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Jonham, Lord Gyldrane, is a hotblooded warrior consigned to the edges of the Aernian Empire. Forced to wield a pen instead of a blade, he has to find... "other things" to occupy his time. But the arrival of powerful interests opposed to his rule threatens to upset even this fragile peace...

After some delay comes the second chapter of The Road to Mandalay_, a fantasy steampunk story focusing on the trials and tribulations of Jonham, Lord Gyldrane, a young nobleman posted to the frontiers of empire. Here we learn a bit more about the antagonists of his life, and he finds a productive use for his red panda servant lass. The first chapter, "Fortune, turn thy wheel," is recommended but not required reading. Thanks to Spudz and De Rigueur for their help in making this less broken._

Released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. Share, modify, and redistribute -- as long as it's attributed and noncommercial, anything goes.

The Road to Mandalay, by Rob Baird -- Chapter 2, "As through a glass"

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According to Raiza Serapuri, Urja called Kajrazi a "firefox," which was not a species I was really familiar with. That was the frontier, I guess. Mongooses and firefoxes and who knew what else. But the name was a little fetching, and descriptive enough, so I decided it would serve. In any event, we had more serious, actual foxes to deal with, which was not something I looked forward to.

"We're not using the office on Bhiran Jhateh Street for anything, are we?" Well before my arrival, the Colonial Governor had maintained a few satellite offices -- the better to solicit additional bribes for licenses and so forth. They were disused by the time I arrived in Jaikot, and probably ill-maintained, like so much of the city.

"I would have to investigate, kajja, but I don't believe so. A storeroom for old documents, maybe? Why do you ask?"

"When the representative of the railroad gets here, I want to make sure they have a space waiting for them -- we might as well give the impression of hospitality, don't you suppose?" Also, Bhiran Jhateh Street was relatively close, and that would make it easy to keep an eye on the comings and goings of the new railroad office. "We should find a good apartment, too."

"One off the central park, perhaps, kajja?"

"That'll do. Mr. Raiza, there must be an underworld in Jaikot. Someplace you can buy weapons, and sahr, and stolen jewelry -- the street gangs have to be stealing it for some reason." And sahr, which was made from a local flower, had been illegal since the time of the bhirans -- a technicality that had done nothing to stop the drug's consumption.

"Unfortunately, kajja," the mongoose said, with a drawling tone that told me he was about to be difficult. "I have no idea what you're talking about. That doesn't sound like something we'd want to encourage."

You shishi bastard, I sighed. He certainly knew, at least; gods, he was probably taking a cut. Then I shut my eyes, and went through the last couple of days worth of work in my head, trying to think of something suitably untoward. It didn't take long. "Mr. Raiza, we had an applicant here asking to develop the old armory into a cotton warehouse. You recall that?" He shrugged. "You took his money, and the amra for it, even though you knew we'd already sold that property..."

Raiza raised his eyebrow. "Did I know that? Our records are so difficult to keep straight..."

"I'll be certain to tell Mr. Reth that," I said. I didn't remember who, exactly, had applied for the permit, but he was in shekh Rethaya, which automatically gave him powerful allies.

Now the mongoose grinned. "Please do, kajja. It will please him to know that he acquired the property over someone of shekh Matahi. The amra Matah Harruk paid was only a quarter what we asked of Reth Rupara, anyway; I'm happy to refund it."

He rattled off the names with quick, jovial familiarity. With a sudden flash of realization, it dawned on me that I had never had a chance against him, and I momentarily cursed myself for sinking down to that level. Growling, I bunched my right paw into a fist. "Damn it, Sera. Don't play this game with me. You have your fingers in every pie in this city -- you must know where the black market gets its supplies from. So tell me because it's your fucking job, how's that?"

Raiza was, mostly, toying with me. At length, he shrugged easily. "I've heard that shekh Rethaya has some doings there, I suppose. They do control the caravans, after all. Why do you want to know, kajja? It's easier for a colonial governor simply to pretend these things don't exist. Why trouble yourself?"

Because I was getting my paws dirty. Because I was starting to make compromises I had told myself I would not make. "Because when this Carregan shows up, I want to know who I can count on."

"I'll see what I can find out for you," he said. "But you're playing a dangerous game, kajja Jonham. Only a fool or a very trusting outsider makes friends of those men."

And I was at least one of those, clearly, but what could I do? We got the office set up in only two days, which meant that it was ready by the evening when I heard shouting from outside that heralded the arrival of a stagecoach.

The horses were nothing like the ones the shishis used, and the stagecoach itself was painted in a livery I found all too familiar. Steeling myself, I left the office, and strode as confidently as I could up to the door of the coach.

It opened from within, and I found myself face to face with a lean fox whose amber eyes pierced me from behind immaculately polished glasses. She was wearing denim pants, and a suitably loose shirt for the tropics -- but the simplicity of the attire was betrayed by the evident quality in every stitch. "I was told that this is the office of the Royal Governor of Nishran Province."

"You were told correctly."

"And where is the governor?" Her voice was sharp and imperious, even though the accent was nothing like the cultured dialect of the western Old Kingdom. Northeastern, through and through -- harsh and grating. "He should be a collie like yourself -- perhaps slightly better dressed. I desire to see him."

"By happy coincidence, you already are." I modulated my voice carefully. "Jonham Hærex-Sutheray -- Lord Gyldrane. I'm the provincial governor."

"Hm," the vixen said. "Well, Jonham, I'm Rescat Carregan. You have heard of us, I trust? I'm going to give this town a railroad, bizarre an undertaking as that is..." She stepped down to the lowest rung of the stagecoach's ladder, halting, and her eyes flicked to a pile of refuse a few yards from the door. "Somebody has to civilize them..."

"You would not be the first to try," I pointed out. "But perhaps this time will be more successful. Welcome to Jaikot, Madam Carregan."

"Do you see any whores?" she snapped. "Doctor Carregan, or Rescat if you feel... inexplicably familiar. I don't care about your court rules, Jonham."

"Very... well..." I said, my forced calm fading rapidly. "I've set up an office for you, in the old government office on -- do you have a native driver?" The driver of the stagecoach turned, and looked at me with a slightly disconcerting blankness. "Er... on Bhiran Jhateh Street. It's the next right, and then you will not be able to miss it -- it has glass windows, and one of the only clocks in the whole of Jaikot."

Rescat nodded. "I shall call upon you later, in that case. Thank you for your help, Jonham." Then she had pulled herself back into the coach, and it started off with a clatter.

"Charming," Raiza said, when I stepped back into the office; he had been watching from just inside the door.

"An act. She wants me to know that as far as she's concerned she's my better. They have a distressing hatred of nobility, Mr. Raiza," I shook my head. Theirs was the power born of money, a vulgar and garish power. "This is what we'll have to deal with. Now you see why I wanted to know what allies I could count on -- she's supposed to be on our side."

The vixen reappeared early the next morning, flanked by two bodyguards. The Iron Kingdom has a reputation as an ethnic melting pot, and I could not say for certain that they were not Aernian, but their sandy colored fur made the tall canines look too much like wastelanders for my comfort. Jackals, or something similar. Canine, like myself, but far less civilized.

We were in the middle of helping a farmer assemble the paperwork for an expansion of his property into fallow fields once owned by a plantation owner who had crossed the wrong Aernian. It wasn't terribly difficult work, and it would not have taken long to finish. Rescat observed the proceedings, and then her bodyguards flanked the farmer, taking him by the arm and pulling him to his feet. I rose with him.

"We need to talk," she said, her voice flat. "Dismiss your guest."

"Our 'guest' is here at an official appointment with the royal governor's office," I said, putting an emphasis on the first word to remind her who I served. "If you would like to make an appointment, I suggest you --"

"Jonham, get rid of this peasant." I bristled, and she gave a quick jerk of her paw, whereupon her bodyguards seized the farmer roughly, and escorted him out and onto the street. "I don't intend to waste your time any more than mine. I need maps of this city. Good ones."

