by Jaine Fenn
It took a while, for she was weak, and kept getting tangled in the sheets. The Consort watched her silently, his expression between impatience and curiosity. When she finally got to her feet he said, ‘Come with me.’
‘I— Please, I have to know something.’
The boy stared at her; of course he would not react like anyone else. But the question was one she had to ask before she faced whatever fate the future held for her. ‘Is . . . is Maelgyn dead?’
Seeing the boy’s confused expression, she added, ‘The priest who came here, with the monitors. Is he dead?’
‘Dead. Aye.’ The boy spoke as though it was a foregone conclusion. Perhaps it was. She had known the truth in her heart; to hear it confirmed lifted some of the weight from her – though she knew that was not how she should feel.
The Consort continued, ‘We must go!’ He half-walked, half-capered across the room and pulled open the door. He did not wait to see if Ifanna would follow.
She took a last look around. Aside from the strange seat and oddly decorated wall behind it, the room was ordinary, though well appointed. She followed the Consort out. The boy led her back to the audience chamber, and Ifanna felt fear wash over her, which redoubled when she saw the woman standing there wearing the Cariad’s black and silver robes. But the woman’s head was bare, and her face was as ordinary as the room where Ifanna had awakened. She stood next to the throne, one hand resting lightly on its high back. Whilst the front of the great chair was ornate, the back was plain. The imposing façade was not made to be viewed from this side.
The room beyond the throne was dim and, as far as Ifanna could tell, empty.
The false Cariad spoke, her voice more heavily accented and less resonant than the last time Ifanna had heard it. ‘Do you wish to live?’
What a question! Had she asked if Ifanna deserved to live, she might have been able to answer more easily. She had committed a terrible sin of the flesh, then repeated it – and then she had committed murder. Of course she did not deserve to live.
But that was not the question.
The woman did not appear to mind waiting for her answer: she just stood there, her face composed but not unfriendly. From the corner of her eye Ifanna saw the Consort leaving. For all the unease he inspired in her, she found herself half wishing he would stay. And in thinking that, she had her answer.
‘Aye. I want to live.’ Then she added, more tremulously, ‘If . . . if that is permitted.’
The false Cariad said mildly, ‘If we thought you deserved to die, you would never have woken up.’
Ifanna could not fault the sense in that.
‘And what would you want your life to be?’ the woman asked.
Ifanna stared at her. ‘I do not understand.’
‘It is a simple enough question: have you never asked it?’
‘I— Such choices are not for me to make.’
The woman smiled, and there was something in that smile that said she too had once thought that way. ‘Imagine they were. What is your heart’s desire?’
‘My heart’s desire.’ Such a phrase! So might a lover speak; a lover who was true, who was not . . .
Nausea clawed at her throat, and she saw the false Cariad’s alarmed expression, before it was blurred with Ifanna’s own tears. She put out a hand to tell the woman to stay back, that she did not need her help, though actual words were beyond her. She fought for control. Finally, she regained it.
She blinked hard, and rubbed her eyes. When she looked again, she saw something that might be pity in the false Cariad’s face, and wondered if she knew the full, vile truth. No, she could not – no one could know that.
Ifanna said shakily, ‘You spared my life, when I was judged.’
‘I did. And now, in return, I ask that you answer my question: what do you want of that life?’
‘I want . . . I want to serve the Skymothers, to be good—’
‘No!’
Ifanna jumped; this was the first time the woman had raised her voice. ‘Ifanna, if you lie now, you will die here,’ she continued emphatically, ‘Though I may lack the power to see into your heart, I believe there is strength in you. I want to believe it – I want you to prove me right, Ifanna. So answer me truly.’
‘I do not know what I want! I knew what I wanted before: to be loved and cherished, and to know that I mattered to . . . someone. To the Mothers, if not to anyone down here. But that was then, before . . . and now I have no surety. I no longer know what is true! I no longer know anything.’ Ifanna fought hard, but the tears were back.
To her amazement, the woman smiled. ‘An honest answer,’ she said, ‘and that is a start.’ The false Cariad took a pace back. ‘Now, come here, please.’ She beckoned – a casual, friendly gesture – then stepped back again.
Ifanna had no idea what the woman wanted of her, but she walked forward as the false Cariad continued to walk backwards, slowly, all the while looking at Ifanna. When she passed the throne, she took her eyes off Ifanna’s face, looking to one side, and at the same time, she made a small gesture. Ifanna followed the motion, looking in the direction she indicated.
There was another woman on the throne, and this one was far from ordinary. She sat at her ease, one ankle resting on her other knee. Her hair was shorn, and she wore the strangest clothes Ifanna had ever seen. Despite this, her beauty burned like the sun.
Ifanna opened her mouth, then closed it again. Finally she stammered, ‘I— I do not understand.’
Kerin went back to her room to wait for Nual to do what she had to do. It was not a process she felt comfortable witnessing, especially as its success was far from guaranteed. While she waited, she considered the pieces of the puzzle that made up Ifanna’s life. That the girl had been duped and used, she had no doubt of. Yet Ifanna had also killed both her husband and her father. As for why? That was between Ifanna and her conscience.
