Amulet Rampant

by M. C. A. Hogarth

  “No, Exalted. But I have been cautious.”

  How still the guard remained! Such obedience, married to such poise. If the Emperor had been researching the males assigned to the tower duty, the Queen could see why this one had stood out to him.

  “I reward curiosity,” the Emperor said. “So long as it is expressed with respect. So... you have wished to see the Change. You admit it.”

  "I would have us not turn from any source of greatness, Exalted. Particularly one we were born with."

  "And the Change is greatness," the Emperor surmised.

  "Yes, Exalted."

  "Because?"

  "Because we can do it," the guard said, and received for that reply a little shake of his jaw.

  "A better answer," the Emperor said.

  The guard’s pupils slid away, eyes narrowing. When he returned his gaze to the Emperor's, he looked confident. "Because through it we may understand the subtle and unknown... and knowledge is safety, and power."

  The Emperor's Eldritch brows lifted. He let his hand fall away. "An impressive answer. You invite a greater test. Will you undergo it?”

  There, unmistakably, a flare of something in those gray eyes. But not avarice, as she’d expected from revolutions spent in the court in the company of ambitious males. What she saw there was hunger, as of one starved, and this startled her, for she recognized it. Had she also not been starving for something she had never had, nor known she lacked, until the Ambassador came?

  “Exalted. Have my mettle.”

  And then the Emperor surprised her—them both—by stepping back and reaching a hand for her. “Do you come, Queen Ransomed.”

  What could she do but obey? She joined him, cautious.

  “What do you think of him?” the Emperor asked her.

  “My lord?” she said, startled. But he wouldn’t have asked if he hadn’t wanted her opinion, so she turned her gaze to the guard, whose wide eyes elicited a seed of amusement in her, all unwilling. No revulsion, though. That intrigued her. “You heard the title?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “You recognize it?” she wondered.

  Another of those pauses, so minuscule. “I have read the histories.” His eyes slid briefly to the Emperor’s before returning to hers. “The Empire was different at its inception.”

  Peculiar. The Queen said to the Emperor, “Is that typical? To have read such ancient histories?”

  He was feeling indulgent; she could see it more easily in the Eldritch face than the Chatcaavan. “No. Such histories give males dangerous ideas. They would give females dangerous ideas as well, did anyone allow a female to read.”

  “I would like to read them,” she said, musing.

  “You can read?” the guard said, and there again, she saw it: not repugnance, but fascination.

  “You are curious,” she said, bemused. “You are curious about me.”

  “You do not speak the way females speak, and the Emperor does not punish you for it,” the guard said, careful of the words. “You read. You have seen the Change, and I have not.”

  “She taught me the Change,” the Emperor said.

  The guard’s eyes widened, so much that a rim of white showed around gray irises. “You Change.”

  She nodded, purposefully using the alien gesture. Remembering his words earlier, she added, “Does that make me great?”

  The guard stiffened, shoulders, neck, wings. And then, amazingly, he laughed. Briefly, no doubt because of their august company, but a laugh nonetheless. And she could tell he meant no mockery in it. He was... he was delighted.

  “You remind me a little of my dam,” the guard said, and this was offered with a ducked head and an abashed look. “She was a strong female and often discounted to the detriment of those around her.”

  That such females existed stunned her. The Emperor, noting it, said quietly, “The court is not the Empire.” More normally, “So, do you like him?”

  “I do,” the Queen said, finding it shocking that she could.

  “I thought you might.” The Emperor curled a finger under the guard’s chin and lifted it. “And you? Does it gall you to be judged by a female?”

  “She is... she is your Queen Ransomed, Exalted.”

  “And like your dam?” the Emperor added, visibly amused now.

  This hesitation was the longest of all of them, and the guard left them during it, his eyes focused on some internal picture. When he returned to them again, there was defiance there, and the calm of a decision. “I cared for her deeply.”

