The Empire of the Zon

by R. M. Burgess

  Her striking looks were uncommon in the Sisterhood, but they were not prized. All through school she had borne the ridicule of classic Zon blonde classmates who joked about her mother’s “mistake at the sperm bank.” As a young adult facing the Excellence boards, she had been painfully aware that to avoid exile to Ostracis, her hair had to be shinier, her skin had to be smoother, and her figure had to be better than women with more traditional Zon looks. As she worked on gaining admittance to the Temples, she was conscious of covert and sometimes quite overt discrimination. But she had persevered, and in the end her sheer capabilities had won out. Now she was a Resident, one step from a High Priestess, and two steps from the Queen Empress!

  She looked down at the impassive faces in front of her. They were seated in a long room on the highest level of the Residency, with a large viewport that looked down on Nordberg and the island fortress at its heart.

  “So Shobar continues to defy us,” she said, hands on hips. “But at least as ordered by Atlantic City, we have delivered our demands again along with the warning of the imminent arrival of the Hydromeda and her elite cavalry units.”

  There were nods of agreement all along the table.

  “Let us see what Diana Tragina can do,” she continued. “After all, she slew Jondolar the Just and caused the last change of regime in Utrea.”

  “I have been ordered to withdraw to Ostracis,” said Captain Hebe Nevisina of the Thetis, a slight, wiry brunette with a mop of unruly curls and a pert, upturned nose dusted with freckles. “I am to debark a century here to reinforce you and then deploy two centuries at the Ostracis Citadel and remain there.”

  “But this is asking for trouble,” said Rita worriedly. “Shobar is already puffed up in his defiance of us. If we withdraw forces in the face of his provocations, we will look weak and vulnerable. He will grow more demanding, and others will follow his lead.”

  Captain Hebe spread her hands helplessly.

  “Resident Rita, I agree with you. But this is a direct order from the queen. I asked for the message to be repeated on another comm channel, but there can be no mistake. She asked me to confirm that the Residency is in no immediate danger. When I confirmed this, she ordered us to withdraw.”

  “Well, at least you have replaced all our batteries, so we have power. It is so gray up here in Nordberg that our solar panels give us almost nothing.”

  “On the other hand, with the constant gales, your wind turbines are some of the most productive on New Eartha,” countered Captain Hebe. “So you are able to run all your lighting and heating systems on renewable energy. I suggest you put all systems in power-saver mode right now to keep your batteries topped up. If this degenerates into a shooting war, you want to make sure you can recharge your weapons systems as long as possible.”

  “When do you weigh, Captain Hebe?” Rita asked.

  “I have one century assembled with all their gear on my launch deck,” Hebe returned. “I plan to begin ferrying them down by airboat as soon as we are out of this meeting. We should be prepared to weigh by dusk. We will depart under cover of darkness without running lights, to avoid giving Shobar too obvious a victory.”

  The meeting broke up shortly afterward. Rita took Hebe by the arm.

  “Come, walk with me to the top of the South Tower,” she said. “We will have the best view of the debarkation from there. Let us make it slow and obvious to Shobar’s lookouts. The more airboat trips you make, the larger the reinforcements will appear.”

  Hebe nodded. They stepped into the South Tower antigravity shaft and were borne up to the top in an instant. They stepped out onto the open tower crest and shivered briefly before their temperature shields adjusted. The temperature had dropped below freezing, and the sleet had turned to blowing snow. The Thetis was barely visible a few hundred meters overhead, but her outlines were marked by her running lights in the gathering blizzard. Hebe looked down the estuary toward the sea. The pounding surf on the rocky coast on either side of the estuary headlands was obscured by swirling mist and snow.

  Both Hebe and Rita opened comm channels to the launch deck and listened in as the airboats were readied for their first ferry trip.

  “Bring just five huntresses with their equipment in each airboat,” Hebe interjected into the comm.

  “But Captain, that will require twenty-five airboat trips,” said the launch deck seignora. “We can do it in half that many.”

