The Blood Jaguar

by Michael H. Payne

  "There the Twelve stood in a ring around the body of the Lady Jaguar, all in a ring around her body lying motionless and healing upon the Savannah. And in the name of the Twelve, the Lord Tiger and the Lady Tigress pronounced their judgment upon her:

  "'As the Lady Jaguar has caused and assisted death, chaos, and destruction, so she will become death, chaos, and destruction. As she has caused and assisted war, violence, and bloodshed, so she will become war, violence, and bloodshed. From this moment on, all power of death and darkness, terror and mayhem, vengeance and cruelty, all this will be invested in her. As she has lived, so she will now live, the Outsider, the Thirteenth among the Twelve, the Hated and the Feared. She will be, now and forever, the Cold Wind at Night, the Strangler of Laughter, the Shadow in the Grass: the Blood Jaguar.'

  "And so the Twelve took from themselves and from the power of the whole Curia all that is lawfully given to death and destruction, and with those powers they invested the Blood Jaguar. And onto themselves they took the responsibilities of light and kindness, life and growth, harmony, beauty, and truth, and they pledged themselves to upholding the laws of the world. They would protect the rights of the folk against the Blood Jaguar, but also the rights of the Blood Jaguar against the folk, for Death does have rights, and they must be accorded her.

  "And that was the end of the Beforetime, the beginning of our time here upon this earth.

  "It is said then that when the Blood Jaguar awoke, saw the Twelve gathered around her, felt what had been done to her, she thanked them for it, thanked them for allowing her to become Death. She moved from the Savannah, rose through the skies, and settled far to the south in what she christened the Shroud Islands. There she established her new domain, her Kingdom of the Dead, where the spirits of the innocent dead she leaves to their leisure and those guilty she delights in tormenting.

  "And that is who the Twelve are, and who the Thirteenth is, and how they came to be gods over our earth, ruling the cycles of nature and myth."

  The Ramon stopped, took a sip from his cup, the sudden silence making Bobcat start back as if he'd just come awake from a dream. "There also," the meerkat continued, "according to all the accounts, the Blood Jaguar negotiated with the Twelve the terms for the first Plague Year. Among those agreed-upon terms is the provision that, at the start of any Plague Year, the Twelve shall choose a champion, visiting him in his dreams, and raise him up to face the Blood Jaguar on her old grounds, a hero with the strength and determination to to stop the Plague Year from happening."

  Bobcat felt his fur prickle as the Ramon raised his glass and crooked a claw at him. "You," he said, "sir Bobcat, you are that champion, that hero, chosen by the Twelve themselves to defeat the Blood Jaguar's horrible plans."

  Chapter Eight: By Southern Seas

  "Wait a minute; wait a minute; wait a minute," Bobcat managed to get out after a moment of just staring. "Don't you point at me like that! 'Sir Bobcat?' Where're you getting this crap from?"

  The Ramon's brow wrinkled. "But this is all...this is woven into the very fabric of the earth, part of the laws set up by the Curial powers! A bobcat is chosen by agreement between Those Above and the Blood Jaguar. She procures a skink's luckstone and retires to the great Savannah, and soon after, a bobcat, this luckless skink, and their fisher shaman arrive in the city from the east, departing then for the great Savannah to the south. And in every account, it is the bobcat who is the leader, the driving force, the one who has received the visions, the True Dreams, the instructions from on high. Is this not the case?"

  Bobcat almost laughed, but those eyes flared up in his mind again, made him swallow it before it got out of control. "Look, buddy," he said when he could. "If anyone's in charge on this little jaunt, it sure isn't me. I got kicked into a brier patch by this Blood Jaguar of yours, and if that's a deputation from on high, well, brother, you can have it. I'm not here under anything but protest, and I can't leave 'cause she left her eyes in my head to kick me again every once in a while! I've got no choice in any of this, haven't had any choice since day one, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna take responsibility for something I've got no control over!"

  The quiet sounds of the city drifted up around them, the old meerkat looking like a carved statue at the table's other end. Bobcat puffed out a breath and heard Fisher clear her throat. "It's, uhh, it's been kind of an unusual situation for us all around," she said. "We're operating without a lot of the standard equipment here, I guess you could say. So, sir, if there's, well, if there's anything you can give us, any information at all about what exactly we're supposed to do once we leave here and head out onto the Savannah, I know I'd certainly appreciate it."

