Earthstone

by P. M. Biswas

  Minister Unwin of the Messengers spoke up, his tone low and considering. “We have sent our pigeons to King Korbyn of Axenborg asking for an urgent clarification of Axenborg’s attack on our scouts, but until we get a response, we must assume that our alliance with Axenborg is no more. Which leaves us friendless before Norvald and its demon king, Danis.” Unwin tilted his head to scrutinize Tam through his thick magnifying spectacles. “Or perhaps not that friendless, if the elves are more inclined to cordial discourse than we had originally presumed them to be.”

  “Wait,” said Mysenius. “If you are inferring that the elves are our allies, then you are sorely mistaken. The actions of a single rogue elf—if those actions even occurred—do not imply the involvement or the approval of the entire elven race. It would be dangerous for us to assume so. Since we cannot base our foreign policies on assumptions.” Mysenius sneered.

  “Which is why,” Emeraude said mildly, “we must conclude whether our current view of the elves is an assumption or a reality. If it is an assumption that is not borne out by the facts, then we must explore the feasibility of a concord with the elves. We have no choice. Certainly we could do no worse, for the elves, who have subsisted in isolation and have left us unmolested for eons, would not seek to pit themselves against us at this juncture. All we have to lose, insofar as the elves are concerned, are our own prejudices.”

  “And what if our ‘prejudices’ are verified as true?” Chen demanded. “What then?”

  “Then we abandon any efforts at peacemaking with the elves and prepare ourselves for a defensive war against Danis, as an offensive war without an ally would be imprudent. If our defenses ever crumble, we will have to consider evacuating our populace to the icebound north, to the inhospitable Mountains of Mordeth, or perhaps even across the sea to the Isle of Spirits.”

  A susurration of whispers ran through the ministers—whispers of trepidation and ill-disguised panic.

  “B-but the Isle of Spirits is haunted.” A lady in a pearl-studded headdress wrung her hands.

  “Between corporeal armies and incorporeal ghosts,” Emeraude said dryly, “I would say that the ghosts are preferable.”

  Kay muffled a chuckle with his hand.

  Emeraude smiled as she surveyed her ministers. It was a chilly smile, not even remotely gracious. “No matter what the future holds, we must remain calm. Yielding to fear and fractiousness,” Emeraude said, looking fleetingly at Chen and Mysenius, “is not the solution. Staying pragmatic and reasonable is. And seeking a new ally to combat our enemies is the most reasonable course of action.” Emeraude nodded at Tam. “Bladeborn?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty?” Tam was sweating. She wasn’t certain why she was sweating, but it was as if she could sense the twist of fate itself, the burgeoning of something momentous, like the electric, stifling weight of storm clouds gathering on the horizon. It was as if Tam was standing at a crossroads in history, a turning point that would be written about in the types of books Kay read.

  “We thank you for your participation in this session of the court, and we ask you for a further favor.”

  Tam stood at attention, her arms flat by her sides, every inch of her skin crawling with suspense.

  “We ask that you accompany a diplomatic delegation to the Wanderwood.”

  The hall erupted in a cacophony of exclamations.

  Emeraude quelled them with her gaze, stony and implacable as it was. “Nay, Bladeborn, we ask you for more than that. We ask that you go ahead of the delegation and approach the Wanderwood on your own before the rest of the delegation does. As you are the only human since antiquity to have conversed with an elf, we ask that you speak to the elves and establish safe passage for us into the Wanderwood, such that our diplomatic party may enter the woods unscathed.”

  “Mother.” Kay had paled with horror. “You cannot mean to use Tam as a shield.”

  “Bladeborn will not be a shield, but a forerunner.”

  “That is a laughable distinction. A splitting of hypothetical threads.”

  “Kay,” said Emeraude, “all your studies of philosophy have taught you how to hypothesize, but our war—our wounded—our dead—are not hypothetical. Bladeborn is, in actuality, the least likely to be harmed; given her prior congenial dialogue with an elf, she is the safest choice to negotiate our entrance. She is the safest choice even for herself. Imagine if we sent….” Emeraude caught Chen’s eye. “Minister Chen, for example, or Minister Zameen, or anyone without a record of successful meetings with the elves. If the elves took offense, everybody in the delegation—including Bladeborn—would be in peril.”