  “I know, I know,” said Hebe. “But we want the Utreans to think we are debarking a larger force than we really are. Ask the airboat pilots to make wide circuits as they descend so that the Utrean lookouts can see and count each ferry trip.”

  “Captain, the weather is worsening,” warned the launch deck seignora. “We’ll have a tough time launching the airboats, and they will have a rough ride down.”

  “I know,” said Hebe reassuringly. “But I have full faith in you and the pilots.”

  The ferry operation took several hours. The weather did worsen significantly, and the last few airboat trips were rather hair-raising. Hebe and Rita had remained on the top of the South Tower, which afforded them the best view of the entire activity. Darkness had fallen when the last airboat was unloaded. The captain and the resident took the antigravity shaft to the courtyard level and walked over to the airboat together.

  Hebe turned to Rita to take her leave. They had worked together over the years, and there was mutual respect between them. They greeted each other as equals.

  “Bon voyage, Captain Hebe,” said Rita, smiling. “We must get together in Atlantic City on my next leave.”

  “I may see you sooner than that,” laughed Hebe. “The way Shobar is carrying on, I think we will be up north for some time to come.”

  A final wave and she strode up the ramp into the airboat, her boots ringing on the steel deck. Hebe strapped on the five-point harness in the empty copilot’s seat and called off the departure checklist. She could see Rita through the clear screen on her right, her robes blowing in the wind. As the engines whined and the airboat lifted off, Rita waved and blew her a kiss. Automatically, Hebe’s hand went up to return it and then dropped as she realized sheepishly that Rita could not see her.

  It was a rough flight up to the Thetis. Experienced as she was, Hebe had to hold onto the handrails the whole way up. The pilot had to hold the wheel in a white-knuckled grip to maintain control. They had a hard landing as the airboat’s landing gear hit the steel launch deck with a resounding crash. Relieved, her pilot quickly taxied to a launch deck elevator, and moments later they were on the hangar deck, out of the storm. Hebe speedily made her way to the bridge and resumed command of the airship. In spite of her huge size, the Thetis was rolling and pitching in the gale-force winds.

  Rita had returned to the South Tower and was watching the airship when all of a sudden, her running lights winked off, and her dark bulk virtually disappeared from view. She could barely see the skyanchors being retrieved. Even though the airship was almost directly above her, she could scarcely tell when she began to move and gather way. Surely, she thought, her departure could not have been seen by the lookouts on the walls of Nordberg Castle.

  SIX

  CAITLIN LED HER weary squad of huntresses into the Residency’s outer ward. They were a bedraggled sight, with sweat-stained uniforms and lathered horses. Caitlin herself was stained with blood, helmet dented, shield scoured, and boots scuffed. She was relieved to hear the whine of the winches lifting the drawbridge, lowering the portcullis, and closing the gates. Ever disciplined, her squad formed up with the squad that had emerged to support them, flanking them as their escort.

  Lady Selene was there to receive them, with her under resident by her side. Her handmaiden and the centuria in command of the Residency huntresses stood a few steps behind her. Behind them stood the rest of Lady Selene’s staff. Word of the morning’s events had spread like wildfire, and most of the Residency had turned out and found their way into the outer ward. Megara, Felicia, and Jena had p
arked the speeder and were in the front ranks of the crowd.

  Caitlin swung Nitya down and dismounted, spurs jingling. All the action had left her bone weary as well as mentally exhausted, and her knees nearly gave way beneath her. Taking their cue from her, her squad dismounted as well. Nitya pressed herself against Caitlin’s side, looking fearfully at the hard faces in front of her.

  Lady Selene was clearly furious. She snapped her fingers, and stable girls rushed forward to take the lathered horses. Caitlin knew that she had created a diplomatic incident and hoped desperately that Lady Selene would not make a scene. She had never been good at public speaking. All she wanted now was a long, perfumed bath and a massage.

  Lady Selene kept them waiting for a few minutes, her gaze stony. Beads of sweat trickled down Caitlin’s face. She knew she should ask leave for her squad to retire and rest, but she dared not. Finally Lady Selene spoke.

