Sygillis of Metatron

by Ren Garcia

  Missing, as usual lately, were the Dursts. They were becoming maudlin and reclusive as they aged into oblivion. Pardock was sad; Countess Medaline was once her best friend, just as Hath was with Dav. She ordered their places set and their plates and cups filled, hoping that she would come after all.

  Lord Probert clearly wanted to spend time with Lady Poe, he having had a long-standing desire to court her, but her previous infirmity made her shy and sullen. His reverie was shattered, though, when his tormentor, the Lady Branna, Imperator of the Science Ministry, her husband, Lord Timon of Fallz, and her daughter, Lady Saari, appeared at the table.

  "Lord Probert!" Lady Branna exclaimed as she sat down and grabbed her napkin, "There you are!" She apparently wanted to continue arguing with him regarding several specs on the new class of starship he was building in Provst. She wanted to incorporate new technology gathered from the Triumph.

  Captain Davage, though, came to his rescue and sidetracked Lady Branna. He talked about her daughter Saari, his junior helmsman, and praised her for her bravery over Ergos. Flush with pride, she completely forgot about Lord Probert.

  Unfortunately, Lord Probert had a number of competitors for Lady Poe's attention. Many gentlemen at the table vied for her time—with the Shadowmark visible on her face. So, she wasn't crazy all these years. She was a Shadow tech female. The stigma of her supposed mental illness was wiped away with one grand dinner. She was now the talk of League society.

  Syg was wearing a lovely black dress that Dav had bought for her in Atalea during his conference. She couldn't wait to try it on and wear it to the dinner, but Pardock, her relationship with Syg developing into a good-naturedly contentious one, wanted her in a Blanchefort gown. She didn't care that Syg didn't have any yet, and she also didn't care that none of her old ones or Poe's fit. Syg was way too short. Pardock threatened to stuff her into one and compel her to wear shoulder pads and stilts.

  Fortunately, Dav made Pardock see reason, and Syg got to wear her new black dress, relatively unmolested.

  As Pardock looked around the crowded table full of Fleet, Marine, and League faces, she marveled. She was sitting at a table with three ex-Black Hats, a formerly ill sister who was now a "cured" Shadow tech female, a love-sick genius, the top scientist in the League … and strangest of all, an enemy.

  The surprise guest of the evening was Mapes, Lord of Grenville, and his Lady-in-Waiting, Suzaraine of Gulle wearing a complicated Grenville gown, which, seeing Syg sitting over there in her black dress, galled Pardock all the more. Thoughts of bodily stuffing Syg into a Blanchefort gown re-emerged in earnest.

  A Grenville and his Lady sitting at a Blanchefort table? Pardock expected the undead ghost of her father to come roaring in from Dead Hill at any moment, ready to cross Mapes's name off of the invitation list with fleshless hands and throw him out himself.

  With all the various things that had passed between the two Great Houses over the years—the slights, the insults, the deceptions and social vandalisms—Pardock glared at him relentlessly but, as the meal wore on, his actions softened her heart.

  He talked and laughed with Dav and Syg warmly. He also doted on his Lady—a tall, beautiful woman whom, she had heard, was an ex-Black Hat recovering from a horrible ordeal—an ordeal with her brother on the flat, dirty wastes of Metatron where they fought, nearly to the death. Yet another Black Hat whom Davage had saved.

  Mapes attended to her every need. He helped her cut her food, he helped her when she needed to excuse herself, and he gave her his arm so that she could stand. She appeared so weak. It was clear he adored her. He was very un-Grenville-like in his obvious affections for her.

  She was an ex-Black Hat. She and Syg and Beth. Sygillis of Metatron, her brother's soon-to-be countess, Suzaraine of Gulle, a soon-to-be Lady Grenville, and Bethrael of Moane, attached to no one, a bubbly free spirit whom, she had heard, was to be joining the Hospitalers. Sygillis was beautiful and mysterious and spoke in a commanding, courtly manner, yet she was clearly too involved with her future Lord to be overly sociable. Suzaraine of Gulle, though courteous and intelligent, was too shy and quiet to interest the young men. Bethrael of Moane, however, was going to be huge in League circles. Lithe and beautiful, her outgoing disposition and approachability made her a huge hit. Gentlemen from all over the table were eager to sit with her, share a moment with an ex-Black Hat, ask her questions, and invite her into their various circles. They begged her to reconsider joining the Hospitalers and become a socialite instead. She could have the whole League at her feet, they said. Once again, as before with Princess Marilith, Xaphans were becoming all the rage in League Society.

  The dinner went well, and Pardock was pleased. Still, when she looked at the table and saw the empty chairs, the un-eaten food, the sweating cups where Countess Medaline and the Dursts would have sat, she felt sad.

