FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Lord Gyldrane's world becomes increasingly complicated, and he finds himself forced to compromise on long-standing principles when trouble comes to the town of Jaikot.

Thus continues _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. The antagonist introduced in the last chapter makes herself increasingly well known, and Jonham looks for ways to relieve his stress. Thanks to [_Spudz](http://spudz.sofurry.com/) for his always-appreciated help, even if I don't always take his advice >.> Credit him for the good parts though!

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 3, "Said the joker to the thief"

---

Previously, on the Road to Mandalay_:_

Jonham, Lord Gyldrane, Royal Governor of Nishran Province, welcomed a newcomer: Rescat Carregan, an executive of the Carregan Transcontinental Railroad, has been ordered to establish a railhead in the city of Jaikot. Just after she arrives, a troubling message sends Jonham on a visit to Fort Shandur, where news of the railroad's arrival have the native tribes restless -- worried that soldiers working for the CTR will cleanse the province of any potential "threats."

Rescat has a reputation that precedes her. Back home in the Iron Kingdom, she was known for her ruthlessness in responding to attacks on the railroad, and for making certain she always gets her way. When she seizes a Jaikotan neighborhood for her railroad's use, Lord Gyldrane realizes he may be in for a struggle. He and his allies, Native Liaison Raiza Serapuri and captain of the town guard Vanao Barut, now have to come to terms with this powerful new figure in their midst.

And now...

I woke to the sound of explosions. At first I entertained the notion that this had simply been a particularly unpleasant dream. These were themselves not an uncommon occurrence, so I didn't feel guilty about indulging some hope -- but it was not to be. As I stared up at the glazed tiles of my ceiling, another rumbling boom announced that, dreams aside, my day was shaping up to be unpleasant as well.

Kajrazi appeared in the doorway to my bedroom, waiting patiently for instructions while I went about pulling on my pants. "Kajja?"

"The hell is happening?"

"I... I am not certain,kajja."

"Well, did anybody tell you anything?" She shook her head. "It's demolitions or cannonfire." Then I cursed, with such vitriol that the firefox's ears disappeared completely in her hair. It was not her fault -- I had buttoned up my jacket incorrectly, and had to start again. "Are you demolishing any buildings?"

"No,kajja."

"Firing any cannons?"

"No,kajja."

"Are we being invaded?"

"I... I don't believe so,kajja. Is everything alright?"

"Does it sound like it?" I fixed the final button on the jacket, trying for the thousandth time to ignore how inappropriate the uniform was for a thick-furred collie like myself in the tropical heat of Jaikot. Then, looking more or less presentable otherwise, I jammed my feet into my boots. "If you can't provide any useful information, at least don't ask stupid questions."

She flattened her ears again. "Shishi, kajja."

In the weeks since Rescat Carregan's leveling of_war_ Hadesh, I had become more or less used to demolition-work, but the vixen had generally seen fit to inform me beforehand, and in this case I had heard nothing. Nor had I heard anything from the Great Council, which left me very restricted in terms of what I could do to reply.

The Gelandermote --Landsmoot, for the unwashed masses who do not speak Old Aernian -- sat in Tabisthalia, when it sat at all. It was a meeting of the various landed nobility, and theoretically it served to check the power of the monarchy. Arlen Couthraghn had said that my father intended to raise the issue of the railroad to them -- but nothing had resulted.

Not that this was particularly surprising. The Gelandermote had been steadily yielding its authority for generations, well before me or my father or my father's father or any ancestor close enough for me to know their name. Really, the Gelandermote had been adrift ever since the Lodestone Sovereign first tired of having to call on his lords for soldiers and raised the King's Own Army. The greatest authority one can have over a king is to own the kingdom's weapons.

After all, the best way to dispense with a crown is to dispense with the head on which it sits.

And kings, being silly folk, are easily persuaded. The Gelandermote had done it with pikes. Now corporations were doing it with money, and promises of power, and favors used to pad the Iron Throne at the expense of the old guardians of authority -- those of us who had learned, over generations, how to wield it.

The Carregan Transcontinental Railroad was but one of many of the usurpers. Telegraph companies, shipwrights, ironworks. None of them were worth a damned thing in my regard, and I avoided working with them wherever I could. This was one way -- one of very, very few -- that Jaikot displayed some modicum of sensibility. Before Rescat Carregan's arrival, no_shishi_ would've given the idea of a 'railroad' more than a passing thought.

"What are we blowing up this time?"

I had asked the question the moment I stepped through the door of the colonial governor's office, trusting that Raiza Serapuri would be there, and trusting that he would be ready with an answer. Of course, both were true: "The market in_war_ Kautami, kajja."

"Kautami is your people's territory, isn't it?"

The mongoose's smile was a little less self-consciously obsequious than normal. "Yes, as it happens. I do not live there myself -- friends in high places, as you may have noticed. But my_shekh_ calls it home, as they have for many generations."

"Any idea why they're going after it?"

"It's conveniently located, I suppose. And your vixen friend desires that it should be destroyed. Is anything else required?"

No, apparently not. "What's going to happen, then?"

Raiza threaded his fingers together. "I expect we shall find a new market. Unless,kajja, you bring word that your leaders have finally decided to limit the authority of their railroad-makers. Have you received such assurances from them?"

"I was actually going to ask if there was a letter waiting for me. 'No,' I take it? Very well." My office chair, which was quite ornate, had once seemed rather regal. Now, its wooden arms trapped me, binding me in a prison made of protocol and decorum and the knowledge that, were I to move against Rescat Carregan, I would be moving alone. Well, perhaps with the help of an expendable_shishi_ or two -- but for all intents and purposes, I had no real support in Jaikot.

"It's worse than that,kajja. Even before this, Vanao Barut requested to speak with you at your earliest convenience. I'm sure he'll have something to say about Kautami as well."

Captain Vanao, when summoned, reported that the railroaders had increased in number to seventy men, and that thirty of them were armed. I stared into my morning tea and willed myself to be somewhere far, far away. No such luck. "What's the general mood of the town, captain?"

"As you might expect,kajja, the Raizari are unhappy. I've left a detachment of the guard with orders to disperse any mobs -- but I must warn you, this really was just one more provocation among many."

"What do you mean?"

"They..." Vanao eyed Raiza, as if not wanting to offer insult with his explanation. "They've been restless for some time. Your predecessor,kajja Segurn, was able to pacify them by appointing one of their own as Native Liaison, but that only goes so far..."

Raiza Serapuri snorted at this oversimplification. "Of course, there is a difference between_one_ of the shekh having a title and all of the shekh losing its marketplace. That is a... a rather more serious slight, kajja. And you may realize one of the other, more unfortunate implications..."

Raiza had mentioned in the past that Shægyrn, Lord Tharrahope, had allied with the Raizari to make the caste dependent on Aernian favor. That might even have been true -- although, in point of fact, I found Lord Tharrahope too dimwitted and dull for such a move. Guile was a_shishi_ pastime, and I was not in the mood to decipher any of their schemes and politicking. "Which is?"

"We are supposed to be allies, your_shekh_ and my own. But now Carregan Rescat has uprooted us, and you were either unwilling or unable to help. So what does that say about the value of your word?"

My eyes narrowed on the mongoose, and I curled my lip in the barest hint of a snarl. "I don't think I like that line of reasoning, Mr. Raiza."

"I didn't say that I had adopted it,kajja. Some in my shekh, however, most assuredly will. Now... my words will carry some weight -- though less than you imagine. I can perhaps keep the loudest voices quiet, with some suitable recompense..." Vanao Barut and I turned to him at the same time. At our glares the mongoose, used to such things, merely shrugged. "For our lost property."

At first I wanted to curse at him -- but then a sudden realization stilled the oath and flattened my ears. "Of course..." I was, it occurred to me, being led into a trap.

Even without any profanity, my muttering must've come off as misplaced irritation to Vanao Barut. "It may seem a little forward to ask for it in such a way, but... aren't the Raizari owed that from the Colonial Office?"

"Yes," I growled. "And if they felt like fighting the bureaucracy for the next nine years, maybe they'd even get a shilling or two for their troubles. The Carregans owe it, not me -- it's their railroad. But I need the Raizari on my side_now_, not in nine years. If I pay them from the town coffers, our budget suffers, and the Viceroy's office will raise hell back in Tabisthalia. They'll say I'm a soft touch; that I should've kept the natives on a tighter leash. But if I do nothing, and the Raizari revolt, then they'll say I should've seen what was coming, and it'll be my head."

"Then..."

