Hammer of Time (The Reforged Trilogy) (33 page)

"Your Majesty, he fights with his
hands
!" protested Ferris.

"And did our spears save us from the Devourers, Your Grace?"

Maeve stalked across the glass balcony to where Duke Ferris stood, withered hand against the tower wall as though the shock of it all might send him toppling into the street below. The hot wind tugged at her long black hair.

"Our enemies are not a few feral beasts or angry dryads anymore," she went on. "Nor even the coreworlders who so despise us! Do not forget what I first told you on Sunjarrah, Ferris. What I do now, I do to fight Xartasia, the Devourers and those of
our own people
who have joined them. If we are to win that battle, we cannot fight it with spears alone. These are weapons that have already failed against the Devourers. We need knights like Sir Ballad."

Duke Ferris stood up straight. "If we give up all of our ways, my queen, we have given up ourselves! What then remains to fight for?"

"We are not fighting for ourselves! The White Kingdom is already lost, gone a hundred years ago. We fight for everyone else, for the scattered survivors. And we fight for the Alliance, so that they will not face the terrible losses that we have."

The fairy duke answered stiffly. "Yes, my queen. If you will excuse me, the enassuanii have final preparations to discuss. It has been a long and trying day for you. I should see to them on my own."

It was barely noon, but Maeve sighed and nodded. "Yes. Thank you, Your Grace. Please tell the enassuanii that I am sorry to miss them and that I eagerly await their performance tomorrow night."

Ferris spread his wings, inclined his head and leapt into the sky. He wheeled once around the red and gold royal tower and then soared away across Kaellisem. Maeve watched him go and took a deep breath. The hot, dry air smelled acridly of dust. It always did… Maeve almost did not notice anymore. Almost.

She went back inside, where Logan and her handmaidens awaited her in the shifting ruby light. Verra hurried to offer Maeve lunch, but she was not hungry and waved the girl off. Dain stood quietly in the corner, dusting the queen's armor. Logan raised one dark blond eyebrow.

"Ferris wasn't happy about Ballad," he said.

"You heard that?" Maeve sighed and combed her fingers through her hair, ruining another one of Verra's delicate braids. "The venerable duke shall just have to deal with my decision. I doubt that my appointment of Sir Ballad will hardly tear Kaellisem apart."

"Probably not," Logan agreed. "The Arcadians have never had a civil war."

Maeve smirked at him. "You have become very knowledgeable in our history, my hunter."

"Panna's been able to answer most of my questions."

"She knows more of my own kingdom than I do. I have never been suited to my own blood! But the color of my hair condemns me to the throne…" Maeve pulled off her crown and stared at the delicate circlet of glass. "No, Arcadians have not fought each other in ten thousand years. But my own ancestor wiped out the pyrads for less purpose than we have now. We can fight, Logan. We will fight."

"If Kaellisem has half your ferocity, dove, it will be a short fight," Logan said.

Maeve thought she saw a tiny smile on the Prian's face. But when she looked up, it was gone. On the other side of the room, Dain was singing to herself as she worked. Verra returned with the lunch Maeve had not asked for and began asking the queen what she wanted to wear to the enassui tomorrow night.

"Some things are too important for words. For those, you need songs."

– Logan Centra (234 PA)

The site of the enassui turned out to be as much a practical decision as a creative one. There was only one stage in Kaellisem and it just happened to be where the royal subject of the performance had been crowned. In between their other work, the harried glassmiths raised ranks of semi-circle tiered audience stands and a few small private viewing towers. The best of these seats were reserved for Maeve Cavainna herself. It was the royal tower in miniature, a spiraling needle of red and golden glass like a great flower that rose over Kaellisem's theater.

