Once on the balcony they took the left wing and headed through an archway into a lofty hall that seemed to stretch forever.
“Whoa Bannor,” Wren said. “You’re on your game today.”
“Wren, I’m ignorant about a lot of things, but not people. I lived in a forest because of what I knew.”
“Humans are dirty nasty selfish creatures,” Wren answered back, her voice dissipating into the arched roof of the hall. “But you can’t live without them.”
“No, but you can live far away from them.”
“Hermit boy,” Wren responded shoving his shoulder.
“Tender foot,” he poked back.
“And you call me immature,” Daena said with a frown.
Both of them shrugged.
The walk took them past another hundred paces of fine art, statuary, tapestries, and other exquisite décor. Hidden lights and mirrors gave an extra glow to enhance the appearance of everything.
They went through a swinging bookcase that hid a stairwell, and climbed another short flight of stairs. As they exited, it opened into a brightly lit chamber of terraces dominated by a massive hemisphere of curved glass that looked out over a crystal blue lake surrounded by a pristine forest, the jagged silhouettes of snow-capped mountains in the distance. Only the barest refraction in the glass let the viewer even know it was there. Outside, it was apparent that house Frielos stood on a hilltop, a rocky hillside crisscrossed with stone paths led down to the water’s edge. Behind the glass, the cloud dappled azure blue backdrop with the slowly shifting patterns of the clouds reflected on the surface of the water looked more like a painting than something real.
Three carpeted terraces each several paces wide, stepped down to where the glass arced up overhead. Couches, divans, lounges, serving tables and knee-high dining platforms were arranged to take best advantage of the view. The riches displayed in the rest of the house were toned down in this chamber that probably served several functions. On the highest terrace, commanding a view of both the window and the stair, access was a massive desk backed by a wall of shelves packed with books. Another smaller desk sat in an adjacent corner. At the center of the chamber, the floor terraced up to a semi-circle of curved couches.
As Beia stepped up to the floor of what was obviously a guarded inner-sanctum white-coated servants scrambled out of exits camouflaged in the walls. Two men positioned at the stair banisters bowed before the Myrmigyne, one taking her hand to guide her up the last step.
A figure rose from the ring of couches brushing back long white hair, filling the room with her presence. The portrait in the commons had done the woman justice, a creature larger than life that was perhaps two hands taller than sky-scraping Irodee who was the biggest woman Bannor had ever seen. She was not wearing the military uniform, but a blouse of shiny black satin sequined with jewels that glittered in the brightly lit room. A gold falcon crest with ruby eyes hung on a platinum chain around her neck. She wore soft jodhpurs tucked into polished high-heeled boots that made her seem even more gigantic. She was as impressive as might be expected of ruler of worlds, but the one thing that the picture and all the cold surroundings and icy people they had seen did not prepare them for—the woman’s smile.
“Regaura luv,” Aarlen said in deep feminine voice that made the room hum. She crossed the room in three steps and met Beia with a hug. She pushed the Myrmigyne back a little and kissed her with obvious passion.
Beia responded at first, but when the kiss lingered she pushed against the much larger woman in apparent embarrassment.
Grinning, the silver-eyed elder let her go, apparently pleasuring in the Myrmigyne’s scandalized expression. She snatched Snowfire from around Beia’s neck, the dragon making a disgruntled growl as the big woman plunked him on her own shoulder. She pulled Beia close and put an arm around her as she focused on the rest of them.
For a bloodthirsty tyrant and ruler of an untold number of worlds, it was unexpectedly warm smile she gave them. “Greetings,” she said in that powerful voice. “Welcome to Falconhall.” Her silver eyes trained on the blonde savant. “Hello Wren, kill any gods lately?”
Wren’s jaw dropped. She started to say something, stopped, then tried again. “Magestrix—no, not recently.” She glanced to Bannor. “I leave that to him now.”
Aarlen turned those powerful silver eyes on him. Though the woman was smiling, there could be no mistaking her power. He’d seen gods that had half as much energy pulsing through them—and this woman was relaxed—not a bit of tension in her aura whatsoever.