"Then, Mr. Raiza, then if I pay you out of my own pocket, then nobody's any wiser and then the Carregans get to fund their development through my benevolence. Until they bankrupt me." It was sort of a clever gambit; I didn't know who to credit for it. Rescat had many failings, in my opinion, but scheming had not suggested itself as one of them. Whether it had been her idea or someone else's, though, I was still on the hook for the consequences. "But we'll deal with that later, I suppose. You'll let me know how much you need, won't you?"

"Yes,kajja. Perhaps twenty-five aram per affected individual. Some will require more; some less. I can handle the... practicalities."

Had it just been Raiza in the room, I might've permitted myself the luxury of sighing, and slumping into my chair pitiably. Ordering a mug of_alat_, perhaps, though it was not even yet mid-morning. Captain Vanao, though, deserved a better show of my bearing. I turned the page in my notebook and tapped my pen against it to start the flow of ink. "Very well. What's the next crisis, then?"

"With the railroad,kajja? Or in other matters?"

I shut my eyes, and scratched an irritated doodle on the paper. "There's more with the railroad?" When I looked at him again, and he caught my gaze, Raiza forced a smile and gave a single nod. "Ah, damn their eyes. Mr. Raiza, perhaps you would not mind it if we addressed some other issue first?"

"Certainly not." The mongoose leafed through the stack of papers on his desk, picked one seemingly at random, and took it from the pile. "There, this should do. Jaletka Township requests the king's assent to pass into effect an ordinance approved by the city council some... nine weeks ago. Goodness, I suppose we are a bit behind."

Well, the wheels of the bureaucracy turn slowly. I had had other things to be doing. "What's the ordinance?"

"Ahem. 'Accounting for the decease of the junior partner in the firm, the royal armaments factory Babali, Reth, Gwathir and Apni requests humbly that the stamp on all cartridges issued from its ordnance-works be amended from 'BRGA' to 'BRG,' effective at the first day of the following calendar year, with the diameter of the stamp to be reduced from seven millimeters to five, retaining otherwise its present shape, as described in appendix 'A' of this document.' Would you like to review this appendix,kajja?"

"I think I can manage."

"Very well. 'We also request most humbly that, accounting for the role of the Colonial Office in overseeing all armaments and the quality thereof, the stamp denoting an official mark of royal favor, the Office contribute an amount equal to one half the total cost for replacing the stamp in its new form, conditional upon approval of the revised design of the mark, a total estimated at one_aram_ thirty-five jul, not to exceed one aram fifty jul.' I believe that is the entire ordinance, kajja."

"One and two-thirds_aram_ and the removal of a single letter?"

The mongoose made a show of scanning the paper again. "Also shrinking the stamp by a full two millimeters."

Captain Vanao, I saw, wore an amused expression at the exchange. I could only manage a tired shrug: "Royal assent is provisionally granted."

"Noted. The railroad now?"

That had been too easy. I felt more like procrastinating. "Give me another one, first."

"An appeal?Shekh Karsiri petitions for mercy on the behalf of one Karsi Lak, sentenced to sixteen years hard labor for... ah, theft, it says here; he stole a purse."

"That's it?"

"It belonged to one Chaldon Essah, wife of Chaldon Theoric. I believe they own a plantation near Gur." Raiza's knowledge of the province was encyclopedic, and lived for the most part entirely in his head. I didn't know the Chaldons, or at least not these Chaldons -- a Gerault Chaldon had been one of my boyhood friends, but that had been such a long time ago...

In any case the arrival of the Carregans had erased whatever reflexive loyalty I had to my own people. "Is he sorry for what he did?"

"Sixteen years for a purse? I should certainly hope he's sorry -- beg your pardon,kajja," Vanao Barut added, though not quickly enough to seem completely sincere.

Raiza flipped through the papers in the file. "Apparently he is very remorseful, yes. And he, or his_shekh_, has offered restitution: twenty-five aram for the Chaldonaya, and a hundred for the patient consideration of the Colonial Office in reviewing this appeal." A few of these would be disappearing into Raiza's pocket regardless of my decision, I knew. Amra, and all that.

"Have the Karsis done anything to annoy me lately?"

"I don't believe so..."

I leaned back in my chair. "Well, then I suppose -- wait. That_shishi_ tailor who submitted the same request eight times when we didn't get around to it fast enough -- something about a dispute with the neighboring butcher. Wasn't he a Karsi? Karsi Ji... Jidur?"

"Ah, yes. He was of the Karsiri, now that you mention it. Though his name was Jiyar," the mongoose corrected me. "Jidur is a curse word." Which, I guess, explained why I knew it.

"Sodding prick," I grumbled. Even the_shishis_ ought to know when they're being too demanding.

Vanao Barut laughed coarsely. "I see you know what the curse means, too."

"Don't encourage him, Barut," Raiza grumped. "The_gavanar kuluniyan_ already has in his own tongue a... a way with words, shall we say it?"

"Please inform the petitioner that the Royal Governor of Nishran will grant their request for clemency, considering the circumstances and the contrition demonstrated by the defendant."

"Shishi, kajja."

"Amend to this response, however, a note pointing out that only seventy_aram_ of the promised one hundred aram in restitution was received, and that the Colonial Office cannot officially pardon Karsi Lak until the full balance is provided." Raiza looked at me in surprise, and I bared my teeth. "They can ask Karsi Jidur for the remainder. He seems to have enough time on his hands."

"Shishi, kajja," Raiza repeated, and scrawled a few notes in the margin of the petition. "You're learning."

"Maybe." I still had no love of_amra_, that timeless shishi institution of bribery and corruption. Mostly, I was trying to figure out how to pay restitution to the Raizari.

"Close enough,kajja." Response written, he folded his paws, looking at me expectantly. "Now, the railroad..."

"Won't leave me in peace," I finished. "Any more than you will. So fine, out with it -- what does the bitch want now?"

"The harbor in_war_ Akkuram."

I didn't venture into Akkuram often. It was largely warehouses and shops, and I found what the_shishis_ sold in their bazaars to be repulsive. But it was one of the largest ports in the city, with its own serai and guard station, and it sprawled over a hefty chunk of the riverbank. "They want to destroy it?"

"They want it for their own. As a... a 'transshipment depot,' the request says."

Captain Vanao spoke before I could express my irritation: "That explains what I heard last night,kajja -- soldiers from the railroad have occupied one of the inns near the harbor. I was planning on evicting them, with your permission; it's why I wanted to speak with you to begin with."

Against all odds of reason and cosmic justice, every new revelation was making my day worse. I didn't answer for a spell; the drawing sketched by my pen became increasingly obscene. "Akkuram is a trading hub, isn't it, Mr. Raiza? So it belongs to_shekh_ Rethaya?"

"Yes. Well... technically, it belongs to the Merchant's Guild."

Which was led by Reth Kanda. "Which makes it their problem, if not their land. They won't give it up without a fight."

Raiza nodded slowly. "I would be surprised if the Guild hasn't already met to discuss this. They would've heard rumors, at least, especially if your Aernian friends are occupying buildings in the area."

Reth Kanda was a powerful man, and while I respected his strength and the strength of his caste, he was also a little given to aggression. Much like myself, as it happened; we were kindred spirits, of a sort. At the moment, this was less than reassuring: I needed the province pacified, lest I find myself fighting a war on two fronts. "Captain Vanao, how many men do you have in that_war_?"

"At the moment,kajja... six. But I can have three dozen posted there by the end of the day, if you require it."

"You'd have to call up your reserves, I take it?" Vanao nodded. "Then hold off, for now. I don't want to make it look like we're escalating this needlessly. We'll have to see if we can find some other way to pacify them. Mr. Raiza?"

"Kajja?"

"Perhaps there's something we can do to make the Rethaya a bit more... agreeable. Some transgression we can overlook -- some fine they've been levied, some legal decision they desire... and something close to Reth Kanda, if possible. Does he have children?"

"'Does he have children?'" Vanao Barut echoed the question, and laughed. "Are you not familiar with the man?"

"Humor me."

Raiza looked up from riffling through his paperwork. "Reth Kanda has seven wives,kajja. They are... put to good use."

"They say he doesn't have a bed -- he has an anvil," Vanao grinned. "Krana kashmidara, Kanda Jaikoter kao, sar thananwar hara, sabchandaraya tao. 'The best locksmith is Kanda in Jaikot; he unlocks every box, and always... leaves it a little more full.'"_ _

"Charming."

"Isn't it?" Raiza muttered. The mongoose had never, I reflected, been much for ribaldry. Too staid for that sort of thing -- but I thought of myself as a soldier, at heart, and I could understand the value of something appropriately bawdy.

