The Empire of the Zon

by R. M. Burgess

  Vivia paused, her gray-green eyes glittering at the bitter memory of those long-ago insults.

  “I always knew that I would be rich,” said Vivia, pulling herself back into the present. “But I promised myself that when I was, I would found my own house. My daughters and I would look and sound like the scions of the oldest families in the Sisterhood.” Vivia sat back in her cushions and sighed. “And now we are aristocrats, you and I, and electrae to boot. Lady Vivia Pragarina, how well it sounds! You tell me—have I not met my goal?”

  “High Mistress, there is nothing you cannot achieve if you set your mind to it,” said Darbeni respectfully.

  “That’s another thing you will have to learn to do,” said Vivia. “And that is to call me ‘Mother,’ at least in private.” She opened her arms. “Come, give me a hug.”

  Darbeni was not sure how to deal with this sudden shower of affection. So she stood uncertainly, leaned over Vivia, and allowed herself to be hugged. She did not presume to equality and responded gingerly when Vivia touched breasts. She resumed her seat, picked up her flute, and sipped her fitza.

  “You are so like me, it gladdens my heart every time I see you in action,” said Vivia, rearranging her scarf. “We are such a great team. I loved the way you toyed with the queen. She really believed you were sincere! I must get to work on finding a replacement for you in the mission to entrap Cheval Kantus Hilson. I already wanted to replace the fool, and now the huntresses will do our dirty work for us—everything is falling into place perfectly.”

  “High Mistress—” began Darbeni.

  “I thought I asked you to call me ‘Mother,’” said Vivia in a mock-scolding tone.

  “Mother,” said Darbeni, the word awkward on her tongue. “I was sincere when I addressed the queen. I have just come from a meeting with Centuria Lady Alexandra Sheel, the First Handmaiden to the queen. We have worked out the details of our plan. In truth, I will be delighted to see the huntresses finish off Cheval Kantus Hilson. He frightens me.”

  Vivia’s eyes flashed dangerously, all softness gone. This was the hard side of Vivia that Darbeni knew well, so she was paradoxically calm.

  “How dare you—” Vivia’s voice rose in pitch.

  “I think I am acting in our best interests…Mother,” Darbeni said, cutting her off smoothly. “From my meeting with Lady Alexandra, it was clear that the huntresses would never accept a substitute. They think that my prior meeting with Cheval Hilson offers the best chance of lulling his suspicions. We will contact him as per our original plan and set up the delivery of new stocks of dynamite. With total surprise, the huntresses are sure they can kill him and his escort with minimal risk to both me and themselves.”

  Vivia locked eyes with her daughter, but Darbeni did not flinch. She is my daughter for good as well as ill, thought Vivia gloomily. Like me, she will not yield; she will have her way.

  “Well, there may be something in what you say,” said Vivia, swallowing her ire and turning warm again. “Gaining the trust of the huntresses will certainly stand us in good stead. If you pull this off, you will be a heroine, and that is always good for business. But my mother’s heart aches with worry. All these years I have not been able to claim you as mine, hold you close to my breast, and give you all that you are due. And now that I can, you are going into harm’s way. I could not bear to lose you!”

  DIANA ENTERED THE High Hall of Nordberg Castle, Ling Mae by her side and a squad of huntresses behind her. Arch Baron Karstein Tenus and Cheval Horus Matalus were there to receive her, each with several of his men.

  “I bid you welcome, Lady Death,” said Karstein gravely. “I invite you to sit with us and take some refreshment.”

  He indicated a long side table draped with snow-white linen and presided over by some of his liveried staff. There were several choice dishes laid out and several varieties of Utrean liquor. A set of leather sofas had been positioned facing the roaring fire in the huge hearth. Diana inclined her head to Ling Mae and approached the serving table. She selected a glass, poured herself ice water from a tall decanter, and walked over to the sofas. She seated herself on the end seat of one of the sofas to leave Light free, the tip of its leather scabbard resting on the ground. Ling Mae followed her commander’s example. Karstein did the same.

