Sajani Tails

      Farnsbeck was happy to note Magenta’s mood had improved somewhat by the time the caravan stopped for lunch. By “improved” he meant she was now only complaining about how early she’d been woken every half hour or so. He wondered more than once why she didn’t just take a nap. He’d slept off and on all morning. Maybe she couldn’t sleep on a moving wagon, but he found it very relaxing. The desert sand was coarse enough to allow them to travel across it, and still provide enough cushion to make the ride smooth.

      Their driver, a gruff, but polite man who introduced himself as Hans, pulled on is graying beard as he dismounted. He wore canvas pants and an old flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up—not usual or practical for the desert, but his broad soled work boats did well in the sand. “Vell,” he said in a thick Zenache accent, “day lunch vill be oeffer dere.” He pointed to a carriage where people were busy folding down the sides to form counters. “I belief ez encluded mit yar passage.” He started quickly toward the wagon.

      Fansbeck went to rise, but Magenta placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered to him, “Did you understand that?”

      The black wolf laughed softly. “It’s a little easier if you speak Zenache, but I’ll admit, I just barely got it. Lunch is over there,” he pointed at the wagon where food was being placed on the counters, “and he wasn’t sure if it was already paid for or not. I’m pretty sure you negotiated meals to be included.”

      Magenta nodded once quickly and the two rose carefully from their wagon and started toward the meal carriage. As they got closer they could hear the lively woman working the counters talk loudly in a very slight (and much easier to understand) Zenache accent. “You think I’m joking, Rosco? I’m sure someone else also saw the cheetah. It couldn’t just be me!”

      “I keep telling you, Vee. ‘name’s Ross, not Rosco. Rosco’s the dog and I’m sure you saw that cheetah at the bottom of your last batch of brew.” The light-haired and heavy mustached human responded. He had a sword at his side, a rifle over his back, and was holding the leash of a very aggressive looking Quillain hound.

      Vee just laughed and quickly wiped down the counter before placing out another plate. Her blonde hair was tied back, and her face was almost as dark as some of the Rhidayans near her carriage. She looked over at Cyan and Magenta as they approached, and a huge smile crossed her face. She raised a hand in greeting. “Our honored guests. I’m told you’re to get a step above the rations for the riff raff and I’m even allowed to offer you some of my beer if you want.”

      Farnsbeck shrugged. “We’ll pass on the beer if that’s ok. What’s for lunch?”

      Magenta shot him a look he couldn’t interpret.

      “Well,” Vee started enthusiastically, “the standard fare is potatoes and lettuce, but for you two I’m allowed to add some chicken in yogurt curry. The Rhidayan lady might not want it, but us Zenaches need a little more meat in our diets.”

      Cyan was about to respond when Magenta interrupted him. “I’ll take the chicken and try the beer.”

      Her response kind of surprised him, but he knew better than to say anything. Any questions he might have had were answered when they arrived back at their carriage. Hans wasn’t back yet, so they spoke freely in their own language.

      Magenta handed him the cup of beer. He was glad to be in human form. The smell would have burned his nose otherwise. “If anyone asks, you need to tell them you were just too shy to ask.”

      “What?” he started.

      “A Zenache man who turned down custom beer? Or have you forgotten what that mask of yours makes you look like?”

      What she was saying was something he’d considered a few times before, but he’d found he could usually talk fast enough to avoid drinking anything. It was a safer practice anyway since many poisons could be easily hidden in beer. “I…” he tried to start again, but he managed to look down at the cup she was offering him. It was empty, so he took it and pressed it to his lips and pretended to drink. There was no way to avoid a small taste, but he was grateful his companion had managed to dispose of it first.

      She took the cup from him and pretended to drink some. She quickly spit it over the side of the wagon. “I don’t know how you manage to drink this stuff,” she said a little louder than usual. “You can have the rest.”

      Taking back the glass, he noticed Vee looking in their direction with a frown on her face. He raised his cup to her and pretended to take a very long drink from it. That action caused her to smile and go back to her work.

      “Care to explain what that was all about?” he asked quietly.

      Magenta pulled slightly on her earrings. “One of the teamsters noticed when you didn’t take it and asked his compatriot what your problem was.”

