IMMEDIATELY UPON RECEIVING the report of the coming storm, Captain Rhea made her way to the for’ard cabins. Diana had ensconced herself in the command stateroom, which was maintained for occasions when the Hydromeda carried the queen, the First Principal, or other high officials. There was a light panel on the door, spelling out Cornelle Diana Tragina in runic-style Pranto script. She hesitated. As a senior airship captain, Rhea was confident, self-assured, and used to wielding goddess-like power, but like almost all who worked with Diana, she found the steely Guardian cornelle intimidating. She steadied her nerves and pressed the chimes.
“Enter,” came Diana’s deceptively melodious voice.
She entered. The stateroom was dimly lit, reflecting the fact that the airship was running in power-saver mode. Diana was lounging on a leather club chair by one of the clear portholes, surveying the thick cloud beneath them. She wore her formal purple and green uniform with black airship ankle boots and her chokers and wrist bracers that huntresses were never without. Diana did not cut her hair short like most huntresses, and now her white-blonde mane hung loose over her shoulders.
Diana rose to receive Rhea and greet her.
As she stepped away, she said formally, “Welcome, Captain Rhea.”
To assert her equality of rank, Rhea walked over and seated herself in the club chair facing the one Diana had been in, without waiting for an invitation. Diana reseated herself, saying, “May I offer you refreshment?”
Rhea shook her head.
“Your Guardians in the monitoring center must have informed you of the coming glizzard,” she said, keeping her voice level.
Diana nodded and responded, “Nothing to worry a ship of this size, surely?”
“No, but this is a gigantic storm whose associated turbulence reaches into the stratosphere. We cannot run through it safely on autopilot at this altitude. I will be taking her up to forty thousand meters and navigating around the worst of the storm. But I need to know your plans before I set the new course.”
“Thank you for coming to me, Captain,” said Diana gravely. “I could not reveal our destination to you before, because I did not have clearance. I have now spoken with the First Principal, and Princess Deirdre has formally endorsed this plan. As you recall from our attendance at the Cabinet Council meeting, we have been ordered to conceal our hand in the events in Utrea at all costs.”
Rhea nodded.
“Obviously, if the Hydromeda is seen anywhere near Arch Baron Lothar’s capital of Vesterans, we will fail. For the same reasons, we cannot use our regular ground forces. We both agreed on this score in the meeting.”
Again, Rhea nodded.
“I thought we could set up an irregular unit—” she began.
“My thought exactly,” interjected Diana smoothly, leaning forward and putting her hand on Rhea’s knee. “But we cannot do this by ourselves. We need allies that are totally loyal to us, but whose actions we can officially repudiate.”
“Who could possibly do that?” asked Rhea incredulously. “We have no such units.”
“The Engine Maidens,” said Diana quietly. As Rhea gaped, Diana went on swiftly. “They are almost indistinguishable from the barbarians in dress and mannerisms. Many of them have existed outside the official purview of the Sisterhood for so long that they have lost their Zon accents. They all speak Utrish, and their accent is very close to that spoken in southern Utrea. Most of them speak Pranto with harsh north-country timbres. I grant you that they are unpredictable and violent, but their dedication to the goals of the Sisterhood is unquestioned. My Guardians and I have run supply airboats to their stronghold of Simrania for years now. I know Durga Bodina, their First Maiden, very well.”
“As do I,” said Rhea with distaste. “You and I were only a year apart at the Academy—she was in my year. She was a religious fanatic. I hope she has improved with age.”
“She is still devoted to Mother Goddess Ma,” said Diana, only half joking. “And zealous in her pursuit of the Manifest Destiny of the Sisterhood. As are we all.”
“Just so,” echoed Rhea without enthusiasm.
The door chimes rang, and Diana called “Enter!” into her locally synced wrist bracer. Centuria Lady Alexandra entered, attired like Diana in formal uniform with airship boots. Her hand flew to her heart in salute, her face registering surprise on seeing Rhea.
