Our Lady of the Snow

by Louise Cooper

  Kodor stopped in mid-sentence and looked at Pola in surprise. Father Urss was also alerted; he turned a surreptitious gaze on the Imperatrix, and Nanta saw his eyes light with a glint of sudden and considerable interest. She herself was nonplussed, and said, “An apology… ?”

  “Yes.” Pola smiled again. She seemed to find it easier this time, as though her confidence was growing. “We have seen nothing at all of you since…well, since the tragedy, and now that we are all together we”ve talked only of trivial things. That must be hard for you. You have so much on your mind at present, not least the thought of what you might wish to do once the funeral and the morning are over. I’m sure I speak for everyone here when I say that we want to help you in any way we can.”

  There was a small silence. Kodor was openly staring at his wife now, and Father Urss regarded her with a look of frank admiration. Pola, it seemed, was more resourceful than appearances had led him to believe. By assuming the role—and Urss knew perfectly well that it was just a role—of the concerned and loving sister-in-law, she had neatly outmanoeuvred Kodor and

  plucked control of the situation from his hands. Duke Arec’s daughter indeed, Urss thought; but with an added subtlety that Arec couldn’t have comprehended, let alone matched. Pola had learned a great deal since she came to Vyskir.

  All eyes were on Nanta now as the company waited for her to reply. Nanta knew as well as anyone that Pola’s show was just that and nothing more, and she chose her words carefully.

  “I’m very grateful to you, sister,” she said, “Though truthfully I’ve not thought greatly about what I shall do.”

  “Naturally,” said Pola, feigning sympathy. “You must still be very distressed. I understand.”

  Kodor opened his mouth as though to say something but changed his mind. Nanta fingered the stem of her wine glass and glanced at him before her gaze returned to Pola. “It is, of course, for you and the Imperator to make the final decision,” she continued. “I don’t even know what the options will be.”

  “You’ve not been told?” Pola’s surprise seemed genuine.

  Nanta smiled thinly. “No.”

  Kodor did speak then, leaning back in his chair and giving Father Urss a look of undisguised and almost gleeful dislike. “Someone has been remiss, it seems,” he said. “Eh, Father?”

  Urss was unmoved. “The Council judged, sire, that the Dowager would need time to recover from her bereavement before we troubled her with such considerations.”

  “Did it. Well, perhaps the Council was wrong. At very least it would have been a courtesy to approach my sister on the matter, rather than make judgments without reference to her.”

  “I’m sure Father Urss acted only out of respect for Nanta’s feelings, husband,” Pola said firmly. She smiled at him. “As you or I would have done. Isn’t that so, Father?”

  Urss bowed his head. “Of course, madam. But now that you have so generously raised the subject, then this might be an opportune moment to explain the possible options to Her Grace the Dowager, so that she may weigh them at her leisure.”

  Pola had made an ally. She knew it, so did Kodor, and so did Nanta. For Father Urss it was an unexpected and very welcome development, but he had the skill and acumen to disguise his satisfaction as he made a second bow, to Kodor this time, and added, “With Your Majesty’s gracious permission, of course.”

  It was obvious that Kodor did not want to give his permission, but he was cornered. With a careless shrug he said, “If it pleases my wife to help”—the word had a sour sting—“so be it.”

  “Thank you, sire.” The councillors were attending closely now, and lower down the table Grand Mother Beck’s chilly eyes had lit with new interest. Urss turned to Nanta.

  “Madam, there are a number of choices open to you. As Imperatrix Dowager you will receive a stipend—a pension, as it were—to ensure that you may live comfortably for the natural span of your life. But as to where you will live—”

  Kodor interrupted. “Nanta will continue to live here in the palace. It is her home now.”

  Urss inclined his head. “As you say, sire, it is her home. However, the Exalted Council feels that—”

  “I’m not interested in what the Exalted Council does or doesn’t feel. I wish Nanta to remain here.”

  Pola coughed delicately. “We both wish it, of course, Kodor. But surely it’s for Nanta to say what she wishes?”

  Again she had outdone him, and before Kodor could find an answer Urss pounced on the opening she had provided. “And I’m sure that Her Grace would like to know all the alternatives before she arrives at a decision,” he said, and turned with icy courtesy to Nanta. “By your leave?”

