by Andy Havens
Senbi had been expecting this. A challenger would sense he’d lost his edge and one of the Talismae would step up, speak the words, raise Clan sign, kill him and begin another cycle of intrigue, revenge, promotion and, eventually… Malaise…
In his case, though, that hadn’t happened. Time and again, prospective candidates for the throne had either proved unwilling, unable or unavailable. That is, dead. Senbi would sense the streams of power shifting around his throne and think, It’s coming… finally… But it wouldn’t. It didn’t. It hadn’t.
And now… he’d been Bloodlord for nearly 300 years. He was the stuff of legend. The ruler so powerful and wise and lucky that the normal dictates of the House did not apply. The Bloodthrone loves him, is what his people said. And, at first, it had made him stronger to hear that. When he’d reached 133 years, besting Madylyn’s reign, there had been an enormous dance lasting weeks. He’d honestly thought someone would challenge him during that legendary debauch.
Nope. Nor had they when he’d doubled her reign. At which point he’d begun promoting and encouraging those whom he thought had an inclination or chance of beating him. It was important that he do so. Unlike the other Houses, Blood understood the power of sacrifice. The importance of cycles and generations and breeding and shifting loyalties. The clans and tribes lived their lives by those codes. Their ruler must be of them, one of them. Less of a leader and more of a symbol, as much in his fall as in his rise.
Such is the Way of Blood, as he knew. As they all knew.
Except in his case.
Sekhemib Senbi waited and waited. Past the point at which he originally expected to be challenged, past the point where his long reign was unique and joyful, past when he thought challenge was inevitable, past patience, dark humor, sorrow, denial, self-hatred, horror and finally… madness.
There had been some grim decades. While the power of the Bloodlord is limited by the structure and relationships of clans, tribes and disciplines… it is still quite fearsome. In the past, depressed and unbalanced rulers had fallen from the throne quite quickly. Bad behavior was often a sign of decay and weakness that triggered the House’s response, carrying the old, sick Blood away.
But not in his case. And so, with an increasingly unstable monarch still holding power, the Domain had seen some odd and terrifying times.
Until now, Senbi thought to himself, remembering those years, now many decades in the past. Now I have a cause to believe in, to strive for, he thought to himself, locking his bathroom door behind him as he strode back to the throne. One worthy of a king. And one that will not only cement my legend among the People, but, perhaps, permanently sever some of this “red tape.”
He liked that thought. It swam pleasantly in his mind along with the codeine. Severing red tape.
The blade is nearly sharp enough.
He looked out over the milling crowds in his throne room. They talked and ate, danced and sang. Reckoners of Blood and from other Houses as well. No other Domain was as well-known or appreciated for its hospitality. Partly because Blood, itself, loved a good party. Partly because many of the Ways which bound Blood to friends, associates and rivals involved gifts, shared intimacies and common memory.
Sit down with Blood, the saying went, stand up with family.
Which is most assuredly a mixed blessing, Senbi thought.
He loved his people, of course. He had to. He was their Ur-Father. The ultimate patriarch. The protector of the House and the guarantor of progeny. But as his unnaturally long reign marched on, he had come to the realization that he hadn’t been doing enough. His people had become… if not lazy, simply too content. The various minor squabbles within the Clans and Tribes weren’t really anything more than spats between siblings. Sometimes fatal, of course. But not really dangerous. Similarly, the peace that the Law had brought to all the Domains prevented anything other than highly specific, ritualized and documented personal vengeance.
Don’t sugar-coat it, he’d thought to himself once. Don’t provide excuses.
They have become weak.
The proof of which was in his longevity itself.
If the Blood was strong, it would have washed me away centuries ago.
He and Cole had talked about that often. The connection between his long reign and the ongoing, sterile peace brought by the Law. The idea that, perhaps, he had only lived and ruled for so long because this new world of stability and Mundane influence had dulled the edge of the people.
Watching the festivities, smelling the smoke and sweat and various chemical indulgences, he allowed himself a small, dangerous smile.
