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Lancer 2.42
🕑 Added 2023-04-10 01:27:47 +0000 UTCMorning dawned on judgment day. The Vitares estate was boiling over with activity, the staff—bondsmen, I corrected myself—scurrying every which way, carrying supplies and decorations. I imagined the Jeneretes estate must have looked the same way in the hours preceding the Starlight Ball my first night on the town.
We’d decided to show off the virtues of our House another way. An ornate fountain had been assembled in the middle of the courtyard; they were currently hooking it up by way of a gear shaft to a human-powered engine in the workshop. Come nightfall, they’d dump a stupidly wasteful amount of spiced wine in there.
They were hanging one of those steampunk horses above the entrance, this one outfitted with wings. No gear shaft for this one; some poor sap was going to be stuck up there all night, keeping the clockwork pegasus in motion.
Abby’s disguise was flawless. The bald head and threadbare shawl proclaimed her a slave, but they were just props. What really sold it was her attitude and posture, the weight behind her steps, the dull eyes of a person locked behind a shell of trauma.
“Just these, mistress?” she asked.
“That’s everything,” I said.
Val’s disguise was almost flawless, but something in his eyes promised vengeance if I made fun of him for this. I fought back a giggle. They took up positions on either side of the crate, lifting it effortlessly with their enhanced physiology.
The estate was bare now. No surveillance cameras, no MDOs, no ether sensors. My room was empty too, the hidden tac gear and the emergency medical kit tossed in the crate with the rest of the stuff that wasn’t supposed to exist in this world. When they searched my room, all they’d find was that the Eifni organization was one step ahead of them.
Val and Abby walked my secrets right out the front door. All that remained was me.
For now.
*
Every culture has its rituals, and Veles is no exception. As a warrior arms themselves for battle, it’s customary for them to acknowledge each piece of gear with the service it’s expected to perform in the coming violence. The violence I was about to encounter was social violence, but tonight it felt correct. I’d stumbled over the traditional forms Abby taught me before deciding to make it my own.
I held up a sleek black skirt, facetiously checking it over as if it were armor.
“Good,” I told it. “Alright, your job is to let me move fast and not get caught on anything. You see these shorts? If you get uppity, I can and will leave you behind. Don’t get any ideas. Otherwise, I need you to be menacing and dangerous. Perfect, like that.”
“Shawl, you’re the statement piece. We’re not wearing a lot of color today, so all eyes are gonna be on you. Don’t flap around too much if we need to book it. You were specifically chosen for this mission for your form factor. But I still need you to cover my holsters, understood? Great. Good, uh, article of clothing. Now, as for you.”
I checked the function and charge level of the pulser with reflexive ease. Its internal monitor reported no functional problems. I aimed it at the wall, letting my hand melt into its perfectly molded grip.
“One day,” I said, “you and I are going to knock out an entire room of bad guys. But hopefully that’s not tonight. I just want to know you’ve got my back in a pinch.”
The pulser didn’t respond as I slipped it under the shawl.
“You, on the other hand, need to be ready to go,” I said to my hand amplifier. “We’re going to have a small window to make an impression, and I need you at your best. There isn’t any room for failure.”
I secreted the hand amplifier away and left to find Eleban for my hair. I asked her to give me something ominous—and despite the uncertain expression on her face, she delivered. I checked my expression in the studio’s bronze mirror and smiled.
Years ago, I’d played a sorceress in an all-Evil RPG campaign. If I’d known how to draw back then, I would have illustrated Lady Raven just like this. And they say dreams don’t come true.
“That’s it, then,” I subvocalized. “We’re ready to go.”
“Are you sure you want to do this alone?” Abby tested me. “We’ll happily give you backup.”
“I’m sure.”
“Attagirl. They fall.”
“They die,” I whispered.
It was time for my last scene.
I announced myself to the courtyard: “I arrive: Lady Ajarel Vitares!”
