He dreamed that night, tossing in the sheets they shared. This time he straddled the arm of the throne at Ontine, looking down with pleasure and lust at the naked body of the Eldritch queen on her hands and knees before him. He became distracted by other concerns, drank from a jeweled cup and discussed something with a courtier he hadn't noticed approaching.
A flash from the corner of his eye drew his attention and he looked back to find the Queen dressed again, her throat bare of collar and her head high as she stood. With a snarl, he pointed her back to her knees, but she did not kneel. Lisinthir advanced on her. He stripped her naked. He beat her with the flat of his hand until she fell. Only when she was collared and whimpering, unable to even hold up a hand in her own defense, was he satisfied. He retreated to the throne, sat again in it and drank from his chalice, her soft mewls barely audible.
The Eldritch woke to the darkness just before dawn, his body curled into a seashell and fear pebbling the skin on his back.
"Leaving so soon?" the Emperor said, rolling onto his back and folding his hands behind his pillow. His sinuous body was not merely lying in their nest, but arranged with a coy cock of a hip, a blatant invitation.
Lisinthir laughed. He had to, for the absurdity of it, for the exhaustion. He was too drained to feel conflicted. "Permit me, Exalted. There is a matter I must attend to."
"A more important one than me?" the Emperor asked with lifted brow.
He would ask the most unanswerable questions. Lisinthir shook his head. "Second ransacked my chambers while I was in the clinic and stole my data tablet. I want it back. Along with my swords and whatever else he confiscated."
"He might argue he was working to preserve the security of the Empire," the Emperor said.
"I'm sure he'll try," Lisinthir said. He reached for a robe. "I need to see him. You know why."
"I suspect," the Emperor said, eyes half-lidded. "Tell me."
"He attempts to exert power over me," Lisinthir said. "And through me, the Alliance." This feeling was not anger, not anymore. It was the same heady hunger the Emperor felt at a challenge, the desire to meet and best what fool dared step in his way. He let that fire have his eyes when he met the Emperor's. "I cannot allow it."
The Emperor's chuckle was low and appreciative. "Go then. I will see you at supper."
Lisinthir finished dressing and left, stopping only to locate and draw on the claw-knives Second had been forced to leave on his side-table. When he appeared in the corridor outside Second's office, the guards did not make even the most cursory of efforts to stop him. He passed through to the study and stood across from Second. Dressed in a blue robe with holes for Chatcaavan wings. In pants meant to drape across a Chatcaavan waist and that fit him perfectly when hung lower, off his hips. With hair mussed by the Emperor's vicious and intoxicating affections, and the marks of the Emperor's violence still dusted, pale and blue, across his chest and ribs. Proudly displayed. They would never fade, the Surgeon had said... his skin was too thin for the gel-healing to do for Eldritch what it did for Chatcaava.
That Second took all this in and understood its meaning was implicit in his closed and wary gaze.
"You come armed into my presence," Second said, watching him with guarded eyes.
"You are already armed in my presence," Lisinthir said, dropping into a chair with all the arrogant grace he could muster... which had become considerable.
"I can hardly remove my own talons and teeth," Second said.
"I would never begrudge you your weapons," Lisinthir replied. "Would you mine?"
Second's glance darted to the metal claws. "Those could be taken from you at any time."
"So they could," Lisinthir agreed amiably.
"This doesn't bother you?" Second asked.
Lisinthir undid the catches, slid the claw-knives off, and dropped them onto Second's desk. "Do you feel safer now?"
"Do you feel weaker now?"
Lisinthir grinned. "No."
Second said nothing for several very long minutes. Then the Chatcaavan said, "You are not what you were when you came here, Ambassador."
"No," Lisinthir agreed. "I'm more. Now are you done easing around the real issue? I'm a busy man."
Second dipped his head. "I can't imagine what new demand you might have, Ambassador."
"We could begin with you returning my data tablet," Lisinthir said. "My swords. Restoring my chambers to their former state."
"As if you'll use them," Second hissed.
