The Archimage's Fourth Daughter

by Lyndon Hardy

  “What about your own lusts?” Fretha asked. She dropped her skirt and bent over in the manner of a four-legged beast.

  Dinton’s pulse quickened as he viewed his mate in her readiness. He licked his lips and imagined what it would be like. It had indeed been so very long. He took one step, then a second, placing his hands on her hips.

  “I am ready,” Fretha whispered.

  Dinton’s hand trembled. With a gasp, he withdrew and stepped back.

  “No! I said no, Fretha. Angus is up to something. I do not know what. I must keep my thoughts focused. Soothe his ego. If he were by some chance to win, get him to continue to choose Clue as the game to decide the one who holds the baton next. Get him not to wonder why I have been successful, so many times running.

  Dinton sighed. Why did Angus challenge him so? Did he not realize that leadership was a burden, not a delight?

  Fretha rose and readjusted her skirt. She stroked Dinton’s bare cheek. “Your self-discipline is strong, my love,” she said. “But I can tell that each time you come closer to doing what I desire. Somehow I will manage to wait again, and then we will see what happens.”

  Dinton started to reply, when another voice interrupted.

  “I beg your pardon, Flock Leader,” the intruder said. “I am called Jormind. And I have something to tell you that you must hear.”

  Reorganization

  DOUGLAS’ OFFICE was furnished like the adjacent conference room, the only difference being a picture of a wife and two kids hanging next to the whiteboard.

  “Sit.” Douglas motioned to one of the two chairs facing his desk as he slid around to be on the other side. He looked at Ashley for a moment without saying anything. Then his face contorted into his patented smile. Ashley was used to it by now.

  “Ah, you have something to tell me?” she asked.

  “Well, as you can figure out when you do the numbers, shrinking the lab by twenty percent means we can get by with one less department. One less department manager. Less overhead that way.”

  As a matter of principle, being a woman in what was still a man’s world, Ashley always tried to hide what she was thinking from her expression, but this time she could not.

  “You mean reorganization, right?” she asked.

  “A natural part of what happens when the population changes by too much in a short time.”

  The words sounded to Ashley as if she should have known that. Well, it was obvious, but she had been too distracted thinking about what she was going to say to her engineers being cast aside.

  “So, who gets the axe? Has Robert finally reached the end of his rope?”

  “It’s not quite that simple,” Douglas said. “There will be changes higher up as well.” He opened his arms and turned his hands palm upward like a priest receiving a blessing from his faithful. “I am going to be the new operations manager.”

  Ashley’s heart skipped a beat. “You mean your position will be open, too? One less department certainly, but an entire lab…”

  Her thoughts raced. She had had some misgivings about buying a house two years ago. No reason for it. It was really too big for her, living alone. No significant other. How could she have had one? Her job kept her busy so much more than merely ‘full time.’

  The monthly payments were steep. Ones even a department manager could barely afford. An investment she had told herself. It would be worth it. Another promotion and things would work out. Substantial annual bonuses. And now, sooner than she had expected, a lab manager…

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Ash.” Douglas’ plastered on smile faded. He crewed his lip for a moment. “I have made the decision. He hesitated for a second and then blurted. “And Tom will be taking over the lab.”

  Ashley’s thoughts froze. The images of her sitting behind the oversized desk faded away.

  “Tom! He is a good department manager, of course,” she said slowly, trying to hold her voice level. “But I have been one longer and…”

  “It makes sense when you think about it,” she continued after Douglas did not react. “Robert is not qualified and Dave is too new.”

  “USX is in trouble, Ash,” Douglas said. He shifted in his chair as if there were a burr there he could not avoid. “You know that. And we need our best people in positions where they can do the most good to bail us out.”

  He looked away toward the picture of his family. “You did such good work as a manager for the projects for the Fort, Ash. Such good work that we need you to take the reins on Golden Spirit. That one is all screwed up. The Company is threatening cancellation.” The fake smile returned. “You can do it, Ash. I know you can.”

