“Meaning,” said Lila, “that I simply cannot have tens upon tens of rumours floating about the castle; or men spinning their own versions of the truth, for either good or ill purposes. The soldiers do their jobs, and they do them well; but it is not their responsibility to brief you on current affairs.”
Locke’s mouth was nearly hanging open. His voice was quite loud when he asked, “Whose responsibility is it, then?”
“Mine.”
Now, it was true that several of the Elders seldom spoke at meetings; and it was true that they held their places due mainly to the high places of their fathers, who sat at the same table long before the existence of the Dúnanen. But it was also true that they could, sometimes, be roused into speaking. When they did so, it was usually to Lila’s displeasure.
And this time was no different.
The first sound to be heard was the pounding of a fist upon the table. When Lila looked round to identify the owner of said fist, she was not at all surprised to see the flushed face of Jonathan Payton.
“Now, you listen here,” said he. “I’ve always given you all of the respect you deserve. You’re the Princess, after all, and I revered your father deeply. But I’ll tell you now what I told him then: ‘What are you thinking, William?’ I told him, over and over again! ‘Your wife, a woman, and with more power than you! Something must be done!’ That’s what I said to him, day after day. But he never did anything about it – and it wasn’t because he was weak. I’ve never said anything about it before, but there’s something not quite right about that magic you make. Why, it’s the very same thing wielded by our greatest enemy! And we’re all supposed to think it good? I’ll have no more of it – and I am quite sure, that I am not the only one who thinks along those lines.”
It seemed he was correct in his thinking. Only Samson Trippe (ever a friend to Lila, in times of such need) and another called Silas Perco, cast sympathetic glances in her direction.
There were four others who had yet to set forth their own judgments; but Lila could not have cared less. True, they spoke nothing; but neither did they have the courage to look her in the face. This signified no loyalty to her, but mere cowardice. Yet Lila took note of them, anyway.
James Linson.
Quincy Lareau.
Xavier Menna.
Caleb Truseo.
Quite as always, Locke seemed to think that it was his duty to solidify what had already been put to the table.
“I’m not sure that such harsh words were necessary,” said he, with a glance towards Payton; “but it goes without saying that valid points were addressed. Doesn’t anyone else agree?”
“I must say that I do,” said Alsam Brown.
“And I,” said Walter Grewitt.
“And I,” said Caleb Truseo, his soft voice shocking the entire table.
“Good man!” said Payton, reaching over to clap Truseo on the shoulder.
“I appreciate all of your input,” said Lila quietly; “but I feel that I must point something very important out to all of you.”
She rose from her chair; placed her palms on the table, and leaned forward, so as not to have to speak much above a whisper.
“You can say what you will,” she said. “And I’ll give you no penalty. But I’m afraid that your personal opinions have no influence at all on the position that I hold. Surely you are versed in the Law, well enough to know this?”
Several of them glared at her venomously.
“Surely you are,” she repeated. “And I’m sure that you are also aware of the purpose of this table, and of this room. You are my advisors – my council, if you will. Yet I do hold the power, should I believe your actions warrant it (and in this case I sincerely do) to nullify your titles.”
“Now, Princess –” began Raymond Archer.
Lila held up a hand to silence him. “You are not permitted to speak now,” she said. “I have no more need of your counsel.”
“This is improper,” said Locke. “There must be a council called, of all heads of legislature! There must be a majority vote. The decision is not yours to make!”
Lila looked upon him with cool countenance.
“Tell me, Locke – just where have all those heads got to?”
Of course, he could not answer.
“The truth of the matter is,” said Lila, “that they all fled this city years ago! They abandoned their posts – they abandoned their Queen! They were no better than any of you. If truth be told, even if they had not run – I would hear not a word they had to say!”
Archer’s expression was one of astonishment. “You have lost your mind,” he said simply.
“Do you fear no repercussion?” asked Walter Grewitt. “Our power, dear Princess, is more than you know.”
“Perhaps,” said Lila. “And yet I fear you not.”
“You cannot shut us from our posts!” exclaimed Alsam Brown.
“I can,” said Lila, “and I intend to do just that. Now, if there is anyone at this table who wishes still to be a part of this little administration – and is willing to submit without question – he is more than welcome to remain here with me. But all others are instructed to leave.”
No one made a move.
“Now.”
With much grumbling, and more than a few curses, eight men vacated their seats, and filed out of the room. Only Payton found the nerve to speak; and he turned upon Lila, and said: “You will regret this, Princess.”
“There are many things, Payton, that I will live to regret. But this is not one of them.”
When they had gone, Lila took up her seat, and surveyed who remained. Naturally, there was Samson Trippe; and Silas Perco as well. And then there were Lareau, and Menna – neither of whom Lila had ever actually conversed with.
“Well,” she said. “It seems that our governing body is down to five – not including the Queen, of course. We shall not forget that we are all stationed beneath her.”
“Of course,” said Silas.
