Denizens	Land	Mystic	Historic	Government

Saga of the Throne (Among Other Things)

In the royal palace at the south of the capital of Jaguara Esnivor, the Kiranle'ara's daughter Laurria Ane Renol sat aghast at what her mother, Queen Ioane Loe Tan'kri, was proposing. Laurria was willing to pose as a commoner, but she had never thought that her mother would suggest it. She would have the opportunity to learn the advanced magics used by the strange rustic tribes that inhabited her empire, she would be free from ministerial and courtly scrutiny, and she would see that Kimal tom, who came from one of those tribes, for a second time.

Ever since she had met Kimal of the Stikni clan on a rare country trip, she had wanted to get to know him better. He had the rare sort of amiable personality that the daughter of the Kiranle'ara, immured as she was in the court, had never encountered before. It had been an unfortunate given when she had met him: Kiranle'arae did not mix with peasants. But then she had not known of the ancient and obscure maturity rite of passage that her mother had just revealed to her.

"So, all I hafta do is survive for a year on my own, and at the end of the year I'm free to choose my life path?" Laurria was straining desperately to conceal her interest, but her heart was beating so loudly she was sure her mother could hear it.

"That is the idea, yes. If it is too much for you, the council and I can choose a life path suited to you now." Ioane grinned, knowing the answer before it was given.

"No!" More calmly, Laurria continued, "No, I'm sure I will be able to complete the year, I'm just surprised you didn't mention this earlier."

The black lioness's still beautiful silvershot ruff (almost a male's mane, some of her female courtiers had gossiped enviously) seemed to resettle itself as she shook her head.

"That is part of the idea, that you can survive well without advance preparation." Ioane lifted up the orange child's chin and looked her straight in her pale green eyes. "This is not a holiday, Pu, this is a survival rite. I want you to learn as much as you can from the People about ways of life, and whatever else they can teach you, but don't let anything erode your values."

Laurria flared her nostrils in derision. "I won't go around shooting mage bolts at poor innocent countrysiders, if that's what you mean."

"No, that's not what I mean, and you haven't even got enough practice to shock someone with static electricity on purpose, yet, so where did you get that idea?" Laurria sighed and stared patiently at the many green wall-shelves for having incited one of her mother's rare tirades. They were rare for the reason that they were usually well-deserved. "I mean that you should not let anyone talk you into doing anything you know would be hurtful to anyone, or becoming promiscuous, or craven. Anything that would not befit a cat of the Kiranle'arae. And don't waste your energy shifting too much, though I know, as does everyone in this place, how good you are at it." Ioane's fierce expression softened as she caught Laurria's reaction to the vituperation. "I know you've heard it all before, and you think you aren't going to forget it in a hurry, but follow the Code. No, don't get up, I can serve myself. I'm sick of ceremonial courtesies. I have been forever."

The Prime, Ssela, had just entered with a tray of rreza goblets and Laurria was stirring uncomfortably in her overstuffed green armchair, aware of the cheetah's mocking gaze. Ioane gestured gracefully for Ssela to come closer, so she could take a goblet of rreza. Ssela did so, all the while staring fixedly at Laurria. There was a brief battle of wills as Laurria fought the impulsion to get up and offer the armchair to Ssela, but it overcame her and Ssela accepted haughtily. Laurria looked around for somewhere else to sit, disappointed with herself, and her mother beckoned her to sit at the foot of her chair. Laurria shook her skin and strode across the leaf-printed carpet. As she put her head on her paws under Ioane's chair and tuned the business chat out, she thought she saw a triumphant light in Ssela's eyes.

Ioane handed Laurria the other goblet from the tray and settled down to have a good discussion of national and Esnivoral affairs with her Prime. She took a sip from her own goblet, swirling the foam around in her mouth (foam?) and noticed the strange taste of the rreza. It tasted almost like...

As Laurria sniffed her rreza, preparing to taste it, she noticed a strange odor.

Mother and daughter reached the same conclusion and threw their goblets to the carpet in unison, and as Laurria watched the dark brown liquid turn red and fizz, she heard her mother's mind-summons to the captain of the guard. Ssela's goblet fell from her paw out of surprise, and the rreza splashed out onto the carpet and all over the hem of Ssela's decorative stola. Laurria noted with interest that the stains from Ssela's glass stayed brown.

Ssela knew she would have to think quickly in order to escape being exposed as a traitor. Much as Ssela hated her, the little stripy was intelligent and would put two and two together, knowing that there was only one kind of poison that foamed on contact with organic material, and that the prime was the only government official, in fact the only cat in the country, that had access to rroaml poison. Unless Ssela could somehow blame the conspiracy on someone else... her gardener accomplice? No... Laurria! Unless she could frame Laurria, claiming that the meddling cub had coerced her with budding mind powers into poisoning the Kiranle'ara, Ssela would be discovered.

"Oh, Great Light, Laurria, what have you done?" she bawled, sensing right after she did, that Laurria had found something to discredit her further. She sensed right.

"Oh, Great Light, Ssela, what have you done? Your glass wasn't poisoned!" the irritating cub whined, in a perfect imitation of the cheetah's nasal voice. Ioane narrowed her eyes, and Ssela knew she knew. Ioane lashed her tail in disgust at the Prime's duplicity.

"Ssela, I thought you were smarter than this. That numbwit gardener isn't, but I thought you were."

