A Rose Point Holiday Page 5

  All this time she’d been employing a genius? Who had just now given her all her patents… Reese started to feel light-headed, and was grateful when Kis’eh’t slipped an arm around her waist and squeezed.

  “So what’s the Queen’s gift?” Sascha asked.

  “I wrote to her research assistant and asked if he was interested in working for her,” Liolesa said.

  “And he said yes. Except that he’s not a research assistant anymore. He’s a respected professor with a research team of his own. And they’re willing to come. Which would make me….”

  “The administrator of your own foundation, I should think,” Liolesa said. “That would be the best way to structure it. Laisrathera receives your patents and endows the foundation, and elects you the chair of the foundation, charged with their development. You could employ your friend to do the field work, if field work is necessary, in concert with any partners you might wish to accept in the endeavor. It would be yours to administrate. You would choose.” Liolesa’s mouth quirked. “No bigots.”

  “No field work, though,” Sascha observed. “So I guess less science and more paperwork.”

  “That’s always how it happens,” Kis’eh’t said. “The more significant the discoveries and the more of them you make, the more responsibility you accrue.” She breathed in. “Abraham… we kept in touch at first but we both got busy… he was… he was a friend. The chance to work with him again... he was brilliant. Working with him was like prayer.” She stared at the paper—a letter, from what Reese could see from this angle—and shivered once, like an animal twitching off water. “This would make the world a major center for materials research.”

  “And you the woman in charge?” Irine said. “Sounds good to me. Aren’t you already Royal Advisor to the Queen because you’re good at science?”

  “Those would make great credentials for some kind of cabinet position,” Sascha agreed, leaning back with an arm on the seat of the empty chair behind him. “Minister of Science and Technology?”

  Bryer fluffed his feathers. “Best sense. Would say ‘If Goddess opens path, do not be stupid, walk it’, yes?”

  Kis’eh’t stared at him, then blurted a laugh. The Phoenix gaped an avian grin at her.

  “I would not much mind becoming a center for materials research,” Liolesa said. “Indeed, contemplating the apoplexy that development would inspire in my enemies gives me great pleasure.”

  The Glaseah rested her head against Reese’s. “It’s the only thing I’ve missed since I left,” she confessed, and there was a hint there of a yearning that Reese had never heard in her voice.

  “Then you need miss it no longer,” Hirianthial said. When Kis’eh’t lifted her head, he finished, “Yes?”

  Kis’eh’t folded the paper, squeezed Irine and said, firmly, “Yes. To you all. But you have no idea what you’re getting into…!”

  “When have we ever?” Irine complained.

  “This opportunity…” Kis’eh’t trailed off. “Reese. Liolesa-alet. Thank you. This is not a gift. This is… this is my life back.”

  “You return to it with better perspective,” Bryer said. “Some things are aligned by the universe.”

  “Yes,” Kis’eh’t said. She sighed and wiped her eyes again, chuckling. “All right. You go now, Bryer.”

  Returning to her chair, Reese thought that she was the one who’d gotten a gift—above and beyond the staggering one of the patents—in the form of that glimpse into Kis’eh’t’s hidden heart. How many of them had known that story about why she’d left? The only thing she’d told Reese when applying for a job was that she’d left academia due to ‘differences of opinion.’ Reese was willing to bet no one realized just what that had entailed, and what Kis’eh’t had given up. The happiness that eased her shoulders and haunches now...

  She’d done all right with that gift, when she’d feared she was presuming too much. Reese felt the relief so powerfully that she sought Hirianthial’s gaze, hoping he felt it too... and he caught her eye and gave her one of those infinitesimal Eldritch nods, and the tiniest twitch of a smile. Such gentleness in his gaze... she knew he not only agreed with her, but that she’d managed to get another thing right by treating his ability to ‘hear’ her as something normal.

  No wonder Liolesa worked so hard at this gift-giving thing.

