by Alma Boykin
Kirlin wondered if Peitak would rise to the bait. Instead he made a gesture of negation and called up some data on a portable projector. The four benches had been arranged around half of a table, giving all four nobles a good view of the images floating in the air. “As you so wisely surmised, Great Lord Blee, juniors are the reason that I asked you, and lords Kirlin and Beesh, to join me today. Have you been following the news recently?”
“Only the transportation reports, Peitak. And the wrestling scores,” he admitted, the last a bit reluctantly. In his younger days, before he came to lead Blee lineage, the current lord Blee had wrestled professionally and one year had scandalized the older generation by winning the planetary semi-finals. “Why?”
“I’ll charge straight to the prey, Great Lord,” Peitak said. “Raetee no longer exists and the Crown has claimed their lands and treasures.”
Kirlin and Beesh had learned the news two days before, so they watched Blee’s reaction without showing their own. The old reptile blinked, his twitching tail tip the only outward sign of his shock. Kirlin envied the other male’s perfect self-control. “What does this have to do with juniors?”
“All their juniors are dead. Every—single—junior born this year-turn,” Peitak enunciated clearly. “And several dams died while giving birth. Two-thirds of last year’s juniors are also dead or dying.”
“Who killed them?”
“The Makers did,” Beesh blurted out, his neck spines starting to rise. “The so-called genetic improvements are lethal!”
Blee froze, and then relaxed, smiling, his tail tip swirling with satisfaction. “Heh, so great-great was right not to trust the arrogant fur-bearers.” His satisfaction faded under the stony glares of the other nobles. “Besides Raetee, who is affected?”
Peitak just pointed to the data projection, enlarging it with a gesture. Once again Kirlin flinched inside at the list of lineages, and these were only the lineages that had been willing to share data. The ancient reluctance to let others know your pack’s weakness remained strong among Azdhagi, and it had taken all of Peitak and Kirlin’s diplomatic skills to prize the numbers out of some nobles. “If there is any good news, it seems that Clan-born juniors have a higher survival rate than loose born.”
“Oh?” Beesh tipped his head to the side, puzzled. “That’s news.”
“I have a cousin-by-mating who works in the statistics ministry,” Peitak explained, rumpling his tail in a shrug. “Here are the known junior death rates for the coastal cities,” and the image wavered, then reformed larger. “First the city, in order of size, then the three classes of juniors: new-hatched, after the first growth phase, and after the second growth phase. It seems that if they live that long, the juniors have survived the genetic tinkering and the death rates are the same as you would expect.”
“Confirms what I suspected about living out-Clan,” Kirlin gloated a little.
Peitak snarled at his junior colleague and Kirlin recoiled on his bench. “It does not matter what your thoughts on royal policies are, thick-tail. What matters is what is going to happen once this becomes widely known! Think about it, because we are going to have to salvage something if this gets as bad as I think it might.” Peitak caught himself as his neck-spines started rising. “Look at Cloudwash,” and he highlighted the third-largest city on the continent. “Fourteen million Azdhagi in the urban area, and seven million of them old enough to have juniors. And a million juniors total have died in the past five year-turns! How are they going to respond when they learn why? And if they learn—no,” he caught himself, “not if, but when they learn that the Clans are better off?”
The other three considered the possibilities and Kirlin felt his blood chilling as if he’d been caught in an ice-laden rainstorm. Beesh muttered something under his breath. “What?” Kirlin demanded.
The light brown reptile repeated, louder, “May the Lone God have mercy on any Maker they find, because the sires and dams won’t.”
“And on any Clan member, once someone announces that we have fewer losses than do the out-Clan,” Blee grunted. “And someone will. If Peitak’s cousin-by-mating can do this, some story-catcher looking for his first big prey will do it too.”
Peitak made a negation gesture. “Not just the story-catchers, or at least not the official ones. Rumor runs faster than a terrified kilma with Sheedai’s hunter behind him.” His tail swirled as he thought aloud, “There will be riots. I hope his Imperial Majesty’s order-keepers are ready.”
