Queen's Peril

by E. K. Johnston

  It sounded like they were talking it through, but Padmé had a feeling she’d only made it worse. There was no time for anything else, though. They all had places to be.

  The whisper gallery was nearly full. The legislative assembly had stopped viewing the summit as a vanity project shortly after the first public transcript was released. Response from the general populace had been favorable, and now the elected officials were curious to see how everything turned out. Padmé and the others had seats in the reserved section as pages, which also meant anyone who needed a message run could call on them.

  Two hours into closing talks, a representative caught Padmé’s eye. There was no way she could pass the message to Saché or Eirtaé without raising eyebrows, so she got up and went to see what the message was.

  “Please take this to the kitchen,” the representative said. “We’re leaving earlier than I thought, and I want to make sure the cooks have an accurate count for tonight.”

  For the first time, Padmé wondered why they didn’t have a mechanized system for this sort of thing. It would not be difficult to send a brief message via comm, and while Padmé was perfectly capable of walking it down, she really didn’t want to miss the summit. So much of Naboo’s government was like that: a set of traditions that worked like Republic credits, valuable only because everyone had already agreed what they were worth. But that meant there were weak points to be exploited, and no defense against them. If Padmé didn’t deliver the message, there would be an incorrect number of chairs at dinner. It wasn’t a huge problem, but she was starting to wonder how else the system could be pushed.

  Padmé committed the representative’s message to memory and then exited the whisper gallery. She would come back as soon as she could. Since she was out of earshot, she was unaware that shortly after she left, Queen Amidala had called a brief recess, and she likewise hadn’t seen Harli Jafan quietly excuse herself from the throne room.

  Padmé was on her way back from the kitchen when she got caught.

  “There you are!” said Harli, behind her and much too close. “When I didn’t see you with the Queen this morning, I thought I was going to miss you entirely.”

  Padmé froze. She was wearing her own face, though her hood and the makeup obscured most of it. And this girl had come the closest of anyone so far to seeing through the Queen’s disguise. She had counted the number of handmaidens in the room and realized Sabé wasn’t among them. No one would think to look at the Queen, of course, but another robed girl in the palace corridor who was the same height was a logical guess. Particularly when that girl had deliberately taught herself to move the same way.

  “I had a different job today.” Padmé spoke as quietly as possible. Rabé said that quiet voices were easier to mistake. The Queen’s voice had to be loud, so it required the most work. She turned so that she was half-facing Harli, but kept her head down and her hood low.

  “I just wanted to tell you that I had an amazing time last night,” Harli said. “I thought at first hanging out with your friends might spoil the mood, but they were so much fun, too.”

  “It was a good concert,” Padmé said. She had never felt so exposed in her entire life.

  “Are you okay?” Harli asked. “Did you get in trouble?”

  “Captain Panaka is a worrier,” Padmé admitted.

  Harli laughed, and then reached out and took Padmé’s elbows. She moved too fast for Padmé to dodge, and pulled her a little too close.

  “Look, I’m not very good at this, and I know we literally live on different planets, but I like you a lot,” Harli said. Padmé’s heart raced, and not in the way Harli probably intended. “I don’t know that much about Naboo dating culture, but I would like to kiss you before I go.”

  “Oh no,” said Padmé. It was reflexive and absolute and cruel. She regretted it immediately, but couldn’t think of anything else to do. She pulled away.

  “Oh,” said Harli. She sounded surprised. “You won’t even look at me today?”

  “I’m sorry,” Padmé said. “I’m delivering an important message.”

  She fled, leaving Harli standing alone in the corridor and wondering what had just happened.

  The rest of the summit closing passed without incident, though Harli spoke very little. The Queen presided over a farewell tea directly after the final session, and then each delegate took their formal leave. They would be departing the following morning, but this was to be the last official event. The handmaidens returned to the suite and prepared to spend the evening relaxing after a busy week. The decoy maneuver had, as far as most of them knew, gone without a hitch, and they were all in the mood to celebrate.

  Sabé didn’t get a chance to check her personal comlink or talk privately to the others until late in the evening. Yané had taken care of her undressing, and the others had gone to bed. Sabé could tell that Padmé had something she wanted to discuss and assumed it was merely that the Queen wished to evaluate her performance that afternoon. When she finally had a moment to herself, Sabé read a note from Harli with confusion that quickly changed into anger when she realized what must have happened. She went into Padmé’s room. Saché was tucked under the covers, but Padmé was still reading.

  “I got the strangest message from Harli Jafan just now,” Sabé said acidly. “And frankly, I’m surprised I didn’t get even a slight heads-up from you.”

  Padmé stilled. She set the documents down, and gave Sabé her full attention.

  “It seems she tried to say good-bye to me this afternoon,” Sabé continued. Her rage simmered in her. Saché was awake, but unmoving. “And I was very rude.”

  Harli had used much more colorful language.

  “She surprised me,” Padmé said. Her calm was completely infuriating, not because of her control, but because Sabé knew she was tailoring her deportment to Sabé’s response. She hated being handled. “I wasn’t expecting to be mistaken for you. It’s supposed to work the other way around.”

