by Philip Hamm
Everyone in the mess smiled. But the smiles covered their uneasiness; despite what Zizania had done to Boatman, this was still their Queen they were talking about.
Wayfinder asked Nacyon, “Are you sure she’s an exact likeness?”
“She’s a clone,” he replied. “What else could she be?”
“But you haven’t seen her...?”
“Rimmon knows Zizania – he’s met her many times on Arroba, Megaron and other places where she was attending balls and conferences. I’m sure, if he thought they didn’t look like each other, he wouldn’t have put forward the plan.”
“I don’t trust the Rickobite,” said Cargo and several others agreed with her.
“But do we trust the real Zizania more?” said Tringa. “Or do we reckon anyone would make a better queen than her?”
“She’s evil,” said Stint. “When we’ve made the switch, we should kill her.”
“Absolutely not,” said Nacyon. “We’ll give her to the Rickobites as arranged.”
Rigger Knot said, “What are they going to do with her?”
“I have no idea,” he admitted. “But they don’t want her dead.”
Stint looked disappointed. “Just don’t let me see her again – I won’t answer for my actions if I do.” Boatman stared at the table and said nothing.
Clocks asked, “Where is the clone right now?”
“She’s on the Rickobites’ ship. Rimmon will bring her to the Eyrie when the time is right. He’ll deliver her to us in a crate disguised as a coronation gift and we’ll have to carry it to her chambers in the golden Palace.”
Rigger asked, “How big is this crate?”
“I presume it’s as long as she’s tall but I have no idea how bulky it will be. I warned him that the staircases inside the palace can be pretty narrow so, hopefully, it won’t be too wide.”
“Or heavy,” said Snipe. “It’s a long way from the wharf to the Queen’s tower.”
15 -The Golden Eyrie
The sky platform of the Golden Eyrie is over two thousand feet square. It’s not the largest in the Quill Empire, that honour belongs to Zizan’s Platform on the oldest of their worlds, Virgate, where the first kings lived. The latter is a network of platforms, like lily-pads on a pond, linked with wooden bridges and causeways. But the idea of the Golden Eyrie had been conceived by one man, Tragacanth himself, and designed in meticulous detail by a single architect. It was a tribute to the ancestors and to the skill and craftsmanship of the Quill people. Alone among all the platforms, it had grace and symmetry.
Three temples were built in a line along one side: to the Past, to Life and the Golden Palace in the middle where the Queen was going to be crowned. Their broad domes were covered in gold-leaf; birds and sinuous shapes were carved into the beams and inside the walls were painted with imagined scenes of the meta-world of Junopta. In the Temple to the Past, they kept a copy of a sacred relic brought from their old empire in the north (the original was locked in vaults down below): a single flight-feather from a Junoptan, ten feet long, reproduced in silk and silver. It hung from the ceiling in the central hall and was revered by everyone who came to the Eyrie. In the Palace to Life, the Holy scriptures, the laws the Junoptans had left them, were written in their rune-like letters on huge wooden panels for everyone to read and obey.
But the Eyrie was meant to have a practical function as well as ceremonial one; very few people (and no outsiders) are allowed to stay on the Holy soil of Nidus over-night and the platform provided accommodation for every class of pilgrim. Nine lodging houses, evenly spaced, had been built around three sides, with long-houses for the poorest citizens in between. On the side opposite to the palaces, guest houses for the higher citizens had been placed and, for the coronation, some of these had been set aside for foreign dignitaries. In the towers at the four corners, veteran conquistadors could stay for free but everyone else had to bring a gift, either food or money, as a tribute to the ancestors and for the up-keep of the priests and priestesses down below.
The nine lodging houses had a courtyard in the middle where anyone could come to eat. The guest houses had two floors and attic rooms for the servants of the rich. The long-houses were simple dormitories. The wharves were the open decks on the outer edge where the long gangplanks of the ships could make contact.
