The Queen of Quill

by Philip Hamm

  “Why did they dream of it then?”

  “Because that’s where their founding fathers, the Junopta, first arrived in the Third Sphere; those worlds have a spiritual significance as well as a temporal one.”

  “My people could have given them back,” said Fengtai. “We controlled that region after the Quill abandoned it and before we retreated behind our own border and before the Rickobites took over. If Quill had asked, it would have been an honour to grant their request.”

  “I don’t think the situation was quite as simple as you make it sound...”

  “Please, Professor,” said Fratris, a look of pain crossing his face. “Can we get back to what happened at the Spires of Stolas...?”

  3 - The monuments to the Zarktek

  The Spires of Stolas stood in a great desert surrounded by nothing except dunes and plains of tough-looking grass. “There were originally seven towers,” said Rimmon, “But only these three remain. The other four were knocked down by the Zamut navy during the war – you can still see their remains in the sand...”

  The pilot flew the yacht around the site and Nacyon spotted stone disks and masonry among the drifts. But his attention was on the surviving towers; they were hundreds of feet high and taller than any building he had ever seen. Composed of segments, like giant up-right worms, they were topped by three steep-sided pyramids, one above the other. Their green-gold stone was worn and weathered. He could see no signs of windows or doors.

  “I’ve seen the ruins of the Zlativa-Zarktek cities on Kaimakam,” he said. “But they looked nothing like this – they were more like baskets of metal woven into tubes and domes.”

  “The Zlativa-Zarktek were very different from the Rickoby-Zarktek; their ultra-alien sponsors believed in ideas and thinking machines rather than practical finance. Thus, their cities reflected an airy view of the cosmos while these spires reflect the solid fact that all activity in Evigone has to be supported by the columns of the accountant.”

  “Is that what they represent?”

  “That was the impression they wanted to create – but the tourist guides will tell you they’re just monuments to hubris.”

  “If they had no other purpose than to be impressive, couldn’t they be right?”

  Rimmon shrugged, “Would you rather they had built hovels instead?”

  The towers were a wonder and yet Nacyon didn’t understand why the Zarktek would bother to build one let alone seven in such a remote and desolate place. “Was Stolas pleased with them?” he asked, flippantly.

  “The Prince rarely came to Megaron; the name is a Tun invention. Tsar Zagan was the ruler here. Perhaps it would be more accurate to call them the ‘Spires of Zagan’ except there are other places that bear his name.”

  The pilot brough the yacht down to the foot of one of the towers and landed. As soon as the Exarch bubble was dropped, the heat hit Nacyon like an iron plate. But he didn’t complain. Rimmon leant him a cotton shirt and a hat. “You can kick your boots off, if you like,” he added. “I won’t be offended.”

  There is almost nothing to distinguish a fully-dressed Quill from a human unless you look very closely; their hair is composed of feather-like filaments and their eyes are slightly more intense but they can pass among humans without being noticed except for the style of their clothes - unless they take their shoes off. The Quill have three toes on each foot rather than five and their knees are actually their ankles.

  Inside their own empire, they rarely bother with shoes or boots, but because being barefoot is often considered a mark of poverty in many human cultures, Quill always cover their feet in front of outsiders. However, Nacyon took off his fur-lined boots and wiggled his six toes in the sunshine. “That feels so much better,” he said.

  “There was a time when I ran around barefoot,” Rimmon smiled, trying not to glance at his companion’s feet. “I remember how much better it felt when the weather was warm.”

  They stepped off the boat and walked towards the tower. Now they were at ground-level, it seemed to touch the sky. The segments were forty or fifty feet across and it took them several minutes to walk around the outside. When they were in the shade, Nacyon went up and put his hands on the stone. There were no markings except for the weathering by the wind and sun. “How was it made?” he asked.

  “That’s another secret lost to time and the war. As you can see, the stone is not the same as anything you might find on our worlds in the Third Sphere so, the towers must have been brought here from the Second Sphere. But we don’t know how or where from.”

