Ruined Worlds

Chapter 4 – Five Knives Hold

Chapter 4 – Five Knives Hold

Shariel Veruseven walked down the wide main hall of Five Knives Hold, the heels of her boots clopping loudly on the polished marble floor. Her gait was uneven; she was still recovering from the leg injury she received on Cortex. But her limp was slight, and she barely thought about it, especially now that she was back home. She couldn't resist taking the occasional deep breath. It was the familiar smell of childhood, and she hadn't realized how much she had missed it. After all of her adventures on other planets, it felt wonderful to be back on Laenarael.

The walls of the castle were bedecked with portraits depicting past heroes of her clan. There was Harael Veruseven the Third, the short, thin, sickly chieftain with the heart of a lion. He had challenged Valael Alreven, the champion of Clan Sharowatar, to single combat in order to delay the enemy long enough for the rest of Clan Veruseven to evacuate the children. Harael was eventually killed, but his action saved many lives, including the life of Harael's infant son from whom Shariel was descended. Her uncle Harael—and many other men of Clan Veruseven—had been named after the historic hero.

Then there was Shaia Ch'tielaren, the famous sniper. She had lived during the age of gunpowder weapons and had used her rifle to deadly effect during the Fourth Empire War. She had served in the desert theater of that war, earning her the nickname “The Dune Devil.” It was said she could shoot a coin tossed in the air at a hundred paces, though Shariel thought that was almost certainly an exaggeration.

One of the most ancient of the heroes on display was Chadur Five Knives, the man who founded the city of Five Knives and later ordered the construction of the original Five Knives Hold. He was depicted as a tall, muscular, bare-chested man standing in a rushing river. He wielded a spear with both hands, and that spear was half-buried in the body of a partially submerged dragon. It was just a myth, of course, but it was a myth that carried a lot of power with the people of Clan Veruseven.

Shariel turned left, leaving the main hall and entering the Petitioners' Antechamber. Her boots were on carpet now, quieting her footfalls, but there was still plenty of noise. A number of influential, well-dressed Felids were in the room having conversations in small groups. Most were from her own clan, but not all. They turned to look when she entered, and they all gave her respectful nods when they recognized her.

She approached one of them and smiled. “It's good to see you again, Harahur.”

Harahur Veruseven's eyes crinkled, but he didn't quite smile back. He was in his fifties, of average height and build, and had a sort of permanent melancholy about him. He offered his hand. “Welcome home, Shariel.”

“Thank you.” She took his hand and tried to look confident for his sake. He and Shariel's uncle had been close friends, and Harael's death had hit the man hard. He had never truly recovered.

“Your father's in there,” Harahur said, jerking his head towards the door that led to the Audience Chamber. “He's talking with Ralisiel Laenaeish.”

“Wonderful,” Shariel said, rolling her eyes. She folded her arms across her chest and gave an exasperated sigh. Ralisiel was a successful businessman and an important member of Clan Veruseven, but he had always been a slippery, weaselly sort, too, the kind of man who could sell rocks to miners.

“I don't usually keep up with the news,” Harahur said, “but recent events have caught my attention. I hear your federation idea is official now, complete with Agrarian support.”

“That's right.” Shariel beamed with pride.

“I also hear Clan Chowaeish has joined.” His mouth twisted slightly. “Veruseven and Chowaeish, together...”

“I know.” Shariel's cheeks warmed, and she knew she was blushing furiously. “I'm sure it's not a popular arrangement here, but if the Felid Federation is going to work at all, then Clan Chowaeish must be a part of it. And I fully expect the other clans to join in due time.”

“It won't be easy to convince them.” Harahur's face softened, and his voice fell almost to a whisper. “But I hope you succeed.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but another voice spoke first.

“It's a disaster!”

Shariel turned to look and flinched when she recognized the speaker. “I'm sorry you feel that way, Mother Calulash.”

