No, she quickly realized. Benayle had never saved her life, but she valued his friendship just as much. It wasn’t the act of saving a life that made friendship more precious. It was the perception that a person valued you as an individual: that your hobbies and opinions, as well as your shortcomings, had worth that made the difference. Saving a life always qualified, but wasn’t necessary. It was why people who had never directly met Benayle followed him. They saw that he valued everyone and from that, they felt sure that he’d value them as well. She wasn’t as open with her trust as he was and, she had to admit, didn’t feel like everyone deserved such respect, but she did admire him for it.
Simon picked up a new suit in his usual burgundy. She surprised him by having the top hat ready for him once he left the changing rooms. “I barely had enough for a few extra hankies,” he said sincerely, “Thank you so much, my Lady.” If there had been anything unresolved between them, it was gone immediately, as simple as that.
As they were walking to the inn where they were to meet Sergeant Tess, Simon started pressing suddenly through the crowd trying to catch up to a lady vykati who was walking slowly before them. She looked fairly old and her clothing was composed, in part, of rags. “Mother wolf!” he shouted at her, using the common vernacular to respectfully address an older, widowed vykati. “Mother wolf!”
She paused and Simon, with Sajani pushing aside the crowd beside him, approached the old woman. Just as they neared her, Sajani noticed a small burlap coin purse in her friend’s hand. He held it out to her. “Mother wolf,” he said simply, bowing as much as the press of bodies around them would allow and handing her what was really no more than a bound rag. “Mother wolf, you dropped your money purse.”
She thanked him and then grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a quick lick on the cheek to show her appreciation. Sajani laughed and they went their way. She didn’t see the shocked look the old widow gave them when she opened her purse and found that the two copper it had housed had been replaced by two gold.
There was another surprise for Sajani when they arrived at the inn. Sergeant Tess informed them that there was sufficient per diem to pay for rooms and meals for all for the two days they were authorized as part of her official escort. Simon shook his head and motioned grandly with his hand, “No need my dear, no need at all,” and placed three gold coins on the counter. “I will cover it.”
“Where…” Sajani began.
“The hook that stole from Mother Wolf didn’t have much on him at all, but the stall he passed the goods off to had about fifty gold.” He struck a pose again with his arms across his chest and a smug smile plastered on his face. “And you really should close your mouth when not eating, my dear. It makes you look so much less intelligent than you really are.” He brushed an imaginary piece of dust from his new top hat and added: “I can’t get you a ship, but we’ll at least get you some decent armor before I go.”
He was true to his word. First thing the next morning, he handed her twelve gold and added with a smile, “Be sure to spend it all in one place. Piecemeal armor is much more likely to pull at your fur, as you’ve informed me innumerable times before. I have business elsewhere in the city and most likely would rather have my eyes poked out than go shopping for armor with you again.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” she said defensively.
“You’re far too picky about such things, my dear. The poor shopkeeper was almost justified…”
“How dare he?”
“Yes, how dare indeed. I did say almost justified.”
They parted ways before either of them remembered too much.
The first shop she wanted to enter had a “No wolfmen” sign outside of it. She was tempted to enter and make a convincing argument not only on the basis of her gender, but her battle prowess as well, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort for a place that most likely wouldn’t be able to fit her armor properly anyway.
A few doors down was a shop that said laughably, “No huemen”. The counter was being worked by a very young vykati boy with black and grey markings. He couldn’t have been more than eight years old. “Noble lady!” he shouted to her as he climbed up and over the counter, “you come for Saheeba’s wares?” His common speech was terrible and he smelled of…dates?
She answered in Vykati, trying to make it easier on him. “I’ve come for some leather armor.”
“Good, good.” He answered again in common. Grabbing a chair, he pushed it up over to her and climbed on, pulling a dull pink tape measure from the pocket of a rather smart looking vest he was wearing. He took a pad of paper and a pencil from another pocket and dropped those on the chair.
