A Mother's Secrets

by Tuppence Van de Vaarst

  Vinet managed a tight smile. She had known this wasn’t going to be easy.

  **********

  The sunlight on Vinet’s face was a blessed relief after the stuffy air of the council chamber. The argument, for she could not call it a discussion, had dragged on for hours. It had ended with a vote to send some of the Regulars to the fields to help with the harvest, a decision Vinet had mixed feelings about.

  “Mazda’s light,” she whispered.

  Gwyn gave her a smile. “Rough time in there?”

  Vinet could only shake her head. “I don’t think the king could have picked six people more inclined to butt heads with each other.”

  Gwyn shrugged. “At least you all have different perspectives to share, which is probably what he wants, right?”

  Vinet felt like grumbling, but Gwyn was right. She nodded in acknowledgement.

  Time to change the subject. The Council wasn’t the only reason she’d come to the capital. The palace library had been the other draw. She had her interests. Old tales, maps, travelogues, histories…even old journals and treaties were of interest to her. And magical texts, of course. One text, one day, would have to explain her abilities.

  “We’re taking a walk,” she announced. “I inquired of the palace librarian, and he pointed me in the direction of a private collection. I want to introduce myself to the owner.”

  Gwyn raised an eyebrow. “Does he know why you’ve inquired?”

  “He thinks it’s curiosity, nothing more,” Vinet said, smiling a reassurance. Gwyn was worried for her, of course. One didn’t admit to just anyone that the Lady of Ninaeva had magical talents, after all. They might want to know why. And that would lead to inquiries of her heritage, inquiries it was best to avoid.

  Gwyn’s smile this time was more genuine. “Of course, my lady,” she said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Vinet sighed. It was easier in Ninaeva, where Gwyn could walk side by side with her. Of course, everyone there had seen them together for the past twenty years. Everyone there knew what their relationship was.

  But they had to maintain the appearance of propriety while in the capital. Vinet knew that, but she didn’t have to like it. Gwyn swore that she didn’t mind, but Vinet couldn’t help but feel that she was betraying her friend somehow by acting like her superior.

  To maintain propriety, she probably should have called for her carriage, but she wanted to take the opportunity to see a bit more of the capital than she had previously. She’d been here before, of course. Her first presentation at court, nearly ten years ago, had been her first time in the city, and she’d been here irregularly since. She didn’t enjoy the parties as much as her father had, so she had never felt a need to spend Manyu’s Time here.

  Well, to the rest of the world he had been her father. He had even believed it herself. It was just as well no one had ever found out her mother had had an affair with an elf.

  Her path to the private collection took her through the marketplace. It was all a-bustle, but one thing caught her eye. As she glanced around, she noticed two Jyrian merchants in the process of packing up their wares, down to the tables and booths.

  Gwyn noticed at the same time she did. “Think the trouble on the trade route is driving them home?” she muttered.

  Vinet could only shrug. It was disconcerting, though. The Jyrians were the city-state that brought the luxury items, the items that the nobles loved. They would notice if the Jyrians suddenly up and left, and perhaps they would blame the Council.

  She hesitated, wondering if she should approach one of the merchants and inquire as to their reasons for leaving, and perhaps ask them to stay. She was distracted, however, by the sight of an old, lonely, rickety looking book stand on the other side of the square.

  She couldn’t say what drew her to it. The Jyrian merchants were certainly more important, and the volume of their voices increased as they started arguing with each other, but she started walking towards the book stand instead. The wood of the stand was rotting and on the verge of falling apart, but the books seemed in pristine condition. They were scattered about the stand half-haphazardly, and some of them looked very old, but they were books Vinet would not be ashamed to have in her own library.

  As she drew closer, she realized that the book stand was not as abandoned as it seemed. An old woman stood behind the counter, nearly concealed by shadows and books. She was hunched and bent over, her gray hair falling forward to conceal her face.

  Vinet smiled. “How’s business, friend?”

  The old woman glanced up at her, revealing a toothless smile. “"Business, mother's daughter? Business is most awful, what with those two moving and shifting and cursing and spitting. Most foul creatures, not nearly the handsome man who visited me of late. He was a gem. But you came not to hear the complaints of this one. What is it you desire? Do the books please you?"

