CHAPTER TWO

“This is your show, Ambassador,” the head of FIA Hold 22 said to him. “We’re here to take direction. What’s your plan?”

Lisinthir rested his hands on the back of the chair he’d refused to sit in when he’d been invited into the conference room. Not because he was concerned about his newest Pelted allies, but because his anticipation was too great to permit him stillness. He wanted to move, the way the war was moving, the way everything was in motion. “I have one, nebulous though its particulars are at this point. But may I make one request, alet?”

“Go ahead.”

“I appreciate your deference to my authority,” Lisinthir said. “And I expect to be treated as the head of the mission. But you and your people have extensive experience of your own. Don’t hesitate to advance your ideas to me, even if they contradict mine. I may or may not decide to act on those ideas, but I need to hear them.” He smiled lopsidedly. “It is deeply tempting to attempt to singlehandedly save the universe. But foolish to ignore the aid of allies who are there to keep me from failing.”

“From what we’ve heard, you’ve already singlehandedly saved the universe,” said one of the Pelted at the table: the surly Seersa medic whose hair was a shorn mane that stood nearly on end. Dellen Crosby. The comment was skeptical, half-growled… but not a challenge. Even without Jahir’s presence to bolster his abilities, Lisinthir could read that off him.

“It would please my ego to think so,” he said. “But the truth is that I went into a very specific situation, one where acting alone was more efficacious than working with a team. The Chatcaavan court is the hothouse flower of the Empire, aletsen. Now that the situation has grown past the throneworld, we must operate under a different set of constraints.”

“Sounds like looser ones to me.” The Aera, Na’er, this time, all long ears and sparkling eyes.

“They are at least more amenable to group efforts. So, if that’s acceptable to you, I shall tell you what I believe our next step should be and you tell me how it accords with you?”

Meryl Osgood, the brindled gold Hinichi wolfine charged with the leadership of the FIA team, was sitting back in her chair with her arms folded. He’d liked her immediately on meeting her, and that had made the thought of using her group as a glorified taxi unpalatable. Besides, he could almost hear his cousin’s genteel rebuke: Would you do this alone, Imthereli? Why, when you might have help?

“I admit that’s more than I expected out of you,” Meryl said finally, a smile plucking up the corner of her mouth. “You didn’t sound like a team player, if you’ll forgive me for saying so, Ambassador.”

“No need for it. You’re correct; I’m not used to relying on others. But then, you are no mere others, are you?”

“Hell no,” the dark-skinned human woman sitting on the other side of Meryl said. “We’re the best damned hold this side of the border. And by this side I mean the rough side.”

“Yep,” Na’er agreed.

“As you can see, we have some swagger of our own,” Meryl said dryly.

Lisinthir grinned. “We shall get along fine, I suspect.”

“So your plan?” Meryl asked.

“The refugee flight,” Lisinthir said, sobering. “The Queen would not have arranged it had she not felt it necessary. We must find out those reasons.”

“By sneaking into the Chatcaavan throneworld system and hacking the computers or interrogating prisoners stolen from outposts?” Na’er said jauntily.

Lisinthir glanced at him, trying not to smile at the twinkle in the Aera’s eye. “I was thinking more that we might simply ask the refugees.”

“You said he was going to be more exciting than this,” Na’er complained to Meryl.

Laniis, at the end of the table, smothered a noise that sounded suspiciously like a giggle as Meryl said, “I said, sure. I didn’t promise.”

“Get it in writing next time,” Dellen said.

Ignoring the laughter, Meryl said, “So you’d like to meet up with them? I assume it’s the Slave Queen you’ll want to interview, or will any of them do?”

“Shouldn’t matter,” Na’er said. “All of them are getting funneled through the abbey. I don’t think the charity’s picked up any of them yet. If we head there, we should be able to intercept all of them as they come through.”

To see the Queen again… Lisinthir measured his breathing, suspired the yearning. “That would be ideal.”

“Good enough,” Meryl said. “It’s not like we don’t have plenty of experience doing insertions there. And since you’ve so kindly decided to put our expertise at your disposal instead of riding roughshod over us, Ambassador… my strong suggestion—which might actually constitute an order—is that you follow our instructions on how you approach this rendezvous. The Chatcaava are trying to scoop up any Eldritch they can get their hands on, and the picture they’ve got on those bulletins as an example is your portrait.”

“Is it?” Lisinthir asked, bemused.

“You’re famous,” Shanelle, the human woman, said.

“In the very worst of ways,” Meryl agreed. “We have procedures for making contact with the people arranging the Chatcaavan flight. They’ll work for most of us. For you, if you insist on going personally—” She paused to evaluate his expression and nodded. “Of course you are—then you’re going to need that roquelaure FIA gave you.”

“You have a roquelaure?” Shanelle said, eyes wide. “They gave a civilian a roquelaure?”

“Yes,” Lisinthir said, demure. “About that. I may have misplaced it.”

“They gave a civilian a roquelaure and he misplaced it?” Shanelle said. “You misplaced it.”

“I may have done, yes.”

“May have?” Meryl asked, arch.

“In point of fact,” Lisinthir said, “I… most certainly did, yes.”

The one member of the hold who hadn’t yet said anything did now: Patrick, a bicolor Karaka’An male who served as data analyst. “Did you lose it? Or misplace it?”

He felt skin beneath his fingers again, tasted kisses close and familiar. “I left it elsewhere for insurance.”

That silence was puzzled, perhaps. Considering. Meryl broke it by sighing. “Well then, we’re going to have to give you the one they issued us. And this one, Ambassador, absolutely can’t be left anywhere, misplaced, or lost.”

“Understood,” he said. “I shan’t misplace it. No doubt because you will implant it before we leave, yes?”

