Apocalypto (Omnibus Edition)

by L. K. Rigel

  “But never mind my personal sorrow. In my research, I have discovered the most remarkable thing.”

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “In every mythology, the dragon needs its phoenix. When the dragon has his phoenix, he becomes Emperor. And she becomes Empress. This is the essential thing. This is what we’ve been missing!”

  “I see, my lord.”

  “Do you? Do you, Counselor? For you are my Counselor now, are you not? Yes, you do see. You understand me better than anyone. Better than that donkey – well.” He looked askance at the child. “We’ll say nothing about that.”

  “No, my lord.” What did I ever see in this guy?

  “It’s the phoenix, then. That’s what we must give our new pet. How did I miss it?”

  His pet, not hers. Garrick had trapped a wildling bleeder. It had dropped a female brat months ago, and now he was trying to get a male on it. The child toddled over, saving her from having to remind Garrick that he’d tattooed his pet wildling with a phoenix ages ago. “Couser!” The child raised its arms to her. She picked it up and made herself kiss it.

  Everyone called her Counselor now, but in her heart she was still Bronagh, Lady Bron. She had thought she could love and serve Garrick. She had convinced herself she could give up her name. She had failed at both.

  She didn’t love Garrick or the brat in her arms or the citadellers.

  But she did love running the city. It was a disappointment when the tribunal went badly, of course, but it had all worked out for the best. She gave Garrick, both the city and the man, everything they needed from her and found she could do so without having to care for either one.

  This new obsession of his, this pet, wouldn’t be a problem. He’d eventually tire of the thing, and she’d have years to clean up the mess before it presented any danger. Just another of the details and responsibilities that fell to her.

  A message flashed on the com pad at Garrick’s throne. The Ptery was in the corridor, back from Allel. She handed the child off to its nurse, making a mental note to find out how Kim had gotten so far inside the citadel before being seen.

  Kim came through the open double doors. “My lord.” She didn’t look so good, and not just because of her eyes. “You were right about the KP. Discovered and arrested. She committed suicide rather than divulge anything.”

  “Tell us something we don’t know, Ptery,” Lady Bron said. Kim was delaying and deflecting. Damn her to oblivion. She had failed.

  “The Golden Wasp is destroyed.”

  Or maybe not. Garrick looked up, alert. “What of casualties?” Once again he was the lion he could be.

  Holy Samael, tell us Edmund and the bleeder have been annihilated.

  “I planted the device.” Something was wrong. Kim was too nervous. “The timer worked perfectly. Unfortunately – I mean ...”

  Garrick pulled the dragon dagger from its sheath and flipped it in the air, catching it by the handle and flipping it again. “Well, Kim? What do you want to tell me?” His true self. Ruthless. Focused. “Am I rid of intriguers and old baggage or not?”

  “King Edmund and – and the other one – weren’t on board when it went off. Apparently, they got off early and took the captain’s yacht to go ashore.”

  “Kim, Kim.” Garrick stepped down from the throne. “That is not good.” He circled her like a hungry lion. “After everything I did for you when those bitches treated you so ill.”

  Kim breathed rhythmically, recalling her training. Pathetic.

  “I saved you from the butchers. I planted that brat in your belly. From what I hear, it’s turned out more of a mutation than your miserable ass.” He tossed the dagger higher. “I don’t know why you’re so keen to save its miserable life.”

  Pteryi could cry. Interesting. You’d think the tears would clog behind all that gauze. Great Samael, maybe that’s why she held onto that filthy-looking rag.

  Garrick sighed. “Well, you destroyed the blasted ship. That’s something.”

  “I did that, my lord.” Kim, Kim. Don’t look so hopeful. Don’t you know he’s insane?

  “I just said as much. And Edmund will be without transport for a time.”

  “Not ...” Kim looked even sicker, like she really wished she hadn’t said that.

  “Not? Not? As in not without transport?” Garrick’s red face turned redder. “Explain.”

  “He has some new kind of flying machines.”

  “Machines. New machines. Lady Bron, what is this about new machines?”

  “I have no idea, my lord. Explain yourself, Ptery.”

