The swords came with him, both of them, and the dagger as well. He remained Jisiensire’s sword-bearer until Araelis awarded that duty to someone else, and he was entitled and required to wear them to court, one on each side. The dagger, of course, was with Theresa, but his Alliance purchase served him well enough. Few people would look at his feet carefully enough to notice its foreign issue, and having something there was better than not: it would keep the curious from wondering, given his reputation as a man who only ever gave a dagger once.
That he had done it twice now, he did not contemplate closely. Theresa needed a weapon; it was that simple.
He maintained his forest-won calm throughout the process; it stayed with him even as he regarded himself in the mirror and saw the man who’d loved and lived here before everything had fallen apart. His face had changed, had grown more lined, and his eyes... he’d seen things, leaving this world. They had pushed the horizon from the rim of a world to the edge of a galaxy emblazoned with stars finer than any gems a tailor could sew onto a coat. He surprised himself by wanting that for all his people... that sense that the universe was vaster and more astonishing than anything they could conceive. Of all the races in the Alliance, surely they needed that perspective the most, for they had so many more years to fill and so little to fill them with.
He turned from himself and the revelation that he cared, squared his shoulders, and went to the great hall.
Ontine had a throne room: a narrow gallery that ended in the Queen’s seat, a room small enough for thirty people perhaps, meant for petitioners and envoys and the business of governance. The palace also had a great hall for times when the entirety of the ruling class of the world needed to meet one another before their Queen, and it was there that the winter court session was opened. Hirianthial had begun attending the twin courts of the year when his mother had designated him the heir to the Sarel family, and he had continued to attend them after he’d succeeded his parents. He was familiar with the routine. And if the overpowering glitter of the courtiers in their multitudes was no longer quite so familiar, he could also call upon his new out-world experiences to understand just how small a gathering it was. Some two hundred and fifty people? Maybe three hundred at most?
Their numbers were fewer than he remembered, as well. They were dwindling. It was something he not only saw, but sensed, suddenly, shockingly: a taint in too many auras. Ennui? Sickness? Genetic disorder?
Araelis headed for him the moment she spotted him, hooking him around the arm with her wand and drawing him discreetly aside. “Cousin, thank God and Lady. Come bring the swords over and look intractable for me.”
“You and I should talk,” he said, pushing the tip of the wand down and away.
Annoyingly, her aura changed not at all, not even for the faintest hint of remorse. “Is this about that appealing young woman of yours? Yes, I think we should talk about her.”
Then again, perhaps broaching the topic had not been wise. “You spoke overmuch on things I would have kept private—”
“That woman is very attached to you,” Araelis said. “And all her people too. How can you not have told them anything about your life, Hirianthial?” She tsked. “You owed them something of yourself.”
His brows lifted. “You are discussing out-worlders, do you recall, cousin.”
“Yes, I know,” Araelis said. “Have you forgotten we are Jisiensire, Hirianthial? Or has your father-come-lately from Galare clouded your eyes to your mother’s legacy? We are the House that welcomed the first alien as kin. We are the House who supplies the Queen’s couriers, generation after generation. It is for us to cultivate the alien. That is done by mutual trust,” the latter two words punctuated with taps of her wand on his forearm, “and mutual trust is grown by confidences.”
“If the alien is so much your concern,” Hirianthial said, “do you go into the Alliance and seek your own. But don’t tell me how to manage my companions.”
“Ah,” Araelis said, cold pallor spilling into her aura as she stopped. “Ah? Ah. Your... companions?”
“Yes,” he said, irritated. “What else?”
She held up her hands, wand held horizontal to the ground in one of them, the symbol for yielding an argument. “Pardon me, my cousin. I see I did amiss.”
“You did,” he said, not trusting her withdrawal, for he didn’t understand what had occasioned it. Why had her aura washed so shocked so suddenly? As if she had made some mistake and did not want his attention drawn to it.