“Yes,” Meryl said firmly. And chuckled. “You know, I know your kind, Ambassador.”

“Oh?” he said, interested. “What kind is that?”

“People like you… you’re very accommodating. Until you’re not.” She grinned, showing teeth. “I can appreciate that in a person.”

“Ah. Yes.” He inclined his head. “There is a line past which I will not go, alet. Up to that point, I am remarkably open to suggestion.”

Meryl snorted. “I’m sure you are. Come by the clinic after supper, we’ll start setting up the roquelaure. It’s three days to our destination. Laniis, will you settle him in?”

“Yes, sir.”

“After dinner, then,” Lisinthir said to them.

The Silhouette was smaller than the Quicklance, but as usual there was extra berthing for guests; more such cabins, in fact, than the Quicklance had boasted despite the latter ship’s larger size, as the agents of Fleet’s investigative and intelligence arm were more likely to be hosting specialists or freelance agents. No Chatcaavan vessel, outside the ones intended to ferry passengers, had the amount of empty space typical to a Fleet ship. Ordinarily he would have thought it unnecessarily luxurious, but Lisinthir trailed his hand along the bulkhead as Laniis stopped before the hatch to his new quarters, and nothing beneath his fingers felt like overfed luxury. There was menace and purpose in the bones of these vessels. They had only to wake to the necessity of warfare, and when they did....

“Here, alet,” Laniis said.

Inside, Lisinthir set his case on the bunk and popped the latches. “So,” he said to her in Eldritch, though he stripped all the modifiers for the sake of clarity, “you trust these people?”

“With our lives,” she replied seriously.

Her accent was poor and all the nuance of the language was absent, but it was a pleasure to hear his tongue again. Jahir had made him cognizant of the utility of being able to speak without being understood. “Good.” In Universal, “And did they also send you into the bosom of psychiatrists?”

The Seersa’s ears sagged. “Oh, alet. Don’t tell me they handed you off to them! You?”

He chuckled. “I take it your time with them was... not productive.”

“Not that,” she said. “So much as... they were desk-drivers who’d never seen a fight. They could imagine my feelings, but they couldn’t understand my motivations. Not in their bones. They did their best. It’s just... they didn’t know what makes me feel whole.”

Lisinthir made a noncommittal noise.

“They didn’t know what to do with you either, I’m betting.”

He chuckled, remembering Jahir’s frustration. “No. Not initially at least.”

She nodded, ears flicking back. Then, quieter, “Ambassador, I have to ask... the Queen... she said the Emperor had appointed her a head of security.” Laniis leaned forward. “What happened after I left?”

“I made him see the error of his ways,” Lisinthir said. He turned, found her staring at him, but not in disbelief. “You seem remarkably unsurprised by this, alet.”

“Arii,” she corrected. “Please. If it’s not presumption?”

He smiled at that, gently. “No. Not you, Laniis.”

She flushed, ears darkening. Then, “He taught me to say ‘hello’ in seven different dialects.”

“I... I beg your pardon?”

The Seersa folded her arms. “He raped me. You know that. So did some of the others, and it was because he allowed it. From them... they were eager to grind the aliens down, teach them their place. Him, though... he did it for some other reason I never understood. And rarely. I never figured out what he wanted from that. Sometimes I thought he did it because it was expected. Sometimes I think he did it because I happened to be there. But it never felt the same.”

“No, I imagine not,” Lisinthir said, low.

“But one day, he brought four guards with him.” She fell into her memories, eyes distant. When she looked at him again, there was something there: some shadow. “I thought I was going to be a prize to be shared for good service. But instead, he asked them questions, had a conversation with them about something mundane... I can’t even remember what. They left, and he asked me if I could duplicate their accents. If I had even perceived them.”

How well he could imagine the scene. The Emperor-before, nursing the curiosity that would become the crack Lisinthir exploited to pry open his soul, wondering if the famed Seersan ability for languages was truth or hyperbole. “You surprised him.”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I could never read him. I don’t think I was impartial enough to be able to. But when I reproduced those accents accurately, he asked me if I knew the difference between a handful of different words. I didn’t. He told me that these were greetings unique to different subcultures of the Empire. He wanted me to reproduce them in the accents, once he’d taught them to me, to see if I could. And after that...” She rubbed a shoulder, absent. “After that I don’t think he thought to use me unless I happened to be there. Which for any Chatcaavan male in the imperial harem was as much kindness as you could expect.” She lifted her eyes. “He was a bastard, a rapist, and a murderer, Ambassador. But he wasn’t typical of the Chatcaava. And ordinarily, I’d love to see him dead. But seeing him changed... that’s worse than dead. Is it true?”

“He assigned the Queen a head of security,” Lisinthir said.

“Yes,” Laniis murmured. “And she looked...”

What? he wondered, hoping.

“She looked whole,” Laniis finished. “Worried about whatever was going on, but there was hope in her. In all the days I was with her, arii, I never saw her hope. I never saw anything like agency.”

“The situation is complex,” Lisinthir said. “And I suspect we have not yet understood the breadth of the complexities. This is part of what I wish to accomplish by consulting with her when we meet her.”

“That’s another thing you need to know,” Laniis said. “This place we’re going to? The abbey? The person who’s running the planet-side of the operation? He’s an Eldritch.”

“Is he!” Lisinthir exclaimed, feeling the revelation cresting toward him with the inevitability of a flood tide.

“And the charity-side, too. A different one, a woman. I don’t know if you know them...”

“Oh,” Lisinthir said. “I’m entirely certain that I do.”

