The Wolves of Gryning: Chapter 27
Chapter 27: The Queen
Winter's chill had finally taken Gryning. Leaves had finished falling, and their brittle bodies had long-since crumbled away, leaving the bare skeleton trees exposed. The evergreens of the Kvalsdimm held tightly to their dark needles, but even their boughs were heavy with the punishing cold; heaps of snow had blanketed the territories of the wolves, all the way up to the rocky coast, where the waters turned to slush against the shores. Though the sun shone they could little see it, the pale sky cloudy at worst, foggy at best, but never clear. The winds blew sporadically but always blew with teeth.
Nashil had never felt particularly susceptible to cold, for her coat of fur was quite thick and luxuriant. It blossomed across her face in the bitter wind. For once she had felt herself stung worse than expected by the winter's bite. No matter. Being queen came with a host of advantages, and she was quick to use them. New clothes were no longer a luxury. She wrapped herself in a hooded robe, the fabric stiff across her pointed ears, drooping only a little in between. Thus protected, she felt the wind easing up, and leaned back out the window.
The main keep was laid out on the ground before her. From up here it looked less like a building and more like a painting, or an intricately embroidered image. It seemed impossible that the holy hall of wolves was real, and that she could be in a tower above it. Valenthi walked here, she thought. And every ruler of the wolves since then. Can I really be among their number? In a sense she felt like she had cheated the rest of her kind. What gave her the right to be queen anymore than anybeast else? Just because the king took a liking to you? That hardly qualifies as a good reason. Yet it was the only reason that she had, and she'd taken it. Nashil wondered if there was something she could do about that, or if there was anything she could do to validate it now that it had happened.
"You're a queen now," she said to herself. "And if not you, then who?"
She looked down to her left and saw the small dome of the People's Keep, where the Lady Thybion had positioned herself as the new leader. Nashil imagined the skinny she-wolf looking back at her, from out of a window of her own. I don't know what I should think of you. My instinct tells me not to trust you--very well, then, for I've trusted my instincts before. I'm not the only one either. Besegrare doesn't trust you, or at least doesn't seem to. Yet he does nothing to stop you, or to halt your power-grab. And was it really you who tried to have him killed?
Never before had Nashil considered that Besegrare could actually die so soon.
"Let's see you what you have planned," Nashil said, and imagined Thybion slamming her window shut, retreating into her den.
A new wind began to blow, much harsher than before, and it was blowing crystals of ice from the clouds in the East. The sharp little pieces stung Nashil as they blew past her, and she pulled her face back into the safety of the room, shutting the window. The winter landscape was beginning to bother her, and the season had only just finished changing.
Talk to me when it's springtime, she thought, drawing the curtains shut. Her actions immediately plunged her room into darkness; but it was not the darkness that she'd grown accustomed to. This darkness was empty. She wasn't in her room anymore. Everything had fallen away from her. The shadows that she saw like rivers of ink around her were the only thing left. Pressure built up under her then dissipated outwards, and she felt the air sucked from the room. There were eyes in the shade, eyes upon her, and a voice she recognized all too well spoke up. She felt a scream welling in her throat, and suppressed it.
No, no, it cannot be you! Not again!
She threw her arm out wildly, catching the curtains as she tumbled breathless to her knees. The heavy fabric ripped off the pole onto which it had been set, and light fell into that empty space. Once again it filled with the idle life of her reality, with the desk and the bed and the wardrobe, with the panes of glass and the candle holders. Only when the claws in her skull released their grip did she feel herself able to breath again, and the voice was gone.
It was a few minutes later, at midday, when Nashil left her private chamber. Her heart was racing, her mind abuzz with memories she'd rather have forgotten. Could it have been that same voice, that same... thing? She didn't know what to call it, though she recognized it from before. The One Who Blinds. Out of all the prayers the wolves had devised, the most commonly burned one was a prayer of protection from that One's evil will. It was a powerful foe, and some called it a god, while others called it an ancient force or power. There were those who said it was this power that the sorcerers of old had learned to channel. Some even believed it had existed since the first days of Flame. Never had Nashil considered that such an ancient and malevolent force could play a role in her own life. She was petrified. The One Who Blinds--that was just another name for Death, wasn't it?
