by Ren Garcia
But … time was running out. He told him that she might be suffering, showed him scans that Ennez had made indicating the possibility that all she was experiencing was pain. He showed him other scans—her body was shutting down. She was in the slow, initial stages of death.
Mapes listened, silent.
And Davage showed him the Nyke that Beth had made, explained that it could be the best course for her—to let her go.
Mapes thought about it for a bit. He then begged Davage for one more day. Let him try a little longer, and if nothing happened, then … then they could put her to rest.
He went in there with fresh energy. He tried feeding her again. He held her, he sang to her; he even picked her up and carried her around the cell.
Nothing.
He shook her, incensed.
Nothing.
After a while he stood there, looking at her, his hat in hand.
She fell over with a thud.
And that was all … there was nothing left for it.
* * * * *
The door to the brig opened and Mapes came out, weeping in grief, almost as shattered as the wretched waif within, his heart-shaped face red with anguish.
Davage, Syg, and a Sister waited for him in the outer chamber. He had tried his best, exhausted himself for days, and had failed.
He staggered to the wall; Syg took him and tried to dry his tears.
"She bore the pain, Mapes. She bore it until she could bear it no more. You did all you could."
Davage stood there, listening to the ululation coming from Mapes. He looked at the small knife in his hand. Nyked. One tiny scratch and it will be over, quick and painless.
She will have peace.
He steeled himself and approached the door. He Sighted through it, readying himself for what was within.
He saw something. He stopped in his tracks.
Inside, in the lonely confines of the brig, he saw Suzaraine, feebly, almost imperceptibly, moving. She was reaching with all the strength that was left to her for the bowl of bland food sitting on the floor where Mapes had left it. It was just out of her grasp.
"Mapes!" Davage said. "Mapes, wait! Get back in there!"
Syg turned to him. "You see something?"
"Mapes, hurry!"
Dropping his hat, Mapes, red-faced, tear-streaked, bolted for the door and went in.
Dav watched in wonder. There, inside, he saw Mapes tenderly take Suzaraine into his arms and slowly, carefully, feed her, giving her all the time she needed to take the food and swallow.
Eventually, she ate the whole bland bowl.
Then, still in his arms, she began to weep … quietly at first, then building to a wracking, coughing wail. Mapes, rocking slightly, let her cry, let her toil out all the pain and suffering she had endured.
Eventually, she fell asleep. For the first time since she'd been taken aboard, she slept.
Outside, Davage knew that this was the turning point, that this was the moment when the both of them had been broken down to their barest, most basic of elements, and together, been re-forged.
He knew that it will be all right now. He dropped the knife and turned to the Sister in attendance. "Sister, will you please destroy that."
She looked at it, waved a finger, and it was gone.
And as Davage had thought, Suzaraine began to show marked improvement. She began eating on her own, moving, standing up, and using the hand that Ennez had re-attached. She began speaking, and she had her first smile, her first laugh. Mapes even taught her how to dance—a stuffy Grenville step, but still.
And in their Shadow tech off loads, Syg found that Suzaraine's Shadow tech was every bit as potent as hers had been. Again, her incompetence had been nothing more than a sign that her heart wasn't into being a Black Hat—that it had been her way of defying the Black Abbess.
Unlike the bubbly Beth or the saucy Syg, "Suz" was always quiet and reserved, though Mapes often mused that wasn't how she was behind closed doors—said that she was a regular chatterbox. She was very intelligent and had begun to grasp many elements of basic engineering just by watching Mapes. She was a prolific, thoughtful writer and made many friends in League society via correspondence.
She never spoke to Davage in public, red-faced and shy, she could barely face him without becoming a nervous wreck. But in correspondence, she often wrote him huge letters, detailing her progress, her entry into League society, all the things she was discovering, and her love for Mapes. And though she never actually said it, she was eternally grateful to him for helping her, for not killing her in Metatron.
* * * * *
And what of their temples? What of Beth's "shack" in Moane and Suz's leaky creation in Gulle?
For them and the Hulgismen within, there was no salvation, no triumph like Syg's temple had seen.
For them was nothing but the full fury of the Black Abbess.
She waited … waited for their Shadow tech to turn, to become silver. She waited for the Hulgismen's eyes to open and fill with light, and then she struck, and this time with the worst, most evil and bloodthirsty Black Hats she could muster.
They fell on Moane and Gulle and cracked those temples open like huge silver oyster-shells. They pulled every living creature out and killed them all, slowly, terribly. They also killed everybody else, all the citizens of Moane and Gulle who were within close proximity to the temples, close enough to be illuminated in their light; they were to die as well. And they Painted those orgies of pain and destruction for all to see—their fear and torment to be re-lived by any who came near forever.
