Responsibility of the Crown

by G Scott Huggins

  “Mr. Moshaiu,” a voice called.

  Looking up, Azriyqam saw it was the commander she had danced with. For a wild moment she thought Avnai was in trouble because she had stepped on his feet, but he merely said, “I need you, Lieutenant.”

  Avnai saluted. “Beg pardon, sir, but I understood I was assigned to the dance?”

  “As you are not there, I wish a moment of your time. Now.”

  “Of course, sir. Follow me,” Avnai said to Azriyqam. “Commander Wiegand’s office is on the way back and you need to return.” He waved the attending seaman off.

  Azriyqam nodded and followed. When they reached Avnai’s destination, he pointed her on, and the door closed. She turned toward the hall.

  What was so important that it couldn’t wait?

  Stepping back around a corner, Azriyqam took three quick breaths, calmed herself, and invoked Union. Vaguely, she could feel the Century Ship about her, still listing. Why was she always drawn to that image? No time. She concentrated on Avnai.

  “Slikhain chrch stkaa.” She heard voices.

  “…the name of the Cold Hell did you lose my flying boat?”

  “With respect, sir, I would prefer to explain this in my formal debriefing tomorrow.”

  “I don’t give a damn what you’d prefer, Lieutenant. Talk!”

  “The engines caught fire, sir.”

  “Why didn’t you turn the flaming engine off, Lieutenant?”

  “They all caught fire, sir.”

  There was a silence. “Bullshit. What did you do with my boat?”

  “After the engines caught fire, we ditched, of course, sir,” Avnai went on. “The wings came apart on landing and the craft rolled. Airman Gannin and Airman Preble were killed in the crash. I managed to inflate the lifeboat and survive until I was picked up by the Century Ship Ekkaia.”

  “You said the two men were killed in the landing. What about your co-pilot?”

  “My co-pilot, Lieutenant Janssen, tried to kill me as I was inflating the pod. I was forced to kill him in self-defense.”

  Footsteps broke Azriyqam’s wavering concentration and she lost the spell.

  “Are you lost, lady?”

  Her head snapped up and she found herself staring into the concerned face of a young sublieutenant. Her mouth worked, then she remembered where she was supposed to be going. “Yes,” she said.

  “Please allow me to escort you back to the hall.” He caught up her left forefinger and bowed over it. “And, also allow me to ask the honor of the next dance?”

  “I don’t dance,” she said. “Not well enough. I can’t.”

  “I find that any music in the world suits a two-step dance. Please, allow me to show you.”

  He faced her and, clasping her left fingers gently in his right, slid his left hand just below her wing, leading her through the very simple dance, there in the corridor. It was indeed simple enough that a child could do it, and without looking childish.

  Within the hall, a new piece began. He led her through the dancers and drew her close. The three fingers of his right hand wrapped around her wing spar as naturally as if he had been holding a human hand, and his left hand fit under her lower wing membrane as though he had been dancing with halfdragons all his life.

  She almost lost the rhythm once, when Senaatha danced by, but the dragon merely gave her a cool nod of approval and glided on.

  The music ended. “Thank you, my lady. Shall we try again?”

  She looked around. She needed to see Senaatha, to tell her what she had heard, but the dragon was talking to the captain of the ship and gave Azriyqam a brief head shake. Azriyqam looked back at her partner.

  “Of course, Lieutenant…” Oh, gods, she didn’t know his name!

  “Rathe, but please, call me Kyril.” He smiled at her and she felt the corners of her mouth tug upward on their own.

  “Azriyqam,” she said. And they danced on.

  * * *

  By the time the dance broke up, Azriyqam felt that her head was full of fog. She had danced with Kyril the rest of the night. There had been wine and conversation and—she blinked. Senaatha was walking beside her. “Aunt Senaatha, I must speak with you.” Senaatha nodded and gestured them all into her quarters.

  Inside, Azriyqam explained what she had heard by means of her sorcery.

  “You shouldn’t have cast that without permission,” said Merav, frowning.