  Horus, however, poured himself a full glass of blue-berg wine and filled a plate with pastel-fish stew. He brought both over to the other sofa and sat, eating with his fingers and sipping his wine noisily.

  “This is good wine,” said Horus, his mouth full of food.

  “Lady Death, I am pleased to report that my reinforcements of a thousand men are on the march from Grigholm,” said Karstein, ignoring Horus’s comment. “They should be here very shortly. Once they are here, we should be able to hold Nordberg Castle and its environs without burdening you for support.”

  “I am pleased to hear that, Arch Baron,” said Diana. “Because I have been ordered to proceed from Nordberg with the Thetis and all the forces she carries. I will leave orders for the Residency’s airboats to provide you with air support, should the need arise.”

  “As always, it is a pleasure to work with one as professional as you,” said Karstein courteously. “And your beauty brightens the dullest task.”

  Flattery, especially from barbarians, never made any impression on Diana. So while she smiled in response, her pale eyes registered no emotion. She turned her attention to the Brigon cheval.

  “Horus, I would like you to accompany us in the airship,” she said, drawing a sharp look from Ling Mae and the other huntresses. It was unheard of for a barbarian to board, let alone travel in a Zon vessel.

  She caught Horus with his mouth full. He tried to respond immediately while swallowing and nearly choked. As he began coughing, Diana leaned over the bolster of her sofa and thumped him on the back till tears ran down his face and he brought up the morsel stuck in his throat.

  “Calm down, lad, no need to get so agitated,” she deadpanned with a wry look.

  He wiped his eyes, looked at her, and cleared his throat. Horus had a roving eye, but Diana’s statuesque beauty quickened his pulse and heated his blood like no other woman he had ever seen. She had seemed unattainable before, but in the last few days, she seemed to have changed. She likes me, he thought excitedly, his mind stringing together a daisy chain of events. She kept me safe at the Bugle Inn at Upper Thal, protected me in the battle for the Overhang Galleries, and now wants me to fly with her in her airship! Oh, to be in her arms!

  “Of course, Lady Death,” Horus managed to stammer. “We are allies; it is only right and proper that we travel together.”

  “Good man,” said Diana, her melodious voice thrilling him further. “We will travel and extend our alliance together.”

  “I would like nothing better, Lady Death,” said Horus fervently.

  “Excellent. You will be under my protection. You need not bring any of your men.”

  “Of course not.”

  Karstein was not sure what Diana wanted from this, but he wisely kept his own counsel.

  Horus was blindfolded and placed in the airboat with Ling Mae and the squad of huntresses. “For your own good, Horus,” Diana assured him. “It would be so undignified to get airsick.”

  Once they landed on the Thetis, Ling Mae placed him in force restraints and marched him to the command stateroom with two of her huntresses. Just as she was undoing the restraints, Diana entered.

  “I’ll take over from here, Centuria,” she said. “You and your huntresses may go.”

  “I hear and obey,” said Ling Mae. She and her huntresses saluted, hands on hearts, and withdrew. As they left, Diana read the disapproval in their eyes.

  Diana undid Horus’s blindfold and stepped back. He rubbed his eyes and looked around curiously as his vision cleared.

  “Where am I?” he asked.

  “We are aboard the airship Thetis,” said Diana. “We will shortly be weighing sky anchors and sailing for Vesterans in the Drai
gynys archipelago.”

  “Is that not the stronghold of Arch Baron Lothar Nibellus?” asked Horus.

  “Indeed it is,” returned Diana. “I see you are up on Utrean politics.”

  Horus searched her face, but she maintained a solemn expression, and he could not be sure whether she was mocking him or not.

  “This is the command stateroom,” said Diana, not unkindly. “I will leave you here. There are many devices here that you have never seen before. Do not touch anything. Your meals will be brought to you here, and I will look in on you as often as I can. But remember this—the huntresses are not used to having a barbarian on board. If you wander out of here, it is quite likely that you will be shot. And lastly, in case you were wondering, there are no weapons of any kind in here. So don’t get any clever ideas.”

  “Why, weapons were the last thing on my mind, Lady Death,” protested Horus.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” said Diana. “So give me your longsword and dagger. I will hold on to them till we are ready to debark at Vesterans.”

