by L. K. Rigel
“I saw pitaji, Mal.”
“No, I don’t think so.” Poor Ninny. She looked deliriously happy, emphasis on delirious. “It must have been an Empani you saw.”
“No, Mal. It was my father. He was so understanding. He told me that he and mataji are proud of my work. They aren’t angry!”
“Nin, there can be no doubt your parents are proud of you. Let’s go find Sister Marin.”
“Sister Marin?” That woke her up. “Oh. Hi, Mal.
“Where is the hydro cloth, Nin?”
“The cloth. Yes. Pitaji wanted it, so of course I gave it to him.”
“Of course you did.”
“Oh, great gods, what have I done?” Nin looked at her hands as if she was shocked to find them empty.
“It’s all right. You’ve still got the Lily cloth.”
“I wanted to show off. I wanted to show pitaji how smart I was.”
“They do seem so real.” But now Mal didn’t want to tell anybody about her encounter on Corcovado. She could still feel Edmund inside her and how good it had been to melt into his arms. She touched her lips, as if to lock in the sensation of his kiss.
“I accomplished my objective, though.” Aw, Ninny. She always looked for the best. “I learned something new about the Empani – they can and will manipulate us.”
Mal linked arms with Nin. As they crossed the courtyard and passed the bistro, the lights on the Angel’s Harp came on, and the airship started making the funky sounds it made when its engines powered up.
Enough. It was time to get on with her life. Look at Kairo’s good grace about her horrible contract with Hibernia. And Nin, who had every right to complain about her fate, was cheerfully analyzing her Empani encounter. The time for picnics was over. She had to snap out of it and do her job. She would return to Garrick tomorrow.
Overt and Covert
Edmund took the lift to the turret roof. The message had come in from the Happy Drone an hour ago: the Blackbird had touched down with the Team of Inquiry. Ordinarily, he’d be irritated by such short notice of an inspection – but since he did have something to hide, he was anxious instead.
The team’s credentials gave them carte blanche in all areas of the city. He didn’t have the luxury of irritation. He had to be on guard.
So much for the guaranteed autonomy of Concord Cities.
It was Counselor’s idea to serve a meal at the western turret where the raptor diverters could be easily demonstrated. Would the team possibly be satisfied with that?
To show good faith, he had asked Dix and Steve to attend. “Answer direct questions truthfully.” The architect and engineer could handle the Team of Inquiry. “But you don’t have to volunteer anything.”
He stepped out of the lift to the sound of Vivaldi. Counselor stood in the middle of the deck, chatting up the inspectors. Her hair was piled on top of her head and for the most part staying there, and her honeybee earbobs bounced along with her enthusiastic conversation.
He smiled at her eagerness. She always swore relief at not being a chalice herself, but she was fascinated by them, and now here were two she could talk to.
She’d laid on a buffet to show off Allel’s produce and wines and arranged for the string quintet. No doubt it was nothing compared to the meals they had every day at Red City, but where else in the world would they ever get fresh salmon? He allowed himself a momentary indulgence of pride.
Thank the gods. One of the inspectors was Mallory’s friend, the one whose proof of service had gone bad. The airhead. “Hello, Ninshubur. I’m glad to see you looking so well.” What a relief. She’d give him no trouble.
The late afternoon mist was rolling in over the slate gray ocean, but they were kept warm by fire pits placed around the deck. There was the cold salmon, and strawberries, walnuts, asparagus – all good things grown and caught here in Allel, including tomatoes, and all now listed on their permit.
Allel was nearly self-sustaining, and it would be completely when Tesla was running. If he had his way, the world would leave him alone to care for his people.
“This Inquiry is at the lowest level, King Edmund. Please don’t take offense or be concerned.” The other inspector, Sister Marin, sat beside him. “We’re merely curious why Allel hasn’t reported a raptor death in more than a year. You’ve reported no sightings at all in six months.”
“One theory.” He picked up a stuffed mushroom. “They don’t like the garlic we’re growing now.”
