From the upcoming novella/short story collection The Poison Garden © Meighan Chimera 2014.
*****
“The challenger’s name is Venahalee. For the past several months, she’s been saying that you don’t deserve the title because you’re not a proper Skarsian warrior. You’re a strange Dolparessan priestess unduly influenced by your husband.”
“I wonder if Venahalee has ever fought hand-to-hand with Cybrids.”
Escharton laughed. “I’m just repeating it. If you want my honest opinion, and it is just an opinion because nobody tells me anything anymore, the battlequeens feel marginalized and they resent the fuck out of it. Venahalee is somebody’s puppet.”
“I would think as the representative of the battlequeens, you should be in the thick of their politics.”
“Don’t play naïve,” she said, pushing her way past me. “I’m a Dol-lan, and you know it. I’m only on Skarsia a few weeks a year.” She helped herself to some of Ailann’s scotch. “Everyone that was in the council chamber the day that Prince Driscoll shot his mouth off – that was the day the universe was cut out from under us. Do you remember Lord Emson?”
“Emson? Vaguely. He resigned from the council years ago.”
“He took his family and went back to Sideria a week after Driscoll made his announcement. He understood then what the rest of us didn’t. I’m not a Skarsian anymore. I’m an immortal. My interests and theirs are fundamentally different.”
“I see.” I had never considered the matter in this way before. I wonder if Ash had.
“Venahalee is not completely wrong when she says you are unduly influenced by your husband. But everyone in the goddamm Domha’vei is unduly influenced by your husband. She’s got that traditional Skarsian way of looking at the world: male=inferior. She looks at Ashtara and all she sees is a male. She doesn’t see that he’s not fucking human. He’s a nau’gsh, a tree. He’s a mothman. He’s a god. His gender is irrelevant. He provides the energy to power our worlds. He protects us from all invaders. And, for an elite group of us, he makes us live forever.”
“Are you converting to Archonism?” I said, a bit amused.
“I’ve already converted to pragmatism. If I have to bow to your husband, so be it. If the battlequeens talk behind my back, so be it. I’ll be at their funerals before the century ends.”