Mylion was accustod to ignoring stares and whispers after his ti in Tiraas, and found it interesting and sothing of a relief that neither occurred in the Palace. It only made sense; courtiers and politicians were always reserved people, and their servants and guards had to be no less so. If anything, he was made to feel more welco here than in most of the city thus far. Many paid him no mind at all, but those who took note of his presence usually did so with smiles, bows, and polite greetings.
Fortunately, he was not expected nor able to stop and engage any of them, thanks to the pace set by the Palace steward guiding him, and enforced by the two soldiers bringing up the rear. The steward had not told him so in as many words, but he knew well that their black uniforms signified the Imperial Guard. That was as much as he knew, save that the Empress herself wished to et with him.
Their path ended in an ornate hall, outside a heavily carved door of highly polished oak. The steward turned to him with a courteous smile and rapped at the door with his knuckles.
“Enter,” ca her voice from within.
The steward turned the handle and pushed the door open, then stepped back and bowed deeply to Mylion. There was nothing for him to do but nod in acknowledgnt and step inside.
Empress Eleanora was engaged in so kind of paperwork at a roll-top desk; upon the mont of his entry, she was in the process of pushing it aside and pulling down the covering, then stood to greet him. Mylion did not attempt to sneak a glance at its contents. They were unlikely to interest him, and she might notice.
The door shut behind him, and he noted that both the steward and the guards had remained outside; he was now alone in this little drawing room with the Empress. Well, that suggested she ant him no imdiate harm. There was that, anyway.
“Elder Mylion,” she said, gliding across the layered Calderaan carpet to him. She offered her hand, sowhat to his surprise, in a customary human handshake, not positioning it for a kiss as seed to be the custom for noblewon.
“Your Majesty,” he replied, grasping her hand and adding a shallow bow.
“Thank you for attending so quickly,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “I hope the extrely short notice has not inconvenienced your plans in the city unduly. Your willingness to accommodate is greatly appreciated.”
“Your concern is likewise appreciated, your Majesty,” he replied calmly. “Your invitation was most polite—also appreciated. Of course, that does not diminish my awareness that a personal summons from the Imperial throne is in no way a request.”
Her expression didn’t alter by a hair. “On the contrary, Elder, I haven’t asked you here to put you out any more than I must. The truth is, I have a favor to ask. If you are unable or disinclined to accommodate , you will be escorted back to your inn with my thanks, and apologies for the loss of your morning. Please, have a seat.”
She directed him to a chair upholstered in silken brocade, seating herself in an identical one positioned not quite across from it, but at an oblique angle, such that they could maintain eye contact easily without locking their attention upon one another. A small table was positioned between them and enough to the side that it was not in the way, with a gilt-edged wooden box sitting upon it. Mylion seated himself slowly. She had not offered him refreshnts, as was polite in most cultures, but then, there were none in the room. He judged that if this woman planned to insult him, she would not do it in such a brash way as eating or drinking while he went without.
This was the first ti he had seen her, making it a point as he did to avoid human nobility—a hard-learned lesson from his youth. Eleanora Tirasian was much as rumor described her: beautiful and powerfully self-possessed. She was reputed to be a crafty and ruthless person as well, but so far, at least, had been nothing but polite. Hopefully that would continue. Hopefully her promise on the subject of his release would be kept. Oh, the steward who had appeared at his inn this morning had been very polite, almost unctuous, but it was as Mylion had said to her. One did not refuse a direct request from the Empress. He had decided to avoid needless trouble by not bothering to try.
“First,” she said evenly, “what I wish to discuss with you is a matter of great sensitivity. I must ask for your word, before proceeding, that you will keep this in the strictest confidence. No one can be told of this.”
Mylion regarded her in silence; she simply gazed back, showing none of the impatience that humans usually did when stared at. Well, it only made sense that one of the world’s preeminent politicians would have learned the value of patience.
“My loyalty,” he said finally, “is to my tribe above all. The elves as a whole second, and with them, the balance of nature itself. I am willing to be of help to humanity, and even political groups of humans such as your Empire, but you must understand your position upon my list of personal priorities. I an no insult, your Majesty, but you ask for a blanket promise under unknown circumstances. I can’t possibly give a guarantee, when I don’t know what effect this matter will have upon my people.”
