The Queen of Quill

by Philip Hamm

  After a few minutes staring at the dunes, Zizania said she was ready to leave. “At least I can get away from this filthy dump,” she said. “Are there any young men aboard your ship?”

  *

  Nacyon saw the relief in Kalmia’s eyes when she brought Zizania down to the docks later that day. Apart from Acromion, the head of the Cissoid’s security team, and a woman he didn’t recognise, there was nobody else with them. Nacyon imagined the rest of the staff and the majority of the students were already celebrating.

  Kalmia wished Zizania success in her new role as Queen of Quill. “I hope you will remember some of the lessons we have taught you, especially about governance and responsibility.”

  Though Zizania smirked and pretended to find fault with her dress, she kept quiet. It occurred to Nacyon that she might actually care about leaving the Cissoid and might, if pushed, have admitted she was going to miss the people who had tried to help her. At the very least, he hoped her silence was an acknowledgment her time hadn’t been completely wasted.

  But if Kalmia was expecting her to say ‘thank you’ or even ‘sorry’ for the trouble she had caused, she was going to be waiting until the suns burnt out. Zizania gave her former Principal a brief nod and turned away, leaving Nacyon to say goodbye.

  He added, “Will we see you at the coronation?”

  “I hope so,” she replied. “I think it depends on whether the Meros will still be clear; there are all kinds of rumours about fighting between Penti and some other force but it’s been difficult getting details.”

  “Who would dare attack the Penti?”

  “We don’t know – but we’ve have seen the remains of Penti warships and whoever is behind them has some formidable weapons.”

  Nacyon thought about the microwave emitters. “Could it be the Rickobites?”

  “If it is, they must have been preparing for a long time and in the greatest of secrecy. Do you remember that young man on Agnatha, the one I employed to protect one of my students…?”

  Nacyon couldn’t remember his name but nodded, “He claimed Variola was being reoccupied.”

  “It seems he was right.”

  “Come along Parrot,” said Zizania impatiently, almost at the doors to the hold. The strange woman was following on her heels like a dog.

  Nacyon gave Kalmia a look and she raised her eyebrows very slightly. He was going to miss their meetings on Agnatha. Though there was never anything positive to say about Zizania, their mutual horror at her behaviour had brought them closer together. And now that time was over and, after the coronation, they would probably never see each other again.

  “Thank you for all you’ve tried to do,” he said. “I’m sure, deep down, our Queen is grateful.”

  “Good luck,” Kalmia replied and added quietly, “You’re going to need it.”

  He nodded and smiled grimly as Zizania repeated, “Come along, Parrot. Move your fat behind and open the doors for me.”

  He had to run down the gangplank to catch up. Twelve days, he was thinking; twelve days of ‘do this’ and ‘do that’ and ‘this isn’t good enough’. If he could have stayed on Kajawah and lived the rest of his life keeping the Sa’ic pyramid clean of sand, he would have done so gladly.

  Zizania’s capacious luggage had been loaded aboard the Apus already and the crew was waiting inside the hold to greet their exulted guest. This was the moment Nacyon had been dreading the most. The Apus was his home and this was his family.

  Captain Tringa stepped forward, “Your Majesty,” she said, bowing. “Welcome to the Apus.”

  Everyone was wearing black feathers in their lapels in memory of the King. Zizania glanced at them with distaste. She ignored his partner and looked around the hold. “It’s a bit grubby,” she said. She gave the crew a cursory glance and noticed the assistant engineer, the handsome Boatman Crake. “Still, not everything seems to be ugly.” She smiled at him and the poor man didn’t know where to look.

  “If Your Majesty would like to follow me,” said Nacyon quickly. “We have prepared the ambassadors’ quarters – it won’t be what you’re used to but the journey won’t be too long.” He glanced at Tringa, “If the captain would kindly get us under-way, I’m sure the sooner we reach Rhizic, the more comfortable you will be...”

  Tringa nodded. In all the years they had been travelling to Agnatha, she had never met Zizania. Along with the rest of the crew, she hadn’t entirely believed his stories about how awful the princess was.

