“The man is a monster!” hissed Caitlin in Pranto.
“Lady Caitlin, we are in his power now,” said Aliuta urgently. “We must do what it takes to survive. I beg you to please him today, for I am working on a plan to save you tonight.”
“What do you mean?” asked Caitlin, perplexed.
“I cannot tell you, Lady Caitlin, it is too dangerous for you to know. Just know that I will not let him have his way with you. For you are my precious baby.”
Caitlin took Aliuta’s lined face in her hands and caressed the welt that was beginning to form.
“Your hands are so smooth and warm,” said Aliuta languorously. “Just like I remember them.”
“Aliuta Ednina?” asked Caitlin, a dim memory slowly coalescing. The thick, white hair must have once been blonde. But the bright, blue eyes were the same. “Temple Heights Nursery? How old was I when I last saw you there? Five?”
“Five and a half,” said Aliuta, a tear slowly dribbling down a crease in her face. “But I came to the party your mother gave when you were admitted to the Academy. It was just before I retired to Ostracis. You were the sweetest of my babies, sharp as a whip and always protecting the littler ones. I treasured the time we had together; we had a special bond. And how you loved me! You would cling to me when Princess Deirdre came to take you home to Palace d’Orr; she grew quite jealous of me.”
“What have they done to you?” asked Caitlin gently.
Aliuta brushed the tear away.
“It does not matter,” she said briskly. “My life is over, as our Commandant Laksa said. But I will not let them take your virtue.” She paused and continued in a more uncertain tone, “Unless you wish to live at all costs?”
“I am my mother’s daughter,” said Caitlin. “I do not fear death. It comes for us all, sooner or later.”
“Then come, I have found some dresses of fine Daksin sea-silk for you,” Aliuta said. “There is a deep green one that matches your eyes in which you will look stunning. And you will wear my own dull-glow white gold armlet—your mother presented it to me when you left us for school. It is hidden in your fireplace.”
Aliuta fussed and fretted over dressing Caitlin, even finding a pair of stiletto heels that fit her. Caitlin did a couple of sashays, with her hands high on her hips like a runway model, and Aliuta clapped. Finally, she enveloped her young charge in a heavy white wool wrap against the cold of the corridors and stood back.
“You are a vision, Lady Caitlin,” she said. “I saw you a few times on the comm, and I knew you had grown up to be as beautiful as your mother.”
“You are blind to my faults, Aliuta,” returned Caitlin. “I cannot hold a candle to my mother’s beauty.”
But when she entered the Small Hall a few moments later, her effect was even more forceful. Nestar was talking to Guttanar and another of his captains. Their conversation dried up, and they just gaped at her. In her stiletto heels, she towered over them, but she dropped her eyes demurely as she stood ten paces away.
“I am here to join you, sir,” she said. “At your request.”
Nestar recovered his poise and thumped Guttanar on the shoulder.
“My lady, I am delighted that you have joined us,” he said. “My servitors have laid out our breakfast by the fire. Pray let me take your wrap and see you from all angles.”
Caitlin approached him and let him take the wrap. Then she did a slow twirl. The dress was ankle length and left her back and shoulders bare. The white-gold armlet glinted dully in the firelight, and they recognized its great value, each wondering where it had come from. Without a temperature shield, Caitlin was cold, even by the fire. With a great effort, she conquered her desire to shiver.
“Absolutely stunning, my dear,” said Nestar. “I must congratulate Aliuta when I see her next. But must you continue to wear that metal choker and those ugly wrist bracers?”
“Think of them as ornamental, sir,” said Caitlin mildly.
“The two of you may leave,” said Nestar to his captains. “Set four troopers by the main door and two more by the side door. And I want two more troopers in here with us.”
Caitlin had hoped to get him by himself and lure him into close quarters where she knew half a dozen ways to break his neck. But while he was besotted with her, he was no fool. She sighed. The day would pass slowly.
