Red Queen Page 2

  Chapter 2

  Imperial Chambers

  Queen Jesca strode at pace through the corridors of the palace in the high city. Although her stature was not tall, her pace was fast enough to keep her entourage struggling to stay abreast. Staff in the midst of drawing the shutters against the night and lighting the lamps drew back as she passed.

  She had shed the Sword of State to its appropriate keeper but remained dressed in her highly ornate armor. It did not inhibit her progress in the least bit. “My horse, a few lances, provisions. The normal kit for reconnaissance.”

  “Yes, my Queen”, said the man to her right. He was a head taller than her and similarly, although not as ornately, armored. His hand rested easily on his sword and his eyes continually moved around their area as they moved. Every turn he treated as a suspect, every dark corner a threat. Staff were scrutinized, sorted, and placed into updated tactical scenarios. But even so, he was fully intent on her words. “I presume you mean your field horse and not your winged horse.”

  “Yes, Clive” Jesca nodded. “I'd rather fly, but she can't carry as much and needs more specialized fodder.” To fly would be great. Up, above the world. All her cares would seem much smaller. Nothing but natural challenges to overcome with skill.

  “Not to mention being a big target”, said the woman to her left. She was the same height as the man, but wore no armor and carried no visible weapon other than a large black bow slung over her back. “I don't trust the misdirection magic we've placed on the saddle. It's good enough for our scouts but not for a high quality target like you.” Her eyes did not track as closely as her counterpart. But her stance and poise painted her no less wary.

  “Thank you for your concern, Phyllis”, said Jesca, “I take it there isn't much point in asking you to let me ride this out solo?” Her masters of personal and household security were good. The best. They had been honed by Scioni himself and knew their jobs well. Too well to let her do anything foolish, no matter how ordered.

  “None at all”, said Clive. Phyllis pursed her lips at even the suggestion as she nodded her agreement. “We would be derelict in our duty if we did. Even more so than...”

  “Don't start”, said Jesca harshly. Scioni's assassination had hit them hard. Even now the lengths they went through to overprotect her were a shadow of that. But what killed him had surprised everyone. She was tired of them beating themselves up over it. “You couldn't have stopped it, only perished along with The General.”

  “We'll never know”, said Phyllis philosophically. “But it's not an excuse to slack now.”

  “We'll be discreet”, said Clive in answer to Jesca's glare.

  Jesca snorted derisively and figured it was the best she could hope for. She swept into her apartments. Clearly the room was not originally intended as a residence. Water was supplied in jars, not the usual pipes. There was no under floor heating, or the hot and cold baths so favored by previous potentates. They had all been decommissioned and sold for scrap as autocratic luxuries went out of fashion during the interregnum. Not that fashion didn't stop some of the more portable ornaments ending up with highly placed members of the Republic's leadership.

  The room was one large space partitioned into smaller ones with free standing wooden partitions covered and linked by curtains. Maps, documents and food were spread out amongst benches and large chests stored what wasn't needed immediately. It bore more of a resemblance to an army tent than a royal residence. But that suited Jesca just fine. At least half of her reign had been spent in tents leading the army. First in securing her throne, and more lately against those who just wouldn't accept that she had secured it.

  She grabbed an apple from a table near the door and bit into it, holding it with her mouth as she unlimbered her personal sword. Phyllis and Clive moved in to help her with the armor. Amongst the ornate embellishments were the straps and buckles that did the mundane work of keeping it in place. As it was a showpiece, no expense was spared and with the smallest effort of will, Jesca could command them to unstrap. To avoid an ungainly cascade of very expensive equipment it was better that each layer was helped free. When all the pieces were removed and propped up on its stand Phyllis and Clive bent to work on her boots.

  “Thank you”, she said, more calmly once her feet were free. The cold floor felt refreshing on her soles as did the night breeze on the simple under tunic she had left. She bowed formally to them while sitting. “I have no more need of the masters of my personal and household security.”

  The retinue took this as their signal to leave. One by one they gathered any dirty linen, food scraps, and miscellaneous regalia; each according to their function. They filled out of the room in good order, Phyllis and Clive flanking the door and saluting at the last. They closed the door but remained on the inside. They relaxed and no longer stood at attention.

  “Not one!” said Jesca again, shaking her head and finishing her apple in large, angry bites. Small pieces of apple stuck to her tunic and juice made her face shine. She threw the core violently into a newly emptied bin.

  “Are you really surprised?” said Phyllis gently.

  “Oh Mother!” said Jesca. “I had hoped.” She sagged in her chair and wiped her face with the end of her sleeve.

  Clive shrugged, hefted himself onto the table and picked up a bunch of grapes. “Your mother and I tried to retire once. Didn't work out so well.” He studiously picked individual grapes, chewed each one, and delicately spit the seeds into his palm and placed them on the corner of the plate on the table.

  “Yes”, said Jesca shortly, “I've heard the story. How I was abducted from the womb as leverage for your continued service to a tyrant and how we owe everything to The General for his patronage in getting you out of that spiral and into this one.”

  “He was a great man. Service to him was never coerced. He gave with both hands freely, and we gave in return willingly”, said Clive. And after a pause, “And now he's gone.” He continued to laboriously eat the grapes. “He taught you what we could not. Gave you more opportunities to learn than we ever could. You are a great woman because of it. People see him in you.”

  “But I'm not him”, she protested. “Not even close.” Scioni was brilliant. As a General, as a Statesman, and even as a mentor. No matter the problem, no matter how intractable the argument, he had a way of finding a solution that, once stated, seemed so obvious and in everyone's interest that all parties followed willingly.

  Such solutions did not come so easily to Jesca. She tried to emulate him, but found herself resorting to the force of her sword, her armies and her position. She had done many things she was not proud of. Things Scioni would never have done because he wouldn't have needed to. But in her blindness they had been the only paths she could see. She took them and laid the burdens of them on her soul.

  “People see what they want to see” Clive concluded, carefully placing the stems from the grapes back on the plate. “They want to see him in you, so they do. And there isn't a thing you can do about it.”

  Jesca slumped in her chair, her hands over her face.

  “I know you are going to say it's not fair”, said Phyllis, putting her arm around her. “This isn't chivalry, this is government. There's too much at stake. Too many people. Every nation we touch. Even our entire species. Even, allegedly, the end of the world.” Phyllis looked over at Clive. “All your father and I wanted to do was retire and raise you in peace. We dispersed our mercenaries, cashed out, and found a nice farm out of the way. We almost went back even after Scioni rescued you. But by that point we knew what he was setting out to do. And that the world needed it. You are too good a person to let it all drop because of personal inconvenience. No more than your father and myself in our turn.”

  Jesca sighed and rubbed her forehead. “No one is going to step up as long as they know I won't step down.” Jesca gently punched one hand with her fist. “They're right too. I won't step down without a worthy successor. I'll keep doing it till it kills me
.” She hauled herself up out of her chair and gently hugged her mother. Clive came over and put one hand on her shoulder. “You'll have to show me that farm someday”, she said. “But I don't think it will be anytime soon. You raised me too well.”