Queen of Candesce v-2

by Karl Schroeder

  Ah. It was this and then that was the problem. He had found Selene, and she had turned him over to Sacrus. She was theirs—a recruit, like the ones Moss claimed had left many of Spyre’s sovereign lands. Sacrus had promised Selene something, had lied to her; they must have. But Garth was too old to fight them and too old to think of all the clever and true words that might win his daughter’s heart.

  Selene, his kin, had betrayed him. And Venera Fanning, who owed him nothing, had risked her life to save his.

  He pushed himself off from the wall and struggled to catch up to her.

  A man ran down the broad steps of the Justice ministry. He waved his arms over his head. “Don’t go that way! Not safe!”

  Venera paused and glanced at him. “You’re one of Bryce’s.”

  “That I am, Miss Thrace-Guiles.” Garth half smiled at the man’s bravado; these democrats refused to address people by their titles. Venera didn’t seem to notice, and they had a hurried conversation that Garth couldn’t hear.

  “There you are.” He turned to find the preservationist, Thinblood, sauntering up behind him. He grinned at Garth. “You ran off like a startled hare when she came out of the council chamber.”

  Garth grunted. Thinblood seemed to have decided he was an old man who needed coddling. It was annoying. He had to admit to himself that it was a relief to have him here, though. The rest of this motley party consisted mostly of Venera’s other freed prisoners and they made for bad company, for much the same reasons as Garth supposed he did. They all looked apprehensive and tired. It didn’t help that their presence at council didn’t seem to have made a dent in Sacrus’s support.

  Garth and Thinblood had been talking under an awning across the street when Venera Fanning appeared at the official’s entrance to the council chamber. She backed out slowly, her posture strange. As she emerged further it became clear that she was holding a gun and aiming it at someone. That someone had turned out to be Jacoby Sarto.

  Before he knew it Garth was by her side. “What are you doing?” he heard himself shouting. She’d merely grimaced and kept backing up.

  “Things didn’t go our way,” she’d said. Past Sarto, the council guards were lining up with their rifles aimed at her. At the same time, the commoners’ doors around the long curve of the building were thrown open. A hoard of people spilled out, some of them fighting openly. Venera’s supporters ran to her side as Bryce’s agents appeared from nowhere to act as crowd control. And then a gasp went up from the watching crowd as Principe Guinevera and Pamela Anseratte pushed the council guards aside and came to stand at Venera’s side.

  “The lines have been drawn,” Anseratte said to the council guards. “Sacrus is not on the council’s side. Stand down.”

  Reluctantly, the guards lowered their rifles.

  Garth leaned close to Venera. “Did he tell them your… secret?” But she shook her head.

  Maybe it was having Thinblood’s reassuring hand on his shoulder, but as Venera argued now with Bryce’s spy, the fog of fatigue and pain lifted enough for Garth to begin to wonder about that. Jacoby Sarto had not told the council who Venera really was? That made no sense. Right now Amandera Thrace-Guiles was the darling of the old countries. She was the resurrected victim of Sacrus’s historical arrogance; she was a champion. If Sarto wanted to deflate Sacrus’s opposition all he had to do was reveal that she was a fake.

  “Why did she do it?” he wondered aloud. Thinblood laughed.

  “You’re trying to second-guess our Amandera?” He shook his head. “She’s got too much fire in her blood, that’s clear enough. Obviously, she saw a chance to take Sarto and she went with it.”

  Garth shook his head. “The woman I know wouldn’t see Sarto as a prize to be taken. She’d think him a burden and be happy to be rid of him. And if he’s a prisoner why doesn’t he seem more concerned?” Sarto was standing with his arms crossed, waiting patiently for Venera to finish her conversation. He seemed more to be with her than taken by her. Garth seemed to be the only one who had noticed this.

  “Attention!” Venera raised her pistol and for a moment he thought she was about to fire off a round. She already had the attention of everyone in sight, though, and seemed to realize it. “Buridan is under siege!” she cried. “Our ancient house is surrounded by Sacrus’s people. We can’t go back there.”

