“I don't know,” Alabaster said. “But at least if we could abjure that, it would be a beginning.”
Chapter Ten
Dawn
The blade who stood on duty at the entrance to the queen's chambers was a relative stranger, and Ember didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one. At least, he told himself, he has no cause to suspect me. The thought was not as much comfort as he had hoped.
The outer room was just as it had been when Steelflower was in residence, and Ember could not help approving. Alabaster was Guide's daughter, yes, but she was not the queen. She was here at Steelflower's pleasure, and would do well to remember it. He buried that thought — it would not help him, not when he needed Alabaster's favor — and bowed deeply.
“Lady.”
“You are the Chief Cleverman,” Alabaster said, and Ember straightened.
“I am.” He thought she was older than Steelflower, though not by much, or perhaps it was merely that she had already chosen a mate and born her first child. Her looks were very different, too, her skin milky, her hair scarlet, and he hid as well the knowledge that Steelflower was by far the more beautiful.
“My father's man.”
“And Steelflower's.” He did not want to cross swords, not yet — not ever, if he could avoid it — but that needed to be made clear. Behind Alabaster, the human handmaid shifted uneasily and then disappeared behind the screen that hid the entrance to the queen's inner chamber.
Alabaster smiled, and the expression seemed genuinely pleased. “So I see. My sister is fortunate in her men.”
Ember bowed. There was no sensible answer to that, and he did not try to make one, just waited for her to go on.
“But you would not be here if there were not some grave matter to consider,” she said. “Sit, and tell me more.”
Ember settled himself on the stool she indicated with a wave of her hand, and in spite of himself arranged the skirts of his coat neatly about him before he continued. “Lady, I come to you because you are Guide's daughter, and you have come to us so recently that you, at least, cannot be involved. I have reason to believe that someone within this hive has been sending transmissions, and, while I do not know the destination, I can only fear the worst.” He laid out the evidence he had, knowing as he spoke just how meager it really was. “I fear that someone aboard wishes to see Queen Death defeat us.”
Alabaster was still for a long moment, her hands quiet in her lap. “Who else have you spoken to about this?”
“None other.”
She cocked her head to one side in silent question.
“Only one of the Commander's confidants could access that node,” Ember said. “And I could not tell which one.” He paused. “I am new-come to this hive, Lady, a refugee. Guide made me chief among the clevermen, yes, but I have no faction, and no close allies among the blades. I had hoped you, Guide's daughter, might have some way of warning him.”
“I see.” Alabaster shook her head. “This is ill news, cleverman.”
Ember dipped his head, aware that she had not denied his suggestion. “I am sorry, Lady.”
“Leave this to me.” She rose, her movements graceful, not martial as Steelflower's had been. “And if you find out more —”
Ember rose in turn. “I will inform you at once, Lady,” he said, bowing, and retreated to the corridor. He should not feel lightened — but she was Guide's daughter, he reminded himself. That would count for something.
Teyla heard the door slide shut behind Ember, but did not move from the queen's inner chamber until Alabaster appeared in the doorway.
“You followed that,” she said. It was not a question, and Teyla nodded.
“Yes.”
Alabaster paced the length of the chamber and back, her pale gown hissing at her ankles. “You had no suspicions, I take it.”
“None.” Teyla perched on the padded stool that Ember had vacated, drawing her knees up under her. She was desperately tired, but there was no time to sleep. “I knew that not everyone approved of Steelflower's policy, but I didn't think there was anyone who was bold enough to take action against her.”
“Or against my father,” Alabaster said thoughtfully. “A man might find it easier to justify thus.”
“Possibly.” Teyla watched her move. It reminded her of Rodney's cat, stalking back and forth between its humans, though at least Alabaster did not wail her discontents aloud as Newton did. “It changes things.”
“It does.” Alabaster bared teeth. “It forces my hand, and his.”
“It should not need saying, but this is not — cannot be — our doing.” Teyla spoke with a calm she did not entirely feel.
There was a flash of surprise and then wry amusement. “That is so. Though it is undeniably to your advantage.” Alabaster collapsed abruptly into the queen's chair of bone, sprawling at her long-limbed ease where Steelflower had always been determinedly erect. “Tell me, what do you know of this cleverman?”
“Ember.” Teyla pictured the banked strength of his mind. “Not as much as I might wish. As he said, he was not born to this hive, but came here after his own was destroyed. Guide recognized talent and promoted him.”
“Is he reliable, I wonder?” Alabaster asked. “Or is he so clever that he finds shadows to worry him?”
“That transmission is real enough,” Teyla answered. “And Guide trusts him.”
“True.” Alabaster wound a strand of scarlet hair around her fingers, released it frowning. “If he is right, I believe we must move the fleet now — we should be underway before Death can send an attack against us here, and before her man can sabotage the hive and prevent us from reaching Atlantis in time. Yet my father has forbidden it, and for good reason.”
She was careful not to let more than the ghost of a whisper of Hyperion's weapon to color her thoughts, and Teyla did the same. “That reason may be gone already, though I agree Guide would surely have contacted us were it so.”
“I believe you do not wish to use it,” Alabaster answered. “Nor those who love you and wish you to live. But can you say as much for all the Lanteans?”
Teyla sighed. “No. I cannot. But I can say that all of them will abide by our word once given.”
“Or so they have always done in the past,” Alabaster murmured. “But. We will wait for that moment. And the fleet must move, and yet I do not have the authority to move it.”
“You are queen,” Teyla said.
“I am a queen,” Alabaster corrected. “This is Steelflower's hive, and Guide is her consort.”
“Does not the judgment of a queen prevail?”
“Do not teach me my duty,” Alabaster said, but without heat. “I know better than you who and where I may push. But the fact remains, Steelflower rules here, not I.”
“And if Steelflower had greeted you with honor,” Teyla said slowly. A plan was taking shape in her mind, though it would depend on Alabaster's ability to sustain an imagined memory–
“I am a daughter of Osprey, too,” Alabaster said, catching the edge of the thought. “I can do that much. Yes, if Steelflower had acknowledged me as sister, as she has done other younger queens — we could do something with that. Bonewhite knew me when I was a child, knows I am who I say I am, and if I say Steelflower has named me sister and ally — yes, I believe he will move the fleet, even against Guide's order.”
Teyla held out her hand. “You have seen me in others' minds, but take what you need from me.”
Alabaster took it in her off hand. “Thank you.” She gave a wry smile. “We may make this work after all, in spite of my father's scheming.”
“Guide has done his best by his people,” Teyla said, and was surprised to find she meant it. “And that best has been very good indeed.”