  Shopping for a Phoenix was hard. Reese could have figured that out before she started reading all the cultural information she could find on them; having done so, she concluded that it was never going to be as easy to give gifts to Bryer was it was to everyone else. The Phoenix life philosophy shunned attachment: “pass through the world and leave only shadows” was a line she picked up from an overview about it. But being a pragmatic as well as spiritual people, they regarded some attachment as inevitable, and had strict rules about how those bonds were to be chosen and maintained. Reese hadn’t realized how astonishing it was that Bryer not only stayed with the crew, but that he had obviously chosen them as some of those attachments, and for a Phoenix he was positively effusive compared to many of his species.

  But enough Phoenixae—that was the proper plural, though it sounded funny to her because so few people seemed to use it—lived among offworlders that there were a plethora of articles about how to shop for them. That was probably the source of the gifts she watched the twins and Kis’eh’t giving him. “Focus on consumables or on items that make maintenance of the Phoenix’s physical body or exercise of the Phoenix’s duties easier,” was the common advice. Kis’eh’t gave him fertilizer for the Rose Point gardens, since Reese had told him to do as he willed with them. Irine had teamed up with the Glaseah and found a number of seeds that Felith had reported would grow well this far north: vegetables, fruits, flowers, trees that bore nuts and trees that offered shade. Sascha had picked out a harness that flying Phoenix could use for tools and pouches, which Bryer tugged on and examined with evident approval.

  Hirianthial’s gift came in a box similar to the one that had held Sascha’s dagger, but it contained what looked like a pumice stone. Reese squinted at it, wondering what it was.

  Bryer knew, though. His crest arched once, fluffed and then settled. He cocked his head and said to Hirianthial, “Reminder?”

  “Promise,” Hirianthial said. “I have not forgotten our shared duty, and would have you at your best.”

  “What is it?” Kis’eh’t asked.

  “That’s for your talons, isn’t it.” Irine flipped her ears back. “As if they need to be any sharper!”

  “Any blade grows dull when used,” Hirianthial said.

  Bryer’s hissing chuckle surprised them all. “Eldritch aphorism. Works as well for Phoenix. Is an appropriate gift. I accept both promise and utility.”

  That left hers and the Queen’s, and he picked up the envelope first. “Will see what the Queen gives. Maybe I will need apron afterward.”

  That startled them all into laughing as Bryer unfolded his paper. “A map?” He looked at her, crest spreading in puzzlement.

  “A cliff,” the Queen said. “There are birds there always. Circling and skating on winds that seem to contradict one another. If I could fly, I would want to test myself on those winds.”

  Bryer’s pupils dilated. He looked at the map again, then folded it and slid it back into the envelope. “Gift is cliff? Or revelation?”

  Liolesa’s smile was wry. “Oh, alet. I doubt anyone is surprised by that revelation about me.”

  Which, Reese though privately, was true...and not true, like everything about the Eldritch. She didn’t doubt that everyone knew Liolesa’s courage and thirst for challenge. It was that she had thought of what it was like to be winged, and let it be heard in her voice, just a little, that she would have liked it, that was the revelation.

  “Now, Captain’s gift,” Bryer said.

  “Not an apron,” Reese assured him.

  “Very good. I do not cook well.” The Phoenix pulled the tissue out of his bag and peered into it. With delic
ate claws, he lifted one of the long filmy banners, the silk whispering as it slipped over the bag’s edge. Holding it up, he said nothing, then set a hand on the calligraphy the computer had generated for her, and which she hoped was right.

  “Battle at Surapinet’s complex,” the Phoenix said, looking at her.

  “Yes.”

  He peered in the bag and drew another out, this one sky blue to the first’s bright red. Reading the dates: “Fight at palace, fleeing.”

  Reese nodded.

  The third was the yellow of buttercups, with silver paint. “Fight at palace, second time.” He frowned at the fourth scarf. This one was white and reading the date, his feathers sagged in confusion. “Now... date of hire?”

  “That was a fight too. Your longest fight,” Reese said. “Your advice was the weapon, and you were battling my tendency toward self-destruction and stupid choices. You sometimes confused me, but talking to you always helped. And in the end...” She waved a hand at the room. “We won, didn’t we?”

  Bryer hesitated, then gaped a grin. “Clever gift. Very thoughtful.”

