Playing God

by Sarah Zettel

  She did not, however, point out the guard towers and fortifications that marked the end of the t'Therian lands and the start of the t'Ciereth's. With the relocation two weeks away, it was not something they really needed to know. It also was not the impression of her world, their world, that she wanted made on her daughters’ minds. It was enough that the rest of the traffic on the road consisted of funeral processions, families walking alongside carts or slow frame cars carrying their dead to the smoking crematoriums that appeared whenever the walls parted. Surely, that was nightmare enough without her adding even the vague threat of war so close.

  Now they had reached country she had only a passing familiarity with and jounced along in silence. Praeis shifted her weight. Her back and buttocks were certainly going to be glad when they got to Neys and Silv's home. She had spent the last several miles having second thoughts about the wisdom of not commandeering a private transport. As the Queens’ representative, she could have, even with the plague-inspired restrictions on private travel between cities.

  But a government car would have required she take government drivers as well. Considering that there was an excellent chance any drivers from the Home would be near family to someone on the Council of True Blood and would report back everything Praeis did and said, she had decided not to use that particular privilege.

  It had been difficult to keep her reasons to herself while dealing with Senejess and Armetrethe this morning.

  “Sister, you cannot mean to leave so soon, and without one of us to go with you,” fumed Senejess as she stood with Armetrethe and Praeis in their home's gateway watching their luggage being loaded onto the bus.

  Praeis shrugged, keeping one eye and ear focused on the driver as the luggage was strapped onto the roof. “I have my assignment from the Queens-of-All, Senejess. They made it possible for me to return. I can't appear ungrateful, or disobedient.”

  At the last word, the skin over Senejess's shoulders rippled. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “You could purchase a car for your work, or rent one from the Council.”

  Praeis shrugged and looked over her head, ostensibly searching the yard for her daughters. “I told you, I have no budget yet. I don't want to start running up bills before I know how much money I'm going to have.” Praeis lowered her gaze to look into her sisters’ eyes. She saw very plainly that neither one of them believed her. The knowledge constricted her heart. She lifted her voice. “Resaime! Theiareth! Daughters mine, it is time to leave!”

  Her daughters separated themselves from their cousins in the yard and came running. “We will be back in a few days, Sisters,” Praeis made herself say, as Res and Theia reached her side. “When I have set my work in motion, we will be able to talk together and decide how it will be next with us.”

  Armetrethe and Senejess looked at each other. Each reached out a hand to her without any of the tension easing from their ears or their skin. Praeis grasped their hands and tried to pretend this was a true embrace.

  A murmur drifted through the gabble of conversation and pulled Praeis out of her reverie. All her neighbors’ attention was focused on the way ahead. She craned her neck to see out of the front of the bus. A quartet of arms-sisters stepped out into the road and waved the bus to a halt. Praeis felt a startlingly familiar mixture of frustration and impatience, and fear. What do they want now? Will they just get this over with? Ancestors Mine, what if they want me?

  The driver, who had probably done this a thousand times, slowed the bus to a stop, got out her manifest pad and ID papers, and opened the door. Two of the four passenger escorts followed her to stand outside the vehicle and exchange papers, hand-waving, and half-heard mumbles with the quartet of arms-sisters.

  Theiareth shifted and leaned closer to Praeis. Resaime stretched her arm across her mother's shoulders until she touched Theia.

  Praeis opened her mouth to say, “Just a formality, my Daughters,” when two of the arms-sisters climbed into the bus. Now Praeis could see they were near family, grey enough to be t'Aia rather than t'Theria. The one with the prime-sister marks on her armored vest swept her cold gaze across the passengers.

  “T'Ciereth!” she announced, naming a people that used to be near family but now were outlaws for spying against the t'Theria in War 1302.2.

  “Not on my bus,” insisted one of the remaining escorts. “All my passengers have been checked and cleared. You've got bad information.”

  The second arms-sister, who ranked third-sister, shifted her grip on her weapon.

  “You've got bad security.” The prime-sister strode to a bench occupied by four small, blue-grey-skinned, near family. “Here, here, here, here!” She stabbed a knobbly finger at each of them. “T'Ciereth.”

