“If you’re sure...”
“Absolutely, please. Think nothing of it. Or if you must, consider it a gift from the Queen. Now, what can I do for you? Should I wake up Malia?”
“No,” Reese said. “Let her rest. We just wanted to ask her about a heraldic device.”
“Oh, I can tell you about those. We all learn when we join the Tams. What have you got?”
“It’s a silvery-goldish lion with hooves on a dark green field,” Reese said, and they all leaned in to hear the answer.
“Oh. OH. Asaniefa, that is. The Queen’s mortal enemies.”
“Figures,” Irine said with a sigh.
“Do you know all the rest?” Kis’eh’t put in. “It would be nice to have the full list.”
“Oh sure. You have something to take notes?”
Kis’eh’t tapped her tablet. “Whenever you’re ready.”
As Taylor ran down the list, Reese leaned back with her arms crossed over her chest, frowning.
“Upset about Hirianthial’s enemies finding out about us?” Sascha said. “Or about someone inviting a stranger onto your ship without asking you first?”
“It’s kind of hard to be offended at someone who decides to do repairs for you for free,” Reese said.
“I’m surprised that part didn’t upset you, actually,” Sascha said. “That she’s not letting you pay for it.”
“Yeah, well, there are better things to be upset about than someone being nice to you,” Reese said, massaging her forehead. When she looked up she found both the twins staring at her and managed a weak smile. “What can I say, I’m learning. Trying, anyway.”
Irine blinked, then reached across the table and rested her hand on Reese’s arm. “You’re doing great.”
Reese patted the furry hand. “Thanks.” She sighed. “Besides, I know a little of how she must feel. Looking down at this world and thinking of everything she could do to help and not being allowed.”
“I can’t imagine what a clan of Tam-illee could do to this place,” Sascha said, bemused. “Between their talent for engineering and their fanatical focus on reproductive medicine...”
Irine said, “I’m surprised the Queen hasn’t brought them in anyway...!”
“Reese?” Kis’eh’t interrupted. “Can you think of anything else you want to know from Taylor?”
“Sure,” Reese said. “Hey, Taylor-alet... why hasn’t the Queen turned you loose on this world? You set down far away enough, no one would know. It’s not like they have satellites or anything that could possibly find you.”
“I don’t know.” Taylor’s frustration returned. “I haven’t ever been told a reason. The Lord—that’s Lesandurel Meriaen Jisiensire, our Eldritch—says the time isn’t right, and that to start an endeavor wrongly is to doom it. But they’re superstitious that way.”
“It sounds like something they’d say,” Reese said. “All right. Are you sure you and Malia are fine up there?”
“Now that we have someone to play cards with, sure. Call us anytime, Captain. She’s lovely, your Earthrise, we’re both delighted to be ship-sitting.”
“Thanks for taking good care of her,” Reese said. “Reese out.” She tapped the telegem, then drummed her fingers on the table.
“What are you thinking?” Sascha asked, tilting his head.
“That maybe the Queen thinks now is the right time,” Reese said. “And also that there are two foxes on my ship, and I’m not up there, and that’s weird. And finally that I’ve scared some woman beholden to Hirianthial’s enemies straight back down the stairs. Maybe I should tell the Queen her surprise has been spoiled.”
“It’ll have to wait, won’t it?” Irine said. “Isn’t there some big event going on right now? She’ll be busy.”
“This evening then,” Reese said. “I can ask Hirianthial to take me to see her.” She glanced at Kis’eh’t. “Did you get what you needed from Taylor?”
“More than that,” Kis’eh’t said. “She’s also told me the political disposition of all these Houses.” She tapped the map. “Here, look. You got the Galare in the center here, around the palace. To the north and south, she’s got enemies. But in the south she’s got Jisiensire squeezing them in the middle, so they can’t expand any further. In the west she’s got a lot of neutral parties, but they’re hemmed in by this mountain range.”