  Vinet nodded and started perusing the stacks of books. She had her interests, and this looked like the type of place she could find books to suit her tastes. There might even be magical tomes in here.

  She saw several titles that caught her eye. Rinon’s Historia, The Legend of Danyan the Great, How to Light a Candle… “Indeed, yes,” she said. Something the old woman said earlier stuck in her mind, and she couldn’t contain her curiosity. “Who was the handsome man who came by earlier? Is he still around?” She reached forward to touch a book, one bound with black leather and no visible title.

  “Oh, mother’s daughter. Be careful what volumes you touch. Not all are…friendly.” The crone reached out a hand, and Vinet nearly flinched; the hand was missing several fingers, and those that remained were old and crooked. The old woman hissed. “Oh, the man, the handsome one, the darling of the sun. Yes, nowhere near, gone, gone. Sorrow, but promises to return, though the gorgeous are deceptive.”

  Vinet looked at the book as the crone drew it away from her. Something had caught her attention about it, but she couldn’t tell what. “He’s gone? Like where those two merchants are going?” Maybe the crone had heard some of their arguments.

  “Nah, no, nothing so banal, but it is not those cattle yonder that truly interests you," The crone leaned forward, whispering. “Elfsdaughter. The Book the book, she loves it, yes. We can give it to you, it can be what you want, but...” The crone turned away, cradling the tome like a farm maiden her first bastard child.

  Vinet jerked back, all thoughts about the Jyrian merchants flying from her mind. “How do you know that?” she whispered. Only Gwyn knew that secret, and she would never have breathed a word!

  Behind her, she heard Gwyn’s gasp. Not daring to look around, Vinet locked eyes with the crone.

  The crone’s face seemed to shift. Old, dripping skin on one side, covered in scars, but the other half seemed almost young. Vinet blinked, trying to focus her vision.

  The crone grinned. “Hush, hush. We hear the buzz inside. The acidic, rancid Fear. Secrets, by Brother-Eyes, are.... worry not, mother's daughter, we will not revel in these things nor reveal them.”

  Unbidden, a story rose to Vinet’s mind. A legend, the washer-woman at the ford. The crone who knew secrets, and who kept them, and those who answered her falsely met their deaths.

  The crone leaned forward, her mangled hand brushing Vinet’s. “Well, are you willing? Gifts for the giver?”

  She was talking about the book. Vinet took a deep breath. Sense told her to turn around and leave immediately. But this woman knew her secrets. Vinet needed to know who she was.

  “What would be appropriate?” she asked. “I… she paused. “It hardly seems you’re asking for gold.” She paused again. “Who are you, mother?”

  The scars on the crone’s face seemed like they were moving. “Which comes first, mother’s daughter? Knowledge or wealth? Who or what are we all? Do you look for a name or the truth? The blood, raw, truth?” she laughed, her voice sounding like pain in Vinet’s ears.

  A test. It was a test. Vinet took another deep breath. There
were two parts to the question. “Knowledge is required for wealth,” she said. “And truth is better than any name.”

  "Yes, yesss. No. No," she coughed. "A wealth of knowledge, knowledge of wealth, like all things intertwined. Meaning. A curious..." she released Vinet’s hand and stepped back into the shadows of the book stand. For a moment, her face looked entirely young, a maiden, not a crone.

  Then she stepped forward into the sun again, crone again. “We are what you are and what all become. Hmmmm. Truth for truth and the book is yours, what do you want? This is so, yes, mother's daughter, Elfsdaughter." She gazed intently into Vinet’s eyes. “Speak your most harbored truth, and the book is yours. Then you must leave before brother-eyes discovers you.”

  “Vinet,” Gwyn stepped forward, interrupting for the first time.

  Vinet didn’t look at her, just raised a hand to gesture her back. She kept her eyes locked with the crone. She hesitated, thinking frantically. The crone already knew one secret of hers. There was only one other she could be talking about. She whispered, keeping her voice as low as possible, “I have a daughter.”

