by Stefon Mears
“You’ve been killing to support your ideology.”
“No, Donal.” She shook her head, her cascading tresses like a curtain, opening and closing as she did. “Don’t do this. Don’t deliberately misunderstand.” She grabbed Donal’s hand in both of hers, and implored him. “Don’t make me choose between you and the good of the whole human race.”
“Funny,” said Donal, without a trace of humor in his voice. “I was about to say the same thing.”
◊
Tunold smiled down at the would-be duelists, each in tailored, fashionable work-out clothes that would not doubt leave them unencumbered in a duel.
A duel, but not a fight. Her hair should be tied back the way Tai Shi’s was, not in a simple ponytail that anyone could grab.
Tunold took a Pacifier from Chief Goldberg while the chief leaned on his desk. Goldberg looked as ready to laugh as Tunold felt.
“Who wants to go first?”
“I think you misunderstand...” said Kianoush.
“We want to duel each other, you dolt,” said Romanov.
“I know what you want.” Tunold spun the Pacifier around in his hand, forcing the two rich, self-important idiots to follow the movement. “But you aren’t on Luna or Mars where you make the rules.”
“I do not ‘make the rules’ on Mars,” said Kianoush. Romanov drew breathe to add something, but Tunold did not give her time to get a word out.
“Neither is this San Francisco with its clear dueling code, or Venus with — as I understand it — its complete lack of laws. You are aboard the Horizon Cusp, a helioship at high space.”
Tunold stopped twirling the Pacifier and pointed it at himself, which made the chief wince.
“And I have already told you, I am the ranking officer on deck.”
“I—” started Romanov.
“Now in case you don’t understand what that means, ‘high’ space is another way to say interplanetary space. In other words, we are outside the jurisdiction of any given planet. Even Earth.”
Tunold saw understanding lighting in their eyes, so he finished his point. “That’s right. And the Horizon Cusp only allows duels if the ranking officer on deck agrees. So I’m giving you two a choice: if you can both beat me, one at a time, I’ll let you have your little duel. Either of you loses to me and you get no follow-up against each other.”
“In that case,” chimed in Goldberg, “I’d say the first one to lose to the ex oh is the loser in your dispute.”
“That’s hardly fair,” said Kianoush. “You’ve chosen a weapon at which you have a clear advantage in terms of experience and training.”
“I did.” Tunold tried for one of the captain’s evil grins, even though he knew that on his face it would come out more of a snarl. “That is what is known as R.H.I.P.”
Neither of the executives spoke for a moment, then Romanov said, “Rank hath its privileges?”
“I learned it as ‘has,’” said Tunold. “But close enough.” He held the Pacifier in both hands in from of him, as a knight might have held a broadsword. “So are you ready to decide who goes first? Or will you go back to your rooms?”
Kianoush and Romanov glanced at each other, then away.
“You understand, Mr. Tunold,” said Romanov, “that you are removing the only honorable and legal way we can resolve this matter between us aboard your ship.”
“You both run corporations that move billions of dollars every year. You’ll deal with it.”
“You realize,” said Kianoush, “that we will protest your actions here with both the captain and Mancuso.”
“Yes,” added Romanov with a dangerous look in her eye. “You are abusing your power.”
“I don’t know what your Mancuso will say about this, but I’ll bet you two hundred that Captain Jacobs backs me.”
Tunold folded his arms, letting the Pacifier dangle by his side.
Without another word, the two business leaders turned and left.
Once they were out of sight, Goldberg said, “I’ll take a piece of that action. My money says that John will tell you that all you’ve done is force those two to find a way they can fight their duel without our supervision.”
Tunold turned and saw the chief slowly shake his head.
◊
Donal saw realization wash over Li Hua’s face as she heard the resolved tone in Donal’s voice, saw his posture straighten.
“Donal,” said Li Hua, her eyebrows high and her lip not quite trembling, “swear to me that you will take a day and think about this, and speak next about it to no one but me.”
