Chapter Ten Thera
CHAPTER TEN
Thera
A thin pall of smoke lingered over the harbour of Skar Magnol as the Great Wolf made her approach.
Through the haze, Thera made out the blackened remnants of several dockside warehouses.
She also saw the familiar lines of the ships Ohlnir and Chainbreaker moored along the wharf.
She found both relief and dismay in the sight.
Regathering her fleet after the storm had taken several days, and the absence of two of her most capable vessels proved a nagging worry worsened by the fact that one of them carried the Spear Maiden.
Finding them already here was a relief, but also displayed considerable rashness in proceeding alone to the Ascarlian capital.
Fortunately, the gods had smiled on their boldness for there were no Nihlvarian ships present.
Grim sights awaited her when the Great Wolf tied up to the wharf and she strode the gangway to the quayside.
Ragnalt’s menda preceded her, fanning out to create a cordon against possible danger.
But there were no threats here, just corpses and those that grieved for them.
The bodies had been arrayed in three lines, most covered by blankets, some revealed by loved ones desperate to behold the faces of slain kin.
“There was a battle, of sorts,” Veltta told Thera with a typical lack of deference or formality.
Thera appreciated it whereas Ragnalt did not, affording the former slave a reproving glower as she spoke on.
“All over before we got here. The old queen came back and went to that big hall up there. She didn’t stay long, but by the time she returned to her ship half the city had turned out to stop her.
Looks like they came close to doing it, too, until someone lit a fire in the warehouses.
She got away in the smoke, but not before her menda had done a lot of killing. They didn’t all get away, though.”
Veltta’s finely sculpted features formed a disgusted squint as she pointed to a dozen bodies tied to poles further along the wharf. Their hands had been fixed above their heads, naked bodies streaked with gore and dark, glistening organs resting on their shoulders.
“Your people are even more inventive than mine when it comes to punishment,” Veltta observed, turning her squint upon Thera.
“The Crimson Hawk is reserved for the worst traitors,” Thera told her. “Though, I think I’ve just decided to outlaw it. Where is Kahlvik, and the Spear Maiden?”
She found Elvine in what had been the tower of Sister Lore.
The climb to the Verungyr was one thing Thera didn’t miss from her days as Vellihr of Justice and the many stairs to the top of the tower only worsened her mood, and the ache in her knees.
Upon entering Lore’s rooms, she paused at the sight of the Spear of the Altvar resting on iron brackets atop a polished table.
As usual, she felt no desire to touch the thing, but found her gaze lingering on its iron head.
It seemed so ordinary, so unworthy of its status, and she wondered if that was by design.
“Keep looking!” Elvine’s strident instruction drew Thera deeper into the chamber, finding the Spear Maiden standing in the disordered remains of Lore’s famed library. “Her bedroom is through there. Rip the mattress open. Look for hiding places.”
Her brother leaned against one of the tall bookcases, his expression one of weary scepticism as he replied in the fluent Ishtan these two tended to slip into. Whatever it might have meant, his sister didn’t like it.
“Just go and look, will you?” she snapped, then straightened upon noticing Thera’s arrival. Watching their wary, guarded faces, Thera was struck by the obvious fraternal similarity. More interesting was that they both resembled children caught in the midst of a mischievous act.
“Might I ask,” Thera said, “what exactly are you looking for?”
Some hours later, as she stood in what had been Sister Iron’s tower, she kept careful watch of her great-grandfather’s face as Elvine related the result of her researches. So far, the old man hadn’t betrayed any prior knowledge of this information, but Thera knew well how little that meant.
“It is therefore my firm belief, my queen,” Elvine concluded, “that the book known as The Map of Veils is of the utmost importance and cannot be allowed to remain in the traitor queen’s hands.”
“And yet,” Thera said, “you offer no clear indication as to what this book contains, or any detailed explanation of the threat it poses.”
“Lore came here and risked her life to retrieve it,” Elvine pointed out. “Something she would hardly do if it had no value. Also…” Elvine paused, reaching out to touch the wooden haft of the spear at her side. “I have another guide who confirms its import.”
