“I am starving,” Caitlin admitted. Gisfin took a chair and sat by her bedside with the baby in her arms while Caitlin ate.
“What will you name her?” she asked. “What name will the heiress to the d’Orr tiara bear?”
Caitlin’s mouth was full of food, and she thought as she chewed through it.
“I have been thinking about this for some time, Medica Gisfin,” she said. “I will name her Asgara.”
“An unusual name; I have never heard it before,” said Gisfin, surprised. “Lady Asgara d’Orr. It has a certain ring to it.”
HILDEGARD WAS IN the Great Rotunda in Chateau Regina, dressed in her formal regalia, wearing the Zon crown and holding the scepter. Andromache, Heliodora, Calliope, Kyra, Tignona, and Diana were seated in a semicircle on either side of her, also formally attired. Hildegard’s full complement of handmaidens was on hand, led by Alex.
Hildegard signaled Alex, and she cued up the comm channel. A sharp hologram of Durga appeared in the center of the rotunda. She was dressed in her normal black leather, helmeted and armed for battle. She looked around her at the fine murals on the walls of the rotunda, depicting important scenes from Zon history.
“I am flattered, Your Majesty,” she said, running her fingers down the tattoo on her face in her characteristic manner. “To be received in the rotunda at Chateau Regina by the entire Cabinet Council! I feel like a Resident!”
“Welcome, Durga,” said Hildegard. “The Sisterhood is in your debt. By retaking Ostracis at a time when we faced our gravest threat in modern times, you have shown that the Engine Maidens can be a force for good. We hope that you will continue on this path.”
“It depends on how you define this path, ma’am,” said Durga cagily.
“The citizens of Ostracis speak well of your command, dear,” said Hildegard. “You have repaired the damage of the war, and what is more, I hear that you have put great effort into much-needed upkeep to the public spaces. The residents of Ostracis are uniform in their praise of your Maidens.”
“We have never had a quarrel with our weak and vulnerable sisters,” said Durga with a touch of hauteur. “It is the administration that we take issue with. Especially yours.”
“Have you learned nothing from this war, Durga?” asked Hildegard with some asperity. “I am sure you have heard countless tales of shocking barbarism from the residents of Ostracis. But consider that other Utreans under King Lothar stood staunchly shoulder to shoulder with us and gave us the wherewithal to prevail. And with the return of the friendly administration of King Harald and his wise First Minister, Baron va Haxos, in Briga, our mutually beneficial trade has resumed.”
“Ma’am, you will not convince me of the wisdom of your policies, no matter what you say,” said Durga. “You know what the Engine Maidens stand for—progress toward the Manifest Destiny as specified by Simran the Merciless over a thousand years ago and handed down from queen to queen since then. Caitlin the Unforgiving stated explicitly in Caitlin Saga that the conquest and rule of New Eartha through barbarian vassals was only the first step. It was to be followed by direct Zon rule and the imposition of the Male Abortion Law on the barbarians. Trading with, coddling, and enriching our vassals takes us away from the Manifest Destiny, not toward it.”
Durga paused for breath, but she was clearly not done.
“We Engine Maidens live close to the barbarians; we see their patriarchy in all its ugliness, unclothed by the artifice of formal meetings and ceremonial occasions. What do you in Atlantic City know of the daily lives of barbarian women? Do you know how common gang rape is? When multiple men fall on a lone, weak woman, subject her to sexual torture, and often kill her? And do you realize how heartbreakingly normal it is for the patriarchy to blame the raped woman, to brand her as the guilty one?”
Durga spat out men like it was a filthy word.
“I may be cossetted in the safe haven of Atlantic City,” said Hildegard drily. “But I am not wholly ignorant of life among the barbarians. And I know enough of the Engine Maidens’ vigilante activities.”
“I make no apologies for castrating and roasting rapists,” cried Durga. “The only way we will stop the suffering of the women of this world is through direct Zon rule.”
“How do you suggest we directly rule New Eartha, a planet with a population of almost fifty million, when our active population numbers less than half a million?” asked Hildegard. “With fewer than ten thousand huntresses? Even fewer with our recent losses.”