“You have color preference?” he asked. He began taking measurements and writing them on his pad. He worked very fast for someone so young, constantly jumping off and on his chair.
Giving up on speaking in Vykati, she answered, “Yes. Black with rust red highlights to match my fur.”
“Fine ladies always have color preference. Look very nice on you. Good call.” He wasn’t hesitant at all about grabbing whatever he needed to measure, but he was modest about it.
“Thank you.”
“You measure your own bust, my lady.” He said shyly, handing her the measuring tape. “Not proper for little Bashim to do it.”
She laughed at the cute request. She wouldn’t have thought twice of an adult male, let alone a small boy, taking the measurement so long as he was respectful about it, but she carefully put the tape around her chest and held it to the side for him to read.
He wrote down the measurement and took the measuring tape back. With an adorable over-exaggerated jump, he leapt from the chair and started for a door near the back. “I get Nana Saheeba now.” He closed the door behind him and Sajani could hear a hushed conversation starting up behind it. A moment later, an elderly vykati matron came out, presumably it was Saheeba. The little boy was leading her by the hand and it took a moment for Sajani to realize that the woman could not see very well at all. Her eyes were clouded.
“Here she is, Nana.” Bashim was saying. “She looks like the noble lady in your picture of Mr. Benayle.” That startled Sajani slightly.
“No, little one,” the old woman responded, “Malita died years ago. She’d not be needing armor, anyway.” She lifted her face towards Sajani, who didn’t know what to say about the reference to her mother. “It will take me two days, my lady, and cost eight gold.”
“Eight gold? That’s a very fair price, mother wolf.” She’d expected at least ten based on the quality of the tailored items in the shop and fitted items, like they assumed she wanted, usually ran a little more.
“Then why sound so hesitant?” the old woman asked, sounding surprisingly enough, slightly aggressive.
“No hesitation, mother wolf. None at all.” She added hastily.
“You were hoping for it sooner? When I was younger I could have it to you in a couple of hours, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as well sewn.”
“That’s fine, mother wolf, really. Eight gold is a very fair price” She said again.
The older vykati then grabbed her by the hand and pressed her right cheek to hers. “Then it’s a deal.” She said. “Come back in two days. Any time after noon.”
Sajani just stood there for a moment, still stunned by the reference to her mother. “You have a picture of Malita and Benayle?” she managed to ask.
“Lots of vykati keep pictures of them, lady. You sound like you’re from the Vharkil Mountains, how could you not know that?”
“But together?”
“Oh, just something that some romantic artist put together I’m sure.”
It was true that many vykati kept pictures of her mother. The fact that this old woman kept one wasn’t so new really. Her mother had died during a border skirmish with Rhidayar. She’d been charged with protecting a small outpost, more of just an old chapel really. When word that a division of enemy troops were sighted a day’s march from her position, it is
said that she addressed her soldiers right away and laid her sword in the dirt between them. She then told them the news, that it would be one hundred against more than five thousand. “I have been charged with defending this ground,” she told them, according to the journal of one of those who served with her. “But you are only charged with serving the vykati people and defending them. You can do that here or you can meet up with our advancing forces and do it closer to home. Re-enforcements have been requested, but they won’t arrive for five days at the soonest. If we lose this outpost, the enemy will continue to march unchecked into the farmlands to our north.
“There is no cowardice in refusing to face such odds as we face now. There is no hope for us, only hope that we can slow the advance long enough to protect our people. Here I stand. This I will defend. Cross by my sword and add yours to the line only if you are willing to die for your country.”
All crossed that line. None survived, but the action cost the enemy nearly half of its numbers and prevented them from marching much further into vykati lands. The phrase, “This I will defend” or “Kra’la al’ark” in Vykati, was now the national motto of Vharkylia. The language of the wolf people attached a possessive to most words, so in the most literal sense it meant, “This (ours), defend (mine).” The phrase lost a lot of emotive power in translation.