"There's another one, a song I learned from one of the --"

"I believe I have something," Raiza Serapuri interrupted. "Reth Ingir is Kanda's brother. He's being jailed on suspicion of helping to organize the disappearance of Akal Bheez. Mr. Akal has -- or had -- a caravan route from here to Kammam Kuru. Very profitable."

"We're charging him?"

"Yes,kajja."

"He'll beat it anyway, even if it goes to court." Vanao, who was no fool, pointed this out for my benefit, mostly -- I suppose his guardsmen hauled enough miscreants before bribed judges to know how much_shishi_ justice was worth. "The courts know the value of a coin -- or a favor."

"Amra hagha, right?" I asked. "You scratch my back, and I'll... well, I'll forgive your crimes against the peace. We can at least spare him the cost of the bribe, Mr. Raiza. And the indignity of pretending to be bound by our justice system."

"Yes. Such an indignity it is," the mongoose said, in a flat voice. He seemed to have found some moral limit for his willingness to bend the rules for a bit of_amra_.

For once. I found some dark humor in this. "Come. Mr. Raiza. Ours is the lighthearted and fun sort of corruption that never really hurt anyone. Who mattered," I added for his benefit.Shekh Akal did not fall into this group, although as I recalled it they were friends of the Raizari. Perhaps that explained his sudden reticence.

Not that it was something I was particularly happy about, myself. But my mother, Lady Dalchauser, had a saying she was fond of -- employed frequently when I complained about some odious task I had been given.Mount your plowhorse, she'd tell me, and that was the end of any protest I might've been raising.There was nothing so esoteric that a Sutheray like my mother could not reduce it to a metaphor about cavalry.

The full proverb, which she never bothered with, went: "if battle comes at harvest, a lancer will mount an old plowhorse." And, by the gods, I had mounted plenty of plowhorses in my time in Nishran. What was one more?

Or two. For, after having sacrificed Akal Bheez at the altar of pragmatism, I decided it was time to pay a visit to the head of the Merchant's Guild.

Most of the Rethaya lived -- like I did -- in the upscale_war_ Mahab-Srana along the western bank of the Ajirandigarh. Reth Kanda's estate, however, lay on a hill in western Jaikot -- Ka Ulam, one of the highest points of the city. When I turned back at the gate, to see the town hundreds of feet below me through dusty afternoon haze, the distance gave its dizzying sprawl a sort of dysfunctional charm. It was almost as though it were nothing but a child's model, delicately painted and ready to be played with.

"Sahasnam, kajja." A young feline met me at the gate -- spotted like Reth Kanda himself, but the splotches were huge, and fringed at the edges in dark fur. A very curious look. "Tin kashesthan rawad gawar ki --"

"Aernian. I'm the Royal Governor of Nishran. I'm here to see Reth Kanda."

"Euh..." The feline's ears went back, and she looked away. "You have, uh... you planning? Meetingplan? Meetingplanning,kajja?"

"No." And I was not in the mood for this: "I'm the_Royal Governor of Nishran_, and I'm here to see Reth Kanda. Is he in, or not?"

"Euh, yes,kajja, but he --"

"Don't 'yes,kajja, but' me. It's important. About war Akkuram. Akkuram," I repeated, for her benefit.

The gatekeeper sighed, and waved her paw. The heavy bronze gates parted smoothly, without a hint of rust in the hinges, and when I had entered again another wave of her paw closed them. "Come,kajja..."

We walked through neatly manicured gardens, through which other figures strolled -- most of them, I saw, felines of Kanda's race. Younger, and more slight: his wives, or children, or extended family. The mansion before us was certainly large enough to support them all.

The ornately carved wooden door at the entrance presented an initial obstacle; my companion paused, and I had time to admire the woodworking. It depicted a scene from the old Bhiranate -- the crowning of one of the emperors, I think, with the details picked out in fine lacquer and mother of pearl.

Then it disappeared. The door shimmered, and slipped from existence: the pathway beyond was marbled; gay and giddy colors swirled and danced beneath our footfalls. Magic, just like the doors, intricately cast by artisanal thaumaturgists. The whole opalescent display was picked out in warm sunlight by the massive windows that flanked the great hall.Nobles always demand luxury, Kajrazi had said. Gold and marble palaces.

Reth Kanda emerged from an equally splendid door, its frame worked in silver filigree. He was wearing a long, velvet robe that gave him a sort of imperial grace -- and I supposed that he was what passed for_shishi_ nobility: the merchants and bankers who had found a way to salvage something from their miserable country.

"Kajja Jonham. How... surprising. Do you find your way to Ka Ulam often?"

"My first time. You have an impressive estate, Mr. Reth."

The leopard smiled. "The Guild has done well,kajja. Now, how may I help you?"

I looked briefly towards the feline who had met me at the gate, and who had yet to depart. "I wondered if we might discuss the goings-on in Akkuram. I'm sure you're already aware of what's been happening..."

"Akkuram," he repeated. "Yes." Then, directing his attention to his servant, he spoke quickly, in clipped Dhamishi I had no chance to follow. "Come this way,kajja?"

The meeting room overlooked the city below us -- smoke curling from the chimneys of bakeries, and the endless line of caravans queuing at the serai, and boats drifting lazily on the Ajirandigarh. It was a king's view of the world, although the plush chairs were far more comfortable than a throne.

He poured two glasses full of an amber liquid that prickled my nose when I sniffed at it. "Whiskey?"

"An invention of yours, I believe. Alwec Esten's distillery, it says here. Yolleff -- do you know it,kajja?"

"Yes. Yolleffshire is south of Inverbar -- one of the iron towns of the west. Swords and spirits, that's what they do out there -- Esten's whiskey is well-known in Aernia. They're experts at it." And Estish of good vintage was conspicuously expensive. "It must be hard to come by here."

"Indeed. But leading the Merchant's Guild has some benefits. Friends in far-off ports are happy to... remind us, of what it is that they do best. In this case, your alcohol. So: a toast, perhaps,kajja? To the magnificent Iron Kingdom."

He lifted the clear glass up and, after a moment, I did the same. "To the Iron Kingdom." It had been awhile since I'd had proper whiskey; I permitted myself to enjoy the way it warmed my tongue and throat and so, from the looks of things, did Kanda.

Finally, with a lazy feline grin, he settled back in his chair. "Now, about_war_ Akkuram, kajja."

"Dr. Carregan has decided to seize the harbor there for her own purposes."

"So I hear." The leopard remained impassive. "Your people are quite fond of seizing things, so it does not really come as any surprise. We were bound to end up as a target of yours, sooner or later."

"I can appreciate, Mr. Reth, that it is..." I paused, and tried to consider the most diplomatic words I could. "That it is the kind of unfortunate misunderstanding that could strain our cordial relationship."

"Having your land seized by brigands?"

I bit my lip, worrying it against one of my canines. "Yes. Now, I will appeal to the viceroy in Surowa for clarification on why this step was necessary, and attempt to delay its execution. But... it would be helpful if you could ensure that the Guild does not escalate the situation further."

"And why would I do that?"

"As I said, I... I would not want to jeopardize our relationship with the Guild. You were very understanding with the... the difficulties in having your new weighing stations approved. I'm certain that there could also be a...reciprocal understanding."

Reth Kanda lifted the glass of whiskey to his lips, but spoke before drinking. "Go on,kajja..."

"Your brother, Ingir. He's currently being held in the colonial prison, on suspicion of his involvement in the disappearance of a merchant, Akal Bheez."

His smirk was quite telling: it was possible in an instant to know that Kanda had ordered the murder himself. "I wouldn't know anything about that,kajja."

"I know," I lied, and tried to speak as I thought Raiza might. "But all things considered, our police may have better things to do than guard him. It would be mutually beneficial if he were to be released, pending a... thorough re-examination of the facts of the case. That could take quite some time."

"It might even be inconclusive, I suppose, might it not?" he said. The subtlety of half-offered hints dripped obscenely from his fangs. "But then, there are such tedious things as the consequences to consider.Shekh Akal is a minor caste, but they do have friends of friends close to the Colonial Office."

When I looked at my glass, it seemed that I had drunk more of the whiskey than I'd first thought. I shut my eyes, and willed the fuzziness to ebb. "Kanda, if you can keep the Guild from rioting for the next two weeks, I'll make sure your brother is freed and the charges are dropped. Serapuri won't like it, but he'll understand. Is that clear enough?"

"You are better when you speak plainly,kajja. Yes, it's clear. I can agree to that."

