by TR Cameron
The young escort moved as if he would follow, and she raised a hand without stopping. “If you leave Malniet property before I’m back in my house, your life is forfeit. Don’t try me, cupcake.”
As they walked on, Fyre sent her a mental message. “You’re not good at threats.”
She chuckled inwardly. “True, but I didn’t need to be good to scare him.”
“Petty.”
“Yeah. I’ll wear that.”
Chapter Seventeen
Usha portaled to the New Atlantis docks very early on Tuesday morning. She’d slept most of the previous day after the events at the funeral the night before, and her slumber was notably nightmare-free. Danna had led the charge to roust the remaining Zatoras from their hiding places and drive them out of town. The few who resisted, as she’d promised, no longer resided among the living.
Shadow loomed over the city, the dome’s magical light source dialed down to provide the sense of a changing sun. In Old Atlantis, the rulers had experimented with extended days and even no nights, but the inevitable need for sleep had resulted in a cycle very similar to that on the surface. She’d chosen this time because she wanted to reacquaint herself with her home.
Although, strictly speaking, the domed city isn’t really my home. Not yet.
Her family home lay in another part of the larger web of New Atlantis. Several wrecks had been connected by magic and technology to create a large space in which multiple families lived and worked. Many such collectives of varying degrees of sophistication were distributed across the ocean floor. She’d been lucky enough to be in one of the nicer ones.
After her departure to join the tournament to become Champion, she hadn’t returned. Achieving the title meant leaving her past behind and she’d done it with her family’s blessing, even though that required severing all ties. It was an old—and in her opinion outdated—rule. The Empress, however, had invoked it when she had pledged her service. As in all commitments to her monarch, she’d remained true to that promise.
Now that her people were on course to take New Orleans, though, she could see an end in sight. It surely wasn’t too much to expect that Shenni would grant her some downtime in the small home near the dome wall, earned as part of the reward for her victory in the tournament. Even if she was to be sent to the surface again for a different task after the city finally fell under the control of New Atlantis, a break would be welcome.
Maybe Danna will come and stay for a while and we can explore this city together.
She hadn’t felt this level of triumph since she’d been dispatched on the mission to secure New Orleans for her ruler. Meticulously, she had cleaned her combat gear before she donned it for this visit. It seemed only appropriate that she appear in her Champion’s uniform to share the good news with the monarch. The sword she’d been given by the Empress after her pledge of loyalty rode in a sheath across her back, removed from its place of honor in her apartment for the first time in years. Still, it would be hours before Shenni would grant audiences, and she planned to spend the intervening hours soaking in the atmosphere of the city where she truly belonged.
Her chosen path followed an inward spiral toward the palace. She appreciated the irony as the street she selected for the last portion took her past the banners with the compass symbol of House Leblanc. The girl was still an issue but far less of one now after the elimination of the Zatora threat. In truth, she found much to like in the young matriarch. If destiny had not placed them on opposite sides, she thought they would have made formidable allies.
But some things aren’t to be. She stopped at the inner ring to allow the guards there to question her, and they allowed her through after only a short delay. The “sun” above had mostly risen, and she held out a small hope that Gwyn might provide her with a meal—or at least coffee—while she awaited the Empress’s pleasure. When she reached the doors, she found them closed before her. She nodded to the guard on her right, who was clad in shining mail that sparkled in the morning light and supported a trident in his left hand. “Champion Usha to see the Empress.”
His deep voice expressed no emotion whatsoever. “The seneschal will be with you shortly, Champion.”
I guess security has been tightened since my last visit. Maybe because of the rivalry between Leblanc and Malniet. She kept tabs on what went on in the undersea city, and that conflict was the primary subject of rumors and gossip at the moment. That, and the whispers suggesting that the ancient patriarch of Malniet plans to wed the young matriarch of Cormier. It’s like a soap opera here sometimes.
The doors parted to reveal Gwyn between two of the Empress’ elite guards. They were in the palace colors—deep blue and scarlet—and wore lighter mail than those outside and bristled with far more practical arms, including short spears, long swords, and daggers. The woman’s face seemed to be filled with equal parts regret and conviction, but her tone was all the latter. “Champion. Please surrender all your weapons except the sword.”
Usha frowned at the reception, which her status would normally have prevented. She didn’t argue, though, and simply drew her daggers from their sheaths and handed them over, along with the belt that held her less direct threats. She scuffed a sole on the floor. “The boots have blades built in.”
A flicker of unhappiness spread across the seneschal’s face. “You’ll have to leave them here.” She turned to the guard on her right. “Get the Champion appropriate footwear. Now.” He bustled away at her command, and Usha crouched to remove her boots. By the time she had finished, new ones had arrived in the same color and type of armor as the man wore. She nodded at the show of respect and donned them. When she was done, she straightened.
“Is this acceptable?”
Gwyn shook her head. “One more thing. Please turn.”