However, the most remarkable and unique feature of the Eyrie is the square in the centre. It’s the largest open space on any of the platforms; thousands of people can gather there to listen to the speeches of the King and, at festivals and Royal occasions, to join together in celebration. But it was not for the faint-hearted. Instead of being made from wood, like the rest of the structure, the square was floored with enormous slabs of glass. Each one is sixty-five feet wide and long, thirty inches thick and supported in the corners by an Exarch disk underneath.
To stand in the centre of the square, with nothing but clouds beneath and the distant ground far below, is a test of faith as well as nerve. When thousands are gathered, the whole structure groans like an ancient glacier. It gave Nacyon nightmares and he never strayed far from the perimeter deck.
The crate with faux-Zizania hidden inside was delivered, as promised, as soon as the Cissoid Corindon arrived. There were already hundreds of ships in the sky around the Golden Eyrie. Most were packed with Quill’s citizens, hoping for a glimpse of the new Queen, but many were visitors from other empires. A glass sphere from Agnatha, seventy feet in diameter, represented Xramaria, a train had come from Saron and the merchants and trading companies of Tun and Zamut had ships of iron and steel. The Rickobites were in a Tax Collectors’ vessel; long and flesh-coloured like a finger.
Despite the war with Zamut and civil conflicts elsewhere, the coronation transcended individual prejudices. In the best of circumstances, the new Queen of Quill would still be on the throne after all the fighting was over and whatever the present troubles, the future lay with her (which, to Nacyon’s way of thinking, might be equally disastrous but at least nobody else knew that) and not the actions of her Government.
Many of the foreign visitors had also come to collect their children from the Cissoid Corindon. The role of the university was over and it was now no more than a floating classroom, its purpose, to introduce its young women to as wide a variety of cultures and civilisations, reduced to nothing by the growing conflicts around the Third Sphere. Most of the students had already returned to their home worlds and those remaining, with the exception of the two-dozen scholarship students who had nowhere else to go, were going to be collected after the celebrations were finished.
As a special favour for looking after Zizania, Kalmia, the handful of academic staff left and the scholarship students had been invited to stay in one of the guest houses on the side opposite the palaces. The Cissoid, with just the ship’s crew, security and domestic servants on board, remained in orbit.
As soon as Kalmia and her party arrived, Rimmon sent his precious package from the Tax Collector to the wharf where the Apus was moored. And because there were so many boats going back and forth, nobody took much notice.
*
Rimmon wasn’t there but had sent has bodyguard Naaman and three other men to carry the crate from their long-launch and place it on the wharf. Nacyon and the men from the Apus left the ship to meet them. Strangers gathered to watch as the plain wooden box was delivered. It was early in the evening and the sun was low on the horizon, making long shadows across the decking.
Despite the threat of splinters, it was traditional for everyone to walk barefoot on the Golden Eyrie and Naaman and his men showed respect by not wearing their shoes or boots. But as they carried the crate from the long-launch, their ten toes looked strange among the six-toed people of Quill.
“Be careful,” Naaman said as his men lowered the crate with a thump.
“What’s inside?” asked a curious bystander.
Nacyon said, “It’s a gift from Councillor Sagapenum for the Queen,”
“Is it money?”
A few people laughed.
“It’s a relic from Hamose,” said Naaman. “Newly rediscovered...”
The small crowd began to mutter. Hamose, part of the old Junopta Empire and now part of Rickoby, was still considered a Holy Place and if the Rickobites had found an artefact, it was because they were poking about in the ancient tombs of the ancestors.
Nacyon sensed the crowd growing hostile and somebody said, “Are they giving the Queen what’s already hers?”
“The artefact was lost,” Nacyon insisted, “And the Rickobites found it by accident. There’s no cause for bad feelings between our peoples; they are returning this to us in the spirit of peace and cooperation. They could have sold it to a Saron sultan or a Zamut merchant but they didn’t – so, let’s be thankful and leave these men alone.”
It was a good argument and the crowd calmed down. Given their reputation, the idea of Rickobites giving them anything let alone a valuable artefact did seem generous. They backed away and stopped glaring at the men.