The world’s name was Sharsenne, and the procedure by which he was to arrive at this remote abbey involved convolution worthy of an Eldritch. Even wearing the roquelaure, he was not permitted to simply Pad to his endpoint; instead, in the company of Laniis and Na’er, he “arrived” to the orbital station from a disreputable—and microscopic—vessel the Silhouette was carrying in its launch bay. The Silhouette itself remained Dusted, invisible to all but the most canny of sensor technicians and the most powerful of equipment.

From the orbital station, they Padded to the surface, to the fringes of one of the larger cities on the major landmass. Following his Fleet guides, Lisinthir passed through the anonymizing crowds in the guise of a human, the roquelaure sheathing him with a seeming that he reinforced gently with his own abilities. He felt Jahir’s absence like an empty socket, waiting for power; without his cousin’s touch, he remained unable to reach into people’s minds without touching them. The reading of auras, however, was not beyond him, and physical pressures, gentle or harsh, remained easy. It was novel to realize how much he could do on his own now that he knew he could and had practiced the use of it.

Their journey to the abbey involved a ride on a beast enough like a horse to make him nostalgic, and from there a walk which Laniis sighed over reprising, inspiring much teasing from her Aera friend. She liked him, Lisinthir thought, and smiled to see it. So much the Chatcaava ruined; so much they prided themselves on ruining. And yet here was the Alliance in all its unexpected fortitude, like true steel hidden beneath too many gauds.

“There it is,” Na’er said. On the horizon, tucked into the lee of a wood, was a structure that could have come from his homeworld’s earliest architecture, with a dome of solid stone supported by thick walls and flat buttresses. It had a presence there amid the pastoral vista, was just right. “As Laniis will tell you, they have good cider.”

“Do they,” he said politely.

Na’er glanced at Laniis, who flicked her ears sideways, unperturbed. “His mind’s elsewhere.”

“Stay in the game, alet,” Na’er said.

Lisinthir snorted. “I am nowhere else, I assure you.”

But Laniis was right. As the abbey grew before them, all he could think was that he would soon see her again: touch her face, feel the unexpected beauty of her spirit beneath his fingertips… watch her look up at him with those earnest orange eyes, and smile.

He’d been barely gone, and it had been too long.

The bustle of the abbey did not surprise him; did the Alliance wish to support such an antiquated establishment, it would often choose to do so for the purpose of returning to manual labor as a path to contemplation and simplicity. Perhaps the Eldritch had once done the same. Unlike the Eldritch, however, the Pelted would not make the mistake of eschewing that technology irrevocably and ubiquitously. The Abbey of St. Jasmine of the Stars would remain a quaint anomaly, and the Alliance would continue on around it.

There were geese, though. That did surprise him. Had he been given the choice of animals to import, he would have selected something less annoying.

They were greeted by a cowled acolyte, a friendly Asanii felid with gray and orange fur and bright orange eyes. Either she’d been expecting them or she was unsurprised by Fleet visitors, for she greeted them with aplomb as she ushered them inside, telling them they would be seen soon.

There were catacombs, perhaps expectedly, and they were escorted to a dim room underground where it was safe to deactivate the roquelaure. Lisinthir found he appreciated the coolth after the long walk in the summer sunshine. And the cider, too, which was as delicious as advertised, served with thick, sour bread with herbed butter, and slabs of white cheese alongside the wet globes of foreign berries, clustered like cabochons. Neither Laniis nor Na’er availed themselves of the victuals; he would not have known the Aera well enough to read him, but a mind-mage’s expanded abilities edged Na’er’s movements with a friction that suggested agitation. Laniis, of course, he knew, and she too was nervous.

Lisinthir was neither. He sat at the wooden table, legs crossed so that one ankle rested on his knee, and slouched. Either the Queen was here already and he would see her shortly, or she was still in transit and he would instead have the entertainment of the acquaintances he was about to make… either way, he looked forward to this respite before the work.

Bootsteps on stone. Too heavy a tread for a woman. A few moments later, a tall figure, hooded and robed, ducked into the room and straightened. “You arrive betimes, and bring a guest, aletsen—”

Lisinthir said, “Amber Seni Galare. You may drop your disguise.” At the shocked stillness of the figure, he added in Eldritch, “I am your brother’s fast companion, and a cousin of yours. Lisinthir Nase Galare, at your service.”

The other man threw off the hood of his robe, the glamour fading with it, and there was Jahir’s brother: like the man, but narrower through the chest and shoulders and jaw. Taller also, with darker eyes, almost a honeyed hazel to Jahir’s clear deep yellow. But the similarities were otherwise eerie… or would have been until this stranger strode to him and went to a knee, speaking all white and silver and subdued shadows. “Then to you I owe the rescue of my beloved. Korval Keldi’s Son, you have done what was mine to do, and I am in your debt for it.”

To be knelt to in gratitude was the last thing Lisinthir had expected out of a stranger, and he found it distasteful in the extreme… and yet it was hard to fault Amber for feeling the necessity. Had he been in the other man’s position, he would have felt so constrained. “I did our Queen’s bidding, cousin, even as we are doing now.”

“And yet,” Amber said. “If there is ever aught I may do for you…”

“I will ask it, I pledge it you.”

“Then I am content, insomuch as I may be.” Amber rose and switched to Universal. “I beg your pardon, Na’er-alet. I did not realize you meant to bring me a member of my own family.”

“Did I?” Na’er said with interest.

Amber said, “You did, yes. Though I had not had the honor of meeting him. You said you knew my brother, though, alet?”

“I do, yes,” Lisinthir said. “Rather well.”

“Perhaps you have met our other cousin, then?” Amber said. “If I am not mistaken, I hear her on the stairs.”

“You do,” said a woman’s voice in crisp Universal. “And I don’t appreciate you trying to leave me out of this, Amber.”

“I didn’t leave you out of it,” Amber said. “I was the one who invited you to this tangle, if you’ll recall.”