"Jealousy is unbecoming," Lisinthir said, slouching. "And a distraction. You actually stole from me, Second. Did you learn anything useful when you attempted to rifle through my data tablet? The encryption is bio-specific."
Second looked away to hide the flash of frustration in his cold eyes.
"I want it all back," Lisinthir said, and amended, thoughtfully, "I want it all, really."
"You'll never have it," Second said. "Not from me. But your data tablet, which is useless, you can have. And even your swords and your knives and your pathetic collection of foodstuffs. I'll even give your clothing back if it means you'd stop dressing like us."
"Second!" Lisinthir exclaimed. "I do believe you have a spine after all."
"Insult me, Ambassador," Second said. "You can. For now."
"For now, ah?" Lisinthir said and leaned forward. His lower body followed the upper until he was halfway over the desk. "Maybe you don't understand how things have fallen out, Second. Or should I say Third?"
"Only Chatcaava can have those titles," Second hissed.
"You're defying me," Lisinthir said, enjoying the words, the rising tension. He recognized it. He remembered being on the other end of it. "So much we haven't discussed yet, Second. So many things I still need to have done. And here you are. In my way."
The menace finally seemed to penetrate Second's stubborn denial and he shoved his chair back. Lisinthir lunged, grabbing him by the arm and ducking the bucked horns. How easy it was to trap one arm behind Second's back, fouling one wing. The other wing responded with gratifying speed to a twist-hold on the thumb joint.
"You have taught me well," Lisinthir whispered into that tiny, half-hidden ear. He jerked at the wing, hearing the crackle of dry leather and a pop from the joint. "Treat him like a freak. But try to kill him. See if he understands this contradiction." He pressed his hips against Second's. "Should I prove to you that I know exactly how to put you in your place?"
"No!"
"Yes," Lisinthir said.
"I said I'd give you back the things you wanted!" Second snarled. "What more do you want?"
"Respect," Lisinthir said and twisted harder at the arm. The muscles beneath his fingers trembled. "And everything else I ask for."
"No," Second said. "I won't give you permission to destroy the Empire."
The sweetness of the male's helplessness oozed away, leaving him aware of himself and repulsed with it all. The thrashing of Second's heart, the furor of his desperate thoughts beating through sensitive, thin flesh... meaningless. Lisinthir dropped his hold and walked around to the other side of the desk, exposing his back to Second.
"You—why—"
"You still don't understand," Lisinthir said. "I'm not interested in the destruction of the Empire. I'm not even interested in yours, Second." He picked up the claw-knives. "Have my chambers restored, with all the things in them that you took."
"I don't understand you!" Second said.
"No," Lisinthir said. "None of you do."
He came by before supper, after the Emperor had left. Wearing an odd combination of exhaustion and satisfaction he came, holding a data tablet in his hand.
"My mail has been accumulating since I was in the clinic," the Ambassador said, holding out a hand to her. She went to him gladly, tucking herself against his warm chest. He led her to the couch and settled into it, bringing her down with him.
"Second gave you back your possessions," the Slave Queen said as he stroked her mane.
"Of course,"
he said, and saying it made it inevitable. "But I didn't come here to tell you that."
"What then, Master?" she asked.
He touched her mouth, eyes somber. "That's enough of that. I'm serious, Beauty."
She licked his fingertip, reflex, absent desire, drowsy contentment. "What shall I call you, then?"
"Call me /my lord,/" he said after a moment. "You remember that?"
"Yes," she said and did. A peculiar concept, that a title could pass through birthright rather than through challenge and strength. "That would please you?"
"Yes," he said. "It would remind me of home. I need the reminders."
Something about his voice, dragging with a rasp, made her shiver. "So, /my lord/," she said. "What did your mail bring?"
"Something for you," he said, stunning her. He passed her the data tablet and tapped one of its controls, setting off a viseo. It flashed a seal with stars, moon and banner and then—oh, then, white fur and black ear tips and bright eyes, and clothes, a stern uniform in black and darkest blue that looked utterly right.
