Sajani Tails

      The old tailor was waiting for her when she arrived the following day. Saheeba and Bashim were dressed differently than before, in their Jahma finest. She bowed slightly as Sajani entered and her grandson, taking the cue from her, bowed low.

      “Lady Sajani,” the old wolf said with a shaking voice, “I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you. I should have known when Bashim said you looked so much like your mother, and then right after you left all the expatriates in the city were in a frenzy with the news you were performing magic in the streets.”

      Sajani gave a polite little cough to interrupt Saheeba and then motioned for her to rise. The old woman and her grandson stood, still beaming at her. The old wolf motioned to a display dummy nearby where the armor the vykati woman ordered stood in glory. She touched its sleeve and ran a finger down the side. There wasn’t a single blemish on the leather.

      “When the others learned it was for you, they all pitched in,” the old wolf said excitedly. “Alhan the tanner brought a special order of leather, dyed with dyes straight from Yenhel the alchemist. Mr. Merts came by with some silk thread for us, imported from Jzianrhun. And don’t you worry, noble lady, it’s all paid for. Not a one of us would take a cent from you.”

      Sajani continued to stare down at the armor. She just wanted something to get her by until she could afford better. She hadn’t expected this. Lifting it carefully from the display, she looked askance at Saheeba. Bashim caught her unasked question and folded out a curtain for her to change behind.

      The old woman continued, “There’s some gem work on the cuffs, collar, and belt. Those came from ol’ Teng.”

      Sajani gasped when the chest piece changed slightly on its own to fit her.

      “That’d be the work of our local enchanter, Calmar. He’s not a vykati, but he got caught up in our spirit. It’s already fitted exactly to you, but a little magic will go a long way to keep your fur from binding.”

      When Sajani stepped from behind the curtain, she was surprised to see Ambassador Ghenis standing in the doorway. He was holding a long and narrow black box bound by a rust-colored ribbon. He had a smile on his face as he hobbled towards them. A few other vykati whom she didn’t know entered the shop behind him, followed by a very old human.

      Bashim ran up to her, dragging a tall mirror on wheels and she was able to admire the armor. Its background was a deep black with rust-colored highlights. The gem work was done in blues and reds. On the right chest was a symbol she never saw before: a rust wolf’s head silhouette with crossed cannons behind. The banners above and below it read, “I can still hear the cannons.”

      Ambassador Ghenis cleared his throat and held out the box. She opened it to find a saber with a copper guard and a blackened blade. She held it out before her to test its balance, which was perfect, and took a careful swipe to her right to hear it sing.

      She smiled as she struck a swashbuckling pose. A little public facing wouldn’t hurt.

      “Behold the copper wolf, the lady of rust,” Ambassador Ghenis said dramatically. A crowd that formed behind him cheered. Sergeant Tess and the troops were there already. There was food. She wasn’t sure who provided it, but anyone who came up on the street was welcome to it. A group of musicians set up stage just outside the shop and as they started to play, Ambassador Ghenis held out his hand and bowed before her. “May I have the honor, my lady?” he asked.

      He had to lean on her a lot, and he was far from quick on his feet, but there was a certain stiff gracefulness to him that spoke greatly of a younger self. He never stepped on her. “How much did this cost the embassy?” she asked him.

      “Nothing,” he replied. He sounded truthful.

      “You?”

      “Nothing,” he repeated.

      She couldn’t resist casting a little spell. She tried to hide it from him, but apparently, he was too clever for her.

      “Nothing,” he said yet again. “My lady I paid nothing for all this. Not even the sword.” He was looking her right in the eye and had been for the whole dance. She was barely taller than he.

      “Then who?” she asked.

      “Hope,” he said. She was surprised his comment registered as truth.

      “Who’s Hope?” she asked, guessing he was referring to some wealthy citizen.

      Ambassador Ghenis laughed. “You know all about hope, my lady. You’re the one who carries it with you.”

      She scoffed at the diplomatic double talk. “It doesn’t pay the bills. I want to know who I owe. Who paid for all this?”

      “They did.” His eyes swept the expanse of people, vykati and human, who were around them. “And you’ve already repaid them.”

      “Each person donated some…”

      “No, my lady, each person gave of himself.”

      “I owe them something.”

      The ambassador laughed and said, “You’ve paid them already. Your currency is hope. There’re forces in the world, powerful forces, they know are coming their way. You stand between them and those forces, not because you have to, but because you want to, and you turn their despair to hope. They know what your mother accomplished, and they have faith you’ll do even greater things. You may feel indebted to them, but you’ve already paid that debt in full and will continue to overflow their coffers in the days to come.”

      She wanted to respond, but they were both stopped from their dance by Ginger, who had a very serious look on his face. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said very solemnly. Sajani was worried perhaps there was bad news. She looked around and found Sergeant Tess watching them with a huge smile on her face. “But Sergeant Tess insists I cut in.” He took her by the hands and began dancing.

      Sajani couldn’t stop laughing, neither could Tess and the ambassador. By the time the evening was done, she danced with Tess, Doc Cutter, Ginger, and just about every member of the platoon, as well as, it felt like, half the city. She had no trouble going to sleep that night.