“As it should be,” said Samson.
Menna and Lareau said nothing. They simply looked at each other, perhaps wondering if they should not have left with Payton and the others.
~
Antony trudged for hours through the deep snow of the Marsa Valley. He shivered, and bent his head against the cold winds.
He had walked all night, and all morning. He had so far found no place where he could lay his head to rest. Everywhere he looked, he saw mounds of snow and ice; and places like that are the kind which will whisk you straightaway from your earthly rest, as soon as you close your eyes.
He had brought no food with him – for he had previously been quite sure of himself. Surely, nothing ill would befall him. He was the great Prince of Eredor! Yet now he was shot through with cold, riddled with hunger, and plagued by a pair of aching feet.
Perhaps he had thought wrongly. Perhaps he was not yet a man; perhaps he was still just a boy who longed for manhood, and for the privileges that came with it.
But he seemed always to forget, of the responsibilities that came too.
Just as he was feeling ready to fall down upon his face, and bury himself in a snowdrift, he heard a small voice somewhere off to his right. He whipped his head in that direction; but saw nothing at all. Should he have had a sudden accompaniment, would it not have been obvious? For surely – what could hide from his eyes, in this bright white land?
He shook his head wildly; for the voice had left behind rather a harsh ringing between his ears. He had begun again to walk; and had covered perhaps a half mile more of that frozen ground; before there came yet another instance of that voice, this time in his left ear.
He whirled about, but succeeding only in making himself dizzy.
The voice came again – in both of his ears. He raised his hands, and clapped them to either side of his head.
But now – the voice seemed to be emanating from inside his head, from somewhere deep within his brain. He waved his head all about, slapped his ears and hollered loud
ly.
He wondered if he was mad.
The voice whispered his name.
“Antony. Oh, Antony – won’t you stop for just a moment? Stop and listen to me. You’ll be glad that you did.”
He halted his step.
“That’s a good man. Just look at you, shaking in the wind, your feet and legs all covered with snow! What a fix you’ve got yourself into. But I can help you!”
“How?” he asked, spinning about.
“I can come to you, if you wish it. I can take you to warmth; to food and drink; to a bed. Do you wish me to come?”
“How do you know where I am?”
A quiet laugh. “I can see you, Antony.”
He spun faster. “You can see me? How?”
“Spin in as many circles as you want,” said the voice. “You won’t see me. I’m very far away.”
He halted, feeling very dizzy. “Then why would you come all this way?”
“Don’t be silly, Antony. I would do it – but only for you.”
“I don’t even know you.”
Another laugh. “Of course you do! You know me well. And you will be happier, once you are with me.” A pause. “Do you want me to come?”
“Yes.”
“Then it will be.”
He stood perfectly still, gazing off into the distance. He expected something to approach, perhaps, and to grow larger and larger as it came; but that was not how it was. He was quite frightened, when a very large shape appeared directly in front of him. He took a step back; and saw that it was a dark carriage, pulled by two enormous black horses.
The door to the carriage swung open, and revealed a space of shadows within.
“Come, Antony. Join me now – and I will do as I promised.”
“Would you put your head out?” asked Antony. “I’d like to see you, before I get in.”
“Oh, Antony! Don’t you trust me by now?”
He took a step back. “I’d just like to see you, just for a moment.”
“Now, you listen to me, Antony. Get inside the carriage; get inside now, or I will help you to do so.”
Antony turned upon his heel, and ran. He ran through the snow; tripped all over himself, and eventually fell down into the cold powder.
When he looked up, he saw that the carriage had followed him. He tried to crawl away; but it continued to move so that it stood just beside him. He felt it was worth noting, that the horses never moved a muscle. The carriage simply glided forth on its own, making not a mark in the perfect whiteness beneath it.
“I’ve tried to be kind, Antony. But you are beginning to test my patience.”
Antony felt himself floating up off of the ground; slowly at first, but then more quickly, so that he was hurled headlong into the carriage.
The side of his head struck the opposite door, and he sank down to the floor atop a pair of feet. He wished that he could look up, if only for a second – but he felt a great pain in his head, and was forced to let go of the world around him.
~
The sun had just begun to set when Lila stepped into her father’s study. She went to her place behind the desk; sat down, and looked all about. She looked at the books on the desk, and then at the books on the shelves; and she realised that, no matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to read them all. After her father died, it had become a kind of personal attempt. Whenever sleep refused to come, she would go softly down the halls to the study, and pick up at whatever place she had left off, in whatever book she had happened to be reading.
So now, she tried to put the angry face of Jonathan Payton out of her mind, and busied herself with selecting a book to read.
There were books on just about every subject one could think of. Lila had read books of mathematics, books of science, books of religion, books of stories – and even books of magic. The latter had been kept for years in the study, despite William’s persecution of the subject; and had in fact been put there by Abella as a sort of joke. Astute as he was, there was no way that William could have been unaware of their presence, there in his private room. But he had never thrown them away.