“What’s up here, then, above Asaniefa?” Reese asked.
“Nothing,” Kis’eh’t said. “Apparently these areas here are all the property of noble families that have petered out. So Asaniefa’s expanding into Imthereli’s old territory, for instance. Jisiensire could move south too, into some of these abandoned areas.”
“Still, if the Queen wants to hem in Asaniefa, she should have an ally up here in the north,” Reese said. “What’s this area? It looks like it was someone’s once.”
“Taylor didn’t know,” Kis’eh’t said.
Reese frowned. “And this really is all there is?”
“Yes.”
“Blood in the soil,” Reese said, soft. “We might be too late to save them.”
The function proceeded much as he remembered such things going: slowly, and involving a great deal of talk that revealed nothing more substantive than the latest opinion on the newest divertissement. Given Eldritch constitutions, ‘newest’ meant at least a decade old. He drank a great deal of wine, discreetly watered, smiled politely at far too many young faces and wore more guarded expressions before old ones. The families that counted themselves Galare allies had little by way of news to share; sixty years was not long enough for more than one or two babies to have been successfully conceived, and deaths, while less rare, were also infrequent. Liolesa’s partisans remained much the same in strength and conviction since last he attended a winter court; her neutrals remained unmoved, and her enemies, of course, were stalwart.
How did they breathe through so much stasis?
He tarried there for several hours, though he quit the gathering before it began dispersing near supper. He had never had much patience for the courts, and being among the out-worlders had not improved it. His bootsteps echoed in the large, empty corridors as he left the hall behind, and the murmured conversations faded as he passed onward, toward the nearest stairwell and up it, to the second floor. Did his stride quicken as he approached the Earthrise crew’s suite? And if it did, who could blame him? It would be good to speak with people who used speech to exchange meaningful information, rather than to manipulate the emotions of their auditors.
It was Irine who opened the door, and upon seeing him her pupils dilated. She called over her shoulder, “He’s here!” Before adding to him, “Have we got a lot of questions for you, arii.”
“I shall endeavor to answer,” Hirianthial said, startled by her gravity. He entered and halted at the sight of the group clustered around the atlas, data tablets scattered amid the anachronism of Eldritch porcelain cups. “Ariisen? You have a look of consternation?”
Kis’eh’t looked up at him and said, “You people are dying, aren’t you?”
He stopped, felt the noise in his head rising. Cautiously, he said, “Perhaps you might elaborate.”
“We’re thinking there’s only about a hundred thousand of you left at most,” Kis’eh’t said. “That’s our generous estimate. Mine is closer to half that. Maybe less.”
Reese said, “Is it true?”
Sascha, studying him, said, “Maybe you should sit. By the fire, it’s gotten cold. Maybe we can all sit by the fire.”
“And drink something,” Irine added. “Why is it cold, anyway? Isn’t it afternoon?”
“Sun’s on the other side of the palace,” Kis’eh’t said, collecting her tablet and cup and heading for the hearth. “It’s not like the buildings we’re used to, Irine. There’s no climate control.”
Irine grimaced. “I should have brought more socks.”
Sascha pulled her over. “Come on, I’ll keep you warm.”
They resettled by the fire
and nearly as one looked at him, waiting. How much had they derived from a solitary atlas? God and Lady. And yet, if they had, how much grief would it save them all for him to simply explain it to them? He sat in one of the unoccupied chairs, stretching one leg out to work the ache out of the joint. “Your suppositions are correct,” he said finally. “Though I could not give you an exact number. I doubt anyone knows, save perhaps the Queen and her minister. There is an imperfect census, she would have the data.”
“So this little finger’s width of land along the coast is really all that’s settled of this world,” Reese said.
“You have the right of that.”
The silence then was filled only by the hiss of sap burning in the logs. Irine was hugging her knees, staring at him with wide eyes; her brother’s gaze was harder to read, but his aura was somber as winter soil. Kis’eh’t and Reese were no better. Bryer, resting with his back to the wall, only opened his eyes enough to meet his, then closed them again.
