Even the Wingless

by M. C. A. Hogarth

  Turning to the door, she came to an abrupt halt. Had she summoned him by using him as a talisman against the threat of responsibility? Now that he was here, she wished never to see him again, never to see that shattered look.

  Fortunately, as with most every vulnerability, he hid it quickly. She tried to speed his recovery—for her own comfort, as much as for his. "Would you please take the lantern, Ambassador?"

  "Ah, you have no hands for it, I see," he said and lifted it. That his hands didn't shake was a minor miracle. "Laniis—"

  "Should not have told you where I was," the Slave Queen said. "I would not have been gone long."

  He stepped past her into the center of the room and turned in place, letting his eyes linger. They had not deceived him on the first pass; he may have seen them only in history texts, but he knew enough to recognize the descendants of torture devices long abandoned by civilized races.

  "You find it vile," the Slave Queen said into a quiet magnified by the very smallness of the space. How so much evil could be crammed into it escaped Lisinthir's comprehension. The air was antiseptic, but the instruments themselves, as clean as they were, reeked of the suffering they'd wrought.

  "Everyone should find it vile," Lisinthir said and now he was shaking.

  "Torture is a rare event in this day," the Slave Queen said. "The Emperor, this Emperor, is less interested in torture than in... other things. He is responsible for the dust that gathers on some of the things here."

  "So why keep it?" Lisinthir asked.

  She could not shrug with the basket in her arms, but her voice held the same feel. "In case an example must be set. It is not used as often as the rest of the equipment here."

  Lisinthir studied the long rows of leather straps. They were so bland as to be multi-purpose, but somehow he knew better. "Humiliation. Cruelty."

  "Are better than death," the Slave Queen said. "We females are not the only ones to learn that lesson by adulthood."

  The harnesses in the corner, attached to artful metal frames, drew Lisinthir's gaze. He tried to imagine a person in one of them and couldn't, though whether this was a failure of his imagination or a seizing of his moral fiber he wasn't certain. He felt the Slave Queen come to his side.

  "This has been done to you," he said softly, to make it real.

  "Of course," she replied. Then, almost as an after-thought, she added, "They were not built for me."

  "For the other females, then," Lisinthir said. Surely this numbness presaged a terrible, terrible rage.

  "Oh no," the Slave Queen said. "It is a rack for males."

  Surprise drew him from the dangerous stillness growing inside. He glanced at her. "Pardon?"

  "For males," she repeated, and stepped to the rack. She pointed to a hook and thin cuff. "For the wing thumb. And here," to a row of clamps, "for the wing finger. To immobilize the wings. The other limbs go here and here—"

  "—males do this to one another?" Lisinthir asked. "Does no one have a normal reproductive drive in the Empire?"

  "It is not for reproductive purposes," the Slave Queen said, brows furrowing. "It is for the testing."

  "What the Emperor is doing to me," Lisinthir said, fighting a growing unease. "You said that was a test."

  "It is. A test appropriate for an alien. You are not a male to participate in the normal rituals of male domination."

  "Which are—"

  "—to force your will on other males in as violent and humiliating a way possible," the Slave Queen replied, canting her head. "The first to bend his neck is the lesser of the two. Thus our leaders choose themselves and keep their positions."

  "You ask me to believe that everyone in this court has been raped by the Emperor?" Lisinthir asked, astonished.

  "If he has not, it is because he is too insignificant to contest with the Emperor on that level," the Slave Queen said. And added, "There are other ways to prove your dominion... such as duels. But duels always end in death. They are wasteful." Perhaps his expression was too unguarded, for she said, "Do not concern yourself, Ambassador... you will not be tested so."

  "Because I'm Outside," Lisinthir said.

  "Because you're an alien," she corrected. "Aliens are not worthy of such consideration."

  "It's considered an honor to be good enough to be the Emperor's catamite?" Lisinthir asked, unable to believe it.

  "No," she said. "It is an honor to be believed dangerous enough to require such personal attention without being killed outright. Those the Emperor has personally dealt with become either his most bitter enemies or his most trusted confidants." She canted her head, casting her eyes to the ceiling, and added, "Or his most useful tools."

