The Eclipse of the Zon - First Tremors (The New Eartha Chronicles Book 2)

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The Eclipse of the Zon - First Tremors (The New Eartha Chronicles Book 2) Page 11

by R. M. Burgess

She took a sip of her tea and smiled. But Binne was not done.

  “The One God knows that I loved Marte more than life itself. Not a day passes when I do not wish that the Chekaligas had taken me and spared her. But I love you too, my sweet Cat. No two loves are the same, so I do not compare.”

  Impulsively, Caitlin hugged Binne, reminded again of how thin and spare she was.

  “I was a stray creature, and you welcomed me into your home and hearts,” she said. “I will never forget that.”

  Binne smiled with genuine pleasure.

  “There is a certain something about you, Cat. You wear no crown, but you have what I can only describe as a regal air. I have never seen a queen, but if I ever did, I would expect her to carry herself as you do.”

  Caitlin laughed, but not wholeheartedly.

  “Your love for me makes you see me as more than I am,” she said.

  “No, no,” insisted Binne. “When I was a little girl, the Baroness of Tirut visited Hareskot. It was the biggest day of my childhood, for there was such a huge fair in the village to mark her visit! My father brought us all in to see her. She was dressed in the loveliest gown of Tirutan cami-silk and wore a coronet of gold. She had an air about her, but she was nothing in comparison to you! Hers came from hauteur and pride, whereas you treat everyone as an equal, and it is just there.”

  Binne petted Caitlin’s shiny hair.

  “The first time I laid eyes on you, I felt you were a princess incognito, to the palace born. Yet you live on our remote ranch and work hard all day for a share of our simple fare with never a single complaint. I hope I live to see you restored to your rightful station in life. You were meant to be more than a Collector’s junior wife.”

  “You come up with the craziest ideas, Binne,” said Caitlin uncomfortably.

  MEGARA WAS GOING over fitness reports in her office when she heard the ping of an incoming comm. channel. She opened it and saw it was from Centuria Blanchia Rodina, so she said, “I am at your service, Centuria.”

  “Seignora Megara, you have been ordered to take command of a detachment of three Guardian squads assigned to the Hydromeda,” she said. “There is an airboat waiting for you outside. Please collect your personal effects and be aboard the airship in half an hour. We weigh within the hour.”

  “What is the emergency, Centuria?” asked Megara in surprise. “Has war broken out?”

  “You will be briefed on board. This is a secret mission. Do not contact anyone. See me as soon as you board.”

  “But I need to contact my girls—” began Megara.

  “Do not contact the nursery!” snapped Blanchia. “That place is a fount of gossip. Children spread rumors like wildfire, and we will have every mother in Atlantic City spreading crazy stories within an hour of our sailing.”

  “I will only tell my older daughter, she is very discreet—”

  “Seignora Megara, I am beginning to have serious doubts about your judgment,” said Blanchia icily.

  “I hear and obey, Centuria,” said Megara unhappily.

  One of the Hydromeda’s airboats was indeed waiting outside and Megara was flown to Palace d’Orr. She was used to deployments and packed the few personal effects she needed in minutes and was on board the airship in less than thirty minutes. Blanchia was waiting for her on the egress deck and led her quickly to a conference room before she could ask any questions. There were three Guardian squads already mustered there, with two other seignoras. One of the seignoras was Jena. She waved to her as Blanchia clapped her hands for silence.

  “Please be seated,” she said. The thirty-six Guardians sat down with a scraping of chairs, and she continued. “We weigh in twenty minutes. We are bound for Daksin. King Vokran has invoked the Treaty of Wolf’s Head and asks that we deal with some wild tribesmen who have been harrying his subjects in the border areas abutting the Southern Marches. We are under strict comm silence, so no personal communications are allowed until further notice. Any questions?”

  “How long will we be away, Centuria?” asked Megara.

  “Seignora Megara, you will be informed in due course. At the moment, I can only say that the mission is of an indefinite duration.”