But simply giving the order could not summon a thing that did not exist. "The Royal Cartographic Survey has yet to come through Dhamishaya, Dr. Carregan. The only maps we have are ones that the previous Jaikotan government commissioned on orders of the bhiran." Unofficially, Raiza and I had a pretty good idea of the province's layout, but none of the maps would meet her standards and I didn't much feel like helping her to decipher them anyway.

"You mean to say you run this place with nothing more than forty year old scraps of parchment?" Rescat shook her head in disbelief. "What about the campaign maps? Did the King's Own Army produce anything?"

"The war didn't come this far north. The Royal Frontier Corps has some maps of the mountains and passes around Ford Vindari and Fort Shandur. You could ask someone from the pickets, if you wanted that."

"Incredible," she groaned. It was the kind of groan I myself had uttered many times. Far from sympathizing, though, I wondered for a brief moment if this was how I appeared to the shishis -- incompetent, ignorant, and either unable or unwilling to cope with their lands and customs. "What of the bridges? I counted three bridges over the river in this city, is that correct?"

"Yes. The one furthest south is a newer bridge, but made of wood and suitable only for foot traffic. The one to the north is the main caravan bridge -- stone, and reasonably strong. The middle one is the oldest. It's also a stone bridge... probably how you crossed the river to get to the office, I suppose?"

"I think so," Rescat nodded. Her eyes closed thoughtfully, reviewing a map in her head. "Will the northern bridge carry rail? Is it built that sturdily? I don't require an engineer's perspective, Jonham, just a guess."

"I suspect that it would. It's not up to our standards, maybe, but it has to be strong enough to withstand the spring floods."

Her eyes opened again, and the vixen gave a crisp, military nod. "Good, that makes things easy. It'll do, even if I have to reinforce it. I suppose I'll have to see where we could fit a depot there -- how is the depth of the river? Can we barge coal up from the coast?"

Most of the trade went to the coast, downriver. I didn't know. "Mr. Raiza?"

He had, despite his deferential quiet, been paying rapt attention. "In some small quantity at least, yes. That's how we get our coal already, for cooking and heating -- those who use it."

"You already have a coal supplier?"

"A bargeload a week or so, madam, no more than that." Raiza Serapuri had had many years to practice his most servile tone of voice, and was so nonthreatening with it in full effect that she didn't even bother to correct him on his use of the word 'madam.' "We don't have to do much heating here, as you can imagine. Everything else is floated down the river... you would need something powerful enough to fight the current. The coal, they bring by walking mules along the riverbank and dragging the barge with them."

"I'll figure it out." Rescat drew a small writing pad from her purse, and scribbled what I took to be notes on it. "Ensuring an adequate fuel supply is of paramount importance."

I wasn't quite willing to let her get that far. "I'm not sure that site will work anyway, Dr. Carregan. As I said, the northern bridge is heavily trafficked already. All caravans from the north have to cross it. Hundreds of wagons a day." The bridge toll was a major contributor to the town coffers, even when shekh Rethaya's cut was taken into account.

"Then move them south. You said there's another stone bridge."

"It's in the town center. Even if it didn't add another hour to the journey, the serai and all the customs offices are located by the northern crossing-point. Nobody's going to want to relocate all that again -- certainly not the people in Jaikot. That's a lot of traffic and chaos to lay on them..."

Rescat Carregan rolled her eyes, closing her notebook and thrusting it back into her purse. "Are you the royal governor, Jonham?" I frowned, and didn't dignify the question with an answer. "Right. Then find a way to deal with it. I'm not going to be held up by your sentimental attachment to the old wagon traffic. I was told to put a railroad here, and I'm going to put a goddamned railroad."

Were they monotheists now, the Carregans? "It's not that simple, Dr. Carregan. Now, I'll see if there's some way we can come to a --"

"Do I look like one of your native bitches, governor? Do you think you can just push me around? Find a way to get that traffic moved. I'm putting together an order for the rail as soon as my engineer can survey it. That will be all, Jonham."

Turning, she raised her paw, and her bodyguards snapped briskly to her side. When we were alone again, I growled at the door, and dropped heavily into my seat. "Gods, Mr. Raiza, you will do me a favor, won't you?"

"Kajja?"

"When I lunge for that thing, keep me from tearing her throat out. I wouldn't want to do anything... rash."

The mongoose chuckled. He would not ordinarily have been so congenial, but Rescat's appearance had made us allies, after a fashion. "And to whom would I be doing the favor? Not my people, that's for sure. Not you either, kajja. I think you'd enjoy it."

"I think I would, too." She had gotten my blood up in those few minutes; it took a few more before I was calm enough to step outside, and to locate the farmer to whom we had been speaking. He had not gone far, and when I escorted him back he made no comment on the events: we Great Northern Overlords were capricious enough to him already that one more instance of it failed to arouse any surprise.

We were most of the way through his paperwork when hoofbeats, preceding a knock at the door, interrupted us once again. I was not really in the mood to deal with this, but a glance out the window revealed the now-riderless horse to be one of the eastern type. Since I presumed Rescat had not switched in the intervening minutes, I sighed, grumbling to myself, and bade our assistant to let the caller in.

The man who entered was a shishi, but he wore the uniform of the Royal Frontier Corps, and I deemed him worthy of my attention. "You can manage the rest of this, Mr. Raiza?" I asked, and he nodded. I made for one of the office's meeting rooms, and ordered a pitcher of water brought for the traveler. Small courtesies.

He followed me into the room, and when the water was brought, and the door shut behind us, he took a metal cup gratefully before looking up to me. "You are Colonial Governor Jonham?"

"Yes. And you would be?"

"Lance Corporal Nagurtha, RFC outpost Shandur, kajja."

The Royal Frontier Corps was not much older than I was, but it already had the air of a distinguished military body. They guarded the edge of the Dhamishi territories: the great bridge at Shandur, and the passes that cut through the Vigarkha Mountains, and the windswept plains to the south, beyond my control save for the garrison of a single lonely fort.

They were all natives and, considering the large population of Dhamishaya, we had the ability to be quite selective. Short, fierce warriors and expert cavalrymen -- I found them much easier to deal with than the civilian populace. The Duke of Rudkirk's son, the Marquess of Coltharden, commanded all of the RFC in Nishran; he was my subordinate, at a lowly post for one of his title, and rare was the day I did not long to switch places with him.

"What brings you to Jaikot, corporal?" I poured myself a cup of water as well, and settled across the table from him, so as to be closer to eye level.

"News from the guard, sir." It pleased me how swiftly he switched to calling me this from kajja. "Major Atta-Farash sent me with an urgent message."

I leaned back, nodding once. "Go on..."

"The mountain folk grow restless."

This drew little more than the eye-rolling it deserved. "The mountain folk are always 'growing restless.' Strange how it always seems to summon your collection plate before your armor plate... how much more money does the major want?"

Nagurtha, a slight feline whose eyes bore none of a feline's guile, shook his head. "None, sir -- or if he desires it, he did not send me with a request for aid."

More probably, it was hidden between the lines. "What does he want, then?"

"To inform you of happenings near the fort. We captured one of them -- trying to sneak across the great bridge." Built in centuries past, when the Bhiranate had still been mighty, the Shandur Bridge sat near the lake that was the source of the powerful Ajirandigarh. It was the only permanent crossing north of Jaikot, and therefore key to anything on the far side of the river.

I kept it heavily guarded, which made the corporal's statement even more surprising. "Bold, or merely stupid?"

"Both, sir. But mostly... terrified. He was terrified. He was talking about happenings in the south -- in our cities. I couldn't make sense of it, not really -- you know how the mountain-folk babble..."

I also know how to shut them up, I grinned to myself. "Of course. And what was he babbling about?"

"He said that something had come from the north. A monster." Now it was his turn to roll his eyes, and to wave a spotted paw dismissively. "He says that many of the mountain folk have been escaping. Over the bridge to Sura, or to the plains in the far north beyond the mountains -- Lake Ajira cannot be crossed, of course, but there are rickety bridges in the canyons upstream and we cannot keep track of them all with the men we have."

