Hammer of Time (The Reforged Trilogy) (11 page)

"Then you have a lot to learn about leading," Duaal told her with a smirk.

But he and Panna followed their irritated creation as she strode through the Blue Phoenix. Maeve staggered as one of her heels caught between the deckplates. She hissed an oath and wrenched her foot free. In the cargo bay, she swung her legs over the catwalk railing and jumped, gliding down to the ground. There was no way she was going to navigate the stairs in these ridiculous shoes. Why did she still have them at all?

The answer stood on the lowered cargo ramp, waiting with mismatched hands in the pockets of a long gray coat. Logan's pale eyes went wide when he saw her. He stalked up into the cargo bay, wrapped an arm around Maeve's waist and kissed her deeply. Her hunter still tasted like his unsweetened black coffee.

"Hey! Don't mess up her lipstick!" Duaal called as he bounded down the stairs.

Panna giggled. "Come on, it's time to go. I promised Ferris we'd be there in thirty."

Logan eventually released Maeve. Duaal checked her makeup, sighed but let the fairy go. Panna and Logan fell into step beside her. Duaal waved from the cargo bay and closed the Blue Phoenix behind them. Maeve wobbled a little and looked at Panna.

"Ferris?" she asked.

The blonde girl nodded. "Duke Ferris Verridian. That's who Sir Calathan came to speak to, but he never got the chance. He was a noble back on the old worlds and is the oldest Arcadian in the New Hennor camp. Duke Ferris' daughter just went to prison. Xal picked her up and he couldn't pay the fine. So…"

Panna shrugged, but her tightly clenched jaw undermined the casual gesture. Maeve did not know what to say, so she nodded. Panna was right, but what could be done? Maeve struggled just to keep herself out of an Alliance prison.

These are hardly the thoughts of a proper queen…
But she was not a queen. Not really.

It was a short walk to the settlement. Or a short flight, in Maeve's case. The hard ground was pitted and the cracked foundations of long-collapsed or unfinished buildings lurked in the saw-toothed yellow weeds.

The Arcadians must have seen them coming. The fairies – far fewer than those who had circled the Oslain'ii, perhaps twenty in total now – stood silent and still on the common hall's warped porch. Feathered wings rustled as Maeve landed. Panna and Logan took up flanking positions at her sides. Maeve wondered what they thought they were doing… Protecting her? Supporting her? Advising her? Whatever they believed, Maeve was simply glad not to have to do this alone.

As they stepped into the building's shadow, one of the Arcadians stepped down from the porch. He was far older than Maeve, with deep worry lines creasing his brow and cheeks. His clothes were many times mended but the fabrics were fluid and flowing; a knotted skirt of slippery green material and a long, stained silver tunic. The duke's back was straight and the long braid that fell between his wings was still the same golden blond as Panna's but shot through with coarse gray. He fixed watery brown eyes on first Logan, then Panna. The lines around his mouth deepened as he frowned.

Finally, Ferris turned to Maeve. She felt like a child again, sent to visit a stern and disapproving uncle. He took in her clothes and black hair. Duke Ferris nodded once. Minutely, as though to himself. Then he spread his white wings out to either side and turned them down in the Arcadian version of a bow.

"A'cer,"
he said. The honorific was not specific, used for princesses and queens alike. Anyone with a drop of royal blood in her veins. "It is a pleasure to receive one of Cavain's daughters."

One of.
Maeve glanced over at Panna. The girl shrugged.

Maeve swallowed a sigh and inclined her head. "Duke Ferris," she greeted him. "It is an honor."

"Sua an eru, a'cer?"
Ferris asked.
Why are you here, Highness?

"I…" Maeve chewed her lip. Where to begin? She could not seem to sort out her own tumbling thoughts. "I am… Xartasia, Princess Titania. No, I am not her, but she has made an alliance with… and is summoning our people. But her plan – which we know little about – is too dangerous to… So I… I…"

She trailed off, throat as dry as the red Stray desert. Duke Ferris pursed his lips, unimpressed. Maeve's hands curled into the angry, impotent fists. She squeezed her eyes shut until she heard her blood rushing in her ears. She was still holding her spear, Maeve realized. She was a knight, not a queen.