  “And so you had to be awful about it?” Sabé said. “You can charm a whole planet into loving you, but you can’t take two seconds to consider her feelings?”

  “Should I have let her kiss me?” Padmé said. Her tone grew heated. “Do you think she still would have thought I was you then? Don’t you think she might have recognized me from the concert, since I’m still covered in glitter?”

  “I don’t know!” shouted Sabé. She was aware that the others were standing behind her and modulated her tone so that the guards wouldn’t come bursting in. “I just thought for one second, you might have been able to think of someone besides yourself.”

  There was nothing she could have said to hurt Padmé more, and she knew it.

  “I tried, Sabé,” Padmé said after a horrible silence. “I saw that you liked her, and I didn’t know what that meant. If I were only your friend, I could just ask you, but I’m your queen, too. I can’t order you to tell me about your personal life, can I? I had to trust that you would come to me and tell me what I needed to know. And you didn’t.”

  “Did you think I would give up secrets?” Sabé asked. “Do you really think so little of me?”

  “No,” Padmé said. “I think the world of you. But it’s harder than I thought to be your friend and your ruler all at the same time, and I can’t do that if you don’t help me.”

  Sabé sat down on the bed. The others came in and joined them, Saché pulling her legs up to make more room on her side.

  “You wanted a normal night,” Padmé said. “And I tried to give it to you. I thought that meant page-me could come with you, but I think it might be better if we avoided that from now on.”

  “I was sad enough that Saché missed the concert,” Sabé admitted. “If you hadn’t come either, it would hardly have been worth it.”

  “I thought you wanted to spend more time with Harli,” Padmé said.

  “I did,” Sabé said. “She’s the first person who’s ever liked me for being me. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want
to spend time with all of you, too. Outside of this damn room.”

  “Well we probably can’t use the library as a way out anymore,” Rabé said lightly. “I think Panaka might be on to us.”

  Sabé giggled in spite of herself. They hadn’t really solved anything, but at least they had identified the problem. That was a place to start.

  “You can go if you want,” Padmé said. “I don’t know what you’d say, but you can have the night off.”

  Sabé was grateful for the offer, but it was too late. And Harli had as much as said she didn’t want to see her again.

  “No,” she said. “What’s done is done.”

  “I am sorry,” Padmé said. It was all she could do, and it was not enough.

  “Saché, would you switch with me tonight?” Sabé asked. She half expected her to refuse. It would mean sharing with Yané.

  “Just this once,” Saché said quietly. Yané looked down at her hands. Tonight was going to be deeply uncomfortable for everyone, apparently.

  “Thank you,” Sabé said. She knew it was important not to fall asleep angry with Padmé, however much she might want to. She didn’t want to talk about it, but maybe if they were in the same room, everything would work itself out on its own.

  “Maybe we should go to the lake house now that the summit is done,” Padmé said. “It’s early in my reign to go on a retreat, but I feel like we’ve accomplished a lot this week and could use a break.”

  “I’ll look into it tomorrow,” Yané said. She yawned. “Midafternoon, at the earliest.”

  Everyone left, and Sabé crawled into the spot Saché had vacated.

  “Did you really want to kiss her?” Padmé asked.

  Sabé knew what she was doing, and why she was doing it, but she couldn’t bring herself to mend the fence. She could do her job, but that was it for now.

  “Not yet, please,” she said. “I just want to talk about politics.”

  Padmé dutifully changed the subject.

  The loom made her feel better. There were several different mechanized versions to choose from, looms that did all of the work and looms that let you maintain some semblance of control, but Suyan liked the manual ones best. Without a computer to tell her if the tension was right, she had to pay close attention, and she liked the way the world closed in around her as she wove. It shut out the bustle of the market, for starters, and sometimes that level of noise could be aggravating.

  It was blankets, today. Simple enough, but Suyan was taking her time. Each one had a different design. They were all headed to the Theed hospital eventually, but that was no reason not to enjoy the process. Suyan loved watching the fabric grow under her fingers as she built it out of yarn, and she never got tired of the ways she could use color to tell whatever story she wanted in the weft.

  “Are these all yours?” someone said.

  Suyan paused and looked up. She needed her eyes to weave, and she didn’t entirely appreciate the interruption. It was late in the day, and she’d already made several good sales. She wanted to finish this blanket and cut it free before it got dark.

  “I made them, yes,” she said. “They’re for the hospital.”

  “They’re very nice.” The speaker was a tall man with brown skin and square shoulders. “What are they made of?”

  “It’s a yarn I make myself,” Suyan told him. “I spin it from various components, and the end result is a blanket that is light, warm, moisture-wicking.”

  If he noticed that she didn’t give up any of the particulars, he paid the courtesy of respecting her ownership. Some people tried to get her to reveal the combinations, and though she didn’t mind sharing, she wasn’t going to give them up to just anyone.

  “Can you make fabric for other situations?” he asked. “Waterproof? Or fireproof, maybe?”

  “Yes,” Suyan said without considering it for very long. She was young to be a master weaver, and she didn’t have the official designation yet, but it was only a matter of time. She knew the extent of her talents. “But I am not sure how practical that would be in a blanket at the hospital. They have other methods of fire suppression.”

