A Mother's Secrets

by Tuppence Van de Vaarst

  Small crystals hanging from the belts of the Thorns emitted light as they entered the cave. Vinet followed them down a staircase carved into the rock which thrust first one way through the cave, then switched back to cut into another side. Soon they reached a chasm, and the path followed the edge of the cave wall. Vinet swallowed, fearing to look down. Something dripped in the distance, echoing curiously louder and louder until it became a harsh demand in her ears.

  Finally, they left the edge of the chasm and entered a chamber in the heart of the cave. Vinet could tell at one glance that it was no natural cavern. The floor was smooth, and the walls so polished they gleamed.

  At one end of the chamber stood three chairs. One was of bone, bleached and marked red. The second was of smooth ash wood, tall and ornate in its simplicity. The third was a twisted abomination of stone, iron, bronze, and sap-bleeding maple. Three lights on the cavern ceiling illuminated the chairs. In the center of the chamber stood an altar of black iron and copper. It shimmered in the light as if a flickering flame.

  The Keeper gestured, and the Thorns placed Kinaevan’s body on the altar. One by one, they left the cavern as quickly as their feet could take them.

  The Keeper turned to Vinet and gestured to Nazir and Gwyn. “Do you wish to do this alone or will these remain?”

  Nazir answered before Vinet could even bear to think of being alone. “We will stay,” he said, moving to stand next to Vinet. He laid a hand on her shoulder.

  Vinet looked gratefully at him, and he met her gaze with an understanding smile. Whatever happened, she would not be alone.

  The Keeper nodded and moved to the altar. “Vinet, please stand at your father’s head. Place your hands on either side and do not move from this place until the ritual is done.”

  Vinet felt another shiver run up her spine at those words. This was like the trials in the ancient stories. There would be consequences if she didn’t manage to keep her hands where she had been told. Nevertheless, she moved over to stand at her father’s head. It was like she was in a dream, but her hands were trembling as she placed them on either side of her father’s head. She felt Nazir’s presence, warm and comforting, right behind her, and Gwyn’s presence further off, ready to protect her from any danger.

  The Keeper produced a knife from her sleeve and slashed open Kinaevan’s robe, once, twice, thrice, so that his chest was bare. Then, obviously steadying herself, she pricked his flesh with the dagger, balancing the blood on the blade and carrying it to the central throne of bone.

  Vinet swallowed, staring at the wound on her father’s chest. “I’m sorry, Father,” she whispered.

  The Keeper came back and repeated the process, carrying blood to the second throne, then the third. A sticky fog rose from the floor, obscuring vision of everyone’s feet.

  The Keeper stood at the foot of the altar, holding the knife outstretched in her hands. She remained perfectly still, staring only at Kinaevan. A single tear began to roll down her cheek.

  Vinet was trembling as she watched. At the sight of the tear, she closed her eyes briefly against the sting of her own tears. I’m sorry, Father.

  The fog continued to rise, until it obscured everything but the altar, the Keeper, and Vinet. Vinet felt a tear of her own fall just before a slender, gentle finger of fog rose up, scooping up the tear of the Keeper, then racing over to catch her own.

  A slight laugh, trickling warm rain. Then the fog rushed away, whipping like a wind across Vinet’s face. It drew into the thrones and revealed three seated women. The Mother sat, concerned, in the throne of ash. The Maiden reclined on the twisted throne. The Crone sat, hunched forward, in the bone throne.

  Vinet stared at the three women. She’d met them before, all of them, in the body of the same person. The woman who’d given her the initial protection from Manyu’s mark. AeresThonEsia. The Lady of Leaf and Lake.

  “Ah. The Elfsdaughter,” said the Crone.

  “Little shining one,” sighed the Maiden.

  “Dear child,” said the Mother.

  Vinet tore her gaze away from the three as the Keeper started to speak. The Keeper was not looking at the three women. “We come to offer the one whose blood has fed your thrones.”

  The Maiden laughed, and the Mother simply shook her head. “In exchange for?” asked the Crone.

  “The purification of she who stands at his head.”