Ssela was the second cat to be aghast at Ioane in the conference room that autumn morning. "How can you be sure it was he and I who cooperated? He is one of thousands in the palace!" Ssela said lamely, when she had recovered enough from her stupor to form her thoughts into words. Ioane gave Ssela a look that both pitied and condemned the Prime, her dark amber eyes fiery but guarded.

"Do you take me for an idiot? The gardener is the only person that has access to the poison plants hothouse, and I am not so thick that I could not at once sense his guilt when you thought of him," she said in an acid tone. Ssela wondered privately why the Kiranle'ara had not torn her limb from limb when she discovered the Prime's betrayal, given her reputation for immediately dispatching perceived threats.

"I'm not that barbaric, Ssela, or have you learned nothing of me in the three years you've Primed for me?"

Ssela seemed to be climbing a staircase of continuous astonishment. She looked very carefully at Ioane and cocked her head. "You're a mind reader mage? I thought you could only..."

"I guess you haven't. I suppose I'm frequently underestimated. Take her to the cell for murderers, Rovirr."

One of Laurria's four male siblings, Rovirr, an apprentice to the captain of the guard, had arrived with his teacher in response to the earlier telepathic summons. Ssela was hiccuping in impotent fury.

"You can mind-speak, too?!"

Ioane nearly laughed, but only stood and finished detailing to Rovirr what he was to do with Ssela, and where to find the wretched gardener. Laurria excused herself. The last Ssela saw of her for a long time was her tail tuft disappearing down the back stairway.

Laurria had known that the Prime was not friendly, maybe even a little malicious, (she had often wondered why her mother liked Ssela so much), but to attempt to poison the Kiranle'ara and her daughter? Laurria had a sneaking admiration for the fact that Ssela believed so strongly in something (Laurria didn't know what) that she would go to such extreme lengths to help achieve it, even as her inner consciousness made her revile Ssela for going to such an end as to undertake ending the existence of another feeling being. Even though no hurt had been done, the attempt was unforgivable. Another little detail-- the Kiranle'ara's own Prime didn't know the Kiranle'ara was immune to any kind of poison? Laurria had thought it a well known fact that poisons didn't work on the queen because of her trained ability to control their diffusion through her bloodstream, as well as conditioning to certain types. Everyone knew that, it was taught in every Esnivor. The only people who might not know that were Outsiders.

The young lioness nearly fell down the dim stairway as she realized the implications of her train of thought. The Prime was an Outsider? Surely not. She shook her head and snorted quietly to herself as she came out into the brightly lit atrium.

Ioane was confused, though she took care not to let it show. Ssela had been her most trusted friend (she had to be, to be the Prime). She hadn't grown up with Ssela, but it was the kind of friendship that seemed as if it had been in existence forever. In fact, she couldn't even remember when they first met. Ioane had become so comfortable with Ssela that she hadn't bothered to do the customary seasonal mind check of the Council personnel on her. She was so quiet and unnoticeable. Had Ssela been recruited by some traitorous force just recently and persuaded the half-minded gardener to go along with her? Or had Ioane just been extremely lax in choosing her friends carefully? Come to think of it... In the prestigious West Palace Theater, Ioane had made a mental note of a suspiciously revengeful expression on Ssela's usually immobile face at the announcement of Laurria's inheritance of the throne. Was that an indication of Ssela's jealousy of Laurria's birthright? Had Ssela been expecting to become heiress herself, while Ioane had ten cubs? Well, four of them were toms, and that disqualified them from inheriting the throne itself, but the six females who were even now in training were the definite candidates for the throne, (and everything else that being the Kiranle'ara of the Ailurian Empire entailed), not the Prime.

Ioane couldn't immediately dispose of Ssela, because traitors to the Kiranle'arae were required to undergo a strenuous trial and a punishment had to be decided upon. That could take years, considering the indecisive cats that now peopled the supreme jury. And they had been the same for as long as Ioane could remember.

Ioane mumbled to herself "I thought I'd told Ssela to replace the jury..."

"I beg your pardon, Kiranle'ara?"

"Well, that fits. She wasn't even doing the sensible parts of her job..." Ioane looked blankly at the red, bubbling rroaml stains on the carpet that seemed to hiss with Ssela's grating voice.

"Kiranle'ara?"

Ioane had forgotten that the literal-minded phoenix Ambassador to the Birds was still in the room. He was not a Catian citizen, so he would not be considered as deeply biased in the courtroom as would Laurria. She had an impartial witness!

" My Lady Ioane? Did you say something? I was napping. I beg your pardon."

Then again, maybe she didn't.

"Tiros, did you see what just happened in this room, involving Laurria and Ssela?"

The golden bird cleaned his talons thoughtfully. "The rroaml in the goblets? Yes. I can sleep with one eye open, but I was surprised when you appeared to address the stains with a statement. I believe they are inanimate."

Ioane was touchy. "I was addressing myself, Tiros. Did you at least understand what Ssela's actions have revealed?"

"Yes. A jury trial about five years long, given the current people you have in it. Didn't you tell her to--"

"Exactly. Now you follow."

"Well, you can't change them without her consent until she is convicted, so these ones must convict her before you replace them, which defeats your purpose. It'll be awhile."

Ioane bared her intimidating array of milky teeth in frustration and stood up. She paced back and forth in the confines of the conference room, a black blot in the Jaguaran-green overcushioned space. She sat down decisively in the middle of the leaf printed carpet and, in contrast, indecisively ran a paw through her silvering ruff, her inconsistency causing Tiros to fluff his organic metal feathers in amusement.