At that, she actually smiled slightly. “You’re concerned that we have designs upon your groves?”
“In fact, we watch the Empire carefully for such designs. Many elves my own age and more still resent having been pushed into our current lands, from the much broader fields we once road.”
“The Elven Reservation Act does grant your people free passage across Imperial territory.”
He smiled in return, very thinly. “It is quite a thing, being allowed to tread upon lands which were our hos for centuries before their current inhabitants existed. But I take your point. No, I don’t suspect the Empire of aning harm to the groves; it has been a fairly respectful neighbor in recent centuries. Serious human incursions haven’t been a problem since you settled the Enchanter Wars, and your own dynasty has been…diplomatically anable, when we have occasionally found need to parley. My concern is more general.”
She nodded. “Fair enough. Matters are already uncertain on our part, with elves flitting about and communicating between groves at a rate unprecedented in our history, not to ntion actually holding congress with various Narisians. I suppose my request for a blanket statent must seem equally mysterious.”
“I am, of course, unable to comnt on grove business,” he said serenely.
The Empress leaned subtly forward. “For our part, we have learned to leave the elves alone, by and large, because little profit has ever co from trying to force our attentions on them. I have only a general sense of why elves disdain widespread comrce with human nations, but in the end, the space between us is largely by your choice. I can only imagine what the last hundred years must have looked like, to immortals. I would certainly understand if you feared coming to the sa end as the Cobalt Dawn.”
“No elves I know have ever blad the Empire for that,” he said imdiately. “The Cobalt Dawn tribe lived deep within the Golden Sea; tribes from the borderlands, who actually interacted with the human settlers, warned them not to attempt their conquest, and were ignored. We are a reclusive people, your Majesty. There is little we respect more than a group’s right to defend itself.”
She nodded. “We have made dizzying progress recently, and at a rapid pace. And as I look over the history of the Empire since the Enchanter Wars, the the that constantly jumps out at is connection. The more advanced we beco, the smaller the world grows. Frictions inevitably result. We all have to learn to live with the proximity of those who used to be only distantly seen. Even the dragons have learned this lesson; I’m sure you are aware of the Conclave of the Winds. I may be wrong, but it appears to that with the elves have made the sa discovery. If it’s not the reason your groves and Tar’naris are suddenly in more constant contact, it must at least be a result.”
She leaned back again, folding her hands in her lap, and regarded him closely. “I did not ask you here for purposes of general diplomacy, Elder Mylion. I have a very specific need, and according to Intelligence, you are the most likely person in the city to have my answers.”
“I?” he inquired.
The Empress smiled again. “There are only a few Elders who leave their groves, and fewer still who happen to be in Tiraas at the mont. I also wished to speak with one who is a shaman of well-known skill. You were the most convenient prospect.”
“I see.”
“But now that we are here,” she continued, “it seems diplomacy is called for, and that is how I see this matter, Elder. I am asking you to et in the middle. I will respect your privacy, and you will respect mine. And by doing this, I also demonstrate that the Silver Throne is not too proud to ask for help, when necessary. Perhaps this will set the stage for further reciprocity between us.”
Mylion permitted himself a small sigh. “Rulership must be a relentless teacher… You speak with admirable wisdom for one so young.”
“You flatter ,” she said with a smile. “Twice.”
“Flattery is empty,” he said wryly. “I give complints when they are warranted, and often with qualifiers. ‘Young’ is not a term of esteem where I am from. I do see the sense of your argunt, your Majesty. Very well… I will grant you this. If I can help you without compromising my duty to my people, I will do so. That duty will always co first, and will supersede any promise I make you. I ask only that you consider this, and please do not place in a position where I have to go back on my word.”
“For my part,” she said seriously, “I can assure you that the Empire has no current designs on the independence of the groves; it is Imperial policy to leave you strictly alone as much as possible, which is nearly all of the ti. I do have a concern, however, that this matter will impact your business. Not because Tiraas seeks to interfere with the elves, but because the evidence suggests that elves have tried to interfere with Tiraas. So I caution you, Elder: if you know anything of this, be warned in advance that what I ask of you may bring you into that conflict.”