  “Oh, I do like him,” the Queen said, amazed that he would confess such a thing.

  “He could be lying,” the Emperor said.

  She squinted at him, wondering why he should say something so nonsensical when he was touching the guard with Eldritch fingers. But of course, the guard might not realize what that meant... “He would have to be able to say that out loud without showing signs of disgust.”

  “A practiced enough liar could,” the guard said, still holding perfectly fixed beneath that touch. “You should not trust all that you are told, my Queen.”

  “You are certain now,” the Emperor guessed, looking at her.

  She studied the guard’s eyes and admired their steadiness of purpose. He knew he was being evaluated, not just by the highest male in all the Empire, but by its most exalted and debased of females... and he was submitting to that test with a grace she could only admire. She had seen others submit to their tests so, could only hope that she would go to her own when it came to her with that serenity. “Yes.”

  The Emperor mmmed. To the guard, he said, “So. You were assigned here by the Navy for the special duty of guarding the harem, as a reward for exemplary service."

  “I was,” the guard said.

  “You have a name.”

  “I do.”

  “You will no longer use it,” the Emperor said. “Now you are the Knife. As you have confessed to reading the ancient histories, you will be familiar with this title.”

  "Exalted," the guard whispered, his wings trembling now.

  “I see that you are,” the Emperor said. “But perhaps my Queen is not.” To her, he said, “Long ago, when the Emperor had a Queen Ransomed, the Queen Ransomed had a Knife. The Knife guarded her safety, did her bidding when she required someone's punishment, and helped her ward the security of the harem and her part of the palace. He coordinated the security for her domain and saw to her personal safety."

  The guard's pupils had dilated. “This is... this is a responsibility, an honor too great to be awarded so easily! Exalted, surely...”

  “I have been watching you, Knife,” the Emperor said, unperturbed. “You have hidden your curiosity well, but your flexibility of mind cannot be concealed from every test. I have been waiting to see what you would become. And here you are.” He grinned, all blunt teeth. “You will no doubt protest again. Allow me to test your intelligence. Tell me, Knife. Do you know anything about the shape I am wearing?”

  The guard composed himself and said, "Exalted, you are an Eldritch. They are like the humans, but taller and frailer and..." He paused, then finished, "They feel thoughts through their skins."

  "You have been assessed," the Emperor said. "The Queen has found you worthy. I have evaluated your doubts, your strengths, and your resolution through your skin and decided I can trust you to guard my Treasure. Do you accept the post?"

  "Exalted! Yes!" A little embarrassed, "Who would say no?"

  "You would be surprised," the Emperor said dryly. He stepped back. "I leave you to confer with your new mistress while I see to the Navy’s issue." He glanced at the Queen. "This suits?"

  She tried not to laugh, and yet to laugh was so rare a thing that some slip of it escaped her. She'd found the entire scene somehow charming, and Living Air protect her from letting the Knife ever know it. "Master. What suits you suits me."

  He grinned faintly. “Not good enough, my Treasure. Choose for yourself.”

  “T
hen,” she said, softer, “Yes, my lord. It does suit me. I shall confer with my new Knife, whom we have both found fitting.”

  "Good," he said, and back-stepped into a ball and rose again a drake. It took him less and less time, she thought, proud. He was learning. "I will return."

  She watched him go until he receded from view around the bend in the stairs... and found the Knife still staring after him. He had never seen the Change, she recalled.

  "Come," she said, drawing him from his reverie. "We should talk."

  "My Queen," the Knife said. "Is he always so?"

  Always decisive? Always unpredictable? Always impossible to refuse? The Queen smiled a little, and then her smile faded. She replied, "I hope so."

  It was much later when the Emperor returned to her, wearing his true shape and drawing behind him a mantle of aggression she could taste on her tongue when she sucked in the air. She sat up from the divan and waited to see if he would pace or sit; when he did the latter, she hesitantly rested her head on his shoulder.

