"What? She glared at him. He had something like a belaying pin tied to his head; it wobbled when he moved. Isn't all this humiliating enough?"
"We m-must put p-p-pressure on the's-spine. For l-long-term health."
"Oh, all right. She hunted through a cache of ridiculous alternatives, ranging from flowerpots with chinstraps to a glass fish bowl, currently empty but encrusted with rime. Finally she settled on the least offensive piece, a chrome helmet with earflaps and crow's wings mounted behind the temples.
With all of this on her, Venera's feet made a satisfactory smack when they hit the ground. She could feel the weight and it was indeed nearly normal, but spread all over her surface instead of internally. And she quickly discovered that it took a good hard push to start walking and that turning and stopping were not operations to be taken lightly. She had a quarter-ton of inertia now. After walking into several walls and doorjambs, she started to get the hang of it.
"N-now, said Moss in evident satisfaction, you are f-fit to see the B-B-Botanist."
"The what? He threaded his way among the pillars without further comment. Venera nodded and smiled at the men and women who were putting down their work to openly stare as she passed. She tried to unobtrusively discern what they were working on, but the light here was too uneven. Shadow and glare thwarted her.
Sunlight reflecting off the polished floor washed out whatever was ahead. Venera glanced back one more time before entering the lit area. Blackness and curving arches framed a dozen white ovalsfacesall turned toward her. On those faces she read every emotion: amazement, curiosity, anger, fear. None avoided her gaze. They goggled at her as though they'd never seen a stranger before.
Maybe they hadn't. Venera's scalp prickled, but Moss was waving her ahead. Blinking, she stepped from the dark gallery into the courtyard of Liris.
For a moment it seemed as if she'd entered one of the paintings on the ceiling of her father's chapel. This one came complete with scented pink clouds. She reached out a hand to touch one of these and heard the sharp click of a weapon being cocked. Venera froze.
"It would be very unwise of you to complete that gesture, drawled a voice from somewhere ahead. Slowly, Venera retracted her hand. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she saw the barrels of three antique-looking rifles aimed her way. Grim men in iron held them.
The soldiers made a shocking contrast to their setting. The entire courtyard was full of trees, all of one type, all in full flower. The scent and color of the millions of blossoms was overwhelming. It took Venera a moment to notice that the branches of many of the trees were hung with jewels, and gold rings encircled some of the trunks. It took her another moment to realize that a throne sat in the sole bare patch at the center of the courtyard. The woman lounging there
was watching her with obvious amusement.
Her gown was of gold, silver, and platinum; on her head was a crown touched with gems of all shades that flashed in the concentrated light of Candesce. She appeared to be in early middle age, but was still beautiful; a cascade of hair dyed the same color as the blossoms wound down her shoulders.
"You seem reluctant to step into sunlight, she said with evident amusement. I can see why. She tapped her own cheeks, eyes twinkling.
Venera eyed the soldiers, thought about it, and walked over. Since this was evidently a throne room of sorts, she bowed deeply. Your majesty?"
"Oh. Oh no. The woman chuckled. I am no queen. She waved a hand dismissively. We are a meritocracy in Liris. You'll learn. My name is Margit, and I am Liris's resident botanist."
"Botanist Venera straightened and looked around at the trees. This is your crop."
"Please. The lady Margit frowned. We don't refer to the treasure of Liris in such prosaic terms. These beings are Liris. They sustain us, they give us meaning. They are our soul."
"Pardon, m'lady, said Venera with another bow. But what exactly are they?"
"Of course. Margit's eyes grew wide. You would never have seen one before. You are so lucky to gaze upon them for the first time when they are in flower. These, Citizen Fanning, are cherry trees."
Why was that word so familiar? There'd been a ball once, and her beloved uncle had approached her with something in his hand a treat.
"What are cherries? she asked as guilelessly as she could.
"An indulgence of the powerful, said Margit with a smile. A delicacy so rare that it evidently never made it to your father's court."
"About that, said Venera. The court, I mean. My family is fantastically rich. Why make me a citizen of this place, when you could just ransom me back? You could get a boatload of treasure for me."
Margit scoffed. If you were the princess of a true nation then perhaps we would consider it. But you're not even from the principalities! By your own admission during the interviews, you come from the windswept wastes of Outer Virga. There's nothing there, and I find it hard to believe your people could own anything that would be of interest to us."