Justice and Juniors (A Cat Among Dragons Book 2)

by Alma Boykin

  Oh fewmets! Rada!! Whiskers rigid with annoyance, Zabet looked at the tangle of fine fabrics and ribbons. «These were in that chest, weren’t they?» Brska nodded, her tail alternating between limp resignation and irked rigidity. She cheeped a question as she pointed at the mess. «Let’s see what we can salvage» the True-dragon sighed, picking up the edge of a skirt to see where it led.

  It took the better part of the afternoon before the two females sorted out everything. Zabet was not the least bit surprised to discover that Rada’s uniforms of grey or black skirts and dresses, grey breeches, and grey jacket with blue-green trim were meticulously folded and put away, in contrast to her court clothes. «I’m going to cut her salary,» Zabet threatened and Brska trilled a most irreverent agreement. Finally, the True-dragon sent the little Azdhag off with ten of the heaviest winter gowns to have them put into the Imperial Household storage, while other servants hung the warm-season outfits up to air and to allow the wrinkles to fall out. Zabet kept back the dark-blue floral dress.

  Once Brska returned from her errand, Zabet went out to take care of a matter. As she returned to the Lord Defender’s quarters she found a group of male Azdhagi in the plain grey robes of Palace outdoor staff loitering in the corridor. Zabet hesitated for an instant and then continued on her way. Probably were drafted for heavy work, she thought. I wonder who’s moving or what’s being renovated? The group parted and she’d almost passed when one of the males lashed out with his hind foot, knocking her forefoot out from under her. The True-dragon caught herself and started spinning to face her attacker when she slipped and lost her footing. Oh flaming amoebae! Even as well trained as she was, the reptile couldn’t catch herself on the slippery floor. A second male slammed into the Lord-Defender’s concubine, sending her tumbling down the treaded ramp leading to the lower floor. As she reached the bottom, something smashed her head, knocking her unconscious.

  When Zabet came around, three brown-robed Palace servants stared down at her. “Lady Zabet, are you injured?” one asked, his neck spines trembling with worry.

  «I don’t... fewmets!» The lithe reptile tried to get to her feet and her hind leg buckled. The pain made her stomach churn. Her head ached and she couldn’t focus her eyes. «Yes.» One of the males darted off to find a Healer, while another went to hunt up Cheeker and some of Lord Ni Drako’s personal servants. Instead, he returned with Cheeker and the Lord Defender himself.

  Rada and the Palace Healer conferred briefly. “Lady Zabet, we can Heal your hindlimb, but it will be weak. Or we can start the process, let your body finish for itself and the bone will be stronger than before.” As the Healer spoke, Rada eased the pain from Zabet’s concussion and from the break.

  «I need the strength. Go slow, please, and I’ll just work around it,» the True-dragon replied instantly. Rada and the purple-robed Healer nodded.

  “I’ll take care of her concussion,” Rada offered, setting her hands on either side of the bloody gash on her boss’s head.

  The Healer laid her forefeet on either side of the break in Zabet’s femur, just below the hip joint. “Good, my lord. I don’t have your training in neurology,” the Azdhag admitted. “On three.” She tapped with her tail, once, twice, and the two medics closed their eyes and did what was needful. When the two sat back, they saw that three of the Palace Guard had arrived with a carry frame. Four Azdhagi loaded the True-dragon onto the frame and took her back to the Lord Defender’s quarters.

  Now that the initial emergency was over, Rada rocked onto her heels and then got to her feet, snarling, “All right, what the fuck happened?” It was pretty damn obvious that Zabet had not just tripped. While the Lord Defender and the Healer worked, the Captain of the Guard had been sniffing and examining the ramp, then the area above and below it. He started back down and lost his footing, then caught himself in a clatter of claws.

  “Because of the bruising and muscle damage, along with the way she fell, I’d say that your concubine’s leg was broken by something, but not by the fall,” the Healer informed Lord Ni Drako and the Guard Captain. The mammal growled under his breath and the Captain’s neck spines flipped up several centimeters as the Healer confirmed his own observations.

