Only the Open

by M. C. A. Hogarth

  “If he’d wanted to eliminate me, he would have challenged me,” Lisinthir said. “But he’s afraid of me, alet. He has seen how I hunt. He does not want to be on the other end of one of my attacks. All he might do to frustrate me, he will, but his inability to do so directly will work against him. Not just with me, but with others around him, who will not respect him for his indirect methods.” He shook his head. “I am not concerned about Manufactory-East.”

  “You should be,” the Knife said. “He can still kill you.”

  “He can try,” Lisinthir said. “He won’t succeed.”

  “Then you’ll kill him, and that might be worse,” the Knife said. “It’ll destabilize this entire region. How can we plan our attack if the variables start changing?”

  “The variables are always changing,” Laniis said. “And instability serves us better than it serves our enemies, alet. We’re the ones who need to figure out how to destroy an Empire three or four times larger than us.”

  The Knife winced, fluffing up his arms. Since his fur was damp it clumped into spikes along his forearms. “I would rather you not destroy everything.”

  “We’ll keep the good parts,” Lisinthir said. “You know this yourself. Have we not gone through the lengths we have on account of the male to whom we both have sworn allegiance?”

  “I suppose,” the Knife said. “Though saying that out loud is dangerous.”

  Lisinthir tsked. “We all serve the Emperor, from the lowest slave to the highest imperial councilor. What harm in admitting it?”

  The Knife eyed him, then sat back and folded his arms, spiked fur and all. “I see now why you were so dangerous. Everything you touch, you twist around to suit your own ends.”

  “Fortunately for you, we share those ends.” Lisinthir sat up. “And now, if it is all the same to my delightful possessions… I shall have a bath. Tomorrow it is time to start cutting the pack.”

  Behind his back he heard the Knife whisper, “Now what madness is he planning?”

  “I don’t know, but I want popcorn.”

  He paused, straining his ears…

  “What is popcorn? And why is it relevant? And why do you have so many idioms and cultural references? It is maddening!”

  Lisinthir grinned and swept on into the dark of the bedchamber. Someone had closed the balcony doors, saving the room from the effects of the rain and wind. There was not much tidying to be done… nowhere near enough to prevent him from at last turning to face the bed and the male there.

  But the Emperor slept. Nor did he wake when Lisinthir slid into bed behind him after bathing. That was surely for the best, if Andrea was right about how one best recovered from a concussion. If it also kept Lisinthir from having to face his lover’s unnerving alteration in personality….

  Perhaps that too would pass with the concussion’s healing. He could not help but remember Laniis’s comment, though. This will change him. Let it.

  You called me back once, he whispered against that human ear. You brought me back from madness. Do not leave me, now that it is I who call and you who listen.

  Nothing. So tempting to go after Manufactory-East and Deputy-East, to go on the offensive, but he was needed here. Lisinthir closed his eyes and did not sleep, and planned.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Deputy-East!”

  The male paused at the bridge from the breakfast room. He refolded his partially spread wings and said, “Sword.”

  “An early breakfast,” Lisinthir observed, strolling to him. “I catch you alone.”

  “The Worldlord is with the Steward,” Deputy-East said. “And Manufactory-East is lately come from orbit, where he kept a different schedule. So… yes. You do catch me alone.” He grinned wryly. “Are you going to put your claws through me now that you’ve cut me from the pack?”

  “Nothing so detrimental to your health,” Lisinthir said. “I was going to ask you instead if you’d be interested in giving me a tour of the city.”

  “A tour,” Deputy-East repeated, thoughtful.

  “I know very little about the Apex-East capital,” Lisinthir said. “We could take one of those fliers I see zipping around now and then.”

  The other Chatcaavan’s eyes lit. “Ah! Now that sounds grand. No offense, Sword, but walking isn’t my favorite mode of transport.”

  “None taken,” Lisinthir said. “As it’s not mine either. Shall we?”

