Wench

by Maxine Kaplan

  The Queen was listening closely—very closely. “That’s very good,” she said. “Good, that you can pick up languages so well, I mean. That’s useful.”

  “I . . . I suppose so.”

  “And what about social education? You picked up languages, so I imagine you also know a fair amount about foreign art and culture, pathways to trade, idiosyncratic customs, that sort of thing. Although not politics or economics, I would imagine, and, on the cultural side, nothing above a certain class. Is that accurate?”

  “I don’t quite know what you mean by politics or economics.”

  The Queen nodded. “Precisely. I imagine your domestic training has been extensive. Cooking, cleaning, brewing, the whole bit?”

  Tanya bristled a little at her life’s work being referred to as a “bit,” but pride forced her to agree. “Yes. I’m an excellent seamstress, a skilled laundress, I can clean anything, and I’m the best cook in the Port Cities.”

  The Queen nodded and made another note. Seemingly to herself, she muttered, “Economics, history, politics, higher math, chemistry, physics, diplomacy, and etiquette.”

  Tanya wanted to snatch the notebook out of her hands. “I’m sorry?”

  The Queen shut the notebook and pushed it to the side. “What are your ambitions, Tanya?”

  “My ambitions?”

  “Yes. You left the tavern in which you were raised in order to serve a corps commander. You must have had some sort of desire for your life that wasn’t being fulfilled in Griffin’s Port, some sort of goal. What is it?”

  Tanya stared for a moment and then doubled over laughing.

  The Queen looked slightly nonplussed. “No one ever laughs when I ask them what they want. They bow deeply and beg for it. This is unusual. I can only imagine you’re attempting to make some sort of point. What is it?”

  Tanya, still giggling, wiped tears out of her eyes. “I didn’t leave my tavern voluntarily. Your corps commander—actually, you—you forced me out of it. Rees had a writ of requisition.”

  “That makes no sense. A writ can commandeer, but not permanently evict people from their own property, not with a competent clerk nearby.”

  “Apparently, as far as you were concerned, it wasn’t my property.”

  The Queen frowned. “But . . . oh. Tell me,” said the Queen. “Your guardian. Was he a relative?”

  “No. He wasn’t.”

  “And he’s dead?”

  This was spoken in a neutral voice, shockingly unemotional for a sentence containing the word dead. Tanya thought that she should be offended, but instead she was just sad. She nodded.

  “I see. I imagine he neglected to leave a writ of leaving?” At Tanya’s nod, the Queen clucked her tongue against her teeth in disapproval. “How very annoying of him. To be honest, this happens far more frequently than you would think. There is no civic education in the provincial parts of Lode whatsoever. I really need to do something about it.” She looked at Tanya appraisingly. “If you were an orphan, living with a guardian who was not a relative, I can surmise that you have no known family. And, forgive me, but I’d be shocked if you had a fiancé back there; you’re not quite mewling or simpering enough. There’s nothing waiting for you in Griffin’s Port, then?”

  Tanya lifted her head to meet the Queen’s churning eyes. “There will be once you give me my inn back.”

  The Queen smiled. “So that is your ambition.”

  “That’s the reason I left Griffin’s Port, Your Majesty. I was told that only you and your Council could reverse the writ. You say I’ve done you a service. All I want as a reward is what is already mine in any way that counts, and is of no use to you at all. I want the deed to the Smiling Snake.”

  “Why?”

  Tanya blinked. “What do you mean?”

  The Queen leaned forward. “Why do you want the deed to the Smiling Snake?”

  “Because . . . because it’s mine. I’ve earned it.”

  “Is that all? Wanting what you’ve earned is something that I can well understand, Tanya. Believe me. But is that the only reason you want it?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  The Queen shrugged. “I suppose, for someone of your position, it could be. But, to me, that seems rather plain—rather bare. Sad, honestly. Do you enjoy the work?”

  Tanya bristled. “It’s an honest day’s work, Your Majesty. Do I always thrill to scrubbing dishes and kicking out drunks? Maybe not. But I can take care of myself, my guests, and my inn. I enjoy being able to say that.”

