“So much the better,” grunted Artor. “I am pleased that Lady Death and her military units are tied down in Utrea, for it means that we don’t have to face her down here. She’s a dangerous…I won’t say the word that springs to my lips in deference to my daughter here. She has brought more misery to the Northern Marches than the rest of our enemies combined. Her tribute-collecting trips have been a bane of my existence. Arrogant, supercilious, and ruthless, every year she has reddened her sword with the blood of my loyalists. I would pay a hundred thousand gold talents to the man who brought her to me in chains.”
“And just a short time ago, she slaughtered Horus’s men in Upper Thal,” chimed in Talia. “She is a demoness!”
“There is more, Your Majesty,” continued Alumus. “Cheval Nestar Crogus, the commander of Shobar’s Skull Watch, has defeated the Zon and occupied Ostracis! Apparently, he got a few ’grators and laser pistols from disaffected Zon. So it all seems very confusing; Animus can’t make heads or tails of it. If Shobar’s Skull Watch is victorious at Ostracis, why has he abandoned his capital?”
Artor stroked his beard.
“Why indeed?” he asked, thinking deeply. There was silence in the chamber, and all three of them sipped their wine thoughtfully. Finally, Artor said, “No matter, what happens in Utrea is secondary. Right now, all that matters is that we take Aurora and get functioning ’grators so we can march on Atlantic City. I ask you to drink to victory in Aurora!”
“Victory in Aurora!” echoed Talia and Alumus. They clinked glasses and drank.
DANNAE WAS FLYING the old Mark II high above thick cloud cover. Ielani had spoken truly—the airboat was in really bad shape. Cut off from spare-parts supply by the Zon administration, the Maidens had jury-rigged a number of fixtures, many of which only worked sporadically. None of the gauges were trustworthy, including the altimeter, so she flew considerably higher than fifteen thousand meters just to be sure that she was out of ’grator range. Fortunately the crew all had their personal temperature shields, since the heating in the airboat functioned poorly.
Ten Maidens in battle gear sat in the rear of the airboat, and one sat in the copilot’s seat. She was not a pilot, so there was little she could do to assist Dannae. None of them was very happy flying in the old rattletrap. The atmosphere aboard was tense.
“The sooner we are back on the ground, the happier I’ll be,” said the Maiden in the right-hand seat to Dannae.
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” said Dannae with a smile. “These seat harnesses were not made for someone with a belly as big as mine.”
“Medica, I don’t know how you are so cool,” the Maiden replied politely. “The engines have stalled twice already.”
“It is Ma’s grace,” said Dannae serenely. “We are in her hands; why should I worry?”
“Indeed,” said the Maiden, trying to sound confident.
Dannae opened a comm channel to Durga, and the sudden appearance of the hologram of their leader surprised all the Maidens in the airboat. They all sat up straighter.
“First Maiden,” said Dannae. “We are entering the Steefen Gorge at about fifteen thousand meters. I await your instructions.”
“We have you on the comm now,” said Durga. “Set the airboat on autopilot, straight and level. We’ll feed a vector into it.”
“I hear and obey,” said Dannae, immediately setting the autopilot.
“Are you sure that the autopilot works?” asked the Maiden in the copilot’s seat.
“It is no matter,” said Dannae. “Once the First Maiden feeds in the vector, I can follow it manually if necessary.”
In any event, this was not necessary. The airboat’s ancient autopilot clicked and whirred, but it eventually engaged and functioned effectively, if not very smoothly. Durga’s vector took them beyond Ostracis at high altitude and then brought them in on a descent from the north toward the lightly guarded low walls there.
In the Government Benefits Office, Durga gathered her things into her pack and signaled to the others to do the same.
“I’ve given Medica Dannae a vector to bring her in,” she said. “It should bring her to the north-facing low wall we came over. Elena, you and the savage carry the litter there, with the little one. Ielani and I will serve as the rear guard. If necessary, you must leave without us. Nestar Crogus must have his men roused and scouring Ostracis for us by now.”
Clodine spoke up.
“We will help in creating a diversion,” she said, her voice unsteady. “You have fed us and been good to us. We have lost everything worth having … we may as well make our deaths mean something.”