"So, my daughter will be within a hundred dragonlengths of that two-faced miscreant for ages, unless I send her on her maturity rite now, but I wouldn't be able to keep a mindwatch on her for long because I will be running the trial, and she really shouldn't have a mindwatch on a maturity rite anyway..."

"All of your children will be in the same palace with Ssela, so why worry about Laurria?"

"Because I have logicked the situation to the bone and come up with the theory that Ssela was so jealous of Laurria's heiress-ship that she tried to poison me to implicate Laurria, and throw her out of the competition for the throne, as well as myself, so she could take the position immediately."

Tiros cocked his head, his fiery yellow eyes staring as if trying to penetrate Ioane's reasoning. "But wouldn't she have been passed over in favor of one of the other five female cubs you have?"

Ioane spoke slowly and deliberately. "Yes, of course. But apparently she didn't consider that. But she must have known it, coming as she did from a noble family, trained in Catian government. Though it sure seems as if she didn't consider that possibility. Maybe she wasn't really educated politics; I can't trust anything she's told me. Or did she really tell me that? Did I just assume it because it is required to apply for Prime? I don't know." Ioane ran a paw through her head fur again. "Let's go tell Laurria to get herself lost in the countryside for a year."

Tiros had been watching intently as the Kiranle'ara's form flickered from one shape to another. He had never seen her so upset she lost control of her appearance. She blinked into her natural M'az form, a Forest type with fur and hair the colors of tigereye, jaguar markings, and a very hiu'man face, though the Forest M'ae tended to be more hiu'man than feline. She stood up on her two feet, and beckoned Tiros to her shoulder with a capable-looking hand. Tiros launched himself off of the green wall shelf he had been inconspicuously perched on, and landed in a flurry of metallic feathers on her muscular shoulder. She padded softly to the front door, not the one that Laurria had exited by, but the one that led to the balcony and stairs to the throne room. She slithered through the swinging door, leaving a few brown hairs on the rough carved wooden edge.

In a small family cave in Tighera Esnivor, a Maincuun tom squinted in disbelief, and scratched his ear. He hadn't expected to be roused out of a warm, soft bed on a cold, dripping morning by his mother to be told that he was no longer entitled to sleep there. His small gray tabby dam was not in the least threatening, but he knew better than to try to wheedle or disobey her.

"It isn't that I don't want to support you anymore, Kim, it's that I can't. Prill has already left, found herself that nice young tom, what's his name..."

"Jaimi."

"Yes, and Bristle is raring to go, too, but I won't let him because he hasn't finished his apprenticeship. You're five seasons a journeyman, even if you've only just reached maturity, and I can't hunt for both you and Bristle as well as myself when your father is away performing for Leona Esnivor's elders."

Kimal twitched his ringed tail in both amusement and annoyance at his father's "fame". No son could be publicly proud of a father who was only a journeyman-status harper who played his corrdian for the useless, huntless, toothless, nearly hairless old sticks-in-the-mud at the collective Elders' Home in Leona Esnivor. At least no son could honor him without ridicule. The governess of Leona was so incompetent that the Esnivor's Home did not even have enough rials to provide the old cats with enough food, or medicine and herbs for illnesses that plagued the elderly.

"Wenatal has only to apply for a place at the Court in Jaguara--"

"Kimal! Your father may not be a master yet, and I'm not going to try to justify his delay in going to the Guild Hall to get the badge of his status, but he warrants no criticism from you. Besides, the nobility have such a condescending opinion of us provincials that no one who isn't at least a third cousin of some courtier is considered vaguely civilized. Wen probably feels he would be putting himself above his fellow elderlies by playing for them in a higher rank than most of them have. Now take this, out the door, and see what you can do with the skills he and I have taught you."

Kimal's mother pawed him a leather satchel with some spare warm home-woven tunics, and a smaller knitted sack full of mla nuts. He slung the leather one over his head, but kept the nut sack out, fastening it around his waist. He gave thanks in passing to the Great Light for the opposable dewclaws that elevated his species above the rest, and used them to crack open a nut. As he was eating it, he felt his mother's eye on his back, gulped down the meat of the nut and shuffled out the open door, flattening his ears against his skull at the necessity of their parting. His mother blinked surprisedly against the cloudy light when she thought she saw his form flicker. He whispered a thank-you-and-sia, and she blinked again, deciding it must have been her imagination.

Kimal's stomach rumbled as sullenly as the gray sky and as his thoughts were doing. He paid little attention to where he was going, immersed in his reflections (it would have been nice to have an amspisal to ride, but his family did not have one and couldn't call for them), and soon found himself at the river that was the border between Tighera and Leona Esnivors. He chuckled to himself in a much-improved frame of mind when he realized where his stomach had led him, but sobered immediately. He had no fish spear, and could not make one, as there were only grasses, no sticks to be seen, for hundredlengths. His mother had taught him the theory of catching fish with his paws, but he had never tried to do it, and had a suspicion that he would not be able to. He put down his sacks, resigned to a wetting, and approached the river. The fish were leaping out of the water as if to tease him, but he knew they would not be so careless as to leap when he entered the river. The tom waded in, his heavy fur swirling around his paws in the strong current. He cast his eyes over the cold water and spotted an easy catch immediately. A blue aril fish, bloated with good feeding on the common water worms, was floundering about, and close to the banks. Kimal wondered why it had let itself get fat enough to be unwieldy as he crouched and sprang. The fish managed to disappear into the middle of the river in a bright blue flash before Kimal could land on it, and he berated himself for not thinking about the warning splash his leap would make. He made six more tries, the fish escaping in a blue flash every time, when he discovered that they would seem to forget about him if he stood still long enough, and come nearer to him. He watched another fat aril blunder ever nearer, and did not even have to jump, just pounce on it from his haunches. He hurried out of the water shivering with the fat fish dangling from his mouth, his ripples washed away by the current. He did have practice making a cooking fire, and had one crackling in a few minutes. His insides thawed and his fur dried as he curled up on the tunic sack next to the blaze, waiting for the fish to brown.