  So sad …

  7

  CASTLE DURST

  The morning after the big dinner, Dav, as he had promised, took Syg to Castle Durst. A waiting ripcar was parked on the grounds. Dav and Syg didn't bother taking the stairs. They jumped off of Dav's balcony and Wafted down. Laughing and cavorting, they made their way to the ripcar, mounted it, and tore off to the west. Screaming with delight, Dav threaded the mountains and gorges that lay between the two castles, hauling the ripcar around in tight turns, sudden reverses, and high-banking climbs.

  Syg loved every minute of it; nothing he tried could scare her. He'd certainly have to come up with a new series of maneuvers.

  Soon they were there. Castle Durst loomed in the near distance, a white limestone structure like a weathered fossil.

  It was rather depressing, seeing the once-lovely yards surrounding the castle fallen into weed and disrepair. The castle itself, a towerdotted Vith structure about half the size of Castle Blanchefort, looked to be in need of repair.

  The Dursts were falling apart … gone into ruin, their name marking time until it was no more.

  They approached the grand main door and knocked. A long time later it swung open. A small, dour-looking servant opened it. Dav explained he was the Lord of Blanchefort and was here to see Countess Medaline. The servant welcomed Dav said he would announce them.

  When he saw Syg, he broke into a huge smile. "Lady … Lady Hathaline!" he said. "Oh, oh … where have you been? We've been so worried. We thought you dead! Countess—Lady Hathaline's come home!" His eyes were bugging out, and he was slavering.

  "Lord Blanchefort, you must please forgive Joules. He is not totally in his right mind these days."

  A tall, black-haired woman came down the stairs in a flashy Durst outfit.

  Very pretty lady, but she looked sad … old, if that was possible. One of the last of a long, proud line.

  "He, like us," she said, "is lost in madness. Look what we have become."

  "We missed you at dinner yesterday, Countess. Though, as always, we set your plates and poured your cups."

  "Really …" Medaline said, disinterested.

  When Medaline saw Syg, she did a double-take.

  "Lady Medaline, Countess of Grimm, may I introduce Sygillis of Metatron. She is to be my future countess."

  "It is my pleasure," Syg said, bowing slightly.

  Medaline continued to stare at Syg.

  "As you can see, her resemblance to Lady Hathaline is … remarkable. We are here today, in part, to discover if there is any chance that Sygillis is possibly a Durst."

  Medaline thought for a moment. "I don't see how. I have six sisters, five are married, one is dead. There were no other sisters … and no Lords."

  She looked at Syg again. "Actually, now that I look more closely, she does not resemble our Lady Hathaline. Not at all."

  "Countess, please. Sygillis is the spitting image of her."

  "And how would you know, Lord Blanchefort? You who broke her heart time and time again. All her life she waited for you … for your sad, sorrowful heart to see her for what she was. She pined for you, went to the sta
rs for you. She went off hoping to please you, and she met her end … and now, now you plan to marry this imposter. This phony! If you had done what was right and married my sister in the first place she would probably be here with us right now!"

  She turned. "Please, Lord Blanchefort, go. Let us die and be forgotten in peace."

  "Countess, I am sorry if you feel that way. Lady Hathaline was my best friend and if anyone was harmed—is still harmed—by her death, it was me. I wish to pay my respects at her grave."

  "I forbid it."

  "I am going to pay my respects and honor Hath as she deserves today, and not you or anyone else is going to stop me."

  Medaline slumped to the floor and began weeping.

  "I am going to ask my groundskeepers to come here every month to clean the grounds and perform repairs on the castle."

  "I do not need your pity."

  "Then be not so pitiful. You sit here waiting for it all to end. Lady Medaline, you are the Countess of Grimm. You have eight children. Between you and your sisters, you have almost forty children—all flowing with Durst blood. After the prerequisite two hundred fifty years have passed, any one of them or their progeny may declare themselves a Durst, and the House will rise again. I intend to see that they have an ancestral home to return to."

  Dav kneeled down and patted Medaline on the back. "We have always been friends, and we will continue, and I intend to make sure that there is a Blanchefort there to welcome them, the New Dursts, when they choose to come home." He kissed her on the cheek.

  "I will take my leave and see Hath now. And please, if you are angry with me, if you have issue with me, then confine those feelings to me alone. Involve not my sister, who greatly misses you."

  They went outside and walked around the castle, through a small, neglected grove to a large yard surrounded by a tall stone fence.

  The gate was locked. "Syg, if you please," he said, pointing at the gate.

  Syg filled the lock with Silver tech and turned the bolt.

  Inside the yard was a collection of vaults and stones, some ancient and covered with moss. A huge, fairly new stone sat at the end of the yard.

  It read:

  LADY HATHALINE

  SEVENTH DAUGHTER OF SEVEN

  CAPTAIN OF THE FLEET

  2962ax–3154ax

  "A hero rests here. May she soar evermore."

  Her image was embossed on the new stone. Syg looked hard at it. It was her face, markless, wearing a lovely Fleet uniform.

  Her face … exactly the same, sans the mark.

  And Davage wept. He leaned against the stone and felt her loss like it was yesterday. Syg stood nearby and let him cry, let him have his moment with his friend—her spitting image. After a while, he turned to her, and she held him for a long time.

