Sweep of the Heart

11

Kosandion, the Sovereign of the Seven Star Dominion, arrived at the inn to begin the selection of his future spouse. He is assisted by Resven, his chancellor, and Miralitt, the head of his security. 12 spousal candidates made it through to this final selection. Now they have to introduce themselves to remind everyone who they are and what they stand for.

Kosandion was an excellent orator. His diction was perfect, his voice modulated to carry through the space without sounding harsh but conveying just the right amount of gravitas to underscore the importance of every word.

“We all know why we are here, but I shall reiterate for the record.”

For Earth politicians, popularity was a major factor, but it wasn’t everything. Plenty of people took office based on the strength of their personality or tough stance on a particular issue. Some of the politicians were nearly universally disliked but continued to be reelected for complex reasons. For the Dominion, a ruler’s likability was vital. Kosandion knew that fact better than anyone. He had beckoned me over once he took the throne, and I stood only a couple of feet away. From this distance, the force of his magnetic personality was almost too much.

“We have gathered in this hall today to select my future spouse. After a long and careful consideration, twelve candidates have made the final cut. The parent of my future offspring is among you.”

In the attendant gallery, the Holy Ecclesiarch was nodding sagely. Elderly, with skin the color of old parchment and an elaborate headdress on his bald head, the spiritual leader of the Dominion seemed too slight for his luxurious vestments. He wore a silky white robe with an overdress embroidered with metallic brass-colored thread. A short, carefully draped cape covered his shoulders, reaching to mid chest, its deep neckline revealing a tall asymmetric collar. A rectangular jeweled medallion hung from his neck, indicating his holy status.

He looked ready to keel over, and I was watching him for any sign of fainting. He was led in by his acolytes shortly after Kosandion’s arrival, and it had taken him a long time to cross the ballroom to the throne. At some point Kosandion became concerned and went down the stairs to escort him. I had suggested that we make the Ecclesiarch more comfortable in custom quarters from where he could watch the proceedings, but he had patted my hand and told me that this was the last duty he could do for the Sovereign, and he had never been one to abandon his responsibilities.

“Bringing a child into this universe is a grave and sacred task. A parent’s obligation is far deeper than a simple contribution of genetic material. One must guide, educate, and love one’s offspring, putting their needs above one’s own. That is why the candidate who will become my spouse will be required to reside within the Dominion for a period of no less than twenty-five Dominion years. In recognition of this significant commitment, the Dominion will honor one request from the spouse or their sponsors.”

And that was the deal in a nutshell. Prior to entering the spouse selection, each delegation was required to list a minor and a major ask. If they made it to the finale, the Dominion would honor their minor asks, but only one delegation would ever be granted their major request. It was the grand prize. The whole process provided the Dominion with an opportunity to negotiate some deals they wouldn’t have been able to make otherwise. Some delegations made it to the finale for purely political reasons that had nothing to do with the qualities of their candidate.

A movement in the far end of the room drew my eye. The Dushegubs were getting a bit more agitated. Sean was openly watching them. Both he and Gorvar stared at the dark forest with identical expressions, like they wanted something to bite.

Looking around the room, it was clear which candidates thought they had a chance of winning. Most of the humanoids had taken care to match the Dominion’s aesthetic: structured garments in tasteful shades, a lot of white, a lot of delicate embroidery. The otrokars were the exception, and the vampire candidate was in her syn-armor, but she had taken the time to add a cream cloak and to decorate her hair with big white flowers.

“Let us remind those who are watching of every being’s origin and allegiance,” the Sovereign declared. “We shall begin our introductions in a random order chosen by our host.”

That was my cue. I tapped my broom. Sections of the floor under the delegations lit up, the pale glow bouncing from group to group until it stopped under the Gaheas. It wasn’t really random, but nobody needed to know that.

A graceful Gaheas glided forward into the open space between the two rows of participants. He wasn’t lean, he was lithe, with long limbs, perfect amber skin, and a face that was androgynous in its delicate beauty. He wore a stylized scale mail, a deep burgundy accented with white, more of a ceremonial garment than battle-ready armor.

“My name is Nycati of Gaheas. Should I be chosen, I shall teach our offspring the beauty of the arts so their soul can reach harmony with the universe.”

