Chapter Three: Power Play
The dawn of the next day had all of Rodentia, Plundarr’s capitol, as well as Plundarr itself, was in an uproar. The news of Ratar-O’s assassination spread like wildfire, and the High Council building and palace were both abuzz with rumors of intrigue and scandal as to who could be to blame. The noble rat clans were frantic, in heated discussions as to which of them had the best claim to the throne, while reptilians and other clans plotted to make their own move. As it was, a meeting of a number of clan leaders had been called to assemble in the war room to hash the matter out. While Slythe was not present, as his clan was somewhat remote to be represented in the city, Jackalman was present, chosen as a delegate to represent the interests of the local jackal populace.
“It is an outrage, I tell you,” squawked Buzidro, the vulture clan’s representative. “The rats have, caww, grown complacent and overconfident! If the vultures weren’t so overlooked in local affairs, this violation of security would not have happened.”
“Vultures are not represented because they are weak,” rasped General Klith, the highest reptilian general under Ratar-O’s regime. “I doubt sssecurity would be any better had your men been in charge. This was clearly an inside job.” His hard eyes did not let on a hint of his true thoughts beneath. Too bad, he thought, Bazungy wasn’t here to witness all the trouble she had caused.
One of the rat nobles, a smooth-furred black rat named Otarin, sniffed at the others in disdain. “And are you casting that accusation to one of us, Klith? Insinuating that we might want one of our own to take Ratar-O’s throne?”
Jackalman’s ear turned curiously in the rat’s direction. “Did you?”
“Most certainly not,” huffed an elderly grey rat named Spraguin. “Ratar-O’s father was a cousin of mine. Killing one of our own clan would serve no purpose, and we had no issues with his policies… unlike some others I’ve heard rumor of,” he stated, twitching his whiskers in Tiberon’s direction.
The stately Nautilus answered in an even, emotionless tone. “You have no evidence to implicate me, Spraguin, do you? If not, you would do well to keep your baseless accusations to yourself.”
Otarin frowned. “Were there any witnesses to the assassination?”
Buzidro cawed and cleared his throat. “Apparently Ratar-O was alone with his concubines when it happened. He had just dismissed Tiberon and his aide, and five of his girls had been brought in to see to his, caww, pleasures, when shortly after he was found murdered.”
“Tiberon, you say?” scoffed Spraguin.
“I was present at that meeting,” the Nautilus stated. “But I did not witness the assassination. Ratar-O’s aide will testify that I left with him.”
“It must have been one of the females, then,” the hawken delegate Kawak, who had remained silent until now, spoke up. “Where are they? Have they been interrogated?”
“Those who remain have been kept under strict supervision, yes,” Klith informed them.
“Those who remain?” Spraguin snapped indignantly. “What do you mean? Don’t tell me the inept security let them slip away as well?”
“Of the five, only four were recovered. A reptilian, whose name and background seem to be eluding us, no one can get a hold of. She has not been seen by any since the harem-keeper brought her to Ratar-O,” Buzidro stated with a clear scowl on his avian face. “The harem-keeper says a traveling slaver sold her to the palace for a fee yesterday. He has, caww, since been unable to contact the slaver for background. No one but the other females, the harem-keeper, Ratar-O, his aide, and Tiberon got a clear look at her.”
Otarin shot the Nautilus a pointed look. “You would recognize her, then?”
“I have given all my accounts to the authorities. I know only her face,” Tiberon informed them. “Naturally I have done my part.”
“Naturally,” snorted Spraguin. “Well Klith, Buzidro, what of the other four females? Do they not know anything?”
Klith frowned. “One rat remains silent, and will not answer, even when beaten. One, the mouse woman, is mute and cannot talk. And one rat claimed to know nothing beyond what we have told you, even though we threatened the life of her four-year-old pup. Ssshe claims she went into shock and remembers nothing else, except that the reptilian vanished.”
“And the fourth?” pressed Kawak.
