Caly had a plan. Had.

Sometimes, when a plan blows breaks, it’s because everything that could go wrong, did. Sometimes, it’s just one minor hitch that sends the whole train off the rails.

But every once in a rare while, your plan breaks … it’s because you got lucky.

Until now, Caly thought she was the only couran on New Nowhere. And she has no idea why I’m here. Does this mean I just used up the last of my luck? The Queen’s eyes fell upon Caly, and sparkled with delight and suddenly, Caly had the feeling that she was about to get even luckier.

“At last, your Majesty!” the creature slobbered excitedly, “I have brought you a real, living couran!”

“I see that, Gurzan.”

“Actually, I’m Symin, Your Eternal Grace.”

“Are you?” the Queen said, idly. Her voice was as rich and luxurious as the long, violet black hair streaming down her crown of horns. “Where is Gurzan, then?”

“You, ah, said I wasn’t—that we were—not to speak of him. After the incident.”

“Oh? Oh, yes. Well thank you, Glymin.”

“Symin, your Majesty. With an S.”

But the Queen had eyes only for Caly. She bent down and placed a finger under Caly’s chin. It was such a familiar gesture that, instead of pulling back, Caly felt her muscles relax.

“Gaze upon your Queen,” she said, “That I might know your face.”

The Queen’s gaze wandered up to her helmet’s horns. Caly stiffened. The horns were an expensive addition, cost more than the helmet itself, but if the Queen was shrewd, or suspicious …

“Beautiful,” Yole said. “Could anyone ask for a more perfect specimen of our species?”

Caly’s stomach muscles unclenched. At least she was composed enough to not sigh with relief.

The Queen’s face, lined with graceful age and beautiful dignity, crinkled at the mouth as she lingered on Caly’s face a moment longer. “Beautiful. And what is your name, my dear?”

“I’m Caly,” she said, and almost cursed out loud. It had been far too long. She cleared her throat, and announced herself like a proper couran, “I am Calyciana An’Cor Val Anchenti Val Erreto, fifth daughter of the House of Gavant.” That last part, being a lie, of course. House Gavant no longer recognized its youngest daughter.

“The House of Gavant,” the Queen echoed. “Is that one of the good houses?”

Caly’s defiant expression cracked, just for a moment. Everyone knew her birth House. And not just courans, but everyone in the Synod. Infamous was putting it lightly. Her mother was on the Mass Council, and her grandmother before her. Claiming that position was a story in its own right. But when Caly searched the Queen’s face for a hint of recognition, she saw nothing but the Queen’s crystal-blue eyes.

The creature clacked his staff, snapping Caly to attention. “Answer your Queen!”

“Gurzan,” she snapped, “Be silent! She will answer when she is ready, won’t you, my dear?”

“Yes, your Highness,” Caly said, avoiding Gurzan’s obsidian gaze. “Gavant is feared by—it’s a very respected House. We sit upon the Mass Council”

“A Ring house!” she clapped her hands together, so that all the jewels on her sleeves rattled and flashed in the sunlight. “Could it be any more perfect? And,” the Queen said, almost as if she was trying not to sound too hopeful, “Do you have any latent diseases I should know about? Any unseen maladies?”

“Unseen—why would you—?”

“Yes, of course, we’ll sort it all out later, I’m sure. Come, there is much I need to show you if we are to make any progress today. And progress, we must make. I cannot believe how fortunate we are—you came at the right time, my dear. Yes! The right time.” The Queen clapped her hands together, and the flock of servants shifted, readying the litter for her. She waved them off, and started up the ramp on foot, a thousand blue diamonds clicking with every step.

“Progress for what?” Caly asked.

The Queen turned sharply, her huge set of horns scraping dangerously at the air. “You answered my call, did you not?”

“Yes,” Caly said, trying very hard to make it sound like the truth.

“You brought your servants with you,” she nodded at Olm and Taws, who were kneeling and watching the whole exchange a few paces back. “That you might serve me better, did you not?”

“Of course, your Majesty.”

The Queen brightened, almost chirping her next words. “Wonderful. I knew I could count on your help. So much to be done, and the door won’t stay open forever.”

Queen Yole disappeared into the mouth of the Spirine like a ship sailing into the void, the twinkling eyes of her diamonds fading into the darkness. Caly felt like she was missing something. Like a sandstorm had blown in, and now she couldn’t see past her own hand. She had been so ready to lie through her teeth, had a hundred tactics ready to convince the Queen of their false purpose, but the Queen had just … accepted her. Just like that.

Silver ridges and marble white swirls ran up the metal bark of the Spirine, dark and bloody red. Above, the stems of the Spirine twisted toward the clouds, that red whitening to marble, brushed with silver, where cottony clouds poured forth from the structure and tore themselves on glittering branches.

