Free Swans Over the Moon by Forrest Aguirre

Deputy of Commerce,
which had earlier rolled from the royal carriage on the Judicar's
and Heterodymus' departer – no, evacuation – from Euler.
    Heterodymus, stifling his gag reflex, reached
down and carefully removed a note, which was attached to the head
by a long pin through its desiccated, worm-like tongue. He rolled
the note open as the ambassador departed down the hallway to be
escorted back to the northern borders.
    Sinistrum read:
     
    “The joke is on you, Judy. The Baron and Lady
are merrily rotting and things have become so topsy-turvy here that
now I, the mountbank, am in charge. Imagine that! A fool ruling a
country. But you should understand that quite well. Oh, but we are
having a grand time of it. Even the merchants have joined in on the
shenanigans. Have I mentioned that things here are really upside
down? We're celebrating here in the tower, but the common folk have
gone dour. They're all serious – deadly serious. They want so badly
to see your head in the same state as your deputy here that they've
decided to press your borders with Euler. Let them have their fun,
says I! It's been nice knowing you.”
     
    “Hugs and kisses and tons of well
wishes,”
     
    “The Jongleur Euler”
     
    After a pause, Dexter spoke. “This does not
bode well. Ill tidings, indeed.”
    The Judicar sat in a deep distress, fighting
to maintain his composure. In short order, the impossibility of his
position restored his boldness. Determination reanimated within
him, clarity and decisiveness reclaimed his mind.
    “Countermand Selene's order, immediately.
Send out our swiftest messengers with this command: All knights and
militia that have headed south will immediately change course and
return here. Furthermore, send all the knights and militia in the
city to hold off the Scaramouche to the north and the mobs of Euler
to the east. Then command Selene to visit me here in my throne
room.”
    A tittering, childlike laugh sounded from
among the pillars. A mocking voice called out, “Oh, but father. You
are too late on both accounts, the army,” Selene spun around a
pillar into view, her lithe form echoing the curves of the pillars,
“and me!” The Tarans chuckled overhead, holding their hands to
their mouths to keep their laughter from bursting out across the
chamber. Their ice blue eyes peeped out over their hands and down
at the Judicar with a malodorous glee.
     

Chapter 12
     
    Up and up they climbed above the highest of
the palatial buildings, up even above the lip of the crater in
which the city rested, a spiral stairway ascending the highest
hollow to a point unreachable by all save the royal geese that
slept a thousand feet below in a shadowy corner of the Judicar's
lush garden, barely visible with the naked eye. At the top of the
stairs was a door, and, hanging on a wall near the door, several
pairs of blackened goggles that they donned – the Judicar, his
daughter, his counselor.
    Sunlight haloed the door with a corona as it
opened on to a circular gazebo, a dazzling white latticework cupola
laced through with vines and leaves of all shades of green. Three
doorways opened out on to balconies that looked out over the lunar
landscape, providing the most spectacular view of, or on, the moon.
The blue planet hung suspended close overhead. The Judicar thought
that if he could jump high enough, he could grasp hold and be taken
around the globe of the moon, hanging from the blue-green orb as if
from a balloon. He longed for that, or any other, means of
escape.
    The shadow of the blue planet partially
eclipsed the sun, casting an ever-growing shadow over the white
sands. To the north and east, campfires burned from the city gates
all the way back to the curve of the horizon. To the southeast, a
tiny whiff of horse-hoof-driven dust heralded the imminent arrival
of the Judicar's re-assigned knights and militia. It was clear from
this aerie that the Procellarian forces would be snuffed from
existence in a matter of