The Crimson Claw

by Deborah Chester

  The one banded with red she handed to Baneen. “Keep this safe and give it to me in liquid when I have finished. It will revive me quickly and give me strength enough to return to my apartments.”

  “I think Nulalan should escort you—”

  “No!” she said furiously, glaring at Baneen. “I forbid it. Not one of you is to leave my eggs unguarded. Not one! Is that clear?”

  She glared at each of them, until one by one they bowed to her.

  “Yes, highness,” Baneen said, all protest banished from his voice. “We will guard them with our lives, for part of our lives shall be with them.”

  “Well said.” Nodding, Israi held up the second vial and poured it into her cup. She swirled the contents together, mixing the drug into the fruit juice with a sudden surge of anticipation.

  For three days she had been taking the drug in secret, preparing her body to lay its eggs early. This final potion would be the trigger that induced birth.

  As she raised the cup to her mouth, Israi hesitated, feeling a qualm of doubt. She wanted Subi to be with her, holding her hands and pressing cold, scented cloths to her brow during the birthing. This was her first time, and she was not sure exactly what to expect. Some females said it was painful. Others claimed the experience to be exalting.

  Israi only knew that if anything went wrong, the males would not know what to do.

  Still, she had asked her father for permission to lay her eggs here at the palace, and he had refused her request. Worse, he had refused to answer her in person. Instead he sent Chancellor Temondahl to relay the message. Temondahl, a pompous replacement for the ancient Chancellor Gaveid, had further taken it on himself to remind the Imperial Daughter that until she claimed the throne on her succession she must go to the Public Hatchery during Festival like any other commoner. Israi’s eggs would pass into public hands, adopted by unknown Viis families.

  The idea was unsupportable. Israi could not believe her father gave this no second thought. Did he not realize that if she were special, so must her offspring be special?

  Since the Kaa did not relent to a subsequent request, Israi had decided to take matters into her own hands. And now it was time.

  She took the first small swallow, dreading the bitter taste of the drug, and was about to take another when the door to the room burst open, crashing against the wall.

  Startled, Israi dropped her cup, sending the potion splashing across the floor. Baneen and the others whirled around, their hands reaching automatically for the ceremonial weapons at their sides.

  A tall, thin Viis male stood framed in the doorway. His rill lay in artfully arranged folds atop his tall collar of worked gold. His coat was cut from bronze-colored silk, shimmering beautifully as the sunlight slanted over his shoulder and pooled at Israi’s feet. His eyes were narrowed in slits of suspicion as he looked at each of the conspirators in turn.

  “What is transpiring here?” he asked, his voice loud with accusation.

  Fury swept Israi, a fury so intense she nearly blacked out. She wanted to jump to her feet and attack him, but her swollen body would not move. Instead, she sat there, helpless and seething, with her fists clenched hard in her lap.

  “Oviel,” she said to her despised egg-brother, hating him to the very tip of her tail. “Get out.”

  But Oviel stepped over the threshold instead, making Baneen stiffen and the other two males move to flank her. Oviel, however, looked at them in contempt and continued to advance. He had grown into a sour, scheming adult driven by his jealousy of her. Why he thought he should be the heir to the throne when he was so clearly inferior to Israi, she did not understand. Now she could add spy to his list of faults. Disgusting, loathsome spy. He had no right to interrupt her like this.

  Oviel’s gaze dropped to the floor, to the spilled cup lying there beside the vial she had also let fall.

  “Israi,” he said, his voice very soft but holding a note of sheer glee, “what are you up to?”

  “Nothing that concerns you,” she said. “Get out.”

  Oviel tilted his head at her. “No, I think this concerns me very much. I think you have been naughty, Israi.”

  Her hands clenched hard on the arms of her chair.

  Nulalan took a step forward. “Shall I remove this person from the presence of the sri-Kaa?”

  Baneen flicked out his tongue. “Be quiet, you fool,” he said in warning. “That’s Lord Oviel. You must not touch him.”

