"What is this? Can't you grab a single slave and carry her away?" Third seized Laniis by the tail and then the waist, throwing her bodily from the fray. "I had no idea the creature had so much spirit," he said as he reached for the Eldritch, and the Slave Queen heard the rise of his particular interest in the heat of his voice just as he wrapped a hand around a white ankle.
The Eldritch screamed. The Slave Queen had never heard such abject horror in her life, and despite her shock at the sudden noise the Chatcaavan was not surprised to see the female go limp. Somehow such a scream demanded the release of consciousness, if only out of kindness.
"What did you do to her?" Third snarled.
"I didn't do anything!" his Hand replied, bristling. "She screamed when you touched her, not me."
"Wake her up," Third said, whirling to face the Slave Queen. Startled to be addressed, the Queen kneeled with little grace beside the female and examined her face. Pressing her fingers to the female's neck, The Queen fumbled for a pulse where she'd seen it on the Ambassador's neck and almost missed it, so slow and irregular was it. The white skin had taken on a gray cast and sucked all the warmth from her fingertips.
"This one-your-lesser doesn't think she-your-lesser can be roused," the Chatcaavan said, silently blessing Third for whatever heinous acts he'd been contemplating when he touched the female. Surely they had been the cause of her faint. "At least, not immediately. Her-your-lesser mind is very fragile, my-better."
"We can take the others," the Hand said.
"The Emperor doesn't want the others, idiot," Third said. "He wants the furless white one." He leaned over and slapped the Eldritch across the face without result. He tried again, and again.
"This-one-your-lesser begs you to stop!" the Slave Queen exclaimed, flaring her wings and holding out her hands. "You-my-better will not wake her-your-lesser with beatings! She-your-lesser needs rest to recuperate! The Exalted Emperor must be told that she-your-lesser is indisposed."
"The Emperor will break off my horns if I return without her. I'll take her body and he can rape that if he wants."
The Slave Queen bared her teeth. "If you-my-better pick her-your-lesser up she-your-lesser will sink deeper into catatonia... perhaps never to rise from it. Do you-my-better wish to be responsible for that tragedy?"
Third hesitated.
"Send the Hand with the news," the Slave Queen said, earning a baleful glare from that unfortunate, trying everything possible to distract Third: the novelty of her giving him orders would surely suffice, "and send for the Surgeon, since he is now necessary." She glanced at Laniis's unmoving body. "And if this one's personal attendant has been injured, the only slave to survive the first clutch you-my-better procured, the Exalted Emperor will be much displeased."
Third snorted. "As if I would take orders from a female," he said. "Come, Hand. Let us leave these breakable toys to their nest. We will convince the Emperor they are not worth his attention tonight."
The Hand looked uncertain, but his anger had subsided; accompanying his master anywhere was a better fate than having to explain alone to an irate Emperor why they'd failed to fetch his requested toys. The Slave Queen watched them depart with disgust, then went to Laniis's side. The Seersa had curled into a tight ball.
"Laniis?" the Queen whispered. "It's safe, they're gone. Tell me you are not hurt."
"I'm fine, Mistress," the Seersa replied in a small voice. "Just a little bruised." She uncoiled, limb by limb, until she was on her hands and knees. "The girl... she started resisting the Hand when he came in, so I tried to separate them—"
"And then Third touched her," the Slave Queen said with a sigh. "I'm not sure whether to laugh or scream. The Emperor won't want to use her for any test tonight, but this was not how I anticipated delaying the demonstration!" She went back to the Eldritch's side, Laniis following, and crouched next to her. "Do you think she will die?"
"I don't know," Laniis said, worry crimping her eyes and framing her mouth with lines. "I know so little about the Eldritch. Few people do."
"Find the other two," the Slave Queen said. "I will move her someplace more comfortable."
Laniis nodded and scampered away, leaving the Queen to the task of gathering the Eldritch's frail body in her arms and carrying her to a divan in the antechamber. She arranged the female onto a mound of pillows and covered her with several blankets, but still her skin did not warm. Had it not been for her slow heartbeat, the Queen would have thought her dying for certain.
