Playing God (20 page)

Lynn frowned. “So, we’re dealing with alien generalized anxiety?”

Arron nodded, straight-faced, and Lynn realized he was serious. She forced herself to think about what he had just said. It made some sense. Wearied and decimated by plague and war, forced to depend on aliens and unable to draw on anything in history, somebody—a lot of somebodies—could easily fall under a nameless dread and strike out at anything that presented itself as a target.

“All right,” she said slowly. “We’ll need to look at that. See if we can reduce the worry. We’ve done everything we can think of to provide information about what’s going on…” She sucked on her lower lip.

Arron laughed. “Lynn, you are the only person I know who believes the answer to every philosophical problem is good management.”

She grinned. “It’s what they pay me for.”

“I guess.” Arron tapped his fingers on the back of the guest chair. He took a deep breath. “Lynn, if I had proof you were hurting the Families by being here, what would you do?”

Lynn stayed where she was for a few breaths. “Do you?”

Arron shifted his weight. “Maybe.”

“What kind?”

He actually studied her. Lynn felt her hands curl into fists. “Arron, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I don’t know.” He looked away. “Screwing up, I think. Look, I’d better get out of here. Cabal…the guy who brought me out here…He’s in a hurry to get back. I need to get back home…to the Hundred Isles, too, so I can pack.”

Lynn forced her hands open. “Arron, we are not on opposite sides here. I’ve got Dedelphi friends, too, you know. I want this to work.”

“Exactly.” He stabbed a finger toward her. “You want this to work. You want to save the world on your terms.” His face took on an almost helpless expression. “You always did.” He turned away, opened the door, and walked out.

Lynn stared after him. She wanted to demand to know what was wrong, what had pushed him so far away that he wouldn’t even talk to her about what frightened him. But all she did was sit there.

What just happened here?
She silently asked the ocean outside her windows.

“Well, whatever it was”—she sighed—“I’d better tell Keale and the Marines we’ve got more than one problem piled on our little plates.”

As darkness swallowed up movement on the comm-station screen, Byvant stood up and stalked over to the broad desk with its stacks of paper and noters.

“Perhaps we should issue a progress report.” Her right ear laid itself against her scalp. “To the Prime Committee from the Sisters-Chosen-to-Lead. This day we did our best to confound the Human representative of Bioverse, Inc. into believing that we were the ones who sent Scholar Arron to her with a request to change the relocation schedule.”

Ishth reached out one crooked hand to her. Ishth had caught joint-rot as the plague was just beginning its spread. She survived, but not straight and whole. Her fingers and toes curled like sickles, and her knees barely let her stand. “You’d rather have the Family break apart? We cannot survive this division. We must let their faction go and let the Humans deal with them.”

Byvant bared her teeth at the walls. Her broken ear shook and strained to move. “You mean we must let the Humans kill them.”

Ishth shook her head. “Not necessarily. The Humans do not feel things in the blood as we do. They may only imprison them. They may hand them back to us, and we can exile them. The point is they will neutralize them with a thoroughness we cannot match.” She laid her hand back on her lap. “We are agreed with the Prime Committee in this course.”

“Yes, yes.” Byvant rubbed her left ear, tugging at it and smoothing it back. “But I fear we are betraying our sisters.”

“No,” said Ishth firmly. “They betrayed us.”

S
ENEJESS WATCHED HER REFLECTION
in the night-darkened glass. Her ghost-self’s ears were turned toward the door, waiting for it to open. Her eyes were a little too wide, and her nostrils flared irregularly. She looked alert and more than a bit tired, which was appropriate for right now. Her skin was tense and smooth, rippling only a little to betray her nervousness. The aquamarine robe she had picked for this evening looked good against her smooth, blue skin. Her belly filled the guard that swelled against the fabric. She realized proudly that she could carry another bearing of children.

Behind her own reflection, the window showed the assemblage ordered by the Queens-of-All. They waited clumped together in groups of sisters and allies. Everybody wore serious clothing, straight robes of dark blues, greens, or browns. They also all wore studious expressions, as if they were debating in the Council Hall instead of nibbling dainties off serving tables. All had been ordered to wait back here in this bare room with its eclectic collection of sofas, lanterns, and scuffed tables, and all had been paraded by the debating chamber to see that it was filled with petitioners: mothers, sisters, and daughters of every blood and name. These gave their pleas to a small army of clerks and assistants, who dutifully recorded every detail for the Queens’ attention.