  Senaatha inclined her head. “True enough, but no harm seems to have come of it. Young Avnai may be in danger, but he is a soldier and that path leads through danger.”

  “The Consortium tried to have me killed in the dueling ring,” Azriyqam said. “Why wouldn’t they have tried to kill Avnai by means of an ‘accident’?”

  “They may very well wish to. However, we’ve no proof, and Avnai’s commission is part of our Treaty of Alliance. The Consortium must treat us with at least a modicum of respect. Of course, they may yet charge him with negligence for the loss of his craft if they think dishonoring him is as good as killing him.”

  “That sounds familiar. Aunt Senaatha, Avnai said there were limits to what he could do here. I’m sorry about not asking, but there was so little time and I was afraid for Avnai.”

  “You will always be afraid for him and he for you, but you cannot help him in this any more than he could help you fight Celaeno. That is what courage is for: to endure the fear. Avnai can stand on his own.”

  “But Threlya can’t. Senaatha, that’s what Avnai was trying to tell me. He can’t risk helping Threlya. May I? Please?”

  “How?” asked Senaatha.

  Azriyqam outlined her plan.

  At the end of it, Merav inhaled. “You can’t do it!”

  “She has a better chance than you would,” Senaatha answered. “While my skill would be much greater…” The dragon narrowed her eyes. “How will you evade your escort? We are not permitted to wander this ship unaccompanied.”

  Azriyqam said, “I’ll act like a princess, and, if necessary, a fool.”

  Senaatha exhaled. “If Avnai were caught doing this by means of his knowledge, it would be a criminal act and would bring him disgrace. If I were so caught, it would be a major diplomatic incident. Though you have the same status, your actions could be passed off as an indiscretion of youth. If you succeed, the Consortium will know another reason to respect us.” She rose. “Very well, you have my unofficial blessing.” She closed her eyes and muttered quick words. Azriyqam felt the fatigue of the long day leave her. “Go quickly. The effect of that Command will not last long and we leave tomorrow. This is your best chance.”

  * * *

  Alone in her cabin, Azriyqam had no idea what she was searching for or where to begin. Sorcery worked best and most quickly the closer you were to your object.

  This commander of Avnai’s may have tried to arrange an accident for him, just as Celaeno set Threlya to watch me.

  Her time was wasting. She heard the faint creaks of the ship, pitching almost imperceptibly in the Endless Ocean, a muttered conversation, and boots along the corridor outside. For all its bulk and vast space, the ship was crowded, even at night.

  She commanded Union with the Theurge; felt it attend to her. She spoke the formula she had devised. It translated roughly as Find something that will save Threlya.

  Her mind flowed.

  She stretched and bent around strange corners. It was as though she sent hundreds of invisible tendrils out from her. She could not see or hear through them, but they were there, active, crawling hairs extending from her scalp and face. Suddenly, two of the hairs thickened. The rest vanished as if they had never been.

  Afraid to move, she opened her eyes. The Union with the Theurge had not gone away. It was there. The invisible hairs—more like thin rods now—reached through the door of her cabin. When she rose and walked, she felt as if she were trying to balance full cups of wine on the wingtips of her brain. It didn’t make sense, but neither did what she felt. This was a new kind of sorcer
y for her.

  But why two leads?

  She picked up an embroidered bag and hooked it to the belt at her waist. Now it was time for the difficult part. What if she followed where the Theurge led and was stopped? She accepted that might be the case, and she couldn’t fight the Consortium here in their own fortress.

  She put her hand on the door of her cabin. She would walk through the ship with her head held high as if she knew where she was going, following the Theurge’s lead. The sailor assigned to escort her would have to keep up and would hopefully be off-balance. She would act as though she were in charge.

  She pushed the door open.

  “My lady Azriyqam,” said a familiar voice.

  She looked to her left and nearly lost the Union entirely. Kyril smiled down at her.

  “What are you doing here?” she blurted, surprised into speaking her thoughts.

  “I traded duty with a friend. He was feeling poorly. What can I do for you?”