“Only because you had no choice.” She came into the room with the splendor of an erupting fire, and Lisinthir found her inevitability satisfying in the extreme. “Obviously you resent that necessity because when Fleet sent these two no one came to find me.”

“I thought I’d see what they needed first,” Amber said.

“You thought you’d keep me out of trouble. You can take that and shove it in a dark hole, cousin. I’m the charity’s liaison and the Queen’s ambassador to the Alliance. Stop treating me like Nuera’s marriageable heir.”

Lisinthir had risen during this speech, and at its conclusion bowed to her. “Sediryl Nuera Galare. You have no idea what a pleasure it is.”

She considered him at length—at rather longer length than he expected. And then, surprising everyone, she offered her hands. He took them, as she so patently expected, and found her skin… strange. As if there was a wall under it he couldn’t reach past, and a pressure leaning toward him. He thought of dammed lakes and wondered.

“Lisinthir Nase,” she said. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

“Oh?” he asked.

She frowned at him. “Stop that.”

“Stop….”

“Looking at me like you find me attractive. I am not—”

“The typical Eldritch woman, and Nuera’s marriageable heir? I know,” Lisinthir said. “Fear not for your virtue, lady. My affections are otherwise engaged.” He smiled. “That leaves me at liberty to appreciate you for your many virtues, all of which are on flagrant display.”

She tilted her head, then grinned suddenly. “I can’t tell if you’re annoying or amusing, cousin.”

“I have that effect on people who go on to find me quite bearable.” Lisinthir squeezed her hands and let them drop. How perfect she was, from the tip of her riding boots to the crown of her sensibly braided hair. She wore an outrageous and elegant riding habit in dark blue that would have excited no shame among the Pelted but was so obviously modeled on the Eldritch male version of that costume that he couldn’t imagine what other Eldritch thought of her. He found her delightful. “Sediryl. It’s meet that you should be here, and I’m glad to find you thus.”

“Oh?” She looked over her shoulder at Amber. “You’d be the only one.”

“Tell me if the Slave Queen has arrived yet?” Lisinthir said. “It is imperative that we speak with her.”

“She hasn’t arrived, no—” Amber said.

“She’s not coming.”

They both looked at Sediryl.

“Not coming?” Lisinthir repeated, careful.

“She stayed behind,” Sediryl said. “She asked me to take care of her people for her in her absence, but she said this was her war too. She couldn’t abandon the field to the enemy.”

Memories dizzied him: too many to separate, so that they clouded his vision like a pastiche of sunlight in bright towers, speaking of stories of sacrifice, pledging defense of the innocent, suffering for that defense. How dearly he had wanted her to learn to consider herself a person, and yet it had led to this choice and… he found he could not fault her for it, though it lanced his heart to think of her amongst the foe. Found, in fact, that he was proud of her, soaringly so, and that pride lived entwined in his heart with his desolation at her peril.

Sediryl was studying him when he gathered himself back from those memories. “It is all that I would expect of her,” he said. “Though it leaves us bereft of the intelligence she might have given us had she come. She spearheaded this flight, if I understand correctly, so hers was presumably also the decision that it was necessary.”

“Hopefully she shared the rationale for that decision with someone else?” Na’er said. “Someone we can consult?”

Laniis offered, “She said she had a head of security.”

“Has he come?” Lisinthir asked.

“I don’t think so,” Amber replied. At Lisinthir’s look, he said, “We expected fourteen groups, cousin, and thirteen have arrived, more or less on schedule. The last is due tomorrow afternoon. And no one yet has stepped forward to claim a position of responsibility for any of this, that we know of.”

“That you know of,” Lisinthir repeated.

Amber grimaced. “I understand bits of the Chatcaavan language, cousin, but by no means am I a fluent speaker. I have no gift for it; I find in fact that I lose pieces of our tongue the longer I speak Universal. We have people here who do speak it, though, and they have had very little to report of their interviews.”

“I fear I have no knowledge of the tongue at all,” Sediryl added.

The urge to pace was rising. “Where are these Chatcaava? I might have better fortune.”

“They’re with the host families,” Sediryl said.

“Wait, here? On this world?” Na’er’s ears slicked back. “I was under the impression the moment they came through they’d be sent on.”

“That was the plan, yes,” Amber said. “But as we said, no one has come forward to take responsibility for these refugees, and without someone to speak for them they have not wanted to leave the scant protection of the families who smuggled them off the throneworld.”

“The ‘scant’ protection?” Na’er said, arch. “Wouldn’t that be the ‘nonexistent’ protection, since they’d be the easiest people for the enemy Chatcaava to trace?”

“We have not had much luck explaining that to them,” Amber said. “They await someone they can trust to lead them offworld, at which point our cousin—” Looking now at Sediryl, “—will be responsible for taking them wherever they are due next.”

“If I was in charge of something like this,” Laniis murmured, “I’d be the last one out.”

“That’s what we’re hoping,” Amber said.

“And at that point we’ll have someone to interview about what went wrong,” Na’er said. He rolled his shoulders. “No use going back to the ship, then. The trek out here takes longer than a day. You have a place for us to put our heads down?”

Amber eyed him.

“Right,” Na’er said. “Then I’ll just tuck into this food, if you don’t mind? And maybe you can bring more of it down? A man can’t live on bread and cheese alone.”

“After the journey you’ve undertaken… no, I imagine not,” Amber said. “I’ll have something sent. You as well, Lieutenant Baker?”

“I think I’d better, yes,” Laniis said. “Ambassador?”

“I’ll come back to it,” Lisinthir promised. “I would like a moment with my cousins, I think.”

“Would you,” Amber said, resigned.

“That’s a long face for someone who had barely met me,” Lisinthir said in their tongue, following him into the stairwell.