Laniis brought both of the other females. The Tam-illee took one look at the Eldritch and burst into tears, babbling something only the Seersa and the Malari could understand. The Slave Queen ignored them both and backed away; Laniis stepped in between them and attempted to talk to them, but everything she said only increased their distress. The conversation didn't seem to have an end, and they were making so much noise the Slave Queen didn't hear the footsteps on the stairwell.
"As you can see, Exalted Emperor, she is unconscious," Third's voice said from the landing. Startled, the Slave Queen jumped in front of the divan as the Emperor appeared off the stairwell, stalking toward the Eldritch. He halted at the female's side and stared down at her.
"So I see," the Emperor said after a moment. His yellow eyes narrowed. "I also see something new, Third." His clawed fingertips traced the edge of the Eldritch's jaw, firming into a grip on her chin. He tilted her face this way, then that, before gently releasing it and turning to Third. The Slave Queen barely saw the blow that knocked Third to the floor, so swiftly did it fly. Nor was it the last—a flurry of raking slaps, ending with the Emperor trapping one of Third's hands beneath a taloned foot and pressing it against the unforgiving stone floor. Third twitched beneath the pressure, hissing. Calmly, the Emperor squeezed until the Slave Queen heard a pop, and then a second.
"Your hands, Third," the Emperor said. "In the future, you will keep them to yourself unless I give you permission."
"She is just a wingless freak, Exalted," Third rasped from the ground, voice wire-thin with pain. "There are more like her to be found."
"Yes, there are. But this one is my wingless freak, and you will not beat her without my permission. Now get out of my sight."
Third scrambled to his feet, seething but also cradling his new injury. He left with only a little too much haste with his Hand on his heels, wings tightly folded to present as narrow a profile as possible to the Emperor's predatory eyes.
The Emperor gazed for several more minutes on the still face of the Eldritch female, then waved the Slave Queen over. She joined him and slid to her hands and knees, bending her neck to him. He did not immediately touch her; when he did, his fingers trailed down to her mane, tangling in it. She wondered at the softness of his touch, remembered the peculiar thing he'd said to the Ambassador in Second's presence. He had called her one of his treasures.
One of his treasures. Did it mean he thought of her as more than chattel?
"You believe she is damaged permanently?" he asked.
The Slave Queen hesitated. To tell the truth might see her beaten now—to tell a falsehood, later. Best to face it now. "Most Exalted master," she whispered, "this one does not know. But she is gravely endangered, and it may be that she will not rise from it. If she does, it will not be easily."
"And this began because of Third," the Emperor said.
"Master, she was on her feet and speaking before Third touched her. His grasp caused her to scream and fall into this state."
"Merely his touch," the Emperor said. "It is as the Ambassador said, then... they are as fragile as they look."
The Slave Queen said nothing, not trusting the gentle touch in her mane; it only proved the Emperor's mind was elsewhere.
"He is solely responsible for this," the Emperor said. "And he will be punished accordingly. You—" and the word was unvarnished, not demeaning her, nor favoring, "you will see her healed."
"Yes, Master," she replied, and became pliable as he bent her backward to t
ake out his anger on her unresisting body.
Not all Chatcaavan court suppers involved executions, Lisinthir was glad to see... only the stultifying boredom that gave him too much time to run over the plan for flaws. He ate mechanically, barely noting the breeze or the way the alien pollen twinkled where it landed on the backs of his gloves. The high sky and the distant moons were still new, but not engaging enough to drag him out of his thoughts—it took several whispers on the part of a discreet server to do that.
"The Emperor requires your presence after dinner in his rooms," the server said.
Lisinthir glanced at the center table. The Emperor was not watching him—he and Second were speaking, heads close and ducked together. A nod dismissed the server, leaving Lisinthir to wonder whether his sudden lack of appetite was fear or a respectable urge to face battle on an empty stomach.