YUKIA RABBINA BUZZED and entered Vivia’s sumptuous office as soon as she was admitted. She gave Vivia’s gorgeous personal maid an irritated glance—Naorina was a blockhead, but she had a supercilious attitude that Yukia found exasperating. I don’t know what Vivia sees in her, she thought cattily. Mere physical beauty is commonplace in the Sisterhood—I could find a dozen like her any day in the streets of the Lower Wards.
She bowed deeply to Vivia, who was sitting on a comfortable couch draped with a contraband ice bear throw. Vivia patted the throw, indicating that she should sit with her. Yukia seated herself self-consciously.
“High Mistress, I have important news,” she said, her expressive eyes wide. “For your ears alone.”
Vivia inclined her head at her maid, who also bowed deeply and withdrew, the sealed portal hissing shut behind her.
“My sources in Aurora have been in touch,” Yukia said, her tone changing and her speech much more rapid. “Cheval Hilson has breached the Outer Wall on the seaward side of the citadel. He is in command of the Docks district and has set it alight. Every factory and warehouse is afire. The huntresses have withdrawn to the Inner Wall.”
Vivia heaved a sigh of relief.
“Thank Ma! The idiot can at least follow explicit orders.” She leaned back into the plush ice bear fur and sighed with pleasure. “You will be happy to know that Princess Andromache has paid in full for the first four Mark VII airboats we will deliver to the military procuress this week. I have logged the transfer—the profits will pay for the new wing I have been planning to build on my palace.”
“As usual, I am in awe of your business acumen, High Mistress,” said Yukia dutifully.
Just then, the red emergency channel on Vivia’s communicator began to flash. She opened the channel and said sharply, “What is it? This had better be important.”
It was the manager of the reception desk down at street level, hundreds of floors below.
“I am sorry to interrupt, High Mistress,” she said fearfully. “But I thought you should know that Praefecta Kyra Merlina is on her way up with a squad of Palace Guardians. And there are lots of speeders and many more huntresses outside.”
Vivia stood immediately and walked over to her huge viewport. There were a couple of airboats hovering just a few hundred meters from her office in her direct line of sight. Their heavy ’grators were ominously raised and ready. Without another thought, Vivia opened a comm channel to the captain of her personal airboat. She always had a crew ready to fly at a moment’s notice.
“Come to the Confederation Tower immediately,” she said crisply. “There are some military airboats hovering outside, so fly in slowly, show no weapons, indicate surrender if you have to, but land on the viewdeck.”
Vivia returned to the couch and seated herself again beside Yukia, who was now quaking with fear.
“High Mistress, what will we do? The huntresses must have found something!”
“Calm yourself, Yukia,” said Vivia. “And when the huntresses come in here, do not say a word, even if you are spoken to. Leave all the talking to me.”
“But High Mistress! If they arrest us—”
“They will not arrest us,” snapped Vivia. “This is the Zon Sisterhood, not some barbarian kingdom. We have laws and procedures, and they will be followed.”
Vivia opened a comm channel to her chief legal counsel, Darbeni Milsina, in her office a few floors below.
“Darbeni, please come to my office immediately. And bring a blank uplink for a draft. We may need a couple hundred thousand gold talents.”
Like all of Vivia’s top people, Darbeni was sharp and professional. She pic
ked up on Vivia’s urgent tone and did not waste time on idle chitchat.
“I will be in your office momentarily, High Mistress,” she said, her adept tone inspiring confidence.
No sooner had Vivia closed the comm channel than the seal to her office portal was snapped, and Praefecta Kyra Merlina entered, followed by a squad of Guardians. They were all in combat uniforms and armed.
“Welcome, Praefecta Kyra,” said Vivia, a hint of mockery in her voice. “I see you have come with the best of the Legions, prepared for battle. I am afraid that Yukia and I will make poor opponents.”
“Vivia Pragarina,” said Kyra in a formal voice. “I arrest you in the name of Hildegard, Queen Empress of the Zon Sisterhood and its dependencies on New Eartha. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
“What is the charge?” Vivia arched a characteristic eyebrow.
“High treason,” said Kyra bluntly.
