* * *
“Eeeeee! I'd hack off my left foot to be at those negotiations!” the bandit Leaping Elk exclaimed, slapping the water with an open palm.
On the psychic flow, they saw Flying Arrow bow to Snarling Jaguar.
Slithering Snake smiled through the steam, enjoying the hot bath. Not interested in the momentous meeting across the border, he raised his mindshields. “While I might like to be there to see all the nobility, Lord, I'm glad I'm here.” The sectathon spoke in the language of the south, Leaping Elk having a limited understanding of the Eastern language.
The two men were deep within the volcanic mountain in a steaming pool of nearly scalding water too mineral-laden to drink. Nearly fifty feet in diameter at the mouth, the lava tube itself was the Elk Raiders' home. Lava had cooled across the bottom to form a floor almost flat. To make it easier to defend, they'd altered the collapsed mouth. The five hundred outlaws lived in the first quarter mile. Beyond that, the tube sloped sharply downward into the mountain. At a mile underground the stench of sulfur became so pungent that the air was unbreathable for long, but was acceptable for short baths.
Leaping Elk smiled at his lieutenant. “You're like me, my friend—no ambition.”
“I've got ambition!” Slithering Snake protested. “So do you, eh? You'd take your brother's throne if you could.”
The black bandit's good mood evaporated.
I've put my sword in my mouth this time! Slithering Snake thought. “Forgive me, Lord Elk. I was joking and didn't realize …”
Leaping Elk waved it away. “Even after all these years, the old wounds still hurt. You haven't offended me, my friend. Our society in the Southern Empire is like yours in the East—the eldest son inherits, regardless of ability. The sadness is the cost we pay for our primogeniture. Our societies place unreasonable expectations on the first-born, demands we must fulfill whether we can or not.”
Thinking to distract the older man, the sectathon said, “I was happy to see how well you and your brother got along—for as long as it lasted. I enjoyed his visit, but I thought you two were going to kill each other as he was leaving.”
Nodding, Leaping Elk grunted. “I'd have liked our parting not to have been so acrimonious. Snarling Jaguar and I have always done that after spending a few days together. Even so, he looks happier as Emperor than I could have been.”
How can he be so forgiving? Slithering Snake wondered. Guessing his liege lord was far away, the sectathon held his tongue. Despite their long association, Slithering Snake didn't often hear the disinherited Heir talk about his past. The sectathon knew Leaping Elk's history from others. Rarely did the Southerner say anything specific about the events that had brought him north to an existence without honor, without comfort, without face. He should hate his brother! Slithering Snake thought.
“Some people think I should hate my brother,” Leaping Elk said.
He certainly has every right to…
“I've every right to, I know,” Leaping Elk said, “but I don't hate him—I love him. He was my friend when no one else would dare. Long ago we made our peace with each other.” The Southerner peered through the steam toward his trusted lieutenant. “I've told this to no one, Lord Snake. I want you to tell no one what I'm about to say, do you hear?”
“Yes, Lord Elk. I'll tell no one.” Slithering Snake frowned. Friend? Made peace with him? Leaping Elk's insane! How can a man love the brother who stole from him the most influential station in his native land, and hunted him for years, declaring to all how much he hated him? Slithering Snake leaned forward in the water, wanting to hear every word.
“My life is a tale of shame and ignominy,” Leaping Elk began. “The Emperor Scratching Jaguar groomed me, his first-born son Leaping Jaguar, to become Emperor after him. The Infinite intervened, though, and gave him a second son. During a border skirmish with the Western Empire, I simply walked off the battlefield for no reason. The Western Forces battled back the tide of Southern Warrior. As they were about to rout the Southern Forces, Snarling Jaguar took command and annihilated the Western Battalion.
“When he heard what happened, Scratching Jaguar disinherited me with the Imperial Sword, ordering me to the castle to face charges of treason. At the time of disinheriting, I wasn't wearing the Heir Sword. I'd entrusted it to a friend, or so the rumor said. Most warriors don't trust their mates with their swords long enough to clean them. I was far enough away that the disinheriting didn't injure me seriously. The psychic shock did kill my friend and several companions.
