by Garon Whited
“I can kind of see his point,” I admitted. “And, to be perfectly frank, if he loves Lissette enough to take such a massive risk—and vice-versa—I’m prepared to look the other way. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: It’s a political marriage, not a romantic one. I’m not even too keen on the whole succession thing. If the Queen has a child, the child is in line for the throne. End of story.”
“That’s… you can do that?” Tianna asked.
“My goal, here, is to not be King,” I reminded her. “What I want to set up is a Royal House—if there’s a King, he rules; if not, the Queen rules. The succession is through the line of Queens, but selected by the King.”
“Huh.”
“You sound amazed.”
“You sound crazy.”
“But a good crazy, I hope.”
“I’m not sure you can get the nobles to take that.”
“I’m sure the survivors will think it a fantastic way to run a kingdom.”
I’m behind you all the way on this, Boss!
“You stay out of it,” Tianna snapped. “Grandfather, are you sure this is the right way to… to…”
“No, I’m not. But it’s the only way I can think of to keep me from being pinned between a crown and a throne! The kingdom doesn’t need the Demon King; it doesn’t need me. It needs a stable monarchy and competent rulers who view the responsibilities of kingship as a duty, not a privilege. When you get a politician who thinks being in charge is a goal, rather than a duty, you have lousy politicians.”
“I see your point, but it’s such a drastic change from the way it’s supposed to be done—”
“It’s a new deal,” I advised. “There wasn’t a real king for close to ninety years. This is how we’re going to do it.”
“If you say so, I’ll back you, but you’re going to have troubles.”
“When don’t I? But, speaking of troubles, I see I have a lot to ask Thomen about.”
“Yes.”
“Here’s the thing. Yes, it looks kind of like he’s a traitorous, usurper-ous, power-hungry weasel. But could he be an honest, upright individual who started out as the Queen’s Physician, became her lover, and is continuing to shield her mind from the horror of her own memories at being the wife of the Demon King?”
“That’s an awfully generous thought.”
“Yes, it is, and I know it!” I snapped. I caught myself and rubbed my forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m tempery. Yes, I’m reaching, and I know it. I’m overcompensating for a huge desire to go out and kill something—anything. So, let me reach for my misplaced optimism and take the benefit of the vague doubt, will you?”
“Of course, Grandfather. Especially when you put it like that.”
“Thank you. Firebrand? How about it? Could Thomen be a good guy, here?”
I… Boss, there’s too much in Lissette’s head I can’t get to. I don’t know. I can’t call it one way or another. It could be good, having stuff hidden away from her in her own mind. On the other hand, it could as easily be a suppression of anything that would contradict… well, whatever Thomen wants to tell her. He could be saving her sanity or using her ruthlessly. I can’t tell, and that’s all there is to it.
“Don’t forget,” Tianna replied, “we were hunted the whole way home.”
“Explain that.”
“I was blocking location attempts all along the way. It was a non-stop thing, pecking at my spells, trying to find us. It couldn’t have been just Thomen. It required dozens of people. What they would have done if they found me—found us—I don’t know. Someone went to a lot of effort to locate us, though. If we hadn’t been moving at Bronze speeds, they might have succeeded. She got us far away quickly enough that I could hide us without wearing myself out.”
“Doesn’t Sparky give you a vitality boost?”
“Yes. We’re talking about a lot of power I had to block, Gramps. Once we were outside Carrillon, they started piling on, trying to find us. They had to know we were on the road to Tolcaren, but I can only assume they needed to get a precise location. The only reasons to do that are to communicate or to hit someone like a nail. When I realized what was happening, we took some of the lesser roads and did a little cross-country traveling, too, before we got back on the Kingsroad.”
“Lesser roads?”
“The ones that aren’t straight paths of stone? Dirt tracks through lesser towns and villages. Those roads.”
“Oh. Okay.” I thought about the implications of the constant pinging for Tianna’s location. “I think I need to talk to Thomen.”
“I’d say so!”
“Good thing I already scheduled a call.”
“Already?” Her eyebrows went up. “My, you’re an awfully clever grandfather.”
“Yes. And sometimes—once in a great while—a little bit lucky. We’ll see how it goes.”
“Good. I’d like to be there for the conversation. Right now, though, can I borrow Bronze to get me to the Temple of Flame in a hurry? It’s a long walk and I’ve been away much longer than I should.”
“By all means, go handle your religion.”
“Wow. That’s irony.”
“It is?”
“One god telling me to go handle the affairs of another.” Tianna’s smile was dazzling.
“Because you’re my granddaughter—”
“And, therefore, quasi-divine?” she interjected. I ignored this.
“—I’m going to ignore that. Just remember I gave up being a god.” I didn’t add anything about how my alternative was apparently madness and death. Nor did I mention my knowledge of energy-state beings. They aren’t gods, merely non-physical entities feeding off the projected energies of mankind.
“If you say so,” she agreed.
“I’ll send word… no, on second thought, I’ll try to conference you in from the temple.”
“Conference?”
“When I’m talking with Thomen, I should be able to rig it so you can see and hear us both, but we won’t see you. It’ll be like sitting in the room without the need to leave the temple. How’s that sound?”