  “Small. Very fast. Silent. They call them …”

  “Dead!” Garrick plunged the dagger into the Ptery’s breast.

  Irritating. He might have waited until they learned more about these machines. Lady Bron gestured for the guards to haul the moaning, dying carcass – and her disgusting rag – out of their sight.

  “Governing is so trying.” Garrick looked at the child. It hadn’t reacted to the stabbing. “It’s so hard when others don’t do their part.”

  “I know, my lord.”

  “Look at my poor little daughter. Her breeder insults her every day she delays in sending that dagger.”

  “There we do have news, my lord. I have heard from Gerhold. The dagger is ready. I offered to send the Eaglet, but he had already shipped it.”

  “What’s the totem? Great gods, not a donkey. Hee-hee.”

  “My lord, you are too droll. We can only hope.”

  “It doesn’t matter, now that I know what I know. Our little pet will have its phoenix, and all will be right with the world.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Nothing like a little blood lust to perk him up. He’d want sex anytime now. The things she did for her city.

  “Come on, Counselor.” Garrick picked up a red apple from the tray in front of his throne. “Let’s you and I go see our pet.”

  By all means. Thank Samael for the pet.

  In the cage room, Garrick tossed the apple back and forth between his hands. “There it is. My pet.” It screeched when it saw him and flew about the cage. “Bracelets!”

  Lady Bron raised an eyebrow to the keeper. “Who let it loose?” Garrick was still rational for the most part, but the pet was not helping. This was a mistake.

  “Loose? She’s there in the cage, Counselor.”

  Insufferable, really. Why must everything be explained?

  “I can see that, idiot.” Another mistake. Never call an idiot an idiot. “We don’t want another incident. Put its bracelets on. And next time, have them on before the king arrives.”

  “Aaaeeegghh!” The wildling’s indecipherable scream filled the cavern. Now she was going to have a splitting headache.

  “Give it its ball too.”

  The wildling lunged at the keeper, and he yelped. It probably got a good bite of his arm. He wouldn’t be so quick to take its bracelets off again. Once he had one wrist confined and attached to the cage wall, the rest was easy.

  He fixed the left arm so that the king could easily see its ugly phoenix tattoo. The keeper had to pry open its mouth to get the ball in it; mercifully, the ear-splitting shrieks soon died out to angry grunting.

  Which would be funny if it wasn’t so ... not funny.

  The keeper slithered out of the cage and up to his perch in the corner. He wanted to watch. Fine. The only action that gelding was going to get. And letting him watch kept him from talking. Not that he would do for an official observer. Garrick wanted these things done properly. Where was the sergeant at arms?

  Garrick entered the cage, still tossing the apple. “A treat for my pet, you see.” He set the fruit down in its sight and ran his hand over its abdomen, gently. Tenderly. At first, the wildling had been clothed in a rough sort of shift, but what was the point? It was easier to keep it in the cage naked. Samael knew, the king got no pleasure from foreplay.

  “Nothing yet.” He reached between its legs and rubbed, laughing. “It hates when I do this. Don�
�t you, pet?” He tweaked its nipple and sucked, still rubbing between its legs. “Ah, there. Wet already. I think it’s falling in love.”

  He slid his trousers down. “Great Samael, I am huge!” He turned around to display his kingly phallus.

  “My lord. Don’t tease me.”

  “Counselor, you slut. All my milk is meant for this honey.” He spread the wildlings legs apart with his knee and thrust into her. “It took less time to get the female on her. Getting the male is becoming real work.”

  He didn’t let his rutting get in the way of his commentary. The chain links of the cage wall rattled. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. I wonder how many males and females I’ve got running around in the wild already. Poor pet. I’d remove your ball, but I don’t fancy your bite.”

  He must be tired. It was taking him longer than usual.

  The sergeant at arms arrived and took his place beside Lady Bron. He seemed agitated, but with a look she warned him to remain still until the king finished his business.

  “Gives new meaning to the phrase every fucking day, eh, Counselor?” Great gods. He pulled his pants up and put himself in order. “Sergeant, you look like you have something on your mind.”

