The Empire of the Zon

by R. M. Burgess

  The second half was less exciting for the audience than the first. Both combatants were tired, and they moved slower and more carefully. Diana livened things up at one point by drawing her long dagger and fighting with two blades for a while. The sands continued to run, and Lothar’s brow creased with irritation.

  “If Greghar cannot kill her, than I am loath to enter into this alliance, Your Majesty,” he said grumpily to Hildegard.

  “Now, now, Arch Baron,” Hildegard remonstrated. “You gave your word in front of your barons and my advisors. Surely the word of high aristocracy such as yourself is sacrosanct?”

  “My word is as only as good as the duel is fair,” he said sullenly. “I don’t know what you Zon have given Greghar in your airship.”

  “They are both giving as good as they are getting,” Hildegard retorted. “You are a swordsman, Arch Baron. What could they do that they have not already done?”

  “I can’t put my finger on it,” he said, scratching his head. “She has wounded him, but he does not seem to have his heart in it.”

  “He is your champion, Arch Baron,” said Hildegard. “You chose him freely with no pressure from us.”

  A few of Lothar’s barons began grumbling, though the comments were directed at Lothar’s choice of Greghar as champion rather than at Hildegard.

  “No matter,” said Lothar, with bad temper. “I have my duel, and you will have your alliance.”

  As the sands in the timer became very short, both Diana and Greghar tensed, alert for any last-minute trick. There was none forthcoming, and the gong sounded to end the duel with both combatants standing, though clearly exhausted. Alex ran out to the center of the ring and hugged and supported Diana. Caitlin walked out quickly as well but stood a few yards from Greghar, not sure what to do.

  “You fought well, Greghar,” she said.

  “Thank you,” he said, equally self-conscious and wishing for nothing other than to sit down.

  Then there was a little whirlwind as Nitya ran up full tilt and hugged Greghar around his waist.

  “I am so happy you are safe, Greghar,” she sang. “When Cornelle Diana cut your face, I grew so afraid, I covered my eyes, but she waited for you to recover, didn’t she? That was very ethical of her. The lady by me, the wife of your cousin, she was so mean; she seemed to want Cornelle Diana to kill you! I am so happy I won’t have to live with them…” Nitya prattled on as Greghar and Caitlin returned to his post to pick up his things.

  There were formalities to be completed. Diana and Greghar approached the dais, led by Pinnar. Everyone on the dais except for Lothar and Hildegard stood to receive the announcement. At the foot of the dais, Pinnar cleared his throat and made the announcement in stentorian tones, “Cornelle Diana Tragina—Lady Death—and Greghar Asgar have fought a fair duel, under the time-honored rules. The result is obvious to all. A draw!”

  There was some desultory clapping from the crowd, but many were already clogging the exits, leaving the Lighthouse Keep for the taverns of Fort Town. Realizing he had no option, Lothar stood, bowed deeply to Hildegard, and said, “My conditions are satisfied, Your Highness. Please ask your military commander to meet with my son, Baron Pinnar, who serves as my lord lieutenant. They can work out the detailed logistics of our joint action.”

  To Lothar’s surprise, Hildegard stood to make her response.

  “Arch Baron Lothar Nibellus,” she called out in a carrying voice. “We recognize you as the true heir of your brother, Jondolar the Just, descending from the main line of the Royal House of Nibellus. We hereby derecognize the usurper, Shobar, and offer you the crown of Utrea as our vassal, with all its incomes, rights, and responsibilities. Do you accept?”

  There was an electric atmosphere in the Hall of the Whale. The pushing at the exits stopped and then reversed as people excitedly began hurrying back into the hall. Lothar stared at Hildegard, too stupefied to respond. Then one of his barons drew his sword and raised it high, calling out, “All hail King Lothar of Utrea!” Another of his barons echoed him, “King Lothar of Utrea!”

  Someone in the crowd repeated the call. There were more calls that grew in number and volume, until there was a thunderous chorus.

  Hildegard smiled, first at Lothar’s barons and then at the crowd. She looked beautiful, regal, and motherly all at the same time. Someone from the crowd pointed to her and cried, “Hail Queen Empress Hildegard!”

