Spinner answered first. “Peace. Peace is what we desire.”
The young Water Bearer stood up in the center of Moot Table, now holding his bowl steadily. “We do have a price, but it is not riches. In return for this gift, we ask that you renounce your long-held aim of killing the Nargis Queens.”
No one spoke further. Always impatient at long meetings (because Ghibli was the Spirit of restlessness), Hunter took off her hat and began combing the long feather with her fingers as she puffed air through her cheeks. Smithy paced, tapping his fire tongs absently against his boot. Peddler became aware of the waves crashing on the rocky isle’s edge and heard the bells in his own hair and beard making a small tinkle. Since he could think of nothing to add that would help the situation, he kept his mouth shut.
After the silence grew awkwardly long, the new Gardener, however, sank down on his knees and stretched his arms out in entreaty. “Won’t you agree, my friend, we should always reach for life, life in all its bounty and richness!”
Gardener’s humility made an impression. Very grudgingly, Smithy said, “We will try this compound and filtration. We make no promises.”
“Will your fires warm the people when it is cold and illness threatens?” Healer asked.
Smithy made no reply.
EPILOGUE
Reign of Queen Cerúlia, Year 6
WINTER
Cascada
Cerúlia and Thalen’s daughter, Catalina, had her father’s blue eyes and her mother’s blue hair. At three summers she was a thriving toddler with fat caramel-colored cheeks—never fretful, though truth be told, occasionally willful.
Peace between Oromondo and Weirandale had prevailed since the Battle of Cascada Harbor. Cerúlia and her consort, Lord of the Scholars, were free to concentrate on the improvements they wanted to make domestically, such as founding a branch of the Scoláiríum and upgrading under schools.
Then a grippe epidemic struck the country. Waves of grippe periodically swept Weirandale in the winters: ofttimes mild, occasionally severe. Sometimes they sickened mostly the elderly, or the middle-aged, or the young. Sometimes they spread slowly, sometimes rapidly. The people generally found there was little to do but endure and wait for the eventual triumph of spring over winter.
This year, the grippe spread rapidly, harvesting nearly all of those unfortunate enough to be afflicted. And it struck the most precious segment of the Weir population: the children. The Weirs named it “Reaper of Babes.” Shrieks of heartbroken mothers pierced the night air of every neighborhood, rich or poor. Cerf and the other healers tried every remedy they knew, but each day carts carrying tiny shrouded figures rumbled down the streets. Thalen worked feverishly and fruitlessly in his new laboratory, trying to discover a cure.
Frantic parents thronged the Courtyard of the Star, fighting one another for Nargis Water. When the Waters helped one sick child but did nothing for another, desperate citizens turned on one another in envy and rage. Queen Cerúlia had to station guards around the Fountain to keep order. These were the darkest of days.
The queen wanted to send Princella Catalina to the Eastern Duchies, but Lord Thalen pointed out that reports of outbreaks there were as grave as in the capital.
Then the Reaper snuck into the palace itself. Percia and Marcot’s two sons, Parkier and Larkeen, fell ill. Cerúlia could do nothing but support her distraught sister.
With Nargis Water, Parkier rallied; but Larkeen, the four-summers boy, was failing. Cerf did not expect him to last the night.
Tilim had been dispatched to the Princella’s Bedchamber. He was vainly trying to distract and entertain her while the adults of her circle were so preoccupied and distraught. Jothile, her usual nurseryman, had had to be dismissed for the evening because he was too upset to tend his charge.
“Come on, Catalina. Stop playing with your food and finish your supper. Eat that nice apple,” he said.
“Jo-Jo peels my apples,” she replied, so Tilim impatiently took out his knife. The apple was slick and he wasn’t attentive; his knife slipped and cut his own thumb.
“Blast!” he muttered, sticking his bleeding thumb in his mouth.
“What happened?” asked Catalina, climbing up on her chair to grab at Tilim’s arm. “Did you get an ouchie? Let me see.”
She tugged Tilim’s thumb out of his mouth and looked at the small bleeding gash. “Does it hurt?” she asked with wonder.
“Of course it hurts, silly.”