  The small fliers were available for rent, if a Chatcaavan didn’t own one. Deputy-East did. In fact, he owned at least a dozen from what Lisinthir could see in the specialized air garage to which the male insisted on escorting him for a guided tour. Small vehicles were a hobby of Deputy-East’s, and one he could apparently afford to indulge at extensive length with the princely salary his title’s responsibilities provided. Lisinthir supposed there were those in the Alliance who were similarly enthused about small craft, but there was something of a flier’s specialized understanding in Deputy-East’s recitations of each particular model’s flaws and excellencies that a species without wings might have been hard put to duplicate. In that, the scar Dellen had taken such pains to design into “the Sword’s” wing served him well, for silence in response to these passionate disquisitions was assumed to be taciturnity, not the ignorance of a wingless freak.

  Eventually, Deputy-East chose one of his fleet, a gleaming orange two-seater designed to maximize the sensation of flying while still offering a luxury travel experience. Lisinthir strapped into the harness and leaned against the side of the sled, not having to affect his façade of lazy interest. The world outside the hangar doors had the sharp-edged, brassy gleam that came from sun on recent rain, and the flier skidded through a puddle in a crystal arc before spiraling into the air lanes gridding the city at multiple levels. The sled didn’t have a cage, and the force fields it used in lieu of windows flashed grids over the air lanes as Deputy-East maneuvered into and out of them. The system was more formalized than Lisinthir would have expected of the Chatcaava, but then... perhaps as fliers they understood on a visceral level the dangers of unpredictable flight.

  The city itself was lovely from above, if smaller than Lisinthir expected. The high-rent district was glaringly obvious; estates large enough to hunt game took up enormous amounts of space, and the aprons of greenery that swept from their towers glittered even brighter from this vantage than they had when Lisinthir had been standing on one of them, facing down the stalker pack. From that area, a slope led into the rest of the city, which served as a buffer between the estates and the large groundport with its warehousing facilities and hangars.

  The architecture reminded Lisinthir less of the throneworld court, which had been a confection of fairy towers isolated on its sea bluff vantage, and more of the Alliance’s metropolises. Though the Chatcaavan buildings tended to be taller and clustered together and appeared to have entrances at multiple heights, they didn’t look all that alien. The exigencies of a modern society, Lisinthir thought, might necessitate parallel development. Or... perhaps the Chatcaava and the Pelted were not so alien as they thought.

  What had inspired the evolution of the ability to Change, he wondered? What had the Chatcaava been like before they’d developed it? Did they know? Or was that one of the bits of knowledge they’d discarded as incompatible with their internal narrative of the species born to conquer?

  The area around the city was unspoiled, a breathtaking scrollwork of plains and distant forests that climbed the nap of corrugated silver mountains until the distant clouds hid them from sight. At this height, he could smell it on the damp wind: that distant verdure, stimulating, as bright in the nose as crushed basil leaves.

  “As you can see, it’s beautiful,” Deputy-East said. “We keep it that way on purpose to give all the Naval personnel a place to vacation.”

  “I admit to shock that it hasn’t been mined to the core by now, given the needs of the Navy.”

  “Much good that would do us,” Deputy-East said, joining a lane that circ
umnavigated the city and starting the sled on a leisurely circuit. “Better to do all the heavy manufacturing in space since the material’s going to have to be towed to the base anyway. Most solar systems follow that model to varying degrees of success, but Apex-East can afford to maintain the boundaries because everyone is here for one purpose.” He canted his head. “Of course, I’m assuming you don’t travel much, and you probably do, don’t you?”

  “Not as much as you think,” Lisinthir said. “And even if I did, who would have time to visit all the Empire? Shall we charitably call it ‘large’?”

  Deputy-East laughed. “Instead of… what? Impossibly vast and complicated and irritating to patrol?”

  “A Naval perspective,” Lisinthir allowed.

  “Or at least, one learned from the number of Navy personnel I’m around all the time.” Deputy-East’s wings twitched, shifted. “Maybe you’ll appreciate this, being an outsider yourself. Or maybe you’re so much the outsider that you don’t understand the friction of being almost one of the group, but not quite? But it’s… wearing. To be someone the Navy needs, but not one of them, and to be surrounded.”

