by Rae, M. C.
Beyond the receiving hall, the façade became less complicated and absorbing, but nonetheless elegant. Walls of marble and ivory, decorated at every turn with gold and silver embellishments, bathed the space with a sense of purity. As Juno maneuvered into recesses of the palace that were rarely used for anything but storage, she discovered the neglected interior courtyard. Its fountain now spouted enchanted waters to no one’s delight. On its white pedestal was the faded inscription, worn to near nothingness by the flow of water over it. Erected in honor of the Lady of Solas, on her wedding day, as a symbol of her husband’s overflowing love was still legible. Given the history of that ill-fated union of the King of Solas and his intended, this spot in the palace was said to be cursed. Drinking the water, it was believed, would inflict one with a life of despair and heartbreak.
“Sometimes I wish she would have taken the crown back then, if for no other purpose then to order this hideous blight removed.”
Lenu’s words made her gasp. She had not heard him approach. Suddenly, she understood the appeal of this location for their conspiratorial confab. The fountain’s cascade provided a layer of sound that would cover whispers. The distaste the others had for the gaudy figurine keeping aquatic vigil would help ensure that no one stumbled upon them.
“I suggested it to her once. Tallis said that knowing it remained standing reminded her that her past is not so easily erased. Secretly, I think she sneaks back here, now and again, though she’d never admit it.” Juno drew close to Lenu. “Is what they’re saying true, Lenu?”
Her question did not fall upon befuddled ears. He knew precisely to which she referred. “I cannot say for certain. Most believe it’s true.”
Her focus turned on the Cove’s headmaster, who was filled with anxiety. “Do you?”
He nodded.
Juno’s voice quivered as much as her hand. “If indeed she’s promised herself to the mortal, then perhaps she’s not learned as much from her past as she thinks. He will not be pleased.”
“I don’t believe Shahlamin gives a damn.” Lenu crossed his arms over his chest as they both stared into the fountain. “A mortal wizard, even one as talented as Tarameen, poses no threat to him. He owns Tallis’s soul. What does he care who has her heart?” Lenu looked about left and right. “Is she here yet?”
Juno’s eyes widened. “She did not come with you?”
“Oh, dear. Do not tell me the guest of honor has yet to arrive.”
Lenu and Juno went stiff. The disdainful timber acted like a poison, filling each with a worrisome anxiety and nauseous agitation. The man who had entered the courtyard in secret took measured steps until he was directly behind them, and pulled both imperiled immortals to his chest by their shoulders.
He spoke over them. “After I resurrected and regained my memory of all that had passed, I was surprised to learn that Tallis had my intended wedding present erected here, given the circumstances. Yet, I admit that I too, am pleased at seeing it. It has served as a lesson to me as well. I was so certain she wouldn’t betray me, that she’d accept my hand as Empress, that I commissioned the finest sculptor in all of Solas to create this.”
Shahlamin released his hold and passed between them. As though he could reach out and touch the woman whom the statue represented, his hand rose before him, caressing the air with slow movements as though he were stroking her cheek. “I have learned not to be so certain of myself again. Nor of her. This time, she will submit, or she will die.”
“But how can she die? She’s an immortal.”
Juno shrank back no sooner than the words had passed her lips. Shahlamin’s insulted glare tracked her into the shadows.
“You forget, princess, that I died without difficulty. And yet, here I am. Or,” his hand drifted down to the hilt of a sword, the sheath of which was harnessed to his belt, “do you wish for a demonstration? I could make my best effort to kill you, too.”
Defensively, Lenu moved himself to block the path between the trembling Paradite and the ancient King of Solas. “I believe we both trust in your story, my liege. But it would ease our minds to know how it came to be that Tallis destroyed you before our own eyes, yet here you stand.”
“You mean to say, you worry that she might destroy you, too, and you want to prepare a defense, if there’s one to be had.” Lenu nodded, which brought a low chuckle from Shahlamin. “If she wished to, she could. Tallis is the gilteren. She knows the forbidden word for death. All suspect her knowledge of this, for the prophecy speaks of how she will destroy us all. She used this word to kill me on the battlefield all those years ago. Do you remember it? She feigned surrender and fell into my arms. And when I claimed her lips, she spoke the word directly into my own breath. But, long before that, before she or any of us became immortal, ancient rites known only to the gods were used to bind our souls. As long as she lives, her fate is my fate. She may destroy my body, but given time, and as long as she lives, I will resurrect. I have resurrected. Without knowing she would do so, she has shared her immortality with me.”
“Then you truly cannot die,” Juno gasped, her ivory hand strapped across her stomach as though trying to retain her insides. “If what you say is true, she simply will kill you again. I know her well enough to know that she will not yield. What is it you hope to achieve by this, Shahlamin?”
The King clicked his tongue and shook his head woefully. “You don’t understand it, then. When I recruited you and Lenu to assist me, did I not tell you it was the only way to save the immortals from the prophecy? Yes, Tallis knows the forbidden word for death, but what is it to kill? Is that any great, divine accomplishment? Any mortal man may kill another. In place of a magical word, he need only to use a sword or a stone or an axe. The true power that Tallis holds, Princess, is knowledge of the forbidden word…for life.”