  Vinet bit her lip and looked down at her father’s face.

  “What good is purity?” the Maiden asked, shifting in her seat.

  “What good is standing?” the Crone cackled.

  “What is good?” the Mother was weeping.

  Vinet glanced at the Keeper, expecting her to answer. She nearly froze at the confusion on the Keeper’s face.

  She swallowed and closed her eyes, remembering all the tales that she had read. This was a riddle, a test, and it needed to be answered properly before the ritual could proceed.

  Her hands tightened their grip on Kinaevan’s head. She had to answer. She had to fulfill her father’s request.

  “Purity is being clean,” she began. Her voice was shaky, and she swallowed, willing her voice to strengthen as she continued. “It is being who you are, without influence from any malicious outside forces.” That was an easy one. Standing: there was so much symbolism associated with standing. “Standing…standing is the only way you can walk, and keep moving forward. It is what gives one strength when facing the world. As to good,” this was a trick question. No one, not even the priests of Mazda, had a clear definition as to what good and evil were. “If I could answer that, I would be a much wiser person than I am. I only know that this is my Father’s wish, for the sake of the child I bear.”

  She looked down at her father again, feeling the movement of the child inside her again. This was his wish. Nazir had been right.

  She glanced up to see satisfaction in the three women’s faces, and felt a wave of relief. She had answered correctly.

  “Who are these you bring with you, Vinet? These who stand inside our throne room? What concern have they here? The handsome one, the child of the sun, and the shield-protector?”

  The three voices wove together as one and echoed through the cavern. “And you would allow this, Keeper of the one called Kinaevan, our Eye?”

  Vinet felt her breath catch, and she glanced behind her at Nazir. He opened his mouth to speak, and she shook her head. This was her ritual, for all that the Keeper was nominally in charge. She had to be the one to answer.

  “They are Nazir et-Alim, my husband, and Gwyn, my truest friend. They are here to help me, to give me the strength to do what I need to do.” She prevented herself from glaring in defiance only by a supreme effort of will.

  Apparently, an answer was all that was needed, for the Ladies ignored the presence of the two ‘outsiders’ and continued.

  “What do you desire of us, child-bearer, Sight-knower, Elfsdaughter?” the Crone asked.

  This was the trick. Vinet took a deep breath. She had to be clear and concise. “I wish to have the mark of Manyuanmazda removed, so that he may not follow me, and know my actions, and interfere with my Sight. So that he may not have influence over my child.”

  “As is known and as is spoken, so we do remove his token.” The three voices rang out together. “Do the deed, Keeper.”

  The Keeper gave a single cry of anguish and plunged the knife forward into Kinaevan’s flesh. Vinet flinched but managed to keep from crying out. No blood swelled from the wound, though a large gash was rendered in his flesh. The Keeper gave two more cries, and two more stabs with the knife.

  Kinaevan stirred under Vinet’s hands, and Vinet clutched his head tightly. His mouth opened, but no sound came forth.

  No! She thought. He isn’t supposed to wake! He wasn’t supposed to feel any pain!

  She felt her eyes stinging as she looked down at her father. His eyes fluttered open and met hers.

  An eternal moment seemed to pass between them. Vinet tried
to convey all her apologies, all her feelings, all of her regrets in that moment.

  Kinaevan smiled at her. She felt his outpouring of love, and an expression of peace came over him. He closed his eyes and sighed, relaxing under her hands.

  Blood now flowed from his wounds, as if it was being scooped out by numerous hands. She had never seen so much blood at once. The Crone cackled, the Mother wept, and the Maiden giggled.

  Vinet felt a sharp pain in her back, making her arch backwards. There was a crawling sensation, as if ten thousand worms were eating through her. She screamed, clutching her father’s head tighter. Then there was blessed blackness.

  **********

  The sun was shining when Vinet awoke. The quiet melody of the birds soothed her soul, as did the gentle sound of lake water lapping at the shore. Someone was holding her close, in a warm, gentle, loving embrace. Nazir.