“I’m not sure I can—”
“By this time tomorrow we’ll be on Venus. I’ll get Mr. Mancuso situated and then you and I can go someplace private and sort through all your questions and concerns. You’ll understand. What I’m doing is what’s best for everyone.”
“What about Mr. Mancuso?” Donal felt sadness pulling him down from the inside, but pushed on. “Is it best for him that you’re making his key decisions? Using him as a stalking horse so that if someone does get killed over your work, it isn’t you?”
“I’d never let that happen,” she said with a firm shake of the head. “You know how good I am.”
“Was it best for Mr. bin Zuka that you murdered him for being almost right?”
“The man was obsessed.” Li Hua let go of Donal’s hand and sat back. She no longer looked at Donal, stared off at the mural of Earth on one wall. “If he had only been more flexible, he might have worked with us.”
Donal squeezed his eyes closed. “There is no us here.” The words felt cold leaving Donal’s mouth. “This is about you and your own insane plan.”
“You’re not even going to consider what I have to say?” A tremor in Li Hua’s voice opened Donal’s eyes. Her own were shiny with unshed tears. “Donal...”
“You’re murdering and ensorcelling people to amass power. What is there to consider?”
“I’m trying to prevent the mistakes of the past, to keep power out of the wrong hands.”
“You say that magicians are trustworthy with power because our art demands ethics. But how does what you do not violate the Foundation Principle?”
“The Foundation Principle?” Li Hua laughed, an honest and sincere sound, when Donal thought it should have sounded desperate, unhinged. “Donal, we violate the Foundation Principle all the time.”
Li Hua waved her arms to indicate the ship around them.
“How do we fly through space, Donal? Do we ally ourselves with the native powers of space and seek their permission to travel through their lands? No. We conjure those native powers and bind them to our will. Half of magic’s great advances come from bindings, from our own ability to say ‘yes you will’ louder and with more force than a bunch of elementals can say ‘no we won’t.’”
She pointed an accusing finger at Donal. “You’re no different. All your Enochian ideas, they’re just more ways of making spirits do what we want.” She leaned forward now, beautiful in her certainty. “And I have done nothing different. I have commanded Mancuso’s spirit like an elemental. And those I have been unable to command, like bin Zuka, I have punished like any other recalcitrant spirit.”
“It’s different.” Donal’s voice had grown quiet. Heartsick. He saw now how this was going to end, and he hated that ending even more than he feared that he could not handle it. “And you know it’s different.”
“It’s no different. Just because these spirits are incarnate—”
“You know it’s different because you hid what you did behind spells of deception. And you want me to hide it even better.”
That stopped her.
Li Hua blinked away her tears and stared at Donal. Donal knew his own tears would come later, when the dull shock of the night’s revelations finally passed.
“There’s no point in giving you time to consider, is there?” She sounded as tired as Donal felt. “You have no intention of listening to what I have to say. Your mind is
already made up.”
“I wish you could see that this is wrong, Li Hua. You’ve become exactly what you’re trying to stop.”
“Donal Cuthbert.” Li Hua stood, hands absently straightening her yellow silk dress. “I hereby charge you to speak no word of what we have discussed with anyone else, ever. I charge you further to take no action to hinder or stop me in any way, now or in the future.”
She pointed at Donal, and the divide between them made Donal almost feel as though he had been stabbed by that pointing finger.
“Swear these things to me upon your power, or I will challenge you to the Comórtas Draíocht.”
“Tai Shi Li Hua,” said Donal, standing and closing his eyes. “I charge you to release all those humans whom you have bent to your will, and to swear upon your power that you will cease and desist your efforts to amass power in such a way.”
Donal opened his eyes and saw the amused look on Li Hua’s face. “Or I will challenge you to the Comórtas Draíocht.”
Li Hua laughed. Donal shook his head. It made little difference who challenged whom. He knew they would not leave that room without fighting the duel of magic.
