Queen of Candesce

6

"I have to admit I was expecting this,” said Margit. Venera stood in the doorway to her apartment; she was 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.

Admittedly, 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. But they pursued me here. Why here? At the time, I didn't know enough to even ask the 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 acted."

"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 Gray 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 and 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 work tables 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.

There was fire behind them, now fire ahead and smoke wafting up to the ceiling as Margit pushed and kicked at Venera and tried to get past her. When the soldier finally appeared out of the smoke, Venera stood over the botanist, her nose bleeding but a grin of utter savagery on her face. She brandished a long knife she'd found on the table.

"Back away or I'll cut her throat!” Venera's backdrop was flames. The soldier backed away.

Shouts of alarm and clanging bells were waking the house. Venera dragged Margit out of the inferno and threw her to the floor in front of the smoldering cabinet.

"Ten days.” She pointed to the door. “You have ten days to convince your people to save you. I have no doubt that Sacrus has the antidote to your poison, but you'll have to go to them on bended knee to get it. For your sake I hope they're in a forgiving mood."

People were crowding in the doorway—men and women carrying buckets of sand and water, all shouting at once and all clattering to a halt at the sight of Venera standing over the all-powerful botanist.

"You are no longer the botanist of Liris!” Venera raised her arm, summoning everything she had learned from her father about how to intimidate a crowd. “Let no one here ever grant entry to this woman again! Run! Run home to Sacrus and beg for your life. This place is closed to you."

Margit staggered to her feet, clutching her shoulder. “I'll kill you!” she hissed.

"Only if you've a mind to do it,” said Venera. “Now go!"

The botanist ran for the door, pushing aside the stunned firefighters.

"Get with it!” Venera yelled at them. “Before the whole house goes up!"

She walked through them, and as more came up the stairs, she politely eased to the side to let them pass. She reached the main floor of Liris to find all the lights lit and a confused mob swirling around the strangely decorated desks and counters.

"What's happened?” Odess emerged from the rush of faces. The rest of the trade delegation was behind him.

"I've deposed the botanist,” said Venera. They gaped at her. She sighed. “It wasn't that hard,” she said.

"But—but how?” They crowded around her.

"But why?" Eilen had grabbed her arm.

Venera looked up at her. Suddenly she felt tears in her eyes.

"My… my husband,” she whispered through a suddenly tight throat. “My husband is dead."

For a while there was silence, it seemed, though Venera knew abstractly that everyone was shouting, that the news of Margit's sudden departure was spreading like fire through Liris. Eilen and the others were speaking to her, but she couldn't understand anything they said.

Strangely calm, she looked through the rushing people at the one other person who seemed still. He was giving orders at the foot of the stairs to Margit's chambers, putting out his arm to prevent people without firefighting tools from going up, pointing out where to get sand or buckets to those just arriving. His face was impassive, but his gestures were quick and focused.

"What are we going to do?” Odess was literally wringing his hands, something Venera had never actually seen someone do. “Without the botanist, what will happen to the trees? Will Sacrus forgive us for what you did? We could all be killed. Who is going to lead us now?"

Eilen turned to Odess, shaking his shoulder crossly. “Why shouldn't it be Venera?"

"V-Venera?” He looked terrified.

She laughed. “I'm leaving. Right now. Besides, you already have your new botanist.” She pointed. “He's been here all along."

Moss looked up from where he was directing the firefighting. He saw Venera, and the perpetually desperate expression around his eyes softened a bit. She walked over to him.

As shouts came down the stairs saying that the fire was under control, she laid a hand on the former envoy's arm and smiled at him. “Moss,” she said, “I don't want you to be sad anymore."

"I-I'll t-try,” he said.

Satisfied, she turned away from the people of Liris. Venera traced the steps Margit had taken only minutes before, pausing only to arm herself in Liris's barracks. She walked up the broad stone steps over which towered row after row of portraits—centuries of botanists, masons, doctors, and scholars, all of whom had been born here, lived here, and died here leaving legacies that might have been known only to a handful of people, but were meaningful nonetheless. She trod carefully patched steps whose outlines were known intimately by those who tended them, past arches and doors that figured as clearly as heroes out of myth in the dreams and ambitions of the people who lived under them—people to whom they were the very world itself.

And on the dark empty roof, cold fresh air blew in from the abandoned lofts of Winter.

She threw back the trapdoor and stalked to the roof's edge. These were the final steps of her old life, she felt. Venera was about to mourn, something she had never done and did not know how to do. She stepped onto a swaying platform and began winching it down, feeling the uncoiling certainty of her husband's death in her gut. It was like a monster shaking itself awake; any moment now it would devour her, and who knew what would happen then? Her only defense was to keep turning the wheel to winch herself down. She focused her eyes on the tall grass that swayed at the foot of Liris, willing it closer.

In the dim light cast by Lesser Spyre, Venera Fanning walked into the wild acres of the disputed territories. She moved aimlessly at first, admiring the glittering lights overhead and the vast arcs of land and forest that swept up and past them.

When she lowered her eyes it was to see the black silhouette of a man separate itself from a grove of trees ahead of her. Venera didn't pause, but turned slightly towards the figure. He came out to meet her, and she nodded to him when he offered his arm for her to lean on.

"I've been waiting for you,” said Garth Diamandis.

They walked into the darkness under the trees.