“Ah, the Gift of Isi keeps our bodies and our minds in perfect condition until the end.”
I shrugged. “I have to admit, having perfect recall would be a gift to the people on my klith who can’t seem to learn from history—even with written records.”
Meuhlnir chuckled. “Being long lived also makes risking one’s life in some foolish war less and less attractive. We generally don’t go to war, but when we do, you can be sure it isn’t over religion, property, resources, or something trivial such as that.”
“Are there any non-trivial reasons for war?”
Meuhlnir shrugged and patted Sinir as we walked past the horses. “That’s a very good question. The only war that has occurred in my lifetime had as its purpose the ousting of the Dark Bitch from power. It was waged to protect the general population from the depravity her reign had become.” Meuhlnir sniffed. “You may be the cause of the next war, Hank,” he said in quiet tones.
“I just want to get Jane and Siggy back,” I said. “I don’t want to start any wars.”
He looked at me with an arched eyebrow. “No more vengeance on Luka?”
I shook my head and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe not.”
He nodded. “You may be the catalyst that motivates the better minded people of Osgarthr to finally band together and stop the Black Queen’s evil from spreading.”
We reached the campsite, and Meuhlnir walked me to one of the logs set up around the fire.
“I don’t want to be responsible for a war,” I said.
“Maybe I should rephrase. The actions of my brother may be the catalyst that motivates us to address the depravity of the Dark Queen, Luka, and Vowli. Ultimately, Hank, Luka, and the Black Bitch bear that responsibility. They stole your family and forced you to follow.”
Yowrnsaxa looked up from her cookpot and said, “And what he did before. To you and your brothers. That’s a part of all this.”
Meuhlnir winced. “Indeed,” he said and turned back toward the forest. “Tell Hank of the tale of that Toemari.”
Sif came over, her container of that magical cream in her hand. This time, she didn’t have to instruct me to disrobe. She started rubbing the cream into my hips and back. “Toemari Ryehtliti,” she sighed.
“It was some time after the afternoon Sif spoke of,” said Yowrnsaxa. “Queen Suel had become darker and darker of mood as time passed. She began spending a lot of time with Vowli and Luka—and she had started excluding some of the Trohtninkar Tumuhr from those meetings, Sif and I included. She began scheduling the shifts of the guards, giving the better-hearted of the bunch duties that kept them away from her and making more time for Vowli and Luka to attend her. It was a hard time for her former favorites.”
“It was a hard time for all,” said Sif.
Yowrnsaxa grunted. “Aye. She was easy to anger and slow to calm herself.”
Twenty-seven
It was as if Queen Suel had been replaced by an evil version of herself, thought Yowrnsaxa as Suel screeched in rage.
“How dare you!” Suel shouted. “How dare you stand before me and question my judgement!”
Toemari Ryehtliti cringed. “Your Majesty, I humbly apologize! I didn’t mean to imply there was any question about your judgement. Everyone knows your reputation for square dealing with the citizens of the empire.”
Queen Suel didn’t seem much mollified. She glared at Ryehtliti as if she could make him disappear by the sheer force of her dislike. “Then what?” she demanded.
Ryehtliti winced and took half a step backward. “Your Majesty, if you will allow me to explain in full—”
“What do you think I’m waiting for, you pompous windbag?”
Ryehtliti grimaced and took another step backward. “Perhaps this is a bad time for this discussion.” His desperate gaze scampered around the room, looking for a friendly face, but everyone had learned in the past several months to keep their faces blank.
Yowrnsaxa felt sympathy for the man. He might not know it yet, but he was stuck with the dragon’s tail in his teeth, and there was little doubt he’d have the claws in his face soon enough.
“Perhaps you’d best speak your piece before I grow annoyed,” said Queen Suel in a quiet voice that seemed even more threatening than when she’d screamed at the man.
Yowrnsaxa hoped the Toemari would get to his point in a hurry. She pitied the courtiers who were tasked with this matter of the new tax. If they did their jobs at all, it almost guaranteed Suel’s wrath. When she’d established the role of Toemari, she’d seemed to want them to be independent and to tell her the truth. Since she’d been spending so much time with Vowli and Luka, however, it seemed she wanted them as mere sycophants.
