by Ren Garcia
"The Zen-La is forever, and you have offered it to me!"
"That is simply superstition and talk, Marilith."
"Talk … If you were here, where I am now, we certainly wouldn't be talking, you and me."
"And where are you, Marilith?"
She paused for a moment. "Somewhere …" she said in a dreamy voice. "I still love you, Dav. I've never stopped. I still dream of you every night. It harms me that I have to pretend to hate you when we both know I don't. My public persona is … tiring to maintain. I am ready for you to come back to me. It has been too long. You are my Zen-La, and I am yours … forever."
Dav sighed.
"And," Marilith continued, "I think this long interruption has actually enhanced my love for you, added a bit of spice."
Davage looked into the screen, at the image there. "And Marilith, if I were to say that I've come to my senses, that I am ready to be your husband, what would your response be?"
"I would be elated, but of course, should you say such a thing, I would not be able to trust you. How could I? As I have always said, you are the only person in the universe who can kill me. You would, no doubt, be attempting to spring a trap of some sort."
She closed her eyes. "I would force you to submit to any number of terms and conditions leaving you naked and vulnerable. I would force you to meet me on some lonely, out-of-the way place. And then, bound and shackled, I would drag you off to some unknown locale, and there we would make love …"
"No blindfold?"
"Why bother with a blindfold, Dav? What good would it do? Besides, I want you to look at me when we come together. I would have to keep you in chains for years as you proved yourself, though I would be as kind and gentle as I could be." She had a look of longing for a moment. "Are you offering yourself to me? Are you submitting to what must be done?"
"I have told you, I am in love with Sygillis, Marilith. I will marry her. She will be my Countess," Davage said.
Marilith sighed and wagged her finger. "At least you had the good sense to cast aside that old battle axe Demona of Ryel, Dav—a singularly uninteresting person in my mind. Well, I suppose I'm going to have to kill her, Dav, your Sygillis. There is no one for you if not me. You know that."
"You might find that pretty difficult, Marilith. Sygillis was a Black Hat Hammer, and a mean one as well."
"But Dav, it's me you're talking to. You know perfectly well that I've fought Black Hats before, just like you have. Only with me, I just went ahead and killed them. You're so sentimental."
"You'll find that I've thoroughly trained Syg in all the various failings of Black Hat battle tactics. She won't be beat by the simple tricks that other Black Hats fall for."
Marilith frowned. "Oh … 'Syg,' is it? How cute. Still, Dav, you have never fully given me the credit I'm due. I'm you Dav—simply on the other side of the mirror. I'm just as tough, fearless, cagy, unbeatable, and unkillable as you are. I will find a way to kill her. I will find a way to win. I always do."
"You know, Demona of Ryel never forgave you for that foolish attack on Triumph a few years ago. She was determined to hunt you down and make you pay. To bring you to justice."
Marilith brightened into a cheerful smile. "Oh, but wouldn't that have been fun. She wouldn't have lasted mere seconds against me. Will you please admit that?"
"I admit you are a worthy opponent. You feel no remorse for all the death that attack wrought?"
"Should I, Dav?"
"Yes, you should. You see, that's why we could never be together, why we traverse different paths. You say you're on the opposite side of the mirror from me. That small, shiny space is an impenetrable barrier. That is why there was never any real hope for us. You, Marilith, could have been so much to so many people. You could have been a Queen … and yet look where we are. That is why Pardock threw down the baton. Because you are you and I am me, Xaphan and League."
Marilith sat there for a moment. She wiped a tear from her eye. "You really say some very mean things to me."
"Oh, please. You are fully capable of leaving a mountain of corpses in your wake, yet your feelings are hurt by a few truthful words? Marilith, we've had this conversation before, and I am certain we'll have it again at some point. You …"
"I must away, Dav," Marilith said, more tears coming from her eyes. "Please tell your Syg that I will be coming for her. Please have the courtesy to tell her that she is going to die. She will not be your Countess. I'll see her dead first."
The screen shut off and went black.
3
THE BALCONY
Syg stood there on the crowded Blanchefort dock, staring at the huge reddish castle high in the mountains for several long minutes. Dav, holding her bag, allowed her to take it all in.
It was like a dream for her, seeing such a wonderful place for herself for the first time.
She finally turned to him, grinning. "All of this is yours?"
"I am the Lord of this principality. These are my people."
She looked at the village, the maze of colorful shops, busy storefronts, eateries, pubs, residences, and the huge mountains beyond, and the fairy-tale castle perched in the clouds.
"How could you ever bear to leave this place?"
"It's hard. I do love these people, but I love the Seeker too."
Arm in arm, they began making their way through the crowded dock, the vendors stopping Dav to embrace and visit with him. They'd see Syg there and inquire about her. Dav, not wanting to embarrass her, said she was his special guest and left it at that, but after a time, she began speaking up and introduced herself as "Lord Blanchefort's future Countess—his soon-to-be Countess-in-Waiting." The vendors lit up with excitement—finally Davage was going to be wed and Blanchefort will have a Countess. This was an occasion to celebrate.
