Crown of Destiny

by Small Bertrice

  Terahns were used to one form of rule. They wanted no changes made. Their Dominus was good enough for them. It was his duty to make the decisions, not the people. Lara realized that Taj’s grandmother, and his three uncles whom she had appointed to be his council had done their job well while she had been off saving their worlds. Her son had been turned into a proper Terahn Dominus from the old school, and she hadn’t seen it until it was far too late. And her grandson and great-grandson had followed Taj in maintaining the ancient traditions.

  When her mother-in-law had lain dying, she had advised Taj on the sort of wife he should take. A well-brought-up Terahn girl who knew her place, which was in the background, and her duty, which was to give Taj children. And Taj, despite Lara’s best efforts, had followed the advice given by Lady Persis. Lara could only silently despair. She considered if Magnus Hauk had listened to his mother Terah would never have been free of the curse of Usi, and it would have probably been conquered by Hetar or the Twilight Lord. But from the moment Magnus had died the Terahns had subtly worked their influence on Lara’s son. Perhaps had she been with him more it would not have happened, but there were so many problems that needed to be solved in those days. And it was the magic inhabitants of the world of Hetar who fought to save it.

  So Taj had grown up, and married a suitable Terahn wife. Vineeta was pretty enough to keep her son interested long enough to sire the required children. Amhar had been born ten months after the marriage. He was followed by his two sisters, Elvyne and Casperia. Amren, the younger son, had been the fourth, born eight years later, and was followed the next year by Taj’s youngest daughter, Mauhault.

  But while offering her mother-in-law outward respect, the young Domina Vineeta found it disquieting that her husband’s mother looked as though she could be one of her own companions. The daughter of a wealthy widower, she had been chosen by Taj’s aunts Anselma and Narda to be Taj’s wife. Motherless, she looked to them for advice. As neither of Magnus Hauk’s two older sisters had liked Lara, their opinions drove Vineeta’s attitude toward her mother-in-law. Taj’s youngest aunt, the Lady Sirvat, Lara’s best friend, had attempted to heal the growing breach, but the damage was done.

  Anselma and Narda whispered a stream of ignorance and prejudice into Vineeta’s small ear. Vineeta had believed it all. She kept her children from their grandmother, clutching them to her dramatically when Lara entered the nursery. The children sensed that something was wrong, and grew to fear the beautiful golden-haired woman who came to see them. Eventually they became so hysterical at the mere sight of Lara that after complaining to her son, Lara had stayed away.

  “Children are like that, Mother,” the Dominus Taj told her. “They have their shy moments even with their parents.”

  “I have birthed enough children to know what they are like,” Lara had replied sharply. “Those two harpies who are your father’s older sisters have taught Vineeta to fear me, and she in turn teaches my grandchildren. Amhar actually hissed at me and made a sign with his hands, which I imagine he has been told is something to ward off evil. I’m afraid I laughed at him, which sent him into a flood of tears and shrieking as he ran from me.”

  “It is a phase,” Taj defended his oldest son.

  “It is prejudice,” Lara said quietly. “You have no magic in you, Taj, but you are still the son of a faerie woman. Be glad you are an ordinary mortal for if you were not you would face what I now face. It was never so in your father’s time. Or perhaps it was, and your father protected me for he loved me. I am your mother, my lord Dominus, and that alone should command respect. But if your wife and aunts are allowed to treat me so shabbily, then your children will, too. Once you stood by my side against those who would mistreat me. You no longer do. It saddens me, but I will always love you even if I no longer like you,” Lara told her son, and by the shocked look upon his face she knew she had made her point.

  But she could not, would not stand between Taj and Vineeta. She would not demand that he make a choice between his mother and his wife. That was a mortal way; it was not the faerie way. And so her grandchildren had become virtual strangers to Lara. But when Taj’s younger son was to be sent to Hetar as Terah’s ambassador, he came to Lara for more knowledge than anyone else could give him.

  “Tell me about Hetar,” he said.

  “Why do you need to know?” Lara asked him.

  “I am to represent Terah,” Amren said proudly. “You are Hetarian. You know what I need to know.”