  He set a hand on her cheek. She could feel his breath ruffling her mane over her brow.

  "Bad news?" she asked.

  "I'll have to go," he said. His wings flexed, mantled. "Tonight. There are matters that need settling. This may be the moment I have been waiting for. If it is, and we pass through this gate… it may well be over sooner than I think."

  She shivered.

  "Don't fear, Treasure," he said, patting his fingertips gently on her cheek. "We will strive, and striving, know glory, whether we lose or win." He paused and she heard the dangerous satisfaction in his voice without having to see the grin. “I don’t plan on losing.”

  "I know," she said, though she could not share his confidence no matter how much she believed in him. If the Empire did not realize yet how deep a menace the Emperor now represented, with his radically reformed views, it would not take them long. It never did, with people who wanted to protect the structures that gave them power and withheld it from others. And when they finally realized their peril….

  "How did your new Knife do? Do you still like him?"

  "He is industrious," the Queen replied. "He has commandeered what he believes to be the best of the guards and set them to new duties at the top of the tower. And he is displeased at the state of security of the base of the tower and has set to designing new procedures. He seems very determined to turn this place into a fortress."

  The Emperor chuckled, a deep rasp. "Good. I have been watching him for quite some time and had hopes.”

  “He loves his dam,” the Queen said, unable to fathom it. Remembering the way the Emperor had responded to her incredulity over that comment, she asked, “What did you mean? When you said the Empire is not the court.”

  “Ours is a very large Empire,” he said, tucking a wing around her shoulder. “Changes in beliefs begin in urban areas, where there are many individuals to promulgate those changes, and from there spread erratically, depending on trade routes and military expansion. You will find the more provincial Chatcaava are... less extreme in their attitudes, not just toward females but toward aliens as well. But those individuals are far from the centers of commerce and power, so their beliefs remain the relics of the poor and disenfranchised. That has been one of my challenges: those in power cling to the laws and customs that protect them, and because they have power, they have the wherewithal to enforce them... and the size of the Empire protects them.”

  He was playing with her hair now, winding it around a finger. She considered the words while enjoying the caress. “The Navy,” she said. “That is where you began. You are trying to break those power structures apart by using something that is widespread through the Empire.”

  “Yes. Just so.” He smiled. “You understand more than you credit yourself with, my Treasure. Though you should not assign noble motives to me for my ambitions prior to the Ambassador’s departure. I wanted the throne because that’s what males with ambition want... and reshaping the Navy was the easiest way to win it, when I was no one from nowhere.”

  This was the first she’d ever heard him speak of his origins. She glanced at him: he was watching her. Waiting, maybe, for the inevitable questions, and because he was waiting she decided to withhold them. But perhaps his origins helped explain why there had been a crack there for the Ambassador to exploit? Or maybe why there had been no crack at all: such a male would have had to become harder than any more privileged male to succeed. Would she ever understand the psychology that had created him?

  “But now,” she said, choosing a path less fraught with questions she didn’t know yet how to frame, “you can use this tool you originally created for your own benefit.”

  “For my own benefit,” he said with a laugh. “Yes. My aims have changed—slightly—but you perceive the synergy.”

  “Like the Knife,” she murmured.

  “Just like him, yes. I wanted to chance to evaluate him, so when he was due a reward for exemplary performance, I ensured he would be assigned to the prize of harem duty.”

  “The prize!” she murmured, unsure whether to be offended or bemused.

  “Assuredly,” he said. “What else, given the treasure amassed here?”

  “Are we?” she wondered. “Treasure?”

  “Are you not?” As she considered the notion, he said, “I have given you a weapon. You should put him to use while I’m gone. And the children… you should see to their safety."

  She lifted her head just a little.

  "You wonder that I say so?" he said. "It's true, I have had little use for them before, save to wonder which of them would strive to kill me for my throne. But now... now they are seeds." He set his fingers on the end of her nose, claws arched and eyes distant. "We have a great deal to do. Every opportunity to catalyze the changes we need to survive, we must take. Even if it means working on the impressionable young. Especially that, perhaps."

