by Alma Boykin
“Colonel, you need to check on your men,” Rachel reminded him after the ship left.
Despite what he’d heard, or thought he’d heard, Joschka found Captain Eschenbach and the soldiers alive and on guard outside the cave mouth. With them were several lost-looking civilians, with more civilians lying on the ground near the edge of the trees. “We tried to avoid using lethal force,” Eschenbach explained, “but they pushed us back. Then, it was the oddest thing, sir. It was as if someone had flipped a switch, and they stopped fighting. Some of them collapsed and others clutched their heads or necks.” Joschka confirmed for himself that everyone was all right and then he sent two men to contact Army Group and to have General Esthergorm come with more soldiers.
He ducked back into the cave and found Rachel standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at the holo display and other equipment. Major Peters seemed to have come around and Joschka went over to the groaning American. He checked the man’s eyes for signs of a concussion, but Peters was more interested in Rachel than anything else. “Wha’s t’at?” He pointed, finger wobbling back and forth as he tried to follow the swaying black thing.
“That’s Miss Na Gael’s tail.”
“What is she?” Peters demanded of Joschka, his unfocused eyes still following her tail as it swished back and forth.
“She’s a friend, Major. That’s all you are cleared to know at this time.” Joschka helped him stand, then started walking with him back out of the cave. Rachel had pushed back the hood on one of the three “witches” and Peters gasped. Rachel just wrinkled her nose.
A little more clearly, eyes wide, Peters whispered, “What’s that?”
“Hmmmm. A human-Oudaveh chimera, I’d guess. Created by someone, obviously,” she dusted her hands on her breeches as she stood.
“By the Soviets?” Peters breathed, a horrified expression on his face.
Before Joschka could say anything, Rachel laughed. “Not at all, Major, not at all. These were sent from elsewhere, much farther away than Moscow, and were part of an attempt to draw the US and USSR into another major war. Fortunately, your insistence on investigating this cave convinced Colonel von Hohen-Drachenburg to get here as quickly as possible and the plan failed.”
Joschka picked up her theme as he cajoled and urged the human out of the cavern. He heard blaster shots from inside and returned a third time. The stench of burnt plastic and electronics scorched his nose and made Joschka’s eyes water. Rachel, one arm across her nose and mouth, coughed into her sleeve, “That’s taken care of, then. I’ve destroyed the most dangerous bits and any things that the humans should absolutely not see. The rest can be explained away.” She sounded satisfied but gloomy. “Recognize this?” and she tossed him a transmitter.
His lip curled. “Sonic suggestion augmenter. Typical.” He dropped it and let it shatter. No wonder he’d succumbed to their blandishments so easily at first.
As the pair turned to go, the lights in the cavern died. A black form loomed against the light in the entry passage. Joschka went on guard, putting himself between Rachel and the shadow. A low, old, but strong voice rolled through the cavern and he felt as if his very bones shook. Behind him, Rachel dropped onto one knee and bowed her head. Joschka remained on his feet, ready to fight, and he sensed pleasure and humor from the dark shape. Then a wave of energy flowing into him all but knocked the breath out of his body. As abruptly as it had started the sensation stopped and the shadow disappeared from sight.
Joschka turned to Rachel. The pale woman stood up, then drew her sword and saluted. “My lord, allow me to offer my congratulations on your accession.”
He shook his head. “Joschka, Commander. For you, always Joschka.”
Colonel the Graf von Hohen-Drachenburg and Miss Na Gael were the last to leave the scene of the incident. Despite her coat and pelt she shivered in the cold and he put an arm around her shoulders. This time she didn’t resist and Joschka pulled her closer.
“Did you find the missing items?”
She patted a pocket. “Affirmative. They were her coming-of-age gift from Zabet. She was wearing the necklace when,” her words choked off.
Joschka repressed a shudder. “What was her name?”
“Anna. She was a human orphan from the 1300s. I raised her.” She fell silent and Joschka didn’t ask anything more as they watched the first snowflakes touch the ground. He just hugged her to his side and prayed that he would never know how it felt to lose a child.