  “I am faerie,” Lara told him. “I was born in the forests of Hetar, daughter of Ilona, who is Queen of the Forest Faeries, and a Hetarian named John Swiftsword. Swiftsword was your great-grandfather. His memory is much respected in Hetar, and especially among the Crusader Knights.”

  “What are they?” Amren inquired.

  Lara explained.

  “So in Hetar there is a distinct social strata, as there is here in Terah,” he said.

  “Even more so,” Lara told the young man. “In Terah there is the Dominus, his family, and an underclass of merchants, farmers, artisans and the like. In Hetar there is the Lord High Ruler, the High Council made up of representatives from the provinces, as well as a Merchants Guild to which all merchants and shopkeepers belong. There is a Mercenary Guild, the order of the Crusader Knights, the Pleasure Mistresses Guild, the Guild of Pleasure Women. There are farmers and traders, healers and those who perform miscellaneous services.”

  “It sounds very complicated,” Amren noted. “But you must teach me so I know it all, and do not embarrass my father.”

  “Must? How dare you speak to me so, Amren, grandson of Magnus Hauk. In Hetar how one appears is paramount, and good manners are all-important. If you are loud and rude, Hetar will believe that all who live in Terah are the same way. Your first impression will be the most important impression you make. You cannot allow Hetar to continue their foolish fantasy of being the only civilized kingdom in our world. Still I must consider if I will educate you in the ways of Hetar. Is it even possible to do so, considering how you have been raised?”

  Amren was a very handsome young man. In many ways he reminded her of Magnus Hauk with his dark blond hair and his blue eyes. But his lips were thin, and his jaw weak. Yet he had a certain charm, Lara thought, and perhaps he could be taught to represent Terah with dignity and elegance. He smiled at Lara now. “Please teach me what I must know, Grandmother,” he said.

  Lara laughed aloud. “Never since any of you were born have I heard the word Grandmother directed toward me,” she said. “Come back tomorrow in the second hour after midday. I will have decided by then if I will help you.”

  “Could you really turn me into a toad?” he asked her half-seriously.

  Lara nodded slowly. “If I choose to,” she told him.

  “The old aunts say you are evil,” Amren said.

  “Narda and Anselma are a pair of dried-up old biddies. And they were the same in their youth. They know far more of evil than I do. Your aunt Sirvat was the only one among Magnus Hauk’s family who befriended me, and she is now gone.”

  “My mother loves them,” Amren said.

  “I am glad for them that someone does,” Lara remarked tartly. “Now, go away, boy. When you return tomorrow we shall talk again.”

  “If I return,” he replied.

  Lara laughed again and waved him from her. Of course the next afternoon Amren came, and for the next two months he spent time with his grandmother each afternoon learning all about Hetar. When she thought he was near to being ready, she called in the royal tailor and personally oversaw the creation of his wardrobe. The royal tailor, being a clever man, smiled and nodded in agreement with the Domina Vineeta and the Ladies Narda and Anselma when they told him what to do in regard to Amren’s clothing. Then, following Lara’s careful instructions, the tailor created a magnificent wardrobe of silks, velvets and satins, trimmed in gold and bejeweled with semiprecious stones and crystals. Shoes and boots of the finest leather, some of the shoes burni
shed with gold or silver. There were capes and cloaks trimmed with fur, some lined in cloth of gold or silver. His sword and the several daggers among his ambassadorial possessions had handles and hilts studded with precious jewels.

  When Dominus Taj saw all his mother had done for his younger son, he felt both pleased and sad. Briefly he recalled the childhood before his father had been killed, when she had loved him, and indulged him shamelessly. He remembered warm Autumn days when she would put him before her on her horse, Dasras, and gallop across the plains of Terah into the blue skies above, so he might see their world as others could not. When his father had died she had been his strength, gently but firmly guiding him, putting his interests, and those of Terah, first. Taj now knew by virtue of his years that only his magical faerie-woman mother could have been that bighearted. He realized now that she had saved Terah far more than once, and he was ashamed of his behavior. Looking at her, he said, “I have not the words.”