I bounced the light again and stopped it under the Kai. Prysen Ol moved forward. A full foot shorter than Nycati, he wore a pale blue robe with wide sleeves. It was cinched at his waist with a sash. His long blue hair streamed down his back. The Gaheas was a tough act to follow, but Prysen Ol held himself with quiet, calm dignity.

“My name is Prysen Ol. I represent the Kai. Should I be chosen, I shall love our child and share with them the teachings of ancient masters, the logicians and philosophers, so our offspring will seek understanding and harmony in all things.”

Clearly, harmony was the theme. They must’ve been given talking points.

I moved the light around and let it pause under the Dushegubs. Their candidate hopped off the root on which she had been perching and strolled into the open, rolling her hips. Her dress, a slight flowing gown, seemed to be held up purely by the fullness of her breasts.

The Dushegubs, subtle like bulldozers. Humanoids like sex. Here’s sex, now give us everything we want.

The woman tossed her hair back. The Dushegubs’ roots stopped undulating. The killer trees held completely still, waiting to see if the prey took the pretty bait.

“I am Unessa of… Creeeeeak hisss hisss creeeeak knock.”

And that’s why we called them Dushegubs.

“Should I be chosen, I shall commit fully to ensuring our children will be conceived in love and care…”

Aha, and?

“… and I shall raise them to smother their enemies before they have a chance to root.”

There it is.

“And harmony,” Unessa concluded triumphantly.

“A harmonious smothering,” Kosandion murmured under his breath. “Of course.”

I tossed the light again. Let’s see… It had to be the Horde or the Anocracy. If I waited too long, they would get offended.

My magic let me know there was movement in the Temple’s quarters. I opened their doors and stopped the light under House Meer.

Lady Wexyn exited her quarters and was moving toward us at top speed. Sean glanced at me. His voice whispered in my ear through a tiny earbud.

“Do you want me to bar the door?”

“Nope.”

Sean grinned.

The vampire candidate rearranged her face into a milder version of a sneer. “I am Bestata of House Meer.”

Everyone was sticking to the brief and keeping the introductions simple. Normally she would’ve rattled off a list of titles and battle honors that was a mile long.

“Should I be chosen, I will raise our child in the finest tradition of my House. I shall make our child strong, powerful, decisive, skilled in the battle arts—"

The doors burst open, and Lady Wexyn appeared in the huge doorway. She was five foot nothing, and all of her was wrapped in a shiny golden gown and decorated with jewelry, as if someone had taken a 5-gallon bucket of precious accessories, tossed it at her, and most of it had stuck.

She wasn’t simply curvy, she was voluptuous, with large full breasts, a round firm butt, and a soft tummy. Her naturally pale skin was sun kissed to a glowing tan. Her dark brown hair rode on top of her head in an elaborate ponytail that dripped curled locks onto her shoulders. A massive headdress crowned the front of her head, with the ponytail strategically threaded through it. It looked like a tree made of pure gold, complete with branches dripping with ruby flowers and supporting tiny, bejeweled birds. The whole thing added three feet to her height.

She opened her big dark eyes as wide as they could go and declared in a loud voice, “Your Majesty!!!”

Resven turned green.

Kosandion didn’t miss a beat. “Lady Wexyn, what a pleasure to have you with us.”

“You didn’t wait for me, Your Majesty. Am I late?” She clasped one hand to her ample bosom. A dozen thin bracelets in every precious metal found in the galaxy clinked on her wrist.

“Only a little. Please join us.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty!”

She swept into the room, somehow keeping the golden oak upright on her head. Unessa’s hip roll was amateur hour. This was a master class. It was hypnotic. There was no way I could ever imitate that sashay. Not only did I not have the hips or joints for it, I didn’t have the confidence.

Next to me Kosandion leaned his elbow on the armrest of his throne, rested his chin on his hand, and tried very hard to appear disinterested. At the Observer Gallery, Gaston was blinking rapidly. Tony leaned in a little to watch as she passed, and Sean was staring intently at her back. Hehe.

“Sean, pick your jaw up off the floor,” I murmured with a small smile.

“She moves very well.”

“I noticed.”

“No, not like that. That thing on her head is real gold. Scan it.”