  “I-I don’t—” She lifted her head. “Walk with me.” She strode off, following the invisible tethers that led her toward the bow of the ship.

  “Gladly.” He fell into step beside her, grinning like a fool.

  Her thoughts raced. Why did he have to be here? Of all people, his friend had to be the one to get sick?

  “Was there anything you wanted to see?” he asked. “I could show you around the ship. It’s a lovely night for a stroll on the deck.”

  “No,” she said, in what she hoped was a quelling tone. The two tethers led relentlessly toward the bow. If they were pointing to the same place, why were there two of them? She looked back toward Senaatha’s cabin, as if that would do any good, but she and Elazar were in rooms well down the corridor and around a corner.

  “Ah. Well. We were all very glad to have your brother returned to us. He’s a fine officer.”

  “Yes, he is.” Would the man not stop babbling? Abruptly, she stopped. One of the tethers led down this dimly-lit cross-passage. The other led forward. The occasional sailor passed them, staring at her.

  “My lady,” he asked, curiously. “Were you looking for something?”

  Dead and Nameless Gods, everything was spinning out of control! If he figured out she was actually looking for something, she’d never be able to get her fingers on it. She flailed for something, anything to say.

  “What do the signs say, Lieutenant?” she asked, her voice coming out higher than usual. “It’s…it’s rather embarrassing, but I’ve not yet had the chance to learn your script.” She gestured at the red and white signs marking the intersections.

  He blinked. “The sign leading onward says ‘Damage Control.’ This one says ‘Air Wing Operations.’” His head tilted. “Do they not teach the Consortium script in your kingdom, then? I had thought that you were members. Public education is a right that is supposed to be guaranteed, especially for someone of your rank.”

  “Someone of my rank, Lieutenant?” She saw him draw back before the razor edge of her tone, but she did not care. “Someone of my rank,” she repeated. The anger flowed out of her, but she rode it, not allowing it to upset her fragile Union. “My mother and I were chased out of our own kingdom by the Consortium when I was a child too young to walk or fly. Someone of my rank was left, out of desperation, on the deck of a Century Ship, the hereditary enemies of my people.” She flared her wings, showing her fingers. “I grew up there, despised as a kind of mutated freak because they had never seen a halfdragon before, and feared lest my mother come back and burn them to the waterline. So, someone of my rank, Lieutenant,” she said, breathing hard, “hardly learned to read at all. Real education is for officer families aboard a Century Ship.”

  Kyril’s eyes were wide.

  Azriyqam’s breath caught and her head spun. She had spoken without thinking, the words flooding from her in a torrent. What would he do? What had she revealed?

  “Forgive me, lady. I did not mean to cause offense.” He hesitated. “Reading was difficult for me, as well, when the Consortium came to our people.”

  “What?” Her brow wrinkled.

  “I was twelve when the Consortium came. Just in small frigates, really, but to us they were metal mountains. My father was a blacksmith working for our local baron. The baron tried to fight. That didn’t last long, but after the Consortium had annexed us, they told all the local boys they could pass a test to join up, if they wanted to. My father talked to them and found I was too young, but Dad was a persuasive type. So, he talked them into taking me on as a midshipman.”

  “What is that? Some kind of servant?”

  “Oh, no.” He paused and chuckled. “Well, actually, yes, in a way. But no, it’s sort of an officer-in-training. At school aboard a ship, except you can actually be put in charge of sailors.”

  “How nice for you,” Azriyqam said, evenly, remembering the way that the officer children had lorded their status over the rest of the Century Ship, even over the adults. Ordering them about and sneering at them just because they could.

  “Not at first,” said Kyril. “I was the only one who couldn’t read. It felt like it would take forever, and all these other middies, even the ones who were only eight years old, they could already do it perfectly. They couldn’t even remember having to learn. I was the only ‘barbarian’ boy aboard. They mocked me so I tried to fight them and then I found out that the Consortium trained its midshipmen to fight, too.” He gave a low chuckle. “It took me a long time to learn to read. Longer to learn to fight. But they both did finally get easier.”