“Now is the perfect time, ma’am!” said Durga. “The Utreans and Brigons are demoralized and disorganized. Derecognize Lothar and Harald. Declare Resident Lady Selene the Governess of Briga and Resident Rita the Governess of Utrea. Send an airship to each Residency with squadrons of airboats. If we secure Briga and Utrea in our generation and impose the Male Abortion Law, their men will die out in our lifetimes. You will go down as one of our greatest queens, Hildegard the Bold! Future generations can learn from our example and turn their attention to the teeming masses of Daksin.”
Kyra began applauding, but Hildegard gave her a blazing look and she stopped, looking abashed. The rest of the Cabinet Council sat like graven images of stone, but Hildegard suspected that Tignona secretly agreed with Durga and Kyra. She was sure Andromache and Calliope would disagree and was reasonably sure of Heliodora. The old huntress-priestess divide, she thought. I must have a word with Kyra and Tignona in private. It may be wise to begin to undercut them politically and replace them. Diana, as always, was a wild card—one never knew what she was thinking.
“Durga, I must look to the best interests of the Sisterhood,” said Hildegard, trying to sound conciliatory. “The plan you suggest involves gambling our entire civilization on one throw of the dice. Given the brute force numbers involved, it is just too risky. I cannot support it. I ask you to take a longer view…be patient and work with us and our barbarian allies for now.”
Durga looked inflexible.
“I will never work with the barbarians,” she said with finality.
“Then return to Simrania with the new equipment we have given you,” said Hildegard. “At least don’t upset the delicate balance we have in Utrea. If Lothar is overthrown, it will hurt us, but it will not help you either.”
“Why should I return to Simrania?” asked Durga. “As you said, the people of Ostracis love having us here. And we rather like being in a real citadel for a change. We have repaired the Keep, and I am quite comfortable here.”
“Durga, you are far too young and beautiful to be in Ostracis,” said Hildegard, knowing she had little leverage. “And the same goes for your Maidens.”
Durga bowed elaborately.
“I thank you for the compliment, ma’am. And value it greatly, coming as it does from a queen as beautiful and elegant as you. But several of my people were denizens of Ostracis before they joined the Maidens. In any event, we both know that it is not a matter of rules and convention, but of power. Holding Ostracis makes the Maidens more powerful. The administration cannot skimp on supplies as it does at Simrania. Starving or freezing the old folk of Ostracis will not go over well with the commoners or the electrae of the active population. And with two bases—Simrania and Ostracis—we will be twice as effective.”
Hildegard knew there was little she could do to remove Durga from Ostracis without bloodshed.
“Okay, Durga, we will not attempt to dislodge you from Ostracis,” said Hildegard, giving in. “But if you carry out offensive sorties into Utrean territory, I will name a new commandant of Ostracis from among the inhabitants and send in a century to enforce her will. You may find your hold on Ostracis is not as secure as you think.”
Durga thought rapidly. She did not want an open and bloody conflict with the administration. It would cause her newfound popularity in Ostracis to plummet and cost her valuable political capital among the active Zon population. And to peacefully accede to a new commandant in Ostracis, second-guessing her every move and supported by a regul
ar combat-tested century, was almost as unpalatable. Hildegard is a mistress of political strategy, thought Durga. No wonder she rose from commoner to queen.
“If you guarantee reciprocity from King Lothar,” said Durga cannily, “we have a deal. He must cede control of the Steefen River Valley to us. Any incursion into it by the Utreans will be met with deadly force. He must recognize me as the de facto Zon Governess of Steefen.”
“I cannot bargain on behalf of King Lothar,” said Hildegard.
“He is your vassal!” exploded Durga. “Order him to do your bidding.”
“We tread delicately with barbarian kings, Durga,” said Hildegard, not expecting her to understand. “I do not order them; I suggest mutually beneficial courses of action through my Residents. But I will commence negotiations with him. You will have de facto control of the Steefen River Valley in return for refraining from any hostilities against King Lothar and his adherents.”
IT WAS STILL dark on the Day of Women’s Suffrage when Dannae rose before dawn, got ready, and dressed. Just a year ago today, I was chaperoning a school trip to the Zon Historical Museum and Flight Memorial, she thought. How much has happened since then!
