her instruments 02 - rose point (32 page)

“So this little finger’s width of land along the coast is really all that’s settled of this world,” Reese said.

“You have the right of that.”

The silence then was filled only by the hiss of sap burning in the logs. Irine was hugging her knees, staring at him with wide eyes; her brother’s gaze was harder to read, but his aura was somber as winter soil. Kis’eh’t and Reese were no better. Bryer, resting with his back to the wall, only opened his eyes enough to meet his, then closed them again.

“So is the reason the Queen hasn’t picked up and moved to the opposite side of the continent and left all her enemies to die that... she’s afraid there won’t be enough of you to keep from inbreeding?” Sascha said finally.

“That doesn’t make sense.” Kis’eh’t folded her arms. “If she wants to use the technology to lift half a town of people elsewhere, she can very well use the technology to gene-correct. That’s some of the oldest technology the Alliance has.”

“Still, twenty-five thousand people... that’s not much,” Sascha said.

“That’s plenty if you try to sleep with them all,” Irine said.

“Ariisen,” Hirianthial said, stilling them instantly. “I believe the Queen has done no such thing because matters are not so simple.”

“How is it not simple? Either ‘yes, I want to go with you’ or ‘no, I don’t want any part of you,’” Irine said.

“She has a point,” Sascha said. “How hard can it be to decide to live in a century with indoor plumbing and heaters in winter? And why did you people give it up anyway?”

“Give it up?” Hirianthial repeated.

“We’ve decided you were human once,” Sascha said. “Yes? No?”

The vertigo that assailed him was so extreme he lost sight of the room. Was it horror that made the room spin... or relief? To be quit of all the secrets—and yet, if they knew....

“Hirianthial?” Kis’eh’t said.

Reese lifted a hand before he could find the words. “Wait.” She drew the pendant from around her neck and said, “Is it enough to swear on this that what we’re discussing stays in this room?”

“Only if you understand what it means to swear that vow,” Hirianthial said. He sought some way to make them understand—ah—”Malia Navigatrix is bound by the vow that her ancestress swore to Lesandural Meriaen Jisiensire nine generations ago. Do you understand? If I tell you these things, your children and your children’s children may still be bound by your promise. We live different spans, but the secrets must remain until the day the Veil is forever lifted.”

“Do you think that will happen?” Kis’eh’t wondered, more curious than distressed.

“Maybe when the right suitor comes along,” Reese murmured, surprising him. She glanced at him. “Nine generations is a long time.”

“I like that he assumes we’ll be having children,” Irine said.

“We should probably get busy with that.” Sascha grinned. “Once we find someplace to settle down.”

Reese cleared her throat. “Stay focused.” She set the medallion down and put her hand on it before saying to the others. “If you want to.”

Kis’eh’t rested a furred hand on Reese’s. The twins joined fingers and set theirs over hers. They all looked at Bryer, who slitted open an eye and then reached forth and covered the mound with golden talons, flashing in firelight.

“We swear,” Reese said, firmly, meeting his eyes. “To keep the Eldritch Veil until such time as it is declared no longer needful.”

Their resolution melded their auras into something bright as steel. It wanted more than speech. He drew the glove off his sword hand and rested it on theirs. “I accept your vow in the name of the Unicorn’s seal-bearer, and swear to carry your oath to her if you do not do so first.”

“So,” Kis’eh’t said. “Are you human?”

“No,” Hirianthial said. “But we were, once.”

The medallion’s edges cut into Reese’s palm in that new silence. She was grateful that her crew was willing to fill it, because she felt as if someone had smacked her head against a wall.

It was true. All those things she’d thought on meeting Hirianthial about feeling not good enough, not beautiful enough, not delicate or strong or graceful enough, just...
not enough
... that feeling had been leading her in the right direction. She’d been comparing herself to the Eldritch because they’d shared roots somewhere in the distant past, and in that distant past the Eldritch had decided that humanity was not enough. They’d been family once, and they had been abandoned.

“So wait, did you leave before us or after us?” Sascha was asking.

“Before,” Hirianthial said. “By some three, four hundred years? I am not entirely certain of it due to the calendars being different.”

Kis’eh’t frowned. “Earth still keeps a different calendar from the Alliance. If you have your own...”

