, this is sooo good. She’d not had a decent meatshake in years. Rada closed her eyes and savored the luscious treat.

  She took her time, fishing every last bit of minced heart and liver out of the bottom of the cup. Some children had left by the time she finished, while others had arrived. Rada found the waste disposal units and popped the cup into one and the spoon and straw into a second one to be scrubbed, melted, and reused. After a moment’s indecision she decided to sit back down on her shady bench and read. By now Rada knew to bring something to keep herself occupied when Zabet had anything more than a straight delivery to conduct. And it gave her an excuse to watch the children.

  Her poetry book proved the perfect choice. Rada read a little, watched a little, then read some more. Two humanoid boys claimed the top of the slide. “I’m Head of the House!” the darker-skinned youngster proclaimed.

  “And I’m the war-lord,” his friend told the world.

  Two of the young True-dragons, siblings if Rada read their similar red and brown colors correctly, exchanged glances and tail pokes. They began climbing up the ladder behind the boys, trying to be as stealthy as they could. A humanoid girl started climbing up the slide, distracting the boys, and Rada grinned behind her book. Sure enough, as soon as the first reptilian head appeared over the edge of the platform, the girl turned around and slid down, scampering out of the way. “Raaaaawwrrr” one of the True-dragons vocalized, surprising the boys. They turned around too late and the True-dragons swarmed up and over them, diving down the slide with squeals of glee.

  “Hey!” And the chase was on. Soon nine children scrambled and ducked around the complicated play buildings. One intrepid girl with short, curly brown hair climbed up a little ways and turned around, balancing on the edge of a post, intent on jumping down onto the next person to run beneath her.

  “Mira, you know better,” a grey-haired woman called.

  “But Grammama,” the little girl whined.

  The old woman shook a talon-like finger in warning and the girl climbed down again. She looked around, spotted one of the reddish True-Dragons and scampered off on an intercept course.

  Someone fell, tumbling head over toes in the soft sand and matting under the equipme
nt. The very small black boy sniffed, wiped his nose, and saw blood. “Daaaaaa!” he wailed, running to a black True-Dragon. The True-Dragon picked up the youngster and fished a clean piece of cloth out of a large pouch on his carry harness, applying it to his son’s nose. Rada heard a quiet murmur of mind talk, and raised her shields a little more.

  The scene triggered the old longing in her heart, and she returned to her poetry book before she got caught staring or started to cry. She’d never told Zabet because she hated being teased, but Rada loved children. She always had. As soon as she’d been old enough, she’d helped mind the younger kitlings. The child craving had withered under the Traders’ discipline, only to reemerge even stronger after Master Thomas (or Himself as she thought of him) helped her break their conditioning. But only Himself knew about it. Back when she’d been with the Adamantine Division, she’d listened to Yori dar Ohrkan talking late in the night about settling down and starting a family as large as he and his mate could support, and she’d sighed for a dream she could never share, not even with him. She wanted a child, or even better children, of her own, someone to cuddle and teach, someone to show the universe to. But it was not to be.

  She reminded herself of the old arguments as she turned the page and checked the time. As long as the Traders hunted her, she could not settle down. Until she settled down, she could not find anyone to raise a child or children with. The Azdhagi would not permit her to start a family on Drakon IV. She could not take a mate until Himself released her from their contract, and she did not want to try raising a child without someone to help her. After delivering one clutch and nearly dying in the process, Zabet had sworn off children forever (not that it stopped her from enjoying recreational procreation, mind.) Blessed Bookkeeper, Rada sighed for the umpteenth time. If anyone wants proof that the Universe has a sick sense of humor, we are it. Zabet’s fertile and refuses to have any more juniors, and I’m sterile and want them.

  «Excuse me,» a light soprano said into her mind. Startled, Rada looked up to see a green-orange True-Dragon with two redheaded children in tow and a baby True-dragon in a carrier. «I’m sorry to disturb you, but could you watch Kara and Milly for a few minutes? I’m out of diapers, and of course...» Rada caught a whiff from the baby carrier that made her eyes water.

  “I’d be happy to,” she assured the female. “I’m Rada Ni Drako.”

  «Bless you! Kara, Milly, stay here. I’m just going around the corner to the fabricator,» And with that the True-Dragon rushed off, leaving a boy and a girl looking at Rada.

  She closed her book and got up, then knelt so she’d be at eye level with the green-clad pair. “Who is Kara?”

  The boy stuck his hand in the air, waving. “I am!”

  “So you are Milly,” Rada turned to the girl.

  “Yes,” and Rada heard the unspoken “of course,” and sigh. She was going to be a handful when she reached the courtship age, Rada suspected, hiding a smile.

  Rada told them, “You can play, but don’t leave the park until your mum comes back.”

  “OK,” Kara announced. His sister nodded and they turned, darting into the melee around the play equipment. Rada stood up again and moved closer, so she could watch them and intercept any escape attempts. They seemed content to join the barely-contained chaos of squeals, “you’re out,” and, “look out, the worble’s behind you!”

  Kara ducked into the shadows under a low platform on the back of the maze of towers and slides. “Be careful,” Rada called. Milly followed her brother, imitating his every move. He emerged from under the platform and jumped up, grabbing at a girl standing on the pseudo-wood surface. Milly jumped too, and Rada flinched as the little girl’s head hit the pseudo-wood with a dull “thump.” She fell back into the soft sand, startled, and started to cry. Rada sprang into motion, zooming around the equipment and pulling Milly out from under the play space.

  “Shhh,” Rada soothed, lifting the fine-boned girl and settling her on her hip. She carried Milly back to one of the benches and sat down. Milly continued crying and Kara came over, a worried look on his face. “Shh, easy. Let me look at it,” Rada told Milly, lowering her shields and projecting calm reassurance.

