From Ruins

by M. C. A. Hogarth

  "I can't... I'm not... I can't even read people's thoughts!"

  "No," Lisinthir said. "But you can set things on fire by deciding they should burn." When she paled, he reached for her wrist and held it so firmly she looked up at him, breathing too hard. "You and Jahir, I swear. Both of you are granted a weapon and immediately conceive yourselves as monsters. A blade is as evil as the hand holding it, cousin. And you are not evil."

  "I'm worse," Sediryl exclaimed. "I'm...."

  "Flawed?" Lisinthir arched a brow. "Aren't we all. Can we cease now with the useless recriminations? I will not hear them. Nor will anyone who saw your work."

  "Oh Goddess," Sediryl whispered, horrified. "Was anyone else hurt??"

  "No," Lisinthir said. "Because even in your power, Sediryl Nuera, you shielded those around you from immolation. Had you not done so we would surely have died. As it was, you nearly sacrificed yourself on the funerary pyre you decreed for those who died. Had it not been for the Faulfenza, we would have been forced to watch you burn in your own fires."

  "What!"

  "The Faulfenzair seer," Lisinthir said, "walked through the fire to pick you up after you collapsed. I know not what magic allows that race to treat with fire so, but we were helpless and they were not."

  Qora, Sediryl thought, numb. Qora, who had refused to abandon her and had given her only the vaguest of reasons why.

  "As it is," Lisinthir said, "you nearly died on us anyway. Your efforts burst too many blood vessels on the inside of your fine body, cousin. You had no less a surgical team than the head of Fleet Central's hospital and the Eldritch Lord of War, who apparently is so qualified. And Jahir and I contributed our blood, and Jahir his rather less easily defined talents with mindhealing. You have been a very, very sick woman."

  "I almost died?" Sediryl said, stunned.

  "Strangely, I had a similar reaction waking in this hospital not long ago." Lisinthir shook his head. "Not a trend we should continue."

  "Liolesa...!"

  "Has been to see you every day, while she was here, if only for a few moments," Lisinthir said. "But she could not tarry once the treaty was signed. There is work for her to do at home. And yes, before you ask... the treaty is signed. You have been lying abed for nearly three weeks."

  The magnitude of it staggered her. She let her head sink back into the pillow as her body began to tremble.

  Lisinthir let his hand trail up from her wrist to her fingers, squeezing them. "Sediryl. You didn't die."

  "So many people did."

  "Yes." She looked up, startled at the uncompromising answer, and the sternness of his expression when she met his eyes. "Shall I pull that blow? And on a woman destined to the heir's coronet? I will not. You are stronger than that, and deserve better. People did die, cousin. They died because they were captured by cruel and terrible people upon whose shoulders the blame properly rests. It is fitting that you should care over their fates, but not that you hate yourself for their deaths."

  To say that she'd failed again, for the thousandth time... "It doesn't do any good, does it," she said, her mouth dry. "To protest that I should have done better."

  "That depends on whether you use that protest as an aspiration to be and do better, or if you use it as a scourge to damage and excuse yourself from the responsibility of action." Lisinthir canted his head. "I think I know which of those women you are. Do you?"

  She swallowed. "I'm not ready."

  "No one ever is," Lisinthir said. "And yet, life calls us, with all its challenges. Will you meet them?"

  "If I don't... that disrespects the dead," Sediryl said.

  "Just so."

  She breathed out hard, shuddering. "But oh, Goddess. Lisinthir... so many."

  He ran his fingers down the side of her face. "I know, my lady." His fingers ended on her chin, tipping it up. "But duty remains. And with duty, atimes, reward."

  Immediately she thought of Jahir. "He was singing, wasn't he. I remember singing."

  "He does so when he heals," Lisinthir said. "I sent him away to sleep, and a hard fight it was, particularly with Vasiht'h gone to see to his family from Tam-ley. Our cousin has been here far too much, holding your mind stable. You were trying to kill yourself from within, with guilt and despair. He refused it, as he refuses all cruelties. Shall I tell him you're awake?"

  "No," she said. "Not yet. There's something I have to do first."

