The Quantum Rose

Excerpt

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Chapter One

Ironbridge
First Scattering Channel

Kamoj Quanta Argali, the governor of Argali Province, shot through the water and broke the surface of the river. She loved these rare moments to herself. Basking in the day’s beauty, she tilted her face up to the sky, a violet expanse punctured by Jul, the sun. It formed a tiny disk of light so brilliant she didn’t dare look anywhere near it. Curtains of green and gold light shimmered across the heavens in an aurora borealis visible even in the afternoon.

Her bodyguard stood on the bank, surveying the area. The woman’s true name sounded like a jumble of words from the ancient language Iotaca, what scholars pronounced as light emitting diode. No one knew what it meant, so they just called her Lyode.

Unease prickled Kamoj. She treaded water, her hair swirling around her body, wrapping her waist and then letting go. Her reflection showed a young woman with black curls framing a heart-shaped face. She had dark eyes, as did most people in Argali, though hers were larger than usual, with long lashes that right now sparkled with droplets of water.

Nothing seemed wrong. Reeds as red as pod-plums nodded on the bank, and six-legged lizards scuttled through them, glinting blue and green among the stalks. A few hundred paces behind Lyode, the prismatic forest began. Up the river, in the distant north, the peaks of the Rosequartz Mountains rose like clouds in a haze. She drifted around to face the other bank, but nothing there looked amiss either. Tubemoss covered the sloping hills in a turquoise carpet broken by stone outcroppings that gnarled out of the land like the knuckles of a buried giant.

What bothered her didn’t feel like unease exactly, more a sense of troubled anticipation. She supposed she should feel guilty for swimming here when she had duties to attend, but she had a hard time summoning remorse on such a gorgeous day. The afternoon hummed with life, golden and warm.

Kamoj sighed. As much as she enjoyed this interlude, invigorated by the chill water, she had her position as governor to consider. Swimming naked, even in this secluded area, hardly qualified as dignified. She glided to the bank and clambered out, pushing through the reeds. Lyode continued to scan the area.

Her bodyguard suddenly stiffened, staring across the water. With a smooth, fast motion, she reached over her shoulder and pulled the ballbow off her back.

Puzzled, Kamoj glanced back to the water. A cluster of greenglass stags had appeared from behind a hill across the river, each with a rider astride its long back. Sunrays splintered against the green scales that covered the animals. Each stood firm on its six legs, neither stamping nor pawing the air. With their iridescent antlers spread to either side of their heads, they shimmered in the blue-tinged sunshine.

Their riders were all watching her.

Sweet Airys. How mortifying. Kamoj ran up the slope to where she had left her clothes in a haphazard pile. Lyode had taken a palm-sized marble ball out of her belt bag and slapped it into the sling on the targeting tube of her crossbow. Drawing back the string and tube, she sighted on the intruders across the river.

Normally, here in the Argali, Lyode’s presence offered more of an indication of Kamoj’s rank than an expectation of danger. And indeed, none of the riders across the river drew his bow. They looked more intrigued than anything else. One of the younger fellows grinned at Kamoj, his teeth flashing white in the streaming sunshine.

“I can’t believe this,” Kamoj muttered. She stepped behind Lyode and grabbed her clothes. Drawing her tunic over her head, she added, “Thashaverlyster.”

“What?” Lyode said.

Kamoj pulled down the tunic, covering herself with soft gray cloth. Lyode stayed in front of her, keeping her bow poised to shoot. Kamoj counted five riders across the river, all in copper breeches and blue shirts, with belts edged by feathers from the blue-tailed quetzal.

One man sat a head taller than the rest. Broad-shouldered and long-legged, he wore a midnight-blue cloak with a hood that hid his face. His stag lifted its front two legs and pawed the air, its bi-hooves glinting like glass, though they were a hardier material, hornlike and durable. The man ignored its restless motions, keeping his cowled head turned in Kamoj’s direction.

“That’s Havyrl Lionstar,” Kamoj repeated as she pulled on her gray leggings. “The tall man on the big greenglass.”

“How do you know?” Lyode asked. “His face is covered.”

“Who else is that big? Besides, those riders are wearing Lionstar colors.” Kamoj watched with relief as the group set off, cantering upriver until they disappeared into the folds of the blue-green hills. “Hah! You scared them away.”

“With five against one? I doubt it.” Lyode glowered at her. “More likely they left because the show is over.”

Kamoj winced. She hoped her uncle didn’t hear of this. As the only incorporated man in Argali Province, Maxard Argali had governed for Kamoj in her youth. When Kamoj had come into her adulthood, she had shouldered the responsibility of leading her people and province. Maxard, her only living kin, remained a valued advisor.

