Responsibility of the Crown

by G Scott Huggins

  “Which is why going to the Consortium is the answer,” said Avnai.

  “They are not going to give you that answer.” The Crown softened his voice with an effort. “I tried, son. I asked the ambassador what the price would be to quietly allow us to have what she needs. I offered concessions. They want her back or dead.”

  “We’ve already paid for her freedom with our line’s blood and honor. We’ve the right to her life. She has the right to it.”

  Threlya. Azriyqam realized they were talking about Threlya, and fierce pride warred with a cold knot in her gut. The warframe was nearly out of power. Every day, Threlya fell deeper into the prison of metal and flesh. The Consortium could restore her power as easily as breathing, but they would not.

  “We have the right,” her father said, “but not the power to claim it. Not yet.”

  “You don’t. I do.”

  “No. We pushed the Consortium over Threlya once and it nearly cost your sister her life. We cannot risk it again.”

  “You backed Azriyqam—” began Avnai.

  “In that stupid duel that she provoked? Yes, because it would have been worse not to. You think she won a victory? Well, she did, for her. But the Consortium hates us more than ever now, and that’s a loss for us. I have to trust you to be better than that. Azriyqam is family while Threlya is not, and she can’t be. She could never be more than a concubine to you, Avnai, no matter what you feel for her. We cannot risk you—or even your commission in the Consortium Navy—for her. It’s too important.”

  Avnai’s face was a marble mask. “More important than her life. More important than the woman I love.”

  Dead and Nameless Gods, she thought. Avnai…and Threlya?

  “Sometimes the women we love die, Avnai,” said the Crown, his voice a strained whisper. “I’m sorry, but sometimes they die and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it because the kingdom comes first. Do you think when Shaaliym went missing I didn’t want to lead a flight of dragons in search of her that very day? You will not endanger your position for that girl, Avnai. You will conduct yourself as an obedient officer in the Consortium’s service and as the Crown of these islands. The day of our revenge upon them will wait.”

  Avnai’s voice was cold as a winter sea. “I’m going to have to insist you make that an order. Sire.”

  His father met his eyes. “I so order you, in the name of the Crown and Throne.”

  “Or?” prompted Avnai.

  A look of pain crossed the Crown’s face. “You’re going to make me say it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Or be forsworn to your oath.”

  Avnai never wavered. “Yes, Sire.”

  Azriyqam let the spell go. The wall became as opaque as her brother’s face. She couldn’t face him—or her father—here. She flew back to her chamber to prepare for the trip.

  * * *

  “Do you want to explain to me why we have to accompany your brother on this trip?” muttered Zhad from behind her as they waited on the Royal Quay.

  “I have no idea,” Azriyqam said, half-listening. She, along with everyone else, stared at the flying boat the Consortium had sent. It was white as the clouds and marked with the sword-pierced ring insignia of the Consortium. Huge observation ports bulged from it like eyes and the four fans that drove it spun idly.

  They have all this power and they will not allow it to save a girl who has become an embarrassment to them, she thought. “We accompany your brother the crown prince,” another voice said, “as an honor to him before the Consortium. To remind them that the Throne and Crown are one.”

  Azriyqam bowed to the Lady Senaatha, who now also tutored her in what her father called “comportment.”

  Senaatha raised Azriyqam’s chin with a finger. “Also, by having you with us we remind the Consortium of your return to us after they drove you and your mother away.”

  Avnai showed them to a row of hard seats. He fastened an odd belt of cloth around her waist. “Trust me, you’ll need this.” The boat came about. The sudden roar of the boat’s fans made talking impossible. Azriyqam’s four knuckles went white on the arms of her seat and she noticed that Senaatha did the same. The hull skipped across the water.

  Suddenly, they were flying. Azriyqam’s stomach lurched as the boat impossibly lifted and floated through the air on broad wings.

  * * *

  The crew of the boat began to move about the cabin, despite the fact that there was nothing between them and the long fall to the Great Ocean below. Azriyqam was impressed with their courage. She herself could never fly so high, and she found herself gazing down on tiny specks of islands she knew would be at least the size of Stormness. Some of them seemed white and fluffy with snow. Then she realized the truth. Dead and Nameless Gods, I’m looking at clouds from the top.

