Inheritors of Chaos

by Barbara Ann Wright

  Fajir scowled. Lydia’s former lover had died, and she would lie with another? When thoughts of her dead love still caused tears? How could she? But Nico had done the same, fallen in love with Fajir. Didn’t they know that everyone had one great love in their life, and every other feeling was…

  Infatuation? Lust? If they didn’t call it love, maybe it was a forgivable sin.

  When Nemesis appeared farther down the branch, Fajir didn’t return her cheery wave, glaring instead.

  “What a morning,” Nemesis said.

  “How could you?” Fajir said, unable to keep the scorn from her voice.

  Nemesis reared back and blinked. “What?”

  “To sully your lover’s memory with one of them!” She pointed toward the drushka. “Are you so lonely, Nemesis?”

  “My name is Lydia, and I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I can see you’re mad at the drushka for something.”

  “For…seducing you!” But by the confusion on Nemesis’s face, Fajir knew her own thoughts had run away with her. If Nemesis had lain with a drushka, she would have blurted it out by now, probably would have drawn Fajir a picture since she couldn’t keep anything to herself.

  “You think I was having sex with a drushka?” She grinned widely. “Which one? Or was it all of them?” She called something in the alien language and received several hooting calls in return as well as laughter.

  Fajir stood. “Stop laughing at me!”

  The drushka fell silent as quickly as if they’d vanished, but the sound of their movement still carried through the tree. The idea that someone could go from laughing to deadly in half a heartbeat unnerved her.

  “Something’s got you upset,” Nemesis said slowly. “Don’t tell me you were…jealous.” She frowned, then half of her mouth quirked up.

  Fajir turned away and tucked her knees up. If she was jealous, it was only because she had no one to talk to. But she couldn’t admit that. She didn’t want to be so…changed.

  “Hey, I’m sorry, Fajir. I didn’t mean to…make you angry.” She sounded closer, but not too close, not within reach. Once taught, Nemesis remembered a lesson.

  Fajir exhaled slowly, letting her rage die. Nemesis had also learned that anger was Fajir’s most comfortable emotion. She could always admit to that. “Did you go to Gale?”

  “No, I was visiting a drushkan friend, and some of the former renegades came up the tree and told me about some new people in town.” When Fajir turned back around, Nemesis sat and told a tale about the mayor of Gale returning with a powerful woman named Patricia. The Galeans hoped she’d make a good ally against Naos. Fajir listened attentively, always anxious for news of battle. If the Galeans defeated Naos, the plains dwellers could be subjugated, and her people would be safer.

  “Patricia,” Fajir said. “The name is familiar.” She thought back to a lonely night under the stars when she’d been Nemesis’s captive. “Naos appeared before me and asked me to kill her. She must be a good ally to have. Will she help me save the world, Nemesis?”

  “Maybe,” Lydia said with a shrug.

  Fajir had to admire her certainty even as she loathed the source.

  “You never told me about seeing Naos,” Lydia said.

  “You never asked.”

  Nemesis gave her a dark look. “What else am I not asking that I should?”

  “Are you never tempted to look far into the future on purpose?” Fajir asked.

  Nemesis sat back, blinking again. “When I first left Gale, yes. But the temptation fled pretty quickly. My power didn’t keep Freddie from dying. It won’t help anything.”

  Fajir nodded. The death of love colored all that came after. “If you’d been born worshiping the Sun-Moon, and your partner had been killed by a creature, you would have spent your life wiping those creatures from the planet.”

  Nemesis’s mouth turned down. “I don’t blame the prog for Freddie. It was an animal doing what animals do. The Storm Lord was responsible for what happened.” She sighed. “I couldn’t have killed him either. Not sorry he’s dead, though.”

  “You’re weak.”

  “That’s shit,” Nemesis said. “I was strong enough not to surrender to grief.” Her face flushed, and Fajir had to smile. She so rarely became angry.

  “Prove your strength. Fight me now.”

  Nemesis’s face relaxed into another smile. “It’s proof of my strength that I’m not going to take you up on that. And proof that I’m not stupid, too.”

  “You’re afraid.”

