her instruments 02 - rose point (24 page)

“So our arrival in winter is good timing,” Sascha said. “What with the major changes in policy part.”

“Yes, we’re a major change in policy, aren’t we?” Irine added, ears perked.

“That would be somewhat of an understatement,” Felith admitted, but she was smiling.

“So what do we have to know about this?” Reese asked, petting Allacazam’s fur. “There’s got to be some kind of ritual or protocol. I don’t want to embarrass anyone.”

“It is a rather irregular event,” Felith said, setting her embroidery hoop on her lap. “The last time an alien was presented so was when Fasianyl Mina Jisiensire brought Sellelvi the Harat-Shar to the summer court. That was some almost two centuries ago now.”

“Two...
centuries
?” Kis’eh’t said carefully.

“Just so,” Felith said. “We have not had notable contact with mortals here on the homeworld until very recently, a few years ago, when the Seni Galare heir made a male of your species kin.”

“Wait, what did you call us?” Reese asked.

“Ah—” Felith paused, blushed so brightly her pale skin turned rose-petal peach. “My pardon, it is the translation. I should have said aliens.”

“Mortals?” Sascha said. “Really? That’s what you people call us when we’re not around?”

“Wow,” Irine murmured.

Reese ignored them, tugging at a memory until it spilled: the smell of parchment and ink, the low lighting of a Harat-Shariin room, the rustle of pages... and paintings. “Sellelvi... a Harat-Shar? Was she one of the leopard intraraces?”

“She was indeed,” Felith said, touching her bright cheek with some embarrassment.

“Blood and freedom,” Reese breathed. Allacazam sent a querulous tone rising through her mind. “Did anyone ever paint pictures of her?”

“You know that story?” the Eldritch asked, surprised. “One of the lady Fasianyl’s suitors was a portrait painter and did many paintings of the two of them together.”

“Boss?” Sascha asked.

“I think I’ve seen them! On Harat-Sharii... blood in the soil.” Reese hugged Allacazam, who soothed her with the soft burble of a brook. “So our last known precedent was two centuries ago? What about this Glaseah?”

“That was done at the Seni estate,” Felith said. “Not formally here at the court. And Sellelvi’s introduction was irregular as well, since Fasianyl debuted that year with Sellelvi as her sole companion.” At their blank looks, she added, “Debutants are introduced to society with their chosen ladies-in-waiting. The women who serve that role have chosen to attach their fortunes to their lady’s, and become a part of a society themselves as a tier of support beneath the significant players of a House but above the class of household servants.”

“That was you,” Reese said suddenly. “You said you were the Heir’s lady-in-waiting.”

Felith brushed her fingers over her embroidery. “Yes, Lady.”

“And she cut you loose?” Irine asked. “That seems callous.”

“She was not well,” Felith said. Squaring her shoulders she said to Reese, “I assume the Queen wishes to use the same rite she would use to introduce a new House retainer. During it, she will make clear her duties to you as your liege-lady, and will ask you to commit to her service. If you would like, in the morning I can instruct you on the format of the rite.”

“Yes,” Reese said. “I think you’d better.”

There was a soft knock at the door. Felith, Reese and Sascha all rose to answer it and were looking at one another when Hirianthial let himself in.

“My lord Hirianthial!” Felith exclaimed, startled.

“Felith?” he said, surprised. “How come you here?”

“The Queen has sent me to serve the out-worlder captain.” This said with another blush, but at least she didn’t call her the ‘mortal’ captain. Blood in the soil, did they really think themselves so far above everyone else? Especially when a palmer killed them just as dead as the rest of them?

“A kindness,” Hirianthial said. “If you will excuse me? I must speak with the captain.”

“Of course,” Felith said, curtseying. To Reese, “If I may? I will settle into my quarters.”

“Sure,” Reese said. “Um, you’d better talk to everyone else about who’s sleeping where.”

Felith frowned, a touch of a furrow between her brows. “They should by no means be sleeping in the rooms allotted to the service—”

“Maybe you should tell us which is which, then,” Sascha said, tail curling. He pulled Irine up. “Night, Boss.”

“Good night, ariisen,” Reese said.

