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Authors: Liz Williams
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re-quired it, and Elaki must be obeyed. Conflict whispered inside her head, tearing at her. But now that she was so far away from Elaki, it seemed both easier and more difficult to think. Resentment was growing alongside the love.
The Animus had been left outside the Tower, at the Matriarch's insistence.
"It is a male," the Matriarch had said with palpable disgust. "We cannot allow it inside."
Yskatarina had acquiesced with a semblance of grace, but she did not like it. It was as though her shadow had been torn from her, leaving her exposed in the light. She longed to return to the ship, but first there was business to be done.
From here, at the height of the Memnos Tower, one could see as far as the great conical summit of Olympus. The plain shimmered in the afternoon light, giving the im-pression of desert heat, but Yskatarina knew this to be de-ceptive. It was winter now in this northern region of Mars, with frost in the mornings in the shadow of the rocks and a bite to the air. She did not know what caused the shim-mer, but she suspected some manner of force-defense. The Tower had been well guarded from ancient times. If she looked down, she could see the glazed crimson bricks of the wall, bare of lichen and moss.
Beside her, the Matriarch, dressed in red-and-black, exuded a satisfaction as chilly as the day.
Yskatarina glanced aside at the Matriarch's moon-face: the tight, pursed lips, the pale eyes embedded in bags of flesh, the moles that scat-tered the skin like ticks. She set her gaze once more upon the Crater Plain.
"You see?" the Matriarch said. "This is the first and last of the old fortresses, save only for the ruin in Winterstrike. Our ancestors built it in the days of the Age of Children, to guard against their enemies."
She reached up to touch the phial around her neck, an intricate silver cage, then let her hand fall.
"What kind of enemies were those?" Yskatarina asked, with seeming idleness.
"The forebears of the hyenae and vulpen." The Matri-arch's mouth grew yet smaller and Yskatarina knew that she was thinking of the Animus. " Males , in the days when such creatures were commonplace.
Ram-women. Sy-rinxes. The beings that later became what we call the Atro-phied, like the Earthbones."
"I know nothing of these beings," Yskatarina said, tap-ping impatient fingers against the hard carapace of her bodice. "What are Earthbones?"
"A flesh-in-rock. Mounds of moving flesh, merged with the planet."
Yskatarina frowned. "With Mars itself? How is that possible?" She wondered about Memnos mysticism. She did not know a great deal about their beliefs, only that they differed so crucially from Nightshade in their disdain for the male form. Nightshade had little use for supersti-tion, and even less for warrior sects. Those days, according to Yskatarinas mind, should be long gone. But if Mars' rulers chose to play at being primitives, it was not for her to condemn them. All it meant was that they should prove easier to manipulate. She schooled her face into a becom-ing display of interest and turned to face the Matriarch, sending the pleats of her leather kilt swishing against the surface of her legs.
"Terraforming nanotech, mingling with genetic codes. What was once human became inextricably welded to the world. There was a fashion for it, once. Fanatics, psycho-ecologists—who knows? It was very long ago. But surely Nightshade knows more of these things than we do. That is, after all, why you are here."
"I came to honor an old bargain. And to call in an old debt," Yskatarina said.
"Haunt-tech." The Matriarch spoke with a sour twist of the lip.
"Quite so. You have had it now for a hundred years, it and its many ramifications—blacklight, deeplight, the intricacies of shadow-space and entry to the spirit worlds of the Eldritch Realm. We note that you have made good use of it. Armor, weaponry, surveillance systems, ships. Above all, the advantages of the Chain."
"It has proved versatile," the Matriarch
The Animus had been left outside the Tower, at the Matriarch's insistence.
"It is a male," the Matriarch had said with palpable disgust. "We cannot allow it inside."
Yskatarina had acquiesced with a semblance of grace, but she did not like it. It was as though her shadow had been torn from her, leaving her exposed in the light. She longed to return to the ship, but first there was business to be done.
From here, at the height of the Memnos Tower, one could see as far as the great conical summit of Olympus. The plain shimmered in the afternoon light, giving the im-pression of desert heat, but Yskatarina knew this to be de-ceptive. It was winter now in this northern region of Mars, with frost in the mornings in the shadow of the rocks and a bite to the air. She did not know what caused the shim-mer, but she suspected some manner of force-defense. The Tower had been well guarded from ancient times. If she looked down, she could see the glazed crimson bricks of the wall, bare of lichen and moss.
Beside her, the Matriarch, dressed in red-and-black, exuded a satisfaction as chilly as the day.
Yskatarina glanced aside at the Matriarch's moon-face: the tight, pursed lips, the pale eyes embedded in bags of flesh, the moles that scat-tered the skin like ticks. She set her gaze once more upon the Crater Plain.
"You see?" the Matriarch said. "This is the first and last of the old fortresses, save only for the ruin in Winterstrike. Our ancestors built it in the days of the Age of Children, to guard against their enemies."
She reached up to touch the phial around her neck, an intricate silver cage, then let her hand fall.
"What kind of enemies were those?" Yskatarina asked, with seeming idleness.
"The forebears of the hyenae and vulpen." The Matri-arch's mouth grew yet smaller and Yskatarina knew that she was thinking of the Animus. " Males , in the days when such creatures were commonplace.
Ram-women. Sy-rinxes. The beings that later became what we call the Atro-phied, like the Earthbones."
"I know nothing of these beings," Yskatarina said, tap-ping impatient fingers against the hard carapace of her bodice. "What are Earthbones?"
"A flesh-in-rock. Mounds of moving flesh, merged with the planet."
Yskatarina frowned. "With Mars itself? How is that possible?" She wondered about Memnos mysticism. She did not know a great deal about their beliefs, only that they differed so crucially from Nightshade in their disdain for the male form. Nightshade had little use for supersti-tion, and even less for warrior sects. Those days, according to Yskatarinas mind, should be long gone. But if Mars' rulers chose to play at being primitives, it was not for her to condemn them. All it meant was that they should prove easier to manipulate. She schooled her face into a becom-ing display of interest and turned to face the Matriarch, sending the pleats of her leather kilt swishing against the surface of her legs.
"Terraforming nanotech, mingling with genetic codes. What was once human became inextricably welded to the world. There was a fashion for it, once. Fanatics, psycho-ecologists—who knows? It was very long ago. But surely Nightshade knows more of these things than we do. That is, after all, why you are here."
"I came to honor an old bargain. And to call in an old debt," Yskatarina said.
"Haunt-tech." The Matriarch spoke with a sour twist of the lip.
"Quite so. You have had it now for a hundred years, it and its many ramifications—blacklight, deeplight, the intricacies of shadow-space and entry to the spirit worlds of the Eldritch Realm. We note that you have made good use of it. Armor, weaponry, surveillance systems, ships. Above all, the advantages of the Chain."
"It has proved versatile," the Matriarch
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