Nacyon said to Naaman, “Where’s your master?”
“He’s meeting with Rao Quern and Prince Rhatany.”
“What about?”
“It does not concern you.”
Nacyon thought better than to press the point; the bodyguard didn’t seem the kind to reveal secrets. He was also very big.
Nacyon thanked him for the ‘gift’ and Naaman returned to the launch with his men. A few moments later they were gone.
Snipe, the captain’s son, Chick Dunlin, the pilot’s son, Quail and Boatman Crake stepped forward to pick up the crate. There had been some debate over who should carry it to the Queen’s chambers; Stint had been against her boyfriend going, given Zizania’s last treatment of him, and Captain Tringa had wondered if it might be better to send an all-female team. But Nacyon had said women carrying a crate would look too unusual and had promised Stint, Boatman would be safe. “We’re there to collect her,” he told everyone. “By fair means or foul, we’re going to put her in a box; the last thing she’ll be able to do is try and fornicate with anyone.”
There was still some doubt as to how this was going to be achieved. Getting Zizania out of the palace didn’t seem impossible but getting her into the crate without a great deal of fuss seemed less likely. However, if Zizania did start screaming, Boatman said he’d gladly knock her out.
The four men lifted the crate between them and Nacyon walked ahead as they carried it from the wharf to the Golden Palace. They passed the long-houses of the poorer pilgrims and the lodging-houses of the middle classes. They went under the corner tower for the veteran conquistadors and along the rows of guest-houses until they reached the walkway under Palace of the Past. They were challenged by the guards but Nacyon showed them his badge of office and they let the party pass. There were more rows of guest-houses where the Royal Household was staying and then they arrived at the Golden Palace.
They were met by the chamberlain inside the main hall. The room had been laid out with enough tables and chairs to seat five hundred guests and a long dais for the Royal Household. It was full of flowers and the walls had been hung with the flags of every empire.
The chamberlain knew Nacyon but they didn’t like each other much. “What’s this?” he asked, looking disdainfully towards the crate and at the four sweating men carrying it.
“A gift from the Rickobites,” Nacyon repeated.
“Put it with the others,” he replied, pointing to an anteroom.
“The Queen needs to see it first,” Nacyon insisted.
“She’s busy getting dressed.”
“It will just take a minute of her time...”
The chamberlain took his watch out, “The banquet is an hour away.” He looked at the crate, “It will take you that long to get it up the stairs.”
“Well, that’s my problem, isn’t it?”
The chamberlain couldn’t be bothered with him, “Take it and if she’s angry for being disturbed, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Nacyon noticed a small cut above his eyebrow where he’d been hit by a flying object – probably a hairbrush or a bottle of perfume.
They had to go through the anteroom to get to the stairs. The three crewmen stared at the piles of gifts, a rich hoard such as they could never dream of. Snipe said, “Is all of this for the Queen?”
“Officially, it belongs to all of us,” Nacyon replied.
“When do we get our share?” Chick Dunlin grinned.
“Not in this lifetime,” said Quail.
“It doesn’t seem fair, does it?” said Boatman. “She gets everything she desires and we get nothing.”
“Come on,” said Nacyon, leading them towards the staircase in the corner. “We don’t have time to talk about what’s fair and what isn’t.”
They wound their way through the hoard and couldn’t help feeling envious. Most of the gifts were worth more than the Apus. Kalmia had given her former student a book of Whekau philosophy, inlaid with precious jewels from the hubs of Xramarsis. The Tun Emperor, Tatterdemalion the Third, had sent twenty-one cases of the finest wine from the cellars of his palace on Momus. The houses of Saron had sent a variety of spices and incense. The Agnathans of Xramaria had given her glassware. The Zamut government, less generously, had returned a gilded commode that had once been a gift to their emperor, Striga. There were other presents too, from individual worlds wanting to make a good impression, and from traders and companies outside the Quill Empire.