That locked room, warded against scrying. Donal could expect no help, no support. He stood alone and overmatched, but he saw no alternative. She had been too careful, built up her power too slowly. Donal had only discovered the truth because she wanted to bring him in.
Only Donal stood between her and total victory. All he had to do was out-duel a woman who lived and breathed combat.
Chapter Eighteen
Donal’s gut tightened as panic worked its way through his system. He needed some escape from the safe room, from the Observation Deck.
From Li Hua.
He knew he would have to face her, duel her, but if he did it now he would lose. He needed to buy time to think, to plan, to seek help.
But he could see no plans among the cushions and couches of the safe room, no allies among the murals, no escape route in the restrooms.
Li Hua shook her head, a slow, sad movement. She said, “Comórt—”
Donal threw a seat cushion at her and ran for the door. Nervous sweat stung his eyes. He banged his shin on an end table as he rounded the couch. Pain slowed him to a stumble.
Li Hua vaulted over the back of the couch into a diving roll that left her standing between Donal and the door. She smiled like a cheetah that has run down its prey.
Donal screeched to a halt that left him clinging to a chair to stay standing. He panted for breath, though more from stress than from his exertion.
Li Hua looked shower-fresh in her light dress.
Does she enchant all her clothes for fighting?
It was a silly question. Donal already knew the answer. He could see it in her ready stance, feet apart and balanced, weight low. In the smile that flared out from her eyes. Even if now that hint of smile faded and angry sadness began to resurface.
“Interesting stratagem,” she said. “But as much as I might enjoy chasing you...”
Her brown eyes flashed, their touch of caramel fading to black. “Damn it, Donal! This should have been a fun chase that ended in a very pleasurable tackle. We should be naked and celebrating right now. Why can’t you trust me? Why can’t you work with me to build a better future?”
“Because you’re trying to make magicians a ruling class. You want to give more power to those who already have power.”
“Magicians are the only ones equipped and trained to handle power.”
Donal tried glancing toward the other couches, toward the murals. No other exits. Just rest rooms. No escape there. Next to the door was a comm pad. Useless. If Donal could reach it, he would be better served to skip it and bolt through the doorway and make for the nearest bubble or access panel.
“And that’s how you prove you can handle power?” He said, trying to brace himself for a mad dash despite the pain in his shin. “Use magic to manipulate your boss and kill your rivals? You sound more like a gangster than a queen.”
“Fine then,” she said, and Donal worried about the note of finality in her voice, forced himself to stand straighter as she continued. “Call me a gangster. But I am doing what needs to be done. And I can’t let you stop me. Comórtas Draíocht.”
Her words rang out with an almost metallic echo, and the room felt smaller to Donal. She had issued her challenge to the duel of magic, and Donal had no choice but to respond.
◊
Machado awoke among the heavenly sheets of his king-sized bed, all pleasures of sleep torn from him by an alarm in his mind. An alarm that had never rung before, and so he needed a moment to recognize it.
Not proximity. Not impact...
Then the cold fact all but slapped his round cheeks: someone had called for Comórtas Draíocht.
Before he even dragged himself out of his mess of enchanted, high-thread count sheets, Machado called forth Saravá and sent the ghostly panther soaring toward the duel along the deepest lines of the ship.
Machado thought fleetingly of wardrobe and appearances, but knew that he had no time. He pulled on the bathrobe he bought on Luna: some local material the blue-gray of moon dust, but softer even than satin, and ran for the door.
En route he shifted and sent some of his consciousness to ride along with his familiar while the rest of him ran for the bubble with as much dignity as he could manage.
After only three steps Machado had begun to sweat. The part of him that remained with his body tried not to think how sweat-covered and smelly he would be by the time he arrived wherever the alarm was leading him...