“Legend has it garlic wards off all manner of evil creatures.” She laughed with him. “But we know for a fact that raptors don’t like electrical shock.”
“That would do it. If only one could spare the power.”
“Can one, King Edmund?” She knew. “Can one spare the power?”
He liked her. He had half expected the team to come in and lay claim to Tesla in Red City’s name, but Sister Marin was no mindless bureaucrat. She seemed interested in the mechanics of things, rather than their politics.
He had never expected or even wanted to keep Tesla a secret forever, but he wasn’t ready to let the world – and therefore Garrick – know what it could do. He hadn’t even told Celia everything it could do.
“Captain Jannes and our engineer will show you the diverters. Apparently, the Blackbird’s baling nets were their inspiration.” It could be an advantage to let Red City in on the secret, if they were willing to keep it.
Counselor mentioned Mallory, talking to Ninshubur at the other end of the table. “She sent me a thank you note when Allel lost the bid, but I haven’t heard from her since.”
Counselor and Mallory corresponded? The only contact he knew about was the honey bee Mallory had commissioned, made from the blue amber they had given her. In fact, Counselor wore it this evening as a pendant on a golden chain.
“She’s in Garrick, in quarantine now.” Ninshubur saw that he was listening and raised her voice. “The thing is, King Edmund, what we really want is to see the Empani nest.”
“The Empani.”
“You’ve got a nest east of the citadel. Surely you knew. I’m working with Sister Marin now, investigating special species. We’re trying to find out what they want.”
“And you’re just going to walk into a nest and ask.”
“Yes.” This wasn’t the silly girl from the Rites. She was self-confident and intelligent. And determined. “I’ve done it before.”
“And what did they tell you?”
“Not much,” she admitted.
“First thing in the morning, then. It’s too dark to go tonight.” That would buy some time. “Tonight our Dix and Steve will show you what we have in the sub-basement.” The women from Red City looked at him quizzically. “They’ll show you everything.”
Dix and Steve looked at him like he was crazy.
When the dinner broke up, he took Counselor aside. “Wait fifteen minutes, then take them down for the tour. Help Jannes keep them entertained, yeah?”
He went ahead down to the sub-basement and into the tunnel, past the Tesla entrance, and took the passage to the nest.
She had moods and devices all her own. The first few times he saw her, she wore the bay mantle, the silk with the picture of Allel. But on Corcovado, she had dressed in workout pants and a sleeveless vest and worn the shades. The Allel Empani read him when he came back from the mountain, and sometimes she’d appear in those clothes, usually when she was in a more playful or confident mood.
The Corcovado Empani had been more real to him, and this one seemed to sense that, even to the point of jealousy. She was more eager to please; she often knew what he wanted before he was aware of it.
The Corcovado Empani had let him take the lead. She let him make love to her. On Corcovado he felt he had truly possessed – and given himself to – the real Mallory.
When he accompanied this year’s delivery to Red City personally, he had told himself it was a goodwill gesture. The truth was he had heard she was in residence, and he’d hoped to thin
k of a reason to see her. Then he heard some of the crew talking about an Empani nest on Corcovado, and he had taken the cowards’ route and hiked up the mountain.
He still had to remind himself it was not her, and he could sense this one didn’t like it. He really had to stop coming to her.
Her? It.
Especially if Red City was going to turn Allel’s nest into a science project.
He emerged from the tunnel into the night forest. The breeze was up, but no fog ever permeated the nest. The evening shadows lifted in a magical display of light, as if daylight emanated from the trees.
Warmth crept over him. He relaxed, bathed in well-being. The out-of-time serenity of these visits was as dangerous as the softness of her hand on his cheek or the gentle welcoming way she enveloped him.
This evening it was the mantle. She was turned away from him, facing the pool. “Mallory.” Why did he feel like a cad? She was the pretender. She wasn’t even human. She might not even be a she, for all he knew. “I’ve come to warn you. Red City has sent a Team of Inquiry. They are coming to the nest tomorrow.”
