Arista’s Legacy

by Deborah Cooke

  Venero waved and shouted cheerfully. “Hello! I hope you have a hot meal for a weary prince!” He turned back and beckoned to Arista. “And, of course, an even more weary diplomat. Can we not change her notion of Regalian hospitality?”

  The bows were lowered.

  The gates began to rise.

  But Venero had already begun to bound down the hill, showing complete confidence in his welcome. Arista tried to echo his manner, though her confidence was considerably less.

  Her chance of success—capture of the ShadowCaster, escape from the Citadel and from Regalia, a safe return to Cumae—had, however, just increased by 10 per cent.

  What troubled her was that the probability of Venero’s demise had also increased to eight-three per cent.

  * * *

  Queen Arcana welcomed them into her smaller audience chamber. To Venero’s relief, none of his brothers were visibly present. The table had been set for four, with the stuffed relic of her dead pavofel perched at one of the places.

  Venero stifled a shudder.

  “I see that you’re not surprised by our arrival, Mother.”

  “You are as an open book to me, Venero,” she purred.

  “I hoped at least some of the pages stick together,” he joked and his mother gave him a thin smile.

  “Cling to that,” she murmured beneath her breath. She then offered a beringed hand to Arista, who bowed and kissed her knuckles. “I do apologize for the inconvenience you have experienced on this visit. My son sometimes errs in his planning, as a result of his enthusiasm.”

  “I have delighted in the opportunity to see more of Regalia.”

  Arcana arched a brow. “Even on foot?”

  “Walking is good exercise, and one has a better view of flora and fauna at closer proximity. Your son’s hospitality has been complete. I regret only the malfunction of my Starpod, and that it should occur so far from assistance.”

  “Maybe you planned it, Mother,” Venero dared to say, ensuring that his tone was teasing. “The better to have a chance to speak privately with our guest before her departure.”

  Arcana granted him a glittering look and gestured him to the place opposite the dead pavofel. Venero had the fleeting thought that she meant for it to keep an eye on him.

  Just the way it used to. He could remember how it watched him, just waiting for an opportunity to attack.

  He shivered and took his place, sparing a glance at the monstrosity at the opposite place. Had he seen the creature blink?

  Were its eyes really glass?

  Arcana had already slipped into her seat. She invited Arista to sit down and partake of the meal. There was a roasted bird of some kind—it smelled delicious—and the wine was the best of Regalia. Venero had always found it tart after his time on Advocia, but he sipped politely and felt the jolt of the alcohol.

  He must be a little dehydrated after their journey through the mountain. His mother was watching him, although she pretended not to, and the pavofel’s stare was unnerving. He took another sip and blinked at the strength of the wine.

  That gave him the perfect idea of how to proceed.

  Venero pushed aside his plate and indicated that his goblet should be filled.

  * * *

  “Your unfortunate adventure is the result of yet another miscalculation by my son,” Arcana said with a shake of her head. Arista noted that the queen gave every impression of being a doting mother, sorely tried by her sons.

  Especially Venero.

  Arista didn’t find that likely. Venero was apparently becoming intoxicated very quickly. Was it possible to become inebriated at such speed? Or was he being drugged? The servant poured wine into all three goblets from the same vessel.

  The queen smiled. “I do hope you can forgive us for the inconvenience.”

  “Of course.” At the queen’s gesture, Arista raised her glass and sipped. The wine was sour and very strong. She took only a very tiny sip. She would need her full processing capabilities and ability to respond.

  “I guessed that you would arrive here when your Starpod disappeared, though you were expected sooner.”

  That sounded like an accusation and Arista bristled a little. “I apologize, your highness. Had I known that we were anticipated, I should not have lingered to examine so many plants. Regalia is most lush.”

  “Indeed.” The meal was served with ceremony, and Arcana didn’t speak until the servants had retreated to the perimeter of the chamber. “And where are you from originally?” she asked. “I apologize that I missed that detail upon your arrival.”

  Arista spoke with care, as a diplomat should. “My home is on Cumae, although currently I abide wherever the Empire dictates.”

  “Cumae! I have always wished to visit there. Is it as harshly beautiful as they say?”

  “It is a hot planet and not to the preference of all. I confess that much of my fondness for it is due to the memories I have of my training there.”

  “Of course. But the pavofel is indigenous, is it not?”

  “Yes.” Arista smiled. “They are treated with more courtesy there than many sentient life forms on other planets.”

  “I had a pavofel once.”

  Arista glanced at the stuffed and dead creature. “It appears you have it still.” Its fur was well-preserved, the blue and green still as vibrant as it must have been in life. Its tail was long and thick, graced with the peacock eyes for which the species was known. The eyes of this one were golden and had to be glass, but Arista had a disconcerting sense that it was watching them still.

  Venero toasted the trophy and drained his goblet.

  “Because Vigilo was the most marvelous creature. I adored him and he adored me.” Arcana smiled. “He took the most vehement dislike of Venero, though, of all my sons.”

  “Miserable beast,” that prince contributed and his words were slurred.

  Was he truly drunk? Or was it a ruse? Arista didn’t have to pretend to look alarmed.

