Bellica Page 9

  The three women stared at one another, a triangular showdown, while the hall watched, tensed to see who would break first. Against all mental bets being placed, Zameera gave a twisted half smile and bowed slightly before the Empress and Empreena.

  "I was not aware I looked so like my mother," she said in a gravelly voice, and the spell was instantly broken: everyone could hear it was Yarrow, not a ghost of seventeen years past. "It is, after all, only her peplos."

  A small sigh was released from the collective breath everyone had been holding. Jules watched Zanny fight desperately for composure while her niece looked on in hatred towards the bellica.

  "Yes, well, take your seat, Bellica. You're dangerously close to being late," the Empress said, an almost-threat, before turning to mount the stairs to her own table on its dais.

  Zardria fairly snarled at her sister before following the Zanny.

  "Happy Midwinter, Sister, Aunt," Yarrow said, moving to her own table without stopping to witness the other women freeze momentarily, caught out in their discourtesy to their family member.

  And score one point for Yarrow, Jules thought rather sardonically. But what will it cost her?

  "Too much," Ghia whispered, and Jules frowned at her. She looked startled at his attention. "She laid it on too thick with them. It could cost her," she added hastily, as if she had said something obvious. Jules relaxed. It was silly to think anyone but Sarai could know his thoughts.

  With a sigh, he sat back as the table was loaded with large serving plates of the first course. This banquet would go on half the night. He could tell.

  And where in Tyvian was Caelum?

  Empreena Zardria

  Zardria was having trouble containing the surge of loathing that had flooded through her at the apparent sight of her deceased mother. As she took her seat she could feel her body tensing, preparing to spring. Bloodlust filled her mind and she could almost taste Yarrow's throat between her teeth.

  With great effort she suppressed her animal desires, letting her human side rule. Not tonight, she thought. Death is instant; torture can last a lifetime. Toy with her.

  As the heir-apparent lazily let her eyes drink in all activity in the hall, she noticed an officer was missing from the table to which he was assigned. "Bellica Yarrow," she said, her voice ringing out and causing a hush to fall on the hall. "Where is your major? The banquet has begun--he is late."

  Yarrow's face flickered, but with what, Zardria didn't catch.

  "I know not, Your Highness."

  Zardria frowned, an expression the court had learned to fear. She could feel the mental recoil as she spoke. "You know not?" she said, incredulity filling her voice. "But do you two not go everywhere together?"

  A muscle in Yarrow's face twitched as she set down her wineglass. Zardria could see her jaw clench. The empreena fought back a smile. Come on, Yarrow, rise to the bait, insult me back--you know you want to.

  But the bellica said nothing. She ignored the empreena.

  Zardria felt the urge to kill rush up again. The blood rang in her ears, her vision grew cloudy, and a voice in her head whispered, Kill. Rend. Tear. Feed.

  Again she pushed it down. That proved harder than before. Not allowing herself to speculate on the strength of her other side, she responded to Yarrow's insult.

  "Has my voice suddenly left me, or is my First Bellica deaf? Answer the question, Yarrow."

  Yarrow's head snapped up, and she looked Zardria in the eye, unflinchingly. A small part of Zardria's mind was grudgingly impressed, but the empreena ignored it.

  "With all due respect, Your Highness, I've answered your question--I do not know where Major Caelum is. As to your second question, I believe the answer is obvious." And the bellica turned back to her food, passing some condiment or another to Third Bellica Anita.

  A part of the empreena's mind wondered when the food had arrived while the rest of her seethed.

  When did Yarrow become so good at insults? When she was born, a voice inside answered her. The bellica's very appearance was an insult to Zardria, as if the Goddesses were saying one heir wasn't enough: "We need a failsafe in case this one's a dud."

  I'm not a dud, she thought. I will be remembered and feared throughout history. And Yarrow won't be needed. I will see to that.

  Caelum

  An hour and a half late for the banquet, Caelum was still drying his hair.

