House of Reeds

Parus The District of the Claw-Sharpeners

Just west of a mustard-yellow mercantile arcade, where rug merchants laid out their wares in smoke-stained alcoves, an old royal residence with two slender towers sat hidden inside a block of residential flats. Inside the palace, in a large domed chamber holding a dry pool, the leaders of four of the darmanarga moktar cells in the capital considered a table covered with maps and diagrams.

The topmost map described the environs of the Imperial Legation, housed within the dhrada-mandura – the Rusted Citadel – and the streets surrounding the human enclave. The chart was covered with annotations describing the security arrangements, guards and other items of interest in the Legation. Despite the reflecting pool having gone dry the room was pleasantly hot and humid.

"We will have to commit nearly every brigade in the city to overwhelm this position," declared the smallest, most nervous of the conspirators. "With the weapons they control, the asuchau could hold the dhrada against us with a claw of warriors! We should wait until more lance commanders commit to our cause."

The largest of the moktar flared his nostrils dismissively. When he frowned, a deep scar puckered beneath his left eye-shield. "They are expecting an attack by warriors bearing swords, spears and the occasional rifle. The 'artifacts' we've put back into service will be a complete surprise – much less the number of rifles and heavy machine guns our agents have purchased on the black market. A swift, coordinated assault on these points…" General Humara's claw tapped the map, indicating the main gates of the Legation, as well as two service entrances on the far side ofthe compound. "…will allow our troops entry and trap them inside. Then it will be a matter of -"

"A matter of counting your corpses," an unexpected – human – voice said, rising over the sound of brisk footsteps on the expanse of mosaic floor. All four of the conspirators turned in alarm, horrified to find a tall, lean-looking Imperial with short blond hair emerging from the dim recesses of the vestibule. Despite civilian attire – short jacket over a cotton mantle, pleated trousers tucked into leather boots – the entire line of his body shouted military. "The Imperial soldiers assigned to the Legation are equipped with combat armor and modern weapons. A single gunso with a Macana 8mm could slaughter two to three hundred of your soldiers with ease. Even the surplused rifles you've purchased from passing merchants will have a hard time penetrating their hard shells."

The man's brash pronouncement froze three of the conspirators, but not the general. Humara trilled a soft laugh and rose to his full height – easily a head over the human – and looked down a scarred old snout. "Humans selling us guns to kill other humans is pleasant," he boomed, "and convenient. But we are not without powerful weapons, even in our diminished state. Not all of the glory of old Jehan has yet failed."

Timonen inclined his head in acknowledgement of the point. Then he raised pale, watery blue eyes to meet the gaze of the old kurbardar and lifted one hand. "Can you still reach to the stars, as your forebears once did? Do you still rule the skies?"

Humara hissed angrily in reply. "No, not as we did. We have been gnawing the same scale. There are Imperial starships in orbit, and those we cannot reach. Thus our desire to seize the Legation and the humans within immediately, so as to shield ourselves from orbital bombardment -"

The Finn produced a trill of laughter. "The Empire will not hesitate to spill innocent blood. The Imperial commanders you face will obliterate any massed forces you expose – such as concentrating all your brigades in the city against the dhrada – along with their 'shields.' "

"How then," the kurbardar growled, "do we defeat this enemy? How do we win?"

"Another question, first," hissed the nervous one. The Jehanan hopped from foot to foot, claws clicking together. "Who are you, asuchau? We have not seen your face before – your coloration is different, your speech pattern unfamiliar! How did you find and enter this place?"

"I am a courier," the blond man replied, producing a packet. "My name is unnecessary. I was given certain signs and procedures to follow and directed here. I have unexpected – but welcome – news for your cause."

The nervous Jehanan snatched the proffered packet and began going through the identity card and other letters inside. "What news?"

"First, I think you should not wait." The cold-eyed human nodded to the old kurbardar. "Each day only increases the chances one of your, ah, less-committed fellows will change his mind, or tell someone, or be betrayed by a subordinate. Then all of your heads – and mine, most like – will be on a drying rack with hooks through our eye sockets. I understand there is a citywide festival in the next day or so?"

"The gathering of the Nem," Humara rumbled wistfully. "The streets will be filled with street festivals and processions of the hatchlings bearing the sacred flowers… The entire city will turn out in hatching-day best, the air will be fragrant with perfume and the smell of a thousand savory dishes." He paused, leathery lips rippling back from rows of ivory-colored teeth in growing anger. "You suggest we should attack the Imperials on one of the most holy days in our year? A day when conflict has always been forbidden?"

The other three hissed in alarm and began to eye the human with great distaste.

"Do you want to free yourselves from the yoke settling so gently around your necks? Do you want to win?"

The Jehanan officers said nothing, but there was a half-audible hissing. The kurbardar leaned forward, glowering at the human. "If we dishonor ourselves for an instant's advantage, a heavier weight than the Empire will be upon our kshetrin, an indelible stain -"

"But if that single moment of advantage is necessary to free your people," Timonen said, removing another, heavier packet from inside his jacket, "and you do not grasp the horn – sharp as it is – then the weight of slavery will be upon you until the sun fails. In truth, time is shorter than you expect."

He slid his thumb along the sealstrip on the packet and removed a three-d photo of a wizened old N'huatl woman. "This is an Imperial agent, a servant of the Smoking Mirror. She is upon Jagan – in Parus right now – and she is hunting for you."

