Oathkeeper (35 page)

“Really?” Kholburran frowned at the lines the ropes had left on his thin skinlike outer bark. He rubbed his legs vigorously, hoping to force sap back into them without bruising.

“You can stay if you want, little Root,” Brazz cackled, “but—”

“No.” The guard pulled Kholburran forcibly to his feet and thrust Resolute, Kholburran's lacquered wooden warpick, at him. “No staying. Go home.” The guard leaned low. “Do you need an escort?”

An escort? In The Parliament of Ages?! No matter how helpless the girl-type persons thought him to be, the realization that these lizards shared the same opinion was enough to make his head petals quiver in anger.

“I know the way.” Kholburran took a few steps away, expecting it all to be some sort of trick or odd reptilian joke. “I can handle this hunt alone.”

“Then do it.” The guard turned away and settled back down.

“And don't forget,” Brazz hissed, its breath like brimstone, “Your release is a gesture of trust. We've shown you what we can do, how powerful the coldbloods are. Now we want you to understand we can be trusted, too.”

First moving at a walk, then at run, Kholburran headed for Hashan and Warrune.

*

Once the princely Weed was out of earshot, Brazz watched the Gliders and Shades head off after him, an unseen escort.
In His secret service
, he thought after them. It wouldn't do to have the weak little thing get eaten on the way home. Though it was a shame that it didn't seem like he and his fellow Flamefangs would get to burn any more Root Trees. Ah, well. Some pleasures only happen once, leaving just memories to savor. So long as things went according to the general's plan, there would be plenty of burning left to do back out on the Eldren Plains.

*

Tsan lounged semi-coiled on a sun-drenched rock within the grand arboretum. Stripped of her weapons and armor upon arrival, she imagined how confident the Weeds must feel, could smell it, a patchwork of pheromones hitting Eldrennai and Aern notes intermixed with floral accents. Too bad not much of them was suitable for eating. Still, at least they were predictable in their way. Made for peace, they craved it. Therefore, if one offered peace, removed from the Aern's sterner resolve and burning desire to kill . . .

Breathing deeply, she peered up at the dome overhead, her eye membranes nictating. A masterwork of crystalized sap, Arri had proudly told her, formed by the combined effort of Hashan and Warrune. Beams of sunlight shone down on an unchanging portion of the seasonal cycle, a garden locked in a perfect blending of spring and summer.

How do the flowers bloom and grow?
Tsan wondered.
Do the Weeds coax the floral spirits to bend to their desires or is this more male Root Tree magic?

Lurking amid the tree limbs and vines that formed the structural support for the dome, one of the Weeds—Seizal, if Tsan had their names straight now—glared hatred at her.

Don't kill me yet
, Tsan mused.
Once I've accomplished my mission you can do whatever you like with the serpent in your garden.

<> Tsan clicked on her limestone perch.

“You just stay silent and wait, murderer!” Arri snapped.

“Feel free to strike with that sword.” Tsan declined to grace the one-armed Weed with a backward glance despite the sound of Arri's blade coming free of its sheath yet again. “There are at least thirty of your Root Guard concealed amongst the branches, hedges, and flowers. Surely that should be more than sufficient to slay one lone Sri'Zaur?”

“You're right.” Arri walked into view from the left, so Tsan peered farther left, fixing her gaze on a clutch of blue and lavender snapdragons. “There are plenty of us here to slay our enemies!”

How old was this one?
Tsan wondered.
Ten years? Twenty?
Arri's passion was intoxicating in its way, due, Tsan was certain, in part to the effect, blunted but unmistakable just the same, of the calming royal hedge rose aroma emitted by each and every Root Guard within the Arboretum. Despite the anger, the disrespect, Tsan was reminded of the human captain who had delivered the Eldrennai census data. Like him, Arri stepped right up to the edge of too far, but not over . . . drawing her sword but doing nothing with it.

“Enemies?” Tsan purred. “Do you have enemies here?”

“You are our enemy!” Seizal shouted from her perch, all but the shadowy smear of her shape lost in the amber glare.

“No.” A languid roll of Tsan's red-scaled neck brought her impassive eyes to bear, the first of her nictating membranes dropping down to shield them from the glare. “Unless I am mistaken, I am to be a boon companion to the Vael.”