  Praeis wrapped her arms tightly around Resaime and Theiareth. Both sat like blocks of wood, ears erect and eyes wide, watching the spectacle a few feet away.

  “Escort!” blurted out the tallest of the near family. “We are t'Theria.” She waved a sheaf of papers at the arms-sisters. “Check! Check all you want.”

  “Anyone here willing to claim these four as family?” Prime-Sister's eyes swept the bus again.

  “Mother…” murmured Resaime.

  Praeis fixed her gaze on the arms-sisters and their guns. “If anything happens, get down on the floor,” she whispered. She stood up.

  “I am a representative of the Queens-of-All,” Praeis announced in a clear, strong voice. She scooted sideways into the bus's central aisle. “I make no criticism, nor do I feel any disrespect for you, Prime-Sister, but hope you have papers for this.”

  Uncertainty showed in Prime-Sister's face, and Praeis felt all the skin on her back tighten. Something was not right here.

  “I have all the papers I need,” replied Prime-Sister. “You come with me, make sure they're treated all right.”

  “I will be doing that.” The escort slid past Praeis.

  “No!” The tallest of them brandished the papers. “We are t'Theria! You have no right.”

  “Prime-Sister, you may discharge your duties as soon as the escorts and I have seen your papers,” said Praeis evenly, letting the armed escort get in front of her. “And even then, you have the right of appeal,” she said to Tallest. “Under the Confederation treaty they can do no more than detain you and must notify your family as to what's happened and why.” She'd been up most of the night studying the convolutions of the treaty so she could better understand what her sisters and the Council were objecting to. The Queens had, after all, charged her with smoothing over differences and garnering support.

  Praeis's gaze flickered from the prime-sister, to the driver gesticulating angrily outside with the remaining arms-sisters. She tried to hear the fourth escort, who stood behind her. Praeis desperately wanted to turn to see if she had her sidearm out. Something was very wrong here. Praeis felt her jaw struggle to open so she could pant.

  “If you need to see our papers, you are welcome to step outside with us, then.” Prime-Sister leveled her gaze at Tallest. “Now.”

  Tallest glanced at Praeis. Praeis dipped her ears. The skin on her back twitched and rippled, even though she fought to keep it still.

  Tallest looked down at her three sisters. One of them, who'd had her ears torn ragged in some fight or the other, had her mouth open and panted restlessly as the muscles in her face jumped under her skin.

  “We'll go outside.” Tallest stood. Clutching her precious papers to her chest, she slid down the aisle between the prime-sister and the third-sister. Tom Ears was still panting, but she stood up and walked out after Tallest, with Third and Fourth crowding behind her. The escort looked at Praeis, her face smooth and stiff. Praeis nodded again and followed the escort off the bus. Praeis very deliberately did not look back at her daughters.

  Outside, the rain had cleared up without taking any of the heat of the day with it. The concrete steamed, and the scent of wet pavement and wet bodies surrounded her. The accused t'Ciereth sisters huddled together, flanked by the four passen
ger escorts, who were facing down the four arms-sisters. The driver stood between the two groups, with her arms folded and her ears flat against her scalp.

  Praeis stepped up beside the escorts. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see faces pressed up against the windows of the bus. She instantly picked out Theia and Res.

  Sit down, my daughters. Sit down and stay calm, she willed them silently, and to absolutely no effect.

  “Now, we are all outside,” said Praeis to the arms-sisters. “We are delayed, and we're standing here in the midday steam. You say you have papers to hand over to our sister escorts. Let's have them.”

  Prime-Sister glanced at her backup, and put her hand to her sealed wallet at her side. Third-Sister shifted her grip on her gun. Praeis heart seized up inside her, and her foot rose reflexively to step backward.

  Oh, no. Oh, no. Please, no.

  Torn Ears let out a strangled shout. She dived at Prime-Sister and wrapped her arms around the arms-sister's head, dragging them both down to the ground. Third-Sister jumped backward in time to avoid being knocked over. One of the escorts raised her gun, but Third-Sister already had hers thrown against her shoulder.