Durga did not turn her down.
“Come up with us then. Head toward the Ravine Gate. If Nestar’s men come this way, make noises and lead them in that direction, away from us.”
They all mounted the stairs cautiously. Durga and Ielani led the way, ’grators at the ready. The ground floor was still quiet. They moved to the gaping doorway in tense silence. The heavy snow falling outside made everything look unnaturally peaceful. It had accumulated almost half a meter in the short time they had been inside. Durga and Ielani cautiously looked outside. Sound carried well in the cold night, and they heard the distant commotion from Upper Town.
“Nestar Crogus’s men are on the move,” whispered Durga over her shoulder. “We must move fast. And Dannae will be here in less than fifteen minutes. Move out.”
Greghar and Elena began to move down the narrow alley, retracing the way they had come into Ostracis. They moved as quickly as they could without jarring the litter. Caitlin was still out, but every now and then she uttered a low moan as another spasm of pain coursed through her body.
Clodine and the aged Zon waved them off and moved up the alley toward the Ravine Gate. Durga patted them both on the cheek before they left, and they looked embarrassingly grateful.
By the time they were halfway to the north end of the wall, Durga and Ielani saw burning torches enter Lower Town and move steadily down toward them. Even in the thick snow, the tramp of boots and the clink of metal were clearly audible. Then there was a din, and the column of men suddenly stopped, wheeled, and moved off at double time toward the Ravine Gate.
“First Maiden, those sisters of ours have been true,” said Ielani in a hissed whisper. “Ma grant them a quick death.”
Durga nodded and opened a comm channel to Dannae.
“Where are you, Medica?”
“I’m at the north end of the wall,” Dannae responded. “Hovering with no lights.”
“We will be there in five minutes,” Durga said quickly. “Land on the wall, deploy the Maidens, and power up the heavy ’grator.”
“I hear and obey,” said Dannae.
Every step toward the wall seemed to take an age to Greghar and Nitya. She kept reciting the chant of power and felt calmer and more confident with every repetition. Finally they were at the wall, and Elena and Greghar mounted the steps carefully. Durga and Ielani turned around, facing back the way they had come with leveled ’grators. Half the squad of Maidens leaped down and joined them while the other half formed a defensive screen around the airboat. The ugly snout of the heavy ’grator pointed menacingly down the alley.
Greghar and Elena were the first two into the airboat hatch with the litter, closely followed by Nitya. Dannae came back from the cockpit, and Elena spoke to her rapidly. “Time for us to trade roles. You take over caring for Lady Caitlin, and I will take over as pilot.”
Dannae nodded and smiled. But her smile froze on her face when she looked into the litter and saw Caitlin.
“How long has she been out?” she asked.
“Almost an hour,” said Greghar in Pranto.
Dannae was too focused on Caitlin to notice his use of the Zon tongue. She was on her knees now, her fingers swiftly undoing the splint on Caitlin’s thigh. Greghar looked over Dannae’s shoulder and saw that Caitlin’s thigh was turning an ugly shade of black.
“Get my black bag,” sh
e said to Nitya. “It’s the one with the blue cross in the cockpit.” Nitya jumped to obey.
Once she had the bag, Dannae used a series of instruments to examine the injury, syncing the results into a data pack. She shook her head as she worked, and each time she did so, Greghar bit his lip with worry. Finally she sat back on her heels and rubbed her swollen belly through her shift.
“How is she?” asked Greghar nervously.
“Not good,” said Dannae, half to herself. “She is declining fast. Her femur is shattered, and bone fragments have severed some important arteries. She is hemorrhaging internally. She will be dead within a couple of hours if I don’t operate on her and stop the bleeding. Even so, I don’t know if her leg can be saved.”
Almost as if to underscore the point, they heard ’grator fire outside. Durga and her Maidens had engaged the forward units of the Skull Watch. Greghar leaped to the hatch and bawled in Pranto, “We’re loaded; let’s go!”