“You murdered my—” Seizal began, only to be cut off by a barking laugh from Tsan.

“There is no murder in a proper attack . . . only killing.” Straightening her forelegs, Tsan rose to her haunches after a long stretch. “Some deaths will have served a purpose.” She shifted her eyes to Arri. “And some will prove to have been an unfortunate waste.” In the light of the warm sun, Arri's eyes took on an amber hue matching the rich, clear shade of Tsan's irises, as her slit pupils narrowed. “I sincerely hope the loss of your fellows, the fall of your Tranduvallu, will have not been for naught.”

“Don't you say his name!” At the edge of her perception, Tsan noticed Seizal draw her heartbow and notch an arrow.
If you were a real warrior
, Tsan chided inwardly,
you'd have already loosed that arrow, little Weed. But if you were going to do that, you would have done it long before you brought me here.

“Seizal!” Arri snapped.

“It was senseless.” Seizal dropped from the intermingled branches, landing noiselessly upon the rich green grass.

Giggles, like children traipsing through dry leaves, escaped the edges of Tsan's ruby maw. It was enough to rekindle her belief that Kilke did have a secret purpose and that this mission and her own pleasant, yet ill-timed, lapse into the feminine gender might not result in her own death.

Perhaps His secret purpose was served by even this.

“If you kill me,” Tsan said, angling her neck up to present an excellent shot at heart or throat, “if I die, my second-in-command will be convinced you either have no interest in peace or that the Sri'Zauran army has failed to demonstrate sufficient aggression and destructive capacity to impress you.”

“He'd kill Kholburran, too, I suppose,” Seizal growled. “Why not threaten your hostage, isn't that what—”

“Hostage?” Tsan shook her muzzle. “Oh, that? Your Root Tree, the young prince, is already on his way home by now. We only took him prisoner as long as we did to convince you to bring me here. He's quite safe.”

“That doesn't undo the deaths you've caused,” Seizal pressed as Arri summoned a few Root Guard and sent them off.
Going to fetch the weed prince and test my veracity
, Tsan thought.
Why would I lie now? There is nothing to be gained, silly Weeds. If I betray you, you won't see it coming. That is, after all, the key.

“Either way . . .” Tsan let her eyes shift, following a merrily buzzing green bee as it flitted from flower to flower. “Either way, many coldbloods will die, as, in the end, will all of your people who continue to actively oppose us on the field of battle. And the Root Trees that would burn . . .” Tsan shuddered. “I don't like to think of it.”

Because thinking it makes me yearn to do it.
She focused on Seizal.

“Such needless loss of life and . . . limb.” Tsan's lips twitched up at the corners.

Seizal loosed her arrow.

More fight that I thought
, Tsan crowed.
Well done!

The chock as arrow struck wood forced Tsan to lower her wedge-shaped head sharply to conceal a smile.

“Seizal!” Arri snapped from her place, interposed between the two of them, arrow sticking out of her abdomen.

“Let her.” Tsan settled back onto the rock, tail curled around the edge, head stretched out low. She knew there had to be greater pleasures in life than a warm rock but couldn't think of one at the moment. “Would you know what happens if you let me live?”

<> tapped a voice in heavily accented Zaurtol. <>

Queen Kari swept into the Arboretum. Where the Eldrennai loved finery, elaborate gowns and jewelry, the Queen of the Vael wore a flimsy gown that matched the pale white of her head petals over her smooth silver bark. What struck Tsan most were her eyes: two orbs of unmarred crimson only a hue or two off from Tsan's own beautiful female scales. Tsan could recall when her own eyes had been a similar shade, so long ago she couldn't recall whether she'd been male or female then . . . had that been back when she was dark gray or pale blue? She missed having eyes that unrepentant shade.

<> Tsan eschewed the use of her intended lie at the last moment. <<. . . less than perfect, but better than I expected.>>

“While you speak Eldrennaic and Vaelish like a native.” Queen Kari banished Arri and Seizal with a subtle wave of her hand.

Better, actually. Why wouldn't I?
Tsan tried not to hold the Weed's ignorance against her. Not everyone served the lord of secrets and shadow. Even so, one would think Aldo would have at least given the Flower Girls a hint. General Tsan waited a beat for the Weed Queen to realize she wasn't going to acknowledge the compliment.

