Alien Chronicles 1 - The Golden One (7 page)

Fazhmind’s mouth curled in disapproval at the sri-Kaa’s manners, but he replied to the Kaa, “A request is sent forth via the office of the chamberlain, sire. I believe that individual then contacts a merchant who holds an official appointment of pet supplier to the imperial family.”

“Ah,” the Kaa said, nodding. “Of course.”

Israi stamped her foot. “No! I want this one!”

The Kaa bent down and stroked her brow ridge. “Dearest, this creature is pretty but—”

“She’s beautiful. Like me!” Israi said.

Again, laughter circled the shop. The Kaa sighed. Already his favorite daughter was growing vain. Yet how could she be otherwise, when what she said was true?

Fazhmind flicked his fan. “Sire, I shall be most pleased to speak to the chamberlain about a different—”

“No!” Israi shouted. “I won’t! I won’t! I won’t!”

Before the Kaa could silence her, she kicked Fazhmind in the leg and ran for the open doorway of the shop. Swiftly the guards moved to block her path. She screamed at them, and the Kaa knew from the expression of growing dread on Lady Lenith’s face that a full-blown tantrum was imminent.

“Israi!” he said sharply. “Come here.”

She fell silent, much to his relief, and obeyed him. But her face was twisted into a scowl. Her sides heaved, and her rill stayed an ominous dark color.

“This is not behavior for public display,” the Kaa told her.

Israi glared at the floor and said nothing.

“You will apologize to Lord Fazhmind.”

Israi’s green eyes flashed defiance.

He held up his finger before she could speak. “Come here that we may speak privately.”

She hesitated, kicking the toe of her sandal on the floor before she complied.

The Kaa gestured, and Lady Lenith and Fazhmind withdrew to the opposite end of the small shop. With growing exasperation, the Kaa leaned down and picked up his daughter, Aaroun and all, so that he could speak softly into her ear dimple without being overheard.

“Daughter,” he said, “you belong to the imperial house. You are the sri-Kaa.”

She nodded. “I am important.”

“Yes, but that does not mean you can kick people, especially courtiers with titles and rank like Lord Fazhmind.”

Israi scowled and glared at the male over her father’s shoulder. “I don’t like him.”

The Kaa’s tongue twitched inside his mouth. He barely kept his composure. “Neither do we,” he whispered.

Her eyes widened, and she giggled.

“Shush,” he warned her, fearful she would announce his rash confidence to the world. “That is a secret between us. Understood? You must never say it to anyone.”

She nodded. “Yes, Father.”

“Now—”

“But if we don’t like him, I should have kicked him harder.”

“No, Israi. It is beneath imperial dignity to kick our courtiers. We must show good manners to all those who are beneath us in rank. It is our responsibility.”

“I don’t understand.”

He stroked her head, adoring the clarity of her soft, golden skin. She was so bright, so precious to him. How fragrant she smelled, cuddled here in his arms. Yet what a devil she could be.

“It is difficult,” he said, “but one day you will understand. For now, remember your manners. Will you promise that?”

Her head tilted to one side, Israi thought a moment. “If I promise not to kick Fazhmind again, will you let me keep the Aaroun?”

The Kaa drew in a sharp breath, finding himself caught unexpectedly. Ah, she was bright and quick, this chune.

Israi went on gazing up at her father, her expressive eyes pleading. The Aaroun lifted her face and looked at him also. Something in the Aaroun’s expression caught his attention. Her long-lashed eyes, set in their striking mask of light brown fur, held gentle, sensitive intelligence.

Startled, he gazed back at her, realizing this was no ordinary Aaroun.

“Father,
please
.” Israi fidgeted in his arms, tilting her head from side to side.

He let her slide to the ground and stared down at her, this adorable daughter with whom he could never be angry long.

“How pretty,” said a voice from the doorway behind them. It was Chancellor Gaveid’s distinctive orator’s voice, rich and measured. “A golden pet for a golden sri-Kaa.”

Appreciative murmurs arose among the onlookers. Gaveid’s poetic bon mot would be repeated endlessly around the court for the next few days.

The Kaa smiled to himself. Gaveid spoke true. The animal’s coloring did complement Israi’s. Besides, the creature had made him laugh and had bitten Fazhmind. Surely that in itself was worthy of special consideration.