  ASGARA SAT IN the foyer of Temple Heights Nursery with Iantha. They had dressed, packed their toys, and were ready to go home. They eagerly watched the portal each time someone came in, expecting Megara any minute. She was never late, and when the large chronometer showed ten past the hour, Asgara got up, took Iantha’s hand, and approached the reception desk.

  “My mother is never late,” she said. “Something must have happened to her. Can you open a comm channel to her?

  The caregiver on duty knew Megara’s habits. So she smiled at Asgara and said, “Of course, dear. Let me try.”

  The comm channel pinged and pinged, but there was no response. Finally, the caregiver closed it and looked down at the disappointed girls.

  “I am sorry, but she is not answering. I have left her a message. Why don’t you both return to the play area, and I will come and get you if she comes.”

  “No, she can’t be long,” said Asgara determinedly. “We will wait here.”

  Just then the outer portal hissed open and Andromache entered, followed by her handmaiden. She swooped down on Asgara, picked her up, and kissed her, saying, “How is my darling girl?”

  Asgara wiggled free of Andromache’s embrace and smoothed her dress when she was on the ground again. She bowed formally as she had with Megara at Palace Saxe.

  “Good evening, Princess Andromache,” she said very properly. “My sister and I hope you are well.”

  Andromache laughed happily saying, “You are such a precious thing! I know we will have a wonderful time together. Come, my handmaiden will take all your things to my speeder.”

  Asgara stood her ground and did not move.

  “I am sorry, Princess Andromache,” she said. “We are waiting for our mother. You will have to ask her about inviting us out.”

  “My dear girl!” exclaimed Andromache. “Have they not told you? Seignora Megara has been transferred to the Daksin Residency. She will be gone for years! I cannot have you living in the nursery all that time. You are to live with me in Palace Saxe.”

  Asgara’s eyes grew wide with horror.

  “That is impossible! She would never leave without telling us!” she cried.

  Andromache squatted down in front of her and took her face in her hands.

  “You must not blame her, Asgara. I am sure she had many things on her mind. Military officers have very stressful lives. They must focus on the task at hand.”

  “I don’t believe you,” said Asgara adamantly.

  “Let us try and open a comm channel to her,” said Andromache in a conciliatory tone.

  “We already tried that,” said Asgara dully.

  “See? I told you that she has other things on her mind. Don’t worry. We will have lots of fun together, you and I.”

  Andromache’s handmaiden gently took Asgara’s day bag and toy bag from her arms and tried to steer her toward the portal. But Asgara stood firm. She pushed the handmaiden’s arms away and ran to Iantha, who had grown worried and started to cry.

  “Where’s Mommy?” she wailed. “I want Mommy!”

  Asgara hugged her, whispering, “Don’t worry, sweet pea, everything will be fine.” She looked up at Andromache. “We will come with you and wait for our mother to call us at your house. She will call.”

  Andromache gave her a sympathetic smile.

  “You are such a loyal girl! It is wonderful to see how well you take care of little Iantha Paurina. But I am afraid that she will have to stay here in the nursery. I cannot care for you both.”

  “I will not leave without her,” Asgara said, her expression becoming fixed.

  In her mind’s eye, Andromache saw Caitlin as a child, taking a stand on something she considered righteous. Asgara’s expression and manner were so like her mother’s that Andromache felt her eyes misting. It will be
such a comfort to have her growing up at Palace Saxe, she thought.

  Andromache’s handmaiden now returned with a few more caregivers. They gently but very firmly separated the two girls and carried Asgara away toward the portal and Iantha back into the nursery. Iantha began to scream, “Asgara! I want Asgara!”

  Asgara sobbed inconsolably.

  IT WAS THREE days before the comm silence on the Hydromeda was lifted, and Megara immediately opened a comm channel to the nursery. She was quickly put through to the playroom that Iantha shared with fifteen other girls. The caregiver took Iantha to a booth so she could have private time with her mother.

  “Where are you, Mommy?” Iantha asked. “We waited and waited for you and you never came.”

  “I am sorry, baby,” said Megara, trying to sound cheerful. “I had to go away on important work. You know Mommy works for the military. Sometimes we have to work far away.”

  “When will you come back?”

  “I don’t know, sweetheart. But I will talk to you as long as I can, as often as I can. I miss you too.” She blew her daughter a kiss.