She took the Rapid to the Great Temple of Ma on Temple Heights. She entered and tried a number of the smaller chapels before she found the one she was looking for. A small group of orthodox Zon were congregated there and looked to her uncertainly as she entered. Their attention was inevitably drawn to her vivid facial tattoo as well as her wrist bracers and choker. Recognizing that she was a priestess, they deferred to her and let her take the foremost position by the altar.
Dannae had spent the past months in intense study, and her Artha-Pranto was now quite good. She led them in the ancient prayers, calling on Ma to help them recreate Modern Times on New Eartha. When they were done, she blessed the wine and went around the small group, pouring a thimbleful for each. They drank the Holy Toast and wished each other the happiness of the New Year before dispersing.
The sun had now risen, and it was a beautiful spring morning, brisk and sunny. The snow was gone from the floor of the Great Vale and was retreating up the mountainsides. The peaks and ridges were still brilliantly white. Dannae walked slowly to the Temple Heights nursery and checked in as she did every morning she was in Atlantic City. Her twins were bonny babies now, no longer infants. She took them out into the garden and sat with one on each knee.
She hugged them both tightly to her, trying to imprint herself on them. She would contact them regularly on the comm—nothing need be any different. Only she had no idea if or when she would ever see them again in the flesh. She felt an ache deep down and let her fingers smooth down the red ribbons trailing from her Order of Motherhood. I will always wear this, my babies, she thought. It will remind me of you every day.
After feeding them breakfast, Dannae returned them to a caregiver, saying, “I will be away, and you won’t see me for some time. Please take good care of my darlings.”
“We love them, Medica Dannae,” the caregiver replied. “They are ours too, you know.”
Dannae felt slightly better when she left. She took the Rapid to the airfield. The supply airboat for Ostracis had just completed loading, and the seignora in command was standing on the rear cargo hatch supervising the final stowage. Dannae walked up to her and saluted, hand on heart.
“Happy New Year, Seignora,” she said. “I wonder if I could hitch a ride with you. I must get to Ostracis today.”
“Happy New Year, Medica,” the seignora responded, taking in Dannae’s wrist bracers and choker but also her facial tattoo. “I think we can fit you in—just. But we are leaving momentarily. Do you have any luggage?”
“Only what’s in my pack,” said Dannae, jumping onto the ramp. “Thanks a lot. I really appreciate this.”
Later than day, Dannae was shown into the Small Hall of the Keep at Ostracis. Durga stood by a viewport with Elena, who now served as her chief of staff. She came up to Dannae and greeted her warmly as an equal.
“Welcome to Ostracis, Medica Dannae,” she said. “We are delighted you are here. We know you have had to leave your twins behind. We are cognizant of your deep sacrifice—please accept our whole-hearted gratitude.” She turned to Elena. “Please arrange Medica Dannae’s initiation into the Maidens for this evening.” She turned back to Dannae. “It will be the highlight of evening prayers.”
Leaving the Keep, Dannae opened a comm. channel. It pinged a few times before it went through.
“Clodine,” she said. “I have come to you. I will never leave you again.”
THE MASS OF Thanks for the Restoration of King Harald in the Thermadan Cathedral in Dreslin Center had just begun. The strains of the “The Last Prophet” were just dying away, and there was an expectant buzz in the vast chamber. Alumus was already at the Triangle Altar, surveying the crowd. He missed his senior cleric, Holodus. The man had been so good at maintaining his schedule. His sudden disappearance was so completely out of character! This new man was a bumbling idiot; he would have to be replaced.
The organ moved on to the Royal Processional. Harald and Esme entered and slowly walked up the red carpet laid out along the nave all the way to the Triangle Altar. Harald held Esme’s arm with both hands, and she led him tenderly. She wore Lady Selene’s gown for the first time at a public ceremony, now let out a bit to accommodate the slight bulge at her belly. The news of Esme’s pregnancy had spread rapidly, but few had seen the “baby bump,” and it caused a stir.
