Chicks - The Chick Is In The Mail Part 19

"Mistress Irene! Mistress Irene!" Andromeda charged into the stableyard, droplets of fresh blood spattering from the flapping skirts of her mail tunic. The Persian amba.s.sador's entourage scattered like chickens as she plunged through them, waving her arms. "The Empress just bit the head off a live goat!"

Irene waved back, then noticed that the Persian amba.s.sador had quietly fainted into the clean straw on the stable floor. She sighed and handed the halter rope of the amba.s.sador's Berber mare to the Hippolyta. "Please revive the amba.s.sador," Irene said, "and explain to him that the Empress, in this instance, is a griffin." The real Empress, Irene thought as she hurried to meet her apprentice, would never bite the head off a goat-not when she had amba.s.sadors and imperial officers available.

Irene reached and pa.s.sed her blood-splashed apprentice without stopping, heading for the griffin's aerie.

Andi managed a skidding about-face, adding a patina of dust to her b.l.o.o.d.y armor, and scrambled to reach Irene's side. Andi's legs were twice as long as Irene's-but it was almost always Andi trotting to keep up. "Sorry about the amba.s.sador, Mistress."

"He'll be fine," Irene said dismissively. "He's new. You might want totry to remember to call the Golden Empress 'Goldie,' though, just to avoid this sort of confusion."

Andi colored. "Should I go back and apologize?"

"Certainly not! We've a superfluity of Persian amba.s.sadors, but only one griffin."

Irene's pace carried them quickly through the small garden that buffered the Aerie and disguised the feeding pens. Irene shouldered through the antechamber door, Andi on her heels.

A half dozen goats cowered in the near corner of the aerie, too terrified even to bleat. Irene didn't blame them. Goldie's tawny feathers were crimson with blood. She gripped the corpse with one forefoot, probing the torn belly with her hooked beak.

"I brought her several goats to choose from," Andi whispered, bending so that she was closer to Irene's ear, "but she grabbed the Judas, the female in estrus I used to make the males more biddable."

Suddenly the griffin stilled. She made a soft croaking sound, then lifted her head, a ma.s.s of pink flesh in her beak. As Andi and Irene watched anxiously, she choked down the organs, her twitching wings stretched to their full sixteen-foot span.

"What's that she's eating?" Andi whispered.

Irene squinted and whispered back. "Ovaries. And a uterus, I think." Irene thumped a fist against her thigh. "The Fadingis connected to a breeding cycle. Her humors are unbalanced!"

Goldie stood for a moment, eyes closed, making the same soft croaking. Her wings slowed and mantled, and she looked down at the dead beast beneath her talons as though surprised to see it there. After amoment, she settled to her haunches and began to feed normally.

"Good girl, oh, good, my beauty," Irene murmured. Tears slid silently down her face. Six months ago, Goldie's amber plumage had been sleek and glossy, her eyes bright with intelligence and curiosity. Now she was thin beneath her dull and brittle feathers, her dark eyes haunted. Irene leaned against the aerie's arabesque of iron bars, watching the Golden Empress feed.

Irene felt Andi's hand squeeze her shoulder. "She took milk this morning too, Mistress," Andi said, "Warm from the cow, just as Master Kerides suggested."

"Wonderful," Irene said. She straightened, wiping her damp face on the purple breast scarf that marked her as one of the Empress Theodora's officers. Andi plucked the scarf out of her hand and subst.i.tuted a handkerchief.

Irene blew her nose. "As long as she's eating there's hope. Kerides has kept Windwing alive for a full year since her Fading began." She fisted her hands against the bars of the aerie. "Goldiehas to live long enough for you to complete your apprentices.h.i.+p, so that you, not Tulius, take my place."

Andi's face twisted. "Theodora has known you all your life. I can't believe she'd have you killed."

Irene turned resigned eyes to her apprentice. "The Golden Empress is Princess Helena's signet beast, the augury of her future reign. In my arrogant youth, I swore I'd keep the griffin alive. If Goldie dies, I won't live to see the next dawn."

"We'll heal Goldie," Andi said. "You won't die."

Irene stared at the feeding griffin. "Well, not today, anyway." Her hands relaxed. "Rescue the leftovers, will you? Then get changed. We have to go to the menagerie."