  He'd spent the morning away from the castle, whether from cowardice or pain he didn't know. He'd found a place to hide out and sleep--a brothel, where they'd never look for him. They who? he wondered. The spy had run off after Yarrow's confession, but before his own. That put Yarrow in danger.

  He stopped drying his hair, amazed at his own stupidity. His head had been so clouded with guilt he'd forgotten that only Yarrow knew about it. She'd never betray a comrade, no matter how much she hated him.

  It was also crueler to let him live with his mistake.

  Mistakes, he corrected. First the terrabane itself, then the hiding out when Yarrow needed him the most.

  But she won't even listen to me. How can I protect her if she won't hear me?

  Do you need her to listen before you use your sword, you big dolt? That was his conscience, providing the obvious answer.

  Cursing himself, he finished getting ready and hurried out the door in the blink of an eye.

  He left his sword behind.

  Magea Rosa

  The layout of the castle hadn't changed since the start of her sleep. Each hallway was as she remembered it. Some paintings and statues had moved, but she cared not for Terran vanity. Completely unnoticed, thanks to her skill of blending, she walked past small groups of servants, people whose fear of the Empreena was like the stench of bark-rot to Rosa's sensitive psychic nose. To the uninitiated, blending might seem like invisibility, but the Magi knew that was impossible. It was simply the old trick of changing one's appearance to match the surroundings. Camouflage was the closest Atheē word, if Rosa remembered correctly, though the Magi practice was slightly different from how the Terrans thought of it.

  It was a day full of excitement, this Midwinter. Servants bustled to and fro, anxiety pervading their thoughts. She knew there would be a banquet that night, unless things had changed drastically, though she doubted it. Terrans were creatures of habit. Reading a few servants' surface thoughts, she confirmed her opinion: the banquet was even being held in the same hall she'd frequented in her days at their Court. Perfect. This was her chance to gather information. Maybe I can discover what year it is, she thought as she began her walk down to the hall.

  ~

  The large deathtree doors were the same as the day she'd lifted them into the castle, if slightly more polished from millennia of use. She doubted anyone knew the meaning of the carvings on them: they symbolised the friendship between Magi and Terrans, embarking on a new era of discovery together.

  The irony made her gag.

  Realising she could not open the doors and walk in while blending, as it would create quite a stir, she prepared to shift. But doubt attacked her: could she keep the blend up while shifting? She didn't know. It had been a while, and she was a bit rusty. It was a risk.

  Footsteps pounded down the corridor, and she looked up just in time to get out of the way of a Terran in formal military dress, who stopped in front of the door to smooth his hair and catch his breath.

  It was hole-digger.

  Perfect. He can let me in.

  Putting him in a position of servitude, even if unknown to him, was her way of gaining reparations for the headache he'd caused her with the damned alarms.

  As he opened the doors and entered the hall, she remembered that she hadn't yet figured out why he'd used the terrabane. Before she could, she was distracted by something...someone broadcasting. Looking for the source of the mental buzz, she saw a young Terran girl sitting at a table next to an older man in military uniform. She was talking to him half-verbally, using mental projection for the other half of
her conversation.

  Foolishly too, thought Rosa, though truthfully she was surprised and pleased to find a Terran with such powers. The man himself had no psychic powers, though he was receptive to them, and did not know that he was being projected to, although Rosa could see he did sense something...strange about his young friend. Interesting.

  All at once the mental buzz broke off and the girl looked up and across the room, right at Rosa.

  Had the treebeing a heart, it would have leapt into her throat. As she did not, she settled for a moment of stark panic before realising the girl's powers were not strong enough to see past her blend. Just in case she was wrong, though, she slowly backed into a corner of the hall where she would be doubly hidden by shadows, and settled in to observe.