  “You do, and I hear them with my heart,” Lara replied softly. Then she turned to look at Amren. “He is an intelligent young man, and will serve Terah well, my son.”

  Domina Vineeta sat nervously nearby with the Ladies Narda and Anselma, watching her husband and his mother.

  “Which vessel is to conduct our Amren to Hetar?” Narda asked Vineeta.

  “No vessel,” was the reply. “He will be accompanied by a Shadow Prince.”

  Narda and Anselma both hissed their strong disapproval.

  “It is practical, and swift,” Vineeta dared to say. “And he has been given two personal faerie post creatures to carry his messages back and forth.”

  “And you allowed the faerie woman to corrupt your son, Vineeta?” Anselma said.

  “I am astounded that after all these years of protecting your children from her you would do such a thing. Amren’s wardrobe indicates that she has already begun to corrupt him. It is obvious she ensorcelled the tailor into doing her bidding, and not following our most careful instructions. Your younger son looks Hetarian now, not Terahn.”

  Lara had heard them. It had been years since she had spoken to either of her sisters-in-law, and she was surprised to find they still irritated her. “Amren is most handsome in his new garments. The richness of them gives him more value with the Hetarians with whom he must deal than if he had dressed himself in plain clothing. With Hetar it is always the first impression that is the lasting one. After all these years have you no concept of what Hetar is like?”

  They had had no answer for her. Recalling it now, Lara remembered that day as if it were yesterday. Narda and Anselma were long gone of course. Magnus’s youngest sister, the Lady Sirvat, Lara’s dearest friend, was dead, too. And since her passing Lara had had no friend among the Terahns. Her mother had, some fifty years ago, sent her a serving woman, Cadi, as Lara’s longtime serving woman, Mila, had grown old, too.

  Cadi was the daughter of a casual encounter between a faerie man and the strong spirit that inhabited an Aspen tree in the domain of the Hetarian Forest Lords. She had been found cradled in the aboveground roots of the tree one May morning by her father, who had been summoned by his former lover. The Aspen told the faerie man that the child was his, and he must take it as she could not raise it. He agreed, bringing the infant to his queen and begging for her aid.

  Though he was a faerie of the lower castes, Ilona agreed to raise his daughter, educate her and one day put her in service with Lara. The queen of the Forest Faeries knew her daughter would need one of their own kind by her side eventually. Mortals died off much too soon. And their bodies became infirm, as well. So Cadi had come to serve her mistress when she reached the age of fourteen.

  She was a delicate and slender creature with faerie green eyes that she had inherited from her father. But it was her hair that was her most interesting feature. It appeared leaf like. In summer Cadi’s head was a bright green that seemed to quiver and quake when the winds blew. In autumn her hair turned bright red and gold. By winter her head seemed nothing more than short brownish twigs that, once the spring came, began to sprout green buds that grew again into odd flat round pointed shapes that so resembled the leaves of the Aspen tree.

  Ilona had trained the girl well. Sweet-natured, but intelligent, she served her mistress with loving kindness. And Lara was relieved to have a serving woman who understood her mistress and her magical ways, someone who could be trusted to keep Lara’s secrets. Cadi had traveled with Lara to the New Outlands to bid the friend of her youth a final farewell. It had been a poignant and difficult moment for Lara.

  Word had come via faerie post that Noss was in her final days. She would not live, her daughter Mildri wrote, to see this year’s Gathering. No longer having any official duties in Terah, Lara had called to Cadi, newly come to her then, to join her. Going to the stables, they had mounted Lara’s great horse, Dasras, and together they had traveled to the New Outlands.

  Seeing Lara again, Noss, now silver-haired and wrinkled, had laughed knowingly. “This journey I will take without you, Lara,” she said. “But Liam is waiting for me.”

  “Do not go just yet,” Lara begged her friend. “We are only newly come.”

  “Who is the girl with the odd hair who accompanies you?” Noss wanted to know.

  “Her name is Cadi, and she is my new serving woman,” Lara answered.