"The priests will know what to do," she said. Talking to herself out loud often felt better than thinking. It distracted her, gave her mind something else to do. "The priests will know exactly how to fix this. This is their area of expertise, isn't it?"
She approached the chapel on the hill. Wooden steps had been set into the hill's base, leading around and up to the top. The deep umber wood contrasted sharply with the morning's fresh snowfall. The acolytes must have scraped the surface of the steps clean.
"Contrast," she said aloud, then made her way up the steps and into the building.
Inside, the chapel was warm. Bright fires burned in sconces along its walls, and a strip of light fell through the roof, shepherding the shadows into the corners where they hung about, loose and cluttered. The hazy gloom contrasted the fierceness of the fire, the natural brightness of the day. And again she thought about the dual nature of the light and dark and she said once more that simple word, "Contrast."
"It's more important than you'd realize."
Tehlina rounded the corner and stepped into the nave, approaching the queen. "Fundamental to the nature of life. But tell me, what did you mean by it?"
"It's nothing. Sometimes talking to myself feels good. I just like to say my thoughts aloud."
"Then let's hear your thoughts, your highness."
The high priestess clasped her hands and bowed; Nashil felt herself grow hot with embarrassment.
"There's no need for that, no need to bow. It's all just formalities. I'm really not used to that sort of thing."
"With all due respect, your highness, you'll have to get used to it. It's a lot of beasts you'll have to tell to stop before they learn, before they listen. You're a queen now, after all. Queen of wolves. To you a certain measure of respect is owed."
"You may be right. I'm just unaccustomed to it. Only a few days ago, I was no different from anybeast else."
"In a way, you still aren't."
Tehlina approached the queen, who had taken a seat in the aisle, and joined her on the wooden bench. She pulled a cushion from the end of the bench to support her back.
"You look troubled, your highness. Your mind is heavy--I can feel it. I can feel it loaded with questions."
"Can you feel the pain of their confusion?"
"I cannot. But I am, perhaps, capable of feeling it. You could help me try. I know a thing or two about this sort of thing, about stressful situations. I'm no stranger to confusion."
"I'm afraid you won't want to address this particular problem, though being a priestess I'm sure you'd be best equipped to handle it."
"I'm not just a priestess, my queen. I'm the high priestess. I'm equipped to handle some very tough problems. What ails your thoughts?"
"Yes, 'what' indeed. I'm not even sure what it is that I'm afraid of. I only know what to call it--the same name I've heard it given my whole life. Do you see what I'm trying to say? Some things you think are just stories, are just fables, and you never expect to confront them in the real world. Yet confronted I find myself anyways."
"Ashes," Tehlina raised her hand to her chest, the base of her throat, stifling a gasp. "You mean that..? Flame bless and guide us, you shouldn't speak about such things!"
"What power will speaking give it? Whatever power it has is already enough to do whatever it wants."
"You mean it true, then. The One Who Blinds."
Nashil nodded.
"Very well, your highness. You are right. Whatever power it has, we can do nothing to bolster it by speaking of it. But we can do nothing to suppress it either. What exactly has it done that has frightened you? And how do you know it is the power that opposes you?"
"It has spoken directly to me. Twice now I've been confronted. The first in the Kvalsdimm, where the territory of the wolves borders that of the foxes. When it spoke to me then it told me that I had been marked for death. It told me that though my fate was unwritten, I would meet my doom if I didn't act drastically to alter my course."
"And the second time you saw it?"
"Just now. Minutes ago, in my private chambers."
"So death has come to Gryning."