      He’d seen that happen a few times when he was stationed in Zenache, so it didn’t seem like much of an issue to him. He said as much.

      “Well,” she replied through her teeth, “you might not have been concerned, but he also mentioned the only ones in Zenache he knew who didn’t drink were wolves. We don’t need them thinking that direction, do we?”

      “I suppose not,” he replied casually, “but even if they found out we are vykati, we’re not the right color to be wanted right now.”

      “Just keep a low profile ok?” she said with exasperation. “You rely too much on that mask. That’s probably what got you in trouble in Zenache.”

      “Actually, it was a paperwork error of sorts. Someone put something down on paper which should not have been, and it was discovered.” He realized he should have thought of bringing that up sooner. It would have been sure to distract Magenta from her constant whining. Gossip about fellow agents was a stock in trade among his peers.

      “Are you volunteering information plushfur?” she asked with a smirk. “After all the banter over names, I figured it was pointless trying. What agent did that?”

      He turned to his food and tried some of the potatoes and chicken. It was pretty tasty, but it didn’t work as a distraction.

      She repeated her question.

      Oh well, giving out this information was safe, especially if it spared him a few hours from hearing how she didn’t like getting up early. “Ingram. You probably didn’t hear of him down here. He was a native agent.”

      “I have heard of him,” she responded with a bit of excitement. “You’re being overly generous calling that a paperwork error. He sold out. I didn’t know that included the names of agents.”

      “Name,” he quickly corrected her. “Mishel never trusted him for some reason, and I was his only contact.”

      They ate for a moment in silence and then Magenta suddenly smacked him once behind the head. “You big liar. Ingram was found out three years ago. Your blunder was recent.”

      He chose to keep silent and continue eating.

      “Almost got away with that,” she whined. “I got up way too early today or I’d have caught it faster.

      Farnsbeck found himself hoping they’d have a later start time tomorrow but knew that was probably wishful thinking.

      This wasn’t how Sajani originally planned to ask the platoon assigned her to stay, but the incident at the armor shop inspired her and, she hated to admit, working with Simon’s side show brought out some of her hidden craving for the spotlight. She realized her mother could’ve just asked for volunteers but did a little more. Perhaps she was born to be dramatic.

      She’d borrowed Sergeant Tess’s longsword. It was a surprisingly beautiful weapon and much more ornate than the one she’d lost on the Wisp. Tess was wearing Simon’s old rapier and managed to seem somewhat proud of it, though Sajani couldn’t imagine why. The sergeant was standing behind the four rows of eight soldiers each, and the platoon leader, Lieutenant Marshel, was at the front. The room was silent. Ambassador Ghenis had requested to be present and Sajani reluctantly agreed. A local spark, a vykati named Ginger with a metal cat on his shoulder, was standing near the back doorway with Simon and Doc Cutter. He’d arrived just as they were about to start and Sajani didn’t want to wait.

      There weren’t many things she feared and while public speaking wasn’t one of them, rejection was.

      Taking a deep breath, with every eye in the room upon her, she drew the sword at her side and set it on the floor before her. She noticed Simon was beaming. Yes, she had to admit, her love of the dramatic was, at least in a small way, a result of her respect for him. She’d been forced since that horrible day twenty years ago to walk in the foot treads of the giant who was her mother. Despite that, she felt she’d measured up and part of her knew she’d continue to measure up.

      “Friends,” she began “from time immemorial, the vykati have fought against a world that has attempted to destroy us—a world which has allowed itself to be ruled by its own fear and superstition. Time and again, we’ve been tread upon and time and again we’ve risen wiser and more powerful.” She took a few steps to her left and continued, “We could have, as a people, allowed others to dictate our destiny or allowed ourselves to wallow in despair and be overrun, but instead we’ve eschewed a martyr’s mentality, and risen over and over again to meet our challenges.

      “And now that world which has so often attempted to destroy us stands threatened by forces from without. We could stand haughtily and arrogantly away from the conflict and allow what the lesser of us might call divine justice to happen to those who may or may not have risen to our defense if our roles had been reversed. But I, for one, won’t stoop to that level.

