by Jack Conner
Another: “What was she like?”
Still another: “Is it true the Bitch makes flowers wilt as she walks by?”
“I heard flames shoot out her eyes,” one said.
“That’s not where I heard they shot out of!”
Avery ground his teeth at the laughter that followed.
Sheridan weathered it all with a wry smile and an indulgent attitude, answering questions one by one, or occasionally cracking a joke, to Avery’s surprise. He had never known Sheridan to have much of a sense of humor. During a break, Avery leaned in and asked her, “Isn’t all this attention bad for your cover? I thought you were a secret agent.”
Sheridan smiled. “My days as a spy, Doctor—excuse me, Francis—are over. This isn’t the first time I’ve faced this sort of reception.”
“No?”
“After my final debriefing in Lusterqal, the story was released to the press—the story of a renegade goddess, Doctor! and I was a central part of it; you can’t keep that hidden.”
“I suppose not.”
“News about Layanna had already gone out, of course—the Rebel Collossum, Evil Queen of the Black Sect. She has many names. I was merely the latest ingredient to keep the story fresh. When I was put under island arrest, there were picket lines across the bridge demanding my release. People shouted ‘Free the Hero! Free Sheridan!’” She shrugged and indicated the others at the table. “This is nothing new.”
“You’re ... a celebrity.” It was such a bizarre notion that he couldn’t form a rational response to it.
The questions resumed, as did the dinner. Throughout it various guests made toasts to Sheridan, others to the general. Finally someone asked, “So, who is this?” She was a woman of about forty, with vaguely gray skin and the suggestion of scales on her neck; like most here, she had accepted the Sacrament. She was leaning forward and looking at Avery speculatively, though she spoke to Sheridan. “I don’t think I remember his introduction.”
Here it comes, Avery thought. He had been dreading this moment.
Sheridan only smiled—a shark’s smile. “Why, he’s one of the enemy, of course.”
Conversation in the immediate vicinity died down, and all attention turned to Sheridan and Avery.
“What ... do you mean?” asked the woman who’d posed the question.
“I really think ... another of her jokes,” Avery started, desperate to change the topic.
Sheridan cut him off. “He’s Ghenisan, as I am. But unlike me he still serves Ghenisa. He’s actually plotting against us even now.”
Questions erupted. Avery wanted to bolt from his chair. At the entrances, guards tensed, and several glanced at each other uncertainly.
Sheridan chuckled. She seemed highly amused, as if at some secret joke. “Oh, don’t worry. He’s harmless.”
Avery glared at her. He felt his face flush red.
Sheridan exchanged a look with General Carum, who seemed to share her amusement. The general cleared her throat and her guests turned to her, perhaps expecting clarification. If so, she disappointed them.
“He’s seen to,” she said. “You’ll have no worries on his account.”
Avery was stunned into speechlessness by this whole episode. He wasn’t sure if he was more afraid, angry or embarrassed. He reached out to take a deep swallow of wine and saw his hand shaking. He drained the glass in a single gulp. He couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.
In time the topic of conversation returned to the Device, and excitement lit their faces. Avery could almost see the eagerness, the hunger, in them, like wolves closing in for the kill.
Avery didn’t know who started it, but at last someone raised a toast:
“To victory!”
Suddenly everyone was standing and lifting their glasses, and the combined roar of their voices chilled Avery’s blood:
“TO VICTORY!”
* * *
“How could you?” he shouted when he and Sheridan returned to their suite; it was a lavish set of rooms, befitting a heroine of Octung, with a large common area separating the two sumptuous bedrooms, and great windows overlooking the manse-lined lake shimmering with stars. A statue of a golden toad, a representation of another Lai god and made of real gold, rose in the center of the living room from a fragrant fountain-cum-pond bedecked with flowering lilies. It was from these latter that the fragrance originated.
Sheridan smiled, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. “Why, I only told the truth,” she said as she began unbuttoning her uniform, starting from the top.
“You bitch! Now they all know what I am. They’ll have me executed. Impaled on Lagu’s teeth. This was not part of the deal.”
She grew serious. “No. They won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re under my protection.”
He squinted at her, trying to puzzle it out. The room swam around him. The candles were very bright, but the rest hid in murk. Water bubbled in the pond, and somewhere music drifted.
“Why?” he said. “Why am I under your protection? What is this all about?”
She unbuttoned another button. “You’ll see.”
He shook his head, trying to clear it. “I don’t ... I don’t understand. I just want my daughter back.”
“I know. And I know you plan to steal back the Device.”
“I ...”
“I know that’s why you came here with me,” she went on. “Why you didn’t return to Vulat. Oh, you came for Ani, certainly, but that too.”
“Maybe,” he admitted, discomfited by her continued approach. She was very close. He could smell her, all sandalwood and fresh, soft leather. From the flush in her cheeks, she was nearly as drunk as he was.
“Why did you save me in Vulat?” she asked. She said it so softly it was a puff of air on his neck. She was so close he could feel her body heat.
He said nothing.
She closed the gap, pressing her breasts against his chest. They were warm and firm. Despite himself, he stiffened.
