Hart's Hope
Page 29
“No, it wasn’t a lie,” Sleeve said gently. “It all depended on whether I could work a spell with the blood of your hand. I was able to replace her spells enough to keep us to the age we were when she first bound us—I wasn’t sure that I could do it.”
But Orem said nothing, only looked back and forth from Zymas to Sleeve, Sleeve to Zymas.
Enziquelvinisensee Evelvenin, pitying him, ran forward to ask for his forgiveness for the lie that she had unwittingly conspired in. But he saw her face and screamed at her, flew at her to attack that face that had no right to be alive. Possibly he thought that it was Beauty—he was that distraught. They pulled him away from her, drew him back; immediately the struggle ceased, and he only hung his head and wept.
It was then that the Hart came from Palace Park and walked easily to the altar. He put his horns under the bodies and lifted. It was a curious thing: the bodies rose and yet remained, as if the Hart had found the truth of the mother and her son and raised them up, while leaving the empty bags of flesh behind. Raised them up and carried them away exultantly; they rode high among the hundred bright points of the Hart’s horns.
Orem watched them out of sight into the woods. Then he shook himself like a wet dog, and made as if to walk away. The guards restrained him until Zymas called out, “Let him go. We have to hurry and give the city back to the King, before another life is lost!” It was enough for the guards. They followed Zymas at a run, armor and all, to the Palace gate, rushing to get to Corner Castle and raise the flags of peace; to take down and defile Queen Beauty’s ermine banner.
Enziquelvinisensee watched Orem Scanthips, no longer Little King, as he walked away from the place where he lost all his loves and all his trust. Almost she called out to him. Almost she ran to him and pled for his forgiveness. But that would have been misleading. He might have thought she loved him. Might have forgotten that she belonged to Palicrovol. Might have tried to bridge the centuries. But Palicrovol, your wife was not such a fool as that. Love works no miracles; it could not have happened. She watched Orem out of sight, and then went off to look for the returning King, to give herself to him whom she had loved perfectly through all the centuries. She was still a virgin, after all; there was a wedding to complete. They would begin again what had been inconveniently postponed. But she did not rejoice in her heart. She grieved to know that Orem Scanthips hated her; grieved most of all that he had reason.
26
The Rage of the King
How the King treats his enemies.
REJOICING
You commanded the soldiers to lay down their arms when you saw the change of the flags. Beauty would either have the strength to destroy you, or she would die. You knew she would resort to no trickery. Your men laid down their arms and the city was yours. The people poured into the streets to cheer for you, though in fact they had not longed for you when you delayed your return. You wore your Antler Crown through the streets.
Zymas you embraced; Sleeve you greeted with a bow; Enziquelvinisensee Evelvenin you only gazed upon, and said, “Yes. I know you.”
FORGIVENESS
All of Beauty’s soldiers, all the courtiers who had flattered her, all the merchants who had profited from her rule, all the servants who had cared for her, all the magistrates who had administered her laws—you forgave all these.
HONOR
You found her body upon the altar, and the baby under her. You had them carried to the riverbank. You had the bodies burned, and their ashes cast upon the river. It was this water where you had a million flowers strewn to greet the Flower Princess. It was this water that you swam, though it was swift and cold, to get a son upon a farmer’s wife.
VENGEANCE
Now with your troops you wait at the base of a mountain redoubt, not even properly a castle. Within the place you know that Orem Scanthips waits, and with him, you imagine, there waits an army, or a wizard of some terrible power. I will tell you who waits inside:
A boy with no ears, who can pick a pocket or handle a keener and live; he may bruise a soldier or two before you slay him.
A man of breeding, a courtier, the best of those who waited on Queen Beauty. He will wound five, and deeply, before he dies.
A woman of high station who serves the Little King, because Orem Scanthips taught her to value mercy above justice, virtue above rank.
A young, young man of eighteen years, dark of hair and pale of skin, with the blood of a King in his veins and the weight of the world in his heart. He flees from you only because his friends command it. He cares nothing for you. He grieves only for the ashes that you cast upon the stream.
God is not with him. The Sweet Sisters are not with him. The Hart is not with him. He finished the task they raised him up to do; they have no further need of him.
BLESSING
I write this with my own hand. I write this in your own tent. I will give it to you in the evening; when you return to the tent it will be waiting for you. If you have read it you know it is the truth.
Did you think that only wizards and witches had powers? I have pricked my finger and blotted the living blood upon this page. I have written two blessing here, which no eyes but yours are fit to read. If you are the sort of man who will abide strictly by your oath and slay the usurper called Orem Scanthips, called the Little King, then you will see only the blessing that will give you the strength to finish your work quickly, and slay him on the morrow. But if you are the man who is merciful, even at cost to himself, then you will see only the blessing that will heal your heart and reconcile you to your son. I will love you whichever man you are, and in truth I do not know which end Orem himself would wish for, if the choice were his.
Now you know what man you are, Palicrovol. Now you know you name. That is the ending of this story. Did you think this was the tale of Orem Scanthips? His tale was finished when Youth died. In Orem’s short life he has already earned his name: Hart’s Hope. But you: come to me now, my husband, and tell me which blessing of those I gave you, you were able to receive.
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or used fictitiously.
HART’S HOPE
Copyright © 1983 by Orson Scott Card
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
An Orb Edition
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Card, Orson Scott.
Hart’s Hope / Orson Scott Card.—1st Orb ed.
p. cm.
“A Tom Doherty Associates book.”
ISBN: 978-1-4299-6425-8
I. Title.
PS3553.A655H37 2003
813'.54—dc21
2003040598
Tor Books by Orson Scott Card
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