  “I wasn’t talking about just blankets,” he said. He was still feeling the fabric, and she could tell by his touch that he didn’t actually know the quality of the craft at all. She had no problem with people appreciating things because they were pretty or soft, but his questions didn’t link up with his behavior. “Can you only make heavy yarn do what you want?”

  “The bulk makes it easier,” she admitted. “But not everything has to be in the weave. There are resins that can be used to treat fabrics and still maintain their flexibility. And you could probably do a lot with embroidery, if you had the right sort of thread.”

  He considered it for a moment, and she thought he would keep walking. Instead, he returned to the red blanket she had finished that morning and hung up to make sure the blocking was all right.

  “Do you always work here?” he asked, indicating the market in general.

  “Sometimes I work at home,” Suyan said.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I mean, are you always a weaver?”

  “No,” she said. “I have to spin my yarn, as I said, and I also dye it myself most of the time.”

  “Is that all you’ve ever wanted to do?”

  It was an oddly direct question, and Suyan considered her answer before she gave it.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m happy.”

  “Would you consider another job, if it became available?” he asked.

  “Nothing ever has,” Suyan said.

  He looked straight at her, no longer running his hands along the blanket weave.

  “It would be at the palace,” he said. “There would be a lot of people. You wouldn’t have very much time to yourself. It might be dangerous. And it’s very important.”

  Suyan rested her hands on the top of the loom, letting the shuttles go and taking her feet off the pedals. She realized that whoever this man was, he definitely hadn’t found her by accident. He hadn’t been walking in the market and been attracted by the bright colors of her stall. He had known she would be here. He knew what she did. He had come here to ask her these questions, even though he knew most of the answers already. And he had done all of it on purpose.

  “I’m a weaver,” she said.

  “You’re an artist,” he replied. It was a common designation on Naboo, but the way he said it gave it more weight than she was used to. “You have a very interesting skill set, and I am very interested in seeing you realize its full potential.”

  “Weavers don’t usually have dangerous jobs,” she said. Even dyeing cloth, which had been hot, heavy work before automation, was relatively safe as long as you didn’t do anything stupid.

  “There’s another part to it,” he admitted. “You’d be responsible for the well-being of a high-ranking official, and I would expect you to use all of your skills to protect her.”

  “You’re Royal Security,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

  “Captain Quarsh Panaka,” he introduced himself. “I’m head of Queen Amidala’s guard detail.”

  The thing about weaving blankets for the hospital was that Suyan got the feeling of having done something good without really extending herself. Yes, it was fun to do the work, and yes, she enjoyed coming up with new fabric blends, but the truth was that she mostly did it because it made her comfortable. What Captain Panaka was describing sounded terrifying. Suyan did not have to be told the power of a good weave, a good thread, a good seam. She already knew those things. If anything, she wasn’t used to that power being acknowledged.

  She was less sure that she, Suyan, would be any good at protecting someone.

  “All right,” she heard herself say. “I’m in.”

  Queen Amidala spent the morning on the landing platform, waving decorously as her guests departed. She was accompanied by a single handmaiden and a handful of guards. No one would have guessed it by looking at her, but Padmé was e
xhausted. At least the dress was doing most of the work for her, in terms of standing up straight.

  Panaka was squinting up at the sky, a puzzled expression on his face.

  “Captain?” said the Queen.

  “We’re getting some unexpected feedback on the outer signal buoys,” he said. “Who is left?”

  “Just Governor Kelma,” Saché said. “She volunteered to go last because she has the least hyper-lag to worry about.”

  “I’m going to call her pilot and tell them to get a move on,” Panaka said. “We’re going to have to send some of our own ships out to check on the buoys.”

  “As you say, Captain,” Padmé said.

  The Karlini ship took off the moment its preflight checks were done. The comlink was still open, and as the ship cleared orbit, Padmé heard someone very clearly.

  “What the hell?” was all that was discernible before the ship was out of range, but it was enough to raise Panaka’s hackles even further.

  “I’d like you to go back to the palace, Your Highness,” he said.

  Padmé did not consider arguing.

  Saché had her comlink out and sent a short message to the others, who were hopefully still in the suite. They had dressed Padmé in another formal gown this morning, one that would be visible from a ship while she stood on the landing pad. The gown was red with a wide skirt and elaborate tabard that covered her shoulders and chest. Around the skirt was a ring of luminescent orange and yellow globes. It wasn’t exactly a dress to move quickly in, but Padmé managed, even on the steps. At the door to the palace, Padmé stopped and turned to one of the guards.

  “Would you please find Governor Bibble and ask him to come to the throne room?” she asked. Tradition or no, she was going to update the messaging system. “Captain Panaka has a report to give.”

  The wording was deceptively light, and Padmé could see that the guard understood her immediately. She set off at a trot, and Padmé continued toward the throne room. She had a bad feeling.

  The personal comms in the Queen’s suite all went off at the same time, which would have been alarming on its own. Four miniature versions of Saché appeared on four palms, and immediately their attention was riveted.