“Secondly—” Astrid turned back to the platform “—let me just say what an honor it is to be in your polychromatic presence. Your fancy chairs are unmatched throughout the land, I’m sure.”
The corner of Elegance’s mouth twitched in a smile. But just as quickly as it came, it went. The vampire in the purple robe frowned down at Astrid. Behind her, Astrid heard a few of the vampires murmuring.
But she wasn’t deterred. Instead, she turned to face Cabral.
“And finally,” she said, opening her arms wide, “I’d like to thank the great Olin Cabral for making my presence here possible today. I can say, quite confidently, that there is no one in—or below—the city of Triah with a face that so closely resembles that of a mangy, abused hound.”
The murmurs behind her grew louder; somebody guffawed.
“Or that hound’s ass, for that matter,” she added for good measure. Astrid focused on Cabral’s creasing scowl, and the deep pleasure it brought her.
“And,” Astrid said, her smile broadening, “no one on the Sfaera with a mind so exquisitely, excruciatingly dull.”
She raised her hands placatingly at his angry Fangs. “Peace, cheese-cods. Let me finish.” She must have sounded authoritative, because the Fangs actually did stop edging toward her.
“I’d even go so far as to say,” Astrid continued, looking directly through the bleeding crimson light into Cabral’s eyes, “That there has never been—and perhaps never will exist, ever—anyone in history who is quite the consummate plague sore that you are, Cabral. You—”
“Enough.”
The vampire did not shout, but somehow Astrid felt the voice resonate in her bones, rippling over her skin. She looked up at the platform to see the violet vampire standing, a scowl on his face.
Elegance smiled again, fully this time. That sight gave Astrid some confidence.
“Why,” Violet said, pointing one long, sinewy claw at Astrid, “has this one been brought before the Coven?”
“This is Astrid,” Cabral said, “a young vampire who—”
“She is not in our records,” Violet said. “Has she passed the threshold?”
“No,” Cabral said, bowing his head, “I have brought her here under special circumstances to request an audience with you.”
Elegance leaned forward, looking at the violet vampire. “We have already agreed to hear this case, Equity.”
The vampire took his seat once more. The moment he did, the tiellan woman sitting in the middle rose from her seat, levitating up from her throne. She floated down from the platform until she stopped, cross-legged and still suspended in the air, directly in front of Astrid.
“What in Oblivion is this?” blurted Astrid.
The tiellan vampire said nothing—nothing audible, at least—but instead Astrid heard a voice echo in her mind.
You are unfamiliar with the Coven. The voice, melodious and calm, resonated in her mind like harp strings plucked in an empty, dusty room. That is not surprising. You would not have come to know of our existence for another one hundred and sixty-three years, had circumstances been normal. But Olin Cabral has brought you to our attention.
“Eldritch, what are you saying to her?” Equity demanded. Astrid’s vision clouded; the voice resonating in her mind consumed her.
“Fine, but be quick about it,” Equity muttered, sitting back down on his throne.
When a vampire has been turned for five hundred years, they have passed the threshold of requirement to be introduced into our presence, Eldritch went on.
“Who are you?” Astrid asked.
We are the Coven. The three of us have been around since the beginning of time.
“You are vampires, too?”
We are, but we have grown beyond what you could possibly comprehend.
“Your… powers?”
You witnessed Elegance’s abilities the other night, albeit the circumstances were unfortunate and somewhat uncalled for. You are experiencing some of my own powers right now.
“I don’t understand.”
That is to be expected. You will, in time. I was against hearing your case at all, but Elegance insisted, and I have never been one to deny Elegance.
For now, we will hear what Cabral has to say, and then we will make our judgment.
Then the voice was out of Astrid’s head, and Eldritch floated back up to her platform and settled herself gently back down on her sapphire throne.
“Very well, she is up to speed,” Equity said. “Let us begin.”