“I had thought you were closer to them than you were,” Araelis said. “Forgive me! I shall make no mention of you again.”
Before he could answer her, the fanfare played, announcing the arrival of the Queen. The rustle of the crowd turning to face the long blue carpet that led to the end of the hall prefaced the silence as Liolesa strode to the seat awaiting her, a less formal throne than the one in her throne room, but on an elevated dais. As always, she moved with purpose, climbing the dais and settling herself on her cushioned bench. She rested the scepter against her shoulder and said in a carrying voice, “The Winter Court is now convened. The Houses may now present to their liege.”
A herald called, “House Sovenil. Families Kiviel, Juran, Thani, Brel and Shin in attendance,” and began the long process. It was not the formal exchange that would take place in the days to come in the more intimate throne room, where each courtier would bring a tally of the duties he owed Liolesa for her examination, but it involved the presentation of newer members of the family and the explication of their lineage and credentials. Hirianthial found it harder to focus on the people than it was to sense their emotions: their feelings toward Liolesa as they spoke to her, their general state, their health. That more than anything distracted him; as each House was called forth, he was shown their true allegiances, felt their connection to others in the court like a web dewed with water droplets, a spangled light that had him looking into corners at places where no person stood but some line extended as tangibly as any silk thread. It was so involving he almost missed Jisiensire’s cue.
Following Araelis, he went to a knee as was proper for a sword-bearer, and one who’d personally served the Queen. And here, rather than sense his own party’s disposition, he felt the pressure of the court’s attention, their spikes of curiosity, their sudden interest, the fencing of their loyalties as they shifted to accommodate him as a possible player. There were many women willing to make allowances for his politics if they could capture him as a husband.
Liolesa’s aura surprised him not at all: a thing of steel, like armor, completely in control of herself.
There were only two Houses after Jisiensire to be called, and the last of them was Asaniefa, Surela’s House and their enemy. He expected something in her people to hint at their anger and frustration, but what he sensed instead was a smug anticipation that made his skin prickle. They were planning something—of course they were, they always were—but this plan they thought assured them success. Was this what Liolesa was determined to flush into the open?
Were they so convinced Liolesa wouldn’t use the technology of the Alliance against them, that they could scheme against her in relative security?
Araelis whispered, “You have your hand on your sword, cousin.”
He let it drop, folded his hands behind his back, felt the creak of the leather gloves as he flexed his fingers.
After the introductions, the courtiers were free to mingle or to leave as they preferred. In practice, the first session lasted until supper, and everyone would use it to see whether their alliances had lasted the year or if they needed reevaluation, if they had gained allies or lost them, who they should plan to invite to more private soirees. Hirianthial followed Araelis as if he was still a part of Jisiensire, mostly to prevent too many eligible ladies from descending on him. He hoped between his cousin’s known allegiance to Liolesa and his forbidding look he would not attract too many.
It was a vain hope. He found himself deflecting far too
many women, some of them so young they’d probably only had their introductions to society earlier in the summer; the thought of marrying any of them was risible.
“Oh come now,” Araelis murmured when he’d shooed the latest away. “They’re not all that bad.”
“Anyone young enough to be my daughter should know better,” Hirianthial said. “It’s in appalling taste.”
“Perhaps,” Araelis said. “But you know you’re likely to attract such hopefuls until you settle down.”
He glanced at her, eyes narrowed, and was rewarded with her faint shrug.
“You might consider marrying just to take yourself out of the pool, you know.”
“I’m not interested,” he said. “I had Laiselin. One love in a lifetime is blessing enough.”
She sighed. “Yes. Exactly. One in a lifetime is blessing and rarity. One doesn’t marry for love, cousin, or why would all these children be after you? They want the prestige, and your proven virility, and the money you’d be endowed with by Jisiensire when you leave it. Marriage is an economic arrangement. If you are lucky, as I was, you marry a good friend. And you, Hirianthial, have a good friend.”