  “But what is it?” Araelis asked, curious. “Other than beautiful?”

  “Eye-trained Phoenix—that is, the ones who learn how to fight—they’re allowed to fly banners at their aeries when they win battles,” Reese said. “But they have to be given the banners by someone whose life was saved at them.”

  Bryer added, “Need five before can request mate.”

  “Oh!” Irine exclaimed, then darted a look at Reese. “You are sneaky!”

  “You have no idea,” Sascha said, eyeing Reese. “Because having given the gift like this in public, where everyone could hear it explained... that means in a few days Hirianthial’s probably going to give Bryer one for the fight on the battlecruiser.” He glanced at the Eldritch. “Am I right?”

  “He did save my life there,” Hirianthial said, studying the ceiling with rather too much nonchalance.

  “Hooray!” Irine exclaimed. “Then we can have baby Phoenixes!”

  Bryer chuffed a laugh. “Harat-Shar.” And then, as he rolled the scarves and put them back in the bag, “Have work. Have an aerie. Now, have proof of worth. Yes. We can have baby Phoenixae.” He pressed his palms together and bowed his head to Reese, the long neck arcing and the feathers shivering. “Best gift is gift of continuity through generations. Now I may participate. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Reese said. And added, shy, “I can’t wait to see baby Phoenixae too.”

  “We’re down to three now,” Sascha said. “Who’s next, Boss? You or Hirianthial?”

  “Or the Queen!” Irine exclaimed. “We should do her next.”

  “She’s been ambushing us with crazy gifts all night,” Sascha said, eyeing Liolesa. “She is due for it.”

  Liolesa hadn’t moved from her chair where she was as relaxed as Reese suspected she ever got, with her hands folded on her ribcage and her feet in front of her, neatly aligned but at least stretched out. Even leaning back she had a perfectly straight back. But her eyes were merry. “I suppose I am in for my portion now, am I.”

  “Don’t worry,” Kis’eh’t said, amused. “We don’t have a planetary bank to back up our gifts yet.”

  “Yet!” Liolesa laughed as she sat up and rested her hands on her knees. “The sweet sound of ambition. I approve. What first, then?”

  What do you get a queen was apparently a question that required a great deal of brainstorming, because the twins, Kis’eh’t and Bryer had all gotten together on their presents for her, and they were...

  “Toys?” Liolesa said, reading the packaging on the first gift.

  “That’s a good one,” Sascha said. “It a ball of goo and no matter how hard you throw it, smash it, or tear it, it always bounces back to the same shape.”

  “For those frustrating moments,” Kis’eh’t said.

  Liolesa stared at it, then smothered a sound that was almost—Reese swore—almost a cackle. “Oh, that will be very useful, yes. And this... a... sliding puzzle?” She toyed with it with a furrowed brow, much to everyone’s delight, but set it aside unsolved to look at the others, which included a bead that projected a starfield, a pocket-sized board that could be used to play four different games, and a palm-sized palomino horse plush. Watching her bent over all of the toys with her crew gathered close, demonstrating or pointing out features, Reese grinned. Toys seemed a crazy thing to give a woman who had everything, but it made sense in context. Liolesa had been heir since birth, Hirianthial had told her once, and been driven by her internal sense of duty and prophecy all her life. When had she ever had time to play? When had anyone ever invited her to?

  Hirianthial caught her eyes and murmured, “Never.”

  She liked the tenderness in his eyes, and the indulgent amusement when he watched the tableau. And it was funny, in a sweet way. Also funny in a funny way, because she imagined the next time Liolesa had one of those infuriating meetings with the remaining recalcitrant nobles, that gob of goo was going to get a pounding.

  “So, here is Theresa’s gift to me, and it is large!” Liolesa ran her hands over the lumpy package. “I am consumed with curiosity.”

  “It’s not a little paper envelope so you should be good,” Sascha quipped.

  Liolesa laughed. “Thank the Lady for less earth-shattering presents, yes?” She opened it with surgical precision and a mass of pastel rainbow-colored cords spilled out, satiny and soft, with a matching blanket of pale yellow fabric and soft pillows in white and cloud blue. Startled, Liolesa caught the linens before they could fall out of her lap and said, “Goodness, Theresa. You have given me...”

