Dominion (32 page)

“There are others upon whom I must call,” she said. “Privately.”

“Of course!” said Merida, happy that she had been forgiven, and to have proved useful. “Anything, Your Eminence. Anything at all.”

“Excellent. I shall leave my aides with you. You can enjoy a catch-up with Cocile.” She turned to Cocile. “But don't let yourselves be seen, please. Stay in here until I return. And allow no one to enter.”

Cocile—steadfast, unimaginative Cocile—did not question Ani. It was not unusual for the Archmage to order her to stay hidden while she herself left to go about secret Sisterhood business. Cocile was just grateful that today she was to remain here, in the Tree, and be permitted some time alone with Merida.

Ani moved toward the doorway, and Toria and Liyal stepped in behind her.

“No,” she said. “Thank you, Sisters, but you must stay here too.”

They both looked vaguely surprised but said nothing, which was precisely why she'd selected the mismatched pair as her personal guard: tall, rangy, feral Toria and shorter, broad shouldered Liyal, with her unfortunate lizard-like features, were cousins in another life but now Sisters before anything else. They were loyal as hounds, and they never questioned her. In her own way, Ani found that she had grown terribly fond of them.

“You can have a seat,” she said. “You've earned a rest.”

Obedient as gundogs, they immediately sat.

A
ni didn't want to visit anyone else within the Tree of Lights—not yet, anyway. Instead, she took the pod back down to the entrance lobby, and there the same smooth young concierge greeted her, looking relieved when only one figure emerged from the capsule.

“Oh, hello again,” he said. “I'm so glad it's you. I'm terribly sorry about earlier—I really didn't mean to offend the Archmage by speaking out of turn.” He rubbed his palms together nervously. “Do you think she'll report me?”

Ani looked at him and felt a prickle of guilt at his distress.

“Not at all,” she replied, but the words that he heard came from Cocile's lips, and the face that looked back at him now was Cocile's; he would have sworn as much if his life had depended on it, if an ax was swinging for his neck. After all, he did not know that Ani Cienda, Archmage of the Sisterhood, could cloud minds, and make others see what was not there. Few outside the Marque did, but her powers were the reason Syrene had been persuaded to keep the young Novice close once all the rest of the Gifted were dead. Ani was the last of the fledgling army of psychics, and so with a little pressing Syrene had made it her personal business to tutor Ani, to ensure her talents were nurtured and improved as far as possible. Even Syrene had not grasped that she was being manipulated, right until the end.

There had been some initial surprise when Syrene had departed suddenly for the depths of the Marque, leaving instructions naming Ani as her successor. Wisely, few of the Sisterhood had expressed any objection, and most transferred their allegiance quickly, and strategically, for they were of an order born from an instinct for self-preservation. On the whole they understood too that wisdom is not the sole preserve of the old, and while Syrene might have inspired respect and fear, she was not held in any affection by the vast mass of Sisters. Meanwhile, those Nairenes who dissented openly were quickly silenced—exiled to far-off colonies, for one of Ani's first acts as Archmage was to announce plans to expand the Sisterhood's mission. They had spent too long cooped up on Avila Minor, she told her Sisters. It was time to spread the Gospel of Knowledge, and she personally handpicked those who would be entrusted with this great, noble, and undoubtedly dangerous challenge—whereupon she named every plotter and schemer who had emerged since the death of Syrene, and within hours they found themselves bound for distant wormholes, and worlds that barely had names.

Of course, there were still those among Ani's Sisterhood who tested her trust and whispered behind their hands, but they remained careful. At least on the Marque they understood now what the young Archmage was capable of, and so were mindful of what they said or did. Still, Ani knew that notes were passed, and secret drop points were to be found in the farthest reaches of her lair. Sometimes particularly reckless accusations were traced back to their creators, and the worst of the schemers to join their Sisters in barbarous lands. But mostly Ani simply read the notes and laughed at their ignorance and arrogance, then had her aides replace them with others written by herself for her own amusement; Ani had never grown out of her love of a good joke.