  Nanta’s face had tensed. There was a feeling rising in her, forming out of nowhere and nothing, flaring into a peculiar, absolute certainty. But certainty of what? She did not know. She could not grasp it.

  Urss was waiting for a reply. She nodded distractedly, hardly aware of what she was doing, and he bowed with unctuous gratitude. “Thank you, Your Grace. So, then: He leaned forward. “To begin with, the prospect of your re-marrying is quite out of the question. The widow of the Imperator must be above all possible—”

  The certainty in Nanta’s mind suddenly and sharply focused and she said, “I have no wish to re-marry. None whatever.”

  Urss’ look became pitying and faintly patronizing. “In these early days of your grief it’s natural that you should feel as you do. However, you are young, and we must take great care that—”

  “No, Father Urss.” She cut across him again, startled to hear the hard edge in her own voice. “I do not and will not wish it; not now, nor at any time in the future. Do I make myself clear?

  Urss was taken aback—and so was Nanta. She didn’t understand why or how she could be so vehement. the words had simply come and she had uttered them without pausing to consider. Not now, nor at any time in the future. A certainty. An absolute. But why was she so sure?

  An inner voice whispered: Because a part of you knows that it will never be possible.

  She gave a small gasp and put a hand to her temple as a wave of dizziness suddenly flowed through her. Kodor was instantly on his feet, moving to her side, reaching out. Urss stood up hastily, and Mother Beck and two of the servants also came hurrying. But the giddiness was passing, leaving only a faint, residual nausea, and Nanta waved all her would-be helpers back. “No,” she said, “no, leave me. It was a moment’s light-headedness, nothing more.”

  “Take some wine; Kodor urged. “Let me refill your glass.”

  “No; Nanta repeated more emphatically. “Please. Just let me sit quietly for a few moments.”

  “Would you prefer to return to your suite?” Pola asked with apparent concern. “I’m sure no one will take it amiss if you retire.” She glanced at Kodor. “Certainly I shall not.”

  He noted the faint emphasis and its meaning, and shot her a glare that Urss didn’t fail to notice. “Nanta shall do whatever she pleases,” Kodor retorted, and turned his attention to her again. “Come, Nanta. Are you better now?”

  Nanta opened her mouth to say that she was—and the words froze in her throat. Across the hall, standing between the table and the door, was a frost sprite.

  She half choked, pushing Kodor’s ministering hand away, and her chair squealed over the marble floor as she scraped it back and scrambled chaotically to her feet. She stared at the sprite, mesmerized, and everyone turned anxiously to see what had hypnotised her. Then turned back again, their faces blankly bewildered.

  “Sister?” Pola said. “Whatever’s amiss?”

  They couldn’t see it, Nanta realized. To their eyes there. was nothing there; nothing but the empty floor. Yet the sprite still stood, still gazed. It was real. She wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating.

  Then the creature raised one hand before its own face, palm outward, fingers splayed. It shook its head, a warning, a message that Nanta remembered from the fragments of an old dream. Say nothing; tell no o
ne.

  Nanta was shaking. She tried to stop the reaction, tightening her muscles, summoning her will. Through teeth clenched with effort she said, “I…am…very tired. “Thank the Lady, the words were coming more easily now. “If my…my brother and sister permit it, I think I would prefer to return to my…”

  She did not finish. The rush of giddy darkness came so fast that there was no time to prepare for its onslaught. Nanta gasped on a sharp, indrawn note. Then her eyes rolled up in their sockets and she slumped forward, scattering her glass, knife and plate across the table, in a dead faint.

  ****

  Grand Mother Beck sidled up to Urss as the sobered company watched two servants laying Nanta on a litter, ready to carry her out of the winter hall. The meal had been abandoned and the footmen were quietly and efficiently clearing the half-finished dishes. Kodor had ordered apple brandy to be brought, and Beck sipped from the glass she held in her hand before saying in an undertone, “The Dowager seems a little prone to these fainting fits. I wonder what brought this one on?”

