Karl Schroeder - Ashes of Candesce - Book Five of Virga

Loll fronted a delegation from Abyss--that much would have been disaster enough, for her. But beside them stood another group, newly arrived as well, and these men wore the severe black of the Home Guard. Considering the weight of the medals, braiding, and epaulets on their jackets, she assumed these were the Guard's very leaders.

And worse, much worse: next to the Guards stood fifteen unnaturally beautiful men and women, all tall and haughty, and dressed in beautiful, shimmering clothes. The virtuals had sent their own delegation to the colloquy.

The ecstasy of using her voice, of practically singing out her story, collapsed. Leal shrank back from the podium, but stopped as someone strolled to the front of this parade. Leal saw the dress first: black as space, adorned with random splashes of diamond, and cut very low. The lady's skin was pale, as were her wide eyes that were a gray so light as to nearly be white. Her mouth was a scarlet line, her hair a tumble of blond curls. She slunk along the line of alert Guardsmen, a sly smile on her face. "What?" she said. "Were you thinking we wouldn't show up? Not," she added with a pout, "that any of us received invitations."

Chaison Fanning was trotting down the steps of the stage, a broad smile on his face and his hand held out. "On the contrary," he said with all evidence of relief, "we'd announced to the world that this meeting was open to everyone, and we're very happy to see you."

"Are you?" She glided up to him, and he took her hand and bowed.

"Lady Inshiri Ferance, I take it?" he said, still in his bow. Leal heard some gasps from the crowd. "I am Admiral Chaison Fanning, and on behalf of our gracious hosts I would like to welcome you to the grand colloquy."

"Would you, now?" She took back her hand. "Then," purred Ferance, "you'll have no objection to our delegation making its own case, since your so-called free press has already painted us as the villains?"

"We would like nothing better," said Fanning. "We will make space for you in the program."

"We demand to go first," said Ferance.

"That," Fanning said, "I think would be harder to arrange. We want to ensure that all the delegates start with the same basic information--"

"What information?" One of the Guardsmen came to stand next to Ferance. This man was unnaturally tall, and ropy muscle bulged under his black uniform--which was festooned with medals.

Fanning bowed again. "To whom do I have the pleasure...?"

"Nicolas Remoran, general secretary of the Virga Home Guard," the newcomer boomed. It was suddenly dead silent in the amphitheater. Without invitation, he stepped up onto the stage next to Fanning, where he loomed over the admiral of Slipstream like a tree. "And what is this information that you have about the outside world that can possibly compare to what the Guard has accumulated painstakingly over centuries?"

There was a momentary silence. Then: "Well, they knew I was alive. You didn't." Leal spun to see Hayden Griffin strolling past her, hands in his pockets as though he were spending an idle afternoon in the gardens. He walked right up to Remoran and said, "And anyway, it's not about what you know, is it? It's about what you never told the rest of us ."

There was muttering, murmuring, and a smattering of applause. Remoran whirled and shouted at the crowd, "Do you want to know the truth?" His voice was huge, utterly filling the space. Moneyed powerbrokers and ancient nobles blinked in surprise. "Well, do you?" he roared.

There was a subdued reply. Fanning was calmly looking around, but Leal saw that his gaze was alighting in succession on the knots of soldiers he had scattered around the space. These were beginning to move forward.

"You're saying you don't want to hear our side?" shouted Remoran.

A hunched old woman in the front row stood up. "We do, we do," she said. That got a cheer, and the crowd began to chant, "Truth, truth, truth!"

Fanning threw up his hands and shook his head in sympathy to Leal. She shrugged in return.

The admiral held up a hand. "In the interest of keeping everyone happy ," he said with a glare at the crowd, "we will allow the Home Guard delegation to go first." Before anyone could summon up a good cheer he added, "But anyone who tries to disrupt our program after this will be summarily ejected from the building."

Remoran crossed his arms and looked down at Fanning. "Fair enough," he rumbled.

Fanning tilted his head in ironic assent. "Then say your piece."

* * *

FOR A MINUTEor so Remoran prowled the edge of the stage, like some caught beast. Then he stopped in the center, clenched and unclenched his fists, and went through a remarkable transformation.

His expression softened; his shoulders slumped. He looked away from the crowd, and gave a great sigh. Then he said, "We couldn't do it anymore."

Leal had retaken her seat. She was boiling with rage at this interruption, and the stagy flamboyance of Ferance and her pet Guardsmen. Most of all, she was furious at Loll. There was that pistol on the podium ...

"We of the First Line defend the walls of Virga," said Remoran. "Because we do that, we move in and out of the world. That confers advantages to us--unfair advantages. We see what humanity could be like, if only it were freed of the disease, infirmity, and ignorance that rule inside Virga. For centuries now, we've held our tongues because of our ancient pact with the founding nations of the world. Leave us alone , they'd commanded when they founded our order. Let nothing from beyond the world touch us.

"We do our job very well. If, in the past several years, you've heard rumors of attempts to pierce the world's walls--well, just think of all the attacks you never heard of, because we foiled them."

He shrugged and started to pace again. "We get compensated for our work. We suffer no disease and we live to fantastic ages, because we can go outside to treat these things. And yet, you cannot.

"This umbrella of protection has always been extended to our immediate families. That's been the benefit that Guardsmen treasured the most. It's selfish, I know, that we can enjoy these benefits and you can't--but that was the pact, we always thought. Our pact with the people of Virga. Except, it's not, is it?"

He spread his arms to encompass the crowd. "Who here signed that pact? Who even knew of it?" Nobody said anything. "Our pact was made with your ancestors, hundreds of years ago. They chose--not you."

Now he put his hand to his face, looking pained. It was, Leal thought, an extraordinary performance, because it was exactly not what she'd expected from this huge, intimidating man.

"I have to make you understand," he said with apparent reluctance, "so I'm going to confess to you. This will be my legacy, I suspect--just this one story, and it's not a story I ever wanted anyone to know."

He grimaced at the crowd. "I betrayed my wife. --You see, she had a cousin, and after ten years of marriage, I fell in love with that cousin. I'll spare you the details. The point is that, in the midst of all of that, I was called to the walls, and while I was away a plague hit our town.

"My family lived in the principalities, the safest, most civilized, richest place in Virga--but days from the walls. Still vulnerable to disease, and war, and all the insanities of our backward world. Some miasma of air, a cloud whose water droplets contained a pathogen easily cured at the walls, had drifted through the principalities and left vomiting, diarrhea, and death in its wake. When I heard about the outbreak I took the fastest ship home, and when I got there discovered that my wife, Miranda, was ill--and so was my beloved Elize, her cousin.

"Our rules were clear," he said heavily. "The immediate family of Guardsmen can be taken to the walls and cured--if there's time, because days can make a difference. I could certainly save my wife, but..." He fell silent, and when he began again, his voice cracked, "she wasn't the one I wanted to save."