Andi paled. "For how long?"

Irene rubbed at her eyes. "That depends on how many animals from yesterday's 'performance' are still alive."

A long stone ramp led to the catacomb of cells and cages that ran beneath the hippodrome. The walls distorted the cries of the captive animals, so that the stones themselves seemed to wail, and in that stygian closeness the smell of blood and sweat and rotting waste was almost stifling.

"Honoring us with a visit, Irene?"

Irene turned. "Good-day, Tulius."

Tulius was tall and darkly handsome, and Irene had seen him be charming when he had something to gain by it. It made his easy cruelty all the more grotesque. Irene nodded toward the first corridor of cages. "We'll see the animals now, thank you."

Tulius made an ironic bow. "Certainly. We lost half the hyenas, and two of the lions, but there're others that may do for the arena again if you want to patch them up."

"Which lions?" Andi demanded. "You didn't fight Leda? What did you do with her cubs?" "Did you miss the show? Too bad! I loosed the hyenas on the cubs, then set the lions on the hyenas. It was inspired."

Andi's eyes blazed. Irene set a hand on her shoulder. "Which lions did you lose?"

"The big male-a shame about that-and the mother. The hyenas got one cub, but the two surviving lionesses drove off what was left of the pack before they got the other." He made a face, mockingly tragic. "Of course, I had to have it destroyed anyway. Too young to live without its mother. Well, enjoy your rounds, ladies. I'm sure you can find your own way." He threw a ring of keys at Irene. Managing not to flinch, she s.n.a.t.c.hed them out of the air before they struck her in the face.

This was the man who wanted her place, wanted control of her animals, of her people, ofAndi . If my Golden Empress dies, Irene thought, before the princess's Varangians come for me, perhaps I will come for you.

Tulius turned on his heel and went whistling up the corridor toward the arena. Andi stared after him, her eyes speaking hate. Irene touched her arm. "Andi. There's nothing you can do for the dead ones. Let's go see what we can do for the living."

"They're all dead," Andi said bitterly. "Just some of them are still breathing."

Irene gave a small crooked smile. "You could say the same of me. Or of anyone." Irene took Andi's hand, squeezed it. "We all cheat death one breath at a time."

Andi squared her shoulders. "Let's go cheat like h.e.l.l."

A weak or sickly beast did not make a good show, so Tulius's captives at least had clean water and adequate food. But their quarters were cramped, and they lived in a miasma of fear and filth where even a minor wound could turn deadly.

One of the surviving lionesses had a shallow gash in her flank, which only needed to be cleansed and st.i.tched.

The second lioness was not so simple. Though the bone of her injured leg was miraculously unbroken, the flesh was deeply torn, in places hanging in strips like meat cut for smoking. Serious infection had already set in, angry-looking purple streaks running into the undamaged flesh of hock and thigh.

Irene shook her head. "The poison's entering her blood. It might be kindest just to cut her throat."

"No!" Andi protested. Irene looked at her sharply and the younger woman reddened. "We can give her a chance."

Irene squatted back on her haunches. "Talk."

"I have a new medicine," Andi said, "supposed to fight this kind of infection. The Varangian who told me of it swore by it."

"Varangians swear by a lot of things," Irene said doubtfully. "False G.o.ds. Their swords. Beer." She nodded. "Try it." Andi flashed a smile, put flame to her blade and began to excise the wound. She sc.r.a.ped some of the deadly ooze into one of Irene's costly gla.s.s jars.

"What will you do with that?" Irene asked.

"If I can get the poison to grow outside the flesh, perhaps in a dish of fresh blood, then I could try our medicines in turn, to see which best destroys it."

Irene nodded approval, watchful as Andi packed the wound with a grey paste. "What's in your Varangian's goo?"

Andi colored, but began to pull the tattered flesh together with small neat st.i.tches. "Biscuit mold and spider webs."

Irene smiled wearily. "Well, I've heard worse."

By the time they finished their rounds in the maze of cells, they were sick-hearted and weary. Irene sank to the thin straw that littered the pa.s.sage, her back against the wall. Her head ached from working by lamp and torchlight, her fingers were cramped from wielding knife and needle and her hands raw from repeated was.h.i.+ng. She closed her burning eyes for a moment, feeling vaguely guilty as Andi cleansed their instruments and emptied basins into the narrow gutters.