  Arcana sighed. “A good boy,” she whispered. “But possessed of his father’s weaknesses.”

  Arista refrained from comment.

  The queen raised her voice. “I said, Venero, that Vigilo never liked you.”

  “Hated me on sight. Always trying to kill me.” Venero tugged at the neck of his chemise, revealing an old scar on his throat.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He was just trying to play with you.”

  Venero snorted and emptied his goblet again. He held it out for more, his hand swaying so that the servant ended up pouring some on his hand and more on the floor. A second servant cleaned up, but Venero waved him off in order to drink more wine.

  Arista wondered. Pavofels were known for only remaining in the care of those they chose. Some bonded so strongly with their caregivers that they could anticipate needs, or promote schemes, dreams, and plans. How long had Arcana wished that Venero was dead? She continued to chat with Arcana as the meal progressed, and Venero became steadily more incoherent. By the time sweets were served, the prince had passed out and was snoring, his head on the table.

  “I must apologize for my son,” Arcana said with disapproval.

  “And you must allow for his gracious conduct,” Arista said. “We had insufficient water and he insisted that I drink all of it.”

  Arcana’s lips tightened. “I am glad to hear that he showed some grace in the situation.” She eyed Arista, then swept to her feet. “You have mentioned the richness of Regalia. Let me show you a curiosity that I treasure.”

  “I should be honored.”

  Arista didn’t expect the queen to retrieve the item herself, but she did. Queen Arcana left the table, her skirts swishing behind her, and moved to one wall. Her hand swept over the surface of the wall, and she must have touched a concealed spring, for a small door opened to reveal a hidden receptacle. Within it reposed a vessel, which Arcana recognized as that of the ShadowCaster.

  Queen Arcana cradled it in her hands as she walked back to the table, and her eyes
were alight with pleasure. She paused before Arista. “Do you know what this is?”

  Arista saw no advantage to lying. “It looks like the images I have seen of ShadowCasters, but I believe they are extinct. Is this a dead one preserved?” She decided not to refer to the pavofel, and instead peered at the dark, motionless worm at the bottom of the vessel. “Or is it a replica?”

  “It is said to be a live one.”

  Arista let her expression show surprise. “What a marvel! What good fortune you have.”

  Queen Arcana laughed. “I have the fortune I make.” She gave the vessel a shake. “This creature, however, might as well be dead. I can’t rouse it at all.” Her glittering gaze locked with Arista’s. “Do you know anything of such creatures? I had hoped that someone from farther afield might have some advice to offer.”

  “I know little of them,” Arista admitted. “I have more than enough to study when it comes to known life forms in the galaxy.” She put out her hand, ensuring that her biological responses were those of a calm and mildly curious individual. “May I see it more closely? I doubt I will ever see one again, dead or alive.”

  The vessel was surrendered to her.

  The creature didn’t move.

  Arista leaned closer to peer at it, then rose to move to the window, as if seeking brighter light. She felt Arcana rise to follow her and heard the movement of the queen’s skirts. Arista pretended to be consumed with the puzzle of the ShadowCaster, even as the queen approached. She turned the transparent vessel as if examining the still creature from all angles and surreptitiously summoned her Starpod.

  “Well?” Arcana asked from close beside her.

  Arista was aware that Venero’s eyes were open. The servants had retreated to the far side of the chamber, their expressions carefully neutral.

  “You speak correctly. It looks to have died.” Arista smiled. “How unfortunate. But still, it is a treasure for its curiosity alone. I doubt that there are any others that can be so observed.” She made to return the vessel to the queen, knowing that Arcana had done so to see if the ShadowCaster would respond to her. “I thank you for showing it to me.”

  “It is but one of the many marvels of Regalia,” that monarch said smoothly. She stepped forward with eagerness and reached for her prize, clearly still believing that it lived and might one day use its powers to her benefit.

  Arista wondered how the queen could be confident of the creature’s survival, then Venero’s fingers closed around the knife beside his plate on the table. She held tightly to the vessel, knowing that things were going to happen very quickly.

  Chapter Three

  Venero waited until his mother was convinced that the ShadowCaster was so close to returning to her possession that there could be no doubt of her losing it.

  He was less drunk than he appeared to be, but less sober than he would have liked. When caught in a corner, a man had to work with the possibilities—though, truly, Venero hoped he did survive the inevitable fight, if only to avoid having Regalian wine as the last taste on his tongue.

  There were only three servants in the hall, though undoubtedly many more within earshot. Venero knew from experience that even though they waited at table, they would be also armed as guards. He had to believe that Arista had summoned her Starpod and that it would arrive quickly.

  He watched as Arista offered the vessel.

  He saw his mother reach for it.

  He gripped the knife left at his place at the table.

  Arista gave no sign of having seen him take it, but the dead pavofel emitted a sound much like a mewl.

  It was the first to go. Venero slashed its head from its body. Shaved wood stuffing fell in all directions and the glass eyes rolled. He crushed them both under his boots as he spun to his feet. He drew his sword and spun on the first servant, who had already drawn a dagger. Venero sliced him from groin to gullet. He fell and Venero flung the knife into the eye of the second. That man tumbled over the first, gripping his bleeding eye. The third backed away warily and dropped his dagger. He pivoted then and ran.