Mylion frowned. “I am aware of no elven plot against the Empire. If such exists, I would consider myself duty-bound to end it as swiftly as possible. Ideally through the agency of my own people, but it it cos down to a choice, I would consider it more important that whoever has done this be stopped, before they bring the wrath of Tiraas down on us all. Whatever that demands.”
She nodded. “Then we have terms. And an agreent?”
“An agreent,” he replied, offering his hand. She took it again, this ti with a firr shake.
“A final question, then, before we proceed,” the Empress said, taking the box from the nearby table and holding it in her lap. “I apologize for the impertinence, Elder, but were you planning to have children in the near future?”
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He slowly raised his eyebrows. “I was not. You pique my curiosity, your Majesty. This is…relevant to your query?”
In response, the Empress thumbed the catch on the box and opened it, revealing a handful of chocolates in brown paper wrappers nestled on a black velvet lining. “Try one, please, Elder.”
He studied the candies, then lifted his eyes to et hers. She gazed back at him calmly.
“I would hardly poison or drug you at this juncture,” she said with the ghost of a smile, “after all that wrangling.”
“Forgive ,” he replied, finally reaching forward to choose a chocolate. “I didn’t an to imply that. This simply grows…more and more curious.”
Mylion carefully unwrapped the candy, under her even gaze, and bit off half of it. The Empress simply watched in silence while he contemplatively chewed and swallowed the confection.
He took another mont to gather his thoughts before speaking.
“I see. Your concern is appreciated, your Majesty, but your last question was unnecessary. Sylphreed only works as a contraceptive for won.”
“Ah. Forgive , but we have almost no current knowledge on it.”
“I can, at a guess, see the shape of this, I believe,” he continued. “The Emperor has yet to produce an heir, this is not so? A state of affairs which seems most odd for such a reputedly virile man who does not lack for dedicated female company.”
She simply nodded in silence.
“I’m curious… If sylphreed is now unknown to you, how…?”
“Through happenstance,” the Empress said with a grimace. “The Palace recently had an uninvited visitor who helped herself to most of the rest of this box of candy, and comnted on it.”
“Uninvited visitor?” He frowned. “Who would dare…”
The Elder trailed off, and they gazed at each other in silence for a mont. Then he sighed.
“Arachne?”
“You know her, then?”
“I have had the very great fortune never to make her acquaintance in person,” he said fervently, earning a small smile. “I doubt there are any elves who don’t know of her, though.”
“This has been perfectly characteristic of her,” the Empress said with the faintest tightening of her mouth. “Unexpectedly helpful, in the course of being obnoxious.”
Mylion sighed. “What a ss. I can show your alchemists how to test for the presence of sylphreed in food, which I suspect that are currently unprepared to do. My thods may be different, but I’m confident they can adapt them. And beyond that, your Majesty, I will certainly assist you in this matter, in whatever manner I can—with the previously ntioned proviso. No, in fact, in pursuit of that sa objective. Securing the welfare of my people demands that I help you hunt down the source.” His expression fell into a concerned frown. “I don’t know where this ca from, or who has brought it here, but they are jeopardizing the stability of both your people and mine. If elves are involved in this, I assure you, they will rue it.”
“You believe ?” Milanda asked in so surprise. “Just like that?”
“Your story is not difficult to understand or accept,” the Avatar replied. “We likely would not take it at face value in the absence of any corroborating evidence, but in fact we have that. His Majesty recently ca to visit us to inquire about the stability of the system, citing unusual behavior in a Hand of the Emperor. Subsequently, Apple has probed at the transcension field effect supporting the Hands and detected irregularities.”
“So did I!” Mimosa added brightly.
“And didn’t bother to tell anyone,” Apple snapped at her.
Hawthorn grunted around a mouthful of the apple Milanda had brought, which she had nearly finished eating. “Wouldn’t have mattered. Not like either of you ca up with details, just funny feelings. Now we’ve got stories from up top that match it, though. I figure this is a real problem.”
“So you ca down here to fix it?” Apple asked Milanda, who nodded.
“Yes, if that can be done. Do…you know how?” she asked the Avatar, choosing not to ntion Sharidan’s order to find a way to destroy the system if it couldn’t be salvaged.
“That is difficult,” the Avatar replied seriously. “As it is, we cannot even diagnose the problem accurately, nor determine its source. At issue is how the Hands are made, and how the linkage between them works.”