He woke to find it charred, ruined and smoking, and decided he would do fine for now with some more mla nuts. He had a few things to learn about living out of his mother's care.

Joane felt her mind fall back into its mortal case and then felt the total chaos that had erupted in the palace while she was gone. No one could reach her physically in her chambers, or mentally while she was scrying, but she could "hear" them easily when she was not out of her body.

She blew the candles and brazier out, swept it all into the drawer by the bedside, and shifted quickly back to her M'az form, using the better color vision to search out the four porting stones. She arranged them and jumped herself into the Lion Hall, the only place in the palace where there wasn't a frantic search for her. She waved at the statue, which then beckoned her hurriedly, and threw the four stones at it. It caught them all in one granite hand and hid them again under its cloak. She waved it back to stone and ran full out past the four columns towards the throne room, her bipedal gait pounding solid Tigheran marble floor tiles slightly looser.

As she came to the huge door, she saw the two throneroom guards, no longer smiling, come careening toward her. They were babbling some incomprehensible message about a visitor and an escape and a war, so she bade them calm down and sought the message from their minds as a crowd began to gather around them, all shouting the same unintelligible thing. She didn't bother talking to the screeching courtiers, just shut them up with a flick of her mental fingers, and suddenly the two junior guards were the only ones talking.

"She fled as soon as we saw her, my Lady, there was no way to find out where she was going, but Tabi and Servala have declared unrest on each other, they started fighting as soon as she went through the river--"

"The cell door is still locked, Majesty, we don't know how the traitor got out--"

Joane blinked.

"Ssela escaped... this is not good."

The taller of the two nearly identical tawny desert M'ae took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The smaller one shook his skin and covered his face. The big one opened his eyes again, calmer now, and began explaining from the beginning.

"The Prime has escaped, yes, your majesty, and we don't know how. It must have been by magic, because there is no way she could have gotten through the bars or the walls. They are still intact. Lord Robirr had given the guard duty to his brother Lord Andih and a handful of Re'are Summi, because he heard a report from someone about a wolf in the corral. There was no one in the cell when his Highness Davirr's twin Lord Mark got there to take over as the shift ended, and Lord Andih said the cell was occupied one moment, empty the next. His Majesty Robirr is still pursuing the wolf."

"A wolf in the corral that was seen running westward away from the palace?"

The guard looked surprised for a moment, then thought better of it.

"Yes, my Lady, but south then along the river bordering Servala, and then crossing it. Tabi has declared conflict and they've begun a siege on the capitol of Servala with a ballista and a catapult left over from the Founding. They are destroying the ancient buildings at the city, my Lady, it's horrendous."

"Why have the Tabians declared conflict on Servala just because a wolf crossed the river into Servala Esnivor?"

The guard looked sideways at Joane, wondering at her apparent amnesia.

"There has long been a First Wolf cult in Tabi, as you know, and this cult has control of most of the government. The few who opposed the sudden declaration were thrown out of the esnivor into this one and captured by the esnivoral border guard. They're on their way here, Lord Robirr has informed Lord Andih, who came up to the palace when the Prime escaped at the end of his shift."

"Andih's here? I want to see him. Bring him to me!"

The crowd, except the ever-present guards, hurried off on another frantic but surely extensive search, this time for Andih, her third son, who was in his third year of apprenticeship for guard vocation.

She watched inscrutably as the Hall of Lions emptied of panicking overdressed courtiers, and looked up through the exquisite window. The sun was coming out. She thought of the beautiful stained glass masterpieces at the Tabi Capitol, and sighed at the blind stupidity of those who would destroy such things for loyalty to a wolf they had never met and knew almost nothing of.

The sun hid its cowardly autumn face behind a cloud again, and the light in the windows died. The torches flickering faithfully held their eager spirits out from the wall and the glossy floorstones stole life from the light and shadows the torches carelessly threw. She waited, listening to the mental sounds of the courtiers looking for someone who should be easy to find.

They found Andih after quite a search. The shadows the fearful sun cast were on the other sides of the columns and she had fallen asleep, always aware of the four guards who had elected to stay with her. The again-babbling crowd came flooding back through the throne room door with her son in the lead. He was the one tom that could still contact any of his family without material assistance even when they were on the opposite side of the continent. Communication was his forte.

He was muttering a continuous monologue, most likely what was coming into his head from Robirr's chase. She dismissed the rest of the crowd, including the guards unwilling to leave her unattended, and directed Andih to speak up.