“I cannot imagine who you might mean—”
“I mean the Queen,” Araelis said.
He stopped entirely.
“She needs an heir. You need peace. And the two of you are well-suited.”
“God and Lady!” he exclaimed.
“You of all people should not fear our strictures against marrying a cousin,” Araelis continued. “If indeed you are a doctor trained off-world as you so said, then you know the Alliance has methods. It may be a touch scandalous, but people would accept it. And then both of you would be safer.”
Incredulous, Hirianthial said, “Enough! No more, Araelis, do you understand? Bad enough to overturn our own customs—and you have been soaked in the stories of Sellelvi too long to have even had the thought—but completely aside from that, it would be as if to marry my own sister!” He grimaced. “And God hear me, I have no desire to be king-consort.”
“You would be a good one—”
“Araelis!”
She sighed. “Fine. But don’t come to me later complaining of all these women throwing themselves at you. I have offered you a solution.”
“An entirely untenable one!”
“Only because you insist on being difficult,” she said. “If you did not have all these romantic notions you would find your life far easier, cousin.”
“Where are you going?”
“Away,” she said firmly. “I am off to speak female business with other women. Since you are so confident in your rectitude, I will leave you to the swarm. No doubt you can manage them.”
This he found himself forced to do, for he could either confine himself to the discourse of Eldritch men, which was limited in scope for someone who’d been touring alien worlds for six decades, or he could expose himself to the attentions of women, who wanted only to flutter at him and express their admiration of his astonishing courage in braving the terrifying worlds beyond the skies!
Liolesa found him with his second glass of wine near one of the tables, where he’d hoped the shadow of one of the stone columns would hide him.
“Ready to flee yet?”
“God and Lady,” he said, fervent.
“A very typical start to winter,” she said, taking up a glass from a passing tray and sipping it. “Though far more pleasing with you here. I notice you can’t seem to move without the pack snapping at your heels.”
“I feel like a particularly fat quail,” he said, wry.
She smirked. “Pity them, cousin. They’ve had no fresh meat lately. Certainly nothing as fine as a former seal-bearer.”
“I had hoped my out-world adventures would taint me in their eyes.”
“It would take a great deal more than that to make someone with your dower a poor choice,” Liolesa said. “And for my enemies, the temptation to win you from my side is overwhelming. I’m surprised Surela hasn’t made it clear to all and sundry that you are hers first, and anyone else must wait on her suit before attempting you.”
“It is enough to make me beg Reese for passage off-world tonight.”
“Ah, no,” she said with a laugh. “Don’t abandon me yet, cousin. Not with the game afoot! You sense it, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he said, though he was unwilling to say more around so many.
“We might discuss it later,” she said. “Perhaps you’ll be fortunate and people will assume you’re paying court to me.”
He stared at her, appalled, found the wicked humor wreathing her aura in silver sparks utterly preposterous. “You’re not serious! Has Araelis been filling your ears with wild ideas?”
She grinned. “Of course she has. It’s one of her charms, that she fears nothing, least of all my position.” Observing his expression, she snorted. “Please, cousin. Me, marry? When have you known me to have that sort of patience?”
He exhaled. “Pray you, don’t frighten me thus.”
She tapped his glass lightly with a finger. “Drink, cousin. You are too tightly wired, if you are ready to take such things for truth. Did Araelis approach you already?” At his pained expression, she said, “Oh, don’t fear. She has been at me as well, and she should know better. As should you. But do come later, and carry me your impressions.”
“As you will, cousin.”
“Mmm, yes. As it should be.” The merriment that pierced her aura was as good as a wink, and she was away, back to mingling among the crowd. He fortified himself with another sip of the wine and followed her example, steering well clear of Surela and reflecting that he would have a humbling experience to relate to Urise on the morning. His hard-won calm had lasted perhaps half an hour.