“Time to go see how much paperwork this will take,” he sighed at last. She made a rude sound. “I see that still has not changed,” he observed as he released her.
“No. And I’m sure Major Gupta’s ghost is looking down from paradise and groaning in pity for whoever has to read my reports,” she chuckled. Since that would be him, Joschka glanced heavenward, hoping there was truth to her jest!
Two nights later they sat in Joschka’s library in Schloss Hohen-Drachenburg, listening to a storm whip down the mountain and enjoying the fire. Rachel perched on a hassock between the Graf’s chair and the hearth, basking in the heat. The Graf and the Gräfin watched her with quiet amusement and Major Peters shook his head, still not believing his eyes. Rachel’s tail thumped the floor a few times to punctuate her points during her portion of the story, each time making Peters jump a little. «A wee bit high strung,» she thought to Magda and Joschka, who tried hard to keep straight faces.
«Be nice, Commander. He’s just getting comfortable with the idea that enemies and allies can come from somewhere besides behind the Iron Curtain,» Magda chided her guest. Rachel just smiled, without baring her fangs. She did shake the basket of chestnuts roasting in the corner of the fireplace, wondering how high the major would jump once they started popping. The Graf reached over and she refilled his glass with mulled wine, then went back to listening to the others’ accounts of the past days’ adventures.
“Are you certain that’s the end of them, Colonel, Miss?” Peters wanted to know.
Joschka chose his words with deliberate care. “We are ninety percent certain, Major Peters. There is always an outside chance that they might be able to return at some point, but Miss Na Gael is going to do some more work and see about reducing the chances of a recurrence.” Rachel nodded, expression grave, as the Graf continued, “That should raise the certainty to ninety-five percent, but monitors will be put in place so we will have early notice if they try again.”
That seemed to satisfy the American. He sipped and finally tasted his drink, eyes opening wide at the quality of the Scottish whisky. The first chestnut popped and he startled, but less than Rachel had hoped. Soon the nuts were done and poured into a bowl for the quartet to nibble. Talk turned to other things and after a while the Graf looked at Rachel, speculation in his bright blue eyes. “Do you still sing, Rachel?”
“A little, when the mood strikes me,” she said mildly.
“Do you know any Christmas music? Aside from Stille Nacht and ‘In the Bleak Midwinter,’ that is,” Joschka added hastily at Magda’s grimace.
“Hmmm,” the silver-grey eye narrowed as the woman searched her memory. “Do you know the Wexford Carol or Don Oiche Ud I mBeithil?” At the headshakes she smiled and sat up straighter. “Would you prefer something lively or a quiet selection?”
The others thought a bit. “How about lively first,” Magda suggested, “then the quieter one.”
Rachel rose to her feet, took a deep breath, and began. Her clear voice soared to the arches of the library ceiling and the others listened intently. “Good people all, this Christmas tide/ Consider well and bear in mind...” She took it a little faster than she usually did but no one noticed.
In the hanging silence after the piece Rachel reached inside for her Gift, then began “I sing of that night in Bethlehem/ A night as bright as dawn. I sing of that night in Bethlehem/ The night the Word was born.” Peace, wonder, and quiet joy flowed through the notes and into the stormy night, twining around hearts like the smoke from th
e fire, drifting and leaving a faint hint of something behind. They could almost see the shepherds cowering as the angels appeared and then the warm dimness of the stable, infant and mother sheltering from the cold outside.
This time the silence lingered like incense in the air. No one wanted to break the spell of the music, Rachel least of all. At last she sat down, drinking her cider and staring into the fire as the others slowly emerged from the music. Peters shook his head in wonder. “Miss Na Gael, that was amazing! Have you ever thought of singing professionally?”
“No, Major Peters. My voice isn’t suited to popular music and I don’t enjoy performing for strangers,” she explained. He looked disappointed but Joschka and Magda understood.
The Graf sipped his hot wine and smiled, “Thank you, Rachel. I enjoy hearing new music.” The Commander smiled in return and bowed from her seat.