Now Lila sifted through the numerous books atop the desk, most of which she had only read halfway through. It was a terrible habit of hers. She would get part of the way through a book, and then open another; and then another and another. It was no wonder that she never finished any of them, or that she would never finish all of them.
Though her eyes began to close on their own, as they squinted at the tiny letters upon the pages, there was no real way of knowing whether sleep would come. Yet – had she never taken the time to lie down and await it, she would have gone mad long ago.
~
Once, when Lila was nine years old, she crept down the hall to her father’s study in the middle of the night. She saw a light glowing under the doors, and stood for a long while before raising her fist to knock.
“Father?” she said quietly.
“Is that you, Lila?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Come in, my dear.”
Lila turned the knob, and pushed the door slowly inward. Her father sat at his desk, head lowered in concentration; but when he saw Lila out of the corner of his eye, he looked up and smiled.
“There you are, little one. Come sit by me.”
Lila walked to the armchair that stood beside the desk, and climbed up into it. She watched her father for a moment, who had gone back to his reading; but several minutes later he pushed it away and turned towards Lila.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“Not very well,” she said, swinging her feet that hung a few inches above the floor.
“Why not?”
She hesitated a moment before saying: “I wish that you weren’t so mad at Mother.”
“I’m not angry with your mother,” he said. “I just wish – well, I wish that she wouldn’t teach you so many things.”
“But isn’t that what parents are supposed to do?”
He smiled at her. “Yes, Lila. But there are some things that are best left alone.”
“Like my powers?”
His face hardened in an instant. “You do not have powers, Lila. You’ve only been taught to do things that you shouldn’t do.”
Lila was confused. “Everyone can do those things?”
Her father seemed at a loss. So her reached out and patted her shoulder, and said: “Don’t worry any more about it, Lila. Just don’t do those things anymore.” He smiled. “For your father?”
“All right, Father,” said Lila.
“Go to sleep now, Lila.”
“Yes, Father.”
~
Lila started awake, thinking that she had heard movement; or perhaps the opening of her chamber door. Yet she looked, and saw nothing.
The curtains hung open. After the wolves, Lila had been unable to draw them. There was a bright smattering of stars across the sky, lending light to the moon to make something that lit up the snow like white daylight.
She realised, then, that she had not yet tried to repair her relations with her brother. Tired no more, she left her bed, wrapped herself in a robe, and went out into the hall.
When she reached Antony’s door, she knocked once, twice – but he did not answer. Figuring him to be sleeping deeply, she opened the door as quietly as she could, and peered towards the bed.
The room was bright with moonlight, the drapes at the windows having been thrown open. At first, Lila thought that her eyes deceived her; but then she was certain of it. The bed was empty, and the window was open. She hurried into the room – and saw that a rope of some unbelievable length had been tossed out of the window. She looked down into the depths of the air; but naturally saw nothing.
Antony was long gone.
IV: The Business of Making Mistakes
The next time Antony became aware of himself, he found that he was sitting up, looking around a dimly lit room, and feeling quite warm.
“You’re awake!�
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The voice made him jump, though he recognised it. How could he not?
“You’ve been sleeping for so long!” she said. “I almost thought that I would have to eat alone.”
He noticed then that he was sitting at a long table. He sat at one end, with many different platters and bowls set all before him. They were made of silver, with ornately carved handles and covers. He could not see what food they held; but it certainly smelled wonderfully enough. He looked up, and saw the woman seated at the other end of the table, dressed all in black. The details of her face were hidden from Antony, in the weakness of the candlelight.
“Please,” she said. “Help yourself to whatever you like.”
When he looked back at the dishes on the table, he was surprised to see that their covers had disappeared. He saw now a juicy ham, a plump turkey, roasted potatoes, loaves of soft bread, an assortment of vegetables, bread stuffing and cranberries. He felt all of a sudden almost ravenous. He reached forth and pulled the dishes closer to himself, so that he could spoon a bit of everything onto his plate.
After he had taken a few hungry bites, he looked back at the woman. She had a plate set in front of her; but it was empty.
“Do you want something?” he asked, pushing the dishes away from himself.
“Oh, no,” she said. “All of this is for you. I’m really not very hungry.”
He nodded, and then went back to the small feast which sat upon his plate. He tore off a chunk of bread and asked, “Where are we?”
“In my home. I brought you here to dry off, and to warm up.” She watched him eat for a moment, and then said: “I trust that you’re feeling better?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, popping a large spoonful of cranberries into his mouth. “It’s only –”
He reached up, and rubbed a spot on his head that was quite sore. He was not entirely sure why it was sore; but it was bothering him a great deal.
“Oh, my,” said the woman. “I almost forgot about that.”
She rose from her seat, and came down the table to Antony, positioning herself behind him. A second later he felt her hands upon his head. A warm sensation arced across his scalp, and washed away the pain he had felt. He closed his eyes, and dropped his fork.
Broken Earth Page 3