Steelhands (2011)

by Jaida Jones

I knew the Esarina though Antoinette clearly knew her better than I did. She knew her well enough to call her by her given name; I was backup, there to snipe in fast and buy the main event some extra time should the negotiations turn to fighting. This was a job I knew well, almost as though I’d been born for it. It had a little to do with diplomacy and a little to do with flight-time reconnaissance—a humorous combination of those things that everyone told me I was suited, both of them as different as different as could be.

  And the Esarina’s given name being the inspiration, I could only assume, for my dragon, was a strange turn of fate that didn’t escape my notice.

  “Keep your focus,” Antoinette told me. She hadn’t been reading my thoughts—that wasn’t how a velikaia’s powers worked, at least to my understanding—but it was possible I was projecting. I was used to hiding my emotions at the diplomat’s round table, but not when the pressure was so high, and this job reminded me more of being in the sky than being trapped in the bastion all day.

  I found that source of calm within me and let my nerves go. When I’d been in the air, I liked to imagine bundling them up and throwing them over the side like a ship getting rid of deadweight. This was the same principle.

  I was ready then, and Antoinette was satisfied.

  Almost immediately after—I wondered somehow if she’d known—we came to a dead end.

  “Here we are,” Antoinette said simply, tracing the uneven lines on the stone wall with her palm. She was searching for a trigger of some sort, I realized, to open a secret door. It took her a few moments—the first time I’d seen her not know the answer straightaway—though she found it at last after kneeling on the stone and sliding her hand against a lump in the rock. We heard an agonizingly loud creak, then the wall shifted by a few inches, just enough for us to draw in our breaths and squeeze through.

  I opened my mouth to offer to lead the way, but Antoinette was already pushing herself into the open space. An instant later, she’d made it through, leaving me to follow behind.

  It wasn’t sensible—I was there to scout ahead and be the first in the way of danger, presumably so she’d be the one to make it to the Esarina—but I didn’t have much hope for my success if I were to argue with her. I was good at following another man’s lead, and Antoinette must know her way around the palace better than I.

  The secret passageway had led us into a quiet hall. I glanced over at Antoinette, who had a few streaks of black dirt across her dark face. Her expression could only be described as triumphant though she didn’t waste time to share what heartening knowledge she had with me. Instead, she turned purposefully to the left, moving as silently as a shadow down the hall.

  Again, I followed.

  I was careful to keep my focus sharp, my attention on any sounds that would signal disaster. At any moment, we could easily run into a servant or a member of the Esar’s personal guard. While Antoinette’s presence in the household might not have surprised them, our appearance certainly would. We looked like tunnelers, Antoinette’s skirts shredded and rock dust in our hair. When we passed by a brightly polished mirror, I saw that we looked like a pair of lunatics.

  If the Esarina did not think us mad, then she would prove to be far more understanding than her husband, for whom presentation had always been a matter of importance.

  We were currently traveling through the personal living quarters of the palace, I wagered—and because of that, there were fewer servants to disturb the sense of privacy and peace. However, it also meant I didn’t recognize a single door or fork in the hallway, akin to flying blind through unfamiliar skies. Antoinette’s knowledge of the place was key, though it made me uncomfortable not knowing how much longer it would take us or even where we were going.

  Suddenly, Antoinette stopped in front of a simple door framed by two white tables. “It is late, and the Esarina will be in her study,” she explained to me. Then, baffling me completely, she knocked gently on the door.

  “You may enter,” the Esarina’s voice replied, muffled, from the other side.

  I supposed it did make sense not to barge in on her—to follow rules of etiquette even though we were intruders in her home—but I marveled at Antoinette’s calm demeanor as she smoothed her skirts out before entering the room.

  The Esarina was indeed in her study at that late hour, as Antoinette had predicted. She was wearing a simple gown and few jewels, sitting in a window seat with a book on her lap. She was also blessedly alone.

  “Close the door, Balfour,” Antoinette suggested. I did as I was told.

