her instruments 03 - laisrathera (18 page)

“The Fleet people? Like all Fleet people. At least the ones I’ve met. Competent. Professional. A little keep-apartish from the rest of us mere civilians, but not intentionally.” Sascha straightened up, rolled his shoulders. “It’s more of a different-families-brushing-elbows thing. Cultural. Something. But I’d trust them in a fight. That’s what you’re asking, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is.”

“I wouldn’t worry on that count, then. They don’t have a stake in this the way we do, but they care about getting the job done right. Speaking of which….” Sascha put his cheek in his palm. “You can tell me more now about how I end up as family in an Eldritch House, or whatever. How’s that work?”

“All Houses are first formed thus. One begins with the named seal-bearer—that being the person charged with making the decisions for all the families who look to her—and then she chooses what satellite families she allows to bear the name. Those who are expected to do the duties of nobles are lifted into the House itself. Everyone else living on her land becomes a tenant who looks to her to fulfill those duties. So if she decides that you are to help her, as no doubt she will, then you will end up a junior member of a noble House, and all your children will be also.”

“Seal-bearer,” Sascha said. “Because, I guess, there’s a seal? Like something you stamp on documents?”

“Exactly,” Hirianthial replied. “The seal-bearer is almost inevitably a woman, because women are the continuity of families: in a society without reproductive technology, the only proof of bloodline comes through the matrilineal line.”

“And men get to be glorified studs?” Sascha grinned. “I might make a good Eldritch after all.”

He chuckled. “Hardly. Men carry the swords.” At the Harat-Shar’s snort, he said, “And yes. They do their part to continue the species. With far less frequency and variety of partner than you would probably enjoy.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I could settle in with a single person, if it was the right person,” Sascha said. And amended, “Well, and Irine. I wouldn’t give up Irine.” He glanced at Hirianthial. “So those swords you had… that was your job for your old family.”

His… old… family. Hirianthial paused in the act of bringing the mug to his lips and tried to decide what he felt about having his life before the
Earthrise
relegated to a musty past, one he could no longer reclaim. His old family. His former life. He flexed his fingers on the mug’s handle and said, “I performed that service, yes.”

Sascha’s ears flipped back. “I said something wrong, didn’t I.”

“Talk too much,” Bryer said from the corner. “Disturbs the center.”

“No, it’s well.” Hirianthial shook his head, heard the bell tinkle against his back. “I am just concerned about what is to come.”

“Yeah. That makes three of us.”

“Not concerned.”

“If you weren’t concerned, you wouldn’t be lecturing me,” Sascha said to the Phoenix. “You’ve known me long enough to realize that I’ve always talked too much, and chastising me disturbs your peace more than it does mine.”

Bryer huffed, but there was a brief gloss of alien amusement skating over his flat aura, so quick it looked like a sheen on his feathers.

“You have made a Phoenix laugh,” he observed.

“What can I say,” Sascha said. “I am magic.”

A chime sounded, drawing their attention. Then Soly’s voice: “Bridge to mess. Lord Hirianthial, we’ll be dropping out of Well shortly. If you’d join us?”

“On my way.”

“This is it, if we read the directions right—” Soly paused for the Faulfenzair navigator’s dismissive sniff. The Seersa smiled. “And we always read the directions right. Look familiar, alet?”

“You have the right of it,” Hirianthial said, standing at her side. “We’re home.”

“Is home always this quiet?” Tomas said from the comm station.

“We would usually have been hailed by the Farthest Wing, the station on the moon,” Hirianthial said. “Have they?”

“No, but we’re running Dusted,” Soly said. “No one’s going to be able to see us except by very, very rare accident.”

“You’re hiding from the pirates,” Sascha said from behind Hirianthial.

“We figured it would be better if we saw them before they saw us, yes.”

“Only problem with that,” Tomas muttered. “I don’t see them.”

A long pause, during which the ship continued to coast in-system. Finally, Hirianthial said, “You don’t see the ship?”

“No. It could be on the other side of the world—”

But the human sounded skeptical. Hirianthial wondered what sensor technology made him so confident of that evidence so distant from their target.