  “To fight you? Absolutely.”

  Fajir smirked. “I suppose it’s smart to know when you can’t win.”

  “Oh, I could win,” Nemesis said, a note of affront in her voice. “Watch.” She stood and began to walk away.

  Panic fluttered through Fajir’s chest. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m winning,” Nemesis said over her shoulder. “Because I’m walking away, and you want to ask me to stay.” She grinned. “Even if you never admit it. I know it’s true.”

  Fajir’s mouth worked, but she said nothing. If she demanded Lydia come back, she would be laughed at. The drushka would cut off any pursuit, and if she begged…

  Never. She ground her teeth. Stupid Nemesis.

  Chapter Eight

  Lydia couldn’t help but feel pleased with herself, as if knowing Fajir missed her was some sort of coup. She knew the feelings were nothing more than loneliness on Fajir’s part or some other reaction to captivity. As soon as Fajir was released, she would return to being nothing more than a murderer.

  But in the moment, it felt like progress.

  Now all Lydia had to do was decide when and if she would speak to Fajir again and what they should talk about if she did. She didn’t know what, if anything, would do the most good, but pondering it gave her something else to think about besides the fact that Pool’s tree stood just outside the place where Freddie had died.

  Lydia shook the thought away as she saw Shiv standing on the branch ahead. A drushkan child hung from her shoulders like a backpack. Lydia was reminded of the recent drushkan deaths, how they were connected to Shiv and the boy, though she didn’t know how.

  And she saw no reason not to give Shiv a big smile. After all, it wasn’t likely that she’d murdered anyone if she was still walking around free. “Young Queen,” Lydia said in drushkan. “How may I be of use?”

  Shiv cocked her head, wrinkling her nose. “Your drushkan is good,” she said in Galean. “But we will speak the human way.”

  Lydia swallowed her amusement at being given a command instead of an option. Well, Shiv was a queen, after all.

  Shiv leaned against a branch, and the boy slipped from her shoulders to sit and play with a handful of small leaves. “I would ask that you…trade.”

  When drushka paused in the middle of a sentence, they were usually leaving something out, and judging by Shiv’s wince, she didn’t like the omission. She had a long way to go if she hoped to one day speak as smoothly as Pool.

  Lydia held out her hands. “I’m afraid I don’t have much. What are you looking for?”

  “Something you will not give at first,” Shiv said with a sigh. “I do not like this…dragging of the feet, as Sa would say, but I know that if I ask, you will say no.”

  Lydia’s belly went cold. It could only be one thing. “You want me to use my power.”

  “Ahya.”

  “But every drushka I’ve spoken to doesn’t see the point of knowing the future.”

  “Every drushka is not a queen.”

  Lydia glanced at Lyshus. Something about Shiv’s face or tone had obviously alarmed him. He looked back and forth between them with a frown. “Does this have something to do with the deaths I heard about?”

  “Ahya,” Shiv said softly, hanging her head.

  Lydia hazarded a step forward. “If you tell me more about what happened, maybe I could give you some advice, but—”

  Shiv threw back her head and laughed, but it h
ad a hollow sound. Lydia wondered if she’d picked that up from her human companions. “If my mother has no answers, how could you?” She gripped Lydia’s shoulders, her claw tucked away, but the slender fingers were strong, maybe a bit more forceful than they needed to be. “Ahya, I knew you would say no, which is where the bargaining begins.” She smiled, but the sight of the sharp teeth didn’t make Lydia feel any safer. “There must be some object you want or some task you cannot fulfill yourself, some trade you will agree to.”

  Lydia swallowed hard. She hadn’t known that the drushka had the concept of everyone having a price. Maybe Shiv was learning more than the rest of the drushka. She tried to smile. “Um, well, I have everything I want, food and shelter.”

  Shiv let go and tapped her chin, going from threatening to childlike in an instant. “No human baubles?”

  “Like…jewelry, that sort of thing?”

  Shiv’s green eyes brightened. “Jewelry, ahya! You have but to speak its name, and it shall be yours.” She thought again. “Ahwa, no. I will bring several from some human places, and you shall choose.” She whistled to Lyshus and began to move away.