“Yes, your Majesty, of course.” Toemari Ryehtliti seemed to pull himself together by force of will and drew himself to his full height. He even took half a step forward again. “The fact of the matter is that the people in my district are not happy, your Grace. From what they’ve told me, the tax is simply more than they can afford.”
The room grew still. Suel sat on her throne and stared at Ryehtliti. Her face was still, but her eyes burned like the coals in a forge. Her attendants lining the walls of the chamber found elsewhere to cast their eyes.
Toemari Ryehtliti met Queen Suel’s gaze with a directness and a calmness that did him credit. His air of confident competence was only marred by the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed again and again.
“So, Toemari Ryehtliti, what you mean to tell me is that this tax is too high for those in your district?”
Ryehtliti nodded. “Yes, your Grace, but through no fault of your—”
“Well, who else would be to blame, you little frog?” Suel screamed at him. “Is it…” Her burning gaze swept the room and stopped on Yowrnsaxa’s face. “Is it Yowrnsaxa’s fault?”
“N-no, your Majesty. I’m—”
“Then is it fair Pratyi’s fault?” Suel flung her hand up and pointed at Pratyi, standing at attention to the right of the main door.
“Your Majesty, please allow me—”
“Not his fault either then? Then who, Toemari? Who is at fault?”
“It’s not a matter of fault, your—”
“Oh, do shut up!” Suel snapped.
Ryehtliti shut his mouth and swallowed hard.
“What am I to do? Shall I set a different tax rate for your district or should I lower it across the board?” Suel had a sweet smile on her face, but it didn’t extend to her eyes.
“Your Grace, I’m sure you will find the right of it. I merely wished to let you know of my constituents’ fears.”
“Oh?” Suel’s voice was controlled, and her smile grew larger, but it was anything but pleasant.
Now come the claws, thought Yowrnsaxa.
“So, you merely wish to inform me that my tax rate is unfair to your constituents? You come to complain but have nothing to add? No ideas? No suggestions?” Her voice dripped honey, but the coals in her eyes burned brighter and brighter.
Toemari Ryehtliti swallowed hard and looked down at his feet.
“Oh, no!” screeched Suel. “You look at me, you gutless little squirrel.” Suel shot out of her throne and almost ran to where Ryehtliti stood. She stopped with her chin a mere inch from his chest, head tilted back, her burning eyes glaring up at him.
No matter how brave he was, Toemari Ryehtliti couldn’t stop from raising his hands to push her away.
Pratyi and Syurd took several paces from their posts at the doors, hands drifting to their weapons, but Suel’s hand shot up and waved them off.
She arched her eyebrows at him. “Something?” she asked, her voice sounding like metal screeching against stone. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Toemari?”
“Truth be told, my Queen, you are indeed.”
“Oh. I am so sorry.” Suel enunciated each word crisply, snapping her teeth together at the end of each word. “You dare to come here and criticize me and then want to complain t
hat I am not happy with you?”
“Queen Suel, I must apologize. It seems I’ve overstepped. For that, I am truly and deeply sorry.”
Her hand blurred out and slapped him across the face. “That won’t do, Ryehtliti!” She screamed it into his face, spittle sparkling across his cheeks. “No false contrition! No missteps! Here in Suelhaym—my empire, remember—we take responsibility for what we say and do.”
It was almost comical to see Toemari Ryehtliti trying to bow with her standing an inch away from him, but that was his first instinct, and he tried to show respect as best he could. “Your will, your Grace,” he said.
Again, her hand blurred to his face, but this time it left behind four long cuts across his cheek where she had gouged at him with her nails. “What did I just say, Toemari? What did I just say? What did I just say?” Each question was punctuated by another gouging of his cheeks with her nails. “Are you stupid?” she screamed at the top of her voice.
Ryehtliti looked around in panic. It was clear he no longer knew what to do. There was nothing in the rules of courtly manners that dictate how one should respond to being scratched by one’s queen.