“Keep an eye on it.” Soly sat in the chair in the center of the small bridge and crossed her legs. “We’re still a few hours out. See if you can find this moon station while we’re going in.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Alet? Would you and your man like to sit?”

There were extra seats at the back of the bridge, two on one side and none on the other where the chairs had been removed; there were restraints, however, and Hirianthial imagined they’d been arranged for Jasper’s use. Hirianthial glanced at Sascha, but the Harat-Shar met his eyes with an aura as obdurate as a stone. “We’ll wait here with you, thank you.”

Wait they did, in a silence that felt tense with the focused attention of the Fleet personnel at the fore of the bridge; their auras melded into a smooth whole, making him wonder at what it meant, that such things happened. He’d noted it in Sascha and Irine, the closeness that became a psychic melding, unnoticed by those without the talent. He had no doubt it had happened between himself and Urise when they’d done the teaching. Could more than memory make the transit between people? He wondered if all camaraderie was actually dimly sensed psychic connection.

Tomas broke the silence to say, voice clipped, “That station’s gone.”

Hirianthial started from his reverie. “Gone?”

“There’s a hole in it. Looks like someone put an entropy packet through the wall.”

“God and Lady,” he whispered. Had the Tams still been in it? He prayed they were all on the planet with Reese.

“So the pirates were here… and left?” Soly glanced at Tomas. “Still no sign of them?”

“Not even any emissions traces. If they left, it was a while ago.”

If they’d left, how long would it be before they told everyone where to find his homeworld? The time between now and the arrival of the Fleet reinforcement suddenly seemed far too long.

“So they’re gone,” Soly murmured. “They have to have left people on the surface to hold it against the natives, and we don’t know what kind of equipment they might have. Stay Dusted and put us in orbit, Lune. Above the capital. Let’s have a look at what’s going on.”

“Aye, sir.”

Hirianthial tried to relax. There was nothing he could do about the vessel that had escaped. And if they were gone, there was some chance that he could help Reese clean up the situation on world with a minimum of fuss. Perhaps even within a day? He could hope. That would give them time to sit with the Fleet personnel and make plans for whatever pirates would be returning. He watched idly as the world grew in the ship’s forward viewscreen. It would be difficult if they had to hold the world against more than one ship, but—

A siren screeched, startling them all.

“Sir! Collision alert!”

“
What
? What the hell is out there? An invisible asteroid?”

“It’s right on top of us!”

Abruptly the world vanished from the screen, replaced from edge to edge with the flank of an enormous ship.

“What the hell!” Soly said.

Their ship shuddered, seemed to hold its breath… and then wrenched so hard Hirianthial had no time to see the bulkhead that met his head and drew down the dark.

“I beg your pardon,” Surela said to the guard, astonished. “You will say that again.”

“Your Majesty,” he said, words black with remorse. “Most of the hostages have escaped.”

She wanted to correct him, to tell him to call them guests, or at best, detainees… but
guests
did not escape their suites.
Prisoners
escaped their suites. And her prisoners had done this. “Escaped. Escaped how? Escaped where?”

“Into the countryside, Your Majesty. The Swords… the Swords managed to find their way into Ontine and helped them out through the servants’ halls. Or the windows, in one case.” He was staring past her at the wall, his posture so rigid her own back ached, staring at him. “We have caught twelve Swords, Your Majesty, among them their captain. The others escaped with the hostages.”

“How many hostages?” Surela asked sharply.

“Escaped?” He cleared his throat. “Some sixty-seven, Your Majesty.”

“Sixty….” She stopped, appalled. She didn’t know the exact numbers of the Galare and Jisiensire contingents, but there had been less than ninety of them. Gathering herself, she said to him, “I have no words to describe the magnitude of your failure.”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“You will guard the remaining detainees,” she said. “And the Swords. Until they escape you as well, the way apparently the Queen, her mind-mage, and the hostages have managed in the past. Goddess and Lady! Are all of you inept? I should replace you with the aliens! At least they haven’t failed us yet!”

He glanced at her, then back at the wall and said, diffident, “The aliens are dead, Your Majesty.”

Her pause then was long enough that she could measure his tension. She watched him swallow, throat moving above the high collar of his uniform. “Dead.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. There were six of them, and five of them died to Liolesa’s Swords. The only one that remains is the high priest’s guest.”

