Mark of the Cat and Year of the Rat Read online

  Yuikala still stood, not yet moving. Her face under that elaborate crown bore no expression. She was not one to allow any here to be sure that this was a defeat. It would, however be a scandal as would birth bitter rumors. That both Hynkkelji and I had now made an implacable enemy could not be denied. And—it would be towards me that the earliest and fiercest arrow of her rage would strike. The fault in our plan was very obvious now.

  “Be ready—” Murri’s thought came again and this time I was able to answer.

  “Be sure that I shall.”

  Then Yuikala did start across towards me, all clearing a way for her. She was followed by her major courtiers, then the House Lords. She was smiling, the rigid curve of her lips covering a very different and darker emotion.

  Hynkkel-ji:

  Now that I had seen my plan at work I was in no way proud of my action. The thought of Berneen pricked me. The girl, I believed, had been the victim of her grandmother’s intrigue. I must, in honor, make some attempt to see that she was not hurt by what expediency had required of me.

  For the moment I could think of only one thing that might be done. Even as the Queen had nearly reached me I thought sent:

  “Murri, the girl—”

  He assented at once. Before the advancing Queen and her court reached us he slipped away. For the time being I must trust him—but I was impatient to get this ceremony behind us.

  Outside the Hall of Festivity:

  The Sand Cat knew he would be seen but he took what precautions he could, for cover using the wall tapestries and the movement of the courtiers eager to view those who had made such an unexpected addition to the general festivities.

  The guards were well used to his coming and going by now and he had learned all he could, concerning their stations and how those might be avoided. At length he slipped through the parting of the great door curtain. One or two testings of scents told him he was on the right path and in very little time he was able to push his way through another door curtain, that of a small side room.

  The girl was there, right enough, but also there was someone with her. Murri had moved with his customary silence, so he had a time to assess that other before the young man noticed him. Fear shown in the warrior’s eyes. He shifted the girl to the pillows behind him and was on his feet, sword in hand. Murri came no further into the room but stood silently as they eyed one another.

  Murri had never tried mind touch except with the few humans who were close to his brother. He had long ago discovered that, for the most part, the general clan of men did not possess this talent. He could only suggest by some action of his own that he had no designs on these two young creatures. Sitting down, he might be one of the many decorative figures to be found everywhere in the palace.

  The man watched him but made no move. This would bring no needful result, the Sand Cat decided. Not for the first time he wished that these men did have speech one could understand—if they did not have mind talent for communication.

  On the cushions Berneen stirred. Her hand went out. She might be in search of something. The warrior gave her a quick side-glance and then his attention returned to Murri.

  Though the cat did not recognize him, this cubling might be a regular of the palace guard. If so, he should know Murri, and also he should be aware that the Sand Cat was no enemy, though ever ready to defend himself.

  Yes, that appeared to be getting through. The guard’s sword was back in sheath.

  Berneen had dragged herself up to a sitting position. She stared at Murri and then spoke to the man beside her:

  “Are you mated, young lord?”

  He gave a start and his steady scrutiny of the cat was broken.

  “Why—” he began. Then he added swiftly. “Forgive me, High Maid, I must make myself known to you. I am Valapan-va-Jaclan, Second son of the House of Orsmer, Leader of Twenty in the Palace Guard. And, no, I have no mate.”

  They wasted time, decided Murri—and they might not have much of that. He stood, and instantly Jaclan was again on watch. Murri uttered a purr, a singsong of good will. The man’s hand had reached for his sword, but now he dropped it again. Slowly, still purring, Murri approached the two.

  Berneen made her choice. One of her hands went again the to the hem of Jaclan’s uniform and the other she held out to Murri. Jaclan raised his right hand as if to stop her but Murri was already within reach and her fingers were stroking his head.

  “You are his brother,” she said. “And—and Grandmother was wrong. The Essence did not wish what she did. He sent you, did he not?”

  Murri bowed his head.