  Nacyon escorted the Queen to the top of the stairs. “I’m tired,” she said. “I’ve had an emotional day; carry me.”

  “Carry you, Your majesty...?”

  “On your back, like an ostrich...”

  The ever-loyal Quail stepped forward, “I would be happy for the honour...”

  She cut him down with a look. “No,” she said. “I only trust my Parrot.”

  She wasn’t heavy but Nacyon wasn’t very fit. He carried her down the first flight and before he’d reached the bottom, he felt his knees beginning to shake. It wasn’t helping that he was wearing his best wool coat, a silk waistcoat underneath and a shirt more suitable for winter than the heat of Kajawah’s desert. He began to sweat.

  Just as he began to descend the next staircase, she whispered in his ear, “How does it feel to have your Queen’s tits pressed against your back?”

  He nearly dropped her and she burst out laughing.

  “My dear old Parrot,” she said. “You know I’d never do you.”

  “Your Majesty is merciful,” he said and she laughed again.

  He struggled down the next staircase and wondered what would happen to him if he pitched her over his shoulder and broke her neck. It was very tempting.

  Out-of-breath and trembling all over, he carried her to the portside cabin and set her down on the floor. Her luggage was piled by the wall and the strange woman turned to it immediately.

  “And who is this, Your Majesty...?” he asked.

  “This is my new maid, Melanitta,” Zizania replied, jumping on the sofa and lying down.

  “What happened to the last one, Your Majesty?”

  “I didn’t like her.”

  The previous maid had been the daughter of a prominent farmer from planet Nandu and had been recommended by Rani Rhus. “Where is she now?”

  Zizania shrugged her shoulders, “I think she was taken home by a Zircon trader. I don’t really know. Melanitta was a gift from Komtur Rimmon.”

  Nacyon looked at the maid closely. “Is she Quill?” he asked.

  “Of course – she’d be no use if she was human, would she? She wouldn’t be able to follow me to Nidus or a hundred and one other places where humans are banned. Still, I could change the law, I suppose.”

  When the maid had gone into the bedroom, he asked, “Where does she come from?”

  “Melanitta,” Zizania yelled.

  The maid reappeared. “Yes, Your Majesty...?”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Waratah, Your Majesty; I once belonged to Rani Troolie.”

  “Oh yes,” Zizania said absently. “I think I remember you telling me.”

  “How did you come to be in Komtur Rimmon’s possession?” Nacyon asked.

  The maid looked uncomfortable. “That’s not for me to say, my lord.”

  “It’s a simple enough question...?”

  Melanitta glanced at Zizania but her mistress was distracted by the view of the port through the window. The Apus was slowly rising above Dulla, leaving the Cissoid and everybody she knew behind.

  The movement caught Nacyon’s attention for a moment. The noise of the Pavonine generator had increased and the deck vibrated gently. When he looked back towards the maid, she was gone.

  “I’m thirsty,” said Zizania. “Bring me some wine – and cheese, I want cheese.”

  And this is just the beginning, he thought.

  “And Parrot,” she added before he could reach the door. “Send that young man to me – the handso
me one.”

  “I believe he’s spoken for, Your Majesty.”

  “‘Your Majesty’,” she repeated. “You do know what that means, don’t you?”

  *

  Alone in their cabin with Tringa, Nacyon collapsed on the bed. He had been up and down the stairs all day and half the night. His legs ached beyond endurance and his mind was abused beyond belief. He had never known anyone so demanding, not even Prince Rhatany. No sooner had he brought her one thing than she wanted another. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she’d thought ahead and asked for a group of things at once – but she would ask for a spoon, and when he returned, a knife, and when he came back, a fork. “I think she does it deliberately,” he said. “Just to see how far she can push me.”

  “I’ve had to lock Stilt in her cabin,” Tringa said. “She’s distraught over Boatman and what the Queen might be doing to him.”

  “Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

  Zizania had no shame, either about bedding the assistant engineer or about doing it in front of Nacyon when she rang for him. He’d tried to avert his eyes as he listened to her requests but it was impossible not to know what she was up to.