  Praeis measured her length on the concrete. A shot burst out followed fast by screams, shouts, and the stench of gunpowder, more shouts and the creak of metal and the sound of running feet. On her belly, Praeis scuttled toward the shelter of the bus.

  “MOTHER!”

  Res. Theia. Running for her. Praeis heard the shots, and the screaming, and all she could do was lunge toward her daughters as they ran for her, knocking them both flat against the pavement covering them as best she could with her own body.

  Red rage boiled through her. Who did this! How DARE they endanger my daughters!

  More shots, screams, running feet. Grunts and screams and the nameless straining shuffle of two or more bodies straining to overpower each other.

  Praeis risked a glance up. One of the escorts grappled with an accused t'Ciereth. Another faced off against Prime-Sister. Both had knives in their hands. A bunch of passengers had mobbed Torn Ears and pinned her to the ground. An arms-sister stood over Torn Ears, pointing a gun down. Tallest lay bleeding on the ground, her guts half hanging out of her shredded pouch.

  The sick, familiar sight shocked Praeis into motion. “Crawl,” she ordered her daughters. “Follow me. Don't look up.”

  On hands and knees, she scrambled away from the fighting toward where she saw the bus's wheels. The vehicle would offer some protection. Maybe she could drive it out of here, get her daughters to safety, find out who did this and make them pay, pay hard, pay dear for her daughters crawling clumsily on the ground, trying to keep up with their mother, panting with their fear. They'd pay, and pay, and pay … Adrenaline poured into her blood and suddenly the world was wide-open, and her senses were clear. Anger surged through her, but now it did nothing but add to her strength.

  It's the Burn. I'm Burning.

  Legs blocked their path. Praeis stared up at Third-Sister.

  “Queens’ representative,” she sneered, and raised her gun.

  “No!” Resaime shrieked, and leapt before Praeis could stop her. She grabbed the arms-sister's ankle and pulled. The gun went off in the air and the arms-sister crashed to the ground.

  “Res!” screamed Theia, as Res rolled over. Praeis was on her feet without knowing how she got there. She dragged her daughter away. The gun came up and the arms-sister bared her teeth. without even thinking, Praeis dodged sideways, falling flat on the ground again. The arms-sister climbed to her knees. Praeis snatched up a handful of dust and gravel and flung it in the arms-sister's eyes.

  The arms-sister swore and shook her head. Praeis leapt.She grabbed the gun with both hands and struggled to wrench it out of the arms-sister's grasp.

  “Run!” she screamed to her daughters. “Run! Run!” She grasped the arms-sister's ear and yanked on it hard. Third-Sister shrieked in pain, and her grip loosened just enough. Praeis tore the gun free. Praeis let go of her ear and brought the gun butt smashing down on her head. Third-Sister sprawled backward, blood gushing out of a split in her scalp.

  Praeis stared wildly around. She saw the bus, saw the chaos of the melee, but she didn't see Res and Theia.

  A whine and a crack split the air. Her right shoulder jerked. Praeis whirled around, threw the gun up to her left shoulder, and fired back.

  Idiot! Standing around in the open! Where are my daughters? Get behind the bus, you idiot, before you get shot down! Where are my daughters!

  Praeis doubled over, folded her ears, and ran toward where she last saw the bus. Shots whined past her. Her left elbow jerked. She staggered and almost lost hold of the gun. Her shoulder hurt now. Her elbow would hurt like all the pain in the universe in a minute. The bus's brown metal sides loomed up in front of her, she dodged left. Hands grabbed her. She bared her teeth, and saw her daughters.

  They ran behind the bus. Good girls, smart girls, the best, the best in the world… She let them pull her forward behind one of the bus's rear wheels and crouch her down.

  “You're hurt, Mother. You're hurt.” Theia tried to climb into her lap.

  “Who did this?” Res bared her teeth. “I'll kill them! I swear, I'll …”

  Praeis dropped the gun and threw her arms around her children. Her wounds burned like fire, but she pulled them as close to her as she could.