1
LORD PROBERT
Syg was triumphant. The past few days had been magical.
First, her vision had come true. She stood with Dav in Metatron, and holding her hands, he told her that he loved her. He loved her!
Second, she was soon to see his castle; the Seeker was on its way to Blanchefort to dry-dock and complete repairs. She was going to get to see his castle at last. More things to add to the list that she had gotten to do that many of Dav's past loves hadn't. She was ever competing with this swirling gaggle of phantom women—contesting with a group of women who weren't even there.
She was allowed on the bridge now, and she sat in his chair, quiet, but giddy and excited. Pay Master Milke was distressed to lose his favorite assistant.
On the screen, Kana appeared, a big green and blue ball. The ship entered into orbit, did a lap or two, and slowly plunged into the atmosphere, Dav issuing important-sounding orders. Before long, a gray spur of land and water appeared on the screen, and soon a bay and small village grew into focus. Soon, the helmsman sat the Seeker down on pylons in the bay.
She couldn't wait to get out into the sunshine and see his castle.
It took a little longer than she had first thought. Dav asked her to come to engineering with him. She didn't know why; she thought she might be in trouble for something.
Along the way, they came across a small, roundish man in civilian clothes whom Syg had never seen before. He wore a large brown coat, huge plumed hat, and buckle shoes.
The man burst into a smile, and he and Dav hugged roughly.
"Lord Probert!" Dav said.
"Captain Davage—what have you done to my ship this time? I ought to send you a healthy bill, sir!" Lord Probert cried.
They separated, and Dav motioned for Syg. "Lord Milos of Probert, allow me to introduce Sygillis of Metatron, my dear special guest."
Special guest? Why couldn't he just say, "This is the woman I love," or "This is the woman I plan to make my Countess," or "This is the hot babe I've been doing every night as of late."
Men.
Lord Probert looked at her a moment, doffed his huge plumed hat, and bowed.
"Sygillis of Metatron, I've heard. However, you failed to inform me what an enchanting vision she is, Captain Davage."
Lord Probert took her hand and kissed it. "He's really done it to my ship this time, hasn't he?" he said with a wink.
Syg smiled. She found she liked the fellow. He had an easy, friendly way about him.
"Sygillis," Davage said. "Lord Probert here is the 'father' of the Seeker, per se. He designed the Straylightclass from mere images to the finished item you see here. His father, Wadlow, Lord of Probert designed the older Webber-class of ships."
"Yes, yes," Probert said. "I've been wanting you down at the yards, Dav. I've got something new on the blocks."
"You … you've finally designed a successor to the Straylight-class, haven't you?
"Let us say … I was inspired by the Triumph."
"Ohhh, I will wager it's going to be beautiful."
"That's why I need you down there, to help me with some of the details, and to get that harpy Lady Branna of the Science Ministry off my back for a while. Elders, but I am covered with her claw marks."
"Is she wanting to incorporate more energy technology again, shields, warp drives, cassagrains, and the lot?"
"She is, this time from the Triumph, and I'll see her dead or in prison first before I allow any of that Bad Gin on my new, beautiful ship."
Lord Probert turned to Syg. "And now, I am here to assess the damages wrought on this fine vessel by your outrageous captain here, but he tells me that the major repairs to the ship were effected largely by you, ma'am."
"Sir?" Syg said
"He tells me that you repaired the spar."
"No need to be shy, Syg," Dav said.
"Oh, yes, sir, I did repair the spar, or so I've been told."
"Well, excellent!" Probert said. "I am eager to see it for myself."
He offered Syg his arm in a gentlemanly way, and smiling, Syg took it. With Davage following, they went into the engineering bay.
The last time she was in this area, she had Mapes Dirged, the Marines and Fleet crew swirling around, ready for a fight.
Inside was a bustle of activity: people moved about, working on this and that. The half-moon-shaped compartment was open to the sky. The cold northern clouds could be seen through a huge, ragged hole high overhead.
And, there was the spar, a coated silver bar, spanning the top.
Lord Probert released her, and Syg made her way back to Dav and took his arm. She looked up, savoring the blue sky. Her heart fluttered; through the hole in the ship she thought she could see the hints of a distant reddish castle spire reaching into the sky. Oh how she wanted off the ship.
Probert took his hat off and leaned back, gazing at the spar high above.
"Lady Sygillis," he said, "did you do this?"
"I did, sir."
Probert went to a terminal, tapped a few keys, and pored over some data.