  The Ramon sat unmoving for another moment. "This...this cannot be. The accounts say nothing about..." He pressed his paws together, his eyes focused on the table in front of him. "The information you request, there is none of it. Yes, some centuries ago, it is recorded, the Caliph Rashur, against his Ramon's instruction, sent guards with the bobcat's party to report back what occurred. But, several nights later, the Ramon was visited in dreams by the Blood Jaguar herself, saw her laying the bodies of the guards at the city gates. They were found there the next morning, the first victims of that year's plague."

  Again, silence fell, the Ramon visibly shaking now. Bobcat stared, then turned to Fisher. She was looking at him, and he could see Skink peering over from his mat on the table. "Well, now what?" Bobcat asked.

  Fisher and Skink exchanged glances. "Well," Fisher said after a moment, "I guess we head south, then improvise."

  "No!" came a bark from the other end of the table, and Bobcat saw the Ramon leap up, slam his fists against the arms of his chair. "No, this is not correct! This is not the proper way for the handling of these matters!"

  Fisher shrugged. "Yeah, well, considering how 'these matters' have been handled in the past, maybe it's a good thing we're doing it differently this time."

  The Ramon glared at her. "You speak with a loud tongue, shaman, and a fool's tongue, I assure you!"

  Bobcat saw Fisher's ears go down. "Okay, fine." She rose from her mat. "I'm so sorry we wasted your valuable time, Ramon Sooli. If we'd've known you in your vaunted wisdom were as clueless as we are, we never would've bothered you." She looked like she was about to spit on the table, but instead she just said, "C'mon. Let's get outta here."

  "Fisher, please!" Skink had scuttled over in front of her. "These are trying times for us all, and it's obvious that the expectations we held for each other are simply not going to be met! We can do nothing but make the best of the situation, not just for our own sakes, but for the sake of the entire world! Now, I suggest you apologize to the Ramon."

  "Me?" Fisher shouted, but Bobcat saw the old meerkat slump back into his chair and nod.

  "You touch truth, sir. My own stupidity shames me." He rose, bowed to Skink, then turned and bowed to Fisher. "It is I who should apologize. The Blood Jaguar's movement these past weeks has preyed so upon my mind, I was not prepared for the...for the unusual circumstances you have presented to me. Again, I am sorry."

  Skink snapped his head back to Fisher, who blew out a breath. "Yeah, sure, me, too, whatever." She settled herself back onto the mat. "But, really, I don't know what more we can do here if there isn't anything in your accounts to cover our situation."

  "I fear there is not." The wrinkle returned to the Ramon's brow. "I wish I could be of more help, but..." He spread his paws.

  "Right." Fisher swigged down her drink. "I suggest we get going then, tonight; things were starting to look a little ugly out in the square this morning, and I'd rather get out of here before word spreads to the whole city."

  "Yeah," Bobcat said. "That'd be just the right touch for all this, getting caught up in some riot or other."

  The Ramon made a small clicking sound with his teeth. "I fear word has already spread; I understand that the palace guards were breaking up crowds outside all day." He tapped the table, then called out, "Kashas! Kashas, come her
e, please!"

  The door opened, the young meerkat peering out. "Sir?"

  "We have need of clothing for travelers heading south: traders' cloaks and waterskins, suitable headgear, the sort of things anyone leaving the city would wear. Prepare the dressing room. We shall be along shortly."

  Fisher nodded as the young meerkat slipped back inside. "Good idea. And if you've got any talcum, I can lighten up my fur; I've passed for an otter before."

  Bobcat had to laugh. "That, I've gotta see."

  She gave him a glare, then went on. "Skink can hide under my cloak, and Bobcat, well, bobcats pass through Kazirazif all the time. He shouldn't have any trouble if he's not out with a fisher and a skink."

  "Just so." The Ramon hopped from his chair. "Come along, and we shall see how we may disguise you."