The royal couple ascended the altar and knelt to the One God and Thermad. Alumus pronounced the blessing, reconsecrating the king. He stared down Esme’s pregnancy-enhanced cleavage as he did so, feeling particularly smug. He caught her eye as she rose and smirked. She did not smile back but remained expressionless. She went through the motions in the ceremony, tending to Harald and ignoring Alumus to the extent possible.
Harald or Alumus…whose child am I carrying? she wondered for the hundredth time. She hoped with all her heart that it was Harald’s. Her woman’s intuition told her it was Alumus’s, but she would never know for sure.
GISFIN KEPT CAITLIN at Repro for five days, the longest period allowed by regulations. During this period she had a colleague from orthopedics perform a small follow-up procedure on Caitlin’s thigh.
“The procedure will not make it stronger, I am afraid,” she told Caitlin. “But it should significantly reduce the pain that arises when you get tired after a long effort.”
“How do you know that I have pain?” asked Caitlin, surprised. “I never told you.”
“And you are a good actress; you conceal it well,” laughed Gisfin, her eyes twinkling. She wagged her finger. “But I am a Medica Cognis. I have been in this business a long time. I have seen you favoring your right leg when you thought no one was watching.”
Caitlin was discharged and took Asgara home with her to the d’Orr palace. She carried the baby through the Ancestral Hall, talking to her about her forebears, played with her in her suite, and took her around the grounds. Silencis still hurt, but she found it was more bearable now. She went over to the Saxe palace next door and proudly showed off her daughter to Andromache, who was delighted to see the tiny heiress. She was even happier to see the change in Caitlin and assured her that as soon as the chatter on the comm died down, she would sponsor an appeal to have her sentence overturned.
Caitlin spoke to Megara often by audio and holographic video and never tired of showing her daughter off, describing every little change. It was a glorious spring, and the Great Vale was a riot of color. Asgara grew rapidly and was soon crawling around the palace so energetically and quickly that Caitlin had to watch her like a hawk. But even as the months passed, the negative chatter on the comm about Caitlin would not abate.
“I have never known the like,” said Megara, perplexed. “There has always been unpleasantness on the comm, but after a month or two, it always goes on to something else. Now every time another story comes up and gains inter
est on the comm, some new lurid and completely unfounded story about you appears and takes center stage again.”
“Now they say that I was sleeping with Harald and Alumus at the same time,” said Caitlin wearily. “And that is why they put such a big bounty on my head. They wanted their concubine back.”
“It is almost as if someone is campaigning against you,” said Megara. “But that cannot be true, for it makes no sense. You have never harmed anyone—why would anyone go to such lengths to victimize you?”
“I don’t know why, Megara,” said Caitlin, changing the subject. “All I know is that I have redeemed myself by having Asgara. I have done my duty, and the d’Orr line will live on. Asgara will be a great princess, everything that I am not. And you will teach her how.”
She held up Asgara to the commoners’ handheld communicator that she now used. The baby gurgled happily at the sight of the familiar raven-haired huntress in the hologram. “See, she knows you!”
“Of course she knows me!” exclaimed Megara. “Even a baby should know her aunt.”
“Megara,” said Caitlin, growing solemn. “In the whole world, you are closest to me and so to Asgara as well. If anything should happen to me, I want you to promise that you will bring her up as her mother.”
“Why would you even ask?” said Megara. “And why would anything happen to you? You are young and strong; you will live to see Asgara grow into ripe maturity.”
“Just promise me, Megara,” persisted Caitlin.
“I promise,” said Megara, seeing Caitlin was quite serious. “I am her godmother, and I will be her foster mother if the need arises. If I have daughters of my own, they will be as close to her as womb sisters. As close as we are.”
Then Asgara gurgled at her again, and Megara laughed and clapped her hands.
THIRTY-ONE
CAITLIN SPENT SIX happy months with Asgara, delighting in her baby’s every little advancement. Her old, highly structured military life, filled with adrenalin-charged, physically demanding activities, camaraderie, and active partying, grew ever fainter in her memory. Her silencis still hurt intensely, no matter how hard she tried to get used to it. She thought that she would develop a thick skin and that in time she would cease noticing the reactions of others that ranged from simple snubs to looks filled with hatred and loathing. But she could not alter her sensitive nature.
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