  “Yes,” Kay interjected, “but—”

  “But if we appoint Bladeborn as our herald, the likelihood of a fruitful negotiation will increase dramatically and will spare her as well as the delegation. This is the most palatable scenario, my son, unpleasant though it may be. Bladeborn’s youth, innocence, and forthrightness, coupled with her previous interactions with an elf, make her the ideal forerunner for our delegation. She will disarm them in a way no diplomat can, and in doing so will simultaneously raise the odds of her own survival. Do you not agree?”

  Kay slumped back against his throne, his shoulders hunched. “I agree, Mother. I am sorry to have contradicted you.”

  Tam’s jaw hung open. It often did that around Emeraude and Emeraude’s never-ending calculations. Even Tam was convinced to volunteer herself for the job—not that she wouldn’t have volunteered anyway, but still. The ministers were equally speechless.

  Emeraude steepled her fingers. “Time is of the essence. We must send the diplomatic party immediately, as soon as the sun rises tomorrow.”

  “Who will be in that party, Your Majesty?” Mysenius asked shakily. The craven cur must be frightened of going into the Wanderwood, even if it was to protect his country.

  Emeraude gestured at herself. “The delegation will consist of myself, Bladeborn, a few select ministers, and a contingent of guards.”

  The ministers exploded into vehement denials.

  “But Your Majesty,” Zameen argued, “you cannot put yourself at risk! You are our monarch, and—”

  “That is precisely why I must go. I met with King Korbyn all those years ago, when we had initially pledged to ally Axenborg with Astaris. Why will the elves ally themselves with us if we do not treat them with the same respect? Alliances are forged between monarchs, and only then between nations. I must meet the ruler of the elves in order to secure their help. Otherwise, not only might our delegation be turned away, but we might not get another chance to negotiate with the elves. This diplomatic endeavor is as crucial to our survival as the air we breathe. How can we not send our ruling monarch? We cannot make such unforced errors; they may cost us dearly in the future.”

  “But,” said a minister clad in a vermilion doublet, “what if you are harmed, Your Majesty? Or—or slain? What will we do then?”

  “I will leave Kay behind as my regent. He will rule in my stead.”

  “That is most excellent,” Chen said unexpectedly. “Prince Kay would be a superb regent.”

  Tam squinted at Chen. Was he being sincere? Tam doubted it, not after everything he’d said about Kay’s naiveté today. She wondered whether Chen and Mysenius were plotting against Kay, hoping that Emeraude would die on this fool’s mission and leave the kingdom in the hands of a boy. A boy vulnerable to usurpation, exile, or assassination.

  Tam folded her hands into fists, vowing to defend Kay against usurpers if it ever came to that. If Mysenius and Chen were plotting against Kay, Tam would cut them down herself.

  It was a pity that she wouldn’t be here with Kay while Emeraude was away. But Tam would return, and when she did, she would take a full inventory of those who had sought to betray Kay and would exact her own brand of justice.

  Not that she’d have to, if Emeraude got to them first.

  “Compose yourselves,” Emeraude commanded her ministers, and the uproar quieted down. “I will not forcefully r
ecruit ministers as diplomats for this hazardous mission. I will only take those ministers who volunteer for the mission unprompted. I will call a recess for an hour, during which you can ponder whether to be in the delegation and what consequences there may be for your families if you are. When we reconvene this session, I will take a count of hands, and only those who come forward on their own will be included in the delegation.”

  It was a brilliant move. In asking only for voluntary participants, Emeraude had effectively weeded out the cowards and those so biased against the elves that they would make lousy diplomats in any case. Tam waited out the recess on the aisle before the dais, her joints beginning to ache at how stiffly she was holding herself at attention.

  “At ease, soldier,” Emeraude said wryly, taking in Tam’s tense posture. “Your spine will snap if you comport yourself so.”