  It wouldn’t be long before the other guards arrived.

  Venero glanced back to see Arista and his mother wrestling over the vessel containing the ShadowCaster, and knew who would win that.

  At least until his mother started to murmur beneath her breath.

  Arista kicked her hard, spun, and leaped to the window sill.

  “Guards!” His mother shouted from her knees even as they burst through the door. The chamber was invaded by a veritable army and Venero saw more than one load his crossbow.

  Arista glanced back, then stepped off the sill. A flurry of bolts and arrows followed her, sticking into the mortar and flying out the window in her wake.

  “No!” Arcana cried and raced to the window. She clutched the sill and peered over it, and Venero had time to fear that Arista had been hit.

  Then a Starpod buzzed the tower, flying so close that the remaining dishes rattled on the table. The guards shoved past his mother and fired out the window, but he saw the contrail as Arista’s ship flew high. His mother raged in protest even as Venero grinned. He saw that flash of silver disappear into the blue of the sky, then a boom as Arista broke the sound barrier.

  She’d done it.

  He didn’t have time to feel triumphant, though. Instead he felt the point of a knife in his back, and heard his twin brother’s voice in his ear. “Venero, Venero, what are we going to do with you?” Urbanus mused.

  Arcana spun, her eyes blazing with fury and advanced upon him. Her smile wasn’t reassuring in the least, but Venero didn’t care. He’d foiled her this time, and somehow, he’d foil them both again.

  First, though, they’d make him pay.

  Venero had no doubt of that.

  * * *

  In the Starpod high above Regalia, Arista set the navigational computer to take her back to Cumae. Then she watched the display of Regalia fading from view, a painful ache in her chest.

  She knew Venero had sacrificed himself to see the ShadowCaster taken away from his mother and the queen’s plans foiled.

  She knew it would have been an insult, if not a waste of his sacrifice, to have stayed behind to fight for his survival. She had calculated the possibility of his disappointment in her if she remained to fight and fought it a solid one hundred per cent. She would have been honored to have died in battle alongside him, but she could not have endured his disappointment with her for failing to take the opportunity he offered.

  Arista knew she had done what Venero wanted, but she felt tears on her own cheeks as she watched Regalia become smaller and smaller. She would never see him again. She had failed to ensure his welfare in her absence. She had loved and lost, and it hurt far more than any injury she’d ever endured before.

  * * *

  Treacherous.

  Enchanting, exciting, but treacherous.

  The Hive could not consider a better term for Arista’s unanticipated development.

  It had been thrilling when the biomechanics had developed to the point of cyborgs feeling emotions, rather than just emulating them in a predictable fashion, then expressing them in the preferred idiom of their assigned culture.

  It had been intriguing when Arista felt arousal for Venero.

  But love. Love! Love was a much higher level of functionality. And tears! There could be no doubt of Arista’s feelings.

  This was a triumph.

  This was the culmination of so much work.

  As triumphant as the Hive might be in this achievement, the complications could not be ignored. Even in such early stages, even when the love was not returned, it was clear that Arista’s sense of purpose had been compromised by the development of this emotion.

  She had abandoned one part of her quest by not even attempting to kill Venero as ordered. And in the last moment of her escape, she had considered the merit of abandoning her mission to be with him.

  Even though she knew that doing so would most likely
mean dying with him. That she could consider death with a beloved to be desirable at all was deeply irrational.

  The prospect of such mutiny in a previously loyal and reliable cyborg was terrifying.

  The Hive calculated the change in probable outcome if Arista’s love had been reciprocated by Venero, and found the result completely unacceptable.

  By rote, the Hive reviewed its own carefully constructed mandate, the one that drove all cyborg research development on Cumae. Cyborgs were created to flawlessly execute assignments. There could be no doubt and no question of the reaction of any cyborg in the field. There could be no chance of one being captured and dissected. The mandate was flawless.

  But the addition of emotions to Arista’s powers had introduced the potential for flawed choices.

  Love was an indulgence the Hive could not afford.

  But still, the Hive had made a promise to Arista before this debrief. With any other cyborg, such a promise might have been discarded in the face of new information. It wasn’t so much that Arista was a favorite—choosing among the Hive’s creations would have been whimsical—but that she was unique among the cyborgs the Hive had created. Her subroutines were mutating at a rapid and somewhat unpredictable pace. The Hive was loath to lose all possibility of continuing the experiment.

  Would she know if the promise wasn’t kept?

  The Hive did not know.

  The Hive didn’t like that there was no clear answer projected in its probabilities.

  Arista had confided a great deal in the recording made on her memoria and hidden in the painted cave. This had also been an irrational act, but it was done.

  Was there any chance of the memoria being found?

  A memoria could only be opened by the Sword Sister of the owner. The Hive computed the probabilities of Gemma, Princess of Incendium, being on Regalia to be reasonable. Regalia and Incendium were the two planets in one star system, after all, and there were diplomatic relations between them. In fact, it was likely that at least one of the daughters of Incendium’s royal family would be married to a son of Regalia’s royal family.