I nudged the inn. Lady Wexyn was carrying fifty-two pounds on her head and thirty-five on her body. And she moved like a weightless butterfly. She reached her delegation with a dazzling smile, and they swarmed her in apparent joy. Someone clapped their hands. Someone squeed in a high-pitched voice.

Kosandion gave them another twenty seconds to settle down and turned to Bestata. “Please continue.”

She glared at Lady Wexyn and ground out. “Harmony. In battle.”

Kosandion nodded, and the vampire knight turned and stomped back to her House.

I moved the light around.

At the Observer Gallery. Caldenia sat very still, watching Lady Wexyn with an almost predatory focus, like an eagle sighting her prey. Karat pretended to look bored. Next to her, Cookie was smiling.

I stopped the white spot under the otrokars. Their candidate strode into the open. He truly was a stunning example of good genes and focused physical training. Perfect, hard muscle corded his large frame. His broad shoulders strained his chitin battle armor.

“I am Surkar, son of Grast and Ulde, Champion of my tribe, Gutripper, Blood Drencher…”

The vampires were rolling their eyes. Dagorkun was too. Clearly, following the directions or reading the room wasn’t in Surkar’s skill set.

“…Bone Crusher. I am not meek. When I am chosen, I will mold our child into a war machine. They will reap a bloody harvest of their enemies, until all who oppose them cower and tremble, too afraid to cry out.”

“Splendid,” Kosandion said with a completely straight face. “Thank you, Son of Grast and Ulde. Let us continue.”

I flicked the light around to the first Dominion delegation. We still had six groups to go.

The Higgra didn’t bother with a human, like the Donkamins and oomboles. Their candidate was 3 feet tall at the shoulder, stood on four legs, and was covered with brilliant white fur splattered with flecks of gold and gray. She had an unmistakably feline face with big golden eyes, and fluffy paws hid dexterous fingers and razor-sharp claws. Her gums and tongue were a vivid Prussian blue, her name meant ‘cyanide,’ and as usual, the Higgra insisted on the literal translations of their names. Cyanide promised to teach her children to observe the world and make sound judgements. In complete harmony, of course.

The Donkamins were next, and I’d confirmed my suspicions. The Donkamins didn’t only freak out the Earth-born humans. They freaked out everyone. When their candidate strode into the open to deliver their message of scientific exploration and harmony, every humanoid in the room made valiant efforts to look elsewhere.

One of the Dominion’s delegations was next. I’d started calling them Team Smiles and Team Frowns based on their expressions, and this one was the Smile one. Their candidate was an enthusiastic young woman, a typical Dominion citizen - taupe skin, big gray eyes, and soft, dark-gray hair, which she had styled in an asymmetric wave. From her looks alone, she could’ve been Resven’s niece, and she gazed upon Kosandion with worshipful adoration. She mentioned unity and harmony twice in four sentences.

The Murder Beaks were next. Their candidate was a remarkably handsome stocky man with lemon yellow skin and brilliant green eyes. His wavy brown hair was sideswept in an artful curve. His name was Pivor. He smiled a lot, delivered his speech about cooperation between species and harmony, and returned to his place, obviously pleased with a job well done.

Humanoid skin came in many different variations, but there was usually a limit to how brightness of its pigment. Pivor stood out like a dandelion on a green lawn. It had to be the result of a dye, although why he would dye himself was anyone’s guess.

The Frowns Dominion delegation presented an unusual candidate. She was tall and muscled like a gymnast, and she moved with a natural grace. Her skin was the deepest indigo verging on cosmos-black, her eyes were the color of coal, and her glossy dark hair, braided into a complex arrangement, rode on her head like a crown. An Uma, same as Kosandion’s mother.

Seeing an Uma outside their world was extremely rare.

The Uma had been discovered a thousand years ago by Earth’s time by one of the slimier galactic nations. The newcomers arrived bearing gifts and sweet promises, and it took almost twenty years before the Uma realized they were not being helped, they were being colonized. The invaders severely underestimated the Uma spirit. In less than a century, the Uma purged them from their planet and shut their doors to most galactic visitors. The lucky few who had been invited told a story of a beautiful world populated by fierce people.

