CARO ARTIBUS

JELENA

Jelena Aune was a Glasyan of the Third Circle. Third out of Nine, with higher being better. In other words, she was not very important, and she knew it.

But it was for that very reason that Noble Glasya liked to take her along to meetings. She waved it off to everyone else as Jelena being her assistant—and she did make very good tea—but Jelena knew she valued her keen political ear far more than her beverages.

But still, she had to play the part, so she carefully placed a cup of tea on a saucer in front of their guest.

“Thank you, Honored Nightstalker,” the naked woman said graciously. She was a beautiful twenty-five year-old woman with flawless pale skin and very long brown hair pooled behind her. She carefully lifted the teacup and blew on it until it cooled, then took a sip. “Yes, thank you indeed.”

The Queen-Mother of Fevered Day, the Crone of Night's Eastern Autumn, appeared mostly baseline, except for her marble-black nighteyes. But Jelena knew better than to be fooled by her appearance. She was stronger and faster than Jelena by an order of magnitude. She could kill Jelena faster than a bullet. Glasya would probably be able to keep up with her, but Fevered Day's body was just an expendable homunculus, which gave her a large advantage.

Not that this would come down to a fight. Glasya wasn't that stupid.

Glasya sat down in the chair opposite the fey very carefully, not making any sudden movements. She was a gray-skinned vampire with dusky black hair in a long braid, dressed in a cute ankle-length skirt and a truly marvelous corset. There was nothing really unique about her appearance, since the culture favored internal toys.

“Forgive me, Honored Crone,” Glasya said after a few minutes of the fey just enjoying her tea. “But can we get down to business? It's been a while since I received your Invitation.”

The Queen-Mother smiled as she put her cup back on the saucer. “Oh, I just figured that it seemed like a good time to tell you about the side effects of the toy box.”

Glasya froze. So did Jelena, behind her. After a moment, she continued preparing more tea on the table behind her, hoping the fey hadn't noticed.

Necessarius had built a few dozen toy boxes and used them each several times a day. If they had side effects, people were in serious trouble. Worse, the Glasyans were the ones who had negotiated the deal where the 'sarians bought the prototype from the fey. Even if it was something minor, Butler would come down on the culture like an airstrike.

Glasya tried not to let her anxiety show, but she was having trouble. “You didn't mention anything before.”

The Crone grinned. “Now, where would be the fun in that?”

Jelena heard the leather armrests of the chair squeak as Glasya gripped them, likely to keep herself from strangling Fevered Day.

“In the future,” she said with admirable calm, “I would prefer to be given a full list of any and all side effects you know of before the transaction is finished.” She plastered on a fake smile. “Now, what is the problem in this case?”

The Crone tapped her chin thoughtfully. “You know, 'side effects' might be the wrong phrase. The device itself works exactly as intended. No, the problem is the security system.”

Jelena raised an eyebrow. She had seen the blueprints, and while she was no engineer, she knew enough to be sure there hadn't been anything like that. The 'sarians definitely would have noticed guns or whatever when they were playing around with it.

But Glasya just forced a smile. “Please, continue.”

The Queen-Mother leaned forward, jiggling distractedly, and smiled. “Did your tech-priests notice a filter when they were taking the device apart?”

“They're not our engineers—tech-priests. But I vaguely remember seeing something like that. Why?”

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“It modifies the air passing through it,” Fevered Day said. “Uses a few control nodes to introduce an artificial pheromone, and pumps it back out.”

“To what purpose?”

The fey grinned. “Come now, Noble Glasya. Surely you can figure it out?”

Glasya narrowed her marble-black eyes. “No, I can't. What is it?”

The grin grew wider. “It plants a very specific desire in the mind of anyone who inhales it. An obsessive, illogical compulsion to keep the toy box safe at all costs.” She tapped her lip. “Of course, there is the slight side effect of dementia, eventually leading to the afflicted to decide everyone nearby is a threat who must be eliminated...”

Jelena closed her eyes. That was... bad. But not as bad as it could be. The Necessarius version of the box didn't have that device, because it was open-air and they hadn't seen the need for what seemed like just an air filter. But the original was still a problem.

Jelena wasn't quite clear on who had it right now. According to the news, it was the aves, but they were a weak culture, so it had probably already been stolen from them again. Especially if everyone nearby was compelled to keep it “safe.”

“There is other news,” the Crone said, “there is a very small segment of the population who are immune.”

She took a sip of tea.

“Who?” Glasya demanded, finally getting impatient.

The Crone smiled. “A small control group. One hundred randomly selected blocks were chosen. We then piped a... vaccine, of sorts, into their water supply, and watched what happened.” She frowned. “Two of the blocks were still affected, though. We're not quite sure why.”

Glasya brushed her hair back with a shaking hand. “I'm going to need a list of those blocks which are immune.”

Fevered Day's grin was back.

“You want something in return,” Glasya said flatly. There was no denying it. They really should have expected this from the start. The fey didn't request meetings just to chat. Well, okay, they did, all the time actually, because they were all as crazy as a bag of wet cats, but not like this.

“Nothing much,” Fevered Day said. “We'll even return her to you, as sane as when we got her.” Her perpetual smile widened. “I swear it on the Zero Forge.”

This was always the case with the fey. It took a lot of haggling to even get them to accept money at all. Normally, they preferred people. Very specific people. Usually, they were never returned. Occasionally they escaped, with no memories of their previous lives, and became changelings.

Glasya rubbed her forehead. “Let me guess. The same as you wanted for the toy box: A dozen virgins, six male and six female, all eighteen.” She locked gazes with Fevered Day. “The answer is still no.”

But the grin didn't disappear. “Oh, Honored Nightstalker, this is why I love you. You never give up on your principles. But I just want one this time.”

“I'm still not going to give you some random—”

“Her,” the fey said. It took Jelena a second to look up and realize what was going on.

Fevered Day was pointing at her.

“No,” Glasya said instantly. “No, no, no. No way in the blackest night.”

“You'll get her back...”

“No!” Glasya was standing now, the chair flung back against the wall. Her rage was barely contained—at least she hadn't actually attacked Fevered Day. “I refuse!”

The Crone sighed. “Really, dearest, one little girl is hardly anything in the grand scheme of things.”

“No, I refuse to sacrifice—”

“I'll do it.”

Both women turned to stare at Jelena. The shock on Glasya's face was expected. But she was surprised to see, however briefly, a similar look on the fey's. She hadn't thought she'd get her way. But that didn't make any sense. The fey were arrogant bastards who were convinced they would always win.

But the look was gone so fast Jelena could almost convince herself she had imagined it.

The naked woman stood, strode forward, and gripped Jelena's arm tightly. “Good choice, Honored Nightstalker. I'll send the information back once we've reached my demesne.” She turned to the warlord. “Three days, Noble Glasya. And then you'll have her back.” She grinned again. “Wouldn't want you running out of tea, now would we?”

As the Queen-Mother of Fevered Day dragged Jelena out of the room, she glanced back to see one of the most powerful women in the city on her knees, sobbing.

She looked exactly as if she had just been told her best friend was dead.