Catalina touched the wound with her index finger. The wound closed as if the knife had never touched it.
Heartbeat quickening, Tilim looked at the princella closely. “Have you ever done that before?”
She casually tugged on the apple in his hand. “Finish.”
“Catalina, look at me. Have you ever cured a cut before?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“What else can you do?” he asked. “If I burn myself, can you cure that too?”
“I want apple,” she said, now single-minded about the food she had refused earlier.
Tilim finished peeling the apple and cut it into slices. Then he went over to the fireplace, took a deep breath, and put his hand in the flames.
“Oh, Sweet Waters!” he screamed at the pain, tears filling his eyes. Catalina rushed up from her small-sized table, overturning her chair, ran to Tilim, touched his hand, and removed the burn. Tilim felt faint from the instant relief.
He got down on his knees to look her in the eyes, holding her shoulders in his hands too tightly. “Catalina, have you—or Jo-Jo—ever felt ill: you know, your head hurts, your throat hurts, your nose gets all clogged, and you feel really hot or really cold?”
Catalina nodded and took another bite of her apple.
“Are you able to make that go away too?”
The princella nodded.
“Catalina, this is so serious. Are you certain?”
She nodded gravely, unable to speak because of the slices she kept stuffing in her mouth.
Tilim picked her up with his arm around the back of her upper thighs and started running down the hallways, shouting at people in his path, “Make way! Make way!”
When he got to Marcot and Percia’s suite, he saw that Percie sat in the common room, her head in her hands, weeping, while his mother rubbed her shoulders and Cerúlia sat on her other side, gripping her thigh.
When Cerúlia realized that Tilim carried Catalina against his chest, she sprang up in alarm.
“Tilim, what are you doing? No, no! You can’t take her in there!!!”
When he didn’t even pause at her command, Cerúlia pulled out her dagger. Tilim didn’t quite believe that his sister would stab him, but he rushed even faster into his nephew’s dim bedchamber. Marcot sat next to the bed, his face frozen in misery, holding Larkeen’s hand. The boy’s breath came in ragged gasps.
As Tilim dropped the princella down on Larkeen’s bed Cerúlia and his other kinfolk crowded together at the doorway.
Catalina crawled up the bed covers until she sat beside Larkeen, dropping bits of apple out of her chubby hands. Then she patted her cousin on the forehead, crooning softly. “Lar-keen, Lar-keen.” Little bits of chewed apple sprayed about. “They won’t let you play with me. Don’t you feel good? Go away, ouchie. Larkeen and me want to play.
“Lar-keen, Lar-keen. Don’t you want to play with me?”
Immediately, Larkeen’s breath steadied. Catalina watched him, still chewing, with a saucy grin on her face. A few moments later he opened his eyes.
“Why are you sitting on my arm, Little Lina?” he asked. “You’re heavy—slide off, will ya?” Rubbing his eyes, Larkeen noticed the crowd of breathless adults. “I’m awful hungry. Could I have apple fritters?”
As Percia and Marcot embraced their son and promised him he could have anything in the Nine Realms he wanted to eat, Cerúlia picked up Catalina and twirled her round and round with glee.
“Find Chronicler Sewel this instant!” she ordered the room in general. “
This princella must have her Definition! ‘Catalina the Healer’!
“Sweetie, can you cure other children?” the queen was asking, but Tilim had taken her order personally and dashed out of the room. He ran through the palace hallways singing to the tapestries, the portraits, and anyone passing by:
When danger through the realm may reach,
The Nargis Nymph allots to each,
A Talent for the Times.
