Lance of Earth and Sky

When Vidarian left the emperor's office, a single steward—a short, dark man who moved with a purpose that, in spite of what appeared to be duller livery, said he outranked the “front” palace stewards—filed in to speak with Lirien. Before Vidarian had even left the hallway, the man was jogging out, calling to three more of his staff. And by the time Vidarian reached the main palace, the east wing was a hive of activity.

Vidarian made a circuitous route, anxious to avoid even idle curiosity. He found his legs taking him automatically toward the skyship field north of the palace, and decided this was a plausible enough place to go. As he walked, he organized his thoughts. The memory of Ariadel still burned like a brand in his mind, but he convinced himself that every step he would take to fight for the empire was to fight for her, and for their child. There were several people whose aid he wished to call upon, and most could be reached from the Luminous's relay room—but one must be convinced to leave the city.

A simmering impatience to put his plans into action crept through his body as he forced himself to nonchalantly stroll across the skyship field. He exchanged waves and greetings with the sailors and carpenters who moved continuously among the ships, and feigned surprise when he heard that the Empress Cimeria was being prepared for an imperial visit to allies in Rikan. After three passes around the field, during which he surreptitiously checked the preparations for the Luminous, he permitted himself escape.

Vidarian left the skyship field and jogged to the stables, where he asked for and obtained three horses. Beyond the palace gates, Val Imris was alive with activity even at this early hour, and he only dared urge his mount to a dignified trot lest he attract the attention of the constables.

He didn't remember Khalesh's home being so far from the palace, and expected to see the wooden sign with its gear-and-flame symbol around every turn. By the time he arrived on the correct street, he nearly missed the sign again, so many times had his hopes been raised and dashed. Without dismounting, he kneed his horse up the three slate steps to Khalesh's door—quite to the gelding's flattened-ears disapproval—and knocked.

If the big man was surprised to see Vidarian, horsed, at his door, he didn't show it. He did take a look to right and left, as he had the first time Vidarian had visited, but then cheerfully asked, “How can I help you today, Captain?”

“There's someone I'd like you to meet,” Vidarian said.

Khalesh eyed the horses trailing behind Vidarian. “And I take it this someone is not within a day's ride of the city. I do have my own horse, you know.”

Vidarian hadn't, but it was obvious. The little apartment where Khalesh lived was on the second story, up a flight of stairs that immediately followed the front door. Below it, evident now by the grassy scent of straw and grain, was a small stable. “I should have thought of that,” he admitted. “But I'm on a rather tight schedule. Bring your horse, and your things; the horse can remain at the imperial stables.”

“Remain?” Khalesh asked, his thick eyebrows lowering.

“Where we're going,” Vidarian looked pointedly at the sky, “You won't need him.”

The Animator looked at him, brow furrowed, then his eyes suddenly widened. “How much time?”

“Minutes,” Vidarian said. The gelding pawed impatiently at the slate in unintended emphasis.

Khalesh nodded, then disappeared back into his house and shut the door.

Various clanks and crashes sounded from within, and Vidarian looked nervously up and down the street. What was Khalesh worried about his neighbors seeing or hearing?

Promised minutes later, the Animator was pushing open the half-rotted stable doors with a woven lead-line clamped between his teeth. A shaggy grey mare followed him, loaded with saddlebags full of books, and Khalesh had two more such thrown over his shoulders and under one arm. The other arm wrapped around a wrought-iron cage that contained the huge squawking bird Vidarian had passed by on his first visit. Only now, at this vantage, it was quite apparent that underneath its colorful feathers the bird was made out of metal and wire. Its eyes glowed orange.

“Rrawk?” the bird squawked, once the sunlight hit it and it noticed Vidarian. “Hello!”

Vidarian flinched back, spooking his horse. He wrestled it back to composure, and Khalesh apologized. “It's remarkable,” Vidarian cut him off.

“She,” Khalesh grunted, setting down the cage and belting the saddlebags onto the rear horse. He lifted the cage on top of the saddle and lashed it down, then, with easy strength and surprising agility for a man his size, lifted himself into the saddle of the middle animal.

Vidarian spared a few moments for him to settle onto the new mount, then kneed the gelding back toward the palace. He didn't dare trot with the mechanical bird fixed rather tenuously to that saddle, but he pushed to a fast, smooth walk.

“Are we fleeing the city?” Khalesh murmured.

“Not fleeing,” Vidarian said, and the Animator made a sound of agreement indicating quite clearly that he did not believe at all.

“But we're leaving,” Khalesh said. “Quickly.”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. I just should have watered my plants.”