"You saw the Devourer," she said, eyes still tightly shut. "Fighting here, beside a knight in glass that invoked Titania's name. She killed many to summon our most terrible enemies here! I love my cousin, my own blood, but her pain…"

Maeve was losing it again, the tenuous thread of thought that barely connected their fragmented information and plan together. Maeve opened her eyes. The Arcadians on the porch had drawn together, wings rustling and voices murmuring. They were listening. So was Ferris. The duke's sharp chin had lifted and his eyes narrowed. Maeve's knees felt like water and her feet were numb in their high heels. She took a deep breath that tasted like burnt cornhusk.

"…But our pain, the pain we all share, has twisted Xartasia's heart until she no longer knows her friends from her enemies, her kin from her oppressors."

"She has offered us protection," said Ferris. "The White Queen promises a return to our home. Can she return us to our kingdom, a'cer?"

"I do not know," Maeve admitted. "But… but even if she can, at what price? The White Kingdom is more than planets–"

"Ja'hirra morrae!"
one of the watching Arcadians trilled shrilly.
It is just a memory!

"Ja'hir morrae. Ja'hir la tasia!"
Maeve sang hotly in reply.
It is a memory. It is the dream!
"The dream of light and beauty that we all remember every day. But what has been can never be again! What Xartasia builds now, she does upon blood and betrayal. That is not Arcadia!"

Panna elbowed Maeve lightly in the ribs. "They don't care about that," she hissed quietly. "These people get arrested just because they have nowhere to live. The Alliance hasn't exactly taken good care of us. They need something else. Some hope for a better future. So far, Xartasia's the only one offering them that. Have you noticed how few there are here? It's not just the ones in prison… more of them have left. They've gone to join Xartasia!"

Maeve swallowed. Her tongue felt swollen and heavy. She was no good at this! She was never supposed to ascend to the throne, not even by accident. It was Xartasia – eldest princess Titania – who grew up on Illisem, surrounded by court politics. The throne was hers by right and by experience. But there was no one else. Maeve looked out at the porch again and counted twenty-one Arcadians, including Duke Ferris. It was not much of a kingdom, but there were twenty-one of her people here that she might be able to help. If only she knew what to say.

"You understand better than I do. Why do you not speak to them?" Maeve asked Panna plaintively.

"I don't have the black hair," she said. "Just talk!"

The fairies were losing interest. The knowledge that some of their royal family had survived the White Kingdom's fall was pale comfort next to the realities of life in the Alliance. Black hair and a few drops of royal blood were not going to win Maeve's case for her.

"Xartasia will prey on your need to summon you to her side. Our life here is hard, but we need not be prey," Maeve said. She felt Logan's eyes on her. "Together as one people, we can make a life not only of strength and safety, but of honor and dignity."

It was this last word that made Duke Ferris look up again. Was he thinking of his daughter? After a hundred years as refugees, of being neglected and despised by the coreworld, of having no rights and no protection under CWA law, the chance to live with pride was a nearly impossible dream.

"Xartasia would never ignore you." Maeve took a step toward Ferris, her hand extended. "But she wants to use you… I do not know for what, but we cannot let Xartasia manipulate us, trick us into joining her army of monsters. We are true sons and daughters of the White Kingdom! Our fate is our own."

Duke Ferris lowered his graying wings until the tips touched the ground and took Maeve's hand in his. His skin was as brittle and dry as the dead grass at her feet. He kissed her hand in such an ancient gesture of respect and subservience that Maeve shuddered. Never in her entire life had she ever hoped to be queen, not even of this tiny fraction of her people. Something about it was deeply unsettling, but as she herself and the others kept pointing out, there was nothing else to do.

"Our fate is our own," she repeated. "But we need not face it alone. We are one people and it is time we were united once more."

Ferris turned to the gathered Arcadians and raised his wings high over his head.
"Vaeli a'shae!"
he sang in a clear, loud voice.

One by one, the rest of the fairies took up the song.
"Vaeli a'shae! Eru ilvae Arcadi'na. Vaeli a'shae!"

