40. Arienne
40
ARIENNE
It had been a chaotic year.
The repairs of Arland’s royal castle were nearly completed, and Arienne had been given a room there with a good view. It wasn’t much more luxurious than the inn she had lived in until then, but it was much better suited for her to focus on her work, away from the well-meaning attentions of others.
Following the battle of the past winter, a people’s council had been formed, and Arienne had been working with them. There were many ongoing issues in Arland aside from the oppression of the Empire, from conflicts between guilds of Kingsworth to irrigation feuds going back centuries between villages, and land disputes between families as well.
The sun was setting. Tomorrow, a new prefect would be taking up position. A reception banquet was planned for tonight. She took out the blue dress the tailor Cedric had made for her for this occasion. Cedric had been among those who, along with Arienne, had last seen Loran on that day.
Many on the council had also been in the field that day. Most of the makeshift army returned to their previous lives, while still others, enamored of the soldier’s life, joined the militia. But there was one thing they all had in common. Whenever they got the chance, they would talk about that day.
The story of how King Loran had defeated the Empire’s gigatherion and saved the fire-dragon of the mountain varied from person to person, sometimes by a little, sometimes a lot. Even when it was witnessed by thousands, the discrepancies increased a year after the event. Arienne wondered why so many others were contradicting what they experienced firsthand and so clearly remembered, as each and every one of them did as well.
There was a knock on the door. Arienne gladly ran to open it.
“Wil!”
Wilfrid wore a formal Imperial suit, its black tunic and skirt setting off the accents of golden thread. There was a long scar on her face, a souvenir from the previous year’s battle. Even tired from her long journey, she smiled and embraced Arienne.
“How have you been?”
“The same as always. And how was the Capital?”
“The Senate is filled with old men who keep talking their talk. The Commons is a bit better… But how large the Capital is! You lived there for so long, Kingsworth must seem very small to you. And I never knew there were so many different kinds of people!”
“And the language?”
Wilfrid nodded. “My Imperial is as bad as ever, but the Arlanders of the Capital helped. A man named Cain somehow knew I was arriving and came to see me. We exchanged news. There are many who wish to return to Arland. Especially after hearing of King Loran—”
“Wait, Cain? Did he wear spectacles? About twenty-five?”
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“He helped me once.”
She couldn’t quite remember his face. Ever since she destroyed her inner room during her battle against Eldred, Arienne had trouble remembering details of her life before coming to Arland.
“A young man with considerable reach among the people. Not just among Arlanders… Even the Ministry of Intelligence agents are said to tip their hats to him. Well, enough of that, I have some things to confirm with the council. Can you look at them before others do?”
“I forbid you from starting work before tomorrow, Prefect Wilfrid.”
Wilfrid grinned. “Well, I’ve nothing to do the day after and the day after that as well. I’m merely a puppet of the council!” She stretched out her arms, pretending to be one. “The important decisions must be made by the council. I will speak when needed, of course… But my first duty is to what the king told me.” Wilfrid brushed her shoulder, where Loran had touched with Wurmath to make her a knight of Arland. “What needs to be confirmed are the requests of the Arlander member of the Commons.”
“And how long is his remaining term?”
“Until summer next year.”
“Then we shall have to think of who will take over.”
Wilfrid handed her a folded document. “Cain made some suggestions to that end.”
“You must be joking? The argument we’ve had with the Empire in allowing us to make that decision!”
“Well, he is asking for this person to be put forth by the council. I did meet the candidate, and he seems well-suited. Strong ties to the immigrant communities from many provinces. Cain mentioned the needs of the Arlanders in the Capital must be considered as well, as whoever sits in the Commons will affect them more than us. There is some sense in that.”
Arienne narrowed her eyes at Wilfrid. “You traitor.”
Wilfrid laughed. Arienne took the document from her.
“Let’s bring it up at the council meeting tomorrow morning, then.”
“Thank you.”
Wilfrid had changed much in the past year. Once a countrywoman working a farm in Arland, then a general under Loran, and then a knight, this last change being the most dramatic. She had learned to read, and the way she dressed and carried herself changed. Loran had, after all, personally entrusted her with the future of Arland.
“Has King Loran made an appearance since I’ve been gone?” asked Wilfrid.
Arienne shook her head. “Still nothing since that day. Nor do we know where the fire-dragon has flown…”
“How I wish we could see her again, just one more time…” Wilfrid said somberly.
Arienne was secretly glad of Loran’s absence. Had Loran stayed in Arland, the Empire would have done everything it could to rid themselves of her, sending wave after wave of their legions. On the other hand, if Loran had died, they wouldn’t have felt the need to make the current compromises. Even as the Empire breathed a sigh of relief that Loran had disappeared, they could not ignore the fact that somewhere, the King of Arland who had destroyed one of their gigatherions was still at large, which was why they had been the first to open negotiations with Arland.
The negotiations did not last long. All the Empire’s wrongdoings were to be pinned on the late Prefect Hesperus and the Twenty-Fifth Legion, and Arland was to remain a province of the Empire. But Arland was, for almost all intents and purposes, self-governing. Had Loran known this would happen?