But here on Illyr, her clouding skills were only rumors, whispered ghosts of tales that swirled around the myth of her. They spoke of an Archmage who could shape-shift and read minds, and turn her enemies to stone or ice with her eyes; who caused creatures to devour their own young, and could summon flames to leap white-hot from within her enemies' chests, burning them to ash. But Ani knew the truth of this last myth; it had not been her but instead her beloved Tanit who burned others, and now Tanit was dead because of it.

Her pained expression caused the concierge's concern to increase.

“I did offend the Archmage, didn't I?” he said, suddenly seeing himself burned to a cinder, or turned to ice.

“No. Do not fret so,” Ani replied, in her Cocile guise. “I can assure you that the Archmage does not feel offended or slighted.”

“Well, if you're sure. But, truly, if there's anything at all I can do . . . ?”

She looked at him as he moved his weight from one foot to the other: eager, energetic, and anxious to please. And he really was terribly handsome in a fresh-faced, soft way, if you liked that sort of thing. Suddenly she had an idea, and she smiled at the thought—Cocile's rare smile—and he smiled back in relief. Slyly she stepped over to him, stretched out Cocile's hand, and touched him on the elbow, allowing her fingers to linger. Cocile, Ani decided, had been alone for too long. Ultimately, she might be of more use to the Sisterhood if she had her own ties here on Illyr.

“I think there may well be something you can do,” she said, sweeter than Cocile knew how to be, “something for me. Something . . . personal. Something nice.”

The concierge looked flustered and his face grew pink, but she held his gaze, daring him to play her game, coaxing him with fingers drumming like moth wings on his sleeve.

“I don't even know your name.”

“Cocile. And you are?”

“Rent. Rent Raydl.”

“Well, Rent Raydl, I'm glad that we have reached an understanding,” said Ani, and she allowed her hand to fall to her side. “I should like to see you again, so don't let me down. Please.”

Rent bowed, going even pinker, then he seemed to make a decision. He reached out and took her hand. He held it in his own for a second while appearing to consider something, and then, with a new firmness, he lifted it to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers.

“I should like that, Cocile,” he said, gazing at her over her knuckles. She supposed it was his attempt at an alluring look.

“I'm staying at Opula tonight—come to the staff entrance and ask for me,” said Ani, “but let's pretend we haven't had this conversation. I think that you should try to seduce me. It'll be fun.”

Unable to hold her amusement inside any longer, Ani swept out the door, and Rent stared after the receding figure of Cocile as the bright light outside lit her up, an astonished grin teasing his lips.

“Seriously, the Archmage's chief aide?” he said to nobody at all. “Score!”

•  •  •

Still chuckling to herself, Ani turned left out of the building and onto the path beyond, which soon lifted into a raised walkway with a curling silver balustrade. As she climbed higher she slowed down to admire the vista that unfolded, for here was the best viewpoint of the section of the vast city that spread before her; here was Opulatum, centerpiece of Upper Tannis and the wealthiest district in all the capital. Rainbows of light bounced of every gleaming surface, and clouds tinged with blue and red whipped like paper across the shredded sky high above. She took a quiet moment to breathe in the heady air and gather her thoughts, but then a couple walked behind her, two females arm in arm in Civilian garb. They stared, and Ani nodded at them politely.

“Good day to you, Sister,” they said, and their eyes drank her up greedily: a Sister of the Nairenes, standing alone on the walkway taking in the view. What a rare sight; what a story to tell.

Ani let them pass, then embarked with a new resolve and headed along the familiar route that took her directly to the sole black skyscraper in all of diamond-white Upper Tannis. It was shiny as polished onyx as it sliced through the skyline, one central tapered column with many more rising from it, like drips on a candle that had defied gravity and melted upward, into the air.

No words were written above its door, but none were needed. This was Securitat HQ.

And as she entered, resplendent in her red robes among so much angled, lacquered black, more eyes followed her, until the door slid closed behind her, shutting Tannis out, sealing her inside with the darkness.

Without breaking stride, Ani moved to the camera that served as a reception, and demanded that Vena be told of her presence.