The door finally opened, and Nual came in, looking utterly drained. She left the door open, and Kerin held her breath, releasing it when Ifanna ventured in. Kerin smiled at her; Ifanna’s answering smile was uncertain. Then the girl looked around the Cariad’s room, as though seeing it for the first time. She asked, ‘The Consort . . . where is he?’
‘Damaru has gone in search of supper,’ Kerin said. ‘We should probably consider getting some food for ourselves soon.’
‘Aye,’ said Ifanna, then, sounding slightly surprised, ‘I am very hungry.’
Kerin went over to the clothes-stand and lifted the headdress off. As she handed it to Ifanna she said, ‘You will find it changes your voice; you may wish to practise alone before you use it for any rituals.’ She looked the girl up and down. ‘I think you are tall enough that you will not have to wear those awful lifts in your shoes, which is a mercy.’
Ifanna looked at the headdress in wonderment, then at Kerin. ‘Will we be sharing this room?’ she asked.
‘I think one of your first decrees should be that the Consort who has been living with you should get his own room. And a housekeeper.’
‘I think so too.’ Ifanna smiled fully for the first time.
‘You should try on the rest of the robes, then go and ask for food to be brought. We can talk further while we eat.’
‘Aye,’ she said, ‘I will.’
Nual called over, ‘The ship is on its way down. I need to go and meet it.’
‘I will guide you out,’ said Kerin. She led Nual to the hidden passage. They left Ifanna fastening her robe.
When they were out of her earshot, Nual said, ‘The girl is seriously damaged; I couldn’t do much to deal with that, certainly not in one session. But she will always obey you, just as the Escorai will always obey the woman who wears the Cariad’s robes.’
‘Good,’ said Kerin shortly. Though she accepted the price of progress, she had no desire to dwell on how they had achieved this victory. ‘May I take you to a lower balcony? We are less likely to encounter anyone th
at way.’
‘If you wish.’
They carried on in silence until they came to the passage leading out, when Kerin asked, ‘Will they come back?’
‘Yes.’ Of course, Nual had not needed to ask who. ‘But not for a while. They have lost three ships here, and that will be a major blow. They will want to marshal their strength before they make another move on Serenein.’
‘And I want to be ready.’
‘I hope you will be.’
Kerin wondered if she was going to ask about Sais’ offer to integrate her world into human-space, but they reached the balcony without her mentioning it.
Nual stepped up to the edge. ‘Good luck, Kerin.’
‘You too. And Nual: thank you.’
Nual sprang into the air without another word.
Kerin watched the Sidhe’s shadowy form disappear into the darkness.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
When Kerin commed Jarek, Nual had just come aboard. Once pleasantries had been exchanged, she asked, ‘So both sets of defences are working fully now?’ She was in her chamber; Jarek saw someone, presumably the girl who would be taking on the Cariad’s role, walk past behind her.
‘That’s right. The lasers are back at full power, and the defence grid’s entirely under your control.’
‘Good. Thank you. And the cold-start console can no longer be used to shut down the defence grid remotely?’
‘That’s right. Damaru has disconnected it from the rest of the system, so any future attempts to deactivate the defences won’t work.’
‘Also good. That just leaves the matter of the beacon.’
‘Yes.’ Jarek kept his tone neutral. ‘It does.’
‘Am I right in believing that the Sidhe would wish to destroy any such means of putting us back in contact with humanity?’
‘In theory, yes, although beacons aren’t easy artefacts to damage. But the Sidhe have no idea there’s one here: even if the ship we destroyed did notice us dropping off the beacon before we gave them something else to worry about, they couldn’t have told anyone – no beacon means no beevee.’
‘But all that would change if we were to – what did you call it? – link in our beacon?’
‘Everyone would know about you then, yes.’
‘Everyone.’ Kerin’s expression was unreadable. ‘And the people in the rest of human-space, they would really be willing to pay to watch us go about our lives?’
‘Like I said, you’d generate a lot of interest, and from that, a lot of revenue.’ Jarek resisted the temptation to try and steer Kerin towards accepting the beacon. It had to be her decision.
‘And if people came here because they wanted to see this place for themselves,’ continued Kerin, ‘if they ignored the laws that told them not to approach my world, and did not heed any warnings we sent out: what would happen if we used our planet’s defences as a final deterrent to such persistent curiosity?’
Jarek drew a deep breath before he said, ‘Serenein is a sovereign state. This system is your territory. Provided you inform the rest of human-space of the laws that hold here – and the measures you’ll be using to enforce them – you’d be within your rights to fire on any unauthorised ship that approaches your world.’
Kerin digested this. ‘You once referred to the power that the Sidhe wield as a hidden empire . . .’
‘I did, yes.’
‘Then I have made my decision.’
When Taro woke up, Nual was still deeply asleep. She needed to be fully rested before they shifted, so he left her sleeping and got up. He found Jarek at the galley table.
‘So, where are we?’ Taro asked, fixing himself a caf.
‘Most of the way to the beacon.’
‘What did Kerin say?’
