Magus Star Rising
Chapter Three

Fresh hennit! Legs and thighs and breasts!

MEAT HAWKER CRY

Market Day

Behoola Chaut wandered among the agri-market stalls, smelling, observing, tasting, haggling. She wore the belted longfrock of a servant, the frock’s cowl pulled up over her head. She paused to squeeze several native melons, testing their freshness. She bought two of the large, red fruit, and placed them in her shoulder sack along with the other fruits and vegetables she had purchased.

Tonight’s dinner shall be special, she thought. Her mistress would begin fasting after early-moon in preparation for her journey to retreat, and so must be fed well. Nothing less would suit a Honin-Zay.

Normally, Mistress Honin-Zay accompanied Behoola to the argi-market, being one of the high-born’s rare, outdoor excursions. “It is like a small Yharria, I suspect,” she had said to Behoola once during a recent trip. Yes, in a way, the market mirrored the grand bazaar. That much was true. But Behoola did not understand her mistress’ fascination for the Yharria. Perhaps the interest existed at all because she was denied it by high-born protocol. Still, even after Behoola’s long service as Head Servant, with her mistress more open and caring than most, Behoola didn’t completely comprehend the ways of the high-born.

This-sun proved an example. Her mistress had given the servants some time off from their duties because of another interview for an academic piece she was writing. Her mistress had written several over the past few cycles, small tomes of various subjects that had been published and distributed among scholars and other interested high-borns. She was quite talented in many of the arts.

Only Kazrah, the new bodyguard, remained with her during the interview, not completely unusual, but for such a responsibility to be given to a new employee was singular indeed. And Behoola was not really clear on why Kazrah had been hired in the first place. True, ever since her mistress had started dabbling in the teachings of the goddess Vanera, she had become more... bold. Or so it seemed to Behoola.

Kazrah. Behoola’s brow creased with worry lines at the thought of the bodyguard. She didn’t like him. There was something untoward about him, something she couldn’t quite define. No, I will not think of this right now.

She looked out over the sea of customers and browsers that thronged the agri-market. The farmers, bakers, butchers, and fishers tending their stalls and booths were at their busiest at this time but Behoola always found it the most exciting. All types of persons congregated here to buy the choicest foodstuffs. High and low-born indigenes rubbed shoulders with servants, off-world military personnel, and laborers. Outside of the fringe districts, the market was the only other place where anyone, of any walk of life, could mingle freely and peacefully with any other. The traditional Senitte greeting ‘Bright Star’ was exchanged freely and indiscriminately. Behoola had always thought food seemed to calm any kind of conflict and bring sentients together. And so, she and her serving cadre would send her mistress off this early-moon on her pilgrimage with a memorable feast.

The market was located on the outskirts of Frenati City near the docks of the river Yabu, close to where ships brought in fresh wares and produce every morning from the outlying archipelagos. Most of the produce buildings were permanent, one-story structures with open fronts and crowded, interior selling space. Many wagons and portable stands were scattered throughout the multi-grid area, their owners competing with the more established merchants. Some even exhibited live, caged animals like the boohy fox and hennit fowl, which were killed, skinned and dressed on the spot for any discriminating taker.

The air filled with the smells of such food, both grilled and raw as vendors served up their specialties on every corner. Street music clashed with the shouts of bartering tradesmen and the approaching roar of incoming shuttles and docking airships overhead. The crowds jostled here and there to get their pick of the scores of delicacies offered from all parts of the western continent.

Off-world items, with an exception or two, were relegated to the Yharria’s markets. None of that for my mistress, Behoola thought. Although Master Honin-Zay would, no doubt, indulge.

Behoola had been born thirty-two cycles ago, long after Contact. Except for the histories she had devoured as a child and the stories her family had told her of what life had been like before the Rim World Conglomerate, this was the only existence she knew. The old Alpha-Seni was gone, although many customs and mores still prevailed, their ancient mythos merging into that of the new world order.

One such was the celebration of the Magus Star. The elusive, heavenly wanderer appeared in Alpha-Seni’s sky once every sixty Senitte cycles and blazed brightly for a few suns, purportedly responsible, during that time, for good fortune, miracles and other such magical events. Festivals were held planet-wide during this time and the agri-market vendors were engaged in the steepest of competition for the upcoming celebration.

Madness, crimes of passion, weather extremes, the appearances of bau-baus or shapeshifters, demons, other supernatural beings, and mysterious occurrences in general were also attributed to the celestial visitor. As a result, the Constabulary Guild would increase security and surveillance.

It will be my first festival, Behoola mused. Although, mother’s stories of the Magus Star’s last appearance make me feel as if I’ve already experienced it.

She smiled. The remembrance of her and her mother going to market was still a sweet one. It had been, what, four cycles since her death? Her Terran mother had been a civil servant, her Senitte father a garment worker. They had lived in a decent section of the city despite their mixed marriage and ‘halfer’ offspring. She had thought she might finish school and become a scholar. It had been her dream and the possibility of it had not been wholly out of reach. But, as the caste tattoos on her forearm painfully reminded her, it was a dream that had been cut short.