It surprised her how large the room felt once it had emptied of her crew. The fire had burned down to low flames, shrouding the room in sepia shadows, and the rugs and tapestries muffled the sound of the conversations going on in the other rooms to vague murmurs.

“Do you ever get used to the quiet?” she asked him.

He drew closer. “I became accustomed to the noise. One presumes the process works in reverse.”

She glanced up at him. He looked drawn to her, too pale where the wan firelight touched his skin and too severe where its shadows pooled.

“Go on,” she said, quiet. “Tell me the bad news.”

“I cannot stay here with you,” he said. “The Queen has gone through a great deal of work to divorce you from Jisiensire—to protect it, and to protect you—and my being found among you would confuse the issue.”

“So where will you go?” Reese asked.

“I will stay with the priests. They have a set of rooms here adjacent to the palace chapel.”

Reese nodded. “All right. If we have to give you up to anyone, priests seem a good choice.”

He smiled. “I am glad you approve. Captain... I trust I need not say you should be careful leaving these rooms?”

“Not born yesterday,” Reese said. “Not even by your standards. Don’t worry, we’ll all be careful.” She thought of the deteriorations she’d failed to notice on Harat-Sharii because she’d been willing to push him out of sight. “But you... I want to see you regularly, all right? We all do, to make sure you’re doing okay.”

That curved his mouth, just enough that she could tell he was glad. “After my lessons, then. Which brings me to another matter. Lady, are you armed?”

“Not unless you count the rinky-dink laser mounted on the
Earthrise
,” Reese said, concealing her alarm. “Somehow I doubt it would penetrate atmosphere if I asked Malia to aim it down here.” She made a face. “Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I
used
to be armed, but my knife’s somewhere in the middle of Kerayle-nowhere, and I’m not going back for it any time soon.”

“A knife, ah?”

“Sascha’s suggestion,” Reese said. “And Bryer’s.” She grimaced. “I should have taken better care of it, but I was a little distracted at the time.”

“You’ll learn the awareness,” Hirianthial said, as if it was a given she’d be handling weapons for the rest of her life... maybe it would be. Maybe it was time she stopped pawning off her own defense on other people. He distracted her from her thoughts by saying, “But you should not go unarmed here.” He unbuttoned his coat, and the light streamed down the length of bronze filigree as he offered her a dagger, hilt first and draped in wine-colored silk cord. She recognized the opal on it, and the tooling: this was not the plain weapon she’d washed for him after their adventure with Surapinet, but part of the antique set she wasn’t supposed to have seen. Was it her imagination that it gave off a sense of purpose and age, or was that just her reaction to the patina on the metal and the weathering on the scabbard?

“Should I really have that?” she asked. “I might break it—“

“Not likely,” he said, with another twitch of his mouth.

“Or lose it like I did my first—“

“Really?”

“Well, no,” she admitted. “I can’t imagine ever losing this one. I just don’t want to…”

“To what?” he asked, canting his head just enough for his hair to shift against his throat.

“To dishonor it,” she blurted, before she could restrain herself for sounding ridiculous.

His chin rising was subtle enough that in anyone else she would have dismissed it. In him, though… what was it? That look on his face. Maybe it was pride? Satisfaction? She didn’t want to think there was something tender in his smile, or that she could read it so easily.

“Theresa,” he said. “Reese. You are the least likely person on this planet to accomplish such a thing, I assure you.” He turned it and offered it on his palms as if it were a sword being pledged in some fealty ritual. “Please. It will ease me to know you have some recourse if you are given insult, physical or otherwise. A woman here always has protection, and should even if she undertakes it herself.”

“All right,” she said. “But… well. All right.” She took it, gingerly. How many hands had held this thing? It was probably older than her entire family line on Mars. Flushing, she added, “Thanks. For trusting me with it.”

“Good,” he said. He tapped the cords, making the tassels sway. “These should be wrapped hilt-to-sheath if you plan to go into the Queen’s presence. Otherwise, leave them unbound. Unless I am sore mistaken, your rank permits that.”

“I have a rank here?” Reese asked, bemused.

“Anyone destined for a court presentation has a rank,” Hirianthial said. “Now, I should away. You have what you need? Felith will be a good aid to you; don’t let her genteel demeanor fool you on that count. The ladies-in-waiting chosen by the Heir must be approved by the Queen, and she is Liolesa’s, heart and hand. Use her.”