  “I must be away from this place,” Berneen continued. “I have not the courage to face her rage. But where can I go, Desert Warrior?”

  Murri knew, but whether she could reach that refuge he was not sure. His kind had talents—more than Hynkkel-ji was aware of—some, which he himself had yet to grow into. The lack of straight communication with the girl would make this difficult.

  “You are ill, Lady; you must have help—” Jaclan protested.

  She was weak, yes, but the thrusting pain was gone now. This feeling of safety was strange. For the first time since she had left the country home she loved, she was nearly at peace.

  Loosing her hold on Jaclan’s uniform she took the great cat’s head between her hands, looking deeply into his eyes.

  Faint as the song of a witmoth, she met him mind-to-mind.

  “—Away—”

  Murri touched her with a tongue tip. “Away—” he thought the same word in turn.

  Her head came down until his fur brushed her hair.

  “Lady—” there was protest in Jaclan’ s voice.

  Berneen looked up at him. “The Emperor’s cat brother will aid. I must go—it is needful. If I remain, I shall be found and dragged into darkness, for her will is stronger than mine. If you will it as I do, Valapan-va-Jaclan, Second son of the House of Orsmer, Leader of Twenty, I say this to you: this day the Essence has called me to the mate choosing and—I choose. Is it also for you?”

  Jaclan stooped and gathered her into his arms. “With me you shall be held in honor; you shall be safe—I swear this oath to you!”

  “No, neither of us shall be safe. You do not know the Queen as I do.” She raised her hand and stroked his cheek. “Even though we may never stand before the Essence and say the binding words, I have been in heat—I have made my choice and that I shall ever abide by. You must let me go, for neither of us is safe if I remain. Murri will see me into hiding. And if better times come—I shall stand again with your arms about me.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Hynkkel-ji:

  It was my will that the Progress make the earliest start possible. If Yuikala still desired to accompany us, as was her right, I did not wish her a part of my entourage, but rather that she keep to her own court, with a space between my people and hers.

  Murri joined me when I arose and we had a short time of privacy. He had news. Berneen had, by some Grace of the Essence, found a champion, but she had refused his company for fear the Queen would at once get rid of him, trying again to control her granddaughter.

  The Sand Cat had no more than reported this fact, when he swung around with a growl to face the window. Luckily I had already shucked my robe of state. I grabbed a short spear such as I had used against the water creature.

  There was no reason to give Murri any order. He was moving soundlessly toward the window. The curtain swayed.

  A guardsman swept the light barrier aside. I was sure I had never seen him before. He wore the puffed headgear of a junior officer. But his tunic and leggings were the black of the Imperial Army. He had his sword naked in his hand but when he saw me, he knelt and laid the sword on the floor, the point toward him, and the hilt to me.

  He was thus asking boldly for an audience in private and I understood that whatever had brought him here was, in his eyes, of major importance.

  “This one,” Murri thought, “was with the young she.”<
br />
  “August One,” the guard’s head was up. “Look upon this one with mercy. There is that which must be made known to you—”

  I dropped the spear; Murri sat up from his crouch.

  “You have served a lady well. She is now safe.”

  There was an instant expression of relief on his young face.

  “August One, it is for her that I have dared to come thus. Your promise is an Oath before the Essence—”

  “It is so. And you are?”

  “Valapan-va-Jaclan, August One, Leader of Twenty in the Palace Guard.”

  “You have proved yourself worthy of your House and Rank, Leader. What has happened to the lady must remain known only to us,” I nodded to Murri who uttered a fraction of sound he meant for approval.

  “That I have already sworn to, by the Essence. I am on the roster to be on the Progress—I had to be sure—” he hesitated.

  “That the Lady was safe. Yes, that would be the thought of any honorable man. She is safe. Be sure of that. The one she fears will travel also on the Progress and perhaps by the time we return matters will be resolved. Now—I shall order that one, Valapan-va-Jaclan, be assigned to my personal guard.”