  Horus drew his sword and dagger from his belt and carefully handed both to her, hilts first. She hefted his sword and made a few passes, testing its weight and balance. It was nicely finished with lavish ornamentation and engravings, but as a weapon it was far inferior to the Zon swords she was used to.

  “Allow me to say, Lady Death, how delighted I am to spend time in your company,” he said gallantly, as she was playing with his sword. “We are building a true alliance for the future, you and I.”

  Diana had been watching him out of the corner of her eye, and now she brought the point of his sword to rest lightly on the middle of his breastplate. The color drained from his face, bringing a musical laugh to her lips.

  “You’re mine, Horus,” she said, still chuckling. “And you make me laugh. That is more than I can say for most barbarians.”

  She lowered the sword and left him. He stared after her with a wondering look, even after the portal hissed shut. She likes me, he thought again, happier than he had been in a long time.

  DIANA STRODE RAPIDLY down the corridor and took the antigravity shaft up a few decks to reach the bridge. Hebe was there in the command chair and shot her an irritated look.

  “Thank you for gracing us with your company, Cornelle,” she said without warmth.

  “I take it we are at full speed,” said Diana, ignoring her lack of cordiality. “Have we received a contact from the queen’s air barge?”

  “The Hypathia has been in touch,” said Hebe. “They are on an intersecting vector. We should raise them on the viewscreens in about two hours.”

  “Good,” said Diana, smiling around at all on the bridge. “I’ll head to the wardroom and relax a bit—it has been an eventful morning. I’d be grateful if you could get one of your crew to stow these weapons till we get to Vesterans.”

  She held out Horus’s longsword and dagger.

  Hebe inclined her head toward one of her officers and said, “I’ll see to it.”

  Diana left the bridge without further ado and made her way to the wardroom, where she found Ling Mae and a few of her huntresses lounging about. Unlike Hebe, they were happy to see her. They stood and saluted, all smiles. Diana put them at ease, and they sat down. They all ordered katsch, and after some stilted talk about the morning, they were soon plying Diana with questions about her storied career.

  Diana was a good raconteur and not short of self-esteem, but bragging was not one of her vices. So she responded with just a few short sentences about herself and quickly changed the subject to the tragedy of the loss of Deirdre. Now she was on much more favored ground. She spoke of her adventures when, as a young huntress just out of the Academy, she had served at Deirdre’s side. In all her stories, Deirdre had the starring role—brave, intelligent, gritty, and skillful—while her own contributions came off as secondary and supporting. She held them spellbound as she described how she had helped Deirdre subdue and then replace the rebellious Baron of Chenak. She told of her first weeks at the Academy, sparring with Deirdre in the training ring and being so soundly thrashed that her bruises kept her up all night for a week. She portrayed herself in such a comical light that she had them laughing hysterically.

  The time flew by, and katsch gave way to cherry ale. Ling Mae was at ease enough to raise the question of Horus.

  “It worries me to have a barbarian male aboard, Cornelle,” she said. “Perhaps I am oversensitive because of my experiences in Ostracis, but I wonder what you hope to gain by having him aboard.”

  “A good question, Centuria,” replied Diana, growing serious. “But it is really just politics.”

  “But Cornelle, we have never allowed barbarian males aboard the airships before,” persisted Ling Mae.

  “Everything about these past months is unprecedented, Centuria,” responded Diana. “We have never been defeated in the field, even in the direst days of Queen Simran. Yet it happened in spite of the best efforts of some of our finest huntresses—”

  “Cornelle, the defeat at Ostracis is on my head; I take full blame,” cut in Ling Mae, meeting Diana’s pale eyes without fear. “My huntresses fought and died with as much spirit and valor as Queen Simran’s Guardians. Virtually no war materiel was allowed to fall—”

  Diana smiled and, in an uncharacteristic gesture, put a gentle hand on Ling Mae’s cheek.

  “I saw a lot of video on the comm,” she said softly. “There is no blame to be borne, only glory to be credited.”

  “If there is glory, it all belongs to Praefecta Laksa Vertina,” said Ling Mae passionately. “An old woman well past her prime, she fought to the end and died covering our retreat.”

