Queen of Candesce (8 page)

“What?” She glanced around defensively. “Does this violate some ancient taboo?—I'm sure; everything else does. Or is it something you've been trying to get done for years, and now you're mad that the newcomer has achieved it?”

Eilen looked down. “It's been tried before,” she said in a quiet voice.

“You must understand,” said Odess; then he fell silent. Knitting his brows, he started furiously shuffling.

“What?” Now Venera was seriously alarmed. “What's wrong?”

“To travel outside Spyre…is not done,” said Odess reluctantly. “Not without safeguards to guarantee one's return. Hostages, if one is married…but you're not.”

Venera was disgusted. “The pillboxes, the guns, and razor wire—they really aren't to keep people
out,
are they? They're to keep them in.”

“Yes, but you see if Margit is willing to send you out despite you having no ties here, no hostages, or anything she could hold over you…then she's obviously willing to try it again,” said Odess. He slammed the deck down on the table, kicked his chair back, and walked away. Venera watched him go in startled amazement.

The soldiers were standing too, not making eye contact with anyone.

Venera pinned Eilen with her gaze. “Try
what
?”

The woman sighed deeply. “Margit is a master of chemistry and biology,” she said. “That's why she is the botanist. Three years ago she conceived the idea of sending an expedition like the one you're describing. She chose a man who was competent, intelligent, and brave, but one whom she didn't completely trust. To guarantee that he would return, she…injected him. With a slow poison that was not supposed to begin to act for ten days. If he returned within those ten days, she would give him the antidote and he would be fine.”

Venera eyed the splayed cards. “What happened?”

“The return flight was delayed by a storm. He made it back on the eleventh day.”

Venera hesitated—but she already knew the answer when she asked, “Who was it that Margit sent?”

“Moss,” said Eilen with a shudder. “She sent Moss.”

“I have to admit I was expecting this,” said Margit. Venera stood in the doorway to her apartment, dressed down in close-fitting black leathers. Two soldiers hulked behind her, their meaty hands resting heavy on her shoulders.

“In retrospect,” Venera said ruefully, “I should have anticipated the trip wires.” The inside walls of the courtyard were just too enticing a surface; freed of her metal clothing, Venera weighed only twenty pounds or so and she could easily clamber hand over hand up the drainpipe that ran next to Odess's little window. “There's no other way in or out of the building but up that wall. Naturally you'd have alarms.”

“…I just wasn't anticipating it so soon,” said Margit. She twitched a housecoat over her lavender nightgown and lit another candle off the one she was holding. Even in the dimness of midnight Venera could see that her apartment was sumptuous, with several rooms, high ceilings, and tiled mosaics on the floor beneath numerous tapestries.

Of course Margit wouldn't live like the people she ruled. Venera wouldn't have either. She understood Margit enough by now that staying here in Liris had not been an option. So, after bidding her coworkers good night, she had retired to her closet and waited. When the building was silent and dark, Venera had crept out and jimmied open a window that led onto the courtyard.

She hadn't been thinking clearly. The revelation about Moss had shaken her and she had acted rashly. If she didn't regain control of this situation she would be in real trouble.

“Come in, sit down. We need to talk,” said Margit. “You may leave us,” she said to the soldiers. They lifted their hands off Venera's shoulders and retreated past the heavy oak door. They would have a long walk down the winding steps that led down to Liris's ground floor.
Good,
thought Venera.

She sat down on a decadent-looking divan; but she kept her feet braced against the floor, ready to leap up instantly if that was required.

The first step to taking control of the situation was taking control of the conversation. Margit opened her mouth but Venera spoke first: “What is an heir of Sacrus doing running a minor nation like Liris?”

Margit narrowed her eyes. “Shouldn't I be asking the questions? Besides, what's your interest?” she asked as she gracefully sat opposite Venera. “Professional curiosity, perhaps?—You are a noble daughter yourself, are you not? A nation like Liris would be an interesting playground for someone learning how to use power. Are you interested in rulership?”

“In the abstract,” said Venera. “It's not an ambition of mine.”

“Neither is assisting your new countrymen, I gather. You were trying to escape us.”

“Of course I was. I was press-ganged into your service. And you admit yourself you expected me to try it.” She shrugged. “So what could we possibly have to talk about?”

“A great deal, actually,” said Margit. “Such as how you came to be here at all.”

Venera nodded slowly. She had been thinking about that, and the conclusions she had come to had motivated her to run as much as the facts about Moss. “I arrived here through an odd chain of events,” she said. “At the time I wasn't prepared to wonder why there were armed troops sneaking over the lawns of Spyre during the nighttime. I was mostly concerned with evading them. I didn't know enough to ask the right question.”