“Would you care for some refreshment before we begin?” Kari asked.

“It hardly matters.” Tsan rose on her hind legs, a practiced toss of her head to suggest arrogance. Weeds actually responded quite well to a precise level of conceitedness.

Conditioning from the Maker? Oh, yes. How else could the Vael be expected to serve the Eldrennai with a smile on their lips and a glint in their eyes?

“As you please.” Kari approached Tsan carefully until the two of them could taste each other's breath. “I see our favorite spot in the garden is mutual.”

“Shall we share?” Tsan gestured with a sweeping forepaw, the back of her paw and the claws at the end of it brushing with butterfly lightness across the queen's abdomen. Completing the gesture with a turn, Tsan's arm rested under Kari's, palm side of her paw facing down. A look Tsan interpreted as pleasant surprise crossed the queen's face as she accepted the gesture as intended, resting her weight on the offered arm as she took her seat.

“I'm unused to any but the Aern and other Vael knowing how to do that.” Queen Kari narrowed her eyes slightly.

Checking my spirit for motive, Queen of Weeds?
Tsan couldn't know for sure, but she imagined she could feel the queen peering into her soul.

“Would you like to sniff my hindquarters, too?” Tsan slid down next, her hip and the base of her tail touching the Vael, tail curved carefully away so as to not enfold or entrap. A pretty lie. Tsan imagined how easy it would be to kill the weaker creature; a pleasant inborn aggression.

“Perhaps,” Kari laughed, “you would feel more comfortable if I allowed you to sniff mine?”

“Why?” Tsan matched the laugh. “You have nothing interesting there, you don't defecate any more than the scarbacks do. I trust you saw what you need to see, however?”

“More than I expected.” Kari's eyes narrowed further. “Exactly how old are you, General Tsan?”

“General Tsan was only a handful of centuries in age when his career ended with an untimely change of possessive pronoun.” Tsan scratched her chin absently with a claw, eyes meeting Kari's. “It's just Tsan now, but I have had many other skins, careers, and names. Truth be told, I can't keep them all in order anymore. This, however, is my last one, so let us concern ourselves with it only, yes?”

“Why the last?” Kari leaned forward.

“What do you think will happen if you let me live?” Tsan ignored the slight flirtation. She knew enough about the courting rituals of the warmbloods to recognize it for the unconscious gesture it was, a simple fact about the Weeds . . . one they could scarcely resist if it might result in peace.

Reproduction for recreation was a concept foreign to Zaur and Sri'Zaur. Mating for Tsan could not have been less “romantic” (whatever that really meant). Perhaps if the process necessitated even being in the same cave at the same time . . .

“I'm not certain I have the training to track that quarry.” Kari closed her eyes, thinking. “If I had to take a wild shot, I would have said you get an extra name, additional rations . . . a promotion? Given your statement, I presume I would be mistaken?”

“Oh, Warlord Xastix would thank me.” Tsan couldn't keep the venom out of her voice, biting the “thank me.” “He would then formally strip me of my rank and relegate me to a breeding crèche until I agreed to lay eggs and let some idiot fertilize them, and then they would add Matron to my name.”

“I'm a mother myself,” Kari offered. “Together with the pollen of Hashan and Warrune, I have—” Something in Tsan's expression silenced the queen, and Tsan frowned to have lost control to such a noticeable degree. “But it is different for the Sri'Zaur, I presume?”

“When the offspring hatched,” Tsan continued, “I would be expected to raise and train them, culling the weak and encouraging the strong. By the time the last one was ready to serve, the war with the Eldrennai would be long over.

“Some idiot—” Tsan tried to stop her tail from twitching, but the tip still jumped, punctuating each word, “—like Dryga will have squandered an advantage it took the Warlord and me over three centuries to establish.”

“Are you saying,” Kari asked incredulously, “that they will not let you fight because you are a . . . girl-type person?”

“Given my rank and the lengths to which I have gone in the past to stave off my transformation to a non-combat gender . . . and the infertility that will have almost certainly resulted from those efforts . . . not being allowed to fight is the least of my problems. I have committed heresy. Even if the Warlord chose not to notice my predicament, Dryga or Asvrin would, I presume, ensure he discovered it.”