  “They took Asgara away,” said Iantha, tears welling up in her eyes. “I keep asking for her, but they say she can’t come. Why, Mommy? Did I do something wrong?”

  “You did nothing wrong!” said Megara, trying to keep the worry out of her voice and face. “I’ll find out what happened, my sweets. Let Mommy talk to the caregiver now.”

  The caregiver took Iantha back to the playroom and then returned. She told Megara that Asgara was living at Palace Saxe. When she was dropped off at the nursery, Princess Andromache had left strict instructions for her to be kept away from Iantha to help her “adjust to her new life.”

  Megara thanked the caregiver and closed the channel. She tried to open a comm channel to Andromache. It pinged and pinged and then bounced over to her handmaiden, who said that the High Priestess was too busy to take comm channels.

  Growing desperate, Megara opened a comm channel to the Temple Heights Nursery’s head caregiver and asked to speak to Asgara. When she identified herself, she was told that Princess Andromache had left instructions that all outside communications for Lady Asgara be routed through the High Priestess’s staff.

  “I am Lady Asgara’s legal mother,” said Megara, finally growing angry. “If you will not allow me to speak with my daughter, I will get a court order to force you to do so. And I will contact the Live Sites. I am sure they would love to interview you about how you are keeping a military officer on active duty from communicating with her daughter.”

  The head caregiver decided she did not want to become involved in this tug-of-war. She patched through the channel to Asgara’s playroom and a few minutes later, Megara had her hologram in front of her.

  Asgara was so delighted to see her that happiness simply radiated from her.

  “I knew you would call,” she said joyfully. “I knew you would not forget us.”

  Megara knew she had to prepare Asgara for the worst and that meant telling her the truth.

  “Asgara, I am away on duty. I don’t know how long I will be away. But I want you to know that I love you and Iantha more than anything in the world. Nothing will stop me returning to you. Nothing!”

  “I know that, Mother,” said Asgara.

  “And now I must tell you the truth, my sweets. I know they will tell you, so I want to tell you first. I am your legal mother, but I am not your real mother. Your real mother is Princess Caitlin d’Orr. She is my best friend; she lives in my heart, and we grew up like womb sisters. I promised her I would be your mother, and I have tried my best. I love you as much as my own daughter, Iantha. You are both equally dear to me. Your mother told me to keep her identity from you till you were older. But now it cannot wait. I am sorry I lied to you.”

  “I know that,” said Asgara, sticking her chin out determinedly. “But I don’t care. I have no mother but you. I am a Paurina, not a d’Orr.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Megara in surprise. “Who told you?”

  “The older girls tease me about her,” said Asgara, a line of anger showing on her forehead. “They say she sinned, that she was punished, and that she is a wicked woman. I told them that I don’t care how evil she is, because she abandoned me, so she is not my mother. I hate her! You are my mother, not her! And you are fine example—the queen said so!”

  “Your mother is not a sinner, my child,” said Megara, growing tearful in spite of her resolution to be cheerful. “She has suffered a terrible injustice. She is a heroine, the best of the Sisterhood. You must not hate her, for she loves you more than anything in the world.”

  “Then why did she abandon me?”

  Megara racked her brains for a way to put it that would make sense to Asgara. But she could not think of anything.

  “Don’t blame your mother, my darling,” she said finally. “One day you will understand.”

  IT WAS A gray and blustery day in Firsk with a steady drizzle and even a trace of sleet. By mid-morning the winds were up to gale force. Horus Matalus had spent several mind numbing hours deep in the vaults beneath the Gray Fort with his Treasurer, going over the fiefdom’s accounts. He ascended the steps and emerged to ground level and was immediately approached by his head steward, who bowed before addressing him.

  “My lord cheval,” he said with a note of urgency. “The Zon have arrived for the tribute. They are in the audience chamber.”

  “Already! They are not due till next week!”

  “Indeed, my lord. But I dared not question them.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “They are led by Lady Death.”