"When you come face to face with it, you know what it is. I can't explain it any other way. It's not just a bogeyman or a metaphor. It's real, it's got power. It is power. It never gave itself a name, but it did not deny the name that I gave to it. The first time I saw it it came as a warning, but the second time... I'm really not sure what it wanted."
"It wanted to remind you," Tehlina reached for the queen, then halted her hand and placed them both together in her lap. "Whatever it was you did, or didn't do, to try to alter your course, it must not have been enough."
"What are you telling me, that I'm going to die?" Nashil bristled. "I'm not going to let anything kill me without a fight. No foe beast or power of evil can touch me if I do not allow it."
"Those are brave words, your highness, but try to consider the reality of it. You're our queen now. If you flee from your destiny, there are other wolves here whose lives may be at stake. You're a real presence among your people now. Whatever disaster is in store for you, you must not try to fight it. You must try to divert it before it can even come close. Otherwise you're talking about other wolves getting hurt."
"You've been less help than I'd hoped," Nashil sighed, crumpling back in her chair. "I just wanted comfort. Instead you've told me that I can have none. And for what? To protect lives that may not even be in danger? I have no intention of leaving this place to go die alone, but I have no intention of letting the my danger threaten others."
"Your highness. Forgive me for what I've said. I didn't mean to speak out of turn, only to give you sincere advice. Don't take it personally--my intentions are not to introduce sorrow into your life! I only mean to show you al-Valar so that you can find your way out of this."
"Think nothing of what you've said."
Nashil rose, tail drooping as she made her way out of the gloom and into the cold midday.
"Thank you for your counsel. I've come to an important decision."
"Regarding?"
"In time, priestess. For now this is a personal matter."
The queen of wolves exited into the outside world, but the day was slipping away more rapidly than she'd been expecting. The canopy overhead was turning a dark shade of plum around its edges. Torches and lanterns began to line the streets of the city and the labyrinthine passages were glowing. When she looked up, she saw puffs of snow dusting downward once more.
Besegrare's heart sank. He kept his jaw shut tight, his eyes fixed and focused. His spirit he could not help from falling. Nashil held herself just as composed as he, which meant he couldn't read her. She can't really mean it, can she?
The king cursed himself. He'd given her this option--had promised her he'd do it, if she would but ask. Now, she was asking.
"I'm waiting, Bes," she said. "What do you have to say for yourself? Do I have to remind you of the oath you swore to me?"
"N-No. Of course not."
For once Besegrare was caught without a shred of a clue what he'd do, what he'd say. Normally he at least had an idea of what he could begin with. Now, he was speechless. Nashil huffed, and crossed her arms.
"Find a place, then. Like you promised. Someplace safe and good, but far from here. Someplace where my pup can get the love and attention it deserves."
"Love and attention? Why not here? The pup--"
"The pup is mine, remember? Never mind that you sired it. I carry it inside of me as we speak. I'll deliver it too. All the costs of motherhood I have been forced to pay, and you get...What do you get? The satisfaction of fatherhood? No Bes, I'm sorry. The pup belongs to me, not to you. It will not be an heir. It will go live a normal life elsewhere, and we can discuss the matter of an heir another time."
"Of course," Besegrare nodded. "I can't say I don't understand."
"It's well that you do understand. I cannot explain to you all of the reasons why the pup must go. Yet one reason will have to suffice. You say that you married me for love, not the pup. Let this at least prove you true!"
"You really mean to force my hand on that?"
"Yes, for that reason, and for others. But nothing I can tell you now. Please, trust me."
"I trust you. Of course I trust you. I've just married you, after all," Besegrare looked saddened, like her words had struck him. He nodded though, and set his jaw grimly. "Very well. Though it saddens me to say it. I'll have the preparations drafted up, a safe passage chartered. Are you sure this is what you want?"
"Quite sure."
She tried to hug him, to wrap her arms around him, but he didn't respond. He stood hanging his head a little, and Nashil buried her face in the fur around his neck.
