“It’s safe,” Sediryl said, setting down her armful of cloth. “To talk, anyway.”
The Queen came closer then. She was nude, and it suited her better than the parody of Fleet uniform she’d been wearing yesterday. Had it only been yesterday? Goddess and Lord, how long the hours seemed.
The Chatcaavan spoke in Universal, and with a slight accent. “Your companion, who spoke to me yesterday. Her doing.”
“Yes,” Sediryl said. And added, “May I call you sister? I’m given to know you don’t use names. It is a compliment among my people to claim familial relationship with someone not related to you by blood.”
“And you are a ruler among your people.” The Queen watched her with a steady and alien gaze. But her eyes were orange, like the ones that met Sediryl’s in the mirror every morning. “A… princess… as the Ambassador was a prince.”
The Eldritch didn’t really have those ranks anymore… but Sediryl was probably the heir to the throne and Lisinthir had been the paramour of an emperor, and that was certainly close enough. “Yes. It’s why I chose the word. Because you and I have this thing in common.”
“Responsibility,” the Queen murmured. “For others.”
“Yes,” Sediryl said, surprised.
The Queen nodded, the gesture unlikely on that long neck and yet fluid, practiced. “Then… sister… I am glad you have come, but concerned that you did.”
“Because?” Sediryl began stretching out the silks and chiffons and lace panels she’d had the genie create.
“Because I am not in the favor of this pirate,” the Queen said. “And I would not have you hampered by any association with me.”
“That’s an admirable sentiment but short-sighted.” Sediryl turned from her work to survey the other woman. “I can’t let Kamaney dislike you. She’s too capricious. She might decide to kill you out of pique.”
The Chatcaavan’s wing-arms twitched and she looked away. “Yes. The thought had occurred to me.”
“Therefore,” Sediryl said, “we must effect your rehabilitation immediately.” She sat on the arm of the chair. “You may not like the process.”
“I have done many things in my life I dislike,” the Queen said. “And many that were painful. To help the Ambassador and the Emperor I am willing to make the effort. I simply fear that it will not be believable.”
“I know. But I have a plan.” Sediryl took up the first panel of fabric, a sheer pink silk washed through with the faintest of glimmers. “And the first step is to make you attractive to her.”
“She wanted to clothe me,” the Queen murmured.
“She likes to give gifts, just as you reported,” Sediryl said. “That will be the second thing we have to address. For now…” She hesitated, forced herself to go on. “Forgive me. Will you stretch your wing-arms?”
The Queen studied her ‘sister’, wondering anew at these aliens that she could know so well and yet not at all. “You believe this will distress me,” she said slowly.
“It would distress me to display them if I had wings and someone mutilated them.”
Such imaginations they had. It had been the Emperor’s strength: that capacity to extrapolate, to conceive of things that did not directly affect him. She stretched her wing-arms, trying not to feel their nakedness, the way the cold of the air wrapped around them completely, uninterrupted by insulating vanes. “Do you wish me to seduce the pirate?”
“No,” said the Eldritch crisply, though something in the set of her mouth suggested distaste. “I’m planning on that, and it’s best if you don’t give her a second target. Unless you can fake interest in her?”
“If fear and submission do not move her, I do not believe I can satisfy her.”
“Then no,” the Eldritch said with more confidence. “Leave that to me. But she’s a collector and she likes pretty things. We need to turn you into one of her pretty things.” The female tied a strap around the Queen’s wing-arm near the shoulder, and draped the roseate fabric up along the leading edge, securing it with more such straps: delicate things made of tiny coils of fabric, accented with silvery chains that dripped pearls. It reminded her powerfully of the harem and her hated raiment… except that she found she did not hate that memory so much anymore. The Emperor had adorned her thus to tempt the Ambassador. Those had been glad times.
“I think the drape of it works. Not too bulky.” The Eldritch surveyed her, frowning and tapping her cheek. “If you fold the wing-arm, is it comfortable?”
