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

by Alma Boykin

  Shar intervened. “We deny the challenge, Shu. Your proposed actions are both legal and foolhardy. This is not the time to be reviving traditions best left for dead, including sales-right,” the King-Emperor stated firmly. But he did not forbid the sale, Rada realized. She waited until Shu returned his weapon to its place before sheathing her own and returning to her seat. “Zlee-kae, your objection is noted.” The meeting continued rather quietly after that and the Wanderer noticed several of the nobles eyeing her, their expressions unusually thoughtful.

  Near the end of the meeting, Lord Taeshi raised his still-bandaged tail and inquired, “The revival of ancient traditions was mentioned earlier Imperial Majesty, my lords. Is the full role of Lord-Defender to be revived as well?” There was a flurry of talons on keyboards as several councilors searched the records to see what the striped brown reptile was referring to.

  “Lord-Defender as imperial champion or as the King-Emperor’s sword?” Shu inquired, giving the person in question a nasty look.

  “Both.”

  Shar considered the question for a very long minute. “At present We see no need to do either unless the Council or Lord Defender believe that it is necessary. We are quite capable of fighting Our own battles,” he reminded them with a pointed gesture at Taeshi, who tried to hide a flinch. “If there is no further business for Our attention, this session is adjourned.”

  Prince Heest, who had been sitting in on the council session, stopped Rada as she left the council chamber. “A question, Lord Ni Drako.”

  “Yes, your highness?”

  “I am a historian and scholar, Ni Drako,” the dark reptile reminded her. “I have never encountered the Lord Defender being called the ‘emperor’s sword’ before this meeting.” He looked up at her expectantly.

  “Your highness, this is not the place to discuss that, with all due respect.” She waved toward the departing nobles and passing servants.

  “Come with me,” and he stalked off toward the archives. Rada followed reluctantly, wondering what Taeshi had read or heard. Once in the prince’s office, he activated a silencer field and Rada raised her eyebrow. “I do not care to be disturbed,” he stated, stopping her question before she asked it. “Explain the reference,” and he took his place behind a desk piled high with computer equipment and old documents.

  “There was a time during Shi-dan’s reign that I was called the ‘emperor’s sword,’ your highness. I am under oath not to discuss the matter that led to the name.”

  Heest’s tail thrashed and his pale-green eyes narrowed. “Oath to whom, Ni Drako?”

  “I swore it on my claws to Shi-dan.” Rada’s quiet answer stopped Heest cold. Most vows lasted only for the life of one party, but a talon oath bound its giver until his death and beyond. Heest shifted back a little on his bench as he took in her words. The priests had some especially lurid tales about the fate of oath-breakers, and talon oaths were the single most sacred promise the Azdhagi had.

  “I see. You are dismissed,” he replied, disappointed but unwilling to probe further. Rada bowed and left, just in time to meet a breathless servant.

  “Commander Lord Mammal, you are needed in the Defenders’ practice area,” the smaller male informed her.

  “Thank you,” and she limped off that direction. What now? she asked the ceiling.

  “What now” proved to be a battered Lord Shu and a calm Zlee-kae circling in the outdoor combat practice ring. The two males fought an honor combat despite the King-Emperor’s command. Rada shook her head at their behavior: Shu had taken his opponent for the weak fop that he seemed to be and was learning the truth the hard way. Several of the watching soldiers winced at an especially firm blow that must have made Shu’s head ring like worship chimes. He’d gotten a few hits on Zlee-kae, but not many. “Ah, Lord Mammal, should we call it off?” the training supervisor asked a little nervously.

  Rada waited until Shu finally managed to land another blow on his opponent. “Time!” she roared in her loudest parade-ground voice before striding into the fray, startling both combatants. “My lords, I apologize for interrupting your bout, but your time is up.” She bowed slightly, adding, “If you wish to practice more later, the area will be free in three hours.” Both nobles blinked in surprise at the disruption.

  “Excellent, Lord Defender. My Lord Shu, will three hours be enough time to attend to your duties?” Zlee-kae inquired, covering for both of them since they could have been accused of disobeying the King-Emperor if someone wanted to make a point of it.