  “She is at peace with Ma,” said Diana. It was a clichéd phrase, but somehow Diana managed to make it sound uplifting. “Laksa Vertina and Deirdre d’Orr, these are the sagas of our times. A thousand years from now, our daughters will retell them and renew their courage and resolve. As we draw strength from the sagas of Simran the Merciless and Caitlin the Unforgiving.”

  They all sat in silence for a time. Diana’s speech left them all feeling warm and connected. But all of them had variants of the same thought: what of the saga of Diana Tragina, Lady Death?

  Diana heard the ping of an incoming comm channel. She opened the audio—it was Hebe.

  “We have the Hypathia on our viewscreens, Cornelle,” she said. “I have just had a comm from the queen. She plans to be ferried over to the Thetis in a pod. Princess Andromache accompanies her. She would like to meet with both of us. I suggest we receive the Imperial party on the hangar deck.”

  “An excellent idea,” replied Diana. “I’ll meet you there.” Cutting the comm channel, she turned to Ling Mae. “Please escort me to the hangar deck, Centuria.”

  Ling Mae stood immediately and saluted.

  “I hear and obey, Cornelle,” she said.

  As they walked side by side toward the antigravity shaft, Diana spoke in a conversational, informal tone without turning her head.

  “We huntresses are a tiny sorority within the small world of the Sisterhood, Centuria. There are no secrets—so I know that your career in the Legions has not been the easiest one. It is our failing that someone who looks like me is automatically given preference over someone who looks like you. But be assured that I am blind to anything other than ability and grit. I know your true worth.”

  Diana’s words were so unexpected that Ling Mae did not know whether she was more surprised or happy. She could not think of anything appropriate to say in response, but her face lit up with joy, and Diana was gratified. It has not been easy for her, thought Diana. She’s succeeded in a system where she was discriminated against at every turn.

  They reached the hangar deck in short order and found Hebe there with an honor guard of airship huntresses, all in ceremonial uniforms.

  Taking a place in the ranks of the honor guard, Ling Mae was embarrassed to be in combat gear. However, Diana was very much at ease, and as she took her place
next to Hebe at the head of the honor guard, she said, “I must congratulate you on the turnout of your receiving troop, Captain.”

  Hebe glanced at Diana’s combat gear and sniffed, but before she could reply, the hangar deck elevator descended with the pod from the Imperial air barge. The hatch of the small craft hissed open, and the ramp extended. Two tall Palace Guardians in ceremonial uniform stepped down the ramp and stood on either side of it. Then Hildegard appeared at the top of the ramp, dressed in her traveling Imperial regalia, the gold crown circlet with its circle-cross engraving shining in the hangar deck lighting. Andromache, in the white High Priestess robes of temple Cognis and wearing the royal tiara of Saxe, stood half a pace behind her. Even from a distance, her red-rimmed eyes and expression of sorrow were apparent to all.

  The assembled crowd of off-duty airship crew cheered, the honor guard saluted, hands on hearts, and the Imperial March played on the airship comm. Hildegard walked down the ramp to the strains of the march and approached the reception party, all still frozen in salute. As theater commander, Diana stepped forward and bowed deeply. Hebe followed half a pace behind, respectful of protocol but galled to be superseded.

  “I welcome you aboard the Thetis, Your Majesty,” said Diana in a carrying voice, knowing that it was being picked up on the comm. “And I bid you welcome, High Priestess Princess Andromache. We are all in the capable hands of Captain Hebe and her crew.” Here she stood aside and opened the floor for Hebe.

  Pleased in spite of herself, Hebe stepped up to Diana’s side.

  “Your Majesty, High Priestess—the Thetis and all its equipment and crew are at your disposal.” Hebe spoke slowly and formally, but she was conscious of the fact that she lacked Diana’s commanding presence.

  “It is always a pleasure to be with the Legions,” said Hildegard. “Please stand easy.” The honor guard relaxed. “Thank you for your heartfelt welcome. Cornelle Diana, Captain Hebe, I am so happy to see you both again.”