  "Unbelievable," Lisinthir said and set the lantern down. The rack had transformed from a mass of confusing leather and metal to something even less comprehensible. He tried to imagine a male Chatcaavan bound into it and failed. "Every time I learn something new about this society... " He shook his head, and on a whim reached out to touch the strap. Supple leather gave beneath his fingers, the drag of it sensual and smooth.

  "Better the males than us," the Slave Queen said and picked up her basket again. "Did you seek me for a reason, Ambassador?"

  "Yes," he said, his voice gone mysteriously husky. "Though now I fear to ask how a mere alien might gain the Emperor's trust."

  She laughed, a soft rasping sound. "An alien cannot, Ambassador."

  He held the door open for her, having received the answer he'd expected and feared.

  "The shuttle will come tomorrow?" the Slave Queen asked.

  "Yes," Lisinthir said. A savage pleasure surprised him at the thought that soon he would steal from the Empire with as little concern as the Empire had stolen from them. Not all aliens were impotent... and there were more ways to establish dominion than the Chatcaava had become accustomed to.

  "What will you do until then?" she asked.

  "Prepare," Lisinthir said.

  "Do you require aid?" the Slave Queen asked.

  Lisinthir laughed. "If by aid you mean "another gift from the Emperor's good-enough-for-guests harem," then no, I will be fine on my own."

  "I did not," the Slave Queen said in a voice that sounded unexpectedly flat. "But help in bathing, or a soothing massage, those things previous ambassadors have not turned away."

  "They've been offered such services?" Lisinthir asked.

  "As gifts to guests, yes," the Slave Queen said. Her alien eye, so large and whiteless, flicked up to his though she didn't move her head. "Also gift harem services. Not all of your people turned them away."

  "And by that they were judged," Lisinthir said.

  "Of course," the Slave Queen replied. She walked up the stairs to her suite, tail-tip balancing a bronze hoop.

  "As I was judged," Lisinthir said.

  She stopped on the top stair, head cocked as if thinking to herself. Then she moved one wing out of her way and looked past it at him. "Yes."

  "And the judgment?"

  "They will attempt to force you to submit to them in public using a demonstration that even the weakest Chatcaava would laugh off. What judgment do you think they have made, Ambassador?"

  Lisinthir smiled grimly. "That I confuse them."

  She regarded him a few moments longer, then walked back into her lair. He did not follow her.

  The following morning, the Slave Queen summoned her four females into her suite and gathered them around her basket. All four glanced at her once before losing themselves in the collection of gleaming toys. The Queen wondered if they would hear her words at all or if the prospect of the coming pleasures would drown out her voice.

  "Tonight you will do your work," the Slave Queen said. "Just before supper. We are not sure where Third will pause, so Black Rose, Moon, you will wait here in the topmost room. Firemint, you and Sun's Kindness will remain in the harem proper."

  "What if he does not come to the harem?" Firemint said.

  "I will do my best to ensure that his Hand comes to y
ou to relieve your need," the Slave Queen said. "Though as I said when I asked your cooperation, I cannot guarantee it."

  The two assigned to the harem showed signs of rebellion, to which the Slave Queen briskly said, "Is it not better to have any possibility of pleasure rather than to have no chance at it at all?"

  "Oh, yes!" Sun's Kindness interrupted, her golden tail whipping behind her.

  "Then in the harem proper you will stay," the Slave Queen said. "If I can reward you, I will." She smiled thinly. "It is not all a matter of fate, anyway; he may pause at either place, distracted by your charms. It may be a matter of who will be the most attractive."

  All four now eyed one another warily. The Slave Queen ignored their looks and began to distribute the items from the basket. "I presume you know what to do with these."

  "We will put on a display that will force Third to come to our aid," Sun's Kindness said.

  "I am counting on it," the Slave Queen said. "Take your implements and go back to the harem. I will expect you to be in the suite before supper, Moon and Black Rose."

  "Yes, Mistress."