  Merav touched her on the shoulder. “Senaatha wants to see us.”

  She blinked. She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she had not seen the dragon leave her seat. She followed Merav to the rear of the great seaplane. Senaatha stood before a table covered in charts. Sunlight poured in through enormous, teardrop-shaped windows. She signaled Azriyqam to close the hatch.

  “I have asked the crew not to disturb us during our lesson. We will be in the air several hours and we should not waste them.”

  “I can barely hear myself speak,” Merav said.

  “When you used your Command of the Theurge on board the Centennial Eclipse, did you ask the Sea People to be quiet? Azriyqam, find our way home.”

  Azriyqam nodded. Under her breath, she muttered the Command of Union. She felt the Theurge’s attention. Tasting the strange words, she spoke her Command. The words meant: Find the Dragon’s Castle.

  Darkness encompassed her and wrapped her in seawater, cold and unforgiving. It probed at her lips and nostrils, seeking a way in. The Century Ship was sinking.

  As quickly as it had come, the choking non-vision passed.

  Breathing in long gasps, she pointed out the window, to where the Theurge drew her attention like a magnet. “There. Home is that way.”

  Senaatha nodded. “Well done. You are improving.” Her gaze sharpened. “The drowning vision?”

  Azriyqam nodded.

  Senaatha offered no comment but turned to Merav. “See if you can Find our destination.”

  Merav gaped at her. “Kyria, I do not know the name of the place we are going. It would be…very dangerous for me to Find a location I do not know.”

  Senaatha’s lips twitched upward. “I am glad you are learning caution, but there are other ways of using sorcery to find things than directly, Merav, and that is what I wish you to consider. Not every problem is solved by a single, known Command. You must learn to think around the problem.”

  Merav nodded, frowning. For long moments, she stood motionless. Then she stepped to the huge observation bubble and looked as far forward as she could. Deliberately, she relaxed and invoked the Command of Union. Then she clearly spoke a Command Azriyqam could not entirely follow. It had something to do with air and mathematics that Azriyqam hadn’t yet begun to master. The air thickened and formed a series of lenses in front of her.

  “I can see islands,” she said, in a dreamy, half-distracted voice. “Some very small. I cannot say what they are. We may be headed there. Probability 43.25%.”

  “That is the kind of thinking I expect from my students.”

  The door opened. Avnai’s eyes widened, and he shut it quickly. “Countermand that thing!” he barked. Senaatha blinked, uttered a Countermand, and Merav’s lenses vanished. “It is against Consortium law to practice sorcery,” Avnai said, as quietly as he could and still be heard.

  “The Consortium has granted us diplomatic immunity. They cannot trouble us about it in any case. We are hardly using sorcery against them.”

  “I assure you the Consortium doesn’t care what the target is. The Consortium is ruled by humans. Like most of us, they can’t perform sorcery at more than a rudimentary level
. Even Commanding Union with the Theurge is against the law.”

  “Very well,” said Senaatha. “Out of respect to our hosts, we will refrain. After all, young Avnai, what would we be without the courtesy we owe to others?”

  Avnai grinned. “Forgive me, kyria, for my tone, earlier. I was surprised past the boundaries of good manners.”

  “Forgiven, of course. Was there anything else?”

  “Yes, Aunt Senaatha. The pilot informs me that he has contact with the Fleet. We’re strapping in for landing.”

  Back in their seats, Azriyqam’s heart sank. He’s really going.

  Avnai must have noticed the look on her face. “Come, now. This also is for the Kingdom.”

  “And how does my escorting you here to attend a dinner party and formal dance help the kingdom?” Azriyqam asked, with more bitterness than she’d intended.

  Her brother gripped her shoulder. “It reminds our patrons who fairly slew their envoy for provoking a duel with us.”

  A burning wave of satisfaction flowed into her with that memory, despite her father’s words. Merav pointed. “Look there!”