The Queens themselves were in there right now, issuing peremptory orders to the arms-sisters, writing decrees to be posted on the debate walls, and trembling in sympathy with every grief-stricken tale they heard.

Which was not hard to do. Senejess had peered in the debating chamber with Armetrethe, and feelings of fear tinged with barest hope had washed over her like a tidal wave. It had taken everything she had not to run in there and scoop the nearest sister into her arms.

Not that the Queens had bypassed the Council. They had presented their requests to the budget and interior committees as was perfectly proper. The requests were almost impossible to reject. Money for blankets, for hospital repair, for water purification. Requests to go scavenging in unused buildings were more controversial, but bands of mothers and sisters had already started, and a quiet talk with the All-Mother of the arms-sisters showed that she was unwilling to send her people in to stop it. So, they’d ratified it, as long as the activities stayed peaceful, and they had.

Senejess had no idea how Praeis had done this thing, but Praeis had done it. Praeis and her allies, most of them former arms-sisters or in the family of arms-sisters, had scurried about bearing messages, instructions, and even orders from all quarters and somehow, in just five days, they had managed to undermine the Council’s entire position and get the praises of the Queens shouted in the streets again.

Everyone in this room had felt the change in the peninsula’s mood. That was why they had all let themselves be shut in here to wait on the pleasure of their Majestic Sisters.

How did we lose control so quickly? How did we not notice these simple things would bring our sisters flocking?
Her ears crumpled.
We thought it was just the Queens who had been isolated.

Senejess’s toes arched inside her soft shoes, as if they were trying to dig into the varnished floor. She watched the reflected gathering and saw Armetrethe detach herself from quiet conversation with Ie and Pilea Waun. Armetrethe stepped delicately, almost mincingly, up to the window.

“Sister.” Armetrethe laid her one hand on Senejess’s shoulder. Her stump fluttered under her neatly closed sleeve. “Your thoughts are missed.”

Senejess shook her head. Her ears turned sideways, seeking something in the whispered conversation that her mind wasn’t aware of yet.

“Until the Queens-of-All see fit to give us our orders,” she said, loud enough for the room to hear, “I don’t believe there’s much to discuss.”

Someone laughed. Senejess looked for the reflection. Kieret Hur.

“Very prudent,” said Kieret, grinning. “Prudent as always, Senejess Shin. Wait for developments while the rest of us scheme our schemes without any information. Careful planning, it is what your family is known for.”

Armetrethe’s ears dropped flat against her scalp. “Were you referring to any particular part of our family, Wise Sister?” She drew the courtesy out sharp and cold.

“Certainly not, Wise Sister. I meant only to be complimentary to the blood and soul.” Kieret smiled softly and waggled her ears.

Slowly, Senejess turned around. “Yes, the blood and soul in this room is special, is it not? All of us have stood out against the Queens. All of us have spent the last year trying to work around this insane Confederation and show what a bad idea it is.” She let her voice drop. “All of us are being brought to heel like recalcitrant children. All of us are very close to losing property, liberty, and family if we aren’t careful.”

Kieret opened her mouth, but the room’s single door opened at the same time. Eyes and ears swiveled to the entrance of the three black-robed Queens-of-All.

“I am always pleased to hear you speak of caution, Senejess Shin.” Vaier Byu glided across the room in front of Senejess to accept a glass of tea from one of the servers. “It is admirable and necessary in these times.”

Armetrethe closed her eyes and raised her empty hand up respectfully. The stump of her arm stirred under the cloth of her shirt. “If I may inquire, Majestic Sister, what times are these?”

“The worst times.” Ueani Byu picked up a glass off the serving table, inspected its contents, and gulped them down.

“Not quite the worst,” said Aires Byu, from her position in the doorway. She skirted the gathering, surveying it with a discerning eye. Senejess felt her skin twitch. She had the distinct feeling her Majestic Sister Aires was memorizing who was standing near whom. “Although they have been bleak, with our Great Family teetering in despair and division. But now our Great Family has rallied with hope and confidence.” She sat down on one of the room’s three low sofas, without relaxing either her spine or her vigilance.