Only Lionstar and his people might reveal her indiscretion, though, and they rarely came to the village. Lionstar had “rented” the Quartz Palace in the mountains for more than a hundred days now, and in that time no one she knew had even seen his face. Why he wanted a ruined palace she had no idea, given that he refused all visitors. When his emissaries had inquired about renting the palace, the suggestion had dismayed both she and Maxard. They had listened in disbelief as the newlanders explained their liege’s request, that they let a stranger live in the honored, albeit disintegrating, home of their ancestors.

However, no escape existed from the “rent” Lionstar’s people put forth. The law was clear; she and Maxard had to best his challenge or bow to his authority. Impoverished Argali could never match such an offer: shovels and awls forged from fine metals, stacks of firewood, golden bridle bells, dewhoney and molasses, dried rose-leeks, cobberwheat, tri-grains, and reedflour that poured through your fingers like powdered rubies.

So they yielded—and an incensed Maxard had demanded Lionstar pay a rent of that same worth every fifty days. It created a lien so outrageous, Kamoj feared Lionstar would send his army to “renegotiate.”

Instead, the cowled stranger paid.

“Maybe he’s crazy,” Kamoj muttered, more to herself than Lyode. Her bodyguard just raised her eyebrows.

With Lyode at her side, Kamoj entered the forest. Walking among the trees with tubemoss soft under her bare feet made her even more aware of her precarious position. Why had Lionstar come riding here? Did he also have an interest in her lands? She invested his rent in machinery and tools for farmers in Argali. As much as she disliked depending on a stranger, it was better than seeing her people starve. Her province came first, and his rent made a substantial difference in their well-being. She couldn’t bear to lose any more to him, though, especially not this forest she loved. She needed to inquire more into his activities and see what she could discover.

The beauty of the forest helped soothe her mood. Drapes of moss hung on the trees and shadow-ferns nodded around their trunks. Far above, the branches formed a canopy that let only stray sunbeams reach the ground. Argali vines hung everywhere, heavy with the blush-pink roses that gave her home its name. Argali. It meant “vine rose” in Iotaca.

At least, most scholars translated it as rose. One fellow insisted it meant resonance. He also claimed everyone misspelled her middle name, Quanta, an Iotaca word with no known translation. The name Kamoj came from the Iotaca word for bound, so if this strange scholar was correct, her name meant Bound Quantum Resonance. She smiled at the absurd idea. Rose made more sense, of course.

Life hummed today in the autumnal trees. Camouflaged among the roses, puff lizards swelled out their red sacs. A ruffling breeze parted the foliage to let a sunbeam slant through the branches, making the scale-bark and filmy scale-leaves glitter. Then the ray vanished, and the forest returned to its dusky violet shadows. A thornbat whizzed by, wings beating furiously. It homed in on a lizard and stabbed its needled beak into the red sac. As the puff deflated with a whoosh of air, the lizard scrambled away, leaving the disgruntled thornbat to dart into the air without its prey.

“Odd,” Kamoj said as powdered scales drifted across her arm.

“Heh?” Lyode asked.

“Why don’t people have scales?” That lack had always bothered her, since her early childhood. Most everything else on Balumil, the world, had them.

Lyode shrugged. “That would be a nuisance.”

“I suppose.” Scaled needles fat with water nestled among the leaves in the forest, and scaled roots swollen with moisture churned the soil. The trees grew slowly, converting water into stored energy to use during the long summer droughts and fierce winter snows. Unlike people, who fought to survive throughout the grueling year, many plants grew only in the gentler spring and autumn. Their big, hard-scaled seeds lay dormant until the climate changed to their liking.

Sorrow brushed her thoughts. If only people had adapted as well to survive. Each Long Year they struggled to replenish their population after the endless winter decimated their numbers. Last year they had lost even more than usual to the blizzards and brutal ices—

Including her parents.

Even after so long, that loss haunted her. She had been a small child when she and Maxard, her mother’s brother, became sole heirs to the impoverished remains of a once proud province.

Will Lionstar take what little we have left? She glanced at Lyode, wondering if her bodyguard shared her concerns. A tall woman with lean muscles, Lyode had the dark eyes and hair common in Argali. Here in the shadows, the vertical slits of her pupils had widened until they almost filled her irises. She carried Kamoj’s boots dangling from her belt by their laces. Together, they walked in silence, comfortable after knowing each other for so long.

Eventually Kamoj said, “Do you know the maize-girls who do chores in the kitchen?”

Lyode spoke with affection. “Three children? Tall as your elbow?”

“That’s right.” Kamoj smiled, thinking of the girls’ bright energy and fantastic stories. “They told me, in solemn voices, that Havyrl Lionstar came here in a cursed ship that the wind chased across the sky, and he can never go home again because he’s so loathsome the elements refuse to let him sail again.” Her mood dimmed. “Where do these stories from? Most of Argali believes it. They say he’s centuries old, with a metal face so hideous it can give you nightmares.”