“Imperial minions chained me, dampered me and escorted me to the castle like a common criminal. Along the way, bandits ambushed the escort and in the confusion I escaped. My father declared me an outlaw and ordered me killed on sight. A man running from his fate is guilty by implication: If innocent, why does he run? Shortly afterward, Scratching Jaguar formally invested Snarling Jaguar as his Heir.
“For four years, I lived in the mountains, never sleeping in the same place twice, Imperial warriors hunting me most of the time. Twice they captured me, and twice I escaped. During my fourth year as a fugitive, my father died. Snarling Jaguar became the Southern Emperor. Although he didn't pardon me, the Emperor didn't pursue me as relentlessly as our father had. While my brother often spoke ill of me, he permitted me to live a nomadic life. Only when I settled somewhere did Snarling Jaguar send a detachment to capture me. They never did. For some reason, I always evaded my pursuers after my father's death.
“When the Northern and Eastern Empires went to war, I'd survived in exile on the fringes of the Southern Empire for nearly seven years. After Guarding Bear defeated the Northern Empire, I fled to the empty northern lands with a group of fellow outlaws, changing my name to Leaping Elk. Now, home's more than the place I camp, even if it consists of a cave hewn from the wall of a larger cavern.
“Over the years, most of the Southerners I brought north returned south. The remainder died of cold and broken hearts, lonely for their warmer climes and families. Now, you're the only Elk Raider who speaks the Southern language, Lord Snake. I'm phenomenally inept with the Eastern language, which most bandits speak. I manage with a pidgin of telepathic images and short sentences. Since you're my translator and lieutenant, Lord Snake, you enjoy my confidences, few though they are. Rarely do I say even this much, eh?”
Knowing all this about Leaping Elk, Slithering Snake nodded.
“That's my story—as the histories record it.” The disinherited heir sighed sadly. “It's easy to live with those lies, because the truth…” Leaping Elk sighed again, his gaze downcast.
A long time later, the man continued. “While Snarling Jaguar and I were growing up, we always competed with each other. Even though he's younger, he always beat me, whether at a javelin contest or a spelling test. While I was playing with my friends, he was studying or practicing with his sword. Later, when we were both generals, we'd stage mock battles against each other. It was the only time I ever beat him at anything; I liked nothing better than war.
“As my father began to age, my brother and I both began to assume some of his duties. It was obvious to us both who liked it better and who was better at it. We couldn't convince my father; he was adamant that I become Emperor. So my brother and I devised this little ruse.
“We planned that skirmish with the Western Battalion and its result. We had no choice.” Leaping Elk sighed, staring at the steamy surface of the water. “My father was furious. During his last years, when dementia set in, he raved most the time, recognizing no one, angry with everyone. No medacor could cure the dementia because of the Imperial Sword. My brother denies it, but I've heard that my father cursed both his sons on his deathbed. He had reason to be angry: From the moment he disinherited me, my brother helped me all he could. He found ways to free me when they captured me. Later, he always warned me when he sent warriors against me. Snarling Jaguar was and is my friend, despite his frequent denouncements. My brother has to maintain the charade of hostility, as do I.�
��
“Oh? Then that fight you two had as he left—”
“We staged, my friend.” Shrugging, Leaping Elk sighed again. “It's sad that the primogeniture of our society is so rigid that the man better qualified to be Emperor can't assume the position without elaborate subterfuge. So I, first-born son of an Emperor, live this humble existence. I'm happier than I'd have been if I'd succeeded my father. My only regret is I can't live in my native land, serving my brother the Lord Emperor like any other citizen.”
“Lord Elk, I think you're more loyal to your Empire than anyone will ever know.” I'd better change my definition of loyalty! the sectathon thought.
Leaping Elk smiled. “It pleases me to hear you say that, my friend. Indeed, my loyalty to the Southern Empire guides all my actions. I value what is better for the people there, as does Snarling Jaguar.”
Slithering Snake saw his liege lord's sadness. He sensed underneath the sadness Leaping Elk's conviction that he'd placed the interests of the Empire above his own. “Thank you for telling me, Lord Elk.” Slithering Snake leaned back in the water and prayed he might find the strength to be so loyal.