  This call was picked up and soon formed a second chorus. Hildegard put her right hand out, palm upward, in acknowledgment and signaled for calm with her other hand. Slowly the crowd quieted. Lothar came out of his daze and squared his shoulders.

  “I accept, Queen Empress,” he said in a booming voice.

  “Then kneel,” she commanded. He approached her and did so. Hildegard put her hand out to Andromache, saying, “High Priestess Princess Andromache, the Utrean crown, please.”

  Before the spellbound audience, Andromache came to Hildegard’s side with a polished oak box. She opened it to show the crowd the glittering Utrean crown resting on a velvet base. Lothar looked up and recognized Jondolar’s crown with its distinctive circle of ships’ masts. His eyes widened in surprise. Hildegard took the crown and placed it on Lothar’s head, saying, “Rise, King Lothar, Lord of Utrea!”

  Lothar rose and turned to face the throng, and all in the Hall of the Whale broke into wild cheering. He put both his hands in the air and cried, “All the taverns of Fort Town are on my charge tonight! Go out, my subjects, and drink to the health of your new king and his Zon alliance!”

  Now the rush for the exits was more frenzied than before, and Lothar turned to Hildegard, smiling. “I hope that you and your entourage will join mine in a small reception to toast our alliance,” he said.

  “Gladly,” said Hildegard.

  The nobility on the dais slowly made their way toward the small chamber, where Lothar’s chief steward was frantically putting together catering on five minutes’ notice. Horus slipped away from the Zon party and stepped off the dais to where Diana and Greghar stood.

  “A disappointing duel, Lady Death,” he griped. “You only managed to get in a couple of light gashes. Give me some time in the training ring, and I will show you how it’s done. Why, each time I sparred with Greghar, I beat him so thoroughly that he carried the bruises for weeks on end.”

  Diana looked over at Greghar, but his face was expressionless. She glanced back at Alex, who looked like she would burst from holding in her laughter, and then at Caitlin, who merely looked contemptuous. Diana gave them a slow wink.

  “This is when he was in your service, I take it,” said Diana to Horus, who nodded. She continued, “I am very tired, but I am ever eager to learn. So please face me. I would love to see how you do it.”

  Horus pushed Greghar aside and strutted to face Diana, who stood loose-limbed with knees slightly bent. Her eyes swept the Hall and noted that almost all of the audience had left, and just a few laggards were still milling around the exits. The VIP parties had vanished down the corridor, out of the hall.

  “Alex, call time,” said Diana, her eyes returning to Horus. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword and prepared himself.

  “Three, two, one!” called Alex. By the time Horus grabbed his hilt and had the blade halfway out, Diana had stepped up to him and got his throat between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand. Her long dagger appeared in her left hand like magic, its needle-sharp point at his Adam’s apple. She slowly squeezed his windpipe and pricked him, drawing a bead of blood. She leaned forward, put her tongue out lasciviously, and licked the blood off with the tip.

  Her lips were centimeters from Horus’s ear. She was choking him hard enough that he could not speak, but his ears were fully functional. He did not dare struggle with her dagger at his throat.

  “Greghar is even faster than me,” she whispered. “If you challenged him, you would be dead before you could blink.”

  She released him, and he staggered back, doubled over, and
began to retch.

  “I am sorry your sword stuck in its scabbard, Horus,” Diana said in a loud voice. “You will have to give me that lesson later in the training ring.”

  Horus slowly straightened and looked around at the semicircle of Diana, Alex, Caitlin, and Greghar, with Nitya hiding behind them. They all managed to keep straight faces, with no hint of laughter or mockery.

  “Yes,” he acknowledged hoarsely, grateful for the out Diana provided him. “If my sword hadn’t gotten stuck, I would have disarmed you in a flash.”

  “Let us join the reception of the newly crowned King Lothar,” said Diana. “I hope they have some seating there, for I am too tired to stand.”

  “That I will drink to,” said Greghar, finally cracking a smile.