“She is dead,” Buzidro stated. “The harem-keeper found her dead by her own hand in her chamber this morning.”
Spraguin sneered. “Isn’t that convenient?”
“Far from it,” Klith stated humorlessly.
“Indeed,” Otarin agreed. “Not only do we have to find out who is responsible for the murder of our King, but we also have to appoint a new leader.” He glared suspiciously at all the other clan representatives. “A rat leader, before any of you get any ideas about staging a coup.”
“Oh yes, the rat clans have their military forces at the ready in case such a thing were to happen,” Spraguin offered, standing next to Otarin.
Kawak squawked in laughter. “And change Plundarr’s inept rule? We’d love to, but we know better than to slit our own throats, Spraguin.”
Tiberon’s luminous eyes stared into those of the rat clan delegates. “I assume you two have made a selection to replace him, then?”
Spraguin and Otarin’s eyes met for a moment, before Otarin stepped forward. “We have. Spraguin’s clan is distantly linked to Ratar-O’s, and mine has distant bloodlines to the mighty Ratilla, albeit through a female.”
“Therefore,” Spraguin continued, “we’ve agreed that the only reasonable choice for the throne is a removed cousin of Ratar-O’s, who is also tied remotely to Otarin’s clan… my grandson Roderan.”
Klith hissed. “Roderan is but a boy. What would he know of leading? Surely you rats have someone better suited?”
“He is the closest male relation to Ratar-O,” Otarin argued. “Unless you would like to appoint one of his illegitimate female pups to rule Plundarr?”
Jackalman snorted and barked at that statement. “Not hardly. If you say the boy will do, the boy will do. But he will need advisors. And you’ll pardon us if we don’t trust you two to lead him on your own,” he sneered at the rat pair.
Spraguin glared at Jackalman, while Otarin answered. “No. While we all will have our say as clan leaders, a primary advisor is to be appointed. It is the general consensus of the rats—”
“Except me,” Spraguin interrupted.
Otarin shot the elderly rat a withering look before he continued, “—that Tiberon will be appointed to advise him. Any objections?”
The room was silent. It was political suicide to outwardly speak out against the consensus of the leading rat clans, let alone insult the Nautilus.
“Very well then,” Otarin stated. “Tiberon, you may find Roderan in a suite on the eighth floor. He is under heavy guard by order of the rat clans, but you will be permitted entrance. For now, this meeting is adjourned.”
With that, the meeting broke up, and the various delegates disbursed. Alone in the hallway, Jackalman pulled a recording device out of the pocket of his robe, and tested the playback. While it came out as somewhat muffled, all the voices were distinct. Excellent, the jackal thought, Slythe will enjoy this bit of information. He mulled over his plans once more. He had two stops to make. One would be to the newly appointed youthful leader Roderan. The other, and the more intriguing, would be to pay the stubborn rat concubine who had not spoken up as of yet, a visit. He had his own ways of coaxing the truth out.
* * *
The rat concubine sat up on the edge of her bed with a start when she heard the latch of the door open. She reached for a dagger she kept well hidden under her mattress, in case the thugs that called themselves security were returning to try and beat more information out of her. She hadn’t spoken of what she’d seen—the reptilian woman stab Ratar-O in the gut, and High Councilman Tiberon’s sudden and consequent appearance and disappearance with her. She did not dare speak out anything against one who held such a high position, especially when she heard the guards posted outside her quarters that he was now primary advisor to the newly chosen rat leader. To do so meant certain death, and that was a risk she was unwilling to take. Bruises from beatings would heal.
To her surprise it was not more security, but a jackal who wore the civilian robes of a clan leader. She said nothing, only eyed him suspiciously.
Jackalman smiled and eyed the pretty rat with a lecherous smile. Even though some of her fur was matted with blood from her previous beatings, and her clothes were tattered, she was still a lovely sight, especially for a rat. He found her quietly defiant gaze even more amusing. “Nyah, is that any way to greet a clan leader, woman?”
