by Alma Boykin
Harvest started two days later and Rada observed the ceremonial cutting of the first bundle of grain. Oddly for the Azdhagi, the village’s females, not the males, cut the grain, arranging themselves into a line at the edge of the field. They wore shorter robes than usual or none at all if the weather were hot enough. The reptiles waited as the priest blessed the grain, the workers, the sickle-like cutters, the weather, and anything that couldn’t get out of the way and might have a remote relation to the harvest. When Taer finished, four males took positions halfway along the side of the field behind four drums. “Boom, bat, bat, bat, boom, bat, bat, bat,” the rhythm rolled down the slope towards the Zhangki River. The females rose onto their hind legs and stepped forward together, strong-leg first, swept their cutters down and severed the purple heads of grain. Older females came along behind, taking the grain and carrying it back to the males, who loaded it into large carts to take up to thresh and then store. Rada had wondered why the females did the work until she thought about how long they spent on their hind legs. The heavier, larger males wore out faster unless they were military trained. The dimorphism provided yet another Azdhag oddity for the mammal to puzzle over.
After watching for an hour or so, Rada and one guard returned to the manor house. On the way they stopped by the shootee pens and the Wanderer-hybrid examined her livestock. The dark-colored, placid herbivores chewed their food, recovering well from the drive and marking. Many year-turns before the herd-masters had settled on a single star on the weak-side flank as Lord Ni Drako’s mark and it stood out well. One of the animals seemed more restless than the others, unable to settle down, and Rada noted how it bumped into the smaller males, agitating them. “This male needs to become supper,” Rada said aloud.
“The big one, Lord Mammal?” a voice inquired and she turned to see one of the herders watching.
“Yes. Before he wears the fat off the rest of the herd.”
The lean male made a note on an electronic pad that he carried. “There is a cold wave forecast for two nights from now, Lord Mammal. Will that be soon enough? I’m on settling watch until the herd calms and gets used to the pens again. It’s easy enough to drop a word with the master butcher.”
“It will be perfect, so long as it does not interfere with harvest.” They discussed how she wanted the beast cut and then parted ways, Rada to the manor and the herder to his rounds. It was time and past to start coordinating meals, room-cleanings, game scouting and all the other things associated with an Imperial hunting visit to the estates. Rada took advantage of the good weather and flew Night’s Claw, her personal fighter, to Burnt Mountain. She landed on the pad, well away from the main (wooden) building and smiled nastily as frantic reptiles poured out of the lodge and surrounding woods to come greet her. “I take it my message did not arrive?”
“Not in my file it did not, Lord Mammal,” Huntmaster Shoti growled. The big, dark reptile whapped the ground with his tail, raising a puff of dead leaves. “Next sixt?”
She swept her hand and tail in an affirmative. After a little checking, and after verbally scorching the tail of the reptile who failed to pass the messages to the assistant manager and hunters, Rada clambered back into the ‘Claw and turned the nosecone west and north, towards House Moytou’s lands. She didn’t land but wove around the peaks of the wildlands, looking at the early snow and checking the condition of two landing strips tucked back into the True-dragons’ territories. The True-dragon militia did the upkeep and the Azdhagi used the pads for fire-fighting equipment, mountain rescue and military exercises. The Defenders handled all planetary defense but the True-dragons kept a small reserve or militia force that coordinated with the Defenders. If invaders landed in their territory the Houses would be the first ones to respond. At that thought Rada made a small warding-off sign of her own and focused her attention on flying the ‘Claw. The mountains and wind combined to keep the pilot busy until she touched down again at Singing Pines just before sunset.
Working from dawn to dusk, the residents of Singing Pines finished harvest in five days. Half of the fields had to be cleared by hand (as it were) because they sloped too much for the mechanized harvesters to navigate safely. The males cleared the rest with slightly out-dated farm equipment. The big grain-growing estates farther east and south invested in some very elaborate planters, cultivators, and harvesters, but they would only tumble down-slope into the Zhangki if brought to Singing Pines. The imperial family saw no point in expending the effort needed to terrace and level the river-view fields when the settlements only needed enough to be self-sufficient. Once again Rada shrugged at the bizarre dichotomy of life on Drakon IV.
However the Azdhagi harvested it, the bounty exceeded everyone’s best hopes and Larakh and Schleet immediately sent two loads of grain to the palace-capital simply because there was no room at Singing Pines or Burnt Mountain. The scent of baking bread and grain sweets filled the manor house and to Rada’s chagrin Zabet managed to persuade the cook to let the True-dragon serve as “quality control inspector.” Looking up at the Royal Highway that night, a hot, miniature meat-stuffed bread loaf in her hand, Rada decided that for the moment at least life was very good indeed.