  "But you won't deny him?" Lisinthir tapped her chin lightly, smiling. "I care greatly for his happiness. If you are preparing to reject him, I would like to know so I might arrange a distraction. Or as much distraction as is possible, given that you are the childhood love he has never ceased to adore."

  Her cheeks flushed. "I won't deny him. I just need... this isn't the place. Or the time."

  "So long as there is one."

  "As soon as I can stand up," Sediryl said, and discovered she wanted it badly.

  "Until then..." Lisinthir looked up. "Your healers will be arriving soon. I leave you to them." He used the lightest pressure of his fingers on her jaw to turn her face to his. "No shame, cousin."

  "No shame," she whispered, and smiled a little. "Aspirationally speaking."

  "Good enough," he said, and leaned over to kiss her brow. He smelled like home: like ambergris cologne, and familiar skin. It drove away the scent-memories of burning.

  He'd reached the door when she said, "Lisinthir?"

  He paused.

  "You knew, didn't you. You and Jahir. Before we even went into the cargo bay."

  Lisinthir was silent a moment. "Yes. Hiding such things from Jahir... we have not yet found the situation where such is possible."

  Her fingers were tight in the blanket. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Because," he said. "You wouldn't have believed." His smile was somehow both regretful and challenging. "Think on that, my princess."

  For a long time after he left, she did.

  Her healing team had lost the Queen's cousin when Liolesa had departed, but the remaining group was large enough that Sediryl couldn't help her dismay at the sight of them. Had so many been necessary to keep her alive? Three weeks... the tally seemed incredible, but all of them corroborated Lisinthir's story. They were pleased to see her awake, and allowed her to sit up so long as the halo-arch stayed active. After that, they left her to rest, and even granted her a data tablet at her request.

  She used it to see if there were any reports of the raid on the pirate base, and there were. There were also stills and viseos. No one had captured her doing... whatever it was she'd done. But there were images aplenty of what remained of the base after her episode. She stopped for a long time on one showing a corridor that had melted. It looked like someone had smeared a painting and left it to drip.

  She'd slept a little after that. But when she woke, she used the tablet to send a request, and half an hour later, Qora padded into her room and stopped at her bedside, one red-tipped hand on its edge. The Faulfenzair studied her for several moments, then tilted his head. "So then, Princess. Now you know."

  "Why you wouldn't leave me alone," Sediryl said. "How long have you suspected?"

  "Hard to say." He grinned suddenly, alien flare of teeth against pale lips. "I am one of His Eyes. I am supposed to be enigmatic, because sometimes the God is. But it became obvious to everyone after you killed Kamaney, and her guards. That weapon shot plasma, but you decided it needed augmentation. And once or twice that it wasn't going to fire fast enough, so you forwent its use entirely."

  "And you were teaching me dance... why? To secretly train me?"

  Qora laughed then, a full-throated chuffing. "Hah! Would that it was so easy! No, Princess. I taught you dance for the reasons I told you. To keep you from fretting at your problems, and to give you an opportunity to learn body discipline. If I could be described as having an ulterior motive, it involved solely that learning our dance involves learning our religion, our prayers, our ways of thinking of the God. And you are one of His."
<
br />   "I don't know if I believe in the goddess and the god," Sediryl said. "Still."

  The Faulfenzair snorted. "So don't. We don't hold with your ‘the God is the same, everyone has a different name for it' beliefs. We have one god, Faulza, the Firedancer, and He is singular and ours. And now, yours. All those who walk with fire are His children. That is why I'm here."

  "And why... you're not leaving," Sediryl guessed.

  "No. You require training, Princess. You will not receive it elsewhere." He cocked his head. "Am I right?"

  Given what Liolesa had said about how poorly documented the education of mind-mages was... "You're right. But I'm going home, Qora. I really am..." Sediryl stopped and laughed, and it hurt but at least it was something. "I really am a princess. My people need me."

  "So, then, we go along. My cadre and I. We may not be the only ones either. Finding Faulza's gift among the Others is going to inspire a great deal of curiosity among my people."