Syle Lamanna stalked between the low tiers of seating, pretending to inspect the glassingers' work along with his fellow junior knights. He raised yellow eyes to the sky. Sir Ballad flew in low circles over the theater, speaking into a coreworlder's com. In his ugly black leather, the boy looked like a raven. The oldest knight and royal consort, Sir Anthem, stood at the top of the royal box and peered down at the rows of glass seats below. Neither Ballad nor Anthem watched Syle. Even after Bherrosi, the other knights suspected nothing.

Syle stared down the sloped tiers to the stage. Red and dun-colored sand was still heaped around the little glass plateau, despite the best efforts to sweep it away. Stray was a world of dry sand. Not even the desperate beauty of Kaellisem could change that. But tonight, this theater would house the first enassui sung in a century. After a hundred years of silence, the fairies would offer their song to the gods once more.

It was almost a pity that it would all end in blood and fire.

________

Maeve batted Duaal's hands away and scowled at Verra until the girl backed away.

"I look fine," she told them. "All eyes will be on the stage, not on me. I could show up in a sack and no one would notice."

"Not
everyone
will be watching the show," Duaal said with an irritatingly mysterious smirk.

"And this whole opera thing is about you, Glass," Gripper pointed out. Even the big Arboran wore a fresh, clean pair of pants and a huge shirt that nonetheless fit him close as a second skin. Gripper gave Duaal a stern look. "But don't worry. Everything will go just fine."

Maeve paused, not certain what Gripper's reassurances were supposed to mean. Verra saw her opportunity and lunged at the queen, hurriedly applying a silvery eye shadow that made Maeve's nose itch. She sneezed and Verra laughed. It was a soft, bell-like little sound.

"Sir Anthem will be unable to look away," she told Maeve. "You are beautiful, my queen."

She did not really want to think about that. Instead, she looked at Panna. "Where is Duke Ferris?"

"He's already at the theater," said the young anthropologist. "There are some coreworlders that came in from Gharib to watch the enassui tonight. Duke Ferris has gone to make introductions."

Maeve nodded at her reflection. This time, Dain had firmly affixed the queen's crown with an armory of pins and some sort of hair product that made Maeve think of the resin Xia used to preserve specimens. Verra painted a pink gloss onto Maeve's lips and told her not to bite them. She had to admit that the effect of her handmaidens' work was impressive. Her silver gown was delicately tied and embroidered like the foam of a sea never seen on Stray. The queen in the mirror looked like a statue of ice and moonlight. She was royal, regal and commanding. She looked nothing like Maeve.

"Fifteen minutes," Logan warned from the doorway.

Maeve rose, her silver dress whispering softly around her. "And where is Sir Anthem?" she asked. "He was supposed to be here by now."

"Don't worry about him," Gripper answered. "He's uh… already at the theater with the duke."

"Anthem's right where he needs to be," Duaal agreed with a smirk. "Let's get going. You don't want to miss this."

________

Anthem Calloren looked around the Blue Phoenix hold. But for a few tangled orange cargo nets and a pair of large magclamps, it was empty. The barrels of white Bherrosi sand had already been removed and carted to Hyra's smithy. Where was Captain Sinnay? Anthem called out, but the only reply was an empty echo. Why had Duaal called him there?

Behind him, the airlock light flashed from green to red. "O2 leak," warned a flat, recorded voice. "Sealing all bulkheads."

The airlock slid shut and locked with a loud thunk. Anthem ran to the controls and then stopped. He had no idea what to do. How could there be an air leak? The Blue Phoenix was on the ground and – until a moment ago – the doors had been open. Something had to be wrong with the ship's computer, but Anthem had no more idea how to fix it than he did how to kindle a star.

The knight remembered his com. It was a new addition to his equipment, but the little coreworlder device had already proved useful on several occasions. Anthem was grateful that Gripper had given it to him. He scrolled through the pre-programmed contacts until he found Duaal's name and then selected it. The com beeped as it signaled out. Just once and then there was the unmistakable click of someone answering.

"Um," said a nervous voice that was definitely not that of the young Captain Sinnay. "Hello there. I guess the airlocks closed up on you."

