her instruments 02 - rose point (28 page)

“You’re horrible,” Reese muttered to him and said, “All right, Felith, I’m ready to go. Do you think I could bring a book too?”

“If you wish?” Felith asked, perplexed. “You cannot read them, though, can you?”

“No, but they’re beautiful,” Reese said. “I’m sure the crew would like to see it.”

“Take this one,” Hirianthial said, reaching above her head and bringing down a tall book bound in blue leather and debossed in copper.

“Just like that, you pick one?” Reese asked, bemused.

“I
can
read the spines,” he said, amused. He presented it to her. “An atlas, with illustrations of common flora.”

“Perfect!” She took it, careful of his hands—though what did that matter anymore, when he could read her thoughts without them? Still it seemed polite. “Thank you.”

“And now,” Felith said, firm, “we shall leave first, and then the lord Hirianthial will follow some moments later.”

“If you say so. It still seems a lot of trouble for someone who has no honor to compromise,” Reese said. “Me, I mean, being an alien. Ladies here probably have problems with compromising.”

Felith stared at her. “Of course they do. To become pregnant is a very serious matter. Women die of it. One does not undertake it without a formal liaison to support it!”

Reese hesitated. “Right. Sorry. I... ah... forgot. No birth control here or anything.”

“No what?” Felith asked.

Reese glanced at Hirianthial helplessly. The lift of his shoulders was almost imperceptible, but she read it anyway; he had no idea how to begin to explain it either. She sighed. “Let’s get going.”

“Yes, Lady.”

Felith peeked into the hall, looking in both directions before opening the door fully for them to use. Reese followed her, holding her borrowed book, far too aware of the texture of the leather beneath her fingertips: real leather, that clung to her fingertips because—she realized—she was sweating despite the cold. But they made it to the safety of the suite upstairs without being discovered, and Reese sat with the atlas hugged in her arms.

She had yet to meet any of these enemies of the Queen’s; she didn’t count the glimpse she’d caught of them before retreating as a real meeting. She had no idea if they were as bad as they’d been painted. But she was starting to grasp the world finally, in the same way she might have grasped one of the worlds in her monthly downloads. She could almost get her arms around the idea of a place where having children killed women regularly, where there was no modern medicine, where people who didn’t look like you were evil. Her problem was that it felt just as fictional as one of her stories.

She hoped that wouldn’t get her in trouble, but she knew better. Lately all she’d been doing was falling face-first into trouble. She sighed.

Irine showed up with Kis’eh’t a few moments after she’d settled. “Did Hirianthial find you?”

“Yes,” Reese said, then squinted up at her. “Did you tell him where I was? Is that how he knew where to go?”

“Yeah.” Irine dropped onto the floor and rested her hands on her knees. “Was that the wrong thing to do?”

“No,” Reese said as Kis’eh’t padded up and sat next to Irine, curling her tail over her haunches. “No, it was okay. And no one saw us. Plus, I brought back riches!” She handed the book to Kis’eh’t, who took it with interest. “You should see their library.”

“Is this hand-painted? Who hand-paints maps anymore?” Kis’eh’t asked, one feathered ear sagging.

“Sounds just something they’d do to me,” Irine said. “If they can be stubborn about doing things the hard way, just to be fancy and superior about it, that would be Eldritch. I can’t believe Hirianthial came out of these people.”

Reese thought of Mars and said, “I can.”

Hirianthial waited until he was sure the two were away and then rested his brow against the door. How had it come to pass that he found himself more comfortable in the company of an off-worlder than among his own people? And with Reese, with whom he’d never seemed to find the key to any rapport? When had that begun to change?

God and Lady help him, but he thought she actually liked it here... this place that he wanted only to escape and was bound to until he completed his lessons, and perhaps not even then, if he failed them. He sighed out and straightened, opened the door and stepped through it, and halted at the sight of Thaniet at the end of the hall. Urise, he thought, would find his lack of awareness appalling.

“Lady Thaniet,” he said. “If you have come to use the library you will find it quiet.”

She drifted closer, her aura a maze of colors he couldn’t begin to decipher. He thought wariness and speculation played some role in them, though, and liked neither. “Thank you, my Lord. It is easier to read in the quiet.” Shyly, almost ashamedly, “I like to come here. It helps settle my mind.”