Ellira “Mother” Calulash grunted, planted her gnarled fists on her hips, and stared at Shariel with eyes as hard as drill bits. She was a gangly woman, about six feet tall and ninety years old, and had a face full of wrinkles and scars. A few coarse orange hairs sprouted from her prominent chin. She wore rough woolen frontier-style clothes, and her belt sported both a large Chevalloy knife and a plasma pistol. The mother of eighteen children, including four sets of twins and two sets of triplets, and a matriarch for numerous grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren, she was something of a local legend, and she was never reluctant to speak her mind.

“We can't continue in this endless cycle of clan conflict,” Shariel said, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible. “Especially not now. It looks like the Breeds are going to war, and—”

“To the Nightfire with the other Breeds,” Mother Calulash said. “I've seen 'em. I've been off-world. I'm not impressed. And to the Nightfire with the other clans, too. I'm a Veruseven woman through and through, and that's all that matters. I shot a Chowaeish man once, and I ripped a Shalaren woman's jugular out with my fangs when she thought I was getting too friendly with her man. They're all trouble, I tell you. Only a fool or a coward would want to be allies with outsiders. Veruseven first, last, and always!”

A few of the others in the room harrumphed. The rest remained silent, but they grinned. Whether they agreed with Mother Calulash or not, she was always entertaining.

“Hurrah for Veruseven!” someone yelled.

Everyone turned to look at a person behind Shariel, and the mood in the room became cold and tense.

Shariel closed her eyes and groaned. There was no mistaking that voice.

When she opened her eyes again, Alraren Chowaeish, chieftain of Clan Chowaeish, was standing next to her.

“Nothing like some good old clan patriotism,” Alraren said. He grinned at Mother Calulash and raised his ever-present whiskey flask. “Here's to you, Mother.” He took a swig.

“Chowaeish scum!” Mother Calulash said, her pupils narrowing to slits. She pulled out her knife, assumed a fighting stance, and bared her age-worn fangs. “I'm not too old to field-dress you like a deer, you pot-bellied grass-eater!”

Some of the others in the room chuckled.

Alraren spread his arms wide in a gesture of innocence. “Now, Mother Calulash, that's no way to treat an honored guest of Clan Veruseven, especially right here in Five Knives Hold. What would Chieftain Harishulash think? He'd be right put out, I'll bet. Surely you don't want to offend your own chieftain. Why, that just wouldn't be proper for a 'Veruseven woman through and through.'”

She hissed and shoved her knife back in its sheath. She strode up to Alraren and poked him in the chest with a gnarled finger. “I'll let you go this time, you trash-clan drunkard, but only for the chieftain's sake. If I catch you outside the castle, then I'll floss my teeth with your whiskey-rotted guts.”

“I'd expect nothing less from a woman of honor,” Alraren said with a mock bow. “Good day, Mother, and may the Breeder's blessings go with you.”

She hissed again, shook her head, and thundered out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Alraren watched her leave and then turned to Shariel. “I'm starting to think she doesn't like me very much.”

“What are you doing here, Chieftain?” Shariel tried to keep her eyes on him, though she was tempted to glance at the others to gauge their reactions. “Did you come here just to cause trouble? Because after everything we've been through together, I would think that—”

“Relax, girl. I'm here to help. You'll thank me later.” He took a sip of his whiskey.

Shariel waited, hoping more details were forthcoming.

Alraren swallowed and stifled a belch. “I'm here to have a little chat with your old man. We're sort of allies now, you know. If there's going to be a war that involves this federation thing you're trying to put together, then it seems like the two of us having a conversation might just be a good idea. I figured we'd go in there and see him together. Show of unity and all that, right?”

“Don't allow him in, Shariel,” one of the men in the room said stiffly. “Mother Calulash was right. This... person... is a filthy Chowaeish. No matter what he's done for you, or how you feel about him, he isn't fit to walk the halls of Five Knives Hold.”

The others murmured their agreement.

Alraren burst out laughing.

Shariel waited while her clansmen voiced their objections. When the noise quieted down, she stuck her chin out defiantly and spoke in her “chieftain's daughter” voice. “Chieftain Alraren rendered invaluable aid to me on Cortex. He put his own people's lives on the line for my benefit, and many of those Chowaeish died as a result.”

“Good!” someone shouted. The others chuckled.