"Gripper?" Anthem asked, confused. Had he called the wrong man? "Yes, the computer seems to believe that there is some sort of leak."

"Yeah," agreed Gripper, voice staticky and sheepish. "I programmed it to. And your com, too. It's not going to call anyone but me for the next few hours, Spear."

"You have locked me away on your ship."

"Sorry about that."

Anthem sighed and switched off the com. Gripper – and Duaal, he suspected – would release him when the enassui was over. Probably. The knight folded his legs under him and sat in front of the airlock to wait.

________

Maeve left Gripper and the rest of her friends on a lower floor of the theater tower. There were seats set aside for each of them, but the top level was reserved for the queen and her consort alone. Panna and Ferris were there, both alive with excitement and eager for the show to begin. Duaal argued rather heatedly with Verra to convince her that Maeve would not need her handmaidens during the enassui. The queen would have her consort, after all, and who better to take care of her needs? It was the wink that Duaal gave Verra and the suggestion that it might be better to leave Maeve alone with Anthem that finally seemed to convince Verra. Maeve wondered how unqueenly it would be to punch Duaal.

Only Logan, as her guard, was allowed to accompany Maeve to the top of the tower. She had to admit that it had been almost worth the bother. Her box was a small, intimate balcony decorated with vines of tiny white flowers that filled the warm evening air with a sweet, delicate scent. Where had anyone found such things on Stray? Nestled among the blossoms was a deep, backless seat, just wide enough for two and cushioned in a dark wine-colored red.

The theater spread out below, glass tiers full of winged shapes surrounded by slender glass tower seats all lit by the pale silver of Stray's large, dim moon. The starkly simple stage rose up from the sand in the center and glowed in a brilliant spotlight. A circle of enassuanii knelt in the center of the smooth glass surface, creating a ring of overlapped white wings. They faced inward as they prayed in preparation for their performance. The enassuanii had been there for hours, Maeve knew. Their song was more than a show; it was a holy obeisance, a sacred rite and duty before Erris All-Singer. He had created the Arcadians to sing what he could not, to create anew. There was no mistaking the Kaellisem theater for one of those lost with the fall of the White Kingdom, but the sight still brought tears to Maeve's eyes.

"Where's Anthem?" Logan asked suddenly.

Maeve turned back to look across the top of the tower. Logan was right… They were alone on the balcony. Maeve's knight consort was nowhere to be seen. She frowned. "I do not know. I cannot imagine that he would miss a moment of this."

On the stage, the circle of singers moved, swayed like willows in the wind. As one, they turned outward, facing the audience with hands and wings raised. Maeve's heart sped. The enassui was beginning. Maeve grabbed her flowing silver skirts and hurried to take her seat. Anthem could join her later. She would not miss the show.

________

Logan stood behind Maeve. He wasn't watching the Arcadians on the stage below, but the queen. She was so beautiful. Perfect. It wasn't the gown or her sculpted black curls or the carefully painted makeup that made her silver eyes outshine the stars. Maeve leaned forward, grinning like a girl as the enassuanii beat their wings and rose into the violet evening sky. Logan would have given anything in the worlds to kiss those smiling lips.

Maeve grabbed his hand – his metal one – and Logan's heart nearly stopped. She turned that delighted grin on him, gray eyes sparkling. She tugged and Logan let her pull him down into the seat beside her. Maeve did not let go of his hand.

Below, the Arcadian enassuanii had risen into the air above the stage, circling one another on the evening breeze like great, pale birds. What Logan had first taken for the soft sigh of the wind rose until Logan realized that it was the voices of the enassuanii. The fairies were singing. The words were slow, long and sustained until each one became an alien, abstract sculpture of sound. The harmonies were subtle and close, layered and as intricate as circuitry. Logan could not understand most of the words; his Arcadian was still rough and the complex music made the task no easier. But that detracted nothing from their beauty. They were singing of Maeve. That was all he needed to know.