  They headed toward the reception, Alex leading the way with Diana. Horus walked by Diana’s other side, striving to get her attention. Nitya skipped forward with them and Greghar fell a few paces behind. Caitlin remained by his side. As the others entered the reception, he lingered outside. He glanced at Caitlin and their eyes met.

  “Caitlin,” he said.

  She did not reply. Without another word, he took her in his arms and kissed her. She struggled for a moment before she relaxed, opened her mouth and kissed him back fiercely. He released her as suddenly as he had embraced her. Just a few moments later, Nitya found them standing apart, gazing at each other in silence.

  “Come on in, you sillies!” she cried. “There is food and drink and a cozy fire inside. The Queen herself is asking for you.”

  DARBENI SAT IN Jena’s small room in the Brigon Residency. She was dressed much more stylishly than usual but looked decidedly bilious.

  “You look a bit green around the gills,” said Jena, grinning.

  “They brought my airboat in in a vertical dive,” said Darbeni, trembling. “I thought we were going to crash. I gave myself up for lost.”

  “As you have seen, we are under siege,” replied Jena, her tone nonchalant. “There are bowmen in the crowds out there; we’ve had hundreds of fire arrows. It would take a very lucky shot to bring down an airboat, but your pilot was right to play it safe.” She walked over to a side cabinet and took out a bottle. “Here, have a little shot of vitrus. I got it the last time we were deployed in Utrea; it is the best you can get. I know you Pragarinas are used to quality.”

  Darbeni accepted the glass and took a sip. It burned her throat on the way down, but it was a good burn, and the aftertaste was of fresh berries. She took a second sip, settled back in her armchair, and let out a sigh.

  “Oh, that was good, Jena,” she said. She swirled the clear liquid around in the glass before continuing. “So you know of my legitimization, my recognition as High Mistress Vivia’s daughter? It was a very small announcement on the comm.”

  “You piqued my curiosity with your comm, so I got nosy and did some searching,” said Jena. “And now it is fairly obvious, since you are wearing the pink wrist bracers of a priestess. This scheme of yours wouldn’t have anything to do with becoming Vivia’s heiress, would it?”

  Darbeni did not have a high regard for Jena’s intelligence, but she knew the huntress to have an animal cunning and a nose for secrets. She let Jena’s question hang in the air for some time. Jena poured herself a small shot of vitrus and sat down beside her.

  “It might,” Darbeni said, noncommittal and cautious. “And it might not. The main thing is that these three barbarian men possess something that could seriously harm the Sisterhood. I would like to reclaim these items and remove this potential threat.”

  “How might these barbarians have come by these items?” asked Jena innocently.

  “I am not sure,” said Darbeni. “I discovered this through some of our barbarian trading contacts. I thought I had better get it cleared up right away.”

  She sounded equally innocent, but her heart was beating very fast. She knew she was playing a very dangerous game. She was operating behind Vivia’s back, working to transfer her mother’s power over the Sisterhood to herself. Darbeni did not have any illusions—she knew that if Vivia found out what she was doing, her professions of motherly love would be instantly forgotten and she, Darbeni, would have an unfortunate “accident.” Vivia would cry real tears at her funeral, but a fat lot of good that would do her!

  “Why didn’t you just report it to military headquarters and let them handle it? Why work through this risky back channel?”

  “You know that my mother and I are not loved by the military,” said Darbeni patiently. “In fact, Praefecta Kyra—our new First Principal—hates my mother. They would never believe us, or worse, would accuse us of being part of some sort of plot.”

  Kyra’s hatred of the Guild Mistresses was well known, and Jena nodded.

  “Okay, I’m all ears,” she said, taking a sip of her drink.

  “There are three barbarian males with fragments of a map,” said Darbeni, trying hard to sound calm. “They are in dispersed locations. Joined together, these fragments would enable them to get into one of our Pragarina weapons storage depots. We must retrieve these fragments and kill these men.”

  “You know how to find them?”

  “I have their names, locations, and holographic images.”

  “Give them to me,” said Jena.

  Darbeni demurred.

  “I will come along,” she said. “I must retrieve the map fragments. They are no business of the government’s.”

