by Alex Sapegin
“Asha, two clarifying questions if you please.” The cat nodded. “First: does the scope of the oath encompass both worlds or only Nelita? Second: is there a fundamental difference as to who exactly can liberate the Miur from this vow?”
“What are you up to?”
“In the world I come from originally, it is not polite to answer a question with a question.”
The Miur snorted and thought.
“The oath concerns Nelita,” she answered, her eyes flashing. “Any one of my daughters can break it; it does not necessarily have to be me.”
“Very well,” Andy said through his teeth and returned to the ottoman. Crouching at the very edge, he leaned toward the Great Mother.
Asha, sensing that the conversation had taken on a serious tone, set the pillow aside and straightened her back. Before Andy, there was no longer a “sister,” not a relaxed cat, but the leader of the very old race, full of will and dignity. Her glance, her body language, everything about her radiated royalty.
“I will not drag the cat by the tail,” Andy said and proposed his idea to the Great Mother. There was more than enough space on the planet, enough for all. The southern Rocky Ridge was completely empty, the northern Rocky Ridge was half empty; even so, both were bigger than Mount Lidar and its foothills. If Prince Ora supported the idea of resettlement, then there would be no problems making a deal with the Rauu, and they, in turn, would press on Tantre. Gil distributes arable land along with the right to autonomy; he would gladly give away a piece of the mountains. If push comes to shove, you can capture the mountains bordering the Great Desert. The borders there are so fuzzy that no one would put up a fight. The huge territory does not obey any sovereign; there will be enough space for both the Miur and the dragons. Andy addressed all possible arguments and counter-arguments. The threat of a full-scale invasion by the imperial forces really lit a fire under the Great Mother to make a decision.
The time came for the Great Mother to think. Asha withdrew into herself. Even the tip of her tail, always living a life of its own, fell to the floor like a piece of thick rope. Only her triangular ears spun forward and backward from time to time.
“Let us go to the office,” said the Great Mother, smoothly getting to her feet. Her tone made it clear that the games were over, now every word should be closely watched. There are no relatives in politics; there are partners, allies, enemies, and, as it were, neutrals, who are always asked to take a side, because there are never real neutrals. Every player pursues his own interests.
“There is a grain of soundness in your proposal for resettlement, very sensible. You can open portals, or one portal. The ‘key’ obeys you. I will teach you how to use it,” the Miur said, sitting at her desk. He didn’t ask Asha how she knew how to use the ancient artifact. “Now the main thing is, I need guarantees. Can you guarantee the inviolability of the settlers, at least for the first three to five years? I do not demand vows; I do not ask the impossible. But we do need time to strengthen ourselves in the mountains.”
“I can not make a promise that I will not fulfill, but I will do my best to ensure peace in the new lands. That sounds more honest and correct. And the Great Mother cannot demand anything from me,” Andy besieged the cat, clearly embodying the postulate about there being no relatives in the world of politics.
“Well, let us stop on that point.” The Miur didn’t like the “prick,” but she had made the rule herself and couldn’t blame Andy for playing by it. Her tribal memory was a great help, but often situations arose that would have been impossible a thousand years ago. What’s more, a thousand years of experience doesn’t always aid one in communicating with people, since a person’s worldview, the diplomatic etiquette, and the ruling dynasties change many times during that time. “Second, I ask you to arrange the meeting of the Empress and the Great Mother as soon as possible.” At first, Andy didn’t understand what Asha was talking about, but then it came to him. “One of my daughters will go with the settlers and become another Great Mother. The new family must have a ruler.”
“I can not decide for the empress, but I think that she will concede to your request if it is voiced through me,” Andy answered diplomatically, shifting the responsibility of the Miur’s request to someone else. Once his grandfather, a Soviet politician, had taught him not to take anything on himself, to answer evasively and always leave a loophole for a couple of steps back and two steps forward.
