by Del Law
Aether-bonding is supposed to give you incredible skill at working the lei. But if I remember right, you can never leave a lei-line without help. If you’re cut off from it, there’s no way to keep you intact.
I’m betting that wouldn't be pretty.
She wears a white Akarii robe, unwrapped and hanging loose, and a knife rests between her billowing breasts. Her long white hair is bound with a silver cord and stretches down her back. She’s surprisingly nimble for someone her size.
“You’ll excuse the lack of décor, I hope?” she says, gesturing around the room. “My peers find me eccentric, but I confess that I’m at a time in my life where simplicity and directness are what I crave. We can talk without ceremony, Hulgliev? Just you and I, yes?” She gestures to her servant, who dims the magefire in the large globe, and then gestures sharply to the servers and Semper.
Semper gives me a serious, meaningful look as he and the others leave.
I don’t have the slightest idea what the man is trying to tell me.
The door swings shut behind them, and the Fleet Captain gives me an elaborate, ironic curtsey. It looks bizarre on someone so large, and from the expression on her face she knows it. “Nadrune Akarii, of the First Family,” she says. She gestures to the food. “Please,” she says. “Make up a plate for each of us, whatever suits you.” She moves over to the windows, and looks down on the ships. The trays were filled with fish, spiced and marinated and arranged across a latticework of metal over a small dish of coalse. I fill two plates as full as I dare and carry them over to the windows. I go back and pour two glasses of Solingi beer. I look around for bourbon, but again, no luck.
The sun’s nearly gone. On the horizon it’s becoming hard to tell where the water and sky meet—they’re all going the same color of grey. Bobbing globes of light in the ships’ riggings and matrix platforms flicker on. Nadrune takes the plate and eats absently with her fingers, staring out into the dark. She clears her plate without apparently tasting anything, and is silent for some time.
I inhale my food, too, standing by the windows. I think I could eat five more plates the same size. After a few minutes, I clear my throat and say “I regret the loss of your marine.”
And I do, though I’d probably regret it more if she hadn’t been so good at nearly killing me.
Nadrune turns and studies me with her fiery eyes. She gestures to the cushions around the magefire globe. I sit.
“A Hulgliev on my ship,” she says again. “Well, Hulgliev, your kind and mine go a long way back, are you aware of that? My sage tells me you’re an omen for us, that your race ‘shows itself to members of the Akarii First Family in times when history gets written.’ ”
She gestures out the windows, to the ships. “It sounds pretty melodramatic. But if it’s true, though, you have pretty good timing.”
I nod. How do you answer something like that?
“When my father’s great-great-grandmother Dekheret formed the first Lunar Council with all of the Families together, founded the Tel Kharan, and brought on a century of prosperity across our world, there was a Hulgliev at her side. When my own grandmother fell before the Grohmn, and later rose again to lead the Family in bridge negotiations with the Halfromen and Stona, some of our most profitable world alliances, there you were again.
“Did Semper show you the painting?” I nod again. I feel like a Hulgliev bobble-head. “Good. He’s a good man. I’ll grant you, he has a tendency toward the dramatic. But now here you are, at the head of my fleet, in my best warship, in my quarters, eating my fish.”
“It’s good fish.”
“I expect it is.”
“Thanks,” Blackwell said.
“You’re very welcome.”
There was a pause for a moment, as the two us in silence. I have no idea where this is going.
“I think you have my podship,” I say, after a few more minutes. “Any chance I could get it back?”
Nadrune tilts her head to the side, looks at me, and then closes her eyes and laughs. It was a booming laugh that shakes her whole body in waves. Sparks crackle from her eyes and the ends of her fingers.. She sets her plate down, leans her back against the windows, and shakes some more.
“A podship? Oh, you’ll have a ship all right. Hulgliev, my grandmother’s first had a fleet of seven podships that traded across four worlds. He also had an estate in the Akarii lands at Karandelh and private lodgings on the upper levels of Tilhtinon. He dined with family Regents. Hundreds of mages were under his direction, and a wing of the College is named for him. He was every bit an Akarii noble of the highest rank.”
“Did he wear a collar, too?”
Her smile chisels itself into her round, luminous cheeks. “In the beginning, I expect he did. We like our omens, Hulgliev. It gives the masses something to talk about. But my grandmother wasn’t a fool, either.”
“Are you offering me a job?” I ask quietly. I’m not sure of the answer I want to hear.
“ ‘Offering’ is a stretch. I’d argue you’re in a job now, Hulgliev, and we just need to figure out the details here.”
“But you don’t know anything about me,” I say. “I could put a knife in your back at any time, without any provocation, for all you know.”
The Fleet Captain nods to the mages in the niches behind us. “You might not get as far as you think. But even if you did, you’d fit into the First Family better than you realize.”
“All the same,” I say. “Why me?”
Nadrune turns back to the windows. Her burning eyes are reflected there, as if they are two dark pits of fire in the ocean. Then she turns to the first drone in the niche. “You may commence with the exercises,” she says. The drone nods, and the glow of her aura tells me that the Fleet Captain’s message is being relayed.