The white-haired woman tilted her head. “A garmtur, Wren, such a collection of savants you’ve been gathering, and this young lady—” Her attention went to Daena. The woman’s eyebrow rose. “My my my…a da’jhamack, but one fully merged with a third generation immortal body. Such fascinating playmates.”
Bannor swallowed. Damn, this woman was dangerous in so many ways. She knew things even the pantheon lords didn’t know.
“Magestrix,” Wren said. “Koass sent us to you as your experts.”
The woman ran a tongue across sparkling white teeth. “Did he now? How thoughtful. Come child, let us discuss this.” She held out a hand to Wren.
Wren stared at her, blue eyes wide.
Aarlen noticed the pause and looked down at her hand. “I assure you it is clean. I haven’t killed anyone with it for at least a fortnight. Come.” She made a coming gesture with her hand.
There was a strange uncomfortable dichotomy with this woman. When she said she hadn’t killed anyone, she said it the way a person might mention doing the linens or cooking dinner.
Wren reached out tentatively and placed her hand in Aarlen’s.
“There we go,” the big woman responded with a nod. “All of you, come sit. I have guests, but we are all friends. This promises to be quite interesting.” She looked down to Wren, taking small steps so as not to drag her or Beia along. “So, tell me, does your friend know what she is?”
Wren’s eyes were still big. She nodded.
Aarlen looked back to Daena and Bannor saw a dangerous glint in the elder’s eye. “Really? How exciting…”
* * *
Chapter Five
The Supreme Magestrix
« ^ »
For nigh on thirty forty-five millennia love was nothing but a tool to me. I neither experienced nor inspired it. Then one day it pounced on me after the damnable eternals had scrambled my brains. Whether by design or accident, I know not, and now care not. For several cycles I remained the meanest creature ever to love something. I would dare say I raised being mean to the level of an art-form. Then four women and some addle-brained do-gooder boy infected me and scrambled my brains again. Somehow, I know I am still mean…I just seem to have misplaced my cruelty…
—Supreme Magestrix Aarlen Frielos,
Minister of the 4th Alliance Territories
As Aarlen was leading them back to the couches, a servant rushed out of one of the hidden alcoves with a piece a parchment in his hand. He practically fell on his face as he slid to a stop on his knees in front of her holding up the note. The pale woman pulled her arm from around Beia and let go of Wren as she took the page from his shaking hand. She snapped her fingers and made a dismissing gesture as she scanned the message. The man vanished so fast Bannor thought he would tear a hole in the carpet in his urgency to vacate the area.
The big woman studied the note for moment, sighed and rolled her eyes. She tossed the paper into the air. With a hiss, the sheet burst into flame and vaporized. “Pardon me, this requires my immediate attention. Please, have a seat, refreshments will be out directly.” She clapped her hands, sending more servants scurrying. She bent and kissed Beia on the cheek. “Luv, please entertain them for a few moments.”
Beia nodded.
Aarlen looked around, made slight bow and vanished, leaving Snowfire in mid-air, the dragon made an annoyed growl spreading his wings to avert his fall. He flitted up and landed back on Beia’s shoulder.
Wren scrubbed her face, looking at the place where Aarlen had been standing. “All right, I am now thoroughly weirded out.”
“That’s the nicest vicious dictator I have ever seen,” Janai remarked. “Her humor is a bit dark though.”
“She’s scary,” Daena said.
“She’s plain frightening,” Bannor murmured with a shake of his head.
“I told you she was different,” Beia said to Wren as servants started walking in with trays and placed them on the table.
“I don’t know what that is, but it’s a lot more than ‘different’. She’s almost—” She sputtered for a word. “Pleasant.”
A side door opened and a dark-haired woman swept out holding up the edges of a formal gown not unlike those being worn by Daena and Janai. “Aunt, what do you—???” She froze.
At the sound of her voice, Wren had snapped around.
The two women stared at one another.
The blonde savant’s jaw dropped.