  She left them to pick out their toys; later she would replace the basket and hope for the best. Having discharged the most uncomfortable of her responsibilities for the night, the Slave Queen repaired to her bathing chamber. The aliens were avoiding her and she welcomed the solitude. She supposed that, like the ambassador, she should attempt to prepare herself for the coming evening... but she wasn't sure what she would do. Her life had hardened her against the casual cruelty of those around her, and she was well and again accustomed to being used as a tool to satiate the whims of those in power. Even wearing an Eldritch skin wasn't enough to frighten her anymore—it would hardly be different from any other thing the Emperor had used on or against her. Just another kind of toy, a mask that made her more sensitive.

  She would endure, as she always had.

  The Slave Queen rose from her bath and ate lightly. As the day grew ripe, she returned to her windowsill and trained her eyes once again on the cloud-wrapped skies. How strange it was to watch the sky in anticipation of something rather than to escape from something else. She stared into the suggestive emptiness of the sky and saw reflected in it a strange fullness inside her soul.

  Lisinthir held the data tablet above his head. He felt trapped between the glowing words on the screen and the vicious invitation that had been delivered to him earlier which now crouched on his table, a palpable, malevolent force.

  /They have received the plans and say they know where to go. They should request an approach soon./

  And then it would begin. Lisinthir closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. He could feel the smooth, cool silk of his half-buttoned blouse, the dense layer of the blankets rolled beneath his lower back. The air smelled of the saerrie-flower tea he'd brewed, but he hadn't yet drunk the cup nor even lit the lamp. The shadows in the cavernous bedroom grew as the sun receded.

  /Far-cousin?/

  He roused himself to type. /I am as well as can be expected./

  /Do you have fear?/

  /I would be a fool not to/, Lisinthir wrote. /But it will go as we planned. I will not allow otherwise./

  There was a pause in the pace of the words. Lisinthir thought about dropping the tablet on his breast, but that would exacerbate the sensation of suffocation. The truth that he would choke before revealing was that he was terrified. Not that the plan would fail—but that he would be unequal to the task of stoically watching the Slave Queen suffer. For the slaves to escape, he'd have to wait through the entire display... even try to lengthen it if possible with well-timed comments. The border was too far for even the fastest of the Alliance's couriers to reach in a few hours, and so enough time to leave an untraceable course was a must. The shuttle would have to lose itself deep in Chatcaavan space.

  And he would have to remain steadfast through the entire thing. Wearing not just a silent mask, but one that reacted with appropriate nonchalance to any act or any comment thrown his way. Bad enough to force himself to remain carefree throughout a demonstration on what looked like an Eldritch... but he now knew a little of the spirit hiding under the false skin, and he no more wanted to see the Slave Queen weep than he would have one of his own.

  But this was the score they had written, and now they would play it.

  /Then I will wish you luck/, were the only words now on the screen. At some point, he had allowed his arm to crumple onto the mattress. Using his thumb, he painstakingly typed out, /It will go as planned/, and dropped the connection.

  Slowly, slowly he rose to finish dressing. White blouse, black pants embroidered in icy silver. Black boots, laced up the backs with silver-tipped black cords. He had just braided the last of the strands of black and white pearls into his hair when a Chatcaavan landed on his balcony. Lisinthir shrugged on his black and silver coat and walked out into the study, drawing on his gloves.

  "A shuttle is landing. They say they have a delivery for you."

  "I am about to go to a court function," Lisinthir said. "Have them deliver it to my quarters. Then they may go about their way."

  "Do you wish to speak with them?" the drake asked.

  Lisinthir said, "Why would I want to speak with mere deliverymen?"

  "Mistress!" Laniis darted into the room. "Now! They're coming!"

  The Slave Queen glanced over her shoulder, then waved a hand at the Eldritch, Tam-illee and Malarai. "Hide until I am gone, then go." Laniis's translation came swift on the ends of her words and the three scattered.

  "Mistress," Laniis said, stepping closer. Her eyes glistened. "Mistress, I am going too."

  Of course. She had known, even though she'd been careful not to examine the knowing too closely. The Slave Queen touched the smaller female's furred shoulders with her hands, searching the alien face and seeing in it what she now recognized as sorrow and regret. She smiled wanly. "Go. They need someone to lead them."