Nadrune turns back to me. “Here’s how it is, Hulgliev. The Akarii are tired of war. I think you probably are, too. I think everyone on this whole exhausted, dying world is. Personally, we’re tired of arguing with the Fjilosh over stupid little islands in the north that no one really cares about, and we’re tired of the free cities trying to grab more farm land from each other every chance they get. We’re tired of the old Kerul ceremonies and rituals and all of their diplomats who want to talk and talk and talk to us about how to run a world in the way that would be completely, absolutely perfect for little old Kerul, and we’re tired of the way that every minor family that suddenly cuts a deal with another world thinks it can implement trading tariffs and stand up an army to try and enforce them just because it’s got some new tech that none of the rest of us have yet. And we’re really tired of all of those refugees from other failed worlds scrambling to get a leg up in our world in any way they can.”
Out on the decks of the ships, I see men raising nets from the holds that are filled with large, glowing spheres of magefire. Others are assembling and positioning what looked like sophisticated catapults.
“This world of ours is a mess, Hulgliev. It’s dying, let’s face it. It’s been that way for a long time and if we’re not careful, if we don’t get our act together, then one of two things will happen. We’ll collapse ourselves into the aether, and need to jump into Earth or somewhere like it just to survive. Or some other world out there that we don’t even know about yet, a world that’s much more organized than we are, is going to stumble across us. They’ll open up a bridge, walk in here in the middle of the night under the cover of some new trade arrangement with a minor Family, and they’ll take it all from us, either piece by piece or all at once.
“No one else has the capability the Akarii First Family does. Let’s be real. No one else has the history, either. We’ve unified the Families before when we needed to, and now we’re going to do it again, even if it takes the whole Akarii and all of the knives of the Tel Kharan to do it. We’re going to bring together the Families in a new Lunar Council, kicking and screaming if that’s what it takes, and we’re going to set this right.
“Now, I don’t know
where you’re from, Hulgliev. I’m sure my sage could tell me. I don’t know anything about your politics, either, and frankly I don’t really care. You’re here. You’re on my flagship and now you’re going to help me.”
I set down my beer. This ship has lowered back down onto the surface of the water without me noticing, and I can feel the slow roll of the swells now. It makes me a little nauseous.
I’m trying to figure out how I’m a part of this conversation, when a week ago I was boiling barley and scraping mold out of my fur in my closet in the Warrens.
On the ships, the men are loading the globes one at a time into the catapults, and pulling a bunch of levers that sets them up to fire. “I was actually just hoping for that old podship back, if you’ve got it.” I say. “Then I could just get out of your way. I’m not really sure I’d be much help to you, to be honest.”
“Wouldn’t it be just wonderful if your life was that simple? It’s not, Hulgliev.” She stands and paces, opens a thick palm and starts ticking off reasons on her huge fingers. “To start with, you’re a Hulgliev mage, the first one we’ve seen in nearly two hundred years. You’re a symbol for that reason alone for us, now that you’ve been noticed. Second, if you’re standing next to me, I look a lot like great-great grandmother Dekheret, and frankly I need that right now. Third, my marines tell me you’ve got some strange, occult ability that no one has ever seen before, on top of that. Add, four, that you’ve killed a veteran Tel Kharan in combat. Nobody kills a Tel Kharan and lives, you know.
“You’re a subject of a lot of conversation, Hulgliev. The only reason you’re not dead now is that I had Semper make them not kill you.”
I figure I won’t mention that was technically Kjat.
Nadrune takes a gulp of beer that hisses as it goes down her throat. Steam comes out of her nose. Then she sits back down next to me on the cushions, facing the windows. “You’ll want to see this, by the way. It’s quite impressive when it gets going.”
The fleet has come to a stop, and I watch as the ships launch the globes of magefire out into the sea. It must be the same way they attached the Port city. The globes fly in a high arc away to either side of the fleet, hit the water, and drop beneath the surface.
“Now, the fact that you’re here talking to me bothers the Tel Kharan,” Nadrune says. “They wouldn’t have made use of your talents, of course. But the fact that someone else might make use of you annoys them, now that they’ve had time to think about it, particularly given the history of their order. After all Hulgliev created them, under Dekheret’s direction. In the future, under my direction, can they be un-made? They’re wondering about that now. I’ve already had a letter of protest from the division Lieutenant Marshall.
“So let me lay out some scenarios for you. Say I give you that podship, and you fly it away from here to some place that we Akarii don’t have an interest in, off-lei somewhere, and you go back to doing whatever it is you do now—arms smuggling, retrieving, mercenary work, assassinations, whatever. Within a month, and frankly I’d be surprised if it took that long, the Tel Kharan will find you. They will find you and despite their history with your kind they will spend long hours stripping away the very thinnest layers of that thick, furred skin of yours one after another until you tell them just how you did what you did back there in that warehouse. They’re very good at that, you know. You’ll still be alive when they’re done with you, but you won’t want to be for very long.”
She shifts on the cushions. I can feel the heat rolling off her in waves. “Let us try out another scenario, though. Let me get creative with this one, yes? You make contact and confess everything you know immediately to the Tel Kharan. You explain to them in minute detail how you, some ragtag retriever mage, took out one of their combat-hardened veterans, and you beg them to take you under their wing and protect you from my political schemes.”