"Good." At least he had not protested -- not tried to wring something else out of the Colonial Office, not wheedled another demand into his silence. It was one thing that was looking up for me.

That was the nice thing about Kanda. He could be dealt with on the level, because his desires were simple and easy to understand. Wealth, influence, power -- primal desires, perhaps, but simple ones. And...

The glass was halfway to my muzzle when I stopped. Wealth, influence, and power were one thing -- but the harbor was prime real estate, and the threat of its destruction hanging over him like a hangman's noose ought to have counted for more than a few harsh words. Ought, in fact, to have been worth more than one lowlife brother.

"Is that it, Mr. Reth?"

"Kajja?"

"That's all you needed to keep the Guild in line? Your brother freed?"

"Family is very important to we of the Rethaya,kajja Jonham. Surely you understand."

The_shishis_ have a way of affecting a thin, irritating smile that immediately makes one want to remove it by force. It's an obsequious smirk whose very innocence is self-defeating. He was so certain that he had bested me -- at what, I didn't know -- that he didn't even bother to hide it. "What's the game, Kanda? That harbor is one of the most important trading ports in the city. If you cared about it..."

"If I cared about it," he finished when I trailed off, "I would've come to your office before you had a chance to summon Vanao Barut for a friendly social engagement? Yes,kajja, of course."

"Then what," I asked again, "is the game?Sruvari hisha bashrat -- what are you playing at, you miserable bastard?"

Reth Kanda's smile widened, and he made a show of slowly finishing his glass. "Do you know what your problem is,kajja Jonham? Kajja gavanar kuluniyan?"

"You are rapidly becoming one of them," I growled. "But please, do go on."

"You're too nice. Soft. Keeping Raiza Serapuri appointed as Native Liaison when you could've found someone_proper_ for the role? Or that... creature you've adopted as your servant? The Kradi are hardly a noble shekh, but at least Krad Galit had some bearing to him. An araimura..." He shuddered. "And you let it tread on your carpets... touch your food..."

And more than that, besides. "That decision was made by Urja Tinwira, not me."

"The Urjaya are filthy. You should have learned that by now -- they sell all kinds of garbage. What does it say about the Colonial Governor that you keep that feral thing in your compound rather than turning it out for the hunters? They tire of chasing deer, you know."

This was unusually vitriolic, although Rethayan caravans undoubtedly suffered disproportionately at the hands of Kajrazi's people. "The hiring decisions that affect my personal staff are not for your review, Mr. Reth."

"Well if you come to your senses, we could use a bit of sport. But fine, I'll ignore your poor taste. Consider this meeting, instead."

"What about it?"

"Coming here to offer me my brother? You could've had Vanao Barut take the whole Guild under arrest to keep us from causing trouble. But you want to end this nicely_._ Peacefully. In the three years you have ruled this province, we have done your bidding, shipped your cotton, grown your crops, paid your taxes, and the country has dragged along in its nice, peaceful little way like an old horse that no-one will put out of its misery. Three years! In half of one, Carregan Rescat will have run a railroad from here to Issenrik, while you're still trying to figure out how not to become entangled."

"Dr. Carregan does not have to deal with putting out the fires she starts."

His eyes narrowed. "She would, if she had to. You cannot, so you try to avoid them. And look what it has won you." He paused, for effect he decided he had earned. "Do not speak ill of_kajja_ Carregan, my friend. She may not be as nice as you -- but she is far more effective, and your niceness will do nothing for my well-being. My business with her, on the other hand..."

I had already set my whiskey down, which meant there was no glass to shatter when my paw bunched into a fist. Then, as suddenly as I had clenched them, realization relaxed my fingers. "She's promised you the railroad," I breathed. The smile returned to Kanda's muzzle. "That's why you don't care about Akkuram. She's promised you control of the railroad. Probably not even the Guild, is that right, Kanda? Just_shekh_ Rethaya..."

His smirk widened until the fangs showed. He recharged his glass, and lifted it again. "To the magnificent Iron Kingdom,kajja..."

It was a hot afternoon, hotter than usual, but I felt eerily chilled, and I walked back towards town rather than finding a rickshaw. I had been outmaneuvered -- which was my mistake; I'd assumed Carregan had no interest in Jaikotan politics.

But if she'd promised them native control of the railroad, Reth Kanda and the Merchant's Guild would do whatever she liked. It was an easy trade: they could extend their influence all the way down the Ajirandigarh River to Surowa, and finally break free of the confines of our happy little province.

The bargemen were their own closed society, over whom the Merchant's Guild had no sway. A railroad would cut them out of the loop completely, so what did Kanda care if obtaining it meant sacrificing Akkuram for a spell? And of course, Carregan's soldiers would assist my own in helping to keep the peace.

That was, after all, how I liked things. Peaceful.

Kanda was probably right about that, I mused, standing on the balcony of my estate and looking out on the untrod gardens below. I had no problem with fighting -- there was even something exciting to the prospect. What happened in Jaikot, however, was not fighting but intrigue, and intrigue grated my nerves down to something as raw and painful as a knife wound.

But then, why? Why did I care? There was, in point of fact, no particular reason for me to display any concern for the whole thing whatsoever. Why not help Carregan get her line built? I had enough men in Vanao's guard to keep things under control -- probably -- and perhaps the railroad would be an achievement in and of itself, to the busybodies back in Tabisthalia.

So why let it get to me? Partly because I resented the intrusion on my authority. Partly because I didn't_like_ the railroad and its disciples; Kanda had turned out to be a bit of a snake, which didn't say much for the kind of shishis that would lend it their support. Partly because it was a needless hassle that only complicated my daily affairs.

It was not because I had any concern for Jaikot itself, was it? No. I despised the place, after all, and its inhabitants, and its customs, and its climate, and, and, and...

"Kajja? Have I done something wrong?"

The voice startled me from my distractedness: I had, apparently, sworn out loud. "No."

Kajrazi's ears lifted again, and the firefox displayed some measure of relief. "Is something the matter, then,kajja?"

What kind of a question was that? The day had begun with explosions, after all. "Yes. Many things."

"Is there something I can do to help?"

At first I wanted to tell the firefox to be quiet. But there was work to be done -- at least, my meeting with Reth Kanda had settled far less than I'd originally wanted it to, and raised some uncomfortable questions. I wanted a mug of_alat_, and a peaceful evening. But instead, I steeled myself: "Summon a messenger, and have him request Rescat Carregan's presence here tomorrow. We need to discuss some things."

"Shishi, kajja."

"And leave me alone for the rest of the evening."

She dipped her muzzle and slipped off, leaving me alone. I tried to concentrate on what I would say in the meeting, but my thoughts wandered inexorably -- to my first days in the Colonial Office, and my time in military school, and finally back to my youth in Chauserlin.

When I was a boy, my sister and I had found an injured gvartel in the garden -- one of those round, fat little birds that don't much like flying. This one's wing had been broken, in any case, and we took it back to the house, where our mother had helped us to set it. And for a few weeks, we took very good care of the thing.

Then we made to let it go -- it was more or less healed, after all. But my mother had caught us, and forbidden it in no uncertain terms. I could still hear her explanation: "To be the master of something is to accept responsibility for it." She had told us that, by adopting the bird, we were agreeing to its protection and security -- even after it was no longer amusing to us.

The three of us, my sister, my mother and I, built a cage for the bird and kept her over that summer, until one evening when a wild fox slipped in, and dispatched her with nary a sound. A few feathers were all we'd found.

"Take that as a lesson," my mother had said. Most of my memories of Lady Dalchauser were of her moral lessons and proverbs, and not all of them were clear to me. What was the conclusion to be drawn? That we can't always keep our charges safe, but we must try anyway? That part of the responsibility of a lord is knowing how to balance freedom and safety? That being a master is a commitment? Gods, wasn't I sacrificing enough already?

Sleep did not come easily. I paced in my bedroom for many long hours, and caught only fitful snatches of rest. When dawn slashed its way through my curtains, I rose with a rumbling growl. "Kajrazi," I called, starting to dress myself to face the day.

Reth Kanda's distaste aside, she was good for one thing at least -- promptness. Krad Galit had become slow in his old age. Barely twenty seconds elapsed before the firefox appeared at the threshold, paws clasped around the cup of cold water I normally took in the morning. "Kajja?"

"Did Carregan accept?"

She nodded. "She'll be here this afternoon,kajja. At two, she said."

"Good. Have some water ready, and some dates. Nothing fancy."

"Shishi, kajja."