The candidate, whose name was Ellenda, glared at the gathering. Her speech hit the talking points, but her tone seemed almost defiant. She mentioned progress and harmony and strode back to Team Frown with her head held high.

It was the oombole turn now. Their candidate, a fish that looked like someone had painted it with fire, treated us to a frenzied display of jazz fins, and their translation software was clearly having issues.

“… raised the offspring to seek safety and to swim in a way that doesn’t shower those behind them in body fluids.”

Right. Don’t pee on your fellow citizens.

“Thank you, candidate Oond for this refreshing definition of harmony,” Kosandion said. “I believe we have only one candidate left.”

Lady Wexyn glided into the open and smiled. There was something so infectious about that smile. It made you want to smile back.

She leaned forward slightly, making the delicate birds on the golden branches of her headpiece tilt. “Do I say it now, Your Majesty?”

“Yes,” Kosandion said.

Resven clenched his hands together, probably to keep from slapping one of them over his own face.

“I am Lady Wexyn of the Temple of Desire!” she announced.

We waited. Seconds ticked by.

“Lady Wexyn, would you like to tell us how you would raise our child?” Kosandion prompted.

She smiled wider, her eyes innocent and clear, like a night sky lit up by starlight. “Of course. I will love them most of all, Your Majesty. They would be my favorite.”

It took Kosandion another five seconds to realize it was all he was going to get. “Thank you, Lady Wexyn.”

She sashayed back to her people who swarmed her with whispered congratulations.

“On that note, we shall conclude the introductions,” Kosandion announced. “Tomorrow we shall convene for the first of the final challenges. Rest well.”

I glanced at Gaston.

He stepped forward. “We humbly beg you to join us for the evening meal.”

I flicked my hand. The Dushegubs fell through the floor into their pit, where they would find six pig carcasses floating in a foot of dark water. We had asked the delegations in advance if they preferred to dine in public or in private. The Dushegubs didn’t get a choice.

About half of the delegations chose private dining. The rest we divided between the three dining halls. I ended up in the Ocean Dining Hall, mainly because Kosandion took one look at the balcony facing the sea and determined that this would be his preferred view. Of the other dining halls, one offered a vista of our orchard, where Sean currently had his hands full with the otrokars and the Temple, and the third, overseen by Tony, presented a beautiful view of Saturn.

After this was over, I would have to think of the way to thank Tony. Without him, this whole thing would be a lot harder.

The Sovereign wanted to dine in privacy but still be seen, so I sectioned off a portion of the balcony with a see-through soundproof barrier and keyed it to Resven so a request from him would adjust the barrier’s transparency. Besides him, five other groups were in the dining hall: the Holy Ecclesiarch with his party, House Meer, Team Smiles, the Gaheas, and the observers.

Everyone seemed focused on their meal, which was as expected considering who cooked it. I strode between the tables a couple of times to make sure everything was going smoothly and parked myself by the wall.

Team Smiles laughed, their faces and posture relaxed. Their candidate, the one who stared worshipfully at Kosandion during the ceremony, kept sneaking glances at the partition, probably hoping he would look her way. House Meer ate like they were in enemy territory, watching everyone around them. At some point they calmed down enough to talk, which I considered progress. The Gaheas were performing incredible fits of dexterity at their table. They ate with four utensils, holding them two per hand, and they sliced tiny pieces from their food like a team of superstar surgeons.

The Holy Ecclesiarch had barely touched his plate. He was looking a bit mournful.

I drifted over to his table and murmured softly. “Is the food not to your liking, Your Holiness?”

“Your hospitality is beyond reproach,” he said.

“But?”

He looked at his plate of lean fish and vegetables arranged with such artistic flair, it should’ve been photographed for posterity. “It is beautiful. Alas, I have grown older.”

The members of the Dominion’s most numerous species experienced a diminished sense of taste in the final decade of life. It never went away completely, but for them the flavors became muted. The profiles of their meals grew spicier and bolder to stimulate their tired tastebuds. Any galactic chef knew this, let alone a Red Cleaver one.

“No worries,” I told him. “I will be back.”

I walked away to the wall, snapped up a transparent soundproof barrier around myself, and pulled up a screen to the kitchen.

“Orro?”

He appeared on the screen, a looming dark mass of quills. Things must’ve been hectic.