“Oh,
just
Vena, is it?” said a female voice from the speaker, and the guard on the screen sneered at her. “And who the hell are you?
Just
Vena, indeed!”

Well, thought Ani, I suppose I could call her Vena the Skunk, but that probably wouldn't go down well, not here.

“I need to see your boss, sunshine,” she snapped back. “You know the one, head of
all
the Securitats?' Although, thought Ani, I remember her when she was just another uniformed Securitat thug on Earth, and she hates me for that as much as anything else. “How many Venas have you got in this place?”

The shock on the guard's face reminded Ani that the words she spoke were coming from Cocile's lips, not her own.

“Very well then: get me
Grand Marshal
Vena,” she conceded snippily. “Please tell her that Cocile, chief aide to the Archmage of the Nairene Sisterhood, is here for her.”

“You have an appointment?”

“I am expected,” was all Ani said.

I'm always expected, she thought to herself; no appointment is ever necessary. The closer I am allowed to get to Vena, the easier she believes it will be to destroy me.

•  •  •

“I see you're still playing your childish games, Ani Cienda,” said Vena as the Archmage was shown into her office.

It was a statement, and required no denial or confirmation. For Vena, Ani's powers weren't myths or rumors.

Ani—now once again herself, the silver-haired Archmage of the Sisterhood—merely smirked at Vena. She had history with Vena. Many years before, when she was but a teenager on Earth with fledgling powers, Ani had helped Syl free the Kerr brothers by clouding the minds of their Illyri guards so that they saw Vena, their boss, instead of Syl. Back then this act had made Ani's nose bleed, and her head had ached for hours afterward, but now her clouding was sharper, clearer, and it was no longer mentally taxing either. Vena had never forgiven her, though, but then Ani figured that Vena probably wasn't the forgiving kind. Vena could just add it to the list, which also included a suspicion that Ani might have been involved in the death of her lover, Sedulus. Oh, Ani had no illusions about what Vena would have liked to do to her if she had not been protected by her position in the Sisterhood, and knew that, even as Archmage, she was still not entirely immune from the predations of the Securitats. Vena remained the greatest threat to Ani. All of this superficial politeness—if it could even be called that—was just a veneer. Beneath it, Vena hated her and wished her dead, and Ani hated her right back.

“You've changed your hairstyle,” she said, and then laughed out loud at the absurdity of her words, because Vena didn't have any hair. As was customary, the leader of the Securitats kept her head shaved, and twin streaks were etched above her left ear. The streaks had been silver before, but now they were gold, which is actually what Ani had meant.

Vena regarded Ani sourly, her eyes hot and yellow as coals blazing from her face.

“Am I a joke to you?” she asked.

“I mean the gold,” said Ani. “It's new. Shiny.”

For the briefest moment, there was a flicker of something almost like vulnerability in Vena's countenance. Subtly, she twisted her neck so that she could see herself in the mirror behind Ani. The glass was undoubtedly rigged with every manner of surveillance known on the planet, Ani knew that much at least. She reasoned Dyer could well be watching from his office in Opula. He often was, for Vena invited him like a specter into these meetings, just as she was rumored to invite him into her bedroom. Ani knew how to find out if he was eavesdropping for certain. After all, being intimate with the Gifted back when she was a Novice had taught her a few tricks, and teasing, taunting, and manipulation were precisely what they excelled in. Well,
had
excelled in, past tense . . .

“Thank you,” Vena said, though the words sounded strangled, spat like pebbles from one who felt no gratitude for a compliment, as she believed praise to be her due. Watching her, and smiling encouragingly, Ani took her balled hand from her pocket and opened her fingers. Something the size of a mustard seed slipped unseen from her grasp onto the floor and immediately rolled away, searching for darkness.

Vena looked away from the mirror.

“Mind you, I didn't say I liked it,” said Ani slyly, because she couldn't resist, and preferred it when Vena was riled. But Ani wasn't finished yet.

“So has Vice President Dyer seen it yet?” she continued. “Does
he
like your new golden streaks, at least?”