Mark of the Cat and Year of the Rat Read online

  Stripped to breech clout he made a fine figure, surely such a one as we could want seated on the throne awaiting the winner. I knew that his body had been exercised for years in all the actions of a swordsman and a spearman of note. And he wore now the guise of one who was utterly sure of himself.

  Nor were those who had escorted him hither and now behind him any less assuring. Sons and Heads of Great Houses, daughters of famous clans, they stood by custom to back him who had become their champion. Among that throng I caught sight of my brother, at the same time he was eyeing me, and there was nothing of support in the glare and sneering twist of lip he showed.

  Behind me—yes, there were those showing the badges of some of the out-clans, and, closer, Murri. The people had come not because I was their choice. But Murri was there because of good will. They gave him room as he sat, his poise erect, his tail up quivering with excitement, watching the clatter of the plates in the wind as he might have eyed the scuttling of a sand lizard.

  Farther back must be both Ravinga and Allitta though they were making no parade of their presence. However, I thought that Murri’s good wishes were shared by the dollmaker, if not by Allitta—of whose good will I was hardly sure.

  The high priest of the Vapala temple turned a fraction. One of his followers held a gong and the high priest himself had his short rod of office ready. He swung that. The gong note was loud even through the clamor of the mobile. I saw Shank-ji’s body tense.

  A second time the priest signaled. The warrior sprang. He twisted and turned, once nearly caught by the unexpected whirl of a plate which might have taken off his head had he not ducked in time. He had won within the inner circle, raised his hands to the crown. Then—

  The mobile notes were broken by a louder sound. One of the plates turned as if it had been struck by a rod such as the priest held. There came a scream. Shank-ji rolled on the ground in a mist of spouting blood, his left hand clutching at a wrist from which the other hand had just been shorn as neatly as if the blow had indeed been delivered to prevent his taking of the crown.

  There were shouts then, men of his war band surged forward. But the Chancellor had already signaled and the mobile swung upward enough to allow two of her own guards to crawl in and bring out the wounded man.

  He was carried down an aisle quickly made in the crowd who had come to support him, and, from the limpness of his body, I thought that he had lapsed into unconsciousness. On the stone pavement where he had fallen there was a pool of blood and—the hand. Looking upon that I fought the sickness rising in my throat. Better death than to be maimed.

  Three, wearing the jeweled robes of the nobles of the first rank, had pushed forward to the foot of the steps below the Chancellor. And he who seemed the leader spoke vehemently, though the clamor of the crowd and the chimes of the mobile obscured his speech as far as the rest of us were concerned. He turned and pointed to the bloodied pavement.

  Just beyond that hand there lay something else which had no place there, what appeared to be an arrow, one without any particular markings. And certainly that had not been there earlier, for the ground beneath had been most carefully inspected before the mobile had been lowered.

  An arrow, now half in the pool of blood—and that pendant of the mobile which had jerked just as Shank-ji had reached for the crown. Those added up to—

  Interference—a foul! Yet that was none of my doing and certainly I had no friends, even of my countrymen here, who would try such a trick. Whoever had shot that arrow had skill—the skill of an expert archer perhaps.

  The mobile arose higher by jerks and, when it was well up, the nobles who had lodged that protest and the Chancellor herself went to the site. At a gesture from the Chancellor one of her guard picked up that arrow and turned it slowly about under her close inspection.

  Now one of the nobles, his face a mask of ugly malice, pointed to me. I felt rather than saw the movement of the crowd behind me. There were certainly those there who would be only too glad to drag me down as one who was unfit, who had broken the honor of the outland peoples.

  The Chancellor gave an order and her guard moved in behind me, forming a wall between me and the crowd. Or was it that they were prepared to take me prisoner as a traitor to custom and a perhaps would-be murderer? Murri! They would move against my fur brother also, only the thin line of a promise keeping them from already sending spear heads into his hide.