  Urss did not reply immediately. He was pondering, and in particular he was keeping a close eye on Kodor, who, ignoring the guests, seemed bent on accompanying the servants to Nanta’s apartments. Pola still stood by her place at the head of the table. She too was watching Kodor, not now with the mask of concern she had shown to Nanta, but with a bland and skilful detachment that efficiently hid any trace of her feelings. Urss noted her manner and added Kodor’s present indiscretion to the mental list of others that he had already made tonight. The wine had had its part to play, certainly, but there was no doubting the fact that Kodor was taking less and less trouble to hide his infatuation with his sister-in-law. No one at the court was actually talking about it yet; but it would not be long before the whispers and rumors began.

  “The Imperator,” he said to Beck, in tones as low as hers, “is going to cause us a great deal of trouble, unless we do something, soon, to prevent it.”

  Beck’s shrewd eyes scanned his face. Several days ago Urss had summoned her to his office and had told her of his experience in the Seminary chapel. She, like him, had no doubt that the “fair child” referred to in the revelation was Nanta. Now, she saw and understood what had been meant.

  “An affair…” She mulled the thought over. “Do you think it’s possible, Father? Do you think the Imperator would really be so foolish?”

  “People in the throes of a passionate fixation are invariably foolish,” Urss replied. “The Imperator is also an obstinate and arrogant young man, and in my opinion his new powers are beginning to go to his head. Something must be done, Beck. And quickly.”

  Beck nodded. “Duke Arec will soon be arriving for the funeral. If he should see the way the wind blows—”

  “Precisely. That must be prevented at all costs.” Urss glanced down at her. “I presume the Imperatrix isn’t yet with child?”

  Beck shook her head. “I understand from her senior lady-in-waiting that her menses began again this morning.”

  “Mmm. That is not satisfactory. I’ll have the imperial physician examine her, to see where the problem lies.”

  “I suspect,” said Beck delicately, “that it lies more in the Imperator’s reluctance than in any failing on the Imperatrix’s. part.”

  She saw that that hadn’t occurred to Urss, and suppressed a cynical smile. For all his worldly knowledge and political skills, Urss was like a man in an ivory tower; too lofty to take the basic realities into account.

  The litter was being borne out of the hall now, and Kodor was going with it. Pola made as if to start after them, then abruptly checked herself and returned to the table, where she sat down. Her face still gave nothing away. Beck had another sip of brandy. “Under ordinary circumstances, the Imperator could have had his dalliance and, provided it was discreet, no harm would be done. It’s been common enough practice in the past. Unfortunately, though, we have Duke Arec and the alliance to consider.”

  “You echo my own thoughts,” said Urss. The small hiatus as they watched the litter had given him time to collect his thoughts, and as the doors closed he added, “Beck, I want you to ensure that the Dowager has as little contact with the Imperator as possible until the funeral takes place.”

  “Of course, Father.” Beck bowed slightly.

  “And I also wish to see you in more private circumstances. Come to my office tomorrow morning, after First Obligation. We will discuss the Dowager’s options, I think, and decide which one she should take.”

  Beck nodded. “My own choice would be to put her into a sanctum,” she said. “It’s perfectly acceptable for a widow to enter religious life, and it will look well with the populace. They’ll remember her with sympathy and affection, and she will be out of the Imperator’s reach.”

  “I’m inclined to the same view. However, there is one flaw. We must first persuade her to agree.”

  Beck chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. “I think she can be persuaded.”

  “I’m not so sure. For all her meekness, there’s a defiant streak in her. You may not have witnessed it, but I have.”

  “Then she must be coerced,” said Beck firmly.

  “Indeed. Or, failing that, more drastic measures will have to be taken.”

  There was a brief silence. Then Beck probed cautiously, “Drastic, Father…? I believe I don’t quite comprehend.”

  Urss looked down at her. “I believe, Beck, that you do. But this is not the time or the place for any further word on the subject. Allow me to refill your glass; I see that it’s empty again. And then I suggest that we exchange pleasantries with the Imperatrix, and put this little dilemma from our minds until tomorrow.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Six days before the funeral, the imperial physician died, “of natural causes”, in his bed.

