The Testimony of Captain Leukk Zosim of the Ipsissimal Palace Guard
It was my turn to keep watch on the beach again. His Holiness was in the same position as he had been for almost two weeks, motionless. Yet his hair was rich and silky in the breeze, his skin smooth and undefiled by oil or sweat, no sand had dared to lodge itself in the intricate embroidery adorning his loose kottawn tunic. It was like he was carved from wood.
Suddenly, he leaped up, reaching towards the sky. His body melted into lovely ripples of light, the wings of a moth. The apparition was gone in an instant; His Holiness Archon Tielo was standing on the beach.
“Huzzah!” he said. “I’m getting rewired!”
“Your Holiness…” I began.
“Where are the longboats?” he asked. He began to blink rapidly.
“I…are you feeling all right?”
“Tara,” he said. “Tara.”
“Yes, Her Eminence will be most relieved…”
In an instant, he was running up the cliff – running on a nearly 70-degree slope. “Your Holiness!” I cried, thinking that the last thing I needed was for him to slip and injure himself.
“Suibhne would do it like a rockhopper,” he yelled, jumping uphill from ledge to ledge. He reached the top and ran into the palace, while my men stood in stunned amazement.
“Break down this camp and go back to your normal duties,” I instructed them. “Wait for further orders.”
*****
By the time I arrived, Lord Danak and Lady Lorma were in the Ipsissimal Suite, along with the Archon and Her Eminence. They were in a holographic communication with Ta’al Erich, Wyrd Elma and Battlequeen Escharton. His Holiness was continuing to hop, muttering “Pah. Pah. Pah,” with every jump.
“Ailann warned me that Tielo was broken,” said Her Eminence. “I guess we’ll just have to live with that for now.”
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” I said helplessly.
“We received a message from Abbott Deverre,” Ta’al Erich explained. “The telepaths were hiding in plain sight, pretending to be pilgrims at the Johannonite Monastery. He drugged their herbal tea, and presently, SSOps is in the process of taking them in for questioning.”
“Spread them out,” says Her Eminence. “If possible, move some of them off-world. I’m betting that they were all together like that because it was easier for the SongLuminants operating at a distance to target a large group.”
“Our next priority is the return of the Staff of the Matriarch,” said Danak. “etch says that the Convocation of the Forest has started a search, but the rogue Archon is well-hidden.”
“He’d come out if we had Nan-Zee,” said Her Eminence. “And Nan-Zee would come out if we had…” she looked frowningly at the Archon, “probably Patrick. Maybe Ross or Whirljack. Lugh is beautiful but…”
“Lugh is the kind of beautiful that boys like,” said Lady Lorma.
“Daniel,” said Elma. “Daniel was always Nan-Zee’s favorite.”
“I’ll kill her first,” says Her Eminence.
“We don’t have Daniel,” said Escharton. “We have Archon Tielo.”
“Archon Tielo is rather intimidating,” Danak replies, carefully. It’s true; in the dogma of the Archonist Church, Tielo is considered a god of war. But that isn’t what Danak really means. He means that at present, His Holiness doesn’t have a single yolk that isn’t scrambled.
“I could fix this,” said Her Eminence. “I can use the candles. But I’m a little hesitant to do it without knowing why Ash wanted Tielo to emanate.”
“Scrubbing,” said the Archon. “Loopy loopy loo.”
“Prince Manan was so peaceful,” I recollected wistfully.
Her Highness etch entered the foyer. “We’ve got a complication,” she said brightly. “The Panoply of the Ancient Foam has heard rumors that there has been a governmental shift in the Domha’vei, and they are demanding that the Southern Coriolis Directorate launch an investigation. The Combine is supposed to be informed of such matters so that it can be assured of dealing with legitimate heads of state.”
“That’s bullshit,” scoffed the Matriarch. “I’m not the legitimate head of humanity – there is no such thing. But the Combine recognized me as such, and then the SongLuminants tried to strong-arm the IndWorlds into accepting it.”
“SCD is well-aware that PAF is being…hmmm, the term is pretty much untranslatable. They said that animal life-forms should substitute the term for their reproductive or excretory organs of choice.”
“There has been no shift in government,” said Ta’al Erich. “The aristocracy and military recognize the legitimate authority of Her Eminence Tara del D’myn. The current crisis is best described as a terrorist organization attempting to seize control of vital public utilities.”
“Not exactly,” Lord Danak corrects. “In any modern state, that would be exactly right. But the governance of the Domha’vei would best be described as post-feudal. Legally speaking, the Matriarch is the woman with the correct genetic markers who has control of the Staff.”
“We’ve got some wiggle room,” replied Her Eminence. “Right now, the Staff is attuned to Venahalee and her Archons, but she doesn’t really have control of it. Nobody knows the location of the Staff, so she can’t produce it to assert her authority. And if the trees won’t cooperate with her…”
“It’s a ridiculous situation,” said Escharton. “It simply isn’t going to work to have an Archon or Archons who aren’t devoted to the Matriarch. It’s an enormous conflict of interest. What I don’t understand is why Venahalee didn’t try to find a tree of her own to settle down with.”
Archon Tielo spins suddenly towards the holographic data projection. “BLECH!” he shouts.
“I think that was Tielo’s way of telling us that Venahalee is just one of those people that trees don’t find attractive,” says Her Eminence.
“She isn’t bad,” I observed. “She couldn’t find a single Cu’enashti?”
“She’s horrible,” shuddered etch. “Rigid and unimaginative.”
“I don’t understand it either,” Lady Lorma said, turning to me. “Why would anyone choose someone like Premma over Venahalee?”
“Milady, please,” said Danak. “That’s not an entirely diplomatic…”
“Oh shush, Tubby. I’m used to speaking my mind. I’ve always thought that Premma was silly and spoiled.”
“Premma is like…is like Marilyn Monroe,” etch said, struggling to explain.
I started to snicker. I couldn’t help myself: the image of the exploitation age siren next to the plump, middle-aged diva in her ridiculous dresses was too incongruous.
“Her dreams are so childlike and naïve,” etch continued. “She needs protection. She’s not my type, but I can see why someone like Ashpremma would want to fill her world with fluffy bunnies. Tara is more like Joan of Arc. She makes a tree want to conquer the galaxy to fulfil her strange prophecies.”
“Joan of Arc was burned at the stake for heresy,” said Her Eminence. “Can’t I be Elizabeth I instead? She lived to a ripe old age, expanding her empire while staying well-beloved of her subjects. Also, she kept a harem: Robert Dudley, Christopher Hatton, Sir Walter Raleigh…Raleigh was hot, although Hatton supposedly had really nice legs.”
“It occurs to me,” said Ta’al Erich, “that we should probably do something.”
“We are doing something,” replied Her Eminence. “We’re killing time. We’re going to wait for their next move. We’re at an impasse, but so are they.”