Once, on an expedition with the Corps, I had seen such a bridge. Made of rope, it had looked frail and insubstantial, twisting in the canyon updrafts. The native auxiliaries said that the mountaineers crossed them without remark -- that they learned from a young age how to pick their way on the narrow slats that swung over rushing waters hundreds of feet below. Not for no reason were they sometimes called sky folk.

We'd set light to that bridge, though I had to imagine there were others. The Vigarkha range was unforgiving territory, and we did not venture far upriver. Why the man in question had crossed the Ajirandigarh via Shandur I didn't know. Maybe tribal squabbling had denied him other options. Maybe he had just been desperate.

... Because of monsters. "What sort of menace are they fleeing -- did he say?"

"No. Not exactly. He said it was the kind of monster that takes the soul from a man. He said there is no escaping it, and no way of treating the sickness it causes. Those who are touched become lifeless and dumb -- but I think you have not had anything like that here..."

I didn't tell Nagurtha that, between the heat and their lackadaisical character, it was not easy to tell a lifeless and dumb shishi from any other. "No, not conspicuously. But go on..." I was willing to let him spin the yarn a bit -- at least it was interesting, and more importantly it took my mind off dealing with the railroaders for a moment.

"Well, in their tongue, they call it reshet karakan."

"Reshet k..." As soon as I'd started to say it, in my Aernian accent, my shoulders sank. I am not given to believing in coincidences, and this name sounded very familiar indeed. "You're certain you're not getting it confused with something else you might've heard about?"

"No, sir. He shouted it enough, that's for sure."

"And what else did he say?"

"Well, sir, that is just it... we put him into the holding cell, and went to get Major Atta-Farash... we weren't gone but twenty minutes, and when we came back he..." Corporal Nagurtha shivered, in the boiling office, with a sincerity that startled me for a moment, and set the water aside. "He'd chewed through his own wrists. We couldn't save him."

"Because of this... Rescat thing."

"Yes, sir. A reshet karakan. None of the servants knew anything about it... or they weren't talking."

"Probably just native superstition..."

"Probably, sir. But... just in case..."

Yes. But perhaps they knew something we did not. Trying to resolve myself to the reality of my life, and its sudden black humor, I set my jaw. "Tell Major Atta-Farash I'll ride for Shandur as soon as I can manage it. The day after tomorrow, I think, if I can arrange my affairs here. It's four days ride for the fort, is it not?"

A little of his nerve returning, Nagurtha smiled. "I did it in three."

"Hm. Three then -- perhaps less, with a proper horse. I'll only be a day or two behind you, then. For your part, corporal..." I glanced out the window. "It's late. You'll not make it far before nightfall. Rest here -- find any place you like, the best in town, and tell them to put it on my tab. Mention my name specifically," I added, on second thought. The shishis did love to haggle.

"Yes, sir. Thank you," he said; then he stood, bowed, and left.

If I checked around the following morning, I knew that I would find he had sought out the hardest inn, at the cheapest rates, and the meanest soup to fill his belly. The currency my name carried would go to feeding his horse, and finding a man who looked rough enough to stand guard over his mount and his weapon.

This is why I liked the Corps. They were men after my own heart.

Raiza looked up from his papers with a dry expression. The farmer was gone, which I suppose meant he'd slipped Serapuri enough money under the table to expedite things. "More good news, I take it, kajja? That soldier looked like he'd ridden hard."

"He had." I rubbed at my temples. "Mr. Raiza, summon Captain Vanao at his earliest convenience. I'm leaving tomorrow if I can -- the day after at the latest."

"I hope you've not finally had enough of our fair lands, kajja Jonham..."

"You should be so lucky," I muttered. "I need to investigate some... disturbing news from Fort Shandur. I'll be gone a week and a half -- two at most. You and Vanao must keep Rescat Carregan in check. She's not to do anything here without my express authorization -- and if I'm not here, that means she's not to do anything until I return. Is that clear?"

The mongoose pursed his lips, and his unshakable smile ebbed. "If Vanao Barut is involved, perhaps we can keep the peace. I think she may try to force the issue, kajja -- and it will go more poorly for me than for you if blood is spilt here. A Dhamishi's life is not worth much..."

"Then keep it from coming to blows. Remember, all she wants is the railroad. She can have it -- but on my terms."

I could've followed Corporal Nagurtha, but I wanted to do some research first. In truth I knew nothing of Rescat, not even the name. The Carregan family had been running the railroad for decades, or longer, and their lineage was extensive. I couldn't just ask her, clearly, and Arlen was packing to leave when I cornered him. He would not speak further, and told me that he had never visited to begin with.

The town library, such as it was, provided no help; the librarian was a lazy old woman who spoke only enough Aernian to shrug at my every question: "Not knowing, kajja. I not knowing."

Assistance came from an unlikely place. I was facing the window, staring out into a small, carefully tended garden whose existence I sanctioned only through apathy. I don't care much for topiary. "Have you," I asked the sound of footfalls behind me, "heard anything about the Carregan family? Rescat Carregan, in particular?"

The footfalls stopped, and when I turned around I found Kajrazi giving me the most curious of expressions. "Have you not, kajja?"

"No."

She handed me my cup of alat, and splayed the short fingers of her black-furred paws. "Everyone has heard of that family. They build the railroads... through the desert, out towards the great river... to the..." The firefox paused, furrowing her brow as she tried to recall. "He-zabesh Tarashaka. I don't know what you call it..."

For a mountain girl, she seemed well-taught. "Zubus Tiurishku," I said. "The Dominion of Tiurishk. Do your people trade with them?"

"No, kajja. But stories travel far." When, after taking a drink, I looked at her expectantly past the rim of the cup, she swallowed with unwarranted apprehension. "The railroad is like a wild animal that doesn't know its own strength. They kill many in the desert; their watering stations deplete the oases, they shoot the herds from the train for their men to eat. It makes the people desperate. They... lash out. The Carregan clan is quick to retaliate. They say the skies blacken with smoke from the pyres... we were warned that if the railroad appeared here, we would have to flee."

"Warned by?"

I couldn't tell if her ears were flattened by fright or diffidence. "People who had seen what they'd done. Carregan Rescat in particular." She inverted the name, in shishi style, which at least let me know she understood that Rescat was a person, and not a mythical being. "I think that she is a field commander for the railroad. But in the stories, she has a strange power over men. She... can make anyone do her bidding. She controls them utterly, somehow. A trick of the dark arts, I think..."

It was more of what Nagurtha had said, and now I thought of Carregan's mute bodyguards, and the strange, dim eyes of her stagecoach driver. If I permitted my mind to wander further, I could dwell on the rumors we'd heard of slave labor on the railroad, and in the mines on the northern islands.

Probably it was all nonsense. Carregan was a threat to my power, and I did not like her attitude, but she was not a witch. This was all merely an ugly confluence of unrelated things. But what would it hurt to make certain?

"Can you ride?"

"Kajja?" The abrupt question caught her off guard.

"A horse -- can you ride a horse? You're coming with me to Fort Shandur tomorrow. Can you ride a horse?"

"Yes, kajja. Of course."

'Of course' because, she explained, the mountain folk had horses too -- small ponies, really, to hear her description, with short legs. Interbreeding with proper Aernian plains horses probably explained where the Royal Frontier Corps got their mounts from. I'd always thought the creatures looked peculiar.

Most of this was related in breaks on the first day's ride, which I took at the briskest pace we both could manage. Because of her height, and her short legs, I had to find a smaller mount whose stride slowed us. We traveled longer to make up for it; Kajrazi didn't complain, and when I observed her in the saddle it seemed to me that she must've learned from a young age, indeed.

The first night, we managed to find an inn; by the second, we had ventured beyond the fuzzy pale that bounded Dhamishi civilization. Across the dying campfire, she watched me, and when she caught my head turning to glance again at our horses a smile crossed her face, still visible when I looked back.