They hashed out their positions and outlined ways to solve future problems for another twenty minutes. Discussion of urgent tasks was interrupted by the question of dragons. Would the Great Mother help in negotiations with the prince?
“Why do you think the prince organized the princess’ virk?”
“Why?”
“In the principality, two large parties of dragons are actively intriguing against one another. Reformists and conservatives. The conservative party consists of old people remembering the old emperor. The dragons who fled from the principalities seized by the emperor also belong to them. The reformists actively promote integration into the empire. It would be more appropriate to call it an imperial or pro-imperial party. Your portal jump here and activation of the portal key have upset the outer perimeters of the interplanetary portals. The magical seals have been attached to external circuits.”
“So the portals are no longer actually sealed?”
“That is correct, but it is impossible to open the gates without the key and the password. The conservatives would be happy to stay as far as possible away from the empire. They are mostly refugees from the lands conquered by the Celestial Throne. They perfectly understand the threat looming over the Principality, but there is nothing to be done. They have nowhere else to run. The prince has to constantly maneuver between the interests of the opposing parties inside the country, although he himself tends towards the conservatives. The virk was organized to strike at the reformers, not at the whole party, but at the leadership.”
“Ilirra is a figurehead. There was no princess in the virk.”
“There was and there is.” The Miur’s face reflected the pleasure she took in doing a good job. “Most of the campaign, consisting of constant shuffling in different directions, was designed for clever people, like you. They had to identify the substitution, and they did. Thus, the prince opened himself up to a strike from his opponents, and they hastened to take advantage of this opportunity, releasing all the dogs on the ruler. Not all, of course, but some odious persons blew their cover completely. The parent of the well-known to you Thygar is in hysterics. One of the tasks of the virk was to discredit political opponents through their children, and the princess managed that successfully. Her double did a great job leading, and you got the role of the general agitator. The cleverly heated passions bore fruit. As far as I understand, Thygar was about to molt but was stuck in human form. Upon entering the virk, he accepted its rules. Ilirra played on his irritability. The prince managed a clever combination. Through the virk he brought himself under fire, forced his opponents to reveal themselves, and at the very end, he will indicate to them the success of the campaign and will present the ambassador of the Great Mother, who will come to the capital with Ilirra’s detachment. The trap will slam shut. The prince’s political opponents will be shattered by the false accusations that they threw at the prince and they will quit the game. They will not be able to prevent mobilization.”
“So, Ilirra was in the detachment all along?” Andy thought for a moment.
“Undoubtedly.”
“Her servant Ania!” he guessed. The inconspicuous, quiet errand girl of the detachment. The double was under her control all the time, and she spread rumors and gossip, egging the dragons on in the name of her pseudo-self. “Okay, so we have figured the virk out. Let us go back to the conservatives. Why are you betting on them?”
“Many of them remember the old emperor and took part in the past war on the side of the coalition. Hazgar has only the scaffold in mind for them. The o
ption of moving to another world will be welcomed, but they will require guarantees. Let us think, brother,” the Great Mother tilted her head to one side, “what you can offer the prince and those who will agree to follow you on behalf of Empress Jagirra.”
* * *
What could he offer? Targ knows what guarantees the dragons would ask for. He couldn’t offer them anything except love, peace, and harmony. The loyalty of the Rauu? No, the Lords of the Sky couldn’t care less about some Snow Elves. If they have two hundred volunteer dragons, no armies could possibly drive them from the mountains. The Miur, if needed, would act as the first ground echelon of defense.
Andy looked at the spirited Asha and was dejected. Promises, promises. The situation was tight. What could he offer?
Cutting off his thin chain of reflections, the crystal chime of an invisible bell sounded in the office. The finest whiskers on the Great Mother’s nose stood upright, reflecting her extreme discontent. The tip of the tail twitched several times.
“I asked you not to disturb me,” she said into the emptiness.
