“You make it sound so easy,” she says.
“He always does,” Sevro says. “It’s part of his charm.”
“It won’t be easy,” I say. “But it’s the only way. That navy is dangerous, but that army is a terror. Atlas and Fá hit all the right nerves to make it dance to their tune, but so can we. I know Obsidians, and they know me. Do you have chemists? Anyone versed in poisons?”
“Both,” Aurae says.
“Good. I’ll need them to get to work on those spines we found in Diomedes.”
Aurae nods but waits on Athena.
Athena looks back at the Obsidian fleet and sighs in surrender. “After Sevro’s speech, and reviewing your…conversation about Atlas, I have recommended to the Daughters that we commute your sentence. They have agreed.” Aurae uncuffs me herself and squeezes my hand. “We will not be made to betray our convictions. We will not abandon the people of the surface. The sealifts will be opened. Refuge will be given to all. But that refuge means nothing if the enemy is not beaten.” Athena tosses over Pyrphoros. “So, you will be our spear as you should have been from the start.” I catch the blade by its leather hilt. Its balance is perfect for such a long blade. I turn it in admiration. Then brush my finger on the shape-toggle to form the shape of a slingBlade.
Athena and the Daughters stare at its shape with deep, mixed emotions. After a moment, she says, “It is not a gift. It is a reminder of your oath. Once Fá is dead, you will return it to me and you will kneel and face your sentence. Swear it, by your kin.”
I glance at Sevro. He nods.
I touch the key on my chest. “In the name of my son, Pax, I swear it.”
“And Diomedes and Cassius?” I ask.
“Already told her the Chin’s with me,” Sevro says. “It’s how Da would want it.”
Hearing this, Cassius gives Sevro a hard nod of solidarity. Aurae unlocks his cuffs and whispers something in his ear.
“And Diomedes?” I ask.
Athena nods to Aurae. Aurae brings around a tablet to hold before Diomedes. He is a slow reader. Bit by bit his eyes widen. “Abolition of the hierarchy…” He keeps reading. “Self-determination of vocation? What is this?”
“The future, Raa,” Athena says.
“You cannot believe the Moon Lords would ever agree to this—”
“We believe in holding someone to their word,” Athena says. “You say you have failed us. You have. But we do not accept your head as repayment. We will take your service instead. If you are a shepherd, as all Raa believe, prove it. Lead us to a new and better future. If we are to risk our lives, our cause, we refuse to return to the same chains we have lived in for centuries.”
Diomedes reads the document further. “Even if I wished to honor this…” He almost says absurdity. “This…treatise, I cannot. I am no consul or Sovereign. I am only an Olympic Knight. It would be false to pretend I have the power to institute even one of these—”
Athena laughs at him. “Do you know the efforts it took to install a Daughter amongst your hetaerae?” she asks. “Akin to Ares’s efforts with Darrow. Do you know what Aurae’s tasks were? Tell him, Aurae.”
Aurae looks nervous. “My tasks were to gather and pass information, particularly regarding Krypteian or naval matters. My…primary function was to ensure that no true tyrant ascended to lead House Raa. Fortunately, I found none lying in wait.”
Diomedes tilts his head. “And if you had?”
“I would have killed them. For the people.”
He’s startled.
“Aurae said long ago that you would be a fair but stern ruler, Diomedes. We have known your character for some time,” Athena says. “You are also the son of Romulus au Raa. That matters. Your voice will carry from here to Pluto. We are not fools. We know the Moon Lords will resist this. Things always move slower in the Rim. So we do not ask for you to dismantle the hierarchy in a day. All we ask is that you swear an oath to make abolition your personal cause until the day it passes in the Decagon. If we are to be allies in war, we must know we will be peers in peace.”
Diomedes swallows. “You want me to become your…kept Gold…your agent?”
“No. We’d have you be our Virginia Augustus, Diomedes,” Aurae says. “Not a ‘kept Gold.’ A visionary. A champion for the downtrodden.”
“And…what is to stop me from betraying you at my convenience?”
Aurae smiles. “Your character. Your honor. Your heart. Your oath.”
“You forget, I already swore an oath to protect the hierarchy…”
Aurae grips his arm. “You also swore an oath to protect the people of the Rim. Look me in the eye, Diomedes, and tell me I should serve you.” She raises her eyebrows. “Tell me you matter more because of the sigils on your hands. Tell me I am less than you.”
She guides his chin so he has to look her in the eye. His stare is as intense as a particle cannon until she flicks his nose. He explodes with a laugh that makes even me jump. He follows it with a smile I didn’t think his face capable of making.
“If you can’t do that, then maybe it’s time you took a new oath,” she says.
Diomedes turns to Athena, dour again. “If I give my oath, the sealifts open? The people can take refuge and I am free to take up arms with Darrow against Fá?” His voice darkens. “Against Atlas?”
Athena smiles. “We don’t hold the sins of the ancestors against their descendants, Raa. Give me your oath and I’ll put the blade in your hand myself.”
63
LYRIA
Mashed Taters
THE OBSIDIANS ARE ON their way. The sealifts haven’t stopped for two days. Up they take newly made soldiers with newly made rifles. Down they bring the civilians of the surface to the deeper levels of the undercity where the Daughters break their backs to build camps for incoming refugees. Except for the uniforms and rifles, the two groups don’t look so different. Determination, fear, dignity—whatever expression the “soldiers” wear, they all look like children compared to the Obsidian frontliners I saw on Io.
The Daughters won’t be able to hold back the Obsidians if they breach the undercity. Even I know that. Which means Darrow must be planning something. Not that they’ve told me. Daughters didn’t even bother locking me up. Said I was an “innocent.” Told me to make myself useful. So I have by sneaking into one of their barracks and stealing a uniform.
Cutting my way through the staging area where haulers trundle past laden with supplies, I climb the stairs to the hulking door into the command center. The Daughters guarding it hold up their hands. One’s a Green man, the other a Yellow woman.
“Pass card,” the woman demands.
“Pass card?” I say.
“No admittance without a pass card.”
“Shit. Shit. No one said nothing about a card. Barca’s gonna skin me alive. Don’t you recognize me?” I ask. They look at each other. “I’m a bloodydamn Martian. Darrow’s niece, Rhonna. Barca’s adjunct. You know?” I hold up a can of gun polish I nabbed from the barracks. “Needed polish for his helm.”