Daughter of Independence

by Simon Brown

  Paimer swallowed to hide his surprise. He did not think he would ever get over the way Idalgo just appeared, and often at the most inconvenient time. Then he saw Lerena looking directly at Idalgo, almost as if she could see him. Paimer felt his heart lurch. This was not a good sign. Lerena was already far too deep in the ways of the Sefid for anyone’s good. But Lerena’s eyes seemed to lose focus, as if she was staring at a mist rather than something solid, and she shook her head.

  ‘I am very tired,’ she said. ‘This has been an exhausting campaign. I will be glad to get home.’

  ‘We will all be glad to get home,’ Paimer agreed.

  *

  Chierma refused to pretend to grieve for the destruction of Beferen. The sight of it smouldering in the dim light of a grey day depressed his spirit, but Beferen had always been the ugliest city in existence, and the coldest and most miserable. He had hated it as a young man living in the royal palace as the Beloved of Lady Englay Kevleren, and he had hated it in memory when he lived in Hamewald, first serving and then rebelling against his mistress.

  And then grieving for her after her death, he reminded himself.

  ‘And then getting me back,’ she said, joining him as he looked out over the ruins.

  He made a point of ignoring her.

  ‘There was a time when you desired me, Chierma. For whatever reason, the drugs my family used to dull the desire for procreation in our Axkevleren did not work so well in you. I think you were driven by your craving for sex, and your complete inability to obtain it.’

  ‘If the drugs did not work on me there must have been others too.’

  ‘Certainly, but if discovered the Axkevleren were killed. But you managed to hide it almost until the very end. I did not realise until after you overthrew me how much you wanted me, body and soul.’

  ‘Mainly body,’ he admitted. ‘Maybe a little of your soul.’

  ‘Now my soul is all you have.’

  ‘Is that what you are?’ he asked, halfway curious about her, halfway repelled. ‘Englay’s soul?’

  ‘How can you doubt it?’

  ‘You have the form of Lady Englay Kevleren, and even her mannerisms, but death has changed you, your Highness.’

  ‘That’s trite,’ she observed.

  He stared at her, trying to remember what it was he had once felt for her, but it was buried too deep for him to find it. ‘No, not trite. It’s important. You are not my mistress. I thought you were, once, when you first returned. But you are no more Lady Englay Kevleren than I am. What I really wanted from Englay was her love, but I want nothing from you.’

  ‘Where’s your wig?’ she asked. ‘I haven’t seen it on you for at least a tenday.’

  ‘I lost it somewhere along the march south.’

  ‘Do you know what your friend the duke thought about it?’

  ‘Pairner? He’s not my friend.’

  ‘He’s the closest thing to a friend you have in this world, my little man. He used to think your wig looked like a pile of bird shit.’

  Chierma surprised himself by being hurt. ‘He should talk, what with that ridiculous red thing he wears,’ he said sullenly. He knew he was being petty as soon as the words left his mouth, and was ashamed of it. ‘Anyway, you’re just changing the subject.’

  ‘Not at all. One way or the other, you are always the subject of our discussions. You are the peg I hang from, Chierma Axkevleren.’

  *

  Lerena said nothing, trusting to the good sense of her generals – or at least to their sense of occasion – to arrange things, but when the morning arrived for her departure from Beferen only her Royal Guard waited to escort her sedan out of the city. There was no procession, no victory banners, no soldiers lining the streets to salute her passing, no trumpets declaring her triumphant exit. Nothing but the tramp of her marching guards along the vacant road and the cold, echoing emptiness of blackened Beferen, smoke from still-smouldering fires smudging the sky like inky fingerprints.