"Mistress?" Andi said. "What's this end cell for?"

"It's called the Dragon Cage," Irene answered, without opening her eyes. "Large exotics were confined there, back when rare beasts like dragons were actually exhibited and killed in the arena. It hasn't been used for years."

"It's in use now," Andi said grimly. Irene's eyes popped open and she sat up. Andi had her ear pressed shamelessly against the rough cedar door. "This lock is new, and I can hear something moving inside."

"That b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Irene spat, anger and alarm banis.h.i.+ng fatigue. She scrambled up, fumbling for the ring of keys. The lock answered to none of them.

Irene withdrew in frustration. "d.a.m.n. We can't get in."

Andi bent and rummaged in the satchel, emerging with a farrier's hammer and horseshoe pry. "b.u.g.g.e.r that," she said flatly. She planted the wedge of the pry against the lip of the door hasp and struck down hard with the farrier's hammer, once, twice. The hasp plate tore away from the wood and the whole lock a.s.sembly swung free.

Both women pushed through the doorway into a small antechamber. Irene lifted the lantern to illuminate the barred cell beyond.

Andi gasped. "Mistress Irene.What is it ?"

"I have no idea," Irene said softly.

The creature was a lithe darkness against the grey stone, eyes s.h.i.+ning an eerie green in the light. It was built like a lion the size of aKilbanophoros steed, with a sleek scaled head atop a powerful, graceful neck that reminded Irene of horses. Then it arched its back like an enormous cat, and a series...o...b..adelike scales rose like a clattering phalanx of spears along its spine. Lamplight spilled over scales and claws scratched on stone as the creature wheeled to face them head-on. It tried to shriek, but only a faint and angry hissing escaped its beaked and muzzled jaws.

"I see you found my prize," Tulius said from behind them.

"And I so wanted to surprise you."

Irene turned furiously. "This is an exotic, Tulius! It belongs in the Imperial Mews, not in the arena!"

"Oh, yes?" Tulius's posture was confident, his eyes and voice amused. "Now,Mistress , I have a long, long list, written in your own hand, of creatures you may take from me in the Empress's name." His voice went low with sudden hatred. "I know that list as well as you, you dwarfish b.i.t.c.h, and that creatureis not on it . Therefore, it ismine. "

The Black Beast lunged at Tulius, cras.h.i.+ng against the bars of the cage. Talons snagged on iron and sc.r.a.ped parallel grooves in the stone floor.

Tulius laughed, an honestly joyous, happy sound. "A prince of the Vandals comes to the City, and I promised the Empress a fitting entertainment for her barbarian guest. My Black Beast will kill until the sands are red, and he will die magnificently." He grinned and leaned over Irene's small frame, his predator breath hot in her face. "I and my Black Beast will be remembered when you are a long-forgotten joke, Mistress Irene."

"The Empress takes no pleasure in such things!"

"But the princedoes ," Tulius said with confidence. "And your precious Empress values a treaty with his father more than the life of this beast."

"Left to your care, the beast might not live to see the arena," Andi said. Irene and Tulius turned. Andi knelt beside the bars of the cage, the beast scant inches away on the other side of the bars. Its chest scales rattled as it struggled for breath. "At least take the muzzle off it. It's overheated. It needs to pant, like a dog or a lion. It also has untreated wounds." Andi addressed Irene. "It must have been caught with wire snares. There are lacerations, one high on the right hind leg, another just above the wrist joint of the left fore. They're underneath the lap of the scales, so I only saw them when the beast leaped at the bars."

"Any sick animal is under my jurisdiction," Irene reminded Tulius sharply.

Tulius laughed. "The Black Beast isn't sick. You want to take its muzzle off, they're your hands." With easy arrogance he took a key from a cord around his neck and handed it to Andi. "Bandage him up while you're at it, if it will make you happy. But the Empress knows about the beast-and she has said I may use it in the arena."

"I can't believe that," Irene said, stricken. "I'll go to Theodora myself. She won't-she can't-let something so rare and beautiful be destroyed."

Tulius grinned. "Ask her." He tossed Irene a salute and sauntered out of the chamber.