  “I can imagine the discomfort,” Lisinthir said. “But I’m afraid I would not have lasted as long as you appear to have in your situation. It would have irritated me too much.”

  “And you would have left?” Deputy-East’s smile was mostly grimace. “Yes, I can see that. I envy you that freedom.”

  “What cage is keeping you here, then?”

  The male leaned back, one hand idly hanging on the stick. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s that I can’t see an exit strategy.” He smiled crookedly. “Stepping down… where would I go? There would be assumptions. I’m not sure I would be able to work anywhere else.”

  “And there is no one who would promote you into a position more to your liking?” Lisinthir asked, fascinated. “No one who would write you a recommendation? You appear to be good friends with the Worldlord…”

  Deputy-East barked a laugh. “I’m good friends with him because being enemies with him would be the death of me. Or anyone else. He’s enormously powerful in a very quiet way. I don’t think the Navy realizes how many seeds he’s tending in all the gardens around him. But… no. Where would I go, Sword?” He laughed again. “Should I go become a freelance slaver, like you? Are you looking for crew?”

  “Are you ready to jump?” Lisinthir asked, brows arched.

  “I… no.” Deputy-East sighed. “No. The truth is, I like power, Sword. Who doesn’t, but… I have it, for now. I would hate to lose it, even in exchange for freedom. I’m not happy with that choice, but I don’t think I’d be happier with another, either. Maybe I’m just… not a happy sort of male.”

  What a leading statement, Lisinthir thought. What would Jahir and Vasiht’h have made of it? The thought of referring Deputy-East to them for therapy amused him. Perhaps a day would come where such things were possible. “So, may I ask an impertinent question?”

  “May you!” Deputy-East grinned, snorted. “As if you need permission. You’re going to ask either way, aren’t you.”

  Lisinthir made much of considering this question, then answered, “Yes.”

  “Ha! Well, then, go ahead.”

  “Why do you ally yourself with Manufactory-East?”

  Deputy-East rolled an eye toward him, then resumed staring ahead as he drove. “You have an opinion on that, do you.”

  “One does acquire them, yes.”

  Deputy-East snorted. “And you’ve decided Manufactory-East is… what?”

  “Currently a male you are attempting to curry for favor?”

  “You are altogether too good at not saying anything, you know that, Sword?”

  “A talent I learned from the aliens,” Lisinthir said—truthfully, as surely his own people counted.

  “Well. Let’s just say of the two of us, Manufactory-East is more valued by the Navy than I am. He might be a contractor who doesn’t always deliver what they want, when they want it, which annoys them… but he works for them directly. I’m more of a ‘they need something that happens to do with the real estate in this system’ sort of contact. I feel vulnerable, Sword.”

  “So you are attempting to be friends with everyone, in the hopes that one of them will be the right person?”

  “Dying Air, no!” Deputy-East scoffed. He frowned at the Sword and said, “I am trying to earn Manufactory-East’s trust so that I have enough on him to betray him. He needs to go, Sword. I wouldn’t even be telling you this if I didn’t feel like the Worldlord favors you, but it’s obvious the Worldlord adores you.”

  “Adores me!”

  Deputy-East’s smile was wry but fond. “He has a soft heart for someone with as much power as he has. But yes. He likes you. So I don’t fear to tell you that he doesn’t like Manufactory-East, and in fact he’s worried about him. It doesn’t matter if the knife is small if it’s proximate to your throat, you know? And Manufactory-East is right above us in orbit. He could fall on us like a ten-ton brick if he decides it’s time to slit our throats. I want to position him to die first.”

  “Your loyalty is commendable,” Lisinthir said, surprised.

  “Yes,” Deputy-East said, grim. “It is. The time is coming soon, Sword, when all Chatcaava are going to have to pick sides. And no, don’t give me that polite mask of a face. You’re obviously not a stupid male. There’s a civil war coming, and this conflict with the aliens is going to kick it off.”