Kirlin kept his thoughts to himself, but he wondered if the Clans would be better served by isolating the cities and letting the loose-born thin themselves out. Oh, he’d studied history and knew why the pack-kings had decided to allow Azdhagi to leave the Clans, five hundred years or so ago. It had certainly helped increase the population, enough so that colonization of Pokara and Teelkan became realities instead of wishes. Kirlin just didn’t care for the chaos that he saw outside of the lineage lands, especially around election time. It grated on his sense of order.
Beesh interrupted Kirlin’s side-stalk. “How is the King-Emperor dealing with this?”
Peitak rumpled his tail again. “His Imperial Majesty told the Planetary Council two sixts ago. Zlee-kae threatened to lead his Clan on an attack on Central City, Kaeshari just sat there with his jaw open, Ro-diit had his usual attack of deafness,” the green striped noble counted off on his talons. “Diisch tried to attack Beerkali when his Imperial Majesty revealed who is not losing juniors. Blee, Beerkali, Shu, Zhi-king, and Tarkeela’s half-clan seem clean so far.”
“The Lone God must favor fools,” Kirlin hissed under his breath. The other three pretended not to hear his remark—after all, they did not have to live with the knowledge that Tarkeela shared their genetic material.
Peitak continued, “As I was saying, his Imperial Majesty wants the lineage heads to bring their people back to the Clan lands whenever possible. He is also encouraging us to make damn certain that if a mated pair has offspring that show the genetic flaws, we do not allow them to breed further, something that Shu and Zlee-kae are already doing. And no, the Makers do not have a good test to show who is a carrier. Apparently some individuals were injected but it did not ‘take,’ and sometimes descendants of carriers are clean.” Peitak turned off the projector and sipped some of his now-cold tea. “I’m not a scientist, and I lost the scent three turns into the chase.”
“No wonder Diisch went after Beerkali,” Blee snorted. “He’s been the worst about allowing all sorts of mate-takings.” The old reptile made an unkind gesture. “Even if they needed to build up the Clan after that tidal mess, he still should have been more selective.”
Kirlin watched Beesh closely, but the light brown male held his peace. Peitak looked around. “Unless there is anything else you feel we need to chase down, I’ve covered everything for this stalk.”
Kirlin raised a talon. “As you and his Imperial Majesty suggest, the Clans must take care of our own. As terrible as this is to contemplate, if we do this well and survive the chaos, the Clans will be stronger than they have been for centuries. If we keep our lineage members safe, and if nothing from outside Drakon IV intervenes.” A thoughtful silence followed his words.
The others had nothing, so Peitak tapped a bell with his hind-foot, summoning servants with hot food and more tea. Talk shifted to commonplaces such as weather, rumors of matings, trade news, and rumors from the colony worlds. Beesh licked a bit of green-nut sauce from his talon and said, “Oh, if you have flights or shipments going out to the central cluster of the Unnumbered Islands, that smoking mountain is erupting again and fouling the shipping lanes.”
“I don’t, but I’ll pass the information along.” Blee made a note of the data on his pad. “What is it the priests say? Trials come in triads?”
“Something like that.”
That evening, Kirlin went to his work chamber and called up a globe of Drakon IV. First he marked the volcano in the Unnumbered Islands, since the lineage was
contracting a fish-for-grain trade with one of the True-dragon Houses in that area. Then he sat back and considered Sseekhala and Likhala: the home place and the cold place.
All Azdhagi originated on Sseekhala, the southern continent, and Kirlin traced the outline of his lineage lands with one talon. Here the packs had first formed somewhen very long ago, here the first pack-kings had fought their way to leadership, here the Azdhagi had mastered fire, then ceramics and farming, then metals. Being smarter than most species, the Azdhagi Makers had taken their research about atomic energy to the Unnumbered Islands rather than blowing up something important. A few independent souls, greedy for land or tired of their lineage lords, had braved the waters and settled the northern lands, but only a few. They had been tenacious, though, and the imperial family had defeated the last holdout and unified the entire planet only two generations ago.