  “Do I have any say in this?” The words rushed from Ashley’s mouth.

  “Ah, wait. There’s more.”

  “What?”

  “I fought against this part of the decision, Ash. I really did. But sometimes HR becomes a boulder in the path that cannot be moved.” He paused again. “We have to reduce our cost of doing business. Along with everything else, we really do.”

  Ashley studied Douglas’ face. It was clear that the second shoe had not yet hit the floor.

  “The project budget is so overrun it cannot afford your department manager salary, Ash. Even if you are the project manager. Your pay will have to be reduced to what it was before you joined my team.”

  “I qu — ”

  Ashley slammed shut her mouth before she said more. Action without thought was a recipe for disaster. She knew this. But back to project manager wasn’t even a lateral arabesque. It was an insult! Probably something to do with the idea that women did not need to be paid as much because theirs was a second income for a family. But what to do? The project manager pay probably would not even meet her mortgage payments. She needed time to think things over.

  “Who decided all of this?” she finally asked.

  “I did.”

  “Has any of it been cast in concrete yet?”

  “Not yet. The higher up reorg has to happen first. And I need to have my conversations with Tom and Robert.”

  “I see,” Ashley snapped. “Then in the meantime, excuse me, I have some layoffs to attend to.”

  Without another word, she left the office.

  Tigerwasps

  THALING STEPPED out of Littlebutt’s sphere into his own alcove, and the sprite disappeared back into the wall. The calculations for the mutual exclusion ritual were going well. None of the rockbubblers was causing problems. Now was the time for some more relaxing thoughts.

  Of all the noxious little creatures under his sway, he had to admit Littlebutt was his favorite. He suddenly realized that when escape and revenge were complete, he did not know what he would do, release them or perhaps…

  “I am going to see Angus.” Dinton’s voice cut in through the cavern opening. “Join me.”

  Thaling did not reply. Did his brother somehow suspect? “Why?” he asked, but received no answer. In silence, he followed Dinton clambering through the twisty lava tubes and gas tunnels that connected their prison together.

  Angus dozed, head down on his desk when they entered his alcove, but that was no surprise to Thaling. With no direct contact with the cycle of the day, everyone’s sleeping rhythm drifted one from another.

  Dinton growled the battle challenge of their kind, and Angus immediately sprang awake, reaching for his dagger.

  “Why do you accost me so?” the aroused exile said. “Our meeting is not for another three days.”

  “Angus, You have used alchemy!” Dinton said. “Even though the three of us have sworn. Reason enough to confront you now.”

  Angus sheathed his dagger. He looked at Dinton’s unyielding face and then to his other brother. “Thaling,” he said. “Help me dissuade Dinton of his fantasy. Help calm him down.”

  Thaling did not know what to say. Was it true that Angus had broken the oath? Did Dinton know that he had done so, too?

  “Angus, one of your flock came to me,” Dinton said. “Jormi
nd is his name.”

  Angus put his hand back on the dagger’s hilt. “A malcontent, no more,” he said. “I did not permit his union with one of the unbound females, and he sought revenge.”

  “He took me to the garden pool,” Dinton shook his head. “Showed me the traces remaining of what you had done. I had always wondered how you convinced the native to agree to trade. Gold dust. Is that what it is called?”

  Thaling watched Angus’ face struggling to reveal nothing of what must be bubbling inside. “It was harmless, my brothers. No alchemy was performed on the surface. The formula I activated was for only part of the smelting, not the entirety. None of the Faithful would have been able to detect.”

  “Nevertheless, you broke your oath. How can anything you do now be trusted?”

  Angus remained silent as the grip on his dagger tightened.

  “You are my brother,” Dinton said. “But I am the one who carries the baton and must act for the good of us all.” He turned to Thaling. “Disarm him and then… escort him to the wasp pit.”