  However, now the Chancellor was pointing to the plate swinging well above her and then outward at an angle into the crowd on the opposite side of the square—that from which Shank-ji himself had come. At first the nobles seemed in no mind to accept her suggestion. They still glared in my direction. Then her own staff of office swung in imperious order and I saw some of her guards begin to thread through the crowd on the other side. Though how they might discover the culprit there I could not guess.

  The intrigues of the Great Houses were so well known that this could have been aimed at Shank-ji out of jealousy or spite. Doubtless he had, as we all do, those who would wish him ill. The Essence knew that there were enough gathered here this day who had no kind thought for me. Someone must have feared Shank-ji’s ascent to supreme power and what it might mean to himself or to his House. I could see no other answer.

  Though my mind did go back to those points Allitta had made of those who saw in my winning trouble to come. Was there a mind behind all this which courted trouble? A picture flashed through my mind then of the figure in Ravinga’s house—he who wore the stinking rat for a badge. But that one was long dead. No, this must be the result of some House intrigue.

  Those under the mobile withdrew to the steps and the Chancellor gave a second wave of her staff. Once more the mobile creaked downward. I ran my tongue across lips suddenly dry. So it would go forward and now the trial was mine. It would be difficult enough to keep my mind strictly on what I was doing.

  I did not hear it, I could not have with the continual chime of the mobile and the uproar of the crowd about me, but I sensed it—that song which came from behind me—Murri’s song. It moved me to answer, and it was with that humming through my whole body, possessing me, that I moved forward.

  The flicker of the panels before me was near blinding. My right hand sought, without any conscious order, that pendant mask upon my breast and I made my first move. There were no true paths there and no planes; rather I faced the twisting, turning bodies of cat people rapt in their own mystery into which they had drawn me.

  In—out—to the left—to the right—I leaped and turned, twisted, stooped, to leap again. And in my mind I held tight to that picture of cats, dimly knowing that that was my only hope now.

  How long did that dance take me? There was no reckoning for me now. Only a blaze of light before me and that was what I must secure. Suddenly that illusion of the dancers was gone. I had reached the core of the mobile while overhead swung the crown, the glitter of the gems in it enough to blind one who looked directly at it.

  I stood so for a breath and then I sprang. The treasure I would hold was attached to a chain. My left hand closed about the chain and I swung, feet off the ground, as with my right fingers I strove to unhook my trophy, only too aware now of the menacing sway of the panels about. None of them had yet crashed against the chain to which I so desperately clung, though one spun perilously close.

  The crown was mine—at least it was in my hold, free from the hook which had held it. I dropped to the pavement, one foot slipped, and I went belly down on the stone, an outflung hand being no help as it, too, slid along a sticky surface. With the scent of blood about me I realized that I had fallen into the spot where Shank-ji had finished.

  There was a vicious swing near my head and I ducked forward. I was sure now that the wind had truly risen and that my present position was near fatal. Nor could I wriggle on my belly, for at least two of the panels were only finger heights above the pavement and swung back and forth in threat of slicing open anybody striving to pass beneath them.
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br />   I could no longer summon up again that vision of the dancing cats which had led me here. There were only those knife-edged panels a-swing. Yet the crown lay heavy within the crook of my arm and I dared to raise my head a fraction to view all I could of the swinging death about me.

  Now I got to a crouch, having taking the chance that the two nearest of those panels, no matter how far they swung, had a space between them. From that crouch I reached my feet. Before me directly now was another panel helping to form the ring just before the innermost one which now imprisoned me. To clear that I must spring and twist at the same time. I tensed and moved.

  Then the wind of one panel passing nearly sent me sprawling straight into the last and most vicious outer line. My head jerked at a pull upon my up-knotted hair. I could not remain where I was to be cut down on the next swing. Once more I leaped, having only seconds to judge the wheel of body to carry me past.

  I sprawled face down on the pavement, the noise of the mobile near deafening me. Or was it altogether that? There was something else, voices raised in such an uproar as to drown out the metal’s clamor. Jagged locks of hair whipped at my face as I crawled forward a space, fearing any movement to feel the knife edge of a panel slitting across my body. Then, hardly believing it, I knew I was free of that devilish thing and I rose unsteadily to my feet, stooping to pick up the crown I had brought with me.