Kirlin studied Sseekhala with a soldier’s eye. Very few Azdhagi lived in the mineral-rich mountains on the eastern quarter of the landmass. Mining centers dotted the few places wide enough to build safely, but the population concentrated on the coastline and rolling lowlands. The eastern coastal rivers, short and fast from their quick drop into an ancient lowland, provided hydropower for the mines and for a few towns. Low hills separated the marshy valley from the sea. Eventually the mountains faded into a plateau that then sloped to sea level near the southern end of the landmass. The far southern coast tapered in, then out, forming a thin but wide southern reach, with a narrow-seeming channel separating it from a large peninsula on the southern polar ice cap.
West of the Cloudcatcher Mountains, dry plains extended as far as the Central Plateau, a semi-arid highland where the old capitol of Central City and the main spaceport and interstellar trade-centers were. Clan lands surrounded the plateau, taking in most of the river valleys. A river curved east and then south along the rim of the central upland before meandering into the sea off the western coast. Other smaller streams emerged from the plateau, flowing north toward the Dividing Sea or west to the coast of the Deathwrack Sea. Savannahs blended into forests as one moved from east to west, and Kirlin noted the small green dot marking the Place of Origin, where the Lone God’s priests claimed that He first brought Azdhagi to sapience. Which does not explain True-dragons, Kirlin snorted yet again. The priests remained vague on exactly why the Lone God had allowed True-dragons to settle on Drakon IV, thousands of year-turns ago.
The noble rotated the projection and studied Likhala, the “cold place.” The northern landmass stretched wider than did the southern continent. A chain of volcanic mountains ran north-to-south, forming the so-called “Wildlands.” Two new settlements on the western coast served fishing and farming industries, as well as providing access to some of the coastal islands. East of the Wildlands, the Zhangki River swept south from snowfields to water the broad central lowlands before reaching the Dividing Sea. This would be fertile land, utterly magnificent and mostly stone-free—kliqs and kliqs of rich black soil just waiting for the plow and harvester. The huge Zhangki floodplain promised abundant space for watergrain and redsweet fruit, along with prime waterfowl hunting. One city, Zhangki City, sat at the river’s mouth where a group of merchants had established themselves a hundred year-turns ago.
A chain of low hills arced from east of Zhangki City up toward the northeastern coast of the continent. The hills continued into the sea, first as a peninsula almost a hundred kliqs long, then sinking into a series of islands and shoals. South of the hills, damp lowlands supported timber and some useful plants. A large island south and east of the southeastern coast matched the curve of the eastern hills, and Kirlin speculated yet again if it were just geologic coincidence or evidence of some long-ago disaster. The rock specialists thought that the Wildlands had once been part of the Cloudcatcher Mountains, before the southern continent slid east and the Dividing Sea ripped open.
Kirlin Lineage claimed a reasonable swath of the central plains, south of the new Palace/Capitol, and the reptile studied his new holdings, enlarging that part of the projection. He’d sent surveyors and a few pioneers up there, to monitor the weather and to start plant and livestock testing. To the delight of Kirlin Lineage, shootee throve in the cooler temperatures, growing fatter than they ever did in the south. The herbivores’ meat tasted a little different, but Kirlin himself preferred the flavor. Goldgrain did not survive, however, and they needed to find a substitute for the protein-rich grass seed. Kurstem, a variety native to the north, showed promise, and Kirlin made a note on his data pad to inquire about the progress with hybridizing it. As he studied the map, he also decided to send another batch of settlers up as soon as he could get volunteers to pack.
Someone scratched the door and Kirlin turned, “Yes?”
A delicate muzzle poked into the room, followed by a lithe body and remarkably flexible and dexterous tail. Kishti, the noble’s concubine, slipped into the chamber followed by her and Kirlin’s oldest junior. The two paused respectfully and waited to be acknowledged. Kirlin smiled. “Yes, star of my sky?”
Even after almost three sixts of years together, she ducked, embarrassed by the praise. “Great my lord, Tarlee has a request of your generosity.”
“And that is?”
The young male stepped forward and bowed before asking, “Great Lord Kirlin, may I go to the Kirlin Lands on Likhala?”
“Why?”
Tarlee took a deep breath and began. “Great Lord, I have been learning about farm and herd management since I came of age and took my lineage oath. I want to serve the lineage in the north.”
Kirlin knew about Tarlee’s work and had quietly encouraged it for a sixt of years. But he still frowned, “What about your military service, Tarlee?”
