Change of Regime: An Athanate novella by Mark Henwick

Author:Mark Henwick [Henwick, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Marque
Published: 2017-05-16T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Julius

Manhattan - Restaurant

The maître d’, unable to understand any of the Athanate conversation but sensitive to the tension at the table, visits to top up glasses and inquire about the quality of the meal.

Skylur assures him they are enjoying the food and wine.

Afterwards, Skylur switches effortlessly back to Athanate. “It would be false to deny that our kin fear our bite at the beginning, Livia, or to claim we do not feed on their fear. Yet neither I do not agree with the proposition that it is simple practicality; that Panethus merely find it easier to feed on love. Our relationships carry a great cost, and it is partly that cost which those of the Hidden Path seek to avoid.”

Livia sneers. “Whatever the merit of the case we’re arguing, I will not put aside the name Basilikos just because the party now thinks calling itself the Hidden Path makes it more acceptable. Basilikos means what I believe, that we are superior.”

Julius knows he has to divert the conversation into safer directions. Skylur is Panethus. He’s the leader of Panethus, for heaven’s sake, and yet Livia seems intent on championing Basilikos. This is not some scholarly debate. Their lives hang in the balance.

“Really?” Skylur sips at his wine. His eyes leave Livia and focus on Julius. “Yet here you two are: Basilikos House Flavia and Panethus House di Firenze bound together and representing a community which contains all shades of creed and behavior.”

“Yes,” Julius says. His mouth feels dry. “Long Island is one example of how a tightly bound Athanate community may embrace different philosophies. Livia and I are polar opposites in our relationships with humans and the level of our engagement with human society, yet we cooperate and coordinate effectively. We even coordinate with our Were and Adept neighbors. We are the world in microcosm. A laboratory test for the future.”

A smile passes across Skylur’s face, like a wisp of cloud across the sun.

If Livia is iron hidden in velvet, then Skylur is steel hidden in silk, Julius thinks. More subtle, whatever Livia claimed earlier. Just as dangerous.

Livia laughs, and the sound makes ice in his belly.

“Listen to my little Ruben,” she says.

“Your marques are closer than two Houses who merely cooperate.” Skylur is still looking at Julius.

“Oh, much, much closer.” Livia’s voice drops. “I found my Ruben an orphan in the streets of Florence in 1416. His entire family had been killed; I never found out why. A dispute between guilds? The fighting between the Pazzi and the Medici? I don’t know. The Renaissance in Florence was, like most of human history, a dangerous time, and he was a beautiful child alone in a city full of monsters. I rescued him so that there would only be one monster he needed to fear.”

Julius is looking down. He can’t raise his eyes. He doesn’t dwell on that time, but the memories remain vivid.

That which forms you, must give you your shape. She had said that to him at the time.

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