  Garth hurried over. “What are we going to do? They’ve moved faster than we anticipated.”

  She nodded grimly. “Apparently, their ground forces are moving to surround the elevator cables—the ones they can get to, that is.”

  “Most of our allies are on Greater Spyre,” he said. If Sacrus isolated them up here in the city, they would have to rely on the preservationists, and a few clearheaded leaders such as Moss, to organize the forces down there.

  For a moment that thought filled Garth with hope. If Venera was sidelined at this stage, she might be able to avoid being drawn into the heart of the coming conflagration. A checkmated Buridan might survive with honor, no matter who won.

  Clearly Venera had no intention of going down that road. “We need to get down there,” she was saying. “Sacrus doesn’t control all the elevators. Pamela, your country’s line, where is it?”

  Anseratte shook her head. “It’s two wheels away from here. We might make it, but if Sacrus already has men in the streets they’ve probably taken the axis cable cars as well.”

  Guinevera shook his head as well. “Our line comes down about a mile from Carrangate. They’re an old ally of Sacrus. They could use us for target practice on our way down.”

  “What about Liris?” It was one of Moss’s men, standing alertly with a proud look in his eye. “Lady, we are the only nation in Spyre that has recently fought a war. There may not be many of us, but…”

  She turned a dazzling smile on the man. “Thank you. Yes—but your elevator is above the Fair, isn’t it?”

  “And the Fair, m’lady, is six blocks up the wheel, that way.” He pointed off to the left.

  “This way!” Venera gestured for Sarto to precede her, then stalked toward the distant pile of buttresses and roofs that was the Fair.

  Garth followed, but as the fog of exhaustion and pain slowly lifted from him he found himself considering their chances. It was folly for Venera to involve herself in this war. Sidelined, she might be safe.

  Sacrus had known what to reveal about her to draw her fangs, but they had chosen not to reveal it. The only person on this side of the conflict who knew was Garth himself. If word got out, Venera would naturally assume that it was Sacrus’s doing. It would be so simple…

  Troubled but determined to follow this thought to its conclusion, Garth put an extra effort into his footsteps and kept up with Venera as she made for the Fair.

  * * * *

  Liris perched on the very lip of the abyss. At sunoff the building’s roof was soaked with light, all golds and purple and rose. The sky that opened beyond the battlement was open to all sides; Venera could almost imagine that she was back in the provinces of Meridian where the town wheels were small and manageable and you could fly through the free air whenever you chose. She leaned out, the better to lose herself in the radiance.

  Tents had been set up on the rooftop behind her, and Moss was holding court to a wild variety of Spyre dignitaries. They came in all shapes and sizes, masked and unmasked, lords and ladies and diplomats and generalissimos. United by their fear of Sacrus and its allies, they were hastily assembling a battle plan while their tiny armies traveled here from across Greater Spyre. Venera had looked for those armies earlier—but who could spot a dozen men here or there making their way between the mazelike walls of the estates?

  It would be an eerie journey, she knew. Garth had shown her the overgrown gates to estates whose windows were slathered with black paint, whose occupants had not been seen in generations. Smoke drifted from their chimneys; someone was home. The soldiers of her alliance might stop at one or two of those gateways and shout and rattle the ir
on, hoping to find allies within. But there would be no answer, unless it be a rifle shot from behind a wall.

  For the first time in days, Venera found herself idle. She was too tired to look for something to do, and so as she gazed out at the endless skies that familiar deep melancholy stole over her. This time, she let it happen.

  She wanted Chaison back. It was time to admit it. There were many moments every day when Venera longed to turn to him and grin and say, “Look what I did!” or “Have you ever seen anything like it?” She’d had such a moment only an hour ago, as the first of the Dali horses were led into their new paddock in the far corner of Liris’s lot. The spindly steeds had been trained to be ridden, and she had mounted up herself and trotted one in a circle. Oh, she’d wanted to catch someone’s eye at that moment! But she was Amandera Thrace-Guiles now. There was no one to appeal to, not even Garth, who was making himself scarce since their arrival.