“I am not on duty,” she stated simply. “And as you can see there is likely another concubine in better condition than I to give favors.”
Jackalman realized what she thought he wanted, and laughed. “Don’t worry, my pretty, I haven’t come for that,” this time, he added silently. “I’ve merely come to offer you the chance to tell what you know on neutral ground.”
The rat glared and turned away.
Jackalman was not dissuaded. “Tell me, woman, what is your name?”
“Ratrelle,” she replied flatly.
“Ah, Ratrelle,” he said, seating himself on the bed next to her. “Now why is it that you won’t talk? Surely you didn’t have anything to do with your lover’s demise?” He laid a hand on her shoulder. It wasn’t so much an actual show of support as it was a method of trying to gain her trust.
“No, I did not,” she snapped. “And he was my employer, not my lover. I felt nothing for him other than thanks for giving me such a well-paying position. Sex is the only trade in which a rat woman can earn any power for herself, or hadn’t you noticed?”
“I’ve noticed,” the jackal chuckled. “And what a fabulous job you do of it, I’m sure.” He smoothed his hand from her shoulder down along her side, noting a particularly deep welt from where she had been whipped the previous night. She flinched involuntarily as he touched it, which did not go unnoticed by him. “They beat you harshly for not speaking, didn’t they?”
“Yes,” she said, as if the answer should have been obvious.
“And you still did not talk? Why?”
Ratrelle did not answer.
Jackalman pressed forth with the conversation. “You know, there are plenty of qualified jackal healers in town that could see to those wounds and treat them, if you would be willing to share your testimony with me.”
“You’d never get me past security,” Ratrelle scoffed.
“Oh, I could,” the jackal assured her. “If you gave me your testimony.”
“Giving you my testimony would sign my death warrant,” the rat woman hissed. “And I choose not to die unless it’s necessary.”
Jackalman was intrigued. “By who? Are you implying you had a hand in Ratar-O’s assassination?”
“No,” she protested violently. She rolled over to face him, her tail wrapping around his back in an almost panicked manner. “But I know who did. And it is he who would have me eliminated for speaking such. Just like he did Rathandra.”
“Rathandra,” Jackalman repeated. “She was the concubine found dead this morning. Suicide.”
“She was not suicidal,” Ratrelle stated icily. “She was murdered.”
“And you have proof?”
“No, but I knew her, and I know what I saw when Ratar-O was killed. Just as she did, and Mousila did. Mousila has the benefit of being mute, but Rathandra did not. And she made the mistake of telling the guards she saw the reptilian teleported away. Odd that she would turn up dead this morning, isn’t it?”
Jackalman’s ear quirked at the last statement. Teleported? That bit of information hadn’t been shared at the meeting. “Tell me your story and I will see to it that you are granted immunity and sent to somewhere you will be safe. And anything else you’d like,” he offered, giving her an encouraging smile.
“Money,” she said, hardening her gaze. “Freedom to go and live as I choose, away from Rodentia, and money enough to live comfortably without having to give myself to weak and inept officials who have to buy women to please them.” She stroked her tail along his back. “And security that you and any other nobles won’t come hunting me down.”
The crafty jackal grinned. “That can be arranged,” he said, smoothing his hand along her thigh.
Ratrelle let his hand inch slightly higher before she clamped her clawed fingers atop his and stopped them. “And I won’t speak a word more until I’m out of here.”
Jackalman tightened his grip, but didn’t advance it. His canine lips curled in a toothy, lewd smile and he leaned in closer to her. “Very well, but on one condition.”
The rat met his gaze suspiciously, but considered his offer anyway. A chance at a way out was certainly better than none. “What?”
“You spend your last hours as a concubine pleasing an anything-but-inept jackal official.”
His hand advanced once more, followed by the other, and then by his lips meeting hers. That time, she did not protest.
* * *
“Who’re you?”