“Wait,” Astrid said quickly, “saying I’m ‘up to speed’ is an understatement, don’t you think? I don’t understand what is happening here. Some sort of trial? How can I plead my case here if I don’t even know—”
“You have misunderstood, child,” Elegance said. It was the first time she had spoken since Astrid had entered the throne room. “You will not have a say here. We have convened to hear Cabral’s case against you. As one of the Uninitiated, you have not yet earned your rights or voice in our presence.”
“But—”
“Be silent,” Elegance said, a hard edge to her voice, “or I will silence you myself.”
So much for living up to your stupid name, Astrid thought.
But Astrid obeyed. She was completely outmatched if it came to a fight. Just the presence of the big vampire behind her was enough to make her twitchy, let alone whatever in Oblivion the throned rainbow triplets before her were all about.
Equity cleared his throat. “Very good. Olin Cabral, please step forward.”
Cabral obeyed, not even bothering to look in Astrid’s direction, and then knelt before the Coven. Astrid had never seen Cabral show such deference in her life. Not once.
“Rise,” Equity said, “and state your case.”
Cabral obeyed. “Eminent Ones,” he began, “I have come here to ask for your assistance in punishing this vampire, Astrid, for the wrongs she has committed against me and my domain.”
“What are the charges?” Equity asked, looking rather bored. He rested his chin on one hand, his elbow on the arm of his throne.
“She attacked my tower-house in Turandel,” Cabral said. “She took my slaves, and killed the vampires and the infected who followed me.”
“I didn’t take your slaves,” Astrid said, unable to contain herself. “I freed them.”
Other than a burning yellow glare from Elegance, no one else acknowledged Astrid had said anything. Cabral continued speaking as if the interruption had never happened.
“She ruined the domain I had built up for myself,” Cabral said. “The domain you had granted me. I demand she be punished.”
Though the Coven did not say anything aloud, Astrid had the distinct impression that they were discussing Cabral’s case together, via whatever power Eldritch wielded.
“This girl destroyed everything in your jurisdiction?” Equity eventually asked, raising one eyebrow.
Astrid smiled at the vampire’s tone. If she’d destroyed everything Cabral had built, perhaps he didn’t deserve to have anything in the first place.
She might even win this case without having to say anything.
“She had help,” Cabral snapped. “Another of my former Fangs. Trave Tamlin helped her.”
“Trave is one of the initiated,” Elegance said, mildly surprised. “He should know better.”
“He should, Your Eminence,” Cabral said, head bowed, “but he is not here. The girl is the only one we could procure, for now. When I find Trave, I will bring him here for your judgment as well.”
“Seems to me you want to punish this girl to satisfy your own rage,” Elegance said thoughtfully. “Is that true, Cabral?”
Cabral frowned, and opened his mouth to speak, but Equity cut him off.
“Enough prattle. I have better things to do with my time. Do you have a punishment in mind, Cabral?”
“I do, Eminent Ones,” Cabral said. Finally, for the first time since Astrid’s insulting tirade when she’d first entered
the room, Cabral turned to look at her. “I demand her sift be altered to be completely loyal to me. Take out any memory of the life she has now. Make her utterly dependent on me. She destroyed everything that was mine, and I demand she now become mine.”
Alter her sift? Cabral was no psimancer. No vampire was.
But, then again, Elegance had shown her visions of her friends, dead and gone. If the Coven were as powerful as everyone around here seemed to think, perhaps Elegance, or one of the others, did have the power.
Astrid fought the growing panic in her chest.
“What’s the matter, my dear?” Cabral asked, grinning widely. “No snarky remarks? No insults?”
“No,” Astrid said quietly. “Just hatred. Hatred that will never go away, no matter how much time passes, no matter what this ridiculous hearing might do to me. That hatred will always be here, inside of me, Cabral. One day you’ll face it, without anything else to help you.”
Cabral held her gaze. The two stared at one another, until finally Equity spoke.
“We have made our decision,” he said.
Cabral’s smile returned. “What is your ruling, Eminent Ones?”