Puzzled, the Queen did so, and it was… strange, to have fabric bunched at her back. But it felt better than suffering the cold of her nakedness. “I… yes.”
“Good.” The Eldritch set to work on the other, fingers quick and confident. “I have several sets of these, and matching jewelry and silky things. We want you to look expensive and unexpected. Every day you need to wear a different one. I can keep designing them, or you can try your hand at it.”
“I have never designed clothing before.”
“That’s what my D-per said earlier.” The Eldritch flashed her a grin. “But we’re all doing things we’ve never done before, aren’t we? Here.” She offered more chains, silver with dependent pearls. “For your waist, and your neck. I’ve got things for your horns… let me do those, it’s probably easier.…” She circled behind the Queen and said, “Oh! Hmm. I should have the computer put darts in the fabric. It’ll fall better. Something for next time.”
How peculiar it was to have another female helping her dress again. Peculiar, and comforting. This, at least, was a ritual she understood. Hooking the chain around her waist, the Queen said, “Decorating me is the easy course. The gifting is much harder. The pirate has already attempted to give me gifts and I have rejected them. She knows I do not care for furs or clothes or food or slaves. What can she have that I could reasonably want?”
The other female hesitated, then finished hanging the dangle off the Queen’s horn. “When I accepted my new assignment from the Eldritch Queen, she explained to me all that the Ambassador had accomplished, including the liberation of Bethsaida from your harem. And she told me that you impersonated her.”
“Yes?” the Queen asked, turning to face the Eldritch.
“Winged Chatcaava can change shape,” said this female who called her ‘sister’, who had eyes just like hers. “Tell me… how many shapes do you know?”
“Three,” the Queen replied. “I can be human, Eldritch, and Karaka’An.”
“Then,” the Eldritch said softly, “there is something Kamaney can give you.”
The cargo bay filled to its walls with aliens, so many aliens. The Queen froze, the gems hanging from her jewels trembling.
“Yes?”
The Eldritch was standing across from her, hands at her sides. But fisted, the Queen saw. She was nervous and brazening it out. How like the Ambassador she was in her courage, and how unlike, because… because she was female, and different. Proud, yes, but less aggressive. How could one be strong without aggression? Proud? And yet, had the Ambassador not called her strong?
“Yes,” the Queen answered.
“It won’t be too hard?” the Eldritch asked, her uncertainty patent now in the rigidity of her shoulders. “I don’t know anything about shapechanging. Is it physically taxing?”
“No,” the Queen said. And asked, “What you plan will not be too difficult? It afflicted the Ambassador terribly.”
“What did?” The Eldritch was brushing down her skirts and adjusting the sticks through her hair.
“Being raped.”
A little hitch then in the motions of the other female’s arms, so subtle… the Queen might have missed it, had not another Eldritch taught her to seek such signs in a similar body. “I’m not planning on being raped,” the female said, firm. “Seduction is not the same thing. Shall we see if the admiral will admit us?”
The Queen spread her arms, looking down herself. There was a silk panel hanging from her hips beneath the chain, and two silk scarves wo
und her arms, and everywhere she looked, silver chains gleamed. “If you are certain this strategy will work. The admiral was disturbed before at any reminder of my enslavement. Does this not make me look like one of the harem-kept?”
“Yes,” the Eldritch said. “The difference is that this time, you’ll like it and tell her you think you look pretty in my designs.”
“Ah, I see. You mean to emphasize your involvement. I will be your plaything, and this will be acceptable to her.”
The female chuckled, sounding resigned. “Have you seen the outfit I’m in? Do you think I normally want to be laced so tightly I can’t expand my ribcage without bruising it? I look exactly like the kind of person who’d be putting you in satin and gems. We’re meeting expectations here.”
“You wish her to believe you interested in fripperies so she will underestimate you?”
That gave the other female pause. “No. She’s too paranoid to underestimate anyone. I need to look expensive, sister. Like someone used to having the best of everything, including slaves.”