He heard the thrumming sound of a crossbow firing and dropped to his stomach on the hatch floor. The bolt struck the metal hatch where his upper body had been. From his belly, he looked up and saw the Maidens retreating in good order, the rear rank covering the fore. One by one the Maidens clambered up the ramp over his prone body. Three of them lay prone beside Greghar and picked off targets they saw through their night visions. Greghar himself had pulled his crossbow from his pack and wound it. He thought he saw a shape moving toward them and fired at it. He did not have the satisfaction of hitting anything.
Then Ielani and finally Durga scrambled aboard, and the hatch hissed shut. Elena opened the throttles carefully, the engines whined, and they lifted off. Greghar struggled to his feet and looked out of one of the portholes. He was just in time to see the flash of the heavy ’grator that lit up the scene below as bright as day. A dozen or so dark shapes could be seen for a microsecond before the energy beam struck the wall and tore apart of section of it with a tremendous explosion. The flying rock and debris crushed the Skull Watchmen in the vicinity. The airboat gained altitude sluggishly, but the blast from the heavy ’grator had every one of Nestar’s men hunkered down under cover.
By the time Nestar reached the scene, the airboat was almost two hundred meters in the air. Running without lights, it was almost invisible against the night sky. Nestar strode toward the shattered section of the wall, calling on the men to get to their feet. Most of them reluctantly complied. Guttanar was the first up to his side, craning his neck to stare into the night sky along with his liege.
“I can see nothing, lord…” he began.
Nestar ignored him and unslung the ’grator, pointed, and aimed carefully. He waited and then saw the briefest of shadows across a dim nighttime cloud. He squeezed the trigger and used the last of the ’grator’s power to make one shot. The energy beam shot upward with a crackle and a trace of brilliant white light. For a microsecond, the shot created a cone of light, and they saw a plume of orange flame erupt from the airboat high above. It flared briefly before being extinguished. Almost immediately, coughing interrupted the smooth whine of the engines. The men cheered. Nestar peered into the dark sky and thought he saw the shadow of a trail of dark smoke.
Guttanar looked up alongside his master and could barely contain his excitement.
“My lord baron, a wonderful shot; a brilliant shot!” he cried.
Nestar chuckled.
“I think I’ve given them a bit of a sting,” he said cheerily. “Gather a hundred men and take the gorge trail. If the airboat comes down, I want everyone who survives taken and brought back.”
In the airboat, things were initially chaotic. The ’grator blast struck the trailing end of the starboard engine nacelle, but it was enough to set it alight. The airboat lurched to starboard, and everyone on board was thrown into their seat harnesses. Greghar grasped a handrail with one hand and the litter with the other, using his great strength to keep Caitlin’s prone form steady. Dannae was thrown against him, and she clung to his waist to avoid falling.
Durga, who was in the copilot’s seat, grabbed the starboard engine throttle and powered it off, simultaneously starting up the extinguishers. The fire quickly guttered out. Elena worked the port engine to try and squeeze some more power from it. She did so gingerly, for the airboat was overloaded and she knew had very little altitude to spare.
Elena managed to arrest their loss of altitude, and their forward progress soon left Ostracis behind them. Much as she tried, she could not gain altitude to rise above the cliff walls of the gorge, so it was very tense flying. Fortunately it was a very short flight to the Ice Bridge, where the gorge opened up and she had much more lateral airspace to work with. Everyone on board mentally relaxed. Elena looked over at Durga, who leaned over and squeezed her arm.
“You go, girl,” said Durga, smiling.
“So far, so good, First Maiden,” returned Elena. “But the bad news is that we will never make it to Simrania on one engine with this load. This old Mark II would have been hard-pressed to make it with both engines running.”
“Just get us out of the Steefen valley,” said Durga. “I’ll think of…”
She saw Dannae come up and lean on the two pilots’ seatbacks and stopped.
“I am sorry to interrupt, First Maiden,” said Dannae, her tone betraying her worry. “But I must get Lady Caitlin to a Zon medical facility as soon as possible. I’ve done all I can with the instruments I have here, but she is hemorrhaging internally, and I cannot completely stanch that. I don’t think she will survive unless I open her thigh up and stop the bleeding.”
“How much time does she have?” asked Durga.