  A dozen wakes cut through the water below them like swords.

  “That’s Third Fleet,” said Avnai.

  The flying boat banked and dove in a shallow spiral. Azriyqam felt sick to her stomach, but her sickness quickly turned to awe.

  She had never seen such a deadly-looking ship, despite the fact she had grown up on a larger one. Where Ekkaia was a floating and fortified city, this vessel was pure predator. Guns the size of tree trunks sat in three steel twin-mounts. The hull itself was steel. Only the decks were wood and behind the last turret it opened out in a vast, flat expanse studded with squadrons of flying machines, some with two wings, some with four.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “A Consortium battlecarrier,” her brother answered. “The Talion.”

  This was the power that had altered the course of Azriyqam’s life. This was what her mother had fled from, denying her even her name and remaking her into Responsibility. Azriyqam no longer felt excited, but very small and very cold.

  * * *

  The flying boat did not land in the water as Azriyqam had expected. Instead, it landed on the deck of the carrier itself, on little wheels that folded up inside itself. Still a bit shaken from the sudden stop, she took her position behind Avnai as the honor guard drew up outside.

  On the deck, two lines of Consortium Marines flanked a purple carpet laid out before them. Waiting at the head of a party of officers was a tall, square-jawed man in a deep blue-and-gray dress uniform. Avnai stopped before him and saluted.

  “Lieutenant Avnai Moshaiu, reporting for duty, sir. Permission to come aboard?”

  The older man returned the salute, expressionless. “Permission granted, Lieutenant Lord Moshaiu. We have not formally met; I’m Fleet Captain Eute.” He offered his hand, and Avnai took it in a firm handshake. “You know the rest of the officers, of course.”

  “Of course.” He turned to Azriyqam. “Sir, may I present Her Highness Princess Azriyqam of House Moshaiu?”

  As Senaatha had trained her, Azriyqam stepped forward and offered her fingers.

  The Fleet Captain’s lips thinned, and he raised his hand to hers as if to take it, but he did not. Instead, he stopped just short of touching her and bowed stiffly over her hand. Puzzled, she stood aside. Had she done something wrong?

  “The Countess Senaatha of House Iskar,” Avnai continued. Azriyqam watched closely. The Fleet Captain did the same to Senaatha, bowing over, but not touching, her hand. Senaatha looked nonplussed but made no overt response to this oddity.

  “The Freelord Elazar Gurion, and the Freelady Merav Halevi, of House Iskar,” said Avnai. Captain Eute’s greeting was repeated. “And Sir Zhad Underholt.” Zhad stuck out his hand and after a moment of hesitation, the Fleet Captain took it, giving a brief but firm handshake.

  The formalities over, Captain Eute turned to Avnai. “Since my time is being taken up with protocol this evening, I expect to see you at the officers briefing at 0700 tomorrow morning. Ensign Galliardis will escort you to your guest quarters.” He turned to the others. “Please do not hesitate to ask for anything you require in regard to preparing yourselves for this evening’s festivities. The Talion and the Consortium are honored by your presence.” He said it as though running down a list of equipment. “However,” and here some life crept into his tone, “I must remind you that this is a Consortium Naval vessel on active duty. Accordingly, you must be escorted at all times. Sailors will be assigned to you for this purpose. Please notify them if you need to travel throughout the ship, no matter how small the distance. You should find your cabins stocked with all the amenities you might need.”

  He bowed slightly from the waist and led his officers off, leaving them with the nervous but smiling Ensign Galliardis. He seemed friendly enough, if nervous at the rank of his charges. Maybe the dance wouldn’t be so bad.

  * * *

  The night on the battlecarrier’s deck was cold.

  Azriyqam leaned against the rail, facing darkward, her wings wrapped around her like a thin cloak, as far away from her trailing escort as he would allow. The thin streamer of galactic purple drew her eyes toward the unseen Lands of Endless Night beyond the Great Ocean itself.

  “I’m glad you haven’t taken wing,” Avnai’s soft voice said behind her.

  “I can’t fly in this thing,” she said, tugging at her gown.

