David Farland - Lords of the Seventh Swarm

“What are you planning?” Maggie said. “You want to save the Qualeewooh. That much I’m certain of. But what beyond that?”

Gallen shook his head absently. “I don’t know. Something bothers me about Felph. I feel … that he is not as reasonable as he wants to appear. He’s furious at the Qualeewooh who killed Herm. I don’t trust him. I can’t let Felph murder the creature, simply because it isn’t human.”

Maggie understood. Her experience with the Inhuman, the memories of a hundred lives remembered and wasted, left her keenly sympathetic for the Qualeewoohs. Yet Maggie had to wonder. Felph seemed genuinely fascinated by the birds, by their history and heritage. Perhaps he would not be totally unfair to the creature.

“What of Zeus?” Maggie asked. “Do you think he’ll give us trouble?”

“I can’t imagine that he’d be much trouble.”

Maggie sighed. “I checked his genome today. He can throw an electric charge. He’s dangerous, even when not armed. That’s why Felph wants him with us.”

Gallen glanced at her. “My boots and gloves won’t carry a charge. If he tries anything with me, he’ll be surprised.”

“But you can’t guess what he might do,” Maggie said. “I don’t trust him. If we leave here, I wouldn’t feel comfortable bringing him along.”

Gallen gave her a long stare, as if trying to divine why she’d just said such a thing. Maggie knew it was out of character to sound so cold, but she definitely didn’t want Zeus following.

Please Gallen , she thought, just accept this .

He shrugged. “Whatever you say.” Gallen set the rifle he’d been servicing on the bed, apparently satisfied. “We could drop him in town before we leave. Would that be all right with you?”

So the matter of Zeus seemed settled. Gallen knew what danger he presented. Maggie’s mind felt at ease. A few days ago, when running from the dronon, she’d felt desperate to find a safe place to deliver her child. She’d been so frightened, she’d wanted everything-food, shelter, medical facilities. Now that she’d rested, now that she’d put some distance between her and the dronon, she felt more prepared to meet circumstances as they came. Maggie’s mother had delivered her with the barest medical facilities; and on Tremonthin, through memories granted her by the Inhuman, Maggie recalled giving birth dozens of times-everything from dropping a child in the bush, to delivering twins as Princess Loa of the Davai, with all her maids and nurses attending.

After bearing that many children, delivering one more should not be hard. But to Maggie, this child would be special. All the memories the Inhuman had foisted upon her, all the propaganda and pain-all came from people long dead, the reminiscences of ghosts. The children she’d sired and nurtured, that she’d cried and prayed over-all had grown old centuries ago. Some died ignominiously; some gained notoriety on Tremonthin. Ghosts still, all of them.

In the past few months, Maggie had begun to come to terms with the Inhuman. When it had first downloaded its memories into her, her grip on reality had seemed tenuous. She’d become so lost in the past, to some degree she’d lost herself. But time healed much. Maggie no longer found it difficult to differentiate her own past from the lives of others. She took comfort in asserting her individuality.

So even though she recalled mothering hundreds of children, of nurturing them to adulthood, she knew that for the first time, she and Gallen would bring their own child into the universe. Flesh of their flesh, bone of their bones. A new beginning.

Maggie yearned for this child. Inadvertently, the dronon had given her a great gift: the memories of rearing hundreds of children. Because she’d been infected by the Inhuman, she’d be a better mother than someone who came to the task as a novice.

Maggie said, “All right. I’d drop the babe under a bush if you wanted. But after it’s born, we go back to civilization. I just spoke to the perfumer. On most worlds, scent therapists could change my aroma completely. We can have a new life. Four months, till the baby is born-that’s all we need.”

Gallen beamed at the news. “Great. I’ll look forward to it. But I don’t think you’ll bear our son while squatting under a bush. Wherever we land, this ship will serve as a better home than a lean-to.”

Maggie studied the ship’s ivory walls. Clean, smooth. Her home in Tihrglas had been more cramped. The couches and beds served well. If a world were nearly-terraformed with birds and beasts intact-Gallen could forage for food. It seemed an ideal dream-a cozy place without anyone to bother them.

Zeus had Hera to comfort, and to offer comfort in return. They talked long into the night about Herm’s death, about the brevity of life, about how there were no longer any guarantees.

He expressed his anger at how she’d humiliated him, and Hera told him in turn how she felt humiliated by his infidelities. In an odd way, he felt relieved that she had deceived him, had lured him to stand naked before Lord Felph, Gallen, and Maggie. It was a powerful reminder of how much she loved him, how jealous she felt when he squandered his affection on lesser women. Hera was a great woman-cunning, crafty, devoted.

The cruel joke she’d played made him love her all the more deeply, yet he felt equally touched by her tenderness. The blow of seeing Herm’s corpse devastated Hera, as it did Zeus.

Even now, as he considered his loss, waves of grief washed through Zeus, battering him. Herm had been his constant companion, his support. Herm understood Zeus’s moods, laughed when he joked, arranged liaisons when he wanted a woman. He never judged, as Lord Felph and Arachne did.

So after Hera fell into an uneasy sleep when Lord Felph asked him to accompany Gallen on the hunting party, Zeus accepted.

Felph clapped Zeus on both shoulders, stared into his eyes, and said, “I send you on a man’s errand. Don’t fail me.”

“I won’t fail you-or Herm,” Zeus replied. The lights in the hallway shone dimly so late. Everything was perfectly quiet.

“I know,” Felph said. He looked down the corridor, to the darkened atrium just off the north wing, as if afraid someone might overhear. “Bring this Qualeewooh back, understand? I don’t trust Gallen O’Day. You’ve seen him. He may be efficient in his way, but he’s soft. I’ll not have him freeing the Qualeewooh that killed your brother. You remember that.”

“I’m not likely to forget,” Zeus had answered.

“Good. And remember,” Felph said, “Gallen works for us. You don’t work for him. I expect him to follow your orders.”

The coldness in Felph’s voice surprised Zeus. “If he doesn’t?”

“Take command of this expedition,” Felph said. “See that he does his job.”

“You expect trouble?” Zeus asked. “If I kill him, Maggie and the others will make trouble.”

“Kill him?” Felph said, shocked, as if the thought had never occurred to him. “Why would you even think of killing him? I need Gallen to get the Waters of Strength.”

Zeus’s thoughts had been traveling dangerous paths, and he’d imagined Felph’s had followed the same. Yet obviously his father had never considered the implications of what he asked.

“You expect me to force Gallen to concede to your wishes,” Zeus said. “I doubt he can be pushed so far.”

Felph shook his head, as if saddened by Zeus. “I only meant for you to take charge. I–I never thought of harming anyone. But you-you think killing him will gain anything?”

“You want this Qualeewooh, and you want the Waters of Strength,” Zeus said. “You want me to go with Gallen, because you’re afraid he’ll leave Ruin, depriving you of both. So you want me to force him to stay, to get the job done, but I know of no way to force him. The only path I can see clear is to replace him.”