“Very well,” the Kaa said, relenting. “Our permission is granted, but—”

“Oh, thank you, Father! Thank you!” Radiant again, Israi hugged his legs tightly. Crushed between them, the little Aaroun mewed in fright.

At once, Israi sprang back and stroked her. “Hush, little one,” she said to her. “I’ll take good care of you. I promise.”

The shopkeeper bustled forward, rubbing his palms together, before he was once again shoved back by the guards. “Excellent choice, Great One,” he said. “This Aaroun is outstanding for her kind, yes. The best of—”

The Kaa glanced at Fazhmind, whose mouth had closed in a pinched, sour look. “Make the payment,” he said, and walked out. “Come, Daughter.”

Carrying the Aaroun herself and allowing no one else to take it from her, Israi hurried to catch up with her father’s long strides.

“I am so happy, Father,” she chattered. “Now I can be a mother too, just like the other females in the palace. I have my own hatchling to look after. I shall be very good to her. You’ll see. I can take care of her. I won’t forget her. She’ll be house-trained right away. My slave Subi will take care of that. And she’ll be good. I won’t let her chew on anything. And when she’s bigger, I’ll—”

“You will have your slaves walk her regularly,” the Kaa said, shutting away visions of a large, bulky Aaroun running about the palace, knocking over furniture and breaking priceless vases. But of course, it would never come to that. By the time Israi went to bed tonight, the Aaroun would be forgotten, just another discarded toy. Still, for the sake of parental authority, he felt he should give her a lecture on responsibility. “You will not forget to instruct your slaves to feed her. She is a small, helpless animal, very dependent on you and the care you give her. She is not like a Viis infant, able to take care of herself straight from the egg. The abiru folk are inferior to us in that way, as in many others. It must be your responsibility to think of her special needs.”

“I understand,” Israi said with a serious nod. “I won’t forget.”

The Kaa sighed. Chunenhal promises: solemnly given, yet as enduring as puff-seeds blown by the wind.

Outside, standing in the dappled shade of a tree, the old chancellor leaned on his staff of office and bowed low to the Kaa, who paused.

“A wise decision, sire,” Gaveid murmured without moving his lips. “An abiru, however humbly placed within the palace and within the private circle of the imperial family, can only bring renewed love from the Imperial Father’s humblest subjects.”

The Kaa frowned. In Gaveid’s professional rhetoric,
humblest subjects
was a euphemism for abiru slaves. Although the Kaa had not indulged his daughter’s whim in order to curry favor from the lowest ranks of the unwashed, he realized that his action would increase his popularity.

Their eyes met with perfect understanding.

“Father,” Israi said, tugging on his sleeve for attention. “Will the guns fire over the city to celebrate my hatchling, like they did today for yours?”

Behind them, Fazhmind gasped audibly in outrage, but the Kaa’s heart swelled with pride. Truly his daughter was growing imperial. Already she reached for the privileges that could not yet be hers.

Holding back a smile, the Kaa said patiently, “No, the guns will not salute your pet, precious one.”

Israi’s green eyes flashed. “Why not?”

“Because that right is reserved for the chunen of the Kaa only.”

“But I am sri-Kaa!”

“That is not the same,” he said with more firmness.

Israi stamped her foot. “I want a salute. I want to be just like you.”

He placed his hand gently on her head to urge her forward. “One day, our daughter. But we are the Kaa now, and you are not.”

Scowling, she opened her mouth to protest further, but the Kaa’s patience was over. He changed the subject as they walked toward their waiting transportation, saying, “And what will you name this pet of yours?”

Distracted from an imminent tantrum, Israi smiled up at him. “Ampria. For our Goddess of Gold.”

The Kaa blinked and behind them someone gasped in affront. “Perhaps the name of our sun-goddess is a bit grand for such a small pet?” he suggested gently. It did not matter, of course. People named their pets after the lesser panoply of gods all the time, when it was fashionable. Presently, it was not. “Perhaps you should not offend the goddess in that way?”

Israi frowned, thinking it over.

They had reached the imperial litters at the outskirts of the marketplace. Beyond, the squalid streets of the abiru quarter twisted and turned in a maze of poverty and degradation. Guards ringed the litters, which floated above the pavement in readiness to go. The Kaa barely glanced around at his ugly surroundings. He was relieved to depart. He promised himself he would not return to this section of the city. Nor would Israi. She was too young for exposure to such grim conditions.

