My Dragons
Character Meditation in the First Person
This is basically an essay, as written by Cordelia Naismith (aka Ekaterin Vorvayne, Ukadri Do'Banzil, Guffin Extradigit, et al).
I am good with people.
Well, all right. Saying I'm good with people is rather like saying the Galaxy is big compared to a star system--it's true, but it understates the case and has some implications that take a few minutes to really sink in In the case of the Galaxy, the implication is that the Empire simply couldn't exist without magic and specifically starcasters; with normal engines (even if you could power them somehow), it would take decades to travel between even systems that are, in Galactic terms, very close together. For me, it's that I have to know how people work.
I'm not like Khaye. He can just look at someone for a few moments, and when he's done he knows everything important about them. I have to actually work at it--but if I weren't good at figuring people out, I couldn't do what I do. I live and die by finding people's buttons and working out how to push them, and knowing what will happen when I do.
The implication of that is that I know a little more about my own buttons than is always strictly comfortable.
I know exactly why I did what I did to Krellit, for example. I started sleeping with him because I was angry with myself for not having the guts to kill that bastard at home when I had the chance. I could tell that I'd lost my throne, and I couldn't think of anything to do about it, so I tried to prove that I still had power by using it on Krellit. As if I couldn't make the poor man jump naked out an airlock if I really worked at it--getting him into bed was trivial.
I stopped sleeping with Krellit because he is a good man. No good man should have to associate with someone who can do what I did to the ISPD agent.
It took almost fifteen hours to break him, and by the time I actually killed him I think he was happy to die. I'm glad I don't have to sleep much; it keeps me from dreaming. So I don't sleep with Krellit any more. He doesn't understand--he thinks it has something to do with A'rance, and as long as he doesn't leave the group he can go on thinking it.
A'rance, now. He thinks I don't know he's in love with me. The signet will just cement it in his mind; now he thinks I'm in love with him too, and that I just can't bring myself to admit it. And I knew that when I gave him the ring, and it will have to be dealt with when--if--he and Quindal come back. But while he's gone, it will serve as an anchor for him, a link back to A'rance-the-adventurer who understands, as the Fathers don't, that there's more to overthrowing an Empire than simply wishing it so. I have no use for A'rance-the-barbarian, and I'm afraid that meeting his God is going to throw him back into that person. A'rance is the type who thinks his principles are the most important part of his life, but he's wrong; for him, if it comes down to principles or love, he'll pick love. So I gave him the ring. I hope it's enough.
I've seen GS and Khaye both looking at my hand; it didn't occur to me in time to pretend I still had the signet. Of course I should have realized they'd both notice, for their own reasons--Khaye just because he does notice things, and GS because he and I, in a lot of ways, operate on the same principles. I think GS is content to leave it alone, but Khaye is showing worrying signs of wanting to help. May the gods save me from clerics who just want to help. I don't need help; I need to keep busy.
At least Charsi is oblivious. She's terribly restful, in her hyperactive sort of way; if it's not shooting at us or connected to a starcaster, she doesn't much care about it. I could learn to like that attitude. And Phineas, well, he doesn't really need to tell me he's there if I want to talk to him. Besides, now that Krellit's single the boy's stuck in this horrible quandry over what to do about it. I haven't got the heart to tell him Krellit's a dyed-in-the-wool monosexual, and he'll eventually pick it up on his own.
I just wish I knew what else we should be doing. We're just a group of adventurers; in a Galaxy with hundreds of inhabited planets, we're pretty small change no matter how personally powerful we become. And it's not a good idea to foment rebellion while the Empire is under siege by creatures far, far worse than the dragons could ever be. But if I'm ever going to get my name back, the Empire has to fall, and I'm pretty sure there's not going to be a better opportunity in my lifetime.
So forget what the group should be doing; it's all down to what I am going to do. I'm going to wear whatever face I have to to get things done, and I'm going to make sure everyone around me does what they need to do. And when it's all done, and I am queen, it won't matter how much I cried on the way. No one ever has to know.
After all, I'm good with people.