  There was softness of fur against my body, a rough tongue lapped across my ribs. I gripped Murri’s heavy shoulder hair and held that as if the touch alone would make me believe I had really won.

  At last I turned, in time to see the mobile rise again. Beyond it waited the Chancellor and the priest, beside them the Blue Leopard of rulership. Yet I did not yet go forward; rather I rubbed my hand across Murri’s broad head. And I said:

  “Only by your favor, brother,” knowing well that I spoke the truth. There were none here—unless Ravinga was somewhere in the crowd behind me—who had wished this finish—none save Murri.

  “By your will—” he made me answer.

  I loosed my hold on him to turn the crown around in my hands, perhaps to assure myself once more that I indeed held it. The gems made a flashing show which were in contrast to my blood-stained body. Though by the greatest of favors none of the red painting came from my own veins.

  The mobile was well up. I could cross that stretch of pavement to the steps without fear now. The end of strain had left me weak, light of head, so that the figures of Chancellor and priest wavered in my sight.

  However, I set one foot before the other, until I realized suddenly that Murri was no longer by me. Some stubbornness within me would not allow me to advance without him. The roar of the crowd was even louder. Were they trying to howl down in anger my triumph, or were they cheering me for my success? I did not know.

  When I looked around for Murri I saw only open mouths and waving arms, the guards with spears lowered across their bodies to form a barrier to keep this bit of pavement clear.

  I could not linger, though my concern for Murri—if the crowd was truly united against me his danger was very great. Still if I was Emperor, then let me claim my victory and show these that a “barbarian” took what he had fought for without awkwardness of bearing.

  I came to the steps. To the priest I offered the crown. Though I had truly and honestly won it, it would not be mine until the official coronation. Even so, at this moment I was indeed Emperor—something I found very hard to adjust to.

  The Chancellor held forth the royal staff of office, the leopard crouched and rumbled something not far from a purr. I knew that I must now turn to face this unruly mass of my subjects, that rod in hand.

  I climbed a step and then two. The high throne was still empty at my back but I made no move to seat myself there. Somewhere, perhaps on the roofs about, was that slinger who had accounted for Shank-ji. It could well be that some bitter House intrigue would see fit to dispose of one they considered an upstart to allow another trial—with new candidates—such was not beyond reason.

  Then I saw the crowd waver, draw apart. Over one of those spear barriers leaped Murri, soaring as he had in the dance. He carried in his mouth a rod the end of which glittered in the sun.

  The priest stumbled back, clutching the crown, his face showing his fear. However, the Grand Chancellor stood her ground, her hand going to the Sword of Presence at her belt, even though that weapon of ceremony might be as nothing against this raider from the outlands.

  In a single bound Murri reached me and I took from his jaw hold the Sand Cat-topped staff Ravinga had wrought. I did not relinquish the other which bore the leopard symbol.

  On my left side the Blue Leopard, belly down, ears flat to skull, sounded a hiss. At my right Murri stood tall, his yellow eyes round on the beast who disputed his coming, showing no fear, no sign of warning of battle to come.

  With the two beasts and the two staffs, I faced the people, whose shouts had died away, and who were staring back at me as if amazement had struck them dumb. An age had ended, a new one begun. In one hand I held the ancient symbol of the past, in the other I gripped that which had come to me by my own efforts. What the Essence would demand of me in the future I had no way of foreseeing, but it was true that I must be my own man, that much I had learned. At that thought, near bare of body, stained with blood, the hair released from my shorn topknot tossed by the wind, I claimed what was mine and what I would hold, even as my fur brothers claimed and held what they had won.

  EPILOGUE

  Ravinga had lit only one of the lamps, but by that I could see well her face, and I recognized the strength of purpose in her expression.