‘She said “Yes”. Her main priority is keeping the Sidhe away. If Serenein’s existence is common knowledge, and if anyone in human-space can tune into the feed Kerin supplies, then if the Sidhe do turn up here they’ll expose themselves to public scrutiny. They’d never do that.’
‘Prime. I’d hate to have gone through all that shit for nothing. So we’re gonna claim it’s a lost world we dropped in on after a normal transit got arsed up?’
‘That’s the plan. There’s some precedent for that; not all beacons were linked into the network when it was first set up.’
‘Sounds good to me. I guess we just gotta hope whoever checks our logs for the beacon address don’t look too closely at where we were before Serenein . . .’
‘. . . which is why we’re going back to Vellern. I’m hoping the Minister – or whichever Khesh avatar does the technical stuff – can edit the Heart of Glass’s logs for us.’
‘Why don’t we call him and ask? Might be worth doing that anyway, just so’s we don’t get any shit from Traffic Control when we arrive.’
‘Good idea. I assume you’ve still got that message he sent to your com? If you bring your drink up to the bridge we’ll see if we can get a connection from there.’
Taro handed over his com and let Jarek link it into the ship’s systems. It took a while to do the business, and when they finally got a response it was just a voice, one they recognised at once.
‘Yes, what is it?’
‘We’re on our way back,’ said Taro. He mouthed to Jarek, ‘It’s the Minister,’ and Jarek nodded. ‘We was wondering if you could smooth things over with Traffic Control at your end.’
‘I imagine so.’
‘Thanks – listen, it’s kind of freaky just having your voice. Any chance of visuals?’
‘Sorry, no, not with this connection.’
Jarek leaned forward. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘And hello to you, Captain Reen. I mean: this is not that type of beacon.’
Jarek said carefully, ‘I wasn’t aware there were different types of beacon.’
‘It is a bit esoteric, but yes, not all beacons are the same.’
His voice deceptively mild, Jarek said, ‘But this beacon can still be used for beevee, can’t it?’
‘Unfortunately not.’
‘What?’
‘Voice only, I am afraid, point-to-point. However, your lost world can talk to me – and through me to you – and I will freely relay your messages to them.’
‘But we can’t link Serenein into the beevee network?’
‘Not as such, no.’
‘The terms of our deal—’
‘The terms of our deal were that I would give you the means to get to Aleph and they would give you a beacon. This is what happened.’
Taro flinched as Jarek punched the console, sending his bulb flying, before stalking off across the bridge, trailing curses.
Taro found he was surprisingly calm. He managed to keep his voice even when he said, ‘I can’t believe you fucked us over like this.’
‘I did exactly what I said I would.’
Taro thought about Aleph and its ‘Consensus’. With male Sidhe, it was all about the letter of the law, or the exact wording of the promise.
‘Now you’ve seen what Aleph is like,’ continued the Minster coolly, ‘do you really think the Alephans would have given you a functional beacon and let you link it in to the rest of human-space?’
‘No, but you knew that—’
‘I strongly suspected. I did not know.
‘You could’ve told us!’
‘If I had, would you have gone to Aleph?’
Of course they wouldn’t. ‘You’re meant to be on our frigging side!’
‘I am; we are fighting the same fight. You are free to use this beacon to speak to your contacts on Serenein. Had an Alephan male imprinted on it, you would not have that option.’
‘You’re a total bastard, you know that?’
‘Yes: this is not news to me. It should not be news to you.’
Taro looked at Jarek, who was glaring at the com, his face crumpled with fury. Taro wondered if he was going to give the Minister a piece of his mind, before realising no, he wasn’t, b
ecause the best he could hope to achieve would be to piss him off. And the worst? Jarek’s expression reminded him who actually owned the Heart of Glass.
The Minister continued calmly, ‘You will have no trouble when you return to Vellern – assuming you do not try and cause any. We are allies, after all. Now what is that human saying? Ah yes, I remember: Better the devil you know—’
Taro cut the connection.
The fall of the Hidden Empire begins in
QUEEN OF NOWHERE
coming in 2012 from Gollancz
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book made it into print thanks to the usual suspects and the new recruits who gave honest and comprehensive feedback, sometimes in ridiculously short timescales: Emma O’Connell, Nick Moulton, James Cooke, Susan Booth plus, of course, Tripod (currently consisting of Dr James Anderson, Mike Lewis, Andrew Bland, Bob Dean and Marion Pitman). Thanks to Dr Mark Thompson of the University of Hertford for emergency orbital mechanics and thought-provoking suggestions of an astrophysical nature. Also to my husband Dave, less for plot advice this time than for keeping me sane when shiftspace and deadlines conspired to eat my brain. And last but not least, my ongoing gratitude to Jo Fletcher, who I was lucky enough to have as an editor for my first four books.
Also by Jaine Fenn from Gollancz:
Principles of Angels
Consorts of Heaven
Guardians of Paradise
A Gollancz eBook
Copyright © Jaine Fenn 2011
All rights reserved
The right of Jaine Fenn to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in Great Britain in 2011 by
Gollancz
The Orion Publishing Group Ltd
Orion House
5 Upper St Martin’s Lane,
London WC2H 9EA
An Hachette UK Company
This eBook first published in 2011 by Gollancz.