  Oviel cast a benign smile in Baneen’s direction. “Very wise,” he said with a slight inclination of his head. Then his smile faded. “All of you, step away from her.”

  “No!” Israi said, but the males obeyed Oviel instead of her.

  She knew he held a courtesy officer’s ranking in the Palace Guards that put him in command of them, but her will was supposed to govern them all. That the males now ignored her made her entrails twist. She felt as though she had swallowed hot coals. Fury roared in her blood. She wanted to scream at them, to throw things at them. She wanted to kick and scratch and destroy. How dare they bow to Oviel? How dare they obey him? He was nothing, a mere hanger-on at court, scheming for a future place in the Kaa’s government. Well, she would continue to block his advancement with every wile at her disposal. He had no abilities, no sense, no loyalty to anyone but himself. The Kaa did not like him; Israi had seen to that. And if Oviel thought he was going to be rewarded for his interference today, he could—

  An odd pang struck her, low in her left side. She gasped, and bent over.

  Oviel rushed to her immediately. “In the name of the gods, Israi, what have you done?” he demanded.

  Even through the pain she resented his tone, and refused to answer. “My business,” she said, curling her tongue inside her mouth as another stab of agony hit her. “Oh!”

  Oviel bent and scooped up the vial. Pocketing it, he spoke into his hand-link: “Security, this is an emergency. The sri-Kaa has fallen ill. Send a physician to—”

  Israi reached up, clawing through the pain, and gripped his sleeve with all her strength. “Stop it!” she gasped out. “No! Take me to my apartments. I will not be seen here. You will not make a scandal of this. You—” She broke off, gasping again.

  Oviel bent over her in visible exasperation. “What did you take? An abortive?”

  Horror swept her, giving her new strength. She glanced up and almost spat in his face.

  “How much did you take?” he asked her. “How much?”

  She shook her head, sinking into the pain again. A terrible contraction squeezed her body, locking her muscles in a spasm so intense she thought she might scream.

  Baneen tried to intervene. “She took one sip only,” he said gravely. “It was not an abort—”

  “Silence,” Oviel snapped. “You will be dealt with later.”

  “Baneen!” Israi cried, struggling to hold back a scream. She was frightened now. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She knew she must have help, and quickly. These stupid males had to stop arguing now. “Baneen, take me to Subi—”

  A whirlpool seemed to fling her around the room. She could hear Baneen and Oviel arguing, both of them so stupid. Finally a pair of strong arms scooped her up. Opening her eyes through the swirling vertigo, Israi saw that it was Nulalan who carried her away. Gratitude filled her. She tried to speak to him, but darkness came over her, cold and frightening, and she fainted.

  When she awakened, it was to find night at her windows and lamps burning at her bedside. Outside, fireworks burst open the night sky, raining down fire of many colors into the river. Israi felt cold, small, and weak. Yet her dizziness was gone.

  For a moment she caught her breath. Had she given birth? Were her eggs being guarded now in the palace hatchery? What a relief to have it over. If such agony was a normal part of laying eggs, she never wanted to experience it again.

  Meanwhile, Festival had begun. She could hear the distant strains of music and revelry. If she recovered quickly, then perhaps tomorrow or the n
ext day she might join the festivities.

  Shifting position, she swept her hand down her side and felt the swollen sacs that still burdened her.

  Israi groaned aloud. None of it was over.

  Only then did she notice the sound of voices murmuring nearby. Israi tried to turn her head, and found the movement difficult.

  A voice said clearly, “She is awake.”

  This announcement brought a flurry of activity. Israi drifted a moment, but when she next opened her eyes she found the lamps shining a little brighter and five of her attendants crowding behind the physician, who was running a scanner over her slowly. His gaze never left the readout on his instrumentation, but his other hand encircled her wrist, and the air sacs in his throat puffed in and out with the same timing as her pulse.

  “Am I dying?” Israi asked.

  The physician’s gaze shifted to her face momentarily. “No, highness,” he said, his voice calm and soothing. “The Imperial Daughter is making excellent recovery.”

