Chapter Eighty-Three. So Close, Yet So Far Away.
Eighty-Three
So Close, Yet So Far Away.
When Lavante and I ride back through the city with our guards, I hold the ruby high over my head.
I do this not in triumph, but so there’s a public record of my having returned the gem to the court.
And they all know what it is. Regardless of class, the citizenry stares up in awe as the last of the daylight plays in the facets, and then they drop to their knees wherever they are, whatever they’re doing.
Their bowed heads and tented palms suggest many prayers of thanks are being offered, and I’m glad so many people see the jewel.
Mural behind the throne notwithstanding, it’s crucial that I provide no out for the advisor to manipulate any of this.
And upon further reflection, I feel like there has been some thievery on the Queen’s part.
That setting in the palm fit too well, and I wonder if maybe she stole it after the city down there collapsed.
Someone took it back, however—and I’m not sure whether I’m delivering the thing to its rightful owner or not.
For Merc, though, I’m willing to become a robber—and much worse.
The guards take me right to what turns out to be an entry into the court’s great colonnade and audience hall, and I recognize the one who takes Lavante’s reins. He’s the kind man who escorted me into the ceremonial hall yesterday, the one who took pity on me as much as he could.
As I dismount, he’s staring at me like he’s seen a ghost. I suppose I must look like one with all the spiderwebs still clinging to my hair.
“Take care of him,” I say. “He needs to be cooled down before he eats.”
The guard bows, his eyes locked on the ruby that I still have over my head. “Yes, missus.”
I don’t wait for permission to walk forward, and quite honestly, if any one of the men with the muskets and swords had gotten in my way, I’d have pushed him down.
I ride a wave of exhausted power up a set of steps, and find my way into the colonnade I went down before—whereupon I drop my numb arm because the crowd can’t see me anymore.
The guards come with me, but stay in my wake, their boots echoing on the marble smartly.
I am leading them, not the other way around.
Maybe all this changes the instant I am not holding the jewel.
I’m not going to worry about that right now, and I know the way. I make the turn at the corner at the lineup of feminine statuary … and now I am before the entrance into the audience hall itself, with the two pairs of red-uniformed guards.
It’s not a surprise that the vizare is standing there, waiting for me. And I can look at her full face now because as with everybody else, her eyes are on the ruby in my hand as if she cannot believe she’s seeing the stone.
Coming to a stop in front of the woman, my voice is rough, but strong. “I will be the one to take this in.”
She opens her mouth as if she’s going to dispute the carrying of such a sacred object by someone of no pedigree or standing in her community. Something in the way I stand before her changes her mind.
The advisor nods sharply at the red-uniformed guards, and they open both sides of the doors for me.
I enter the hall and hobble down the center aisle toward the throne and the mural. Up above, in the oculus, the shape is in place behind the mesh, the profile present.
As I pass by the marble soldiers on their marble steeds, I think of the ruins of the other city … and then the settlement that was burned out. People should never confuse the habit of days with permanence. Everything can die, anything can be lost … nothing is forever.
When I get to the throne, I look up to the oculus. “I have brought you back the sacred stone.”
I mount the dais by the shallow set of steps off to the side, and place the ruby on the seat.
Then I take off my pack, remove the box from the folds, and go to flip the hooked latch.
The thing resists, until I nearly split my nail once again, but I get the top up and balance the ancient wooden container on the throne’s arm as I take out the crown of black crystals.
Holding it up over my head, I put volume into my words. “This is yours. I was sent here to give it to you. Wear this and know that you can defeat the Dark King—”
“Leave us.”
The voice that filters down is deep for a woman’s, exactly what I would expect of a warrior queen. I notice this first, and then the meaning of her words filters through my broken brain.
Exhaling, I slump and take a deep breath. But crown aside, I will not—I cannot—leave unless it’s with Merc—
“Your Sublime Highness, surely you need me as witness.”