“I am High Councilman Tiberon, young Roderan,” he said evenly, looking down at the little rodent. He was playing with some toys... specifically, a large beast and what might’ve been a Thundercat. The Thundercat was losing.
He wrinkled his nose at the Squidman. “You’re ugly!”
Tiberon remained silent. It was moments like these that reinforced why he was doing what he was. Even the children of Plundarr were becoming untrustworthy and suspicious. Tiberon took a seat on a chair near the young ruler, and watched him intently.
* * *
“Are you absolutely certain this is going to work?” Torlei said, for perhaps the hundredth time that day. Mumm-Ra ignored her, very engrossed in his task. Ever since he had talked to the thrice damned comet, he had been researching and going on about destroying everyone, and he’d been able to focus on nothing else—including his bride, much to her annoyance.
The telekinetic tilted her head and looked at him. Could he have gone mad? Perhaps the psychic power the comet had emanated addled his mind somehow, since he had no natural defenses. He appeared to be the same, except for the fact that he’d been reading dusty old tomes for the past few days. It concerned her—or at least, tipped her off to the fact that he wasn’t quite right—when he hadn’t even looked up when Torlei told him about Ratar-O’s death. She was getting irritated. Being kept in the dark was not something she was used to, and the fact that Mumm-Ra was blatantly ignoring her didn’t help. She watched him trace his finger on a line of text, his mouth whispering the ancient language as he read.
“What are you reading about?” she demanded. Silence was her only answer. Unwilling to stand the insult of being ignored any longer, her anger manifested, swirling her clothing as if it was in the wind. Using her telekinesis, she knocked the book out of his hand, and then grabbed the front of his robes. “All right,” she growled, inches from his shocked face. “You’re going to tell me what the hell is going on, and you’re going to do it now!”
He gave her a weird look, and then nodded. “Very well... but you could’ve just asked,” he replied, his red eyes flashing with annoyance.
Unimpressed with his answer, but glad to see that he was acknowledging her if nothing else, she snorted, released him, and stepped back, arms folded.
Mumm-Ra gestured to their ancient pool. “Torlei, my dear, please step to the cauldron. It will be easier to understand with pictures,” he sneered.
“There’s no need to be patronizing,” Torlei growled. Fists clenched, she complied and joined him at the cauldron side.
The dark mage waved his hand over the smooth waters, and the image of a monstrous comet appeared before them. “Goroth Nug Jhahood,” he said. “He was created long ago, before even I was born, by an ancient people. The people’s story has long been forgotten, but it was known that they created the Planet Killer, Jhahood to destroy an enemy that was very far away. They gave the comet intelligence and sent it on its way. Of course, the place was so far away, Jhahood lost himself in the vastness of space. Now he just hurtles through the void, seeking to destroy.”
Torlei took it all in, and nodded. It all made sense so far, but she still wanted to know how Mumm-Ra intended to control such a monstrosity, especially considering it had enough power to nearly rend her mind in two with its voice.
“Now, I made contact with it before, as you know,” Mumm-Ra said.
Torlei cringed at the thought. “I remember.”
“The only thing it knows now is that it really wants to destroy something. We can help steer it, although it will be very difficult.” Before Torlei could protest, he held up a finger. “But, if we steer it towards Plundarr, all our difficulties will be over with.”
Torlei stared at him in disbelief for a moment. At first, she was certain he’d cracked and that he had gone mad, but then it slowly began to dawn on her... Plundarr’s explosion could take out the whole system. A smile crept onto her face, and a small laugh escaped her. Mumm-Ra began to chuckle, and soon both of them were laughing uproariously.
* * *
“You should’ve been at the meeting today,” Klith said to his ‘concubine’. Bazungy looked up at her employer with a half smile. She was honing the edge of her dagger, even though it already looked like it could split hairs. The only thing that seemed beat up about the dagger was the hilt. There were notches... many, many notches.
“Oh? Was it interesting?”