Two nights later she could barely look over the edge of the wall without risking her neck. A ferocious wind howled out of the mountains to the west and north, accelerating as it flowed down the river valley. Anything not tied down tumbled or tore and Lord Ni Drako suspected that there would be a lot of roofs needing repairs after the storm passed. She really hoped that none of the fire towers had been blown over and that no fires were starting in the mountains. Twice she’d dealt with firestorms in the Wildlands and the mammal would die happy if she never saw another one. Oh well. Firewood will be cheap this fall and we shouldn’t lose any hunters to dropping snags this year. Although, as Rada thought about the hazards in her worlds, getting flattened by a dead tree would probably be about as ironic an end as she could meet. No, scratch that. Getting shot because someone thought I’d seduced her husband would be the most ironic.
The next morning, as soon as the weather settled a little, Rada went out into the forest. She picked a game trail to use as her initial route so she could look for fresh-ish sign and to try and gauge what was in the area. The early storms might, just might, be driving some animals down towards the settlements. This benefitted the more out-of-condition hunters but would not be good for village and hamlet residents. Four year-turns before a male gantak had savaged a junior and the mammal did not want any repetitions. Just in case she carried her blast-pistol as well as her “new walking staff.”
The predator found some talkak tracks and ts-taali scat but nothing else. Tree-fuzzies didn’t count, although she’d probably return one night soon and harvest a few just to stay in practice. The wind blew any other scents away, diluting them with the sour fragrance of wild coin-leaf and conifer trees. It also blew sound towards the mammal’s sensitive ears and she caught heavy footsteps coming towards her through the underbrush. Rada ducked off the trail and into cover. The male Azdhag trotted carefully, trying not to leave too many signs behind him. Suspicious, his daimyo followed the hurrying reptile. He seemed to be looking for something but unable to find it and in the hour Rada shadowed him he grew more and more agitated. Finally he stopped in a cleared area where one of the largest trees in the area had fallen the previous year. “Looking for someone, Kleet?”
Kleet froze and then swung around, his spines up in a full threat display. “No.”
Ni Drako leaned on her staff and let her ears flatten but otherwise remained completely relaxed. “Running from someone? An angry spirit perhaps? Or an irate mate?”
“Of course not. What makes you,” he spluttered, “why would you, no.” The reptile stepped closer to Ni Drako and she shifted her weight in case he charged.
“Why would I? Because you may not believe in guardian spirits, Kleet, but I do. And I know who avenges the innocent.” But please do not appear or I will flee even faster than Kle
et will, the mammal silently implored the Guardian of the Gates of Hell.
Kleet responded by spinning on his forefoot, slamming Ni Drako with his tail and knocking her to the ground. She’d expected something like it and rolled, coming up to her feet and backing for room. As she moved the mammal took the blade out of its carrier and snapped it into place at the head of her staff, then began advancing. Kleet grabbed a heavy tree limb and rose onto his hind legs, moving towards the mammal. Rada couldn’t let him get too close and she swung the blade of the naginata at his ribcage. He parried but staggered back off-balance, dropping the wood. He charged her on four legs, kicking up dust and leaves from the bare ground. The warrior dodged the attack, swinging back and slicing off almost half of Kleet’s thick tail. As he screamed and spun around, she used the blade to flip the tail into the air then batted it into flight, smacking him with the bloody appendage.
“I’ll kill you!” the wounded reptile screamed, charging again. Rada stood her ground and he surged onto two legs, talons out. Before Kleet knew what he’d been lured into, Ni Drako struck. She slid her hands back along the wood and put all her weight onto her bad leg, swinging the staff as she did. The blade cut up, skimming over Kleet’s foreleg and into his neck. The blade tilted oh-so-slightly to level and sliced through flesh and between bone in a spray of brown. Rada pivoted with the force of the blow, twisting and ducking to escape the dead reptile’s falling body. The head bounced twice but did not roll very far. Trying to hide her fast breathing and shaking hands, Rada planted the butt of the naginata firmly into the compacted soil and looked around for other challengers.
There were none. “ ‘Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord’, but sometimes He subcontracts,” Rada informed the corpse. The felinoid stalked off, leaving the remains for someone else to deal with. Kleet’s mate would find a replacement soon enough.
The mammal detoured to a stream where rinsed the blood off the naginata blade before replacing it in the sheath on her belt. She briefly considered letting someone know that the deceased would not be returning from the forest, then shook her head. I just hope nothing dies of food poisoning from eating his remains. That would be like him, giving a carrion-cleaner indigestion. That evening Rada went to Burnt Mountain to scout game and to inspect the imperial quarters at the lodge.
King-Emperor Huan-di preferred to begin at Singing Pines for his first hunt of the season. Or rather, as Zabet observed tartly the evening before the hunting season began, <
Instead the mammal explained that, “Rank and maturity have their privileges, and this should push the wilder animals towards Burnt Mountain, where they are less apt to cause problems.”
Zabet snorted her opinion. After several minutes of quiet, just as Rada began drifting to sleep, the reptile asked, <
“Not recently.”
<
Now it was Rada’s turn to snort. “Larakh will have to get in line behind the King-Emperor and Great Lords unless he wants to make it an emergency. Kleet is an adult male who can certainly look after himself. In fact, as I recall, he’s one of the larger males in the village. He’s probably getting into mischief somewhere.” And with that Rada composed herself for sleep.
