James Swallow - Halcyon

The man looked at the deck. "No, Highness. He has joined the Lord Daus on a errand of state in the Great Ward."

"Then by your own admission, it appears that I am the noble of highest rank on board this aircraft, and as such my word is the law."

Linnian bowed, suitably intimidated. "I meant no disrespect, My Lady. It is merely that I am confused by your sudden desire to visit so base and squalid a place as the environs of the lower city." He sniffed archly. "It is beneath one of your great standing."

The flyer was banking over the dockside district now, circling as the pilot searched for somewhere suitable to put down. Erony returned to the view through the window-slit as the sunlight shifted around the cabin. Although she would never admit it to him, her adjutant's words were correct, and she had no doubt that if her father were to discover that she had set out on this jaunt, his anger would be great indeed. Many was the time that Lord Daus had imposed his beliefs on his daughter, that the commoners be left to live their lives and that the nobles were not to walk freely among them. The people, he had often told her, should only be able to lay their eyes on the scions of the Fourth Dynast on annual occasions such as Unification Eve or when a funeral or betrothal was enacted. He stressed the importance of the places Halcyon's society had for them, and for Erony. To ignore the barrier between them, he said, was to invite chaos and confusion among the simple folk of the cities. It was for their own good.

And yet… Since she was a youth, Erony had observed the lower city second hand, through telescopes and the overheard chatter of her servants. In her more private moments, she had wondered if it were fair that she should live elevated above them, while the common folk endured fresh hardships with each new dawn.

But it grew easy to ignore those voices that prickled her conscience. Erony's life was a world where she wanted for nothing, insulated and safe. But the arrival of these people from Atlantis had stirred up long-forgotten feelings. They were so close to the surface, these Atlanteans, so direct in thought and deed. They could not stand to see an injustice go unanswered, even if it would put them in harm's way to challenge it. These were men and women who saw no class or boundary, they worked as a team despite their diverse backgrounds. Educated men like Rodney McKay and the good Dr. Beckett side by side with rough soldiers, tribals even like the Runner and the huntress from Athos. She admired the easy bond they so clearly shared, and she felt jealous of it.

Erony glanced at Linnian. He had been her adjutant since she was a child, and yet she had never once felt in all those years that they were friends, that she might be able to trust him. On Halcyon, the children of noble families were taught the rules of their society from the earliest age, learning the manners of polite intrigue and courteous back-stabbings. They were taught that they were superior, and that their wealth and power was not just deserved, but their birthright.

The gyro-flyer dipped towards the rooftops, and Erony caught sight of figures huddling in doorways to shield themselves from the aircraft's prop wash. But what birthright do these people have? she asked herself.

The rotors were still chopping at the air as Linnian dropped the hatch and fairly bounded out of the flyer with two armed riflemen at his sides. Immediately he began shouting warnings to the commoners, the braver ones who had dared to approach the grounded aircraft. Erony pulled the ornate shawl about her shoulders and kept the half-veil of her traveling hood over her eyes as she followed him out. Deliberately, she had left her clan sword in her chambers and carried nothing but a compact gold revolver on her hip. The gasps of the citizens at the sight of her made Erony feel suddenly vulnerable and afraid. Perhaps Linnian is right, perhaps I should go back, it's not safe here…

"Lady Erony?" From the open doors of a wide, low warehouse came Dr. Beckett, his sand-colored jacket standing out among the darker hues of the people around him. The soldier who had been injured at the dolmen followed him cautiously. "I'm, ah, surprised to see you here."

"I have brought news…" Her words dried up in her mouth as she caught sight of the commoners milling around the entrance to the warehouse. This place was one of the locations where Beckett had set up a treatment center for the victims of the bone-rot, and Erony found her fright rising as she realized that these poor, hobbled souls were all suffering from the terrible malaise.

The doctor saw the question in her eyes. "Oh aye, that's your bone-rot, right there. We call it `rickets' on my planet. It used to be quite widespread hundreds of years ago, but now it only turns up in places where there's contaminated food and water."

"Contaminated," she echoed, unable to take her eyes from the twisted limbs of the people around her. She felt a sudden jab of shame as a few of the younger ones bent and shivered. They were trying to bow to her, to show the proper obeisance to a noble, even though it must have pained them severely to do so. Erony shook her head. "No. Tell them, they do not need to do that."

"My Lady," began Linnian, "protocol demands-"

"It is all right," she continued, addressing the commoners directly. "You do not need to bow."

Beckett came closer. "Why don't you come and see what we're doing here? These people have you to thank, after all." He offered his hand to her.

Linnian interposed himself between them. "You will not touch the person of a noble."

The doctor gave the adjutant a withering stare. "I've told you once already, wee fella, don't get in my way, not when I'm doing my job."

"Linnian," said Erony, and he stood aside. "Doctor, please continue."

A pregnant hush moved before them as Beckett led her into the dank interior if the warehouse, inside the sharp tang of the nearby river waters mingling with medicinal odors and human sweat. She saw another Atlantean soldier opening crates of supplies. Beds made of canvas squares and metal rods had been set up here and there, and the doctor's female assistant was hard at work moving between them. Erony watched her smile warmly at a worried young boy as she applied a gun-shaped device to his bare shoulder. The apparatus coughed and the boy rubbed at a red mark where the gun's nozzle had touched him.

"The nurse is giving him a booster shot of vitamins and calcium enhancers," explained the doctor. "It's a stop-gap measure but it will hopefully be enough to reverse the spread of the ailment in most patients. Others… Well, it's already too late for a lot of folk here."

She saw a youth in the brown robes of a palace servant helping an older man secure a brace to his twisted leg. "Who is that?" Erony didn't know his name, but she'd seen the young man before, engaged in servitude on board the royal conveyor.

"We asked around for some volunteers," noted Beckett. "Corporal Clarke organized a few locals to help us set things up."

"Very impressive," offered Linnian in a bored tone.

Erony ignored him and lent closer to Beckett. "And once you are finished here, this bone-rot will no longer trouble them, yes?"

The doctor frowned. "Well, no, lass. What we're doing here is holding things back a little. But it's not a cure. For that, you need to seriously re-think your city's food, water and medical infrastructure."

She watched the man with the brace struggle to get back to his feet. With his deformed bones, he looked like a wire doll that had been twisted about by a petulant child. Cold certainty flooded her veins, the shocking realization coming at once that she was responsible for this. Erony, her father, her Dynast, all of the nobles. The pain of these commoners was the product of their arrogance. Her earlier thought returned to her. What birthright do these people have?