“I’ll do my best,” Reese said. “We’ll be fine. All of us.”

“Do you so promise?” he asked, seeming to find that funny. And then, abruptly grave: “Be wary of committing to vows on behalf of your people, lady. The breaking of vows is a serious matter.”

“I really do promise,” she said. “And it won’t matter if I break it, because I’ll die trying to keep it.”

That made him go still, very very still. Fine by her. Let him feel how serious she was. When he didn’t speak, she added, “I didn’t dodge three planets’ worth of pirates just to get in trouble on a world full of xenophobes armed with swords, Hirianthial.”

“Swords kill full as well as any palmer, lady.”

“They’ll have to catch us first,” Reese said. She rested the dagger against her chest, fist clenched around the scabbard. “Good night, Healer.”

He paused, then stepped back, inclined his head. “Good night, Captain.”

His leaving made the parlor feel unbearably empty. Reese sighed and sat on the chair in front of the fire, working her boots off. The dagger on her lap felt far heavier than it should, and she was far too aware of its weight; once she’d tossed both boots to one side, she sat up in the chair and loosened the cords so she could draw it, just enough to watch the dim red flames flicker over bright steel. She didn’t need to touch it to know it was sharp; something in the way the light bled toward the edges suggested the perfection of it.

“Hey, Reese?”

Startled, Reese looked up and found Irine peeking in from the door. “Blood and freedom, Irine. Make a little more noise next time?”

“Sorry,” Irine said, padding in. “We’ve set aside the big bedroom for you. I thought you might want to be introduced to it.”

Reese sheathed the dagger and rose. “Everyone else asleep?”

“Or at least in bed,” Irine said. “It’s a nice world, gravity-wise, reminds us of how you keep the
Earthrise
. But I think maybe the days are longer? It’s a little disorienting. We’re going to need a week or two to get used to it.” As Reese joined her, Irine added, “Are we going to have a week or two?”

“I don’t know,” Reese said. “I guess we’ll see.”

The bed was once again a towering edifice requiring stairs to reach. Someone had left Allacazam next to her pillow, and she pulled him close under her chin. It wasn’t as comfortable as a hammock, but she could get used to it.

The dagger she put beneath the pillow, an act that caused Allacazam to form a picture of it in her head along with a rising tone of curiosity.

“A gift,” she told him, quiet. When the image persisted, and included the pillow, she finished, “It’s his, one of his important ones. It feels wrong to leave it out of reach.” She stared past his neural fur at the distant wall. “Besides… this place feels like something out of a fairy tale. There are always dragons in fairy tales.”

A cold wind blew through her mind. She shivered and said, “Exactly,” and wrapped an arm around him.

There was an austerity to the clerical quarters that suited Hirianthial after years of living off-world, for while he could have afforded luxurious housing he never chose to spend the money. He had his own funds, but for most of his adulthood he’d held the reins for Jisiensire and he had never lost the habit of treating the money available to him as wealth held in trust for his steaders. Thus, the simple narrow bed troubled him not at all, and he slept far better than he’d expected.

In the morning, he bathed, dressed, and went to the library to await Urise.

The library remained one of the more beautiful rooms in Ontine, tall-ceilinged with lancet windows, clear-paned to allow light for reading. The shelves were dark, fragrant wood and lined with leather-bound tomes, some as old as Settlement, and here and there were narrow wooden tables for setting out the larger books and paging through them. There was still a short step up to a dais under a half-cupola, lined in lancet windows topped with cinquefoils. He sat there to enjoy the thin, pale gold of the winter sun while he waited, and it was there the priest found him.

“Good morning, my son,” Urise said. “You look rested. Are you ready then to work?”

“Straight to the task, then?” he asked.

“We may live long, but that is no reason to waste the time we’re given.” Urise joined Hirianthial on the dais and folded his small, thin frame into a chair, robes puddling around him. “We shall begin with the most important teaching.”

“Very good,” Hirianthial said. “What might that be?”

“Breakfast,” Urise said, grinning. At Hirianthial’s expression, he said, “Everything is less dire on a properly fed stomach.”

Hirianthial laughed. “Very well. But I shall not answer for the trouble we’ll endure if the Queen discovers we have been eating in her library.”