Now, where is Ladora? Behoola thought. Her Second had accompanied her in her mistress’ stead, the younger fem managing to haggle some rare quaya fish for dinner. Ladora could be quite persuasive, Behoola mused. She was quite beautiful and used that beauty sometimes to her advantage. The two women had separated briefly to...

The sharp, whinnying cry of a tavra caused Behoola to jump. A loud crash followed by a cacophony of yells and animal-like chuffings ripped through the normal hubbub of the market like a thunderclap. Behoola turned to where the crowd wildly dispersed only several steps away. People ran suddenly in all directions, dropping the goods they had purchased, while pushing others roughly out of their way.

Behoola gasped. Through a cloud of dust, materializing like a creature out of a nightmare, a brutish apen appeared, a short link of broken chain dangling from its thick neck. The wild mountain hominid flailed its muscular arms as it shrieked a ghostly cry. It stood as high as an average Senitte but possessed a broad chest, short, bowed legs and powerful strength. Thick, wiry red fur covered the beast’s body. Its bulbous head, crowned by an upright crest of sharp, spiky hair, held two, close-set eyes and a fanged mouth, giving it the appearance of a hideous mask.

Behind the beast, an overturned wagon held the broken remains of a large animal cage. A Senitte, possibly the wagon’s driver, lay on the ground writhing in pain as three others, all dressed in the loose, flamboyant garb of Outlanders, tried to drag him out of harm’s way. The tavra hitched to the wagon cried out again in terror as the rugged pack animal attempted to right itself from its fallen position.

Though her blood froze at the sight of the apen, Behoola backed up as some semblance of survival instinct took over. The apen started in her general direction, moving quickly for one so ungainly looking. It swatted at a bystander who was too slow and too close, knocking the man aside as if he were made of feathers. The apen stopped and threw its head back, giving voice once again to that ear-rending cry as it pounded its chest with its fists.

What is an apen doing here? Behoola wondered, her thoughts speeding through her mind as her body moved on a self-control of its own. Were the fools going to sell it as some kind of exotic delicacy?

The apen charged. It lumbered toward her now, supporting part of its weight on its long arms as it pulled its body forward with uncanny agility.

Chaos ensued as the knot of people behind Behoola broke and fled like a crazed herd of ungulates. Behoola followed suit. There were so many people, the beast would surely become confused. But, as she risked a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw the apen moving up on her. Its lips skinned back, flashing a deadly grin at its chosen prey. Behoola could smell its feral musk. Its clawed hand reached out for her.

She whirled, panic overtaking her first. She swung her arm around in front of her as if that desperate act could stop the creature. Screams erupted all around her. A popping sound split the air. Behoola tripped and fell on her back, her own scream caught in her throat as the wind rushed out of her. Great Spirits, she thought, trying to roll herself into a protective ball. No...

She looked up to see the hominid staggering as if drunk, pawing clumsily at its shoulder where a small dart protruded. The three Senitte Outlanders, no doubt the beast’s handlers, stood at its back, one with a dart-stunner drawn. The others looped nooses from the ends of two animal control-rods around the apen’s neck. Though a flashy, disreputable-looking bunch, they did seem to have the situation in hand.

The Outlanders caused it in the first place. Behoola shook uncontrollably. As she pushed herself to her feet, her legs felt tingly and weak. “Stupid scut!” she cried hoarsely at the handlers, her voice joining others in the outraged crowd. “Someone could have been killed!” Me, she thought, knowing the handlers had saved her. It could have been me.

“Behoola! Behoola! Are you hurt?” Ladora ran to her, the young fem’s features creased with worry. Her shoulder sack was full of goods, some falling out and onto the ground in her haste. She held an object in her right hand, which she quickly pressed to her side into the folds of her longfrock. Her cowl had fallen back, her long, dark hair spilling onto her shoulders.

“Yes, yes,” Behoola replied quickly. She took a deep breath. “I am well. Say nothing to Mistress Honin-Zay of this. She’ll hear of it eventually but we don’t want to worry and excite her right before she leaves for retreat.” She paused, trying to gain control of her emotions. She was the Head Servant, after all.

They had been lucky; the apen’s handlers had intervened just in time. Members of the Constabulary Guild would be here soon. The Outlanders would, at least, be fined and possibly jailed as an example to others. Their kind always seemed to disrupt the normal order of things. Any injured would be tended to. The apen would be released to the wild and the agri-market would return to normal. Even now, though some of the crowd still jeered and cursed the handlers, many began moving away, going back to their business.

And business was what Behoola was here for. For a moment, she thought of Kazrah again, but she pushed that aside. I haven’t gotten this far by ignoring my instincts, she thought. There’ll be time enough for suspicions later. Her feelings about the bodyguard could wait.

She took a deep breath, still shaking. “This is enough excitement for one sun,” she said to her Second, steadying her voice. “Come. We have a meal to prepare.”

“Yes, Behoola.” Ladora pulled her cowl up over head as she bent down to retrieve the fallen goods. A slight glint of reflected light caught Behoola’s eye. Ladora’s right hand held a knife, which she quickly placed in her frock pocket.

Servants weren’t prohibited from carrying weapons. Behoola herself also bore a knife on her person. But the glimpse of Ladora’s blade caused her blink in surprise. Another matter for later, she thought and knelt to help her Second.