“Can you explain it to ?” she asked.
“Eee, story ti!” Mimosa squealed, folding her legs under her on the divan. Hawthorn snorted again.
“This function is executed through Administrator Naiya’s personal transencsion field,” the Avatar began, “the source of energy you know as fae magic. It is a hybrid structure, requiring these dryads both for their extrely high levels of energy and control necessary to maintain it, and also because their status as avatars of Administrator Naiya enable high-level access to the Infinite Order equipnt when form the other part of the system.”
“We help!” Mimosa said with apparent delight, clapping her hands. Hawthorn rolled her eyes, while Apple threw an arm around Mimosa’s shoulders and jostled her affectionately.
“I…don’t think I understood all of that,” Milanda said carefully. “If I follow correctly, this Infinite Order… That’s the Elder Gods?”
“It is the na of their organization,” the Avatar replied, “which may now be considered effectively defunct. I have confirmation of the survival only of Naiya and Scyllith, and also confirmation of their lack of collaboration since the Order’s collapse. There may be other survivors, but there is no conclusive evidence for it, and they appear to have been inactive in the eight thousand years since, if indeed they do still exist.”
“I see,” Milanda mused. “So this…this trans…”
“Transcension field!” all three dryads chorused.
The Avatar nodded, smiling at them. “It is a technical term. Your society refers to the effect as ‘magic,’ which is not incorrect. Transcension fields were first conceived, in part, as a way to create what had previously only existed in fiction.”
“In a word, magic,” she said with a smile.
“Precisely.”
“So…this thing with the Hands runs partly on these dryads, and partly on so surviving equipnt of the Elder Gods? The stuff in the mithril hall up there?”
“None of the machines which serve that function are actually housed in or near that particular hall, but you have the idea. The complex itself is extrely large, occupying a great deal of the space under this mountain. Since it was sealed off, the Tiraan have only been able to access that very small portion. In fact, that is the core of our problem. Considering the limitations involved, Empress Theasia’s creation was quite ingenious: with the aid of the dryads and the very limited jury-rigging she was able to perform of the still-accessible equipnt, she cobbled together the network empowering and sustaining the Hands of the Empress—now, of the Emperor. The necessary drawback of the system is that it is not fully understood even by its creators.”
“I miss Theasia,” Apple said wistfully.
“Here’s our problem,” Hawthorn stated, directing herself to Milanda. “We don’t do magic, in the way you humans do. No…finger wiggling or spells or anything to make specific effects. We are magic, but really all we’ve got is the gifts our mother created us with. So we can sort of sense things about the condition of this magic, but actually doing careful and specific alterations?” She shook her head. “Hopeless. I don’t even feel any of the irregularities these two are talking about. Frankly, I suspect Pinky here of making her part up to sound smarter than she is.”
“I told you, my na is Tris’sini,” Mimosa said stridently, then scowled. “And what is that supposed to an?!”
“Do not sell yourself short, Hawthorn,” said the Avatar. “You have a more thodical and linear style of thought than your sisters. It makes you sowhat less sensitive to intuitive matters such as this, but may be helpful in resolving this problem.”
“So…there’s nothing we can do?” Milanda asked plaintively.
“Doesn’t sound like it,” Apple said, chewing on her lip. “Crap, that’s bad. We gave the Hands a lot of power. If it’s making them crazy, they’d be real dangerous. I hope Sharidan’s okay…”
“What is necessary,” said the Avatar, “is the aid of soone capable of using the Infinite Order’s systems.”
“Soone like you!” Mimosa said, grinning.
He shook his translucent head. “As you know, girls, when I consented to my removal from the systems of the facility to be re-installed on a closed network here, I gave up direct access to the main systems above. The facility itself is now run by the sub-OS, which will require a skilled user to make any significant alterations in the absence of an Avatar.”
“Can you be…put back into those systems?” Milanda asked.
“Yes,” he said seriously, “but not without completely resetting the entire network. My current position is part of it. This might de-power the Hands, or contribute to their decay. Or virtually anything else; I’m afraid the irregular nature of this structure results in great unpredictability.”
“They could even explode,” Mimosa said solemnly, making an expansive gesture with her hands. “Kaboom.”
“Unlikely,” the Avatar said with a smile, “but not, I’m afraid, out of the question.”