"I lost sight of her at the Inge Sivi'ik river, and the villagers haven't been helpful in telling me where she's been seen. They're obsessed with the thought that this is the Second Coming of the Wolf, and I'm going to need some help, maybe some Finders and a handful of Re'are Summi to bring her back to the palace. I'm running south along the Inge Sivi'ik, I'll run into the fork soon and follow the Sivi'ik Med, because the very few cooperative Servalans I met told me they saw her following the river south. I'm thinking she's trying to reach the osan, maybe to get to the other continent. Maybe she's trying to find high enough marine technology to get back to her own continent. I don't know."

Joane wondered why the wolf thought they had better knowledge of the sea anywhere else on the continent, or even on the other one. Surely she knew both the continents were Catian-populated? No one had any better sailing techniques than anyone else. It was a given that the wolf wanted to leave and return to her home, so she would look for the shortest, easiest way to get there. Nobody knew if the wolves were aware of what knowledge the Catians had of the sea, but it was assumed they understood as much as the First Wolf had: the felines weren't interested in sea travel except for fishing and crossing the small calm channel separating the two continents from each other. There was just no need to go adventuring off into the fonre. There was a research establishment at Tighera Esnivor Capitol for such things.

She mentally summoned a few Finders and a unit of Re'are Summi, the elite mage-soldiers, from their communal quarters at the front of the palace. If anyone could catch the wolf, it was them. They were also the ones who would be able to catch Ssela if the Finders could locate her. The Finders were a class of mage who could see the way she could when she was scrying, but they could do it at will. Joane informed them of the situation and they came through the door to the Hall in a dignified hurry.

Most of the Finders were sleek, agile Subterranean M'ae who slunk everywhere looking like liquid fur. The Re'are Summi were a variegated group of all four types of M'az, all in different raiment but all with the green, or re'are, mountain badge that showed their rank. Re'are Summi, literally the Green Elite. The queen's best mages, trained in combat of the elements and use of magic in the interests of the country, mostly a peacekeeping force or disaster support. These certainly looked the part. All worthy of Paladin status, smilingly charismatic and helpful, while listening carefully to her instructions. Except for one.

She didn't recognize the aloof and haughty Tundra M'az in the far rear of the unit of four, and that was a definite problem. She had trained all the Re'are Summi personally, and there should not be a single face in the group she was unacquainted with. And she would never have picked this one. This one thought too much of herself, always a major flaw in a rescuer or bodyguard. A questioning was required of this newcomer, and quickly, hopefully one of the last today.

The not-really-Re'are dared to look down her nose at the Kiranle'ara as she approached, not boding well for the conversation. Joane hoped she'd put her chin down, because the queen preferred not to look up someone's nose while talking to her.

"What's your registrated Ancient word?" Joane asked.

"Who is asking? I don't answer to just anyone! I'm a hand-picked elite of the Queen."

The other three Re'are blinked and stared, fangs showing in shock. Joane was unable to speak for several eternities of minutes. She supposed the first day of winter was just one of those shocking days.

"My name is Joane, Kiranle'ara to you, and you are not a Re'are Summa. You should study more carefully when attempting court major fraud. Almost anyone, including the smallest child in the court, knows me by sight and addresses me as either Lady or Kiranle'ara. Currently, all my competent guards, as well as my competent judges, are in use, so I will dispose of your excuse for a mind myself. Punishment for impersonation of secondary royalty is always the same."

The tall Tundra M'az crumpled in a heap of ropy muscles and silver fur from the blast of mind-searing pain emitted by the Queen. The impostor was not permanently damaged enough to keep her from answering questions, but she would be out for several hours. Meanwhile, Joane quizzed the real Re'are on their would-be comrade, but they had nothing to say. They had apparently not noticed any difference or unusual things about their companion, which said much for her unnoticeability spell. Luckily such spells, like poison, had been conditioned into the Kiranle'ara until she was immune to all but the strongest of them. The charlatan was taken away to the newly inspected cells, and another Re'are was summoned. When all was as close as possible to normal and as it should be, Joane gave orders to the magi to follow the wolf's soul to wherever it was going and once it got there, to bring it back to her.

"And find Robirr, while you're at it. He has better things to be doing than a simple track-and-transmit job, even if it's a wolf that he's tracking instead of a hurricane. I will go to question the girl, and then I will call the Ancient."

The magi bowed their heads and pricked their ears forward in salute, and filed efficiently out of the Hall through one of the vast arches into the East Inner Court and the pad of metal that amplified mental magic. They would, she knew, spend all of their energy finding and recapturing the strange outlander, to the point of comatose exhaustion. It was nice to know you had some loyal cats.

One digit of the five on the hairless appendage pointed insistently to a display screen in a metal contraption miles above the Catian continent. The words the owner of that appendage uttered were frustratingly familiar to the observer, so close to her own language that she recognized the roots of nearly every tenth word, but it gave her no indication of what the heated conversation was about. The other figure in the room let loose a strange roar and grimaced, appearing to attempt to pull its face inside out and succeeding only in wrinkling it. The other shook its head and smacked its digit into its palm, then two, then three. The odd coverings on the end looked to be some sort of natural armor, protecting the tips with plates of clear bony material. The screen in front of it showed a piece of blue-green glass such as cubs played with, sitting on a piece of black velvet. The observer wondered what the hairless creatures were getting so excited about, for, if she interpreted their gesticulations correctly, they were arguing vehemently with each other. The observer withdrew her presence and flitted on.