“Alone?” he asked, surprised.

“It is better that way,” she said, looking down. “It’s easier to have my own thoughts, when I’m not around people.”

“The Lady Surela can be somewhat overwhelming,” he suggested.

Thaniet smiled hesitantly. “She is a strong woman. It’s a good thing, to be strong.”

...and a bad thing to be weak in compare. He felt a surge of pity for her. “You might consider leaving her.”

“Leaving her!” Thaniet exclaimed. “Oh no, my Lord. I could never. She has been so kind to me. To be born noble but poor... she raised me from regrettable circumstance. I am grateful.”

What could he say to such a thing? “Your loyalty is commendable.”

She flushed. “Thank you. I hope I was not interrupting anything?”

That seemed a strange comment given that he’d been leaving when she saw him. “Not at all. Enjoy your visit.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” She curtseyed and stepped into the library, leaving him to puzzle at the density of her aura, and at the more abstract mystery of how someone as spiteful as Surela could have kept someone as good-hearted as Thaniet, no matter how weak her will.

He let it lie and returned to his quarters. In the morning, he was Urise’s... and in the afternoon, the court would convene.

“I need to do what?” Reese asked.

“Wear formal dress,” Felith replied, wide-eyed. “You have formal clothes, do you not?”

Reese looked down at her jumpsuit and vest. “This is my newest outfit.”

Sascha, sitting cross-legged in one of the brocaded chairs by the fire, said, “Don’t ask, Felith. Her closet’s all jumpsuits and vests.” The Eldritch glanced at him and he added, “Hell, us too.”

“I have a formal sari,” Kis’eh’t called from the table where she was poring over the book of maps.

“And Bryer has that red thing he wore when he was being your bodyguard, Reese,” Irine said. She frowned. “Come to think of it, that was a vest too, wasn’t it.”

“What’s wrong with vests?” Reese asked.

“You must not wear a vest to see the Queen!” Felith said, horrified.

“I hate to tell you this, but I already have.”

Felith covered her face, drew in a shuddery breath, and let her hands drop. “Very well. But the Queen is a different matter from the court. You cannot appear....”

“Alien?” Irine offered.

“Practical?” Kis’eh’t said without looking up.

“Poor,” Reese said dryly. She glanced at Felith. “That’s my guess. Yes?”

Felith cleared her throat. “Allow me to see if I can gather some resources on your behalf, my Lady.”

“You’re talking about putting me in a dress?” Reese said. “Me? In a dress like you people wear?” She grimaced. “I don’t even look good in the same colors.”

Gravely, Felith replied, “Let me handle that issue.”

“It would be dishonest,” Reese said. “I’m not an Eldritch—”

“Actually, I think it would be nice,” Irine interrupted.

Surprised, Reese looked at her. “Excuse me?”

“You wear nightgowns to sleep and read romance novels,” Irine said. “Why shouldn’t you wear a dress sometimes?”

“Because... because I don’t have time for dresses,” Reese said. “Or money for them. They’re not me. I’m Reese Eddings, captain of a trading ship. A
poor
trading ship.”

“You’re also Reese Eddings, the merchant with the patronage of an alien queen,” Sascha said. “Doesn’t that entitle you to some fancy clothes now and then? She’s already given you a necklace.”

Reese hesitated, and into that pause, Felith struck. “I can also find appropriate livery for your crew members, for later court appearances.”

“You want to dress them up too?” Reese said, and grinned at the resulting mental image. “Great! If I have to wear the ridiculous clothes, they can too.”

Unperturbed, Sascha said, “As long as it’s not gold. I look horrible in gold.”

“I go, then, with your permission,” Felith said, curtseying. “I know just where to look.”

“Sure,” Reese said. After the door closed, she folded her arms. “Did you really have to tell her all about my bad habits?”

Irine sniffed. “If nightgowns and romance novels are a bad habit, I’m in worse trouble than you.”

“No you’re not. You don’t wear clothes to bed.”

“True,” Irine said, ears perking. “All right, I’m better off than you.” She grinned. “Come on, Reese. Haven’t you ever wanted to try it? Just once? After reading about these fancy costumes?”