What a life of luxury I live, he thought. Well, aside from being a bandit. The Emperor Snarling Jaguar, his brother Leaping Elk, and the bandit general Scowling Tiger all trust and respect me. Two years ago, I couldn't have imagined I'd become so important. I didn't have a glimpse I might be anything more than a simple bandit warrior.
Until Leaping Elk asked me to negotiate a trade.
The negotiations had taken nearly a year to complete. Then Snarling Jaguar didn't come north to make the trade for another six months. He arrived a few days before the negotiations to settle the border dispute with the Eastern Empire, one journey easier than two.
Snarling Jaguar had brought a domesticated tiger from the Imperial Menagerie, the Jaguar Family having bred the collection of exotic animals for ten generations. Everyone thought the tame, talented animals priceless, the equivalent of an Imperial Sword. With their talents, a man might garner for himself the influence and power of an Emperor. With the help of one, the first Emperor Jaguar had usurped the Southern throne.
While talismans were illegal in all four Empires, the animals weren't. In the last century, rumors said the Jaguar Family bred animals more powerful than the Swords themselves. No one had ever proved these rumors. The Jaguars always kept the better specimens for themselves. Many influential Westerners and Easterners thought the Emperor should declare the animals illegal and kill them.
* * *
Leaping Elk and Slithering Snake escorted the Emperor to a secure valley for the trade. In front of a tent sat Scowling Tiger, in robes striped white, tan and black, his left fist propped on his thigh. One pace ahead and to the side of the bandit general stood his murderous retainer Raging River. Ten paces from him sat Snarling Jaguar, at his feet a half-grown female tiger cub.
“Capturing spies is only one of her talents,” Snarling Jaguar said. A few minutes before, when the trainers had opened the palanquin cage, the tiger had leaped upon a bandit and raked her claws across the man's face. Under her torture he admitted he was Guarding Bear's spy. “Infinite knows how many spies Guarding Bear has in the fortress, Lord General Tiger. I hope what you bring in trade is of equal value.”
“I have two spies everywhere that dog-hounded beast has one,” Scowling Tiger said, spitting. “I bring an albino specimen you'll surely find alluring, Lord Emperor Jaguar. A prize addition to any menagerie, animal or otherwise.” Scowling Tiger snapped the fingers of his left hand, then propped the fist back on his thigh. Behind him, the tent flaps parted.
She wore a white silk dress that reached the ground and hung from her pale pink shoulders by two thin straps. A string of pearls dangled from her slim supple neck and a bracelet of pearls encircled one elegant wrist. Her skin was the pink of chrysanthemum, her eyes the red of sky at dusk. Whiter than snow, her hair hung to her waist like a waterfall frozen. She stepped forward with the carriage of an Empress, with infinite spirituality, without a shred of self-consciousness. Kneeling before Snarling Jaguar, she greeted him in a voice suggesting the music of earth and sky. The sight and sound of her hypnotized them all.
“Lord Emperor Jaguar, allow me to introduce my mate, Fleeting Snow.”
Bowing to her, Snarling Jaguar looked at her with compassion in his eyes. “Lady Snow, I congratulate you on the birth of your child.” His voice was gentle as rain. “Most of all, I honor you for the depth and endurance of your loyalty.”
Loyalty? Slithering Snake wondered. Most people call her the Traitress!
Her poise faltered. Bowing her head, Fleeting Snow sobbed once, then looked up, composed again but for tears. “Thank you, Lord Emperor Jaguar. I'm glad you understand. I doubted anyone would.”
Snarling Jaguar looked at the bandit general. “I find your merchandise in acceptable condition, Lord General.”
“What was that all about?!”
Snarling Jaguar kept his expression neutral. Scowling Tiger's outburst had been tactless.
“Don't ask!” Fleeting Snow spat over her shoulder, poison in her voice.
The bandit general smiled. “A small dose of her bitterness, Lord Emperor. She bites with a venom no spider can match. Do you wish to trade, knowing that?”
“Oh, but I do, Lord General.”
“Then, if I may ask respectfully, Lord Emperor,” Scowling Tiger said, meek now, “what loyalty?”
“I personally have no inclination to answer, Lord General. Would you care to, Lady Snow?”