APPENDIX ONE
CHARACTERS AND PLACES IN ENNEA MÓN
The Spirits
‘Chamen, Spirit of Stone
Agent “Mason,” chosen realm, Rortherrod
Ghibli, Spirit of the Wind
Agent “Hunter,” chooses no country
Lautan, Spirit of the Sea, “the Munificent”
Agent “Sailor” (unnamed, then Mikil), chosen realm, Lortherrod
Mìngyùn, Spirit of Fate
Agent “Spinner” (Destra)
Nargis, Spirit of Fresh Water
Agent “Water Bearer” (Tiklok, then Nana), chosen realm, Weirandale
Pozhar, Spirit of Fire
Agent “Smithy,” chosen realm, Oromondo
Restaurà, Spirit of Sleep and Health
Agent “Healer” (Myrnah), chosen realm, Wyeland
Saulė, Spirit of the Sun
Agent “Peddler” (Gunnit is agent-in-waiting), chosen realm, Alpetar
Vertia, Spirit of Growth
Agent “Gardener,” chosen realm, the Green Isles
In Weirandale
THE EIGHT WESTERN DUCHIES (WEST TO EAST)
Northvale
Prairyvale
Woodsdale
Lakevale
Maritima—includes city of Queen’s Harbor
Riverine—includes Cascada
Crenovale
Vittorine
THE THREE EASTERN DUCHIES ACROSS THE BAY OF CINDA (WEST TO EAST)
Androvale—contains Gulltown (port city) and Wyndton (country village)
Patenroux
Bailiwick—Barston (major city)
THE FORMER GENERATION ON THE THRONE
Queen Catreena the Strategist (deceased)
Consort: King Nithanil of Lortherrod (abdicated)
THE ROYALS
Queen Cressa the Enchanter (deceased)
Consort: Ambrice, Lord of the Ships (deceased)
Cerúlia, the princella
PEOPLE IN CASCADA, THE CAPITAL CITY
Bakilai, Lorther envoy
Editha, head of Editha’s Exceptional Garments for People of Quality
Lemle, friend of the family from rural Wyndton
Judiciaries (unnamed)
Mistress Stahlia, Cerúlia’s foster mother, a weaver
Percia, the queen’s foster sister
Lord Marcot, son of the former Lord Regent, married to Percia
Tilim, the queen’s foster brother
Rakihah, Rorther envoy
Tovalie, servant at West Cottage
Brother Whitsury, a Brother of Sorrow
AT THE PALACE
Athelbern, sergeant of the palace guard who becomes captain
Jadwinga, sergeant of the palace guard
Tade, sergeant of the palace guard
Besi, the head cook
Borta, baker
Ciellō, Cerúlia’s personal bodyguard, from Zellia
Darzner, Cerúlia’s secretary
Geesilla, a hair maid
Hiccuth, a stableman
Kiltti, a room maid
Nana, Water Bearer, the queen’s former nursemaid
Sewel, royal chronicler
Vilkit, chamberlain of the palace
THE NEW QUEEN’S SHIELD
Captain Yanath, former shield to Queen Cressa
Sergeant Pontole, former shield to Queen Cressa
Branwise, former shield to Queen Cressa
Gatana, hired by Yanath
Mirja, healer, shield
CONSPIRATORS AGAINST QUEEN CERÚLIA AT THE PALACE
Duke Inrick, from Crenovale
Lord Regent Matwyck
Duchette Lolethia, his fiancée (deceased)
Duchess Felethia, Lolethia’s mother
Murgn, captain of the Marauders, nephew to General Yurgn
Prigent, former councilor and treasurer
Vanilina, his mistress
IN RIVERINE
General Yurgn, head of the armed forces and former councilor
Burgn, son
Clovadorska, daughter-in-law, widow of deceased son Lurgn
Yurgenia, daughter
Cosmas, a manservant
IN VITTORINE
Belcazar, former councilor of Queen Cressa
Engeliqua, wife
Chamberlain Gruber
QUEEN CERÚLIA’S COUNCILORS
Alix, Steward, former reporter for the Cascada News
Fornquit, a cheese wholesaler
Lord Marcot, son of Matwyck the Usurper
Naven, Duke of Androvale
Nishtari, specializes in diplomacy
Wilamara, also seamaster
The Alliance of Free States, once a unified country called “Iga,” now four smaller nation states
Fígat—contains Latham and the Scoláiríum
Jígat—contains Jutterdam
Vígat—contains Sutterdam
Wígat—contains Yosta
SUTTERDAM (SECOND-LARGEST CITY)
Hartling, a potter and owner of a thriving pottery business
Norling, Hartling’s older sister
Hake, his oldest son
Pallia, Hake’s girlfriend, a candlemaker
Fordana, a servant girl
JUTTERDAM
Bellishia, captain of the city watch
Minister Destra, formerly Magistrar Destra of the Green Isles, Agent of Mìngyùn