I waved her off again, and tried to determine a plan of action. The most important thing was to divest Carregan of her armed guard. It was unseemly for her to have brought the Iron Corps with her: their blood-drenched history and their terrifying weapons gave entirely the wrong appearance. Besides, the longer she had them at her command the more I feared she might find some reason to use them.

But there was not much I could offer. She was too powerful, and I had little to bargain with. She could, if she so desired, simply take what she wanted. What was I going to do to stop her? Draw blood? I swore at my own impotence, and then I swore at Rescat's very existence for good measure.

It was supposed to be simple. Keep the natives at heel, keep the cotton flowing, and keep King Chattheral happy. What was this railroad nonsense? And who was this bitch to throw everything into disarray just because she wanted to build one? What the fuck did Jaikot need with such a thing? Jaikot, with its stinking canals and its unbearable heat...

To my displeasure I discovered that my cup was empty, and with a snarl I flung it as hard as I could against the wall -- just barely missing my head with the ricochet. The clang of metal brought Kajrazi back to my door; she leaned in, and I turned on her with my lip still curled. "Don't fucking ask me if everything's alright, Kajrazi."

She blinked. "Very well,kajja."

"It's not. None of it is. And --" I gave her a closer look, and scowled. "What are you_wearing_?"

The_shishi_ fashion was to wear flowing, loose-fitting clothes; Raiza opted for a tunic, but this was only because he was a government employee. In general Kajrazi's dresses were of similar cut, but today she had acquired a short maroon outfit that left precious little of her black legs to the imagination -- her tail appeared to be providing most of the firefox's modesty.

Indeed, it now curled about one of those fuzzy legs, and she looked at me with her ears splayed. "What do you mean,kajja?"

"Where is the rest of it?"

Her ringed tail flicked, and she shrunk back against the door-frame. "I... I heard it was going to be warm again today,kajja. And it is rather hot, in the kitchen where you have me working..."

"And you thought that if you dressed like a harlot some cool breeze might come by to fuck you? Rescat is coming here to visit, and I expect some bare minimum of decorum."

"A-apologies,kajja. I didn't mean to offend you. O-o-or her. I just... it... it is my mistake, kajja." It was, but there was no point in belaboring the issue -- and yelling had done little to alleviate my stress.

When I did not respond, the firefox slipped into my room, tail trailing behind her, and padded on unshod feet past me to where my cup had come to rest. She bent to pick it up, and the edge of her dress lifted far enough to catch a glimpse of her firm, round rump. It hadn't been her intent, I suspect -- but I let myself enjoy it anyway, and then growled to catch her attention. "Might as well act the part, if you're going to dress that way."

The metal cup dangled from her paw, and she tilted her head curiously. "'Act the part,' kajja?"

I waved her closer, and then pointed to the ground. "Go on. Don't pretend you don't know what you're supposed to do."

To her professional credit, the first thing she did was to set the cup down where it would not be disturbed -- then, just as carefully, she dropped to her knees before me. The firefox swallowed once, her ears still slightly pinned, and then unbuttoned my khaki trousers with a swift familiarity.

As if we both felt the urgency of my tension she wasted no time in leaning forward, her muzzle nuzzling the fur of my crotch gently, coaxing me in throbbing pulses to full stiffness. It didn't take more than a few seconds -- it had been a few weeks, after all, and the dutiful way she worked along my sheath left me growling in approval.

Then she leaned back, and her delicate pink tongue flicked out to wet the tip of my cock. Lapping, humming to herself, she encircled me in a wet, warm tongue-bath, until my growl was deepening to a groan at every new shock of pleasure. Then she parted her lips and, without a moment's hesitation, closed them to suckle me hungrily.

She was not all that large, the firefox, and her muzzle was too short to take all that much of my thick shaft -- but she made up for it in eagerness, feigned or otherwise. I let her slurp in short little strokes until I felt my release starting to make its inevitability known. Well, if she was going to try to wear a dress like that, we might as well kill two birds with one stone. "That's enough. Get up."

"Kajja?" With a goodly portion of my length stuffed in her cute little maw, the vowels came out a little muffled.

But her ears should've been working. I grabbed her by the shoulder, and hauled her to her feet. "I said get. Up." Then I spun her around, and pressed her roughly against the wall; a surprised yelp came from her now-empty muzzle, but she didn't struggle, and widened the stance of her legs obligingly when I shoved them apart. I slipped my paw under her dress, seeking out her panties. And finding none. "Nothing? What_were_ you thinking, mountain girl?" I growled into her ear as my fingers stroked the bare flesh of her slit teasingly.

"I -- I wasn't,kajja, I just..."

Well, it wasn't the fashion of all the Dhamishi. Her loss, anyway. I nipped her ear to shut her up again, and used my paw to guide myself to her -- arching my hips smoothly to push deeply into the firefox, groaning as her tight, wet body engulfed my rigid length. The strength of that first thrust pinned her up against the wall, and she let out a quiet, shivering whimper.

"Quiet," I growled warningly. I was still worked up from Kajrazi's tongue, and I didn't need her mewling sending me over the edge so quickly. Holding her in place with my paw at her rump, I took her swiftly, lifting her up and forward with every buck so that she had to stand on the tips of her toes to keep any semblance of balance.

There was no reservation in it. I made no attempt at self-control. Hard, rough movements: pounding into her, working myself in eager, animalistic thrusts until my breath became ragged and coarse, and the little ringtailed bitch was gasping before me, back arched to try and keep from being flattened against the wall.

My knot thickened, popping in lewd, wet slurps past the firefox's clinging lips as I fucked her in primal earnest. My claws grasped with abandon, scoring her fur, and I felt her stiffen -- trying not to cry out. I bit at her scruff warningly, but it only bought her a few seconds. One more pointedly sharp thrust -- sinking my knot past the resistance of her folds to bury myself to the hilt in her tight little cunny -- and she yelped, her ears going back and her eyes screwing shut.

As much as I wanted to, it wouldn't do to knot the wailing thing anyway. I tugged myself free, not without some effort, and when she tried to turn around questioningly I pinned her back to the wall with one paw. The other gripped my shaft, pumping swiftly, feeling the edge drawing close -- closer -- with a tooth-bared snarl I let it take me. My cock jerked in my clenching paw, painting streaks of creamy, pearly cum along Kajrazi's carmine dress.

I had thoroughly covered the dress, and her rear, when my climax finally receded. I dragged the tip of my cock along the silk to stain it with the last of my seed and then stepped back, letting her try to catch her balance on weak knees. She was fighting for breath, too, and she looked at me with her ears laid back.

It wasn't my fault if it had taken her by surprise. "Change out of that dress before anyone shows up," was all I said.

She nodded. "Shishi, kajja."

And that was the stress done for, at least for a bit.

Rescat Carregan arrived in the afternoon, leaving her carriage waiting before the gates of the colonial estate. I held the door open; closed it behind her, and led her to my drawing room, where seats and cups of water waited.

I sat down, and gestured for her to do the same. "The chairs aren't bad -- Aernian, I think; perhaps from Kiathen. It's not as fancy as Reth Kanda's compound, of course..."

Carregan rolled her eyes. "You take me for the sort who's blinded by that kind of pageantry? God, Jon, you're not that daft. Can we get to business?"

Always business with her. Always business. "Yes. It's simple, really, Dr. Carregan. We've gotten off to a bad start. I was not happy with your arrival -- I viewed it, and still view it, as a usurpation of my authority as the governor. You... see me as an obstacle, and a legacy of the aristocracy. Do you not?"

The vixen did not smile, but for the first time her eyes betrayed something other than cold fire. "More or less."

"I don't care about your approval, really. The feeling is mutual, Dr. Carregan. I don't respect you, I don't respect the railroad, and I don't much like you as a person, to be honest." Again the light flickered in her eyes -- the briefest hint of amusement. It was not a gesture calculated to win sympathy from me. "But."

"'But,' Jon?"

"But fighting would be destructive, and there's no point in it. You want your railroad; I don't care about your railroad. I want Jaikot to run smoothly; you don't care about Jaikot. I just need you to be more co-operative. That's all. And I can offer some assistance..."

"Assistance?" Her paws were still resting in her lap, and she had not touched the water. I found her unflappability to be extremely irritating.

"If you had_asked_ before destroying the market in Kautami, we could've found another way through. Even if it would've taken more work, well, we could've used the Raizari for that -- the unemployment rate is high in their caste; even manual labor is a precious opportunity. And some of the town coffers could've paid for it; we've hired others for less."

"Unskilled, untrained Dhamishi labor."

"It was an example."