Kimal yawned disappointedly, his stomach still rumbling, and returned to the river to catch another fish. To his vast surprise, one was lying newly dead on the banks, with a peculiar bulge in its stomach. Cautiously, he slit the metallic scales on the belly, expecting to find some remnant of the meal that choked the fish. The object slid out into his hand, and glimmered under the mass of fish entrails. He cleaned it off and studied it carefully... it was not what he expected. A silver coin, about half a handspan in diameter, with the seal of Catia imprinted upon it. He supposed it had fallen out of some noble's purse far upstream in Jaguara, and the fish had found it and choked on it. Well, anyway it would be useful... he could sell it or give it back to the nobles. There might be a reward.

Thus newly equipped and adequately fed, he set off for Jaguara, where something might happen for the better. He might be hired as a minstrel for the court, or be accepted as a Master's journeyman and be sent on a quest to gain his Mastership. Anyway, Jaguara was as good a destination as anywhere else. It was certainly better than wandering aimlessly.

Traveling eastward would soon bring him to Leona pass, where he knew of an inn that distributed free provisions with a night's stay. Maybe he would use the silver for that. The innkeeper might also know how to call Amspisali, and might teach him in exchange for a song or two. He was not ill-equipped to trade, for everyone welcomed a musician.

Auna had known from the start that coming out of the forest was a mistake. Ssela had seen her. She knew it.

She had been in exile from the Lupauan continent for over eight seasons, all thanks to Ssela. It was Ssela who had killed their Alpha, but the conniving wretch had somehow managed to make the rest of the pack believe it was Auna. The Beta, now appointed Leader, had prepared to go through with the ceremony of underwater exile for murder within the pack, and Ssela had been appointed to Beta. But it hadn't been enough. Ssela interfered with the magics to teleport Auna into the center of the Lupauan Gulf, and plunked her down in the middle of a continent swarming with wolf-ignorant cats.

Ssela... The name echoed malignantly in her head. She wondered that the cats hadn't cracked down on the nature of the beast. The name gave her away, even. And the cats had very good Search spells. She had almost been found in the forest, once or twice, by bored mages exploring unusual occurrences in obscure places.

A sharp pain clenched her lungs. Running, unexpectedly, was not this wolf's forte. The fleet Catian guards pursuing her could be heard in the distance, light-footed though they were. She kept running.

Ssela was furious. She thought she had perfected her unnoticeability spell. It had served her well back on Lupauan, well enough to keep her murder secret, but here those blasted cat mages were too thorough. Joane had discovered her identity. Her true one, not her M'az disguise. Being a Cheetah had never suited her: the illusion was difficult to maintain, and she had to keep it up whenever cats were around, which was most of the time.

Joane was lying unconscious at the wolf's feet, vermilion blood seeping slowly from her temple onto the green-leafed carpet. She would recover, only to be exiled into the forest, as she had done with Auna. She would finish them off later. She had a throne to usurp.

Ssela tripped gaily into the bedroom of the eldest daughter of the Kiranle'ara. Sniffing carefully, she did not scent Laurria. Oh well, she thought, probably in the stables. She would get her last.

Now slinking cautiously, she found the bedroom of Jil, the second eldest daughter of the Kiranle'ara. Jil was, as usual, still sleeping, though it was well past midday. Ssela had learned something from Joane, several somethings, which would make her task much easier.

She set up the magical instruments for which she had no name, and read the incantation which would burn Jil's life away from the inside out. Very little happened. A slight breath of wind coming through the balcony window stirred the scroll in Ssela's paws. Jil did not, however, become a puff of ashes on this wind. She only snorted in her sleep. Ssela groaned. The magic must be only for cats. She knew that cats could not do pack-magic, so it should logically follow that wolves could not do pride-magic. The Keeper of Magic would not allow it.

Ssela picked up the miscellaneous accessories of the spell and slunk back to the green conference room where Joane lay, resigned to sending the Kiranle'ara's litter to the forest by foot. It might work better that way, actually: they might be attacked, or starved, or die of exhaustion on the way. She prepared herself for her public assumption of the throne. She had no need now to hide her thoughts as she did when she had discovered the mind magic of the cats, for now she had force behind her. Her pack-magic had never failed her, even when her unnoticeability spell had. She projected an aura of power and invulnerability, strong enough to overwhelm the strongest mind, and went to the balcony overlooking the throne room. The court was in session, and the sight of a gray wolf at the head of the court was rather shocking. A full dozen of male ministers to the governesses fell to the floor unconscious at the shockingness of it, in fact.

"Weak, sniveling, vile excresences! Hear me! I am now your Queen. Lie in obeisance at my feet, or die! Never again mention the name of any member of the Kiranle'ara's family, or the punishment will be dire. You are all under my control, and you will go, and bring others under my control. I will be ruler of all Catia!"

The proud officials of the Catian court crawled like snakes one by one out of the throne room and went to do the bidding of the wolf. All but one, whose will was stronger than hers. He quietly slipped through the door to the hall of Lions, and teleported from there to the rooms of all the royal family, and warned them of the situation.

After only two minutes, Davirr had the entire litter (except, obviously, Laurria) assembled in the green conference room, preparing to quietly l>

Auna had known from the start that coming out of the forest was a mistake. Ssela had seen her. She knew it.

A sharp pain clenched her lungs. Running, surprisingly, was not this wolf's strong point. The fleet Catian guards pursuing her could be heard in the distance, light-footed though they were. She kept running.

