her instruments 03 - laisrathera (13 page)

“Very well,” she said. “Go forth to Jisiensire, and carry my standard there. I await the results of your expedition with interest.”

“Thank you, my Lady! You will not be disappointed!”

Left alone in the sitting room, Surela sighed. The petty irritations of ruling a kingdom were somehow more exhausting than the petty irritations of ruling a family. She drifted to the window and looked out on the courtyard, waiting until she saw Athanesin cross it, cloaked against the threat of snow. Preposterous. Marriage! As if she would ever. It was the sort of insult she would share with Thaniet… if she knew where Thaniet was. That she didn’t was ridiculous. Could her pages not find a single lady-in-waiting?

She would look herself. And if she found her quarry where the pages failed, well. She would have words with the palace staff.

The last time Reese had seen someone arrive from Pad-enabled nothingness, she’d been a little preoccupied by the pirates who’d been manhandling her in her own cargo bay, so her recollection of it was distinctly fuzzy. Watching it this time made her stomach twitch, and she rested her hand on it out of a habit that being healed of her digestive issues hadn’t quite broken yet. It was one thing to see someone appear over a Pad, knowing that the Pad was doing the magic. It was another to watch a Tam-illee woman appear out of nowhere, without any warning, without any device to reassure you there were sound scientific principles associated with the sheer unlikeliness of her having melted out of the air.

Malia shook herself, then glanced around. She found the nearest part of the great room with a patch of sunlight and crouched down, unrolling the Pad she’d brought into the light. Tapping it awake, she waited for the colors to stabilize to the blue of an open tunnel, then looked for Reese. “All go, Captain. And we should be quick. We don’t want to run these on active for any longer than we have to without a quick way to power them back up. The sun will keep it on standby indefinitely, but frequent transits are going to rip through the power cells, and recharging them off solar alone is going to take forever.”

“Right,” Reese said. She waved Irine through. Belinor paused for only a moment before passing over. To her surprise, Val glanced down at the Pad once, then followed the younger priest without comment or hesitation. She went next, Malia last.

Her first impression of their destination was not of trees, but of the dim gray-green twilight created by their clustered boughs, and of the
smell
: bright, evergreen and pungent, carried on moist air so chilly it hurt to breathe. Reese shivered and rubbed her arms. “Why does ‘cold’ have to feel different in so many ways from what I’m used to?” she complained to Irine, who was watching sympathetically.

“I don’t know,” Irine said. “But I admit it’s novel feeling like my fur has a purpose beyond decoration for once.”

It was surprisingly difficult to make out the camp amid the trees, despite the lack of underbrush; most of the activity was underground (“Finally, someone who knows how to build,” Irine said), and the men who came up from those hidden boltholes no longer wore the white uniforms Reese had last seen them in, but were dressed in a grayish green color, with hoods to cover their shining hair and smears of paint to mar their perfect white faces.

“Eldritch in camouflage,” she said to Irine. “I would never have imagined it.”

“They seem pretty serious about all this,” she agreed.

“Thankfully,” Reese said, and followed Malia into one of the holes.

Down below she found the bustle she’d been expecting above… and a maze of high corridors hollowed out of the dirt and shored up with wooden beams. She narrowed her eyes as she kept up with the foxine, stepping out of the way of Eldritch on their way to patrol duties. Catching up with Malia, she said, “They seriously had all this built out in the event of a rebellion?”

“Actually, Lady,” said a voice in front of them in accented Universal, “These tunnels lead into the catacombs under the palace and are much older than any plans Queen Liolesa had for them.”

Reese found herself in a small cave-like room, a nexus for activity if the number of doors leading into it was any indication. At the round table in its center were Olthemiel and Beronaeth, the Swords who’d helped her rescue Hirianthial from beneath Ontine. Olthemiel was the captain of the Queen’s Swords, she remembered; Beronaeth’s rank hadn’t ever been revealed to her but she guessed him to be Olthemiel’s Sascha, someone who acted as a second. A less mouthy one, probably. “The same catacombs they were keeping Hirianthial in.”

“That’s correct,” the Swords’ Captain said. “Welcome to our camp, Lady. We have fresh intelligence.”