"If this can be gotten to her," Laniis began, then shook her head and said, "I'll assume the best, so please, Ambassador, pass this recording to her." She dropped into Chatcaavan. "Mistress, I wanted you to know that I am well. I came home expecting... I don't know. Everything to be different. And it was, of course it was. But the important things were all the same. My family was still alive and they were so glad to see me. They thought I would never come home again." The Seersa stopped, ears drooping and coloring. "I'll never forget the Empire, and that's not a good thing. That wasn't a surprise. But I don't think I'll ever forget you, and I'm glad. You made it bearable. Not only that, you made my escape possible. You and the Ambassador. I'll be forever grateful."
Laniis drew in a breath. "When we made the escape, Fleet Intelligence made it known that any kind of escape by any citizen from the Empire was a "broken parachute" situation—one where you could expect only failure and death. Because of the two of you, Fleet Intelligence has upgraded that to "possible landing," which means... well, that anyone captured by the Empire can expect the possibility of release. Just the two of you together: you made that possible.
"I guess I just wanted to thank you, to let you know what your company and your help meant to me. And if you ever need me—I hope you'll find some way to reach me. I know how things there are for women, but I have faith. And until that day, I wish you well. More than well. I wish you all the best, in whatever way is possible to you."
The screen froze then, on the lifted eyes with their furred rims, the crisp uniform, the certainty of happiness in the eyes of an alien.
"There are more," the Ambassador said softly. And though she thought her heart would burst, she sat at his side and watched them all. Not just the Malarai and the Tam-illee, but the Eldritch princess and many of the recently freed sixteen as well. All of them with a message either for the Ambassador or for her or both. When it was over, she clung to him, wordless and lost.
"What a difference you've made in those lives," the Ambassador said, petting her trembling neck.
"I had no power—" she said.
"Say that again and mean it," he said. "Say it so that when I feel it in your body I know you believe it. Say it and I'll admit I was wrong."
"I can't," she whispered. She couldn't hold still. Her body seemed too small for her soul, for her careening thoughts.
"You never were an object," he said into her hair. "Even when you thought yourself powerless, you were changing the universe for the better. They tricked you into believing yourself no better than them."
She could not resist this anymore than she could resist him in any other way; could not resist the change, the way she molded into the shape he formed with his words, his hands, his regard... his protection, his caring, his so-alien belief. She couldn't resist it because she didn't want to. Yes, her heart whispered. Surrender to this. Let this be the truth of the world.
She smelled her tears in his eyes, and together they wept for joy, licking each other's cheeks and breathing into their strange kisses.
Let this be the truth of the world.
"I hear you could sleep in your own bed tonight," the Emperor said, tracing his lips with one finger. They were reclining on pillows in the topmost tower, the Slave Queen coiled into a ball against the Emperor's hip. "Second worked very quickly, even for Second."
"I gave him cause," Lisinthir said lazily.
"It must have been great," the Emperor said.
The day had filled him too much. He was replete. It made words seem inconsequential. "I nearly raped him."
The Emperor's finger paused on his lips, and through that one touch a surprising ambivalence drifted. "You did not?"
"No," Lisinthir said. "It wasn't necessary."
"But you killed Third," the Emperor said.
"Yes," Lisinthir said. He laughed at the puzzlement. "Ask."
"Surely rape is a lesser crime among your kind than murder," the Emperor said. "I would have expected you to have less of an issue with it."
"I didn't need to force Second to get what I wanted," Lisinthir said. "So I didn't. I wouldn't have enjoyed it."
"Are you sure?" the Emperor asked.
It seemed a fine night for honest self-assessment. Lisinthir said, "He wasn't you."
The Emperor laughed. "Spoken like my whore."
"I don't see you in anyone else's bed, Exalted Emperor," Lisinthir drawled, and lifted an arm against the cuff that would have snapped his head to one side. They tussled, growling and laughing, rolling out of the way of the dozing Slave Queen.