“Wrong!” Shariel shouted back. “This is a matter of honor for me. Alraren Chowaeish is a guest in my home, and he fought beside me at the 16th Street bridge. I expect you all to treat him accordingly. And we're going in right now to see my father. Together. Excuse me.”

She shoved her way towards the door, baring her fangs at anyone who didn't get out of the way swiftly enough. When she reached the door, she wrenched it open and strode into the Audience Chamber.

“You need to get a handle on those passions, girl,” Alraren said in a low voice, hurrying to keep up with her. “Honor's a fine thing and all, and I appreciate you sticking up for me, but you're going to need your clan when this war breaks out for real. Chieftain's daughter or chieftain's dog, you can't treat your kin like that.”

Shariel opened her mouth to upbraid him, but after a moment's consideration, she snapped her lips shut and nodded. “You're right. I need to be more diplomatic. I suppose being back home has put me back in my old mindset. I need to remember not to act like a spoiled child if I don't want others to see me as one.”

“Good thing I'm here to remind you. Don't worry. I'll keep your nose out of the air.”

“Wonderful,” she grumbled. She walked up to the desk at the far side of the room and stopped in front of it. “I'm back, father.”

Harishulash Veruseven, Chieftain of Clan Veruseven, sat behind an old ornate desk. He wasn't old, but he looked it. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks sagged, and his posture was slightly hunched. His clothes were expensive and well-made, but they were also threadbare and faded.

His eyes focused on his daughter, and it was as if a switch was flipped in his soul. His face lit up, his eyes twinkled, and he smiled. “Ah, Shariel. Good. I've missed you. Welcome home, my dear.”

She looked at Ralisiel Laenaeish and gave him her best stone-faced stare. “Give us a moment alone, please, Mr. Laenaeish, if you don't mind.”

Ralisiel scowled, gave her father a glance, and then swaggered out of the room.

Alraren watched him leave with a smirk.

“You too, please,” Shariel said to the two men standing behind her father. They were his aides, and they never left his side while he was entertaining petitioners. “Chieftain Alraren won't harm my father. I'll stake my life and my honor on it.”

The two men glanced uncertainly at one another.

“Go on,” Harishulash said with a casual wave of his hand. “My brave little girl is here to protect me.” He gave her a fond smile.

Shariel's face grew hot, but she smiled back. She watched the aides leave, and then she circled around the desk to give her father a hug. “I missed you.” She kissed him on the cheek. “And I've got a lot of things to tell you.”

He patted her on the forearm. “Good. I can't wait to hear about your trip in person. Sending messages through cross-space just isn't the same.”

She pulled out a desk drawer, sat on his desk, and propped her feet on the edge of the drawer, just as she used to do when she was a little girl and her father had to sit in as substitute chieftain for his absent brother. “Father, I need your advice. I've made some progress with my Felid Federation idea, but there's still a long way to go.”

“Your clansmen aren't sold on it yet,” Alraren said to Harishulash. “Even before Mother Calulash started in on me, I could tell from their body language. They don't want any part of it.” He laughed. “Or maybe they just don't want any part of me. Hard to tell the difference.”

“Old prejudices can be difficult to overcome,” Harishulash said. He looked up at Shariel. “You must convince them that being a part of the Felid Federation is more worthwhile than being outside of it. Appeal to their self-interests. Take Ralisiel, for example. He owns Chevenite mines on... on...”

“Jh'terin,” Shariel said.

“Yes. Jh'terin. He has to pay usage fees to three different clans in order to exploit his mineral rights. Convince him that a federal system would ease his financial and regulatory burdens.”

Alraren snorted. “Yeah, that'll happen when cows meow. Federations tend to become empires, and empires tend to get heavy-handed, in case you haven't been paying attention to history. Happens faster than anyone thinks, too. He probably figures the Felid Federation would end up costing him more in the long run, not less.”

“Perhaps. But reality is irrelevant. All that matters is perception. Convince a man something will benefit him, and that man will embrace it, even to his own destruction.”

Shariel frowned. Her father's advice sounded underhanded, and that's not the way she wanted to pursue her goals.