“Wonderful!” She stood on tiptoe and kissed my cheek. “You’re sweet, Grandfather.”
“Only to the people who deserve it. Off you go.” I buckled on Firebrand while Bronze curled a foreleg back as a step for Tianna. Good thing I raised the ceilings in the halls. Dantos started opening the door while Tianna mounted. Bronze waited politely for him to finish, rather than shoving it open herself. Very mannerly, my horse. Dantos pivoted it slowly shut again after they left.
Mary came in a few minutes later. She and Dantos traded greetings. I was busy, laying the basic power-storing enchantment in the crystals oozing out of the walls. The mountain could hold them and move them into their proper places by manipulating the stone in which they were embedded. It wouldn’t be able to increase their size once I put the power matrix into the crystals, but it could always produce more crystals.
“I saw Tianna and Bronze. I take it everything is in good shape?”
“Yes and no.”
“As usual?”
“Pretty much. Tianna’s fine, but Lissette may be the victim of post-traumatic stress disorder—”
“I hear it’s going around.”
“—or she may be mind-controlled by the Evil Wizard acting as her Grand Vizier.”
“That’s rather cliché, isn’t it?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. I noticed she changed her hair color again, this time to an inky black. She also wore it in a braid.
“Yes, it is, but even the clichés have a grain of truth to them. That’s why the become clichés. And what’s with your hair?”
“I like it black.”
“I mean the braid.”
“I’m not married.”
“Well, no, I suppose not. But why not put it in a ponytail?”
“Either you’re trying to get my goat or you’re legitimately asking. Which is it?”
“I don’t understand,”
I admitted.
“Ah. So you really don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“A ponytail is for prostitutes,” Mary informed me.
“Seriously?”
“Well, maybe I should call them ‘working women.’ Loose hair is for children, braids for unmarried girls, and that wriage-thing for married women. Ponytails, however, are generally worn by women for hire. Remember, this place doesn’t view women the same way. You can hire a girl to do your laundry, rub your feet, cook your meals—and she’s a ‘working woman’ in that sense. But a woman on the street asking if you want a good time? She has her hair in a ponytail, too.” Mary cocked her head at me, puzzled. “I’m surprised you don’t know that.”
“How would I?” I countered. “Most of my encounters with society are in a meeting, running through crowds, or killing people.”
“Not the ideal learning environment,” she agreed.
“Welcome to my life.”
“Speaking of which, how’s the morning looking?”
“Well, I expect to talk to Thomen… but he’ll wait until I’m good and ready for it. I have a number of things I should be doing.”
“Am I one of them?”
“Thank you for reminding me. Yes. Of course you are.”
“Just making sure.” She moved up beside me and put an arm around my waist. “Working on a project, I see.”
“Always.”
“Am I going to have to keep poking you to remind you I’m here?”
“I hope not. I’m trying to toss this whole king thing back into the laps of people who can do it better. If I get my way, eventually I’ll have a nice, quiet spot with easy access to dinner, a huge library, and a workroom for anything I want to accidentally blow up. Until then,” I told her, turning to put my arms around her, “yes, you might need to poke me and remind me you’re there once in a while.”
“All right. I hope your quiet little spot has other fun stuff. I like reading as much as the next girl, but I also need to get out and do things.”
“I’ll add it to the list. In the meantime, do you and Firebrand want to help me?”
“With what?”
“I’m thinking I should take a nap before I start making major decisions about the upcoming war, Thomen, Johann, and Tort.” I grimaced. “I don’t want to, but you pointed out I probably should sleep every so often. Maybe you’re right. I don’t think I can afford to be wrong about it. But I also don’t like it, and I’m more than half afraid if I do sleep, something awful will sneak up on me.”
“That’s what you want Firebrand and I to help with?”
“Yes. Dantos can keep an eye out for immediate, physical threats. You and Firebrand can watch for magical and mental ones.”
“I’m not much of a wizardette, yet.”
“All you have to do is wake me up if something starts knocking on my defenses.” I grinned at her. “I’m not sleeping outside a protective circle.”
“Seems reasonable. Okay. I’ll watch you sleep.”
“Dantos? When is your shift over?”
“Dawn, my lord.”
“Just checking. Let’s head to bed.”
We went up to the royal snooze room and I laid out an Ascension Sphere. It’s not a perfect defense, but against anything done remotely, it was a fantastic start. Inside it, I put up a more standard blocking and containment spell; nothing gets in, nothing gets out. At least, nothing immaterial.
Mary and Dantos watched me set all this up on the slab serving as a bed. When I started laying out furs and blankets again, Dantos spoke up.
“My lord? Shall I wait outside? Or do you wish me to remain in the room?”
“Please remain. Although, if you want to post someone outside the door, go ahead. I leave it up to you.”
Dantos bowed slightly in acknowledgement. He fished out a small mirror and called for backup.
Mary accepted a sheathed Firebrand and sat down inside the Ascension Sphere, folding her legs together and laying Firebrand across her knees.
“So, how does an undead get a nap?” she asked. “Isn’t sleep a thing for mortals?”