She turned around, and caught Olm staring up too, his face cracked with worry lines. She already knew what he was going to say: “This feels too easy.”

But they would not get another opportunity this good. And the Queen has no idea why we’re here, Caly thought. Or hoped. And if they were quick about their business …

Olm caught her gaze. He nodded at her. She nodded back. And then they both turned to the human, whose eyes were closed, as if he was listening to something only he could hear.

Olm better be right about him, she thought.

The Queen’s creature tapped his staff impatiently, “Her Majesty’s time is precious.”

“Lead the way, Symin.”

“It’s Gurzan, now,” he corrected her, bitter as burnt coffee, as if the new name was Caly’s fault.

***

Caly reckoned she had spent more time in the Spirines of New Nowhere than any other person on the planet. That is, any other sane person. Her helmet was insulated in a way that even the Aged Knights of the Daedonic Order would envy. So, she considered herself something of an expert on Spirines. She had climbed the thorny, winding spirals of Old Ocotiyo, had wandered the mind-bending pathways of Westhaven’s Tree of Life, and once she had spent a whole two days hiding from thieves in the sand-filled halls of a Spirine half-buried in the southern Big Empty. It took her weeks to stop hearing voices.

But never before had she ventured below a Spirine. She hadn’t even known there was a “below a Spirine.” Like everyone else, Caly had always guessed the Spirines had foundations of sorts, or maybe roots that dug through solid stone, but never had she imagined the maze of twisting hallways and pockets of open space. It was like walking through a giant bloodant hill, if bloodants could build clean polished hallways and elegant, sweeping archways. Even the walls emitted a cool glow, making all the white walls and silver trimming gleam.

The way the halls split, and split again, didn’t worry her. Her helmet would record their path, for when they came back. Not if. When.

But something strange was happening. Instead of running through their possible points of attack—should I run a distraction while Olm stuns her from behind? Would her servants attack? She can’t be around them all the time, can she?—instead, Caly found herself actually listening to the Queen.

The two of them walked side by side—Caly, in her dusty suit, couldn’t help but feel out of place next to the Queen in her immaculate dress, one worn in the classical style—and all Caly had to do was listen as the Queen reminisced about the castles of Chevaul, of the rains and the gentle springs and the sparkling summers spent on the archipelagos.

“Oh, what we’ve left behind,” the Queen said, “You and I, to have come out here. I know. You never thought you’d find someone like me on a planet like this. In the middle of the desert, no less—though, sometimes it feels like everywhere on New Nowhere is in the middle of the desert. But I have waited so long for one such as you. Tell me, Calyciana, are you in exile, too?”

“I—” Caly lost her step. And quickly caught herself. “How did you know?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Why else would a couran come to this planet? But you don’t intend to stay here,” the Queen’s horns glittered as she turned to appraise Caly, all those blue diamonds catching the light, “Calyciana, I can tell you have come here with a purpose.”

“I came to New Nowhere to find a sponsor. I intend to join the Cavaliers, Your Majesty.”

“Ah!” the Queen said, as if nothing could be more obvious. “Absurd, they haven’t taken you in already. Simply absurd.”

Caly was no stranger to flattery. She’d taken two semesters of it back in the House of Iocalta. But just because she knew it by sight and sound, didn’t mean she was immune to its effects. She couldn’t help but smile, and think, maybe I’m weak. Maybe it’s because I haven’t spoken with another couran in person for over two years. She was on a job right now, but talking to the Queen, it almost felt like she was back on Chevaul. As if Caly could forget, for a moment, and pretend she was couran again. Pretend, that things with Caspian had gone differently.

They talked about her garden, about how she modeled it after her House’s garden back home. The Queen came from an old House—the House of the Growing Vine—one with a rich history that was already fading.

If the Queen was playing a role, it was a couran role, and one Caly was all too familiar with. She didn’t know what the Queen wanted of her, not yet, but Caly knew what was expected of her. She felt like a trapped fish, who had accidentally leaped out of her cage, and landed here, in a whole new ocean. Could I not thrive in a place like this?

“And what did you think of my garden?” The Queen smiled, and Caly found she was already smiling back.

“Enchanting,” Caly said, “I have never seen it’s like. Even back home.”

The words were automatic, for Caly’s mind was still lingering on that earlier thought. What if she could sponsor me to the Cavaliers? She clearly has the wealth, and I’m certain the Synod would recognize her authority.

“And what of my servants?”

“Mmm,” Caly delayed, her thoughts snapping back to the moment. Sure, the servants were weird. Creepy. And somehow, Caly doubted they were actually willing servants at all, what with those gruesome body modifications. But were they any worse than Zyroc’s cutthroat cronies and leering lackeys? Not to mention the King of Bitters’ kind … Caly suppressed a shiver.