*
The graced of Vitareas were positively sparkling, illuminated by ghostflame and moonlight. A thousand hues of Androdaima’s fire twinkled within shining filigree everywhere you looked. Laughter and conversation carried through the air, underscoring a soaring duet by Vitareas’s two most eligible bachelors. Markus and Cades sang in perfect harmony—I frowned, adjusted my comm settings, and listened harder. Yeah, that wasn’t an amplifier, they were just really on the same wavelength. I guess they’d worked out whatever argument they’d been having the day my house of cards came down.
I was in a weird place, emotionally. I was holding it together, but I swear to Dawkins, if someone tried to engage me in another fucking conversation full of innuendo I was going to punch them in the nose and then drown them in the wine fountain. For the good of all, I’d elected to lurk around the edges of the party, avoiding anyone directly involved in tonight’s drama. It was surprisingly difficult—I spotted Alceoi trying to catch my eye, and the Jeneretti were so all over the place you could barely find a conversation without one.
All the ducking and hiding reminded me of playing secret agents in the mall with my brothers. Some of the clothing stores had these circular thingies where you could slip between the dresses and hide from external view. My parents hated it—one of us would inevitably hide too well.
All that had changed was now all the dresses had Estheni nobility inside them, and I was too tall to hide the way a kindergartener would.
I eventually maneuvered myself to Markus and Cades, using the bulk of their platform to reduce my visual exposure. I’d had the good luck to find a neutral conversation partner: Sela Kess, who I hadn’t seen since the Starlight Ball all those months ago. I’d mostly used the opportunity to practice my small talk.
“How is Lady Roel’s recovery?” he asked.
I sighed. “Kind of you to ask. I didn’t get the sense that anyone cared about her, even before the attack.”
His expression fell at that. “It’s not my place to comment. I’m sorry about her accident.”
“Thanks, man. But don’t worry about her, she’s the strongest kid I know. How have you been?”
“I can’t complain,” he said slightly too earnestly. The comm said—
You know what? Fuck it, I was done with all the shadowboxing and done with all the fucking secrets. Whatever he was hiding, he could fucking keep it hidden.
“That’s great,” I said. “How’s your family?”
“Striving for the goddesses’ grace,” he said. “Recent events have made our position more difficult, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
“Honestly?” I said. “No. I don’t know anything.”
Sela’s eyes widened at something behind me. “Forget I said anything.”
Alceoi’s voice cut in. “Moron. If you don’t want to be remembered, don’t say memorable things.”
The Voranetes girl was dressed in a layered dress of brilliant red, with ghostlights sewn into the fabric in a way that emphasized its depth and complexity. She inserted herself into our circle like she owned it, shooing Sela off with a glare. He made himself scarce as quickly as formality allowed.
“So,” she said, looking at me. “I hear there’s a big deal getting negotiated tonight.”
“What do you want?” I asked her.
“Aunt Eloi wanted to know why the Jeneretti brought their negotiators,” Alceoi said. “I figured I could just ask you.”
“You’ll find out sooner or later,” I said. “Actually, you know what? Fuck it. Let’s get it all started. I’m so tired.”
Alceoi smiled sympathetically at me. “You’re not cut out for this.”
“What, and you are?” I said. “You hate it too. You’ve been miserable every time I’ve seen you.”
She shrugged. “It is what it is. All the sneaking around comes with the wealth and power. Can’t have one without the other.”
“And it’s fucking miserable.”
“For you, maybe. And okay, maybe me too. But the others? Lady Sael, Aunt Eloi, my sister? They swim in it, Ajarel. The only way out is for the honest women to come together and leave the secrets to the whispers. I was hoping you’d see the value in that.”
She looked at me earnestly. The comm said she wasn’t trying to trick me, but we were so, so far beyond that mattering now. Sorry, Alceoi, the window’s closed.
I turned down the implicit request by changing the subject. “You have a sister? You’ve never mentioned her.”
Alceoi sighed, but accepted my response.
“She doesn’t like to be mentioned,” she said. “Growing up… I’m sorry, can you repeat the question?”
“I can’t remember,” I said, heart hammering for some reason. “I just had some thought, it’s on the tip of my tongue.”
“I hate it when that happens,” Alceoi said. “Well, time to tell Aunt Eloi you gave me the runaround. My offer’s open.”