  Tam relaxed all at once, heaving a sigh of relief.

  Kay wasn’t likewise relieved. Upon his throne, Kay was chewing his nails, a nervous and most unprincely habit. He must be terrified for Tam. Tam tried smiling at him encouragingly, but Kay just shook his head.

  The ministers milled about in the hall, talking animatedly but sotto voce, discussing this newest diplomatic challenge out of hearing range of the queen.

  The hour passed. The session was reconvened. As promised, Emeraude took a count of hands. “Who wishes to join the diplomatic delegation to the Wanderwood?” she asked.

  No more than six hands went up. There were more than seventy ministers.

  Pathetic. They were all pathetic.

  Among the six hands to go up were Minister Zameen and five other ministers that Tam couldn’t identify. They must be junior in rank, because they were much younger than Zameen, and because they weren’t among the regulars that Tam had seen going in and out of the royal court since Tam was a child. They must be relative newcomers. Perhaps they sought to please the queen by aiding her effort, in the hopes that currying favor with her would result in an improvement in their rankings. Why would they endanger themselves for a lesser prize?

  “The delegates have been decided.” Emeraude gestured at the scribe sitting behind an intricately carved desk by the dais. “The Royal Scribe will inscribe the delegates’ names and issue them with stamped letters to acquire whatever they need for the journey from the palace storehouses, kitchens, armories, and stables. This session of court is now adjourned.”

  That was that. It felt abrupt, perhaps because there were ministers who hadn’t gotten to quarrel with Emeraude’s decision and their frustration was tangible.

  It just made Tam grin.

  She bounced excitedly on her feet as the hall emptied, impatient to talk to Kay. Kay, who wasn’t nearly as excited as she was.

  When all of the nobles had left the hall, Kay bounded down the stairs of the dais, his brow a thundercloud. “Why are you grinning, you mooncalf? Do you not care whether you live or die?”

  “But this is my first official mission! It isn’t a combat mission, but still. It’s important. So important that a session of court had to be called for it. And I’m spearheading it.” Tam snickered. “Get it? Spearheading? I’m a spear-wielder!”

  Kay massaged his temples as if to stave off a headache. “Now is not the time for your awful puns.”

  “They’re not awful!”

  “Tam. My mother must think of her kingdom before she does of any particular individual—even me. So she can’t…. She may worry about you, but that won’t stop her from putting you in situations that cause her to worry about you. I can’t do that. As I am not yet king, I can’t… I can’t put the kingdom before you. I can’t put my people before my friend.”

  Tam sobered up. “Kay, that’s not how it is. That’s not how I see it. I don’t blame you or your mother for making decisions that benefit the country. That’s what rulers have to do.”

  “It shouldn’t be what we have to do.”

  “But it is.” Tam shrugged. “We’re at war, and all I’ve ever wanted to do was help. Now I can. I’m not going into battle, but I’m going to serve my country nonetheless. It makes me happy. It makes me proud. It gives me a reason to visit Borik and brag like a jackass until he cuffs me over the head to shut me up.”

  “You’ve always wanted to brag to Borik.”

  “It’s called wanting to prove oneself.”

  “It’s called self-punishment.”

  “Kay,” Tam cajoled, knocking her shoulder companionably against his. “I’ll be all right. The elf I met wasn’t violent. He was weird, I’ll admit that, but he wasn’t violent. As for the Wanderwood… I hadn’t ever foreseen going back there. I hated it, to be honest. But if meeting with the elves is our kingdom’s only path to peace, then shouldn’t I put my bigotry aside and genuinely strive for a truce?”

  “Don’t get shot full of elvish arrows, that’s all,” Kay badgered her. “You’d make a terrible target.”

  “Are you saying I’m too short to be a decent target?” Tam said defiantly.

  “Your width isn’t that bad. Your height, though….”

  “Ha, ha. That’s hilarious. What about you? You were having a breakdown during the session.”

  “You try not having a breakdown when people insult your friend’s honor and then enlist her in a suicide mission.”