“What do you have for me, Centuria Lady Alexandra?” asked Diana, not inviting her to sit. Zon society was a confusing and often uneasy mixture of meritocracy and aristocracy, and the two of them illustrated it perfectly. Diana, the meritocratic commoner, had ascended to the highest realms of power and privilege, but she lived in barracks and made do with her officer’s pay. Alex was her subordinate, but as the eldest daughter and heiress of Countess Dorothea Sheel, she lived luxuriously in the Sheel mansion in Temple Heights in Atlantic City. She had access to a set portion of the vast Sheel fortune, which she would inherit in its entirety upon her mother’s retirement to Ostracis. However, while direct descendants of the Zon noble houses enjoyed wealth and comfort, they had to achieve selection to the Temples or the Legions entirely on merit. Neither Alex’s mother nor her womb sister had qualified as electrae and so could not vote.
“We conveyed your message to Lady Selene, Cornelle,” said Alex carefully, with a glance at Rhea. “We indicated that you wished for Seignora Megara Paurina to join us on the Hydromeda as soon as possible. She is unhappy about the power usage, but recognizes the gravity of the situation. She has detached an airboat to bring Seignora Megara here.”
Rhea looked at Diana questioningly. “What’s this about?” she asked.
“Our barbarian agents in Briga have been in touch with Lady Selene,” she responded. “Red Khalif Alumus has put a bounty of ten thousand gold talents on Seignora Lady Caitlin’s head. And he has put a further five thousand on the head of this barbarian girl—Nitya is her name, I believe. He wants them dead or alive. As you can imagine, if the barbarians capture or kill the heiress to the Royal Tiara of d’Orr, it will be a huge blow to the prestige of the Sisterhood. We cannot allow this to happen. Seignora Megara is Seignora Lady Caitlin’s best friend and will be very helpful to us in our search.”
She paused before continuing.
“I have directed the Hydromeda’s scanners to be set to look for her. We will also be carrying out some airboat surveillance.”
Rhea was inwardly furious at Diana’s assumption of command of her airship, but she held her temper and kept her face blank.
“Recall that we are not fully charged and running in power-saver mode,” she said calmly. “Airboat usage will tax our batteries.”
“No one is more concerned about our power situation than I, Captain,” said Diana with a trace of irritation. Then she switched gears, knowing that she would likely need Rhea’s support in the coming days and weeks. “I was going to ask Centuria Lady Alexandra to dine with me. Will you join us?”
Rhea considered before replying. “‘Of course,” she said at length, in turn recognizing the need to work with the Guardian cornelle.
The three of them entered the Hydromeda’s wardroom together. It was late, but contrary to Diana’s expectations, several of the ship’s off-duty officers still lounged around drinking Murgall, a sweet dessert wine from the Daksin province of that name. The buzz of conversation died down as the senior officers entered.
Rhea summoned a couple of stewardesses, and they quickly laid a fresh table and ushered them to it. After a reasonably pleasant dinner, they took their own goblets of Murgall and joined the airship crew in a lounge area. One of the airship officers produced a gwendell, a Zon stringed instrument, and began singing “Mirabelle,” a ballad about a girl and her wild horse on the open high plains of their home planet of Eartha.
Diana was a noted singer and joined in with her melodious and powerful singing voice. Soon the airship crewwomen left the stanzas to her, listening in admiration, and more and more joined her on the upbeat chorus. Diana finished,
and there was a brief pause. Then she led them in a rousing rendition of rather racy huntress shanty, bowing and blowing kisses to them all when it was finished. Rhea began to see how she inspired such loyalty in her Guardians and why so many were willing to follow her to the death. Alex took up the gwendell and began to play a lively jig. Several of the crew got up to dance. In the midst of this merry-making, Diana tapped Rhea on the shoulder and whispered in her ear, “Captain, please send a message to the bridge, ordering them to change course for Simrania.”
ANDROMACHE OPENED AN encrypted video comm channel to Dannae. She found her alone in the Hydromeda’s sick bay. She could see swirling clouds through the viewport over Dannae’s shoulder. The huge airship’s motion was barely perceptible. The hum of her powerful engines many decks below was a distant rumble.
After her formal salutations, Dannae told Andromache about their change of course for Simrania.