Ssela was furious, in addition to a raging headache. She thought she had perfected her unnoticeability spell. It had served her well back on Lupauan, well enough to keep her murder secret, but here those blasted cat mages were too thorough. Ioane had discovered her identity. Her true one, not her M'az disguise. Being a Cheetah had never suited her: the illusion was difficult to maintain, and she had to keep it up whenever cats were around, which was most of the time.

Ioane was lying unconscious at the wolf's feet, vermilion blood seeping slowly from her temple onto the green-leafed carpet. She would recover, only to be exiled into the forest, as she had done with Auna. She would finish them off later. She had a throne to usurp.

Ssela tripped gaily into the bedroom of the eldest daughter of the Kiranle'ara. Sniffing carefully, she did not scent Laurria. Oh well, she thought, probably in the stables. She would get the heiress last.

Now slinking cautiously, she found the bedroom of Jil, the second eldest daughter of the Kiranle'ara. Jil was, as usual, still sleeping, though it was well past midday. Ssela had learned something from Ioane, several somethings, which would make her task much easier.

She set up the magical instruments for which she had no name, and read the incantation which would burn Jil's life away from the inside out. Very little happened. A slight breath of wind coming through the balcony window stirred the scroll in Ssela's paws. Jil did not, however, become a puff of ashes on this wind. She only snorted in her sleep. Ssela whined quietly. The magic must be only for cats. She knew that cats could not do pack-magic, so it should logically follow that wolves could not do pride-magic. The Keepers of Magic would not allow it.

Ssela picked up the miscellaneous accessories of the spell and slunk back to the green conference room where Ioane lay, resigned to sending the Kiranle'ara's litter to the forest by foot. It might work better that way, actually: they might be attacked, or starved, or die of exhaustion on the way. She prepared herself for her public assumption of the throne. She had no need now to hide her thoughts as she did when she had discovered the mind magic of the cats, for now she had force behind her. Her pack-magic had never failed her, even when her unnoticeability spell had. She projected an aura of power and invulnerability, strong enough to overwhelm the strongest mind, and went to the balcony overlooking the throne room. The court was in session, and the sight of a gray wolf at the head of the court was rather shocking. A full dozen of male ministers to the governesses fell to the floor unconscious at the shockingness of it, in fact.

After only two minutes, Davirr had the entire litter (except, obviously, Laurria) assembled in the green conference room, preparing to quietly teleport themselves and their mother deep into the Khorea Forest.

Laurria, whose range was better than her mother's, knew by this time that something was seriously wrong. Ioane had broken their connection and told her goodbye for a year, but Laurria had kept a very light touch on her mother's mind, and now it was gone, making a hole in her consciousness where it had been.

Laurria, with half a mind, almost decided to turn away from the mountains she saw in the distance, back down the dusty red road, and find out what had happened to her mother, but the injunction had been firm, and if her mother, the best mage on the continent and a superb controller, was in trouble, there was probably very little Laurria could do to help her. Besides, she thought, what help would she be if she was half-conscious from the shock of a sudden mental withdrawal?

She was glad she was privileged to ride a mare instead of an Amspisal: she would probably have fallen off Mendea's back by now if she had been anything but a pacer. However, even though an equine was a great advantage, she would be conspicuous if anyone saw her on it. She would also be conspicuous if she appeared as she was to any rustic tribes; M'ae, according to popular belief encouraged by the Kiranle'ara before Ioane, did not travel without a retinue. Laurria thought this was rather ridiculous, since everyone she knew had been out of Jaguara at least once without anything of the sort, but the people liked to think they were haughty and arrogant. It supposedly made them seem better suited to command. Ioane disagreed, but the custom was well established before she gained the throne.

Anyway, the mare would be out of place, which was not especially good for survival, so Laurria, thankful for the gems in her sack, cast an illusion of an Amspisal over Mendea and tied it to the emerald she held. As long as the pretty rock was within a length of the Ancient One from Mendea, she would appear to all senses but magic truesight to be a nondescript brown Amspisal. Laurria herself was exhausted from the shiftings she had done today, and could barely manage the transformation from nondescript brown Nomadic M'az into her felinoid form, a calico with hazel eyes.

Luckily, she could manage it, for within twenty-five degrees of the sun's traveling arc, she reached an inn at a pass through the mountains she had seen looming bluely earlier. It was the Sej-Green Griffin Inn at Leona Pass, she knew from her geography lessons, and from the fact that the only mountains that could be in front of her were the western Lapidean Ridge. The beauty of the picturesque blue mountains, red road, and green stone building escaped the fatigued Laurria, but the beauty of the welcome rest did not. She handed the Innkeeper two silver rials, one for herself and one for Mendea, and relinquished the mare into the hands of the stable cats. She herself fell mostly asleep at the counter waiting for a room key, but she hadn't the energy to protest when some kind Maincun in a homespun tunic carried her up the stairs to her chamber.

She awoke to the afternoon sun slanting through the window on the west side of the room; the ride from home and frequent shiftings had taken more out of her than she expected. She had lost control of her form, reverting (she had always thought that an odd reflex; if one were tired, oughtn't it be impossible to shift at all, instead of trying to use more energy?), and was even beginning to be light-headed. Her nose wrinkled with the knowledge that she was an Esnivor away from her one remaining parent. She was too far to contact, even with the augmentation an earth-metal disc would offer.