He did find it odd that he had not seen Thaniet in attendance on her lady. She had been presented, but was now missing. Perhaps at last she’d found the moral fiber to part herself from Surela. Would that it be so.
“That must be Felith,” Irine said at the sound of the knock.
The Harat-Shar began to rise, but Reese waved her back to the table. “I’m closer.”
“Thanks, I’m kind of comfortable here.”
“Kind of,” Reese said, wryly; the twins were intertwined, going through the book Felith had brought back from the library and comparing unintelligible Eldritch words in it to the text in the atlas. They were hoping to find some basis for understanding the written language, but Reese thought it more likely they’d uncover the lost archeological temple of Mars. None of them were linguists. Amused, she went to the door and opened it on an unfamiliar Eldritch woman who shrieked at the sight of her.
Reese leaped back, startled, then lunged forward. “Wait!”
The woman was already in flight down the corridor. Reese gave chase because she hadn’t yet pursued a woman in a fluffy gown and that was no doubt a necessary part of her role in this farce. Fortunately, fluffy gowns and tiny heels were a lot more trouble to run in than pants and boots. Reese drew abreast of the woman and then ahead of her and stopped, throwing her arms wide. “Stop!”
The woman came to a halt, gasping for breath, her hand pressed to her throat. “A human!” she cried in accented Universal.
“Not a poisonous snake or a rampaging bear,” Reese pointed out. “So you can stop looking like I’m going to drink your blood, all right? Who were you looking for?”
“I was not!”
“You knocked on our door,” Reese said. “Why’d you do that if you weren’t looking for someone?”
“I must have made a mistake,” the woman said, breathless. “If you will excuse me?”
Reese stood aside to let her pass, but not before noting the little pin on the square-cut neck of her bodice: a silvery-gold creature on green, like a lion but with hooves. She frowned and headed back.
“I’m guessing that wasn’t Felith,” Sascha said. “What with the screaming and all.”
“Are there any hooved lions on green fi
elds on that map?” Reese asked.
Kis’eh’t flipped back to the right page and scanned it. “Sure, here. This big parcel.”
Reese frowned at it. “Well, all right. I know she’s associated with someone with a lot of land. The question is... who?”
“Felith would know,” Sascha said.
“Felith’s not here.” Irine put her chin in her palm.
“I have an idea,” Reese said. She went into her room and returned with Allacazam under her arm and the telegem in her hand.
“I’m pretty sure Allacazam won’t know,” Irine said.
Reese snorted and handed him to the tigraine. “Here, put him in the sun, he hasn’t been getting enough to eat.” She sat next to Sascha at the table and tapped the telegem. “Reese to Earthrise. Malia, come in please.”
“This is Earthrise... sorry, Captain Eddings, Malia’s asleep. Should I wake her?”
Reese stared at the gem. “Um, who are you?”
“Taylor Goodfix. I’m another of the endless Tam-illee the Queen’s got tucked up her sleeve. I help maintain her fleet.”
“Her fleet?” Sascha said, leaning in. “How many ships are we talking about here?”
“Oh, don’t get any notions about a navy or anything. There are only three, and the clan keeps them out in Alliance space, doing normal courier routes. We are an incorporated messenger service, it helps with the bills.”
“And the cover,” Sascha murmured.
“And the cover,” Taylor agreed.
“How did you get on my ship? How... what...”
“Malia asked me to keep her company, Captain, so I Padded over from the observation post. I figured while I was here I’d do a little fixing? Nothing serious, your engineering compartment is ship-shape, my compliments to your crew there. But little things, like leaky vents and blinky lights that aren’t blinking.”
“That’s... nice of you,” Reese said. “But I have no budget for repairs—”
“Don’t worry about it, ma’am. I like to have something to do and everything else in the area’s fine.” A hint of frustration crept into the woman’s mezzosoprano. “There’s so much I could be doing and can’t that it’s nice to have some kind of project, no matter how small.”
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