“Perhaps we can send a messenger,” Vidarian said, before he realized that the big man was laughing at him.


At the palace, Vidarian gave their horses to the stableboys, instructing them to take Khalesh's belongings and stow them aboard the Luminous. Khalesh started to object to his bird being trusted to children, and Vidarian told them to find Brannon and bring him to the stables. In minutes, the boy was there, and Vidarian asked him to take the bird directly to the gryphons aboard the ship, and to trust it to no other.

“You'll find no better protectors at the palace,” Vidarian assured Khalesh, when he still looked nervously after Brannon, who carried the cage awkwardly but carefully across the field.

One of the other stableboys—a sharp-looking child with dirty blond hair and an air of trouble about him—Vidarian pressed into service also, asking him to lead them to the Arboretum along the least traversed routes. When he understood the task, the boy first looked suspicious, but gradually lit up as Vidarian and Khalesh proved genuinely interested in his “secret” routes. Khalesh, for his part, had clearly never been to the palace before, and visibly relaxed when the stableboy's guidance brought them quickly away from polished marble and hammered gold.

They passed into narrow servants' hallways, and though they were not forbidden, it was as if they entered a secret world. There was an etiquette to the narrow passages, and fortunately the stableboy—who shyly had provided Elan as his name—knew all of the side-nooks and detours that would keep them out of the path of the rapidly moving stewards, maids, and pages that were the legitimate travelers.

When at last Elan opened a narrow stone door, Vidarian had no idea where they were—until he saw the cathedral-like arches of the Arboretum tree canopy. Twinkling through it was the light of the sun-sphere, and the purpose for the door—which Vidarian had not ever seen or knew existed—was right beside it: a divided little trough of several colors of birdseed.

Vidarian searched through his pockets for some token to give the boy, but had found nothing of appropriate value when Khalesh pulled a tiny metal sphere from a pouch at his waist. It was made of a lacework of brass laid over another lacework, and another beneath that in intricate succession—and when Khalesh breathed onto it, the interior spheres spun and shone with a pale blue light. Elan was old enough to insist it was far too lavish a gift, but young enough to accept it once Khalesh applied light insistence. The boy cradled it between his hands, bowed, and dashed back out the door to show off his prize.

The only sounds in the Arboretum were natural ones: the twitter of birds as they sang or battled over seed, the soft bubble of fountains. Vidarian didn't realize he was straining for any sign of Justinian's voice until he saw Khalesh anxiously watching him. He smiled an apology, then started down the path toward the main building where he'd first met Iridan, silently rehearsing what he would say if he encountered either Justinian or Oneira.

Iridan wasn't—quite—alone. Vidarian could detect a soft buzz of conversation, almost as though he were hearing a conversation in the next room, and in another language. When Iridan heard their approach, he turned, and suddenly his voice became coherent and audible. “Good afternoon, Captain.”

Khalesh's soft gasp as he saw and heard Iridan was suddenly worth all of his ribbing and superior attitude. Vidarian had not told him whom he wanted him to meet, and Khalesh, large and fierce-minded though he was, now openly shook with reaction as he pulled a pair of amber-lensed spectacles from his pocket and fitted them to his face.

Iridan tilted his head. “And who is your friend?”

“This is Khalesh vel'Itai. He is the last Animator in Val Imris,” Vidarian said.

To Vidarian's surprise, Iridan startled—or rather, that was the only way Vidarian could describe his reaction. His gems all flared in unison, and the mechanisms that slowly rotated in his chest picked up speed. He stood, and strode toward them to clasp Khalesh's hands in his own. “Thank you, friend Vidarian, for bringing me such a treasure,” he said, radiating gratitude and hope.

“Extraordinary,” Khalesh murmured, hoarse.

Guiltily Vidarian realized Iridan must have assumed he'd brought Khalesh to assist in his search. Knowing that it was useless to try to deceive him, Vidarian said, “I must confess, Iridan, I brought him for another task beyond assisting in finding your sibs, though I hope he will help you with that also.” Iridan's bright face turned toward him. “We have been summoned to another journey, this one to assist the emperor.” He tried to put as much feeling into his words as he could, hoping Iridan would read his desire for discretion.

“I am at the emperor's service,” Iridan said, an evenness to his cadence that said he understood. “Have I time to pack a few things?”

Guilt sparked in Vidarian's chest again when he felt his eyebrows lifting with surprise. Of course it would be possible for the automaton to have belongings. “We can spare a few minutes,” he managed.

“Thank you,” he said, then turned and disappeared down a passageway leading deeper into the underground hall.