  Laniis swallowed, then crushed the Chatcaavan's waist in a hug before scampering after the others.

  The Slave Queen did not allow herself to linger on the solitude that would descend upon her in the topmost tower when the night had been spent. She folded her wings into herself and Changed, faster this time than ever before. When she straightened, the air caressed her skin and sent shivers crawling across it. She dressed hastily in the Eldritch girl's discarded costume, stopping only at the collar. It was fortunate that the girl had been outfitted with a temporary collar nearly identical to her own, but she worried about the color of the gems. She hadn't thought of that. Still, there was nothing for it. She clipped the leash to her own collar and ran to the antechamber, there to bow her head and await the arrival of the guards.

  Two heads peeked out of her bathing chamber: Black Rose and Moon, curious and confused but silently hopeful. The Slave Queen ignored them. Let them think her the Eldritch female if they'd missed the hurried whispers in the antechamber... or let them know the truth and wonder at her audacity. As long as they did their duty to their Slave Queen.

  The guards entered and on their heels stalked Third and his Hand. Standing alone in the center of the room with her head bowed, still the Slave Queen could sense Third's approach. They were not supposed to be here, but the Ambassador had promised they would come and here they were.

  Third crested the landing and turned his regard on the Slave Queen, barely concealing his longing. "Ah, to be present during this lovely's use. It almost moves me to defiance."

  The Hand said, "At least we may escort her to it."

  "That is no reward, Hand," Third said, pacing around the Slave Queen. "He waves meat in front of a starving dog and laughs as he sends it away. A singular cruelty, when one can only guess at the sensitivity of this very... delicate... creature."

  Since the Eldritch couldn't understand his words, the Slave Queen pretended she couldn't either. It proved more difficult than she'd anticipated.

  And then he scraped a finger over her breast, tweaking th
e tip, and the Queen jumped and swayed at the sudden influx of lust and contempt and violence. Her imbalance prompted him to grab her arm, worsening the chaos. She felt her control over the form slipping in her panic.

  A scream sounded and then a moan—the hand gripping her arm released her and as it did she regained her equilibrium. Moon screamed again, a high thing full of longing.

  "What's this?" Third said. "Females aren't supposed to please themselves."

  She could not answer, could not encourage him. She didn't even have the wherewithal to hope he would fall for the ruse. The only thing she could concentrate on was rebuilding her shattered thoughts, assessing the damage Third's unwelcome sharing had wrought on her. She was shaking, disgusted and aroused, a combination she found familiar... but it had never felt this uncomfortable before.

  "Here," Third said, handing the leash to the Hand.

  "What do I do with her?" the Hand asked, wings rustling in discomfort.

  "What does it look like?" Third asked. "Take her to the presentation."

  "But what of you?"

  Third's nostrils flared. "Just because I have been thrown a bone does not mean I need to meekly accept it. Go."

  The Hand shrugged a hand and motioned to the guards before leading the Slave Queen to the stairs. As they walked onto the landing, the Slave Queen heard Black Rose's low laugh of greeting and suppressed her joy. She had successfully taken care of one of the two... now all she had to do was ensure Third's Hand stumbled into the same fate. As she followed him downstairs, her thoughts raced. How to get him into the harem where Firemint and Sun's Kindness could hook him with their taloned caresses? She had little time to plan—they were almost at the landing now!

  With a breath, the Slave Queen jerked away from the Hand and dove into the harem. Surprised at this sign of defiance from a previously docile slave, the Hand hesitated before pursuing, leaving the guards in the hall. The Queen hid behind a pillow and watched with satisfaction as the Hand's eyes were drawn by Firemint and Sun's Kindness, at work on one another in broad view. The Hand rarely had the chance to experience the pleasures Third received as tokens of the Emperor's regard; the Queen had wagered everything on how poorly he regarded the playthings he could afford as a mere Hand, no matter the importance of his master. Too, Third had set an excellent example for his subordinate. She inched around the corner until she found herself back in the door, "allowing" the guards to re-capture her leash.