  Skink scurried up onto Fisher's back, and with the meerkat in the lead, Bobcat followed them all downstairs, his mind turning the Ramon's story over and over. He didn't see how he could have missed the Curials coming in his dreams to tell him he was their chosen champion or whatever was supposed to have happened, but maybe somebody somewhere had made a mistake. Just thinking about it, it seemed more likely that the bobcat they had originally picked had fallen into a river or something, and he was being rushed in now as a replacement.

  Those eyes flared up in his head suddenly, made him wince and catch himself, almost losing his footing on the stairs.

  Okay, so maybe he was supposed to be here. Or, at least, the Blood Jaguar wanted him here. Why, though, he still couldn't figure out.

  Down darkened stairways and through shadowy corridors they went until those odd little turtle lanterns began to appear along the walls again. They rounded a corner, and a whiter light shone out from an open door, making the Ramon stop, turn, and bow: "If you will enter, we shall see what can be done."

  Fisher walked in, Skink craning his head from her shoulder, and Bobcat let out a whistle as he came in after them. Hundreds of tiny candles burned brightly from inside little glass spheres, their light reflected in the mirrors folding out from a huge dressing table against one wall. He stepped farther in and saw rack after rack of clothing, fur of every shade--from black, brown, and dun to red, blue, and a vibrant, electric purple--hung from pegs, jars overflowing from the shelves all around. "What is this stuff?" he asked.

  The Ramon spread his paws. "Our caliph Trajar--may the Twelve guard his steps--is always concerned to know the minds of his people. For his father, Ibrahim of great memory, charged on his deathbed that his son trust his advisers only so far, that he check their advice with his own experience as much as possible. Our caliph therefore often disguises himself here so as to roam the streets freely, to take the measure of his people's needs and fears. I often venture out so at his side. Only those most trusted know of this place."

  "Really?" Bobcat looked around. "Should we be in here, then?"

  The Ramon cleared his throat, glanced away, and Fisher rolled her eyes.

  Bobcat blinked at her. "What?"

  "Oh, nothing," she said. "Except that there's an even chance we'll all be dead in a week, and then it won't really matter what we know or don't know. Will it?"

  Bobcat swallowed, and a silence followed until the Ramon clapped his paws. "Your disguises," he said. "We have much to choose from, so let us get started."

  Skink jumped down off Fisher's back, and the Ramon took a jar from one of the shelves. He undid the lid, and the scent of talcum set Bobcat sneezing; he'd hated that stink since he was a kit. So when Fisher started patting the stuff over her face and paws, he moved away to clearer air behind the racks of clothing. He began pawing through them, the variety absolutely amazing, all sizes, styles, and professions represented, a simple beetle wrangler's shift too small for anyone but a mouse hanging next to the sort of embroidered vest and fez he'd seen lupine precious metal dealers sport.

  None of them appealed to him, though, till he came to one, off-white and billowing, its black-edged head cloth tied to it, that he recognized as a bone dealer's cloak. It struck him as appropriate, so he pulled it down and tried it on.

  It was almost too big for him, draping over his face and paws, and he was just tightening the black cord, fitting the head cloth between his ears, when he heard the Ramon calling, "Bobcat, have you found something?"

  "Yeah!" he called back, padding to the front of the room. "Yeah, I think I have."

  He came out from the last rack, and a figure in the plain black burnoose of a general trader spun around on a stool, an otter's wide grin flashing through her whiskers; Bobcat had to look twice to be sure it was Fisher. Her snout looked wider, her forehead rounder, her eyes sparkling the way an otter's always seemed to. It took some effort, but Bobcat managed merely to nod, to cock his head, and to say in a tentative way, "Well, maybe we can keep away from crowds."

  Her smile bunched up a little, and that simple motion brought Fisher's own face closer to the surface. "Yeah," she said, even her voice somehow lighter in Bobcat's ears, "well, that was our plan anyway."

  "Indeed," he heard Skink say, and the lizard scuttled into view on the dressing table. "Though I for my part continue to be amazed by your transformation, Fisher. Had I not witnessed it myself, I would not have believed it possible."

  She slid from the stool with an otter's fluid motion and gave Skink a bow. "It's edifying to know that gentlemen of taste still walk among us," she said, and Bobcat couldn't help smiling at the lilt in her voice--just exactly right. She spun around then. "So, shall we gather the packs?"