  Shu hesitated, torn between attacking Zlee-kae while his guard was down and accepting the offer. Rada’s hand crept toward her blaster and she gave him a look. “Yes, I believe I can see to matters within that time.” He sheathed his weapon, sketched what might have been a salute toward his opponent and stalked off. Zlee-kae made a rude gesture toward Shu’s back but left without comment via the other exit. Rada stifled the urge to shoot both of their tails off and limped to her office.

  She shut the door, leaned back in her chair and covered her eyes with her hands. “Blessed Bookkeeper, what did I do to end up playing referee to a bunch of overgrown tree-creepers?” she groaned in Trader. “And don’t answer that, please.” She was not surprised when neither Great Lord appeared at the third hour after nooning. Rada took advantage of their absence for a private practice with the chief training sergeant, who beat her once in four matches. She returned to her office exhausted but satisfied, only to find an unsigned, unsealed note lying on her desk.

  The Wanderer sat down and stared at the thick paper, then read under her breath: “As we suspected, it has started. Guard your back, Lord Ni Drako.” The report waiting in her document queue said as much—a self-proclaimed “Justice Council” at Zhangki City had announced that they supported the “people’s prince” and his ideas about government. The revolutionaries’ supporters had killed a number of the merchant-oligarchs in the city council and were expropriating their “unjustly acquired property.” Rada acknowledged the report, then went and got cleaned up from her bout. After the Defenders had retired to their barracks for the night, she disconnected the smoke detector and burned the letter in the wardroom heater, changed into an old and warm uniform, and slipped through the shadows to find a quiet and dark corner of the public gardens.

  Rada might well have been a statue as she sat in the moonlight, staring out of a small pavilion at the still-barren ground. But her mind moved restlessly, circling and turning the options laid out before her. She could flee, but it would mean betraying her vows and might well undo all that she and Shi-dan had set in motion those centuries before. She could hold the Defenders out of the fighting, ordering them to withdraw from most of their bases and into a remote location to wait out the chaos, if they would follow her. Daetak wanted her on his side and part of the Wanderer agreed with him and his ideas for remaking the government and Empire even as she shuddered at the knowledge of what the cost would be. And then there was Shar, who had not asked Lord Ni Drako to become involved in the war. She suspected that distraction had a role in his decision, but she hoped that trust and respect also influenced him. Underlying all of it, Rada sensed Drakon IV and the Empire reaching a knot in their time-thread.

  Without tapping the Dark Hart’s resources she couldn’t read all the options, but the Wanderer felt four primary threads emerging from the skein. One brought the Empire to an end and Rada knew that she could not follow that future: in her birth-time, the Azdhagi had an even larger sphere of influence than at this present moment. But of the other three she could not say which was correct, since they ran so close to each other at this juncture, all so similar in their major intertwinings and folds. All she had in the end was her own heart and mind to determine her course.

  Shibo, the greater moon, had set before the mammal reached her decision. She got up from her cushion and limped over to the little altar in the corner of the small pavilion. Rada did not believe in the Azdhagi gods and had lost faith in those of her father’s
people, but she lit an incense stick anyway. It couldn’t hurt and it meant a lot to the males under her command. Then she slowly walked to her quarters and put on her combat uniform, body armor, and weapons.

  At dawn Commander Rada Lord Ni Drako commed her senior officers. “I will be brief, as I know that you have much to do. The Defenders will support King-Emperor Shar and will assist him in maintaining order on Drakon IV. Those of you and your men who cannot abide by this have three hours to leave. You may take two days food rations but no weapons or uniforms and you will be paid through to today,” she stated. Some of the males seemed relieved, if only because a decision had been made and things were clearer. Some obviously disagreed, but most looked as if they would support her, at least grudgingly. “Let me know what your decision is, and report to me or have someone else report to me how many of your people leave. I don’t want to know who, just how many from each rank. May your gods be with you.” She terminated the conference without giving anyone time to argue. It was done.

  An hour later the mammal knelt and bowed low before her liege lord. “Yes, Lord Ni Drako?” he asked, obviously wary of what news she might bring him. Rumors had been swirling about what the Defenders and their commander would do and who they would support, if anyone. Thus far no one had suggested that she might sit out the fray and then use the Defenders to take control “for the good of the people of Drakon IV” but she suspected that Shar had thought of that possibility. For his sake she hoped that he had—paranoia and longevity went forefoot in forefoot among the Azdhag ruling class.