"Yes?"

"You like them, kajja, don't you? More than the railroad, or a... a smokeship?"

"Steamship," I corrected. "Yes, I do."

"I thought that your metalwork was a sign of your civilization, kajja? Why do you like horses so, when they're so primitive -- I would think you would see them as... slower. Weaker."

"Closer to the earth. Pragmatism, mountain girl. A horse will run on the standing crop of any farm. Locomotives are... not so reliable. They have their place, but it's not for me or mine." I knew it was not particularly becoming, but I fancied the watermills and oxen of my own lands more than the machinery of the big cities. The soot and smoke made one ill -- and they seemed to exert a strange poison on the mind, too, if the Carregans were any indication. "No, I'll leave the clockwork and the steam engines to the westerners. I can trust a horse."

"And your sword, kajja?"

My saber had not left my side in two days' travel. "And that. It's served me well."

Kajrazi smiled again. "It must be nice, to be so wealthy and powerful. I have thought this for some years..."

I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I did not see a sword before I was brought to Jaikot. In the mountains, we cannot afford such obsolescence. A pretty sword will not get you a sheep, or keep your neighbor from taking your horses. But a rifle..."

"You know your way around a rifle, mountaineer?"

My servant nodded. It was the sort of wry nod you give someone when you find their surprise amusing: "Almost before I learned to walk, I learned to shoot. I know that you have one, kajja, but you keep it lashed to your pack. You know you will not need to use it, I think..."

"Not so far, no."

Her response, given after a minute or two of silence, was oblique. "Nobles always demand luxury. Some want gold, or marble palaces... that is what the Dhamishi nobles crave. Others want fine food and wine. They want me to fawn over them, and remind them of their station... You are different, kajja. Your food is very simple. Your clothes are very simple. Perhaps you do not even want me as a servant. Or any servants at all..."

"Maybe not."

"But you're still a noble. For you, you demand the luxury of your blade, and your horse. My people used to be swordsmen and archers. But when the caravans began to be protected by men with guns, it was time for us to learn guns instead. We used to pray for healing and good crops, but... when your sicknesses began to take us, it was time for us to learn your medicine, as well. We still tell stories about the glorious past, but that's all they are. For you, kajja, your power lets you demand that your nostalgia be respected."

In the courts of Tabisthalia, with their fine tapestries and intricate clockwork toys, mine was an anachronistic clan -- wedded to the iron blade, and to stone, and to chivalry. It was true that I saw gunpowder as unbecoming of us; then again, she was right: I never had to hunt for my supper. "And what do your nobles want?"

"Good health, a strong army on sturdy mounts, and a willing mate. Or... at least an available one."

Hardly things that could be faulted. I admitted to a certain respect for the mountain dwellers. They needed to be brave, to make a living in the cliffs as they did. And they needed to be hardy and fierce, to have maintained their independence against the incursions of the Dhamishaya Bhiranate and the Aernian Empire.

This was not to say that they were without fault. They were definitely primitive. Their superstitions were laughable, for one. And they had been willing to sell Kajrazi into servitude, which was a little unseemly. But then, Urja had been willing to buy her, after all -- and there was no way she was as old as she had told me, so he had been willing to overlook that, too.

Yes, and they preyed on the caravans and raided the farmland and outlying villages of the province, necessitating the existence of the Royal Frontier Corps. So it was not all savage nobility and daring.

When I arrived in Nishran, Fort Shandur had been a collection of huts and a few trenches. I had replaced the palisade with rammed-earth walls, and ordered a dozen cannon, and supervised the construction of proper barracks buildings. Now, with the great Shandur Bridge rising beyond it, it looked suitably imposing.

The gate swung open when we approached, and Kajrazi and I dismounted. Inside the perimeter, my footfalls were suddenly overwhelmed by the sound of a hundred men snapping to rapt attention. They stood in two lines, flanking either side of the dirt path that led from the gate, and all of them carried a needlegun kept in flawless order.

Every man in the Royal Frontier Corps received meaningful pay, and good meals. Unlike the town guards, each received a uniform as well -- these were presented immaculately, with the buttons and boots shined to catch the hard afternoon sun. We had our pick of men for the Corps, and I would've gladly fought on the Marches with any one of them by my side.

Major Atta-Farash Irzim strode out from between two of the soldiers, turned crisply on his heel, and saluted. The panther's well-muscled bulk filled his uniform smartly; his lashing tail was a bit indecorous, and he had the artificially sharpened teeth of a frontiersman, but otherwise he could've served as a guard in the courts of Tabisthalia. "Kajja Gavanar Kuluniyan, may I present -- the Royal Frontier Corps, Fort Shandur garrison."

I returned the salute to him. "At ease, Major Atta-Farash."

"Aye, kajja. At ease, men!" he echoed, in a martial shout. A wave rolled through each line of dragoons, and in fluid order they came to a parade rest, rifles resting at their side.

"Quite a sight, major," I grinned. "More than I was expecting, to be honest."

"Well, Corporal Nagurtha came in yesterday, panting and telling us to be ready for you. The least we could do is to greet you properly. We've been scrubbing down the barracks floors, too. I think you could eat off them -- though I wouldn't."

"I didn't intend for my visit to be on such short notice."

The panther gave a wide, good-natured grin. "You're always welcome, kajja. And I see you've brought a pet araimura with you?" He looked Kajrazi over appraisingly. "Best collar her, or my men might think she was common property."

"Next time," I told him, and returned the grin -- contemplating, for a second, the image of Kajrazi collared before propriety exerted its influence once more. "Or you could get one of your own. I hear they've been more active than usual this season. Rumors of something going on in the mountains..."

Irzim had keen, pale-green eyes, and they scanned me intently. "You rode all the way to Shandur to listen to me tell you stories?"

"I rode all the way to Shandur," I said, "because it is my privilege to inspect your fort at my leisure. Besides," and I grinned again, to let him know that we were to be on good terms. "I couldn't spend another day in that damned city. But while you're out here, you could tell me what's going on..."

He barked orders in quick Dhamishi, and two soldiers came to take the reins of our horses. Catching Kajrazi's attention, he pointed towards a low stone hut. "Over there, little one. Get your master's quarters ready while we talk." I nodded my assent, and she bowed once before disappearing. "It's not the best accommodation, but this was all done on short notice..."

"I don't mind."

"No, kajja, I didn't think you would." He held the door to his office open, and I stepped into a spartan building done in Aernian style -- wooden walls, wooden floors, a wooden-table propped against the wall. On it was spread one of the maps whose existence I had denied to Rescat Carregan. Clay figurines perched atop it, roughly sculpted and functional. "Sightings," Irzim explained, catching my investigation. "Where our scouts have found signs of the mountain folk. It's true there have been more of them."

"Any fighting?"

"They haven't been in the mood," he said. "Traveling -- lightly, as always, but traveling. Some of them, even, are paying smugglers to move them as freight in caravans."

"Something is worrying them. Corporal Nagurtha mentioned rumors of a strange monster that has them more witless than usual. Down in Jaikot we are a bit insulated, and it comes as news to me -- but have you heard anything about that yourself, Major Atta-Farash?"

The panther looked at the map, and with the passing of a few seconds I gathered that he was doing so to avoid answering my question with anything close to directness. "May I... may I speak freely, kajja Jonham?"

"Please, major."

"Rumors from the south have it that your government is talking about extending a railroad line south to our province. Is that true?"

Such was the habit of the rumor mill. "No. I doubt it." Of the allied outposts in Nishran Province, Fort Shandur lay furthest north, and from there it was a thousand kilometers to the nearest railhead -- through the craggy passes of the Vigarkha Mountains and the inhospitable deserts beyond. Even the Carregans could not conquer this so easily. On the other hand, what did it mean that as practical a man as Atta-Farash Irzim might think that they could? "Not exactly, at least."

"Not exactly?"