"Choose a better one next time. What do you actually need from me, Jon?"

I could not look at her directly; meeting her eyes reminded me, in intermittent flashes, how easy it would be to tear out her throat. This would've been unseemly, even for a man of the Marches like myself. "Your plans. If you're building from here to Shandur, I can try to move the caravan traffic to the east bank. It'll be difficult; it might take a few weeks. Longer, to do it properly -- but I can try. If you're going south to Namchar Abbam, it's far easier -- we can chart a path that takes an easy grade and doesn't require as much explosive. If we know in advance, I can call in some favors to make purchasing the land easier."

Still unsmiling, still with folded paws, Rescat Carregan at least did me the favor of a flicked ear to let me know that she had heard. "Fine. My charter is to run a line from here in Jaikot to the south -- through your province and beyond. All the way down the river to Surowa."

I made a note of this, nodding lightly. "Namchar Abbam, Aloro, Turthen-Kaya; Jaichur City. That makes enough sense -- and explains your friendship with the Merchant's Guild." Looking up at her, I arched an eyebrow with the question that occurred to me. "To Surowa, though? Kanda said you were planning to run to Issenrik."

For a momentary flicker, no longer than a hummingbird's wingbeat, the vixen froze. I gave no sign that I had noticed, and she gave no sign that she had paused. "He must've been mistaken," she told me calmly. "Issenrik is a long way from Surowa. And there's nothing there but iron -- scarcely something the_Iron_ Kingdom needs. A deepwater port like Surowa as the terminus of a railroad that could bring all of Dhamishaya's riches to Aernian freighters, however... well, Jon, you may not like earned wealth, but even you can see why people want to earn it."

"Naturally. And you won't venture further to the north?"

"No. The high desert there is a wasteland. Economically valueless."

"A pity," I mused aloud. "I'm rather partial to the north."

"It's like your homeland, the Marches -- I've been there. Also a wasteland; also economically valueless. Constantly threatened by barbarians -- yes," the vixen drawled. "I can see why you like it, Jon. Do you and your servant play 'knights and raiders,' like good Dalchauser children? Tell me, Jon -- is she always the raider? I presume that's why you brought her home from the kennel."

An ever-increasing amount of my concentration went to suppressing my temper. "My servant was not my choice," I repeated by way of justification for the second time in as many days. "But she keeps a proper house, and her command of the Iron Tongue is quite good."

"Oh," Rescat said. "I'm sure that's the tongue you keep her for, indeed." Then she sniffed a few times, for effect.

I didn't really think she could smell anything, and even if she could it wasn't any of her godsdamned business. I set my mug down far too forcefully, and leaned forward with bared teeth. "Why are you baiting me?"

She did not move, or flinch, or give any sign that I had lunged for her. Her voice was calm, and sickly-sweet. "Because, Jon, you're stupid. And weak. And I have to extract my amusement from you somehow or go mad when I try to deal with you. Besides, the longer I keep you distracted the more time my employees have to get_real_ work done, without your interference. Are we done here, by the way?"

I was first aware of a sharpening pain in my paw, and then aware that it was my own claw that was causing it, so tightly was my right fist clenched. So I forced myself to take a deep breath, and relaxed into my chair again. "Constructing the railroad is your domain. Civil affairs are mine. That includes security. I've been very lenient with sparing you the Guard."

"You have."

"I've mostly talked the Raizari down. My assistant and I will draw up a diagram of the town_shekhs_, with a line balancing distance against the need to demolish any buildings. You don't want to do that, anyway, I'm sure. You wanted to at first, to make your point. Fine -- you've made it. It's still more expensive than finding land that doesn't need to be cleared -- correct?"

Rescat was quiet for a second; her voice was a little less syrupy, and more formal. "Correct."

"I'll handle the purchasing of the real estate, and paying recompense to the landowners. They're owed it, and I still wish to respect the rule of law. The CTR would pay, I'm sure, but neither of us want to fight the bureaucracy on it so why waste time and energy that way? It'll take you a little bit longer -- a week or two -- but you'll own the land in the clear."

"And in exchange?"

"I expect_all_ railroad activities -- shipments, construction dates, equipment lists, lodging addresses, anything -- to be reported to the Colonial Office. Think of it as an imposition if you want, but if somebody comes to me looking for blood I have to know what was going on or the situation could escalate needlessly."

Her muzzle shifted in a nod that just barely rose to the standard of the word. "That's fair. What else?"

"You've brought some guards with you. Are they Iron Corps?" The Iron Corps was the railroad's security division, and the means by which they had brought the wastelanders to heel -- and decided a few battles between clashing city-states, if the rumors were true. Some said they numbered more than the King's Own Army.

"Yes."

"You can keep them, but I want their weapons checked into the armory."

This drew a quicker movement, and for a moment her sharp features hardened further. "You want me to disarm my security forces?"

"You don't need needleguns to face down these peasants, Dr. Carregan. It sends the wrong message. The town armory is two buildings down from the Colonial Office. I'll even make sure you have a key. But you're not fighting these people anyway, Dr. Carregan, you're just giving them a railroad, and I'm willing to help you do that -- at no cost to you or your shareholders. Think about explaining_that_ to your board."

The vixen's eyes had a piercing, painful way about them. They bored into me for a few endless seconds before, satisfied, she nodded again. "Agreed. But I want the key first."

"You can have it tomorrow morning. Bring your guards; we'll check everything in, keep notes -- everything by the book, doctor."

"Good. I'm glad we could come to this agreement, Jon. And I do appreciate the value of what you're offering me. Not the land, though that's nice -- what you're_really_ offering."

"Which is?"

"It wouldn't serve to give the appearance of two competing factions here. The townsfolk might feel they needed to take sides."

I snorted, my dispassionate mask slipping in an instant. "You might've considered that before running behind my back to Reth Kanda. He seemed quite enamored."

"His lust for power makes him useful."

"Will you actually give the Rethaya control of the railroad terminus?"

Very, very slowly, Rescat shrugged. Her expression did not change. "We'll have to see how they perform. It's all a matter of economics. Simple, clean; mathematical. We Carregans are a logical clan."

'Ruthless,' some might've said, or 'cold,' or 'murderous.' "Would you answer a question for me? For my curiosity -- nothing more." When she didn't object, I pressed on: "You talk about yourself as logical, but... I've heard rumors that you're thaumaturgists, also."

"And?"

"And..." The bluntness of her reply had caught me off guard.

"Our people's antipathy towards the superphysical arts is bald idiocy of the worst kind, Lord Gyldrane. Foolishness, plain and simple." This was the closest I had seen to Carregan animated -- the fire in her eyes kindled to something fierce and passionate. "I know the old stories, and I know the new ones, too -- that charmcraft makes people complacent; that it gives a sense of false superiority. They say that's why our muskets beat the Dhamishi's magic -- because they'd grown too dependent on it. Ah, it's nonsense."

"Then it's true? Your locomotives run on symbiotic coal?"

I knew of it only in theory -- that you could use magic to enchant coal to magnify the energy contained within it. Once again her bluntness carried a hint of surprise that I would even ask the question. "Of course. That's been one of my mother's great achievements. Complete combustion with no byproducts, running hotter and more efficient than any other engine on the continent? How else do you think the Lodestone Meteor keeps its timetable?God, Jon, you nobles are infuriating. 'Then it's true?'" She echoed my words with a derisive scoff. "What else would it be? If we enchant our fuel we can run five times as far on good coal -- or burn any old scrap like it was Tilladen anthracite."

So that, I gathered, was why she didn't seem concerned at the small quantity of coal the Jaikotans imported. "And your bodyguards..."

"What about them?"

"They're barbarians.Sujetai, aren't they?"

"Yes. And we defeated them when the King's Own Army couldn't. Niya ar-Kiba and Alani ara-Haqla are refugees of the Setel clan. I took them in."

I cocked an eyebrow, and did little to hide my skepticism. "How charitable."

"Don't you keep a barbarian of your very own, Jon? What was I to do? Turn them loose to starve? No, no, no. Niya and Alani swore to protect me with their very lives. To remain loyal to me, and to me alone. To serve me without question, pause, remark, or doubt."

"So you... did what?" There was an emphasis she had put on the words that was very disconcerting.In the stories, I heard Kajrazi saying, she has a strange power over men. She can make anyone do her bidding. She controls them utterly, somehow... "What did you do?"

"Removed their ability to act otherwise. I have..." The black of her paws, for some reason, was far more ominous than the black of Kajrazi's. The vixen reached into her shirt, and tugged out a necklace that had lain hidden in her fur. On it lay two rubies, the size of claws, glittering like blood. "I have lifted from them the burden of free will. It's so small and inconsequential anyway..."