  “Wait!” Lydia cried with a laugh. “I don’t want jewelry.” And how did she plan to get it, anyway? Steal it? Did the drushka have some cache of coins no one knew about? “I don’t want anything, Shiv, really.”

  “If not anything, perhaps anyone!” She spread her hands. “Since you stay aboard the tree, you must prefer drushkan company to human. I can introduce you to several very fine lovers. It will be between the two of you to decide what to do with one another.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sing your stories of past lovers who pleased you well, and I will tell you who matches best.”

  Lydia sputtered a laugh. This was one of the most intriguing, ridiculous conversations she’d ever had. “I’m…flattered? I don’t know. No, thanks. If I want a lover, I can find one on my own.” She felt herself blushing. “Probably.”

  “No bauble, no lover, and you have your food and shelter,” Shiv mumbled with a frown. “A conflict, then. Surely you have one. Everyone does. Tell me of your conflicts, and I will solve them.”

  “My…”

  Shiv spread her hands again. “Enemies that need words or enemies that need a strong fist.” She punched one hand into her other. “Enemies that have threatened your life?” Her gaze flicked past Lydia’s shoulder toward Fajir’s prison. “Enemies who should see the sun no more.”

  Lydia’s mouth worked again. Could all drushka treat death so casually when they wanted?

  “Or,” Shiv said as she stepped closer, “you could become my human tribemate.” Her gaze took on a different cast, not only strong and determined but caring as well. “Pledge yourself to me, to the safety of my hands and branches, and I will care for you always.” As soon as she said the words, her mouth turned down, and she jerked her head to the side as if shooing away an irritating insect.

  Lydia swallowed, feeling the weight of those words, though she knew they had to mean something different to a drushka. Pool had never spoken that way to Lydia; maybe she’d said something similar to Cordelia Ross, but Lydia had experienced a…feeling in Pool’s presence, an assuredness of protection that she hadn’t felt since her parents’ death. In the tree, Pool’s presence surrounded her, made her feel safe.

  Shiv didn’t have such presence, not yet. She had her own tree, but it was only slightly taller than she was. In time, she’d probably develop the same aura as Pool, but in Lydia’s lifetime? Not if drushkan trees grew as slowly as others. And what would Shiv’s protection mean while they still lived under Pool’s branches?

  But none of that mattered anyway.

  “I’m sorry, Shiv,” Lydia said. “That was a beautiful offer, truly, and I’m happy to call you friend or tribemate or whatever you’d like, but it doesn’t change anything as far as my power’s concerned. Whatever your problem is, knowing the future won’t solve it.”

  “I only want to know if we live or die!” Shiv said, turning a circle. “Either outcome would bring me comfort!”

  “Then take comfort,” Lydia said, brightening. “Because whatever crisis you’re thinking of, you’re either going to survive it or you’re not.” She smiled, hoping Shiv would see the sense other drushka saw, but Shiv glared, and Lyshus moved to stand beside her, growling in Lydia’s direction.

  Lydia backed up even as Shiv held a hand in front of Lyshus to keep him still. Another chill traveled up Lydia’s spine. When she heard a whisper of sound behind her, she turned to see another drushka, one of Fajir’s guards.

  “Ahya, be easy,” he said, holding up his hands. He stepped close around Lydia, his hands still raised as he put himself between her and Shiv. He smelled like new grass, and Lydia was surrounded by that sense of Pool’s comfort again.

  Shiv turned her glare on the newcomer, but before she could speak, the branches lifted Pool herself into sight, placing her lightly on the branch. Even as tall as she was and as fearsome as she could be, Lydia had never been afraid of her, not like she’d just felt around her daughter. Pool turned bright green eyes on Lydia, and her narrow lips quirked briefly upward, a reassuring smile. Lydia couldn’t speak, too confused. When Pool nodded down the branch, a path of retreat, Lydia turned and nearly ran.

  She didn’t even know she was heading toward Fajir until she saw the familiar lean shape and long black hair. Fajir quirked an eyebrow before she squinted at Lydia’s face and frowned.

  “What happened, Nemesis?”