  She took a deep breath and looked up to meet his grey-green eyes. “Your sword awaits your forefoot, Imperial Majesty.”

  The young King-Emperor stared at his Lord Defender before he realized what the one-eyed mammal was saying. “Thank you, Rada.” He looked away for a moment, then made his decision. “Bring all the data and reports that you have received about the current state of affairs to the DCC in one hour. We will begin there.” She waited until he left the small reception chamber before getting to her feet.

  “This is the situation as of this morning, Imperial Majesty, Highness,” Defender Shai began, calling up a map of Drakon IV’s two main continents. A mixture of green, red and white speckles marked the location of towns, cities, and estates. “Green are those places that remain loyal to the government or are under the control of a loyal noble.” The blotched brown reptile tapped a switch and the green faded. “White marks places in active rebellion, or currently rioting against the local nobility or merchants, or all of the above.” Shar’s neck-spines twitched, the only sign of his dismay with the number of white dots on the projection. Those also faded. “Red means neutral or unknown—places we’ve lost contact with but that seem to remain friendly.” Shai looked at his commanding officer, who nodded her support. She stood in the shadows behind the King-Emperor, her arms folded as her mind ran through all the possible ways to convert white and red back into green.

  Prince Heest tipped his head to the side, thinking. “Majesty, the highest enemy concentration seems to be here,” and he circled part of the southeastern highlands with his talons. “If they are cut off and defeated, it should take care of much of the problem.”

  “Bring up all colors,” Shar ordered, and Shai did as told. The King-Emperor made a gesture of negation. “That would work if these were only rebels, Heest. But they are not.” He pointed to the red and a few green speckles interspersed with the white. “We do not care to alienate all of Our people,” he reminded his brother.

  Rada hid a wince at that statement. Well, that screws my idea for using precision munitions to bomb the most recalcitrant and then ask who wants to surrender. Nuking the area also seemed out of the question. Maybe she could get permission to obliterate the worst offenders and then take in troops, the Wanderer thought. It’s so much easier when you just do the mission and then leave cleanup and reconciliation to the locals, she sighed.

  “Lord Ni Drako, your thoughts?” The King-Emperor’s voice brought Rada back with a snap.

  “I would suggest making a proclamation that those who surrender, turn over murderers and arsonists, and take an oath of allegiance to you will be pardoned, and give a hard deadline. Then eliminate those who do not. And I mean completely eliminate, Imperial-Majesty,” Rada growled from the shadows, voice cold and eye hard as durasteel. “Don’t leave anyone alive to grumble or to create martyr legends.”

  Prince Heest’s lower jaw gaped open with shock at her words while his half-brother stared at the map’s intermixed markers. “Ni Drako, how can you suggest that? It will just make the rebels more determined to fight and it will drive off the neutrals!” Heest’s spines had slammed up into full defensive display and even the Defenders on watch in the DCC murmured and stared at their commanding officer. Defender Shai gave her a concerned look but remained silent.

  “What about arms among those who do surrender?” Shar inquired, still considering the map display.

  She’d thought hard about that. “I would leave basic defense weapons and comm gear, so that the Defenders can be summoned if the village, settlement, or estate is attacked by anyone or anything. Let them see that you trust them and accept their word. If they break it, then melt the ground.” Given her own preferences, Rada would have disarmed the population and then slowly returned weapons privileges, granting them to all social levels but only gradually and only after peace returned. But that wouldn’t work with Azdhagi and Shar needed solid support fast. Leaving weapons would also cut the forefeet out from the “revolutionary councils” in Zhangki City and StarCrown, since the deposed oligarchs had not tolerated an armed populace. As if one can consider a fully-grown Azdhag to be ‘unarmed’ when everyone has talons longer than my hand, the mammal snorted to herself.