  Tringa said, “If she wasn’t the Queen, I’d throw her into the vacuum.”

  “That’s what Rhatany is hoping we’ll do.”

  The captain shook her head, “I don’t like to say it but, isn’t he right? We can’t have a Queen like Zizania on the throne. She’s mad...”

  “Madness never stopped some of our old kings from ruling; Zizan the Ninth wanted everyone to quack like a duck on his birthday and they say Rhizome the Tenth never did anything unless he’d consulted his chicken first. The fifteenth King Kakapo glued feathers to himself and jumped off the Royal Platform to his death.”

  “I wish Zizania would think of that.”

  He sighed, “I’m sure Prince Rhizic would make a better monarch in the long term – if he could be pried away from Rhatany’s influence. The King and Queen did their best with him and never wanted Zizania – but that’s the whole problem. If they’d loved her more, she wouldn’t be the way she is. But Prince Rhizic does what Rhatany tells him and right now, we need Zizania to put a stop to his plans to start a war with Zamut.”

  “And how is she going to do that if she’s too busy fornicating with every pretty boy who comes along?”

  “At least she doesn’t listen to the opinions of chickens.”

  “Does she think at all or is her brain just focussed on sex?”

  “Pater save us,” he said, sitting up suddenly and wincing at a twinge in his back.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Boatman is the first male Quill she’s ever slept with...”

  “So what?”

  “She could become pregnant...”

  *

  It was the longest twelve days Nacyon had ever experienced. Not only did Zizania’s demands never cease but he had the additional worry of delivering her to the Royal Household and the people of Quill with a baby growing in her belly. He knew exactly who would get the blame and cursed his lack of foresight not to have hidden Boatman and the other males away before she’d even stepped on board.

  He was also worried about Melanitta. He was reasonably sure she hadn’t come from Waratah or ever worked for Rani Troolie. She always wore shoes in his presence and she kept her hair hidden under a scarf so he couldn’t tell if she was Quill or not. But her accent was wrong and she seemed to know nothing about their traditions. When he asked why she wasn’t wearing a black feather, she’d just looked blank and ignored him.

  She was also less intimidated by Zizania than any of the other maids had been. They had treated her as the earthly representative of the ancestors but Nacyon could see Melanitta thought of her as an employer and nothing more.

  Convinced she was human, Nacyon didn’t know what to do. Had Rimmon smuggled her into Zizania’s presence to be a spy or an assassin? Was she there to kill the Queen at some predetermined moment, like the coronation, or just to observe and report to her Rickobite masters?

  He voiced his concerns to Tringa on the observation deck above the bridge. They had just crossed the solar boundary and were less than an hour from Rhizic.

  “You told me the Rickobites don’t employ assassins,” she said. “They think they’re wasteful.” She looked through the telescope and found the blue dot of the planet.

  “They might be making an exception in Zizania’s case,” Nacyon said. “And the Pater knows we’d like to wring her neck.”

  “If Melanitta killed her, they would get the blame. We know it was Komtur Rimmon who gave her to the Queen.”

  “That’s true,” he agreed. “But in that case, what do they want from her?”

  “From the servant or the mistress...?”

  “Either of them; I can’t see Zizania paying any attention to what the Rickobites might ask for and Melanitta, when we know for certain she’s human, we can just send away. She’s not in a position to do anything more serious than whisper in Zizania’s ear.”

  “Doesn’t that depend on what she might be offering?”

  Nacyon remembered his conversation with Rani Rhus. “I think even a dozen pretty boys a day is hardly likely to incentivise Zizania into selling Quill to the Rickobites.”

  “Well,” said Tringa, relieved she could see their destination and the end of the ordeal. “At least this will be somebody else’s problem once we deliver Zizania to the Royal Platform.”

  Two Quill warships appeared out of nowhere; a hawk-class to starboard and a larger eagle-class to port. For a horrible moment, Nacyon wondered if they had been sent to blast them into atoms. The eagle had sixteen masts and four gun-decks; if she opened fire, there wouldn’t be enough of the Apus left to fill an eggshell. Even the hawk had a battery of the new missiles on its forward deck.