“I can only assume that we are involving the Engine Maidens in our mission in some way,” she said. “We have also begun a search for Seignora Lady Caitlin. Cornelle Diana has the airship’s scanners going day and night. We have also undertaken several airboat sweeps. Seignora Megara is due to join us tomorrow, to aid in the search.”
Andromache clicked her tongue in irritation.
“At least we all agree that we cannot allow Lady Caitlin to fall into the hands of the barbarians,” she said. “But involving the Engine Maidens verges on insanity!”
Dannae nodded in agreement.
“Thank you, Dannae,” continued Andromache. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
She cut the channel. Contacting the Engine Maidens must have been Deirdre’s idea, she thought: it was just like her. Diana was the perfect instrument. Using the Maidens made war so much more likely. War strengthened her politically, but surely Deirdre must see how risky this was! The Maidens were unpredictable and virtually impossible to control. There was no telling where this could lead. She wracked her brains, but could think of no way to forestall it.
HARALD WAS DINING with Queen Esme. She was in a good mood, and this always got his spirits up. She was such good company when she was laughing and joking. He loved her sense of humor, even if it did have a bit of an edge to it. At times like this, he blessed the day three years earlier that Alumus had brought him the proposal from her father, Artor, Duke of Hilson and Lord of the Northern Marches. The Hilsons were an old line, their title dating to well before Briga passed into Zon vassalage. The first duke had been a younger brother to a king of Briga, so there was Shelsor blood running in the Hilsons’ veins.
Lady Selene had opposed the match and had almost convinced him to reject the proposal. But Alumus had prevailed, arguing that there could be no harm in giving the duke consequence by meeting his daughter. After all, the rocky hills of the Northern Marches were the borderlands between Briga and Utrea and were crucial to holding the rich alluvial plains of the Amu-Shan basin. And Alumus reminded him that the Hilsons were also related by blood and marriage to the Utrean Royal House of Nibellus, so it was wise to keep them in good humor.
So Duke Artor and his daughter had travelled down from his seat at Karsk. Harald had sent an honor guard to escort them into Dreslin Center from the Pontoon Bridge and hosted a great banquet in their honor. It was a huge affair, and every notable and worthy in the kingdom was invited. The feast was immense, with delicacies brought in from near and far. The king’s advisors had researched the duke and his daughter’s likes and preferences, and everything they were known to favor was on the menu.
Harald saw Esme there for the first time, dressed in a splendid gown of rare Oystor muslin. She had an hourglass figure, auburn curls, and her heart-shaped face was tantalizingly veiled. She made his blood run hot. He danced with her, laughed at her many jokes at the expense of the Zon, and boldly asked her to raise her veil. When she coquettishly did so, he was utterly captivated. Lady Selene sat there surrounded by her staff, fuming. Her own plans for Harald to marry into a family more sympathetic to the Sisterhood were wrecked. She knew Princess Deirdre would not be pleased.
“My dear,” he said, almost as an afterthought. “We received an envoy from the Utreans today. A cheval from your father’s household accompanied him. Apparently King Shobar has refused to pay the Zon tribute again, and the Zon have threatened him with dire consequences and are sending airships against him. Your father has agreed to raise the Marches. They want me to call my barons and march on Atlantic City.”
Esme had been about to take a spoonful of sweet pudding. She dropped her spoon in her excitement.
“Harald, this is marvelous,” she said, her eyes shining. “This is the chance we have been waiting for! If all Tarsus can unite, we can throw off the Zon yoke and destroy the Sisterhood once and for all.”
“That’s what Alumus says,” chuckled Harald. “But religious men and royal women do not understand military strategy. For us to march on Atlantic City is suicide! They would know as soon as we marched, attack our armies from the air, and vaporize us with their ’grators. As Baron va Haxos pointed out, they have done it countless times before.”
“What about the War of Brigon Succession?” asked Esme fiercely. “The Zon Residency in Briga almost fell! My grandfather and uncle were there, shoulder to shoulder with your father and brother. We breached the outer walls! We killed hundreds of huntresses! We had the last defenders penned inside the Resident’s lodge! We brought down one of their airboats!”