  "They will need protectors," the Queen guessed.

  "Just so."

  "And teachers," the Queen said, frowning.

  "Mmm," the Emperor said. "Something I will have to leave to you, my Treasure. I fear I will be spending my time in the more obvious fight against those who see change and believe it weakness." He showed teeth. "Little do they know that the ability to change is strength."

  "And if it takes longer than you hope?" she asked, hesitant.

  "It won't," he said. "I will kill them all before I let it drag on. Some forms of compassion are a little too Alliance for me yet."

  She rubbed the length of her nose along his jaw. "You say that as if you might change."

  "On this matter, I doubt it," he said. "But then, a year ago what would I have said?" He tugged her into his lap. "We can speak of it again when I return. You will have a great deal to tell me by then, perhaps." As she leaned in to lick his neck he said, "Treasure—make sure your new Knife teaches you the proper use of the computer. You now have access."

  That made her sit up, but he only grinned, white teeth against black skin and scale. "Send a note to your pretty Seersa girl, ah? Tell her how you're faring." He raveled her mane in one finger and pulled her down to him.

  When she woke, tumbled on her divan, he was already gone, had not left even the smallest of mementos in the form of bruises or aches, the way he would have before the Ambassador had transformed them both. The Slave Queen pushed herself upright and tucked her disheveled mane back over her shoulders, frowning. She’d expected him to go, but the precipitousness of his departure made her wonder just how poor the situation was outside her tower. He would not have left without securing the court, so this new Second, who had once been his Command East—a Naval designation, no doubt, for he trusted few others—would probably be capable of handling what petty intrigues remained after the Emperor’s devastating response to the court’s last challenge.

  But he had left her tasks, hadn’t he. To contact Laniis, to secure the ‘treasure’ in this tower, to see to the children... and he’d given her a Knife
. She frowned, running a hand up one of her arms as she turned over the memories of their recent conversations. He had not seemed concerned—he rarely showed worry—but once she’d told him she would help him, something had changed. Why would he give her a weapon if he didn’t anticipate her needing it? Was it a precaution… or was he expecting trouble?

  Trouble that he had left her behind to handle?

  It was true, then. She inhaled with a shiver of wonder. He thought of her as a partner. A true consort, as he’d named her: his Queen Ransomed. She might not be free to take the title yet in the wider world, but he’d already granted her the title in his mind...so how long would it be before he made it reality for everyone else?

  And didn’t she have a responsibility there, too? To make her own title true?

  A partner. She wondered what the Ambassador would have said. Would say, she thought firmly, because they would see him again.

  She gave herself a few moments to be astonished that she had work to do, like a male. A few breaths to calm her anxiety, because with work important enough to matter came danger, especially now. But she had survived all that had come before; had used the unexpected gifts of a Chatcaavan female to navigate a turbulent and terrifying chapter in their Empire’s history. She would be equal to this one as well. The Queen shook her mane back and left the divan to see to her toilette, and to consider how to begin grappling with the tasks before her.

  CHAPTER 1

  “So you want permission to fly off to the contested border on the eve of an intergalactic war and dig around until someone notices and decides to kill you,” the Night Admiral said, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the sideboard.

  Lisinthir watched from his chair, fingers laced over his breast and legs crossed at the knee, a pose he suspected conveyed more arrogance than attention. He knew the wolfine on the other side of the room had read the cue as there was nothing about the Night Admiral that suggested he was insensible to subtlety. But Lisinthir was curious how he would respond to it, particularly when combined with the Eldritch’s request, the one that had netted him this private appointment with a phenomenally busy man. The Night Admiral oversaw the entirety of Fleet’s investigative, intelligence, and black ops arms. He was not ordinarily someone whose schedule was amenable to abrupt rearrangement.