That is unacceptable. A good father does not coddle his children. He challenges them. Gives them a reason to strive. To succeed. To prevail.
My beautiful Blood, he thought. They are willing. They just need to be led.
He gestured for Cole, who was standing, as he always did at these affairs, behind and to the left of the throne. The young-seeming man, as rich with Blood markings as any Reckoner, bent low beside his Lord.
“Be sure the Waymasters of Bear, Bone and Iron Clans are well treated tonight. Then, tomorrow, after sufficient time for sleep, summon them to the Wraidd.”
“As you command, Lord,” the man replied. “After breakfast, I assume.”
“Oh, yes. Most assuredly. I can’t deal with these pin-heads on an empty stomach and before coffee.”
“As you command.”
Senbi heard the smirk in the tone and was pleased.
How is it that the only creature walking the Earth who really understands me is a chronic? he wondered for the umpteenth time. There is some wonderful irony there.
It would have amused and comforted him to learn that Cole found irony in their relationship as well.
* * * * *
Kendra woke up on what she could only describe as a “princess bed.” It was soft as something could be and still be called a bed and not a giant pillow. It was overflowing with pale pink lace, and when she looked up she saw a domed canopy that could have illustrated the dictionary definition of “gossamer.”
Blinking, she tried to sit up and failed. The bed was just too soft. She tried again, rolling to one side to get some leverage, and managed to get nearer the edge of the bed… but still no sitting. She pushed and rolled a few more times, slumped off the bed and rolled onto a white fur rug as ridiculous as the bed.
“Nicely done, my dear,” said a measured, soft contralto to her right. Kendra looked up and saw a young, red haired woman lounging in a rocking chair. Glancing around, Kendra decided that she must be in some kind of nursery or children’s room, since every piece of decoration or furniture was pink, purple, silver and sparkly.
“It’s quite hideous, isn’t it?” asked the woman.
Kendra shook her head, still a bit fuzzy, and stood up, leaning back on the bed a bit for balance.
“It’s… very… sweet?” replied Kendra diplomatically.
The dark-skinned redhead chuckled softly and clapped a few times.
I could have sworn she was white, Kendra thought. But now she seems Middle Eastern or… something.
“’Very sweet?’” the woman repeated. “Nicely done. I’ll tell Lady Anguine that you said so. She’ll be flattered.”
Kendra took a longer look at the woman. Sitting, she seemed tall, but that might have been because the chair seemed more fit for a child. She was pale—wait… what?—to the point of whiteness, with blocky, almost stern features that seemed out of place with her bright, copper hair and cat-green eyes. She was wearing a modest gown that matched her hair perfectly and green slippers the same color as her eyes.
“Where is Vannia?” asked Kendra. “The last thing I remember, she was…”
“Saving your bacon. Again,” said the woman.
Kendra thought for a moment before replying. “No,” she countered. “Vannia was collecting her debt.”
The woman raised one ginger eyebrow and smiled. “Another point to you. Clever. Follow me.”<
br />
Without waiting for Kendra to answer, the woman stood up and beckoned toward the door. She was, in fact, quite tall… Close to six feet, anyway, Kendra thought. And older? Why did I think she was young? And she was wearing slacks, now. Not a gown. Had it been a gown?
When the woman held the door for her to pass through, she seemed a bit shorter than Kendra’s five-foot-two. And now maybe Asian. And her hair, while still reddish, is more of a black-red than a blonde-red. So… All right all right all right. We’re rotating Seemings. That’s fine.
Kendra simply stopped paying attention to the shifting details and followed down a hall decorated with intensely hued landscape paintings, sculptures of children playing strange musical instruments and giant crystal lamps. A pace behind her, Kendra asked the woman politely, “What may I call you, please?”
Turning her chin slightly over her shoulder, still walking on, the woman said, “You know who I am. Call me what seems best to you.”
I certainly have my suspicions, Kendra thought. Especially based on where Vannia wanted to take me.
