“Just tell me, Tral. I’m all ears.”
His stood erect to show the truth of his interest, and his whiskers bristled forward intently.
“I was speaking to the steward about some of the kits having bird pox and needing to be isolated lest they all get it. When I was walking back I saw some guards leading a Mrem bound with chains towards the prison.”
“A Mrem in chains is something we’ve all seen before, Tral. What’s so amazing about that?” Ranowr asked impatiently.
“It was a stranger,” the healer said. “And he was wearing a warrior’s harness like the soldiers wear, only made for a Mrem. He struggled and they were finding it hard to hold him. He clawed one of them badly and almost broke free. Finally Captain Thress clubbed him on the head and the soldiers dragged him away.”
Ranowr opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and licked his nose instead, taking in a sharp breath of amazement. He felt as though he’d been knocked upside his own head by an overseer’s club. What Tral was telling him was impossible. They’d always been told that they were the only Mrem in the world and that the great goddess’s many times great grandfather had created them to work for their Liskash masters. Certainly they’d never seen any Mrem but those who lived and worked in Ashala’s territory. No Mrem was a stranger. They at least knew each other’s faces.
And for a Mrem to harm a Liskash and not be instantly killed for it was unheard of. And…
“In a war harness, you said?” Ranowr asked.
“Yes, like, but unlike the Liskash gear. Made for a Mrem, no doubt of it and richly made at that. It looked as good as the one Captain Thress had on.”
Ranowr’s legs felt weak and he went to a crouch in the dirt. His whole world was shaken. That there might be other Mrem somewhere had never occurred to him. He’d always believed that the slaves of the Liskash strongholds were the only Mrem in existence.
He stood. “I must speak with him,” he said. “They took him to the prison?”
“The place of pain,” Tral agreed.
Frowning, Ranowr stood in thought. “I will find a way.” He looked Tral in the eye. “Tell no one of this. Swear it,” he demanded.
“I so swear,” Tral agreed.
“Good. You took me aside to talk of the bird sickness among the kits. In fact you should tell me of your meeting with the steward and what he said. It sounds like we’ll be without the kits’ labor for a few days.”
“At least ten days,” Tral said and told him everything.
It was almost a comfort. The other thing…it was too big. When he thought of it, his mind felt like it was reaching for something just out of sight. Meanings kept tumbling in on him.
Hisshah sat at the council table idly staring at the triangular designs of blue and green inlaid in colored stones on the white walls, focusing on the shifting play of light through the narrow windows and ignoring the other eight councilors. They were all were waiting for Ashala and the captain to arrive; the most active thing in the room was a thin blue trail of bitter incense-smoke in a little silver censor.
Thress and Ashala were often together and not for the first time Hisshah wondered if he was her mother’s lover.
Ashala entered the chamber briskly and the council all rose to their feet and bent their necks, as if for a bite. Thress followed on her heels and hastened to his place. The great goddess sat and with a gesture commanded them to be seated also.
“For some time now,” Ashala began, “we have been facing a crisis involving wild Mrem.”
The councilors stared at her for a moment, then cast surreptitious glances at one another. All except Captain Thress, Hisshah noted.
“I had hoped that our neighbors would handle the situation before it reached us, solving the problem and weakening themselves…which would solve other problems,” her mother continued. “But they have failed to do so. It seems several thousand Mrem and their animals are aiming to cross our land in an attempt to join their fellows beyond the new sea. So far, despite the odds against them, they have succeeded.”
She leaned back in her thronelike chair and folded her hands beneath her chin, curving her neck in a meditative S-shape.
“I am of two minds about whether to stop them altogether or to harry them across our domain as fast as they can move. But I’m inclined to the latter. If it were easy or free of cost to wipe them out, someone would have done it by now. Let them go-and become someone else’s concern.”
She glared at everyone at the table, then sat forward, placing her hands before her on the table.
“However, we have a more immediate problem.”
Here she glanced contemptuously at the captain. “We have captured one of their scouts. Which would have been a good thing if the captain hadn’t allowed him to escape in the main courtyard in front of everyone.”
“Is there any way to keep this from our Mrem?” Hisshah asked.
“Do you ever even try not to be stupid?” Ashala snapped. “Of course, our Mrem know about it. I did say this happened in the main courtyard. That matters less than what we make them think it means. If you control meaning, mere facts become irrelevant.”
She leaned back again, raising her hands. “At least I think I did say it happened there in the courtyard.”
“Of course, great goddess,” Hisshah muttered.
Hatred for her mother burned cold in her breast. If she’d had her mother’s power the older female would have been ashes long since.
“The question is how to contain it. I have decided, if it becomes necessary, to tell our slaves that demons have taken the form of Mrem in order to confuse them and must be killed.”
She gestured, three fingers and grasping digit.
“That is why we’ve been training Mrem soldiers. The wild Mrem may be reluctant to kill their own kind and while they’re engaged with the slaves we will flank them and kill as many as we can. Our aim will be to get them running. That should minimize any damage they can do to our herds, buildings, waterworks and such.”
“Great goddess, we should annihilate them!” Thress said, slashing his claws down the table.
“Oh, be quiet,” Ashala hissed, her voice heavy with disgust. “And stop marking the furniture! Our neighbors did not send one word about this invasion. Doubtless they hope we will do exactly what you want, thus weakening ourselves and making it easy for them to strike.”
She glared at her daughter. “Tell me that the slaves have become minimally competent by this time.”
“Some have, great goddess,” Hisshah said. “But not all by any means. It has been only a month. I was not told that I had so little time.”
“A point,” her mother admitted. “You will increase the pace of their training. Our scouts report that we have less than twenty days before we are invaded. I’d rather not lose all our slaves; but if we achieve our main goal it won’t matter. After all,” she said with a smile, “if we made them too competent they’d be too dangerous to have around in any case.”
Glancing at Thress, she continued. “Captain, in light of your idiotic failure this day, I find that you need some oversight.”
She turned to her daughter. “In addition to your training duties I would have you take on that oversight. You will approve the captain’s orders for the day. And he will seek your permission if there is a need to change them or if he needs to request anything. You may issue orders to the guards if you see a need.”
The captain sat up straighter, moving slowly, his face carefully blank.
“Yes, great goddess,” he and Hisshah said in unison.
Hisshah felt pleasure like a long cool drink after a day spent curled on a hot stone. Seeing someone else humiliated, especially one she so despised, made a nice change. She would have to see how she could make this even more unpleasant for him.
“And you may select a score for your personal guard,” the elder goddess added.