Hulia, a tavern owner, once a member of the Defiance
Quinith, former student of the Scoláiríum
THE SCOLÁIRÍUM OF THE FREE STATES
LOCATED IN THE TOWN OF LATHAM, REACHED BY FERRY FROM TROUT’S LANDING
Rector Meakey
Andreata, tutor of Ancient Languages
Irinia, tutor of Earth and Water
Granilton, tutor of History (deceased)
Graville, his son (deceased)
Helina, tutor of Poetry
Hyllidore, porter for the Scoláiríum
Setty, widow in Latham
Wrillier, innkeep in Latham
Alnum, Oro deserter
Unvelder, Oro deserter
SURVIVING MEMBERS OF THE RAIDERS
Commander Thalen
Cerf, a healer
Dalogun, surviving twin
Fedak, cavalry
Jothile, cavalry
Kambey, weapons master
Kran, swordsman
Tristo, Thalen’s adjutant, formerly a street orphan from Yosta
Wareth, cavalry scout
Lortherrod: capital city Liddlecup, castle Tidewater Keep
King Nithanil, abdicated and twice widowed
Iluka, his common-law wife
King Rikil, the current king
wife and two sons
Prince Mikil
Arlettie, wife, originally from the Green Isles
Gilboy, adopted
Alpetar
Peddler, Agent of Saulė
Dewpepper, a beekeeper, sister to hostler Culpepper
Gunnit, an apprentice
Smithy, Agent of Pozhar, now living in Camp Ruby
Zea, wife of General Sumroth, now living in Camp Topaz
Rortherrod
King Kentros
Filio Kemeron
APPENDIX TWO
NOTABLE HISTORIC QUEENS OF WEIRANDALE IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER
Cayla the Foremother
Carra the Royal
Chista the Builder
Cayleethia the Artist
Carlina the Gryphling
Charmana the Fighter
Cinda the Conqueror
&
nbsp; Chyneza the Wise
Crylinda the Fertile
Cashala the Enchanter
Catorie the Swimmer
Ciella the Patient
Cenika the Protector
Chanta the Musical
Carmena the Perseverant
Callindra the Faithful
Cymena the Proud
Chella the Kind
Crilisa the Just
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
In the years that I worked on this series I incurred debts, large and small, to those who guided, helped, and encouraged me.
I am grateful to Vassar College, which has always valued creative pursuits on an equal plane with traditional scholarship, for travel funds and the William R. Kenan Jr. Endowed Chair.
Throughout the drafting, Lt. Colonel Sean Sculley, Academy Professor and Chief of the American History Division at West Point, generously shared his military, historical, strategic, and sailing expertise. (I drew specialized information from Angus Konstam’s Renaissance War Galley, 1470–1590 and Sean McGrail’s Ancient Boats in North-West Europe.)
Professors Kirsten Menking and Jeff Walker of Vassar’s Earth Science Department led me away from grievous errors concerning world-building.
Stefan Ekman, Professor of English at the University of Gothenburg, took the time to share his unique knowledge regarding fantasy maps.
Professor Leslie Dunn of Vassar’s English Department, a Shakespeare scholar, studied my poetry with the seriousness and skill she applies to more exalted works.
Professor Darrell James, who teaches stage combat in Drama, showed me his swords and taught me about their use.
I was fortunate indeed to find Penelope Duus, Vassar ’17, who was trained in cartography. She started the map of Ennea Món when she was a senior and has patiently, loyally tweaked it for years. For the final corrections I am grateful to Amy Laughlin of Vassar’s Academic Computing office.
A professional editor, Linda Branham, critiqued the first fifty pages. Friends who read drafts—in whole or in part—provided comments and encouragement that kept my roots watered. Thank you for your time, Fred Chromey, Joanne Davies, Madelynn Meigs ’18, and Molly Shanley. Feedback from Madeline Kozloff, Daniel Kozloff, Bobbie Lucas ’16, and Dawn Freer came at particularly timely moments or was particularly influential.
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