Sajani had been only ten when that had happened. Benayle had later granted her commission without question. She had been the youngest colonel the pack had ever seen, but no one outwardly questioned it. Too many knew her mother, and all knew of her.
At some point Saheeba must have sent Bashim to get the painting. The old wolf was holding it out for her now, but her vision was too poor to notice the single tear forming at Sajani’s eye. “The cannons of Altaza can still be heard, lady,” Saheeba was saying.
“It’s beautiful.” Sajani told her. It did look just like her mother. Benayle looked younger than he did now of course. The artist had depicted the vykati leader as helping Malita to her feet, a blue rose clasped in her hand. It was captioned as the old woman had said, “The Cannons of Altaza.”
“I lost my son and his wife there,” Saheeba said quietly.
“I’m sorry, mother wolf,” Sajani said truthfully.
“I best be getting to work though, lady,” she answered. “That was long ago. I’ll have your armor ready in two days. Don’t worry.”
“Thank you,” Sajani said as she left.
As she was almost out of earshot, she heard Bashim say, “She look just like picture nana.”
She’d thought it would be difficult to find Simon, but should have realized that the city was not large enough to hide him—few would have been. She came across him a few blocks away, putting on a street show, performing minor acts of arcane magic and major acts of sleight of hand. He tipped his hat to her and called out her name. He wouldn’t dare, she thought to herself, embarrass me the way he used to. She was wrong.
“Here comes my lovely assistant now…” he was saying.
The sparks of Terah were a rare group of people. No one knew what exactly happened to cause it, although it did seem to follow some patterns of heredity, but every now and again, something inside a person would just click into place. A terrifying type of madness overtook them and they instantly developed a deep and profound understanding of science and the world around them.
Those who survived this initial breakthrough, found themselves able to create amazing inventions and experiments the like of which defied the very laws they now seemed to so deeply understand. There were quite a few theories of how this happened, but the easiest explanation was laid out in the old adage, “You have to know the rules to break them.”
The sign outside read “M.V., Spark.”
Sergeant Tess had always found sparks’ shops to be very interesting. The one in her hometown was her first glorious exposure to such things, it was kept by a minor spark. This shop, she had no trouble realizing, had everything from the bizarre and educational, to the somewhat dangerous, to the better-not-even-look-at-it type lethal. The proprietor was a fellow vykati named Ginger, which made her business there a little easier. The two troops she’d brought with her had finished unlashing the chests with the elf weapons and set them down next to her.
The young spark, his reddish-brown fur glistening in the sunlight that was beaming in through the open doorway, got very excited. “Oh,” he exclaimed. “It’s just like New Years!” He hopped up and down quickly, waiting for them to unlock the chests. A silver and gold automaton shaped like a cat circled around his feet making a sound that was a cross between a whir and purr. When the soldiers did unlock the boxes, he reached inside of one, pulled out a rifle, pulled and released a lever, aimed it quickly at an odd-looking machine in one corner, and pulled the trigger. It made a hollow click sound. “Ah,” he said with disappointment. “It wasn’t loaded.”
The metallic cat let out a disappointed “meow.”
“No, Mr. Ginger,” Tess managed with a straight face, “We shipped them not loaded.” One of the soldiers picked up a small case of ammo and helpfully handed it to him. Tess glared at him.
“Oh good!” came the response. The spark, as though he’d used a weapon just like it for his entire life, pulled off a part of the weapon and started pushing ammunition into it. “Fascinating!” He then snapped the part back into place, pulled back a lever, released it so that it snapped back and aimed the rifle at the same machine again.
“You’re not going to fire that…” she started. The rifle fired. Herself, and the two soldiers with her, instinctively ducked. “…indoors are you?”
It looked like the machine he’d fired at was intended to stop the bullet, or at least that was what Sergeant Tess hoped it was supposed to do, because just randomly firing a rifle indoors wasn’t something she associated with people she wanted to do business with, no matter how highly the elderly vykati ambassador recommended them.