  Lydia stammered for a few seconds, still trying to process Shiv’s offers, the growl of the boy, the appearance of Pool. Never had the drushka seemed so…alien. “My…name is Lydia, and…I’m scared.”

  “Of what?” Fajir stepped closer, and Lydia didn’t retreat, didn’t even notice if the drushkan guards crowded closer.

  Lydia shook her head and tried to tell herself she couldn’t afford to be stupid where Fajir was concerned, but under the circumstances, any human presence was a comfort. “One of the drushka,” she whispered. But what was she supposed to say? A child growled at me, and I ran?

  Fajir lowered her voice. “Have they turned on the humans?” Her eyes darted from side to side, probably weighing her options. “If they attack, stay behind me. If you can pick up a weapon, pass it to me.”

  Lydia nearly barked a laugh, her astonishment growing. “You’d protect me from the drushka?”

  Fajir disturbed her even further with a lopsided grin. “I’ve told you, Nemesis. I’m the only one allowed to kill you.”

  Then why didn’t she do it now? She was close enough to try, but her posture, her gaze, was directed at the drushka, and Lydia guessed she was calculating odds and running fight scenarios in her head.

  After a deep breath, Lydia cleared her throat. “They haven’t turned on anyone. It was just a…brief conflict.” She took a step away. Fajir frowned, but there was something besides suspicion and anger in her gray eyes. Worry?

  Lydia sighed as she tried to process two confusing events at once. Now she had another emotion swirling within her, but she couldn’t even name it. One thing was clear, there was too much shit going on for her to start having any sort of feelings for a monster.

  * * *

  Shiv faced down her mother as the rest of the drushka faded away. She felt an itch stirring in her belly, a feeling she had often experienced when trapped by her mother, her people: the feeling of rebellion.

  But this was more. This was challenge. She had never known this desire to fight another queen, but it felt like a fire inside her that nothing but combat would quench.

  “Be easy, daughter,” Shi’a’na said, inching closer. Her hands were up, unarmed, and Shiv sensed nothing from her except care and concern. “The instincts of a queen are burning hot inside you. Let me help you as other queens once helped me.”

  Memories flowed from Shi’a’na of the night she became a queen, ascending to the Anushi tree for the first time. As her tribe had come to take her blood and let their thought
s entwine with hers, she had experienced a rush of emotions unlike any she had ever felt, but she had the other queens to guide her, to explain and soothe.

  And instruct. Shi’a’na had chafed a bit under their strict rules, and Shiv laughed to see her mother struggling with the same rebellious feelings she had felt her whole life.

  But Shi’a’na had learned how to pass emotions through her tribemates, how to relieve the suffering by sharing it, how to be with all her people at once.

  “But I have only one,” Shiv said quietly. “And will forever unless I take more children.”

  “I know, daughter.” Shi’a’na sighed, her face sorrowful. She let her emotions continue to flow, and Shiv saw that while she was fearful of Lyshus, she was also sad for him and for her daughter, for all the tribemates who would never be. “It is why your feelings are so…scattered. You do not have the calming influence of wise elders or a host of minds to help bear your worries. And I have not helped you as I should.”

  The hot feeling of challenge was fading, leaving more room for worry after worry and fear and anger at stubborn Lydia for not wanting to look into the future. Lydia had denied the safety of Shiv’s hands as she never would have denied Shi’a’na.

  Shi’a’na drew back. “She is human, daughter. She does not understand. You must not give your pledge to them so freely.”

  “If not them, who?” Shiv walked up and down the branch. “They are the only tribe left to me!”

  “They cannot know your mind, not truly.”

  “Sa can! Shawness Simon can. Give them to me, Shi’a’na.”

  Her mother drew back, eyes wide, and Shiv felt the flickering of challenge rising within her, too. She quickly quenched it, but the hot emotions made Shiv grin. She could not best her mother, not with strength or with her mind, but to try would at least purge some of the rage within her.

  But Shi’a’na went as still as a pond on a breezeless night, and the anger flowed away from her, dissipating among her tribe. “They are not mine, daughter. They pledge themselves to whoever they care for, and they care for you as well as me.”