"The Carregan Transcontinental Railroad has been given a royal mandate to serve the province, yes. But they're not about to blast through the mountains -- my guess is they'll run a line from Jaikot down to the coast. We've wanted to develop the port at Surowa for decades, after all." The old imperial capital had a marvelous deepwater harbor, just looking for an excuse to be used.

"And you need a railroad for that?"

Truthfully, I wasn't really certain. We'd done just fine relying on barge traffic and caravans for the duration of my tenure in the province. But as Kajrazi had figured out, I was a man given to anachronism, and the eternal onward march of progress was sometimes lost on me. "I don't know. What concern is it of yours?"

Again he glanced to the map. That was his domain, after all: military affairs and maneuver, strategy and supply lines. The major's dark ear twitched, and so did his tail -- lashing in convulsive twitches before at last he elected to take advantage of my granting him the right to speak his mind. "The concern is that the railroad has a rather troubled history, kajja. Not to my people, of course, but to an araimura... I should think that they could see the worrying implications of that, wouldn't you?"

"Implications," I echoed.

"The sky folk know as well as any how your empire sees the world -- for, after all, we saw it the same way before you. Firstly there are the countries with governments and armies. The Dominion, the Otonichi, the Ellagdran princes -- even my own Dhamishaya, once. We share the bond of civilization, and you talk to us in ambassadors and treaties. But then there are the uncivilized -- like the desert folk, or the tribes in those huge forests to your south, or the araimuri. These exist only to be swept aside, like any other wild animal."

Certainly it was true that no love had ever been lost between my clan and the raiders beyond the Pale. Nor between the RFC and the mountaineers, as much as I might sympathize with Kajrazi's summation of their desires. "They're worried that a railroad means we're taking an interest in their territory?"

"Oh," Atta-Farash said, with a fatalistic grin, "I think it's simpler than that. Doesn't the Railroad pay a bounty for wastelanders? Six crowns for a live sujetai; half that for a set of ears?"

"It's down to twenty shillings for the ears," I said. "But yes."

"Perhaps they'd offer a full pound for an araimuri tail. Do you think so? They'd make a nice stole for one of your high-society ladies..."

I suppose the bounty program was, after all, a little gruesome. "So you think they're just being careful?"

"I think they have the right to be wary. We harry them enough as it is."

"As they harry us," I noted. Every caravan that had to journey through the Vigarkhan passes traveled armed, and with good reason. "What about this monster, then?"

"Oh, they have active imaginations." We were on safer ground now -- and besides, I hadn't sprung to the defense of the railroad. The major spoke more comfortably. "I wouldn't trust that any more than I'd trust the babbling of a child. Perhaps it's some old myth of theirs -- at least, I haven't heard anything else about it, and I think I might have if there was really a new beast stalking the territory..."

"And nothing about this from Lord Coltharden at Vindari?" I trusted the Duke of Rudkirk's son, Etani Æmerlas; the Rudkirks were friends of my own house, and Etani and I had hunted together on occasion.

"Nothing, sir. But we do not speak often."

"Too far away," I nodded. "And no telegraph lines to link us yet." The telegraph was one of the few advances that I held nothing but admiration for -- and the men who guarded the outposts seemed to be stalwart types after my own heart, not bloodthirsty imperialists like the railroaders. "Maybe that will come with the iron line, though. It would be nice if we could speak without the need for sending runners..."

"A step back from my own time," Atta-Farash sighed. "If you don't mind my saying so, kajja, your obsessive hatred of the magical arts hobbles you more than you imagine."

"They're unpredictable. And useless. A good blade at your side? That, major, you can trust. Some spell-casting wizard, on the other hand..."

I disliked thaumaturgy, and thaumaturgists, for the same reason I disliked steamships. I had been brought up this way, and I suppose it was some natural bias showing through -- but it was not a bias I was in any hurry to shed. I had seen the desert ruins, after all; I had come across strange tools half-buried in the earth, and the blighted valleys to the south of my homeland.

They said that the World Before ended in cataclysm brought about by the union of technology and magic. That when the thaumaturgists were allowed to enchant machines, it empowered destructive forces so great no mere mortal could contain them. That the charmed world was too chaotic, too messy; that rational men trusted science and gears and steam and the thing they called 'electricity.'

But I did not even trust these, and what had charms done for the Dhamishi bhirans? So I relied on what I could understand, with rare exception -- like the magical coinbox I kept around, and the hilt of my saber. Supposedly, if another man seized it, it would instantly become too hot to hold.

Supposedly. I had never given another man the opportunity.

"I'm not talking of mere trickery, kajja," Atta-Farash protested. "It could be useful for you. I'm a practical man too, you know. You're giving up a strategic advantage." Sensing that I was not persuaded, the panther dragged his sharp claws across the table, worrying them into the wood. "You are one of the most open-minded of your race. Might I at least show you something?"

For whatever reason, I decided this was not too much to ask. "Very well, major."

Atta-Farash Irzim stood, and returned a minute later with a device that looked something like a magnifying glass, mounted on a dark, lacquered-wood base. The glass was flawless, and ringed in polished bronze. The whole thing had a solid, well-made heft to it -- a few kilograms, at least. "What's this?" Around the bronze rim four runes had been carved, in old Dhamishi script.

"We call them ramigora," he said. The lacquerwork was beautiful, and as dark as his paw; it seemed to have an infinite depth, and as I watched he slid the base open to reveal a dizzying, intricate array of tiny brass gears and dials. "There are not so many familiar with its use, now. But my men..."

"Your men?"

Irzim turned a few of the dials, and then pressed his thumb against a button inlaid in mother-of-pearl. The glass clouded immediately, into swirling opalescence. Several seconds passed before they cleared, and I found myself staring at a figure -- an older soldier who was, I believe, of Raiza Serapuri's species, and wearing an RFC uniform. At first I thought it... well, 'mere trickery,' to be honest. Then his mouth moved: "Major Atta-Farash?"

"An update, lieutenant?"

The apparition in the glass nodded. "Quiet here, sir. We saw smoke earlier in the day, but by the time we arrived the fire had been extinguished -- a hunting party, I think, nothing more. No movement beyond that."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. That will be all." Atta-Farash removed his thumb from the button, and the image clouded again, before it melted away to reveal clear glass. "Lieutenant Rana is stationed twenty kilometers from here, at one of our furthest outposts. High on a hilltop. If I needed runners to communicate with his men, it would take us days to stay informed. As it stands..." He reached over to touch one of the clay figures on the map, and whispered softly; when his fingers touched it, the base shifted color in an instant from dark orange to a deep, jade green.

"How does it work?"

"I do not know, exactly. Perturbations in the thaumaturgic underlayer of the world, I am told. It can be tuned with the clockwork -- this took some Otonichi craftsman years of effort, I am certain. But when it finds another ramigor with the same tuning, they become immediately linked."

I had heard of these things before -- novelties whose practical use we Aernians were allowed to ignore following our invention of the telegraph, which we could pretend held great superiority. "A sympathetic aetherscope. Everyone in your command has one?"

"Yes, kajja. I hesitated to tell you or Lord Coltharden. I know you can be... that you can be rather wary of such things. There were others, once -- one in Jaikot, as well, in the house of the town council. If you might grant me a favor, kajja Jonham, I would be exceedingly grateful if at least you did not proscribe their further use..."

It was well beyond his station to make such a request -- but we were speaking to each other not as slave and master, but as two soldiers facing an uncertain world. I appreciated this. "Very well, major. For now, you may continue." They were troubled times, and I had no intention of denying a tactical advantage to the beleaguered men of the Royal Frontier Corps.

"Thank you, kajja."

"You know, I should hope, that I trust you, major. Even if I don't like this gods-damned thing, if you think it's necessary, then..." I let the sentence trail off. "Well, somebody has to keep the frontier in order. And you're good at that."

Atta-Farash laughed. "I have some practice. Speaking of which, how is it that you own an araimura, anyway?"