  The Queen smiled. “I see. You enjoy being useful.”

  Tanya stood up, ready for this interview to be over. “I do, Your Majesty, and I’m not ashamed of it. I know that no one will ever be able to claim that I haven’t earned my place. Not everyone can say that.”

  “I quite agree with you.”

  Tanya had already opened her mouth to continue arguing and was left to gape as the Queen went on.

  “Class, wealth, connections, knowledge—all that can be conferred or withdrawn,” said the Queen, looking wistful and pouring another glass of cordial. “At least it can if you’re the Queen. And I am the Queen. To be honest, none of that means any more to me than any other tool. True unique utility though, that’s valuable and rare. But I reject your premise.”

  “My premise?”

  “Your underlying assumption that the only suitable outlet for you to be useful is in being a tavern wench of Griffin’s Port. Don’t misunderstand me; I don’t despise tavern wenches. Someone has to do that work, and I daresay there’s a great deal to it that I’m not in a position to appreciate. But you’re useful in a very different way now. If the charm of the Smiling Snake is in self-reliance, and not in scrubbing a soup pot, then you have other options. Better options. Bigger options.” The Queen leaned forward. “The world is much larger than one tavern. Why would you limit yourself?”

  Tanya sat back down and reached for the cordial. She poured a little and drank it down in one gulp, before asking, “Are you offering me a job, Your Majesty?”

  The Queen looked pleased. “You’re a smart girl,” she said.

  The compliment struck a sour chord in Tanya’s ear. It was condescending. “The Glacier is no doubt much grander than the Snake, Your Majesty,” she said. “But cleaning a kitchen here isn’t different than cleaning one in Griffin’s Port and at least there I’m my own superior. I don’t think it would be ‘smart’ of me to accept the honor of serving the Glacier in recompense for my inn.”

  The Queen laughed. “You misunderstand me. I’m not offering you a job as a domestic.”

  Tanya frowned. “What then?”

  The Queen refilled both their glasses. “I’m not sure exactly what to call it. It’s not a lady’s maid. If you were a man, I’d probably call you a private secretary, so, let’s go with that. The job is my private secretary or, if you prefer, ‘Private Secretary to the Queen of Lode.’”

  “What?”

  The Queen looked thoughtful. “Yes, I think that’s about right,” she said. “In this position, you’d take notes in all Council, diplomatic, military, and advisor meetings. You would keep my priority notebook and my schedule. You would be given full access to this chamber, my records room, and my library. You would appear to be just like any other secretary to nobility.”

  Tanya stopped internally spinning at the word appear. She looked at the Queen, who had apparently been waiting for her to catch her meaning, because she nodded approvingly and continued.

  “In addition to the standard secretarial duties,” she said, reaching for her glass, “you would have particular responsibility in the management of this quill.”

  Tanya felt her grip on the quill tighten. “Management?” she asked.

  “Yes, the management,” said the Queen, reaching for her notebook. “I will, of course, have ultimate authority over its use and I will be providing the overall strategy—prioritization, volume, partnerships—but I will need someone with skill to handle the day-to-da
y duties. You know what I mean.”

  “I’m . . . not sure that I do.”

  “But of course you do! I have it written down right here: You said that as long as a large enough map was kept updated and consistently monitored, I would be able to perform any feat of aetherical manipulation while simultaneously eliminating or otherwise ameliorating any junkoff. I didn’t misunderstand you.”

  “No, but—”

  “That wasn’t a question.” The Queen put down her notebook. “Really, Tanya, you look nonplussed. What is the matter? I’ve made myself perfectly clear.”

  “You plan to use the quill? Daily?”

  The Queen laughed. “Of course I plan to use it. What’s the point of it existing, if it’s not being used?”

  “But isn’t it . . . not . . . well . . . isn’t it . . . ?”

  “Spit it out.”

  Tanya gulped. “Well, it’s not exactly yours, is it? It belongs to the magicians. The ones Rees apparently stole from.”