“What’s going on with the Holy Ecclesiarch’s food?”

His spikes trembled. “I was given specific dietary requirements due to health restrictions. Mild food only, to avoid ‘unnecessary strain’ on digestive system.” His voice told me exactly what he thought of that.

“His time is coming to an end, and mild food isn’t going to make a difference. He has only a few meals left. I will take full responsibility.”

Orro clapped his clawed hands together. “Then I will dazzle!”

“Go for it.”

I dropped the barrier. Five minutes later Droplet emerged from the kitchen, dashed over to the table, swiped off his plate, deposited a new dish, and withdrew. The new plate held a fish that had been descaled, cooked, and sliced into sections. The sections were reassembled into the original fish shape, and the whole dish was soaked in a rich dark broth. The aroma of spices drifted on the slight breeze. The elderly man took a single bite and smiled at me.

Crisis averted.

I drifted through the dining room again. House Meer was about mid-way through their meal. The Smiles delegation finished the main course and moved on to their customary tea and dessert, which meant they would stay parked for another half an hour. Half of the observers had left. Only Dagorkun, Cookie, Karat, and Tomato remained at the observer table. Tomato hailed from a republic neighboring the Dominion. He was green-furred, large, and a bit bear-like. His translation software had informed him that his name phonetically matched tomatoes, and upon arrival, he assured me that he was not a fruit.

I checked on Caldenia. She was in one of the terminal rooms, accessing the Gertrude Hunt news database. Gaston was with her. His mission for today was to stick to her like glue. I didn’t want any surprises.

Karat saw me looking and waved me over. I approached their table.

“Your sister said you would provide all necessary information to me.”

Thanks, Maud. “What can I clarify for you?”

She glanced in the direction of the semi opaque partition obscuring Kosandion and his party. “That man doesn’t strike me as unintelligent. He knows who he’s going to marry. Why is he bothering with this farce?”

The other three observers stared at me with rapt attention.

This would take a bit of time to explain. I glanced around the dining hall. Everything seemed calm. I summoned a chair out of the floor and sat.

“Ratings.”

Karat blinked. “Their ratings? He’s ranking them?”

“Not him. The entire Dominion. Everything that happens is being recorded and broadcast back throughout their territory. The citizens are watching it and vote in approval or disapproval.”

“They vote on the likability of the spouses?” Karat raised her eyebrows. “Why? This shouldn’t be a popularity contest. He is their monarch. It’s his choice.”

Trying to figure out how to explain a concept alien to most species was surprisingly difficult.

“Are you familiar with the Bluebug hivemind?” I asked.

Karat grimaced. “They are a massive pain.”

“It.” Tomato plucked some cherries from his plate with his alarmingly long claws.

“It, they, no matter.” Karat shrugged.

“No,” Dagorkun said. “That is precisely the matter.”

“The Dominion isn’t a hivemind,” Karat said. “If they were, there would be no need for the broadcast. You would only need one of them here.”

“You’re right,” I said. “They are not hivemind, but they are linked. It’s not a telepathic link via intelligence. It’s more of a collective empathy.”

“I don’t follow,” Karat said.

I would lean on Sean for this. “Have you fought on Nexus?” I asked.

She nodded.

“There must have been times in battle when your force rallied. When things seemed lost, but you saw a single knight rise to the challenge. An act of bravery, a sacrifice, a display of courage, and suddenly the mood changed and those who had been dejected before became inspired. And then you charged in a single wave and felt…”

“Exuberant,” Karat finished.

“Revived,” Dagorkun added. “We have a word for it. Kausur. Collective courage.”

“For the citizens of the Dominion, that feeling extends beyond the battlefield. It’s a loose connection but it’s always active. Even though there are different species within the Dominion, somehow they all feel a measure of this collective empathy. After a few years, those who emigrate to the Dominion also develop it. There is even a celebration to mark one’s ability to sense the collective mood.”

“That’s horrific.” Karat drained her glass. “I do not want to be plugged into anyone’s feelings but my own. I don’t like people. I don’t want to like what they like. I make exceptions for family, but there are times when I can barely tolerate even them.”

“Agreed,” Dagorkun said. “When I give an order, I don’t want to know if they like it or agree. I just need them to do it.”