She smirks to herself. “They’ll certainly tell you what you want to hear for a few days. They’ll bring you aboard that bright new ship of theirs, put you up in a barracks and feed you what they call food, which frankly I can’t really recommend. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, comes a personal challenge from one of their battalion leads. You can’t refuse a Tel Kharan challenge, you know. Not on their own ship.
“You might stand up to the first one of those. And maybe the second. But they are nothing if not persistent, and they make up for their lack of finesse by being stubborn. It might be the fifth one, or the thirteenth one, or the twenty-seventh one that will do you in, but they have the numbers and they have the time. You have neither.”
Nadrune takes another drink of beer. I do the same, but I’m having trouble swallowing. If she’s right, I am done for.
Beneath our feet, I can feel the heavy explosions from the globes of mage fire under the water. The blasts send ripples across the surface of my cup.
“But there’s another way,” Nadrune says quietly. My ears swivel around to listen.
She sets her own cup down and turns to me, crossing her hot hands in her lap. “I’ll lay it out for you directly because I’m on my way to reshape a world and I don’t have a lot of time, all right?
“Very publicly, you become the close and personal friend of Fleet Captain Nadrune Akarii VII, and you stand with me as I lead our armada of Akarii warships against Tamaranth. We take control of the city and bring it back into the Akarii Family, where, after all, it belongs anyway. You stand beside me as we bring the Houses to a new Lunar Council, whether they want to be there or not.
“Really, Hulgliev, it’s ugly face of yours I want, the face that looks so much like the Hulgliev that came before you. Our images will be echoed around the world on the knife when we reopen the Council chambers, and again as all of the representatives of all of the Families are forced to take their seats. I don’t really care how good you are at what you do, or what you like to comb your fur with, who or what you sleep with and whether you floss or not. I want you very visible, and very quiet, and you will be very well rewarded. How hard can that be for you?
“Afterwards, at my very public direction, to ensure your safety, the Tel Kharan train and refine whatever talents you do have. If you have the aptitude you will learn how to lead members of my Family, and if you have any skill at all you will take on ever-increasing administrative responsibilities within the newly-established Akarii city of Tamaranth. And who knows? Maybe you’ll be some minor functionary, content to move some papers around and go home to a nice house on a good street with a view of the lagoon. Or maybe you’ll want to climb higher than that. Akarii is a Family that rewards initiative, Hulgliev. If you’re smart and you put in the time, and someone doesn’t kill you along the way, who knows where you’ll end up.”
My thoughts are spinning, and I don’t think it’s the beer. Be honest, what would you do?
Between you and me, being poor in a city at war sucks wurf ass. As much as I’d like to be principled, and to stand up for myself, I have to admit I'm paying attention.
Nadrune turns to the drone and instructs that the fleet be brought about. Then she calls me over to the windows. “Come up here. They’ll be here shortly,” she says. "They always come when we call, and I do want you to see this.”
The ships come about precisely and then they spread themselves across the flat expanse of ocean in an open V, other ships flanking the Seafire, the Tel Kharan ship, which takes the center position. I’m frankly impressed by the movements of the ships—it all looks carefully coordinated, as if they’re all part of a single entity. Each wing of the formation is almost a mirror of the other. Then the two vessels in the far outer edges of the formation come around and seal off what is now a large section of ocean surrounded on all sides.
Mages climb into position on the matrix platforms on the foredecks of each of the vessels. Marines in full powered armor are lifted up by crane and strapped into platforms that hang high in the ships’ lines. When the last marine takes the peak position at the top of the Seafire’s center mas
t, he raises his knife aloft and brings the full matrix of the ship up. Every other ship does the same—fire leaps from point to point across the rigging. And then each ship joins itself into the Seafire.
I can’t imagine how much aether is flowing to that marine. I’ve fought other mages before, in matrices, but never have I seen a coordinated matrix of this scale.
Then, the sea in the center of the ships’ formation began to churn and boil. Something is beginning to rise there, something black and tentacled is writhing just beneath the surface.
“A cephaloch!” I say. The hair that’s left on my shoulders and neck ridges stands up and goes white. Can you blame me? The big, endless stretch of ocean is frightening enough if I think about it too much. The idea that something huge and carnivorous is living in it is even worse.
“Cephaloch,” Nadrune confirms. “And a lot more than just one. They’ve been following us for days now, since the Port.”
“You’re luring them in?” The idea takes a minute to sink in. Then I’m wondering if all the people in the perpetual party downstairs have any idea of what’s going on? I suspect not.
“Watch,” says the Fleet Captain.
The cephaloch are moving toward the Seafire. I have a clear view as the Tel Kharan at the head of the matrix throws a bright tracer at the creature and, as it sticks and holds, quickly reinforces the conduit and follows with a blast of aether. The creature hisses and steams, and then it shoots aggressively toward the ship as another one rises behind it, off to the left and closer to the Cridona’s Beard, another warship. The Cridona mages don’t not respond. They hold their matrix, waiting, as the Seafire reaches out and hits that one, too.