Bannor felt a tingle in the back of his head that signaled the proximity of savant he hadn’t been around before. This new woman had the dark-hair and dusky skin he associated with the trade-peoples from over the ocean. She had a long face with a high forehead, big dark eyes, and a full mouth darkened to a deep wine color with make-up.
A mirror the woman had been holding in one hand clunked to the floor. “You—!” She growled, face turning red.
Wren gulped. “Ah, Ziedra…” The blonde savant looked like a black-horn caught in the beam of a hunter’s lantern.
“You!” Ziedra shouted, literally flying across the room and throwing herself on Wren.
The savant staggered back under the other woman’s tackle. “Thank Gaea you’re all right. Thank Gaea!” She breathed into Wren’s neck clutching her tight with trembling arms.
Wren rocked the bigger woman back and forth, patting her on the back. “It was bumpy, Zee, but we pulled through. It’s okay.”
The word ‘okay’ seemed to send a bolt of electricity through the dark-haired woman. She jerked back and sent a full force slap across Wren’s face that knocked her reeling back three steps.
“It is not okay! You witch! I’ve been scared to death! No word, nothing—you just snuck out and took that monster Myrmigyne with you instead of me! Then we hear Hecate has over-run Ivaneth and Malan, and no-one can find you—not even Idun!”
Wren was gripping her cheek. “Zee, I—”
“Shut up! Don’t try to make up some lame excuse! You abandoned me!”
Bannor stepped up and waved an arm between them. “Uh, ladies, please…”
Zee put hands on hips and glared at him. “Who are you? Some other ungrateful savant project she’s been working on?”
He blinked. “Milady, please don’t be angry with Wren. I—”
“Oh hush,” Ziedra growled, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. “Don’t defend her.” She turned burning eyes on Wren. “That really hurt. Don’t you love me anymore?”
Wren gripped her head like it was ready to explode. “Zee, I—” She sputtered, obviously at a lack for words.
“What? Speak up!” Ziedra glared around at them. “Perhaps you need one of your new friends to speak for you!”
A young man came rushing out of the room where Ziedra had come from. Bannor saw him and looked again as he hurried toward Ziedra. Dressed in only some breeches his bare torso made his odd appearance that much more obvious. His skin looked like polished gold, and his eyes were only blue glowing orbs. A red triangular jewel shined on his forehead and similar gem about the size of the thumb gleamed from his sternum a little below the collar-bone. His long black hair flew as he wrapped his arms around Ziedra from behind.
The woman struggled and kicked. “Rad, let go! I’m mad!”
He lifted her off the floor and rocked her side-to-side, pressing his forehead against the back of her neck. “Shhh! Shhh!”
The dark-haired savant shook her head and thrashed. “Damn it, Rad, let go!” She slapped his hands clasped together beneath her breasts.
“No,” he insisted. “Yelling at Wren, and making demands won’t change anything, my sweet.” He hummed something close to her ear and continued to rock her back and forth.
“Stop it,” she groaned, tears streaking down her face.
The gold man rubbed his face against the back of her neck. “You know Wren loves you—you don’t have to ask. Baby, there are some things you just can’t force—and some fears we cannot overcome. Shhh. Shhh.” He let go of Ziedra, turned the woman around and pulled her face to his chest. The woman hugged him tight, arms straining. The man glared at Wren over the top of Zee’s head, his glowing eyes like blue flames. “Lady Wren, I am very disappointed in you. Ziedra has been literally ill with worry over you—and then in anguish over the fact that you have been hiding from her since we discovered you were still alive.”
Wren’s eyes got wide and she put a hand to her chest. “I—”
He narrowed his eyes.
Wren hung her head. “Ziedra, I’m sorry, I apologize.” She said in a tiny voice. “It wasn’t supposed to turn out like it did—I swear. I only meant to be gone a little while.”
Ziedra turned her face out of Radian’s chest to glare at her. “You promised you’d never do that again.”
“Zee, I was trying to help people.” Wren held out her hands. “You kept using my missions to put off committing.”
“Don’t talk to me about committing…” Ziedra snapped
“Zee, you needed Radian, just like you need him now. I needed to be away, so you couldn’t use me as an excuse.”