  Jena thought through the situation quickly. There must be something in these map fragments that can get the Pragarinas into trouble. If I help Darbeni and have everything recorded, she will be in my power. That will be worth a lot of gold talents! I could get into serious trouble leaving the Residency without authorization—but it would be worth it to finally get out of debt!

  “We’ll need your airboat,” said Jena, sounding slightly worried. She set her glass down. “We can’t use a military airboat without filing a requisition, and that will lead to a lot of questions. But I can’t do this alone. I’ll have to bring in a couple of others.”

  “No!” said Darbeni. “The whole point is to keep this secret. The more people we involve, the riskier it gets.”

  “Relax,” said Jena. “No one who is party to this crazy escapade would have any incentive to talk about it. As soon as we leave the Residency without orders, we are in breach of regulations. Besides, how do you expect me to get into Dreslin Center alone, unaided?”

  “There is no need to do that,” said Darbeni. “All three meetings are in desolate locations. Once I establish that they have brought what I want, I will signal you to terminate them.”

  “I heard of how you helped Centuria Lady Alexandra entrap Cheval Hilson,” said Jena, chuckling. “The heads of the killers of Princess Deirdre have become quite a sensation in Aurora and on the comm. I guess you are developing a taste for violent intrigue.”

  “I have no taste for it,” said Darbeni with a shudder. “But I do what is necessary.”

  “So do I,” returned Jena without emotion. “I don’t like killing either.”

  “So we understand each other,” said Darbeni. “You will not regret this, I assure you. The House of Pragarina does not forget its debts. My airboat is ready whenever you are. We have extra batteries on board and all the weapons and equipment you could possibly need. If we leave immediately, my crew will serve us a fine lunch aboard.”

  The two of them went separately to the Residency hangar, where Darbeni’s airboat was moored. The hangar was a hive of activity—the continuous aerial reconnaissance of the Hilson troop buildup meant that the Residency’s airboats were constantly coming and going as well as being recharged or repaired. The large, silver Pragarina airboat stood out from all the dusty, sooty military machines.

  Jena acknowledged the waves of several mechanicae working in the repair bays and charging stands. Darbeni led the way up the ramp of her airboat and into the dining area. The well-dressed cabin crew had already laid out settings for two at t
he airboat’s formal dining table.

  No sooner had they taken their places than the cabin crew served a sumptuous lunch. Darbeni had not stinted. Her crew brought out the roc-glass stems and the finest vintage fitza. Darbeni had instructed Vivia’s airboat chef to come up with a memorable meal, and she had outdone herself, sourcing ingredients from the length and breadth of New Eartha. Jena was duly impressed and ate heartily.

  “It is nice to see what money can buy,” she said, sitting back with a sigh. She sipped fitza and then examined the beautiful stem in the light, appreciating the explosion of color. “I don’t think I have ever eaten a better meal.”

  “My mother and I do not believe in buying or working with anything but the best,” said Darbeni, her big brown eyes guileless. “Present company included.”

  “Summon your pilot,” said Jena, pleased in spite of herself at the compliment. “I’d like to talk to her about the flight plan.”

  “I have dismissed the flight crew,” said Darbeni, looking into the beautiful prismatic lights in her stem. “I had hoped you would be able to fly this airboat.”

  “Oh,” said Jena, taken aback but maintaining a nonchalant expression. “No problem.”

  Darbeni summoned the cabin crew and dismissed them. The two of them waited for the telltale hiss of the ramp closing before speaking.

  “I’ve asked them to stay in their guest quarters and keep a low profile till we get back,” said Darbeni, fidgeting with a fork. She tried not to think of Vivia and smiled at Jena. “Well, it is just you and me on board now. I am afraid you will find me dull company—I am not really into adventure.”

  “Killing someone is never an adventure,” said Jena. She drew her small inhaler from one of her belt pouches, put it to her nose, and took a couple of deep hits, one through each nostril. As the drug hit her sinuses, she coughed, and her eyes watered.

  “I thought you were off the katsang,” hissed Darbeni.

  “I am,” said Jena huffily. “I rarely use it, only when I need to be sharper than usual.”