  The Esarina shut her book, making a loud noise in the quiet room. “What has happened?” she asked, not missing the state of our attire. “Is it an attack? My husband once said that you would come for me if Thremedon were to fall.”

  Antoinette made a pained sound. “Thremedon’s under attack,” she said bluntly, defying all rules of diplomacy that I had ever been taught, “but it’s from His Highness this time, and not an outside source.”

  “I see,” the Esarina replied. Her voice betrayed nothing—no worry, no shock. It was as tranquil as her face, which in turn registered no emotion. “What has he done?”

  “He’s rebuilt the dragons,” I said; now that I’d found my voice, there was no time for timidity. “We’ve seen the pieces, and my fellow … ex–Chief Sergeant Adamo’s seen the completed versions.”

  The Esarina lifted a hand to her mouth, bowing her head over her book. She wasn’t wearing gloves, as she had been the last time I’d seen her, and I could see that her knuckles were red, as though she made a habit of wringing her hands. I understood that well enough. It was why I’d worn gloves, once—to hide that exact detail.

  “I never dreamed he’d go this far,” she said at last. “He spoke often, quite passionately, about what the Dragon Corps had meant to him and how he felt that it had been taken away by the circumstances of war, and … And by the airmen. Not that I believe he blamed you, necessarily, but I believe he always felt as though the reality never quite lived up to the dream. Their popularity was not his, nor their victories. Not really. But to accomplish all this in secret … How did he ever manage to hide their construction?”

  “They’re significantly smaller than the first dragons,” Antoinette explained. “And Nico is gifted in secrecy. You must know that better than anyone.”

  I wondered if she was referring to something more personal between them—but if the Esarina took that meaning from Antoinette’s words, they didn’t seem to wound her as they might have wounded a lesser person.

  “Still, to break our treaty with the Ke-Han, after all the trouble we went to in order to get it signed in the first place … Did you have any idea what he was up to, Antoinette?” the Esarina asked, raising her head at last. “I know he confided in you more than he ever did in me.”

  “If I had, Anastasia, rest assured that I would not have allowed things to progress to the point of my arrest,” Antoinette said almost wryly. “The facts are simple: Your husband has betrayed his country. You must know what would happen to Volstov if we were shown to be treaty-breakers. I, for one, do not wish my inaction to instigate another war.”

  “Nor I,” the Esarina agreed.

  Antoinette pressed on. “We have come to escort you to a place of safety until it can be decided how best to deal with Nico. I speak for the Basquiat when I say that your influence would be welcomed for dealing with the people.”

  “I must say, I never expected to hear such things from you,” the Esarina said. “But then, I cannot imagine I would ever be prepared to hear such things from anyone.” She still didn’t seem particularly upset, but then I knew better than anyone what diplomatic training could do to help someone obscure her emotions. Surely the Esarina would have been rigidly coached—even more than her husband, so that she could appear soft and pleasing while the Esar appeared to be strong. “Do you believe we must depose my husband?”

  “I do,” Antoinette replied with a certainty in her voice I didn’t s
hare. I agreed with her assessment—but it wouldn’t have been so easy for me to speak the final words.

  “And you have come to take me to the Basquiat,” the Esarina mused. “That must mean …”

  “You are the figurehead under which our country must now unite,” Antoinette said. “You are a member of royalty; the second-in-command in title. The people will respect your claim to the throne, and it will seem less like a petty rabble has deposed their Esar.”

  “I always imagined that if this day ever came, you would back Dmitri’s claim to the throne,” the Esarina said softly.

  Antoinette smiled and gathered up the ruins of her skirts to perform a brief curtsy.

  “My son is an excellent Provost,” she explained. “Would you have me remove him from that position? I do not imagine Thremedon could find his equal for a replacement, and soon he would be blamed for the lack of order in the streets. The people would resent him. Besides, this country has two rulers for this exact reason, does it not?”