Instead of an answer, the front door opened, revealing her daughters, dressed in thin robes and translucent shalwars. Illyusht’s and Ashlat’s arms and legs were adorned with numerous bracelets. Small bells were sewn onto the wide belts supporting the shalwars. Across the twins’ waists hung sheaths with ritual rashag8 knives. The cats’ long braids were part of elaborate hairstyles.
The sisters’ knives were tied with gold ribbons that informed people who were “in the know” that they also belonged to the priestesses of the Temple dwellers. Andy was in the know due to what he’d learned from Asha at the confluence of minds. He looked at the Miur, feeling a warm, paternal feeling for the unexpected sisters gush up in his chest. Apparently, they noticed the changes in his aura. The sisters exchanged glances and simultaneously turned their gaze towards their mother.
“Rimas,9 have you decided?” The sisters bowed respectfully.
“Yes.” Asha rose from the table. “The fusion of minds was worth the risk.” Rapid shots of two pairs of eyes in Andy’s direction, and again a look full of reverence toward their mother. The ruler looked sternly at her daughters, then went on: “Before you is Kerrovitarr Jagirrat, the son of the real empress.”
Andy immediately felt discomfort from the sisters’ penetrating gaze. “Jagirrat.” That must mean the son of Jagirra. Almost like a Russian patronymic, but from the mother’s name.
“Why are you dressed for a reception?” Asha asked, and, remembering something, hissed irritably. “The princess! How much time has passed? Oh, what awful timing.”
Five hours, Andy said to himself, his inner chronometer continuing to tick regularly and measure the invisible stretches between the past and the future. With everything that was going on, the melding of minds and the incredible news that the empress was alive, the Great Mother had forgotten about some of her duties. But the duties had not forgotten about her. It was clear that talking about guarantees was postponed for an indefinite period. Maybe it’s for the better; there will be time to think about the current situation and provide a logical basis for non-existent guarantees.
“The sun has bent towards the Horned Fault. The appointment shall take place in two hours in the large hall,” Ashlat replied, bowing low. “You asked me to remind you.”
“Illusht, take Kerro…,” the Miur stopped mid-sentence and turned to Andy, who was shaking his head. It would be better not to use a title. If one of the cat people blabbed, all their plans could collapse overnight. Let him be a simple guest.
Asha understood without words. “...Take our guest and pick up a suitable vestment for him. He is invited to the reception. Ashlat, call the maidservants and help me get ready.”
Andy tore his butt from the comfortable chair and went with the “sister.” Illusht’s behavior portrayed complete equanimity, but the yellow stripes that flashed in her aura gave away her annoyance at being assigned the role of the guide and assistant. She was utterly unmoved by the unwilling patron’s origin.
“Will my invitation be an insult to the princess? She might regard that as a provocation: the clan-less shkas turning out to be an equal and at the same table as her,” Andy asked the agonized question. “Perhaps I should do this?” He closed his eyes and imagined himself in elven hypostasis. His body seemed to be poked with a thousand needles. “There are plenty of elves in the city. No one will be surprised if another elf attends the official part of the reception.”
The three cat women stared at him wide-eyed. What? Okay, I get it if it’s just Illusht and Ashlat, but Asha? Did she miss the part about my third hypostasis during the confluence?
“You look just like her,” the Great Mother said, shocked. No need to explain who she was talking about. The ruler’s daughters, who kept the same information in their heads as her mother, received visible confirmation of her words about the “guest’s” kinship with the empress.
“A bad idea.” Illusht walked closer to Andy. “Sometimes among the dragons from the princess’ retinue, there are experts in family heritage or specialists in clanship. The history of the imperial family was studied by many, and an elf who resembles the empress might cause unnecessary and premature suspicions. Better we will declare you a disciple of Rimas who disappeared six months ago and went out into the foothill human city on the border with the empire. It is unlikely that the Principality has ideas about such subtleties. Maybe the ruler took on the whim of taking a disciple of the human race. Nobody needs to explain anything to anyone—this is our internal business.”
