by Alma Boykin
She bowed. “Thank you for your generosity, Imperial Majesty, my lords.”
“You are dismissed to your duties and rest, Lord Defender Ni Drako,” Ku-Shkii stated. She bowed very low, backed ten paces, bowed again, and limped out of the chamber. Zabet met her in the corridor and paced her, in case the mammal stumbled.
“You realize we’re scandalizing people again,” Rada observed under her breath as one of the other nobles gave the lord and ‘his’ consort a hard look. Zabet’s whiskers trembled with suppressed laughter and Rada gave her neck a friendly thump. They reached the Lord Defender’s quarters and found an elaborate meal set out, along with some wrapped boxes. «What’s this?» Zabet wanted to know, before she spied her sigil on the two containers.
“Happy belated Breakdark, silver dancer,” Rada said as she carefully eased herself onto a cushion beside the table. The True-dragon hesitated all of half a second before starting to open the containers. Rada poured two cups of tea and watched as her business partner’s eyes widened in delight. «Oh neat!» The reptile tinkered with the enameled metal until she figured out how to slide the talon guards onto her forefeet. She stuck her forefoot out at the Wanderer. «Fasten it, please.» Rada showed Zabet how to close the clasp and the reptile backed away to give herself room.
“Those are made to the same specifications as those belonging to the Palace Guard and are just as dangerous, so please keep them away from anything you don’t want to kill,” Rada requested, thinking of the cushions and her clothing. Zabet ran though a martial arts drill, making light flash off the blue-green and silver talon guards and gauntlet. “Fist your forefoot,” and Zabet did. The razor sharp metal claws flipped up ninety degrees, out of the way of a weapon in “hand.”
After their feast, and once the servants had removed the empty dishes, Zabet announced «My turn». She disappeared for a minute or so as Rada moved to the window seat and extended her leg, stretching gently and massaging the healing joint. «Close your eyes and put out your hands.» Rada did as asked and felt a sheet of paper being placed in each hand. «Now look.»
They were drawings and plans for two walking sticks. The plainer one proved to be a sword cane, hiding a wickedly sharp épée blade. The other would be a work of art—silvery grey wooden shaft, a cushioned metal tip, and the head consisted of a folded pair of scaled wings, enameled in shades of rose fading to gold. According to the illustration, the wings would open, revealing both a cut mineral “gem” in her House color of blue-green and the blue-green cloisonné inside the wings. “Thank you! These will be perfect!” Rada exclaimed.
«You’re welcome. And just to warn you, if you get hurt like that again, I’m going to kill you!» The reptile was only half-joking.
Rada protested, “Yes, well, getting shot was not my idea, trust me, silver dancer. But I may have to put myself in harm’s way again in the future. I’ve been a soldier as long as you’ve known me. And sooner or later...”
Zabet interrupted her. «I know. And I don’t like it, but I accept it. And now you’re going to catch up on your sleep, then finish your report.» Rada knew that tone and sighed.
“Shi-dan was right. I shouldn’t have gotten a concubine,” she sighed again and then yelped as Zabet swatted her good leg with a muscular tail.
«And next time, tell me good-bye before you leave!»
About the Author
Alma T C Boykin lives somewhere between the Sierra Nevada and Appalachian Mountains, south of Canada, with the semi-obligatory writer's cat and enough books to open up a decent-sized library.
She can be reached at [email protected].