Quintessence Sky (47 page)

The salamanders, however, were burning hotter
than ever. The conquistadors dead, they stood still, feet planted,
flames roaring high from their skin. It didn't seem to harm them,
or to burn any part of them, until Matthew noticed that the closest
one seemed lighter, more insubstantial, as if . . .

"It's burning them from the inside out," he
breathed.

The salamander nearest to them exploded in a
blast of ash that floated on the wind. It was swiftly followed by
each of the others, until a cloud of ash filled the clearing like
snow. It swirled around, as if driven by the wind, but its eddies
grew tighter, the ashes spinning closer together until they formed
a shape that gradually took the appearance of a man. Then the ashes
coalesced, and left in their place a real man of flesh and
blood.

The man from the fire. He was youthful,
strong, his face smooth and unlined. His skin was impossibly clean,
shining like a newly-forged sword. He was smiling broadly, and
despite his strange appearance, Matthew recognized him.

"Ramos?" he said. "Ramos de Tavera?"

Ramos laughed. "Yes, it's me, my friend."

A realization struck Matthew. "It was you in
the fire!"

Ramos shrugged and nodded.

"And those salamanders were your doing?"

"In a manner of speaking."

Matthew grasped Ramos's arm—as real and solid
as his own—and introduced Catherine. "This is my fiancée," he said.
"We owe you our lives."

Ramos shook his head. "It was your
substitution that made it possible. I simply transferred the
link."

"I don't understand."

"You and Catherine were linked by a
quintessence thread, just like the one I passed through from London
to Horizon. The threads are more like tunnels that reach into the
space beyond; they can transfer just about anything. I simply took
that thread and reconnected it to a group of salamanders that
hadn't yet found their way to the sea."

"But . . ." Matthew gaped at him. "How could
you possibly do such a thing?"

Ramos smiled, and there was a gleam in his
eye of some deep understanding. He was a man at peace with himself
and with the world. "Honestly?" he said. "I have no idea."

Matthew wanted to press him on it, to hear
his story, but by then the other colonists had crowded around,
shaking Ramos's hand and clapping him on the back.

Catherine drew Matthew away. "Plenty of time
to get your questions in later," she said. She pulled him toward
her. This time, they made the kiss last. Matthew never wanted to
pull away, but eventually she pushed him back. "I have to breathe,
you know," she said, laughing.

Matthew saw a young girl pushing her way into
the crowd. "Look," he said.

Catherine saw her. "Make way!" she called.
"Everybody stand back!"

The crowd parted, and Ramos saw her, too.
"Antonia?" he said.

A smile split her face, now filled with
intelligence and awareness of her surroundings. "Tío Ramos!" she
said.

They ran into an embrace.

Matthew buried his face in Catherine's hair,
breathing in the scent of her, smoke and all. "It's over," he
said.

CHAPTER 29

CATHERINE'S wedding dress wasn't white. They
had no white cloth to use, and no way to whiten it, even with
quintessence. It was one of a long list of details that was causing
her mother heartache.

Catherine hoped she was happy, despite all
the complaints. Before coming to Horizon, her mother would have
expected her to marry a nobleman in a cathedral, exquisite in the
best dress money could buy. She had, in fact, pushed hard to find
such a match back in England, thinking that the way to ensure
Catherine's future happiness and security—not to mention the
happiness of her grandchildren—was to land her with a reliable and
lavish income. This, like so many other things, hadn't turned out
as Catherine's mother had planned.

"And the flowers are all wrong!" her mother
said. "A wedding is supposed to have rosemary and roses; it's how
it's always done."

"But roses don't grow on Horizon," Catherine
said. "Nor does rosemary. We do have some lovely red blooms,
though."

"It's not the same. And look at your
dress!"

It was probably the tenth time she had
exclaimed about it. The dress was a dark gray, stitched by Joan
herself from a silk tablecloth found in Captain Torres's cabin
aboard
La Magdalena
. It had a square-cut neckline, flowing
sleeves with lace snipped from another of the Spanish captain's
amenities, a tightly-fitted waist, and a skirt over layers of
petticoats that poured out like a waterfall in every direction.
Catherine thought it was beautiful.

"It's perfect, Mother. You did a wonderful
job."

"But there's no church! How can you get
married without a church?"

"True," Catherine said. "But how many girls
get to have a Princess of England as a bridesmaid?"

Her mother beamed despite herself. Catherine
knew that she was fiercely proud of this fact, even though there
was no pecking system here and none of the aristocratic ladies with
whom her mother used to interact were here to be impressed. Back
home, it would have been the highlight of her mother's year to be
spoken
to by the princess; for Elizabeth to actually be in
her daughter's wedding made up for any number of other
deficiencies.

Catherine's father strode into the room. He
was getting better at managing his bond with Tanalabrinu; he didn't
seem so distracted all the time. "Did you tell her, my dear?"

Joan's smile vanished. "I couldn't do it,"
she said.

"Tell me what?"

Her father sighed. "We won't be coming with
you after the wedding."

"What do you mean? We're all going back to
England, just like we agreed. It was your idea."

Her father met her eyes. "Most are going. But
not your mother and I."

"I don't understand. There's nothing left
here. We talked about this. We decided!"