Yowrnsaxa’s heart went out to him. She longed to tell him that there was nothing he could do or say now. In fact, anything he did or said would just make the fit of rage worse. Yowrnsaxa had seen this in the queen several times in the past week—long, screaming diatribes over imagined slights, physical violence toward messengers and courtiers alike. It was…horrible.
“M-My Queen, I-I—”
“I-I-I-I,” mocked Suel with a nasty twist to her lips. “Eye, did you say?” she asked, voice suddenly as sweet as sugar.
Yowrnsaxa’s heart leapt, and she couldn’t stop taking a step forward. She was not alone—several of the Trohtninkar Tumuhr, including Sif, had moved forward.
“If another person in this room moves, I will become most upset,” said Suel with viciousness in her tone, twisting her head to glare over her shoulder.
Yowrnsaxa glanced at Sif, but what was there to be done? Suel was their queen, no matter how she chose to act.
Suel turned her face back toward Toemari Ryehtliti, with a strange expression lingering on her face. “Well, Toemari?”
He shook his head. “I—”
“Thank you for clearing that up,” said Suel and she drove her thumb into Ryehtliti’s left eye. Her face twisted, and she twisted her thumb, grinding her nail into his eye socket. Toemari Ryehtliti screamed in agony and tried to pull his head away. “No, you don’t, coward,” growled Suel as she stepped closer, her breasts rubbing against his chest in some sick kind of mockery of intimacy. She snapped the fingers of her left hand toward Pratyi and Syurd.
Pratyi shot a horrified look at Yowrnsaxa. Syurd was shaking his head and looking around the room like he wanted somewhere to hide.
“Oh, no, Syurd?” asked Suel with that false sweetness back in her voice. She shoved Toemari Ryehtliti to his knees, his hands covering his eye. She glared at Syurd and pointed her finger at him. “Predna,” she said, and power crackled in the room.
Syurd’s screams reverberated around the small room. Emerald green flames licked his neck from inside his armor. He started to run—to where it wasn’t clear. His hair went up with a small sound like a stiff wind blowing through a keyhole. He bounced off the wall next to the door, setting the wall hanging alight, as flames burst from his eye sockets. His voice broke and finally his screams stopped. His mouth was still open, and he was trying to scream, but the only thing coming out of his mouth was green flame. He fell into a heap, his armor and weapons glowing white hot. The green fire snapped and popped as the fat of his body ignited and burned. His limbs twitched a few times, and then he was motionless.
The smell was overpowering, like a pig roasting over an open flame. It was a sickly-sweet smell that turned Yowrnsaxa’s stomach.
The room was silent, and even Queen Suel herself looked shocked at what she had done. She stared at the remains of one of her loyal Vuthuhr Trohtninkar, her face slack.
Sif rushed forward, ripping a wall hanging down as she ran past it and covering Syurd’s burning flesh with it. She beat on the wall hanging, trying to extinguish the green flames. When they were out, she ripped the wall hanging aside and felt for a pulse. She rose slowly, what everyone already knew written across her face in an angry smear. “He’s dead,” said Sif.
As Suel looked at her, the rage crept into the queen’s expression. “Good,” she snapped. “It is what I intended, after all. I am sick—utterly sick—of being questioned.” Her eyes swept the room, any traces of regret or surprise washed clean from her expression. “From this time forward, I will be obeyed. Instantly.” She snapped her fingers.
As lazily as a cat, Queen Suel turned her head, sweeping the room with her gaze. When her eyes met Sif’s, she stopped and stared. “I told you not to move, Sif. I am disappointed.”
Sif scoffed and shook her head in disbelief.
“I am your queen!” Suel’s voice cracked like a whip. “I will be obeyed, Sif, childhood playmate or not.” She raised her arm and pointed at Sif. “Kvul,” she breathed.
Sif fell to the ground, writhing in agony. Her scream burst forth in a voice-shattering shriek.
Suel watched, without much interest, and then snapped her fingers.
As suddenly as Sif had fallen, she lay still, panting, tears streaming down her face. She looked stricken, but no one dared run to her to help—if there was any help for what Suel had done to her.
“I will be obeyed,” Suel said in a quiet, vicious voice, her eyes glued to Sif’s face. Without looking up, she raised her hand and snapped at Pratyi. “Now, hold him,” she said.