  “Someone ambushed your concubine, my lord,” he informed Rada, his neck-spines flaring with anger. “The floor at the top of the ramp has been oiled, as has the top of the ramp. And there’s no blood on the ramp—only there,” and he pointed to where Zabet’s head had lain. Lord Ni Drako’s ears went absolutely flat against her head and her tail thrashed furiously. The captain continued, “Are you currently in feud with anyone, my lord?”

  “Not that I know of, unless Zabet became involved in one while I was away.” Zabet could not have instigated a feud because only the Head of the House could cry feud and by Court protocol it had to be declared Head to Head before any attacks were made. Add to this the fact that the King-Emperor had banned any feuding for the next four moons and it was obvious that someone would be in very, very deep trouble if they were caught. “My concubine should awake in another hour. Feel free to question her in my quarters, Captain, for as long as you need,” the Lord Defender said. “If she instigated it, it stops with this attack and I will discipline her as appropriate. If not, I will abide by his Imperial Majesty’s orders,” for the moment she finished silently. There are many ways to get revenge.

  All Zabet could remember was that the males wore grey robes. None had distinctive markings, none had spoken, and none wore House badges. That suggested it was an attack on the Lord Defender through his concubine, launched by someone in court. If it had been a personal matter against Zabet, her assailants would have left some token of who had done the deed. And probably killed her, as the Captain reminded his commanding officer. “I’ll keep my ears open, Lord Mammal,” he offered after taking Zabet’s statement, “but...”

  Rada thanked him and he saw himself out of her quarters. She hung her weapons on their stand and went to where Zabet lay on Rada’s sleeping platform. Brska had found a bolster that would support the injured hind leg so the True-dragon could stretch out on her side. A very annoyed reptile, to put it mildly, glowered at her Pet. «I want their hides to use as bench covers! And their heads for garbage cans!»

  “Well, if I knew who they were and who instigated this, I’d bring it to Li-zhrae’s attention myself and cry for justice from the throne. But to do that...”

  «You have to have a name and proof, I know, I know,» Zabet snapped. «Damn it, the fucking bastards! This leg is not going to be healed for at least a week and our party is in two days! Gutless, monosynaptic bastards of an amoeba and a stink-bush!» Rada had to suppress a grin at the invective. Finally she held up her hand and Zabet settled down.

  “Boss, one of the servants is going to wash your muzzle with floor polish if you keep that thought going. It’s done, and I’m not going to risk interrupting the bone work Healer Sheen started.” The peeved reptile’s blue eyes snapped with anger, but she made herself relax and drink the hot broth one of the servants brought her. Soon Zabet fell asleep, leaving her Pet to fume and snarl.

  Rada ground her teeth but that was that. Zabet wouldn’t be dancing until her leg completely healed, which would be after the party. Rada went to the window seat to think. She took her lap harp and began idly playing bits of tunes as she thought about what to do. The highlight of the afternoon was supposed to have been Zabet dancing while Lord Ni Drako accompanied her. By tradition Rada couldn’t play alone because that would look as if she were showing off, not entertaining. None of the Azdhagi courtesans danced like Zabet did and there probably wasn’t time to see if one of the females could learn. Without thinking about it, Rada began vocalizing along with the small harp, singing quiet tunes that she’d picked up over the centuries and trying to calm herself down enough to sleep.

  After several minutes passed, she heard a soft harmony part coming from a corner of the public room. The sound wasn’t singing, quite, but a fluty, breathy harmonic that flowed
under Rada’s own voice. Curious, the mammal kept playing but let her voice fade. The harmony continued, now rising to match the harp’s notes, now falling back to an octave below. On a whim Rada began an ancient love song from Mougalist, one that had a treble harmony. On the last verse Rada sailed up to the high descant and the other vocalist took over the melody line. The notes faded away and Rada looked over into the shadows by the stove. Brska stared back at her lord and blinked. “Beautifully sung Brska” the mammal smiled, her voice warm with approval. The reptile ducked her head as if embarrassed by the praise.

  After morning inspection and weapons’ drill, Rada mentioned Brska’s talent to Zabet. “I didn’t know Azdhagi could sing,” the mammal admitted. “There’s no reason why not, since they have vocal chords and vocalized speech.” She’d heard rhythmic chanting in religious ceremonies and in some of the semi-musical dramas, but never singing. But then, there was a lot about Azdhagi she didn’t know still. Rada flipped the last of her noodles into her mouth, then finished the broth.