  She opened her eyes. They were back in Alfheim, on the shore of the lake. The Keeper was nowhere in sight. They were sitting on the shore, Nazir holding her, while Gwyn knelt next to them. She saw the relief on their faces as she awoke.

  She blinked, recalling the events: her father, lying on the altar; the three women. AeresThonEsia, also known as the Lady of Leaf and Lake.

  She sat up slowly, trying to process everything. The mark of Manyuanmazda was gone. She was free to practice the Sight again. Her child was safe. Her father was dead.

  Her father was dead.

  She burst into tears. She felt Nazir pull her close again, and she buried her face in his shoulder. After a moment, she felt Gwyn’s hand resting on hers, and she clutched it. Neither of them said anything, they were just there. They would always be there.

  Finally, her tears dried. She still felt empty, but her grief was spent, for now, at least. She pulled away.

  “It worked, by the way,” Gwyn said. “I checked.”

  Vinet managed a small smile. Trust Gwyn to be practical about the entire situation. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Gwyn shrugged, seemingly uncomfortable. Vinet turned to look at Nazir. He looked back at her, nothing but concern and love on his face.

  “Vinet Sindarilae?”

  Vinet looked up, startled. That was her father’s name. She had never used it before, not even in her thoughts.

  Her father’s Keeper stood on the lake shore, looking at the three of them. There was no sign of the grief she’d shown in the ritual chamber.

  She felt Nazir’s arms tighten around her. “I… yes,” she managed.

  The Keeper gave a brief smile. “We must speak.”

  Vinet nodded. Somehow, she had been expecting this.

  The Keeper glanced at Gwyn and Nazir, and Vinet rolled her eyes. “If you did not object to their presence in the ritual chamber, you cannot object to it now.”

  The Keeper didn’t flinch, just met Vinet’s eyes. “Some things are not for the uninitiated to hear.”

  Nazir squeezed her shoulders. “I will stay if you want,” he whispered.

  Vinet reached up and grasped his hand but didn’t let her gaze stray from the Keeper’s. The Keeper held the gaze.

  Finally, Vinet nodded. “Just move out of earshot along the beach,” she said quietly. “This won’t take long.”

  Nazir nodded and rose. Gwyn followed him, staying well within sight, but out of hearing range.

  The Keeper sighed and sat cross-legged on the sand in front of Vinet. “You know so little,” she said. “And yet you must learn, and learn quickly.”

  Vinet bit her lip. “I have been trying.”

  The Keeper waved a hand. “I know. He told me. It is not your fault, nor his, only simple circumstance that has kept you ignorant.”

  The Keeper fell silent. “She accepted you fully today, as one who will become an Eye. I don’t think you realized that, or what that entails.”

  Vinet shook her head. She knew what the Eyes were, of course, but…

  The Keeper sighed again. “This would have been simpler had Kinaevan chosen to have a child with an elf woman,” she said. “Then you would have been raised here, with the knowledge of what you would become. But perhaps then you would not have the strength that you show.”

  Vinet blinked. She had hardly felt strong the last few years.

  The Keeper seemed to sense her doubt and smiled briefly again. “Do you think it by chance that he chose to mark you? Your strength sets you apart. I do not know whether it is because your mother was human, or the lineage of Queen Olvae showing true. Nevertheless, you have all the strength of one of our strongest Eyes. Your father told me that you have the Swaying?”

  The Swaying. The use of magic. Vinet nodded without speaking.

  The Keeper nodded. “You must take your father’s place.”

  Vinet’s eyes widened. “What?” she asked.

  “As an Eye,” the Keeper elaborated. “It will take years, and will not happen fully until your exile, but you must begin that path. By accepting your father’s sacrifice, the Lady demands it.”

  Vinet hesitated. She had known from the beginning that her father intended her to train in the Sight, and even be an Eye one day. But to have it stated so bluntly shocked her.

  “What does being an Eye entail?” she asked.

  “It means you serve the People of the Lady of Leaf and Lake,” the Keeper said. “And you serve the Lady. Whatever that entails. Even if it ends in a sacrifice like your father’s.”

  Vinet felt cold.