  “Could they have come from the home world of the Councillors of Rickoby?”

  “It’s possible,” he agreed. “But they have always been at the forefront of mathematics and theoretical science rather than practical physics and engineering. I think it’s more likely they were made by another ultra-alien race and given to Rickoby as payment for a debt.”

  “It must have been a big debt.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Would you like some lunch now?”

  They returned to the yacht. The two crewmen had raised an awning over the deck and laid a table with a cloth and cutlery. There was a bowl of fruit and slices of seed-cake as well as rolls and savoury snacks. While they ate, Nacyon asked, “It must have been a terrible blow to the Councillors of Rickoby to lose this world to the Tun Empire.”

  Rimmon shrugged, “Apart from the gate to their home world in the Second Sphere, there is nothing exceptional about this system. Barras, in the north, has become our capital in the Third Sphere and Megaron is just an unpleasant memory.”

  “But if you could get it back...?”

  Rimmon shrugged again, “Like Sapadilla, there would be a war if we tried and the Tun Empire has an even larger navy than Zamut. It’s more important to us that we’ve been able to continue to offer our services to everyone who needs them, regardless of empire or race.”

  “It bothers me that the cost of those services is so high. I understand why lending your money to my people involves as great deal of risk, which must be compensated for, but here must be another way for Quill to finance itself.”

  Rimmon was thoughtful for a moment. “There might be,” he said eventually. “But it would mean undermining Rao Quern and Prince Rhatany.”

  “Would it be better for Quill?”

  “I think it probably would.”

  Nacyon waited for him to explain but Rimmon busied himself with slicing an apple. He had to ask, “Are you going to tell me?”

  “I’ll need to make a few enquiries first. I wouldn’t want to raise your hopes. Let me show you Mammon’s Maze tomorrow – by then I should know if my idea is feasible or not.” He wouldn’t be drawn any further and after another walk around the Spires of Stolas, they went back to the yacht and travelled north again.

  Full of curiosity, Nacyon returned to New Megaron City and Rimmon left him at the hotel to go and make his enquiries. He found his companions in high spirits. A stream of merchants and traders had come to see them, offering all manner of vital goods and services. The negotiations with the RBCC were going well and Quern was confident they would have all the money they needed to pay for them.

  Rhatany was dreaming of a whole fleet of new ships, “Big enough to rival the Sa’ic Company,” he said enthusiastically.

  Nobody had noticed Nacyon had been missing for most of the day. He tried and failed to draw attention to the cost of borrowing from the bank, especially when he discovered the sum being offered was almost double what it had been the day before. They ignored his warnings and carried on making their plans. By the time he went to bed, Quill had a hundred new battleships as well as a merchant fleet and new sky platforms on every planet.

  In the morning, Rimmon came to collect Nacyon and they travelled across Megaron to the site of Mammon’s Maze. On the way, Nacyon asked if Rimmon had spoken to his superiors and whether there was any hope of avoiding the catastrophe of the loan.

  “Yes,” Rimmon replied. “I put my idea to
a representative from the Council of Rickoby and he believes my proposal is a good one.”

  Again, Rimmon wasn’t forthcoming with the details and Nacyon had to ask, “What did you say to him?”

  “I spoke to him about your Pavonine generators.”

  “But you have access to Exarch technology...?”

  “We do,” he agreed. “And we can buy all the disks we want from the Ulupans. But there are disadvantages with Exarch fields that could be avoided if we used Pavonine technology instead. For example, it’s much easier to detect a ship with an Exarch field – which makes them vulnerable to pirates. And even in combination with a Claught drive, our ships are not as fast as yours. We’re not talking about big ships, of course, but couriers and vessels carrying valuable cargo; if we equipped them with Pavonine drivers, we believe they would be safer and more efficient than our current ones.”

  “But Pavonine generators are Zarktek technology – the Councillors of Rickoby must know the secret of how to make them...?”