She was turning the gemstones to catch more of the light, and I shuddered. "Gods..."

"Had nothing to do with it. Only me. Both of them swore, Jon, remember? And they say the_sujetai_ take oaths seriously. Just" -- she replaced the necklace, and gave the most terrifying hint of a smile. "Not as seriously as I take them. Now. Are we quite done?"

Yes. Yes, we were.

I saw Rescat Carregan out the door and to her waiting carriage, where her two bodyguards were waiting patiently in the building heat of the afternoon. Glancing into their dead eyes, I shuddered again, and though I had never considered myself a particularly religious man I muttered an oath of protection as I watched them leave.

"Was it a good meeting,kajja?" Kajrazi had come to the threshold of the door.

I shook my head. "I don't want to talk about it."

So I went to the Colonial Office. Raiza Serapuri was busy tallying figures, but he looked up and set his pen down at my arrival. "Sahasnam, kajja. Was it a good meeting?"

It was like Jaikot had some hidden, internal telegraph designed to allow people to make my day more unpleasant more or less at will. I ordered our peon to bring me a mug of_alat_, took my desk, and carefully rearranged my things for a minute or two before finally answering: "It was good enough, Mr. Raiza. She'll be less combative."

"What did you need to offer her?"

"Our cooperation in establishing her railroad's right of way." I sighed, gritting my teeth. "It was going to happen whether we liked it or not; at least this way we have some control. In exchange, she's agreed to disarm her men -- we'll keep their weapons in the armory, starting tomorrow. I'm counting on word from the great council or the viceroy, but until then..."

"The railroad is in any case a victory for your people, isn't it? Why don't you sound happy about it?"

"Why don't you sound happy when the Merchant's Guild prospers, Dhamishi?"

The mongoose smiled. "A fair point. Are you really that clannish,kajja?"

"It is," I tried to explain, "a war of cultures." And I paused, because I lacked a clear answer to his question. I didn't have much patience for_shishi_ culture, and the bickering of their shekhs had been a thorn in my side since I had taken the assignment. On the very first day, a man of high caste had entered, seen Raiza Serapuri -- then spat on the floor, turned on his heel, and left.

Truthfully, though, wasn't it known how my cousin Stathleigh Hærex had killed Dunnish Hatheria in a duel? Hadn't I heard stories of how the people of the March were old friends of the people of the Fire Springs -- how we both considered the people of the Broken Hills to be rivals? How no Hammerman was welcome inside the Dalchauser Pale?

It was different for the stately nobles who stalked the marbled halls of Tabisthalia in silken robes and velvet words. Who courted the friendship of the Lodestone Sovereign at lavish banquets, and traded favors across teak tables where smoke curled from expensive tobacco imported from the ends of the earth. Who understood a man of the March little more than I understood Raiza.

"Maybe we are," I finally said. "At least up there I could settle matters with a proper brawl. It doesn't seem to be the fashion of things in your lands. I'm not good at the way you handle things..."

"No. That's how we keep you trapped,kajja."

I sighed, and when our assistant handed me my mug of_alat_ I downed a third of the thing in one swallow, letting the cold, sweet rum sooth my spirits. When we were alone again, I shook my head. "There must be some kind of way out of here, Mr. Raiza."

The mongoose gave me a quirky smile. "I hear the railroad is quite prompt."

Wasn't it just. "Perhaps. In good time, Mr. Raiza, in good time." But we had dealt with the worst of it, and unless Carregan decided to throw more tinder into the fire nothing seemed likely to present itself in the immediate future. "What is on our agenda for today, anyway?"

"A few laws demand your assent. Nothing controversial, though there is a request for relief in Undruyal Township. Their flocks took ill several months ago, and the town is too poor to buy new ones."

"They'll starve without them?"

"They will..." He twirled his pen in his fingers, and for the first time I noticed how fluid the movement was -- how the pen danced in his grasp, between smooth pawpads unscarred by manual labor. He had been born to it, as surely as my mother had been born to the saddle. "They will suffer undue hardship,kajja, let us phrase it in that fashion. We could obtain some goodwill by a timely intervention on their behalf."

"How much?"

"Four hundred_aram_. The plea is for less than that, but they are hoping that you will be generous -- and that by understating their need, you will be more inclined to grant the request. I foresaw this eventuality two months ago."

"Did you tell me?"

"No,kajja. I hoped it would fix itself. But I have taken the liberty of finding the money."

I lifted my ears. "Finding it?"

He pulled a heavy book from the shelf behind it, and opened the weighty tome with the decisive_thud_ of its leather binding. "Twenty aram a month is paid by us to the city watch of Ganwar, although by law of their town charter they are required to be self-sufficient. Forty aram is due in six weeks to hire surveyors on the road from here to Jaletka; it can wait another year. Thirteen aram nine jul goes to the pension of Akal Narassa who, being gainfully employed since his retirement, should not earn it. Three aram is for --"

"I get the idea." And I understood at last why he spent so much time buried in the ledger-books. Yes -- born to it. "Mr. Raiza, if you knew all these ways to find gold from nowhere, why haven't you been saving us this money all along?"

"Because then,kajja, I would be out of a job. Saving your office two hundred and thirteen aram per quarter, but rather at the cost of my own comfort..."

I chuckled, and saw that the mongoose was smiling as well -- not Reth's smirk, but something more genuinely mirthful. "Fine, make the arrangements. What else?"

"Nothing of consequence. We should in any case be preparing to depart."

"For?"

"The Monsoon Festival,kajja. Have you forgotten?"

I shut my eyes tightly. "Gods -- is that tonight?"

The Monsoon Festival was the sort of thing that only idiots would care about, which naturally made it one of the largest celebrations in Jaikot. My predecessors had tried to stamp the practice out, and encountered such vehement opposition that they quickly abandoned the attempt as futile.

Nishran was flat, and prone to flooding when the monsoons came; the Festival, called as the rains threatened their approach, was a plea for mercy from their gods. They wailed, and danced, and drank copious quantities of_alat_ and other liquor. A pitiful spectacle.

When Raiza and I arrived, however, the park was already full of revelers. Sunset comes swiftly in Jaikot; already the light was considering its surrender, and the torches on the park's perimeter flickered, and blossomed. A comely_shishi_, draped in flowing robes, pressed a glass of something cool and alcoholic into my paw.

"Mr. Raiza," I asked. "Why am I here?"

He had acquired a glass as well, although I noticed that he quickly managed to hand it off to someone else. "You're here,kajja, because you desired an escape from your office. Also because it's good to be seen with your subjects, sometimes."

"I don't have to give a speech, do I?" We both ducked, to avoid the flying ribbons of a swirling dancer. "You know my command of your language is..."

"Obscene,kajja?"

"I was going to say 'imperfect,' Mr. Raiza."

"Ah... yes. Well, you know -- you're not expected to speak,kajja Jonham. Just to be present. Enjoying the local... flavor." I found a leopardess pressed suddenly up against me, looking up with wide eyes and a charming grin.

"Welcome!Kajja Jonham ya kajja Raiza, welcome! It good to seeing such noble man visit us." She had yet to release me, and remained attached in the fashion of a fuzzy, spotted vest. "You eat?"

Before either of us could answer, she unwrapped herself and tugged gently at my arm, guiding Raiza and I to where what remained of a sacrificed lamb was being sliced into thin pieces and thrown onto a grill.

I held no fondness for the overspiced meat the_shishis_ favored, but I took a piece out of courtesy, and chewed thoughtfully as the two of us looked over a sea of activity beneath a darkening sky.

"What do the auspices say about the rain this year?" I asked, turning to my native companion.

The mongoose made a show of tilting his head up, to the cloudless twilight where stars were beginning to make their hesitant appearance. "They say that when the Monsoon Festival is held beneath unmasked stars, a quarter of the crop will be washed away before the fall."

"The calm before the storm, Mr. Raiza?"

He nodded. "The calm before the storm."

At the center of the park, a dais had been erected; on it, several priests milled around a sculpture of hardened sand -- a bust, which Raiza had once explained was carved in a metaphorical likeness of the ills of Jaikot. It sat on a marble base, and the whole thing was ringed with wooden baskets, filled with thousands of slips of paper on which the faithful had written their prayers.

The deafening ringing of a heavy gong signaled the disappearance of the last of the sun's light, and a moment later one of the priests pierced the air in a wailing shout. "Citizens of Jaikot, come together in celebration. The life-giving, life-taking rains are upon us once again," Raiza translated for me. "For the... one thousand, eight hundred and seventh time."