Logan shot a look at Panna. "What's that they're singing?" he asked. "Do we need to get Maeve out of here?"

The girl beamed. "No. They're agreeing with her.
Honor the Night!
Vaeli a'shae!"

Maeve floated, wings and arms spread, on the bittersweet tide of her people's voices. The suns were hot and sweat stung skin cut and abraded in her battle against Calathan. She was tired and hungry and there was makeup itching in her eyes, but Maeve could not bring herself to care. There was so much better and worse to come.

"Vaeli a'shae,"
Logan agreed in awkward Arcadian.

________

Xia went to work examining the fairies, cleaning poorly cared for wounds and inoculating them against common diseases. "Not much point in bringing them all together just to start spreading rughalla," she told Maeve. The Ixthian's tone was matter-of-fact, but she could not conceal the pale green of concern in her compound eyes.

The Blue Phoenix kitchen was not well stocked, but it was better than the scavenged supplies that were all the Arcadians could offer. Gripper picked everything edible from his garden and carried it to the kitchen. Even Duaal donned an apron and cooked whatever Gripper could bring him. There was not much to make with the scattered assortment of cans and vegetables, but by that evening, there were three huge pots of soup bubbling away on the stove and filling the Blue Phoenix with a warm, savory smell.

Maeve reported to the kitchen with sleeves rolled up to the elbow to begin work on the pile of knives and cutting boards filling the sink, but Panna was already there and stubbornly refused to let Maeve do her usual chore.

"You're a queen now," Panna said. She pointed to the door with sud-covered fingers. "Queens don't do dishes."

Maeve shrugged and left the mess. At least there was one advantage to her new job. Maybe Duaal would stop making fun of her nails if they spent less time scrubbing pots.

Xia, Duke Ferris and the other Arcadians arrived just as the sun was setting. They crept together into the Blue Phoenix's cargo hold in a nervously huddled mass. Gripper and Panna had arranged empty cargo containers into a long row of impromptu tables. Duaal firmly seated Maeve at the head, with Ferris to one side and Panna on the other. Ferris offered so many toasts and praises to the royal line of Cavain that her own name quickly became nonsense in Maeve's ears.

The night was full of soup and introductions as every single remaining New Hennor Arcadian presented themselves to their new queen. Maeve sat uncomfortably on her empty water canister and did her best to listen to twenty painful stories of hard life in the core, of friends and family lost to the Devourers, to disease and the hatred of the Alliance species. Was there any way to turn these lost, broken fairies into an Arcadian kingdom?

There were other introductions to make, too. The Arcadians had already met Xia, but many stared at Gripper. His size and stature were far too reminiscent of the Devourers. Nervous and still anguished by the death of the Oslain'ii's pilot, Gripper collected the dishes – feeding so many mouths had used every single bowl and bowl-like object on the ship – and he retreated to the kitchen.

"What of your captain?" Ferris asked. He glanced down the table to where Duaal sat, telling stories. "He is not like most humans."

"He has been trained in our arts," Maeve said. "It was not a pleasant verse of his life, but Duaal has become a powerful spellsinger. His skill surpasses even that of the Ivory Spire adepts."

Ferris' brow shot up. He did not seem to think that likely. "He must have learned at the wingtips of one of our own. Maybe you were his mentor, my queen?"

"No!" Maeve said sharply and tried again, softening her tone. "No, I did not teach Duaal our songs. His teacher was another human, Gavriel. He led the Cult of Nihil."

Duke Ferris' expression was blank of recognition. Maeve tried again.

"The group to which Xartasia belonged," she explained. Maeve rubbed the heel of her hand against the back of her neck. The memories were as heavy as lead weights. "When he was dead, my cousin sent those coreworlders who remained to be torn apart by Devourers."

Duke Ferris gave her a long, serious look. "Does the boy pose a danger to you or the kingdom, a'shae?"

Maeve shocked herself by laughing. "No," she said. "No, Duaal is no enemy. He and I are – it is strange to say – good friends. Duaal has devoted himself to this endeavor and he has been an invaluable ally."