      “We could allow that terrible force to overcome the rest of the world and hope by the time it comes to our lands, by the time it threatens our people, it’ll have been worn down enough and ceased to be a threat. But I, for one, won’t stand idly by and allow that to happen. I won’t leave the fate of the people of Terah, vykati or otherwise, to such chance.” She walked back to where she’d originally stood and tried to catch the platoon leader’s eye, but he looked away.

      “We could leave our former enemies to their fate and live only to protect ourselves. We could leave the world to its new conquerors and try to make peace with them as the enemy of our former enemies. But I, for one, will stand on the side of right. I won’t allow evil to trample across the globe. I refuse to call that evil by the name of divine justice. I’ll call it what it is: pestilence, famine, destruction.” She looked out over the platoon. Every eye, except the lieutenant’s, was on her. Was this how her mother felt that day? Had she also been unsure how many, if any, would dare follow her? Were they looking in her eyes out of respect: a respect they could not or would not match in courage?

      “Today you must decide where you stand. Today I ask you: resign the post that asks you to stand idly and sign on with those that’ll bring the fight for Terah’s freedom to the forefront.” Then she repeated the words of her mother which she’d memorized as a young lady, “‛There’s no cowardice in refusing to face such odds as we now face. There’s no hope for us, only hope we can slow the advance long enough to protect our people. Here I stand. This I will defend. Cross by my sword and add yours to the line only if you’re willing to die for your country.’”

      There was silence for a few long seconds and then, a snap could be heard as Sergeant Tess faced left and began marching around the formation. She continued to march until she stood directly before Sajani. The sergeant drew Simon’s sword from its scabbard and raised it in a salute, then briefly broke her military demeanor, smiled and set the sword down next to her own on the ground. “My lady,” she said sincerely, “I can still hear the cannons.” Then she stepped behind Sajani and fell silent.

      One at a time, starting with the first soldier of the first row of the formation and in orderly single file from there, they approached her, tossed their swords upon the quickly growing pile and as they did so, they smiled at her and said, “My lady, I can still hear the cannons.” It was the most glorious and dramatic moment of her life. Simon was obviously very proud. He followed the soldiers and while he had no blade to add, he bowed deeply before her and said, “You are your mother’s daughter to be sure, my lady. I can still hear the cannons.”

      Simon was followed by Ginger and Doc Cutter. Then, to the shock of all present, Ambassador Ghenis rose and walked before her. He bowed deeply, drawing a hidden sword from his cane, and dropping it between them. She didn’t know that the old wolf could balance himself so well without support. His voice showed he was concentrating heavily to stay on his feet. “The Lady General of my people, you’ll always be. I too can still hear the cannons, and in the name of all that is good in this world, I pray they’ll never be silent to my people’s ears.” He rose and took a few steps, proudly upright, to stand behind her.

      That left only the forlorn platoon leader, who’d been unable to meet her eye.

      “My lady,” he said without lifting his eyes to hers, “I’ll not resign my commission.”

      “And I won’t think less of you for it,” she responded. “Return to your post lieutenant. There’s no shame in serving in the Vharkylia Army.”

      And with that, he left.

            She turned to face the rest. “Thank you,” she said. She didn’t feel she needed to say any more than that. “I’m overwhelmed in the face of your courage. I’ll have your assignments by tomorrow morning, and we’ll move out shortly after that.”

      The sparks of Terah are a rare group of people. No one knows what exactly happens to cause it, although it does seem to follow some patterns of heredity, but every now and again something inside a person just clicks into place. A terrifying type of madness overtakes them, and they instantly develop a deep and profound understanding of science and the world around them.

      Those who survive this initial breakthrough find themselves able to create amazing inventions and experiments the like of which defy the very laws they now seem to so deeply understand. There are quite a few theories of how this happens, but the easiest explanation is laid out in the old adage, “You have to know the rules to break them.”

      The sign outside read “M.V., Spark.”

      Sergeant Tess always found sparks’ shops to be very interesting. The one in her hometown was her first glorious exposure to such things and it was kept by a minor spark. This shop, she had no trouble realizing, had everything from the bizarre and educational to the somewhat dangerous to the better-not-even-look-at-it type lethal. The proprietor was a fellow vykati named Ginger, which made her business there a little easier. The two troops she’d brought with her had finished unlashing the chests with the elf weapons and set them down next to her.