“Still the Alliance isn’t all that old,” Sascha said. “If the Eldritch live as long as they seem to, there can’t have been many generations of them?”

“Each generation lives longer than the one before,” Hirianthial said. “But you are correct. We are not far removed from the first settlers who landed here.”

“So what happened to the ships you used to get here?” Irine asked. “And why did you give up technology?”

“Ship,” Hirianthial said. “It was a single ship, Irine. And it was a choice, to live more simply. Perhaps not well-considered, given the many uncertainties of interstellar colonization. But we were the first to leave Earth. We were not acquainted with the challenges. No one was.”

Reese cleared her throat. “We could probably spend all night talking out the implications of this, but we have more important business.” She caught Hirianthial’s eyes. “One of your Queen’s enemies decided to knock on our door, and she knows we’re here now. If the Queen was counting on surprising people tomorrow we should probably warn her that’s off.”

“What? Here?” Hirianthial sat forward. “Who, do you know?”

“She didn’t give us her name,” Reese said.

Irine sniffed. “Actually, she ran screaming down the hall. The only reason we know anything about her is because one of the foxines on the
Earthrise
recognized the pin she was wearing when we described it.”

Hirianthial glanced at Reese. “A centicore, electrum, on emerald.”

“Is that what you call the lion with deer feet?” Reese said. “But yes. So... can you take me to see her?”

“Yes,” he said. “There are things I must discuss with her myself.” As he stood, he added to the crew, “I trust your questions will keep for another day?”

“As long as the answers will too,” Kis’eh’t said.

Hirianthial’s smile was a good smile for him. It reminded Reese of better times on the
Earthrise
, before Kerayle. “They have waited hundreds of years already. I assure you, they aren’t going anywhere.” He turned to her. “Lady?”

She was lady again. She was beginning to wonder how he decided what to call her... and what ‘lady’ meant. Obviously it was a translation of something Eldritch, but what nuance was she missing by not knowing the language or the culture here? She brushed off her pants and got up. “Lead the way.”

He did not, though, once he’d gently shut the door on the suite. Instead he flexed his fingers once on the handle—an arabesque of metal with what looked like ivory inlay—and looked at her, so grave. And beautiful, like the romance covers from her monthlies but better, because he was real. He looked like what he was: descendant of royalty, heir to all the graces and powers that humanity wasn’t. And yet, his eyes... he was concerned.

“Theresa,” he said. “This news... may I ask... how you find it?”

He really was worried. About her reaction! Startled, she said, “I find it believable, I guess.”

“Believable,” he repeated. “I suppose that is a more promising response than ‘appalling.’”

“Maybe it’s a little that too,” Reese said. “But I can’t say I’m surprised.” At his look, she shook her head. “It’s nothing personal. Not against you. I don’t blame you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. It’s just....” She rubbed her arm. “First the Pelted abandon Earth, and they go off and make the Alliance of all things, and they become these amazing, fascinating people, so varied and fierce and wonderful. Now, you too? I’m not surprised because it feels like humans are destined to be everyone’s backward cousin. But it hurts, because you’re all so... so beautiful.” She looked away, composed herself, then finished, “Anyway. So, no I’m not angry at you. But I still feel....”

“Crushed,” he murmured.

She grimaced. “That’s a strong word. Let’s just say... sad. I’m a little sad. For humanity. Because we’re so awful that everyone wants to get away from us.”

“Among us,” Hirianthial said, quiet, “we would say that only strong seed could beget such powerful offspring.”

She chuckled, tired. “Thanks. It doesn’t help much, but thanks.”

“Then I will say instead that humans are also beautiful,” he said. “And you should not think so little of yourself, either.”

Was he complimenting
her
? In particular? Her heart skipped. She smiled and said, “It does get hard to describe you people to one another. ‘What did your visitor look like?’ ‘Oh, she was white with white hair.’”

Hirianthial laughed. “Yes, rather a failing in our kind.”

“And speaking of visitors,” Reese said, trailing off.

“Yes. This way, please.”

As she followed him, she tried not to think of his kindness. She was not living in one of her stories. In the real world—worlds—poor fatherless girls from Mars didn’t get the princes. She especially didn’t want to ask herself if this particular poor girl wanted this particular prince. Blood in the soil.