On the table, Ruby sat, still cradled in the jewelry box Oneira had provided for her. To either side of the sun ruby that housed her were a pair of small sapphires. Though he didn't need to, Vidarian went to the table and knelt beside it, putting the jewelry box at eye level. “Ruby?” he said.

* Oh, hello, Vidarian, * Ruby said.

Beside him, Khalesh stiffened. He'd clearly heard her, and realized what she was. Vidarian lifted a hand to stop him from speaking. “We're about to depart on another skyship journey.”

* Enjoy yourselves. *

Vidarian blinked, a chill curling in his stomach. “I—had thought to bring you with us.”

* I should stay here. Oneira is sourcing the parts for my body. *

Unease rolled off of Khalesh, and Vidarian was thankful for Iridan's absence. “I've spoken with an Animator,” Vidarian said, turning again to shake his head at Khalesh lest the man think of speaking to Ruby directly. He took a deep breath when he turned back to Ruby. The last thing he'd wanted was to deliver Khalesh's pronouncement under the pressure of an imminent departure. “He…strongly believed that your…condition…should not be connected to an automaton body. That we should find another solution.”

Ruby was quiet for a moment, and the hope sparked that she would listen. Then—

* What have I got to lose? * she said. The quiet, tired defeat in her voice cut deep, eroding Vidarian's resolve.

“Your sanity,” he said, after reaching for and discarding many wrong words. “He said—”

* I have precious little sanity left, Vidarian, * she cut him off. * I'm afraid you'll have to take this journey without me. I know where it leads. *

Vidarian's hands tensed on the table and his thoughts raced. He hadn't even considered that Ruby would refuse to go. Yet—deeply aware that the walls most certainly had ears here in the Arboretum, he said, “I'm not sure when we'll be returning.”

* Then Oneira shall have all the time she needs. *

Frustration and anger lit in Vidarian, combusting suddenly from tinder of anxiety and guilt. He reached for the box.

An answering anger leapt outward from the stone, stopping his hand. * Don't you dare. *

“You don't know her,” Vidarian said, straining not to betray their mission, or Khalesh's trust. “This is the Alorean Import Company, Ruby.”

* She's the best deal I have right now, Vidarian. * The heat of her anger was still vivid against his mind, but her words softened. * Go on your journey. When you return, maybe I'll be whole. *

Iridan returned, wearing a hooded black cloak that covered all but his hands and carrying a large basket covered with blue cloth, like an odd kind of picnic kit. “I am ready, Captain,” the automaton said.

Slowly, Vidarian turned back toward the stairs. “Good-bye, then, Ruby,” he said.

* Good-bye. *


They went directly to the Luminous. Out in the north field, they passed Calphille, still a tree and planted in the same spot on the field. Large white flowers covered the tree's branches. Vidarian slowed his pace as they approached, hoping she would speak. In the end, they passed quietly beneath her spreading branches, and she did not stir. In her silence Vidarian could only read rebuke, and could not bear to force the issue and risk starting another argument with one of the few people he trusted. Part of him screamed to stay, to help her as he should have from the moment they arrived, and hated every moment of speed that had so many times now stopped him from paying proper attention to those he valued most. If you can hear me, he thought at her, you'll be all right. Lirien will come to his senses. You'll see.

The skyship field was aswarm with activity. Ordinarily it would have taken days to prepare the ships, but imperial initiative could move time itself, it seemed. As promised, Thalnarra and Altair had been summoned, and were supervising the building of large makeshift nests on the forecastle deck with Brannon, Isri, Tepeki, and Khalesh's mechanical bird. Vidarian approached them and made introductions; Khalesh fawned over both the gryphons and his bird, and thanked Brannon for his attentiveness.

In a black mood from the argument with Ruby—a simmering heat that masked his deep worry and sadness poorly—Vidarian excused himself, making some prevarication about checking the hold. As he turned, he met another black-hooded face—the third on the ship, after Isri and Iridan.

The eyes within were familiar, but it took several moments to make sense of the rest. “Lir—” he began, before he could stop himself.

The emperor smiled and raised a finger to his lips. “Renard is a wizard, is he not?”

At that moment, a swell of sound from below turned Vidarian's head toward the Empress Cimeria. A man in the emperor's gleaming black satin robes was ascending the gangplank, surrounded by attendants. “He is,” Vidarian agreed.

“Shall we adjourn to the relay chamber for the launch?” the emperor said.

Vidarian started, then nodded. He would never become used to being aboard a ship and not being at its command—even as his life aboard the Empress Quest now seemed more than a lifetime away.

