Hood by Lilith Saintcrow

Author:Lilith Saintcrow
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781950447176
Publisher: Lilith Saintcrow

Walk Alone, Hit It

Just after dawn the Sharud Forest Preserve was under a layer of early autumn fog, and Madán’s spires floated above a white sea. It was a beautiful view, and Marah Madán stood for a long moment, gazing out the full-length windows of the great study—once her father’s, now her own. Heavy grab-boots, the baggy broken-in Corps trousers full of pockets and loops she preferred on salvage runs, her lucky undershirt, the grey button-down and the miner’s jacket with yet more pockets and buckles—it was just like getting ready to take the Retreat out of atmo for another few tendays of sorting through detritus in the cold silence of space. Her hair was different, braided tightly and coiled at her nape, but she didn’t have the heart to chop the whole mass off. She told herself it was because Will would be upset, but attributing her own moods to a synthetic, while perfectly acceptable legally, felt wrong in every other conceivable, possible way.

Her arms crossed, her chin level, she stared at the oceanic fog, prickle-tips of treetops poking through the gossypium like claws under cloth. Perhaps her home planet knew what she intended and wanted to clutch her close, the way her father had clasped a young Marah after more than one childhood disaster.

What would he think of this? Do what is right, he often said, but he was also a traditionalist, and rebelling against the Helm would have turned him choleric or coldly disdainful, according to whether he attributed the treason to a desire for personal gain or simple weakness.

She could stop now, she supposed. It was just barely possible; she could even tell herself it was fair to blame Alladal for the clinic’s destruction instead of Jun for the entire blood-soaked war. And so far, her position could conceivably shield her from Jun’s retribution, especially if he had decided she was useful enough as a Helm Consort.

A small chime sounded, the alcazar faithfully playing the alarm she’d requested for this particular moment. It was this hour all across Anglene, despite small amounts of slippage the intercalary days near Midwinter Gifting took care of every few standards. Deploying terraforming so Anglene’s planets shared certain circadian rhythms and seasonal celebrations—as far as possible—had been a purely mathematical stunt, and the psychological effects hadn’t truly been considered until about a century after First Landfall. More than one history teacher used that fact as an illustration of a fortunate accident, but sometimes…

Well, sometimes Marah Madán wondered. She acknowledged the alarm with a gesture, silencing it. Then she exhaled sharply, turned from the window, and ran a finger along the edge of the desk as she passed. It wasn’t a farewell, she told herself, and had to smile.

Lying to herself was becoming uncomfortably familiar; she was off to a marvelous start.

The study door opened noiselessly; Will Skarl stood at the threshold, his eyes flashing silver. He didn’t like what she had planned, but he obeyed, since he was logically more useful

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