  Ghia

  It began as a tickling at the back of her conscious; then spread as a numbing buzz over her whole head. She broke off mid-sentence, confused, and her eyes were drawn inexorably to focus on a spot just past Caelum's point of entry to the hall. It struck her like the blunt end of a sword: familiarity, family, belonging. She wanted to shake her head, to dismiss her musings, but her eyes seemed rooted to the spot, paralysed. All the while she felt a singing in her blood, a quickening of her pulse, as if she had come across something so real she could barely stand the sensation of home.

  "Ghia?" Jules' voice, barely a whisper, cut through her thoughts.

  All at once it broke; she was back to normal. Normalcy filled her with an incredible longing. For that brief, shining moment she had felt completed, as if she'd found a piece of herself she hadn't known was missing until she stumbled upon it, only to drop it again and feel its loss all the more sharply.

  Not immediately able to cover the despair that crossed her face, she gave Jules a wan smile and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I'm fine," she half whispered, half sent, as she'd been doing all evening. He didn't look convinced but, when she didn't say anything more, he shrugged and returned the hand squeeze.

  ~

  The banquet was lengthy, with many courses, as usual. Ghia sampled each course but did not stuff herself. She noticed Jules and most of the other officers, former and current, exercised similar restraint. The courtiers followed no such restrictions on their appetite. They gorged heartily until they could eat no more, and then waited a bit before starting again. She was surprised there wasn't a lineup to the privies.

  Looking over to the table reserved for the first three regiments, she noticed Anala as usual was enjoying the quality, if not the quantity, of the food with relish. Ghia had deduced that despite her relationship to the head cook, Anala didn't get quality food often and appreciated it when it was available. The healer admired her restraint.

  Anita and Leala also ate with restraint, heads close together in the quiet conversation of whatever it was lovers talk about over dinner. The most aloof of all the bellica-major or bellica-majora pairs, the two women seemed to have no passion except for each other, and theatrics; they were known patrons of the playhouse in Atherton. Ghia shrugged. At least one well known couple have figured out that they are an item.

  Shifting her gaze to Yarrow and Caelum, her earlier gleanings were confirmed. The bellica and major sat silently, not looking at each other, not even acknowledging the other's presence. Well, she amended, where Yarrow was a stone, Caelum looked like a wounded dog, stealing glances at his mistress, hoping to be let back inside from the cold. What had happened? She wished she could read Yarrow as easily as she could the average Atherian.

  Suddenly a white-hot, searing pain tore through her mind and was gone in an instant, replaced by a terrible clarity. She felt as if she could see through all the people around her, into their souls and deepest mind. The thought made her sick, overwhelming her, and a wave of nausea hit her as she flailed in a sea of emotions and thoughts. Where are my boundaries? She struggled to remain upright and conscious.

  A hand grabbed her elbow and from very far away and extremely close at the same time she heard Jules ask if she was all right. Barely able to concentrate, she tried to nod a yes. The motion made her sicker, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from throwing up. She had to get out of there.

  She shakily got to her feet, stumbling over her klina, and dizzily ran for the doors, the room a blur. Dimly she was aware of people staring at her in bemusement and only a bit of concern. She could hear Jules following her and explaining, "Ate too much. Needs some air."

  With all her remaining strength she opened the heavy doors and ran down the hallway, looking for a plant.

  Finding one, she collapsed to her knees and retched into the dirt, watching the Midwinter supper on the upswing. Lovely. She tried to sit back but her body informed her she was not done. She retched violently until there was nothing left in her ravaged system.

  She came to be aware of hands holding her hair back, and a voice murmuring soothingly. Jules, she thought, his concern palpable as a weight on her back. How embarrassing!

  She sat back, and Jules' hands left her head. He squatted in front of her. They stared at each other. "You want to stop lying to me about being okay and tell me what's up?" he said in his best Chief Medical Officer voice.

  She shrugged. "I decided my tree-friend here should enjoy the feast as well." He frowned at her, unamused. She sighed. "I don't know, Jules. I'm just as surprised as the rest of the court."

  He nodded slowly, lips pursed. "Are you pregnant?" he asked abruptly.