  The Ramon led them down the hall to the first room they had stayed in. "I have not yet had time to arrange a restocking of your packs. If you can wait a bit longer, I--"

  "Nah." Fisher slipped into her straps. "Thanks, though. We've still got a few days' rations left, and I think it best we travel light and quickly."

  Bobcat nodded, grabbed his pack, and watched Skink crawl up into the folds of Fisher's cloak.

  "Yes," the Ramon said, tapping his jaw. "Come; I will show you to our exit."

  He scurried from the room, Fisher following and Bobcat falling in behind, the meerkat's voice echoing slightly in the corridor: "Our caliph--may the Twelve guard his steps--has had built a passage beneath the palace that leads to the coal shed of a loyal blacksmith just off the Great Square. We shall take that route."

  And then it was more flickering passages, more closed doors on either side. Bobcat blew out a breath; he'd worked at a termite farm along the eastern coast south of Ngyshen once, cutting the mounds open for the harvesters to dip the insects out, and he'd always been amazed at the mess of routes the termites carved. This place, though, was worse, corridors opening off at odd angles, seeming to double back on themselves, closed doors and little turtle lanterns everywhere.

  After some time, though, they turned a corner and Bobcat saw a dark hole in the wall, the Ramon standing in its mouth. "The passage runs straight, yet you should duck your heads. It is our caliph's pleasure to keep the way rough-hewn that it might be collapsed at a moment's notice in case of emergency."

  This was not exactly the sort of thing Bobcat wanted to hear about a tunnel he was even now entering, but he couldn't see that he had all that much choice at this point. It was a good thing Fisher reeked of talc; keeping his distance behind her even in the dark shouldn't be too much of a problem. The light faded from the walls, and he tuned his ears to the padding of paws, the meerkat's light and skittery, Fisher's soft but solid.

  The darkness went on and on, Bobcat having to swallow whenever he blinked and those eyes sparked up, their afterimage seeming to flash in the space just ahead. Each and every time, his hackles sprang up, and he had to keep telling himself, She's not here; she's not here; she's not here....

  Finally, the meerkat's footfalls paused, and Bobcat drew back the step he was about to take.

  "Just here," came the Ramon's voice. "If you will but wait, I shall open the hatch."

  A scrape and a click, and a sliver of light appeared,
then expanded into a gray rectangle, the meerkat's form dark against it. He gestured with a paw, and Bobcat followed Fisher out into a half-filled coal cellar, steps leading up at each end of the room. The meerkat scampered over the coal and up one set of stairs, peered through a crack in the door at the top, pushed it open. "Come now!" he called. "The way is clear."

  Bobcat picked up his paws, trying to keep the coat dust off his cloak, and padded after Fisher up the steps. The Ramon stood waiting in the alleyway outside, the lights of the palace visible between the buildings behind him. "You know the way to the Basharah gate?" he asked.

  Bobcat nodded, and Fisher said, "Just wander south and east, right? How hard can it be?"

  The Ramon sighed and nodded. "How hard indeed." He reached up, and Fisher bowed her head so he could touch the side of her snout. Skink appeared from the folds of Fisher's cloak, leaned down to get a similar stroke; then the meerkat was moving over to Bobcat. Bobcat blinked, shrugged, lowered his head, and felt a brush like that of a moth's wing at his whiskers. "I give you whatever blessing I can," the Ramon's voice came to him. "And I pray that we shall meet again." A skittering of paws on the cobblestones, a creak from the door, and the old meerkat was gone.

  They stayed still for another moment, the Ramon's worried face still floating in Bobcat's mind; then Fisher poked his shoulder. "Let's be off."

  He blew out a breath. "Right."

  Fisher headed toward the darker end of the alley, and Bobcat, after giving the palace one last glance, hurried to catch up with her.

  #

  The alley opened onto one of the thousand narrow side streets that wormed through Kazirazif. Fisher looked each way, then nodded right and looked at Bobcat. It seemed as good a direction as any till they found a market square and could get themselves oriented, so he nodded back, and they set off. The street wound around homes and shops, all dark and quiet, something Bobcat found a little strange. Kazirazif was usually a very nocturnal town, folk staying indoors during the heat of the day and coming out at night; he couldn't think where everyone might be.