  “Don’t we all,” the crone’s voice was quiet. She nodded. “The book of truths is yours, Elfsdaughter. Take it and begone, please.” She glanced around, seeming almost frightened. Her gaze lingered on Gwyn.

  Vinet took the book from her, her confusion growing by the moment. She wanted to ask more questions, but the crone’s fear forbade any attempt.

  “Come on, Vinet,” Gwyn took her arm and guided her away from the book stand, towards the market.

  Gwyn didn’t say anything as they walked away. Vinet remained silent, waiting for the outburst. She didn’t have to wait long.

  “What were you thinking?” Gwyn demanded in a hissed whisper.

  Vinet took a deep breath. “I used my judgment,” she said.

  “Your judgment?” Gwyn exclaimed. “You told her,”

  “I told her nothing she didn’t already know,” Vinet cut her off. “You heard her. If I had lied, something far worse would have happened.”

  Gwyn blinked. “How do you know that?”

  Vinet shrugged. “I don’t know. There’re some legends she reminded me of. If AeresThonEsia wants something, she will get it.”

  Gwyn blinked, staring at Vinet. Vinet stared back, realizing what she had just said.

  “What did you say?” Gwyn asked, her voice low.

  “AeresThonEsia…” Vinet suppressed a shudder. “I have never read that name before in my life.”

  “And she didn’t say it,” Gwyn continued to stare at Vinet. “Vinet…”

  Vinet glanced down at the book in her hands. “She called this the Book of Truths,” she said slowly.

  “Truth can be dangerous,” Gwyn said. “If truths about you were known, you could be ruined.”

  Vinet winced. Gwyn was far more right than she wanted her to be.

  Gwyn sighed. “Just be careful, Vinet,” she said. “You’ve just become a lady of the Council. You can’t afford to get mixed up in something unsavory.”

  Vinet smiled at Gwyn. “Of course, I’ll be careful,” she told Gwyn. She nearly reached out to embrace her friend but restrained herself. They were still in public. She smiled. “I have you to keep me in line.”

  Gwyn groaned. “And that’s a full-time job, I swear.”

  Vinet laughed. “And that’s why it’s your full-time job!” she exclaimed. She started walking again. “Come on, let’s visit that private collection. There’s still plenty of daylight for research.”

  Gwyn shook her head hopelessly but smiled as she fell into step behind Vinet. Vinet smiled, making a note in the back of her mind to research anything that had anything to do with the name AeresThonEsia.

  **********

  Vinet had a vision that evening.

  It was the first she’d had in weeks. They happened like that, occurring randomly. They never lasted for long, and she was often able to conceal when they happened, but they always unsettled her.

  This one was more unsettling than most. At first everything was simply dark. Then a sound. A hand. A scream, a groan, the dying audible truth of ultimate loss. All around blackened timber, smoldering. Two skulls, judgmental stares. A whispering voice in the soul. The hand, surrounded by near-visual weeping, dipping a twig into a dripping substance nearby. Another hand reached down out of the shifting light and dark. Quick receding footsteps. Then nothing.

  Vinet blinked, steadying herself on a nearby chair. That had been… unpleasant.

  “Vinet? You alright?”

  Vinet forced herself to nod. “I’m fine, Gwyn.”

  Gwyn wasn’t fooled. “You had another vision, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

  Vinet tried to shrug it off. “It’s not like it hasn’t happened before.”

  “Yes, but…” Gwyn seemed to struggle for words. “You can’t control them, Vinet.”

  It was just as well they were in her own private quarters. It would have been a scandal if anyone had heard Gwyn talking to her without using her title.

  “I’ve never been able to,” Vinet’s voice was bitter. “Why should it change now? That’s why I need to research, Gwyn.”

  Gwyn sighed. Vinet could hardly blame her. She had been researching for years and had come up with nothing.

  She let her gaze wander. A tall, four-poster bed sat at one end of the room. At the other, a fire crackled in the hearth, regardless of how warm it was outside. She would want it tonight. A small table rested next to the chairs around the fire. The black book sat on it.

  Absently, Vinet reached for the book. She hadn’t had a chance to peruse it closely yet. The private collection had been extensive, and the owner, none other than the palace archivist, had been more than willing to show it to her right then. She had even found a fragment of a map that appeared to show land directly across a channel from Hillsdale. But none of that compared to this book.

