Gloriana's Masque

by Eleanor Burns

  “By all means … Bring those back when you’ve finished,” he added, pointedly. “Keep in mind that there are more to come.” Her parting glance looked as if it was trying to emulate the heat weapons for focused lethality, but it was mercifully brief, and she soon departed. When she was at a discreet distance down the corridor, Kasimir took the opportunity to slump forwards, his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

  “Head still not so good, sir?” asked Maradith, sympathetically. It could not have been easy for him to have retained his composure against Saskia while simultaneously fighting his hangover. “Shall I have a word with the chatelaine, and see if she’s got anything for it? I doubt they’ve got any salicyn, but I saw plenty of herbs in that marketplace. Maybe some willow bark or–”

  “My head’s fine … Actually, that’s a damn lie, but never mind it anyway,” declared Kasimir, slightly muffled. “Just remind me, Delator: what is the core virtue of the Republic supposed to be, according to its founders, its constitution, the Senate, the Lyceum, the whole lot of them?”

  “Reason, Lord Citizen,” she replied, without thought or hesitation.

  “Reason … for which we systematically purged centuries of religion, tradition, and established mores because they were not merely unjust but unreasonable. They stood in the way of improvement and innovation. Take Dr. Kyttsen herself: she would have been a nobody in the days of the monarchy. It was the Republic that decided we were committing injustice and wasting a valuable resource by denying formal education to women and to gifted but poor children. How ironic that a prodigy of the Republic should be the one to rub its rotten deception in my face.”

  “You mean this ‘transition’ business, Lord Citizen?” guessed Maradith, and she assumed from Kasimir’s low groan that she had aimed truly. “I do see what you mean.” That is, one can hardly applaud the greedy buggers for keeping schtum about it, while taking advantage of it themselves. “Still, when you think about it … Low birth rates and a lousy work ethic isn’t exactly the best recipe for social progress. I doubt the Senate saw this Rite of Transition as a potential improvement so much as a danger to Lucinian strength. To be fair to them, it wouldn’t do us much good to be individually ‘stronger, more beautiful, more spiritual, longer-lived, and better-attuned to nature’ if we then just got trampled all over by the Autokracy and the Confederacy. They must have believed it would be for our own good, in their way.”

  “Which has a remarkable if nasty symmetry about it, since that was allegedly what the Alvere thought back when they were forcing this Rite down people’s throats whether they wanted it or not,” pointed out Kasimir, looking up with a cynical frown. “Alyssa forbid anyone should just be allowed to choose … and anyway, that hardly excuses them from leaving the people they were appointed to serve to rot away in the Work Veterans’ Hospices, while they treat themselves to another few centuries on the side. I wonder … not that I stand any chance of ever becoming senator after yesterday’s fiasco, but if I had done, how long would I have served in the Presidio before some creep sidled up to me and let me in on the dirty secret … and would I have had the integrity to tell him to piss off with it?”

  “I reckon you would have had, sir … but if you’ll pardon my saying, you should probably be offered this transition by default, if you wanted it,” she declared, eliciting a quizzical expression from him. “I mean to say, think of the reforms you’ve fought for. You’ve improved labour access and wages for Alvere, improved justice for them, education … You’ve probably saved more Alvere lives than the Queen herself, in your way. That bitchy priestess ought to be falling over herself to transition you, if she wasn’t as hypocritical as any senator.”

  “Perhaps,” he replied, unconvinced. “I somehow doubt they count the Alvere in Lucinia when making these decisions … Thanks for the moral support, though.”

  “My pleasure, Lord Citizen. So … do you want me to make a report yet?” she asked, cautiously. “I daresay they’ll be pleased to hear about you having cracked the secret of the heat weapons. That can’t do your career any harm, at any rate.”

  “The heat weapons, I’m certain, are only a side issue,” he replied, grimly. “Just something to help her carve a foothold here. She has something bigger planned. Some kind of ritual, but I’m afraid the documents ran dry of legible facts before I could get enough details on it.”

  “‘Ritual,’ sir?” asked Maradith, sceptically. “Is that really something you think we need to worry about, if she’s got desperate enough to turn to mumbo-jumbo? I think she was on safer ground with the big guns, myself.”