“You approve of our cousin Nuera being here? Then yes, you have earned it. This is no place for a woman. Do you know what the Chatcaava do to women?”

Lisinthir needed no esper ability to sense Sediryl’s seething behind him. Draping the words in extravagant blacks and shadows, he said, “I think I know a little better than you, Seni’s son.”

Amber’s back twitched, but he continued up the stairs to the landing and stopped there, facing them both. Lisinthir met his eyes and finished, “They do no less to the males. It is no safer for you than for her—less safe, because unless you could convince them you were a male worth conquering, they would simply kill you. Our cousin they might rape and discard in their harem, little understanding what they were doing by leaving her alive to plot their demise behind their turned backs.”

“Oh, I do like you,” Sediryl said, coming abreast of him.

“You would,” Amber said, irritated. “But there are reasons you need to remain whole that don’t apply to the rest of us.”

“Because men are disposable?” Lisinthir asked politely.

“Because the only women Liolesa pays attention to are those worthy of power,” Amber said. “And she’s just lost her heir, hasn’t she?” To Sediryl, “You see. Just because I love Beth and she’s become as expendable as the rest of us doesn’t make me blind to expedience.” His bow was brusque. “I will go ensure the plan is on schedule. If you will excuse me.”

Amber left them in the empty chamber. The distant sounds of children playing outside reached them through the open windows, filling some of the echoing silence he’d left in his wake. Curious, Lisinthir said, “Is he correct, then?”

Sediryl’s mouth firmed, then quirked at the edge. “I think his characterization of Liolesa is unfair, but I also think it’s unavoidable, given his situation.”

“Artfully dodged,” Lisinthir said with a tsk. “I expected better, Nuera.”

She chuckled. “Yes, you would, wouldn’t you?” She considered him with eyes as orange as the Slave Queen’s. “Then—yes, I think she’s grooming me for the role Bethsaida’s just vacated. But it would be foolish to think she won’t change her mind if I prove unsuitable.”

He drifted to the window and looked out at the groves behind the building. “And is that what you’re doing now? Proving your suitability?”

Sediryl laughed. “No. I’m being me. If she likes what I am, she can keep me. If she doesn’t, then I don’t want any part of what she’s doing.”

Lisinthir glanced past his shoulder at her, lifted his brows. “Like a mewed falcon.”

“I’ve been trained to the hunt all my life, cousin,” Sediryl said, calm. “Does anyone blame me for longing for the sky?”

He inhaled sharply, let it out. “Even the wingless do.”

“Only the bold will win it.” She came alongside him, but unlike him her stare focused on nothing.

“The bold,” Lisinthir allowed. “And those open to change when it comes to them.”

She tilted her head, smiling at him. “You know, I think the ‘annoying’ phase lasted less than a few heartbeats, Ambassador.”

He chuckled. “Now, cousin. Don’t look at me thus.”

“As if you’re an attractive man?” She grinned. “Don’t worry, I heard you. Your heart’s ‘engaged’.”

“Is yours?” he asked, quietly.

She was staring outside again, at the sky now. “It… may be. Maybe.”

Something in him relaxed. Galare, he thought, amused, the way remains open, if only you seize it. And then he laughed. Jahir as King-Consort! God and Lady. How he would cavil!

Sediryl glanced at him, grinned. “You have a good laugh, cousin. Will you share the joke?”

“I fear you lack the context to understand it… yet. You will soon enough.” He nodded. “We are not done here, I think. One of us is missing and must be summoned. I should do that, so that he will arrive soon enough to join us in whatever plan we create on hearing the information brought by tomorrow’s Chatcaava.”

“One of us?” Sediryl asked, curious.

“Amber’s brother,” he replied, watching her carefully out of the corner of her eye. And there… there was the little hitch of breath he was hoping for.

“Jahir? Why?”

“You will find it unbelievable, perhaps…”

Sediryl snorted. “Try me.”

“He is a mind-mage, cousin. And so am I. We work better together than alone, and I promised him a place in this war.”

Sediryl’s gaze was incredulous. “Jahir?”

“Did you make the mistake of believing him a pacifist because he has a gentle spirit?” Lisinthir asked, idly. “That would seem a mistake on the caliber of believing you are fangless because you are a woman.”

“Yes, it would,” she said. “But…”

“But?” he prompted.

She shook her head as if clearing it. “It just strikes me as strange to hear. You’re not the only mind-mages that have appeared recently.”

His heart stilled. “I beg your pardon?”

“Liolesa’s cousin, once Jisiensire’s sealbearer,” Sediryl said. “He came into Corel’s powers and used them to defend the world. He can kill from afar, and more than one man at a time.”

“Can he,” Lisinthir breathed. Then his abilities were not anomalous? What had the Queen’s cousin learned? To have the time to speak with him, compare experiences! “To defend the world—he is on the homeworld, then?”

“Yes, and busy, or so I was told when I was briefed,” Sediryl agreed. “He is not available for our efforts when our own world is so vulnerable. I remember thinking…” She paused, then laughed. “I thought when she told me ‘if only I had a few such mages of my own!’ And here you are. And I easily believe it of you, cousin….”

“But not Jahir?” Lisinthir asked, amused. “If you know him at all, cousin, you will know better.”

She drew in a breath and nodded, more to herself than to him. “One senses steel under the genteel exterior.”

“I have a genteel exterior,” Lisinthir said. “Jahir has a sweetness and it runs all the way through him, skin to heart. There is nothing shallow or practiced about it.” He grinned. “He is far more stubborn than steel, though. Keep that in mind when you treat with him. Kindness you will have in every measure, cousin, but good luck forcing him to do anything he believes unjust or wrong.”

Were her cheeks just a touch pink? He could hope so. “You speak as if you know him well.”