"She came with the house. My previous servant died unexpectedly last week -- she was his replacement. The compound in Jaikot is owned by a less than savory man..."

"Urja Tinwira, I think?" I shrugged -- this was something Raiza took care of for me, and I really didn't know who my landlord was. "The Urjaya are slavers by trade. But the fat old slob has a keen eye for them, at least -- or you're a soft touch. Is she any good? She must be, I suppose, to be kept around."

"Kept around?"

"One of her kind."

I suppose I hadn't considered that, me and my soft touch. "Oh. Well. Her alat is alright. She is, perhaps, a bit too wayward and a bit too clumsy for her own good. But it's appealing, after a fashion." And it was. Nothing I did at the compound was so serious as to warrant a professional. Mostly, I needed to be relaxed. Krad Galit had done this with drink, and conversation, and cooking; Kajrazi... well... I needed to find some use for her, and she'd taken easily enough to the one I'd already found.

"You know, they can be cured of waywardness." The panther's toothy grin suggested that he had some practice at this.

As a gracious guest, in a good mood, I returned the grin. Our official business being concluded, I had no problem indulging in more debauched reflection -- and he and I were having similar thoughts. "So they can, yes. Perhaps a bit of experimentation is in order?"

"Experimentation?"

My first, and only, encounter with the firefox had been unplanned -- and somewhat perfunctory. Truthfully I was not, exactly, certain what had come over me, except that it had seemed a useful method of relieving stress. With my voice raised across the courtyard, I summoned Kajrazi into the room with Irzim and I, and she entered with a slight bow. "Kajjara?"

"You only have one kajja," I reminded her. "This is Major Atta-Farash Irzim, head of the Native Auxiliary. Major Atta-Farash, this is Kasharman Kajrazi."

"A Kasharman?" Atta-Farash settled back into his chair with an approving chortle. "We captured one of those two weeks ago. "Kasharman Yali, I think. You know him?"

Kajrazi looked as though she was trying to remain impassive, but her ears twitched and lay back by a few degrees. "My cousin, I believe, Major Atta-Farash."

"Were you close?"

She paused, glancing between Atta-Farash and myself. "As close as cousins tend to be, I suppose," she finally offered. "Typical family relations." It was a diplomatic non-answer, which said very little.

"We released him, don't worry. We can't be bothered to keep all of you locked up."

Her ears remained slightly lowered, and the tip of her ringed tail gave a jerk that was so subtle I nearly missed it, and Atta-Farash seemed ignorant of. "I presume his possessions were released as well. To one of your men," she clarified.

"Are you accusing me of something, little one? You're implying I'm a thief? Strong words, for an araimura like you..."

"I was not implying anything."

"No?"

"Of course not."

"No, of course not," I echoed sharply. Her tone had been just a little hard-edged for my comfort. "I was just explaining to the major how well-trained you were. I'd hate to think you were making a fool of me, Kajrazi."

"A-apologies, kajja." Her eyes flicked towards the exit. "I did not mean to be so... forward."

"Well, it's not me you need to apologize to, is it?"

Kajrazi turned towards Atta-Farash, and bowed deeply. It had the effect of presenting her round bottom to my view, and I concluded that my decision to take advantage of it before needed no further explanation than this rather fetching sight. As experiments go, mine was proceeding nicely. "I'm very sorry, major."

"There's a saying amongst my people," I drawled, before the major could reply. "'Actions speak louder than words.' Perhaps you've heard it."

"Not -- as such," she stammered. "But -- ah -- I --"

"The implication is that you should've been on your knees to begin with, Kajrazi. And your continued delay reflects poorly on us both."

"Here?"

I folded my paws together, intertwining the fingers and affecting the driest expression I could manage. Here? was, after all, a perfectly valid question. But we were between friends, and why keep a servant like that around if you can't show her off every once in a while? "I don't think the major is a particularly private man. But he is very busy, and so am I. On your knees."

In the absence of any protest or clarification from Irzim, she obeyed, settling down before his chair. The panther, who seemed to have no qualms about the goings-on, widened the stance of his legs in open invitation. Kajrazi swallowed, then licked her lips obligingly and raised a paw to the front of his pants.

The dress uniform of the RFC was black; Irzim's fur was black, Kajrazi's paws were black, and the effect was to superimpose blackness on blackness, rendering the scene in confusing shadow until a flash of pale crimson flesh revealed that the big cat was not as impassive as all that after all.

She folded one of her paws around his shaft, and it disappeared from view again, but a sharp intake of breath from the man let me know the attention was well-appreciated. I stood, and moved closer, to where I could keep a closer eye on things: Kajrazi's paw, moving smoothly across an ever widening range as the object of its affection swelled and lengthened.

Atta-Farash Irzim closed his eyes and arched his back, hips lifting in a gentle rhythm. A quiet rumbling filled the room, and I realized that the big fellow was_purring_. We all have our weaknesses, I suppose, and as weaknesses go having your cock stroked is relatively forgivable.

Rock hard and at full attention, the panther presented a rather imposing sight -- perhaps even a bit longer than my own, although I was not in the habit of measuring and Kajrazi, being an eager to please type, was not likely to bring it up. I ruffled her between the ears, mussing her hair. "Good girl," I told her.

The ears splayed at the touch, although she raised them up again when my paw was no longer brushing her, and I fancied that they'd even taken a jaunty perk. "Thank you, kajja," she murmured.

"You'd better not stop. Maybe he'll forgive you for insulting him."

Atta-Farash said something -- or tried to -- but the bubbling sound was incoherent, and when I prodded the firefox's ear again she did not see fit to protest. Her soft pink tongue flicked out, lapping the underside of the panther's length, leaving it wet and glistening. I could almost imagine it -- that silky, hot touch, and the comforting warmth of her breath... now I was nearly as hard as he was, and there was naught to be done about it.

Sometimes we higher-bred folk have to make sacrifices for the good of our subjects.

Kajrazi dragged her tongue slowly from the fuzzy edge of his sheath all along the bare, pulsing flesh of his cock and right up to the tapered end. It was good for a purring groan from the ebony feline, who was trying to keep from squirming. Now who was the soft touch?

"Should I --" a slurp, as she circled and lapped at the throbbing, precum-dappled tip. "Keep going?"

"I don't know," I leaned back to regard the scene in full. "That doesn't sound like the kind of request a truly apologetic servantgirl ought to be making."

"Please, kajja," she said gently. "I... want... to make it up to him. Please let me suck his cock, kajja."

"Well, if Major Atta-Farash agrees --"

"By the gods, kajja Gyldrane -- d'you see me arguing?" he gasped, cutting me off.

And he'd managed to make a game attempt at my title. Kajrazi's soft eyes were watching me; I shrugged, and gestured towards the hapless feline. Needing no further encouragement, she took him into her muzzle, suckling firmly.

Then she pulled back, letting him spill free with a wet pop, and lapped along the rest of his shaft -- teasingly, but it had a practical purpose, for when she parted her lips once more it was to take him deeply into her hot little muzzle. I saw his claws spring free when he bunched his fists, and the tension in his fingers every time she bobbed her head over his rigid cock.

Faster and faster she worked, until her eyes had closed and I could tell she was really getting into it; her ringed tail moved in fits and starts, and her cute little ears were laid back with the sort of concentration only a well-trained servant can bring to bear at a moment such as this. For his part Irzim was bucking and rocking in his chair, his hips trying to drive his cock further into her maw -- but her dark paw at his crotch, and the advantage of leverage, kept him from fucking her mouth with too much abandon.

Purring had long ago switched to snarls, and then to deepening grunts as the panther started to tense up. His lips drew back, and sharp teeth flashed; he was gritting them, struggling to maintain his composure. Kajrazi held him down long enough for her to pull away from him; she was out of breath, and her panting fell in puffs on his twitching erection. "Kajja, I think he --"

One of the panther's massive paws forced her back onto his cock, thrusting it deep, and her cautioning ended in a muffled grunt. I tousled her ear again, and leaned in so that I didn't have to growl too loudly: "Remember what I said last time. Swallow every drop, mountain slut, or you'll be licking it off the floor."