“Oh?” Malia said, joining them at the table where Reese was surprised to see a small holo-map. Maybe not the highest fidelity, but still much newer technology than she’d expected.

“Yes,” Olthemiel said. “Lord Athanesin has departed with nearly all the soldiers beholden to the usurper queen.”

“Nearly all of them?” Reese said, startled.

“Where were they going?” Val asked from behind her.

Olthemiel glanced over her shoulder, but if he thought anything of her having arrived with an extra Eldritch he gave no sign. “They are heading south.” Looking at Reese, he finished, “To Jisiensire’s seat.”

Irine’s ears flattened. Reese squeezed her arm and said, “Still armed with our weapons?”

Olthemiel inclined his head once.

Irine shuddered. “It’s going to be a massacre.”

“They could surrender,” Reese muttered.

“Jisiensire?” Malia said. “Never. They loved Sellelvi.”

“The usurper queen may have given orders not to have anyone killed,” Olthemiel said. “We haven’t been able to ascertain Athanesin’s orders.”

“She didn’t go?” Irine asked, startled.

“She remains in the palace, last we heard,” Beronaeth said.

“And the prisoners?” Malia asked. “Lady Araelis’s contingent, and Lady Fassiana’s, and House Mathanith’s?”

“Still inside.” Olthemiel smiled. It was the first smile Reese could remember seeing on him, and it was grim. “An opportunity, thus.”

“Let me guess.” Reese rested her hands on the top of a rough chair, flexing cold fingers on the wood. “We sneak in and half of us help them break out and the other half go chasing pirates, and if it all goes to hell than everyone’s so busy trying to figure out which threat to deal with that at least one part of the mission succeeds.”

Olthemiel inclined his head. “You are not new to this, I see, Lady.”

“Won’t that be dangerous?” Irine’s ears were still flat. “We’re talking about… what, a bunch of non-combatants? Women and children, maybe? And it’s cold. And how will they get far away enough to have a chance to outrun the pirates if we don’t catch them all?”

“The risks are manageable, particularly if you are willing to house them. If you are?”

Surprised, Reese said, “Me? You’re asking me? Where would I put them?” She thought wildly of the
Earthrise
, anchored somewhere half a sector away.

Taylor, behind Reese, said, “We did just leave a Pad at the castle.”

Malia nodded. “If they can get away from the castle, they can flee over ours to Laisrathera. There’s shelter there, and it’s far from the Queen’s enemies.”

“As long as they don’t use a Pad or a pirate shuttle to chase them there,” Irine said, ears flattening again.

“The risks are manageable,” Olthemiel said again.

Reese wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t know. If Surela hasn’t killed them yet, why would she start now? Liolesa’s still showing up with the cavalry. All we have to do is wait—”

“While slavers converge on our unprotected planet?” Olthemiel said. “If they arrive before the Queen does with reinforcements, we are lost. If she arrives before then, that still won’t stop what’s happening now… and if the usurper queen has not killed off the hostages yet, that does not mean she may change her mind… or that one of them will give her unforgiveable insult.”

Reese said, slowly, “I can’t help but think, though, that if we show up to kill the pirates and free the hostages, Surela’s not going to care enough about the aliens to protect them. Which means most of her energy’s going to be put toward stopping the escape. And if it fails….”

Olthemiel met her eyes. There was sympathy there, but it was a thin veil over the steel in his gaze. “It is their duty, Lady, to protect their families, and their world. It is what it means, to be a seal-bearer. If they are called upon to make the sacrifice that rids us of the pirates and our betrayers, then they will have served as duty requires.”

And this is what she had to look forward to as a lady of her own Eldritch property? Reese tried to hide her shudder. Could she die to protect people she was responsible for?

“It is the plan we have,” Olthemiel said. “It is made immeasurably more feasible by the Pad at Laisrathera and your having someone willing to guide us into the catacombs through the secret ways.” He glanced at Val. “I presume this is the man?”

“At your service,” Val said, touching his palm to his chest and dipping his head.

“And you have vouched for him?”

“I do,” Reese said.

Olthemiel nodded. “Then the sooner we leave, the better. Let us discuss the particulars of the plan, and if we are all agreed, make the attempt tonight.”