“And I do,” Lisinthir said. “I’d have no one else at my back in this endeavor, so I hope there are secure communications facilities here. I promised him a summons and a summons he shall have.”

“Ask your Fleet people,” Sediryl said. “If they cannot provide, I can.” At his inquiring look, she touched the unobtrusive gem hidden in the shadow of her far more obvious earrings. “I have a vessel myself hidden in orbit.”

“So many unexpected pleasures, cousin,” Lisinthir said, grinning. “I greatly anticipate working with you.”

“And being ruled by me, one day?”

Lisinthir laughed. “I am an Eldritch nobleman, my lady. I live to serve.” He swept her a bow that amused her, if the suppressed noise was any indication. “Shall we find our secure comm?”

“Yes,” Sediryl said, eyes alight. “This way, my lord.”

“You have a what?” Na’er said, one of his overlong ears dipping.

“A Dusted ship in orbit?” Sediryl said, too aware of her cousin’s presence at her side, and his seemingly eternal amusement.

“A Dusted ship with a D-per for crew?” Laniis said, equally astonished. “Should I even ask where you got it?”

“One would think the obvious answer is that she had it from our Queen,” Lisinthir offered. “Who arranged it with your government at some point.”

“A private vessel with a Duster? Hell’s maps, yes,” Na’er exclaimed. “Is there anything we need to know about that D-per, either? Let me guess. Ex-Fleet?”

“I would not want to share her secrets,” Sediryl demurred.

“Of course she’s ex-Fleet,” Na’er muttered, shaking his head. And then guffawed. “What can I say to any of this except maybe ‘I’m glad you’re on our side.’”

“I was thinking the very thing myself,” Lisinthir offered.

“I bet you were.” Na’er considered Sediryl, still grinning. And then more soberly, “Having said that, though… how’s your friend going to make it in-system?”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea for him to come at all,” Laniis said, ears flattened. “Not having read some of the localnet news.” At Lisinthir’s quizzical glance, the Seersa said, “They’re not just hunting for all Eldritch, arii. They’re looking for you, specifically. As an enemy of the state.”

“My!” Lisinthir said. “What heights a wingless freak might ascend to, given the provocation!”

“I’m serious,” Laniis said. “Those bulletins have your face on them because they want you specifically, Ambassador, and I don’t know why. You’re an alien. This makes you important… like someone who needs to be specifically destroyed.”

Sediryl glanced at Lisinthir when he proffered no witticism in response to that, and found his eyes distant and hard and searching, as if reading from some book she had no access to. Such a fascinating man—when Liolesa had described all he’d done in the Empire, she’d believed it but been incapable of imagining the person capable of those acts. Seeing him in person, she still couldn’t imagine their accomplishment, and yet… she did not find herself doubting Lisinthir had done them. It mattered not at that he seemed the perfect model of an Eldritch in his sanguine coat and ruby hair-jewels. Not when he carried his hands so carelessly near his swords, as if he was accustomed to their use... and certainly not with that thin scar at the brow, the one she almost hadn’t seen because he kept looking at her so. His Eldritch gentility was, as he himself had confessed, only a veneer over something else, something less civilized.

It was strange to her that she found herself thinking of Jahir when presented with this delicious puzzle. Lisinthir had mentioned working well with him. What was that like to witness? Why did her heart quicken at the thought that it must be glorious?

“I find myself curious as well,” Lisinthir said. “And misliking the possible explanations. I will run them past whomever we meet tomorrow. In the mean—I still need my cousin here. Can you contact him or shall I apply to Sediryl for her aid?”

Na’er tapped his fingers lightly on the table, frowning in thought. “Not that I don’t trust Lady Sediryl’s security arrangements, Ambassador, but… we were probably more careful coming in, which means her ship’s more likely to be discovered boosting the signal out.”

“So we use ours?” Laniis said.

“So we use hers,” Na’er said. “Assuming they succeed in compromising someone’s security, I’d prefer them to be compromising the ship most likely to be found. That will leave us one in reserve.” He grinned, lopsided. “Sorry, Lady.”

“No offense taken,” Sediryl said. “Though I would not want my crewmember endangered without justification.”

“She can live anywhere,” Laniis said. “Is living everywhere, in fact, if she’s distributed the way most D-pers are. If they take your ship, Lady, your friend won’t go with it.”

“That’s settled then,” Sediryl said.

“Send the message flat, not real-time,” Na’er said. “That’ll make a big difference in how difficult it is to trace. And tell your friend to be careful when he comes. This is technically neutral space. We don’t patrol here. The Chatcaava don’t either, but there’s nothing stopping them from changing their minds.”

“I will impress upon him the importance of subterfuge,” Lisinthir promised. He offered his arm. “Cousin?”

His habit of touching interested her, particularly since she felt nothing of his feelings through their contact. Was that his doing, some mind-mage ability? Or was it her usual deficiency in talent? She liked that he touched, but it emphasized the impression of him being something more carnal beneath the witty exterior. “Let us.” As they proceeded through the stone halls, she added, “You know something they do not.”

“About why I am wanted?” He shook his head. “No. Suspicions perhaps, based on the attackers who attempted to prevent my flight to the border. But suspicions only, and as like to be wrong as right.”

“Then about Jahir,” she said.

That made him smile, a very private smile that piqued her interest immensely. There was something tender in it. And wicked too.

“Let us say I have given him a dart or two to use in his own defense.” His smile lightened as he directed it at her, became mischievous. “Would you like to add anything to the message? It seems only polite, as your ship’s crew will be handling the boosting of it.”

