"Now," Kaisho went on, her voice still choking on tears, "can you imagine how it pains the Balrog to be caught up in this? Every day, Admiral York commits murder and war, using sentient creatures like disposable means to repugnant ends. Can you imagine how the Balrog feels, melded to such a putrescent mind? The entire Balrog race is in agony. I’m in agony, and I’m not holy, I’m just a lower animal out of my depth."
"Kaisho." Festina’s voice was soft, more tender than I’d ever heard it before. "Please don’t cry. Please. What does the Balrog want?"
"To free itself, of course. To detach itself from that awful man."
"And to punish him?"
Kaisho met Festina’s gaze for a moment, eye to eye. Then she reached up and fluffed her hair back over her face, hiding once more behind her natural veil. Her voice dropped down to the old familiar whisper: back to speaking for the Balrog instead of herself. "If someone doesn’t do something, he’ll keep playing the same tricks. He has more spores — commandeered from the navy hospital that examined me."
Festina contemplated the unconscious man at her feet. "Suppose we take him to Gashwan for surgery. Have the gadget removed from his gut."
"We get the gadget," Kaisho said immediately.
"Of course," Festina agreed. "As for the man himself… if he’s committed crimes, and I don’t doubt that he has, we’ll turn him over for a proper trial. Considering that the Balrog has heard York’s every thought for the past few decades, it won’t be hard getting a conviction."
"Yes it will," Kaisho said. "Where is he going to get a proper trial? Even if Jacaranda rescued us this very moment, you couldn’t take this man back to the Technocracy. He’s a dangerous non-sentient creature; if you try to move him out of this system, the League will kill you as well as him. And if he stays on Troyen, he’ll be acquitted by the new High Queen Samantha." Kaisho shook her head. "Sorry, Festina dear, but you can’t arrange any ‘proper trial’ — you’ll never find a suitable legal authority."
"There is one," Counselor said. "There’s Teelu."
Silence for a moment. Then the other Mandasars nodded enthusiastically, ignoring that I was waving my hands no, no, no. "I’m not a legal authority," I protested.
"You’re as legal as your sister," Festina said, "and you suffered through the venom treatments before she did. When it comes to being royal, you’ve got seniority."
Tobit grunted. "Not to mention you’re older than she is."
"Just ten minutes!" I objected.
"They tell me you were the high queen’s consort," Plebon put in. "That makes you the last surviving member of the old regime."
"I was just a glorified bodyguard!"
Festina took me by the sleeve and pulled me close, pressing her helmet against my ear so I could hear her whisper. The smooth plastic visor was surprisingly warm where it touched my skin. "Edward," she said in a low voice, "if you don’t say you’ll do something, the Balrog may take the law into its own hands. That’s a precedent we want to discourage." She drew in a breath. "I’m not asking you to pass judgment on the spot. Just agree you’re the closest thing we have to lawful authority, and that you’ll consider all the issues at an appropriate time."
I turned to look at her: those grave eyes of hers were inches away but half-lost in the shadows inside her helmet. My lips almost touched her visor… probably the closest I’d ever get to kissing her.
Silly ideas can go through your head at the strangest times.
I stepped back from her, faster than I meant to. Everyone was watching me — even the Balrog. Its red glow focused on me like a scarlet spotlight: not shining brightly, but making me feel conspicuous.
Suddenly, another silly idea went through my head: that all this talk of trials was pure moonshine, especially in our current circumstances. We weren’t going to convene a court out here on the ramparts while enemy troops were charging the palace. But somehow, Kaisho had wangled us all into thinking about it, and I was half a second away from saying, "Okay, I’ll declare myself in charge here." Which meant I’d be claiming the throne. Was that what the Balrog really wanted? How much of the past few weeks was a big Balrog plan? If you let your imagination take over, you could start believing the Balrog had brought about this whole expedition to Troyen, just to rescue the single solitary spore inside this guy’s stomach. But if that were true, I was so far out of the game I didn’t have a chance of understanding what was really going on: who was good, who was bad, what was planned, what was sheer dumb accident. Better just to do the right thing as best I understood it, and hope that was good enough.
"All right," I said, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. For a second, I didn’t have a clue what to say next; but then the words began to come — not like being possessed, but as if a spark had suddenly jumped across a dead-gap inside my head.
"In the name of High Queen Verity the Second…" I felt strange, as if something was waking up inside of me. "In the name of her daughter and rightful successor, Innocence the First…" The words kept flowing — from my own head, but some part I’d forgotten was there.
"In the name of my obligations as defender of the crown, and bearer of the burden of royal blood…" Like there’d been a whole section of my brain that’d closed itself off, shoved down dormant till the day I finally faced up to everything I’d known but not admitted — that my sister and father were monsters, that I was someone special, that I had a duty I’d been trying to escape for years and years.
"In the name of all that I am, all that I have been, and all that I should be… I accept responsibility as steward of this realm, regent until such time as the true monarch of Troyen assumes her proper throne."
I could barely catch my breath. My head felt so clear… as if I could sense all of creation as one unified whole all around me. For one brief second, I swear I knew what was coming a heartbeat before it happened. I was already turning around when the words came.
"That’s so sweet, brother," Sam said from behind me. "I must compliment whoever wrote that speech for you. Pity you’re going to have the shortest regency on record."
43
CONFRONTING THE BLACK QUEEN
Without the slightest pause, Festina dropped and rolled. You wouldn’t think someone could move that fast in a bulky tightsuit… but in the blink of an eye, she’d spun across the parapet and grabbed the scalpel Plebon used to cut open the front of her outfit. Another blink and she was poised above my father’s clone, holding the blade to his throat.
Only then did she look up to see where my sister’s voice came from.
At least this time we hadn’t let someone sneak up under our noses — nothing was anywhere near us. My amazing sensation of comprehending the universe had begun to fade, but I still had a sense of exactly where to look: out past the palisade wall, all the way to the second canal.
Soaring high above the water was a huge glass cube, three stories tall, three stories wide, three stories deep. A faint blue glow glimmered inside — softer than candlelight, barely enough for the cube to be visible against the night’s blackness. Shadowy somethings moved about within, but it was too far away to make out anything clearly… just wavery motions that meant nothing to me.
I’d soon have my chance to look again from closer up: the cube was flying straight at us, fast as a horse could gallop.