  “Hmm.” Rada and the others waited quietly. “Emperor’s Sword, take Our forces and cut out the heart,” and Shar’s talon circled a cluster of four villages on the eastern plain. “Do not give them a chance to surrender, just eliminate all of oath age. Then We will make our offer of pardon.” The reptile turned to his Lord Defender, adding, “and let Captain Taedar make the announcements and broadcasts.” Rada winced inside at that. Taedar was a vicious bastard with a talent for psychological warfare. If the King-Emperor was going to use him, it meant that he’d decided how he was going to rule, and Rada felt a little sorry for the reptile. But only a little.

  “It shall be done, Imperial Majesty,” she said quietly, bowing from her place.

  Two days later Rada studied the first village through her new helmet monocular. A few people stirred in the pre-dawn darkness and that raised the mammal’s hackles. There should have been no motion, since Azdhagi had very little night vision, but two or three individuals were up and about in Red Hill. The mammal ground her teeth: it would have been easier if the Defenders had complete surprise and caught everyone on their sleeping platforms, but once again the Universe didn’t give a damn about what Rada wanted. “Right, let’s get this over with,” she said under her breath in Trader. “Fire plan Delta, fire at will,” she broadcast over the unit network. The soldiers hesitated for an instant, then rained death onto the rebellious village. One soul tried to fire back and Rada made a note to find out where his weapon had come from. Then it was over and the Defenders’ armored vehicles rolled into the smoking and silent hamlet. The armed and armored reptiles flowed out of their transports and went from building to building, ensuring that there were no survivors.

  It was the first time Azdhagi soldiers had killed their own people since the Great Relocation and Rada was not surprised when some of her men recoiled from what they had done. “Suck it up, rattail,” one sergeant growled to a hesitant corporal. “If they hadn’t broken their oaths, then they wouldn’t be dead. Now get moving.” The King-Emperor had personally addressed all the Defenders, reminding them of the criticality of oaths and that those in rebellion, including the former prince Daetak, were oath-breakers and thus outside the bounds of normal law. For her part Rad
a had hand picked the soldiers under her direct command out of those who had volunteered, since they would be doing the worst of the wet work. The alien Lord Defender embodied justice and judgment, while King-Emperor Shar stood for mercy, at least in all the propaganda Captain Tadeak was producing.

  The Defenders quickly cleared the houses and shops in what had once been Red Hills Village, executing every creature they encountered. When they finished accounting for all known residents and visitors, Rada gave the order and the place burned to the ground. It was over within an hour and the Lord Defender nodded impassively as she watched the flames.

  “Next target,” the mammal ordered, swinging gracefully back up onto her perch atop the lead vehicle’s turret. The column moved out briskly and the morning air blowing past dried Rada’s tears before anyone else could notice them. “Damn dust,” she muttered. The other three villages disappeared almost as quickly as the first had. It was not warfare as Rada knew it; it was slaughter, because even those villagers who had weapons lacked the training and armament of the Defenders and those Imperials who had come out of retirement to fight for their King-Emperor. Those civilians who tried to hide or flee died just as quickly as those who stood their ground or groveled for mercy. That was one thing the Commander insisted on—quick, clean kills. She caught a private toying with a female and Rada terminated the trooper herself before shooting the female. There were no repetitions or overt challenges to her action, but the mammal knew she’d have to sleep in her armor and helmet for the foreseeable future. Meanwhile, as the soldiers finished their work and prepared to be extracted, Captain Taedak was relaying the news by means of every communication system available. The King-Emperor would make his offer of mercy the next day, but Shar wanted his people to have time to think hard about what was coming.

  As the days passed it became apparent that, to Rada’s surprise, in many cases the tactic worked. No more neutral settlements or manors defied the government, and by the end of the sixt about two-thirds of the rebellious groups surrendered and gave their oaths. Several year-turns later when she asked Great Lord Zlee-kae about it, he laughed without humor. “You are still a foreigner, Lord Ni Drako: we Azdhagi respect strength and force over all things. The shock of the erasure of the first rebels plus his Imperial-Majesty’s promise of no retribution, plus fuller bellies, turned the tide.” The fop looked at her sideways, “After all, it wasn’t an Azdhag who butchered the guilty.” It did not take more than three sixts for the greater part of the rebellion to be quashed. They were long sixts for the Lord Defender, who insisted on leading from the front.