  «I haven’t heard it either» Zabet said. «I wonder if it’s an either-or, like for the Nilwal. Either they vocalize as singing or they speak, because of how individuals’ larynxes and jaws develop in the egg.» Brska poked her head in to see if her lord needed anything, then vanished back into the private area of the quarters. Zabet shifted to a discreet sending. «Would she be willing to perform in public?»

  Rada switched to Trader. “Without my ordering her, you mean?”

  The True-dragon nodded and licked a last bit of shilli-fruit preserve off the side of her muzzle.

  “I think, as long as it’s only with me and I’m accompanying her, then she will. I don’t want to pressure her, though, I agree.” She flipped her braid back over her shoulder and cradled her teacup in her hands. “However, the more important question is: will it rain tonight, as forecast? If it does, we’re going to have to find a way to put out waterproof ground covers in the morning.”

  Zabet’s tail rumpled and descended in a shrug. «That’s Cheeker’s problem. He’s already planned for it, I’m certain. I swear, Pet,» and the tip of her tail pointed at the brunette mammal, then wagged side-to-side, «you are obsessive over all the wrong things. Worry about the food, worry about which gown to wear, or the weapons policy. Not if Cheeker and I have matters in claw and under control.» It was an old point by now, and both business partners knew it. Not that it stopped Rada’s urge to micro-manage.

  It did not rain. Instead it misted gently, leaving drops of water like tiny pearls and diamonds on the blue and pink flowers and reddish-black foliage. Rada’s servants, under Cheeker’s watchful eye, spread thick mats over the ground to protect the soft mosses and young grass growing between the gravel paths before arranging the seats. Then they busied themselves getting the food and drinks prepared and adding the final garnishes and decorations. Lord Ni Drako arrived half an hour before the first guests, carrying her harp case and trailed by a nervous Brska. Despite Rada’s, Zabet’s, and Cheeker’s reassurances, the little female was obviously ill at ease with the prospect of helping entertain. Her lord gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder, then gently shooed her over to where the other servants had gathered, just out of sight of the guests behind a simple but fine sea-grass screen. Rada looked over everything one last time, then sat down and enjoyed a moment of relative privacy and peace.

  The flowering trees were just reaching their peak. The clusters of tiny blooms looked like soft clouds snagged on the sleetoi trees’ dark, gnarled branches. A hint of breeze trickled over the garden wall, making a few petals shiver and flutter onto the green moss and grass below. Somewhere out of sight Rada heard a fountain bubbling. She couldn’t have asked for better conditions or a more perfect setting, and the Wanderer’s shoulders relaxed. It was one of those moments to be relished and remembered because it couldn’t last. By tomorrow morning the blooms would start falling. I think I see what the people of Nippon were trying to do, the mammal decided. Catch a moment and savor it all the more knowing that it will pass away into nothingness, just like life does.

  A discrete cough brought her out of her meditation as the first vehicle arrived. Lord Ni Drako bowed low to Great Lord Kirlin and his concubine as they entered the garden. The reptiles studied the enclosure, obviously intrigued and impressed despite their facades of cool detachment. As fit the occasion, they wore fine but simple robes. Kirlin acknowledged their host and then found a place to settle. As soon as the Great Lord took his seat, two servants appeared with a light, tart fruit tea for him and his escort. Rada greeted the next arrivals and led them to places on the array of mats and benches. Cheeker had taken special care to make certain that everyone would have unobstructed views of the blooming trees, so there would be no complaints about favoring one guest over another beyond what rank demanded.

  Lord Reeschlee appeared without his concubine and began growling to himself as soon as he saw the other guests and Lord Ni Drako. He’d worn attire suitable for a court gathering, while the others had chosen simple patterns and muted land colors that blended into the surrounding garden, complimenting rather than competing with their setting. Only the mammal’s garb stood out and she made up for it in the delicacy of the needlework on her robe. He settled onto a bench and watched to see what would happen.

  Once everyone had arrived, Rada gestured to Cheeker. The servants brought the first course of light refreshment. At Zabet’s insistence they’d gotten dark brown robes for both Rada’s people and some of the property owner’s staff as well. As a result, the reptiles blended into the background as they moved smoothly among the courtiers, murmuring any questions about what the nobles would prefer to eat and drink. As fit the event, the guests chose from seasonal foods and light savories with delicate or surprising flavors that complimented the various teas and liqueurs available. Conversation remained quiet and once the first round had been served, a trio of musicians began playing softly just out of sight of the guests.