Lirien was correct, though, that their place was in the room equipped with relay spheres. Malloray was there awaiting his orders, as Vidarian had left word that as soon as the Luminous launched he was to begin contacting allies. The emperor took a seat at the table, and Vidarian followed suit, picking a chair between the three other bespectacled relay officers that stared intently into the relay sphere at the center of the room.

“I was able to make contact, sir,” Malloray said, and the way he said “sir” was an obscure comfort, a decades-long familiarity. “You were right, she does seem to have a relay sphere of her own.” Malloray handed him a pair of the now-familiar blue-lensed spectacles.

Vidarian fitted the spectacles to his face, and the world turned blue. It also changed in height and depth, in floor and furnishing.

To his surprise, the room that he saw was not in Kara'zul, but the fire tower in Val Harlon. Less surprising was the burgundy-robed figure that sat in the room, picking up blue-lensed spectacles while he watched. “Endera. It's been quite some time.”

“It has indeed, Captain. You've made some new friends.”

“I have need of old ones, also.” Mere months ago Vidarian would have choked on his beer to hear that he would refer to Endera as an “old friend,” and yet there was no denying now that he felt a flush of warm relief at seeing her. Dancing carefully around his words, he told her that they had a relay ship, that he was in Val Imris, and that he and the gryphons required safe harbor for some very precious cargo.

“Come to Val Harlon. The Fire Council—”

What she said next vanished in a buzz of sound, and the world went black. Across the table, Malloray cursed, and started barking orders to the other relay officers.

The blue world returned, but Malloray's orders only increased in volume and intensity.

And the room they looked in on was not Val Harlon. The ground shifted beneath Vidarian's feet, and part of him was aware that it was the Luminous, taking off and gaining altitude.

Justinian had had a new mask made. In basic shape it resembled his first mask, but its ornamentation, lavish with gold filigree and gems, suggested a much more open statement of station.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me, Captain,” Justinian said.

“The automaton belongs to the empire,” Lirien said, and Vidarian's pulse quickened at the steel in his voice.

To his astonishment, and Lirien's fury, Justinian did not answer him.

“This is a declaration of war, Vidarian.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way,” Vidarian began, channeling some of the patronizing arrogance that Justinian had spoken with from the day they first met. A day when Justinian's face had been whole, Ariadel had stood beside him, and Ruby still lived.

He opened his mouth to say more, but the glasses went dark completely, and after long moments of blindness he finally removed the spectacles and set them aside.

Malloray stood near the door, and had hauled one of the relay officers up by his elbow. Both were breathing heavily, as though they'd just come out of hand-to-hand combat, despite Vidarian having heard nothing of the sort. When Malloray turned toward him, his bearing reeked of misery. “A traitor,” he said, between heavy breaths. “A Company man. I'm so sorry, Captain. I should have known. His defenses were nearly perfect.”

Vidarian touched his palm to his forehead and closed his eyes for a moment, reeling with the implications. “Justinian, at least, will know that the emperor is aboard the Luminous.”

“He has his own problems with the Court of Directors,” Lirien said, clearly still shaken from the encounter. “There's no certainty they'll even believe him.”

“Begging your pardon, sirs,” Malloray said, face flushed red with embarrassment and anger. “But what shall I do with this slime?”

“Take him above,” Vidarian said, and Malloray nodded, hauling the man out of the chamber. Vidarian followed, and they made their way laboriously up the ladders.

The wind whipped, and only sky was visible for miles around when they came atopships. Around the ship was arrayed a small contingent of Sky Knights; when he emerged, one of the riders to starboard lifted his lance—Caladan. Amidst the ever-advancing threat of their situation, Vidarian experienced a moment of deep gratitude for whomever had brought him—probably Thalnarra. At Vidarian's indication, Malloray hustled the relay officer toward the stern.

The gryphons were reclining in their freshly made nests. Before them, Tepeki and Brannon were sparring with wooden swords.

“I apologize for interrupting,” Vidarian said, and the boys lowered their weapons. “But I may need some assistance. We've discovered one of Justinian's men among the relay officers.”

// I can return him to the ground, // Altair said.

Vidarian turned to Altair, searching his tone for any sign of irony or suggestion. There was none, only the cool breeze of a problem solved. “Please do. Gently,” he glanced at the man, whose eyes were widening as he realized how he was going to leave the ship, “but not too gently.”

Altair chuffed, a dry, amused note in the back of his throat, then tipped his beak in a nod, climbing to his feet and giving a luxurious and illustrative head-to-toe stretch of his muscles and wings.