  “Firstly, it isn’t a suicide mission. Stop saying that. You’ll jinx it. And secondly…. Eh, honor-schmonor.”

  Kay stared at her. “You are literally the most honor-obsessed crackpot I have ever known. And now it’s honor-schmonor?”

  “Near-death experiences put it all into perspective. I’m not saying I’m not obsessed with honor all of a sudden, only that the lives of my comrades mean more to me than my honor. I might have to bow and scrape before the pointy-eared elves, even if I despise them, but I’ll do it if I have to.”

  “You’re so enlightened,” Kay said sarcastically.

  “I’m more enlightened than you, that’s for sure. You just about lost it when Chen tried framing me for treason. You should’ve seen your face. It belonged in the dictionary under ‘apoplectic.’”

  “You’ve seen a dictionary? Brawny as you are, with muscles for brains?”

  “Excuse me? Have you met you? You are a dictionary.”

  “Kay,” said Emeraude behind them, and they both jumped. She had descended the dais and was watching them with an affectionate equanimity. “You must let Tam go. She has preparations to make and people to farewell. I must also prepare for tomorrow’s departure.”

  “Um. Right.” Kay took Tam’s hands in his. His fingers were trembling. “Look after yourself, Tam. I’ll deliver a batch of my best, fully-tested healing potions to you before you leave.”

  “Why would I need all those healing potions?” Tam asked. “After the elves healed me, hurting me again would be counterproductive.”

  “Would it? What if they only healed you to make you a subject of their arcane experiments?”

  “You’re the only one who experiments with potions, Kay.”

  “Yes, but my experiments aren’t arcane. I don’t mess about with magic.”

  “If that elf hadn’t ‘messed about’ with magic, I wouldn’t be here. Relax. Don’t be such a pessimist.” Tam darted in to peck Kay on his frowning forehead, and then bowed to the queen before trotting off.

  “Pessimists are never disappointed,” Kay shouted after her.

  Tam waved at him cheerfully as she exited the hall.

  AS MUCH as Tam would have loved visiting Borik immediately and breaking the news to him, she couldn’t do so at midnight. All the patients in the infirmary must be sleeping, and Tam had no intention of disrupting their recuperation. Not until the morning, when visitations would be reopened.

  So Tam went back to the dorm in total darkness, slinking between the bunks of her peers so as to not disturb them. She was already considering what to pack in her bag. She didn’t have as many possessions to cart around as the nobles in the delegation would have.

  When
Tam got to her bunk, she saw Piotr asleep on the bottom mattress, splayed out on his belly and snoring softly as he drooled onto his pillow. She reached into the cobwebbed shadows beneath their bunk and extracted the very knapsack she’d taken with her when she set out with Maple before. Miraculously, it was still intact despite all its trials and tribulations. There were new rips in its canvas material, but none so severe that Tam could not use the bag. She’d sew the rips shut later.

  Tam’s three spare tunics and breeches were pressed under her mattress to keep them from wrinkling, and she tugged them out and folded them into the bag. She also took out the scented pouch of herb-woven pads that she used for her monthly bleeds. Her next bleed wasn’t due for another fortnight, but who knew how long the negotiations would take? She had to be ready for any contingency.

  She couldn’t pack any food at this time of night, as the kitchens would be closed. At any rate, food for the delegation would likely be cooked en masse by the chefs tomorrow, and loaded onto mules to follow the convoy. Tam wouldn’t have to pack her own meals. She would be eating with the ministers.

  Eating with the nobles. The mind boggled.

  Tam couldn’t fetch her spear from the armory either; it had been left behind at the border. She would have to obtain another spear in the morning, cut to her size and with a matching shield. She’d earned a shield, hadn’t she? As a companion of the queen’s delegation?

  After packing her sharpening stone and the oil she used to clean her spear, Tam had to go to sleep, because what remained to pack could not be packed tonight. She lay on her pallet, tossing and turning, unable to so much as close her eyes.

  The entire kingdom was depending on her. On her being diplomatic, which was about as antithetical to Tam as being violent was to Kay.