Dominion (31 page)

Theirs was a pleasant stroll through a particularly elegant part of Upper Tannis, and Ani enjoyed the vista of sparkle and glass, the reflective spires like stalagmites growing from the white quartz streets. It was safe for one such as her to walk here, for in these rarefied confines Diplomatic rule was respected and the Sisterhood admired. Elsewhere, particularly among the poorer citizens, support still existed for the Military, and areas such as Gomor, Perl, and Dannat were hotbeds of Military sympathizers, from which bombings and assassinations were ordered on a regular basis, despite vicious crackdowns by the Securitats.

But while Upper Tannis was far from such dens of unrest, still Ani formed a pleasant yet remote half smile on her lips, and with the force of her mind she willed the wealthy citizenry to keep their distance. They did, of course they did, although they did not know the reason, and later they would wonder why they had not greeted the Archmage, or even tried to introduce themselves and perhaps make an important connection.

Within minutes, the branches of the Tree spread like a crown above the Sisters. As they waited to be granted entry, Ani understood why many who did not live here muttered privately that it had forever spoiled the iconic skyline of their beautiful, steepled city. By day it cast ungainly shadows over lesser buildings, while every waking hour a multitude of private craft buzzed about its numerous staggered landing bays like bugs around a gaudy plant, and by night its cloud of dotted lights was a random distortion amid Tannis's spires of neat silver.

Once inside, all of that was left behind. The interior, while undeniably luxurious, was muted and discreet. Everything was cool, fragrant, and hushed, from the melodious voice of the handsome concierge who welcomed them, to the pearl vases containing vast floral arrangements as white and fresh as flurries of tamed snow.

“Her Eminence, the Archmage Ani of the Nairene Sisterhood, is here to visit the First Lady Merida,” announced Cocile as she stepped forward. Ani stood back, her chin raised, a practiced expression of unconcern on her face. She made it a habit not to speak to underlings in such situations, for this was all a game and she knew well enough how to play it.

“Of course,” said the concierge. He looked at Ani in something like awe. “Archmage, it is my great pleasure to welcome you and your entourage to the Tree of Lights. We are charmed.”

Ani sighed. It was one thing her knowing how to play the game, but another to expect everyone else to understand the rules too. Being haughty was an exhausting business.

“We have been here before. Many times,” she said in a voice of cracking ice, leaving the concierge blushing and noticeably flustered as he turned from her to the screen in front of him, and tapped on it urgently.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled, more to himself than to her. “I'm new here.”

There was a chiming noise and a glass pod alighted softly beside his station. At once the concierge regained his professionalism.

“The First Lady awaits you, Your Eminence,” he said. “Please mind your step.”

They all got in, Ani first, perching primly on the cushioned glass benches around the curved wall of the lift.

“Very good,” said Cocile on behalf of the entourage as she brought up the rear. She smiled stiffly at the concierge, and Ani noted, with hidden amusement, that Cocile was the only one to accept his offered hand to assist her in entering the pod. The concierge was certainly terribly good-looking, but then why wouldn't he be? Her people were vain, and pleasant features, like beautiful possessions, were held in high esteem. There were none who regarded themselves so highly as the residents of the Tree, and therefore their concierge would be expected to look the part.

For a moment the concierge seemed about to say something more, then changed his mind. He stepped back from the pod. The door closed, and they were off, calmly being carried through the still air of the place, the crystal artery of the central trunk narrowing around them as they were borne upward. Near the top, a neat gap opened in the clear wall of the inner crown, just as if the solid surface had liquefied, and the pod slipped through. Immediately the glass melted shut behind them again, and they came to rest in a wide corridor tiled in sheets of mother-of-pearl. The pod door opened. Waiting for them was a female Illyri swathed in familiar red, but the fabric could never be as vibrant as the blood-colored hair that clouded her angular skull and set off her eyes, for they were remarkable, redder yet than her hair, wide and vivid as enormous rubies pressed into the smooth golden skin of her face.

She sparkled. She was like a jewel.