The older woman spoke quietly. “Legends often have their seeds in truth. Not that he’s supernatural, but that his actions give people reason to fear him.”

Kamoj had heard too many stories of Lionstar’s erratic behavior to dismiss them. Several times, she had seen his wild rides herself, at a distance, as he tore across the land on his greenglass stag like a madman.

Watching her closely, Lyode lightened her voice. “Well, you know, with the maize girls, who can say. They tried to convince me that Argali is haunted. They think that’s why all the light panels have gone dark.”

Kamoj gave a soft laugh, relieved to change the subject. “They told me that one too. They weren’t too specific on who was haunting what, though.” Legend claimed the Current had once lit all the houses in the land, but that had been ages ago, especially in the North Sky Islands where the Current had died many centuries in the past. The only reason one light panel still worked in Argali House, Kamoj’s home, was because her parents had found a few intact fiberoptic threads in the ruins of the Quartz Palace.

The panel intrigued Kamoj as much as it baffled her. It linked to cables that climbed up inside the walls of the house until they reached the few remaining sun-squares on the roof. No one understood the light panel, but Lyode’s husband, Opter, could make it work. He had no idea why, nor could he fix ruined components, but given undamaged parts, he had an uncanny ability to fit them into the panel.

“Hai!” Kamoj winced as a twig stabbed her foot. Lifting her leg, she saw a gouge between her toes welling with blood.

“A good reason to wear your shoes,” Lyode observed.

“Pah,” Kamoj muttered. She enjoyed walking barefoot, but it had its drawbacks.

A drumming that had tugged at her for a while finally intruded enough to make her listen. “Do you hear that? Those are greenglass stags.”

Lyode tilted her head. “On the road to Argali.”

Kamoj grinned. “Come on. Let’s go look.” She started to run, then hopped on her good foot and settled for a limping walk. When they reached the road, they hid behind the trees, listening to the thunder of hooves.

“I’ll bet it’s Lionstar,” Kamoj said darkly.

“Too much noise for only five riders,” Lyode said.

Kamoj dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Then it’s fleeing bandits. We should nab them!”

“And just why,” Lyode inquired, “would these nefarious types be fleeing up a road that goes straight to the house of the central authority in this province, hmmm?”

Kamoj laughed. “Stop being so sensible.”

Lyode still didn’t look concerned, but she slipped out a bowball and readied her bow.

Down the road, the first stags came around a bend. Their riders made a splendid sight. The men wore gold disk mail, ceremonial, too soft for battle, designed to impress. Made from beaten disks, the vests were layered to create an airtight garment. They never attained that goal, of course. Some ancient drawings even showed mail covering the entire body, including gauntlets and knee boots, and a transparent panel over the face. Kamoj thought the face cover must be artistic fancy. Why anyone would want airtight mail remained a mystery, but tradition said do it that way, so they followed the design.

Her uncle’s stagmen gleamed today. They formed Maxard’s honor guard and displayed the Argali colors. Under their mail vests, they wore bell-sleeved shirts as gold as suncorn. Their gold breeches tucked into dark red knee boots fringed by feathers from the green-tailed quetzal. Twists of red and gold ribbon braided their reins, and bridle bells chimed with the pounding motion of their stags. Sunlight slanted across the road, surrounding them with sparkles from the dusty air.

Lyode smiled. “Your uncle’s retinue is a handsome sight.”

Kamoj didn’t answer. Normally she enjoyed watching Maxard’s honor guard, all the more so because of her fondness for the riders, most of whom she had known her entire life. They served Maxard well. His good-natured spirit drew everyone to him, including a wealthy merchant woman from the North Sky Islands who was courting him despite his small corporation. However, today Maxard didn’t ride with his retinue. He had sent them to Ironbridge a few days ago, and now they returned with an esteemed guest—someone Kamoj had no desire to see.

The leading stagmen rode past her hiding place, the bi-hooves of their mounts stirring up scale dust from the road. She recognized the front rider. Gallium Sunsmith. Seeing him brightened her mood. A big, husky man with a friendly face, Gallium worked with his brother Opter in a sunshop, engineering gadgets that ran on light, like the mirror-driven peppermill Opter had invented. After Lyode and Opter had married, Gallium became Lyode’s brother-in-law. He also made a good showing each year in the swordplay exhibition at festival. When Maxard needed an honor guard, Gallium became a stagman.

Down the road, more of the party came into view. These new riders wore black mail with purple shirts and breeches, and black boots fringed by silver feathers. Jax Ironbridge, the governor of Ironbridge Province, rode in their center. Long-legged and muscular, taller than the other stagmen, he had a handsome face with strong lines, chiseled like granite. Silver streaked his black hair. He sat astride Mistrider, a huge greenglass with a rack of cloud-tipped antlers and scales the color of the opal-mists that drifted in the high northern mountains.