  “OK,” Milly sniffed. She bent her head and Rada very carefully parted the thick red curls. A red knot already swelled on the pale skin, and a little blood oozed out of scratches at the top of the lump. “Goodness, you almost broke the playset!” Rada announced. “Does this sting?” She brushed the skin beside the knot.

  “Owwwww!” Several parents and child minders turned to the source of the howl, checking to make sure it wasn’t from one of theirs.

  Rada took the wail for a yes. “Easy, Milly,” she repeated, gathering her Healing touch. “You are going to feel a cool spot on your head,” and she concentrated, reaching in to reduce the swelling and stop any bleeding. She did not feel any breaks in the bone beneath the lump or evidence of a concussion. “Is that better?”

  A loud sniff, then, “Yes.”

  Kara crowded close, watching Rada, his forehead scrunched down, his swirling brown eyes narrow with concentration. “You’re a Healer, like Uncle Grar,” he informed Rada.

  “Well, I don’t know your uncle, but yes, I am a Healer.” Rada touched the spot. When Milly didn’t respond, Rada applied a little more pressure. The girl shifted but didn’t flinch or wince. “You’ll need to be careful, Milly,” Rada cautioned, releasing the girl. “You’re got a hard head but not that hard.”

  “I was just following Kara.” Milly reached up and patted the top of her head. “There’s a bump.”

  “Yes, there is. You can go play more if you want to.” Milly shook her head so hard her curls flopped. Instead she climbed onto the bench beside Rada and sat, arms folded, glaring at the jungle gym for daring to get in her way. Kara looked at his sister, stuck his tongue out, and returned to playing, climbing up onto a swing.

  Not two minutes later their mother returned. «Thank you! I made a note in my recorder to get more diapers and then left the recorder at home,» she sighed. She set the baby carrier on the bench and looked around for Kara. «Why aren’t you playing, Milly?»

  “Because I got a bump, Mama,” and she dipped her head, showing her mother the spot. “But Miss Ni Drako made it right.”

  “I’m a Healer,” Rada explained.

  «Oh good,» the yellow-brown reptile sighed, whiskers fluttering up and down. «I swear, if it weren’t for my brother being one, I’d have shed my scales from worry years ago.»

  Rada just smiled. She felt the commbox on her belt buzzing and sighed, standing up and collecting her satchel. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me, Ma’am. I need to go meet someone.”

  “Look at me, Mama!” Kara called, swinging as high as he could.

  «Very good, dear! Be careful,» his mother cautioned automatically. Rada used the distraction to escape. She’d have to hurry if she was going to meet Zabet before her boss became impatient.

  Zabet was not patting her tail tip on the floor with impatience, but she seemed close by the time Rada trotted up. «We need to get moving.» She stalked past Rada, then stopped, sniffing. Her round ears tipped back against her skull. «You got a snack, didn’t you? What was it? You smell like a meat shop.»

  “Meatshake, Boss,” and Rada made a mental note to grab some chlorophyll drops for her pouch.

  The elegant True-Dragon heaved a gusty sigh. «Barbarian. I can’t take you anywhere. I trust you didn’t scandalize anyone while I was working?»

  “No more than usual, Boss.” What Zabet didn’t know, Rada smiled to herself.

  2: Freebies

  “Boss, I’m just going to step around the corner,” Rada warned, her hand moving toward the place at her side where she usually carried her pistol.

  «Why? I’m almost done,» Zabet sniffed. «If you have to,» she stopped as she saw the figure reflected in the buyer’s decorative mirrors. «Understood. I’ll find you at the gate.»

  Rada Ni Drako eased her way t
hrough several bales of rough fabric and un-mounted rugs, one eye on the reflections and the other on the discrete back door of the temporary warehouse. The merchant’s assistant frowned and blocked the door. “Got caught in the edge of a bar fight last night,” Rada lied, tipping her head back toward the Traders peering into the shop. “Don’t want the misunderstanding to spill into your trade.”

  The arthropod gestured its understanding and eased the panel aside just enough for Rada to slide through. Her skin tingled as she broke the security field and she tossed the merchant a mental salute. The Traders couldn’t corner her without disrupting the field and setting off an alarm. Rada ran silently between the Mart warehouses, circling around to the gate that demarcated the primary Mart from the wholesale and warehouse/storage facilities. The mammal slowed her pace, took her data-link out of its pouch and acted busy, tapping with her stylus as she walked through the thickening stream of other merchants and workers.

  Blessed Bookkeeper, but the Traders never could take a hint! Rada hid a grimace as she thought about her earlier close shave. An over-eager apprentice from Tarqi da Peerlan had grabbed her arm. “Hey, you look like that Rakoji with the price on her head!”

  “Mrrsarra? Mrr tikka Feeltarish’shhhhkila?” the disguised Wanderer had asked in Feltari. When the apprentice stared at her, Rada had repeated in Trader, “What Rakoji? Am Feltari.”

  “I’m taking you into custody until Master da Peerlan comes with a gen-kit,” and the idiot had started dragging Rada into the Traders’ storage facility.

  Zabet had intervened, loudly enough to catch the ears and minds of a number of passers-by. «Where are you going with my pilot? That’s my House Pet you are carrying off, I’ll have you know, and whatever you think that Feltari is, Rrashli Nahrrow isnot it!» Rada and the apprentice both cringed at the force of the telepathic declaration. The True-dragon stalked up and rose onto her hind legs, muzzle to nose with the Trader. He began sweating and Rada felt the hand on her arm growing slick. Zabet continued, sarcasm so thick it practically dripped off her words and pooled on the ground, «I’m sure your Master would be delighted to speak with security about this uncalled for violation of Mart regulations. Truly delighted,» and Zabet’s whiskers snapped straight out, her ears flat against her skull.