  While he was placing a white tablet beneath her tongue, the doors opened and a small Kelth herald said, “Heads up! The Imperial Father is coming.”

  Moments later, the Kaa swept into Israi’s bedchamber with Chancellor of State Temondahl in his wake.

  Towering above everyone else in the room, the Kaa was breathtakingly magnificent as always. Garbed in a long-skirted coat of silver cloth studded with clear jewels that winked and flashed glittering fire with his slightest movement, he wore a tall, elaborate collar covered with the same jewels. More jewels hung from his rill spines, so that as he came in he seemed all radiance from head to foot. Yet his bronze skin looked slightly ashen tonight, and his brilliant blue eyes were clouded with visible worry.

  Ignoring formality and protocol, he went straight to her side, oblivious to everyone else as they bowed deeply to him. Temondahl gestured, and the room cleared of people, leaving the Kaa and Israi alone.

  “Our beloved daughter,” he whispered, taking her slender, cold hand and squeezing it. “We are thankful you have been spared.”

  Israi curled her tongue around the tablet, then swallowed it to be rid of it. She wished she had had time to prepare for his visit. She could have donned a fresh sleeping robe of heavy silk. She could have had her skin oiled and perfumed to mask the scent of medicines. She could have been propped higher on her cushions, with her rill arranged above a pretty collar, instead of lying limp upon her shoulders.

  “I think I am well, Father,” she said. “The physician says the attack has not harmed me. My eggs are well.”

  The Kaa closed his eyes. “The gods be thanked,” he said. He sounded old tonight, not himself. His obvious concern touched her, and she smiled at him in love.

  “Truly I am blessed to have a father who adores me so much.”

  The Kaa bowed his head and sank wearily onto a stool next to her bedside. He still gripped her hand, as though he would never let it go. “You are infinitely precious to us,” he said. “Always, from the moment of your hatching, we knew you were more special, more dear to us than our own heart. Please, Israi, never frighten us this way again.”

  The tablet she had swallowed must be working, she reflected as the last traces of her nausea vanished. She felt stronger, and suddenly impatient. “Then you do want me to be happy?” she asked.

  “Always.”

  Israi smiled in satisfaction. “Thank you, Father! To hear you say you have relented makes my heart sing with joy. I will lay my eggs here in the palace and—”

  The Kaa released her hand. He rose to his feet. “No, Israi.”

  She stared at him, not certain she had heard correctly. “But, Father, you just said—”

  “We just said we were relieved and thankful for your swift recovery,” he told her as his rill began to redden. “We did not say you could take our imperial privileges from us!”

  Aware that she’d made a mistake, Israi sat up and pulled a cushion impatiently out from beneath her tail. “Please don’t be angry,” she said, tilting her head in a way that she knew enhanced her beauty. “I’m not sure what you’ve been told, but I—”

  “Oviel explained what he found. He submitted the drug you took for examination.” The Kaa’s voice grew steadily louder and angrier. He flicked out his tongue. “You were going to lay your eggs early, in direct violation of all that is sacred. You were going to lay them in an unsanctified place, for fertilization by males of your own choosing. And then what did you propose to do, Daughter? How did you intend to explain the presence of your blasphemous hatchlings?”

  Israi flinched. He was seldom furious with her, but she knew now that she must act swiftly to make amends. She had offended him deeply, and she was in trouble.

  “Father, please don’t be angry with me,” she said, pleading with all the charm she had. “And please don’t believe everything Oviel tells you.”

  “Oviel has proof. We have seen with our own eyes the squalid room where you meant to work your misdeeds.”

  “But, Father—”

  “Silence,” he said with a curt gesture. His blue eyes glared at her. “You have committed a grave transgression.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Be thankful it did not. That is all that has thus far saved those three officers from having their necks broken in execution.”

  She gasped, well aware that when angry the Kaa was more than capable of putting people to death. Worried for Baneen’s safety, she said, “Oh, please do not kill them. Baneen is a fine officer—”

  “He is stupid and a fool.”