  “A pouch hammock,” Reese said firmly. “Much as I like your beds—and I admit beds do have their uses, and no, Irine, don’t start—there’s nothing like a hammock for catching a nap.” As Liolesa spread the cords out to find the loops, Reese finished, “You carry everyone all the time, my lady. I thought, once in a while, someone, or something at least, should carry you.”

  Liolesa looked up sharply. For one instant, so fleeting Reese almost missed it... she saw the woman instead of the ruler: not someone who wished for an easier life, because there didn’t seem to be anything in Liolesa to wish for that, but someone who could be caught off guard. Reese held her breath, because the one thing she didn’t want to do was reveal that she’d seen it, so that everyone else could notice and make much of something she knew, instinctively, Liolesa would have hated to have discussed.

  “It is delightful,” Liolesa said. “I shall have someone hang it in my favorite garden, so I might try this... napping you speak of.”

  “Which you’ve heard of but never indulged in,” Araelis said dryly, almost like her old self.

  “I’ve been told sleep is useful,” the Queen said. “I shall have to discover for myself!” She wrapped the hammock into a tidy bundle using the blanket. “Thank you, Theresa. I look forward to using this gift.”

  “So long as you do,” Hirianthial said.

  “We can detail some of the Swords to cordon off the area,” Sascha said. “That way we’ll know she can’t get out before she’s tried it.”

  “And you call me managing,” Liolesa said to Araelis. “And now, Hirianthial.” She lifted the small package, tilting it. “Shall I shake it?”

  “You do that here too?” Sascha asked, amused.

  “Only when we are very young,” Araelis said. “And lacking in comportment.”

  “Oh, well, then certainly I must not shake it.” Liolesa paused, then gave it a little jiggle. “No noise, alas!”

  As everyone laughed, Hirianthial said, “I’ll remember this propensity for cheating next year.”

  “Oh will you!” Liolesa slit the paper open and withdrew a book, and seeing it Reese inhaled. It was exactly the kind of book she would have read about in stories on her data tablet, wishing she could see it with her own eyes: small, with a leather cover scrolled with gold leaf and set with precious gems. The pages were leafed in g
old, and when Liolesa opened it, she glimpsed the glossy darkness of real ink, applied by someone’s hand.

  “This is glorious,” Liolesa murmured, thumbing through it.

  “A Book of Hours, I assume?” Araelis asked.

  Liolesa had reached the front page and stopped on it. Her mouth pressed into a firm line, and she let her head drop. The shaking of her shoulders… Reese wondered wildly who could comfort a queen who wasn’t supposed to be touched if she started crying? And then she realized Liolesa was laughing. Helplessly, until she had to wipe her eyes.

  “Hiran Jisiensire!” she gasped. “A Book of Hours from Saint Wilthelmissa!”

  “You spent so much time there in meditation,” Hirianthial said. “I thought you should have a souvenir.”

  “You are a terrible man,” Liolesa said, shaking her head as she examined the book. “And it is an exquisite gift.”

  Reese wondered if there was some Eldritch custom that explained why a prayer book was funny… but no, Araelis looked just as bemused. A private joke between friends, then. And a very good one, too, because Hirianthial was looking almost smug, which was an expression she didn’t think she’d ever seen on him. He cocked a brow at her and she grinned. Maybe in ten years, or twenty, he’d be giving her things that no one would understand but her, and wouldn’t that be fun? Especially if she did the same…

  “Now it’s Hirianthial turn,” Irine said.

  “Yes, let us see to the man who has given pie birds and prayer books,” Liolesa said, setting her plush palomino on her lap so she could pet it.

  Prayer books made Reese think of Val, so while Hirianthial was sorting through his pile, she said, “The priests aren’t here… if you want to give them gifts, when do you do it?”

  Liolesa glanced at Araelis with arched brows. Araelis looked away; unlike the Queen, her face was more mobile, and there was exasperation there, and pain. “I see I am being deferred to. Because you like to make us examine our own wounds, don’t you, my Queen.”