“So, the Altvar want us to find it?”
Thera had noticed before how the Spear Maiden’s bearing became decidedly odd whenever discussion turned to the gods.
Unlike her brother, Elvine had little capacity for deceit and was unpractised in maintaining a gulf between thought and expression.
It was plain to Thera, and certainly her great-grandfather and her Tielwald, that this was the face of a young woman struggling to formulate a suitable lie.
“I believe so, my queen,” Elvine stated, at least managing to meet Thera’s eye.
Whatever she hears from that spear, Thera decided, she doesn’t believe it to be the voice of a god. “Lore has a lead of several days,” Thera pointed out. “And we have no notion as to where she has gone.” She turned to Lynnea, a questioning arch to her brow. “Or do I misspeak, Tielwald?”
If there are any in this port with knowledge of her course, I can’t find them, Lynnea confirmed before casting a meaningful glance at Gruinskard.
Thera had convened this meeting in Sister Iron’s map room, the site of many a commission imparted to her Vellihr of Justice.
Besides herself, Thera limited the other attendees to Elvine and her brother, and the former and current Tielwalds.
This was a discussion best heard by the least number of ears.
Talk of ancient books serving some dark design of the traitor queen was bound to birth all manner of unhelpful rumours should it get loose.
Gruinskard stood with his gaze lowered in contemplation of one of the larger maps in Sister Iron’s collection.
It depicted the northern regions of Ascarlia from Skar Magnol to the Upper Gelds and the ice-bound wasteland beyond.
One of the brass fingers on his repaired hand tapped a discordant rhythm as he spoke.
He claimed it resulted from a loose spring somewhere in the contraption’s innards, but Thera suspected it was simply petty act of spiteful annoyance.
Her great-grandfather might be the oldest Ascarlian alive, but that didn’t prevent him acting like a child at times.
“I gave you the names of my remaining agents in this port,” he said, not looking up. “As for where the mad bitch might be going, I’ve no notion at all.”
“The spear does,” Elvine said, and this time, Thera felt her to be speaking with simple honesty.
“Then do enlighten us, Spear Maiden,” she said.
“North.” Elvine grimaced in restrained annoyance. “She’s heading north.”
“I see. And where precisely in the north can she be found?”
“That…” Elvine’s fingers twitched upon the spear’s haft before she pulled them away.
Thera felt there to be a curious reluctance in the movement, though chose not to comment upon it.
“That is not yet known,” Elvine continued.
“But it is clear this is not the mindless flight of a panicked soul. She has a destination in mind. A purpose. I feel… I know, my queen, with all certainty, that she must be stopped and beg your leave to go in pursuit of her.”
“The legend of your exploits at Olversahl is already spreading far and wide,” Thera said. “In the eyes of many Ascarls, you are the queen’s right hand, living proof of the Altvar’s favour. Yet you would take yourself from my side with this war not yet won?”
“I would not ask this if I did not believe it to be of direst need. You know you have my loyalty. I hope it is matched by your trust.”
For one who despises the power she holds, she wields it well, Lynnea observed. And, I believe, speaks wisdom you should heed.
The sentiment was echoed by her predecessor, his wayward finger finally ceasing its tapping upon the map as he straightened to address Thera in formal tones.
“The Spear Maiden’s words hold wisdom. Even if Lore is set on wandering the oceans as a purposeless exile, the mere fact of her being loose upon the world works against our interests.
Despite her vileness, there will still be those who cling to prior loyalties.
Also, those tainted by her corruption who will see her return to power as their only means of salvation.
And does anyone here believe she is, in truth, lacking purpose? ”
Thera spent a moment in contemplation of the map.
She had sailed the Upper Gelds many times, mostly in the more clement months.
Among those maze of fjords, islands and inlets there were countless places for Lore to hide, especially in winter.
Elvine’s search could take months. But, with her great-grandfather and her Tielwald in agreement, she found it hard to gainsay their judgement.
Yet, with so much still in the balance, and so much unknown about their enemy, was this the time for a queen to divest herself of perhaps her greatest asset?
“Allow me to ponder this,” she told Elvine, forestalling the Spear Maiden’s objection with a raised hand.
