Queen of Candesce by Karl Schroeder

to run to the door. I fell down.” The others related similar experiences, of sudden paralysis, landings behind desks or next to wavering doors. “We lay there helpless, all of us, unable to even focus our eyes. And we listened. ”
    What they heard, after an hour or so, was a single set of footsteps. They moved smoothly from room to room, up stairs and down, not as if seeking anything, but as though whoever walked were taking inventory—committing every passage and chamber of Liris to memory. Eventually, they came to a stop. Silence returned.
    The paralysis faded near dawn. Odess rose, retched miserably for a few minutes, and then—trembling—crept in the direction those footsteps had taken. As he went he saw others emerging from their rooms, or rising from where they had fallen in mid-walk. They converged on the place where the footsteps had halted: in the cherry tree courtyard.
    â€œAnd there she sat,” said Odess, “exactly as she sits these days, with the same damned smile and the same damned air of superiority. The botanist. Our conqueror.”
    Â 
    â€œAnd no one has challenged her?” Venera barked a laugh of disbelief. “You fear reprisals, is that it?”
    Odess shrugged. “She ended the war, and under her leadership the cherries bloom. Who else are we going to have lead us?”
    Venera scowled at her cards. A pulse of pain shot up her jaw. “I thought you were a meritocracy.”
    â€œAnd so we are. And she is the best botanist we have ever had.”
    â€œWhat happened to the one she replaced?”
    They exchanged glances. “We don’t know,” confessed Eilen. “He disappeared the day Margit came.”
    Venera discarded one card and took another from the deck. The others did the same, then she fanned out her hand. “I win.”
    Odess grimaced and began to shuffle.
    â€œShe came to me last night,” said Venera. She had decided that she needed information more than discretion at this point. “Margit was pleased with the work I did.” Odess snorted; Venera ignored him and continued. “She had a proposal.”
    She told them about Margit’s idea of an extended trade expedition into the principalities. As she did, Venera watched all movement around the table stop. Even Odess’s practiced hand ceased its fanning of the cards. They were all staring at her.
    â€œWhat?” She glanced around defensively. “Does this violate some ancient taboo?—I’m sure; everything else does. Or is it something you’ve been trying to get done for years, and now you’re mad that the newcomer has achieved it?”
    Eilen looked down. “It’s been tried before,” she said in a quiet voice.
    â€œYou must understand,” said Odess; then he fell silent. Knitting his brows, he started furiously shuffling.
    â€œWhat?” Now Venera was seriously alarmed. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œTo travel outside Spyre…is not done,” said Odess reluctantly. “Not without safeguards to guarantee one’s return. Hostages, if one is married…but you’re not.”
    Venera was disgusted. “The pillboxes, the guns, and razor wire—they really aren’t to keep people out, are they? They’re to keep them in.”
    â€œYes, but you see if Margit is willing to send you out despite you having no ties here, no hostages, or anything she could hold over you…then she’s obviously willing to try it again,” said Odess. He slammed the deck down on the table, kicked his chair back, and walked away. Venera watched him go in startled amazement.
    The soldiers were standing too, not making eye contact with anyone.
    Venera pinned Eilen with her gaze. “Try what ?”
    The woman sighed deeply. “Margit is a master of chemistry and biology,” she said. “That’s why she is the botanist. Three years ago she conceived the idea of sending an