  “In theory but why go to the trouble of building new facilities when your people already have them? You could supply us with the generators and we would pay you. There would be no need to take the loan from the RBCC – in fact, we would be willing to give you an advance on our first order, enough to build a dozen ships of your own.”

  Nacyon felt his heart lift; here was the solution that could save Quill from an eternity of debt. “But what about the loan? Rao Quern is sure he’ll sign the agreement today and Prince Rhatany has made several orders for supplies already. I can’t stop them – I tried, but they wouldn’t listen to me...”

  Rimmon smiled, “Don’t worry – there’s many a fledgling who falls from the nest.”

  Mammon’s Maze lived up to its tourist name; it was a vast sprawl of walls and roads spread over an area of several miles. It had been Megaron’s greatest city but Zamut had levelled it during the war. The yacht landed in a square in the centre and Nacyon and Rimmon stepped out to explore.

  “Does it upset you to see your culture destroyed like this?” Nacyon asked as they walked around the base of what had once been another great tower.

  “I’m always appalled by the way people have tried to erase everything built by the Zarktek; what harm could buildings do? Or statues or images of the tsars...? It was jealousy that brought these walls down and nothing more. They smashed this city like a child breaking a toy – not because it made any sense but because it made them feel powerful.”

  Nacyon could hear the bitterness in his voice. “But you’re not a true Rickobite, are you?”

  “No, I’m human but I was raised by them. I serve the Councillors in whatever capacity they choose for me.”

  “Do you believe they would bring the Zarktek back if they could?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe,” he said evasively, “The human empires will never allow them to return.”

  “But do you think the Third Sphere would be better if they were back in charge?”

  “I think that depends on which tsars and which ultra-aliens they represent; those that served Rickoby wanted peace and profit but those that were made for the Xenoterop wanted war and chaos. The nature of each Zarktek was moulded in the image of the race they represented and I’m sure none of us want to see Apollyon back on his throne, do you?”

  “No,” Nacyon agreed. “Our attitude has always been one of caution but we did have a close relationship with the Zlativa-Zarktek for decades. They gave us the Pavonine generators that allowed my people to expand westwards after years of being trapped on Virgate and Rhizome and, during the war, they told us the secret of how to make them so we could defend ourselves against the Zamut Empire.”

  “And yet your people fought beside the humans during the final campaigns, including at Abaddon and Variola – why did you do that?”

  “We were frightened of the Sagan Army. When they changed sides and abandoned the Zarktek, it seemed inevitable the latter would lose. We couldn’t have stood against them and their world is just days from our border. It seemed safer to join the human and Penti alliance.” He glanced at Rimmon, “You must think we’re the most awful cowards.”

  Rimmon shrugged, “The Sagan is the ultimate warrior; telepathic, indefatigable and genetically engineered to win wars – I don’t think anyone blames you for not wanting to face them in battle. But you could have remained neutral...”

  “We were hoping we would gain more from the peace than from the war; if we had not taken part, we would never have been able to join the victors at the Council of Empires afterwards.”

  “Did your family believe they would be granted Sapadilla as a reward?”

  “There was that hope and maybe, if we had joined them sooner or made more of an impact during the battles, out of gratitude, Zamut might have given it and other worlds, like Exitine and Damocles, to us. But it wasn’t to be. Zamut’s voice was too powerful and the Council didn’t recognise my family’s claim to Sapadilla.”

  They climbed up some stone steps to stand on the top of a wall. The maze of rooms and passages stretched out below them. In the distance, they sensed rather than saw the ocean on the city’s western edge; seabirds clamoured in the sky and the air smelt of salt. To the east, the great mountains that formed the backbone of the continent rose above the horizon, white-topped and shimmering in the haze of the desert that lay between.

  “If King Tragacanth agrees to sell us your Pavonine generators,” said Rimmon. “We will back a new claim. Zamut might be rich but even they owe us money. We have influence and Sapadilla isn’t so vital to their empire that they couldn’t afford to give it away.”