Why did the idea make her so nervous? It was nonsensical. Jahir had been her fastest childhood friend, and prior to meeting him again on the homeworld for the wedding, she would have thought nothing of appending a greeting of her own to him. Something wry or witty or welcoming, something appropriate for the youth with whom she’d spent so many summers exploring the forests bordering their provinces. He was, however, no longer that youth—nor was she that maiden. “I... can’t think of anything I would add.” Rueful, she said, “I... don’t know him very well.”

“Do you not?” he asked. “I was under the impression the Seni and the Nuera were twined close as pleached trees.”

“We were, when we were young,” Sediryl said. “Our lives parted after the formal court investitures. When a woman becomes an heir, she is no longer fit company for unmarried men.”

Lisinthir snorted. “That sat well with you, I wager.”

She managed a smile. “You know me so well already?”

He patted her hand. “Your cousin knows you well. I know what I see.”

“As well as what you’ve divined from what stories he’s carried you?” she asked, suddenly on fire to know. Had Jahir talked of her to others? And said... what?

Lisinthir laughed. “He is the brother I never had, Lady. Even if he had said anything, you would hear no tales of him from me.” He canted his head. “I’ll borrow a data tablet to write that message. If you’ll permit me?”

“Of course,” she said, hiding her frustration. “You will find me here when you’re done.”

He left then, no doubt to beg a data tablet of his Fleet companions, and consigned her to the silence of the room. She presumed they were in the dormitory, or maybe the storage wing? If Alliance abbeys were built anything like the monasteries on her world, and who knew? She had never visited one, though there was a famous convent sited on the western border of Nuera’s lands. She sat on the bench under the lancet window and struggled not to fidget.

To say that Amber had been unhappy with her arrival would have been understating the matter. The only reason he hadn’t attempted to send her away was that—unlike Millie—he’d known he wouldn’t succeed and was too distracted to waste the effort. She’d known he and Bethsaida were close, having seen their interactions at court… but had she been pressed, she would have predicted they would part ways. Bethsaida had been impetuous and high-spirited, but she’d also wanted a man far more than, say, Sediryl had. Knowing Amber, Sediryl would have thought he’d find that need distasteful, if only because at some level it made him interchangeable with his peers. Beth had wanted a man; if Amber would not have served, she would have found another. And who wanted to feel replaceable?

Sediryl worried at the edge of a fingernail, thinking. Granted time and safety, Beth and Amber would certainly have drifted apart. This situation, however, had changed things. Amber was now as zealously devoted to the former heir as any woman who wanted a man could hope for. If, in fact, Beth would ever have him, and that small issue was no doubt on Amber’s mind as well. Sediryl was willing to grant him some latitude given the tumult of his outraged feelings, but not enough to leave because he’d decided that all women must suffer the fate of Bethsaida if they dared draw near the Chatcaava.

Sediryl was certain she wouldn’t have crumpled in Beth’s place. Almost certain.

She had hoped to be more effective on arrival, though. It disturbed her that none of the Chatcaava had been willing to move on from Sharsenne, since the plan had involved cells of them moving in separate conveyances back to Starbase Ana, where they could be consolidated in a less vulnerable location and moved from there to… wherever Liolesa wanted them placed. Assuming they wanted to be placed with the Eldritch and not the Alliance.

Having them all here concerned her. But she couldn’t speak their language, Amber wasn’t fluent, and the people who could speak it weren’t capable of convincing the refugees that they needed to keep moving to be safe. It was hard not to be impatient with them.

If everything went well, though, they’d finally be able to make some decisions tomorrow. And in the meantime….

Cousin Lisinthir. She’d looked him up after the Queen had told her of his exploits in the Empire. They were related, unavoidably—the Galare House wasn’t that large—but the Nase family wasn’t as well-regarded as the Nuera, or the Seni for that matter; Malavi Nase’s decision to wed Korval Keldi Imthereli, while sensible from a pragmatic standpoint, had resulted in a marriage infamous even among Eldritch, who were often prey to scandalously unhappy marriages. Sediryl wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting on meeting Lisinthir. Someone embittered and cold, maybe, to have survived the depredations of the Chatcaavan court. Instead, he was warm and amused and far more willing to allow her to take risks than any other Eldritch male she’d met… or, come to think of it, any Pelted person.

He was attractive, too. Not classically handsome, the way Jahir was. But there was something undeniably compelling about that air of danger that clung to him like cologne. That moment when his expression had softened…

…while speaking of Jahir! Her curiosity refused to lie down at that. How did they know one another? It couldn’t have been long; Lisinthir had spent almost no time at court, and no one in the Seni or Nuera families would have wanted their impressionable children to associate with the rumor-stained Nase. They had to have met in the Alliance. Liolesa had said nothing of it, either. Why?

She was still ruminating when he returned. She knew him by his footsteps: Amber walked... well, like a normal person. Lisinthir contrived to make almost no noise despite being in boots. “For you, Lady. If you would.” He offered the tablet, which, she saw, had the message spread on it.

“Should I read it?” she asked.

He grinned. “I don’t know. Should you?”

Sediryl wrinkled her nose at him, then defiantly looked at the tablet. He’d written in the courtliest modes of their tongue, spangled with all sorts of colored writing: mostly silver and gold and white, so that the places where he’d shadowed or blackened the words stood out sharply, like the memory of nightmares after waking in a bed of morning sunlight.

 

Galare—

Do you come now to Sharsenne in the Duo Sector, as there is work to be done here for us. Arrive carefully: send your itinerary and we will have someone meet you in orbit to guide you to where we abide. They seek our kind, and me in particular. I suppose I have done something to distress them, alas.

I have left you a tool. Use it, if you would. And I will see you anon, and look forward to it.

 

—Imthereli

 

There was a line beneath it in Chatcaavan. She looked up at him. “I don’t understand why you would use their tongue when ours is more secure. This message would have reached our cousin and then it would have been swept off the u-banks if it was only in Eldritch.”