Her shishi, kajja was mostly lost as a servile murmur that vibrated down the length of the panther's cock. Then he was stiffening, back arching, and his triumphant roar briefly deafened me. I half-expected one of his men to come running, but nobody did -- perhaps it was not an irregular occurrence. I glanced down: half his cock was stuffed into my servant's muzzle, but I could see the rest of it jerking in sharp spasms, and Kajrazi's throat bobbing as she swallowed quickly, trying to get it all down.

Finally Atta-Farash collapsed into his chair. The firefox went with him, her sucking easing to something relaxed and gentle, like a drowsy pup at the bottle. He pushed her away reluctantly, and she settled back on her heels, glancing between the two of us expectantly.

The major spoke first. "That was... rather... impressive." His eyes had darkened; his voice was slurred and hazy with the waning pleasure. "Knew an araimura had to be... had to be good for something..."

"I did well, then, kajja? I'm forgiven?"

"Major?"

"You're forgiven. Gods -- ah, gods, you've earned your keep for the night. I need to -- ah -- catch my breath. I'll see you off in the morning, both of you..."

It would seem we had nothing further to discuss. In the quarters had had been prepared for us, I patted Kajrazi's ears again, and again told her that she had been a good girl; she demurred, and declined to reply, but nor did she protest when I sent her to bed without requesting an encore.

The ride back was uneventful -- even, with the calmness and the unseasonably pleasant weather, rather enjoyable. I liked my time visiting the forts, and being out in the open air away from Jaikot. And I was given cause to like this substantially more when, as soon as I reached the town gates, I was beset by shouting. The shishi guardsman did not speak Aernian with any particular fluency, but I could discern his agitation plainly enough. It took me a minute to get him to shut up long enough for us to get through, and frantic oaths trailed me all the way to the colonial governor's office.

"Kajja Jonham!" Left to my own conclusions, I might've thought the mongoose sounded almost happy to see me. "It would do well for you to enter briskly."

I was tired, from the traveling, and bit back a growl at the slowly dawning realization that something had transpired in my absence. "Get our horses spoken for," I told our assistant wearily, "and escort Kajrazi back to my compound."

"I know the way, kajja," the firefox said. "And I can begin preparing dinner, if you'd like."

"Fine." I waved her off, and when Raiza and I were alone in the room I shook my head. "Been having fun without me?"

"Oh, yes. Some of us more than others. Your roadrail friends have been multiplying." I lifted an eyebrow, indicating that he should explain further. "Additional engineers, mostly, but some of them seem to have spent all their time at engineering school studying muskets. And Carregan Rescat wishes to speak with you, as soon as you return."

"Ah, bloody hell." I eschewed the comfort of my chair in favor of sitting on the edge of my desk. "Have you found housing for them? What the hell are they doing here?"

"Keeping to themselves," explained Captain Vanao, when I asked him the same question on his arrival twenty minutes later. "I've posted a few guards to keep watch, but they've put up a camp just south of town, and they don't seem to be interested in moving."

"They desire to stay out of trouble," Raiza Serapuri suggested.

I had other ideas. "Plotting. They're consolidating their strength in one place." Nothing Vanao said afterwards -- about supplies being barged upriver, and fences being erected like barricades, did anything to soothe me. "Captain -- does Rescat stay with them, or at the house we prepared for her?"

"Ah -- with them, kajja. I have been trying to follow her movements; most of her time is spent with her surveyors. A few meetings with others, here in town, but they will not tell me what the meetings were about and... officially, I do not have any reason to be suspicious."

The railroad had, by Vanao's estimates, brought up thirty men. Most of them were professionals, in well-cut suits. A dozen seemed to be soldiers. None of these -- only her two bodyguards -- accompanied Rescat when she appeared at the colonial office, rapping sharply at the stately wooden door.

Her eyes narrowed when she surveyed my attire, which was dirtied and worn from the days in the saddle: "Are you back from your vacation, then, Jon?"

"Indeed, Dr. Carregan. I was visiting the frontier -- rumors of trouble there, you know." Resolving to try a new tactic, I smiled my most winning smile for her. "Please, now, do come in -- and tell me, may I have our peon bring you something to drink? Alat, perhaps?"

I had opened the door for her, and the vixen stepped inside with the sort of sure-footedness that led one to think she had viewed knocking as an unnecessary ceremony. "No," she said. "And do you not think that it is the responsibility of the colonial governor to remain available to his subjects?"

My smile faltered as I closed the door, and led her into one of the meeting rooms. "They'll wait outside, of course," I said, as warmly as I could, and indicated her two bodyguards.

"I think not."

Now I allowed the veneer to drop. "It was not a suggestion." She did not force the issue, and this time she was willing to take the seat I offered, smoothing down her jacket and making herself comfortable. I followed her, sitting on the opposite side of the desk. "Now, you needed me for something, doctor?"

"No, Jon. You are a tedious formality. But I needed your office." She set a map of the city upon the table, and unfurled it swiftly, smoothing down the edges. It had been recently made, probably by her engineers, and encompassed most of the roads of Jaikot as well as an approximation of the curves of the Ajirandigarh. She reached out with her finger, tapping an intersection perhaps a kilometer away from us on the riverbank. "Do you recognize this neighborhood?"

I had seen very few maps of Jaikot, and was a little surprised at how intuitively I grasped the layout of the city. "War Hadesh, yes." The fiercely clannish shishis preferred to remain among their own castes, and the wara were the result. The boundaries of a war were somewhat fuzzy, but each had its own character; war Hadesh was home to a mixture of the allied shekh Bintar and shekh Rona. "Relatively old, I think, but prime real estate."

"Inhabited by the Ronas and the Bintars," she suggested; I nodded. "Minor castes, without much power." Again I nodded. "Excellent. We'll be putting in the main rail depot there. I presume you don't have proper explosives here to take down the existing buildings, so I've taken the liberty of having some shipped upriver from Surowa."

At some point, I had lost the thread of the conversation -- possibly when it moved from geography to demolition. "Excuse me?"

Rescat's long, thin fingers flexed, and with slow patience -- as though lecturing to a slow child -- she took a pencil and drew a thin boundary line on the map. "Everything inside these boundaries will need to be removed. The land is flat, the location is excellent, and the natives are weak. It will not be a problem for my engineers to flatten the houses. They don't build them all that well anyway, to be honest."

Well, it was true that shishi houses tended to be a bit lacking. This did not, to my way of thinking, necessarily mean they should be destroyed without cause. "It's true that the Bintari and the Ronaya aren't especially powerful, correct, and their houses are certainly aging. But..." I tilted my head, examining the war. "The temple of Kshiri ru-Hadesh is also there. That's well-built enough -- it's also more than half a millennium old."

"You're an archaeologist now, Jon?"

"I've made a name for myself in not angering the shi -- the Jaikotans -- needlessly. Blasting a six century old place of worship will do that."

Rescat Carregan rolled her eyes. She was, conventionally, quite attractive; thin, well-groomed, and with an imperial bearing, it was the eyes that gave her away. They never stopped burning, and the fire in them was cold and haunted. "We must disagree on our use of the word 'needless,' Jon." There was no point in correcting her: it was not an attempt to slight me personally; rather, it was clear enough that she accorded no titles any significance. "I am here on orders from the head office to deliver a railroad to Jaikot. They gave those orders because it was desired by the king. You also serve at his pleasure, correct?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then shall I tell you what is about to transpire?"

I cracked my knuckles, forcing down a glare. "Perhaps, when we've hashed out our disagreement on the meaning of needless, we can discuss the meaning of nobility and respect."

The vixen smiled; it was the sort of smile that immediately made me wish it had not been offered, for it called attention to its owner's dagger-sharp teeth. "Clever, Jon. You're correct: I have no respect for your title. My family earned our position. I earned my position. I couldn't care less for your bloodline."