  Azriyqam stared at this tall man whose life had seemed unimaginably alien and hostile, before he revealed his whole life in a few sentences.

  A life not unlike her own, really.

  “And was…” she hesitated. “Was your father pleased when he learned?”

  “I don’t think he could possibly know. I’ve not been back since. My home is tens of thousands of miles away. I’ve written him from time to time, but if he’s written back, or paid someone to, the letters have never caught up to me. I’ve been on a dozen different ships, so I may not have gotten them. I hope some of mine have reached him.”

  “Don’t you miss him? Don’t you miss your home?”

  “Him, yes. Home? Gods, no. It was a semi-tropical hellhole. My father was a skilled man, but he spent his life slaving away to repay a debt he’d been born into, and he never learned to do more than make clever things with poor iron. If the Consortium hadn’t come, I’d be doing the same.”

  “I see.” She walked off, following the sorcerous tether that led forward and groped for something to say. “Damage control. What does that mean? Do you have controls to repair damage the ship suffers?”

  He snorted. “Would that we did. It’s sort of like an assembly room for teams of repairmen. I can show you. I’ve been assigned there.”

  She groaned inwardly. If she said no, she would reveal that she had a destination, but if she said yes, how much time would she lose? But the tether bent inside with him as he opened the hatch.

  Some good luck for a change. Then her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

  Damage control was a massive chamber, full of more tools and parts than Azriyqam could ever have imagined. Yet the tether pointed her straight to a shelf. If she concentrated, she could almost see it, like a thickening in the air.

  “This is Damage Control Two,” he said. “We can repair most of the ship’s electrical and plumbing with what we have in here.” She let him talk on. The tether rose until it touched one of about twenty similar objects on a high shelf. They looked like fat black metal cylinders with silver, blunt pikes sticking out. A thick cable protruded from the other end. Azriyqam recognized it at once.

  It looked exactly like the cable she had pulled out of the back of Threlya’s head so long ago.

  But how could she get one without being noticed? Kyril was friendly and didn’t seem at all suspicious, but he wasn’t going to let her take a piece of valuable equipment as some sort of souvenir!
/>
  She stared at the shelving, attached to the almost imperceptible curve of the huge hull.

  “Was there something you had a question about, my lady?” Kyril asked.

  Suddenly, it came to her. Before she could think about it, she said, “What is that?”

  “What is what?” He approached.

  “I thought I saw a flash out the port.” Azriyqam flicked a long wingtip out, indicating the glass porthole, dark with night.

  “Out there?” He peered at it, but the light inside made everything dark.

  “There it is again,” she said. “Almost like lightning—” No, not something easy! “—but bright red.”

  “Red?” He frowned, then he bent to the porthole and put his hands to the sides of his head to cut the glare.

  Azriyqam reached three feet over her head and pinched the device between thumb and forefinger, dropping it soundlessly in her pouch.

  “I don’t see anything,” Kyril said, after a long moment. “Whatever it was, it’s gone.”

  “I’m sorry to have troubled you.”

  He waved this off with a smile. “It was a pleasure.”

  Despite her desperate need, she felt bad about the lie. She began to retrace her steps. The second tether wound back toward her cabin and then veered toward port, just as it had before. “What did you say was down this corridor?” she asked, brightly, trying to fight off the fatigue that was settling back on her like a heavy cloak. She recognized the words now that he had said them.

  “Air Wing Operations,” he repeated.

  She turned down the corridor. “Do you also fly aircraft?”

  “Not at all. I’ve trained in Damage Control. Right now I’m assigned to Gunnery.”

  They passed a broad staircase. “Where does that lead?”

  “That goes up through the superstructure and eventually to the bridge. I can’t take you there, I’m afraid, but there is an observation deck I could let you see.”

  “I’d love to. Another time.” She kept following the tether. It led the heart of gray corridors, all alike. Here there were fewer people, the passages were almost deserted.