  My need of those I could trust was great. This guardsman’s actions had proved him a man of honor. He was now in my debt. From the beginning of my reign I had been wary of the high nobility. Now I was doubly so, for many of them were in some manner related to the Queen’s House. This youth was of the minor nobility. It was plain that Berneen was important to him, therefore I would be appeasing my conscience concerning her as well as adding to my personal staff one I could trust—at least in part.

  It was plain from his expression that he had not expected anything—perhaps he thought he would suffer some punishment for his intrusion. He stood staring as I stooped, picked up his sword and handed it back to him.

  “A good blade, Leader. Use it well.”

  “August One—it will be used ever in your service—” He backed towards the window and then was gone. I looked to Murri.

  “I trust Brother, that I spoke the truth; the she-cub is safe?”

  Murri yawned. “After great effort on my part, Brother. Now she is with the Wise One.”

  “Ravinga!” I identified. But Ravinga was going to join us. Certainly she would not add Berneen to our company. I could see nothing but trouble in that.

  Again Murri read my thoughts. “The she of your own pride, will serve the Wise One, keeping the shop when we go.”

  My sister. I was surprised that the doll maker was leaving Melora in charge, though I should not have been. It was true that they were both craftswomen of the top rank and had much in common. Yes, I believed that with Melora in charge and the chief enemy gone, things would go well for Berneen.

  Allitta:

  I must continue to wear Ravinga’s amulet, I knew. But the news had already spread through my household that my rank had suddenly changed. I was addressed, by those I called in to check on last minute details, with the same ceremony that they would use for Yuikala. My rise in rank would only be temporary—no Companion ever held that position continuously through the reign of any Emperor. And I would last the shortest of terms.

  I had named five of my servants to accompany me. Two of the guards—utterly trustworthy—they had been far-traveled caravan leaders, well trained in weapons, and used to handling difficulties. The eldest of my maids was a necessary choice. And to complete my small party, two of the grooms to look after the care of our beasts and to oversee the baggage train. These were men who had served my family and both of them remembered me as a child.

  For Kassca I had made a riding tote lined in fur. Her dishes and other needs were packed together. I could carry her bag on my shoulder, or fit it to my saddle, as was common for Kottis traveling—so we would continue to be together.

  I was overseeing the packing of the baggage, having inspected the pa-oryxen I would ride turn and turn about. Ravinga appeared at the front gate, heading a following of her own. Her mount was of the same fine breeding as those from Vurope’s stables and she had a second oryxen as well as three pack animals under the care of Salcana, the guide and guard who had ever traveled with us during our caravan days.

  Mounting, I joined Ravinga, my guards and maid on well-trained beasts behind, and the grooms with the pack animals at the rear. The doll maker also had a Kotti bag and the black head of Wiu was well above its edge, yellow eyes intent on what lay about us.

  It had been given out that our place of assembly for the entire of the Progress would be well outside the walls and we found a number of personal parties as we rode in. I saw no reason for separating myself from Ravinga.

  Everyone who knew my story was also aware that for a number of years we two had traveled together along the trails. Also, as the Companion, I had more freedom in choosing associates. There would be a number now, jostling each other, who sooner or later, would aspire to be noticed. Opportunities to be more closely known to the Emperor often followed the favor of the Companion, though certainly none would come through me.

  Hynkkel-ji and his followers—a guard of some size, Murri, several servants and a long baggage train—arrived. He did not wear those robes which always seemed to diminish him, but rather high boots, form fitting trews, and a jerkin with loose sleeves over a tight shirt. A wide sword belt of gold with pale greenish stones supported a weapon I had never seen before and which I suspected he did not know how to use. Trews and jerkin were green; the jerkin edged with fluffs of white fur.