All four Jehanan stiffened, and while the most nervous one darted a glance at the doorways, the kurbardar picked up the photograph between two chipped claw-tips. He examined the woman's face carefully. "This asuchau has been seen by these eyes – at the feast of welcome for the Imperial hatchling. Where is she now?"

The human shrugged. "I have only lately arrived. Now you know the face of your enemy. You must strike before she can find you and drag your entire cabal before the kujen in chains." He removed a set of smaller envelopes, each heavy with clinking metal.

"I – my people – have been preparing for the moment of your liberation for some time. You have already received your shipments of missiles, kyrb' ? You have tested them?"

The kurbardar nodded. "Some failed, as your accomplice warned, but they have been destroyed and the remains hidden. The rest have been distributed to the brigades. But even with the reactivated artifacts, they will not suffice to remove the threat beyond the sky… Without that, any rising is doomed to failure. A secondFire will sweep away what we have built, leaving only savages to toil in the wreckage for the Empire."

A satisfied glint flashed in the human's watery eyes. His lips twitched into a cold smile. "Do not concern yourself with the Imperial warship. When the festival day comes, you will see a brilliant sign in the heavens and that particular obstacle will be removed."

"How?" The nervous Jehanan looked up in horror from the photograph of Itzpalicue. "What do you mean removed? What if we are not ready to rise up by Nemnahan?"

The blond man shrugged. "Then opportunity will pass you by."

"So, you force us to action – whether we are ready or not." The kurbardar's claw clasped a heavy, curved kalang blade held in his ornamental harness. He showed his teeth again. "We do not seek a new master to replace the old!"

Unimpressed by the threat, the human spread the smaller envelopes out on the table. "I – we – have been sent to give you an opportunity. If an accident befalls the light cruiser on watch-station, then, well…you can express your sincere condolences to the Resident. It is well known the ship is already damaged and in poor repair – its destruction due to an accident will not be surprising. There is nothing to implicate your little conspiracy.

"But you will have missed your chance. Years of preparation will be wasted. None of your confederates will find the will to act again." He shook one of the envelopes, making the package rattle.

"There are twelve of these envelopes – each contains an address to a location in or around Parus and a key. In each house, you will find several hundred boxes of ammunition for your small arms and machine guns. These rounds have been specially modified to defeat Imperial combat armor. A little gift from those who also hate the Empire."

"So we rise up…" The nervous little Jehanan's split tongue flicked along well-polished teeth. "And we are successful – what prevents the Empire from invading us with irresistible force? They have far more than one light cruiser to claw!"

"They do." The human nodded. Despite the continued hostility of the conspirators and the muggy atmosphere in the abandoned building, he remained genial and composed. "But the Emperor has hundreds of colonies to consider, and many, many more problems than a brief incident on one obscure – no offense, my friends – world on the periphery of his domain. Even the death of prince Tezozуmoc will not inspire him to action – the boy has been sent here to spare embarrassment at home.

"But your true allies" – the blond man's lips stretched into a wide smile – "are the factions among the appropriations board of the Colonial Service. If you are successful, then those who favor consolidation will gain influence and the 'expansionists' will lose ground."

"A fantasy!" The nervous Jehanan slammed the photograph down on the table. "Bickering among bureaucrats may delay an Imperial reaction, but it will not stop it. If we destroy the Legation, slaughter their citizens and defeat their warriors, the Empire will have to respond or lose face. Then the sky will bleed fire and we will be cast back into the savagery we've only just crawled up from!"

The other three conspirators stared wide-eyed at the little one. They had never seen him so agitated.

Humara sheathed his knife. "Where is our path then?" he asked in a slow gravelly voice, gesturing at the human. "We must do something. Even the public Imperial records show what happens to worlds like ours…slow suffocation, economic enslavement, the inevitable reduction of each kujen to a puppet good only for imposing ever higher taxes. Here, at least, we will show our mettle and challenge them. Perhaps gain a space of years to build our own orbital infrastructure, our own warships… With a little help, with access to offworld trade, we could rebuild the old yards at Sobipurй."

"A wild dream…" The nervous one scratched the line of cream-colored scales along his jaw. He glared openly at the human courier. "And again, we rely on this creature and his unseen masters to supply us with the technology and resources we need."

"An equitable trade could be arranged," the human said. "We are seeking allies, not slaves."

"Allies…" the little Jehanan hissed in disgust. "A cheap way to bleed the Empire!"

The kurbardar waved the stack of envelopes in kujen Bhrigu's face. "If you do not wish to seize the claw of opportunity, then retire to your estates! Find a more righteous path, if you can. We will do what must be done. This way we have at least a chance of victory."

The other two, who had remained silent, hooted in agreement. The human said nothing, watching the nervous prince with a placid expression.

"Yes, a chance…for the yi birds to peck your eye-sockets clean and dig their talons into your rotting entrails!" Bhrigu hopped from one foot to the other, then reached out his claw. "Very well. Give me our share. We will be ready on Nem-day."

"You will?" The kurbardar and the other two stared at the nervous one in surprise. "But -"

"He knows," Timonen interjected smoothly, retrieving the stack of envelopes and sorting them swiftly into four equal piles, "that if you do not stand together, you will each be buried separately." The blond head bowed to the little Jehanan. "Your friend here understands how to gamble."

Bhrigu flashed his teeth again, but took careful custody of the proffered keys.

"Now," the Finn said, affecting to wipe sweat from his forehead, "some small issues to consider when you attack the Imperial installations…"

All four Jehanan bent over the table and maps, eyes and ears attentive.