  They heard Radio Crake calling for the captain and Tringa ran down the stairs with Nacyon close behind her. In the radio room, Crake handed the handset over and switched on the speakers. “This is Captain Tringa of the Apus,” Tringa said.

  “This is Captain Coumarin of the Corvus Corax,” the other replied. “We’re here to escort you and the precious package to Rhizic. Welcome back to the Quill Empire, Captain.”

  Nacyon breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank Pater for that,” he said.

  “‘Precious package’,” said Radio bitterly. “Tell that to my poor brother.”

  Tringa ignored her and asked Captain Coumarin, “What’s the news?”

  “Our glorious navy has struck at the Zamut Empire; we have taken three of their worlds and a fourth expedition has claimed Falk from Saron. We’re on the move again, Captain; thank Pater Junopta for our wonderful success.”

  Nacyon’s blood ran cold. He stepped out of the radio room and leaned against the wall for support. Clocks Calidris and Wayfinder were standing outside in the corridor, listening to the speakers. They looked at him with the same feeling in their eyes.

  “What have we done?” said Wayfinder.

  “And why have we done it?” said Clocks.

  “Ambition,” said Nacyon. “Nothing but selfish ambition – and we’ll all have to pay the price...”

  14 - Faux-Zizania

  Faam said, “Within two days of Nacyon leaving on the Apus to fetch the Queen, Rao Quern had ordered the QRN to invade the Zamut Empire to take Sapadilla, Damocles and Exitine. He used Rhatany’s rumour about the King being killed by an agent of the Zamut Secret Police as justification and the rest of the family and the government went along with him.”

  Fratris asked, “Why did they do that?”

  Crotal said, “Didn’t Rani Rhus say something?”

  “The QRN was underway before the announcement was made; Quern, Rhatany and the three admirals of the fleets, Queach, Filemot and Quipu, had planned the whole mission in secret. It was too late to call the ships back.”

  Fengtai asked, “But was it a success?”

  “To begin with,” she nodded. “The handfu
l of IZN warships patrolling each system were taken by surprise and they had no defence against the microwave weapons except by retreating to a safer distance or running away altogether. The Quill galleons cleared the volumes quickly and landed their conquistadors on the planets.”

  “There would have been just picket-ships defending our worlds,” said Fratris. “But they must have known we would send proper destroyers or a battleship...?”

  “Quill had every reason to believe they could hold their gains against a counter-attack; the new weapons had worked and the missiles had hit their targets. More than that, they’d managed to land thousands of troops on the planets before the local militia could muster. You can’t win a war with just ships. You need boots on the ground, as my husband would say – and at that point, Quill had the advantage.”

  Crotal said, “When they sent their ships to Falk, we had no defences at all.”

  Fengtai asked, “Why not?”

  He shrugged, “We’re not a war-like people. If we’d been warned, I suppose we might have sent a legion of Chuprassy but it was too late once Quill had invaded. All we could do was hope they treated our colonists reasonably well or let them go rather than held them hostage.”

  “And did they…?”

  Crotal shrugged again, “I don’t know – I was kept out of the way and wasn’t told. My cousin, the Nawab of the House of Saron, dealt with the negotiations.”

  Fengtai said to Faam, “The situation must have come as an unpleasant surprise for Nacyon when he arrived back with the Queen.”

  “I think that would be an understatement,” she agreed. “As they drew closer to Rhizic, the news over the radio was full of the war and everything seemed to be in chaos. For their protection, the Royal Household had been moved to Nidus.”

  “What about the coronation?”

  “That was still going ahead – it might seem bizarre to us but they had sent invitations to every government in the Third Sphere, including the people they were currently at war with, to attend the event. It was one of the reasons Kalmia was persuaded to go; she had to return the last of the Cissoid’s students to their respective governments in the southern hemisphere and knew she would find them all represented at the Queen’s coronation.”