  “Seignora Caitlin,” Lady Selene’s voice was like a lash, the omission of her title this time a calculated insult for all to hear. “You have destroyed ten years of hard work in one morning of childish frenzy. You know nothing of what we are trying to achieve for the Sisterhood. How dare you disobey me! Do you realize that this could lead to war with Briga?”

  “Lady Selene…Lady Selene…” Caitlin stammered. Back now in the bosom of the Sisterhood, her disobedience of direct orders took on much greater significance. Her old anxieties returned, and she was overcome with her childhood affliction of stuttering.

  “Do you think you are above following orders because of your high birth?” Lady Selene went on relentlessly. “When you were assigned here, whispers reached us that your birth and connections had led to your being awarded positions beyond your abilities. But this is a disaster beyond my greatest fears.”

  “I…I…” Caitlin’s mouth worked as she tried in vain to form words. A few titters arose from the crowd.

  Then Megara was by Caitlin’s side, putting her arm around her shoulders and cradling her red head in her own thick, dark hair.

  “Lady Selene, Seignora Lady Caitlin is the best, the truest of us!” she said angrily, her china blue eyes defiant. “She does not deserve this.”

  Lady Selene rounded on Megara. The white streak in her hair seemed to grow more intense.

  “Seignora Megara,” she said dangerously. “Are you are part of this plot as well?”

  Caitlin glanced at Megara. Years of togetherness had created a strong bond and she read the look in her green eyes in an instant. You will be better able to help me if you stay in good standing, it said.

  “No I am not, Lady Selene,” said Megara in a placating tone. “The action in fighting pit and afterwards was as much a shock to me as it was to you. But as a Palace Guardian who was part of the action this morning, I request that Lady Caitlin and her squad be allowed to freshen up and rest before awaiting your pleasure.”

  Lady Selene considered for another long minute before responding.

  “Alright,” she said, sharply. “In my office. Half an hour. Both of you. The rest of the squad is confined to quarters till further notice.”

  Megara steered Caitlin toward the gate leading to the Residency’s inner courtyard. Caitlin leaned heavily on her. Nitya had begun to follow when Lady Selene spoke again.

  “The witch will not see the interior of the Residency,” she said, her voice hard. She beckoned the seignora of the escort squad, which was now formed up afoot. “Manacle her in barbarian chains and put her in one of the Dark Cells. Bread and water till further notice. And send a messenger to the Red Khalif under a flag of truce. Tell him we will return the witch tomorrow at noon at the Pontoon Bridge.”

  Caitlin struggled out of Megara’s arms, her mouth working, trying to speak up. But no words came, only unintelligible sounds and some spittle. This prompted some laughter from the crowd.

  “Let it go, darling,” Megara whispered in her ear. “There is nothing you can do now.”

  ONE HALF HOUR later, Caitlin and Megara stood side by side outside the huge double doors to Lady Selene’s office. They had barely had time to step in and out of their cleansing units and change into clean uniforms. As Lady’s Selene’s handmaiden pressed the buzzer, Megara grasped Caitlin’s forearm and whispered, “You did a brave and honorable thing, and I am proud of you. Don’t let her bully you!”

  “Enter,” Lady Selene’s voice drifted out to them through the speaker mounted on the doorjamb. Her handmaiden pressed the entry button, and the door hissed open. She gestured to them to enter, and they obeyed diffidently, looking around the well-appointed office. Two of the walls were huge viewports, one overlooking the Residency walls down to the Amu-Shan and Dreslin Center, the other overlooking the inner courtyard.

  Lady Selene was seated behind an enormous desk. There was a small conference table with chairs and a couple of sofas with low tables as well as several side tables covered with memorabilia of her long diplomatic career. A descendent of one of the six Zon aristocratic houses, she was a few years younger than Caitlin’s mother, Princess Deirdre. Deirdre—beautiful, blonde, charismatic, and exceptionally athletic—had been the undisputed leader of the band of aristocratic children that played together after school in their palatial neighborhood of Temple Heights. Selene had wanted nothing more than to be a huntress like her. However, in spite of repeated efforts, she had failed. While she sailed into the Lower Temple, Lysia, progressed into the Middle Temple, Magis, and rose rapidly in the diplomatic service, her youthful failures rankled.