I twist around. The advisor is bowing at the waist, her long, complicated braid slipping off her shoulder and falling free. As she looks to the oculus, her face is drawn in tight disapproval, but her tone hides this.
Almost.
In response, the voice from above carves a single syllable out of the tense air: “Now.”
The hidden door by the mural opens and a pair of guards loom on the far side of the threshold, the implication clear that if the order is not followed, it will be promptly enforced.
“As you wish.” The vizare bows again, and then walks out, head held high, back straight as one of the columns.
And then the secret entry closes up, as if it’s a mouth that’s bitten her off the tip of a fork.
I look back up at the portal.
“You killed one of my officers,” the Queen says in clipped tones. “That is an offense against my authority and property, punishable by death.”
“He was in the process of raping me.”
“Yes, so I gather. His pants were open.” There is a pause. “The corpse was quite messy.”
“I was being held in your torture chamber. I’m quite certain that particular ‘mess’ is not the first of its kind in that section of your dungeon.”
“Those torture tables were my father’s.”
“He’s still alive, then?” Before she can answer, I cut in, “Because they’ve been used recently.”
There is another pause, and I wonder whether I’m dropping news, or have stepped over a line that will get me put on one of those slabs.
“Given the extenuating circumstances with my officer,” the Queen continues, “I believe I shall forgive your offense. From one woman to another, I too would have killed him.”
I close my eyes in relief. “Thank you.”
There’s another beat of silence. “You have been through quite a trial since last we met.”
Pulling at some of the cobwebs in my hair, I shrug. “‘Trial.’ That’s one word for it—”
“One might consider accusing you of possessing the ruby all along, and then trading it for the life of your husband only after you both found yourself in an untenable situation. But given your … obvious condition … it would be impossible to dispute that you fought for what was taken from me by a common thief a long time ago.”
“Was it really yours? Or did you do the taking first.”
“Watch yourself.” And yet there’s a subtle mirth threading her tone.
“Well.” I shrug. “The thief did not survive very long after the extraction. Trust me.”
“Oh? And how do you think he was dispatched unto his grave.”
“I believe it was a very sticky and binding end, Your Majesty.”
A laugh ripples down to me. “Good. I hope he suffered. Now tell me exactly what you did.”
The story spools out, not unlike the webs, and when I finish recounting everything, from our stay at the Outpost, to the breaking through the Crystal Gate, to the wash of red light that saved Merc and me originally, there’s a very long period of quiet.
“I knew it was there,” the Queen remarks. “But that gate is not something I am prepared to breach with my own men. Yet you were able to triumph, by yourself.”
“I have a good horse.”
Another burst of laughter. “You do. And you came all this way just to bring me that crown?”
“Yes.” I hold up the circlet of black crystals. “This is yours.”
“According to whom.”
“I … it was what I was told.”
That voice becomes a strident demand. “By whom.”
I clear my throat, and edit part of the story, just so there is a chance I’ll be believed.
“My mother. And before you ask who she is, I can’t answer that.
The man who’s tolerated me my entire life while I lived under his stairs said that I was to take this to you because that is what my mother intended all along. ”
The silence is long, so long, I would think she’s left if I couldn’t see her profile on the other side of the mesh. “Do you know what you are holding there?”
“A crown of war and shadow?”
Another period of quiet. “It is not mine. I have my crown, and now that you’ve returned my ruby, what has been missing is no longer lost.”
I lower my arms. Return the circlet to its padded seat.
“Please. Listen to me.” I suddenly feel cold down to my bones, though certainly it’s a mild temperature in here.
“Demons are escaping the Fulcrum because it’s been contaminated.
I’ve seen the dark bands myself, and your own advisor said that you’re finding dead cattle after dark on your lands.
The same is true for the Outpost and my little village, which is far, far north from here.
This means there are a lot of them, and they’re spreading out. ”
I don’t care whether or not she takes the crown. I just want this woman and her army to fight for us.
“Anathos needs you,” I say urgently, an energy, a presence, entering me as if from somewhere far above me.