She turned to him. Her left cheek bore a honeybee tattoo.
“Oh, no.” He touched her arm. “No, this isn’t right.” He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. Was that intelligence? Was that love? It isn’t her. It isn’t her. “I won’t come again. It’s becoming a danger to Allel, to me – and to you, for all I know.”
“Edmund.” Her voice, her eyes, her touch – it was too much. He tore himself away and found the tunnel. He had warned her. He would not come here again. He would not.
Saskia
My service is my deliverance.
In the mornings before breakfast, Mal chanted the ritual poem as a lead-in to her meditation. After her meal, she visited the Leda in Garrick’s gallery. Her quarantine would end tomorrow, and she would be with Garrick again.
The ritual chant was something said so many times over so many years that it had become nothing more than a string of lovely sounds, not even words. But here, in Garrick, the sounds had become words again.
My service is my deliverance.
Ritual and art could make duty bearable. Leda’s serenity as she was ravished by the swan-Zeus illustrated what was noble about the Triune Contract: to add to humanity’s natural-born population and hasten the return to universal fertility. This was more important than her feelings about Garrick.
She had to believe that.
There was that crazy play they had put on as bleeders. It had an idiot hero who lost his mind when he thought the girl he loved had slept with someone else. People in the old world thought the strangest things. She had liked the hero’s friend better. The whole audience laughed when Benedick proclaimed: the world must be peopled!
That line made the play required learning in Red City.
“The world must be peopled,” she whispered to Beastie. He snorted and licked her chin, and she kissed his silly face. She really, truly had rededicated herself to this contract. Tomorrow night, Leda would be her model. Or maybe she’d close her eyes and think of Edmund.
Edmund! It was because of that Empani on Corcovado. She never should have indulged herself. Since that love-making on the mountain, she thought about Edmund all the time. She wanted him, ached for him. And that was perverted, too.
Ack! She felt stuck and suffocated.
“It’s a shame the king is not the collector his father was.” Father Jesse always seemed to know where to find her. “You must tire of looking at the same painting every day.”
“I could never tire of that which celebrates my sacred duty.” There. Give him the standard, expected response.
“To bear children for the gods?”
Humor from Father Jesse? She said, “The kings get confused about that, I suppose.”
He relaxed, as if he had no agenda today. But of course the Samaelii always had the same agenda. Insult Red City. Ridicule the Asherans. Bolster the Samaelii.
“Speaking of kings,” Father Jesse said, “I’m told King Harold of Hibernia is personally escorting his brood queen to Red City for her second gestation. The Angel’s Harp will stop in Garrick tomorrow on their way.”
“I had a message on the gridcom.” Did he think she had no grid access? “He’s bringing a side of Hibernian beef.” That provoked an excited squeak from Day Two. “He hopes the protein will enhance the well-being of the future Imperial Prince.”
Father Jesse seemed surprised and slightly hopeful at her use of the word.
“You see?” It was a small triumph to stick a pin in the bubbles of his hopes. “They all go along with Garrick’s scheme, acting like the Day Ladies in this painting.”
“But, my lady, if the Imperium were restored, women like you would be freed from Red City’s exploitation.”
Insufferable. With a sentence, he confirmed that Garrick’s scheme included Red City’s demise – and that he supported the plan.
“With the fruits of my exploitation, I’m giving a dinner tomorrow to honor my visiting sister. I do hope you will attend. We’ll have Hibernian beef, of course, and Brazilian chocolate, which I believe my ladies are looking forward to.”
Apparently so, from the way the Days perked up.
A group of Garrick’s guards entered the gallery, and Day Two put a pretty expression on her face and started fussing with her hair. Mal followed her gaze to one of the men. Great Asherah. It was Pala.
The years had done good work on her friend. His braids were grown out, woven through with interesting bits of colored cord and beads made of glass and metal and stone. He was trim but muscular, as a guard should be.