  “A shipment has come from Red City. You wanted to be …”

  “Stop wasting time, man. Let me have it!” Garrick took the steps three at a time.

  “My lord,” Lady Bron said. “Perhaps in the throne room?” There must be some decorum.

  “Yes. Yes, of course. By all means. To the throne room.”

  As they left the cage room, the keeper crawled down from his perch again. Lady Bron wondered whether he meant to play with the wildling or to seize the apple for himself, but her curiosity was diverted to Garrick, screaming in the corridor.

  “Take it away from me! Get it away!” He flung the sergeant into the wall and stumbled down the hall toward the throne room.

  Lady Bron picked up a wooden box at the sergeant’s feet. It had fallen open, the contents still nested safely in its red and white silk lining. She lifted out the dagger and felt sick to her stomach.

  “Phoenix!” Garrick collapsed on his throne, and pulled his knees up to his chest with his arms around them, rocking. “Phoenix! Did you see, Counselor? Did you see it?”

  What was there to say? If the phoenix was truly Mallory’s totem, Lady Bron had no response.

  “Get the Eaglet ready. Call my guards. Where is Pala?” Like a spoiled child, Garrick looked from courtier to painted dragon to Counselor. “Where is Pala?”

  “Pala died when the breeder escaped, my lord.” He hadn’t, but it had been more convenient to say so. “I’ll have your guard assembled.”

  “Send them to the Eaglet. I’ll lead them. No one can get anything right. I’ll have to do it myself.”

  Good. This was the Garrick she needed, the one who made cold and rational decisions, the one who could rule the world one day. “That Ptery was good for something. If Edmund and his breeder can sneak into Allel through the lighthouse tunnel, so can I.”

  Flights of Angels

  Mal’s dress had a high neckline but no sleeves. Her shoulders were bare, the firebird totem fully exposed. She covered her arms with a lightweight shrug and picked up the box that contained Céilidh’s dagger. She and Edmund had decided to reveal her secret to his most trusted circle.

  She nodded to Saskia. “Let’s go.”

  The Nights, on duty in the corridor, fell in line behind and in front of her and Saskia.

  At the change of shift earlier, Counselor had upgraded the LOTHs’ mission. Instead of old-world courtier sycophants, they were now to emulate ancient-world Amazon bodyguards. They reacted with gusto. The Nights had already exchanged their flowing dresses for green and gold gi pants and sparring shoes.

  Edmund took Mal aside at Celia’s door. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He cared about his city, but he cared about her too.

  “Yes. I trust you with my life.” She wanted to kiss him, but everyone was looking.

  The mood in the turret room was lighter than she expected. Saskia was becoming downright cheerful as the situation on the ground grew more intense. Then it hit her: everybody here wanted a fight with Garrick. They’d wanted it for years. If Garrick was behind the explosion on the Golden Wasp, they finally had a legitimate excuse to lash out.

  They seemed oblivious to one small problem: Garrick would destroy them.

  “The ship produces no pollutants,” Counselor was talking about the airship Hibernia had built. “It can dock in Allel with no damage.”

  “It makes no noise,” Jannes said. “And its secure communication system can track the stingers and talk with them without monitoring by outside forces.”

  Mal glanced at Saskia. “The Concord Cities will see this as the beginning of an old-world air army.”

  “It’s a civilian air guard,” Steve said. “For benign purposes, only. No weapons involved.”

  “Harold is bringing it himself.” Counselor was sparkling with excitement. She’d talked about the airship long enough, and it was finally happening. “It will be in the dirigidock when you wake up tomorrow.”

  Garrick would spring an aneurism when he heard about it. Maybe they wanted that too.

  “Hibernia’s head engineer tells me they’ve named it.” Steve handed Saskia a glass of wine. “Though King Harold insisted the naming ceremony should be here at its home berth.”

  “Don’t tell me.” Saskia swirled the glass and took in the aroma. “Harold has called it the Queen Bee.”

  Steve’s face fell.

  “It’s true.” Edmund winked at Mal, as he did when he made the gift of the blue amber. She had probably loved him on some level from that moment. “We are predictable in the naming of our vehicles.”

