Hammer of Time (The Reforged Trilogy) (26 page)

"They're just building a little population center," Vyron said. "Like any of the apartment blocks all over Gharib. Maeve Cavainna is just a community leader."

Still nothing from the humans. He sighed. "They'll need to pay all municipal taxes, naturally."

There. Slow, crooked smiles spread across both cop's faces. Vyron licked suddenly dry lips and looked back along the road. Xyn came puffing and panting up the street, scowling at Vyron. The nervous Dailon turned back to the cops.

"Taxes?" Duke Ferris bristled and shook his finger at the cops. "Taxes paid to a government that ignores the plight of our people?"

"We
want
them to keep ignoring you," Vyron hissed under his breath. "Be quiet!"

"We'll need to collect the first quarter's worth of taxes," Janse said. "As a gesture of good will."

"Yes," Vyron agreed. "Sure. Duke Ferris, can you go collect the color from Queen Maeve?"

"How much money will they need to leave?" Ferris asked quietly. "We do not have very much."

"It doesn't matter," Vyron said. He just wanted Ferris gone before the fairy duke's pride made things worse. "Uh, a hundred cenmarks should cover it."

Ferris looked worried but flew away toward the colorful glass dais. The male officer went to his sleek black squad car and called to the other cops. Janse folded impressively muscled arms over her chest and regarded Vyron, who cleared his throat uncomfortably and waved urgently to Xyn. The silver-skinned scientist waddled over and squinted at Vyron. The Dailon wondered why he did that. Xyn was Ixthian. Surely his parents had bred him with better eyes than that.

"So what is this?" Xyn puffed. "You're not in cuffs yet."

"I need your blackchip," Vyron told his employer.

"What?" Xyn scowled and pressed six-fingered hands protectively to his pockets.

"They–" Vyron gestured to the two police officers, then out to the other squad cars. "–came to warn us that Kaellisem is behind on our city taxes. If we can give them the money now, Janse and her fellows will deliver it and make sure we don't accrue any penalties."

"Oh?" Xyn asked. He curled his stubby antennae at Vyron. "That's awful fine of them. How much does the crown owe?"

"One thousand cenmarks," Janse supplied.

"A
thousand
?" Xyn said.

His round face pinched and the Ixthian's compound eyes went a dark red, but he took a black credit chip from his wallet and handed it to Janse. The Gharib cop took a slender reader from her pocket and swiped the black square of plastic through it. Xyn thumbprinted the transaction and snatched it back. Janse watched the reader until the blinking green light turned blue. Then she smiled at Vyron and Xyn.

"You're paid up for the next month," she told them.

"One month?" Xyn said. His cheeks were turning a subtle scarlet under his thick silver skin. "But you said–"

"Thanks," interrupted Vyron. "We'll see you next month."

The two cops got back into their car. The NI field hummed as the sleek black vehicle rose a foot into the air, pivoted smoothly and drove away. Xyn was turning purple. "A thousand cenmarks?" he said again, flapping his arms in agitation. "You didn't even try to negotiate with them, Vyron! What the hells kind of salesman are you? You're fired!"

"You pay half that every month to keep Unbreakers open," Vyron shot back. "And you used to pay even more before you hired me."

"Exactly! So why didn't you try to talk those sharks down?"

"We don't need to give them any excuses to drive Maeve and her Arcadians out. Let's keep the cops happy and far away, all right?"

Xyn struggled for an answer. The sun was gone now and the sky grew swiftly dark but for the sparse light of scattered stars. Ferris landed softly and looked around for the cops.

"Where have they gone?" he asked.

"Already paid off and on their way back into Gharib," Vyron answered. "But bad news, Duke Ferris. It's going to cost you two thousand cen per month to keep Kaellisem in operation."

"Two thousand?" The fairy sounded just like Xyn. But his sharp-angled face did not fold up in anger like the Ixthian. Duke Ferris nodded. "Very well. We will need to speed production."