  “On its good days,” the Esarina said, rising to her feet at last. She didn’t seem to know what to do with her book, so I reached out to take it from her. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Your Highness,” I responded automatically. It didn’t seem an appropriate response, given the gravity of the situation, and so I added, “I’m sorry.” That, too, was weak, but at least the Esarina appeared to have already forgiven me for it.

  “It is strange that we should meet here again, Balfour Vallet,” the Esarina said. Up close she did look sad, but wistfully so, wearing the cryptic expression of a lone noblewoman in an oil painting. “If I am able in the future to write your mother again, I shall have to tell her how her son has proven a hero to his country twice over. Few young men are so remarkable these days.”

  “Few have such bad luck as I do, you mean,” I said.

  To be truthful, I was in awe of the Esarina’s poise. She could have joined the corps on a raid and fit in perfectly with that measure of calm in the face of her world crumbling around her. Perhaps she’d always known, on some level, that it would come to this, and had been preparing mentally for quite some time. I didn’t have enough intimate knowledge of her relationship with her husband to wager a guess, but her strength when presented with her duties was like the other side of the ha’penny to Antoinette’s. They were very different women yet equally admirable.

  Luvander in particular would have been delighted with certain key bits of gossip to which I’d accidentally been made privy, confirmation of Provost Dmitri’s parentage prime among them. But even though I’d memorized every detail of this private meeting, I planned on keeping it just that way—private. It seemed the only decent thing to do.

  “Here is your coat,” Antoinette said, having gone to the Esarina’s wardrobe while we’d been speaking. She held it for the Esarina while she put it on and I felt my pulse quicken at the reality of what was about to happen. It was inevitable, and we’d been forced to choose this path; nevertheless, it was difficult to believe it. Even in the days when our girls had been going mad and refusing orders and everyone had been too scared to talk to their closest friends about it, we’d never considered rebelling outright against the Esar. We’d gone to him with our concerns—more like demands—but we’d always trusted him to answer them, no matter how mad we’d been that he was keeping secrets from us. This was an entirely different plan.

  From this moment on, there was truly no turning back.

  I faced Antoinette, meaning to ask her recommendation on the swiftest way out of the palace, when the quiet patter of some distant, gentle noise filled my ears, distracting me from my purpose. It sounded like muffled speech of the sort I heard most days coming from my upstairs neighbors when they chose to shout to one another across the apartment instead of moving from room to room.

  “Do you hear that?” I asked in a hushed tone.

  Antoinette went still as she listened, and the Esarina shook her head.

  “I do not hear anything,” she said, pulling the fabric of her coat more tightly around her. It was a beautiful piece of work, deep blue wool with a lining that looked as though it was made of some soft, white fur. I could tell it was the sort of thing Luvander’s latest hats drew their inspiration from. Thinking of him drew my thoughts back into the present. I had to retain the hope that those Antoinette and I had abandoned in the tunnels were all right.

  It would be especially cruel for Raphael to return from the dead only to end up buried beneath Thremedon after his homecoming—only I truly couldn’t think about that, or else I’d go mad.

  “I thought you might have heard my husband,” the Esarina murmured. She didn’t balk at speaking of him; she clearly wasn’t superstitious enough to believe mentioning him would cause him to appear. I was not so lucky, and I examined the room once more, just to be certain.

  “My apologies,” I told her. “In my line of work, I’ve found it better to be safe than sorry.”

  “Best to get under way,” Antoinette said, taking the lead by heading for the door. “Before we all start leaping at shadows.”

  I heard the whispering again when she pulled it open, but it was as inscrutable as a spring breeze, with no form or words that I could catch. The Esarina started after Antoinette, which left me to guard our perimeter from behind. It was a position to which I was unaccustomed, but it seemed most prudent to have the woman with the most knowledge of the palace leading the way, and me behind to keep the Esarina safe should anything threaten our progress.

  We traveled to the end of the corridor and turned left, passing by a vaulted stone archway to pause in front of another room.