“So is the reason the Queen hasn’t picked up and moved to the opposite side of the continent and left all her enemies to die that... she’s afraid there won’t be enough of you to keep from inbreeding?” Sascha said finally.
“That doesn’t make sense.” Kis’eh’t folded her arms. “If she wants to use the technology to lift half a town of people elsewhere, she can very well use the technology to gene-correct. That’s some of the oldest technology the Alliance has.”
“Still, twenty-five thousand people... that’s not much,” Sascha said.
“That’s plenty if you try to sleep with them all,” Irine said.
“Ariisen,” Hirianthial said, stilling them instantly. “I believe the Queen has done no such thing because matters are not so simple.”
“How is it not simple? Either ‘yes, I want to go with you’ or ‘no, I don’t want any part of you,’” Irine said.
“She has a point,” Sascha said. “How hard can it be to decide to live in a century with indoor plumbing and heaters in winter? And why did you people give it up anyway?”
“Give it up?” Hirianthial repeated.
“We’ve decided you were human once,” Sascha said. “Yes? No?”
The vertigo that assailed him was so extreme he lost sight of the room. Was it horror that made the room spin... or relief? To be quit of all the secrets—and yet, if they knew....
“Hirianthial?” Kis’eh’t said.
Reese lifted a hand before he could find the words. “Wait.” She drew the pendant from around her neck and said, “Is it enough to swear on this that what we’re discussing stays in this room?”
“Only if you understand what it means to swear that vow,” Hirianthial said. He sought some way to make them understand—ah—”Malia Navigatrix is bound by the vow that her ancestress swore to Lesandural Meriaen Jisiensire nine generations ago. Do you understand? If I tell you these things, your children and your children’s children may still be bound by your promise. We live different spans, but the secrets must remain until the day the Veil is forever lifted.”
“Do you think that will happen?” Kis’eh’t wondered, more curious than distressed.
“Maybe when the right suitor comes along,” Reese murmured, surprising him. She glanced at him. “Nine generations is a long time.”
“I like that he assumes we’ll be having children,” Irine said.
“We should probably get busy with that.” Sascha grinned. “Once we find someplace to settle down.”
Reese cleared her throat. “Stay focused.” She set the medallion down and put her hand on it before saying to the others. “If you want to.”
Kis’eh’t rested a furred hand on Reese’s. The twins joined fingers and set theirs over hers. They all looked at Bryer, who slitted open an eye and then reached forth and covered the mound with golden talons, flashing in firelight.
“We swear,” Reese said, firmly, meeting his eyes. “To keep the Eldritch Veil until such time as it is declared no longer needful.”
Their resolution melded their auras into something bright as steel. It wanted more than speech. He drew the glove off his sword hand and rested it on theirs. “I accept your vow in the name of the Unicorn’s seal-bearer, and swear to carry your oath to her if you do not do so first.”
“So,” Kis’eh’t said. “Are you human?”
“No,” Hirianthial said. “But we were, once.”
The medallion’s edges cut into Reese’s palm in that new silence. She was grateful that her crew was willing to fill it, because she felt as if someone had smacked her head against a wall.
It was true. All those things she’d thought on meeting Hirianthial about feeling not good enough, not beautiful enough, not delicate or strong or graceful enough, just... not enough... that feeling had been leading her in the right direction. She’d been comparing herself to the Eldritch because they’d shared roots somewhere in the distant past, and in that distant past the Eldritch had decided that humanity was not enough. They’d been family once, and they had been abandoned.
“So wait, did you leave before us or after us?” Sascha was asking.
“Before,” Hirianthial said. “By some three, four hundred years? I am not entirely certain of it due to the calendars being different.”
Kis’eh’t frowned. “Earth still keeps a different calendar from the Alliance. If you have your own...”