  “Those ‘big guns’ were based on mumbo-jumbo, or were you forgetting she stole the core components from an Alvere temple? The nazarlyk too. She knows the difference between mere superstition and misunderstood fact, though I confess, she loses me a few times. There are sketches of magic circles and ancient runes alongside logic diagrams and algebraic equations, and lots of talk about something called a ‘Darkshift’ and invisible gravitational forces. I majored in modern law, so it’s all a bit over my head. At all events, though, her genius is indisputable, so I’m taking it all seriously. Do you think you’ll be able to copy down the rest of the journal?”

  “I think so,” she answered, confidently. “It’s a lot clearer in my head now than it was last night. Mind you, if I don’t get it all down in the next few hours, it’s liable to be gone for good, unless I can get back into her chambers for a refresher.”

  “Which we can hardly count on, so that task takes priority,” declared Kasimir, and rose from his chair, wincing a little. “Carry on with that, Maradith. In the meantime, I think I’ll take your advice and see if I can lay my hands on some tincture of willow bark … or failing that, I’ll climb a little higher up this godforsaken mountain and dunk my head in a snowdrift. I’ve a notion this evening is going to be trying enough even if by some miracle I’m on perfect form for it.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE – FALL OF AGES

  The two Shadow Guards were back outside the throne room when Kasimir arrived for the peace summit, as enigmatic and imposing as ever in their black armour and expressionless masks. Still, their presence was nowhere near as intimidating as he had found it on his last visit. There may not be any science behind it, he thought, but for whatever reason everything in life is easier to face with trousers on, even Shadow Guards.

  That being said, he did not feel so confident that he felt like overstepping his mark, so he lingered outside the arched doors, pacing the corridor, awaiting his summons. No more than a couple of minutes passed before he heard approaching footsteps, and turned to see the Queen coming down the corridor towards him, although her queenliness was not so much in evidence as the day before. Instead of her elaborate court attire, she was wearing a simple grey dress of woven wool. Her long black hair was crown-free, and worn loosely. It had been carefully dressed on their prior meeting, which had concealed from him the bald, burned wedge of skin over her left fringe, which the mask could not quite hide, and the fact that her left ear was missing. She wasn’t some rebel or terrorist. She was a bloody scholar, just there to conduct research, recalled Kasimir, as the grim story of Malketh elbowed its way back into his unwilling mind. If we hadn’t put that vicious bastard of a puppet prince on the throne … but it served our purposes at the time. Mind you, it was some sadistic consolation for him to know that, if Saskia was truthful, many of the senators who had made that decision might still be alive in Alvere temples, and might live to suffer the long-term consequences of their cruel expediency after all.

  As Gloriana arrived at the throne room doors, she extended her hand to him. That was a nice gesture of courtesy to exchange between two Lucinian officials, even senators, but not, he suspected, a particularly queenly thing to do. Not that this should surprise me, all things considered, he thought, and returned the handshake. Up close, he noticed with some discomfort the details of her dress: the twin row of dragon head-stamped buttons on her double-breasted bodice, and the
chainmail epaulettes topped with golden Brython runes, three on each. One ‘T’ rune for lordship, therefore of commissioned officer rank. Two vertical lines joined by a slanted bar, stands for ‘H.’ Signifies horse, transportation, ship. Two of them together means plural, therefore fleet. She’s a fleet captain as well? How in the Abysm does this woman fit all of her titles on the envelope when she writes a letter? Although it was hard for him not to interpret some hostile intent in her military attire, there was no hostility or even coldness in her manner or voice. Her expression was no more readable than ever, although he did notice that there were no ominous patterns in her black crystal eye. Whatever thoughts were currently drifting around, the nazarlyk clearly did not find them dramatic enough to merit a light show.

  “I’m so sorry for the delay, Lord Citizen,” she greeted him, as they released hands. “I had a pressing matter. I did not think it would take so long, but … Are you well, though? You look very pale.”

  “I didn’t sleep too well, Your Highness,” said Kasimir, accurately enough. She doesn’t need to know why. “Thank you for your concern, but I’d as soon not delay these negotiations.” Tempting though it was to take the day off, anything that gave the Queen less time to play around with her secret researches and gave Maradith more time to complete her transcription had to be a sound move.

