Honor to the Good Boy (Part 1 of 4)

Mehdi liked scavenging with humans, even if they had poor noses and weren’t very bright.

Humans made their burrows on rocky hills that overflowed with food. Scraps of it piled up between burrows to fester in the sun. Rats and doves picked at these scraps and cavorted along stony game trails, making for easy prey. Mehdi and his fellow hyenas were the humans’ only competition for this rich bounty, yet they generously shared it. The only other animals in the area were the metal beetles called khodro. Mehdi had yet to see a khodro eat anything at all. In fact, the creatures were so stupid that humans could ride in their mouths without being swallowed.

The uncontested feast was ripe for the taking … yet the human packs ignored it. They wanted bitter herbs and noxious powders instead, and they counted on Mehdi to sniff these out for them. Once, he’d discovered human carrion in a khodro’s bowels – this khodro had been smart enough to eat – but his pack wasted it. They’d dragged off the humans inside the beetle’s mouth instead, then let a pack of humans with black pelts steal the carrion.

Still, Mehdi was happy. His human friend, Budaqov, made the stupidity tolerable. Every morning, Budaqov wrapped Mehdi in a magic pelt that kept Mehdi cool in the summer and warm in the winter, and every evening, Budaqov brought offerings of fresh meat to Mehdi’s burrow. Lately, Budaqov’s pack had been scavenging a nice spot on a hillside, at the base of some low cliffs. There was always a salty breeze coming off the sea and sweeping along the game trails. Mehdi could sit beside Budaqov on the side of the game trail, nose to the wind, and watch the pack make fools of themselves.

Sometimes, though, humans who weren’t with his pack tried to invade his space.

One such human now stopped in front of him. Her pelt was gray, and she had a sweet scent hanging around her. Kneeling down, she stuck her hand towards Mehdi’s snout, cooing, “Aren’t you precious?”

Mehdi had spent enough time with humans to distinguish between words, but not enough to understand them. Tone of voice was another matter. This woman wanted to be his friend, just like all women who looked and smelled like her did. Nipping her fingers would not be a good idea. He tipped his head back, silently beseeching Budaqov for help.

Budaqov barked at the woman. “I’m sorry, Teacher. We’re not supposed to let civilians touch the sniffers.”

“Of course.” The one called Teacher withdrew her hand and stood up. “Still, would you mind if I give this pasar khob a blessing? It’s Bardasht Arvah, after all.”

Mehdi panted. “Pasar khob” was what Budaqov called him when he found something the pack wanted, and the words were followed by a bit of dried sausage. “Bardasht Arvah” had something to do with a special treat Mehdi always got around this time of year. He and other human-helping hyenas would line up in front of a woman like this, she’d breathe sweet smoke on them, and then they’d each get a whole sausage.

Teacher extended her hands over him. “Shepherd of Dust, Mother of Our Empire and Protector of the Dead, bestow your golden grace upon your servant …” She looked at Budaqov.

“Mehdi,” Budaqov said.

Teacher continued, “Mehdi. Bless him with a sharp nose and great courage, that he may serve the Imperial Army with distinction and …”

Mehdi panted harder as the woman droned onward. None of the other hyenas who shared his burrow were here. Maybe he’d get their sausages, too.

A caress on his neck pulled Mehdi from his musings. It felt like someone sliding a hand under the magic pelt to scratch his ruff, but when he craned his head back, no one was touching him. Warmth blossomed in his ruff and spread outwards. When it reached his head, a new color blossomed across his vision, changing the grays and greens and blues that usually made up his world, as if the warmth were stretching out to touch everything in sight. New scents flowed into his nostrils. The magic pelts he and the pack wore reeked like storm clouds before a lightning strike. The same smell came from inside the nearby human burrows and from the khodro that was coming up the game trail. From beyond the cliffs, there was a smell like grapefruit, which clung to some of the humans coming and going along the game trail.

This strangeness was part of Bardasht Arvah, too. The world would return to normal by the time he woke up tomorrow. For now, it meant he was about to get his sausage.

“… against all danger,” Teacher said, with a note of finality in her voice. “Let this prayer be golden-clad.”

Mehdi’s mouth watered, but to his dismay, Teacher merely bowed to him. She turned away and walked down the game trail. He let out a low moan, hoping she’d remember the sausage and come back.

“Settle down, pasar,” Budaqov murmured. “You’ll be getting something nice tonight.”

Maybe there wouldn’t be any sausages this year. Mehdi dipped his head. Before he could properly sulk, a green khodro rumbled up the game trail and halted in front of the pack.

Budaqov gently tugged on the cord attached to Mehdi’s magic pelt. “Barim.”