Malloray's grip loosened on the man's arm, and at first Vidarian assumed it was out of shock at Altair's formidable height.

“Captain!” Malloray shouted. “I've made contact with another ship! Another relay chamber received the distress call that went out with the interrupted contact with Val Harlon.” The man turned, and the blue lenses slipped away from his eyes in his urgency. “It's Marielle, sir!”


“Good afternoon, Captain Rulorat.” Through the blue lenses of his relay glasses, Marielle stood, well turned-out, in a stateroom Vidarian almost recognized. His former first mate looked superb; whatever she'd been up to in the months since the burning of the Empress Quest had suited her. The burr in her voice was confidence, a kind of lightning contentment, the kind that came from action and strength.

“It's been a long time, Captain Solandt,” Vidarian replied. Beside Marielle, a massive and excessively armed man frowned and opened his mouth. Marielle stilled him with a lift of her fingers.

Back on the Luminous, the relay chamber onto which the blue glasses projected Marielle's images was growing crowded. Iridan and Khalesh had joined Malloray and his remaining two officers. Khalesh had some kind of elemental device in his hands, a narrow metal tube set with three differently colored glass spheres evenly spaced along it.

Squinting at the double vision provided by the glasses, Vidarian caught Malloray's attention and lifted his chin in Iridan's direction.

The voice in his head was quiet, pitched for him alone, and unmistakably Malloray's. Iridan asked about the configuration of the ship's relay sphere. He seemed to think he could stop an outside presence from interfering again.

Not completely convinced, but neither desiring an argument, Vidarian nodded. “We heard that the Ardent has been lost for months.”

“Is something lost what doesn't want to be found?” Marielle smiled again, and this time her silent burly companion joined her.

Vidarian looked at Marielle as closely as the spectacles would allow. What she was suggesting—that she and the entire crew of the Ardent had abandoned their commissions—was close to treason on its face. He was glad suddenly that Lirien had not come to the relay chamber with them.

Marielle took pity on his clumsily calculating mind and said, “I'd like to explain in full, but not at such distance.” Even her manner of speaking had changed; was she emulating him, he wondered? Or had her adventures been so transformative?

“We are on route to Val Harlon,” Vidarian began. Marielle's face darkened ever so slightly.

“Fire priestesses?” Marielle asked. Val Harlon was not the mountain stronghold that was the fire temple at Kara'zul, but it was their nearest port, and certainly, among other things, would be what Marielle most associated the city with for some time.

“They are our allies,” Vidarian said, choosing his words carefully. He wanted—badly—to know what had become of Marielle and the Ardent, which should be accountable as loyal defenders of the emperor against the Company, but could not afford to abandon his initial plan of seeking out elemental supporters. “We have need of robust friends.”

“Well,” Marielle smiled, all business. “When you have need of stronger ones, come to this location.” She began to rattle off a set of coordinates and further instructions on the safest routes toward them. Malloray swatted at one of the relay officers, who scrambled after parchment and pencil.

“We look forward to seeing you there, and hearing more of your journey, old friend,” Vidarian said. He spoke slowly, without quite meaning to, though well aware of how much he missed Marielle's steady wisdom. It was enough of a lift in his spirits merely to know she lived.

“Who are you calling ‘old’?” Marielle asked, folding her arms. She winked, and then vanished.

Around the table the relay officers all gasped, then fell into a cacophony of discussion, remarkable considering that there were only three of them, including Malloray.

“She's gone again, sir,” Malloray said at last, and rather unnecessarily, owing to his state of fluster. “I can't make contact with the ship. It's as if she's vanished entirely.”

“They have a masking device,” Iridan said. Vidarian started, then turned toward the automaton, having forgotten he was there. “It's an effect I can duplicate, if you'd like.”

“You can make us invisible to other relay spheres? And telepaths?” Vidarian asked.

Iridan nodded, an eerie expression from a metal head. “Such a device is built into my body. A diplomatic tool.”

“Of course,” Vidarian sighed. “It seems quite wise, if it's not an undue tax on your resources.”

“It is not,” Iridan said. He was silent a moment, then his gears rotated for a few more. “It is done.”

One of the relay officers, the youngest of them, put his hands around his temples. “It's like a blanket,” he said. “A big, fluffy quilt—or a blanket of snow.”

“It's excellently done,” Malloray said, and seemed to have recovered somewhat from his mortification at having missed the spy in their midst. “Thank you kindly for it. We'll sleep easier a-night.”

“I am of course pleased to be of any assistance.”