  “As you wish. I doubt the sealords would thank us for it anyway. Shall we proceed?” Kasimir bowed in affirmation, and stood aside for her to enter first. The Shadow Guards each took one of the great doors and opened them in unison, and Gloriana led the way into the throne room. A round oaken table had been set up in the centre, with five chairs at equal intervals around it, three of which were already occupied. Lord Lycon sat at the one nearest the silverwood throne, and Kasimir did not particularly care to contemplate what message that sent. At his right sat another Brython sealord, a little older and quite a bit stouter, and to that lord’s right sat a younger, dark-haired, surly-looking man in stained khaki fatigues. Lord Corin, by Maradith’s less-than-flattering description, but I think she did him too much justice. The mismatched accessories he wore with his drab clothes – including rings and bracelets of differing value and material, at least three pocket-watches, and a necklace of what looked distressingly like human teeth – did not convey vanity so much as a sense that this was a man who prided himself on never having to pay for anything, except with violence.

  Well, that sure gets us off to a fantastic start, thought Kasimir, miserable in the expectation that he would have to sit next to this glorified psychopath. On that point, however, he was pleasantly surprised, as Gloriana made directly for the nearest vacant chair – the one next to Lord Corin – and sat down with a perfect air of serenity, although Lord Lycon clearly looked disappointed, try as he might to conceal it, and Corin’s face was animated by an ugly spasm of disgust or rage. He glared balefully at her for a few seconds, but to no purpose. She won’t be intimidated by this jumped-up highway robber, if he only knew what sort of person he was dealing with in her. Such a damn waste, thought Kasimir again, as he sat down between the Queen and Lord Lycon. There was an empty goblet on the table before him, with a delicately carved foot and stem of silverwood, and a perfectly shaped, smoky black cup. Can’t be glass, though. They don’t have the industry for it. Could be the outer lens of a varg’s eye, he guessed, with some distaste, not that he was in the mood for drinking anyway. An Alvere servant approached him with a jug of sweet-smelling wine, but he waved it away.

  “Keeping a clear head, Milord?” asked the elder sealord, jovially. Lord Staakys, I’ll wager. “Very sensible of you, no doubt. Be a shame to let it go to waste, though. Bring that jug over here, boy,” he ordered, and although the servant looked less than elated at being so addressed, he bowed silently and complied.

  “When you’ve served his Lordship, Aneuryn, please could you pour some water for the secretary and for myself?” asked Gloriana, graciously. The servant bowed, more sincerely this time, and repaired to a side table where other jugs were assembled, while the Queen turned her attention back to her guests. “Well, gentlemen. I believe we are all assembled. I apologise for the slight delay, but–”

  “A queen need not account for herself,” interrupted Lycon, raising a dismissive hand. “In any case, Your Highness, we’ve not been bored. Lord Corin has been diverting us with tales of his exploits.”

  Sweet Alyssa, I’m glad I missed that. I’ve had enough gruesome stories this morning to last me a lifetime, reflected Kasimir, as the servant filled his goblet. He somehow doubted that the Queen was any more enthusiastic for the subject, though she ably managed to disguise the fact.

  “Indeed, that must have been diverting. His Lordship’s achievements in the Vlacrima Valley are famed far and wide,” she declared. Although Kasimir thought that statement was ambiguous enough to imply that such ‘fame’ as Lord Corin enjoyed was mainly on wanted posters, she said it with such a smooth, courtly air that the thug in question merely looked confused, which was some small improvement on his usual expression. “I am sorry to see Lord Olfrud is not attending, though. Is he not well?”

  “Hmm … He’s been better, Your Highness,” replied Lord Staakys, with an air of grim understatement. “I fear he misses the air of Brythenedd. This dry, saltless mountain air might be bracing enough in its way, but it doesn’t agree so well with his lungs. I think I shall have to make arrangements for his return sooner rather than later. The thought that he should draw his last breath on alien soil, not only kilometres away from the sea but so far above it as well … Not that things are as bad as all that yet, but considering his age, we might as well be prepared.”