Pratyi looked as if he were about to be sick, but he stepped forward and grabbed Toemari Ryehtliti by his chin while wrapping his other hand around the man’s forehead.
Queen Suel turned back to Ryehtliti. “You thought I’d forgotten you? Hoped so, I bet.” Suel tittered like a mad woman.
Toemari Ryehtliti looked her in the eye, his courage evident in his bearing. “What has happened to you, my Queen?” he asked in the tones of mourning.
Suel shrugged. “I’ve just finally gotten sick of being taken for granted.” Her hand blurred forward, and despite the strength in Pratyi’s arms, Toemari Ryehtliti’s head rocked, and blood squirted from his left eye socket. A scream burst from his throat, but he bit it off—almost turning it into the sound of a dog’s yelp.
“No more eye,” Suel said. Then she laughed and waved Pratyi away. “Get out of my sight. All of you,” she snapped.
Yowrnsaxa ran to Sif. “Can you stand?” she whispered, offering her hand.
Sif nodded and let Yowrnsaxa pull her to her feet. “What is happening here,” she asked in a gruff, throaty voice.
“Insanity,” whispered Yowrnsaxa with a fugitive glance at Suel.
“Evil,” whispered Sif back.
Together, they turned toward Toemari Ryehtliti, but Pratyi helped him to his feet and supported his weight as they stepped toward the door. Sif and Yowrnsaxa turned toward the side door. Unable to help herself, Yowrnsaxa glanced over her shoulder at the queen.
Suel walked to her throne and sank into it as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She watched them file out with eyes like a dead lizard’s.
Later that evening, Suel called for her Trohtninkar Tumuhr. She had a grand tea set up in the queen’s gardens, and all were cordially invited. Yowrnsaxa arrived late, and the tittering and laughing were in full swing. Queen Suel was in great spirits as if the events of the afternoon had never happened.
“Ah, Yowrnsaxa,” said Suel. “Setting the standard for fashionable lateness, as usual.”
Yowrnsaxa bowed. “My Queen.”
“Where is Sif? You two are usually joined at hip and elbow.”
Yowrnsaxa shook her head. “She is unable to attend this evening, your Grace. She is feeling quite ill and sends her regrets.” The truth of it was that Sif was so angry she didn’
t think she could face the queen without incident.
“Hopefully, one of her healing sisters can see to the heart of the matter.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
Queen Suel waved her hand, ever the gracious hostess, at the elaborate banquet table laid out between two burning braziers. Yowrnsaxa bowed her head and walked to the table. It seemed no expense had been spared on the evening’s festivities. Exquisite dishes were crammed on the table—lutefisk, pickled herring, gravlax, toasted bread topped with turbot roe and vinegar dust, howkari, raw razor shells with parsley jelly, grilled cucumber stuffed with bacon, smoked svart molly, hangikyut, and kyutsoopa. There were pitchers of mead to drink.
Yowrnsaxa didn’t have much of an appetite but took small portions of the gravlax, howkari, and the smoked svart molly. It was expected, and the queen was watching.
The queen threw a companionable arm across Yowrnsaxa’s shoulders and looked at her dish. “Watching your figure again?” she tittered. Her breath smelled of aquavit, and she held a full drinking horn in her other hand.
“No, my Queen, I’ve not much of an appetite this evening is all.”
“You seem sad,” said Suel. “What is bothering you?”
Yowrnsaxa looked down at her plate of food and wished she hadn’t taken the howkari as the smell of the cured shark meat was making her feel nauseated. “Maybe I feel a little under the weather, as well,” she muttered.
“Shall I call for a healer?” asked Suel.
“No, your Grace, it’s just…a minor bug.”
Suel tittered. “Well, that stinking shark can’t be helping.”
“No, your Majesty, it isn’t.”
“Queen Suel? May I approach, your Majesty?” boomed Meuhlnir from one of the arched entrances to the garden.
Suel sighed and rolled her eyes at Yowrnsaxa. “Must you?” she called.
Meuhlnir was long in answering. “I would like…” he started and then his voice trailed away, sounding like a little boy with his feelings hurt.
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