Responsibility of the Crown

by G Scott Huggins

  Why would he shut her out like this? When she needed him so badly?

  A knock sounded at her door.

  “Come in.” As if she would be able to stop anyone.

  The door opened. It was Kyril. He looked miserable. Behind him was a grim-faced woman in the uniform of a Marine. Azriyqam recognized her as one of the two door guards.

  “My lady,” Kyril said, “I have come to apologize—though I cannot imagine why you should accept it—for the grave disservice I did you earlier.”

  Azriyqam felt her mouth hang half-open. “What disservice was that?”

  “I witnessed against you,” he said, voice tight. “I told the captain where we were and brought this upon you.”

  “It’s hard to see what you could have done differently. They already knew I had done sorcery.”

  “My lady—” he began.

  “Oh, stop that,” she said. “I have a name; it’s Azriyqam.”

  “Ah.” He looked embarrassed. “Of course. Ahz—yes.”

  She stared at him. “You can say it.”

  “Azeree…um, Azeri…”

  “Az. Riyi. Kam,” she pronounced carefully.

  “Azreeyiyi…qam,” he finished.

  It was too much. She burst out laughing. He blushed a dark red.

  “Well, I’m only a barbarian blacksmith’s son. What do you expect?” he muttered.

  “You did me no real harm and at least you made me laugh. Why didn’t you tell the captain where I had gone?”

  “You didn’t do any harm, and I loathe tale-bearers. I would not have said anything, if I had known it would injure you,” he said. “Is there anything I can do for you, Azeryqam?”

  “Can you take me for another walk? I’m so tired of being cooped up in here.”

  He turned to the female Marine. “Can the prisoner be taken for a supervised walk?”

  She nodded. “With the understanding that I must accompany you, aye, sir.”

  “Very well.”

  They walked sternward. It was inevitable they would pass Senaatha’s quarters. Outside stood Merav, alone, looking lost and sick, but with her fine jaw set in grim determination.

  “H-how is he?” Azriyqam asked, her voice cracking.

  Merav blinked. Then she shook her head, almost imperceptibly.

  A surge of anger shot through Azriyqam. She forced herself to stalk onward with Kyril at her side. They emerged at the end of the superstructure, at the foremost end of the flight deck. It stretched back like a huge, inverted V so that the Talion’s fighters could launch past either side of the superstructure. Two of the bulky patrol craft like the one Azriyqam had arrived in were near the stern of the flight deck, tiny wheels protruding like afterthoughts from their boat-hulls. Before them, six fighters—sleek, open-cockpit monoplanes—crouched in readiness.

  “They look so…stiff,” Azriyqam said. “I rode in one, and I still can’t see how they stay up.”

  “You know, I feel the same way myself, sometimes,” Kyril said. “When I was a boy, I’d look at the birds and envy them. I’d try to flap my arms and…” he broke off, blushing again. He stared at her wings and the fingers on their leading edges. “Can you truly fly?”

  “Yes, but not very well in these clothes.” She was wearing a woolen vest and close-fitting trousers against the chill of the sea-wind, though it was mild today, and she wore her flight harness under it, because you never knew when you might have to fly. She thought for a moment of running for the edge of the carrier’s deck and letting the wind take her up and up, so far up that they could never catch her. But the only landing spot for miles were other ships of the Consortium’s fleet.

  “It’s not something you can just do by being born a halfdragon, you know. For the longest time, I didn’t know how. There was no one to teach me.” Soon she found herself leaning on a rail telling him the story of her strange life, growing up on a Century Ship, never knowing her mother or father until half a year ago. She told him about her discovery that Avnai was her brother and learning to fly with Elazar.

  The object she’d stolen for Threlya bulged in the concealed pouch on her hip. Flying with that would be awkward, but she wasn’t letting it out of her sight unless she had to. No point in having some sailor scoop it up while her room was being cleaned.

  But they would surely search her at the trial tomorrow, wouldn’t they? How was she ever going to get it to Threlya?

  “Now,” she said, throat tight, “we’re trapped here, and Senaatha is…” She took a breath. “And Avnai and the rest won’t even talk to me anymore. They’re all together, and I’m alone again.”

