by Samuel Fort
Chapter 59: Eliza’s Intervention
Persipia entered the music room. “Annasa, you have a visitor.”
Lilian nodded absently. She was arranging tea cups on a platter. “Send Celeste in.”
“It is not Celeste, Annasa. It is her grandmother. Eliza.”
Lilian turned and crossed her arms. “Celeste is not with her?”
“No, Annasa.”
Lilian frowned. This did not bode well. “Alright, I’ll see her.”
The queen walked to a nearby sitting area and stood, waiting. Persipia appeared a moment later, motioning in Celeste’s grandmother. The visitor was her typical frumpish self, dressed in oversized jeans, a wrinkled denim shirt, and running shoes. Her long gray hair flapped behind her, untethered. She walked with a wobble, as if she was fresh from the saddle.
Lilian nodded politely and motioned toward the chair opposite her before seating herself.
“Hello Eliza,” she said. “Is Celeste okay?”
“She’s fine,” replied the woman, her eyes less than friendly.
“Will she not be joining me today?”
“No, she will not,” said Eliza, placing an emphasis on the last word.
Lilian sat back. “Why is that?”
“Because I know what you are,” said Eliza.
Lilian blinked. “What am I?”
“A polygamist, and a godless one at that.”
Lilian lifted her chin and looked down her nose at the other woman. “I am hardly godless. In fact, I almost certainly I have more gods than you. As for polygamy, I have only one husband, and I was his first wife, if you wish to get into technicalities. Not that I regret his taking an additional wife. I encouraged it. I would rather him have one or two more. Honestly, I can’t imagine how a single wife can get everything done that must be done.”
Eliza’s face suddenly looked like it had been flattened with an iron skillet. “You’re proud of your lifestyle? Of this decadence? You sit here in this ivory castle while real people slave away in your kitchens and on your grounds and get tossed your scraps! You and your pagan family are an abomination. You think I’d have my sweet granddaughter contaminated by your ways?”
“Pagan?” Lilian laughed. “My gods were around for a few thousand years before yours. Well, perhaps not the gods, but the religions designed to observe them. In any event, my husband has the same god as you, and he is the king. In fact, my sister intends to take his as her own, and she is Celeste’s sponsor. In any event, Celeste and I play music together. We do not discus theology. I can’t think of a droller subject. As for the ‘real people,’ those people are my guests. They are alive because I saved them. They are free to leave if they are weary of my ‘scraps.’ Or my medical care, or my protection, or my shelter.”
Eliza waved a hand in the air as if annoyed by a fly. “Your armed thugs wouldn’t let them leave if they tried. You need slave labor.”
Lilian smiled. The woman was right, of course, about needing the Ardoon laborers. She was mistaken about the Peth forcing them to stay. A few of the survivors had, in fact, left. Most were found dead within days. A few struggled back to Steepleguard. Those wouldn’t be leaving again.
“The Peth are not thugs,” she replied. “They are soldiers. They protect us. They saved your husband, Sam.”
The woman grimaced and looked away. “Maybe there are a few good ones,” she admitted. She did like the handsome French soldier called “Diz.” He, at least, was a good man. The rest were just mercenaries. “Where are you people from, anyway? Most of you speak Niz and have accents when you speak English. You’re not Americans. What are you doing in my country? Who are you to tell Americans what to do?”
The queen sighed. This was getting tiresome. It was like talking to a lobotomized version of her husband. “We don’t recognize national borders, Eliza. We are an international society. Yet some of us were, in fact, born within the boundaries of what you know as ‘America.’ The king, for example.”
“What about you and Red?”
“Red?” Lilian thought for a moment. “You mean Fiela?”
“Right.”
Lilian struggled to maintain her composure. The woman had just called a queen of the Nisirtu Red. It wasn’t a compliment. If this woman was Nisirtu, or even the typical Ardoon, Lilian would have had her shot by now.
“Using the boundaries you know, I was born in England. Fiela was born in Russia. But that means nothing. Both of us left our homes as children and spent the majority of our lives abroad, much of it in right here, at Steepleguard.”
Eliza laughed. “Red is a communist! How appropriate. I knew she was from over there. She’s got those foreign eyes and cheeks.”