“They’re… they’re extremely agreeable. And loyal, it seems.”

“They’re not slaves,” the Queen said. “They came willingly.”

Caly wanted to believe her. It would’ve made everything so much easier. But the image of the Blacktree wouldn’t leave her mind. All those ropes, creaking in the breeze.

Maybe, Caly thought weakly, maybe she had a good reason?

“Oh, Calyciana, where have you gone?” The Queen stopped beneath a bright spot beneath the glowing walls. The arches marched away down the twisting hallway, accompanied by strange doors that looked like the folded wings of some silvery swan. “I know what concerns you.”

“You do?”

“You’re wondering if I’ve earned the title. Mad.”

“Oh.”

“Deny nothing. Everyone with half a thought wonders the same. Who else would dare dwell here, of all places? Above the ruins of the Great Dyss. Does it not drain your sanity?”

“Does it?” Caly asked, and cringed for asking such a question. She was supposed to be playing the game. Winning the Queen’s approval, or else this paper-thin ruse would show clearer than St. Clovine’s conscience (she who not recant, and burned for all of courankind).

Focus.

“I mean, I’ve heard,” Caly scrambled to correct herself. “But they say courans are especially resilient to the Dead One’s curse. And I’m sure you’ve taken all precautions … ”

The Queen merely gave her a knowing smile. A thousand eye-shaped gems twinkled back at Caly. “You do think I’m mad. Deny nothing, sweet dear. I thought I was too, once. When I first came to this Spirine, I was beyond lost, a shred of myself, caught on the wind, unable to die. It was alive when I found it. You’ve noticed, haven’t you? How could you not. And this place … do you believe in destiny, Calyciana? That, perhaps, you were always destined to become so much more than you are now?”

Caly blinked. It was only how she had felt her entire life. Despite all the setbacks and failures and utter misery that existence could throw her way, she would become someone more.

The Queen took a step toward the door, and the swan-like wings pulled apart, opening the way.

“Is it wrong,” she asked, “to want to change the world?”

No, Caly thought. It’s only natural.

“Is it wrong,” the Queen stepped into the darkness, “to want to influence this universe, and to improve what you were born into?”

No, Caly thought, and followed her in. How could it be wrong?

“Is it wrong,” she said, “to reign?”

“Stars and void,” Caly gasped.

They stood on a bridge. Above and below, vats lined the walls, pulsing an aquatic glow in the dark. There must’ve been thousands of them. Tens of thousands. Each one filled with a living, mindless xeno.

***

“What is this?” Olm heard Caly ask.

“Only a dormitory,” the Queen said. “Follow me. It’s through here.”

Olm had bunked in the finest racks the Navy could offer—some of which were almost big enough to sleep in, if he curled up, and kept very still. He had camped out for weeks in the soaking rain with a herd in the Sheer Mountains, who never seemed to get more than a little damp. Once, he even found himself in a Ring Prince’s bedchamber, though he always told people it was an accident. And certainly nothing happened between the Prince and him, either. Stop asking. The point being, Olm thought he knew a thing or two about bedroom architecture.

This was no dormitory. More like an industrial research lab.

Row upon row of glass vats lined the curving walls. Catwalks and bridges linked the perimeter, and air vents and drainage holes perforated the ceiling far above, and the floors far below. Most of the vats held a xeno in a foggy liquid that flashed with tiny pulses of lightning, like miniature thunderstorms trapped in bottles. The vats were interrupted only by those spindly white-metal columns that threaded up towards the arches, far too thin to support the ceiling.

Whoever had built this place had not been couran. And where did the resources come from? It wasn’t as if the Northern Wastes were crowded with mining towns.

The floor was several stories below them. They were standing on a narrow bridge at the top of a massive silo, whose walls were riddled with vats, like the seedy guts of some metal fruit. Olm didn’t know what was more unsettling: the fact that there were no handrails, or the notion that they might soon join this city of mindless slaves, all suspended in fog. It was enough to make his head feel like it was splitting open. And that distant pinging sound had become excruciating. Every time he heard it, it drove a nail into his skull. An anxious silence. And then a sharp ping! that seemed to vibrate the very air. Then, silence while he waited for the next one …

Caly nudged him with an elbow. He snapped back to attention, suddenly aware that he had been holding his head in both hands, trying to squeeze out the pounding headache. Ping…

“You okay?” Caly asked.

“No,” Olm said truthfully. “Tell me you have a plan.”

Through her visor, he could see her chewing her lip. Now, she’s nervous?

“Well?”

“Olm,” Caly whispered, “We need to get out of here. Help me think of an excuse.”

“But I—”

“I fucked up,” she said, still hiding behind a perfectly diplomatic smile, “We should’ve never come here.”