No question. No doubts. Not through skin. Lisinthir knew now which desire was his and which was the Emperor's. He could see also how his had grown fangs and the Emperor's had grown velvet. They Changed one another, and it was all good, and he could live with it. More than live with it.
Later: "Truly, soft-hearted one. Does it bother you? That you killed Third and his Hand. I'm given to understand that is unusual for Alliance citizens to kill others, though I can't imagine how that would work."
"Don't try to convince me of the paucity of your imagination," Lisinthir said. "I've seen your mind at work, oh Exalted one, and there's nothing weak about it." He rolled onto his stomach and rested his head on his wrists.
"Very well, I can imagine it. It's soft and weak and fleshy," the Emperor said with a hissed laugh. "But you have not answered my question."
Lisinthir lifted his head, letting his anger touch the darkness of his eyes for the Emperor's view. "Third earned his death."
"And his humiliation?"
"And his utter humiliation," Lisinthir said. "The court needed to see how this Ambassador will treat any one of them who has the audacity to cross the Alliance."
"And will this Alliance of weak softness back your claims, Ambassador?" the Emperor said, reaching for a handful of Lisinthir's hair and drawing him closer.
"They will," Lisinthir said. "They have no choice."
With a hungry growl, the Emperor pulled him over. If this time was more fang than velvet, Lisinthir enjoyed it all the same.
Hours later, the bleep of the data tablet woke Lisinthir from their tangled slumber. He stumbled from the nest and up onto the floor proper of the Slave Queen's chamber, groping toward the couch where he'd left the tablet after his talk with her. He had some trouble finding it in the dark; both moons were now on the bathing chamber's side, leaving their room so dark he couldn't even see his white hand against the floor.
But he found it, silenced the noise and spread the resulting message from the diplomatic corps.
How happy they were to hear from him again! (This they'd already said, but now said twice. For emphasis, he supposed.) Again, they were pleased with his results on their behalf. And could they now tell him how useful his information had been? The intelligence had been fed into all the organizations charged with the safety of the Alliance. They were building a picture of the psychology and habits of the Empire th
at shared a long and violent border with them.
It was the last line of the message that seemed to burn on the data tablet's surface.
/Our analysts suggest, after examining the data, that war with the Empire is not an immediate danger at this time. Agreement?/
He began to write 'Yes,' and then stopped.
The claw-knives on his desk.
His dealing with Third, and the message that had sent.
Second's angry deference.
The Emperor's growing respect... a respect that had touches of silver admiration.
The data tablet clattered to the floor.
Muzzy with dreams, the Slave Queen lifted her head. Had she heard a sound? Her eyes focused with effort on a hunched shape, drawn out of the dark by the amber glow of the data tablet. She pulled herself out of her nest and crept over to him; with a yawn, she pressed her head against his arm.
He almost leaped at her touch, his eyes wild. Taking her by the elbows, he drew her to her feet and out to the landing, down the stairs.
"You have to help me," he said. "I've made a terrible mistake!"
Confused, the Slave Queen looked up at him. "/My lord?/"
"I have gone through great trouble to make the Emperor consider me male," he said. "I don't think there's any question in anyone's mind that I've succeeded. But it is because he considers the Alliance beneath notice that he doesn't bother to make war on us. If I become emblematic in his mind of the spirit of the Alliance, he will want to test himself against it, because two males of such stature must settle the issue of dominance before they can co-exist. Am I right?"
"Yessss," the Slave Queen said slowly, and the first glass-sharp touch of alarm pierced her sleepy confusion. "You are saying that you fear you will convince the Emperor that the Alliance is a threat." She paused, then nodded. "And you are right. He treats the Alliance now like a female... he steals from it when it suits him, he occasionally slaps or uses it, but he ignores it as beneath his interest. If he believes the Alliance has enough males like you, he will feel compelled to break you."
The Ambassador ran his hands over his head, hands catching in his hair and knotting into fists. "Is it too late?"
Even the Wingless Page 36