  The Queen smiled. “Yes. He did steal it, didn’t he? It’s clear that an artifact of such great power isn’t secure anywhere if even an upstanding man like a corps commander on an envoy mission from the Queen herself could be tempted to steal it from such a venerable company as the scholars of the Royal College of Aetherical Manipulation. Except for the Glacier, that is. It’s secure in the Glacier under the direct supervision of the Queen.”

  Something snapped into place in Tanya’s brain. She looked at the Queen and found that the Queen was looking back at her. Waiting to see if she would understand on her own.

  Slowly, Tanya said, “You secretly ordered Rees to steal the quill.”

  The Queen raised her glass in a silent toast to Tanya.

  “But why?” asked Tanya. “You didn’t have to steal the quill. I know for a fact that the college was dying to present it to you themselves. I mean . . .” She stumbled as the Queen raised an eyebrow and Tanya realized that she had deviated from the official story. “I assume they must have been. Didn’t Councilman Hewitt say they had written to ask you for permission to present their quill?”

  “They weren’t asking to present the quill to me,” said the Queen quietly. “Think, Tanya. How would that request have been worded? With whom would they have requested an audience?”

  “With the Queen and Council. Oh. Oh.”

  The Queen nodded and pulled her hair back roughly. “The Queen and Council,” she said, her voice bitter. “Always the Queen and Council. Do you know how long I’ve been Queen, Tanya?”

  “No.”

  The Queen nodded. “Do you know my age?” she asked. Tanya shook her head. “Do you know my ideas about trade? The preliminary test results coming out of the research centers I’ve set up in the shallows behind the Bloodstone tar pits? Whether I need a biological heir? Tell me everything you know about my reign.”

  It was an order. “I know that the Queen and Council rule Lode,” said Tanya honestly. “And I know that you live in the Glacier.”

  “Exactly. And, by the way, I don’t know that you can rightly call what I and the Council have accomplished ruling. We have maintained Lode. We have not moved it forward.”

  “Why not?”

  The Queen smiled, without joy and without pleasure. “Because that was how the Council designed it—many, many years ago. They like Lode how it is. They have taken pains to keep it in stasis. I believe that the people of Lode deserve better. They deserve a true queen. And with the quill, I have everything I need to become that true queen.

  “And for that,” she continued, looking straight at Tanya. “I need you.”

  Chapter

  18

  Tanya shook her head. “I don’t believe it,” she said.

  The Queen’s eyes blazed. She got up and paced the room before whipping around to snap at Tanya, “I can’t quite believe it either, but here we are!” She took a deep breath and started again. “I don’t know why I can’t work the quill the same way you can. Don’t mistake me, I got it to work. I moved matter from point A to point B. But it wouldn’t stand up straight and sparkle for me. It will only do that for you.” The Queen’s still-firing eyes narrowed. “Why is that, Tanya? I’m very well versed in magic. I have had years—decades—of instruction in every form of magic you’ve heard of and all the ones you haven’t, too. I have no small amount of innate talent. There’s no reason the quill shouldn’t do for me what it does for a tavern wench. I wonder”—the Queen took a step forward—“whether the scholars, once they get wise, hitch up their robes, and make their way to the Glacier, will find themselves also locked out, as it were? What odds would you give it?”

  Tanya stood up. Hidden underneath the plain brown cloth of her borrowed dress, Tanya felt her tattoos begin to move, and then to burn. “Thank you for your generous offer, Your Majesty. But I just want my inn back.” She quickly folded her arms, just as the fabric around her wrist began to singe.

  Luckily the Queen wasn’t looking at Tanya’s arms, she was looking at the quill. She picked it up. “I like this quill,” she said, rolling it around her fingers. “And I believe, under normal circumstances, I could get it to like me. But these are not normal circumstances and I do not have time.” She dropped the quill. “I do not accept your refusal. My offer has been altered to a command. From your Queen.”

  Tanya lifted her head. “If I refuse your command?”

  The Queen laughed. “How do you propose to do that?”

