“This is magical,” Laniis breathed.
Qora, perched near the back of the boat, could not help asking, “What is magic?”
“Magic is something to do with supernatural powers,” the Liaison said. “But it was never clear to me if this meant religious powers, or something other.”
The female laughed. “I should have known better than to be ambiguous with two non-native speakers. How’s this… it’s wondrous. Beautiful. Liaison, your people are artists.”
The dragon lifted his nose toward the brightly-colored buildings lining the canal. “I’m glad you can say so.” Which was a strange statement, but the Liaison wasn’t done talking. “It lives up to all that has ever been said of it.”
The city called Jeintelle consisted of dozens of small islands linked by an extensive canal system that emptied into the surrounding gulf. Had that been its sole claim to beauty, Qora might have argued he’d seen more extraordinary places, starting with the Chatcaavan Throneworld’s palace. But the mosaics that had been reserved to the denizens of the interior of the palace were everyone’s delight in Jeintelle, whose towers, bridges, and arcades glittered with thousands of them. The team had come downriver on a night ferry and arrived as the first orange rays of dawn broke over the glass and ceramic and set them on fire. The feeling constricting his chest had felt uncomfortably like awe. Was it knowing that his FireBorn had once walked these bridges? Or had he succumbed at last to the lure of the Others? He was fond of Sediryl and Vasiht’h and the Queen Ransomed, but it had been a comfortable affection, one he feared had been kept from fully touching him by condescension. The Others were so clearly fallen from grace, and the Faulfenza so clearly in it. How easy it had been to be kind!
He was surely too old to be this young.
The boat ride had been Laniis’s suggestion. Their contact could not receive them until late afternoon, so why not tour the city?
“I did not take you for water-lovers,” Qora said at last to the Liaison.
But it was their pole-bearer who answered. The dragon guiding their gondola was perched at its prow, bronze wings partially spread. He wore nothing but a pair of brightly colored patchwork pants that rippled like the waters through which he plied them. “What is not to love about water? We swim, you know!”
“Don’t the wings make that awkward?” Laniis asked, ears sagging.
“I think your fur looks less convenient.” Their host grinned. “Pardon if that sounds rude.”
She laughed. “Not at all! And you’re right, it’s awkward to be waterlogged. We swim, of course, but I suspect humans like it better. And Eldritch, I guess.”
“Do Faulfenza swim?” the Liaison asked.
“If one is in the water, the alternative is unappealing?”
Laniis chuckled and shook her head. “So… the wings are… like sails? Like on a big sea ray, I’m guessing.”
“I wouldn’t know,” their pole-bearer replied. “I try to avoid the water.”
A pause, then all of them laughed, even the Liaison who was not in the habit. The dragon was even younger than Qora, Qora guessed.
Their boat tour involved broad canals with enough wind to not only comb their manes back but bring hints of scents and distant sounds like echoes over the water… and then canals so narrow they felt like secrets, with the buildings lining them hunched so close overhead they made caves of stillness and shadows. The plink of the pole entering the water was magnified in that hush, and when a woman opened a window over them, her singing voice had a shocking intimacy and poignancy.
The boat tour evolved into a walking tour with a different Chatcaavan, this one female, dressed in a shimmering fabric that wrapped over her chest, past the two sets of arms, to hug her waist in two falls of cloth. They followed her over narrow stone bridges, so short two steps took them from one building’s parlor to another’s… and enormous bridges, so large rows of shops lined their edges. Qora liked those. When Laniis and the Liaison entered one of those stores, he ignored the wares to walk to the back wall. The glass window there extended onto the floor, revealing that the shop was projecting over the water. A larger boat churned the waves beneath his feet, passing into the shadow of the bridge.
His companions—mostly Laniis—shopped for souvenirs, which did not interest him. The food, on the other hand, was exquisite, and expectedly emphasized fish and crustaceans. The meal reminded him of his fosterage… one of the few things he’d enjoyed about being trapped on the preserve planet, so far from the mechanical and technological things he’d preferred.
After eating, Osgood said, “It’s encouraging to see how few non-Chatcaava there are in this town. It’ll be more likely that our contact has seen a single Faulfenzair.”
* * *
“A single alien of your type, visiting the city as a guest?” the dragon gestured absently, though what the movement meant Qora couldn’t guess. “No, we have seen no such individual.”
“Is it possible he was here and you didn’t know about it?” Osgood asked.
“Possible but not probable,” the dragon replied. “It is our work to be aware of those likely to be captured for slaves, or escaping slavery. Chatcaavan and alien.” He glanced at Qora. “And this species, in particular, is not common.”
“They’re not even common in our part of space,” Laniis said. “And we have a formal alliance with them.”
Osgood tapped her fingertips together. “It might have been during your parents’ time, rather than yours. Do you keep records?”
“We do,” he said. “And I will check and send you the results. Are you able to stay for several days?”
Osgood glanced at Qora, who forced himself not to fidget. Of course, another delay. Wasn’t it for him to say ‘as the God wills’? But what would these aliens know of Faulza’s will? And if they did… what did that mean? “We are grateful for your help.”
The dragon dipped his head. “It is our pleasure to assist our allies at the abbey. They have been friends of our family since my three-times-removed dam’s time.” He canted his head. “Is it only the single individual you are interested in?”
Amazingly how swiftly all his companions could tense to attention. “Go on,” Osgood said.