  Lerena shared the sedan with three others. Uilder, her most senior Axkevleren, sat next to her, silent and obviously overawed by the events of the last few days. Whenever Lerena talked to her, Uilder jumped like a nervous rabbit, but instantly obeyed any command as if afraid she was next in line to be sacrificed. Sitting opposite Lerena were Paimer and Chierma, both of whom seemed as stunned as Uilder, but had fallen into a kind of insensibility that she tried unsuccessfully to broach with her usual bright conversation. Irritated by the lack of lively companionship, not to mention the lack of ceremony marking her departure from Beferen, Lerena fidgeted. She tried thinking through the political issues that would soon be pressing her, such as how to organise the expanded empire without stretching its resources too far, and how properly to incorporate Rivald’s population into the empire’s economic life. What she ended up giving most thought to, however, was how to maintain the Sefid. There was still some residue from the last great sacrifice, when she had used up most of her family and their Beloved to overcome Beferen, but she was sure it would not take much to drain again the Sefid completely from this world; Lerena was not prepared to let that happen now that she knew just how useful – powerful! – it could be in her hands.

  It was when they finally left the city behind that the sedan’s fifth occupant started making an appearance. It was a shadow-like figure that was hard to make out completely, as if Lerena was seeing it from the corner of her eye. Uilder made no comment at all about it, and the empress assumed the Axkevleren could not see it. At first, Lerena was confident it was a man. Not any man, but Paimer’s old Beloved, Idalgo. But the second time it appeared, and occasionally again after that, it was a woman Lerena could not at first identify. She had briefly observed both figures before, during the great sacrifice she had made before the final assault on Beferen. Now, as then, she was not sure exactly what it was she was seeing, since she knew for a fact that Idalgo was dead. That it was somehow related to the Sefid she was certain, but she had no idea in what sense or to what effect. In a vague way, like the pressure in her head before a headache, she thought she should be worried by their ability to appear and disappear . . . or conceivably its ability, since Idalgo and the woman might be nothing more than different aspects of the same manifestation of the Sefid . . . but she sensed there was no imminent danger in their presence. The figures, when they appeared, conversed with Paimer, in the case of Idalgo, or Chierma, in the case of the woman, but Lerena could not hear what they were saying. She got some sense of what they were talking about from Paimer’s and Chierma’s responses, but it was like listening in on a conversation from another room, hearing only every fourth or fifth word. Then Lerena realised who the female must be: she looked like a Kevleren, and her attention to Chierma suggested she was Chierma’s previous mistress. Lerena could not remember her name, but of course she was supposed to be dead too. Killed by Lerena herself, no less. Would the woman want revenge? The thought startled her, made her think harder on the puzzle, but then she realised Paimer had slain Idalgo, and that apparition seemed intent on nothing but dialogue with him.

  If they truly were manifestations of the Sefid, Lerena wondered, could she control them? When next one appeared, in this case Idalgo, she concentrated on making it recognise her. Briefly, ever so briefly, it glanced in her direction and smiled, then returned to talking with Paimer, silently mouthing words that only Paimer seemed able to hear, and to which the duke responded now and then. Lerena focused again on making Idalgo acknowledge her in some way, but this time was completely ignored. Lerena was so disturbed by this that she felt physically ill. She controlled the Sefid! How could she not control these apparitions?

  ‘Your Majesty, are you all right?’ Uilder asked, looking at her with sudden concern. Lerena nodded vaguely. Then Uilder said in a whisper, ‘Do you think his highness is ill, your Majesty? And his friend? They are always talking to themselves.’

  Lerena, despite the nausea in her stomach, almost laughed. Poor, stupid Uilder. She did not see, and co
uld not understand. The situation was ridiculous.

  ‘Too ridiculous,’ she said aloud. ‘It cannot be allowed to continue.’

  ‘Your Majesty?’

  ‘Be quiet, Uilder. I have to think.’

  *

  On reflection, Paimer decided he liked Hamewald. True, it was a little cold for his tastes, but at least it did not experience the bone-chilling wet cold of Beferen. And its buildings were made from a lighter stone than the Rivald capital, a creamy-grey granite that expressed solidity without stubbornness, a fault of Beferen’s low, dark architecture. And, too, it was far, far away from where Lerena had massacred so many of their family. The further north the empress’s party moved, the better his mood. He even managed something more than the usual formal courtesy towards Chierma, and could not help notice a similar change in that man’s attitude as well.