“Maybe a little,” Reese said. “But it still feels....” She trailed off. She wanted to say dishonest because it was true, and it was. But the tiny part of her that loved her romances and her nightgowns complained. Was it any less real than the rest of her just because she had never lived a life that made those things practical? And she’d already met something out of a fairy tale when she’d rescued Hirianthial.

Of course, if her experiences with him were any indication, she’d find the costumes far more trouble than they’d seemed in books.

“You know, this place is so pristine they could use it as a planetary park,” Kis’eh’t said from her table.

“What?”

The Glaseah sat back from the maps and rubbed her eyes. “I mean it’s a huge world and they’ve barely put down any settlements on it. The entire population’s concentrated on a single stretch of coastline, and not a very big one.”

They all converged to examine the maps. Kis’eh’t pointed out a long patch of land divided into parcels, each shaded and overset with a small heraldic mark. One of them was the white unicorn on blue of the Queen’s pendant, the other a bronze hippogriff on red, like the one Reese had seen on Hirianthial’s sword case. “I’m guessing from the heraldry this is a political map. I’ve looked through the whole book, but these seem to be the only territories marked this way, so I’m guessing they represent the entire political structure for the world. But if you look on the next page...” She turned it and tapped an area. “See this bit you could fit under my finger? That’s the size of the area on the previous page. That’s all they’ve got marked as belonging to people with family crests. Look at the size of the continent! And this is only one of the land masses.”

“That’s a lot of guesses,” Irine said, ears flipping back.

“But reasonable ones, I think,” Kis’eh’t said. “Unless there are large numbers of people on the world who don’t have family crests?” She glanced at Reese. “What do you think?”

“I... think... no,” Reese said. Most of what she’d read in books about the Eldritch had been wrong, but one woman hadn’t been: the Harat-Shar Natalya, who’d had the paintings of Sellelvi and Fasianyl. Nothing in any of her novels had suggested vast numbers of people without important family names; in fact, most of the Eldritch in those book had spoken of the people under them with the same feudal concern Reese had noticed in Liolesa and Araelis and Hirianthial. “No, I’m betting that everyone works land for someone with a crest. It seems that sort of system.”

“How old is the book, though?” Sascha asked. “Maybe they’ve expanded since then?”

“Maybe,” Kis’eh’t said. “But how likely do you think that is, really? If we take for granted that they’ve always eschewed high technology, they would have had to colonize the planet the old-fashioned way, and by old-fashioned I mean with machetes and animal power. I don’t see it. They just don’t seem the type.”

Reese frowned at the map. “I guess most of the population lives in the country. We haven’t seen much of the city but it didn’t look too big from orbit.”

“What if they’re not?” Irine said suddenly. Her ears had flattened. “What if the reason we don’t see many Eldritch offworld is because... there just aren’t that many Eldritch?”

None of them answered.

“Think about it,” Irine continued. “Say that either the population’s equally split between the Eldritch who like the Alliance and the ones who want us to stay away... or assume that the side that likes us has fewer people but enough power to keep their enemies in check. Wouldn’t we see a far bigger percentage of them off-world if there were more of them? Half of the population of Harat-Sharii is huge, and even if only five percent of them decided to emigrate that would still be a noticeable number. But there’s all of... what, one? Two? Eldritch off-world?”

Reese murmured, “They die giving birth.”

Irine snorted. “I’ll say they do. And without real medicine, they probably die of scratches and bad falls and stupid curable diseases too.”

“You’re telling me,” Reese said slowly, “that the population of this whole world—of all the Eldritch in the entire universe—might be less than my town on Mars.”

Irine said nothing.

“That’s a lot to build on a few suppositions,” Reese said.

“So let us find out if they’re true,” Sascha said. He pricked his ears forward. “Don’t give me that look, Boss. In two days, we’re not going to be a secret anymore, and if nothing else we know we have an ally in Araelis. Assuming we can’t get it out of Felith, Araelis will tell us anything we ask, I bet. You can hobnob with the important people, and we can go do some investigating.”

“All right,” Reese said with a sigh. “Though honestly I don’t know why you’re doing this. It’s not like this is your problem.”

“It’s not,” Kis’eh’t said, quiet. “It’s your problem, Reese. That makes it our problem, because we care about you.” Her feathered ears sagged. “Besides, we’ve all gotten fond of Hirianthial.”