His smile was still contagious, and his eyes still hinted at a mind on mischief as he shot a flirty wink to Day Two. He was definitely a man now, serious and competent, the group’s leader.
“My lady.” He spoke before she could greet him by name and gave no sign they knew each other. In fact, his attitude was studiedly impersonal. His wrists bore the black raptor talon. So he had officially joined the civilized world.
Shibbit, this saddened her. Perhaps the talons were nothing compared to all the tats on Celia of Allel. Yet it seemed that Pala should be a free agent. Any king’s mark was unnatural on him.
“There is news from Settlement 20 – where you were raised.”
Oh, Pala! As if she could forget what Settlement 20 was?
“Your old guardian is dying,” Pala said. “She wishes to see you.”
Garrick made his personal airship available and charged Pala team with Mal’s safety. Not that raptors would be on the hunt in this cold, but it wasn’t unheard of. Taking the Eaglet, the settlement would be less than an hour away.
The Days sat across the aisle from Mal, facing each other. Day Two watched Pala until he disappeared into the pilot’s cabin. The handwork in her lap looked very like some of the decorations in Pala’s braids.
Garrick had sent an illustrious group along on the trip: Lady Bron, Father Jesse, and a new king’s physician to replace one who had caught a virus. A KP was expected, but Mal wasn’t sure if Garrick was punishing Father Jesse and Lady Bron for some little slight or if he’d sent them as his spies. To keep Father Jesse out of the seat opposite hers, she invited the KP to take it.
The Eaglet disengaged from the dirigidock. Mal liked the queasy thrill of the lighter-than-air lurch upward before the captain locked in control. Out of habit, she slipped on her shades.
The KP did the same, but not before Mal noticed her striking eyes, the neon blue of a tropical fish. When she threw back her hood to expose spiked albinistic-white hair, Mal got excited. She knew who this was. It had been years, but no one else in the world could have eyes and hair like that.
That first day in Red City when Mal had been brought to see the Matriarch, someone else was talking to Durga. Mal had heard the argument from the corridor, the girl saying she couldn’t do it. She was only four or five years older than Mal. She was a chalice; her sleeveless top had exposed the roses on her ar
m.
Harriet had called her Saskia, and the Matriarch had told Sister Jordana to let her go. Mal had never seen her again, but she never forgot those neon-blue eyes.
So Saskia had become a king’s physician. But she had her roses; she was a chalice too. That explained the high-quality, Red City issue shades.
Saskia was too young to have made her fortune. She was either well-connected or she spent all her funds on clothes. She was dressed like Harriet, but she gave a completely different impression. Harriet’s extra interior pockets were always filled with blood oranges and the odd bits which gave her a false lumpy look.
Saskia’s silver boots came up to just below her knee and were well-crafted.
Her over-garment was the standard silver tunic, hooded and sleeveless, belted at the waist and free-flowing to the mid calf. Her sleek sky-blue jumpsuit was form-fitting enough to show a well-developed physique, in as good shape as any guard. Too bad she came so late to her assignment at Garrick; they could have been work-out partners.
She wasn’t exactly sullen, but there wasn’t a spark of enthusiasm anywhere about her. Not the talkative type, perhaps. She had to know Mal was examining her, but she just stared out the window. Fine for now, but as soon as they got back to Garrick, they were going to have a nice long chat.
The Cradleboard
The Eaglet hovered over the settlement tarmac. The place looked tiny compared to Mal’s memory of it. The raptor cages on the wall were rickety and pathetic. No wonder they’d been useless.
Settlers had cleared a space in the snow in front of the saloon. After Pala and his men made sure the way was secure, the party descended to the tarmac on the airship’s mechanical lift. Mal felt like part of a deus ex machina in a play.
Her heart leapt. Palada was standing at the saloon door. He greeted her formally, and she could hardly stand it. It was wonderful to see him. He led the party inside with the graceful air of a courtier. The place was cleaner than Mal remembered and in far better repair than she expected. “I’ve been running things for a while.” He responded to her inquiring look.