“Why did you tell them who I was?” he said, his voice harsh. He felt furious. “I thought we had a deal.”
“Have you given me any reason to take your side?”
She kissed his neck. As if in obedience, his member shoved against the front of his pants. She caressed his thighs and belly, but not the hardness, which only made it harder.
He pulled away, stumbling over an ottoman in the process and nearly collapsing into a plush armchair.
“No,” he said, feeling his way in the darkness. “Layanna ...”
“You’ll never see her again. Besides, she eats people. For fuck’s sakes! She’s a monster. I saw the way you looked at each other in the insect city. You must have realized it, too. What she is.”
He glared at her. A sudden image leapt into his mind, of two figures kneeling before Layanna, waiting to be devoured. A young girl and her brother, golden hair tumbling about their beautiful, innocent faces.
“You’re the monster,” he said.
She returned his glare, the passion in her transforming into something else. But the ardor was still there, only it was an angry passion now. She started to snap something at him, but she visibly forced herself to take a breath and collect herself. When she spoke next, she surprised him:
“Do you love her?”
He opened his mouth to reply. Closed it.
“That’s no business of yours,” he said finally.
“No,” she said, answering the question for him. “You don’t. How can you? As awful as she is, she’s a goddess. She’s perfection. You’re flawed and mortal.” Once more, Sheridan moved toward him through the darkness. “She’s also a villain. That’s what you thought I was, but I’m not.” She laughed, half ruefully. “I’m a heroine. It wouldn’t surprise me if they put up a statue to me in Lusterqal before the Chancellery Building.”
“I’m not going to argue with you, Jessryl. I just want ... sleep.” He looked around, not entirely sure in which direction his r
oom was.
She reached him again, or almost. She hovered, just out of touching distance, so that he could only catch the smell of her. Hating himself, he took a breath.
“We belong together,” she said. “At least, more than you and the Black Bitch. We’re alike, and we share in the same pain.”
“You’re my pain.”
“Do you really mean that?” Seemingly hesitant, she reached up a hand and touched his face.
At her warmth, he closed his eyes.
“Stop,” he said.
She stepped forward again, once more pressing herself to him. His member hardened so much it hurt.
“What will you do now?” she said.
“What ... what do you mean?”
“Your mission is done, your assignment impossible. Your side has lost. But you can still have it all, Francis. You can have Ani, and freedom. You can have me.” She spoke in soft waves against his neck, each word making his balls ache and his manhood tremble. “I can make it happen. Only ... give me a reason. A reason to fight for you.”
She pushed herself up on her toes and kissed the side of his mouth.
“No,” he said, but the word was weak. “No ...”
She kissed him fully on the mouth.
He broke away. “No.”
“Give me a reason, Francis. Why should I help you?”
“So that’s it, then. It’s you or Lagu.”
“I’m not making any threats. I’m just asking for you to give me a reason to help you.” She kissed him again. He didn’t kiss back, but he didn’t pull away. “I know you felt something for me once. I need that. To feel that.” She turned away. “Damn you, I don’t know why I need that, but I do.” She sounded as close to tears as he had ever heard her. Her voice was thick.
He didn’t know if it was the drink, the threat, her fragility, or the terrible truth that Layanna really was a monster and Sheridan was shockingly human, but suddenly he took her in his arms and kissed her.
She kissed back, frantically. Her lips were hot.
After that it was all a blur. He was shoving himself up against her, kissing her neck, squeezing her breasts, feeling the hot moistness between her legs.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes ...”
He didn’t know which bedroom it was in, but he found a bed and threw her down on it, almost angrily. They tore at each other like they were on fire, like they were mortal enemies, which they were, and yet he plunged into her with more feeling than he could remember, and the blaze in her eyes sparked something deep within him. She was human, and soft, and frail even in her strength. She had wants and needs and yes, agonies he could understand, and if he thought about it, which he didn’t till afterward, he had wanted this for a long time, for them to finally melt the ice and stiffness between them and go at each other with no walls separating them.
And for the first time in his entire relationship with Sheridan, she seemed to want the same thing, and when the last blissful spasms came, she allowed him to finish inside her for the first time. Sprawled in a sweaty tangle, half in each other’s arms, they collapsed on the silken bed and slept.
* * *
It was some hours later that Avery woke to find himself in urgent need of relieving his bladder. He edged out of the bed and climbed, with some effort, to his feet. It was only when he glanced down and by the vague glow of starlight saw whom he’d awoken beside that he remembered. What have I done?
He couldn’t fully comprehend it, couldn’t make sense of it.
I did it for Layanna, and Janx, and Hildra, and everyone else in the free world, or in the world that would be free. If he hadn’t capitulated and copulated, Sheridan would have rescinded her protection and he would have been executed. That would have been bad enough, of course, but if he died he wouldn’t be able to steal back the Device, wouldn’t be able to end the war—and despite what Sheridan said, he still believed it was possible. It had to be. For him to hold onto his sanity, it had to be.
And yet, as he looked down on her, on this flawed, obsessed woman, her skin so soft by moonlight, he wondered ... no, he felt ...