Bannor was looking around. When he came to this place, the last thing he expected was to get into the middle of some squabble with Wren’s past. She had mentioned that she’d been hiding from a friend. Who was this gold person? He was like no creature he’d ever seen. His threads were rather strange—a subtle kind of strength. The most interesting thing were the life threads in the jewels that intertwined all through his body. Living rocks? Such odd friends that Wren had. Of course, who was he to talk? He was marrying an elf, a couple dragons were still following him around, and he still visited with winged women on a regular basis.
“Can I say something?” Beia interjected, before Ziedra could respond.
Wren and Ziedra stared at her.
Daena walked over and drew Bannor back a few steps and whispered in his ear. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
“This other girl is Wren’s regular partner I think…” he whispered back.
“She acts like they’re married or something…”
“We’ve seen stranger things.”
Daena grinned. “Okay. That’s true. So, you don’t know that beautiful gold boy either?”
He shook his head.
“Ziedra,” Beia said. “One thing I know for certain is that people don’t throw themselves into prison. I know you weren’t at the trial—but Wren went through a lot—and it wasn’t done to spite you.”
“Aunt Beia, she should have taken me along! That might not have happened.”
Beia folded her arms. “And you might have postponed the wedding—again—for the fourth time. What about Radian’s feelings?”
The young man held up his hands. “Aunt, whoa, let’s not go there!”
The blonde Myrmigyne tilted her head and put hands on hips. “You have to stop being a priss, Rad, and tell Zee to put a halt to this.”
The dark-haired woman’s face colored and she shrank back against Radian.
“Was I clear enough?” Beia said. “I’m not married to you, and I’m no kind of gentleman, so I can put it to you straight. I know you and Wren have a lot of history together, but you don’t own her. It’s only because she cares for you so much that she lets you yank her around like you do. Whether you want to believe it or not, she did you a favor.” Beia turned to Wren. “Now, the bit about you avoiding Zee and going into hiding after the trial. That you need to be clobbered for—which Zee just d
id… So, I’m officially calling it settled. Especially since there’s going to be a second wedding—which you are not going to miss under penalty of death.”
Wren’s eyes were wide. “A second wedding?”
“Aunt Aarlen insisted,” Ziedra said, briefly frowning a Beia. “She said Loric’s wedding was inappropriate and inadequate.”
“The Frielos weren’t invited,” Wren translated.
Ziedra nodded.
Wren brightened. “Well, that’s great! Then I didn’t miss it!”
The dark-haired woman scowled, voice acerbic. “Who said you were invited?”
Radian cuffed her on the shoulder. “Darling, Wren apologized.”
Bannor glanced to Janai. The elf lady seemed to be enjoying the exchange immensely.
The blonde savant rolled her eyes. “All right, Zee, what do you want me to do? How can I make it up?”
Zee looked up at Radian, then back to her. “Apologize like you mean it, give me a proper hug, and the rest… we can discuss in private.”
Wren let out a breath. She dipped her head for a moment then looked up. “Ziedra,” she said in a soft voice, blue eyes wide. “I sincerely and abjectly apologize. I am humbled before your right and proper admonishment, and I most soulfully request your forgiveness and an opportunity to apply proper hugging.”
“Nice apology,” Janai remarked.
“I’ve been practicing for a while,” she told the princess, and tilted her head to look at Ziedra.
The other savant pushed away from the gold man, dark eyes still teary and red. “Damn you, I can’t stay mad at you even when you’re being a wise arse.”
Wren spread her arms and grinned. “I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t.”
Ziedra turned, took a few steps, and threw a rough hug on Wren who pulled her tight. “You don’t know how many times I wished you were with us. Trust me, I regretted it a hundred—if not a thousand times.”
“This is the one Laramis mentioned who can fly, right?” Janai said.
Wren nodded.
Ziedra looked around. She held Wren around the waist and the two of them rose up off the floor a short distance.
Reality's Plaything 3: Eternal's Agenda Page 7