Klith grinned and nodded. “I’ll say. The Ratmen had their tails in knots they were so worked up,” he chuckled, tossing his formal garb on the floor. Bazungy rolled her eyes, and picked it up, hanging it in a place more suited for such important robes of office. Klith stretched, and then eyed the dagger in her hand.
“Did that Squidman hire you again?” he asked. Although he respected that Bazungy did indeed have other employers, Klith liked to think that he was her favorite.
“Yes. Another one of the concubines is a danger to his cause,” she said evenly. Bazungy didn’t care about what cause someone had, as long as she got paid. “Another rat bitch. Apparently she left with one of the jackal delegates. I’m off to Slythe’s manor bright and early tomorrow.”
“Slythe?” Klith frowned. He wasn’t fond of that particular reptilian. However, he was even less trusting of Tiberon. The Nautilus seemed to know exactly what was going on, all of the time.
Bazungy nodded, and placed her dagger in its sheath, then set the sheath on the end table next to her—and Klith’s—bed. Upon the eager insistence of Klith, she stayed in his quarters most of the time to uphold the fact that she was indeed his permanent concubine.
Klith took a moment to look at his assassin. She was truly amazing. He had found her when she was eight, standing over a dead Hurka beast. Hurka beasts were almost all muscle, tooth, and claw. He himself would’ve had a hard time even knocking such a monster out. But there she was, a sharpened rock in her hands, standing over the beast. From what he could see, she had leaped from a nearby tree and stabbed it directly in the eyes.
From that moment, he trained her as his private assassin. She had been born to kill. Of course, it was an added bonus that she was so beautiful. He wondered what went on in her mind. Would she kill him if she were paid to? Klith tried not to think of the answer, and sighed. He supposed he’d find out when it was too late.
Returning to reality, Klith watched Bazungy scratch off the dulling glaze that she slathered on the scales. The more she removed, the lovelier she became. Her scales were a brilliant emerald color, and he felt it was a pity that she kept them glazed so often.
Unable to contain himself further, he stood behind her and began to help her remove the glaze. She arched a brow at him, but did not protest. Klith hoped it was because maybe she held some sort of feeling for him, and not because she assumed it was part of what she was paid for. He had been enamored with her since the day he had met her. Independent females were a rarity on Plundarr.
Soon Bazungy was free of the glaze, and she flared her scales in relief. “Mmm, much better,” she said with a relaxed sigh. “Thanks for the help.”
Klith grinned, and headed for bed, settling in the middle of it. She shook her head, and joined him, forced to snuggle close or risk falling off the bed. The General’s last thought before he drifted into sleep was that of her notched dagger. He hoped he never became just a notch on her hilt.
* * *
“Are you sure I’ll be safe here?”
“Nyah, of course! We’ve gone over this already,” said Jackalman, doing his best to comfort the edgy rat. He poured her a glass of wine, which she eagerly drank from, but not to deeply. She wanted to be in control of the situation. She did not trust the jackal in the slightest, but as of yet he was her best chance.
Slythe finally entered, situating himself next to the jackal.
“So thiss is the witness, yesss?” Slythe observed.
Jackalman nodded. “This is Ratrelle. Ratrelle? Slythe.”
Slythe nodded at her, but she just glared back. He smirked. How such an upstart of a female got into Ratar-O’s harem was a mystery to him. “Ssso my dear, would you care to tell us what happened?” he asked, leaning forward.
She looked at both the jackal and the reptilian. They had given her what she wanted in advance, and soon she would be far away from this place. Still, the assassin’s sharp, ruby eyes seemed to pierce her through the veil of time. Was she next? She had a feeling she was… but at this point, she knew that if she did not talk, then her days were already numbered. The rat took another sip of wine and related her tale. “All I know was that there was a new concubine. None of us had met her before, but she was on duty as a Royal concubine. We all thought that odd, since Ratar-O doesn’t like reptilian females. She was uncommonly forward, and practically pounced on him. He was enjoying it, quite a bit actually. When he finally decided to break her in, she stabbed him in the belly,” Ratrelle shivered involuntarily, “then…” she hesitated. What would happen if she implicated the Nautilus as an accomplice?