He hated himself for feeling it, and he wasn’t even entirely sure what it was, and wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He had never felt anything like this for Layanna. He supposed he loved her, and certainly she was beautiful and attractive, but there was something ... well, cold put it too simply. Sheridan was cold at times. He could even be cold. No, Layanna was ... distant. Elevated. Looking down on the world from her peak. Or perhaps it was he who looked up at her on the pedestal he’d placed her on. Either way, she was there, remote and inhuman, carved of glass and alabaster, just as Sheridan had said.
But to sleep with Sheridan! His skin burned with shame.
He stumbled through the darkened rooms to the lavatory, used it and tried not to look at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands afterward.
Leaving, he paused in the living room beside the golden toad, atop which Hildebrand was perched sorrowfully, likely missing Hildra. Avery patted him, wondering if he should return to bed with Sheridan or seek out the other. With a sigh, he started toward the bed he’d left. It would still be warm.
He hadn’t gone more than two steps when he heard a slight noise behind him.
Before he could turn, a blade, cold and sharp, pressed against his neck.
“Don’t move,” someone whispered. It was a woman’s voice, but not Sheridan’s. “Move and you’re dead.”
“Who—?”
She jerked the knife against his throat.
“I’ll ask the questions,” she said. She spoke with a Lai accent.
“Are you with the resistance?” he wheezed.
The jerk came again, sharper this time. He felt a trickle of liquid warmth roll down his throat.
“Shut it,” she said. “Now tell me who you are.”
“If you’re here, you know.”
She said something in Lai, a curse to judge by the tone. “Fine. Is it true you’re an enemy of Octung?”
“So you are part of the resistance.”
“Answer me!”
She wasn’t very good at this, he decided. He was pretty sure he could grab her knife arm and pull it away from him before she could slit his throat. If he hadn’t still felt the numbing effect of alcohol he would have done it.
“Yes,” he said. “I’ve been fighting Octung. If you’re with the resistance, I’d like to help you.”
“How?” It came out hurriedly, and he could hear the desperation in her voice. She needed his help.
“Well, for one, I can tell you that whatever your group’s capabilities are, you need to use them now. And I mean now. The Device is being transferred to the Over-City.”
“What is the Device?”
He grabbed her arm and pulled it away from him. She was stronger than he’d thought, or he was drunker, and he had to struggle, but he was able to slip beneath her arm and twist away from her other clutching hand. She leapt after him, slashing, but he put a huge chair between them. She started to dart around it, but he began to dart the other way and she stopped. Panting, they stared at each other.
She had covered the lower part of her face with a kerchief and he could only make out the rest dimly. She was small and lithe, dressed in dark clothes.
“Damn you,” she said, still speaking in a low voice. “I warn you, you’d better not call for help.”
He drew in a breath. Careful to keep his own voice quiet, he said, “I want to help you, but you wouldn’t believe me if I had a knife to my throat. I would’ve said anything, right?” He paused, then, as if leading a child, repeated, “Right?”
She made a growling noise. “Alright, yes. So what now? What’s the Device?”
“It would take too long to explain. But if it reaches the Over-City, the war’s as good as done. Octung will be unstoppable. Its rule will spread throughout the world.”
She stared at him, doubtlessly wondering how far to trust him. The vague outline he could see of the upper
half of her face began to look familiar.
“When will it be transferred to the Over-City?” she said. “If we’re going to do something about it, we need to make plans.”
“I’ll find out for you.”
“I don’t know—”
The door to the bedroom opened and Sheridan appeared, blinking sleepily.
“Who are you talking ...” She vanished back into the room. But when she reappeared a moment later holding her gun, the visitor, Dr. Lis, had gone.
Chapter 5
General Carum roused the entire palace and conducted a room-to-room search from top to bottom of the building. The palace was supposedly plagued with secret passages, leftovers from the old empire, and she had several walls torn down to reveal them, though she told Sheridan she suspected the existence of others. In any event, the search lasted till dawn and no room, including the general’s, was unsearched, but the intruder was not found, or at least recognized. Avery did not say whom he thought it was, and the blood on his throat was sufficient evidence to convince them he was no friend of the intruder.
When morning came, he and Sheridan joined the general and a few others for breakfast in the general’s private breakfast room, a sunny spot on the first floor with a view of the lake. The sun rose over the mansions on its far side. The glare off the water nearly blinded Avery, and servants lowered silk shades.
“Excellent news,” General Carum said. “Lord Uthua has been alerted to the Device’s presence, and he is on the way to retrieve it.”
“He’s taken command of the Over-City?” Sheridan asked.
“Indeed.” The general’s face showed excitement, not just at the prospect of handing over the Device, but also of meeting her patron deity, as she belonged to the sect of Uthua. “In just a matter of days,” she added.
“How many?” Avery asked casually, but she ignored him.
“Wonderful!” one of her officers said, clapping his hands.
“Yes, marvelous,” said another.
Avery tried to hide his scowl, but he must not have succeeded because the general only smiled wider.