"It's a little more than that."

She tilted her head. "Was it? Were you conceived from a shaft of light, blessed by god, or did your parents make you by rutting like any other animal?" I bristled, and that smile faded back into her ordinary countenance, which at least was less viciously patronizing. "If it will streamline the process, however, I wish to cause no needless difficulties. So then: Lord Gyldrane, shall I tell you what is about to transpire?"

"Please." My voice was as acid as ever it had been, fighting some particularly egregious shishi nonsense and longing for what I had, previously, considered the more reasonable, sensible discourse of my kinsmen.

"Thank you. Tomorrow, or the day after at the latest, my supplies will arrive via barge from upriver. Included on the barge will be a substantial quantity of explosives. My engineers will chart the safe edges of the destructive zone. You will instruct the town guard to evacuate the residents within that area, and we will remove all residences and commercial properties between Jaithar Street and Anum Street, from the Avenue of the 12th of Sranthur to the riverfront. The process will not take long."

"And the residents of war Hadesh?"

"Will find new homes, if they choose. Reth Kanda, of some house or another, has agreed to purchase and carry away the rubble, so perhaps there will be valuables left there, or perhaps it will just be gravel. I don't care. The danger zone of the blasting extends beyond the periphery of the zone I intend to level, but I don't anticipate any architectural damage."

"How kindly of you."

"Find me a royal mandate for kindness and I'll consider it," she said, simply. "Now, I agree that the temple of -- you know, you were able to pronounce that hideous name quite well. Have you gone native, J -- Lord Gyldrane?" Again that smile; this time I did not hide my growl. "The old temple is architecturally sound. It will function as a servicing yard for our locomotives. I've spoken to my chief engineer and agree with his assessment that it can be expanded without compromising the integrity of the structure."

"I suspect that it will not serve as a place of worship, in this new guise?"

"No, I'm afraid their false gods will have to find a new home. Oh. No, don't worry, I've thought of you, too, Lord Gyldrane. Reth Kanda doesn't get the contents of the temple, so if you would like to appropriate them, they're yours. Sell them, put the artwork up in the house of the Royal Governor; I don't care."

"Even if I was inclined to grant my permission for this little scheme, it would take more than a day or two to settle everything," I shook my head, and did not rise to her bait. "I'd need to find new homes for the displaced residents of that quarter, at least."

"I am the senior authority in all matters pertaining to the railroad," Rescat reminded me. "Of which this is one. Trust me, Lord Gyldrane, there are times in which I will speak in conditionals like "if" or "depending." This is not one of them. Evacuate that area, and have your town guard prevent any interference. That's all I require."

"I'm not sure appropriating one of the oldest temples in Nishran really falls under your mandate," I told her, as levelly as I could manage. "I should raise this to the viceroy in Surowa. It's only a week or so to get a letter down and back, by raven or rider."

"How you waste your days isn't any of my concern," Rescat shrugged, and began rolling the map back up. "If you'd like to write a letter, do so -- as long as your guard is on hand when I need them. But wouldn't you rather spend your time extracting bribes from the locals and forcing yourself on that little ringtailed pet you have? I would, if I were you."

She stood; I remained seated, and heard first the office door, and then the door to the building, open and shut. When I didn't make an appearance, Raiza Serapuri poked his head through the threshold. "Kajja?"

"Hello, Mr. Raiza," I said softly. Dealing with Rescat Carregan had left me drained.

"I hope that she proved to be better conversation than her khaki-colored friends." He carefully took the seat Rescat had vacated. "They're not much for talking."

"As it happens," I frowned, "Dr. Carregan is not either. Did she tell you she wanted the guard made available for her?"

The mongoose nodded. "Yes, though nobody has known what for -- it has been the source of no small concern, over the last several days. You're a powerful people, you Aernians; your rumors travel as fast as your rifle bullets. Did she tell you what she wanted?"

"She wants to level war Hadesh."

Raiza blinked, and leaned heavily back in the chair. "At least she has small aspirations, I suppose."

"How many people live there? Fifty families?"

"At least, kajja."

"Gods," I sighed. "Very well. We'll set up a temporary encampment east of the river, in the park. Order Captain Vanao to mobilize his men to help the residents move whatever they can. Find a few trustworthy people to help catalogue what can't be moved and we'll offer compensation."

"Then you intend to permit her to go through with this?"

"It's not a question of what I want to permit," I said. "Not at the moment. Not without any word from the Gelandermote. Is the captain still outside?" When Raiza indicated that he was, I summoned the tiger into the meeting room. "Captain, you said the railroad had a dozen men under arms?"

"Perhaps a few more, but yes. Well-armed, at that. Better than mine, that's for sure --" He caught himself abruptly, freezing up. "Ah, no disrespect is intended, kajja Jonham; I appreciate what you've done for us."

It was not a good time to stand on ceremony. I briefly explained the situation, and the big tiger nodded slowly. He seemed to understand, and not to envy my predicament. "My concern, Mr. Raiza; Captain Vanao... my concern is that if we do not provide her engineers with protection, she'll use her own bodyguard for that."

"Agreed," Vanao said. "Don't worry, kajja Jonham; I can keep the peace. Her guns may be better, but we have more of them."

Cold comfort, that. But I had one more favor to ask. That evening, I asked Vanao Barut to accompany me to one of the old offices, long disused -- and full of ancient, musty papers. And idols. And boxes upon boxes, I knew. I glanced around, trying to let my eyes perceive as much as possible. Was there movement on the street corner? Were Carregan's goons about?

"We were not followed, kajja."

"Good. And you told none of your men? You'll keep it a secret."

"Shishi, kajja," he said. "Though truthfully I do not know what is so secretive about this mission."

I found what I was looking for after two hours of searching, crate by spider-overrun crate. It had been wrapped in wax paper, but the shape was unmistakeable. "Do you know what this is?"

"No, kajja. I'm afraid I don't."

The sympathetic aetherscope looked to be more or less identical to the one at Fort Shandur, which was not to say that I knew how it operated. I found the control panel easily enough, but the dials and gears that nestled within were completely opaque to my understanding. "That," I muttered, "makes two of us."

The brass dials had little symbols on them. I tilted my head, first one way and then the other, eyes narrowing. The symbols did not seem to have any meaning, to me; I held them up so that Vanao could see, and he chewed thoughtfully on his lip. "Old Dhamishi runes. I can't read them, but..."

But there were four wheels, I realized, and four runes carved into the bronze rim of the aetherscope's glass. As there had been four runes carved into the bronze of Atta-Farash's device. With some difficulty, I recalled them, and turned the dials. They had not been used in decades, but moved with the smoothness of artisanal workmanship.

When I pressed my thumb to the button Atta-Farash had used, the glass clouded obligingly. And remained cloudy. Long seconds passed; I was just about to let the button go when it cleared, and I found myself staring at the panther's shocked face. "Kajja Jonham?"

"Good evening, Major Atta-Farash. Is everything well?"

"Er -- yes, kajja. You'll please forgive my surprise..."

"Indeed I will," I said; for the first time since returning to Jaikot, I grinned. "I wanted to see if this worked. It would not serve if it was widely known that I possessed such a device -- so you will not tell anyone, I hope."

"Of course. Ah, rather -- shishi, kajja." The panther was still a bit taken aback, I could tell. "I shall wait for you to contact us again, in that case."

Rather pleased with myself, I removed my thumb from the button, and Atta-Farash disappeared. "There may come a time," I explained to Vanao Barut, "that it is helpful to have such an... unorthodox tool at our disposal."

"You're worried about the Carregans, kajja Gyldran."

"Yes," I said, and carefully wrapped up the aetherscope to obscure the wax-paper's contents.

"Please, do not think me impudent for questioning your wisdom, kajja," Vanao said; I turned to him with a cocked head. "But, sincerely, I hope you're wrong."

"To hell with my wisdom," I muttered, and cradled the package carefully as we stepped out into the warm, sticky night. "So do I."