She heard a scratch at the door and called permission to enter. A black raven, in stark contrast with the clean sej-green of the chamber walls, winged down from the trim above the doorframe and settled on the bed next to her. She looked expectantly at it.

It seemed several minutes before it spoke. It named itself, executing the raven equivalent of a dignified nod.

"I am Fierdre Airlialinn. I am an observer here. I watch all that occurs."

Laurria waited for it to explain: ravens are notoriously obscure in conversation with non-avians; they are known prophets and clairvoyants, and clairvoyants are known for vagueness.

"You shall go to the seat of the remaining royalty. The son of the Master will accompany you. You will meet pasli, you are in sej, the re'are will aid you in time. You and he will be witness to the clarion call which shall summon the Ancients and the Newborn."

The light-headedness was not improving. Most of the raven's words went in one ear and out the other. The only ones she would remember later were pasli, sej, re'are and time.

"I go, to the Karthaki homeland. My place will be there. I will see you again, only you will not see me but that which is mine. Farewell, bilevshi, sia."

The raven, and the curious absence of light that accompanied her, were gone in an instant. The exotic feeling of magic was not. None of Laurria's spells felt so mystic. She knew the principles and the reasons behind feline magic, but this was different. This was entirely unfamiliar. She would have to acquaint herself with avian magic. But not right now. Her head was too floaty. She might fall down or something. She needed to eat.

Rising carefully, she was halfway out the door when she remembered that she didn't come here as herself; a different person coming out of the room she was carried into would faze the proprietors. She ought to shift back. However, this was scarcely possible considering her present condition. She had to eat before she could shift, and she had to shift before she could eat. And she didn't have the energy to port her food to her, either. She wished the raven would come back and get her some food from the self-serve counter she knew was downstairs, but the seer of her future would scarcely concern herself with her present. She had become too accustomed to Tiros, the Phoenix Ambassador to Birds, who considered her his favorite cub, and would usually oblige her in any but the most unreasonable requests when she was incapacitated.

Much to her astonishment, a tray of bovine ribs in sej and onion sauce appeared spontaneously on the bedside table, accompanied by an all-too-welcome set of mental voices:

Mother! Davirr! Andih, everybody! Hello! What's happened? Why are you so close? Great Light, you're in the woods! What are you doing?

Well, Pu... some odd occurrences have come to pass...

We're staying in the woods, Laurie, we're staying for good! Ssela's brainwashed them all into following her mutiny! We're in exile! Isn't it fun?

There was a grand pause as Laurria ingested some ribs and the current state of governmental affairs.

M'ma? How could she overpower you?

A move so simple I didn't bother to consider it while questioning her. Physical force. She jumped me while I wasn't expecting it, and knocked me out cold so I couldn't prevent her from wiping the minds of all the most respected and most powerful courtiers and recruiting them to mindwipe more normally loyal citizens.

The story of the takeover passed through the mental web with all its details intact, as well as the remainder of the events unfamiliar to Laurria which happened in her absence from the palace. She was suitably excited when her youngest sister, Gaelh, recounted the discovery of Ssela's nature. She wondered if Ssela had anything to do with the other wolf she understood was still running west, probably to the river bordering Tabi by now. That ought to stop the Tabians' siege on Servala capitol.

But, all in all, Jaguara and its neighboring esnivors are in pretty bad shape. We've got a real-time paradox we haven't solved yet, even linking to make this contact to you. We're not all that close, you know, still not close enough for M'ma to find you by herself.

That was Davirr, stating reality with no sweet coating. There was a definite problem, or several, one of which was the usurpment of her nation by an Outsider. Another was her now largely unnecessary distance from the people she'd been near all her life--

No, It's not unnecessary. You need to grow up, girl, more now than ever, and you will best accomplish that by staying out of our care for awhile, as will the rest of the litter. The Re'are are heading to where you are, hopefully faster than Ssela's cats, to ensure the loyalty of the people holding the Pass, and thus the people west of it. There's no way through the Lapidean Mountains except the Pass, and once its holders are protected from brainwashing, there's no way through at all for anyone who's not on our side. We're falling out now, merging is tiresome. We'll see you soon.

The shock of the sudden absence of the merge from her mind was as physical as would be a bucket of ice water poured over her head, and she shuddered. Refreshed and replenished, she made the shift to the calico form and then made her way down the narrow wooden stairs to the Hall. There she ate hungrily of the immense supply of ribs; one tray was not enough for the many shiftings she knew she would have to perform, and there were so many trays she thought they must have slaughtered a herd the day before.

Mumbling in her haste, she looked slowly around the room as she chewed, eventually coming to a pair of gray-blue eyes on her left, only a few handspans from her. She stopped mid-chew, recognizing this cat from her blurred and vague memory of the night before: he had carried her up the stairs when she could not manage for herself. She hurried to swallow, but only succeeded in catching a piece of meat in her throat and coughing mightily. The Maincun graciously refrained from smiling as he thumped her back and dislodged the meat. Once she had settled back into her normal pattern of respiration, she could handle speech:

"Thank you, for probably saving my life, and for saving me a greater sleep debt last night... That was very kind of you."

This time he could not help but grin, and waived any gratitude with the rejoinder that it was a pleasure to assist such an engaging lady, for even in her sleep she commanded his attention and assistance.

She blinked, her mind disquieted by the fact he found her commanding. Few non-royals were; this was another problem to work on to become less conspicuous.

"Well I