  She heard a footstep behind her. Bryce leaned on the stones and casually reached out to take her hand. She almost snatched it back, but his touch awoke something in her. This was not the man she wanted, but there was some value in him wanting her. She smiled at him.

  “All the pawns and knights are in play,” he said. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand. “It’s our opponent’s move. What would you like to do while we wait?”

  Venera’s pulse quickened. His strong fingers were kneading her hand now, almost painfully.

  “Uh…” she said, then before she could talk herself out of it, “They’ve given me an actual room this time.”

  “Well.” He smiled ironically. “That’s an honor. Let’s go try it out.”

  He walked toward the stairs. Venera hesitated, turning to look out at the dimming sky. No: the pang was still there, and no amount of time with Bryce was going to make it go away. But what was she to do?

  Venera followed him down the stairs, her excitement mounting. Several people hailed her, but she simply waved and hurried past. “This way,” she said, grabbing Bryce’s arm as he made to descend the main stairs. She dragged him through a doorway hidden behind a faded tapestry. This led to a narrow and dusty little corridor with several doors leading off of it. Hers was at the end.

  She barely had time to open the door before his arms were around her waist. He kissed her with passionate force and together they staggered back to the bed under its little pebbled-glass window.

  “Shut the door!” she gasped, and as he went to comply she undid her blouse. As he knelt on the bed she guided his hand under the silk. They kept their mouths locked together as they undressed one another, then she took his cock in her hands and didn’t let go as they sank back onto the cushions.

  Later as they sprawled across the demolished bed, he turned to her and said, “Are we partners?”

  Venera blinked at him for a moment. Her mind had been entirely elsewhere—or more exactly, nowhere. “What?”

  He shrugged onto his side and his hand casually fell on her hip. “Am I your employee? Or are we pursuing parallel interests?”

  “Oh. Well, that’s your decision, isn’t it?”

  “Hmm.” He smiled, but she could tell he wasn’t satisfied with that reply. “My people have been acting as your spies for the past few weeks. They’re not happy about it. Truth to tell, Amandera, I’m not happy about it.”

  “Aaahhh…” She stretched and leaned back. “So the past hour was your way of softening me up for this conversation?”

  “Well, no, but if there’s going to be a good strategic moment to raise the issue, this has got to be it.” She laughed at his audacity. He was no longer smiling, though.

  “You’d be mistaken if you thought I was picking sides in this war,” he said. “I don’t give a damn whether it’s Sacrus or your faction that wins. It’s still titled nobles, and it’ll make no difference to the common people.”

  Now she sat up. “You want your printing press.”

  “I have my printing press. I forged your signature on some orders and it was delivered yesterday. Those of my people who aren’t in the field right now are running it. Turning out bills by the thousands.”

  She examined his face in the candlelight. “So… how many of your people really are in the field?”

  “A half dozen.”

  “You told me they were all out!” She glared at him as a knife of pain shot up her jaw. “A half dozen? Is this why we had no warning that the estate was being attacked? Because you were keeping a handful of people where they’d be visible to me?—So I’d think they were all out?”

  “That’s about the size of it, yes.”

  She punched him in the chest. “You lost me my estate! My house! What else have you given to Sacrus?”

  “Sacrus is not my affair,” he said. Bryce was deadly earnest now. Clearly she had misjudged him. “Restoring emergent democracy in Virga is my only interest,” he said. “But I don’t want you to die in this war, and I’m sorry about your house, if it’s any consolation. But what choice did I have? If everything descends into chaos, when am I going to get my ink? My paper? When were you going to do what I needed you to do? Look me in the eye and tell me it was a priority for you.”

  Venera groaned. “Oh, Bryce. This is the worst possible time…”

  “—The only time I have!”

  “All right, all right, I see your point.” She glowered at the plaster ceiling. “What if… what if I send some of my people in to run the press? We don’t need trained insurgents to do that. All I want is to get your people out in the field! I’ll give you as much ink and paper as you want.”