  “If you do not,” the Keeper continued, “Then you will be open to another being striking out at you again. The Lady is not gentle, not in all her forms, but she is a protector and guardian. When she chooses to be.”

  Vinet grimaced. “And how do I become one?” she asked.

  “You practice the Sight,” the Keeper said. “You use it as much as you can, as safely as you can. You communicate with the Lady. There are ways to reach her.”

  “I know,” Vinet interrupted. “She’s shown me.”

  The Keeper’s eyes widened. “Then you are further along than I thought.”

  Still, Vinet hesitated. “I cannot move to Alfheim,” she said. “I have duties and responsibilities. I have a daughter, and this child. I must return to Saemar.”

  “Saemar is our ally against Mount Halon,” the Keeper said. “I will return to the fight there as well.”

  Vinet took a deep, shuddering breath. Could she do this? Could she dedicate herself to becoming an Eye? Did she have a choice?

  She closed her eyes, remembering her father. His peaceful expression as he lay on the altar. His loving laugh as he gently taught her the elvish language, as he taught her grounding techniques so she wouldn’t lose herself in her visions, as he told her the stories of her ancestors, of her people.

  She had to do this. For her father’s sake.

  “I will,” she declared.

  The Keeper nodded. “Good.”

  There seemed to be nothing more to say. Vinet looked at her father’s Keeper for a long moment before reaching out to touch her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  The Keeper didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. “It was his time,” she said. “The Sight claims them all, in the end. But it is hard. I had been his Keeper for over three thousand years.”

  Vinet flinched backwards. She had known her father was old, but that old?

  The Keeper smiled wryly at her. “The line of Olvae Oakenspear does not die easily. You would do well to remember that.”

  Vinet shook her head. She had had no idea.

  The Keeper sighed again. “I must prepare. We will travel with you back to Saemar, then separate. I go to the southeast. Lady’s blessing with you, Vinet Sindarilae.”

  Chapter 17: Treachery

  Ilhelm Castle was a welcome sight. There was a flurry of activity as soon as they arrived, of course. Alexander’s grandchildren had to be settled in, having spent the last few months in the capital at Vinet’s townhouse. And of course, there was the mountain of business that
her seneschal had presented her with as soon as she’d walked through the door. She’d been gone far longer than originally planned, after all. As soon as she’d returned from Alfheim she’d needed to be in the capital for a council session. Manyu’s Time was now well upon them, and it would soon be Papsukkal again.

  It was good to be back, though. Good to be in a place where she could relax and prepare for her child’s birth. Good to be away from the plotting and scheming on the Council, away from the concern that they’d heard nothing from High Priest Ellil since he left for the Bern Forest, and even away from the worry of the southeast war. At least that would settle down for Manyu’s Time. Even the strange creatures seemed disinclined to attack in the snow.

  She smiled at Nazir, sitting at his desk in the library. He was bent over his books again, back to doing what he enjoyed most. Her own book lay open on her lap in front of her. The fire crackled merrily, a warning that the chill of the first month of Manyu’s Time was only a herald of harsher weather to come.

  She looked up as Gwyn entered the library. The expression on her friend’s face made her frown.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Gwyn shook her head. “There’s a group of riders approaching. Dunbarrow colors. It seems Lord Conn is coming to visit.”

  Vinet exchanged a look with Nazir. What could Conn possibly want that he couldn’t have talked to her about at the last council session? Not that she’d been in much of a mood to talk then, but he hadn’t even approached her.

  “How large a party?” she asked.

  Gwyn shook her head. “Small. A few warriors.”

  Vinet frowned. Was it merely a social call? Somehow, she couldn’t imagine it, not in this weather.

  “We’ll meet him in the great hall,” she said. “Sorry, Nazir.”

  He smiled at her. “I knew this would be part of the bargain when I married you, my dear. No apology necessary.”

  His words imparted a warm feeling as she left the library to change into something more suitable. As casual and rough as Conn was, she wanted to be dressed in at least some finery to receive him. They were not friends, after all. Their relationship was still a formal one.