She turned to face the bandit general. “Conclude the trade and I'll be happy to tell you, Scowling Tiger.” She uttered his name as though its taste on her tongue would make her vomit.
“Tell me now or there is no trade!” The left fist ground into thigh.
Her face impassive, she slid a knife from her moccasin.
Raging River leaped between them, sword cocked.
“She's mine!” Scowling Tiger yanked his retainer back.
“Wait, the both of you,” Snarling Jaguar said calmly, not having flinched at the sudden violence. “Listen to me. Think not of your pride or of what's happened between you. Think of the child, by the Infinite! If either of you dies now, the child will suffer. By the head of the only heir you'll have, Lord General, and for the sake of your daughter, Lady Snow, please calm down.” When he saw that they heard him, he called to his brother. “Lord Elk, tell them why you arranged this trade.”
Leaping Elk stepped forward slowly, his arms loose at his sides and his body prepared for instant action. “Tiger Lord, Snow Lady,” he said, speaking the foreign tongue slowly and carefully. “Humble bandit vision see. Without trade, many bandit dead, maybe half. With trade, not.”
The two antagonists, mates so obviously mismated, backed off. Fleeting Snow sheathed her knife and glanced at Leaping Elk with a shudder. Scowling Tiger peeled his hand from the haft of sword and glanced between the brothers.
Slithering Snake wondered why Fleeting Snow and Scowling Tiger hadn't killed each other long before.
“Shall we conclude the trade, Lord General?”
The bandit general sighed and nodded.
“Lord Pirhana!” Snarling Jaguar said over his shoulder.
A Southerner detached himself from the orderly ranks of warriors near the palanquin. “Yes, Lord?”
The Emperor addressed the albino woman. “The Lord Sorcerer Hungry Pirhana will be responsible for you between here and the Southern Empire, Lady Snow. I humbly and respectfully ask that you do as he says until we arrive. Please allow him to damper you for now. I ask for your own safety.”
She acquiesced with a nod. The Sorcerer led her toward the palanquin.
“Lord General, I must present the tiger to your daughter so they'll bond.” Snarling Jaguar pulled a portable shield from his belt and concentrated on setting it.
Scowling Tiger gestured over his shoulder. From the tent, a wet-nurse brought out a cradle. Under a shock of blue
-black hair, Purring Tiger's fog gray eyes focused immediately on Snarling Jaguar, as though she knew his importance.
She looks like Scowling Tiger's daughter, Slithering Snake thought, wishing he didn't know what he knew.
The Emperor took hold of the tiger's scruff and looked into her eyes, making a brief psychic contact. Turning on the shield, Snarling Jaguar placed it in the cradle. “They're now bonding, Lord General. The tiger's searching out all the mother associations and replacing them with associations to herself. They must stay behind the shield for at least two days, Lord General—alone. The animal's fully capable of caring for the child, so no one need interfere. You can communicate with the tiger through a set of hand signals, or you can write instructions visible from inside the shield. I suggest you have a servant learn the signals, Lord General.”
Gesturing at the wet-nurse, Scowling Tiger nodded distantly.
Snarling Jaguar entered into psychic contact with the servant, sending instructions. “Thank you, Lord General,” the Emperor said. “I hope we can do each other a service in the future. For now, walk with the Infinite.”
The two men bowed as equals, and Snarling Jaguar turned to leave.
Behind him, Scowling Tiger continued to stare at nothing.
Slithering Snake relayed a set of signals to the sentries on the ridges. Scouts headed out to scour the area between the valley and the caves of the Elk Raiders. Although his sectathon sight detected all human presence for twenty miles around, no talent could penetrate an electrical shield. The scouts would inspect any shielded areas visually.
As the palanquin cleared the pair of outcrops at the mouth of the valley, Fleeting Snow bellowed in a hoarse, harsh voice, “Loyalty to Brazen Bear, you fur-licking alley cat!”
The bandit general snapped out of his daze, livid. With a scream, he drew his sword and slashed the nearest of his own guards in two. Before the body reached the ground, Scowling Tiger began to hack the corpse into tiny pieces, a grunt punctuating each swing.
The Peasant Page 15