“You've got a point,” Alraren said, “but the more I think about it, the more I think this whole 'federation' thing is going to be a problem all by itself. It's the sovereignty thing. You're just not going to get the clans to surrender their sovereignty.”

“Your clan did,” Shariel pointed out.

“Yeah, but we're not trustworthy.” Alraren grinned. “We'll stab you in the back as soon as it's profitable for us.”

She gaped. “Why, you—”

“And the name is dumb, too,” Alraren said, seeming not to notice her outrage. “It doesn't say 'warrior Breed of the galaxy' at all. In fact, 'Felid Federation' sounds like something a sodbuster would think up. And that's just sad. You need a better name, and you need a more, uh, loose government structure. A federal system just won't cut it.”

Shariel was about to retort, but her father spoke first.

“I fear he's right,” Harishulash said. He gave her an apologetic look. “I can't tell you what to do. But I can tell you this: I will not commit the entirety of Clan Veruseven's space fleet to your Felid Federation, or whatever you decide to call it in the future. In fact, I won't commit any ships at all.”

Shariel's heart sank. “But I—”

“Instead, I will leave the matter to the officers of those ships. If a ship's officers wish to offer you the services of their vessel, then they have my blessing. But it will be their decision, not mine. As with Ralisiel, you must convince them.”

Shariel gulped. She had assumed the use of her clan's fleet would be a given.

Alraren chuckled. “Don't worry, girl. Nothing Felids love more than a good fight. Just tell 'em they'll get to see more blood with you than they would sittin' at home.”

Harishulash pursed his lips. “That's a crude strategy, but it might actually work, Mister...”

Alraren's eyebrows shot up. “Chowaeish. Chieftain Alraren Chowaeish.”

“Of course.” Harishulash shook his head. “Forgive me, Chieftain. My mind drifts sometimes.”

“It's all right. Happens to me, too, when I'm drunk. I've found a cure, though. It's called 'more whiskey.' Actually, that's a cure for a lot of things. Miracle stuff.” He took a swig from his flask.

“Father,” Shariel said, giving Alraren an exasperated look, “I've been thinking about announcing an alliance between the Agrarian Commonwealth and the Felid Federation.”

Alraren spewed his whiskey and lapsed into a coughing fit.

“The alliance isn't official yet,” Shariel continued, “but I think it could help with recruiting the other clans. I think they'll be more willing to join with us if they know the Commonwealth is there to fight alongside us.”

“I'm sure an informal announcement will be fine,” Harishulash said. “I doubt the Agrarians will be too upset about a breach in protocol. You helped them on... on... on that planet, after all.” His brow furrowed.

“Cortex,” Shariel said. “I fought alongside their soldiers on Cortex so their delegates could escape.”

“Yes. Cortex. Of course.” Harishulash sighed. “I'm sorry, Shariel. I'm tired. I think I need to lie down for a while.”

“I'll send your aides back in to escort you.” Shariel hopped off the desk, hugged her father, and kissed his forehead. “I'll see you later.”

She circled around the desk, grabbed Alraren by the arm, and towed him towards the door.

“Well,” Alraren said in a low voice, “that was an eye-opener. Never knew your old man was so—”

“Don't say it,” Shariel snapped. “He's in complete control of his faculties. He just has... spells from time to time. That's all.”

“If word gets around, his clansmen could declare him unfit for duty.”

“Then let's make sure that doesn't happen. Not a word to anyone, understand?”

“Don't worry, girl. I didn't come here to start trouble. Enough of that in the galaxy already.” Alraren gave her a shrewd look. “But you'll have to deal with this sooner or later. He can't pretend forever.”

Shariel pressed her lips together and ground her teeth, wanting the whole subject to just go away. Alraren was right, of course, but that didn't make it any easier. Her federation idea had been a dream once, an ideal. But if her clansmen started getting itchy for the chieftain's chair, then her friendly ties to the other clans and the Agrarians might be the only things that kept her alive.

And if Alraren was right about a federal system being too unpalatable, then she'd need to reorganize it all somehow in order to get the chieftains on board. She wasn't sure how to make everything come together, but she needed to figure it out soon, and she had to make it happen before her father's decline became too advanced.