Ping. Olm winced.

“Olm.

“What about the human?”

“No!” Caly said. “If he so much as opens his mouth, the Queen will know what we’re—”

“Queen Yole!” the human barked. “You cannot imprison these people and force them to live in such inhumane conditions!”

“Inhumane?”

“I think he means incourane.”

“Ah.”

“Why does your servant think I’ve imprisoned these people?”

Taws blinked, and furrowed his brow. “You haven’t?”

The Queen sailed to a vat at eye-level. Something opened inside, and the vat drained in a rapid series of violent glugs. The vat tipped forward, and dumped the xeno onto the cold floor, still slick with clear fluid. It was a small, pale creature, hunched like a primate with sandstone stripes running up his arms and neck. His eye sockets bulged with obsidian metal.

It lifted its head, as if to survey its surroundings. Then, its head caught on the Queen, and the xeno bowed with such immediacy, Olm was sure it would hurt itself.

“Your majesty,” it groveled.

“Where were you before you came here, little one? Tell them.”

“Before … here?” The striped xeno cocked his head, his gaze as vacant as ever.

“Tell them how you were saved.”

“I was saved in the desert, where I was in hiding. For so long. Drank the sand and ate the leather from my own boots.”

“And who were you hiding from?”

“I hid from Mayor Enzia and her militia, for stealing. And the Enforcers, for stealing. And a few people from Suertito, because of the incident with the landmine. Oh, and my half-brother—”

“—for stealing?” Caly added helpfully.

The thing narrowed its eyes at her, a difficult feat given the obsidian protrusions, but it managed it all the same. “They never proved that.”

The Queen shooed him onward, “But who saved you?”

“My Queen,” he cocked his head, as if seeing the Queen for the first time. “You called and I answered. And now I don’t worry so much about nothing anymore. Not even the Enforcers scare me. Not even the darkness in the quarry, and all those slopes and not even when that bridge collapsed while we were hauling, and the others got buried and—”

“Yes, all right, that’s perfectly good,” the Queen said, “But do you like being here?”

“I love it,” he said, robotically and without hesitation. It was the least convincing answer Olm had ever heard. In the distance, a pinging sound reverberated through the walls.

“So you don’t want to leave?”

“Your Majesty?” His face wrinkled, becoming almost ugly with worry, “I don’t want to leave. Please don’t make me leave. I’ll do anything—”

“Excellent,” She said, reaching out to pat him on the head—and thinking better of it. “That will be all. Back to your, uh, whatever.”

She ushered him away, allowing him to climb back into his vat, which righted itself and started to fill with a fresh batch of clear liquid).

“See? They want to be here. You wouldn’t call that slavery, would you? I provide these unfortunates something the Synod never would—a second chance. Or, for some of them, a third. Or fourth.”

“No one deserves this,” Taws said, unimpressed.

Olm could see Caly working out the best way to kick him in the shins (or better yet, staple his mouth shut) without anyone noticing.

“What was that?” The Queen asked, her tone making the pain in his skull flare.

“You’ve taken their minds. You’ve taken everything from them.”

“And I suppose the Synod is brimming with freedom these days, right?” Her eyes seized upon Olm. “You! You look like a hrutskuld.”

Before answering, Olm looked to Caly for help. The couran gestured at him, as if to say, go on! Just keep her talking!

“That’s because I am one.”

“You, of all xenos, should understand. What value has the Synod assigned your species? They make you believe if you act like the best good little soldiers you can be, maybe one day they will allow your species a spot at the Council. How long have they spun this lie? Here, there is only the honest truth. My servants live to serve. Nothing could bring them more joy.”

“You’ve poisoned their thoughts,” the human said, his arms at his sides. One of his hands was twitching at his hip. “You’ve vaporized every ounce of meaning of their existence. You have to—you can’t just—it’s about—”

“It’s about choice,” Olm finished helpfully. Caly had both hands on her helmet, and was shaking a furious no!

“Yes! How can you say they are happy, when they have no choice?”

“Oh?” the Queen reared up, her horns shining, and all her jewels trembled in the eerie glow of the vats. “Is that what brought you here—to grant me a choice? You scheme, you plot, you plan to waylay me in my own home, to destroy me, and you speak to me of choice? Yes, of course I know. I am the Queen of my domain, and I hear all, know all. And I do not care. You are already mine. Why else would I have brought you here?”

“Your threats mean nothing to me,” Taws said.

“What need have I of threats? For that matter, what need have I of you? I did not bring you here to frighten you,” she shifted her gaze to Caly, and let a smile adorn her lips, “This is just the way to the Breaker.”

“The what?”

“A Dyss, Calyciana. I found a Dyss, and I intend to break it open.”