  No one had known what to expect. As a result, even Lord Shu, who was young and very energetic, decided to sit still and enjoy the tranquil beauty of the garden. Oh, there was conversation and laughter, and at various times people got up to walk around the garden and admire the other plants and water features, but it remained a quiet gathering. If she hadn’t been there, Rada wouldn’t have believed that almost forty members of the Imperial Court could converse softly for three hours. The mistresses, concubines, and courtesans whispered, eyed each other, and accompanied their lords as they walked the gravel- and shell-covered paths winding through weeping trees and carefully placed boulders. High clouds muted the afternoon sun and kept it pleasantly cool.

  After two hours, Lord Ni Drako nodded to Cheeker. A servant brought her a low stool, while Brska and Cheeker carried their lord’s larger troubadour’s harp over to where Lord Mammal waited. Rada sat and discreetly tuned the instrument. Cheeker slipped out of sight, leaving his little sister alone with their lord and the other nobles. The small female tried to make herself invisible behind Lord Mammal’s seat. Rada muted the strings and coughed quietly, catching the guests’ attention as Brska drew a shuddery breath.

  Rada sent Brska a pulse of encouragement and reassurance and the yellow-grey female calmed a little. The Wanderer tipped the troubadour’s harp back against her shoulder, then extended her claws and gently brushed the wires. She barely touched them at first, just enough to draw a hint of sound from the instrument. As the guests began listening to the new music, Rada increased the volume but kept it lower than the earlier instrumental pieces. After a few minutes she nodded to Brska. The small Azdhag crept forward and stood beside her lord. She listened carefully to the melody, closed her eyes and then began to sing.

  Once Brska relaxed into the music, Rada added her own voice with a touch of her Gift. She began with a DelHaymro lullaby about how quickly hatchlings grow into fledglings. From there the mammal bridged into an old Earth tune, “The Women of Ireland,” then another lullaby. As planned, she finis
hed with a song about the transience of cherry blossoms called “Sakura.” Brska’s voice followed each tune, layering a harmonic that always fit both the melody and the mood. The two females let the last notes fade away and then Brska retreated back into the comfort of anonymity among the other servants. As soon as Rada took her hands from the strings, Cheeker and the others began circulating with hot tea and small sweets decorated with edible flowers.

  The nobles didn’t know quite what to think, until Great Lord Kirlin’s mistress began hissing in appreciation. Several others joined her until most of the group hissed quietly. Rada bowed around her instrument and beckoned for her fellow musician. Brska shyly rejoined the mammal and bowed low to the guests before scurrying back out of sight. Conversation resumed and Cheeker carefully picked up the harp to put it in its travel case.

  “Lord Ni Drako, could we have another song or two? Perhaps a war song?” Lord Reeschlee inquired languorously. Of course there could be no such thing from that kind of instrument, as he well knew. She’d fall on her muzzle and look a total fool, Reeschlee gloated.

  Rada smiled politely and took the harp back. She set it against her shoulder, reset the sharping levers and launched into “Brian Boru’s March,” snapping the notes as the Irish war-march rang through the garden. Then she dampened the strings and began an ancient song about missed opportunities for love, singing along quietly but with the full strength of her Gift. As soon as she finished, Cheeker took the instrument away, forestalling any more requests.

  Reeschlee could barely contain his anger. Lord Ni Drako had managed to meet his challenge! The barbaric outland mammal couldn’t help but rise in status and regard within court after this silly entertainment and Reeschlee imagined himself declining. Damnit, he’d risked having his servants waylay the fur-bearer’s concubine and still failed to upset the filthy creature! He wanted to say something but it was obvious that the novelty of the afternoon had impressed the Great Lords and others and Reeschlee didn’t care to find out what they’d do if he insulted their “host.” Not that she’d done anything, really. She’d rented the garden, borrowed competent staff, hired someone to cook trifles, and the trees did the hard work. He snorted with ill-concealed disdain. His musical evening had required far more effort, but obviously novelty counted more than quality this season.