  “I-I’m sorry, Azriyqam,” Kyril said. “I have no way to help you, though I wish I could.”

  “At least you talk to me.” She pointed at the end of the carrier. “Is all of this only for those eight planes? They must be fearsome weapons.”

  He chuckled. “Not at all. We have over sixty of them, but since we’re not at combat readiness, most of them are below the decks. They come up on the elevators.” He pointed to the two large pits in the deck. Even as she watched, one of them rose into view bearing a load of equipment and men. An officer turned and walked toward them.

  It was Avnai. She watched him come. His hair and uniform rippled in the strong wind. She wrapped her wings around herself like a cloak. It was hard not to fly in the wind that flowed like a torrent over the vast flatness of the ocean and the carrier deck. She felt it pulling her into the sky.

  Avnai’s face was grim, and his eyes looked hollow. He stopped ten feet away from them. “Sublieutenant, I did not expect to see you in the company of my sister. Don’t you think you did enough for her?”

  “Lieutenant.” Kyril saluted. “It was not my intent to do your sister any harm. I did my duty.”

  “What duty are you doing now, Sublieutenant? Still following orders, as you were when you answered the captain’s question? I won’t ask you whether you have any new ones. If you did, I’m sure they would include orders to keep silent about it.”

  “I am off duty, sir. I thought I would keep the lady company, as she must surely be frightened.”

  “My sister has nothing to fear.”

  “Don’t I?” asked Azriyqam. “Avnai—”

  “But as I may not speak to her, I will take my leave. Do your duty as you are ordered, Sublieutenant, but take no responsibility that is not yours.” He turned on his heel and left.

  Azriyqam’s mouth dropped open. What was Avnai saying?

  “I see that I have further troubled Lieutenant Moshaiu,” said Kyril. “Perhaps I should return you to your quarters.”

  “No. If he’s not going to speak to me, he can’t decide what I do. Show me what you do on this ship. If you can.”

  He smiled. “With pleasure.”

  * * *

  The island was sinking.

  Azriyqam felt the deck tilt under her feet. She ran through the passages of the immense Century Ship. The walls and the doors were all of wood. She had to get to the open air of the main deck or she would drown, but the staircases were few and so far between. Every beat threatened to burst her heart. She reached the forecastle, but its doors had vanished. Peering through its ports, she saw the Kreyntorm listing sideways. The deck was burning and the island was sinking. Fountains of fire streamed out of the sea, splashing liquid flames over the Century Ship’s deck. Or was it the island’s shores? Her nest perched at the top of the Kreyntorm. She was trying to figure out how it got there when the tower exploded in a fireball.

  Azriyqam woke from her fitful sleep. Despite Kyril’s company, she had endured long hours in her cabin. He had to go on duty after lunch, and she had not seen anyone since.

  A knock sounded at her door.

  She threw on a robe as the knocking grew more insistent. “Come in.”

  The sailor who entered was a short young woman with close-cropped hair. She carefully carried two thin objects. “Milady, the captain’s compliments. Please dress for flying and accompany m
e to the flight deck.” She handed Azriyqam her airswords.

  Her airswords. They had been taken from her on arrival. Gingerly, she hefted them. “Very good. I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  Alone in her room, she pondered this. This had to be Avnai’s move. If she had the swords that meant they were leaving. He—or Elazar—had to have talked the captain into letting them all go, and if she was to dress for flying, then that didn’t mean airplanes. Carefully, she dressed in her flying harness. The device she had stolen for Threlya, she centered at the back of her waist in its bag. She fastened the airswords at her chest, and pulled her hair back in a long queue.

  For the first time since arriving, she felt like herself.

  Azriyqam stepped out into the corridor. The marine posted outside her door and the sailor were staring but pretending not to. The young woman nodded and led her away. Coming down the side-passage, they nearly ran into Kyril.

  He looked a bit haggard, but his eyes were bright. His mouth worked. Clearly, whatever he had expected, it wasn’t this. “Where are you taking her?” he asked.

  “Flight deck, sir. Captain’s orders.”