"Production?" Vyron asked. "Of what?"

"Glass. We have nothing else to export from Kaellisem and the coreworlds have nothing quite like it."

"That's pretty much manufacturing diamond. Not many people on Stray can afford that," Xyn pointed out. "Other than those cops."

"Most of your clients are the owners of ships, are they not?" Ferris asked. "Surely they can pay for our work."

"You'd be surprised," Xyn said. He had to speak loudly over the rising murmur of the waiting crowd. "Myles never seemed to have enough color to make half a rainbow."

"Not just diamonds," Vyron told Xyn. "Think of all the glassteel and fused ceramics in a ship. The Arcadians can make stuff much stronger just by singing."

"What about your supply chain?" The Ixthian scowled. "I suppose you want me to set that up. Make introductions, pay for permits."

The look Ferris gave Xyn was shrewd. "Right now, the crown will never be able to repay the money owed on behalf of the Arcadian people. You would be enabling us to repay your kindness."

"But Xyn's right. Building out a new enterprise is a lengthy process," Vyron interjected. He fought to keep the smile off his face. "It's going to take a major investment of time and personnel hours."

"We would be pleased to take on most of the burden," Ferris offered with a politician's smile. "It is our own industry we seek to build, after all."

"You're going to be working hard enough just to produce the glass," Vyron pointed out. "You can barely keep up with the needs of your own city. Besides,
we're
the ones that the local ship captains know and sort of trust. You'd lose more in buying their business than any percentage we ask for."

"What portion
are
you asking for, Master Fethru?"

"Twenty," Vyron said. Ferris covered his surprise pretty well, the Dailon thought, except that he was blinking too much.

"A fifth of our income?" Ferris said. "We have a city's population to feed and house on these proceeds. The crown could only give up five percent and still be able to care for her people."

"We can expand your distribution much further than you ever could alone. Better a loss of fifteen percent of more money than keeping all of nothing."

Ferris' pointed ears turned red, but his tone remained civil, even urbane. He was born and bred nobility, Vyron thought. "In the greater interest of providing for Kaellisem, the crown could probably give up a tenth of the money earned. I will have to speak with the queen about the matter."

"Ten percent. That doesn't include the cost of shipment, but we'll negotiate a good rate for you. I'm sure Maeve will approve. We can talk to her about it tomorrow. I'm sure she has enough to worry about tonight."

"Yes," Ferris agreed. A little sullenly, Vyron thought. "I should return to her side. She will be pleased to know that the Gharib police are dealt with, if not the cost at which it was done."

"Please extend our apologies to Queen Maeve," Vyron said smoothly. "And tell her that we'll work together to more than make up for the loss."

Ferris nodded once and leapt into the air. Vyron let himself grin and turned back to Xyn. The Ixthian scientist stared at Vyron with wide, bright blue eyes. His antennae twitched so hard and fast that they were nearly vibrating.

"Ten percent of an entire town's profits from a brand new and exclusive product," Vyron told him. "You'll be wanting to hire me back on, I assume. And I'm going to need a raise."

________

Maeve stood in the door of the little room under the glass mesa. There were no windows, just the vaguely translucent patches and streaks through the cloudy material. The only fresh air came through the door. So that was where Maeve stood, panting and wondering why her lungs could not seem to do their ridiculously singular job. She felt faint.

"Just breathe, my queen," Anthem said again.

She whirled on the knight. "I am breathing! What else do you think I am doing? Gods, if only I could…"

"You are shouting," Anthem pointed out, unfazed.

Maeve stalked across the sandy floor. "Where is Logan?" she asked, still shouting.

"Outside," her new consort reminded her. "He took Malla and Hannu. Since Duke Ferris told us of the police, Coldhand is watching the perimeter against further intrusion."

"He should be here," Maeve fumed. She could not pace far in the small room, even less when crowded by people.

"He is doing his duty," said Anthem. "And we are already late to begin yours."