  “You’re not supposed to be flying, you’re supposed to be dancing. Aunt Senaatha is already annoyed enough at you for abandoning your post.”

  “Well, I can’t dance in it either!” Azriyqam snapped. Then the tears came, and she buried her face in Avnai’s dress uniform. It had been a disaster. The commander who had approached her to dance had looked nice enough, but he was at least ten years older than her and had held her fingers as if he were afraid of catching something, and his other hand had hovered over her hip, not touching her because he hadn’t known what to do about her wing. Then she had trodden on his toes. Twice. They had walked each other in circles, muttering apologies through brittle smiles until the music ended and Azriyqam had made her escape from an even older commander who had borne down on her with a look of solemn determination to do an unpleasant duty.

  “Merav is fourteen, doing all of this so effortlessly.”

  Merav had been dancing with a succession of younger officers. Her feet were never out of place, and she was using her wings like some sort of exotic fans, with her hair perfectly coiffed beneath a tiara of fire-gems.

  “That’s when I realize how much of my life is just…gone. Because of my mother. And Ekkaia. And the Consortium.”

  Avnai took her by the shoulders. “Aunt Senaatha says—and she’s threatened me with death if I tell you, so I expect some gratitude for this—that you’re doing quite well. Especially since you started listening to Merav. You can light fires and find directions, right?”

  Azriyqam nodded.

  “Then you’re beyond me. I couldn’t do that, and I’ve been studying magic since I could walk. Merav is overconfident, for all she’s a good kid. Do you know why Senaatha is training you with her?”

  “Because I can barely keep up with a beginner.”

  “This is not all about you, sister mine. Merav is cocky. She needs her ass handed to her from time to time. Senaatha thinks you can do it, but you do need to control your temper and have patience. Not just for magic, but for everything.”

  “Gods, even Senaatha is better at human dances than I am. Why do dragons even want to transmute into humans?”

  “Well, if they didn’t, you wouldn’t be here,” said Avnai with a grin. “Can you imagine?”

  Azriyqam blushed and giggled, despite herself. “I’ve meant to ask: why does the Consortium bother about sword training at all when they have the kind of guns they do?”

  “Because sorcery exists that can destroy those guns, and then where would they be?
Ask me how I know that.” He gave a cold smile. “Guns are complicated and easy to break. Swords are harder to shatter. Even guns need a lot of force and a lot of sorcerers to neutralize, though. No human could manage those Commands, or the sorcery required to turn himself into a dragon, but while a human is pathetically weak compared to a dragon, we are fine builders. Builders of ships, what’s more.”

  “Why do dragons value that enough to ally with humans?”

  “On the Great Ocean, a dragon can barely fly from one archipelago to another without needing to rest. It’s very hard for them to take off from the ocean surface. The principal problem that our Free Navies always had in enforcing our territory—”

  “You mean pirating Century Ships,” Azriyqam put in.

  Avnai waved this away. “Was finding the trespassers. Dragons are too big to roost on a ship for more than a few hours unless a way is found to address some rather fundamental issues of space and weight.”

  “You could roost a dozen dragons on a ship this size and they’d never have to transform. This Consortium, they can do anything. Avnai, the Consortium made Threlya. There has to be something on this ship that can help her!”

  “There may be,” Avnai lowered his voice. “But I am a serving officer on this ship. There are limits to what I can do. I was watched very carefully even before Captain Eute took command, and I don’t think he’s likely to trust me as much as old Captain Gaderan did.”

  “He didn’t seem pleased to see any of us,” said Azriyqam. “He wouldn’t even touch us.”

  “True enough. Although I’m not sure whether that was because you were non-humans, or because you were, ah…”

  “What?”

  “Women,” grimaced Avnai. “Styles for Consortium women are very different. They’re okay with women serving, and even commanding, but according to Consortium mores, you all arrived half-naked.”

  “What?” Azriyqam’s voice rose. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Consortium styles would have been very uncomfortable for you. Besides, I like to see them remember that we are our own people. Allies, not a client or a conquered state.”