The D'Karon Apprentice

by Joseph R. Lallo

  “Unhand the ambassador,” demanded the guards.

  “She can’t hear you. She’s deaf,” explained the younger of the two porters frantically.

  A guard took her by the shoulders and pulled her aside, placing her head squarely in the woman’s vision. “You must release the ambassador and step away.”

  “Ambassador!” she said, confusion mixing with her joy. She turned to Ether, backing away as she did. “Of course! When you told me you were doing something important, I never imagined it was this! Oh, Emilia, I’m so proud of you.” She reached out her hands. “My own daughter, an ambassador!”

  “Daughter?” said Maka, gently stepping past his handlers and placing a hand on Ether’s shoulder. “Is this true? Is this your mother?”

  There was certainly a resemblance. The older woman had much the same shape to her face, similar eyes, and where it lingered among the gray, they even had the same hair color. One could easily call it a family resemblance.

  Ether looked to him briefly. “I do not have time for interruptions. I am certain we are needed inside.”

  “Emilia, write to me when you are through! You must have so much to tell me after all of these years!”

  The shapeshifter sent a silent glance in the old woman’s direction, then paced coldly forward and through the doors of the inn. Her supposed mother smiled through her tears and clutched her hands, positively glowing with pride and joy.

  “I apologize for that interruption, Ambassador Maka,” Gregol began. “I would be pleased to tell you anything you might like to know about—”

  “In a moment, Ambassador Gregol,” Maka said.

  The elderly Tresson strutted after Ether with a spryness that seemed out of place for someone of his age. His handlers, not expecting the burst of speed, scrambled to catch up. He passed through the doors of the inn and sought out Ether.

  Unlike many of the other inns that had sheltered the delegation, this one was very simple. Thick plank walls patched with a muddy plaster held out the wind while a smoky fire chased away the cold. The main room was cramped even when empty. With the delegation, who had likely taken every available room, it would be shoulder to shoulder.

  Ether had already had a terse exchange with the innkeeper and was heading down a narrow hall to her room.

  “Ambassador Ether, a moment of your time,” Maka said, touching her to catch her attention.

  She turned. Her face showed no semblance of any emotions that might have been associated with a reunion with an estranged mother.

  “What is it, Ambassador Maka?”

  “If you do not mind, I would like very much to know why that woman seemed to believe you were her daughter.”

  “She was mistaken.”

  “Granted that must be the case, but she seemed certain. And no one will deny the resemblance.”

  Ether’s expression soured ever so slightly. “I suppose she believes me to be the woman I appear to be.”

  Maka furrowed his brow. “I do not understand.”

  “I appear human to you, and so it is natural to assume that I inherited this appearance from a progenitor. Such is not the case. I assumed this form when it became clear that my would-be allies were unwilling or unable to interact with me in my natural form. The woman who stands before you was a foe. I believe she was a member of the Alliance Army, and at the time I am quite certain she had been subverted by a being known as Epidime.”

  “So somewhere there is another woman who appears as you do?”

  “No. She was killed as a result of our clash.”

  Maka’s face became serious.

  “Did you kill that woman’s daughter?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Ether, to that woman, it matters. She believes you are her daughter. She believes her daughter is still alive. What you have given her is false hope. You have drawn up something she had buried deep, made raw a wound that had begun to heal.”

  “That is not my concern.”

  “Ambassador, I submit that it is your concern. At this moment, you are representing your people.”

  “These are not my people. These are merely the residents of the land that I most directly defended in my opposition to the D’Karon.”

  “Regardless, at this moment, you represent them. And to represent them, you must care about them. That woman’s spirit is soaring about something that is not so. If you leave her today without setting her straight, she will live what remains of her life believing not that her daughter had died in the line of duty, but that her daughter was alive and well but choosing to ignore her mother. It will be a life of torture and uncertainty. I lost a son many years ago. If I were to see him one day and he behaved as you did, and then he moved on and I never saw him again… I do not know that I would ever think of anything else but what I could have done to lose his love for me.”

  “What would you have me do? Tell her of her daughter’s death? From what I’ve seen of mortals, that would crush her. Despite its inevitability from birth, none of you seem willing to accept death when it comes.”

  “What you do is for you to decide. I cannot make your decisions for you. I can advise you that this is a matter that should be handled with care and delicacy. You must be mindful of her feelings.”

  Ether scowled. “Emotion… Few things have complicated and muddled matters more than emotion.”

  Maka nodded. “At times it can cloud the mind, make matters more difficult. But at other times it is the only thing that can give us the strength to go on.”

  “Ambassadors?” called Gregol, his voice showcasing the truly impressive anxiety that could be conjured in him by something as simple as a break to the intended routine.

  “In a moment,” Maka called over his shoulder. He lowered his voice. “You have said that you have no family. This is a woman who believes you are her family. You have suffered a loss, and though she does not know it, so has she. This is a pain shared by you. Perhaps this is a time to explore that.”

  “I have diplomatic duties to see to.”