  “Come here, child.” Noss beckoned to Cadi, and when the girl knelt next to the old woman Noss chuckled. Her hand reached up to ruffle the faerie girl’s head. “She is magic,” Noss said. “’Twas past time your mother sent you someone. How difficult it must be to have us all dying about you, dearest Lara. I remember your mother saying ’twas the curse of being a faerie who loved mortals.” Noss lay back upon her pillows, and closed her eyes briefly. Then she sighed. “I know my time has come, Lara, and though I am now ancient and crippled I am still loath to leave this world. What lies beyond for us? Do you know?”

  Lara shook her head. “I know no more than you, dearest Noss. They say for those good mortals, and you are surely one of them, there is another, but different world of joy, where you will be united with those you love who have gone before you. And for those wicked mortals an entirely different place of punishment exists. ’Tis all I know.”

  “Will you live forever?” Noss asked.

  “I don’t know,” Lara said. “My grandmother Maeve died after many hundreds of years in this world, but where she went, or if her essence disappeared entirely forever I do not know, Noss.”

  “Does Ethne?” Noss wondered, referring to Lara’s spirit guardian, who lived in a crystal Lara wore about her neck.

  “I never asked her,” Lara replied. “And I am not certain I am ready to, or to know the answer she might give me.” The crystal at the end of the chain about her neck glowed briefly, and Lara was certain that she heard Ethne’s tinkling laughter.

  Noss gasped, for she had heard the light laughter, too. “I heard her!” she said excitedly. “I heard Ethne laugh! I did!” Noss sat up.

  That and the words I now speak to you, Noss of the Fiacre, are my parting gift to you. You have loved my mistress well for lo these many years. Your friendship has been a faithful and true friendship. When you are ready, go into the light unafraid, Noss of the Fiacre, for your mate is eagerly awaiting your arrival. Have no fear of the door now opening for you. Step bravely across it, knowing you have done well in this life, and you go forth carrying many faerie blessings with you.

  And Noss felt just the lightest of kisses upon her cheek. Her faded brown eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, Ethne,” she managed to say. Then she turned her head to look at Lara. “My time has come,” she told her oldest and dearest friend with a sigh. “Will you remain by my side until I am gone, dearest Lara?” The old woman closed her eyes and lay back again upon her pillows.

  “I will, dearest Noss,” Lara responded, taking Noss’s hand in hers. “I will not leave until you have.” And the faerie woman sat by the side of the only mortal friend remaining to her as t
he day waned. Finally, as the sun sank away in a blaze of reds, oranges and golds edged in pale green, a deepening blue sky above it filled with small gilt-edged purple clouds, Noss of the Fiacre, widow of Liam, lord of the clan family, stepped bravely through the open door to leave this life for the next. And as she did, Lara heard the joyous cries of welcome for Noss from those beyond that door. She smiled, and looking to Noss’s daughter, Mildri, said softly, “Your mother has left us.”

  Mildri wept quietly for some minutes, and then, her mother’s daughter, she arose, saying to Lara, “You will remain for the Farewell Ceremony, of course.”

  And Lara had. She and Noss had been friends since they were mere girls. They had shared slavery together. Had been reunited by the Shadow Princes. Had traveled across the plains of the old Outlands together encountering adventures Lara would never forget. She had protected Noss, who had been three years younger than Lara. And when Lara’s first husband’s cousin had fallen in love with Noss, and Noss with him, it had been Lara who had arranged their marriage. And it had been a happy marriage, producing several sons and a daughter. Noss’s destiny had been to be a wife, a mother, a Fiacre clanswoman. And while Lara’s fate had been a far different one, their friendship had never wavered. But now Noss was gone.

  Remembering that day so many years ago, Lara wept again briefly. How many mortals had she lost? And now she found herself in a world that did not remember who she was, or her many accomplishments that had helped the mortals inhabiting the world of Hetar to survive and stay within the light. But something was about to happen. Something was going to change. The uneasiness she felt did not bode well. She needed to go to the oasis of Zeroun to think. To escape all the mortal emotions that surrounded her and could divert her thoughts.