For the first time in the process, Usha considered that something might be wrong enough to put her in imminent danger. Either of the men could kill her easily while her back was turned. Still, the desire to obey her Empress—and by extension, her Empress’ main underling—made her spin on her heel. Her sword’s sheath jerked as they secured the hilt to its holder to prevent her from drawing it. While she could certainly free it, the delay would be sufficient for whatever guards would be present—and she was now positive that she would not meet Shenni one on one—could kill her before she could draw it.
Of course, I don’t need weapons to kill. But they know that and doubtless are counting on me knowing they know that to keep me in check. More soap opera political nonsense.
“Please turn again,” Gwyn requested and gave her a thin smile. “The Empress will see you immediately, Champion.” The older woman turned and led the way down the long corridor and the brace of guards fell into place behind her as she followed. She’d already assumed they were headed to the throne room before they took the first corner that would lead them there. Extra guards stood at the ready everywhere, and she had begun to take that particular occurrence personally.
An unexpectedly large group crowded the formal chamber when they arrived. At least one male was dressed in house colors—Cormier, imagine that—and several others with no clear lineage had gathered around him. They might be merchants or nobles outside the main bloodlines, or who knew what else. She was positive that of them all, she had started lowest on the social ladder and was likely the only person who had truly earned her place in the room.
On the throne, her ruler gazed on her with a plastic smile. Usha had spent enough time with the other woman to know the real person behind the role she played. She was dressed in a long scarlet robe with a blue cloak covering a shoulder and an arm. Her tentacled hair was piled atop her head and seemed to writhe gently.
Shenni nodded at her and spoke. “Welcome to New Atlantis, Champion. What news do you have to report?”
She strode forward and gave an appropriate bow—shallower than anyone in the room would be permitted to offer save the seneschal and the main-bloodline representative from Cormier. “I bring wor
d of great success, my Empress. The opposing faction in New Orleans has been crushed. Its leaders are dead by our hands. It is now only a matter of time before the city itself falls.”
While she hadn’t expected thanks, she had anticipated a kind word, congratulations, or a similar response. Instead, the Empress asked, “You do not yet have control of the city?”
Usha frowned as ice trickled down her spine. “No, Empress, but as I said, it is but a matter of time.”
Her ruler’s voice conveyed anger when she responded. “Well then, Champion, I suggest you get back to it. Do not feel compelled to visit us again until your work is complete.”
The dismissal shocked her, but her body performed the appropriate actions, pledged to do as the Empress commanded, bowed, and backed away. Once she reached the hallway with the throne room doors shut behind her, the impact of her ruler’s words hit her. She was essentially banished from the city and cut off from support.
Stunned, she turned toward the exit and her anger grew with each doorway she passed through—and many were present along her path. Gwyn intercepted her before she reached the entrance and motioned her into a side room. She complied solely out of respect for the older woman.
Once inside, with only the two of them present, the seneschal said, “My apologies, Champion. The Empress…has much on her mind at the moment. I am sure she will regret her choice of words in time.” It was as close as the Empress’ chief servant could get to criticizing her ruler, something Usha understood completely.
“I appreciate you saying so, Gwyn. However, I don’t know that you’re correct. It appears that things I once took as bedrock are actually sand.”
“Times are changing, Usha. The Empress is caught between priorities. I do not claim to understand her choice in this matter but I am certain it is less about you than about the larger situation.”
A sense of certainty about what she had to do came to her in a flash, and she stretched her hand to the buckles that secured her sword—the Empress’s sword, really—to her back. She released them and pulled the sheath over her shoulder. To her credit, Gwyn never once looked fearful.
At least someone still has trust in me. She offered the weapon to the seneschal, who accepted it reluctantly. “This belongs to Shenni’s house. It’s time it was returned.”
The woman nodded. “It has had quite a history, one particularly relevant to these times.”
“You can store it in the palace where my Champion’s weapons stand. I’ll take them with me. Maybe put a little plaque beneath it. ‘The sword that began the destruction of House Leblanc.’”
Her companion looked uncomfortable. “You know the girl is seeking the shards?”
“I do. And if she ever finds the truth, she’ll target me—and your Empress.”
The seneschal nodded. “What will you do now?”
“After we retrieve my weapons, I’ll go to New Orleans and take care of my remaining business there. Once Leblanc is dealt with and we root out any hidden Zatoras, the city will belong to the Empress.”
“And after that?”
Usha shrugged. “I’ll return here and live quietly, I imagine.”
Gwyn shook her head with a smile. “I can’t see it, Champion.”
She chuckled and the pressure in her chest diminished slightly. “Me neither, but it’s worth a try, right?”
Chapter Eighteen
Cali put her hands on the chests of the two wizards who tried to punch each other. Fortunately, they were both tall, thin, and more accustomed to magic intimidation than the physical kind.
“Would you two please stop?” She tasted only cinnamon on her tongue as her strange magical sense kicked in, which meant they were both simply messing around for the fun of it. Still, they had already spilled their drinks and risked those of several other patrons with their wild gesticulations.
“Knock it off,” Zeb shouted from the front, “or I’ll let her throw you both out.”
She twisted to look at him and asked, “Oh, pretty please, may I?”