  “The audience chamber has many passages leading to the palace exit,” Antoinette explained, opening the door and ushering us in.

  “I had guessed this was the way we would travel,” the Esarina said.

  The audience chamber was an eerie place in the dark, silvery light from the moon shining in through a round window set into the ceiling. Our footsteps were swallowed up by the heavy carpet, so that now I really couldn’t ignore the constant whispering in my head. Slowly but surely it was taking shape, forming a language I hadn’t recognized before because I’d been listening for speech, not the same word repeated haltingly over and over again.

  Balfour, it was saying. Just my name. It wasn’t even pronouncing it correctly, as though it was reading the foreign syllables off a sheet of paper.

  I didn’t know whether I was hallucinating, or if perhaps my fever had returned. Once we got to the Basquiat, I might be able to speak to someone about my problem; the magicians had a great deal of experience with fevers these days. There had to be someone who could help me.

  We’d made it halfway across the room when two doors opened on either side of us, and the sound of boots against stone filled the air. I felt my heart leap into my throat, the way it had when Anastasia—the dragon and not the woman, as I now needed to make that distinction—had gone into a steep dive without giving me fair warning. Uniformed guards poured in from both directions; the light of the moon was enough for me to note that they were not dressed as the Esar’s usual guards but rather in some formal attire I didn’t recognize. Within seconds we were surrounded by men in green uniforms, that resembled very closely what the corps had once worn—epaulettes, tassels, and all. It actually made me irrationally furious to look at them, but now wasn’t the time to let my anger get the better of me.

  Antoinette drew the Esarina behind her and even bared her teeth. Covered in dirt and ash from the passage, she somehow looked more menacing—like a vengeful spirit that had clawed her way free of the grave.

  “Not a step closer, any of you,” Antoinette said in a tone that reminded me very much of Adamo’s when he was pushed to the breaking point. “I am Lady Antoinette, and if you know that name, you know what I can do to the likes of you. If you value your lives—not to mention your minds, if they can be called such—you’ll get out of my way.”

  “Don’t move,” sa
id a voice from within the crowd. I recognized it all too well, but I was still hoping I was hallucinating that voice, too.

  The men of the guard parted, revealing the Esar behind them. Much like the Esarina, he was dressed casually in simple clothing and his family rings, though there was nothing casual about his gaze as it flicked over the three of us.

  There was a madness in his eyes, I realized. Something frenzied that he was only keeping in check by his enormous will. Surely he didn’t think he could carry on this way? But then, presumably that was the problem: he believed himself capable when he no longer was. It was our duty—the Esarina’s duty—to convince him of the truth. Barring that, it would be our duty to depose him.

  “Hello, Antoinette,” the Esar said, coming forward through the pathway his guard had opened up for him. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you. I told Troius he couldn’t expect to hold you for long, but he seemed very confident. I suspect he knows what these men do not: that you need blood to work your little Talent. Clever bluff, as always. You’re very frightening when you want to be. I might even have believed it myself, though I, of course, know better.”

  “I do not reason with madmen,” Antoinette said, turning her face to the side. “Despite how long I have chosen to stay in Thremedon. Your words are wasted on me.”

  “Then I will speak to the Esarina,” the Esar said. “Discover what lies you’ve poisoned her with. Imagine my mistress and my wife, conspiring together against me.”

  “It’s happened to other men before,” Antoinette said darkly. “With some success, even.”

  “And a member of my old Dragon Corps, I believe,” the Esar added, glancing quickly at me. He still had a discerning eye; I would give him that. “It was only a matter of time before you turned against me. You loathed submitting your personal wills to a master. It’s why, despite how useful your training was, I could never include you in my new plans.”

  “Oh, yes,” Antoinette said. “It’s so wise to surround yourself with agreeable lackeys rather than people willing to tell you when your plans are pigheaded and disastrous. That’s how all good empires come to an end, you know.”