Larakh found other things to worry about, leaving his daimyo to see to “his” guests and their overlord. The first day’s hunt went better than usual and fat Lord Shu managed to spear a talkak sow. He had steady nerves; that Rada had to grant him. The sow and four yearlings broke cover under the Prince Imperial’s muzzle, hesitated and then ran towards Shu. The old reptile had braced for impact, assuming it would be one of the litter that would hit him. Instead it was a hundred and ten kilos of screaming sow that managed to run herself up his lance. Shu kept his balance and severed her neck before the talkak could claw him.
The next day the party split and Rada and the huntmaster went with Huan-di, the Prince Imperial Di-dosk, and two Great Lords looking for cheesali. The birds flew heavily this time of year and Rada and the huntmaster were to drive any they found towards the imperial party. Shoti and Rada agreed that they’d probably have better luck at Burnt Mountain, as usual, but didn’t say anything to their overlord. The group had been out for three fruitless hours when Huan-di sounded a summons to the mammal and huntmaster.
“Di-dosk found someone’s remains,” and the striped reptile pointed to his son. The unhappy prince led Shoti and Rada back to where he’d gone to relieve himself. It was a thick cluster of hush-leaf bushes, so called because the leaves could be used to make a sweet sedative tea. As Rada watched for scavengers, the reptiles studied the prince’s find.
“This is a female Azdhag, Imperial Majesty,” Huntmaster Shoti said. He lifted up some decayed fabric and Rada’s blood went cold, then surged hot with fury. She knew that garment. “And no shardi or talkak kills like this.” He stepped back and the King-Emperor looked at the remains, then backed up and beckoned Lord Ni Drako.
“Your thoughts?” Rada looked at the talon guard embedded in the female’s neck and the four long gashes in the bones of the skull. She thought for a moment then curved her own fingers, mimicking an Azdhagi forefoot.
“Into the eye socket and then back, turning her head while he cut her throat. But the talon guard broke off in the wound, not that it mattered at that point,” Rada thought aloud, gesturing as she did. “There are probably more gashes and wounds in her flanks or belly, or both. Shaek would have fought as hard as she could, but Kleet had all the advantages and she was weak from fasting and grief.” The mammal rose from her crouch and leaned on her hunting stick, shaking her head.
The males looked at her. “You name a victim and suspect already, Reh-dakh?” Huan-di’s strong-side forefoot curved up in inquiry.
“It is a tangled web, Imperial-Majesty, but yes. The female, Shaek, vanished two sixts past and she is the only adult female reported missing from any settlement. As well, there is only one person who had a motive for killing Shaek and it is not her mate. And her mate is at Sweetsea and has been for almost a year-turn.” Rada and Taer had inquired discreetly when Shaek went missing and discovered that her mate now lived with distant relatives on the eastern coast. “And Kleet vanished recently, or so I heard.”
The hunters made note of the remains’ location for further investigation but Huan-di never inquired as to the results after Taer, Laersh, and Rada failed to find any other suspects. Nor did the King-Emperor inquire as to Kleet’s fate once the priest reminded everyone that, “the Ancestors and gods always avenge the innocent.”
And sometimes they subcontract, Rada smiled to herself the next spring as she kicked what the scavengers had left of Kleet’s skull.
Wounded Cat
A.D. 2003
Rada Ni Drako studied her reflection one last time, making absolutely certain that enough makeup concealed her newest scar to keep the humans from falling over in shock. “Well, I never was much by their standards,” she reminded herself before putting the mirror away and opening to door to the Dark Hart. She’d lived almost a decade since she’d last been to Earth, but as the humans measured things, Commander “Rachel Na Gael” had departed for leave on June 17 and today would be July 2. The Wanderer-hybrid poked her head out of the door, saw nothing, and relaxed. She’d arrived a little before midnight, and darkness filled the laboratory at the headquarters of the 58th Regiment of Foot. Rachel carried her hand luggage and weapons rig up the metal spiral stairs to her quarters, leaving the door open to encourag
e some of the stale air to depart. Opening the chimney flue helped stir more of the fustiness out of the tiny flat, and she decided to leave things open while she went and checked in.
Captain Mike Rolfe, the Australian adjutant, had drawn the short straw as night duty officer. “Good evening, Captain,” Rachel called quietly, waving from the doorway of the dimly lit office.
The short man peered at her from over a pair of half-moon reading glasses. “Ah, hello, Commander Na Gael. Back already?” He hurriedly removed the glasses, tucking them out of view behind the desktop.
“Some vacations go more quickly than others,” she shrugged. “I’m officially back and ready for duty. Anything interesting happen while I was away?”
Rolfe leaned back in his chair and rubbed tired eyes. “One false alarm, a bout of food poisoning from some cream cakes Capt. Ngobo’s mother sent him, some of the corporals decided to play a joke on RSM Chan, and that’s about all the goings on. General Whitehead is out until Thursday, so Col. Terror is in charge.”
“Are the corporals going to live?”
“Last I heard they were, although one still refuses to come out of the tree she’s hiding in,” Rolfe straightened back up. “She thought Chan’s bark was worse than his bite.”