If their memory really stretched back that far, which I doubted. As I listened to Raiza's commentary, the priest recounted the history of the town, from its humble beginnings to the moment where it was blessed by a river god and elevated to greatness. And they owed it all, he said, to the renewal of the rains.

As he chanted, his voice a keening song, his acolytes lit candles low to the ground; they were charmed, and flickered iridescent light on the priest's wizened features. His story ended when the last candle was lit -- and, he said, the people's prayers for the coming season were to be heard by their gods.

His paws lifted, and so did the candle flames; they rose higher, and caught the wood of the baskets -- bright, burning tongues forming in the pitch-impregnated handles, edging downwards to the prayer strips.

In the blink of an eye, all eight or nine baskets went up at once: the paper flared to life in gouts of green fire, sending up plumes of smoke that collected in a low, unnatural cloud a few feet above the carved bust. As the baskets burned down, the cloud thickened, and roiled -- sparks began to flicker deep inside of it, purple bursts of light that crackled and set my fur standing on edge.

The snap of tortured air rang out like gunshots -- then a bolt ran clear from the seething cloud to the bust below, calling it out in garish light a second before water began to fall in great sheets.

"You know, Mr. Raiza," I muttered to him. "That bust looks very familiar. Not many of your kind have ears that fold like that."

He smiled. "The resemblance was fondly intended, I'm sure."

On the dais, the torrent was taking its toll; the sand was melting into something grotesque and unrecognizable. Lightning flickered again, and again, illuminating the dwindling sculpture in stages. But the rain was not slowing. I heard murmurs in the crowd.

"It's all a careful balance," Raiza explained; his eyes were locked on the display. "Between the will of the gods, and the strength of the people's prayers, and the skill of the priest's magic. It must melt the sculpture, but only the sculpture. If it goes beyond, and the sand spills past its carved base onto the platform itself, it's... very bad luck. The rain needs to be stopping now..."

It did not. The lightning came faster and stronger, until the priests had to step back; they were exchanging glances that looked, to my eyes, far too worried -- as though they had lost control of the situation. The bust was nearly gone, blasted away by the water -- then a renewed downpour finished the job, and a few seconds later it overflowed its stone base, spilling mud onto the immaculate dais.

Raiza sighed, shaking his head; he still could not look away. The river of sand that flowed from the bust threaded around the candles, and as it approached the edge of the dais many of the onlookers retreated, leaving only Raiza and I standing there.

The electricity in the air lent an eerie tension to the scene; I lifted my paw to see my fur twitching unnaturally. Then, between my fingers, I saw a great flash, and a startling roll of thunder preceded a rush of wind that accompanied a chorus of screams from the crowd.

When I could make sense of things again the cloud was gone, the storm had vanished, and the candles had been extinguished. Light from torches that were still lit flickered on the edges of the shocked faces of the priests. There was no hint of celebration, now, amongst those who remained.

"Has that ever happened before?"

"Yes,kajja. Before my time, but yes, I've heard of it happening."

"I take it it's not a good omen?"

"It means the gods are angry. That a storm is coming, and it means to exact its toll. We must be ready."

"The granaries?"

"I'll see to them,kajja. The town coffers are... better than they could be. We've survived tempests before -- tempests, and droughts, and locusts... and even foreign occupiers. Jaikot will endure."

I nodded, more darkly than I had meant at first -- the magic, though I hated to admit it, had unsettled me a bit. I smoothed the fur of my arms back down, and allowed that we should retire for the evening. We had not reached the edge of the park when I heard an energetic cry: "kajja! Kajja Jonham!"

Shishis were given to panicking, so I didn't always put much stock in it when they rushed at me shouting. For Vanao Barut, I made an exception. "Captain Vanao?"

The tiger was out of breath -- he looked to have been running. "Kajja -- I -- news from -- problem, kajja."

"The omens are not good from the priests tonight, Barut. Don't tell me the tempest has come early."

I shot Raiza a look, and then turned back to the tiger. "Slow down, captain. What's happened?"

He took a few deep breaths, and shook his head sharply. "During the festival. Some of your -- some of Carregan's men moved back into Kautami."

I growled, swearing a colorful oath beneath my breath. "Why?"

"I presume she meant to take control while no one was there to oppose her. Unfortunately, some people were. A... a group of_war_ residents were forming into a sort of watch. They were in the process of meeting about it."

"They're not authorized to do that," I pointed out. "That's what the guard is for."

"Some are... skeptical," Raiza said. "The guard answers to you,kajja. The Colonial Office has stood by while our war was attacked; Reth Kanda seems to be allying with your vixen friend, and rumors are that the murderer of Akal Bheez has gone free. Not everyone trusts the guard."

I rubbed at my neck, stifling another growl. "Go on, Captain Vanao."

"The... the citizen's committee left to challenge the railroad men. A fight broke out. Shots were fired."

My heart missed a beat. "Gods..."

"At least five Raizari are dead, and probably six. I've called out everyone under my command, and we have the_war_ secure, but... kajja gavanar, this demands a response."

Without saying a word, I turned and strode quickly back towards the headquarters of the Colonial Office. Vanao and Raiza followed closely behind me, conversing in animated Dhamishi. I needed to clear my head, and I didn't have the time to explain my thoughts as they coalesced.

Rescat must've given the order; her men would not act without her guidance. But she'd done so just after promising me that she would disarm them -- indeed, the night before they were to be disarmed. Even if they had no intention of meeting armed resistance, it was still a dangerous move. Why do it at all?

Because either she had no intention of giving up her weapons, or she judged that I would take the disarmament as enough of a victory, and ignore the provocation of her seizing_war_ Kautami outright, just as I'd ignored the destruction of its marketplace the day before.

The Colonial Office was empty and unlit; I turned the gas up, and rummaged in my desk until I found one of Raiza's old city maps I'd borrowed some weeks before. Another one of the documents whose existence I had denied to Carregan, hoping in vain to stall her. The map was out of date, but most of the roads were still accurate. "Where are they?"

Vanao scanned the yellowed paper, and finally tapped with sharp claws at an intersection in the western quarter. "They're regrouped here. It's near their main camp, which is... three streets away, here. This area is a park now."

"And your men?"

"Barricades on these avenues, and here as well." He marked the points quickly. "Staffed with good men. I've told them to check everyone in and out."

"Mr. Raiza." He looked up. "When we're done here, get to that_war_ and calm them down as best you can. If there's going to be more shooting, I at least want it done on my terms." I was hoping it would not come to that, but riots in other Dhamishi cities had spread out of control rapidly, before their Aernian governors could get a handle on it. I did not want to make the same mistake.

"I can make no promises,kajja. Please understand that."

"I do. Captain Vanao will help you with as many men as you need. Well -- nearly as many. Captain Vanao, two months I asked you to raise a special company, loyal to yourself. Have you done so?"

"Yes. They're still in training, but... yes,kajja, the company is raised."

"Call them up. At first light, we're taking Rescat Carregan into custody. She won't like it; I'll need support."

"Is this wise,kajja Jonham?"

I set my jaw, my curled lip baring fangs. "No. But it's necessary. And all we have our plowhorses -- ah, forget it," I waved my paw to dismiss his curious expression. "Make sure they're as ready as you can make them. And let me alone, you two; I've got work to do. I'll be at my compound."

I stopped on the way to wake up a messenger, who accompanied me without question to my residence. Kajrazi was already asleep, and I did not see fit to wake her. In my den, by candlelight, I wrote a short letter to the Gelandermote. It warned, in as clear terms as I could manage, of impending crisis.

The simple truth was that, as far as I was concerned, there was not room in Jaikot for both Rescat or myself. It would have to be one or the other, and if the Great Council truly did not want the Carregans to control Nishran it was time for them to act. I did not know that they would -- with Rescat arrested, her employees would probably not act, but I needed the Gelandermote to come to my aid before someone more aligned to the king and Carregan came to hers.

Message written and messenger dispatched, I sat alone in the den, watching the candle burn down. I reached out to snuff the flame, and then stopped just as the heat touched my fingerpads.

This time, it was easier to remember how to use the sympathetic aetherscope. And though it was well past midnight, Major Atta-Farash was quick to answer. His face, too, was lit by the flickering, dancing unsteadiness of a candle. "Kajja -- it's been a few weeks. What news do you bring?"

Staring into the portal, meeting his eyes hundreds of kilometers away from this world of sudden chaos, I smiled grimly. "There's a storm coming, major. And it means to exact its toll."