No guide escorted him up the long flights of stairs this time, though the posted guards followed his progress with their slit pupils. They were arrogant, these Chatcaava... or they believed themselves so strong they did not fear him wandering alone. He would have to go exploring and see how far he got before being stopped.
At the top of the tower, Lisinthir stopped to compose himself. No one offered to announce him, so he knocked and braved the suite when the Chatcaavan called, "Enter."
The Emperor was pacing—no, not quite that. Prowling suited better. He prowled in front of the balcony with its open windows, black silhouette against purple sky, his robe swishing around his legs. Lisinthir was not yet accustomed to the force of presence the drake projected in enclosed spaces and stood by the door, holding the distance between them. From there he bowed, aware of the crinkle of leather near his breast where he rested his cupped hand. Poor protection, that, so why did he fight to keep from clenching his fingers? "Most Exalted. You honor me with your invitation."
"This is business," the Emperor said. "Sit."
The brusque manner was new. Lisinthir walked into the suite with an ease he didn't feel and sat as commanded, never letting his gaze break from the male who continued to pace. The frustrated energy of it seemed purely physical, as if the Emperor contained too much to keep still. Lisinthir watched this display for several minutes before the Emperor finally whirled on him and spoke.
"Your kind are fragile."
A rhetorical question or a statement? Lisinthir said, "I recall saying so."
"Why?" the Emperor said. "I thought the Alliance soft enough. The discovery that there are softer creatures that are still sapient is a revelation."
"I'm not sure that is a question that has an answer," Lisinthir said. "Why are the Chatcaava hard?"
"Because we were meant to hold the universe, of course," the Emperor said.
"A matter of opinion," Lisinthir said.
The Emperor paused, as if surprised, and then laughed. Once again seemed the male Lisinthir had first met. "Which is why you are here, yes? Second tells me you will not allow yourself to be called a wingless freak. And I have a tale through Third that you threatened his Hand with a sword."
"Third's Hand let himself into my chambers like a common thief," Lisinthir said. "Of course I threatened him. You wonder if all Eldritch are soft. I wonder if all Chatcaava are rude."
"And your females die beneath you, bearing your children," the Emperor said.
"Often," Lisinthir replied, fighting unease.
"And yet you bother with them."
"We could hardly survive without them," Lisinthir said dryly.
"I would be displeased to lose my treasure too quickly," the Emperor said. "And yet I wonder if she will be any fun at all."
It slipped out before he could censor it. "Pardon my insolence, Exalted, but your notion of fun is offensive."
The Emperor paused, then stalked closer, bringing that predatory aura with him. "You do not enjoy games of the flesh, Ambassador?"
Lisinthir forced himself not to blink, not to look away. "Not with the unwilling."
"But with the willing?" the Emperor pressed.
"Those are different stories," Lisinthir said.
"And the game of the unwilling being made into the willing?"
The male had come uncomfortably close; the force of his presence found the few places Lisinthir's skin was exposed and radiated there, like an unwelcome sun. He would not be able to bear it long without flinching. "Was there a specific reason the Emperor requested my presence?" Lisinthir said.
"No," the Emperor said. "I just wondered at the frailty of your females. Tell me, Ambassador, what punishment do you exact from those who render your females unusable?"
Lisinthir's heart stumbled, leaped to catch up with itself. "It depends on the crime, Exalted One. But few of them are pleasant."
"Like?" the Emperor asked.
Lisinthir said, "We may imprison him for many years."
The ridges above the Emperor's eyes lifted, gathering more light into the pool of his yellow irises. "And this is your idea of excruciating punishment?"
"I don't know about excruciating," Lisinthir said. "But it is unpleasant."
The Emperor stroked his claws, an act that should have seemed effeminate and instead drew attention to the menace that waited in the male's bare hand. He murmured to himself, "I shall have to find a new toy. A sturdier replacement." The Emperor turned a long, assessing stare on Lisinthir then... and his slow smile was even worse.
"Thank you for your time, Ambassador. You have given me much to consider. You may go."