“Merida,” breathed Cocile, with rare and genuine pleasure. She had been a Novice years before with the President's wife, and they were close friends. Ultimately, Merida's looks had resulted in her departure from the Marque and her delivery like a prize to Krake. Her sharp-faced friend Cocile had been left behind, initially forlorn and, truth be told, not a little jealous, but the affection had remained between them long after the youthful bitterness had gone.

They alighted from the pod, Toria and Liyal leading, and Ani stepping out behind, though she could feel Cocile buzzing with energy and impatience at her back. Nonetheless, she moved slowly, regally, as befitted the serene leader of the Nairene Sisterhood, for Cocile needed to remember her place.

“Archmage, you are very welcome,” said Merida, bowing a little at the hips, but her eyes darted to Cocile.

“Thank you, Sister,” replied Ani, inclining her head in response. “It is good of you to meet us in person.” Then she relented. “As you can see, today I am accompanied by my aide, Cocile. I'm sure that you are as anxious to renew acquaintance with her as she is with you.”

She turned and nodded graciously at Cocile. Unable to contain her joy, the usually reserved handmaiden pressed forward and threw herself into Merida's outstretched arms.

“Cocile!” Merida said happily, and she laughed.

“How I've missed you,” said Cocile in response, and she kissed Merida three times, first on the left cheek, then on the right, and finally square on the lips. They both giggled. Something inside Ani felt like it was being stretched taut as she watched the little tableau play out: the touching of noses, the giggle, the foreheads pressed close together, at once so familiar yet so alien. She remembered Syl, and thought of Tanit: one friend slain by another. She looked away and swallowed down something she couldn't name, something she'd spent years trying to forget, but it was still there, circling beneath the surface, waiting to consume her if she just allowed it to break through the ice and reveal itself.

“Merida,” she started to say, but it came out soft and damaged, so she cleared her throat and tried again—“Merida, shall we go in?”—and this time her voice was strong and commanding, and they all knew it was an instruction, not a request.

Instantly, Merida disentangled herself from Cocile.

“Certainly, Your Eminence.”

Once they were seated, Merida confirmed that all her staff had been dismissed for the day the moment that she learned of the Archmage's impending visit. Without another word being said, as one, Toria and Liyal reached into their robes and withdrew small metal boxes from their pockets. Toria opened hers first, and out flocked a throng of tiny flying creatures in a multitude of colors, each no bigger than the tip of a pencil. Immediately they buzzed away, heading into all corners of the room, and then through the door into the presidential chambers beyond.

Liyal opened her box at the same time and tipped its contents onto the floor. A tangle of jet-black worms tumbled out and unknotted themselves before sliding off at high speed, blurring as their bodies shaped to every corner and nook that they explored.

“There's really no need,” said Merida as the electronically modified creatures, designed to sniff out signs of surveillance, searched the rooms. “My staff are handpicked, independently vetted, and completely trustworthy. Our quarters are scanned for bugs daily anyway and there are surveillance blockers on all our entrances. We're perfectly secure here.”

Ani ignored her. So too did Toria and Liyal as the searchers went about their business. Several silent, strained minutes passed.

“Clear,” said Toria at last as her swarm returned to their box, and were once again sealed inside. Liyal waited, her box open on the floor as worms slid back into it. She frowned as the counter inside its lid clicked to ninety-nine then stopped, and her head cocked expectantly, waiting. They all heard it at the same time, a quiet blip, getting louder and more urgent. It was coming from the vicinity of an ornate antique chest on stubby legs, intricately carved from a boulder of fiery blue opal. Liyal walked over to the chest, bent down, and retrieved a black spiral of worm from underneath it. Deftly, she uncoiled the worm, revealing a transmitter only a little bigger than a mustard seed. Without saying a word, she popped the transmitter into her mouth, ground it between her teeth and swallowed.

“Done?” said Ani.

“Done,” echoed Liyal, which was about as verbose as she ever got. She placed the worm back in the box, and closed it once more.

Ani and her guards looked at Merida expectantly. Cocile stared at her feet, as if sharing in her friend's shame.

