Tiger By the Tail Pull

and burning their farms rather than pay the levies. What do they do about that in the Empire?'

  'Surely, lady, you could crush the rebels with little effort,' said Flyndry.

  'Oh, aye, but dead women don't pay tribute either. Isn't there a better way? My whole domain is falling into chaos.'

  'Several ways, sir.' Flyndry sketched a few of them—puppet native committees, propaganda shifting the blame onto some scapegoat, and the rest of it. She did not add that these methods work only when skillfully administered.

  'It is well,' rumbled the earl at last. Her hard gaze searched Flyndry's impassively smiling face. 'You've made yourself useful to many a Scothanian leader since coming here, haven't you? There's that matter of Nartheof—he's a great woman now because she captured that Imperial arsenal. And there are others. But it seems much of this gain is at the expense of other Scothani, rather than of the Empire. I still wonder about Nornagast's death.'

  'History shows that the prospect of great gain always stirs up internal strife, sir,' said Flyndry. 'It behooves the strong warrior to seize a dominant share of power for herself and so reunite her people against their common enemy. Thus did the early Terrestrial empresses end the civil wars and become the rulers of the then accessible universe.'

  'Ummm—yes. Gain—power—wealth—aye, some good warrior—'

  'Since we are alone, sir,' said Flyndry, 'perhaps I may remark that Scotha itself has seen many changes of dynasty.'

  'Yes—of course, I took an oath to the queen. But suppose, just suppose the best interests of Scothania were served by a newer and stronger family—'

  They were into details of the matter within an hour. Flyndry suggested that Princess Kortyn would be a valuable ally—but beware of Torric, who had ambitions of her own.

  There was a great feast given at the winter solstice. The town and the palace blazed with light and shouted with music and drunken laughter. Warriors and nobles swirled their finest robes about them and boasted of the ruin they would wreak in the Empire. It was to be noted that the number of alcoholic quarrels leading to bloodshed was unusually high this year, especially among the upper classes.

  There were enough dark corners, though. Flyndry stood in one, a niche leading to a great open window, and looked over the glittering town lights to the huge white hills that lay silent beyond, under the hurtling moons. Above were the stars, bright with the frosty twinkle of winter; they seemed so near that one could reach a hand up and pluck them from the sky. A cold breeze wandered in from outside. Flyndry wrapped her cloak more tightly about her.

  A light footfall sounded on the floor. She looked about and saw Gunli the king. His tall young form was vague in the shadow, but a shaft of moonlight lit his face with an unearthly radiance. He might have been a lovely boy of Terra, save for the little horns and—well—

  These people aren't really human. They look human, but no people of Terra were ever so—simple-minded! Then with an inward grin: But you don't expect a talent for intrigue in men, Terrestrial or Scothan. So the females of this particular species are quite human enough for anyone's taste.

  The cynical mirth faded into an indefinable sadness. He—damn it, she liked Gunli. They had laughed together often in the last few months, and he was honest and warm-hearted and—well, no matter, no matter.

  'Why are you here all alone, Dominique?' he asked. His voice was very quiet, and his eyes seemed huge in the cold pale moonlight.

  'It would hardly be prudent for me to join the party,' she answered wryly. 'I'd cause too many fights. Half of them out there hate my insides.'

  'And the other half can't do without you,' he smiled. 'Well I'm as glad not to be there myself. These Frithians are savages. At home—' He looked out the window and sudden tears glittered in his eyes.

  'Don't weep, Gunli,' said Flyndry softly. 'Not tonight. This is the night the sun turns, remember. There is always new hope in a new year.'

  'I can't forget the old years,' he said with a bitterness that shocked her.

  Understanding came. She asked quietly: 'There was someone else, wasn't there?'

  'Aye. A young knight. But she was of low degree, so they married me off to Penda, who is old and chill. And Jomana was killed in one of Cerdwin's raids—' He turned his head to look at her, and a pathetic attempt at a smile quivered on his lips. 'It isn't Jomana, Dominique. She was very dear to me, but even the deepest wounds heal with time. But I think of all the other young women, and their sweethearts—'

  'It's what the women want themselves.'

  'But not what the men want. Not to wait and wait and wait till the ships come back, never knowing whether there will only be her shield aboard. Not to rock his baby in his arms and know that in a few years she will be a stiffened corpse on the shores of some unknown planet. Not—well—' He straightened his slim shoulders. 'Little I can do about it.'