The young male drooped before catching himself. “I still cannot run while bearing a load. Fight I can, but march and haul I cannot, Great Lord.”
“Very well, Tarlee. I have been planning to expand the settlement on Likhala, so pack your belongings. As soon as enough people are ready to handle the supplies and livestock, you will go with them. I will speak with the farm manager about finding a place for you.”
Tarlee and his dam bowed very low. “Thank you, Great Lord,” Tarlee said.
“You are welcome and you are dismissed, Tarlee. Stay a moment, Kishti.” Once the young male left, his dam shut the chamber door. Kirlin sat down on a bench and watched his concubine as she walked toward him. “That shoulder never healed, did it?”
Her forefoot rose and swung in a graceful negation. “No, Kiri, it never has. If they put a plate in he’ll lose motion even if he can bear weight. He’s tried weights, he’s done everything the medical staff can think of, but the bone won’t rebuild enough for the muscle and ligament attachments to reform properly.” Kishti swept her tail in resignation. “He can have strength or motion, but not both.”
Oh well, that’s why I have two other males and three brothers, the mottled reptile reminded himself. Damn but he’d wanted Tarlee as his heir, but that wasn’t how the world worked. He glanced toward the map projection and made a sudden decision.
“Kishti, the entire lineage will relocate to Likhala soon, all that wish to go and that are physically able to do so.” The female’s jaw dropped open and she stared at her lord, utterly shocked. “Do not tell anyone, but start planning. Assume that everyone will live rough for several double-moons, perhaps up to a year-turn.”
The female recovered her poise. “Lady Shartee will not be happy.”
“That is why I will send you and the older of our juniors up with Tarlee. You will be safe until she settles and accepts matters.” Shartee was a good mate and Kirlin respected her greatly, but she did not deal well with surprises. “Is she still refusing to acknowledge Lady Beesh?”
“Yes, Kiri. I, ah, I intercepted Lady Beesh’s note of gratitude for the mating gift, so it would not upset Lady Shartee.” The dark green female shifted her weight back, anticipating a blow.
“A good thought, star of my sky. Right
now we need to keep peace in the household. I cannot tell you why, but do all that you can to keep the peace.” Kirlin got up, turned off the projector, and brushed Kishti’s flank with his muzzle as he walked past her toward the door. “I shall spend the evening with my lady.” Then he whispered into her ear hole, “And the night with you.”
She bowed again, “Very well, Great my lord. I shall inform the other servants of your desire.” She brushed his tail with hers, “or rather, of most of your desire.”
Southwest of the Kirlin lands, a bitter female looked toward the distant Cloudcatcher Mountains. “I will clear the path for the True Prey,” she swore. Shu-kara knew what even the wise guide Roshee did not say: the Lone God had sent death touch as the penalty for the Azdhagi clearing Pokara and Teelkan. She’d seen the Clan Shu records and read the messages back from the soldiers sent to the two worlds. Hunters never killed more than they needed, that was Clan and pack law. But the Azdhagi had broken that law far beyond any need and the Lone God could not let the Azdhagi go unpunished. No Clan leader or hunt master could afford lenience if the pack were to survive. Roshee spoke of the contamination brought onto the Azdhagi and of the need to purify themselves before the Great Hunt began. The female knew how to purify the entire Azdhag people. Shu-kara watched the stars of the Royal Highway appear, feeling the truth of her vow in her heart and soul.
5. Stalking Rumors
Sea Gate, Four Double Moons BGR
Cheerka skimmed his incoming news feeds and wondered what his world was coming to. People still believed that the Lone God would return in one final massive, world-ending hunt? He snorted, then rumpled his tail. It was no more than a sign of the times. One thing he’d learned working the streets and alleys: people believed whatever they needed to believe in order to make sense of their world. The blunt-muzzled reptile remembered that one female, the one who absolutely refused to believe that her mate died of natural causes. No, despite all the forensics reports and eyewitnesses who averred that he’d dropped dead in the middle of a restaurant at a business meal, the female swore on her tail tip that he’d been killed by another female’s angry mate. Why? Because she needed to believe that, needed to know from muzzle to tail tip that he’d been seduced away from her by a female and not by his import company. Cheerka rumpled his tail again and turned to his private news file.