      The young spark, his reddish-brown fur glistening in the sunlight that was beaming in through the open doorway, got very excited. “Oh,” he exclaimed. “It’s just like New Years!” He hopped up and down quickly, waiting for them to unlock the chests. A silver and gold automaton shaped like a cat circled around his feet making a sound that was a cross between a whir and purr. When the soldiers unlocked the boxes, he reached inside of one, pulled out a rifle, pulled and released a lever, aimed it quickly at an odd-looking machine in one corner, and pulled the trigger. It made a hollow click sound. “Ah,” he said with disappointment. “It wasn’t loaded.”

      The metallic cat let out a disappointed “meow.”

      “No, Mr. Ginger,” Tess managed with a straight face, “We shipped them not loaded.” One of the soldiers picked up a small case of ammunition and helpfully handed it to him. Tess glared at him.

      “Oh good!” came the response. The spark, as though he’d used a weapon just like it for his entire life, pulled off a part of the weapon and started pushing ammunition into it. “Fascinating!” He then snapped the part back into place, pulled back a lever, released it so that it snapped back and aimed the rifle at the same machine again.

      “You’re not going to fire that…” she started. The rifle fired. Herself, and the two soldiers with her instinctively ducked. “…indoors are you?”

      It looked like the machine he’d fired at was intended to stop the bullet, or at least that was what Sergeant Tess hoped, because just randomly firing a rifle indoors wasn’t something she associated with people she wanted to do business with, no matter how highly the elderly vykati ambassador recommended them.

      The machine didn’t stop the bullet but rather deflected it. She heard it bounce seven times before it stopped and heard at least three machines break in the process. She poked her head back up again after she was sure it stopped. The spark didn’t look as if he’d moved and neither had his cat. “How very odd. It’d have to have been going pretty fast for that to happen.”

      “Do you think so?” one of the other soldiers shouted. Sergeant Tess didn’t comment.

      “Hmmm. No way to cock it? Oh, that’s very odd…” he was poking around the inside of the rifle.

      “What can you tell us about it?” Tess asked.

      “Never seen anything like it,” the spark responded.

      “Can you make more like it?”

      “Sort of.”

      Sergeant Tess had spent plenty of time dealing with the likes of Colonel Lahnk. There was no way she was going to allow this little spark to get the best of her temper. “Sort of?”

      “It’d be a lot bigger than this. Not sure how they got things this small… Hey, what’s this switch do?” Sergeant Tess ducked and the two others leapt out the door. The gun fired 10 shots in quick succession, this time aimed at the ceiling. Without the aid of the machine he’d fired at the first time, they didn’t bounce.

      “How much bigger?”

      “Hard to guess right off,” he said as though he hadn’t almost shot them twice now. “But more than two times and less than four. So, this is the safety, single shot, lots of shots… I wonder what this does?” Tess quickly ducked outside the door and briefly caught the frightened looks on her companion’s faces. A set of three rounds of bullets went off.

      “Orders are orders.” She answered the unspoken question on his face. “I’ve only got two more things to ask him and then we’re going straight back to the inn. You can wait out here.” She returned into the shop and said calmly, “I’d rather you waited to test that somewhere safer.”

      “Perfectly safe here,” Ginger muttered to himself. His cat stared at her through narrowed eyes.

      “There’re some heavy transports we’d also like you to look at. They’re a little way from here.”

      “Fine, fine.” He said distractedly, still fidgeting with the rifle. The cat came over and took a sniff at Tess’s leg. “Let me know where. If they’re anything as unusual as these, I’d be happy to look at them. What spark did you say they came from? I’ve never seen work like this.”

      “Um, we’re hoping you could tell us more about it.”

      “Yes, yes. Probably some major non-disclosure going on…”

      “And Lady Sajani would like to meet with you personally this afternoon at the vykati embassy.”

      “Yes, sure. Sure. Mind if I hold onto these for a little while longer?”

      “You know where the embassy is?”

      “Yes. Yes. Fascinating.” He’d removed a piece from the barrel and was poking around at a metal tube that ran the length. “So that’s how…” he said to himself, as he shooed the cat away from his face.

            Sergeant Tess was done. Mission accomplished, she left quickly with only a slight curiosity nagging at the back of her mind as to how long it would take him to realize she was gone.