Title: Mutable: Chapter Thirty-One, Part Two
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Chapter
Thirty-One, Part Two
Glynnis
Marigo/Melaria Yoshika
Her inn was conveniently empty
the day Melaria found out about the Imperian ship arriving at Utellie, at the
spaceport in the heart of the great city. She’d set the system to water all the
outdoor plants, but preferred to do the indoor ones herself. It was meant to be
soothing, or so she’d heard, but Melaria went about it with mechanical
precision instead, dispassionately watering the tufts of salvia and tomillo
until the pots glimmered blue. The newscast was nothing but background noise
until she glanced at the video playing on her lounge room wall.
Melaria pressed her hand to her
throat as she watched the royal couple disembark from the ship, accompanied by
their young children. She never forgot a face, not even one she’d only seen
once before. There was just one reason for her to see this one now, when he was
so capable of changing his form. It was a warning, and she knew it was meant
for her. Get your affairs in order.
Melaria had been the person to sink
down onto the sofa and watch the ceremonial entrance, but it was Glynnis who
stood up when the newscast ended. She made a list in her head as she moved into
the kitchen, absently pouring hot water over her favorite loose tea. She would
give herself the day to get things done. Firstly: cancel the upcoming stays.
That was the easiest part. Melaria’s
inn, Shyne Cottages, was located in a scenic mountain hamlet several hours out
from Utellie by hovercraft. It had never been a very busy place, but her
clientele had been steadily growing over the past few months. What a shame she
wouldn’t be able to host guests when her orange phoralia trees blossomed in a
few months. The scent was absolutely enchanting.
“Of course, you’ll get a full
refund of your deposit,” she told the last customers, an elderly couple who had
once lived in the village, but had moved down to live with their daughter in
the capital a few years ago.
“I’m not worried about that, my
dear, just about your health! You’re seeing a specialist for the problem, aren’t
you? Utellie has some of the best doctors in the entire system.”
“I am planning on seeing a
specialist, yes,” Glynnis said around the unexpected lump in her throat. “But I’m
afraid they won’t be able to do much good. It’s…related to where I used to
live.”
“Oh, no. Did you bring something
with you from that dreadful planet? Is it contagious?”
“Not contagious at all, I assure
you. Thank you for understanding, Maria.” She ended the call, took a deep
breath, then moved on to the next bullet point in her head: Juney.
The cat was dozing in the
sunshine, a lazy puddle of fur splayed beneath the bay windows. Glynnis sat
down next to him and carefully stroked his back. Juney opened one eye and
growled at her, but let it go for the moment. “Prickly thing,” she chided him
gently. “We never really got a chance to get along, did we?” The cat had been
left behind by the previous owners of the inn, and had never exactly warmed up
to Glynnis. Who could blame it, she mused distractedly. Who could warm up to
ice? “You survived before when people just let you be. I think you’ll manage it
again, don’t you?” The cat glared at her, and lashed a hind leg out to scratch
the back of her hand. “I’ll leave the neighbors a note, then.”
The rest of it was slightly more complicated,
but only because Glynnis hated the thought of leaving another mess behind her when
this was over. She’d done that once already, and the fact haunted her. Daphna
would have been so ashamed of her.
As long as she kept moving, it
was possible—just possible—to keep thoughts of her daughter, so lively and
lovely and fierce and gone, at bay. Glynnis cleaned the entire inn from top to
bottom, folded the sheets and blankets and resolutely refused any assistance
from the housekeeping system when it beeped insistently at her. If there was a
stain, she would own it. A dustbunny, she would eliminate it. And when it came
time for her past to swallow her whole, she would meet that head-on as well.
She had a gun, in a box beneath
her bed at the very top of the main house. It wasn’t her old field piece—this gun
had bee Daphna’s. It was one of only two personal effects returned to Glynnis
after she was informed of her daughter’s death. The other had been a single
earring, a small red cave crystal stud, that she’d turned into a ring and now wore
on her right hand. When the inn was clean, and the sun was beginning to get
low, she took out the gun and stared at it, set it in her scoured left hand and
ran a finger over the grooves in the barrel. There was no blood there now, but
there might as well be. Glynnis had helped bring ruination to an entire people
because of this gun—her own people. She had laid them to waste more effectively
than the Leelingers ever could have, and all because she’d been tired. Tired,
and heartsick, and missing her child. So many others had suffered the same way,
but she was the only one in a position to do something so drastic with her
pain. In hindsight, she knew that she’d been at least partially insane at the
time, but that was worse than cold comfort now.
Glynnis didn’t quite know how long
she sat there, quiet and alone, until she heard the downstairs door open with a
creak. There was no “hello” or “hola” or any variation, so…well. He was here,
then.
Part of her wanted to scream, to
leap for her console and call the police. Part of her wanted to take cover on
the stairs and start shooting—the gun had three manual projectiles left,
although its energy cell had died months ago. The biggest part of her, though,
decided to sit right where she was.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Her stuttering heartbeat slowed, calming. It was time for this, she realized,
and in a way she was relieved not having to wait any longer. Someone would have
found her out eventually. At least he was a professional.
Cas Farling, Phage Operative,
appeared in the door, holding Juney in his arms. The damned cat was actually
purring. “Sweet pet,” he said.
“Not for me,” Glynnis replied,
pleased that her voice was steady. “But I think I always knew he had it in him.”
“Almost everything does, until
something goes wrong. How are you, Commander Marigo?”
Hearing her name and rank pierced
her heart, but Glynnis didn’t bother to wipe the tears away. What good would it
do to hide them now? She was already discovered in every way that mattered. “I’m
here. That’s about all I can say for myself.”
“That’s a shame,” Farling said, “considering
how dearly you sold your present location. I wish for your sake that you loved
it here, and were full of rage and horror to see me.”
“I wish that too,” she agreed. “But
I couldn’t let myself go, even when I knew it was the only comfort I was going
to get. I couldn’t let her go.”
Farling glanced at the gun. “Your
daughter’s, I take it?”
“Yes.”
Farling stared in silence for a
long moment. “I came here ready to fight, but I think a part of me knew it
wouldn’t be necessary. I could snap your neck, or take that gun and shoot
before you managed to close your hands around it, but I don’t believe I need
to. Do I?”
As soon as he said it, the way
forward was clear. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Perfectly sure.” Her hands were
steady, her heart still calm. “Would you like to wait and verify?”
“No, I don’t think that’s
necessary.” He was still holding Juney. “What would you like me to do with your
cat?”
Glynnis had an epiphany. “Take
her with you, please. Give her to your children; they might enjoy having a pet.”
“They’ll have a menagerie before
long,” Farling said with a faint smile. “Thank you, though.”
“You’re welcome.”
He paused, then freed one hand
from under the cat to give her a formal salute. “Be strong, Commander.”
Be strong. Be brave. You are the hope of your civilization, the shield
of your family, the heart of your people. It was in the Delacoeurian oath
of service, one that all who served in the military took. Slowly she pressed to
her feet, the gun still in her left hand, and returned the salute. “Thank you
for your service, Operative Farling.”
He nodded, then turned and walked
back down the stairs, Juney still in his arms. Glynnis waited for the door to
shut, then looked down at her daughter’s gun. Be strong.
For the first time in over a year,
and only for a split second, she had the satisfaction of knowing that she was.
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