Margit raised an eyebrow and sat back.

“It's my father, you see,” said Venera in a confessional tone. “He's flagrantly paranoid and he wanted his daughters to be as well. He raised me to disbelieve coincidence. So if I was
herded
here, what could the reason be? The troops who were following me weren't from Liris. In fact, I assumed they weren't after me at all but were chasing down another trespasser whom I had met. It wasn't until today that I realized that those other soldiers had been from Sacrus.”

Margit laughed. “That truly is paranoid. You would implicate my nation in every one of your misfortunes?”

“No, just this one.” She sat forward. “Since we're talking, though, I'd like to ask you a couple of questions.” Smiling her maddening smile, Margit nodded. “The first question is whether you maintain constant contact with your nation. I've been told you don't, but I don't believe that.”

Margit shrugged. “It would be easy. So what if I did? Can't a daughter talk to her parents?”

“The second question,” said Venera, “is whether Sacrus itself travels regularly into the principalities.” Seeing Margit's suddenly guarded expression, Venera nodded. “You do, don't you?”

“So what?”

“Someone guessed where I had come from,” marveled Venera. “More than likely the Gehellens have circulated descriptions of myself and my husband throughout the principalities. They seek us, and it's an open secret why.”

Margit grinned in obvious delight. “Oh, you are smart! I was right to bring you into Liris in the way I did.”

Venera cocked her head. “What other way was there?”

“Oh, I think you can guess.”

“Under duress. Tortured,” said Venera. “Why do you think I tried to flee just now? It suddenly made no sense to me that I was walking around freely. And your offer to let me travel outside Spyre…made even less sense.”

“You became alarmed. That's understandable. I was told to learn everything you know about the key to Candesce,” said Margit. “You figured that out, of course.”

Venera looked innocent. “Sorry, the what?”

Margit stood up and paced over to a side table. “Drink?” Venera shook her head.

“Something happened a short time ago,” said the botanist. She stood with her back to Venera and in those seconds Venera looked around quickly for anything that might give her an advantage. There were no handy hat pins, letter openers, or pistols lying on the pillowed furniture. She did spot a battered wooden cabinet that looked markedly out of place compared to the rest of the pieces, but had no time to get to it before Margit turned again, drink in hand.

“Something happened,” Margit repeated. “A fight in the capital of Gehellen, rumors of a stolen treasure, and then an event that our scientists are starting to refer to as
the outage.
”

Venera tensed. She hadn't expected Margit to know this part of the story.

“Candesce does many things besides light our skies,” said the botanist. “We watch the Sun of Suns closely; we have to, our very lives depend on it. So when one of Candesce's many systems shuts down, even for a moment, we know about it. Even though such an event has not occurred in living memory.”

She sat down again. “Only someone with a key could enter Candesce and manipulate it. And the last key was lost centuries ago. You can imagine the uproar that the outage has caused, here and abroad. The principalities are mobilizing, and agents of the Virga home guard have been seen nosing around, even here.”

Home guard?
Venera had never heard of them. But she wanted to kick herself for failing to realize that the gambit she and her husband had played would alert all the powers in the world.
Hit another trip wire,
she mused.

“It was only a matter of days before we had your name and description, and that of your husband and others in your party,” said Margit. “We pay our spies well. So when a woman fitting that description miraculously appeared in the skies of Greater Spyre, we mobilized.”

“Clearly I've been a fool,” said Venera bitterly. “Then it was Sacrus troops who drove me here?”

“I actually don't know for sure,” Margit admitted. “Our men were out that night, I know that much. But there may have been others as well. In any case, once I communicated that I had you, I was told to hand you and the key over. I couldn't very well refuse my masters the key—but you, I declined to part with.”

Venera felt a pulse of anxious anger as she realized what Margit was saying. “Then the key is—”

“Locked away in the Grey Infirmary, where Sacrus keeps all their new acquisitions,” said Margit with some smugness. She drained her wineglass and tilted it at Venera. “But you're here. I took Liris in order to have a base from which to grow my own power. You provide potential leverage. Why should I give you up?”

“And the offer to let me travel…?”

“I increase my leverage and buy some insurance by getting you out of Spyre and to a safe place that only I know about,” said Margit. “But you should really be happy that I haven't tortured you for what you know. I'd prefer to have you on my side. You must admit, I've treated you well.”