Realization dawned on them like the sunrise. Shahlamin saw it in both of their faces, but it was Lenu who put it to speech.
“She made us immortal, not Andresa,” he spoke airily. “All this time, she let us believe that the Empress gifted us with life, then took the secret of how we were thusly blessed to the grave with her. My Gods, Tallis corrupted our memories. It was she that suspended our mortality.”
A sly sneer filled Shahlamin’s features. “Think of it, Lenu. Think of all those you have loved, all those whom you’ve lost through the centuries. Think of the many great men who’ve risen, conquered, inspired, and died, all for the lack of one little word which she has selfishly kept for her own devices. We should be possessors of that power. Knowledge was brought down from the heavens for the benefit of the people. My goal, headmaster, is to wrestle that last sacred word from her.” Shahlamin pulled back and searched with his eyes about the courtyard. “But I can do that only if she is here.”
The astonished headmaster leapt to assure there was no fault on his part for her absence. “I wished to offer her a place on my ship, but I awoke this morning to find her gone. I had to command the winds so quickly to make it in a timely manner myself, I almost broke the ship that carried us into pieces.”
The King placed his hand on Lenu’s shoulder, causing the latter to quiver. “My ship was concealed in mists right behind yours. No, Lenu, I know what you say is true. I saw her leave in the night. She flew on her own wing. I assumed she’d come here, but perhaps she has not.”
“You… You were at the Cove?” Juno wasn’t sure what to make of that. Why would Shahlamin risk exposing himself prematurely to the Loren?
“Do not suppose that I would leave the goals of this day to mere fate,” the King returned icily.
Straightening herself, Juno too reassured Shahlamin. “She will be here. She made a vow. She does not easily relinquish her word.”
“I don’t know about that.” Shahlamin’s hand rose to his face, the tips of his fingers pointing out the red, scarred memory drawn in his skin by the Loren centuries ago. “She has betrayed her word to me in times past. But I believe you are right. It is unlike her to avoid an opp
ortunity to advance her own agenda. She will not let this day be forsaken, Princess.”
“Do stop calling me that. You should well know that the Council of Client Kings stripped all immortals of royal blood of their titles at Tallis’s insistence. You, of all people, should understand the insult of that action.” Her flashing eyes gave way to her silver eyebrows knitting in confusion. “What do you mean, though, her own agenda?”
Shahlamin turned to leave, but laughed with a haughty, amused humor over his shoulder. “You were right, Juno. About your suspicion regarding the student at the Cove, I mean. Luckily, I’ve managed to turn that unforeseen difficulty to my advantage. I thank you for your assistance.”
Finding themselves alone again, Lenu and Juno stared at each other with wide-eyed disbelief.
“He wouldn’t have,” Juno remarked with denial.
“Of course he would have,” Lenu assured. He pulled the weeping Paradite into his embrace, offering whatever comfort she might find there. “May the Gods forgive us and curse him, however, if he actually did.”
Thrice, Grafin’s hands clapped.
“Friends, a feast before the proclamation. Come, let us be merry on this night of our great celebration.”
Barely could Tallis keep her teeth from grinding. When emotions did penetrate her exterior, they were often of the dark and menacing kind, but fleeting. Tonight, her resolve harnessed the rage and clung to it. There was a slow-burning ember growing within her. If she let it out into the open and feed it air, it would easily explode into a towering column of vengeance. How they had used her in the past! And how they intended to use her still. As though she herself had no role in her own fate!
But what was knowledge without use? Was it not her place to act as a device? Was it not her purpose, her reason for being made flesh?
No, knowledge put to nefarious devices was the definition of corruption. Her incarnation necessitated a sense of self-perseverance. The gilteren had no right to take sides, but the palace-slave-turned-heir-to-the-throne was obligated towards justice.
“Yes, let us be merry,” agreed the Loren, hidden among the palace servants, dressed in their attire.
So plain was her appearance and the station to which it suggested she belonged, that very few of the pompous immortals gave her more than a passing glance. All seemed to be more content with dancing and sport. If they believed the hour of their death was nigh, they gave little evidence of it, or else seemed determined to make it count for something. That was better, Tallis thought, than that they should feign camaraderie in a quest for mercy or cower in her presence. Or perhaps, none noticed her attendance, so they assumed the fulfillment of the prophecy had been staved for another day.
Tallis had circled the room thrice and never once was identified for whom she was. Not even the actual servants paid her any heed, as long as she acted out in the manner they expected: clearing dishes, serving food, remaining utilitarian. Her chest was tight, her fist clenched under the folds of her cloak. Even after centuries of being the center of attention in nearly every place she stood, returning to this room with throngs of people about, all of them suspicious of her intentions, evoked memories. Memories of being backed into a corner by many of those in attendance now, how they ripped at her clothing, hearing them call for her to be thrown off the balcony with her wings tied and bound behind her, like the slave she truly was. In the tower above, Andresa’s dead body still held warmth, but the ambassadors of her empire had frozen in fear.