“No it is, then.” There was a new acupuncture session, accompanied by a range of unpleasant sensations, and the familiar face returned to its place.
Just in time. Under the merry jingle of bells, no less than a dozen Miur and female elves entered the office. The newcomers were carrying trunks bound with copper strips. Andy realized that this was his queue to leave; he was only attracting attention to himself. He lightly tugged Illusht by the cloak, bowed low to the Great Mother, turned towards the door, and… came face to face with a tall cat woman. The gaze resembled an “X-ray machine” or Tsar Ivan the Terrible, who saw his boyars through and through. He wanted to run as far as possible from the green fire of the eyes, to hide under the earth, just to not feel their consuming flame. She was dressed in a white hooded cloak with a deep hood covering her face. The Miur’s right hand clasped a carved wooden staff with an onyx pommel.
“Eldest,” Illusht greeted her, bending to one knee. Got it, the Senior Priestess of Manyfaces deigned to visit the ruler. She was the head of the ecclesiastical hierarchy of the Miur. She radiated an unshakable power. Her magical essence was so rich and felt so strongly that Andy felt a shiver down his spine. The Miur was not a true blood, but he was ready to bet that with all his strength he would not stand against her for more than ten seconds, and even that might be flattering himself. Behind the cat’s shoulders, he could sense a force that in another place would be called divine. Andy, still not taking his eyes off the Eldest, struggled with steel in her eyes and the treacherous trembling in his own knees. Something inside him kept saying that he mustn’t look away first. If he did, he would lose, and there would be no way back. No one needs a broken dragon. Another voice told him not to let his guard down. The Great Mother hadn’t used all the aces up her sleeves—there were cards in her pile, there were! And he, the dolt, fell for it, believed that the felines were lying low. What if they suddenly disintegrated him into molecules, right this minute? The cunning cats showed him a carrot and put him in their harness. Pull, dear. The “momma” was a hundred steps ahead of him. She could have eaten the dragon for breakfast during the confluence, as easy as snapping one’s fingers…. What could a humble guy from a Russian town do against a den of cobras like these?
“Who are you?” The Eldest, without taking her eyes off Andy, walked around the kneeling heiress to the throne and approached him closely. The Miur’s green eyes flashed
especially brightly. Andy instinctively erected another cocoon of protection around himself. The light in the priestess’ eyes faded; all the sounds in the office disappeared. A dead, deafening silence reigned. The priestess threw off her hood. A piece of gray hair fell from under the cloth. The Miur’s face bore numerous wrinkles. A few thin, lifeless cobwebs hung on her whiskers. The skin on the neck, overgrown with brown and gray fur, was gathered in folds.
By the way the servant of the goddess behaved, it was clear: she wielded considerable power and represented the second branch of power in the cat people’s state, the spiritual one. Of all those present in the study, the Great Mother, the Eldest Priestess, and Andy remained standing. The others were kneeling and bowed their heads for a while, looking at the small patterns on the stone tile.
Oops. It was too late to get down on his knees now. The staring contest created a storm. Only at that moment, did he realize that by his behavior, he had placed himself on the same level as the supreme authority of Mount Lidar. The priestess waved her hand. The massive doors of the office slammed shut with a roar. A strange numbness attacked Andy; he seemed to have fallen into a viscous jelly. He’d obviously gotten off on the wrong foot with the old hag, but why wasn’t the Great Mother saying anything? How could he get out of this situation now?
“Who are you, bearing the seal of a Guardian?” repeated the old woman. Her left hand swiftly shot forward; the black painted claw on the forefinger ripped open the thin fabric of his shirt. “Eight rays of the sun.” The priestess’ lips broke into a satisfied smile, exposing her strong fangs. Anger arose from the depths of his soul. His blood boiled from the adrenaline. Who did she think she was?! Without taking any account of his actions, Andy freed himself from the viscous substance holding his hands and feet. The priestess took one step back.
“I see.” The Miur was the first to break eye contact and turned her head toward the Great Mother.