"All on your own, you did this?" he said again.
"I was eager to rescue the captain here, and I was told this construction, in its previous condition, was preventing that."
"True enough, true enough." He ran his hands through his short brown hair and surveyed her work again. "Captain, were I you, I would make this fine woman your Countess immediately."
"Who says I will have him?" Syg said, smiling.
"Are you available then?" Probert asked, laughing.
"I am—are you asking?"
"Sorry, Dav, it appears that House Probert just stole your Lady."
Dav shrugged. "So, Milos, before we draw swords over Syg here, what do you think? How's the spar?"
He looked up again. "The spar is fine—never better. A fine repair, I must say."
"The Silver tech can stay?
Probert turned to Syg. "My Lady, will this 'Silver tech' degrade or require any maintenance with time?"
"No, no, sir. It will stay as it is."
"Then, Dav—yes, the silver can stay. Be proud of it—I will instruct my craftsmen to build around it. We should re-christen this lady the Silverback, if you ask me."
Dav laughed. "We'll leave you to it, then, Milos. I shall expect you for dinner this week, yes?"
"Indeed—will Lady Poe be there?"
"She will."
"Then I shall wash. I must smell my best for her. Err … will the Lady Branna be there as well?"
"I think so. She is a good friend of my sister, Countess Pardock."
Probert shook his head. "Heaven on the one side … and hell on the other."
After waving good-bye to Probert, Dav and Syg left the bay. Alone in the dark hallway, Syg threw her arms around him.
"Countess—I must say I like the sound of that."
Dav looked down at her. "You wish to be the Countess of Blanchefort, do you?"
"I do, gladly. I want it like nothing else. I only await a standing offer."
"Should I drop to a knee and beg you right here in the hallway?"
"The place matters not to me—anywhere is fine. And why bother asking? You certainly know what my answer will be."
"It will happen, Syg, but not here. At a time and place of my choosing."
"I hope the place and time is soon—we've plans to make and I am ready to begin—Suzaraine will be a Grenville long before I am a Blanchefort at this rate."
Dav blushed. Syg kissed him.
"Are we finished here, sir? I am anxious to see your castle. May we go?"
"Go to your quarters and pack a small bag. I have some matters to attend to on the bridge. Once those are done, we can to the castle."
Syg smiled. She couldn't wait.
2
PRINCESS MARILITH
Davage entered his quarters and began to pack. He rarely spent much time there anymore, and he couldn't recall the last time he slept in his own bed. He was constantly in Syg's quarters; that's where he wanted to be. But with rules, regulations, and decorum, he couldn't just move in with her, or she with him, for that matter. It would not do. Syg could not understand that.
He pulled off his shirt and began packing his bag.
The Com chattered.
"Com," he said.
"Com, sir, a message from Fleet Command has arrived for you, marked Blue."
"Aye Com, I'll take it here." He flipped a switch on his Com to disable the screen. Fleet Command didn't need to see him with his shirt off.
"Aye, sir, standby."
The screen opened despite the fact it was disabled.
He wasn't really surprised at what he saw.
It was Marilith.
It had been a while since her last message, when she was desperate to warn him of danger to come. That something "evil" was searching for him.
A lot had happened since then; a lot had changed.
Marilith sat back in the viewer. She wasn't wearing any of the thick makeup she usually wore. She was very beautiful, as she always had been. And her voice—not the usual howl or shriek that she normally had to use, her voice was musical. It was the voice he'd fallen in love with years ago.
"Hello, Dav," she said, sitting up a little on her pouf. As usual, she was draped in light Xandarr veils, leaving little to the imagination.
"Hello, Marilith," he said.
She looked at him for a few moments and smiled.
"I heard about that foolishness in Metatron. Did I not warn you of danger to come?"
"You did, and I thank you. I believe I discovered the thing that you said was searching for me in the dark."
"Oh? So tell me, what was it?"
"A Black Hat named Sygillis of Metatron."
"I know her—very evil, very cruel. Did you fight her?"
"Of a sort. I turned her."
"You turned her?" Marilith smiled and shook her head. "Only you, Dav."
"Now she has fallen in love with me."
A wave of darkness crossed Marilith's face. "I see, and … surely you do not return this love?"
"I do. It took some time, but I indeed love her too."
"Truly? To love a Black Hat. Are you certain it is not merely a fascination … an infatuation?"
"No. I am sure. I have Zen-La'ed with her. In Metatron."
"That is not possible. You have Zen-La'ed with me, Dav."
"There is no hope for us, Marilith. And as Sygillis taught me, the Zen-La is not forever."