her instruments 02 - rose point (14 page)

“Irine,” he began, and then stopped, looking down until he could compose himself. Drawing in a breath that lifted his shoulders he said finally, husky, “Irine. There are perils in taking on family for someone like me.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you came aboard and were so charming at us,” Irine said. She stood up. “Anyway. I am going to make something hot to drink because it is like a polar ice cap in here, as usual. You—” She pointed at Hirianthial. “—are about to tell us how to behave around Eldritch so we won’t get you or anyone else in trouble. Because we’re going with Reese. Right?”

“Right,” Sascha said.

“Right,” Kis’eh’t said.

Bryer made a low chirring sound.

“Very well,” Hirianthial said. “But there is one rule above all that I must ask of you.”

“And that is?” Reese asked.

“When we are on-world,” he said, emphatic, “if I command something, it must be done. There are nuances I will not be able to teach you in the time we have, and there will be those eager to find fault. If they do—”

“Then we’ll be punished?” Kis’eh’t asked.

“Then your hosting family will be punished,” Hirianthial said.

“Which will be you?” Sascha asked. “Or...” He glanced at Reese.

“Or the Queen?” Reese frowned. “Can they really punish a queen for our behavior just because she’s the one who asked us to the world?”

“I think, very much, there are some who would like to try.”

“Yeah,” Sascha said. “We are very much not letting you go alone into this dragon’s lair, Boss.”

“Good,” Reese said. “Because I very much don’t want to go without you.”

Irine returned with a pot of steaming kerinne, the scent of cinnamon trailing her. “So, what first? Manners? Forms of address?”

Hirianthial sighed.

For the next few days, Reese attended Hirianthial’s sessions on proper behavior among Eldritch, and it was like something out of her worst romance novels, the ones with such stilted and self-important societies they seemed more like caricatures than actual cultures. There was a minimum distance they were supposed to maintain between themselves and strangers—a literal distance, measured in feet—and that distance shrank or grew depending on the level of acquaintanceship one claimed with another person. The rules about eye contact were equally Byzantine. There was, of course, no touching, though in select social occasions the Eldritch worked around that with the use of daggers for men and wands or fans for women. There were rules about when it was polite to speak and when not to, though he didn’t bother teaching them the language, saying only that the people likely to want to speak with them would all know Universal.

After one of these lectures, Reese went down the hall to the quarters she’d assigned Malia Navigatrix. The foxine let her in and gave her the room’s only chair, sitting on the bed to face her with a posture so like Hirianthial’s that Reese paused.

“Captain?” Malia asked, folding her hands in her lap. “What can I do for you?”

“Did they teach you that?” Reese asked. “To sit so still.”

Malia did not so much as twitch an ear. “Those of us with direct contact with the Eldritch have had deportment lessons.”

“And there are those of you who aren’t in direct contact with...” Reese stopped, held up a hand. “Never mind. That’s not why I’m here. Malia, Hirianthial makes the political situation on his homeworld sound like a warzone. Is it that bad? What exactly am I walking into?”

Malia hesitated, then her ears swept back and she grimaced, a very unplanned expression. It made her look like what she was, a young Pelted woman, and Reese liked her much better that way. “Ah. Mm. You would ask that.”

“That sounds bad.”

“It’s not that, it’s just...I don’t know how much I can tell you. I’m sworn to the Queen’s service, which means I get to observe the Veil, just like the rest of the Eldritch. That’s their custom of not divulging anything to foreigners, if he hasn’t mentioned it yet.”

“You’re joking?” Reese asked, and when Malia’s chagrined expression didn’t alter, finished, “You’re not. You’re telling me that you’ve committed yourself to a policy of keeping Eldritch secrets from non-Eldritch? You’re not an Eldritch, Malia!”

“I know,” Malia said. “I know. But this is my job, Captain. It’s a job I’ve trained for all my life. And my family’s been involved in it for generations. We’ve even got a family Eldritch.” She smiled, lopsided. “He’s been around since my ancestress met him in an apartment on Earth. They went to a party together, dressed in gold and silver.”

“Let me guess,” Reese said. “He wore silver.”