  “Really?”

  “Aye, sir. The captain has ordered the hearing to begin.”

  Kyril’s eyes narrowed. “On the flight deck?” Then he brightened. “Of course, subofficer. I will take over from here and escort the Lady Azriyqam to the captain.”

  The subofficer hesitated. “Sir? Are you sure? I was told to—”

  Kyril cut her off. “For a lady of the princess’s rank, we can at least provide a lieutenant for escort. Back to your post, subofficer.”

  “Aye, sir.” The young woman saluted and walked away.

  As soon as she was out of sight, Kyril’s hands closed around her fingers and yanked her into a room.

  “What are you— ?”

  “Quiet. Where did you get those weapons?”

  “My airswords? They were sent to me.”

  “By Captain Eute? Really? What do you know about him?”

  She hesitated. “I know he doesn’t like us. What do you know about him?”

  “That. And that the captain isn’t about to start your hearing. I just left him. And now he has armed you.”

  “It’s part of my duty to go armed. I am a Princess of Evenmarch.”

  “Who’s learned to do sorcery, which has already gotten you in trouble when you tried to put it in practice. Now you are armed on a Consortium warship. That, too, is an offense.”

  “But the captain gave me my—”

  “No, listen to me,” he gripped her fingers hard enough to cause pain. “You are a prisoner aboard this ship, whether that’s strictly your legal status or not. The captain, who hates your brother and your kingdom to the point of violating a Consortium Treaty, has armed you and is telling you to go to the flight deck. You’re armed and going where you could escape, do you understand?”

  “No!” she said, pulling away.

  “Consortium Law allows the shooting of escaping prisoners. Especially escaping armed prisoners.”

  Azriyqam felt her jaw drop. “But there’s nowhere to escape to. You know that.”

  “I know it. But when you are dead, who will know you knew it? Who will say your act was merely desperate barbarism? Barbarism is the label for any amount of strange, self-destructive behavior in the Consortium. Especially among ‘barbarians’ who have made themselves unpopular in one way or another.”

  “They would try to kill me?” Kyril’s story had a terrible weight of plausibility behind it. “What should I do?”

  He looked out into the corridor.

  “First, don’t stray from my side. My presence alone should disrupt any plan he has to accuse you of escaping. Keep your hands away from your weapons.” He checked himself. “No. Wait. We’ll put you with your party. You’ll be safe there.”

  “I told you, they won’t even talk to me. They’re not going to let me in!”

  “We’ll see about that. You’ll be missed, and soon. Fortunately, Lady Senaatha’s cabin is right under the trailing edge of the superstructure. In other words, anyone who sees us will see that we’re heading in the right direction.” He strode from the room. They turned two corners in quick succession and approached what had been Senaatha’s quarters. Zhad was standing guard. He didn’t turn his head as they approached, just gripped his thin cane a little more tightly.

  Kyril stopped. “I need you to let the Lady Azriyqam into those chambers immediately.”

  Zhad’s clouded eyes continued to stare past his ear. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that, sir. This is a sacred vigil for the Lady Senaatha.”

  “Zhad, I need to get in there; it’s me!”

  “I know it’s you, Respy, but I can’t let you in.”

  Kyril grabbed Zhad by the collar. “We are entering that room,” he growled, “and the only difference your assistance will make is how much it will hurt.”

  “Ah,” gulped Zhad. “Well, in that case, allow me to get the door.”

  Kyril put him down and turned to her. “Who’s Respy?”

  And Zhad brought the heavy pommel of his cane down on the back of his neck.

  Kyril bent over with a cry of pain. Azriyqam screamed. Zhad hit him twice more, hard, then kicked him sharply in the ribs, twice. Kyril groaned.

  “What did you do that for?” Azriyqam cried.

  “Gods, Respy, shut up!” snapped Zhad. “Now let’s get to the flight deck!”

  “The flight deck is a trap!”

  “What do you mean the flight deck is a trap?” said Zhad.

  “The captain is trying to make it look like I’m escaping!”

  “We bloody well are escaping! ‘The captain’ is Avnai, issuing orders in his superior’s name. This is the plan! Now, let’s move before he gets back on his feet! Take us up!”