“I'm terribly sorry, Archmage,” blustered Merida. “Honestly, they scanned earlier. There was nothing. Are you sure that was even a bug? It was minuscule. I've never seen one that tiny. Is it even possible? I mean . . .”

Ani eyeballed her until she shut up, and then she gazed meaningfully around the opulent rooms. The only sound was a fountain in the corner as it splashed liquid silver into a bowl of hollow pearl.

“Sister Merida,” she said finally, “we must not allow ourselves to become complacent, even when our circumstances seem crafted only for our comfort and security. There are enemies everywhere. Now, we must narrow down our list of suspects. Have you welcomed any other Nairene visitors to these rooms of late?”

“No,” said Merida.

“Are you sure? Think carefully.”

“Not lately, Your Eminence. Priety dropped off her latest tome on manners, but she didn't come up. I met her in the lobby and she handed the manuscript to me there.”

Priety was the applied diplomacy lecturer to the Nairene Novices, and was unpopular and prudish, and obsessed with manners, order, and hierarchy. But doubtless that came with the territory, for applied diplomacy dealt entirely with social behavior and conduct. Off the top of her head, Priety could list every member of every family of importance in Illyri society, from their historical lineage to the ages of their children. It was a great disappointment to her that nobody ever actually
wanted
her to reel off this information, and yet, despite the yawns that seemed to follow Priety wherever she went, Ani had found a place for her in the new order of the Marque. It was not a selfless act; Ani simply needed to know who was who in Illyri society, for her early years spent on Earth meant that she had come to the Sisterhood with no prior knowledge of the Illyri elite, or how they were interconnected. Priety had been indispensable in this regard.

“The manuscript was wrapped, I assume?” Ani said.

“Of course. You know Priety!”

“And you unwrapped it up here?”

Merida's hand tugged at her worried mouth.

“I did,” she said, “right on this chair where I'm sitting. But—”

“That was a seed transmitter, Merida. They are made entirely of organic matter, and contain no metals or alloys whatsoever, so are undetectable by conventional means. The transmitters are not only biological, but they are designed to roll away from light; as soon as they find themselves in darkness, they automatically adhere to the underside of whatever object is nearby. When inspected, they appear no more threatening than a piece of grit. Over time, they deteriorate like any other organic matter. They are manufactured exclusively on the Marque, and have only recently gone beyond prototypes. We have chosen to keep them to ourselves, for obvious reasons, but our little searcher bugs and worms are now seed-enabled.”

She paused, and Merida shuffled uncomfortably.

“If they are only to be found on the Marque,” said Merida, “then that one—”

“Could only have come from the Marque,” Ani finished for her. “Unless, of course, our technology has been leaked, which is not itself beyond the bounds of possibility.”

“Priety,” said Merida.

“Let's not jump to conclusions,” said Ani. “I'd ask only that you keep this to yourself until we've had a chance to question Priety. She might be an unwitting accomplice in this; the seed transmitter could have been placed in the package without her knowledge. No need to upset yourself, Merida. I am not angry. But remember: caution always.”

“Thank you, Your Eminence,” said Merida, and her face was woeful. “You know I only wish to be of service to my Sisters.”

“Well then,” said Ani, nodding encouragingly, “time is short, so tell me what you have learned that may be of use to our beloved Nairene Order.”

Merida poured cremos for her guests, and then shared with them her latest nuggets of Diplomatic gossip. Much of it was useful, as always, for Krake's tongue loosened when he was with his wife in the privacy of their bedroom. What interested Ani most was news of large fleet movements by the forces of the Diplomatic Corps on a scale beyond any seen so far in the war. She had heard similar rumors elsewhere, and had suspicions about what they meant, but here was the confirmation she had awaited. The Diplomats were massing for a killer attack. The war had dragged on too long, and an end needed to be put to it. Everyone knew that. But if the Diplomats were assembling a fleet, then they must have a target in mind. Somehow, they knew where the Military—or a significant portion of it—was massed.

Ani stood, thanked Merida, and requested the use of her pod.