Malia’s smile grew fond. “Actually, they mixed and matched, so they were in both colors. You should have seen the pictures….” She shook herself, then nodded. “That’s how it’s been for us, Captain. He gives a little, we give a little, and we’ve made a family out of it.”

And that explained it, with the suddenness of lightning.
Family
. Malia was Tam-illee, but they’d adopted their ancestress’s Eldritch friend. That made sense of her keeping the Veil. She had her own Eldritch to protect. Reese studied her, then said, “All right. Granted that you can’t tell me everything. Is there something at all you can share? Even a little?”

Malia looked away, lip between her teeth. She smoothed her hands out on her pants and said, “A little, maybe. At very least you should know if the Queen has taken you on as a potential retainer. She’s very forward-looking, the Queen.”

“Wait, wait. Retainer?”

“It seemed kinder than saying ‘as one of her servants,’” Malia said. “Universal gives connotations to those words that don’t necessarily apply in their own.”

“Fine. Go on.”

“The Queen,” Malia said, “looks out for the interests of her people, and thinks that includes us. Us, not-Eldritch” She met Reese’s eyes, her gray gaze somber. “She doesn’t hold with the xenophobia.”

“So that means half the planet disagrees with her and finds the idea revolting, and probably very much wants to lynch her for the suggestion.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Malia said. “Except it’s more than half, I’m afraid.”

Reese tapped her knee with her fingers. “What you’re telling me, then, is that I’m walking into a situation where more than half the people don’t want to have anything to do with me, and the woman who sponsored me is sitting on a bomb.”

“More or less,” Malia said, ears folding back apologetically.

Reese pulled a hand down her face, stopped with her hand over her mouth. She shook her head. “These people really want that little to do with us? It seems crazy to have this much angst over outworlders. They’ve solved the problem, haven’t they? They don’t see outworlders at all. What more do they want?”

“More than that I’ll have to let the Queen explain to you,” Malia said. “If she chooses to, she’ll tell you why it’s so important.”

“Right,” Reese said. She sighed and rose. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Captain.”

“Reese,” she corrected automatically. “While you’re on this ship, it’s Reese.” She smiled wryly. “The only people who call me ‘captain’ are being ironic about it.”

Malia chuckled. “All right. Reese.”

On her way to the door, Reese paused. “Do you speak Eldritch, Malia?”

The foxine glanced at her. “Ah?”

“You said something about the word servant in Universal not being the same for them. Do you speak the language?”

Malia pleated the edge of her tunic over her thigh. “The treaty between the Alliance and the Eldritch specifies that only a certain number of people can be taught their language, Captain—Reese. I think it’s five. Two trainers, and three people in Fleet Intelligence. For anyone else to know the language is a violation of the treaty.”

Reese folded her arms and lifted her brows.

“But,” Malia said without looking at her, “it’s sometimes helpful to know what your enemies are saying about you.”

Reese said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

When the floor shivered beneath his boots in his room, Hirianthial paused. He had some sense for the distances, having traveled them one way already, but the trip had seemed to last so long—and not long enough—and so he found himself waiting for confirmation. Usually it took only a few moments for Malia Navigatrix to re-orient the ship and send it down its new course, but when the engines re-engaged it wasn’t the quick tremor of the Well engines, but the slower pulse of the insystem drives.

They had arrived.

He reached beneath the bed for the case and pulled it out, flipping the catches and pushing the lid open. On the bed of crushed wine-colored velvet rested Jisiensire’s swords. His hand traveled the length of the hand-and-a-half, pausing on the opal that rested in the mangled setting beneath the crossguards. He had not worn these swords in over five decades, had renounced the right to carry them when he set aside the seal. In fact, he would not even have them if his House-cousin hadn’t insisted that he take them. She hadn’t wanted his title, though she’d shouldered the responsibilities of managing the families that looked to them without complaint, but she would absolutely not accept the additional responsibility of the swords. Better Jisiensire be without champion, she had said, than to cut him off from hearth and kin by accepting his complete renunciation, seal and sword.

Hirianthial thought of Bryer’s accusation and closed the case without removing any of the weapons inside.

The lift took him to the
Earthrise’s
cramped bridge, where Sascha and Irine were using two of the ubiquitous crates shoved into the back of the room as seats. Kis’eh’t was at the sensor station, and Reese at comm. Malia was in the pilot’s chair.