  “Vinet…” the warning in Gwyn’s tone was evident.

  Vinet ignored her friend. She sat the book on her lap and began flipping through the pages.

  For a moment, she almost thought she recognized the script. It seemed like an ancient version of Saemarian. Then it shifted, the lines blurring before her eyes. To her astonishment, they changed completely, morphing into symbols that meant nothing to her. Then the page went blank.

  Vinet stared at the book in astonishment. After all that…

  She closed the book with a snap. Gwyn blinked at her, startled.

  Vinet shook her head, forestalling any questions. “I’ll look at that later,” she said. “We’re heading home tomorrow, yes? I think it’s better to examine it back in Ninaeva.”

  Gwyn nodded. “As long as Niara doesn’t get her hands on it.”

  Vinet smiled fondly. At a bare five years of age, Niara, her only child and daughter, was a handful. Already reading as fluently as many adults, she was constantly begging a story from anyone who would listen to her for more than five seconds.

  “I’ll make sure she doesn’t see it,” Vinet said. She met Gwyn’s eyes. “Believe me, that is the last thing I’d let her do.”

  Gwyn nodded in satisfaction.

  Vinet smiled. She paid more attention to Niara’s safety than she did her own. Something that was perfectly natural, she supposed. She sighed and carefully placed the book back on the table. “I hope the next council session goes better than this one,” she said. “If arguments like this happen every time, I’m going to have gray hair before I’m thirty.”

  Chapter 2: The Expedition

  “Gwyn!”

  Vinet nearly flew down the spiral stairs, shouting for her friend. In her hand she held a parchment lined with the familiar golden illumination of the Council.

  She burst into the grand hall of Ilhelm Castle and looked around. Where had Gwyn gotten to?

  “Aunt Vinet!”

  Vinet barely had time to turn around before a small bundle of energy zoomed towards her and slammed into her leg, near
ly toppling them both over. Vinet laughed and reached down, picking the small girl up and swinging her around. “Where are you going, my little goose?”

  Niara grinned up at her, and Vinet felt her heart contract. Her own green eyes were set in that expression of utter innocence. How had she managed the deception about Niara’s heritage? How had she lied to her daughter? She knew the answer to that, of course. Because it was necessary.

  “Aunt Gwyn’s been teaching me how to use a knife!” Niara announced with importance. “Want to see? Please, Aunt Vinet!”

  Vinet laughed and set Niara down. “Of course, dearest. Lead the way!” Carefully, she folded the message from the council and put it in her belt pouch. It could wait.

  Niara took her hand and nearly dragged Vinet out of the great hall and into the inner courtyard where a practice yard had been set up years ago. It was where Gwyn had been trained, and where she’d attempted to teach Vinet. There was a chill in the air warning of an early Manyu’s Time, but the sun still shone brightly.

  Gwyn was waiting for them. She was dressed in her usual chain mail, her blonde hair bound in a tight bun on the back of her head. Vinet thought, not for the first time, that it was no wonder that people occasionally mistook Gwyn for the true lady of Ninaeva.

  Gwyn grinned as she saw Niara and Vinet approaching. “The little minx found you, did she?”

  “I’m not a minx!”

  Gwyn reached down to ruffle Niara’s hair. “You’re an adorable minx,” she said unrepentantly. “Now, were you going to show your aunt what you just learned or not?”

  It was amazing how quickly Niara moved to obey Gwyn. She took a small wooden dagger from the weapon rack and squared off against Gwyn.

  Gwyn was going easy on Niara, Vinet knew. A five-year-old had no chance against Gwyn, who had been training for over twenty years. But she could immediately see Niara’s potential. She spun and twisted, staying just out of Gwyn’s reach. Finally, she darted forward, landing a blow on Gwyn’s shins.

  Gwyn’s dramatics were all a five-year-old could wish for. She hopped around on one foot, swinging her sword wildly and threatening Niara with impossible fates. Niara could barely stay upright from giggling. Finally, Gwyn collapsed to the ground, and Niara darted forward to poke Gwyn’s stomach with her wooden dagger.