Andresa.
Tallis sighed. How she would weep now if she knew the low sum for which her legacy was soon to be sold. All her life’s ambitions, to what did they amount? A few hundred years of an empire, now rotting from the inside out? Certainly, life was not as horrid as before her rule. The islands were still united under one flag, more or less. The bitter wars no longer raged, but it was not because any one island lacked cause or ability. The ground had grown fertile for the seeds of conflict to take root. The client kings had discovered the benefit of exploiting their magic-doers. Even the use of magic, the pinnacle of knowledge, had been corrupted for the gain of these despots. Men feared men, but they might carry hopes of taking up arms against a tyrant. How could one attack a sorcerer with weapons made of stones and wood? This knowledge of the old language, of the true tongue, the one that enabled magical deeds, was a cursed knowledge indeed. It gave to its speaker the tools of suppression, of dominance. How simple to turn minds and hearts with fear. It tempted the good soul with promises of power and favor, and with only the utterance of a few words. Hearts could be won with actions, but submission could be forced with these words, and subjugation where gaps remained with the passing of coins.
Yet, most did not know that it tempted none more than Tallis. Most fully-trained sorcerers’ magical lexis was expansive, but always incomplete. Every generation lost a few more words. The need for a particular phrase would slip from fashion, and with it, its use. Tallis, however, was the gilteren, knowledge made flesh. Before being called forth in mortal form, the fiber of her existence had been woven together by the ancient ways. She did not know some of the old language, she knew it all. Her inner thoughts spoke it fluently to the extent that she felt all mortal tongues, even Loren, foreign. She knew all, experienced all, understood all. Magic was her native tongue.
Being bound by flesh, however, had shocked her being, stripped her of her self-realization. Always with an innate sense that she was not like others of her kind, she falsely attributed the sensation to having been orphaned as a child. It was not until that dark day, the day on which she looked into the eyes of the dying Empress, feeling the pain of regret fill her, that she recalled her true nature. In that moment, when it all rushed back to her, it was Tallis who had told Andresa the words for life and death, not the other way around. The Empress had not known them, had never known them. The threat her supposed knowledge had wrought? A carefully calculated political maneuver to centralize power and bring prosperity.
That knowledge was too precious to put into the hands of mortal men. Men were not meant to be immortal. Knowledge was not meant to be flesh. All could be remedied with the casting of one incantation over this assemblage. How could she let such an opportunity pass? Would they ever all gather like this again? The release of their souls to the universe was long overdue. Would it be murder to return something that was borrowed without permission indefinitely? And then if Tallis could somehow free herself from her own bond in this life, she would again be one with all that…
But that would leave behind Tarameen. Oh, mortal heart, she cursed inwardly, you are the worst kind of beauty that this life carries, binding my will to my beloved’s fate.
The Gods gathered the attention of the crowd as they assumed the dais at the front of the hall. It was the devious Owos who spoke first, and Tallis instinctively fell back into shadows.
“Friends, once our land was ruled by a wise and noble sovereign,” the faux God began.
Wise enough not to trust your lot, and noble enough not to do your bidding blindly, Tallis thought ruefully.
“Andresa, may her spirit be not troubled, collected the many reaches of our empire, east and west, north and south, and united us in harmony under one flag and one throne. When we lost her, we were left with only her enduring legacy. The Empress, as you know, sadly never begot children, and thus upon her passing, the power of the throne was entrusted to the assembly of her advisors. She did, however, name an heir. One who, until now, has denied the throne, but whom we beseech at last to take up the noble bequest that was made to her. The bonds of our union weaken. Save us from ourselves, and take the crown.”
He paused and surveyed the room with a slow, searching gaze. As Owos raised his hands before him, a gleam of light formed in the space between the left and the right. The light focused, as a circle took form. This circle then solidified, becoming the golden crown of the Empress. Andresa’s crown.
“But Tallis is not here,” said Juno, her eyes scrutinizing the assem
blage without success.
For half a moment, Tallis was tempted to remain silent. She could walk away now and be done with it all. She knew reaches of the empire where no man - mortal or otherwise - ever set foot. She could take Tarameen, and they could make a happy life together there, away from prophecy, expectation and knowledge.
But to leave the Gods to their own devices… To invite the immortals to claim an irresistibly empty throne… To ignore all that would befall good men with her selfish acts…
“No, I am here.”
Tallis, unmasking herself and dispensing of her servant robes, walked forward. Owos sneered, as if he had been disappointed that her presence meant he could not carry out his threats. So quick to recover he was, however, that not a moment had passed before his belying smile returned.
“Tallis, Empress Andresa entrusted her throne to your care,” he continued without pomp, though in a tone that lived up to his façade of reverence. “You have denied this bequest for far too long. Accept it now. Accept the burdens and the blessings of this crown and thusly serve the needs of the empire and the people it governs, as Andresa desired. Harbor your humility. Embrace your fate. Yield to her dying wish.”