Darbeni entered quietly, and the huntresses parted to let her through. She was a brunette of medium height, slim and professionally dressed in expensive and very well cut clothes. Her brown eyes were large and expressive. Like Yukia, she was very bright, but unlike the LOS hostess, she muted rather than flaunted her good looks. Her clothes covered her from neck to knee, and her hair was parted in the middle and squeezed into a severe bun.
“Praefecta Kyra,” she said, assuming a position at Vivia’s elbow. “You have entered our premises forcefully. Do you have a warrant?”
Kyra tapped her wrist bracer with bad grace and shot the document over the comm. Darbeni opened the hologram from her communicator and read through it quickly.
“This is highly irregular,” she sniffed. “Princess Andromache has issued this warrant on the basis of nothing but hearsay. Princess Deirdre claims that our warehouses and factories in Aurora were vacant. By itself, that signifies nothing. Lady Selene claims that this barbarian woman…” She consulted the warrant again. “Esme, says that she arranged for High Mistress Vivia to deliver explosive material to the Hilsons. No court in the Sisterhood is going to convict on such flimsy grounds.”
“Coincidence,” said Vivia, calm now. “We were in the process of expanding our Aurora facilities, so we removed all our goods prior to the demolition of the old buildings and construction of new ones. As far as this barbarian woman is concerned, it is well known that nothing a savage says can be trusted.”
“You can say what you like in court, Vivia,” said Kyra, who was running low on patience. “But the arrest warrant is clear enough and legal. You must come with us.”
There was a ping, and Kyra saw that the seignora in one of the airboats was trying to open a comm channel to her.
“Praefecta Kyra, Vivia Pragarina’s personal airboat is seeking permission to land on the viewdeck.”
They all looked out of the viewport and saw Vivia’s large airboat hovering with the military airboats on either quarter. Kyra looked at Vivia.
“Yukia and I were planning to fly to Aurora,” Vivia said blandly. “We wished to show our solidarity with the commoners there in the face of the barbarian menace. And Yukia was going to interview Princess Deirdre for LOS.”
Kyra knew that Vivia owned residences in all the Zon citadels. It was rumored that she owned several remote hideaways as well.
“Oh, let them land,” she said irritably. “But keep them covered with your ’grators.”
Kyra turned to Vivia again but Darbeni spoke up, cutting her off.
“High Mistress Vivia need not accompany you,” she said smoothly. “I have contested your warrant on the comm with the duty judge at Atlantic City Hall. She has just responded to me and granted the High Mistress bail. She has set it at two hundred thousand gold talents. I have just this moment uplinked the payment and forwarded the correspondence to you on the comm. So your warrant is served, but the High Mistress is free till her first court appearance.”
Kyra tapped her wrist bracer and quickly scanned the holograms. She went red and all but stamped her foot. But she knew she was beaten.
“We will be watching your every move,” she barked, stabbing her finger in the direction of the viewport. “Do not try to escape Atlantic City. We will see you in court.”
Then she turned on her heel and stormed out, followed by her Guardians. She was tight-lipped and silent all the way down the antigravity shaft and strode purposefully to her speeder. Once seated in the front passenger seat, she opened a comm channel to her chief of staff.
“Centuria, has the tracking chip been placed on Vivia Pragarina’s airboat?’
“Yes, Praefecta” was the reply.
“Good, good. Pull our airboats back, but keep them on ready alert, prepared to fly at a moment’s notice. If she makes a run for it, we can follow her, track down her barbarian network, and destroy it, root and branch.”
Now she lay back in her seat and smiled.
MEANWHILE, BACK IN her office, Vivia turned to Yukia and said, “Go to your office; I’ll call you when I need you.”
“But…” Yukia began, but when Vivia gave her a sidelong glance fraught with irritation, she bit back her words and withdrew silently.
As soon as the portal resealed and she was alone with Darbeni, Vivia sighed.
“I never realized Yukia was such a weak reed,” she said in a long-suffering tone. “And she knows far too much. I also did not expect Princess Deirdre to move so quickly.”