“A Lady of the Fluid Court?”
Without looking back, the woman waved a hand as if shooing away a fly. “Safe answer. There are many ladies at the Fluid Court. That’s a point against you, love.”
There are two correct answers, thought Kendra. I wonder which she’s looking for. She did some quick calculations…
We’re in someone else’s home. Lady Anguine. Whoever that is. Which means we’re maybe somewhere where they don’t know the identity of the Red Brothers, traditional title for the rulers of Chaos. So if I call her ‘Red Brother,’ that might tip her hand to someone she hasn’t chosen to trust.
At the end of the hallway the woman opened another door and held it for Kendra.
“Thank you, Shavain. Or is it Lady Orro?”
The woman smiled down at her – taller than me again – and answered, “Shavain is fine, dear. No need for formality between friends.”
I’ve got that point back again, thought Kendra. Whatever that means.
Kendra preceded Shavain through the door into a kind of huge drawing room. It could have been a library, but there were no books. The shelves were stacked with pictures in gilt frames, knick-knacks, curios, curiosities and charms. All of them shiny and pretty. Fancy and uncomfortable looking chairs were scattered throughout the room in twos and fours, some around delicate, gilt card tables or snack stands, some just up against the wall. What looked like a two-tiered harpsichord sat in one corner. The whole room was lit by schools of tiny, glowing, flying creatures that looked like a cross between butterflies and geckos, all shining in different, pastel colors.
“Wow,” said Kendra.
“Yes. ‘Wow,’ indeed,” agreed Shavain, waving a hand at the flying creatures. They moved to sconces around the room, each taking up a similar white glow.
“Much easier on the eyes,” said Shavain. “Anguine is a delight, but she decorates like Walt Disney in drag on acid.”
That made Kendra snort-laugh so abruptly she began to cough. Shavain waited for her to clear the spasm and motioned to two chairs near a large, cold fireplace. It was, perhaps, the least spectacular spot in the room, though that wasn’t saying much.
They sat, and without preamble Kendra said, “I don’t want to join Chaos.”
“With that level of directness,” Shavain replied, “We probably don’t want you.”
That brought Kendra up short. But I have to remember where I am, she thought. Nothing is constant, nothing is linear, nothing is as it seems.
Shavain made another gesture and several of the little creatures flew away, returning in a moment with a crystal goblet between them on a dangling silver chain. It seemed like it should have been too heavy for them, but they managed the task with grace.
Sipping on the beverage, Shavain said, “You have done something no chronic has ever managed, and only a handful Reckoners. Do you know what that is?”
Kendra shook her head.
“You have dealt, personally, with the lords of two Domains. And lived.”
Shavain let that sit there between them as she finished her drink and tossed the goblet up in the air to be caught by a butterfly-gecko and whisked away.
“Three, if you count Rain Vernon. As he’s one of the closest things Earth has to a Lord.”
Kendra waited, not sure what kind of response was merited.
“Another point to you,” Shavain said, sitting back and crossing her legs beneath the gown.
“What’s that one for?” Kendra asked.
“Keeping your mouth shut when there’s nothing to say.”
Kendra continued to say nothing.
“And another! Good girl. Now, tell me why you wanted to try your stunt with my dice.”
That brought Kendra up short. But she’d been direct to Shavain, as had been pointed out.
What the heck… No harm in sharing, she thought.
“I thought I could beat the house,” Kendra said, sitting back and crossing her own legs. She was wearing the outfit she’d borrowed from Dotty; a nice pair of comfortable black slacks and a gray hoodie over a white cotton blouse.
“Everyone thinks they can beat the house,” replied Shavain. “Or they wouldn’t play. Go deeper, please.”
“I don’t know… it just seemed like… Something that made sense. The odds are such that your chance of failure actually gets less the more dice you roll.”
Shavain nodded. “Quite. Except you didn’t expect that last roll to compound the previous one rather than the initial activity, the running. You called the final gamble too soon after the one before.”