The machine didn’t stop the bullet, but rather deflected it. She heard it bounce seven times before it stopped and heard at least three machines break in the process. She poked her head back up again after she was sure it stopped. The spark didn’t look as if he’d moved and neither had his cat. “How very odd. It’d have to have been going pretty fast for that to happen.”
“Do you think so?” one of the other soldiers shouted. Sergeant Tess didn’t comment.
“Hmmm. No way to cock it? Oh, that’s very odd…” he was poking around the inside of the rifle.
“What can you tell us about it?” Tess asked.
“Never seen anything like it,” the spark responded.
“Can you make more like it?”
“Sort of.”
Sergeant Tess had spent plenty of time dealing with the likes of Colonel Lahnk. There was no way she was going to allow this little spark get the best of her temper. “Sort of?”
“It’d be a lot bigger than this. Not sure how they got things this small… Hey, what’s this switch do?” Sergeant Tess ducked and the two others leapt out the door. The gun fired 10 shots in quick succession, this time aimed at the ceiling. Without the aid of the machine he’d fired at the first time, they didn’t bounce.
“How much bigger?”
“Hard to guess right off,” he said as though he hadn’t almost killed them all twice now. “But more than two times and less than four. So, this is the safety, single shot, lots of shots… I wonder what this does?” Tess quickly ducked outside the door and briefly caught the frightened looks on her companion’s faces. A set of three rounds of bullets went off.
“Orders are orders.” She answered the unspoken question on his face. “I’ve only got two more things to ask him and then we’re going straight back to the inn. You can wait out here.” She returned into the shop and said calmly, “I’d rather you waited to test that somewhere safer.”
“Perfectly safe here,” Ginger muttered to himself. His cat stared at her through narrowed eyes.
“There’re some heavy tra
nsports we’d also like you to look at. They’re a little way from here.”
“Fine, fine.” He said distractedly, still fidgeting with the rifle. The cat came over and took a sniff at Tess’s leg. “Let me know where. If they’re anything as unusual as these, I’d be happy to look at them. What spark did you say they came from? I’ve never seen work like this.”
“Um, we’re hoping you could tell us more about it.”
“Yes, yes. Probably some major non-disclosure going on…”
“And Lady Sajani would like to meet with you personally this afternoon at the vykati embassy.”
“Yes, sure. Sure. Mind if I hold onto these for a little while longer?”
“You know where the embassy is?”
“Yes. Yes. Fascinating.” He’d removed a piece from around the barrel and was poking around at a metal tube that ran the length. “So that’s how…” he said to himself, as he shooed the cat away from his face.
Sergeant Tess was done. Mission accomplished, she left quickly with only a slight curiosity nagging at the back of her mind as to how long it would take him to realize she was gone.
This wasn’t how Sajani had originally planned to ask the platoon assigned to her to stay, but the incident at the armor shop inspired her and, she hated to admit, working with Simon’s side show had brought out some of her hidden craving for the spotlight. She realized that her mother could have just asked for volunteers, but did a little more than that anyway. Perhaps she was born to be somewhat dramatic.
She’d had to borrow Sergeant Tess’s longsword, but that didn’t matter. It was a surprisingly beautiful weapon and much more ornate than the one she’d lost on the Wisp. Tess was wearing Simon’s old rapier and managed to seem somewhat proud of it, though Sajani couldn’t imagine why. She was standing behind the four rows of eight soldiers each, and the platoon leader, Lieutenant Marshel, was at the front. The room was silent. Ambassador Ghenis had requested to be present, and Sajani had reluctantly agreed. A local spark, a vykati named Ginger with a metal cat on his shoulder, was standing near the back doorway, with Simon and Doc Cutter. He’d arrived just as they were about to start and Sajani did not want to wait.
Wolf's Pawn (Sajani Tails Book 1) Page 6