  “Do you really think so?” Lisinthir asked, watching the other male with interest. “I would have thought that the war against the freaks would be a Naval issue, and when has the Empire ever not supported the Navy?”

  “It has in the past,” Deputy-East said. “But this time… this time it’s going to explode. It’s almost as if the Emperor wants to tear the Empire apart, but that can’t be right. Why would the Emperor do that? He has to know that the course he’s taking is going to result in us fighting each other… over the spoils, over the effort it takes to prosecute the war, over who gets to keep the planets we conquer, over the fact that he betrayed the previous Emperor by using the Navy against him.” His wings shifted again. “That’s the worst part. The Emperor has always used the Navy to keep the system lords in check. But now the system lords have seen that the Navy has betrayed its own. It makes the Navy look weak, and that’s going to open up whole new horizons of rebellion to people who thought the Navy would never turn its back on one of its own.” Deputy-East’s clawtips were tapping out an agitated pattern on the side of the sled. “It’s stupid. Anyone who’s fought their way to the top like that should know how things work. So why would he arrange things so that there’s no possible way to keep them from coming apart?”

  “An excellent question,” Lisinthir said. “Perhaps he is stupid?”

  Deputy-East snorted. “Stupid people can’t become Emperor. No, there’s got to be more to it than that. Maybe he wants to break the back of the Navy. Except he came out of the Navy himself. Why would he do that?” He shook his head as if to twitch some thought out of it. “I just don’t understand. Usually the actions of the court make sense. There are only so many ways to keep an empire full of Chatcaava from tearing each other to shreds.”

  “One would think.” Lisinthir put his cheek in a hand and added casually, “One might almost miss the last Emperor.”

  Deputy-East shot him a narrow-eyed look to which Lisinthir replied with an inscrutable look… and a twitch of a smile. Then the other male guffawed. “I don’t know how you can say the most outrageous things and get away with it, Sword. It’s more than being a real outsider. You just carry yourself like… like someone who can face down a stalker without flinching. Which reminds me—you know Manufactory-East is going to do everything in his power to pry you away from the Worldlord. Since convincing the Worldlord that you’re a bad bet isn’t working, he’s going to try to convince you to hate the Worldlord instead. Don’t let him succeed.”

  Lisinthir made an ex
asperated sound. “Deputy-East, really. Do I seem the sort of male to allow someone like Manufactory-East to succeed? At anything?”

  “No.” Deputy-East glanced at him again. “Maybe you can teach me that trick?”

  “I might.”

  A grin then. “What would convince you to educate me?”

  Lisinthir lifted his brows. “I don’t know. Gifts, perhaps?”

  “Ahhhh, I see where this is going.” Deputy-East smiled a little. “All right, Sword. I will hand over all three of my slaves in exchange for your good favor.”

  “Really!” Lisinthir exclaimed, interested. “You would?”

  “No,” Deputy-East answered. He laughed. “But I would like to get rid of them.”

  “Are they so much trouble then?”

  “Not at all,” the other male said, and from the absent way he said it while glancing at the sky lanes, Lisinthir thought he might actually be telling the truth. “But this war? Is going to generate a lot of interest in slaves. Particularly since the Navy has decided that no matter who’s responsible for the actual conquering and collecting of the plunder, they’re the ones who are going to decide how it’s distributed. Once the slaves start streaming in and the Navy confiscates them all, anyone who has slaves is going to come in for a lot more resentment than I want to handle. Right now, slaves are a sign of prestige. Eventually, once we’ve conquered the aliens, slaves will be so numerous they’ll be devalued to the point of signifying nothing. But in the very ugly in-between stages, those slaves will be a sign of Naval favor. And if there’s going to be a civil war, I don’t want to paint a target on my chest. Especially since I’m already huntkin with the Worldlord.” He smiled ruefully. “I shouldn’t tell you this, Sword, but at this point I’m thinking about paying you to take them away.”

  Lisinthir said, “Fear not, Deputy-East. I am not so poor that I can’t pay you for them, and I will. If your act is intended to protect you, let us make it look like a business transaction. Yes?”