«Not badly done for a non-believer,» Magda spoke quietly into her mind.
Rachel stared deep into her mug and didn’t answer for several minutes. At last, looking into the fire, she whispered, «Someone I knew and cared for loved ancient Christmas songs, my lady, and so I learned them and sing them still.»
Aloud Rachel asked “How long is the storm going to last, my lady?”
“Probably another hour or so,” the Gräfin replied after some thought. “They hit the mountain hard, but the road in the valley and back toward Vienna will probably be clear by midnight. Definitely open by morning,” she stated.
Major Peters looked at his watch and stood up. “As much as I hate to go, I’d better head out. I have a lot of reports to write and suspicions to calm before everyone leaves for Christmas. Colonel, Gräfin, thank you for your assistance and hospitality,” and he bowed to Magda, who agave him a gracious smile. “Miss Na Gael, thanks for your expertise and advice. I will be more careful in the future who I call a spy,” he said.
“You’re very welcome, Major. Speaking as one who has raised paranoia to an art form, I think you have every right to be cautious. Just don’t get so carried away!” She too smiled, taking away some of the sting of her words.
Joschka saw the Major out and then returned to where the women waited. “I hope you don’t mind my taking advantage of your hospitality for another night, my lord Colonel, my lady,” Rachel began.
“Not at all! In fact, I insist that you stay at least until the storm ends, Rachel,” Magda declared. “And when you go, take this with you.”
She held out a small box. Rachel scrambled from her hassock and took it from the fine-boned hand. The Wanderer opened the top and her eyebrow rose almost to her hairline as she took out a ring. The emerald-cut blue-green tourmaline had a familiar pattern carved into the top surface. Rachel slid the ring onto her left hand and a tremor ran up her spine, as if she had touched a live wire. Magda and Joschka had been watching her closely and exchanged satisfied smiles at her reaction.
“Among the Houses on Earth, it is customary for the Head to carry the signet on hand as well as elsewhere,” Magda explained.
Joschka nodded, “It is similar among my father’s people. Since you are Head, by gift and by service, it seemed appropriate for House Drachenburg to give you the ring.”
Rachel gave them a slightly twisted smile. “Head of a one-member House,” she started, but Magda shook her finger in correction and she subsided.
“That does not matter, Commander Ni Drako. You have taken the duties as well as the title, both here and on Drakon IV. If you do not have a House by blood, you have a larger one in those you have sworn to protect,” the Gräfin said firmly. “As Joschka has earned the title of Graf, so you have earned formal recognition of your Headship.” There was an odd presence in her eyes and Commander Ni Drako felt the fur on the back of her neck rising slightly. She bowed her head in acknowledgment and subsided.
Just before dawn the next morning, Rachel and Joschka stood at the side of the road where he had met her. She kept glancing around warily and Joschka ached for her. “I’m sure they were lying,” he started.
“No, Joschka, they really did tell someone that I’m here. I checked the time ship’s com records. I have to leave before I endanger your family.” She picked up her bags and started turning toward the woods, adding, “I’ll let you know what I find about the chimera.”
“Rakoji,” he called quietly. She froze.
The brown-haired count put an arm around her shoulders. “Thank you, Rada of House Ni Drako,” he whispered in Trader. “God’s blessing be with you.”
She gave him a weak but genuine smile. “You’re welcome. And thank you.” Then she disappeared into the twilight shadows and he drove on to Army Group headquarters.
11: The Seduction of Evil
«That’s impressive,» Zabet breathed, circling around her business partner and Pet. «I can’t tell that it’s not real.» The True-dragon rose onto her hind legs and lightly touched the false fur attached to Rada’s shoulder. The mammal’s skin twitched just like it did under her true pelt. «But did you have to cut your hair?»