Though the voice is my own, the words come from a different entity: “If we do not fight, the Dark King will return, and a new era will begin, the likes of which even history will find unbearable. Come with me to the north. Prosperitus has also resources with which to battle. If you join with them, we have a chance to—”
“No.”
My breath catches. “What do you mean … no.”
“The answer is no.”
I exhale a curse. “You have to believe me—”
“I do believe you. I send out scouting missions regularly to the north and the east. They have reported to me about the black bands which have formed within the Fulcrum, and they have found the savaged bodies of farm animals and wanderers alike. My guards have even stated that they have seen demons, out in the shadows of the night.”
“What do they look like,” I breathe.
“Nothing one ever wants to meet without being fully armed and without a backup of at least three.”
“Please … you have to come fight with us.”
“Us? You are going out, into the night, and hunting those things?”
The sensation of free-falling, from when I let go of the statue’s palm, returns to me. “I would rather die battling this enemy of Anathos, than be slaughtered in the Dark King’s victory.”
“The Dark King does not slaughter.” That hard voice goes hoarse. “It is so much worse than that. You would be better served to avoid such a battlefield.”
“I brought your ruby back, didn’t I.”
“Let not one successful mission blind you to the realities of war. Especially with an enemy such as the Dark King.”
“Are you coming … or are you afraid.”
“Watch your mouth,” the Queen snaps. “Liberties are granted at my discretion, and much more easily revoked.”
I let my head fall all the way back and stare at the ceiling. “Please. We need you. Anathos … needs you.”
There is a shifting, the Queen turning to go. “My people here are my first priority. I will not leave them to battle for others. They have suffered enough these past years—”
“There won’t be a Kingdom of the South if the Dark King gets out of the Fulcrum!”
“The mural has foretold the prosperity that is our due—”
“It is wrong.” I step behind the throne and wave my hand around at the painting. “You are a leader who will not look any in the face, I have your crown and these are naught but pictures! The time is nigh for war, and we need you—”
“Our business has concluded.”
“Wait!” Abruptly, I think of Merc in that cell, and rearrange my priorities. “My husband. Please may I see him?”
“He is already in your room and resting.”
I blink stupidly. “We have … a room?”
“You brought me back my ruby, so yes, I am inclined toward proper hospitality. I have also had him attended by my personal healer.”
“You did this before I even returned?”
“If he was dead and you were triumphant, that would have put a damper on things,” the Queen responds dryly.
“And if I didn’t come back with the gem?”
“I would have killed you both and been done with it all.”
The casual way she speaks of death reminds me of exactly who I’m speaking with: A warrior who makes calculations with all the emotion of a broadsword.
“You are the only one who can lead us,” I say as tears spear into my eyes. “I beg of you, please take your crown.”
Maybe if she touches it or puts it upon her head …
There is a silence that lasts so long, I wonder again if she hasn’t left. But no, her profile is still visible.
“I did not think you were real,” she says in a different tone. “After all these years, I thought … surely you were dead.”
I squint up at the mesh, trying to see the face. “Who painted your mural? Who knew I was coming?”
When she doesn’t answer me, I remember Mr. Lewis sitting me down and telling me a tale I did not believe, assigning me a quest I could not complete. And yet here I am, standing before the Queen Who Sees No One, with her crown, having survived so much.
And still I failed.
The Queen speaks up one last time. “You may stay here until morning. Then you will take that cursed crown, get onto your horses, and leave my Kingdom, never to return again. Know this as an exercise of my will and authority—if you or your husband ever set foot upon my lands after tomorrow morning, you will be shot where you stand and buried where your family shall never find the body.”
“I have no family!” I shout up at the oculus.
I wait for a response. I wait to beg some more, yell some more. I wait … because this was the whole point of it all, and the part of me that hasn’t given up yet will not give up now.
But she walks off, the shadow behind the mesh no more.
And with her departure goes any hope of accomplishing what I came for.