  “It wasn’t the first suggestion.” Steve became serious. “At first he asked did I think it should be called the New Golden Wasp.”

  The swagger evaporated from the air. The conversation died, and Edmund crossed his arms with clenched fists. Captain Serna had died of his wounds.

  Mal wanted to wrap her arms around Edmund and tell him how sorry she was. She shouldn’t touch him in front of people, not outside the bedchamber, but what did that matter? Everything was going to change anyway.

  She put her hand on his arm in sympathy. No one commented. He covered her fingers and pressed her hand.

  “Steve told them it wouldn’t do.” Dix said. “When we have another Golden Wasp, it will be an ocean-going ship.”

  “To the Golden Wasp.” Steve lifted his glass.

  After the toast, Edmund offered another. “To Serna.”

  They were veering into morbidity, but Counselor caught them and brought them back to thoughts of a bright future. “To the Queen Bee.”

  Mal raised her glass of cranberry juice and sparkling water. “It’s a perfect name.”

  Counselor said down beside Celia on a cushioned bench. Counselor’s black curls were the opposite of Celia’s smooth white crown, and the young woman’s unmarked skin contrasted to the other’s symbol-laden canvass. In another age, they would be thought sisters. In twenty-five years, would people think the same about Mal and Céilidh?

  Stop. Just stop.

  Jannes sat on Counselor’s other side but kept an eye on Saskia. She was trusted with the brood queen’s health. She was trusted with learning to pilot a stinger. But after the last KP’s treachery he would form his own judgment, one of many qualities that made him invaluable. If Mal were an empress of anything – and may all the gods in heaven prevent such a ridiculous thing – she would surround herself with people like Jannes.

  Edmund gave her an encouraging nod. She closed her eyes and took in a cleansing breath.

  Until now, it would have been possible to keep the secret like a treasure in her pocket. Pala and his people, whoever they were, had kept it this long. Gerhold? He was her man, she had no doubt. Edmund would never harm her, even – she was certain – to the detriment of his
beloved city. Counselor would follow Edmund. Saskia loathed civilization so much she’d spit in its eye and laugh rather than betray Mal. Steve and Dix were ordinary people, and one might assume they couldn’t keep a secret like this, but they’d kept the secret of Tesla.

  Jannes was at the other end of the spectrum. Unique. He served nothing but his own convictions; all other masters were secondary. It wasn’t a question of Jannes being worthy of her trust, but of her being worthy of his loyalty.

  She didn’t know the answer to that question.

  And Celia. Definitely a plotter and a schemer. She’d been willing to ruin Claire’s career to keep Edmund available for Mal. But whose creature was she?

  This is where everything changes. No turning back.

  Mal stood up and opened the clasp on her shrug. “In normal times, I wouldn’t present the future counselor’s dagger – Céilidh’s dagger – until the Triune Contract was complete. But these times are far from normal. Here is why.” She bared her arms.

  “This is my totem.”

  After a shocked silence Counselor said, “Sting me. Garrick was telling the truth.”

  “Without knowing it.” Jannes said. “Has his counselor received her dagger yet?”

  Edmund answered. “Gerhold sent the dagger to Garrick’s counselor the day Mallory and I left Red City. I honestly expected a reaction sooner than this.”

  “Gerhold.” Jannes said. “I know that name.”

  “Blade master to Red City.” Saskia said.

  “Among other things, if it’s the Gerhold I’m thinking of.”

  “Garrick must have known for some time now,” Saskia said. “The Tat Man would have blabbed it all over the grid the minute he saw your ganpishi paper.”

  “The Tat Man didn’t ink Mallory’s totem.” Thank the gods Edmund said it. The words stuck in her throat. “Asherah placed it there.”

  Jannes dropped to one knee. As though quoting scripture, he said: “Behold, this child has my favor. And though she will bear the mark of men, note well I give her my mark too.”

  It was too terrible. Mal didn’t know what she had expected, but not this. They all looked at her like she was from outer space. Or the lost granddaughter of the last emperor.