Nacyon had almost forgotten there was a living being inside the box; as they reached the stairs, they were about to tip it up-right when he remembered. “Wait,” he said. “We can’t have her standing on her head.” He tapped on the side and whispered, “Your Highness – are you all right in there?” He heard a muffled giggle from the other end and told the men to turn the crate around.
On the way up, they passed windows looking out at the fading sky on one side and doors to rooms on the other that were meant for the Queen’s children but, despite the crowding on the rest of the Eyrie, would remain empty until that day. The stairs were as narrow as he’d told them and they struggled to turn around the bends. It was also a long way to the top where Zizania’s chambers were located.
The crew of the Apus began to tire as they squeezed around the sharp corners and ascended each flight. They kept bumping the crate against the bannisters and Nacyon repeated Naaman’s warning.
“It wouldn’t kill you to lend us a hand,” Quail grumbled, even though there wasn’t enough space for his master to make a difference.
Eventually, they reached the top where the former King’s bodyguards, now Zizania’s, were standing on the last landing. Branta said, “The Queen is dressing – she cannot be disturbed.
“Turn back,” said Crex.
“This is a special gift from the Rickobites,” said Nacyon. “She asked to see it.”
The door opened a crack and Melanitta peeked out, “Let them through. Zizania is expecting them.”
“Not without checking the box,” said Branta.
The crew of the Apus hefted the crate the last few steps and laid it down gently on the landing, relieved to be able to rest. They sat down on the stairs, breathing heavily while Crex stepped forward and opened the lid.
Nacyon said, “Exquisite, isn’t it?”
A sarcophagus with the face of a bird and wings drawn over its body lay on a bed of straw. The eyes were made of jet and the beak was gold. The feathers of the wings were lapis lazuli, cut precisely to imitate the quills. A painted chain of gold rings had been carved into the wood around its neck and there was a pendant with a sculpture of an eagle, wings out-stretched, decorated with rubies and sapphires, in the centre. Despite their weariness, Quail and the others gathered around and stared in wonder.
Crex closed the lid and said, “This is a Holy Relic; it should be taken to the Nidus.”
“And it will be,” said Nacyon, “once the Queen has seen it.”
The two bodyguards stepped out of the way and let t
hem pass. Melanitta opened the door wider and the crew carried the crate into the room. Nacyon closed the door.
Through the open door to the bedroom, he could see Zizania was lying on the bed. “What have you done?” he asked, thinking the woman had killed her.
“She’s drugged,” said the maid. “She won’t wake for at least an hour – but you’ll have to hurry.”
Nacyon noticed her bare feet had six toes. Melanitta saw him looking and said, “Did you think I was human?”
He nodded and added, “But you’re not from Quill, are you?”
“I’m from Ortolan in the Saron Empire.”
“Why are you helping the Rickobites?”
She shrugged, “They pay well.”
“How long have you been working for them?”
She didn’t reply but went into the bed chamber to check on the sleeping Queen. He wondered what other plans the Rickobites had in motion and how far back they had begun them. Though it scared him, he had to marvel at their patience.
Boatman opened the lid of the crate again and Quail and Chick lifted the top of the sarcophagus from its base. Faux-Zizania sat up and smiled at them.
Physically, she was exactly the same as the real Zizania. But where the other would have complained or made snide comments, she said to the crew, “You must be very tired after carrying me in this box for so long – Melanitta, fetch some water, they look thirsty.”
Snipe helped faux-Zizania out of the sarcophagus and she looked around the room with interest. “It’s smaller than I imagined,” she said. “I thought a queen’s chambers would be huge.” She went through to the bedroom and looked down at her double. “That’s funny – it’s like looking in a mirror except I’m awake and she’s asleep.”
“Your Majesty,” said the maid, bringing a tray of glasses and a jug of water from the bathroom. “We must get you ready for the banquet.”
“How exciting,” she smiled.
“Be careful,” Nacyon warned. “The real queen wouldn’t be quite so enthusiastic...”