  “He did only what I commanded,” she said, determined to save him. “He—”

  “Yes, he followed your orders,” the Kaa said with disgust. “Despite knowing that what you ordered was wrong.”

  Israi smiled with smug satisfaction and plumped a cushion between her hands. “That is the mark of a loyal officer.”

  “The mark of an idiot unfit for the rank he holds!” The Kaa flicked out his tongue. “It is wrong, Israi, very wrong to turn an officer against his known duty. It is wrong to put someone in that position, having to choose between serving an imperial request and obeying the laws.”

  “The throne is law,” Israi said with a shrug. “There is no difference and no conflict.”

  The Kaa glared at her. “You do not have the throne yet, Daughter.”

  His voice was low and very, very cold.

  Israi looked at him, and for a moment her heart nearly stopped. She met his blazing eyes, and dared not even breathe until he swung away to pace over to the window. She blinked. “Please, Father,” she said. “You know I don’t mean to disobey you or make you angry. You know how much I admire and adore you. I want to be so much like you that sometimes I really do forget it’s not allowed.”

  “You know exactly what is permitted you,” he said sternly, returning to her. “There is a line you may not cross. Only the Kaa has the privilege of a private hatching. Only the Kaa!”

  His shout brought someone to the door, but the attendant retreated hastily after one swift look inside. The Kaa bowed his head, breathing heavily, and seemed to be struggling to control himself.

  Israi hesitated, then reached out to grip his sleeve. The jewels scratched her fingers, but she did not release him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It was not my intention to offend. But all my life you have praised me and admired me. How could I not expect my first eggs to be as special as I am? How could I not wish, with the strongest instincts of a new mother, to preserve them? Is this not the imperial drive of my heritage, to keep what is mine?”

  “Israi—”

  “Oh, Father. Will you please forgive me?”

  He puffed out his air sacs, and she leaned closer, pressing her face to his hand. “Please?”

  “Israi, stop this,” he said, uneasily pulling away. “It is unbecoming in a member of the imperial family to beg.”

  “But how else am I to obtain your forgiveness?”

  He looked into her eyes, and she saw
his anger melt away. He sighed, flicking out his tongue. “Of course you are forgiven.”

  She beamed at him, clasping her hands together in relief, and dared not press her luck by asking for his mercy toward Baneen and the others. “Thank you for your kindness. You are the best father, truly the most understanding and benevolent—”

  “Hush, now,” he said, interrupting her. “You must lie down and rest. We have talked too long. It is time for us to leave you.”

  She refused to lie down. She wasn’t finished yet. “At dawn I will enter the sacred passage of giving life. I am afraid.”

  He came back to her side, as she had known he would. “Little one,” he said, using his old pet name for her. “There is nothing to fear. You are adult now, with adult responsibilities. At dawn you will enter a new understanding of what it means to be Viis and a mother within your race. When you go to the hatchery with the others, you will have fulfilled your most sacred duty to our subjects. You will be one of them, one with them for the first time in your life. This will—”

  “One of them!” Israi cried, pulling away. She tossed a cushion at the wall. “I don’t want to be one of them! I am not a commoner. Why should I have to go among strangers and people of low station?”

  “All Viis females of high and low birth will be there,” he said. “It is not a time of position.”

  She flicked out her tongue, pouting. “This is Oviel’s doing. He hates me, Father. He is jealous of me.”

  “Oviel did not create our world or the laws of nature,” the Kaa said patiently. “Do not blame him for what is—”

  “I won’t do it,” she said. “It will be dirty and—and common. I cannot bear it. I will not do it.”

  His eyes grew cloudy and impatient again. “You will. When the call comes upon you, you will follow it with the others. You will do what is natural and right, and then you will return to take your place in the festivities.”

  “But, Father—”

  “No, Israi,” he said, and there was no relenting in his voice. “Be glad you have our forgiveness for your serious transgression. But do not expect us to go beyond that. We will not grant your request. Do not ask it again of us.”