“Yesss?” urged Slythe, who was leaning forward eagerly in anticipation of her answer.
“High Councilman Tiberon came in, and teleported her away!” The last bit came out in a rush, as if she could hurl the information onto someone else, and be exempt from it.
“Teleported?” Slythe said skeptically.
“Tiberon?” Jackalman repeated, choking on his own wine. If this assassination went that high up, they might very well be in over their heads. He made a mental note to see to better security… odds were, they would need it.
“I know what I saw,” she snapped hotly. She didn’t like the look on the reptilian’s face. She knew what he was thinking. He was thinking that perhaps she had been beaten to harshly, and that she was delusional.
Jackalman put a calming hand on her shoulder. “We believe you Ratrelle,” he said evenly, sharing a glance with Slythe.
“What did thisss reptilian look like?” queried Slythe.
Ratrelle closed her eyes and pictured the reptilian. “She had little scales… smaller than yours, and they were very shiny… like an emerald. Her eyes were solid red, and she was very wiry. She also had a finned frill, but she kept it down for the most part. I think the frill had a red membrane.”
As she related this information, Slythe felt his scales start to stand on end. Her description was almost identical with that of General Klith’s much sought after concubine. Slythe himself had offered the General a hefty sum for the female, but had been refused.
“Slythe, nyah ha, what’s wrong?” wondered Jackalman. His partner looked like he was having a hard time digesting the information.
“I know who assassinated Ratar-O,” he said evenly, a slimy grin creeping over his face. “Thisss could turn to out advantage, yesss?”
Bazungy kept watch from the rafters, her scales glazed black, her ruby eyes narrowed in determination. She hated loose ends.
* * *
“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” Selene said gratefully, shaking Cheetara’s hand. The Thundercat nodded and smiled, and stepped into a private sitting room, where Selene had called her to discuss the matter. “Things are getting a little uncomfortable around here,” the Queen said, motioning for Cheetara to sit. Selene explained the dilemma the Moons were in, and noted that it would be a big help should the Thundercats decide to get involved. Cheetara kept silent while Selene talked. “And to make matters worse,” the Lunar woman finished, “the Plundarrian government has been almost completely silent with us since Ratar-O was murdered.”
Cheetara mulled over all the information she had just received. She felt for the Lunatacs’ situation, but she wasn’t sure what they hoped to accomplish by including the Thundercats in the process, and although she’d never had reason to distrust this particular Lunar ruler, the Moons of Plundarr and Thundera had never had an easy political relationship. The Lady of the Thundercats hoped that her request for the Thundercats’ assistance wasn’t just to intimidate the Mutants, but she had a feeling that was part of it.
Selene looked at her hopefully, and Cheetara searched for a suitable answer. “I’ll have to discuss this with Lion-O,” she said finally.
Selene’s face fell a little, but she nodded and smiled politely. “Certainly. I understand.”
* * *
A beautiful, white silvery-scaled reptilian known as Wraith stared up into the night sky over the desert continent of Kurabi, lost in thought while her companion, a mercenary called Slicer, methodically checked his veritable armory of weaponry. The stars were out, and a few of Plundarr’s moons were visible as well. Looking at the sky was something she had been doing frequently of late. From what her guardian had told her, soon it would be black… but she would change that.
Her thoughts began to drift. She missed Conchlian, her kind old guardian. He had raised her from birth, instructing her in everything from history to swordplay. Then, one day, he had given her to this uncaring mercenary until it was time for her to ascend as Warrior Queen. Slicer was good at his job. She had been in no danger since she had stepped foot on land. He was not, however, the most desirable companion. Wraith drew her grey robes tighter around her body and sighed. Soon the comet would appear on satellite radar. Was she ready?
The albino reptilian hoped she was, for everyone’s sake.
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