After bringing so much disaster, they had
come to the hard conclusion that there was no place for human
colonists on Horizon. It was inhabited already. Their presence had
disrupted manticore politics and nearly destroyed the whole island
itself, more than once. A small colony was only the start; with the
generations, it would grow, and their children and grandchildren
would be always be at war with the manticores, until one side or
the other was completely destroyed.

It had been Catherine's father who had helped
them all see that, bonded as he was to Tanalabrinu. There was no
happy ending where manticores and humans could mix and live in
peace. One of them would have to win the island entirely, and the
manticores were here already.

"That was the plan," her mother said, rolling
her eyes. "But your father had other ideas."

Catherine's father took her hands in his.
"Tanalabrinu asked us to stay. Just because we leave doesn't mean
no humans will come to Horizon. There will be more ships, and more
colonists, and more soldiers. Once the power of this place becomes
known, every country on Earth will send troops to take a piece for
themselves. Tanalabrinu wants to be ready. He wants me to help him
make Horizon into a nation, one other countries will recognize and
respect, even if they don't like it. He wants to be strong enough
to fight off aggressors, but diplomatic enough not to have to, at
least not always. To do that, he needs ambassadors. People who
understand how to communicate effectively between manticore and
human."

"And that's you." Catherine couldn't keep the
sob out of her voice. This meant she wouldn't see her parents for
years. She might never see them again in her whole life.

"Your mother and I, and Matthew's father as
well. We're going to stay, and live among the manticores, and treat
with the humans when they come."

"Does Matthew know?"

"I don't think so. We only decided for
certain this morning."

Catherine wiped her eyes. "I want to stay,
too."

Her father squeezed her hands and gently
shook his head. "You and Matthew have chosen well. Elizabeth needs
supporters she can trust. Most of all, she needs people who
understand quintessence and how to use it. If she's going to win
back her throne, she'll need the two of you. This power is going to
change the shape of the world, and you and Matthew are going to be
at the forefront." He kissed her. "But I will miss you
terribly."

Joan started to cry in earnest, and then
Catherine couldn't hold back the tears. They clutched each other,
and Catherine stroked her mother's hair.

"A fine wedding celebration this is shaping
up to be," Catherine said.

"Nonsense." Her mother pulled back and looked
her in the eye. "This is your day. Forget about what comes after.
And forget about the roses and the dress. We're going to make it a
day you'll remember—with joy—for the rest of your life.
Understand?"

Catherine nodded her assent, and a smile
escaped through her tears. "Yes, mother."

MATTHEW was packing a small satchel with
supplies for a short journey when Blanca found him. He hadn't
spoken to her since Catherine had returned. To tell the truth, he'd
been avoiding her.

"Please let me talk to you," she said.

"Of course. I’m sorry," he said.

"I really am glad Catherine is back. You know
that, don't you?"

He set the satchel down. "Yes, of course I
do. She's your closest friend."

"And I'm happy for you both. You're so in
love. I'm glad she's found someone. She's had a lot of hard things
in her life, and . . ." She trailed off.

She was truly beautiful, soft and uncertain,
her eyes expressive in that exquisitely carved face. But despite
her beauty and kindness and gentle grace, he could say without
hesitation that she was not for him. Catherine fit him perfectly.
She could be brash and impatient, but it was just what he needed
sometimes, when he tended toward self-pity. And her strength and
intensity reminded him of what was true and right and mattered in
the world. He loved Catherine.

But Blanca was hurting. He had to respond. If
their situations had been reversed, Blanca would have had the
perfect encouragement, known just the right thing to say.

"There is someone for you," he said. She
started to object but he held up his hand. "Somewhere there's a man
who is fervent and wild and passionate and needs your gentle
strength to ground him. Someone bright and good who fits you like
Catherine fits me. Believe it. You're not limited to this island
anymore. You'll have all of England and France and Spain and beyond
to choose from."

She gave a wavering smile. "I'm fine on my
own. I don't need a man."

"But somewhere there's a man who needs
you."

She squeezed his hand. "You're a good
friend," she said.

Matthew tied his satchel shut and went in
search of Ramos. They had a job to do, and not much time in which
to do it. In fact, he probably shouldn't be doing it at all this
close to his wedding; Ramos could handle it on his own. But
Catherine knew how much he wanted to, and didn't object.

Ramos was down by the water, on a stretch of
sand. The Spanish ships still floated at anchor in the bay. He had
the stick that was connected, by quintessence thread, to a chicken
bone in London. Parris was there, too, with a small vial of
vitriol.

Ramos placed the stick on the sand. "Ready?"
he said.

Matthew nodded. The stick was such an
ordinary piece of wood, by appearance, but it was their only link
back to Europe, the only means by which they could make this work.
Parris poured a drop of vitriol, and the void sprang into
being.

Now that he was standing here, watching it
grow, Matthew realized how incredibly brave Elizabeth had been to
leap into it for the first time, especially knowing as little about
it as she did. Even Matthew, knowing it had been done successfully
before, had a hard time looking into that black hole and deciding
to jump into it. Parris split another stick in half and threw half
of it into the void. He would stay here, with the ability to come
after them if something went wrong, and they didn't return.