“Despite our misgivings over your failings as an overlord, Cabral,” Equity said, glaring down at the vampire, “we acknowledge the crimes that have been done against you. As our chosen initiate, crimes against you are crimes against us, and that is a thing we do not tolerate.”
“Of course, Eminent Ones,” Cabral said, bowing his head.
Astrid shook her head, opening her mouth to protest, but no sound came out.
“That being said,” Equity continued, “we do not accept your terms of punishment. This girl shows promise. Her eyes tell us that much. We would hate to disrupt that promise by altering her sift. You may keep her in your custody, and condition her as you wish in whatever way you think will be effective. But we will take no part in it.”
“Eminent Ones, if you’re allowing me to condition her, would it not be just as prudent for you to step in and—”
“We have made our decision, Cabral,” Equity said, his voice hard. “Respect it.”
Cabral bowed his head. “Of course, Eminent Ones.”
“What right do you have to judge me?” Astrid demanded, fear crushing her chest. “What right do you have to turn me over to his care?” she spat.
“Our power gives us that right, child.” Equity narrowed his eyes at her. “You began learning that lesson today; I suspect you will learn it again when you cross the threshold and officially join our order.”
Astrid shook her head. “I’ll never join you. Anyone who would choose Cabral as an associate doesn’t deserve my allegiance. I don’t care how old you are or what you can do.”
“Watch your tongue, girl,” Equity snapped. “You’ve already been told you have no voice here. That remains true. Nothing you say matters. We will not consider you, think of you, until you’ve crossed the threshold. Assuming you survive that long.”
“You don’t care about me now, fine,” Astrid said, glaring up at Equity, “but you’ll change your mind when I burn this place down around you, with each of you screaming inside it.”
A heavy silence descended on the hall, the weight of it pressing her down into the floor. Every vampiric eye in the hall held her captive. She had crossed a line, she was sure. She had said what she’d said in anger, in terror, already sure of her defeat. Now she regretted it.
Then, as quickly as the silence fell, it evaporated as Equity and Elegance erupted in simultaneous, roaring laughter.
Soon every other vampire in the room was laughing, raucously and uncontrollably, at Astrid. Astrid heard a big booming chuckle from behind her that could only have come from the big vampire. Equity’s loud guffaws and Elegance’s ringing, musical laughter echoed above them all. Only Eldritch seemed unmoved, immutably calm.
Astrid let their derision wash over her, standing tall, her chin held high, her mouth firm and eyes dry.
When the sound quieted, Equity waved disdainfully in Astrid’s direction. “Take her away, Igar. If we’re lucky, she won’t even make it past the threshold anyway.” The big vampire scooped her up roughly once again.
She kept herself together all through the journey back to her cell. Only when the door had shut, and the footsteps had faded, and Astrid was alone in the dark with nothing but herself did she finally begin to cry.
PART II
THE AGONY OF BELIEF
16
Legion Barracks, Triah
NONE OF THE REPORTS on Riccan Carrieri’s desk mattered to him except the one on top, detailing the rout of the pirates he’d hired to attack the Rodenese fleet. Roden had lost two or three ships, and at least three hundred people. Such losses weren’t to be sniffed at, but Khale had hoped for more. The attack had barely made a dent in Empress Cova Amok’s navy. And when he read how close the mercenaries had come to capturing the empress herself… it made him sick to think of the missed opportunity.
A knock at his door.
Carrieri leaned back in his chair, stretching his neck. The wooden paneling of his ceiling stared back at him dispassionately. His visitor knocked again, and Carrieri swore quietly under his breath.
When he opened the door to see Karina Vestri, Consular of the Khalic government.
“This is the second time in six months you’ve come to my door without first requesting my presence,” Carrieri said flatly. “Not really fitting for your station, is it?”
“This is the second time in the year we’ve suffered a catastrophic military defeat,” Karina snapped. “Is that really fitting for yours?”