“It is impossible to certain about these things, First Maiden, but anything longer than two hours would be will be a grave risk.”
Greghar and Nitya, both looking very worried, now joined Dannae. Durga surveyed the three serious faces before turning back to Elena.
“Can we make it to the Nordberg Residency?” she asked.
With so few instruments functioning, Elena thought it over and made some quick mental calculations.
“No, First Maiden,” she said finally.
VIVIA WAS ON the beautifully designed balcony of her palace, built on the highest hilltop in the posh Lumin Hills quarter of Atlantic City. Lumin Hills rose in the far eastern side of the city, a spur of the Encircling Ridge. Most of its residents were wealthy Guild Mistresses and their senior employees. From her balcony, Vivia had an unobstructed view of Temple Heights in the far west of the city, with the Lower Wards down in the valley between them. The towers of the business district were on the southern end of the Lower Wards, but the only structure there that was higher than her eyeline was the soaring Confederation Tower.
She nibbled at a daton puff, a popular Atlantic City sweet. Vivia’s chef was a mistress of her trade, and in her hands, the normally rather heavy dessert emerged as light as a feather. Vivia was used to delicacies and luxuries in every aspect of her life, but she still smiled appreciatively. Her maid, Naorina, entered, her gown swishing, and bowed deeply.
“Chief Counsel Darbeni Milsina is here, High Mistress,” Naorina said in her musical High Zon accent. Vivia had hired the best diction coach in the Sisterhood to tutor her and make sure she sounded like an aristocrat.
“Show her in,” said Vivia. “Then go down to the kitchen and ask Chef for a daton puff. Bring it here with a flute of vintage fitza.”
Darbeni was ushered in. She bowed deeply and obeyed when Vivia beckoned her to sit beside her. She looked out on the city, the snow and ice reflecting the late-afternoon sunshine. As usual, she was dressed severely, and Vivia clicked her tongue.
“I had hoped that your makeover would set you on a path to more style,” she said. “Once we get the legitimation documents from Repro and I present you as my daughter, you must move here to the palace with me. The new wing I am building will be yours. And you must use my designers and beauticians to acquire an entirely new wardrobe and look.”
“
High Mistress, my Lumin Hills apartment is luxurious, and I have everything I need,” responded Darbeni. “As for designers and beauticians, you always told me you valued me for my brains, not my looks.”
“That was when you were my Chief Counsel,” said Vivia with a smile. “But as my daughter and heiress, it will seem odd for us to live apart. After all, this is your palace to inherit. I will train you in all the things that have made us the richest enterprise in the Sisterhood. Brains are only part of our success.”
Naorina reentered with an antique silver tray bearing an elegant daton puff and a delicate crystal flute of fitza. Both of them waited till she set down the pastry dish and the flute on the side table by Darbeni and withdrew.
“Look at Naorina,” continued Vivia after she had left and silently slid the balcony doors shut behind her. “It cost me a fortune to train her to walk and talk as she does. And another fortune to dress and groom her. Do you think that is mere vanity?”
Darbeni knew Vivia well enough to know that the question was rhetorical. She did not respond and waited for her mother.
“She is worth every copper I put into her. The barbarians are in awe of her looks, and her picture on our merchandise sells more in a year than I will invest in her over her lifetime. In the Sisterhood, her presence by my side tells everyone—electra, commoner, and Guild Mistress alike—that Pragarina Enterprises stands for quality, beauty, and excellence. And of course, while I love my own dress and style, they have an analogous practical motive as well.” Here she ran her fingers over the kanjiam of her scarf—one of the dozens she owned—taking pleasure in its softness and delicacy.
“Is that why you brought me up speaking with a High Zon accent?” asked Darbeni curiously. “And rarely let me interact with my rustic womb mother?”
Vivia looked at her, betraying more affection than Darbeni could ever remember.
“When I was a young woman building my business in the Lower Wards, the aristocrats bought my best merchandise, but they treated me like dirt. The stupidest ones like Princess Truda d’Orr and Countess Dorothea Sheel were the worst. Only Ma knows how they managed to have daughters as intelligent as Princess Deirdre and Lady Alexandra.”
The Empire of the Zon Page 51