Reese wanted to cry,
I’m not ready!
But when would she ever be? And somewhere east of her, near the sea, the people who’d almost killed Hirianthial and betrayed his entire people—people she was just starting to like—were free and, as one of her books would have said, up to no good. The sooner they got in there and messed with their plans, the better.

Baniel spared the crumpled body in the corner of the room no mind, though his nostrils did flare at the smell of blood. The evidence of violence was pleasurable, at least; the more of his kind who died due to the incompetence of his brother and cousin’s protections, the more clear the demonstration of their failure. And if those ends were sordid, so much the better. He did not plan to be here when Hirianthial arrived to vent his fury on him, so he would have to make do with imagining his brother’s horror when he discovered what the Chatcaavan had made of the women Baniel had been sending him. Hirianthial had always been good for taking on unnecessary guilt. Perhaps this time it would drive him to suicide? That would neatly solve a great many problems.

Folding his hands behind his back, he said to the Chatcaavan, “You have news?”

“I do,” the alien said. He was still in his borrowed shape, but he was licking his bloody fingers with a tongue Baniel found an appallingly bright color, and somewhat too long for good taste. “Relief should be here shortly.”

“Relief?” Baniel said with interest.

The alien nodded. “I have had a message tube.”

Interesting that he hadn’t noticed it coming… but then he was unfamiliar with the method. All the communication he’d undertaken had been via Well repeater; the less common practice of sending the remotes physically was not something he would have chanced, given the likelihood of Liolesa’s foxes noticing it. Which prompted the thought: “Did the foxes notice?”

The Chatcaavan snorted. “If they’re still in-system, you mean? I doubt it. A tube is a small thing, and painted for stealth. They would have had extraordinary luck.”

“Luck does happen.”

“Then let them see that we received a tube,” the alien said with a fluid shrug. “They can’t decrypt it. Unless they somehow know pirate codes.” He grinned. “Do they? That might make the game more interesting.”

“I doubt it,” Baniel said. “So… the relief comes?”

“It does. And I doubt your petty Pelted will be ready for it.” Another grin, this one with teeth. “We have had good luck in the unclaimed zones, laying our traps for the freaks’ Fleet. Good prizes, yes. And one is coming here.”

Baniel’s brows lifted. “That sounds promising.”

“It will be glorious,” the alien said. “And deeply amusing. There will be bloodshed.” He licked another finger, thoughtful. “The other vessel will not return.”

“Ah? So they go to carry the news of the location out.”

“Yes. But to those in our organization.” Another of those shark-like grins. “This is a secret I intend to keep for myself, until I can properly fortify my new demesne.”

How deeply gratifying to know that the ruin of Liolesa’s dream, and Maraesa’s and Jerisa’s before her, was now irrevocable. No more convenient secrets: now all the villains and thieves and ruffians and slavers of the universe would converge here in search of prey. Baniel appreciated the Chatcaavan’s desire to keep the world a secret… but all it would take was a single one of those pirates whispering the knowledge in someone’s ear for a little extra money, and not even the dragon could keep it from exploding across the universe. In that, the Eldritch would have accelerated their own demise, for centuries of prim refusal to divulge the location of their homeworld would have incited in almost everyone a raging curiosity to finally learn its whereabouts.

“I noticed our pets have been shifting position,” the Chatcaavan continued. “Have you set in motion your plan to destroy your enemies?”

“Let us say I whispered a few interesting notions into Lord Athanesin’s ear,” Baniel said with a casual flick of his hand. “He hardly needed it, though. Do you know it was his idea to send the entire army partway down the continent via Pad?”

The Chatcaavan arched his eyebrows. “An army. Via our single-person Pad.”

“Even filing through one by one, it was faster than riding there,” Baniel said. “I was impressed by his grasp of the technology. I hardly imagine the Queen knows what he’s done; she thinks he’ll be gone for weeks. In reality he’s already there, and probably destroying his enemies with commendable zeal.”

“And will return triumphant, having won a victory she does not want?”

“Just so,” Baniel said, amused by the idea. “And hot to marry her, if you will believe. She will deny him, of course, and then we will be rid of Surela.”

“And in her stead we will have a far less controllable king.”

Baniel laughed at the Chatcaavan’s scowl. “Athanesin? Oh, please. He’s violent and cunning, yes. But he’s not smart. You perceive the difference?”