Lisinthir rose and bowed, let himself out. He stood on the stairwell and gazed blankly at the facing wall. The frailty of females... such interest in them, in the crimes against them.
Something had happened to Bethsaida.
Lisinthir headed for the harem tower, trying not to worry. If Bethsaida had died, surely the Emperor would have made some cutting comment about it. It had to be a minor set-back. Some inconvenience that kept him from using her the way he wanted, to punish Lisinthir, to cow him into fleeing the Empire. All would be well. All must be well.
He gained the final steps up the harem's tower and stood at the topmost landing and the sense of wrongness and despondency infected him immediately. The Slave Queen's sagging frame next to the divan with its bundle of unmoving blankets... the blood drained from his face and hands so quickly his skin pebbled with gooseflesh even under his gloves. He approached as the Slave Queen twisted to look at him with somber orange eyes, but he could barely see her for the wreck of Bethsaida, could barely hear but the hissing whisper of his own breath, coming too quickly.
Of course he was here. Of course he knew, somehow.
"Is she going to die?" the Slave Queen asked in a small voice.
The Ambassador settled on the stool beside the girl's divan with a grace that seemed the more poignant for the dismay in his eyes. His hair shifted in glimmering strands around his shoulders as he pressed a hand against his chest and leaned over the girl, whispering something in their too-fluid language.
"Ambassador?" the Slave Queen said again, when the silence grew too deep for comfort. She had never witnessed him in such a state of obvious distress.
"Pardon me, lady," the Ambassador said, lifting his haunted gaze to hers. "You said something and I heard you not."
"Will she live?" the Queen asked again.
He looked at the Eldritch female's slack face. "I don't know," he said. "I have rarely seen one of my people so completely reduced. I've heard that too severe a mental blow and a person might never wake, but I have never actually met someone in such dire estate." He ran one hand over the other, gloves wrinkling, gathering shadows. "We do not touch one another, we Eldritch. We are trained so. How came she so, lady?"
"Third touched her," the Slave Queen said. "Merely a touch. And she fell into this state."
"Third touched her," the Ambassador repeated.
"He is... " She stopped. How to find words for Third's evil? "Perverse beyond good taste."
The Ambassador's eyes narrowed.
&n
bsp; She continued, "Do you truly believe she is beyond aid? Because if so we have a new problem."
"That being?" he asked briskly. He had marshaled his voice back under his command, though she could still see the tenderness of his horror in his eyes.
"The Emperor expects me to return her to health so she can be used as planned in his test of you," the Slave Queen said. "If I cannot actually do this... "
"I fear it would require a mind healer at this point," the Ambassador said.
"Then we must find some other plan," the Slave Queen said, her shoulders and wings drooping, and the depth of her disappointment surprised her even as it crushed her mood.
"Perhaps not," the Eldritch said after a moment. "If we can hide her, then you can play her part as a convalescent."
"That would give the Emperor more time to contrast me with her," the Slave Queen said, her entire body trembling. "The ruse may not survive such scrutiny."
"Perhaps not," the Ambassador said, "but she will not survive this place, my lady. We must do something."
"The risk is greater," the Slave Queen said. This cold in her marrows... this was fear. It was filling the hollow bones of her ribs. One encounter with the Emperor so wrapped in his blood-lust and violence that he wouldn't think to examine her was chancy enough; to pretend at the Eldritch's role for longer than that, trapped in a bed where he might visit her to ascertain her condition....
There was no precedent in the Queen's memory for a Slave Queen who Changed shape to derail her Emperor's political ploys. She knew what had happened to Slave Queens who'd tried to become involved in the politics of males, though, without adding Changing to their list of crimes. The current Emperor might find coming up with appropriate torture for her tiresome and simply execute her. She would be lucky in such case, and she did not trust luck.
"I can't do it," the Slave Queen said, rising from her reverie. She looked across the bed at the Ambassador. "It will not work. The risk is too great."
Even the Wingless Page 13