  He flopped onto his back. “I’ll think about that.”

  There was a brief silence.

  “You could have asked,” she said.

  “I did!”

  Venera was trying to think of some way to reply to that when there was a loud bang and she found herself inside a storm of glass, shouting in surprise and trying to jump out of the way, banging her chin while shards like claws scrawled up her ribs and along her thigh.

  Scratched and stunned, she sat up to find herself on the floor. Bryce was kneeling next to her. The candle had gone out, and she sensed rather than saw the carpet of broken glass between her and her boots. The little window gaped, the leading bent and twisted to let in a puff of cold night air. “What was…” Now she heard gunfire.

  “Oh shit.” Bryce stood up and reached down to draw her to her feet. “We’ve got to get out there.

  “Sacrus has arrived.”

  18

  There was still a splinter in the ball of her foot, but Venera had no time to find it and dig it out. She and Bryce raced up the stairs to the roof as shouts and thundering feet began to sound on the steps below.

  They reached the roof, and Bryce immediately ran off somewhere to the right. “I need to get to the semaphore!” he shouted before disappearing into the gloom. All the lanterns had been put out, Venera realized; she could just see the silhouettes of the tents where her people had been meeting. The black cut-out shapes of men roved to and fro, and she made out the gleam of a rifle barrel here and there. It was strangely quiet, though.

  She found the flap to the main tent more by instinct than anything else, and stepped in. Lanterns were still lit here, and Thinblood, Pamela Anseratte, Principe Guinevera, Moss, and the other leaders were all standing around a map table. They all looked over as she entered.

  “Ah, there you are,” said Guinevera in a strangely jovial tone. “We think we know what they’re up to.”

  She moved over to the table to look at the map. Little counters representing Sacrus’s forces were scattered around the unrolled rectangle of Greater Spyre. A big handful of tokens was clustered at the very edge of the sheet, where Liris had its land.

  “It’s an insane amount of men,” said Thinblood. He appeared strangely nervous. “We think over a thousand. Never seen anything like it in Spyre.”

  Guinevera snorted. “Obviously they hope to capture our entire command all at once and end the war b
efore it begins. And it looks like they stand a good chance of succeeding. What do you think, Venera?”

  “Well, I—” She froze.

  They were all staring at her. All silent.

  Guinevera reached into his brocaded coat and drew out a sheet of paper. With shocking violence he slammed it down on the table in front of her. Venera found herself looking at a poor likeness of herself—with her former hairstyle—on a poster that said, Wanted for Extradition to Gehellen, VENERA FANNING.

  “So it’s true,” said Guinevera. His voice was husky with anger, and his hand, still flattening the poster, was shaking.

  She chewed her lip and tried to stare him down. “This is hardly the time—”

  “This is the time!” he bellowed. “You have started a war!”

  “Sacrus started it,” she said. “They started it when they—”

  But he’d struck her full across the face, and she spun to the floor.

  She tasted blood in her mouth. Where was Bryce? Why wasn’t Moss rushing to her defense?

  Why wasn’t Chaison here?

  Guinevera reared over her, his dense mass making her flinch back. “Don’t try to blame others for what you’ve done! You brought this catastrophe on us, imposter! I say we hang her over the battlement and let Sacrus use her for target practice.” He reached down to take her arm as Venera scrambled to get her feet under her.

  Light knifed through the tent’s entrance flap and then miraculously the whole tent lifted up as though tugged off the roof by a giant. The giant’s cough was still echoing in Venera’s ears as the tent sailed into the permanent maelstrom at the edge of the world, and was snatched away like a torn kerchief.

  Another bright explosion, and everyone ducked. Then everyone was running and shouting at once and soldiers were popping up to fire their blunderbusses, then squatting to refill them as trails of smoke and fire corkscrewed overhead. Venera’s ears were still ringing, everything strangely aloof as she stood up and watched the big map on the table lift in the sudden breeze and slide horizontally into the night.