“It’s about time.” Ueani Byu rubbed her ears and the back of her head. Senejess glanced at Armetrethe. Armetrethe closed her nostrils briefly. She didn’t trust this sudden casualness either.

“We have done more than anyone in history. Ancestors Mine!” Ueani Byu spat on the floor. “We have stood arm in arm with the Getesaph. We have sworn to grind out anyone who disagrees with our Confederation. Not for blood, not for property or vengeance, but because they disagree with us!” She slammed her glass down on the serving table. “Look how well the Humans teach us their ways already!” Hands, feet, and ears all curled, her skin spasmed with anger.

“Ueani, we are dying.” Vaier Byu laid her long, chapped hand on her sister’s wrist. “The Getesaph will be paid back for everything they have done, but we must be alive to make it happen.”

“Do you not agree, Senejess Shin?” inquired Aires Byu from her station on the sofa.

It was all too perfect, with each Majestic Sister playing a caricature of herself. Senejess found herself wondering how long they had rehearsed this scene. However, she just raised her hands and closed her eyes. “My Majestic Sister knows just how perfectly I agree with all that has been said.”

“Perfectly and precisely, Senejess Shin.” From her private darkness, Senejess heard the edge in Aires Byu’s calm voice. “Because you know how little we can afford to lay siege to each other’s standings now, when we are all needed to watch the collective health and well-being of t’Theria. Our familial-sisters have taught us this.”

A low murmur drifted through the room. If it wasn’t cautious agreement, it certainly sounded like it.
See, Majestic Sister, our side can act, too.

Armetrethe cleared her throat. “If I may ask, Majestic Sisters, how long do we plan to continue the flow of largesse to ease our familial-sisters’ fears?”

Senejess opened her eyes. Aires Byu stared hard at Armetrethe, but Armetrethe just stood there, her demeanor as innocent as her tone.

“As long as they are afraid and ill,” growled Ueani Byu. “We will attack their problems. We will lead, and we will require that our Noblest Sisters do the same.”

If Aires Byu’s attentions were like having a scalpel used on you, Senejess thought, Ueani Byu’s were a club: blunt, unmistakable, and, for certain jobs, eminently practical.

“Can we expect new directives then?” asked Kieret Hur. Senejess, and the rest of the room, turned toward her. Senejess’s eyes and nostrils widened. She wouldn’t have thought Kieret had that much insolence in her. Kieret closed her eyes, almost as if in pain. “Will there be instructions from our Majestic Sisters as to whom we are to lead and how?”

“This will be discussed,” said Aires quietly. Her attention focused completely on Kieret. Even from where she stood, Senejess could see the Kieret’s skin ripple uneasily.

Senejess swallowed her own fear in a lump, closed her eyes, and said, “And the Getesaph, Majestic Sisters? They will understand how important it is that our familial-sisters not be afraid?”

Another murmur rippled around the room; this one was shocked.

“I am not sure I understand, Noblest Sister,” said Aires Byu pleasantly.

“It is just that we have never before been successful in persuading the Getesaph to take the wishes of our sisters into account.” She let the sentence sink in. “I was unaware that anything had changed. After all, they’ve shifted the relocation schedule without even asking the Confederation of which they are a part.”

That got them. Senejess had made sure that fact hadn’t been let out past the preparatory committee. She’d wanted it for this meeting. The murmur became an outraged cry, followed fast by demands for more information.

“Open your eyes, Senejess Shin,” said Vaier Byu.

Senejess did as she was told. She searched her Queen’s face for some hint of what was really going on. All she saw was a tired mother aging toward the Change.

“You fear the Getesaph far too much, Noblest Sisters,” she said. “It is a failing of your family, as we know from the conduct of your recently pardoned sister, Praeis. Would your blood commit yet more excesses because you fear the ’Esaph so much? How many more t’Therian lives will your blood sacrifice to this fear?”

Rage poured into Senejess’s veins, and the world became a blur of red shadows. “You dare!” she cried. “You dare when you—”

Armetrethe grabbed her wrist. Her sister’s touch was a cold wind on her inner fire. “Finish your sentence, my Sister,” Armetrethe whispered in her ear, “and the conflict on our hands will be a civil war.”