  The words shocked Thaling. He was stunned. Acid in his stomach rose in his chest, searing the tissues as it passed. Angus, his brother, to be fodder for the wasps? And how could he be the one to disarm him? Thaling felt himself straighten his back as much as he could. Even so, Angus was a head-height taller, and the swiftness of his blade was known by all.

  A tense moment passed while no one moved. Then, before Thaling had to act, a heavy tromp echoed from the connecting passage. The alcove filled with a half dozen more of the exiles — all from Dinton’s flock.

  Like a child’s game of statues, no one moved, each waiting for an adversary to try something. A dozen heartbeats passed and then another. Angus studied the new arrivals as if calculating his odds in a game of chance. Then he released the grip on his dagger and turned to stare intently at Thaling.

  “Brother, my fate is in your hands. I rely on you to do what is right.”

  The searing in Thaling’s throat intensified. What was Angus asking him to do? Stand beside him in a fight, so the odds were reduced? Or did his younger brother suspect he too exercised one of the crafts also? Did he think it to be fair they both share the same fate?

  Thaling shivered involuntarily. But the tigerwasps? How horrible. In many ways, the magic induced longevity was a curse. The growing pile of shed rings in Dinton’s alcove was proof of that. But to finally expire in such a way…

  Thaling’s indecision was interrupted when, without waiting for further instruction, Dinton’s flock members drew their own blades and converged on Angus. Dinton’s brother growled defiance only once, and with a dramatic gesture raised his hand from his dagger hilt and held it palm open high in the air.

  “Twist the middle finger to the palm and affix it there,” Dinton said. “Twist it so the ring cannot be removed. A visitor to the pit serves as a continuing lesson for the rest of us as long as possible.”

  Thaling felt a sigh like the last gasp of a deflating balloon erupt from his lungs. He slumped to his usual bowed posture. He would not have to draw his own dagger after all.

  “Middle brother, accompany me at the tail of the procession,” Dinton commanded. “You shall be the official witness that all is done in accordance with the protocol.”

  Thaling nodded dumbly. He turned his head to avoid Angus’ stare as he passed. In a moment, only the two brothers remained in the alcove.

  “You hesitated when I asked you to disarm Angus,” Dinton said. “I wonder. Is he the only one who has not adhered to the oath?”

  THE BUZZ became almost unbearably loud before anyone got close. Thaling wanted to cover his ears, but knew he would lose face if he did. Stature was very important now. What would happen to Angus’ flock? Would he get a share?

  Far too soon, the troop arrived at the pit, so called because it was the lowest of the exile’s chambers, almost too hot even for them. Thaling had not visited since the last victim was given to the wasps over two hundred orbits ago. But now, like the others, he could not resist looking through the thin sheet of mica providing a view into the insects’ lair.

  Like all such creatures from their home world, the wasps stood on four spindly legs and had what looked like too tiny wings on their backs. One would think the appendages to be puny, but the bugs could rear up on their rear limbs and stand the height of a native who lived on the surface above. Their massive bodies divided into four distinct segments: head, thorax, abdomen, and tail, each as black and striped with yellow as the foulest heresy. Six multifaceted eyes reflected the soft glow of the grubs that had finished their meals and clung to the cavern’s ceiling.

  It was from the tail new larvae were extruded — after a conjoined mating lasting a full circle of the planet on its axis. But that only happened when a new host was shoved into the pit, a new source of infant food.

  Thaling remembered watching when that last had happened. He had shouldered his way to the mica in front of the others who had also gathered. After all, what else was there to do?

  After the mating was complete, the victim shrank into a corner rolling into a ball as best he could. The wasps stalked him slowly, almost as if they were savoring what was to come next and wanted to prolong it as long as they could. The insects were strong, strong enough that four of them could pry away the limbs trying to protect the host’s midsection. Then when he was prone and face up on the rough cavern floor, the fifth slashed open the stomach with razor-sharp mandibles. Finally, the sixth exuded the egg into the open wound and then licked shut the incision with a thick mucus drool.