“You are right about Princess Deirdre, High Mistress,” said Darbeni, choosing her words carefully. “She is as sharp as a tack. She would not have initiated this procedure unless she had put together convincing evidence. She will be a powerful opponent in court, and I am not sanguine about our chances with her present.”
“We must take steps to deal with these problems,” said Vivia thoughtfully. “Princess Deirdre will not be satisfied with my head. She wants to wipe out my entire organization—and that includes you. My bail prevents me from leaving Atlantic City, but there is no restriction on Yukia’s movements. As I said to Kyra, I’ll send her to Aurora to interview the princess for LOS. Darbeni, I’d like you to go with her. There is a certain Hilson nobleman I would like you to meet on the way.”
“As you command, High Mistress,” said Darbeni dutifully.
Vivia eyed Darbeni critically.
“I must prepare you for this meeting. You must wear something that reveals more of your loveliness, and you must flirt with him. You must make sure his desire clouds his judgment.”
“I will do my best, High Mistress,” said Darbeni doubtfully. “I have no experience flirting with men, but I am sure I can learn.”
Swinging her hips, Vivia stepped across to Darbeni, put her long fingers under her counsel’s pert chin, and raised her eyes to meet her own.
“My designer will dress you, and my beauticians will take care of your appearance. When they done, you will outshine even Princess Deirdre. And take my word for it, when you bat your big eyes, your inexperience will make you more desirable to my lord Hilson, not less.”
THE VIEW FROM Hildegard’s balcony in Chateau Regina was as beautiful as ever, but she was in no mood to enjoy it. She threw herself into a chaise, and her second handmaiden immediately went to work, massaging her legs and working her way up to her back. Hildegard exhaled and watched her smoky breath—the winter air was chilly, but the Zon took their temperature shields for granted.
It had been a long day, packed with engagements stressing the importance of conservation and support for the military in this time of crisis. In the peace and plenty of Atlantic City, it was difficult to imagine that anything was wrong, that the Sisterhood was fighting for its very existence in the streets of Aurora and the freezing winter of Utrea. So she had appeared in countless venues, at organized events, at impromptu street gatherings in cafés and markets and in recordings to be sent out on the comm. Andromache’s media staff had prepared voluminous holographic material showing clips from the fighting in Ostracis, in Aurora, and at the Utrean Residen
cy. Some scenes from Ostracis in particular were shocking and graphic. But everywhere her message was the same—support the Legions, conserve power, and stand united with your sisters, for the Sisterhood faces its gravest peril in over a thousand years.
Hildegard had immense personal popularity, so she was received warmly wherever she went. However, she could not fail to notice the underlying sense of resentment among the commoners for the electrae. It had gone unnoticed in the good times, as the Zon state had used the barbarian tribute payments and the taxes on the Trading Guild to provide all commoners with comfortable lifestyles and free health and preventative care as well as plentiful recreation, both physical and virtual on the comm. But now that they were being asked to cut back and conserve, their bitterness at their lack of participation in the political process and their inferior social status had come to the fore.
“We have no quarrel with the barbarians,” a typical young commoner had said to her at a spontaneous marketplace meeting. “It is the huntress’s war. Why should we conserve power or accept food rationing and longer waits at Repro?”
“You have seen what the barbarians have done at Ostracis,” went Hildegard’s response, her kindly eyes warm with empathy. “Many of you have lost loved ones there and had your own personal links on the comm. You have that seen our huntresses are fighting desperately to protect the commoners of Aurora. We must win in Aurora or else the barbarians will turn their attention to Atlantic City. The barbarians do not distinguish between electra and commoner—they will rape and enslave or kill us all.”
It was working, but it was slow, hard work. Slowly, but surely, power use was coming down, and huntresses and priestesses were finding less hostility from the commoners. Andromache had been doing her own rounds, but she did not have Hildegard’s stature and as an aristocrat, the commoners viewed her with suspicion.
Just as her handmaiden was completing her massage, one of Hildegard’s staff came in to announce Andromache. Hildegard sat up with pleasure, drawing her thin robe around her. But when Andromache came in, her look was doleful.
The Empire of the Zon Page 42