“Good luck,” I told her.
*
I took my seat at the negotiation table next to Roel, who greeted me with perfect courtesy despite the boiling fountain of emotions steaming off her. She had an open book on the blanket keeping her legs warm, but she was staring off into space instead of reading it.
She was wearing a sash tonight. I wasn’t. None of us said anything about it.
Representing House Jeneretes were three women I didn’t know. One of them was evidently on the city council with Kuril; I learned her name was Phaeres.
In the Voranetti corner, it was just Sael and Eloi, but being outnumbered didn’t make the two schemers any less of a threat.
Lounging against the wall, on no side but his own, Oathkeeper Falerior observed the proceedings with an expression of bland attention. When we were all seated, he pushed himself off the wall and walked to the table.
“By my authority as an Oathkeeper, I hereby submit these negotiations to the eyes of Lord Javei,” he said. “Speak in good faith. Earn glory for yourself and the goddesses.”
He touched two fingers to the table, metal on wood, then stepped back into a parade rest. That was the cue to start. Eloi beat us all to the punch, rising from the bench she shared with Sael.
“We will be leaving,” she said. “There was no mention of the Jeneretti in your promises.”
“The brightmetal was a lie,” said Roel.
Eloi and Sael stopped in their tracks. Eloi peered quizzically at Roel, then at Falerior. He smiled politely back at her.
“That was an admission of fraud,” Eloi prodded him.
“We approved it with the Oathkeepers beforehand,” said Kuril. “It was a necessary deception to get to the heart of an issue plaguing this city. The heart of our economy, the Jeneretes mines, have been under attack.”
Phaeres glanced at Falerior—who was watching Kuril with mild curiosity—before speaking. “House Jeneretes applauds the initiative of our devoted Treasurer. Your lineage shines through tonight.”
She couldn’t say anything substantial and all of us knew it. If she tried to blow smoke, Falerior would notice she was lying; if she came clean, she might direct Falerior’s attention to the falsified records.
The smart move for her was to leave and leave us with the hot potato, but there was the matter of the letter I’d delivered two days ago. Phaeres made no move to stand.
“This is a business negotiation, not a court,” said Eloi, who apparently couldn’t be bothered to give a fuck. “Have we been called here for sacred trade, or was that a ruse as well?”
“The brightmetal was a lie,” said Roel, “but the offer was not. The mines are struggling because so many who work there are crippled. We have a solution, a device that will make them useful again. We’d like your assistance funding it, for the glory of your House.”
Eloi’s mouth quirked in contempt.
“I cannot think of a messenger less suited to that message.”
Roel met her gaze evenly. She slowly closed the book in her lap, handing it to Bofa.
Then she stood up from her chair.
The blanket fell aside, revealing a lattice of filigree cocooning her injured leg. An intricate system of gears and levers shifted and clicked as she shifted her weight, a grimace momentarily flashing over her face. She pushed her chair back from the table, taking a few hesitant steps before settling into a limp.
“I’ll admit it’s not perfect,” she said to the other Houses. “This is only a prototype. But it represents the chance to return the men to work and break the alleged curse on the mines. Lady Phaeres, what’s your opinion?”
“Its beauty befits a lady of grace,” she said. “I’d like to see it stand up to the conditions inside the mines.”
“Good thinking,” said Roel. “You’re right—this model won’t work in rough conditions. But I have others, which I’ll happily demonstrate at a later time.”
“I wish you luck,” Eloi said. “But if you want us involved, you’ll need a better offer than glory.”
“Take the glory,” Roel ordered the withered spite witch like she had a death wish or something. “Vitareas should know that House Voranetes was instrumental in ending the curse—or should I say, the whisper?”
“Should they,” Eloi said dangerously. “Think carefully before you give yourself reason to regret.”
Roel smiled. “After all,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard, “it was the actions of House Vitareas that unmasked the enemy in our midst, was it not? Our savior in the shadows, preparing to fight the curse before it spread from Salaphi.”
Eloi’s brow furrowed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, sorry,” said Lirian, who was suddenly lounging against the wall. “That one’s on me.”