The wizards stopped thrashing, glared at each other, and turned to sit at their respective tables, accompanied by laughter from their friends. She rolled her eyes, picked up the spilled glasses, and returned to the bar. The dwarf grinned as she approached. “Don’t you get enough fighting to resist feeling the need to threaten old men?”
Her snort made him grin. “First, those are two very accomplished wizards when they’ve had a little less to drink. Second, there’s never enough fighting. Third, Fyre, bite the dwarf.”
A soft snore came from the Draksa’s position behind the bar, and she rolled her eyes. Zeb laughed. “He’s on my side as long as my supply of soda water doesn’t run out.”
She sat on an empty chair while he made the next round of drinks for the customers in the common room. The tavern was less crowded than usual, and she attributed it to the uncertainty after the big blowup earlier in the week. She was very glad she hadn’t been warned about it because she would have felt the need to intervene. That meant she’d probably have wound up either damaged, dead, or with a whole host of new people upset at her.
“So, has the council done anything but talk?” she asked,
He nodded as he poured the contents of an unlabeled green bottle into a glass. “Delia has secured her people’s property and helped the gnomes do the same. I’m sure the others are putting their communities in order, too. Last I heard from Brukirot, he’s champing at the bit for the name of someone he can target. Vizidus and I thought we should talk that over with you before we take action since the only real target is the Atlanteans now that the other gang is gone.”
“Yeah, it would probably violate a rule to cut the heads off that particular Hydra at the moment.” She sighed. “I’m fairly sure that even if I wasn’t involved, I’d get blamed.”
“That’s what I thought. Oh, and Diana’s partner Cara was here with a man named Deacon. They did a security check of the tavern, your apartment, and the one next door, and the detective’s as well.”
“Great. I think they’re coming to New Atlantis to make sure we’re all good soon too. Why didn’t they do Tanyith’s place?”
Zeb laughed. “I’ll let him explain that one to you.” He finished filling the glasses on the tray. “Now go, do your thing.”
Cali took the drinks and slid off the chair as she said much louder than necessary, “Fine. Keep your secrets. Jerk.” His laughter followed her into the common room, where several patrons smiled at their antics.
The rest of the night passed in a pleasant blur. Cali’s mind remained on her work and off the many things that tried to worry her, Zeb and Fyre held down the front of the house, and no one else tried to provoke a fight. Her only complaint was that she didn’t have the chance to throw anyone out.
As closing time approached, Tanyith and Barton entered and took their usual seats at the side of the bar. She gave them a wave but kept at her job until the place was empty and everything was cleaned up.
As she slid onto the seat diagonal from the pair, Zeb pulled his chair over. He drew four glasses from his cask of homebrew and put one in front of each of them. She sipped it and found the drink equally delicious and strong. I’ll stick to sips, I think. In New Atlantis, she was the legal age for alcohol and since she spent more of her time there than anywhere else lately, the dwarf apparently respected their traditions. The others drank more deeply, and the couple offered words of appreciation to their host.
Tanyith asked, “Aren’t you past the point where you need the money from working here?”
Cali shrugged. “Not really. Even the recent bonus—” She stopped herself from mentioning the Zatora mansion, not knowing how knowledgeable Barton was. “Uh, isn’t enough to make me feel secure. Besides, I have an apartment and friends here, and so on. Plus, I don’t have as much time to help Sensei Ikehara, so I’ll start to pay him for whatever days I miss.” Her life was as up in the air as it had ever been, and although she could probably make it without t
he money from serving, it was an important touchstone to remember her true self.
She took another sip and changed the subject when she felt the weight of their eyes on her. “Anyway, what’s this about not doing a security check on your apartment, Tay? Are you an idiot?”
Barton laughed, a deep-throated sound that conveyed a sense of satisfaction. “Well, there’s no doubt about that. But I don’t see what it has to do with his living arrangements.”
“Ha, ha, ha, you’re so very funny,” he replied. “To answer the question, I…uh, moved.”
The realization struck her in an instant. “Are you two shacking up?” They nodded. “Ew. Gross.”
The others laughed and Fyre, who was faking sleep, sent amusement into her mind. Inside, she was happy for them, but she absolutely wouldn’t let them know that. “So, what’s the fallout from the big event?”
The detective frowned and sighed. “That was not a good night. The task force is still looking at all the evidence, trying to get a clear picture. The church folks are pressuring the bosses to release the building so they can start repairing it, and we’re under pressure to go faster. All we can say for sure is what everyone knows. There was a big fight, magic was involved, and the Zatora leadership didn’t survive it.”
“And the organization itself?”
“It appears to also be gone. There is no sign of them on the streets. Again, word around town is that the Atlanteans gave them a deadline and once it was past, found whoever wasn’t smart enough to leave and sent them to join their bosses.”
Cali shuddered. “That’s cold. I hope most of them left.”
“I will say that the loss of life appears to be less than any of us would have expected. It looks like the magicals were mainly looking to eliminate the brains of the organization and fought only to incapacitate the rest.”
“That’s good, anyway.” She drummed her fingers on the bar as she thought. “So, our friends at the Shark Nightclub have gotten rid of one set of enemies. That leaves them with the smaller gangs, the council, and me.”