Kamoj’s pleasure in the day vanished. Still hidden, she turned away from the road and leaned against the tree trunk. Crossing her arms, she stared into the forest while she waited for the riders to pass.

A flight-horn sounded behind her, its call winging through the air. She jumped, then spun around. She hadn’t concealed herself as well as she thought; Jax had stopped on the road next to her tree and sat there on his greenglass, watching her, the curved horn in his hand.

Kamoj flushed, knowing she had given offense by hiding. She and Jax had planned their merger for most of her life. He had the largest corporation in the Northern Provinces, which consisted of Argali, the North Sky Islands, and Ironbridge. Scholars loved to argue about the translation for the Iotaca word corporation. For lack of a better interpretation, most assumed it meant a man’s dowry, the property and wealth he brought into marriage. A corporation as large as Jax’s became a political tool, invoking the same law of “Better the offer or yield” as had Lionstar’s rent.

Ironbridge, however, had given Argali a choice. Jax had made an offer Kamoj could have bettered. It would have meant borrowing every last bit of wealth owned by even the most impoverished Argali farmers, but besting the amount by one stalk of bi-wheat was all it took. Then they could have declined the offer, and over the years found a way to repay the loans. Except she couldn’t turn him down. Argali was her responsibility, and her province desperately needed this merger with flourishing Ironbridge. So she had agreed.

Jax watched her with an impassive gaze. He offered his hand. “I will escort you back to Argali house.”

“I thank you for your kind offer, Governor Ironbridge,” she said, using her politest tone. “But you needn’t trouble yourself.”

He gave her a cold smile. “I am pleased to see you as well, my love.”

Hai! She hadn’t meant to further the insult. Stepping forward, she took his hand. He lifted her onto the stag with one arm, a feat of strength few other riders could manage even with a child, let alone an adult. He turned her so she ended up sitting sidewise on the greenglass, her hips fitted into the space in front of the first boneridge that curved over its back. Jax sat behind her, astride the stag between its first and second boneridges, his muscular legs pressed against her hips.

The smell of his disk mail wafted over her, rich with oil and sweat. As he bent his head to hers, she drew back in reflex—and immediately regretted it. Although he showed no outward anger, a muscle in his cheek twitched. Taking her chin in his hand, he pulled her head forward and kissed her. She barely managed stopped her reflex to clamp her mouth closed. As she tensed, he clenched his fist around her upper arm, holding her in place.

A rush of air thrummed past Kamoj, followed by the crack of a bowball hitting a tree and the shimmering sound of falling scales. Jax raised his head. Lyode stood by the road, a second ball knocked in her bow, her weapon aimed at Jax.

The Argali and Ironbridge stagmen had drawn their bows and trained their weapons on Lyode. They looked excruciatingly uncomfortable. No one wanted to shoot Kamoj’s bodyguard. The Argali stagmen had grown up with Lyode, and many treated her like a sister. The Ironbridge stagmen also knew her well, given that Jax had visited Kamoj at least twice each short-year for most of her life. However, no one could ignore that Lyode had just sent a bowball hurtling within a few handspans of the two governors.

In a chill voice only Kamoj could hear, Jax said, “Your hospitality today continues to amaze me.” Turning to Gallium Sunsmith, he spoke more loudly. “You. Escort Lyode back to Argali House.”

Gallium answered carefully. “It is my honor to serve you, sir. But perhaps Governor Argali would like to do her best by Ironbridge, by accompanying her bodyguard back.”

Kamoj almost swore. She knew Lyode and Gallium meant well, and she valued their loyalty, but she wished they hadn’t interfered. It would only earn them Jax’s anger. She and Jax had to work this out themselves. Although their merger favored Ironbridge, it gave control to neither party. They would share authority, she focused on Argali and he on Ironbridge. It benefited neither province if their governors couldn’t get along.

Perhaps she could still mollify Jax. Maxard claimed she had a gift for diplomacy. Today hardly gave witness to that supposed talent, but she would try. “Please accept my apologies, Governor Ironbridge. I am gratified and honored to see you and terribly sorry if I or my staff have given any offense. I will discuss Lyode’s behavior with her on the walk back. We’ll straighten this out.”

He reached down and grasped her injured foot, bending her leg at the knee so he could inspect her wound. “Can you walk on this?”

“Yes.” The position he held her leg in was far more uncomfortable than the gouge itself.

“Very well.” As he let go, his fingers scraped the gash between her toes. She stiffened as pain shot through her foot. Although she didn’t think he did it on purpose, with Jax she could never be sure.

Kamoj slid off the stag, taking care to land on her other foot. As she limped over to Lyode, bi-hooves scuffed behind her. She turned to see the riders thundering away, headed up the road to Argali.

end of excerpt