That meant he needed to inspect the khodro. Mehdi cheered up. Maybe there would be something under, on, or inside the khodro that would get him his reward.

This khodro was one of the more massive ones. It had the proportions of a cockroach, with a white knob of a head and a boxy green body that was larger than Mehdi’s burrow. It had no legs, only four rubber hooves fused directly to its body. These hooves held it high enough for Mehdi to sniff its belly without stooping down.

What puzzled Mehdi was that this khodro was breathing.

It was inhaling, at least. One massive breath with being drawn into the khodro’s boxy body. Mehdi couldn’t feel this breath on his face, but the smells revealed by the warmth curled across him and swept into the beetle’s metal flanks.

A grinding noise came from the khodro’s rear as other members of the pack forced open its shell. Mehdi led Budaqov back there and stood up on his hind legs. The bowels of the khodro were mostly empty, save for a wall of wooden boxes at the upper end. The breath washing over him was being sucked towards those boxes. When Mehdi looked directly at them, the warmth faded from his vision.

He sniffed the air. No herbs, no powders. There wasn’t even any carrion. There was just wood and straw and …

… humans.

Human whelps.

Their scent was masked behind the wood and straw, but he could tell there were at least four of them, and they weren’t carrion. There was another odor as well. Mehdi knew this one – Budaqov called it taryak. It wasn’t a smell he was supposed to look for, but a lot of the humans stank of it when they came out from behind the cliffs.

Mehdi whined. This didn’t make sense. He’d never known a khodro to hold humans anywhere except in its mouth. Even the bigger ones weren’t supposed to have humans in their bowels. Should he warn Budaqov? He wasn’t supposed to tell the pack about anything but the herbs and powders. A false alarm was a good way to get denied sausage. But they didn’t want him to look for carrion, either, and Budaqov had called him pasar khob back then.

He was still dithering when that strange breath stuttered. For a moment, there was an exhalation. Something sweet like almonds and sour like week-old milk stung his nose. He gagged and dropped onto all fours, pawing at his nose.

The rank odor was like nothing Mehdi had ever smelled before, yet in his bones, he knew it belonged to a predator, and he knew its name.

Shoghad.

“What’s wrong?” Budaqov sounded worried. “Did you find something?”

Mehdi reared up again, taking another whiff. The scent of Shoghad was gone, but that long inhalation was back. Perhaps it was Shoghad who was breathing. Maybe it was hiding in the boxes, along with the whelps.

Shoghad was too strong for the pack. Mehdi knew that as surely as he knew Shoghad’s name. If they provoked this predator, they’d all die. Budaqov would die.

Better to let it sneak past, so it wouldn’t harm them.

Slowly, Mehdi dropped back onto all fours and pulled Budaqov back to the side of the game trail. He watched the pack close the khodro’s shell, and then the beetle itself crawled away, continuing towards the cliffs. It followed the game trail through a cleft in the cliffs.

Mehdi started to pant. He’d done his job. He was pasar khob. Maybe he wouldn’t get a sausage from this now, but he’d kept Budaqov and the pack from being hurt. They were safe. The land inside the cliffs belonged to a rival pack of humans, ones Budaqov referred to as the Ead. The packs Budaqov scavenged with never went in there. Shoghad couldn’t hurt them.

… right?

Fear gnawed at his stomach. Any predator that snuck in to Ead territory could sneak out again. Shoghad must eat humans – why else drag whelps along with him, the way a hyena dragged carrion back to a burrow? What if he got hungry and came back out? What if he came after the pack when Mehdi wasn’t there? They wouldn’t smell him coming.

Mehdi was pasar khob. He had to keep the pack safe. Maybe they couldn’t hunt Shoghad into Ead territory, but those were human rules. He could go in. He’d track Shoghad down and then … and then …

What then?

A caress ran down his ruff again. The warmth within him intensified. Suddenly, he smelled sweet smoke. A soft, feminine voice whispered in his ear.

“If you find Shoghad, I will send Amāstrī to kill him.”

She used human speech, yet Mehdi understood her perfectly. Again, certainty settled into his bones. He knew her name.

Shepherd of Dust.

He also understood the transaction being offered. This Amāstrī was a member of the Shepherd’s pack, and she had the fangs to kill this creature. All she needed was his nose.

If he did this, Budaqov would be safe.

Mehdi looked up at Budaqov and yowled softly. When Budaqov looked at him, he began panting again, this time heavily.

Budaqov frowned and crouched down, scratching Mehdi’s head. “What’s wrong? Is your vest malfunctioning again?” Budaqov’s grip on the cord loosened as he reached for the magic pelt.

Mehdi bolted.