Cautiously, Venera nodded. “It was too risky to keep the key to Candesce for yourself. But a lesser piece of leverage…”

“…Who knows something vital about it that I can trade…that's useful to me at the moment.” Margit smiled, catlike.

It still didn't quite add up. “Why did you let me go up to Lesser Spyre?” Venera asked. “Why risk exposing me at the Fair?”

“That was to prove that I had you,” said Margit with a shrug. “While I was negotiating what to give up. Sacrus was at the Fair. I told them to watch for you, but with the guards and defenses that surround the Fair they couldn't snatch you from me. It was the safest place in Spyre to display you.”

Someone unused to being used as a political pawn might have been surprised at these revelations. For Venera, discovering that she had been played was almost reassuring. It placed her in a familiar role.

She knew exactly what Sacrus was going to do now. Venera had fantasized about it herself: you took the key and entered Candesce, and then shut down the Sun of Suns. As the darkness and cold began to seep into the principalities, you made your demands of the millions whose lives depended on Candesce. You could ask for anything—power, money, hostages, or slaves. Your leverage would be total.

It would help to have enough experienced men to crew a navy, though, because one of your first demands would be that the principalities deliver up their own ships. “Sacrus doesn't have any ships, do they?” she asked. “Surely not enough to run the blockade that the principalities would put in place.”

Margit shrugged. “Oh, we have several. Sacrus is a big nation. But in terms of weapons…” She laughed, and it wasn't a pleasant laugh. “I doubt we would have to worry much about any fleet of the principalities.”

Her confidence was suddenly unnerving. Margit sauntered over to the battered wooden cabinet and opened the top. “Since you're here,” she said, “let's talk about the key to Candesce.”

“Let's not.” Venera stood up. “My knowledge is my only bargaining chip, after all. I'm not going to squander that.”

This time Margit didn't answer. She pulled a bell rope that hung next to the cabinet.

The gravity was low enough and Venera still strong enough that she could probably make it to the window in one leap. Then, she could scale the stonework by the tips of her fingers if she had to and make it to the roof in under a minute. Not, however, faster than the soldiers could climb a flight of stairs to retrieve her.

Margit was watching her calculate her options. The botanist laughed as the door opened behind Venera and a large, heavily armored soldier entered.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” said Margit. Something glittered in her hand as she approached Venera. “I just want to guarantee your compliance from now on.”

“The way you tried with Moss?” Venera nodded at the syringe Margit held. “Is that the same stuff you used on him?”

“It is. His outcome was an accident,” said the botanist as the soldier stepped forward and grabbed Venera's wrists from behind. “I'll be more careful with you.”

His outcome was an accident.
Venera was familiar with that sort of logic; she often blamed others for the things she did to them. For some reason, the argument didn't work this time.

Margit had to round a large couch as she approached Venera. She took a step to do so, and Venera made fists, bent her forearms forward, and then raised her arms in an egg-shaped curve that Chaison had once showed her. The startled soldier clung tightly to her wrists but suddenly found himself pulled forward and off-balance as Venera lifted his hands over her head. And then she turned and her hands were over his as he lost his grip and she pushed down and he thumped onto his knees.

She kicked him in the face. His helmet ricocheted across the room as Margit shouted and Venera hopped the couch, snatching up the open wine bottle and swinging it at the botanist's head.

Margit slashed out with the syringe, nicking Venera's sleeve. They circled for a second, then Venera grabbed for her wrist and they tumbled onto the floor.

The wine bottle skittered away, gouting red. Venera pulled Margit's arm up and bit her wrist. As the botanist let go Venera made a grab for the syringe. Margit in turn lunged for the bottle.

“I was just going to kill you,” hissed Venera. She landed on Margit's back as the botanist closed her fingers on the bottle. “I've changed my mind!” She jammed the needle into Margit's shoulder and pushed the plunger.

Margit shrieked and rolled away. Venera let her. The botanist had let go of the wine bottle and Venera took it and upended it over the wooden cabinet.

Cursing and holding her shoulder, Margit ran over to the soldier, who was sitting up. When she saw Venera reach for one of the lit candles she screamed “
No!
” and backpedaled.

It was too late, as Venera touched the candle flame to the wine-soaked cabinet and the whole thing caught. In the orange light of the fire Venera ran through a nearby arch. She wanted to know whether that cabinet was all there was to Margit's power.

“Ah…” She stood in a large private pharmacy—dozens of shelves covered in glass bottles of all sizes and colors hung above long worktables crowded with beakers, petri dishes, and test tubes. Venera joyfully swept her arm across a table and tossed the candle into the cascading glasswork as Margit clawed at her from behind.