  Nacyon was grateful but didn’t feel optimistic. “A few years ago, they held a vote, giving the people of Sapadilla a choice, whether they wanted to be part of Zamut or to join the Quill Empire, and naturally, because they had settled so many of their people on my world already, they voted to stay in the Zamut Empire. I think it would be difficult to persuade the Council of Empires, let alone the Zamut Senate, to accept our rule.”

  “Look at this great city,” Rimmon replied. “It stood for five thousand years before the Zamut Empire knocked it down. Do you think any of its original inhabitants thought it would ever fall so low? What seems permanent to one generation can all be gone in the next. Don’t give up, Nacyon; nothing remains the same forever.”

  Encouraged but not brimming with hope, Nacyon followed Rimmon back down the steps and they returned to the yacht for lunch. Afterwards, they had a long walk among the ruins, got lost several times, and talked about nothing in particular.

  When Nacyon returned to the hotel in the evening, he found Quern and Rhatany in the depths of despair. The RBCC had pulled out of the negotiations, citing concerns raised from an anonymous source (probably Zamut) that Quill wasn’t going to use the money wisely. The RBCC, while it did loan money to various governments for military investments, were worried about the necessary collateral to pay them back. A fleet of traders could have paid for itself; an expansion of the Quill Royal Navy would just be a vanity project unless it was going to be used to invade someone. If it was Quill’s intention to attack Zamut or Saron, their closest neighbours, then, in the interests of peace, it was better if the RBCC didn’t lend them the vast sums they had asked for.

  “How did you do it?” Nacyon asked Rimmon the next day.

  Rimmon shrugged, “The logic is obvious.”

  The yacht was taking them south-west towards Zagan’s Ziggurat in the largest desert on the planet. Nacyon had thought he should stay with the Rao and the Prince while they tried to recover whatever they could from the debacle of the negotiations and the loss of the loan. Rhatany had made promises to various merchants they would have to honour or at least cancel with the least amount of harm possible. Nacyon had thought he might be able to help but Rimmon had persuaded him to come and meet a friend at the Ziggurat. He’d added, as an extra incentive, that this friend had the power to authorise a short-term loan that would get the P
rince out of trouble.

  While they were travelling, Nacyon asked, “But why did the RBCC believe we were going to build a fleet of warships rather than merchant vessels, as we’d originally told them?”

  “You can thank your cousin – it was his idea to re-build the QRN to an unreasonable size.”

  “I don’t think he intended it to be used to invade another empire though.”

  “Perhaps not but that’s what it sounded like to everyone who was listening.”

  “Listening...?”

  “Why do you think I’ve been taking you to the other side of this planet? The hotel is full of spies. I expect somebody from the Zamut Secret Police has been listening to the Rao and the Prince talking about what they would do with the money. When they heard Rhatany boasting about a powerful new navy, I suspect they put pressure on the RBCC to take back the offer of the loan.”

  “Is that really what happened?”

  “No – I told them to reject it but I don’t want you involved in their failure. It’s better if they think Zamut was responsible. If it was known that I had used my influence, our deal might never be accepted.”

  *

  Crotal asked, “Didn’t Nacyon realise he was being manipulated?”

  “He did but he couldn’t imagine he, personally, could make any difference to the future of his people and he couldn’t see there was any purpose to Rimmon’s deal other than what was on surface. He understood why Rimmon might want the Pavonine generators – after all, in his opinion, they were better than Exarch technology, but that was all he saw. He could see no harm in selling them to the Rickobites. And beyond that, what could they do to his Empire? Rimmon was just a man and he might have worked for them but the Empire of Rickoby is in the northern hemisphere, a long way from Quill.”

  “How did Rimmon end up working for the Rickobites? Was he a slave?”

  “Far from it - would you like me to tell you his history before I tell you what happened next?” She glanced at Fratris, “It does feature the Zarktek...”