"I cannot do this!" Maeve cried. "I… I was wrong. I am no queen! I cannot wear the crown."

"You have to," Panna told her. "Remember Xartasia. Remember the Devourers. Remember your people. We need you."

Duaal lounged in one corner of the tiny glass chamber. His velvet coattails brushed the sand, leaving a red blush of dust on the deep blue fabric. "It's just a little glass hat, Maeve. You've already done the tough parts. And Panna's right. This isn't for you. This is for them."

He gestured to the wall behind him. Maeve could just make out the indistinct blur of the crowd outside, gathered at the dune's slope. Maeve gulped.

"I need Logan," she said. "I cannot do this alone."

Duaal nodded and reached into his beaded sapphire coat for his com, but Duke Ferris stood in the door and gestured to Maeve. "It is time to go," he said.

"Call Logan," Maeve told the young captain.

"No," Ferris said. "You must be on that stage with Sir Anthem and he alone."

"You will be there!" Maeve hissed at the old nobleman.

"Someone must crown you, a'shae," said Anthem. "It is time to go."

He held his hand out to Maeve. His long blond hair had been washed and intricately braided down his back. The knight wore a plain white robe of the sort that squires dressed in on the night of their vigil. His feet and hands were bare. Maeve lifted her hand to his. Her glass gauntlet shook so hard that the fine crystal plates rang off one another. Maeve felt like an imposter, a liar. She had no right to wear the armor of a knight, much less the crown of the White Kingdom.

It was not the true crown of her home, she reasoned. King Illain's birchwood crown had perished with him when the Devourers took the White City. There were no trees at all on Stray, so Duaal's circlet was not even a good approximation. It was not at all the same thing…

It did not work. Maeve did not believe herself, even for a moment. But the others were right. No one needed her to believe. They needed her to
do
.

She took Anthem's hand, gripping hard. If she hurt the knight, he gave no sign. With her new consort in tow, Maeve stormed out and onto the glass stage to the choral cheers of her people. Duke Ferris followed, the glass crown of Kaellisem cradled delicately in his withered hands.

________

There was more than a little awkwardness after the coronation. Maeve and Anthem were left alone in her tower. Duke Ferris made it quite clear that Maeve's rooms were Anthem's. He was her consort and was to share her tower, her responsibilities, her life and her bed.

Maeve stared at her reflection in the mirror, at the glass crown in her black hair. It really was beautiful, she had to admit. She would tell Duaal so in the morning. The circlet was simple, elegant and regal. Delicate red and gold scrollwork wound through the glass like Stray's blazing wind given form.

She removed the crown and set it down on its cushion. There were no clouds in the sky and the starlight sparkled off the glass. She turned away to find Anthem waiting for her in front of the window. His white wings were luminous in the darkness.

"Are you planning to stay?" Maeve asked.

"I am your consort," answered Anthem. "I will protect you, a'shae, until the dawn, when that duty belongs to Logan Coldhand again."

Maeve sat and began unpinning her hair. Dain and Verra had offered to help, but with Anthem there, Ferris had let her send the girls away. It had been a long night and, despite his general fascination with preserving every tiny tradition of the White Kingdom, Duke Ferris was more interested in giving his queen some quality time with her new consort.

Maeve's black hair fell around the glass shoulders of her armor. She dug her fingers under one pauldron and pried at the knotted cords that held it in place. Maybe she should not have refused Dain and Verra's assistance.

"Do you need help?" Anthem asked.

"No," said Maeve. "I will manage."

She pinched and picked until the cord finally released. The curved glass plate clattered to the floor. Maeve winced at the noise and looked at Anthem. The knight stood still against the backdrop of Stray's dark sky and bright white stars, watching her. A shiver ran up Maeve's spine and she turned away, yanking on another strap of her armor.

"Let me help you, my queen," Anthem told her. "You will never sleep if you spend all night undressing."