The Wanderer-hybrid nodded sadly. “Yes. A wig won’t fool the biometric scanners and Tobashtorak don’t have long cranial fur like Feltari do.” Rada hated her newly cropped hair and did all she could to avoid looking at her head in mirrors or shiny surfaces so she wouldn’t be reminded of the short brown-black fuzz that had once been a waist-length mane. “And First Claw Rrahsh Foe-gutter doesn’t have enough kills to wear a trophy pelt. Yet.” She finished getting dressed, then checked the mirror again. Her tail swished, making the rank-ribbon woven around it flutter. She wore dark brown leather breeches tucked into short ship-boots and a matching vest over an open-neck black shirt that barely covered her (now furry) “assets.” Rada wore nothing else apart from half-gloves, and her weapons belt, and she felt very exposed. “I should have given it more thought before I decided on this species.”
Zabet shook her head, her sapphire eyes serious for once. «I think it’s the best choice. There won’t be any other Tobashtorak there, and since you are uncomfortable, you won’t forget and won’t break pose. As long as no one tries to bed you, you’ll be fine.»
Rada managed a laugh as she adjusted her eye patch. “If anyone tries to bed me, the First Claw will add another kill to her list and just tip the cleaners a little extra.” That was one of the factors she’d used to select her false persona. Tobashto society was a pure meritocracy and females as well as males had to prove themselves in their clan corporations. A female ranked as a First Claw had as much right to accept or reject suitors as a male of equal rank and she could not be compelled by a higher rank unless he or she defeated the First Claw in unarmed combat. “Besides, Rrahsh Foe-gutter would almost never mate out-culture.”
«True.» With that Zabet returned to her earlier pursuit of packing her carry-harness while Rada collected her weapons, datalinks, and other equipment. «Let’s go. The sooner we get to Zelowi the sooner we can get back to what we are supposed to be doing.» The True-dragon shrugged on her harness. Rada picked up her boss’s bag and the two females walked down the slope to where Rada’s timeship, The Dark Hart, waited. As soon as they were underway, Zabet began calling up market data and auction reports from the computer on “her” side of the ship. The pilot remained in what her boss termed a steering trance, working with the psycho-symbiote that maneuvered the ship along the timethreads. Eventually their path stabilized and Rada “woke up.” The mammal split the screen on her display, leaving half showing the route and hazards while she read over her credit account on the other.
Rada leaned back in her chair and rubbed her stiff neck. “Boss, life would be easier if we didn’t have to change accountants so often.”
«And just whose fault is that, pray tell?» Zabet’s rounded ears twitched, then pointed toward the mammal. «I’m not the one who refuses to live in one place and time. It’s not my fault that you’ve dragged me across four hundred or so Azdhagi years.»
“Hmm, actually its probably more if you start from when we met
,” the Wanderer thought aloud. “Which does not change the rather messy state of our finances. Before you shred something expensive, all the credits are accounted for, Boss,” she hastily assured her business partner. “They are just, well, you see what you can make of this,” and Rada waved her hand toward the display screen.
Zabet called the information onto her own display and started tracking the various accounts. The tip of her tail went rigid, then started tapping the floor of the Dark Hart with increasing speed. Rada noted the accelerating counterpoint of tail and talons as Zabet entered or skimmed data on the keyboard. «Fewmets this is a bunch of shootee droppings!» The reptile snarled after another few minutes’ inspection. The talon/tail rhythm slowed, then ceased abruptly. «What an incompetent, oblivious...» and she used some terms that left even Rada’s ears slightly singed, which was quite an accomplishment. The mammal stayed quiet and left the brains of the pair at work while she returned to steering the timeship.
They landed uneventfully at the spaceport on Zelowi. This was where Rada would be in the greatest danger, because of the other Traders coming and going around the arms market, and neither partner had any desire to linger. The mammal stretched, slung her weapons belt around her waist and cinched it tight, then collected her bag. As Zabet watched, her mammalian associate shifted somehow. Her posture changed a little and her (now brown) eye hardened. The felinoid strode out of the timeship with a swagger, as if daring someone to challenge her. Which is what she was doing. First Claw Rrahsh Foe-gutter had earned her rank and position and she wasn’t going to tolerate disrespect from anyone. «Oh boy,» Zabet thought as she watched from inside the ship’s doorway. «The old Rada’s back with a vengeance. Look out universe.»