  He was bewildered by his master’s reaction, for Horus smiled with genuine pleasure. He hitched up his sword belt and hastened to a long mirror in an adjoining anteroom. He ran his fingers through his hair and posed sideways, drawing his stomach in.

  “Lead me to the audience chamber,” he said. “Announce me with due ceremony.”

  “Shall I summon a troop of the Blues and Spades Regiment, my lord? Lady Death is escorted by a squad of her huntresses.”

  “No, no. Announce me and then have luncheon laid out in the Morning Room. I shall meet with them alone.”

  “Very well, my lord,” said his head steward, poker-faced.

  Horus allowed his head steward to precede him through the private entrance into the large audience chamber of the Gray Fort and waited in the vestibule.

  “His Lordship, Master of the Barony of Firsk, Defender of the Northern Frontier, Cheval Horus Matalus!” he heard his head steward announce in ringing tones.

  Horus entered with a measured step and ascended the dais to the receiving chair. He took his seat before raising his eyes to his visitors. Diana and a squad of Guardians were seated on the benches in the audience chamber. They wore combat uniforms and carried their full complement of weapons. Diana stood up and for the first time in their long association, gave him the formal Zon half-bow. Horus’s mouth dropped open with surprise, for this salutation was traditionally reserved for native royalty and far above his station. Her Guardians followed their commander without hesitation, but one or two of them looked as astonished as Horus. Unsure of how to respond, he stood up and bowed deeply. He straightened to see Diana looking at him with amusement.

  “Lady Death, I did not think that our trifling tribute was worth the time of a senior officer like you.”

  “All tributes are valuable,” she replied.

  “I have just assembled the tribute payment in the Treasury,” said Horus after a brief pause. “We have not had a great year, but we will meet our obligations to the Sisterhood. I am delaying payment to my troops and postponing some repairs to the fort in order to do so.”

  “I am sorry to hear that, Horus.” Diana hooked her thumbs in her weapons belt in her characteristic manner. “It will not serve our interests to have an ally weakened, especially one that holds a strategic position like you.” She paused and glanced at her squad seignora, Bedrit Svensina before going on.
“How much do you need to pay your men and make your repairs?”

  “About half the tribute payment, Lady Death.”

  “Then pay us half today. You can pay the remainder in small installments over the year.”

  “I am deeply grateful, Lady Death,” said Horus, bowing again.

  Horus’s head steward re-entered and cleared his throat.

  “Luncheon is served, my lord.”

  Horus looked at Diana for a moment before responding.

  “Lady Death, I beg of you to accompany me. There are some matters I would like to discuss with you.”

  “Very well,” said Diana. She turned to her squad seignora. “Seignora Bedrit, please return to the ’boat. The squad and you can lunch on board while you await my return.”

  The squad stood and saluted, hands on hearts. But Bedrit stood her ground.

  “Cornelle Diana, it is most irregular for us to leave you alone in a barbarian establishment.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Seignora Bedrit. However, in my assessment the risk is very low.”

  Bedrit saw the determined look on Diana’s face, and said no more. She saluted and led her squad out of the audience chamber.

  “Allow me to lead you,” said Horus. “I do not believe you have seen the Morning Room on your previous visits to the Gray Fort. It has a pretty view.”

  Diana nodded and followed him. The Morning Room was on the highest level of the fort, well above the surrounding walls and battlements. It had an eastern aspect and its wide windows commanded a glorious view of the River Thal that snaked around the fort, serving as its moat on three sides. The front ranges of the Fire Mountains rose steeply on the far side of the river with fir-covered slopes and snow-capped peaks.

  “You did not exaggerate, Horus. This is indeed a gorgeous view, even on a miserable, gray day like this. I can only imagine how beautiful it must be on a sunny summer day.”

  “I played in this room as a boy. I have known it all my life, and I still find it spectacular.”

  He advanced on the sizable sideboard, where a sumptuous lunch was laid out. His head steward stood with two servers, anxiously awaiting him. Horus pointed to particular local delicacies and the servers made up a plate for Diana. The head steward poured out two crystal flutes of crabapple wine, a well-known Firsk specialty. Horus oversaw his staff as they handed the plate and flute to Diana before dismissing them with a curt wave.

 

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