  "I don't know if this is a good time to mention this, Dav, but we both know Countess Medaline was not being completely truthful."

  Dav wiped his face. "I know, Syg, that's why I kept this …"

  He held out his hand. There in his palm was a single strand of hair from Medaline.

  8

  WHO WAS CAPTAIN HATHALINE?

  They were sitting in the Capricos Hall, one of many vaultlike, airy halls in Dav's endless castle. This hall was always one of his favorites. There was a long table in the center of the hall, and the lofty ceiling was feathered with Great House flags and banners—a very colorful setup. The walls were lined with strange weapons of all sorts—swords, staves, pistols, lances, clubs, axes—the complete family of LosCapricos weapons, hundreds of them. Most of them were well-made mock-ups and didn't function, but they were still impressive to behold.

  Dav and Syg sat at the table. The table was full of food, drinks, and snacks that his staff had put there not long ago. Always recalling starving as a boy, Dav, as Lord of the castle, abolished all of the rules of decorum regarding eating that his father had put into place. Food was always available to those who were hungry in Castle Blanchefort. Syg was sitting there next to him, her lunch picked at. Lt. Kilos roamed around the hall looking at the LosCapricos weapons mounted on the wall, trying to see if she could correctly identify them all.

  Ennez and Bethrael also sat at the table with Dav and Syg. Beth, a soon-to-be Hospitaler, was wearing the now-familiar Chancellor's bodysuit like Syg always did. In her case, though, she was actually going to become one soon. She had moved into a commodious room in Zoe tower where she would be staying until the Hospitalers came to get her next month. She was delighted that there was a whole wardrobe full of clothes waiting for her. Dav and Syg had bought them for her, as ex-Black Hats never came with much in the way of clothes. The gentlemen at the dinner certainly tempted her with promises of grand parties and hidden villas, but she still wanted to join the Hospitalers. Nobody said she couldn't be a Hospitaler and a socialite too.

  "So," Ennez said, finishing a goblet of wine, "I have the results you were wanting, Dav. I took the hair samples from Syg and from Captain Hathaline that you gave me and compared them with the control sample of Countess Medaline. Beth even helped me. She did a good job."

  Beth winked at him and grabbed some food. Dav had heard that they had become part-time lovers, Beth being too free a spirit to linger with any one man, and there were men beginning to clamor at her door from every corner.

  "Great," Dav said. "What are your findings?"

  "I'm not sure you're going to want to hear this," he said, looking up at the flags high above.

  Syg sat there and stared at Dav. She was giving him "the look"— the one that he knew well.

  Beth flicked a grape at Syg, hitting her in the face. It didn't faze her.

  "Why?" Dav asked.

  "Because it's kind of strange."

  "It's Syg we're talking about here. Of course it's going to be strange."

  Syg slapped him on the shoulder and continued staring at him. She wished they were alone. They hadn't been totally alone since he'd returned from his trip.

  she telepathied to him.

  Beth, able to hear the message, giggled.

  Kilos approached an odd-looking staff on the wall. "Dav, I can't remember what this one is. What is it?"

  Dav looked. "That's the BESSAMER of House Hobby. It's supposed to shoot fireballs, if memory serves."

  Ki nodded and moved on.

  Dav turned to Syg. "Syg—are you prepared to hear this?"

  "Sure … Dav …" she purred, still giving him "the look."

  "Syg?" Ennez said, trying to get her attention.

  "I think she's feeling a little nervous about the results—who wouldn't be? Well, Ennez, what about it? Either you have a match to the Dursts or you do not. I don't understand all the mystery," Dav said.

  "Okay, let me put it to you like this. It's a match and it's not a match."

  "What?"

 

  Beth whispered to Ennez: "She's about to lose it. Let's start a food fight."

  Ennez ignored her. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. Syg—Syg! Will you listen for a moment, please?"

  Syg turned to him. "What, Ennez?"

  "Do you want to hear this or not?"

  She straightened up. "Yes, yes, I do … please. I guess I am feeling a little nervous, I'm sorry. So, am I a Durst or aren't I?"

  "Yes and no."

  "Come on, how can I be related to the Dursts and not at the same time?"

  Ennez leaned forward and lowered his voice. "All right, Syg, according to my readings, you are not related to the Dursts."

  "Well, that is the whole of it then," Dav said. "I am sorry, Syg, I know you were hoping that …"

  "I'm not finished, Dav," Ennez said.

  Dav stopped and listened. Beyond, Kilos pulled an odd whip off of the wall with a clatter.

  "Watch that ALLYSON," Dav said to Kilos. "That one works, I think."

  "House Colt, right?"

  "Right."

&n
bsp; Ennez continued. "So, Syg is certainly not related to the Dursts—that much is beyond question, but she is related to Captain Hathaline."

  "Oh, good Creation, Ennez," Dav said. "What nonsense is this?"

  "Dav, Captain Hathaline wasn't related to the Dursts either."