  "I'm glad Liolesa's opening the world, then," Sediryl said. She reached toward him until he met her hand with his. His fingers were furred, and there were six of them, and they were warmer to the touch than body heat could have accounted for but it didn't burn her. "You saved my life on the base."

  "You saved mine first." He grinned. "We call it even, yes? Or you can continue being grateful, if it means you forgive me all the irritations I am going to put you through. Both our species live a long time. You will have ample time to ponder your life choices."

  Sediryl ignored the teasing; she was going to have a lifetime to practice her ripostes with him. "Qora. I'm sorry. About Daize, and the others."

  "I'm sorry too," Qora said. "Because I miss their company. But they were always the God's, and they have gone home to Him. I mourn for myself, not for them." He set her hand gently on the covers. "Rest, Princess. The sooner we're gone from here, the happier we'll all be."

  The following day, the hospital released her contingent on her remaining on the base for at least another three days while they monitored her return to health. She'd agreed reluctantly, feeling the pull of all her many responsibilities, but the trip to her assigned rooms disabused her of the belief that she was fine. Her entire body felt frangible in a way she'd never experienced, and it frightened her. Even knowing her medical team was confident enough to discharge her didn't ameliorate the vertiginous sense that she'd barely escaped her own ending.

  It still felt good-amazing-to use a water shower again, and to dress, slowly but carefully, in real clothes. Clothes she would have chosen for herself in the Alliance: trousers, boots, a long-sleeved shirt over a camisole. Pinning her hair up took longer than she expected because her arms started trembling if she held them up too long. But she kept at it, and exhausted herself so much she wound up napping. When she woke, she looked disheveled, but she decided it was a charming sort of disheveled rather than an unkempt sort. After consulting the computer for her intended destination, she made her way out of her quarters. Fortunately she didn't have to go far.

  The door slid open on Jahir, and she didn't speak, just stepped into him and kept going until she was pressed against him, cheek against his shoulder and all her body flush to his. His arms gently settled, one hand on the small of her back and the other on her shoulder. She heard more than felt the kiss he dropped on her hair, it was so gentle.

  She wanted to tell him she loved him, and she was grateful for him, and that she wanted to marry him. Instead she started crying. She was still crying when he framed her face in his hands and tilted it up, and when he kissed her she tasted her tears on his lips.

  "I know," he whispered in their tongue, the words shaded black for mourning. "I know."

  "I tried so hard," she said. "Oh, Goddess, Jahir. I want it to have been different."

  "I know," he said again, and kissed her again, and she threw her arms around his neck and answered him, asked for more, and more, until it drove her sorrows into the corners like shadows receding from a lamp.

  He drew her to the couch and into his arms there, but she wasn't surprised that he stopped. She was grateful that he kept her close, though. She liked the smell of him, like the vetiver oil of a chapel, and the musk under it that whispered how difficult it was for him to hold himself apart. She wanted to know what he looked like in his pleasures. She wanted to know what made him gasp for them. But it could wait.

  "I'm going to say yes," Sediryl said. "To Liolesa."

  "I never doubted it." When she lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him, he smiled, a little rueful. "Oh, Sediryl. Truly? You were wasted on a single patch of land." He traced her cheek from nose to the corner of her lip. "Your wings were never so small as that."

  She flushed. "So if we marry, that will make you prince-consort. Is that all right?"

  His smile grew a hint of impishness. "Is this a proposal?"

  "It's a serious discussion between two adults about the shape of their future," Sediryl said firmly. And then, relenting, "Well, and a proposal too. If it's what you want. I spent long enough wrestling with the idea of being the heir, and I liked the idea. You never seemed to want more than you had."

  "Sometimes what I had seemed too much," he admitted, mouth quirking, and brought her fingers to his lips. "But I have discovered with the right people around you, very little is unbearable."

  "Unbearable," she said, struggling with a rueful laugh. "Ouch."

  "Shall I say instead that the responsibility is worth it, to marry you?"

  Sediryl's heart skipped. Did he mean it? But then she looked into his eyes, saw the gentleness there as a grace note over the passion, and the promises. She answered, breathy, "Ah... yes? Please say that instead. That's a yes, right?"