Unsurprisingly, Hirianthial didn’t need an invitation to get them seen by the Queen on a whim; if Reese ever needed proof of the family relation, it was there in the alacrity with which the guards passed them into the Queen’s parlor. Liolesa had been sitting behind her great desk, but as they entered she rose, a query in her cocked brow. Strange how seeing her, Reese didn’t think of how hard it was to describe an individual Eldritch. Liolesa Galare wrote her own description and none of it involved anything as superficial as her skin.

Hirianthial stepped back with a graceful gesture. “Captain Eddings?”

So he was going to let her tell the Queen? He hadn’t had to. “Your Majesty—”

“Liolesa,” the Queen interrupted.

“Lady Liolesa,” Reese said firmly. “Your enemies appear to have found us out.”

“Thaniet, I am guessing,” Hirianthial offered. “She was missing from Surela’s side at the court.”

“Mmm,” said the Queen. She came around her desk. “That should make for an interesting time tomorrow.”

“That’s it?” Reese asked, surprised. “No worry? No details? Nothing?” She paused and her eyes narrowed. “No, that doesn’t make sense. You planned for this.”

Liolesa chuckled. “Theresa. There are several hundred people now in residence in this palace. They cannot go outside without hardship given the weather, and so have no way to entertain themselves by walking in gardens or going for rides. They have no data tablets to absorb them. Books are few and precious, and re-read to the point of memorization. What do you suppose such people do, lacking distraction?”

Thinking of her crew, Reese said, “They talk.”

“And make new things to talk about, yes,” Liolesa said. “And those who bring news have quite the cachet. So no, I am not surprised. And yes, I was planning it.”

“But why?” Reese asked.

“Because my enemies are conniving, and I need them to reveal their methods,” Liolesa said. “So I intend to provoke them.”

Reese looked up at her, heart pounding. Then said, “So if I told you I had been planning to show up tomorrow as a vassal instead of a retainer, would that help make your provocation more provocative?”

“Theresa Eddings!” Liolesa exclaimed, delighted. “This is your idea, I presume? And you are willing!”

“You are?” Hirianthial said, gone still in a way Reese associated with shock.

“I am.” She lifted her chin. “If that’s all right with you, of course.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Liolesa said, eyes sparkling. “I assume someone has told you of the difference, and since my cousin here is speechless it must have been someone else. Lady Araelis perhaps? Or Felith?”

“It was Felith,” Reese said. “She told us something of what would be expected. It’s just that... the way she explains it, there’s no way for my crew to be protected unless I accept protection in their name—or you take them all separately as retainers—and it seems easier for me to take responsibility for them. I have before.” She thought of Irine and smiled a little. “They’re fine with it.”

“So you are prepared to bring me something of value?” Liolesa asked.

“I figured I have horses. We’d already talked about that.”

Liolesa’s brows lifted. “So we had. But a vassal doesn’t sell horses to her liege-lady, Theresa. A vassal breeds them for her.”

The frisson that traveled her spine was heat and shock and hope and terror. “Is... that what it sounds like?”

“I don’t know,” Liolesa said, voice casual. “What did it sound like?”

“An offer,” Reese answered.

The Queen smiled. “You have good ears.”

Blood and freedom. Was this really happening to her? Was the Queen of the Eldritch—the Eldritch!—offering her... what?

Power? A title? The chance to stay in one place for long enough to breathe and build something?

...a home?

But she’d have to give up the
Earthrise
, and trading. And she had no idea if her crew would want to stay, and she’d become attached to them. It was hard to think of them leaving her here by herself. And Hirianthial... she glanced at him. But he had family here, and other duties. She couldn’t expect him to stay with them if they did. Even wondering about that was presumptuous, wasn’t it?

And would she want to stay on a world if she couldn’t leave it for the Alliance? She hadn’t just fled Mars. She’d gone out, to meet the Pelted and the aliens they’d gathered together. Her enterprise might be on the perpetual brink of financial disaster, but could she give up the exhilaration of knowing she could go anywhere?

“That’s... not a decision I could make without thinking about it,” Reese said finally, trembling.