“Spend the time scouring Lore’s archive and bring me something that might reveal her intent.
But, be assured, I am as committed as you to seeing the just execution of one who once pretended to queenship. ”
Thera had never thought of Nerlfeya’s Hall as cold before.
In all the times she had come here to report to the Sister Queens the atmosphere couldn’t have been said to offer either comfort or welcome, but the chilly emptiness she felt now had been absent.
She had ordered the great fire that once burned in the centre of the chamber to be relit, but found its warmth meagre.
By all accounts Lore had seen little use in the chamber and allowed the fire to dwindle into ash.
Thera wondered if the traitor queen had chosen to shun the scene of her greatest crime.
Is a soul like her even capable of entertaining such qualms?
she pondered, holding her hands out to the fire.
Or did she just prefer the comforts of her tower?
You should have a throne built here.
Turning, Thera saw Lynnea emerging from the gloom beyond the forest of surrounding pillars. As was often the case, her Tielwald had Mohlnir perched on her shoulders, though today she was also accompanied by a far friendlier companion.
“Snaryk!” Thera laughed, holding her hand to the huge dog’s muzzle as he bounded up to her. Her reward was a slobber-wet hand and finding herself almost toppled over when Snaryk reared up to lick her face.
A grand throne of black and gold marble, Lynnea continued, casting an appraising look over the chamber. Raised on a dais ten feet high. Something that befits the greatness of its occupant.
Thera couldn’t always tell when Lynnea was joking. She had a way of imbuing absurd suggestions with a sense of seriousness that often masked a jape at her queen’s expense. Sadly, this one felt entirely genuine.
“In accordance with ancient custom, the Sister Queens always stood when they held audiences here,” Thera replied.
“Although, Sister Silver was ever fond of complaining about the havoc it played with her knees.” Snaryk’s antics brought him perilously close to the fire, causing him to afford it an admonishing bark.
She calmed him with a stroke to the head.
Old customs led us to ruin, Lynnea pointed out. And don’t forget, unlike the Sister Queens, you rule alone. An impression of grandeur will help establish your authority, dispel the doubts of a realm still suffering the fear and uncertainty of war.
“And are these doubts prominent among my subjects, Tielwald of mine? Have you come with warning of dire plots and assassins?”
Plots, no. As for assassins. Lynnea reached into the pocket of her robe and produced three silver knots, each dangling from a cord.
“Only three.” Thera took the trinkets from her, holding them up to the firelight and finding them just as unremarkable as all the others. “I thought there would be more.”
Three Volkrath who bore these knots and six who aided them, mostly in return for silver.
“Did you take any alive?”
One of the Volkrath took poison before we could shackle him.
Two of the accomplices also died by their own hand, and one perished trying to flee.
He fell into the harbour. The cold finished him by the time we fished him out.
The rest are being questioned now, though I doubt they have much of use to impart.
Thera jangled the knots. “I suspect we already have the most useful thing they could have shared in any case.”
Lynnea’s gaze narrowed as it lingered on the knots. You intend to try dreaming again.
“We must know the mind of our enemy. These offer the only chance of even glimpsing it.”
Now you are queen, the risk is too great. Lynnea extended her hand. As Tielwald I cannot be spared any risk.
“I believe it is for a queen to decide what risks her subjects face.”
Lynnea’s thoughts emitted a wordless pulse, conveying both warning and demand. It was often like this between them now, clarity of meaning achieved through shared emotion alone. Thera usually found the intimacy of it intoxicating, if disturbing. Now, however, it provoked mostly anger.
“You think me weak minded?” she asked. “Unable to face the creature that lurks in the Volkrath’s dreams?”
No. I think you cursed with a well of courage beyond most mortal souls. Courage like that is dangerous for a queen. She stepped closer, eyes locked with Thera’s and hand still extended. Please.
The sincerity colouring her thoughts was palpable, shifting Thera’s anger into guilt but not compliance. “We will share the burden, then,” she said. Clasping Lynnea’s hand, she placed the knots in her palm then covered them with her own. “The next time I dream, I dream with you.”