  “No, no, my own. We're here. We're all here. We'll get away. I swear we will. Together. Our mission now is to get away.”

  “Obedience first,” murmured Res against her shoulder. “Mother …”

  The roar of engines rolled over the sounds of fighting. Praeis jerked her ears toward the sound. Two frame cars full of arms-sisters in body armor tore up the road and screeched to a halt. Praeis risked a peek out from behind the tires toward the melee. All the passengers were involved now. No one had run. Everyone had stayed to protect or revenge. There was no one else behind the bus. Not even one daughter. The arms-sisters in their black armor waded in, swinging out indiscriminately, knocking apart combatants, rounding them up at gunpoint, dragging them away by ears and arms. She recognized Torn Ears in the hands of the arms-sisters.

  Adrenaline swam through her blood as she realized what was coming next. Another of the accused t'Ciereth was thrown against her sister. They grabbed on to each other as the new arms-sisters brought their guns to their-shoulders.

  Pay, pay, pay for what you've done, thought Praeis before she could stop herself. She slumped down against the tire and squeezed her eyes shut. She panted hard and shamelessly, as if trying to cover up the sound of the shots when they came.

  “Mother?” whispered Theia. “The arms-sisters killed them. We're safe now, Mother.”

  Praeis stared at her. Her skin shook all the way down to her bones. It had been so long, too long. She hadn't felt the Burn in twenty years. Not even in her nightmares. Not since before she'd made her deal against the Getesaph.

  Dully, she reached down and touched her elbow. Her hand came up with blood smeared across it. She stared at the blood on her palms. She could smell it, sharp and bitter on the wind, like sea air, like gunpowder. The pain burned, too hot, too hard. There were scrapes along her palms, and they were so red, so vitally red with the sharp blood that smelled so strong she could taste it in the back of her mouth. Sharp red. Biting, bitter, blood red …

  “Mother? Mother? We need to go, now. They're calling us. Mother?”

  Praeis lifted her gaze from her palms and blinked, slow and stupid, at Resaime's wild eyes.

  “Mother?” Someone slid her hands under her good arm. She knew the touch. Theia. “Are you good?”

  The world opened again in a rush. Praeis gulped air and tore her gaze away from her palm.

  “Yes.” She staggered to her feet. “Yes, I am good. But I am hurt. Who is—”

  “Praeis! Praeis Shin t'Theria!”

  “Neys!” Praeis ducked around the end of the bus. Neys and Silv, armored from neck to ankle
with guns slung over their shoulders, hurried across the concrete toward her, careful of their footing on the slick aftermath of the battle.

  Silv grasped Praeis's good hand and saw the red on her skin. “You're hurt, Arms-Sister.” She turned her head. “Hey! Help over here! Wounds!”

  “I'm scratched,” said Praeis, although the pain told her it was more than that. “What did we get caught in here, Silv?”

  Silv shook her head. “We're not sure. We got a runner in who said there was trouble with a bus on the road, and we came out as fast as we could. Might be those t'Ciereth were trying to make an intelligence run across our border.” She shook her head. “If it's not your blood, who knows what starts the fight?”

  “Then they were t'Ciereth?” asked Resaime.

  Neys smoothed Res's shoulder. “As far as we know they were. They are now, however, soaked into the ground and explaining themselves to their Ancestors.” She spit. A pair of sisters with medical badges on their chests arrived. They sat Praeis down firmly, probed her shoulder, and checked her elbow. Messy, they decided, but not much more than glorified flesh wounds. She was lucky. They bandaged her up and ordered her to get care-takers to pack and stitch her shoulder before the day was over.

  Praeis swore she would. So did Res and Theia.

  The medical-sisters seemed satisfied with this and hurried back to grimmer tasks among the dead and dying.

  Praeis turned her back on the scene. “How soon can you get my daughters out of this?”

  “Right now,” said Neys. “We can commandeer one of the cars. Come on.” She offered one hand to Praeis and another to Theia. Theia took it somewhat hesitantly. Resaime took her sister's other hand and crowded close beside her.