Lilian’s shock was evident. This woman was off her rocker.
She said, “Fiela is not a communist. As for her eyes and cheeks, she is one of the most beautiful women in the world. I can’t even imagine what ‘foreign’ eyes look like. Foreign cheeks? What does that even mean?” She shook her head. “Anyway, none of that matters. The nations you know are gone. All of them. You can call yourself whatever you want.”
“I call myself an American,” said Eliza. “That’s what I am, and that’s what Sam is, and that’s what Celeste is. That’s what the folks downstairs are.”
“Then rejoice,” replied Lilian, “because that is what your king calls himself.”
“No American would call himself a king.”
Lilian shrugged. “If it is any consolation, he abhors the title. Fiela suggested Lord Emperor, but he didn’t care for that, either.”
Eliza huffed and stood. “I’m done talking. I came here to tell you that you can’t see Celeste anymore. I know about you and your sins. I won’t have you luring my granddaughter into a life of depravity with fine food and fancy clothes. She is my family. My blood. You can’t have her.”
Lilian looked up at the woman, amazed and suddenly unsure what to do. An Ardoon was daring to challenge her, a Nisirtu queen, in her own home. The woman was forfeiting her granddaughter’s future based on outdated notions of patriotism and confused religious principles. She was depriving Lilian of the only joy in her life at that moment. Celeste.
Still, Lilian could not negotiate with the woman. Negotiating with the Ardoon was an anathema to her. It simply couldn’t be done. She was humiliated enough by this failed interview.
“I do not wish to take your granddaughter from you,” Lilian said. “I merely wish to play music with her, and to keep her company.”
Eliza pointed a finger at the queen. “Never. That’s the first step on the road to hell.”
Lilian stared at the finger, her fury growing. “Then leave,” she seethed.
The woman laughed, seeing the effect she had on the queen. She nodded. “Yeah, I’ll leave. But I’m not the only one, Goldie. I’m taking Celeste with me. King Ben gave Sam and me a free pass to go back to my real home and I’m using it. A few of your kitchen slaves will go with me. I’m not the only one fed up with this place.”
Lilian had almost lashed out when Eliza had called her “Goldie,” but her anger had been transformed into fear by what came after. “You can’t leave now,” she protested. “You’ll all be killed. The snows-”
“I’ve got a free pass,” said Eliza. “You’ve got to give us an escort all the way back. That’s what the king said. Anytime we want. And you owe me some ammunition and food when we get there. That’s what we were promised!” She took a breath. “I want that fella named Diz to escort us back. He knows what he’s doing.”
“Lord Disparthian isn’t here. He’s on an expedition.”
“Oh,” said Eliza, losing a little steam. “Well, whoever you’ve got, then. I don’t care. Just remember there will be hell to pay if you don’t get us back safe and sound. Or is the ‘king’ just your puppet? Does his word count for nothing?”
“His word is law,” replied Lilian. “But how can I guarantee your safety? We are in the mountains and there is a blizzard. The roads are impassable
. Not even our horses can traverse them.”
“We’ll use snowshoes, then,” said Eliza defiantly. “Or that helicopter in the back.”
“That helicopter isn’t operational,” replied Lilian. She was telling the truth. Though she didn’t understand the exact nature of the problem, she knew a component of the engine had broken two months ago and the Peth scavenging parties had been unable to locate a replacement. “Even if it was, it could not be flown in such conditions.”
“Oh,” said the woman, who clearly thought the helicopter did work. She regrouped quickly. With renewed defiance she said, “Doesn’t matter. We’ll walk. I’d rather have Celeste die a saint that live as a sinner.”
“Fool!” exclaimed Lilian angrily.
Eliza beamed, loving the hatred on the other woman’s face. Goldie was as human as anyone else. She was frail and scared. Good. “We’re leaving today. We’ll have our things in that big room at the front of hotel. Noon.”
The woman turned on her heel and marched back to the double doored entry, where Persipia stood. Persipia exchanged glances with Lilian as she opened the door and extended an arm to show Eliza the way out. The glance, which lasted no more than a tenth of a second, communicated all that needed to be said.