Karat shook her head. “How does their army not disintegrate under the weight of all those feelings? How ever do they fight?”

“Very well,” Tomato said. “They’re a machine, disciplined and united. Their morale is impossible to break.”

“When they decide to resort to violence, it’s because an overwhelming majority of them feel it’s justified. They are united in their righteousness,” I said.

“But they’re still individuals,” Dagorkun said. “There will be dissent.”

“There is, and if the dissent grows too large, those united by it will abandon cause,” I said. “The Dominion’s civil wars are the bloodiest in the galaxy. It’s not a matter of policy or interests. It’s all fueled by emotion. Kosandion is a monarch, the executive head of their state. Their policies and laws are enacted by him, but they’re dictated by legislative, judicial, and religious branches.”

“So what happens if the Sovereign becomes unpopular?” Dagorkun asked.

“At first, it will produce a collective anxiety,” I said. “People will become more irritable. You will see the rise in general rudeness, lack of patience, and disproportionately severe reactions to small annoyances. The people of the Dominion will sense the discontent among their peers and will want to disconnect from those feelings, but there’s no escape. If the situation is allowed to worsen, the stress-related breakdowns will increase. Conception rates will drop, and miscarriages will occur more often, because the collective unhappiness indicates that now is not a good time to have a child and activates certain biological mechanisms to lower the birth rate. Their collective immunity will falter, making the population vulnerable to plagues. Brawls will break out in the streets, and there will be a sharp uptick in spree killers.”

The vampire and the otrokar stared at me. Cookie smiled into his whiskers. He hadn’t said a word this entire time. He just listened.

“Eventually, a chunk of the population will snap in self-defense, and someone will murder the Sovereign,” I finished.

Tomato nodded. “We’ve watched it happen. It is the same for the Six Star Supremacy, the Dominion’s sister empire.”

The first time I had seen the collective empathy of the Dominion in action, I was sixteen years old. I had decided I wanted to go to college, and that morning I went to take my SATs. I had told my family in advance. I scheduled it. I paid for it. Everyone agreed to let me be. It should’ve been a quiet morning. The inn had about a hundred visitors. Klaus and Michael were off on a fishing trip with Dad. Maud and Mom were at home, holding the fort, and between the two of them, they didn’t need my help with anything.

When I finished and turned my phone back on, I had three messages from Mom telling me to get home as soon as I could. I felt so annoyed. My family treated my entire high school adventure like it was a hobby or a fad. Something I did that wouldn’t really matter. Meanwhile, in school, every teacher and coach preached college nonstop. You went to college, or you were a loser.

I had studied my ass off for those exams. I didn’t even get a good luck or how’d it go?

I got home, sensed my mom in our garden, went there, and when I stepped outside, into my carefully nurtured botanical wonderland, I smelled this terrible bitter smoke. We were hosting a large group from the Dominion and the Six Star Supremacy. They were an extended family traveling on a sightseeing trip to celebrate their reunion. That morning, while I took my exams, they had set their hair and clothes on fire.

I walked through the garden among people smeared with ash, moaning and weeping, some catatonic, rocking back and forth, until I found my mother. Mom could handle any emergency the universe chose to throw at her, but that morning, she stood there, glassy-eyed, unable to stop their suffering.

It was the day Caldenia murdered Kosandion’s father.

“Kosandion isn’t just trying to score points,” I said. “By involving the whole nation in his choice of a spouse, he is letting them feel like they matter. Even if their preferred candidate doesn’t make it to the altar, their opinion still counted. They were engaged, they were given a voice, and they were a part of it.”

“It goes deeper than that,” Caldenia said behind me.

She had been heading our way for a bit now. I wasn’t sure if she was looking for me or if she was just hungry. Apparently, she was looking for me.

The observers turned to her.

“Kosandion will choose his spouse, and he will make sure the Dominion feels it is also their choice. They will be loyal to that person because they have chosen them, and when the child is born, they will transfer that loyalty to Kosandion’s heir. That child will be beloved and cherished, and the entire Dominion will be invested in their future. That is how dynasties persist and thrive.”

Wow.

Caldenia looked at me. “If I could have a word?”

I rose. “Of course, Your Grace.”