“I still wonder from time to time,” said Wil sadly, “whether what we did was the right thing. Whether this was indeed what Her Majesty would have wanted…”
“Well. We did not have to continue fighting, the Twenty-Fifth Legion was sent away far south, you are prefect now, and we have the right to send whomever we want to the Commons…”
“But this is not true independence. We still send taxes to the Empire… Not that it’s anywhere near as staggering an amount as under Hesperus. Still, I may have the title of prefect, but there is nothing I can do should the Empire refuse to hear no for an answer.”
“That is true. Our fight is not over yet. There are still other battles to come.”
Wilfrid nodded. “What of the new occupying force? Are they any trouble?”
“The Eighty-Second? Unless there are extraordinary circumstances, they are to stay in the fortress and never leave. We never see them. That’s good for them as well as us.”
“And I saw that the wreck of the gigatherion still stands on the battlefield.”
“We’ve forbidden the Twenty-Fifth from removing it. Only the Power generator and some other important parts have been returned to the Empire.”
Perhaps sensing Arienne’s displeasure, Wilfrid said, “I’m sorry, I know you were against the Empire getting their hands on the generator.”
Arienne sighed. “I’ve made peace with the council’s decision. I knew the Empire wouldn’t give us that…”
The Empire would also continue to test for children with magic and take them away. The council tried to convince her that this had to be the way things were for now, but she suspected that the matter was merely a bargaining chip to them. How our lives are designed to satiate the hunger of banal, ordinary men, Eldred used to say, of the sorcerer’s fate.
Sometimes, when the whole thing didn’t feel like a victory to her, she would remind herself of what Loran had told Wilfrid: Even if we should win, the Empire also has its tomorrow. That is what you need to prepare for. Prepare she would. At the Academy, a classmate had taught Arienne a spell learned from a witch in her homeland. Now it was Arienne’s turn to be that witch, teaching the sorcerer children of Arland all that she knew—Eldred’s magic, and her own.
She would have to find them. She would have to get a place to teach them in secret. She couldn’t speak of this to anyone, not even to Wilfrid. Arienne changed the subject.
“The council wants to make a memorial there, but I wonder how useful such a place would be, hours away from the city.” Arienne suddenly gave a start and clapped her hands. “How rude of me! I didn’t serve you anything to drink. I was simply too happy to see you!”
Wilfrid laughed and waved her hand in refusal. “It’s fine. I have many other people to see.”
“If I’d known you were just arriving today, we would have delayed your banquet, so you could rest.”
“I could’ve come earlier, but when I was passing Ledon, Chief Griogal had come out to greet me. He insisted on me staying for three days. I must confess I have grown rather weary of banquets of late.”
“Ledon doesn’t seem to be doing well in their negotiations… Kamori as well.”
“ Their prefects are alive.” Wilfrid nodded thoughtfully. “But at least the Ledonite tribes will not be so terribly harassed as before.”
“Speaking of Kamori, Prince Emere told me he was about to take over his sister’s seat.”
“Kamori’s Commons seat?”
“Yes. His sister is getting on in years, apparently… As for dealing with their prefect, Gwedion will take over, as he is quick of mind and used to the ways of the city.”
“And the other one… What was his name, the second eldest of the Kamori royal house?”
“Gaharas, or something? I don’t quite remember either.”
“Does he still live in a rabbit warren in the forest?”
“I don’t know. Emere never talks about him.”
“I see.” Wilfrid sighed. “Well, I must go. We shall meet again this evening.”
“Please do not drink too much tonight. Don’t forget to get your sleep for tomorrow.”
Wilfrid hugged Arienne once more in reply, then left.
Arienne had a little time before the banquet. She sat in her armchair, resting her back, and paused to look inside the new room of her mind. It was modeled after the room where she had stayed on her last night in the Capital, though without the suggestive sculptures and paintings she considered inappropriate for children.
In the middle of the room, next to the large and soft bed, was a bassinet. Tychon lay inside, her little secret. He was in the form of a baby wrapped in a swaddling blanket. Despite it being a year past, he remained an infant. She looked tenderly into his face. He cooed, and grasped her finger when she presented it to him. He might never grow. He might never become a boy or an adult. But here, in this safe place, he could live without being used for his Power. It would be better for him in here than in a lead sarcophagus.
While she played with the baby, the sun continued to set. Outside, the new banners of Arland glinted in the last light of the day, two red dragons against a white background. One was the fire-dragon of the mountain, the other represented Loran, King of Arland.
After an hour with the baby, Arienne left her mind’s room to get ready for the banquet. She put on the blue dress Cedric had designed, undid her hair and retied it neatly. She brushed some color around her eyes and sprinkled perfume. She didn’t often bother with such things, but tonight would be a night full of old friends she hadn’t seen in a long time, not to mention the foreign emissaries who had promised to come. Care needed to be taken. Especially since a very special guest was to arrive before the banquet. For the sake of that person, she needed to put her best self forward, as she hadn’t been able to the last time they had seen each other.
The sun had completely set. Arienne looked out the window. The lights came on one by one, on the streets and in the houses, dotting the cityscape with soft orange colors. The stars covered the night sky. This was a very different scene from the Capital, where the lights from the Power generators made the city glow blue. She opened the window to the cold, crisp air.
The stars of the sky suddenly disappeared and reappeared again. A gust of wind burst into the room, as if deliberately blown into her window.
Someone now perched on the windowsill. Arienne bowed deeply, bending her back and knees, paying the greatest respect she knew how to.
“Your Majesty, I have awaited you. Please enter.”