“I presume you have sent someone after these escapees?” Surela said after a long moment. What did she care for the fate of aliens, anyway? “It’s winter. I can’t imagine they’ve gone far.”

“Your Majesty, we have and… we are so far unable to locate them.”

“In the new snow,” she said. “You tell me that over sixty people have vanished, leaving no trail in the new snow. Without provisions or coats or horses to ride. And you can’t find them.”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“I am speechless,” she said at last. “And surrounded, apparently, by amazing incompetence. Remove yourself from my presence while I contemplate the discipline, any discipline, sufficient to your correction for this debacle.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

He bowed and backed out of her study… Liolesa’s study, damn it all, for she had not had time to redecorate, and she wondered now if she’d ever have the time with all her enemies slipping away from her into the wilderness where they could make mischief. At least Athanesin was taking care of Jisiensire’s allegiances. She sighed and sat heavily in her chair, rubbing her brow. Ridiculous. And through the servants’ corridors! She couldn’t punish the servants, not without winning herself a reputation; servants would band together against a noble who turned on them no matter their master or mistress. But she would have to turn them all out somehow before they found some new way to betray her.

Goddess and Lady. It beggared her imagination that Liolesa had ever had such problems. Then again, she had fomented a rebellion beneath Liolesa’s very eyes and succeeded in a coup….

What woman was even now sitting in a warm and distant parlor, contemplating Surela’s removal?

What a useless, horrible, ghastly day. She was ready to be quit of it, and supposed as Queen she had the luxury of doing so. Exiting the study she headed for her rooms, yet another suite that reminded her far too much of her predecessor. On her way, she contemplated how she would fix that. Perhaps it was time to move the royal suite to the opposite side of Ontine. She could convert the rooms that had once been Asaniefa’s and move her family into the suite opposite it. At least then she’d be surrounded by her allies. Goddess knew how she could afford to sleep soundly at night if the guard she’d instated was not capable of keeping an entire phalanx of Liolesa’s soldiers out of Ontine.

She was very glad to shut the door on them. On everyone. On everything. She did it with prejudice and flounced into the bedroom, throwing her shawl onto a chair and stopping short in shock.

There was a body on the floor beside her bed.

“What is the meaning of this!” she cried. “Do my enemies now resort to grotesque messages to instill fear in me?” Backing away, she turned for the door to call for someone to remove the corpse.

Then it spoke.

“Mistress….”

Surela’s hand froze on the door. “Thaniet,” she whispered. And then, horror cresting on an enormous wave: “
Thaniet!
” She flung herself toward the body, falling to the ground alongside her liegewoman’s head. There was not a place on her body that was not smeared in blood or bruised some hideous color. Surela could barely think of touching her, fearing to make it worse. “Oh, Thaniet! What has become of you! Where did you….” But there was a smear of blood leading from Thaniet’s body toward the wall, where one of the servants’ doors was ajar. “Oh, my dearest. Oh, what has become of you!”

“Please,” Thaniet said, and her voice was so hushed Surela bent to hear it. “Lady. So important.”

“I’m listening. I promise!”

“Alien… is your enemy. Wants… this world… to sell us all….”

Surela’s mouth set in a hard line. This she could well believe, though her heart dropped to hear it. But her liegewoman was not done.

“Priest… too. Priest has… given it to him. Plot… your downfall… Athanesin…”

Now she felt faint. She swallowed.

“…wants your crown.”

“No,” Surela whispered.

Exhausted, Thaniet let out a long breath and did not speak again. Was she breathing? Oh Goddess, let her breathe! Surela hovered, frantic. Her one ally in all this mess, who had nearly died to bring her the news that she was beset on all sides, and a good woman besides, a true woman, her only friend, who had stood by her in every circumstance…. “Oh no, no,” she said, hands fluttering as they touched the sodden hair. “No, you mustn’t die, Thaniet. There is no justice in your death. You deserve better…!”

Nothing on this world could heal wounds this grievous. So much blood! But if Thaniet was right, and she had to believe it, then she could not go to Baniel to ask for help from his pet aliens. To reveal that Thaniet had survived… he would kill her. But it was past bearing that Thaniet should die. Who….