  ‘You are glad to return to your home,’ Paimer said to him the morning after they reached Hamewald. The sun was high and bright and strong, and Paimer could feel his old bones getting stronger in its light. The two men were standing in the small courtyard behind the governor’s residence. Small trees lined the space, adding colour without casting any great shade.

  Chierma smiled slightly but said nothing.

  ‘Surely you prefer here to Beferen,’ Paimer persisted.

  ‘I do,’ Chierma agreed. ‘But some of the memories I have of this place are tempered by grief.’

  Paimer studied the small man, remembering the first time they met and how he had taken an instant dislike to him. Recently the dislike had given way to a grudging respect, and now he found himself – reluctantly – feeling something akin to friendship towards him. At least, Paimer presumed what he felt was friendship, for friendship was not something he had experienced to any great extent. As a Kevleren he had known loyalty, passion, even love, but not this meeting of minds, this matching of sympathies, this . . . fellowship. And with this knowledge came an unexpected insight.

  ‘We see the world in the same way,’ he said.

  Chierma’s breath gushed out of him as if he had been slapped on the back. He stared at Paimer in something close to shock. After a moment he managed to mumble, ‘Your Highness . . .’, but that was all.

  Paimer watched the reaction with detached interest, as if it was a performance. ‘I hope I’m not being familiar,’ he said consolingly.

  ‘It’s not that . . . but you are a Kevleren, and I . . .’

  ‘Like me, you have become a refugee in your own land.’

  Chierma swallowed. ‘We also share ghosts.’ He shrugged. ‘Well, whatever they are.’

  ‘Memories. Memories tempered by grief.’

  Chierma stood in front of the duke and asked almost desperately, ‘What does the empress have in mind for us?’

  ‘I do not know.’ The corners of Paimer’s mouth tugged slightly in a hopeful smile. ‘Personally, I hope she forgets about us.’

  *

  Lerena thought there was something of Omeralt about Hamewald. Not as grand, not as comfortable, but there was distinctly something . . .

  She could not put her finger on the exact word. But she almost felt at home here. She would not be surprised if the legends about her family’s ancestors originally coming from this place were true, spreading north and south to conquer the continent.

  Then Lerena had the word. There was something distinctly Kevleren about Hamewald. The people who lived here shared some of the physical characteristics of the Kevlerens, the dark hair and pale skin, and also some of their obstinacy. She could see it in the way Hamewald’s citizens ignored the royal visitors, carrying on with their daily business as if nothing at all extraordinary was happening. Lerena knew that if it had happened anywhere else she would have been offended, but here it seemed merely idiosyncratic.

  The Royal Guards were starting to get edgy, standing at attention, waiting for Lerena and her party to board the sedan so they could resume the journey northwards. Behind her, Paimer and Chierma waited patiently. By her side, Uilder was obviously curious about the delay, but dared not say anything.

  Starlings flew overhead. Lerena heard them chittering and longed for her aviary. Not long now, she told herself. Four tendays, maybe five, and she would be back in her capital, responsible for a much enlarged empire. She was the most powerful Kevleren who had ever ruled, possibly the most powerful who had ever lived, and it gave her a great satisfaction. But she knew with the power came responsibility, a great labour, and the annexation of Rivald added tremendously to it. Fortunately, she had a solution that would ease the way.

  ‘Uncle?’ she called sweetly, and Paimer was immediately by her side. True, he did not resemble the Paimer of old – recent times had been hard on him, what with the loss of Idalgo and most of the family – but he stood erect, proud, still strong . . .

  ‘Uncle, your wig,’ she said under her breath.

  Paimer adjusted his famous red wig, then apologetically cleared his throat.

  ‘I have a job for you,’ she went on.

  Paimer bowed slightly. ‘Whatever you command.’

  ‘I need a governor for my new province of Rivald.’

  Paimer nodded sagely. ‘I can recommend some of your officials back in Omeralt who would be perfect for the task.’

  Lerena looked at him, smiling. She saw his expression change as he understood what she had in mind.

  ‘Who else can I trust as much as you?’ she asked before he could say anything.

  ‘I am . . . well . . . of course, whatever you command.’

  ‘You will leave today You can have a detachment of my guards to escort you back to Beferen, but make sure you send them back to me when you have finished with them.’