  She had to hold back a laugh, afraid the motion would make her sick again. "No. I believe there is a prerequisite, which I lack." She was pleased to note the blush on his face. Turnabout is fair play.

  Intent on his job, however, he continued. "What have you had to eat today?"

  Ghia thought back. Not much, she thought of replying with, but decided to cooperate. "An egg and toast for breakfast."

  "What kind of jam?" Jules said, cutting her off.

  "Sheepberry," she said after a moment. "And the banquet food."

  "That's it?" The look on his face lacked description.

  "That's normal for me. Well, except the banquet," she added after a moment's thought.

  Jules shook his head, sighed. "I'm surprised you're not thinner, with that kind of diet."

  Ghia shrugged. She didn't have time to eat. Or much desire, for that matter. She'd rather work through her dinner break.

  He stood, stretched, and glanced back at the hall. "Maybe it was the courtiers' eating habits that made you sick," he suggested in a low voice.

  Ghia smiled weakly. You don't know how close you are, she thought. "Undoubtedly," was what she said aloud.

  Jules gave a small chuckle, and as usual Ghia found the sound pleasing, deep and comforting. She enjoyed laughing with him. There are so few laughs to be found nowadays. Everyone had to take what there was. They spent a moment in that comfort, that cozy silence only friends can have, before Jules broke it with a sigh, and said "They'll come looking for us in a minute."

  "Hoping to catch us in a tryst," she completed for him, and immediately reined her thoughts in. With my boundaries gone, it's going to be hard to keep out of people's business.

  "After the performance you just gave? Not likely." She stuck her tongue out at him. He grinned, and then reached a hand down to help her up. Gratefully, she took it, and immediately heard him: If she's accepting help outright, she must be sick. Ghia let go of his hand as if it burned her and got to her feet quickly, if unsteadily. Another wave of nausea hit but she fought it and won. She stood straight and looked Jules in the eye. Recovering from the rejection of his help, he masked his all too obvious hurt. Tried to mask. She cast about for an explanation but there was none; so she settled for a smile. "You go on ahead, Jules. I need to catch my breath."

  He nodded reluctantly and turned to go. Ghia could hear him again: Then what have you been doing? If you don't want my company....

  She shut her eyes and blocked him out, trying to find a point of reference. She felt as if she were floating, finding path
ways in the sky through the thoughts and feelings of others.

  What's happening to me?

  You are awake to your own strength and free from restrictions, a voice-not-her-own answered her.

  Her eyes flew open in shock. The corridor was empty but she could sense a figure in front of her. The feeling of home was back.

  "Who are you?" she asked aloud. To her own ears her voice sounded harsh and rough.

  A friend, the voice said, again in her head. It was soothing and soft and reminded Ghia of sunlight through trees, warm wet earth, grass in the wind, and the Healer's Garden, with the pungent smell of herbs permeating the air. I take it you want your boundaries back? it asked. Ghia was sure the voice was a she, deep as the dark earth.

  Yes, please, Ghia said, catching on. The voice would prefer her to send as well. She sensed the voice was nodding mentally, and then it felt as if a weight had been placed in her mind. The clarity was gone, replace by a muffled sensation, and she no longer felt sick. That is temporary, the voice said. Come see me in the North Tower within six days time. I'll train you.

  Ghia must have looked doubtful. The voice went on: unless you would rather float alone when the block wears off and be unable to control what you hear?

  Ghia felt a surge of cleansing anger. You're the one who removed my boundaries in the first place!

  Yes, because they would have done you more harm than good in the long run, and because I seek a student--I have for years. You have been the only Terran I've found with such powers.

  Ghia frowned, her anger replaced with confusion. Terran?

  There is much you must learn, the voice responded. Come to the North Tower?

  Tempting, Ghia had to admit. She would love to increase her control over her powers. She felt so comfortable with this being, whoever or whatever she was. Yet Ghia's good sense told her that if an invisible creature with mind powers that rival your own invites you into a Tower that's been closed off for centuries, you don't go without asking some questions first.