The Kaa climbed aboard and settled himself upon the crimson cushions. Israi was lifted in beside him. She snuggled close, with the Aaroun cradled in the crook of her arm. One of the golden animal’s tiny feet dangled perilously, and the Kaa himself showed her how to hold the creature correctly.

“I shall call her Ampris,” Israi said, holding up the Aaroun to blow gently into her small face. Brown fur formed a mask across Ampris’s eyes, which were squinted against the slanting sunlight. The Aaroun squeaked and mewed, and Israi cradled her close once more. “That will honor the goddess and make everyone think of her, yet it cannot offend.”

“Well thought, Daughter,” the Kaa said in approval.

Israi grinned. “Yes, Ampris. A grand name, for her to grow into, for when she is bigger.”

“Perhaps a bit too grand for a mere Aaroun?” he suggested again.

Israi looked at him. “Nothing is too grand for the possession of the sri-Kaa!” she declared.

He inflated his air sacs in pride. “Spoken like a true Daughter of the Empire.”

She grinned at him, and for a second as their litter swung around and surged forward on a jet of air, they were in complete accord.

The Kaa hugged his daughter fondly and indulged her by blowing through her ear dimples. She squealed with laughter, and he laughed too.

“Faster!” he called to his driver, willing to give his daughter a treat. “Racing speed!”

The nose of the litter tilted up, and although it was built for stately processionals, not racing, the driver gunned it to maximum acceleration. Draperies billowed and swung free of their securings, flapping from the canopy. A cushion blew off, tumbling into the street to be fought over by the cheering crowd. The litter flashed by the people in a multicolored blur. The litters containing their attendants struggled to keep up, while Fazhmind and the ladies in waiting clutched clothing and squinted grimly against the wind.

The guards rode in a skimmer that was larger and faster. It caught up and paralleled the imperial litter, pretending to race them, yet never quite edging ahead.

Israi squealed in shrill delight and leaned forward. “Faster, faster!” she called to the driver. “Don’t let them win!”

It was madness, surging through the streets of Vir at this reckless speed. The impetuous act of a ta-chune male, not a ruler over numerous worlds. Yet the Kaa’s spirit soared, and he laughed in the sheer joy of speed, which he loved as much as his daughter.

Ahead of them, the magnificent spires of the palace reached to the sky, silhouetted against a sunset of blazing corals and delicate pinks. It was as though the sky itself celebrated the close of Festival with them. The Kaa saw the rising walls and scaffolding of the restoration project beyond the perimeter of the present palace compound, and his heart swelled more. Life was as it should be. No matter what detractors and political fools might murmur among themselves, his empire remained great. He was great. There was peace and prosperity for the Viis, and so it would remain while he held the throne. All was well.

In Israi’s lap, Ampris squirmed briefly in an instinctive search for her mother. But there was only the reassuring touch of a tiny Viis hand pressed against her side, and momentarily, the stroke of a large hand down her back. Already Ampris had learned much in these short days. She had known excruciating loss and terror. She felt weak from hunger now, and her thirst brought pain. Yet the touch of these Viis creatures was gentle, not rough. The little Viis had saved her. That, Ampris understood. The little Viis loved her, and Ampris absorbed that love into herself, finding comfort in it. Already the memory of her mother was not as strong, not as painful, as it had been.

The fear and grieving in her tiny heart abated for the first time. Ampris sniffed, pressing her nose against the small hand upon her, and breathed in the strange scent of it. Viis scent. Not good . . . until now.

Not mother scent, yet here was love offered, along with comfort and security. Not mother scent, not mother love, but a good scent and a good love. Large Viis people could not be trusted. She knew that. When she looked at them she wanted to bite.

But this little Viis person was different. The little Viis person had promised to take care of her. There was no lie in her scent, no harm. Ampris relaxed her young muscles. She licked the hand that petted her, and found herself cuddled closer. Yes, this was good. She inhaled the skin scent of Israi’s hand again and absorbed it into her memory, into her very being.

For the first time since being taken from her mother, Ampris felt safe. She did not know how long it would last. The last time she felt safe, terror had come. But for now, it was enough.