  ‘Beferen?’ Paimer asked, his expression now pained. He waved at the town around them. ‘But I thought Hamewald –’

  ‘Will need a governor, no doubt.’ She turned and beckoned Chierma to join them. ‘How would you like your old job back, Governor Chierma Axkevleren?’

  Chierma was dumbstruck.

  ‘Under the supervision of Duke Paimer, who will be Lord Protector of Rivald.’

  Chierma glanced at Paimer, and managed to nod. ‘I am honoured.’

  ‘Of course you are,’ Lerena said. Then, to Paimer, she added, ‘You see, it is important we do not change too much too quickly in Rivald. It will unsettle things. Beferen is a port, on an important river, close to farms, woods, with a large surrounding population, and it is used to being a capital, and its inhabitants are used to living closely with a bureaucracy.’

  ‘You are right, as always,’ Paimer said, trying hard to be gracious. ‘I will leave as soon as I have procured a sedan.’

  Lerena nodded to Chierma. ‘That can be the first task for our new governor of Hamewald.’

  *

  The creature rested after eating, folding itself into a right bundle under a bunk in the farmer’s cottage, away from the light. It had consumed completely two men, an old one and a young one, an act that had filled it in almost equal measure with exhilaration and guilt. It vaguely recalled that once it too had been a man, but the memory was so far away it could not be sure it was not a dream, and so, as sleep slowly overtook it, it was the exhilaration and not the guilt it remembered. Then, just before its yellow eyes closed and the last shred of consciousness lifted away, it saw the white arm of the girl, bloodied but intact. It had been so satiated with killing the men it had not eaten her, just bit into her neck until she was dead. Maybe, it thought, when it woke it would finish her off, hungry again. Certainly, it would never eat anything else after its taste of man, not even the large, warm cattle in the shed outside that bellowed with the storm as the cottage rocked with wind and rain.

  *

  After her column had climbed to the highest point in the mountain pass that would take her back to Hamilay itself, Empress Lerena Kevleren asked Uilder whether everything was all right.

  ‘You are looking troubled, and I would know what it is that irks you.’

&nb
sp; Uilder did not look as if she wanted to say anything, but under Lerena’s level gaze eventually said, ‘It’s his highness the duke. I thought you wanted him close to you. Not in charge of anything. It’s just that –’

  ‘I know what you mean, dear Uilder. His behaviour back in Omeralt before the campaign was erratic indeed. But I did not understand then what was troubling him. Now I do.’

  Uilder nodded, but Lerena could see from her expression that she did not really understand. Which was just as well, since the only way she could have understood was if she had seen what Lerena had seen. The empress was sure now that Paimer’s mysterious behaviour back in Omeralt was at least in part due to the apparition of Idalgo. She was still not sure what the apparition represented or anticipated, but she felt uneasy enough about it to want Paimer as far from her as possible until she had figured it out. Besides, she had needed someone to take responsibility for Rivald, and after herself he was the most senior member of the empire.

  Of course, she could simply have had him killed. But he was her uncle, and he had warned her about the disaster unfolding in the kingdom of Rivald at great personal cost. And she could always have him killed later. Anyway, killing him might not get rid of the apparitions. No, the manifestation, she corrected herself. The more she thought on it the more likely it seemed the Sefid was somehow involved: it only affected Kevlerens or Beloveds and she herself – the most capable Wielder in history – could see glimpses of them when no one else but Paimer and Chierma could.

  She sighed heavily. For now, however, there were the problems of empire to occupy her mind. And the problem of obtaining a source of future sacrifices so she could maintain her access to the Sefid. It was, as always, a matter of love. She could only sacrifice those she loved, or the Sefid would not respond.

  ‘You are the empress,’ said a voice, and Lerena saw her dead sister, the Duchess Yunara, sitting opposite her in the sedan.

  In that terrible instant of recognition Lerena felt everything – the future of the empire, of her own life and all creation – teeter on the brink of all existence. On one side was everything she was sure about in the universe, and on the other the dark unknowable Sefid, waiting for her to make her decision.