  As with his robe he had discarded his crown for a helmet, meant I supposed to conceal the loss of his hair knot in the final ordeal which had put him on the throne. His guardsmen did not wear the elaborate uniforms of the court but rather those meant to be used for the field. Their bushy head coverings had been changed for helmets. One of them carried the personal standard of the ruler, and pacing along beside Hynkkel’s mount was Murri. The blue leopards did not serve away from Valapa.

  I made no move to attract his attention but he must have early sighted me, for he cut directly across the crowded field, followed by his guards, to where Ravinga and I waited. Urging his mount close to mine he bowed his head. I stretched out my hand. He caught and kissed it, watched by Kassca and everyone else in sight range.

  On the Progress trail:

  The relative cool of the night closed about the long train. In the beginning the nobles and higher courtiers pressed to the fore. Two musicians rode with saddle drums and they set up a beat to which most of the travelers kept time. Only the end of the baggage train was still visible when the Diamond Queen and her following arrived at the assembly field. Through the night she stifled all outward signs of anger. None of her immediate following had yet been treated to the results of such suppression of her smoldering rage.

  However messengers had gone out secretly to certain sections of the city. There were ones who rode ahead of her now who had come, under cover, to listen to her orders. Elsewhere others were assembling arms and meeting privately.

  That she had not been able to discover the whereabouts of Berneen remained a minor frustration. The search she had started would find the stupid girl sooner or later. She dismissed that matter from the fore of her mind and was busy laying out lines to be spun into a new web.

  Shank-ji was as schooled in intrigue as she was. They would have a common cause. One of those in her party was his own chosen man, who would drop out of the Progress before they arrived at Kahulawe. When he reached his leader he would report such news as would interest Shank-ji.

  At that moment, listing in her mind what she had set in motion during these past few hours, she felt more alert and assured of herself than she had for many years. The intrigues, which had amused her in the past, were nothing compared to this tangle from which she was determined to emerge the winner.

  Battle in the desert:

  Twice Shank-ji had led out scouts at night. Each time he had angled towards the Plain of Desolation, though he
had never attempted to go too far. The man-rat had not shown himself again but, on this third journey, the quiet of the night was broken by the distant roll of an alarm drum. It was not the such as heralded the rise of a storm, but rather a beat such as might be begging help for a caravan. Instinctively Shank-ji led his men to answer the plea.

  It was not long before they could sight the blaze of a large fire ahead. There sounded the bellows of animals, now and then war cries of guards.

  Shank-ji sent his mount into a run. From what he could see a caravan had been attacked. Luckily the firelight also revealed a wave of rats. The outlaws swept upon them, weapons ready. Several figures fed the fire with the reed blocks they carried, having also torn apart bales of goods to add their contents to the flames. Arrows were thick in the air and Shank-ji shouted encouragement.

  The rats were mad in their leaps, tearing at flesh, stripping cloth with teeth that showed cold green fire. As far as Shank-ji could see it was only rats, rats which seemed to have no fear, rats which closed jaws on both humans and animals, even though the attackers’ bodies were masses of bloody fur.

  Such ferocity was seldom seen but there was no time to wonder about that. Slash—stab. Some of their mounts shrieked in pain, rats dangling from their legs. The oryxen plunged, snapped, while some of their riders had to forgo attack to keep their saddles.

  Most of the animals of the caravan were down, heaving under masses of rats. Though their dead carpeted the sand, still the vermin continued to burst out of the dark. Bellows of torment shattered ears as the animals were eaten alive.

  For the first time Shank-ji knew a flash of fear. His well-trained mount had gone totally mad, was plunging and screaming, while he, himself, slashed first to one side and then to the other, cutting at the rats that had fastened jaws in the oryxen’s legs. They appeared to be leaping to reach the rider.

  Kill! The oryxen reared to smash down, stamping on rats, catching one in its teeth and tossing the eviscerated body away. Shank-ji cried out, dropping his sword to swing from its wrist knot, as he caught an enemy that had sunk teeth in his leg. It did not turn on him as his hand closed on its throat. In spite of such pain as he had never felt before, he tore the thing loose and hurled it away.