  Azriyqam looked down at Kyril, groaning on the floor. “We can’t…” she stammered.

  The deck shook.

  “Now!” screamed Zhad, and there was naked terror on his face.

  Brain afire with fury and fear, Azriyqam ran, leading her old friend with a trailing wingtip, following stairs and signs.

  It didn’t take long to find a staircase up. It spiraled upward through decks of staring sailors and subofficers, some of whom shouted behind them. Then they were up in the gray-orange light of dawn, running along the great battlecarrier’s deck. Aircrew stared at them. The deck shook. Shouts and alarms rang out. At any moment, she expected to hear gunfire.

  But the shouts weren’t directed at her and Zhad.

  The sailors were running aft, toward the planes sitting beyond the two great elevators.

  The nearest elevator was coming up, and men and women leaped up onto the deck, yelling and running forward.

  Azriyqam heard a high, familiar voice shout a curse, and then Avnai charged at them, shouting, “Get down! Get down!”

  There was a crack of thunder and the deck leapt under their feet. Azriyqam, Zhad, and Avnai all went down. A gout of flame erupted from the after elevator pit.

  Out of the fireball soared a dragon.

  The silver-blue shape sprang out and down, hitting the deck like a mountain of scale, horn, and bone. Fire had scorched her wings, but she turned quick as thought, jetting bright yellow tongues of flame into the fighter planes positioned for take-off. Wood and light metal warped and burst into flame beneath the onslaught.

  Senaatha. Transformed into her true self. Not dead at all. On her back, two figures clung to her. One, a pale mauve, clung flat to her back, her eyes shut. The other, a thin bronze shape, spread a wing and beckoned.

  “Go!” screamed Avnai.

  Azriyqam ran between Avnai and Zhad. In the last twenty feet, she went airborne, launching herself into a flat glide.

  “All aboard, Auntie,” screamed Avnai, right behind her. “Home!”

  Azriyqam gripped the leather network that encircled the dragon’s torso before she fully realized it was there. She felt enormous muscles s
urge under her as they shot skyward. The world tilted, and below them—but far too close—smoke and flames spewed from the stricken battlecarrier. She counted six burning aircraft on the deck, two of them the great flying boats that had brought them here. The sailors ran about on the deck like squirrels. For an instant, near the superstructure, she thought she saw a staggering figure, looking up at them.

  Senaatha snap-rolled and arrowed away to darkward. Her wingbeats became more regular. Azriyqam didn’t know how long it was before her fingers, cramped with pain, relaxed on the dragon’s harness. It felt like forever. She looked beside her. Avnai stared down at her, anxiously.

  “Azriyqam, are you—?”

  “Don’t talk to me!” she screamed above the wind and the wingbeats, and she felt a snarl of satisfaction rise within her at his recoil. “You’ve kept me in silence for a day and a night; don’t you dare try to comfort me now!”

  “I’m sorry!” he cried, raising one hand. “I didn’t know what else to do. The captain was going to be watching you every minute. If we’d kept you with us, he would have been watching us all. The only thing I could think of was to keep you separated from us so he wouldn’t be watching us escape from under his nose.”

  “And you couldn’t tell me?”

  “No! You’re a terrible actor. I wanted the captain fixated on you, trying to prevent you from escaping by some clever or sorcerous means. As it was, he stuck Lieutenant Rathe to you.”

  Azriyqam’s head spun. “Kyril?”

  Avnai nodded. “Clever of him. He never showed up as an actual guard except for that first night.”

  “Kyril stood up for me!” Azriyqam growled. “He got me away from that marine the captain sent—”

  “That I sent?” interrupted Avnai. “She was supposed to escort you past Zhad, who was to follow you.”

  “Instead, I had to knock out Lieutenant Watchdog,” said Zhad, sourly. “It’s a good thing I got him with the first blow. That guy was built like a warship. We were almost in a lot of trouble there. Speaking of which, can I throw up yet?”

  “If you wanted me to fit in with your plans, you could have done me the courtesy of telling me about them,” snapped Azriyqam.