  “Gregol and Zuzanna would embrace the opportunity to take your place for the duration of a meal,” Maka said.

  “I see no value in this.”

  He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Consider it a favor to me then. An act of compromise between our nations.”

  With that, Maka turned to the other Northern ambassadors, his arms held wide.

  “Ambassador Ether has a small matter to attend to. I wonder if perhaps each of you would care to take her place. I am certain you will be able replacements for the evening,” he said.

  “Wha—yes! Yes of course!” Gregol practically sang, an insulting level of relief in his expression as he learned that he would finally have the ear of the senior ambassador.

  Ether was left standing in the hall, her expression flavored with a simmering anger. This was not a task she would ever have chosen for herself, but something about being stepped over, pushed aside, infuriated her. She tried to quell these emotions as she did with all others. This did little good. Sweeping away the anger did little more than uncover lingering feelings that had been haunting her for too long already. Uncertainty, despair, and a dozen other shifting and confounding feelings that made it a bit harder to turn her mind to the things that truly mattered each day. Perhaps it would be useful after all if there was something else to occupy her mind.

  She stepped out into the cold and glanced about. The gathered crowd of locals and servants had largely dissipated. The only individual with an apparent link to the inn and its staff was a young stable boy tasked with finding room for a dozen horses in a stable built for six.

  “You. Were you present when the delegation arrived?” Ether asked.

  Her voice startled the boy, who looked at her and froze.

  “Er… yes, ma’am. Oh! I mean madam. Or… Guardian?”

  Ether flipped her fingers dismissively.

  “Did you witness an older woman accost me upon stepping from the carriage?”

>   “You mean Celia?”

  “I do not know her name, but as I was only accosted by one woman, I must assume you are correct.”

  “I saw her. You… you’re her girl, right?”

  Ether’s expression hardened. “Where is that woman now?”

  “I think they’ve got her around back. Washing linens.”

  The shapeshifter nodded and marched stiffly in the direction he indicated. It never ceased to amaze her how poorly these creatures handled interactions with their betters. Stumbling over matters of title. They were children, fools, the lot of them. Though Maka seemed to have gained some insight into his fellow humans in his years, Ether could not imagine what the man hoped she might gain through this interaction.

  A damp, musty smell led her to a small shack behind the inn. At the top of one wall was an ice-encrusted vent belching steam. She pushed open the door to find a room filled with a thick, hanging fog. It was quite warm, and where the hot, moist air met the cold, it was exceedingly unpleasant, but a single thought was all it took for Ether to whisk away her sensitivity to such things.

  The older woman—Celia, if the stable boy could be believed—was stirring an enormous cauldron over a roaring fire. The water was cloudy, and billowing off-white mounds of cloth floated in it. Similar clothes, mostly underthings and bed linens, were piled on two tables on the opposite side of the room, and beside the cauldron a line had been stretched. Washed linens hung from it, drops of water falling onto an angled plank below them and running back into the cauldron.

  The old woman looked up to the source of the frigid breeze.

  “Emilia!” she said. “Oh, come inside, child. You mustn’t stand there in the cold! This damp air will be the death of you!”

  “It is of little concern. My business here is brief,” Ether said.

  “Bah, nonsense! You may be an ambassador, but you’re still my daughter. And there are some things that a mother always knows best.”

  She stepped forward and grasped Ether’s hand, pulling at the shapeshifter.

  “Goodness heavens, Emilia, you’re already cold as death.”

  Ether stepped forward and allowed the woman to shut the door. The instant the breeze was cut off, the woman began to fuss with the contents of the tables, trying to neaten the piles and cover the most glaringly soiled articles.

  “Heavens, it is all such a mess. I wish you’d written, dear. I wish I’d known you were coming. I would have made some time to meet with you someplace nicer than a musty place like this. To think, entertaining an ambassador…”

  “Madam,” Ether interjected.

  “My own daughter an ambassador. Was there a ceremony? There must have been! Oh, if only I would have been able to see it!”

  Ether turned Celia to her. “Madam!”

  “You mustn’t call me madam, dear. I’m your mother.” Celia gazed at her face and smiled, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks again. “Oh… oh, there I go again. Come here, dear.”

  She rushed forward and once again threw her arms around Ether.

  “Madam, please,” Ether said, firmly pushing the woman back. “I am not your daughter.”

  Celia cocked her head aside. “But of course you are my daughter. It may have been a lifetime since I last saw you, but I’d know my darling daughter anywhere.”

  “I appear to be your daughter, but I am not.”

  The woman gave Ether a curious look. She then reached up and brushed some of Ether’s hair aside, revealing a small dark patch of skin just below the hairline at the back of her neck.

  “If you aren’t my daughter, then why have you got her birthmark?” she said, her tone playful.

  “I have assumed her form. My name is Ether.”

  “Assumed her form? You’re not speaking sense, child.”

  Ether could feel her patience waning.

  “I am a shapeshifter, and I assumed your daughter’s form to better interact with humans, who are not comfortable with my true forms.”