“Just in time,” Sascha said, his aura alive with a crackling anticipation. “We hit the system limit a minute ago.”

As if in response, the comm panel chirped, signaling an incoming audio-only transmission. Reese looked down at it, startled, then tapped it open.

“Unidentified vessel, you are entering private space. Give your credentials or be advised we are authorized to turn you back at the border.”

Reese’s aura bloomed white with incredulity. “Are they serious?”

“Very,” Malia said, and leaned over to address the console’s pick-up. “Outermost Wing, this is Malia Navigatrix on the TMS
Earthrise
. We have the Queen’s authorization to proceed to the planet.”

“Malia! Not Ferrell’s daughter?”

Malia smiled. “The very same. We’re here out of Starbase Psi, carrying home a national.”

“Ah?”

Malia glanced at Hirianthial, so he stepped close enough to be heard and said, “That would be me. Hirianthial Sarel Jisiensire.”

“My lord! How wonderful! The Queen will be delighted to hear that you’ve come home.”

Reese was staring at him; he could feel the agitation of her attention like an itch. He sifted among all the truths until he found a socially acceptable one. “We have a great deal to discuss.”

“All right, Malia... you know the way. You’re cleared to go. Remember the protocols.”

“Always,” Malia replied. “
Earthrise
out.”

“That was my line,” Reese said.

The foxine chuckled. “I’ll let you say it next time. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be running your own ship out.”

Reese huffed. “I’m not ready to swear to an Eldritch Veil.”

Malia smiled and said only, “Heading in-system. This may take a while? You all might want to go somewhere more comfortable.”

“And miss this?” Irine asked, ears perked. “Not for all the worlds in the Core!”

“All right,” Malia said. Then added, ears lopsided, “I felt the same way the first time I came in.”

“Well, some of us are here for more prosaic reasons,” Kis’eh’t said. “Like the fact that I can’t find signs of any station anywhere, or any ship. Who hailed us? And where are they?”

Reese frowned, then left the comm board to peer over Kis’eh’t’s shoulder.

“Don’t bother,” Malia said. “You won’t find them. They’re tucked away like that on purpose, and stealthed besides. It keeps the system from looking notable to people cruising past it. Everything in system is locked down that way.”

“Even the planet?” Kis’eh’t asked. “Planets give off a lot of noise.”

Malia glanced at Hirianthial. Turning back to her board, she said, “The planet’s not a problem.”

He could sense their curiosity and unease, but was not motivated to address it. They would discover soon enough why the Eldritch homeworld was so quiet.

No, he had come to the bridge for a reason, and he had only to wait another ten minutes for fruition. Reese’s panel chirped again, and her voice when she spoke was disgruntled. “There’s a message here for you, Hirianthial.”

He inclined his head and waited for her to move out of the way before sitting. As he expected, it was in text only.

Come at soonest opportunity. Board our guests until I can send for them.

It is good to have you home.

Hirianthial tapped his fingers lightly on the board once. “Malia, what time is it at the capital right now?”

The entire crew was listening; he could feel their straining attention like static electricity. The foxine said, “Just before dawn. We should be there… ah… say late afternoon local time.”

“Thank you.” He wrote simply ‘Expect me with the evening,’ and sent it on before ceding the panel to Reese. “I’ll be in my quarters if I’m needed.”

If they stared at him on the way out, he did not notice. There was no part of that message he did not find unsettling. The curtness was not unusual—Liolesa was always busy—but the combination of implied urgency and gratitude at his arrival suggested the situation on the world had grown worse, for he couldn’t imagine her welcoming him home any other way given how abruptly he’d left. He had told her when she’d been made heir that he had no interest in helping her navigate the difficult political situation, and she had not been surprised; he’d never made any attempt to hide his impatience with the constant maneuvering of the court. But as the head of Jisiensire, he represented one of the most powerful blocs of Liolesa’s supporters, and while Araelis was authorized to run the House in his absence she would not make any major decisions on her own. Not because she wasn’t capable, but because she was convinced that he would see the wisdom of taking the mantle back up again, and her refusal to wear the seal was her way of forcing his hand.