  “He has won,” I said. That that win had astounded me was a simple way of expressing how I felt. This Hynkkel, what had he in him anyway? To be made to twist my thoughts of him in another pattern was difficult to accept.

  “He but begins,” Ravinga corrected me.

  “They must accept him—it is custom—” I caught part of her hint.

  “You speak so, knowing what you know, what you yourself have endured, girl? Do not play the simpleton. Shank-ji may have lost a hand, he has not lost a head. There is a slinger to be accounted for—that need is immediate. Beyond lies much more—”

  Her gaze swept beyond me to that shelf on which stood the figure of Ylantilyn.

  “Therefore,” now she spoke briskly as one who had finished one task only to turn to another, “we move again. You, Allitta, have now the right to claim your heritage. Custom decrees that what one Emperor has done, a new one may undo. The last of your House shall do homage with all her peers, shall claim all rights and privileges due her line—all rights.” She repeated that as one who could not be crossed.

  Past bitterness arose in me so strong I could almost taste it. “No!” Still—a second thought—was this not what I had once dreamed of? If strange circumstances brought it about, why should I throw it away?

  “Yes!”

  I could not stand against her. I could not even stand against that part of me which wanted what she took so easily as a fact. A new life—a dangerous one—but I had lived with danger for many seasons—it would not be new or daunting for me.

  “We move,” Ravinga continued. “Even as the mobile swings, we begin to move.”

  YEAR OF THE RAT

  The author’s deepest thanks are offered to:

  Caroline Fike for her computer “whiz”ardry, and to Rose Wolf, for keeping the resident Sand Cats at bay while the Rat was at play.

  Without their assistance, the second part of this fantasy might never have appeared.

  CHAPTER 1

  Hynkkel-ji,

  Newly enthroned Emperor of the Outer Regions:

  I stood staring into the large mirror. Never before had I seen my full length so. But nothing in my life, I thought now, with an inner uneasiness I was fighting to control, had prepared one who was a servant and near outcast of one’s House to view himself in the stiff and heavy court robes of the Emperor—Empero
r Hynkkel-ji—that now was.

  Another reflection moved into place beside mine, half hidden by the outflow of my diamond studded outer robe, which lay in a train for some length behind me. The tawny fur of Murri shown brightly red against the sweeping folds. If I saw, in myself, one who had come to a strange position, then Murri was my equal, a Sand Cat at utter ease in the center hold of those who had long hunted his kind.

  An Emperor had, as I had discovered in the past few days, little if any privacy. However for this limited time I was free of servants and guards, though those waited just beyond the curtain door behind me. And ringing ever in my ears were the musical chimes of the diamond mobiles, large and small, which were in every palace chamber I had seen.

  Only, the longer I stared at the stranger in the mirror, the less at ease I was. The heavy fur collar about my shoulders, cascading down to form half my train, was—yes, it was weighting me, both mind and body, the glitter of the gems netting the blue of the robe, the elaborate state crown which concealed the loss of my high hair knot, shorn away during that last fateful testing; my body did not welcome these.

  Nothing had prepared me for this hour. And I had no companion to back me save Murri. I loosed my grip on that heavy, unfamiliar robe to rest a hand on the soft furred head of the one I could fully trust.

  And that I needed him I never forgot. My ordeal within the whirling, deadly blades of the huge mobile of justice had been successful. But the belief was ever with me: the cause of my success was that archer on the roof of one of the buildings, who had loosed a shaft bringing down Shank-ji who had shared the testing. No trace of the would-be assassin had been discovered by the royal guards, but I was sure that the attack had not been made in my favor.

  I had questioned within myself, sought an answer. At least I believed I had found one I could accept. Someone, as yet undetected, had wanted an unknown from one of the lesser Queendoms to assume the crown I was wearing now. Those of Valapa, with their strong belief in their own superiority, would think an outlander would be stupid and naïve, turn readily to others, allowing himself to be controlled by their advice. The nobility of Valapa were well known to be ever intriguing amongst themselves, snatching at power, bringing a weaker House to annihilation.