Carrieri moved aside, and Karina stormed into the room.
“‘Catastrophic’ isn’t the word I would use to describe it,” he said. “I’m disappointed we didn’t turn the navy back, but the attack was not a failure. And, need I remind you, I was against paying pirates from the beginning. Your own parliament overruled me.”
“So you’re saying that this disaster wasn’t your fault?” Karina asked, her eyes bright with anger. “Khale’s Grand Marshal?”
Carrieri’s frown deepened. It was not like him to shirk responsibility, or make excuses. But it was her holding him responsible, and when it was her…
Karina sighed, collapsing into a chair in his open study, just a few paces away from the doorway to his chambers.
“Goddess, we’re in a mess, aren’t we?”
“Aye,” Carrieri muttered, the muscles in his chest still tense despite Karina’s clear resort to informality—or perhaps because of it.
“You defeated Roden in a war once before.” Her eyes pleaded with him.
“Nothing is certain.”
“Canta’s bloody bones, you cannot say something comforting, just once? Even if it means lying?”
Carrieri hesitated. A part of him wanted to comfort Karina. Instead, he said, “I’ve always been a soldier first, and you a politician.”
“I know,” Karina said quietly. “That’s why we’ve never worked.” She leaned her head back against the chair, one palm pressed against her forehead. Her dark hair, streaked with gray, fanned out behind her.
Carrieri stood motionless by the door to his quarters, unsure of what to do. He did not want to say anything to make her leave. If they could not be together, at least they could be alone in the same room.
“The Denomination refuses to let up pressure about the Odenites,” Karina muttered after some time. Something in her voice somehow gave him permission to move once more. He walked toward a cabinet that held several glasses and several more containers of liquid.
“Water?” he asked.
“Of course,” Karina said. She continued. “They haven’t said this in any official meeting with me, but some of my spies say that there are those within the Denomination—within the High Camarilla itself—that are calling for the execution of all Odenites.”
Carrieri nearly dropped the water container. “You’re sure about that?”
“Sure en
ough.”
“It is my duty to protect the people of Khale,” Carrieri said. “The Odenites may have struck out against the Denomination, but they are still Khalic. I will not allow genocide in my own country.”
But, even as he said it, his words felt hollow. Wasn’t an attack on Khalic tiellans—the murder of tiellans en masse as they left the city of Cineste—exactly what had started the war with the Chaos Queen? That had surely been genocide, by anyone’s definition, and now he was waging a war against the survivors.
“I know you won’t,” Karina said, “and neither will I. But that doesn’t change the fact that someone may attempt it. And with the Rodenese fleet bearing down on us from the north, we may not have the capacity to—”
“The Rodenese fleet bearing down on us from the north, and the tiellans from the west,” Carrieri added.
Karina swore. “There’s been movement?”
Since Carrieri had abandoned Winter and her forces at the Battle of the Rihnemin, the tiellans had more or less retreated to the western plains. What skirmishes they had fought since then were little more than banditry.
“I had a feeling after the most recent failed attempt by the Nazaniin to capture their leader, Winter Cordier, that we would see more of them,” Carrieri said. “But I had nothing to qualify that feeling until I received word not an hour ago. A tiellan army moves westward, toward Triah.” It was a force of just over two thousand strong, according to his scouts. He did not relish the idea of what the tiellans could do with two thousand of their Rangers, and the Chaos Queen at their head.
Karina paled. “We cannot fight wars on two fronts. Not after the losses we suffered over the past year.”
Carrieri had gone through the scenario a thousand times in his head. If the tiellans besieged the city from land, and the Rodenese fleet blockaded them from the sea, Triah would be cut off from any source of food. The city’s stores would run low. There was little chance of survival, let alone victory. And if the two forces coordinated their attacks, the city would be caught in a vise. Such a thing was unlikely—Roden had systematically murdered and exiled all tiellans decades ago—but Carrieri needed to prepare for any possibility.
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