“Yes. But I’ve got a plan. You’ll see.”
“Okay.”
Once we had everything laid out—including me—I stepped into my headspace. There, I checked the trapdoor to the basement and made sure it was still bolted tight. With that done, I sat down at my desk, tried to relax, and slowly started dimming the lights.
It seemed to work. At any rate, when the lights went out, so did I.
A thousand paths, each branching in all directions. Footsteps on each line, each a strand of destiny, marching in unison, feet tromping like metronomes in perfect time, all advancing together. Here I am, everywhere, stomping forward, regardless of which path I take, almost heedless, because I take them all. Every path, every branch, I am there, splitting to follow every way.
Rarely, paths intersect, merging again. There I merge, as well, becoming myself, and continue. We are a line drawn across all the possibilities, creeping forward relentlessly down branching roads which never end.
I realize this is not quite true. Some paths do end. They simply stop, although I do not. At each such end, my relentless march carries me beyond the path and I topple, tumble, twisting down into darkness, still marching. Before me, there are many paths, and many of those have endings. A culling, a trimming of this tangled hedge of possibility, it seems. A place where the line of us will lose so many ways.
Beyond, the paths which continue branch and branch again, filling the empty spaces. When I reach them, I will split again, and again, and again, down all the myriad ways.
Can I go back and divert those selves who would venture down dead-end roads? Merge them again on some longer trail, lead them back? No, there is no way to turn around, no going back, no returning. Can I even shout? Can I call out to the others of myself, the might-have-beens, the never-were, the could-have-happened?
It is strange, being one of these and seeing us all. Being oneself and being outside, looking in. Inside, I am as helpless as all the rest, rushing headlong or dragging feet, yet moving inexorably forward. Outside, I see all the lines, all the others who are me, our paths, our destinies, our decisions.
I open my mouth to warn me, for many are coming to places final, to turns or twists or branches where there is no other way but all the way and to the end.
What do I say? Are there words for it? I cannot comprehend myself at this moment. All I know is I cry out, I speak. I listen and heed. New branches form to connect final ways to other ways, but the ends remain. I split, I divide, I take all paths, as always, and for every self diverted to a safer course, another tumbles into oblivion.
Sunday, February 22nd
The sunrise woke me like falling out of bed into a pool of hot water. I jerked upright, sweating, shaking.
“That sounded like a doozy,” Mary commented.
It was, Firebrand assured her.
I ignored both of them as I got a grip on myself. It’s not an easy thing to go from weird omniscient psychic dream state to mortal solidity. It takes a minute to get one’s bearings. It took me closer to two.
Once I felt more grounded and oriented, I hugged my knees and closed my eyes, reviewing what I’d dreamed, trying to understand the vision. Offhand, I could see several possible ways to interpret it, along with a lot of inevitability and futility. If the point of it was to say every decision could lead to an infinite series of decisions, and no matter what decisions I made, an alternate me made another, then it was a lousy point. If it was about the inevitability of destiny and the illusion of free will, ditto.
This is another reason I have issues with sleep. My dreams make no sense whatsoever.
I opened my eyes. Dantos was still by the door. Mary still sat cross-legged with Firebrand on her lap.
“Shower?” she prompted. I didn’t need another prompting. I felt sticky already.
We cleaned up as the sunrise continued. Mary encouraged
me in a not-at-all subtle fashion to take the morning off. I was already planning on it, but she knows I forget things.
When we came out of the bathroom, Firebrand was hanging on a wall and Dantos, or his replacement, was nowhere to be seen. Someone had brought in a lot of food and arranged the trays neatly on the slab serving as a writing-desk. My guess was Mary already made arrangements. I hoped those arrangements included exceptions for emergencies.
After that, Mary took my mind off my nightmares.
Boss? Firebrand asked, during a lull.
What?
There’s a debate about whether or not to disturb you.
I can hear them talking through the door, but it’s faint and I haven’t had attention to spare. What’s the deal?
Lissette denounced the Demon King for drinking the blood of children—the hundred or so kids, I think—and declared war. Ships have set sail from Formia and the armies around Baret are marching east along the southern Kingsroad.
Is anyone doing anything about it?
I dunno. Seldar’s giving orders and people are doing what he tells them. Does that count?
It most certainly does. Do we have an estimate on how long it’ll be until the army gets to Mochara?
Three or four days, they tell me. Something about armies taking more time than someone walking. Which is weird, since it’s a bunch of guys walking, you know? You’d think—
Yes, it is odd, I interrupted. Do we know when the ships arrive?
About the same time, maybe a little sooner. Weather and ocean stuff.
Got it. It can wait another hour or two.
Seriously, Boss?
Seriously. Mary wanted a morning; I said I would. Besides, Seldar will have a report for me by then and some idea of how my own powers might best be employed. He’ll have a much better idea of what strategy we should use. I’ll be happy to listen to it and approve. Right now, he’s busy. I’ll bother him later.
You’re taking this not-be-king thing a little seriously, aren’t you?
Seldar’s high on my list of alternates.
You really aren’t kidding?
I’m really not kidding.
Okay. If you say so, Boss.