◊
“Li Hua, don’t do this.” Donal’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. Sadness overwhelmed him. He did not know that he had been in love with Li Hua, was not sure he had ever really been in love. He had imagined that when he went to grad school they would slowly drift apart. She busy with her work and he caught up in his studies.
He knew what was between them had to end.
But not like this. Not with her standing before him ready to fight in the belly of a helioship. Donal could see at least as much anger in her eyes as sorrow. But even a little sorrow meant that he had a chance to reason with her, to get her to see how wrong a course she was on.
He had to try.
“We could—”
“Comórtas Draíocht.” Li Hua’s lips narrowed. Without so much as a word she called Pinyin Lung out of her brooch, a stream of dark gray smoke that condensed to form her sinuous spirit dragon familiar.
Twice now she had issued the challenge, and Donal had not yet responded. He could feel stillness seep in around him, a weight in the air as though he had seen a flash of lightning and now waited for the crack of thunder.
The call of the challenger demanded answer. If she issued it one more time, Donal would have no choice but to fight or concede. His mind reeled as he sought options, cast about for any way he could get her to see reason.
“Concede, Donal.” Her words were quiet, almost mourning. “Concede and we can stay together. I would rather have you helping me, but if you will at least not oppose me I may yet find a way to bring you into this that works with your moral code.”
Donal considered that, but the pressure of the challenge began to press on him. He felt almost as though he were being squeezed from the shoulders up. He looked at Li Hua, beautiful even in her anger, but she had been lying to him the entire time she had known him, hidden her personal agenda. She had shown Donal an adventurous face, a woman who lived for the thrill of action, but she concealed the manipulator, the woman who murdered Mr. bin Zuka to keep him quiet. The woman who ensorcelled Mr. Mancuso to direct his entire network of resources.
Donal could not have the thrill seeker without the manipulator. He drew a deep breath, used it to still his mind, and opened his mouth to accept her challenge.
Saravá phased down through the ceiling between the former lovers.
“I a...what?” said Donal.
“How?” said
a slack-jawed Li Hua.
“My master adjures you both from participating in the Comórtas Draíocht and demands that you lay aside your differences for the remainder of this flight. This is the word of Magister Ronaldo Machado, master of this demesne. Let any who would dispute his word first challenge him for supremacy in this place.”
“How? How did you get past my wards?” The fury in Li Hua’s voice made Donal glance at her from the corner of his eye. She all but shook with rage.
Frustration at not getting to defeat Donal? Perhaps kill him?
“My master has added subtle connections throughout the spells of the Horizon Cusp. Never again will another’s wards bar him from part of his own demesne.”
“When you say we must lay aside our differences...” said Donal.
“My master declares your argument set aside. You shall not act upon it. You shall not discuss it. You shall seek no allies against each other. You shall not work against each other through intermediaries. You each shall seek no enemies of the other, nor plan actions against each other, save in your own heads or with your own familiars.
“Until you set foot on Venus, my master declares you in armistice.”
Donal and Li Hua looked at each other, and though they stood no more than two meters distant, Donal felt that the space between them should properly have been measured in decans.
The door to the relief room opened, and framed in the doorway stood Magister Machado. The portly ship’s mage should have cut a comic figure: drenched in sweat, panting for breath, and wearing only a thin robe that clung to his skin but did not quite close. Still, Donal could feel power crackling in the air around the Magister.
In that moment Donal realized that Magister Machado could have stood against himself and Li Hua combined and won. Here was the ally Donal needed. Magister Machado could take care of Li Hua and free Mr. Mancuso from her spells while raising less sweat than he had generated rushing down here.
“Magister,” said Donal. “I—”
“Save it,” said Machado, puffing for breath and hands going to his knees. “I did not ... leap out of bed ... and rush down here ... to listen to whatever little domestic problem you two are having.” He stood straight, and despite the exertion and the speech, he already seemed to have his breathing under control. “Put it from your minds, or fuck your way through it, or do whatever you have to. But you will not fight about it on this ship.”