  After the implanting, the watchers dispersed. There was little else to see — only the gradually weakening of the host as his internal organs were gradually dissolved and consumed. From time to time, one of the wasps would regurgitate some gruel and shove it into an unwilling mouth held open by mandibles. Because of the rings that could not be removed, the decay was not swift. The magic of longevity kept the victim alive far longer than would be expected. But eventually, even magic could not completely forestall the inevitable. The host grew weaker and weaker until he finally expired.

  Thaling looked at the flock member sentenced what was now hundreds of orbits ago. He lay on the floor, eyes tearing with the continual pain, but otherwise unfocused. He had no strength left to stand or even sit up. The only thoughts must be ones praying for final release.

  Around him lay the litter of plant stalks and uneaten leaves that served as food for both him and the imagoes. Whenever one of the exiles transgressed in a minor way, the punishment was to harvest from the garden and bring it here. This sentence lasted until someone else misbehaved and took his place.

  Thaling puzzled at how he was feeling. He was going to lose a brother, someone who had endured with him in this captivity for a thousand years. It was not the same as he felt when he lost Alika. There was no true sorrow now. No rage. But there was something he felt, an emotion of… of bonding, of shared experiences, something that would now never be the same.

  “Wait, Dinton,” he surprised himself saying. “We both know that, although Angus is rash, he does not act without good reason. If he were to be lost to us now, we would never know why he performed the alchemy. Perhaps, in his own way, he was acting for the benefit of us all.”

  Dinton pondered. “Your brother speaks in your behalf, Angus,” he said. “What would you tell us before you pass through to your doom?”

  Angus struggled with the guards holding him in place and managed to turn and face Thaling. “Thank you, brother,” he said quietly. “You have saved me. I knew you would.” He thought for a moment. “Although, I would have liked it better had you come to your wits a little sooner before we got this close to the pit.”

  “Only for a moment,” Dinton said. “Explain your actions to us. Act as a flock leader should.”

  “It is not something elucidated in a few words,” Angus said. Thaling could tell his brother’s normal bluster was rapidly returning. “Take off this fetter from my
hand. Ensconce me somewhere and give me pen and ink. I will write everything down.”

  “A stalling tactic, nothing more,” Dinton spat.

  “Then, here is a tidbit setting you on the right trail for what I plan to do.” Angus hesitated for effect. “Ashley Anderfield, USX, Redondo Beach, California.”

  “Gibber — ” Dinton began, but then halted. “Where have I heard some of that before?” he mumbled aloud and then was silent. Finally, his voice of command recovered. “Very well. This does not have to be done in haste. Secure my brother and give him what he needs to write his confession. There is something else I will now explore.”

  The Interview

  ASHLEY FORCED a welcoming smile as the applicant was ushered into her office. Compartmentalize, she told herself. The reorganization was not the only plate that was spinning. She rose and extended her hand across the desk. “Please, sit down,” she said.

  Raven black hair like her own. The beginnings of a scruffy beard. And dimples! Shouldn’t a graduate student look a little bit older? But in all other ways, he was typical, almost a caricature. Glasses held together by a coil of duct tape, a slight stain on the white shirt, rumpled slacks.

  “My name is Figaro Newton,” the young man said as he sat. “My parents were from Italy. My mother’s an opera buff and my father a barber. Changed their surname when they immigrated. Didn’t really foresee what my nickname would be.” He smiled back at Ashley. “Go ahead and call me Fig. I’m used to it.”

  At least he wasn’t shy. She no longer had time to worry about how to integrate him with her other employees. Other remaining employees? She could not help herself from grimacing. And with the way things were headed, she wasn’t going to end up with any at all.

  Fig’s face had contorted into a puzzle, Ashley realized. She was the one who was supposed to speak next, not the applicant who was at a natural disadvantage.

  “I am looking for an intern,” she rattled off. “Someone with a technical background who writes and speaks well. There is an RFP — a request for a proposal to provide technical support for getting through regulation paperwork. Paperwork for transporting a liquefied gas.”