“A group of aliens of this type was sold recently into a harem in the sector,” the dragon said. “We have heard of it through another of our contacts. Are you certain the individual you seek was visiting here as a guest, rather than passing through as product? Perhaps your individual was in that group.”
Qora doubted it, but… “When was this?”
“Not even a planetary revolution ago, I believe. Do you wish the data?”
“Yes, please,” Osgood said. “And we’ll wait on your reply about the records. We’re staying in the Opulent Tower.”
“Ah, an excellent hostel. I will have the information sent. By courier… it is safer that way.”
“You’ll know best,” Osgood said. “Thank you, alet.”
Outside the tower, Laniis said, “Do you think we might have found out what happened to the Faulfenzair you’re looking for, Qora?”
For once, nothing was served by mystery. The task was mysterious enough without embellishment. “I don’t know.”
“If he is in the harem of a sector lord, I’m not sure what we can do about it,” Osgood said. “We don’t have another convenient Eldritch with roquelaure to infiltrate a new target.”
“You should not have to!” the Liaison exclaimed, and his agitation edged all his body motions. “The Emperor made the enslavement of aliens against his law. For a sector lord to be keeping slaves must be taken as an act of rebellion. We could call down the Navy on him!”
“Could we?” Osgood asked, for once visibly surprised.
The Liaison began to reply, heated, and then he wilted. “We should be able to report them to the Navy and have them handle it. But it is true that our Navy is currently overextended with existing… skirmishes.”
“Rebellions?” Laniis asked, and there was something odd in her tone.
“We do not call them that,” the Liaison said firmly. “It gives them too much credit. They are waywards who will soon be shown their error.”
“Not in time to help us with this, I’m betting.” Osgood shook her head. “I guess we’ll have to drop in and see. I assume you want to, Qora-alet? Even if chances are low that your missing Faulfenzair is among them?”
“I would like to go,” Qora said.
* * *
Such mild words. ‘I would like to go.’
Qora watched the lacquered boats drift past beneath the balcony where he sat. The Opulent Tower was one of the least opulent; from what they’d been told by one of the employees, it had been the first of the towers erected in Jeintelle. Subsequent towers had been taller or more luxurious, but theirs, he’d insisted, had been the template for all that followed. Theirs also boasted the best view, since it looked on the central plaza with its arcaded quadrangle. The plaza’s floor was one enormous, complex mosaic in gold and sanguine, ivory and flecks of shocking sea-green.
He was still where he was supposed to be. Faulza was content. He wished he could be.
“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”
Qora craned his head past his shoulder to look at the female. So fluffy, this Laniis. One of the linguist Others—he’d learned all the species names, but sometimes the Pelted could be confusingly similar. Seersa, he thought. She was a Seersa. Could it be construed as disrespect that he didn’t know? But he hadn’t anticipated being so deeply involved with Others. Going into space was no longer solely a matter of seeking them.
“It is,” he said at last, and she took that as invitation and lowered herself alongside. There were no rails on Chatcaavan balconies, which were more properly landing pads than decorative features, and both of them sat away from the lip.
“I never thought I’d see the places I’ve seen in the past two years.” The female drew one knee to her breast and looped her arms around it. “I’ve seen more planets, and more exotic locales, and more alien power centers than most Pelted see in… well… more than they ever see.”
“It is not what you intended?”
“Oh, no.” She laughed. “I joined Fleet to defend the Alliance. I read a book when I was a kit about a valiant scoutship captain who protected merchants and civilian ships from pirates and that was that. I never stopped dreaming of being that captain.”
Qora felt a frisson of empathy. “It is what you are doing, yes? Defending the Alliance?”
“Yes. Just… not the way I planned. Not even slightly.”
The frisson intensified. “You help the dragons you perceive to be your enemies.”
She rested her chin on her knee. “I was a slave in the imperial harem for almost a year.”
Ah. “How you met the Queen.”
“Yes. She kept me sane. I needed it.” Laniis sighed. “You can’t imagine how strange it is for me to not only be treating the Chatcaava as allies, but to think of one of them as a friend.”
“How do you do it?”
“I wish I knew. Or… no. That’s not a fair answer. The Queen was a person to me, almost from the beginning. She was my reminder that no matter how debased Chatcaavan society was, it was composed of individuals, many of whom are blameless. They’re victims of their society’s worst elements.” She chewed her lower lip. “Sometimes, they’re great powers, because the alternative is being someone’s meat. I’m not sure I can blame the people who take advantage of the system, because if it’s the only system they’ve got….”
“Someone built the system,” Qora said, because he guessed that among Others who did not have a god, there was no other way to create society.
“Many someones built the system,” Laniis said. “But I’ve learned, watching the Chatcaava try to reform their society, that changing it for the better isn’t a matter of good intentions and trying hard enough. It’s more complicated than that. Everything is.” She glanced at him. “I don’t even know why I’m saying all this. You’re very easy to talk to for someone who doesn’t talk much.” Another pause, and she laughed. “Of course, that’s why you’re easy to talk to. You listen.”
He grinned. “You discover my secret.”
“And you don’t judge,” she continued blithely. “That’s the other part.”
On that, he thought, she was wrong. He did judge the Others. Perhaps in the harshest way possible: they were outside Faulza’s grace, so expecting good things of them was unreasonable.
“So did you join your space force to see the worlds?”
“If I did,” Qora said, “I did not to expect to see so much of them.”
She laughed as if he’d made a joke. Maybe he had. No one had said Faulza lacked a sense of humor.