The Testimony of Her Eminence and Most Puissant Sentience Tara del D’myn, Matriarch of Skarsia and All Humanity, Nuncio to the Combine of Sentients
The bitch had the Staff, but that didn’t mean she had won. She only had control of the lives of the billions of people who depend on the power grid. However, she was standing right in front of me, and if she didn’t live long enough to leverage that, too bad.
“Kill her,” said Venahalee to the mothman.
“I don’t want to,” he replied.
Before I could reel from the shock of his defiance, Venahalee screamed, “I don’t care about your fucking ethics! Grow some balls instead of apples.”
“When is Nan-Zee coming back?” he said petulantly.
And then I understood. “He isn’t yours.”
“Try it, and millions will die,” she shouted, but the fact that she tossed the Staff to the sullen Cu’enashti in favor of drawing her sword meant that she was not banking on the odds that he would comply. He was waiting for orders from Nan-Zee, who happened to be in a different galaxy. But why? What kind of stupid maneuver was that? Just to fake us out, to make us think that Lamark the Brilliant was gunning to be Archon, when instead…
And then my blood ran cold. “If you did what I think you did, I will slice you into strip loin,” I hissed, grabbing one of the ceremonial swords from the wall. Yes, they’re all sharpened. Items of décor which can instantly be used as weapons are a mark of versatile thinking. Or paranoid thinking. Whichever.
“I’m a Skarsian,” she said. “Why would I give a fuck about trees? They aren’t human. Either they’re useful, or they’re kindling.”
In the distance, I could hear shouting. My troops were engaging with hers. Even though they got the drop on us, it was doubtful that they could win. I had the battle resources of the entire Skarsian Matriarchy to draw upon. In fact, they were relying on a swift attack, and every second I could stall insured their eventual defeat.
Venahalee scowled. She had come to the same conclusion. As much as she would have liked to fight me, it would have been a loss no matter how the battle went. She glanced over her shoulder, and I could tell that she was gauging the distance to the Staff. Why?
Because she was waiting for her teleportation recall. Mothmen can’t be teleported, and she was not going to leave that puppy with Mr. Smiley. But why not?
Because Mr. Smiley didn’t give a rotten root for Venahalee. Because if I were him, I’d abscond with the Staff, and threaten to keep it unless Nan-Zee came here, away from my rival, Lamark the Dullard.
Two trees: that’s how they intended to control the grid in both the Domha’vei and the colony in the absence of a proper grove. They weren’t going to risk everything on Lamark’s ability to grow another nau’gsh. They had probably studied Eden Blues, and knew how much it cost Ash to develop that ability.
But it was a terrible risk, because those two trees will constantly be scheming against each other. If I were this guy, I would have been trying to cut power to the colony right now. Of course, the other one won’t allow that…
I realized that this guy wasn’t too smart.
I could fix that.
“You don’t need Venahalee for anything anymore,” I said sweetly. “You should just give the Staff directly to your Chosen. If you have any n’aashet n’aaverti at all, you would do that.”
He looked at me, and he looked at Venahalee, and it was clear he couldn’t decide whether to trust his Chosen’s xenophobic ally, or a woman I was sure he knew has been the staunchest supporter of the nau’gsh since the time of the Great Reveal. He was such a green branch – and I’m a wily near-septuagenarian with the body of a 33-year-old. It was so easy to read him.
“No!” screamed Venahalee, lunging at him. He flew out the window, taking the Staff with him. That was a setback, but not nearly as much of a setback as if Venahalee had it in her control. If she had teleported away, finding her would be a major issue, and she could have used the power of the Staff to blackmail us. But trees don’t have the instinct to kill. Loverbois* was not going to threaten anyone. He was going to message his GF.
I took the moment of her distraction to lunge with my sword. I didn’t have much hope of it. I knew from our previous combat that she was faster than I. Thin girls are always fast. But I’m smarter, and so I let her think that she knew where I was going, and that she could block the blow because she was faster, but instead, I let go of the sword, and her own sword knocked it into the wall, and by the time she recovered from her shock, I was behind her with my elbow hooked around her neck. Voluptuous women are strong, twiggy bitch.
And then her teleport recall came through, and I was holding empty air instead of snapping her goddamn neck. I remember my exact thoughts at the time: Fuck fuck fuck.
*Fortunately, I was able to convey the sense of the pun adequately: “boi” – a handsome young submissive male + “bois”, the French term for wood.- trans.