Eventually, flush with moment, Syg wanted to stop at every shop she saw and introduce herself, amid cheers and fanfare. She wanted to see everything, to talk to everyone. It took hours to get through to the steep mountain road leading up to his castle.
"I'm going to call for a ripcar," Dav said. "It's a long, steep climb to the top."
Syg looked up at the steep, dizzying heights to the misty top. She took off her sandals and put them in her bag.
"What are you doing?" Dav asked.
"If I am going to be the countess of this land, I want to feel it beneath my feet. And, no ripcar—I want to walk to the top. I want to experience it all."
"You realize it's a walk of several miles and an elevation change of about three thousand feet?"
"Feeling out-of-shape, Lord Blanchefort?"
Dav smiled. "Fine, fine—but there's no turning back once we get started."
Syg, beaming with happiness, took his hand, and they started for the top.
* * * * *
Of all the places Syg and Dav had ever made love, the balcony in his old bedroom was her favorite by far. It was a small, windswept, precarious stone slab about eight feet long and four feet wide sticking out of his large bedroom window. It wasn't a place for one with a fear of heights. It creaked and shuddered when walked on, the howling wind blowing across its face was strong enough to sweep one away, and only a tiny, two-and-a-half-foot rail was all that stood between the person standing on the balcony and a harrowing four-thousand-foot drop to the crags far below. Looking over the side, the huge Seeker appeared as a tiny white spot in the bay.
Syg loved it. Out there, in the wind and the heights no one could hear and no one could see, Dav's tower being one of the highest in the castle, she savagely made love to Dav on it—thrashing, screaming, and tearing all she wanted. On the ship she had to reserve herself quite a bit, lest other people hear. She flirted with the edge, she made the slab rock and bounce, and she allowed her bare legs to dangle over the side. Syg was fearless.
Here, under the northern stars, she thought about allowing herself to become pregnant. To carry Dav's child made her warm with happiness, but she decided it was best to wait until they were prop
erly wed. Then she will give him as many children, as many heirs, as he wanted.
And from the balcony, if she gazed far off to the west and screwed her eyes up, she could just begin to see a castle in the clear, cool distance—white, tall, full of patina-capped spires, but not quite as grand as this one.
Dav, awakening, saw her gazing at it. He pulled up alongside and took her into his arms.
"Can you see Castle Durst in the distance?"
She reached up and kissed him. "Just barely. It's so far away. How could you … Oh, I keep forgetting you and your Sight that I love so much."
She looked at the castle in the distance again. "You can clearly see that? It must be fifty miles away."
"It's more like seventy. On the tall tower, can you see that little plaque near the top, just there?" he said, pointing.
"No, Dav … I can't."
"I barely need Sight to see that, Syg. It's the Durst coat of arms. It even says DURST in old Vith. The castle looks old and down in the weather … just like the Dursts themselves, I suppose."
"I hear tell you and Lady Hathaline of Durst often sent messages to each other."
"We did—from this very balcony. She had the Sight too. Pretty decent with it."
"And now you make love to me here." Syg regarded Dav for a moment. "I understand I look much like she did."
"Yes you do—quite remarkable."
"When you look at me, Dav, is it me you see … or her?"
"You certainly look like her—but you are you, Syg. You and she— nothing alike in spirit. 'Tis you I love."
She kissed him. "Are you certain?"
"I am. Hath was my dear friend, but I never loved her. I love you, Syg."
She looked at the castle again. "Is it possible? Could I somehow be a Durst?"
Dav thought a moment. "Hmmm … You look the part—look like Hath, I mean, though there's no definitive Durst look, per se. You have the Durst spunk—you have that in earnest. Are you thinking that you might have been abducted from the Dursts?"
"That's what I am thinking."
"Well, I've not heard of anything like that from their past. They had seven daughters—Hath was the youngest. With no males, their line is broken. It happens. They've all married into other houses."
"Are there any gaps in the coming of their daughters? Are there any unexplained absences?"
"No … none that I can recall. Hath used to tell me everything. She never mentioned anything of the sort."
"But remember, Dav—the Invernians. If a Shadow tech male seeded the Lady of Durst—"
"Evaline … her name was Evaline. All the Durst women have 'line' in their name, it's a holdover from the Old Vith tradition that they loved. Even the ones who marry into the House get it. She's passed away. Hath's eldest sister, Medaline, is Lady of the house now. She married into House Grimm and became a countess but outlived her husband and came back. Once she's gone, I suppose Durst Castle will simply fall into ruin. Most a shame. If that does happen, I am going to take Hath from their family plot and move her to Fleet Park—where she belongs. I once figured the same thing was going to happen to House Blanchefort … no heirs … fallen into ruin."