“Still the Alliance isn’t all that old,” Sascha said. “If the Eldritch live as long as they seem to, there can’t have been many generations of them?”
“Each generation lives longer than the one before,” Hirianthial said. “But you are correct. We are not far removed from the first settlers who landed here.”
“So what happened to the ships you used to get here?” Irine asked. “And why did you give up technology?”
“Ship,” Hirianthial said. “It was a single ship, Irine. And it was a choice, to live more simply. Perhaps not well-considered, given the many uncertainties of interstellar colonization. But we were the first to leave Earth. We were not acquainted with the challenges. No one was.”
Reese cleared her throat. “We could probably spend all night talking out the implications of this, but we have more important business.” She caught Hirianthial’s eyes. “One of your Queen’s enemies decided to knock on our door, and she knows we’re here now. If the Queen was counting on surprising people tomorrow we should probably warn her that’s off.”
“What? Here?” Hirianthial sat forward. “Who, do you know?”
“She didn’t give us her name,” Reese said.
Irine sniffed. “Actually, she ran screaming down the hall. The only reason we know anything about her is because one of the foxines on the Earthrise recognized the pin she was wearing when we described it.”
Hirianthial glanced at Reese. “A centicore, electrum, on emerald.”
“Is that what you call the lion with deer feet?” Reese said. “But yes. So... can you take me to see her?”
“Yes,” he said. “There are things I must discuss with her myself.” As he stood, he added to the crew, “I trust your questions will keep for another day?”
“As long as the answers will too,” Kis’eh’t said.
Hirianthial’s smile was a good smile for him. It reminded Reese of better times on the Earthrise, before Kerayle. “They have waited hundreds of years already. I assure you, they aren’t going anywhere.” He turned to her. “Lady?”
She was lady again. She was beginning to wonder how he decided what to call her... and what ‘lady’ meant. Obviously it was a translation of something Eldritch, but what nuance was she missing by not knowing the language or the culture here? She brushed off her pants and got up. “Lead the way.”
He did not, though, once he’d gently shut the door on the suite. Instead he flexed his fingers once on the handle—an arabesque of metal with what looked like ivory inlay—and looked at her, so grave. And beautiful, like the romance covers from her monthlies but better, because he was real. He
looked like what he was: descendant of royalty, heir to all the graces and powers that humanity wasn’t. And yet, his eyes... he was concerned.
“Theresa,” he said. “This news... may I ask... how you find it?”
He really was worried. About her reaction! Startled, she said, “I find it believable, I guess.”
“Believable,” he repeated. “I suppose that is a more promising response than ‘appalling.’”
“Maybe it’s a little that too,” Reese said. “But I can’t say I’m surprised.” At his look, she shook her head. “It’s nothing personal. Not against you. I don’t blame you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. It’s just....” She rubbed her arm. “First the Pelted abandon Earth, and they go off and make the Alliance of all things, and they become these amazing, fascinating people, so varied and fierce and wonderful. Now, you too? I’m not surprised because it feels like humans are destined to be everyone’s backward cousin. But it hurts, because you’re all so... so beautiful.” She looked away, composed herself, then finished, “Anyway. So, no I’m not angry at you. But I still feel....”
“Crushed,” he murmured.
She grimaced. “That’s a strong word. Let’s just say... sad. I’m a little sad. For humanity. Because we’re so awful that everyone wants to get away from us.”
“Among us,” Hirianthial said, quiet, “we would say that only strong seed could beget such powerful offspring.”
She chuckled, tired. “Thanks. It doesn’t help much, but thanks.”
“Then I will say instead that humans are also beautiful,” he said. “And you should not think so little of yourself, either.”
Was he complimenting her? In particular? Her heart skipped. She smiled and said, “It does get hard to describe you people to one another. ‘What did your visitor look like?’ ‘Oh, she was white with white hair.’”
Hirianthial laughed. “Yes, rather a failing in our kind.”
her instruments 02 - rose point Page 25