  Tanya smiled grimly. “You said it yourself: You don’t rule alone. There’s always the Council. I’m sure many of them would be happy to return the quill to the scholars and the Smiling Snake to me.”

  The Queen walked back to the table and poured out some cordial. She examined the contents of her glass in the dwindling firelight. “Are you threatening me?” she asked calmly, dipping her finger in. “How interesting.”

  Then she whipped around and threw the cordial in Tanya’s face.

  The liquid hit Tanya’s face with a bubbling chill and she shrieked in surprise, instinctively throwing her arms up to protect her eyes.

  The Queen caught sight of Tanya’s sleeves, melting away over her marked arms, and grabbed the girl’s wrist. Tanya attempted to yank her arm back, but the Queen’s grasp was like an iron vise.

  The Queen raised a questioning eyebrow at Tanya, but didn’t speak. Instead she pulled Tanya’s arm closer with one hand and, with the other, conjured a ball of the same white light that Sir Lurch had struggled to ignite, but which she accomplished with a quick and elegant flick of her wrist.

  Tanya struggled and started to protest with an indignant, “Your Majesty,” but the Queen simply frowned and pulled her closer.

  Too close—the quill started spinning in place on the tablecloth as Tanya’s exposed flesh came closer. The Queen’s lips parted and she dragged herself and Tanya down to their knees, forcing Tanya’s arm down on the table.

  As it spun faster and faster and closer and closer, the quill’s pointed edge grazed Tanya’s skin and her tattoos began to glow and writhe, forming into new shapes around the map: from diamonds, stars, and curlicues of wind, it retwisted into icicles, snowflakes, and a crown, curling all the way around her bicep.

  “That,” declared the Queen, watching closely, “explains a lot, I think. But let’s see.” The Queen licked her finger and touched the glowing red squiggles growing on Tanya’s flesh. Her finger came away with a faint, brilliant red smudge, as if she had dipped her finger in luminescent paint. The Queen put it in her mouth and sucked.

  She looked up at Tanya. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you? Tanya, bastard tavern wench of Griffin’s Port: dabbler in blood magic. Who would have seen that coming?”

  The Queen snapped her fingers and the witch-light went off. She released her other hand’s grasp on Tanya’s hand.

  Tanya backed away from the table, her sleeves hanging off her arms in smoking strips of cotton, her tattoos slowing down and dimming to a variation of their previous red, a slightly dar
ker shade, closer to purple, as if the chill blue of the Glacier had infected them.

  She searched for an exit, even as she knew there was no way out except the way she had come in, when, suddenly, she found she couldn’t move her feet.

  Tanya looked down. Her feet had literally frozen over. A layer of permafrost, like what caked the hulls of the ships during snowstorms in Griffin’s Port, cemented her to the floor, an ice block extending past her toes and upward toward her knees.

  She squirmed, but it was no good. She had seen great merchant galleys stuck in port for a week under thinner ice. A single tavern maid wasn’t going to pull herself out if they couldn’t.

  She looked up at the Queen and saw that she had gone into a slight crouch, both palms out and pointing at Tanya’s feet. There was a look of concentration on her face and her fingers were outlined in a shimmering blue light with a slight, sick-looking, yellowish tint.

  The same blue-yellow tint of the ice freezing Tanya’s feet to the ground.

  “Again, Tanya,” said the Queen. “I would like to offer you the position of Private Secretary to the Queen of Lode. Do you accept?”

  Tanya licked her lips. They weren’t dry; she was stalling for time. “What do you need me for that you can’t do by yourself?” she asked finally. “You’re the Queen.”

  The Queen smiled. It was a hungry smile. “Tanya, with the quill, I can comprehensively control the flow of natural resources throughout the entirety of Lode. Asking what I need the quill for is a waste of time and imagination. Do better.” She lowered her hands and stepped closer. “The question isn’t, what could we accomplish with this quill? With my authority and strategy; your skill and organization? What couldn’t we do?”

  Tanya flinched. Because she knew the answer.

  The answer was nothing. There was nothing they couldn’t do. Nothing at all.