"I'll give you as many heirs as you want, Dav—as many as we want. I want this House, our House, to last forever. Just tell me when. I'll allow you to seed me tonight if you wish. I'm ready."
"We should wait. Pardock will raise quite a fuss, and that's not a pleasant thing."
She looked at the distant castle again. "Evaline. If Evaline was seeded, then, that is something that is often covered up … not mentioned out of shame and confusion. Could Lady Evaline have had twins? Could that be the case?"
"I don't know. It's possible."
Syg snuggled into Dav, her long hair blowing in the wind.
"If you like, Syg, we can go there before the week is out. We can visit Castle Durst and see Countess Medaline. Would you like that? Perhaps she'll have something further to tell us."
"Yes, darling, very much so."
"I also have a lock of Hath's hair that she gave to me long ago. We could have Ennez test a small portion, see if there's a genetic match."
Syg turned to Dav and seized him hard. "That's so unromantic," she said, and they began again.
4
COUNTESS PARDOCK OF VINCENT
When Syg met Dav's sister, Countess Pardock, she almost roped her in Silver tech and blasted her. They had come down from the balcony dressed and refreshed and awaited Pardock in one of the many great halls of the castle. She admired all of the old tapestries and decorations as they waited.
Syg was excited; she couldn't wait to meet his sister.
The door to the south wing of the castle opened, and a tall, beautiful blue-haired woman came through, gliding almost in her stiff royal blue House Vincent gown—Pardock being the current countess of House Vincent after marrying Ferddie, Lord of Vincent, who fell at the Battle of Embeth.
Countess Vincent, returned to her ancestral castle to care for her infirm sister.
She had married young Ferddie, Lord of Vincent, over a hundred years prior. The marriage caused a stir, the proud, highly placed Blancheforts wedding with House Vincent, a old, honorable house of Hala stock, yet one with the singular reputation for being … stupid. Always a Vincent, playing the Vincent—that's what they said in League society. A play on words, a slight on their intelligence.
It was said that Lady Pardock, proud and rebellious, had married into House Vincent because she wished to humble her father Sadric, for he certainly did not wish her to marry Ferddie, whom he considered inferior on a number of levels. Sadric had hoped Pardock would marry Lord Horner of Champion, but Pardock detested him, detested House Champion and the whole Remnath tribe that they hailed from in general.
Ferddie of Vincent; surely she was out of her mind. But such was not the case. Pardock loved Ferddie, simple or not, and so she became his countess. The marriage reinvigorated House Vincent, as Pardock's seven children were certainly not simple-minded. Her son Gath even re-designed the GRAMPA, turning the dangerous, badly conceived LosCapricos axe into a fairly solid weapon.
Pardock approached Dav with a regal manner, her blue hair rustic and jangling in the Hala style, and then, without warning, hauled off and popped him right in the jaw with a sickening smack—one of the best right-crosses Syg had ever seen—knocking Dav's hat off.
Dav doubled over, holding his face.
Pardock, grinning, stared at him expectantly.
Syg pumped her fist, ready to loose a blast. Had Pardock gone mad?
Slowly, Dav straightened up, smiling. "You can still pop, sis," he said.
Pardock beamed as if Dav had just given her a huge compliment, and she embraced him roughly.
After a moment, Dav, bleeding from his mouth, introduced Syg.
"Umm," Syg said, "do you always greet each other so?"
"We do," Pardock said, still holding Dav. "Nothing says `I love you' like a good punch to the face."
Pardock surveyed Syg from top to bottom. Syg could tell that Pardock had just Stared her. She must be good; her Stare was silent, quick, and painless.
"So," she said. "You are Sygillis of Metatron, the Black Hat who was going to kill my brother."
"I still can, if you'd like me to."
"Nah," Pardock said, "let's let him live a bit longer, shall we."
Pardock took Syg by the arm, and they began walking. Syg guessed, given the friendly tone in Pardock's conversation, that she had passed her Stare test. She obviously loved her brother very much, and that was fine with Syg. She just wanted to see what made Syg tick—and that was also fine; she had nothing to hide … as far as her love for Dav went.
"Your nephew, Enoch, is very excited that you're here, Dav. He'll be coming of age soon and has expressed interest in joining the Fleet."
"Really? If that's the case then I'd love to have him. I can always find a place for a good junior crewman."
Pardock smiled, and they continued through the
lofty Vith halls.
"So, how's Poe?" Dav asked.
Pardock darkened a bit. "Not good, not good at all. I really don't know what to do with her anymore. She seems … pained. Father would know. He'd know what to do, Dav."
"Countess?" Syg said. "Perhaps I can help."
Pardock looked down and stared at Syg. "Oh?" she said.
"It is Lieutenant Kilos' opinion that Poe is someone like me, and if that's the case, then I can help her."