  Celia shook her head dismissively and picked up the paddle to return to the cauldron. “Don’t play games with your mother, dear. Now I know you’ve got very important matters inside, and it means so much to me that you took the time to see me, so let’s not dillydally. Tell me, how have you been?”

  “Do not dismiss me, human,” Ether fumed.

  “Now really, Emelia, that is no way to talk to your mother.”

  “You are not my mother.”

  As she spoke, Ether abandoned her human form, shifting effortlessly to a roughly human shape composed of crystal clear water.

  Celia stood stone still. She raised one hand to her mouth, and her breath caught in her throat. A spectrum of emotions came across her face. Shock, fear, and confusion gripped her features, but slowly she reached out a hand and touched it to what had, moments before, been the skin of a woman she believed to be her daughter.

  The older woman’s fingers touched Ether’s cheek, sending a ripple across her face. When she pulled them away, a drop of water clung to them, running down her fingers. She watched in disbelief, then looked at Ether one last time before her legs suddenly refused to support her any longer.

  In a wave of bluish light that swept over Ether’s whole form in the blink of an eye, she shifted from water to ice and reached out with her now solid fingers to catch the woman under the arms.

  “Are you satisfied?” Ether asked, her face crackling as she spoke.

  “B-bring her back. Bring Emelia back,” Celia said, her voice bordering on terror now as she steadied herself against a table.

  Ether released Celia and shifted with somewhat less speed and somewhat more care to her human form again, ice shifting to flesh, bone, and cloth.

  The old woman’s breathing slowed. “Ether… you said your name was Ether…”

  “I am pleased you are finally comprehending.”

  “The… Guardian of the Realm?”

  “Yes.”

  “I… I’m honored to meet you.”

  “Now that this has been settled, I will be on my way.”

  Ether turned to the door.

  “Why my daughter?” Celia asked urgently.

  The shapeshifter turned back.

  “It was a matter of convenience. She was the nearest human when the need for form arose. It is simpler to duplicate a form than to manifest a unique one.”

  “Where is she? Why was she near?”

  “Your daughter is dead.”

  Celia released a breath and stepped back. As intensely as she’d been tossed about by the revelations of the last few minutes, this blunt statement seemed to have the least impact of all. There were tears, but she did not sob or break down. She merely nodded, took another breath, and let the tears of sorrow mix with the tears of joy from moments before.

  “Of course… she was an officer in the Alliance Army. It was… it was foolish to imagine she might have lived this long. So few do. Was it a good death? A worthy one?”

  “She died in combat, serving the generals directly.”

  Again she nodded. “Good… good, she would have been happy to know it. A proud death. A noble one.”

  “I have reason to believe she was under the control of the general called Epidime. I assure you, it was neither proud nor noble.”

  “No,” Celia said, wiping her tears away. “You may know how she looked, but it is clear you did not know Emelia. It was…” She paused, lest a tremor find her voice. “It was the death she would have wanted. Did she suffer?”

  “She was killed by a sharp sword and a skilled hand. It was very swift. I don’t imagine there was much pain.”

  “Good. Good. Thank you for taking the time to set me straight. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I won’t take any more of your time.”

  Again Celia picked up her paddle and put it to work stirring the cauldron of laundry. Ether stood, studying the old woman. The shapeshifter’s face was creased with confusion.

  “Why?” Ether said.

  Celia did not answer. He
r eyes focused on her work and her ears unable to alert her. Ether touched the woman’s shoulder and Celia turned to her.

  “Why?” she asked again.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you are asking,” Celia said.

  “When you believed your daughter was alive, you were overcome. There were tears and exclamations. You embraced me repeatedly. Now that I’ve given you what I understand is the worst news a mortal can receive of a loved one, you simply return to your task. Why? Why are you overcome with joy, but not overcome with grief?”

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve received this news, child. Oh, I mean… I’m afraid I don’t know how to address you.”

  “I don’t care what you call me. Answer my question,” Ether said.

  “I have lost a husband, a son, and… two daughters.”

  “It becomes easier with each loss?”

  “No. Heavens no. Never easier. Just more familiar. It isn’t a surprise any longer. You know the pain, how deep it will cut. And you know that you can go on.”

  “You had a husband. You loved him?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “And he loved you?”

  “Of course.”

  “You haven’t replaced him.”

  “Replaced him? You can never replace someone you truly love. You might find someone new to love, but that isn’t the same. Not by a long shot.”

  “Then how did you forget him?”

  “Forget him! Perish the thought! There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about him.”

  Ether stepped forward. “Then how? How do you cope with the void within you? How do you go on knowing someone you were destined to share eternity with is gone?”

  Celia looked deeply into Ether’s eyes. The shapeshifter blinked and felt a tear roll down her cheek. She turned away, feeling a hot flush of anger at her lack of control.

  The older woman put a hand to Ether’s cheek. “You lost someone, too.”

  Ether stepped away from the woman’s touch and ignored the observation. “Others seem to throw themselves into their purpose, their calling. Others say things like family and career can fill one’s mind and plug the holes within. But what of you? Have you any family?”