“And this you can sustain,” the Queen said uncertainly. In all his struggles at court, the Ambassador had never attempted to be something other than he was. Hide it, perhaps. But he had been, magnificently and implacably, himself. “The maintenance of such a pretense will be grueling.”
The female smiled then, and that smile… that smile could have been the Ambassador’s. Fierce and determined and dangerous. “Fortunately I’ve been trained all my life to lie with a smile.” Striding to the door, she said, “Are you ready, sister mine?”
Fascinated, the Queen said, “Yes.”
“Good.” The Eldritch stepped through the door and commanded, “Take us to the admiral.”
The Queen had not expected it to be as simple as that, and it wasn’t. The guards wanted authorization from the pirate, and the pirate did not answer their comm request. One of their number was dispatched to seek her, much as it would have been done at the palace. Still, within an hour they were brought before the admiral, to a chamber off the macabre throne room. The pirate had an assortment of filmy displays hanging in a halo around her desk, but their arrival caused her to dismiss them with a wave of her hand. Rising, the pirate said, astonished, “What have you done to her?”
“I made her feel pretty,” the Eldritch said with smug satisfaction. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”
The Queen stepped forth and spread her arms and wings, as if posing for one of the Emperor’s living statue projects. She curled her head downward at an angle she knew difficult for the Pelted with their shorter necks, emphasizing the sinuousness of her spine, and arched her tail. The fabric hissed softly as it extended. The chains tinkled, the very faintest of chimes. She knew she was beautiful because she had seen herself through her lovers’ eyes—and she knew herself unattainable, because there was nothing this pirate could do to her that would take from her the knowledge that she belonged to the males she had chosen.
“She’s gorgeous,” the pirate said, eyes wide. Skeptically, “You… like this look?”
The Queen murmured, “It becomes me.”
“It does.” The pirate tapped her chin. “I didn’t expect you to want jewelry after we cut off the symbol of your oppression.”
“An object might symbolize more than one thing,” the Queen said. “That jewelry may have symbolized oppression. This jewelry symbolizes worth.”
The pirate laughed, ears flicking outward. “Yes! You understand.” Beaming, she said to the Eldritch, “You explained it to her, somehow? Maybe I’m just not good with words.”
“I think the language of fashion did more to convince her than anything I said.” The Eldritch surveyed her with an expression of such fond pride the Queen wondered if it was genuine.
“There is another matter,” the Queen continued.
“More?” The pirate sat again, leaning back in her chair. “I was in the middle of something, but it can wait. If you have something important to share.”
“You have given slaves to the Eldritch.”
“Yes?” The pirate lifted a brow. “I thought you didn’t want any slaves.”
“I don’t want them, no. Not to keep.”
Frowning, the pirate leaned forward. “I can’t let you kill them for fun. That’s a waste. You know how it is… you start killing and it’s hard to stop with one person.”
The Queen suppressed her unease. Thought of Third and his habits. “Yes. I understand you exactly. But I do not want slaves to kill.” How best to win this creature’s sympathies? “You know that Chatcaava change shape.”
“Yes?”
“This is a power that males have reserved for themselves,” the Queen said. “But it can be done by any with wings, male or female. And I have never been permitted to know the Change, because the Change is power.”
The pirate’s mouth dropped open. She set both palms on her desk and leaned over it, quivering with excitement. “You want to change shape. For the first time.”
“If I touch an alien,” the Queen said. “I can learn their pattern and use it to Change. This is something I have longed for… all my life.” She ducked her head, folding her wings, and the fabric sighed as if in yearning. “You have every alien known to the worlds here in your grasp. With your help, I could know more shapes than any Chatcaavan alive.” She raised her eyes, and surprised herself by meaning it when she said, “I would be that person. That Chatcaavan who was the first to learn them all.”
The pirate sat back, hugging herself. She looked to the Eldritch and said, “This is… this is amazing!”