The Black Beast raised its head to watch him go, rumbling with impotent hate.

Andi fetched their satchel. She took something from it, then slowly knelt before the bars again, her eyeslocked with the beast's baleful glare. Slowly, the muted growl died. From amidst the scales, graceful ears lifted. Andi held her right hand motionless, cupped just before her chin.

"Shhhh," she whispered. The creature arched its graceful neck toward her. At the base of the muzzled beak, nostrils flared wide to take in her scent.

Andi's lips puffed. The soporific powder smoked through the bars, drawn deep into the beast's throat and lungs.

The long neck swayed as the beast drew back; the heavy, beaked head sank down onto the armored breast. In a little bit, it slumped onto its side, unconscious.

Irene set her hand on Andi's shoulder. "Well done."

Andi turned her eyes to Irene's, and Irene saw in them a reflection of her own despair. She turned her eyes away, and, taking the key, opened the door of the cage.

Irene hoped she'd be allowed to see the Empress before she'd sweat-soaked all three layers of her court clothes. Her costly cotton tunica was more forgiving than silk, but the wide-sleeved underdress was amber-colored samite, her overdress russet silk trimmed in shades of yellow and amber. Her cap and superhumeral, the wide formal collar, matched the underdress and were trimmed in seed pearls and amber drops.

She felt like a courtesan's bed-curtain.

One of Theodora's secretaries, a small, slim eunuch named, inappropriately, Herakles, came out of the Blue Chamber. "The Empress will see you now, Mistress Irene," he said, "but be quick. She's tired, and she has much more to do before she will consent to rest."

Irene nodded. Wis.h.i.+ng she could calm her fluttering stomach, she drew a deep breath and followed Herakles into the Blue Chamber.

The Empress Theodora VI was seated in a highbacked chair behind an elegantly simple wooden table.

On a stool beside her mother sat the seventeen-year-old Princess Helena, frowning over a wax tablet as she nibbled an apple slice. A platter of cold chicken and fruit and a water jug were wedged in between piles of doc.u.ments. A half-dozen secretaries worked at low desks or glided to and from the table and racks that held maps, books, and parchments. A high window admitted air without making enough of a breeze to trouble the papers.

Irene prostrated herself, awkward in her unaccustomed clothes, then moved forward to kneel on one of the cus.h.i.+ons scattered before the table, to wait for the Empress to acknowledge her.

Helena noticed her first. "Mistress Irene! I'm sorry I've been too busy here to come to the aerie. How is my Goldie?"

Irene felt relief that she could honestly give a good report. "She is better, Highness. She fed well yesterday."

The Empress put her signature to the paper before her and handed it off to a secretary. Helena hastened to move the platter of food beneath her mother's fingers before she could select another doc.u.ment.Theodora spared a smile for her daughter, and took a piece of food without looking. "Mistress Irene,"

Theodora acknowledged. She inclined her head. "You may sit." She ate a bite of chicken while Irene settled more comfortably. "I a.s.sume you are here about Tulius's Black Beast."

Irene's heart sank. "Yes, my Empress. Tulius means to have it torn apart in the arena." She looked up at the woman she had served all her adult life and found herself pleading. "My lady, please-it is unique, perhaps the only one of its kind. It is-it is beautiful, perhaps intelligent as well. You can't allow it to simply be destroyed."

"One does not say 'can't' to one's Empress, Irene," Theodora said sharply. Irene quailed, and the Empress went on more gently. "I understand. You are as pa.s.sionate in your calling as I am in mine. But my concerns are larger than yours. I have intelligence that this Vandal princeling has a barbarian's taste for a b.l.o.o.d.y show, and I have need to please him." She made a face. "As little as I like it, his people control trade routes that we need. I learn from my ancestress: treaties are better than war. I'm sorry, but unless circ.u.mstances change, the beast belongs to Tulius." The Empress took another doc.u.ment and turned her eyes to it. "You may go."

Irene made obeisance and got slowly to her feet. As she turned to go, the Empress's voice caught her.

"Oh, and Mistress Irene, a word of advice." Irene froze. "If I were you, I would concentrate my attention on the creatures already in your care."

The Empress's pen dipped, tapped, and began to write. Irene was dismissed.