  Father Urss received the news with a show of regret that convinced everyone but the very few, such as Grand Mother Beck, who knew the truth. It was a relief to be rid of the man, and a successor was appointed so smoothly and quickly that the transition was barely noticed.

  The physician’s removal did give rise to one small problem, but with Beck’s help—and Marine’s, as her unwitting agency—Urss believed he had solved it. After a great deal of deliberation he had reluctantly come to the conclusion that the “drastic measures” he had spoken of to Beck were likely to be needed where Nanta was concerned. Despite their best efforts it had proved impossible to keep Nanta and Kodor apart. The lengthy rehearsals for the funeral ceremony demanded regular meetings between them, and it soon became obvious that Kodor had no intention of abandoning his overtures to his sister-in-law. To give her credit, Nanta did not respond as Kodor wanted; if anything she seemed as anxious as Urss to keep a distance between them. But with Duke Arec now ensconced in the palace the situation was looking highly dangerous. One way or another, Urss decided, the Dowager must be removed, and there were only two safe options. A sanctum—or death.

  Urss had returned to the Seminary chapel on several occasions, praying for guidance and hoping that the God might see fit to grant him a second revelation. Nothing direct had happened, but he had begun to have strange dreams. Urss rarely remembered his dreams, and knew at once that this could only be the God’s answer. But the message the dreams brought was enigmatic: strange words, stranger references and, underlying all, an atmosphere of simmering rage that brought Urss awake in a sweat as the dreams ended. Only one thread was clearly repeated time and time again. Beware of the fair child. Take away the fair child. And, in the most recent and most compelling dream of all: Eliminate the fair child.

  Urss did not tell Beck about that dream. Beck argued strongly for the option of sending Nanta to a sanctum. She had no particular scruples about the other choice, but reasoned that three deaths in fewer months among the imperial family would give rise to unwanted talk and speculation. It was all well and good to proclaim that the Corolla Lights had presaged these great upheavals, she pointed out, but the Corolla Lights had n
ot appeared since the night of Osiv’s passing and it would be harder to use them as an excuse this time. Urss was forced to agree with her, or at least to allow her time to, as she put it, “persuade the Dowager to see reason”. He granted her four days. But if by then Nanta had not complied with their wishes, the other remedy must be applied.

  Beck began the process by enlisting Marine’s help. In a friendly interview in her study she confided the problem of Kodor’s interest in Nanta and the resultant threat to the Sekolian alliance. Marine’s response was gratifying. As Beck had expected, she favored the idea of a sanctum—doubtless she was delighted by the prospect of welcoming another lost soul into the fold, Beck thought cynically—and offered at once to do her utmost to gain Nanta’s acquiescence. Certain that Marine could succeed if anyone could, Beck accepted her offer, and dismissed her.

  Outside Beck’s office, Marine closed her eyes momentarily and offered silent thanks to the Lady. She had not lied to Beck; she did believe that a sanctum was the best place for Nanta. Or rather, the safest. That was the crux of it, and the thing that no power in the world could have coerced her to tell her senior. For Marine’s own doubts had been growing over the past few days. There was nothing she could put her finger on; it was simply an instinct, but a peculiarly strong one, that Nanta’s challenging question to her on the morning after Osiv’s death had been valid. Frost sprites did not lie. And now there was the added ingredient of the Imperator’s determined interest in Nanta, as Beck had just detailed. Why that? Beck had drawn the obvious conclusion, but Marine saw another possibility—that Kodor had an inkling of Nanta’s own suspicions. If Osiv had been murdered, and Kodor had been involved in the deed, then Nanta’s continuing presence in the court was a threat to him. To Marine, the motive behind Kodor’s attentiveness to Nanta was all too obvious. He was looking for confirmation, one indiscreet word to tell him that she knew more than was good for her. If he found what he sought, then Nanta’s fate would be sealed.

  Nanta must be persuaded to leave the Metropolis, Marine told herself desperately. She herself could go with her, perhaps even take her back to her own sanctum in the east, where she could be cared for and protected and kept far away from the court and its machinations. The alternative was unthinkable. I have failed you before, Nanta, Marine thought. But this time I will not. I will not.