  He kissed her, lips a gentle chafe against hers and it shattered her attention completely despite the... the chastity of it. When he released her, he said, "Yes. Yes, Sediryl."

  "Thank the Goddess." She pressed her head against his, her breathing still shaky. "Because I wouldn't want to choose between you and Liolesa."

  "You shan't have to." Jahir's smile became rueful. "But oh, how our cousin will laugh to find me with a crown, no matter how minor, who never sought one."

  "And about that," Sediryl said. "Lisinthir." She tried resting her fingers on his cheekbone and liked how it felt. She liked how he looked at her, with that sweet gravity of his. She loved his eyes, clear amber like the heart of trees. "You and he..."

  Now he blushed, and that was gorgeous. She wanted to eat him whole. Or watch Lisinthir do it. "I would not ask a wife to share her husband-"

  "I would rather you ask this wife if she'd like to watch?" Sediryl said wistfully. "But if you don't want me to, I'm not going to object, though I won't lie about being disappointed because the two of you are beautiful." At his start, she said, "Goddess, Jahir. I've seen the way the two of you look at each other. Do you think I'm going to tear that apart?"

  "But..."

  "No buts," she said. "I mean that. I love the way you look at him. And the way you look at Vasiht'h. And... it's nothing like how you look at me." She touched his lower lip. "We're Eldritch, Jahir. We're going to live centuries. There's room. There's time. And... there's need. Because we need all the people to love that we can find. We can't manage alone. Can we?"

  "No," he breathed, and kissed her brow, his lips moving down to her temple. "No. We have been too alone for too long, and it has hurt us sorely." He paused and said, tentative, "In the same way I would not keep you from your lovers...."

  "My..." She trailed off and made a face. "Yes, I suppose the details of that got around. It was too good a story. Sediryl, the disinherited, who was cavorting with humans." Before he could object, she shook her head. "No, I'm not sorry I did it, or even that everyone found out. And I don't think of it as shameful. I loved Davor, and I loved Hyera. Some part of me always will." She thought of Kamaney and forced herself not to flinch. "They saved my sanity while I was among pirates."

  He was silent for a long moment, one of his fi
ngers running along her jaw. Was he always going to be this caressing? She loved it. She didn't think Eldritch knew how to touch so freely.

  At last, he said, "Loved?"

  Did he think...? "I'm not with them now," she said. "We parted ways amicably. They couldn't... they didn't want to stay with someone who would outlive them. It was hard to argue with that. And Davor in particular..." She drew in her breath. "Well, that brings me to one other thing."

  He was so close that she felt his laugh as a rumble against her ribcage. "Do you have a checklist, cousin?"

  She hid her smile. "Yes. Because this is a big decision. Children... I'm a little afraid, but... I want them. I'm not sure how good a mother I'll be. Honestly, I'm terrified that I'll be an awful mother, especially with the example I've been set... you know my mother, can you blame me-"

  He had set his head against hers, choking on a sound she wanted to call a laugh? She hoped it was a laugh and not a sob. Anxious, she stroked his cheek, hoping to get him to look at her. "Jahir?"

  "If you knew how long I suffered the anguish of knowing we should never wed, on account that our children would die misborn because of our consanguinity..."

  "I'd feel awful, and confused, because the Alliance can fix that?" Sediryl said, torn between sheepishness and a rising hope that this meant he wanted them too.

  "So it can." He exhaled, his laugh shaky. "God and Lady, but how I have feared, and yearned."

  "That's a yes?" she guessed, biting her lip. "Unless it's ‘I fear Sediryl's going to be as awful at parenting as she thinks she is' because that's far more worrisome to me than whether the Alliance can genefix any problems we run into. I'm barely ready to be Liolesa's heir, being in charge of someone wholly dependent on me just to keep from falling out of a crib...."

  He set a finger against her lips, stilling her. "Not wholly dependent. We will not do it alone. Nor need we begin immediately. There's time, yes?"

  She exhaled. "Yes." And tried licking that finger to see what happened. The shudder she elicited was deeply satisfying. And she was glad she could feel satisfied with anything, when there was so much, so much in her head. In her heart. She set her head down on his shoulder. "Lisinthir said Vasiht'h is gone?"