I looked down at those button-sized glands myself. If Counselor had become a queen when she was little, those glands would have ballooned into huge green sacs.
"The smell on my face," I said to them all. "It’s venom. From a Mandasar queen."
That sent the five of them into another bout of whisker-twitching shock. With Zeeleepull, the shock only took half a second to swoop into outrage. "Dare you to pretend—"
"I’m not pretending," I interrupted. "It’s the truth."
"Then worse!" Zeeleepull yelled. The burning-wood odor of Battle Musk B began to pour off him like smoke. Thirty seconds of that and he’d go berserk… especially in the dining room’s enclosed space, where his own musk would fill the air and whip him to frenzy. Counselor put her hand to his cheek, and whispered, "Calm, calm," but Zeeleepull just kept yelling.
"If a hume, dirty awful you, dares to wear sacred venom like… like perfume…"
Uh-oh. It’s too complicated to explain now, but one of the causes of Troyen’s civil war was snooty-pants aliens riling the populace by dousing themselves with Mandasar pheromones. Zeeleepull obviously knew that… and in his mind, he’d suddenly identified me with the troublemakers who drove Troyen over the edge.
The workers were snorting and trembling now, half-scared to death by the Musk B in the air. That particular type of musk always terrifies nonwarrior castes. A scent specifically evolved to stimulate the fear response, a Mandasar scientist once told me. Counselor hollered, "Nai halabad tajjef su rellid puzo," but Zeeleepull was too far gone for that to have an effect. The words only work when everyone’s cool-headed, not when a warrior desperately wants to run riot.
Any second, there was going to be a fight… and a real fight this time, not just a warrior feeling testy, deciding to drive off an unwanted visitor. Now Zeeleepull had a reason to really hurt me: because he thought I’d committed the deliberate sacrilege of wearing venom as cologne.
I had no room to maneuver inside the house. Even worse, the dome had closed and sealed itself shut after everyone came inside; I couldn’t find the door to get out. Zeeleepull would try to kill me, and the only way to prevent that was to hurt him… bash him unconscious or cripple him so badly he couldn’t pincer me in half. I didn’t want to do it; I didn’t even know if I could do it, because there was so little space for ducking and dodging.
Then… while I was thinking and worrying and trying to figure out what to do, my hands reached out of their own accord. I wasn’t moving them, I swear. I had no idea what they were going to do. But they grabbed Zeeleepull’s snout like I was as strong as a tiger, and dragged his nose around till it was a hair breadth from my face.
He tried to yank away, but couldn’t. I remember thinking, I shouldn’t be able to hold him. In a straight tug-of-war, he outweighs me three to one. But I wrestled him close so that all he could smell was the fresh venom on my face; and I heard my own voice saying, "I am Blood-Consort Edward York, last and rightful husband of Verity the Second, High Queen and Supreme Ruler of all those who tread the Blessed Land. If you fear her name, you will yield; if not, be named her enemy and pay the price of your folly."
The words came out in a dream. I couldn’t tell if I was talking English or Troyenese; I’d never said such things before, never once tried to bully people by using my position. For all I knew, these Mandasars had no idea Queen Verity ever married a human husband… and even if they’d heard the story, why would they believe I was that man?
But Zeeleepull’s nostrils were full of the odor of queen’s venom: the venom on my face, stronger than the scent of battle musk, or the aroma of fear rising from Counselor and the workers.
Slowly, the warrior crossed his Cheejreth over his chest and closed his eyes. When I let go of his snout, he lowered it to the ground till his whole body was flat on the floor.
"Nai halabad tajjef su rellid puzo," he whispered.
Counselor was already lying down. Hib Nib Pib dropped prostrate too, pressing their faces tight against the chipped-wood rug. For a second I was standing high above their heads… and I could feel an unfamiliar expression twisting up my face. I didn’t know how it looked, but it scared me. Something out of nowhere was making me act like a stranger.
I pushed and pushed, trying to shift my face, my arms, anything. Suddenly, everything holding me back let go and I was in control again, able to move my body however I wanted. I dropped to my knees and nearly blurted out, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it… but I stopped myself in time. Warriors are quick to recognize signs of weakness; if I started apologizing, we might head back where we started, Zeeleepull going berserk and no way to avoid an all-out bonecrushing.
"Um, rise," I said. Which didn’t sound very regal. I tried to remember how Queen Verity talked to her subjects when she held court. "Rise," I said again with my deepest, most gracious voice. "Rise and let us converse." Counselor was the first to perk up. She’d only caught a slight whiff of the venom… not like Zeeleepull, who’d practically had his nose rubbed in it while I held his snout to my face. No wonder he was slow getting up off the floor. The workers, of course, were busy being cowed — opening one eyelid for a quick peek at me, then closing the eye fast if they saw I was looking their way. You can never tell with workers whether they’re really as intimidated as they seem, or if they’re just putting on a show of being menial. Maybe the workers don’t know either.
"Were you really the high queen’s blood-consort?" Counselor asked in a hushed voice.
"Yes. I really was." For eight whole years, till Verity got killed and the war began… but I didn’t say that. I also didn’t mention she’d had six other consorts at the same time.
"What are you doing here?" Counselor asked.
"I told you: my escape pod landed in your canal."
"So you didn’t… seek us out?"
Counselor suddenly had a hopeful look on her face, enough to break my heart. I could imagine the kids on Celestia, cut off from their home for twenty years and looking to the sky every night, wondering if anyone would ever come to tell them, "We love you and want you back." They’d have a terrible time if they actually did go back to Troyen — with their gutter-baby accents and their attachment to dreadful fake antiques — but they didn’t know they’d be out of place. As out of place as they were now. "Things are still bad back home," I said. "When I left a week and a half ago, the war was as fierce as ever." Not that I paid much attention to the fighting… but the other observers on the moonbase would have told me if the war had ended.
"Yet you recently had contact with… a royal person," Counselor said. "The smell on your face is fresh."
"Yes," I nodded, "but that queen is dead now." When I realized how bad that sounded, I quickly added, "Someone else killed her. It’s really complicated. A ship was trying to bring her here, but things went wrong."
"So you’ve come in her stead?" Counselor asked, all shining eager. "To save us from the recruiters?"
"Um. Hmm."
Counselor sounded so beamingly hopeful, I didn’t want to ask, "What recruiters?" That would dash her down hard, like I’d come all this way, then didn’t know the first thing about her troubles. From the sound of her voice, I could tell she wanted me to be a great savior, fallen out of the sky to rescue her hive from danger. So I didn’t open my mouth till I’d picked my words carefully. "Talk to me about these recruiters," I said. "Tell me everything."