“I use Chatcaavan because it conveys information to him that I could not in our tongue.” His eyes grew mischievous. “Are you piqued because you cannot read it, cousin Sediryl?”

“I wouldn’t eavesdrop on your private correspondence with Jahir,” she said, and almost convinced herself she meant it.

She apparently hadn’t convinced him, though. “You’re certain of that?”

“I can’t read Chatcaavan,” she pointed out.

“No, but your friend on-ship could easily translate it.”

Exasperated, she said, “It’s almost as if you want me to read it!”

“Oh no!” Lisinthir shook his head with mock solemnity. “Had I wanted you to read it, I would have written it in a language you could understand.”

“It would serve you right if I did ask Maia what it said.”

“Would it, though?” He pursed his lips. “I wonder what you’ll do.”

She couldn’t help it... she started laughing. “You’re impossible!”

“I have been told.” He leaned against the wall. “Will you permit me a digression, cousin?”

“I suppose,” Sediryl said, watching him warily.

His mouth quirked, but the smile didn’t make it to his eyes. “You gave me to understand you spoke with the Chatcaavan Queen.”

“I did, yes. Via Well-pushed stream prior to her decision to remain behind. After that, we had a text exchange, after she’d sent the others on.”

“And... how did you find her?”

She wasn’t sure what had inspired the question, as he’d donned the non-expression that all Eldritch learned so quickly. Some people hid anger under that mask, others fear, others tenderer things... inevitably it was something they thought made them vulnerable. What made Lisinthir Nase Galare, who’d brought down an Emperor, feel vulnerable?

Come to that, he’d signed himself Imthereli. What was that about?

“I thought her strong,” Sediryl said at last. “She had clear eyes. Lieutenant Baker said she seemed nervous, but I couldn’t see it.”

“You wouldn’t,” he murmured. “Agitation is not something one displays in the court of dragons.”

“I didn’t detect any hesitation in her, if that’s what you’re asking,” Sediryl said. “She made a choice and it wasn’t under duress.” She watched the other man, so still that the sunlight shaft against the panels of the blood-colored coat didn’t so much as quiver. “You’re concerned about her.”

He smiled a little. “I care a great deal about her, yes.”

“And you’re not desperate to ride to her rescue?”

Lisinthir looked up at the ceiling a moment, arms crossed over his chest. “I would very much like her to be out of danger. If I knew that I could save her from it by racing to the throneworld this moment, I would in fact do so. But I know nothing about the situation that obtains there, cousin Sediryl... and I do know the Chatcaava are looking for me, in specific. In what way would I improve the situation did I ride there with banners flying?”

“The way you normally work, I expected your method to be more like ‘sneaking in with skin painted,’” Sediryl said.

His mouth flexed. Not much of a smile, that. “And perhaps I might pry her from her prison thus. But in a day we will have more information, and that information may mean the difference between our success and our failure. In the mean, I can only trust her to have made the best possible choice. I must, because she’s the one who knows the most about her situation.”

“You have a great deal of faith in her,” Sediryl said, quieter.

“The utmost.”

Sediryl waited to see if he would elaborate. When he didn’t, she said, “I honestly expected you to be incapable of seeing other people endangered if you could singlehandedly save them. From what I’ve heard of what you’ve done.”

“Our Queen has told you all she knows, I suppose.”

Sediryl nodded.

Lisinthir smiled. “And she is a good judge of character, Liolesa Galare. But therein lies a lesson for us all, cousin.”

“That being?” Sediryl asked, skeptical.

“She is too distant from the situation to know everything. Particularly the nuances.”

Sediryl snorted. “We’re back to the ‘we need more information before we act’ thing, aren’t we.”

That made him grin finally, one of those mercurial flashes of humor she’d found so arresting. “Yes. So perhaps you should send the message? I shall leave you to wrestle with your conscience.”

“I do not read other people’s mail!”

Lisinthir didn’t answer that, only awarded her a flippant look as he strolled off. She wasn’t sure whether to find it irritating or amusing, and some of that was no doubt in her voice when she touched the telegem earring. “Maia?”

“Alet? Is everything all right?”

Sediryl eyed the arch through which her cousin had vanished. “Yes. Just frustrated at our lack of progress. I have a request, if you’re up to it?”

“Of course.”

“I’m sending you a message...” She tapped the data tablet, linking it to the ship’s mail queue. “Here. Can you make sure it gets to the specified commtag without anyone intercepting it?”

“A flat message? I can hide it in the outgoing traffic, sure. I can do that now, in fact.”

“Please?” As she waited, Sediryl warred with her curiosity... and lost. “And do you know what the Chatcaavan part says?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me?”

Maia sounded bemused. “It says, ‘The errand you wished to discharge can be done so here, my Delight. Be grateful.’ That’s all.”

So cryptic... what errand? Why wouldn’t Jahir be grateful? And... ‘my delight’? She tried to imagine Lisinthir addressing Jahir that way and found her imagination seizing before she could properly pose them in her mind. Maybe it was meant to tease, because Jahir was so serious that someone like Lisinthir would find teasing him irresistible. But there was teasing...

...and then there was teasing....

Sediryl cleared her throat. “Thank you, Maia. Is it off?”

“It is, yes.”

She nodded. “I assume you’ve been listening to everything?”

“The telegem does record, alet. I can isolate the records if it makes you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Sediryl said. “No, I think you should know everything I know. If cousin Lisinthir is willing to let me get into trouble on my own, I’d like to have one ally at my back who can read my mind. So to speak.”

“Understood. And... if I may say... I agree?”

Sediryl grinned. “I’m glad to hear it. For now...” She rose. “I should try to make amends with Amber.”

“Good luck with that, alet.”

She sighed. “I’ll need it.”