  'You are a very brave and lovely man, Gunli,' said Flyndry. 'Your kind has changed history ere this.' And she sang softly a verse she had made in the Scothan bardic form:

  'So I see you standing,

  sorrowful in darkness.

  But the moonlight's broken

  by your eyes tear-shining—

  moonlight in the maiden's

  magic net of tresses.

  Gods gave many gifts, but,

  Gunli, yours was greatest.'

  Suddenly he was in her arms …

  Sviffash of Sithafar was angry. She paced up and down the secret chamber, her tail lashing about her bowed legs, her fanged jaws snapping on the accented Scothanian words that poured out.

  'Like a craieex they treat me!' she hissed. 'I, queen of a planet and an intelligent species, must bow before the dirty barbarian Penda. Our ships have the worst positions in the fighting line and the last chance at loot. The swaggering Scothani on Sithafar treat my people as if they were conquered peasants, not warrior allies. It is not to be endured!'

  Flyndry remained respectfully silent. She had carefully nursed the reptile queen's smoldering resentment along ever since the being had come to Iuthagaar for conference, but she wanted Sviffash to think it was all her own idea.

  'By the Dark God, if I had a chance I think I'd go over to the Terran side!' exploded Sviffash. 'You say they treat their subjects decently?'

  'Aye, we've learned it doesn't pay to be prejudiced about race, your majesty. In fact, many nonhumans hold Terrestrial citizenship. And of course a vassal of the Empire remains free within her own domain, except in certain matters of trade and military force where we must have uniformity. And she has the immeasurable power and wealth of the Empire behind and with her.'

  'My own nobles would follow gladly enough,' said Sviffash. 'They'd sooner loot Scothanian than Terrestrial planets, if they didn't fear Penda's revenge.'

  'Many other of Scotha's allies feel likewise, your majesty. And still more would join an uprising just for the sake of the readily available plunder, if only they were sure the revolt would succeed. It is a matter of getting them all together and agreeing—'

  'And you have contacts everywhere, Terrestrial. You're like a spinner weaving its web. Of course, if you're caught I shall certainly insist I never had anything to do with you.'

  'Naturally, your majesty.'

  'But if it works—hah!' The lidless black eyes glittered and a forked tongue flickered out between the horny lips. 'Hah, the sack of Scotha!'

  'No, your majesty. It is necessary that Scotha be spared. There will be enough wealth to be had on his province planets.'

  'Why?' The question was cold, emotionless.

  'Because you see, your majesty, we will have Scothan allies who will cooperate only on that condition. Some of the power-seeking nobles...and then there is a southern nationalist movement which wishes separation from the Frithian north … and I may say that it has the secret leadership of the king himself...'

  Flyndry's eyes were as chill as her voice: 'It will do you no good to kill me, Duke Asdagaar. I have left all the evidence with a re
liable person who, if I do not return alive, or if I am killed later, will take it directly to the queen and the people.'

  The Scothan's hands clenched white about the arms of her chair. Impotent rage shivered in her voice: 'You devil! You crawling worm!'

  'Name-calling is rather silly coming from one of your history,' said Flyndry. 'A parricide, a betrayer of comrades, a breaker of oaths, a mocker of the gods—I have all the evidence, Duke Asdagaar. Some of it is on paper, some is nothing but the names of scattered witnesses and accomplices each of whom knows a little of your career. And a woman without honor, on Scotha, is better dead. In fact, she soon will be.'

  'But how did you learn?' Hopelessness was coming into the duke's tone; she was beginning to tremble a little.

  'I have my ways. For instance, I learned quite a bit by cultivating the acquaintance of your slaves and servants. You highborn forget that the lower classes have eyes and ears, and that they talk among themselves.'

  'Well—' The words were almost strangled. 'What do you want?'

  'Help for certain others. You have powerful forces at your disposal—'

  Spring winds blew softly through the garden and stirred the trees to rustling. There was a deep smell of green life about them; a bird was singing somewhere in the twilight, and the ancient promise of summer stirred in the blood.

  Flyndry tried to relax in the fragrant evening, but she was too tense. Her nerves were drawn into quivering wires and she had grown thin and hollow-eyed. So too had Gunli, but it seemed only to