“So it is hopeless, then,” Hawthorn mused. “Hmm. Sounds like the most responsible thing we can do, here, is shut down the whole damn thing.”
“But we’ve worked so hard at it!” Mimosa said plaintively.
“Oh, shut up,” Hawthorn snorted. “Literally our entire contribution has consisted of lazing around here in kept luxury and occasionally screwing people.”
Milanda blinked. “Um. Screwing people?”
“Yeah!” Apple said brightly. “Y’know, Emperors, prospective Hands. It’s how we bond them to the magic!”
Milanda turned to stare at the Avatar.
“Due to certain idiosyncratic design features Administrator Naiya instilled in them,” he said with apparent calm, “their sexuality is a rather central aspect of their limited ability to access magic. This particular system involves ritual magic which does, indeed, have a sexual component.”
Milanda closed her eyes. Sharidan. No…he only inherited this ss. She rather doubted he had found his role in it objectionable, but this had been designed by his mother. Which brought up ntal images she could have done without.
“That’s interesting,” she said aloud, “but doesn’t really help. There doesn’t seem to be any way to fix this. Can we shut it down from here?”
“Possibly,” said the Avatar, “but before we commit to that course of action, your statent is not entirely correct. There is a known individual skilled in the use of Infinite Order technology—one who is imdiately accessible, in fact. She is currently imprisoned in the holding facilities above.”
Milanda went pale. “That…creature? Sharidan told never to let her out. She threatened to kill !”
“The Emperor’s warning was wise,” the Avatar agreed solemnly. “She is extrely dangerous to any biological life which exists in her vicinity, and not altogether ntally stable.”
“Wait a sec,” said Apple, frowning. “Who’ve they got up there?”
“She is known in current folklore as the Dark Walker,” said the Avatar.
“I have no idea what that ans,” Apple said crossly.
“I do,”Milanda whispered. The Dark Walker was the kind of story used to frighten children into going to bed. Supposedly, she simply walked in straight lines, over mountains, under oceans, across continents and through cities, leaving behind a trail of blackened grass and dead bystanders, killing everything she encountered simply by existing near it. Milanda was no scholar of folklore, but she had read in passing that the Walker, like other horrors of the Age of Adventures, had credible evidence supporting her existence, but had not been actually sighted in so long that much of that was dismissed as myth.
Of course, if she had been locked away in recent decades, that could also explain it. Omnu’s breath, that thing had been under the Palace.
“She dates from the era of the Infinite Order,” the Avatar continued, “and had in fact been an assistant to Administrator Naiya. She can operate the computers. I suspect she would even be willing to bargain for her freedom, which provides a ans of securing her cooperation.”
“How’s she supposed to cooperate with this critter if it’ll just kill her?” Apple protested. “Honestly, we just made a new friend, and you wanna kill her? Rude!”
“I’d prefer to leave the…Walker…locked up,” Milanda agreed.
“Actually, there is a ans of rendering you invulnerable to her dangerous traits,” said the Avatar. “She, like the dryads, draws her power from Administrator Naiya’s transcension field. However, while their access and expression is very direct, hers is…inverted. She ends life, while they support and sustain it. A strong magical tie to the dryads will shield you. That, in fact, is how the Hands of the Emperor were able to capture her: they are immune to her power. If we make you a Hand, you can safely release and work with her.”
“Ooh!” All three dryads cooed in unison, straightening up and beaming at Milanda.
She flushed. “Oh. Um. Well.”
“If you find the prospect uncomfortable,” the Avatar said with a smile, “let point out that we will need to modify it in any case. If we introduced you to the system as it currently is, you would imdiately be subject to the sa flaws which are causing the Hands to degrade. The dryads are not affected, which signifies that they are not the source of the trouble, and should be impervious. I believe I can design a different ans of creating sothing similar to a Hand of the Emperor, enough to provide you the requisite protection, without making you vulnerable to the system’s current failures. It should be a relatively simple matter of making do with the resources available here, and not tying you into the network. And, if you wish, it should be possible to do this in a way which does not require any greater intimacy than you are willing to offer.”
“Aww.” The dryads simultaneously deflated, pouting.
“That sounds perfect,” Milanda said firmly. “What do we need to do?”
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