“But a great Zon airship came with a relieving force,” continued Harald. “She hovered out of range of our weapons and poured fire on us. When your grandfather was killed by airship fire, our troops broke and streamed back to Dreslin in disorder. The airship launched dozens of airboats, and we brought one down with a lucky shot. But the others pursued and harried us from the air. At this point, my father realized he had lost and tried to surrender. But the Zon refused all terms. Their avenging huntresses sacked Dreslin Center. They went through the city street by street, house by house, and slaughtered our Brigon men like pigs with their ’grators and pistols. Then the Resident, Lady Deirdre as she was then, led her huntresses, banners flying, on a triumphal ride through the defeated city. She rounded up all the surviving citizenry to watch as they roasted my father, my brother, and other high nobility on spits in Castle Square.”
“How do you know all this?” asked Esme. “Where were you?”
“I was an infant,” said Harald, his eyes far away. “But I heard the tale first from my wet nurse, and then from many others who were in Dreslin that day. My mother and I were in the Great Stony Keep with her ladies-in-waiting. When Lady Deirdre came for us, my mother feared they would do unspeakable things to her, so she swallowed poison rather than be taken. Several of her ladies did the same. My earliest memories are of my fear of Princess Deirdre’s weekly visits to my lessons. She is so cold. If you met her, you would see immediately why everyone calls her ‘Princess Ice.’ Sometimes she would even come to my sword drills and beat me up with a sparring sword. Her mother was killed in the airboat we shot down, you see, so she really hates us. Then she was promoted to First Principal, Lady Selene became Resident, and it all changed.”
“How so?”
“Oh, Lady Selene was always kind to me,” said Harald. “She encouraged me to learn, to travel. She even gave me a couple of rides in a speeder, which she was not technically supposed to do. She has been like the mother I never had.”
“She looks more like your sister than your mother,” said Esme with a hint of jealousy.
“Oh, you know that the Zon don’t age as we do,” said Harald, smiling.
Esme said nothing, and for a few minutes, they simply looked at each other, sipping their wine.
“Well, now you have your chance,” she said finally. “The Zon are allowing you to capture the daughter of Princess Ice. You can torture and kill her. That will be some measure of revenge for the slaughter of your family.”
“I never knew my family,” said
Harald. “Killing Lady Caitlin won’t bring them back.”
“Sire, will you take no action in response to Lady Selene’s offer?” she asked in disbelief.
“Oh, I don’t need to,” responded Harald. “Alumus is very happy to take complete control of this for me. I am sure he will leave no stone unturned.”
He took her hand and kissed it.
“But come, my dear,” he smiled. “I was in such a wonderful mood. Let us take our wine to my bedchamber and talk of more pleasant things.”
CAPTAIN HEBE WAS on the bridge of the Thetis as she approached the Ostracis Citadel. The watch seignora was vectoring them in. The airship had slowed to docking speed, and her movement was barely perceptible. The thick and high white walls of the citadel were about a hundred meters directly below them. The citadel was in a deep, narrow cleft valley formed by the snow-fed river Steefen, a major tributary of the Lofgren. It was built halfway up the mountainside, under the perpetual snow on the surrounding peaks of the Sawtooth Range. The walls of the citadel were built along the cliff edge of a high mountain plateau. There were spectacular waterfalls all around, including several that fell onto the plateau of the citadel itself. They formed the fast-flowing Dividing Stream that split the walled town of Ostracis into two districts.
The walls were thirty meters high atop a sheer precipice that dropped away almost five hundred meters to a steep slope that plunged another thousand meters to the rushing white waters of the Steefen. It had been built following the same design as Atlantic City, with the shoulder of the mountain forming part of the citadel’s defensive perimeter. With lookouts on the walls at all times, bright lights that lit up the entire surrounding mountainside at night, and sophisticated electronic monitoring systems, it was impregnable to ground assault and could only be approached from the air with difficulty. This explained why it had never been attacked, although its location in the upper Steefen Valley was in the heart of Utrea.
Hebe had been oblivious to the stunning scenery all around her. The last half hour had been extremely tense, as she navigated the huge airship into the tight confines of the gorge. On her external cameras, she could see that she had a clearance of less than two meters under her keel and rear fins as she put the ship into a sharp downward angle to bring her directly over the citadel.
The Empire of the Zon Page 14