  She was working on a holographic document, her fingers rapidly tracing movements screened from them by the opaque backstop. She kept them standing as she worked. Seconds turned into minutes, and Caitlin felt the old panic rising within her again. A bead of sweat formed on her brow and slowly slipped down her face.

  With a final tap, Lady Selene closed the holographic program and looked up at them. Their elite Palace Guardian uniforms, with the ax-and-hammer of their rank on their metal chokers and wrist bracers, were painful reminders of the career she had so desperately wanted.

  “I have just sent my report to Atlantic City,” she said crisply. Her eyes bored into Caitlin. “Your mother is not pleased with your behavior. Do you want to know why?”

  Caitlin nodded miserably. She did not trust herself to attempt speech. Megara cast a sidelong glance at her and winced. She longed to comfort her, to reassure her, to bring back the strong, confident friend she knew. But she remained stiffly impassive, awaiting Lady Selene’s pleasure.

  “Alumus, the Red Khalif, is our ally,” Lady Selene said in a flat, unemotional voice. “Your mother and I worked hard behind the scenes to make him Red Khalif ten years ago, and I have been cultivating him ever since. Alumus is the precisely the type of Thermadan leadership the Sisterhood needs. He is stupid, cruel, and hates knowledge and science. Without any direction from us, he works single-mindedly at keeping the Brigons ignorant, because that makes them easier for the Thermadan Mission and its Ecclesiastics to control. Through our barbarian agents, we point out scholars, teachers, doctors—anyone who is making intellectual progress—and suggest that they are servants of the Evil One. Alumus does the rest. He pays our agents in gold for the information, and the technology gap between us and the barbarians continues to grow.”

  Caitlin stared at her dumbly.

  “The Yengars are a particularly dangerous sect,” Lady Selene continued. “Through means unknown to us, they have gained considerable knowledge in fields as varied as mathematics, medicine, chemistry, physics, and astronomy. This young girl’s father, Venaj, was an exceptionally gifted polymath, with enormous knowledge in a wide range of fields. He had begun to acquire followers, and there is no telling how much damage he could have done. The girl is his nearest and best disciple—though young, she is already on her way to emulate her father. Her intelligence and curiosity make her too great a threat. The Sisterhood cannot allow her to survive.”

  “Why can’t she be admitted to the Sisterhood?” asked Megara.<
br />
  Lady Selene looked at her as though she had gone mad.

  “She is a barbarian,” she said coldly. “We could never trust her within our gates.”

  She took a sip of water from a tall glass and let them stand there for another minute. Caitlin felt a wave of hopelessness.

  “Now you begin to realize the damage you have done,” said Lady Selene finally. “Alumus may begin to suspect some of our best agents, who could well pay for your foolishness with their lives. It will take months, if not years, for us to rebuild his trust in our network.”

  Lady Selene opened a comm channel to her handmaiden, who entered moments later with a seignora and four armed huntresses.

  “Escort Seignora Caitlin to her chambers and confine her there,” she said. “She will be held there till transport can be arranged for her to be returned to Atlantic City to face charges. Seignora Megara, the squad and the market women have corroborated your story. I will let you off with a warning this time. Know that if you had acted to prevent your colleague’s folly, you could have saved her career.”

  DUSK WAS FALLING as Andromache pressed the entrance chimes on the outer portal of the d’Orr palace. She had walked the few hundred meters from her own residence and greeted Deirdre’s handmaiden when she opened the portal and bowed.

  “Princess Deirdre is on her balcony,” said the handmaiden ceremoniously. “She will receive you there. Please follow me.”

  Andromache found Deirdre in undress uniform, the sword Nasht at her hip, pacing like a tigress. Deirdre collected her wits, greeted her guest in the traditional manner, and offered her some clove wine. When Andromache assented, her handmaiden poured two delicate, long-stemmed crystal glasses. Deirdre motioned with her eyes, and the handmaiden retired.