  “I am deeply sorry to hear it, Milord. Pray, let us proceed as quickly as we can. I would like to visit him before the close of day, if possible.”

  “I’m sure he’d appreciate that, Your Highness. He always enjoys your company.”

  “Yeah, sure,” remarked Lord Corin, with sly irony. “That dirty old demon … He enjoys any company in petticoats, or out of them, more like.”

  Kasimir briefly wondered if had misheard, as there were no signs of Lord Corin being arrested or even reprimanded. Staakys laughed heartily, and even Lycon cracked a smile. Remember, just because you put a brigand in a smart uniform doesn’t magically turn him into an officer and a gentleman, he reminded himself. It was depressingly possible that Lord Corin was still the most honest representative of the true Brython spirit currently sitting in the room, and it was also completely possible that the elderly sealord in question would have been no more offended by the jest than his younger colleagues. He might even have been flattered. Kasimir suspected the same could not be said for the Queen, whose posture stiffened very slightly, but only for a moment. She knew what she was dealing with when she contracted this pirate rabble. No point in me getting chivalrous on her behalf, as if.

  “In that case, we’re in agreement,” declared Gloriana, very diplomatically, he thought, “unless, of course, Lord Citizen Kasimir has any objections to making this a hasty first session.”

  “None whatsoever, Your Highness,” he answered. It’s all a farce anyway, so may as well not kick up a fuss about the timing.

  “You have my gratitude. I promise, this is not some crude attempt of mine to shirk the issue of Alvenheim’s responsibilities in the new peace. All issues that are not dealt with today will be addressed sooner or later, when we reconvene. Lord Lycon, would you kindly tell us what is first on today’s agenda?”

  “The first matter before us is the question of Lucinia’s reparations to Alvenheim, in recompense for the crimes acknowledged by that state’s representative yesterday,” said Lycon, a little too smugly for a neutral chairman, Kasimir thought. “It might be of some interest to first hear from the Lord Citizen himself, if he would care to tell us what these concessions are that he is empowered to offer … always bearing in mind, of course, that Her Highness will certainly have her own amendments to put forward.” All attention now turned to Kasimir
, save for Corin’s, who in fact left the main table to serve himself another goblet of wine, while the servant wisely stood back to let him. Under their combined stares, Kasimir breathed deeply. While he was almost certain that nothing achieved today would make an iota of difference if Gloriana could realise her secret plans, or if he and Maradith could expose and prevent them, the pressure still felt real enough. Fortunately, he had carefully revised the spiel the Senate had given him for this occasion, although he found it a struggle to deliver with any conviction:

  “Economic and development aid will be resumed, and the former increased to twenty five million marks per annum. An additional one-off payment of fifty million marks will be offered in compensation to the surviving victims of Prince Rowan’s regime. Aid will be payable in gold or goods, as you prefer. The restriction on Alvere citizens of the Republic emigrating here will be lifted. To anticipate the influx of new inhabitants, the Senate is prepared to extend Alvenheim’s borders to the limits agreed under the Year-One Constitution and the Fifty-Year Plan. The Ydril foothills region as far south as the Silvervein River will be considered sovereign Alvere territory. Also the whole of Falkraine’s Corridor, between the Ydril and Karyctus Mountains, thus allowing the west and the east of Alvenheim to exist as a single, joined realm for the first time in over two hundred years. This is conditional, of course, on the Lucinian citizens of said regions being given adequate time to relocate.”

  “That need not be necessary,” replied Gloriana. “The region is sparsely populated. If the inhabitants are prepared to recognise my rule and live in peace with my people, I have no objection to them remaining.” Her tone was magnanimous, but it set Kasimir’s teeth on edge, as he remembered the grisly stories he had read in the press before arriving here. So, generous to the border-landers now, are we? That’s all very nice, but I somehow doubt many of them will be eager to stay after being terrorised and butchered by your mercenary chums. “These terms are … better than I had supposed they would be, Lord Citizen. They are meaningful. I do not say they are sufficient. Nevertheless, I believe we have a strong basis for … Is something the matter?” she asked, noticing that his hands had formed tightly-clenched fists on the table, and his facial muscles had tightened as well.