Kendra thought about that. “So… if the fifth roll had been a six, which multiplied my speed by four…”
“The next roll, also a six, multiplied that result by four, rather than your speed itself. So you went sixteen times faster for each roll. Basically a power law, meaning…”
“Meaning I was going 256 times faster…”
“Yes. Though it could be something even more complex mathematically. Either way, I have no idea how or why it worked as it did.”
“Why not?” asked Kendra.
“Because nobody’s ever tried that before.”
Kendra was about to ask, Why not? when a door opened at the other end of the room and an older woman, perfectly matched to the house’s décor, flounced in.
“My dear Shavain!” she trilled. “You must introduce me to our guest! All you said was that she is a friend of dear little Vannia and that she may be staying overnight. You know how much I love a story! I need hers, of course!”
She looks like what a fairy godmother’s fairy godmother might dress up like for, well… dress up day at fairy godmother camp. Silver diaphanous veils and gauzy sleeves trailed behind her, carried aloft by the shining butterfly-geckos. These covered in layers and layers of silky white lace, jewels threaded within the fabric and tiny metallic threads pricking out hideously complex paisleys.
And… two tiaras? Kendra realized. Mostly hidden within a giant, lavender up-do, but still… She’s wearing TWO frickin’ tiaras…
Kendra and Shavain both stood as Anguine held out a tiny, be-gloved, be-sparkled, be-ringed hand. Two of the butterfly-geckos were wrapped around her wrist, pulsing through a spectrum of colors. Kendra was about to introduce herself when she saw, from the corner of her eye, Shavain tip her head slightly as if in anticipation.
“I’m Lydia Gray,” Kendra said, touching the woman’s hand in a gentle, minimal pinch that seemed appropriately delicate.
“I’m charmed, Miss Gray, to meet you. And I am Lady Elomyne Anguine, Grace of the Manor Anguine and Duchess of the Perlucid Estates.”
“Lady Anguine,” said Kendra, bowing her head slightly.
“Lady Orro tells me that you won’t be staying with us for the feztazshus?” Anguine asked, sparkling from every angle, but still managing to convey deep sadness.
Kendra shook her head slowly. “No, not this time. I’m afraid
I have pressing business elsewhere.”
Anguine nodded. “Shavain’s friends are always popping in and out. The price of being a treasure hunter, I suppose. Always finding new clues and beating someone else to the loot!”
She looks like a little girl describing her favorite action movie, Kendra thought.
“It’s a demanding life, that’s for sure,” she replied out loud.
“Oh… Are you one of Shavain’s little seekers?”
Kendra shook her head. “Nothing so exciting as that. I’m a consultant on very specific matters.”
Anguine nodded sagely. “As am I.” She laid one finger aside her nose as if to confirm a confidence and then smiled.
“You will come back, though? For the next moon?”
“I will try,” said Kendra diplomatically.
“Good girl! Now, I’ll leave you two alone to finish your ‘consulting’ while I arrange the seating. Never quite right and someone always shows up with ‘plus two’ instead of ‘plus one’ and others forgetting to RSVP until the last moment and…”
She drifted away, mumbling to herself about preparations and “who can eat what in front of whom.”
“She’s an odd sort,” Shavain said, “but entirely transparent in her powers and desires, which makes her as good an ally as any.”
Kendra sat back down and sighed. “An odd sort, eh. No more odd than any of you, methinks.”
Shavain sat as well and said, pointedly, “You.”
“Me what?”
“You said, ‘No more odd than any of you.’ That’s a problem. One you need to address. Soon.”
Kendra shook her head. “As much as I love Vannia, and as much as I appreciate both her help and our, uh… pleasant wagers… I can’t commit to Chaos. It’s not that I…”
Shavain waved a hand to interrupt. “I wouldn’t have you at this point. I don’t need to attach you to my Domain. You’re going to cause plenty of pandemonium anywhere else. In my House you’d be… redundant.”
That brought Kendra up short a bit. “I thought I got to decide which House to declare for…”