“Truly a first,” the Eldritch agreed. “And you would be the one to make it possible. I don’t think there’s a gift in the galaxy equal to the one you could give the Queen.”
The pirate leapt to her feet. “What species should we start with? The most exotic? Or something similar to you? Wait! I have just the thing.” She rubbed her hands together. “Why didn’t I think of this before? It’s perfect! Stay here, I’ll make arrangements.” She strode from the room, trailing her anticipation, and the Queen couldn’t help but wonder if she would like the surprise or not.
She kept thinking about being the first Chatcaavan to learn all the shapes of the sentients known so far in the galaxy.
The Eldritch remained silent. When the Queen lifted her eyes, she found the other female regarding her, and true to her claim the Queen could read nothing in that gaze.
“Out here!” the pirate called, not long after. “It’s waiting for you!”
Composing herself, the Queen left the alcove. And could not help her gasp when the pirate prodded the alien and said, “Spread them for her.”
The pirate had found her a Phoenix.
“Those mutilators took your wings from you,” the pirate said, eyes shining, unblinking. “But I can give them back. Right? You can learn to take this creature’s shape and then you can use its powers?”
“Y-yes,” the Queen stammered, torn between revulsion at the description of the Phoenix and the Change, and dawning awe at the realization that the pirate was right. “Yes, if I learn this shape, I will be able to fly in the same situations the species can.”
“Low gravity worlds, then,” the Eldritch said from behind her. “Or in low gravity environments.”
“Better than nothing, isn’t it?” the pirate insisted, spearing the Queen with her eyes.
And because it was true: “Oh… oh yes.”
The pirate beamed. “Go ahead, then.”
Cautious, the Queen approached the alien. She could not discern its sex, nor its state of mind; it stood a head taller than she and motionless, the overhead lights gleaming on its brassy feathers. The bird-like face reminded her a little of a Chatcaavan’s, though it had a beak with exposed bone rather than a dragon’s skin-covered nose. Large eyes, large enough for her to be able to read, or at least, she should have been able to. There was nothing there. Not grief or suffering or hatred or fear. Not even serenity. The Phoenix simply was, as alien to
her as a real bird.
It was beautiful. Even the wings, which grew off the alien’s arms rather than sprouting as separate limbs from its shoulders and back, struck her as beautiful, and filled her heart with longing until her mouth dried and her hands shook.
She balled one into a fist and reached for the Phoenix with the other. Paused before touching to say, “May I?”
The Phoenix did not reply, though it watched her. Impatient, the pirate said, “Of course you may. Didn’t I bring it here for you?”
Useless to explain she hadn’t been asking the pirate. Dangerous as well. So the Queen rested her palm on the Phoenix’s naked abdomen and fell forward into the Touch, into the sweet and poignant knowing that dove deep and subsumed completely. If she felt it obscene that something so private and holy should be witnessed by thugs and enabled by pirates and gathered from an unwilling donor, still, she did not stop. She pulled the pattern to her and let it fuse and cried out.
When she stumbled, the Eldritch caught her. “Are you all right?”
“Did it work?” the pirate asked, avid.
“I… yes…,” the Queen whispered.
“Show us.”
Like that… like a performing animal. And yet the Queen wanted to know what it was like to have whole wings again, working wings, so she reached for the pattern and Changed in the arms of the female who’d called her sister, and heard the Eldritch suck in a shocked breath and shudder.
Feathers. Skin. A crest, a tail that flowed outward like spilled water. And wings. The Queen unfolded herself, opening them, and the air caressed every feather, pressing on them, whispering secrets about currents and temperature and weight. Their sensitivity shocked her and she cried out again, for gladness this time. She folded her arms around herself and the wings came too, the longest feathers splaying around her like the silks that were still draped from their surfaces. Sliding off, though, the straps no longer properly anchored. The hiss as they settled on the ground was the only sound in the silence.
In Extremis Page 18