"Thank you," she said. "I'd hoped you wouldn't fight me on this. It's important to me. Don't look so sad, I'm not being cruel."
"I never said you were," Besegrare said, stepping backwards out of her arms. He turned his face from her as he walked away. Deep in his heart he had trouble shaking the thought, that she was only acting to harm him. What could he do? He'd bound himself with his word.
You fool! Now you have no choice.
He disappeared from the hallway with a swish of his cloak, and the queen was left alone again.
The Lady Thybion had adapted well to her new life. Khiifa's sudden death had been a cause of concern--would the People's Keep turn against her? She was pleased to see the opposite effect. A ripple of disturbance had been left in that tragedy's wake, a little vacuum of doubt. Just a little thing, to be sure, but she saw it and filled it immediately. The people had been confused, scared, angry. Rather than let them turn on her, she'd grabbed their attention and forced it back onto Besegrare. That made them angry again. She couldn't let them forget that angry, and knew that whatever her next move was, she had to act quickly.
She leaned out over the rail of the keep's observation platform. Below her were the many levelled floors of the housing quarter, the rows of rooms packed with wolves, while far down below the floor was dominated by the Central Market. Shopkeepers pedalled their wares from inside little wooden rooms and storefronts built on sturdy oak platforms, in turn connected to each other by bridges and walkways. The beasts bustled.
They're all getting complacent. How quickly do these beasts forget? They're fickle, all of them. Something's got to change, else they'll start to love their king again. I know that a little push now could keep them going for a while longer. But what can I do?
Torchlight caught her as she began smiling, the idea forming.
Oh yes, oh Thybion, you've done it now! You'll have them back in no time at all.
She made her way to the Grand Stair, at the top of which was the entrance to her private wing. She had something very important to start working on. Very important indeed.
Thiall spread out her papers and her ink, preparing for Thybion's arrival. Be ready, she thought. That's what Thybion had told her. Be ready with papers and something to write. And anything else you may need. She didn't know what else she might need, but she couldn't stop her thoughts, couldn't stop her joy. She needs me! Flame bless us, she needs my help! And all this just as Thiall was busy resigning herself to helplessness. She heard a knock at the door, and rose to find Thybion waiting. She opened the door and looked down upon her ruler, the Lady quite short, her face set in a grim line.
"I see you're prepared," she said. "That's good. Saves me the time of having to remind you to do what I asked."
"I'm capable of following an order."
"And capable of writing, too, I hope? For this to work you'll have to do the writing."
"I'm educated," Thiall said. "That being said, couldn't you write it?"
"Everyone would know it was me. I can't have that. Now, as for the content, I'll tell you everything you need to know. All I need from you is to shape that into something."
"You're writing..."
"A pamphlet of sorts. Don't worry, we won't publish it under either of our names."
"You're going to need it printed out."
"Don't treat me like an idiot," Thybion snarled. Thiall shrank back, hand on her nape, even though she looked down upon the other girl.
"I'm not! It's just that I don't have access to a printing press."
"No? Is there not a printer in the Market somewhere? I thought a citizen like you should know."
"I'm still new here, after all. A refugee, really. I've got no clue where I could find a printer."
"I suggest you find somebeast who knows."
"It's not that easy..."
"Here I thought you were going to be easy to work with. I don't have to put up with you, you know. I can have someone else figure things out for me. But if there's one thing I'll not do, it's spend my days wandering the city looking for a printer. You may not have a busy schedule but I do. I can't do everything myself. Get familiar with the city, or find somebeast who is. And then find a press. Do you understand?"
Thiall gulped.
"Yes, of course, your ladyship."
"Don't fret about funding either. I'll support this venture myself. But before you can begin with that, you've got to start with this."
She gestured to the notes on the table. Thiall took her place on the chair and picked up the pen, dipped it in ink.
"Whenever you're ready," she said.