A Mother's Secrets

by Tuppence Van de Vaarst

  Conn narrowed his eyes, but Alexander interjected. “The floor is open for other ideas.”

  No one spoke. Alexander nodded decisively. “All in favor of sending High Priest Ellil to investigate Lord Tiber’s claims?”

  Vinet voted in favor. She still had a slight feeling of doom she couldn’t shrug, but she saw no other alternatives.

  “Very well,” Alexander sighed. “Let us adjourn for a time and see to the rest of the business this afternoon. Lady Vinet, might I have a word?”

  Vinet glanced up, startled. What could Alexander want from her?

  As the rest of the council members left the chamber, Dannan gave her a last piercing look. “I told you to beware of following your passions.”

  She met his gaze steadily. To her surprise he looked away, and she heard him sigh as he exited the chamber. She turned her attention to Alexander. He looked far more tired than he had allowed himself to appear during the council session.

  “Are you alright?” she asked.

  He looked up and smiled slightly. “As well as anyone involved in these war efforts.”

  She grimaced sympathetically. “I wish we didn’t have to deal with war.”

  He nodded, his eyes dark. Then he straightened obviously. “To business. I assume you’ve heard that I am to be chosen next Lord of the Council?”

  She nodded. She had cast her vote for him just before the meeting.

  Alexander nodded. “All of the various council members have told me how they voted, so I may be forgiven for presuming before the votes are tallied. That will not be my only duty, however, and I must ask a favor of you.”

  Vinet blinked. “What favor?”

  He sighed. “Please foster my grandchildren, for a time. My lands are to be the center of the supply lines, and I fear that if the war goes ill, they will not be safe.” He held up a hand. “I know everyone will do everything in their power to ensure the war does not go ill, but an old warhorse does not get to be an old warhorse without being cautious.”

  She blinked again. “I…of course.”

  He sighed in relief. “Thank you, Lady Vinet,” he shook his head. “Others will think me daft for entrusting them to you so shortly after your elopement, but that is their prerogative. Your lands are the furthest from the conflict, and you have shown a great deal of sense and judgment in everything except your marriage, which can be forgiven, I dare say.” He smiled wryly.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Even regarding my daughter?” she dared to ask.

  Alexander smiled. “Even then. What else could you have done?”

  Vinet couldn’t answer that, so she didn’t even try.

  He nodded again. “They are in the capital with me. If they could ride back to Ninaeva with you, I would be grateful.”

  “Of course.”

  “Then let us go now,” Alexander said. He stood up. “Is Niara with you? We can introduce them.”

  As Vinet rose to her feet, she felt a wave of nausea sweep over her. She gasped and gripped the table, but it was gone as soon as she did. Her hand instinctively went to her stomach as it twisted.

  Alexander’s brow furrowed. “Lady Vinet? Are you alright?”

  Vinet couldn’t answer him for a moment. Hastily, she did the math. Her eyes widened as she realized she was a week overdue. She couldn’t figure out whether to laugh or curse. She had talked about a child with Nazir, and had wanted one. She just hadn’t figured on it being so soon.

  Chapter 16: Alfheim

  The air in the garden was fresh and welcoming. The barest hint of Manyu’s Rise was visible in the red tinge on some of the trees, but the warmth from the sun sank into her like a welcoming fire.

  Four rambunctious children had been settled into one of the guest rooms of the townhouse. Vinet had almost feared for the safety of the household furniture before Nazir had offered to tell them a story. She had tried to warn him that the children were not likely to be satisfied with one story, not this late in the afternoon, but he had simply smiled and shooed her outside.

  She was grateful for that. After the council session, she’d barely had the energy to show the children around, much less deal with their rambunctiousness. They were dear children, certainly, but she was so tired.

  She would be tired for a while, she knew. The child growing inside her would take most of her energy. She remembered that from Niara. She wished she’d been able to tell Nazir, but there hadn’t been time yet. Not with the arrival of Alexander’s grandchildren.

  She closed her eyes and sighed as she sat down on a bench near the pond, sheltered by an old willow. Gradually, she let her awareness sink down into the earth. To the roots, to the trees, with which she could see.

  The world faded, and she saw a bright city. It was gorgeous, beautiful, with houses built into the trees, and colorful lanterns hung all around.

  “Elfsdaughter,” a voice whispered. “Elfsdaughter, we’re waiting.”

  A piercing cry, a scream. Vinet’s eyes flew open, shattering the vision. Her hands were clutching the bench.

  A vision. She hadn’t had a vision for nearly half a year, not since her trip to Venia. She hadn’t even thought about her visions, about the Sight. Not since Father brought me out of my coma! What did he say? Six months? She brought her hand to her stomach. Mazda please. Not now. For the sake of my child, not now.

  “Vinet?”

  She looked up at Gwyn’s voice.

  Gwyn's eyes widened. “Are you alright? You’re pale.”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just tired,” she added, when Gwyn looked unconvinced.

  Gwyn still didn’t look satisfied but continued. “You have a visitor,” she said. “I think you’ll really want to see him.”

  In an instant, Vinet knew exactly who was at the door. The very person who had made sure she was untroubled by visions and dreams for the last six months. Father. He’s here.

  “Show my father in, of course,” she smiled.

  Gwyn’s eyes widened, and she stared at Vinet. “How did you know?” she demanded.

  Vinet paused. How did she know? It was a feeling in her very bones, the knowledge that her kin stood at the door.

  Gwyn shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll show him in. But I warn you, Vinet, he’s not well.”

  Vinet frowned, but Gwyn disappeared before she could ask any further questions. Two seconds later, her father entered the garden. Her eyes widened. He looked so different from when she had last seen him. He was slouched over, leaning heavily on a gnarled wooden cane. His hair, which had been the color of her own, was streaked bone-white.

  His smile, at least, was the same, though there was more than a hint of relief in it. “Daughter.”

  She tried to conceal her shock at his appearance as she rose and stepped forward, arms open to greet him. “Father. Come in, please.”

  She suppressed another uneasy jolt as he cast a glare at a tree. They sat down on the bench together.

  “Forgive my long absence, my daughter,” Kinaevan said. “How have you been?”

  She paused, thinking of all the things that had happened since she’d last seen him. “I’ve been very well,” she said. She hesitated briefly. How do I tell him all that has happened the last six months? “I’m married, Father. To Nazir.”

  “We know.”

  Vinet froze. There was a strange tone to her father’s voice, a foreign element, sharp and clear.

  “We?” she asked.

  “Do you not know me?” It was no longer her father speaking. The clear voice seemed to emanate from every tree in the garden. “Are you that far fallen, Elfsdaughter? That far into the darkness for which you are marked!”

  The leaves and branches of all the trees rattled, as if a great gust of wind swept through the garden. Yet not a hair on Vinet’s head stirred. The hair on the back of her neck, however, stood straight up. Every nerve in her body sang an alarm.

  She knew that voice. She couldn’t have said from where, but she knew it. She had hear
d it before: three voices in one, combined to form the clearest voice one could ever hear. The Lady of Leaf and Lake, she realized. She sprang to her feet, backing away from the tree behind the bench. “I did not choose to be marked, Lady!” she exclaimed.

  As if on cue, a sharp pain between her shoulder blades, one that had been gone for half a year, slammed into her and nearly drove her to her knees. She grabbed at the bench to steady herself, bracing herself until the pain faded. She took a shuddering breath and looked around again. “If I knew how to remove this mark, I would.”

  There was silence. No trees moved, no voice spoke. She took another deep breath. Had she imagined the voice? No, it had been real. She had felt it.

  Kinaevan sighed. He was leaning forward on his cane. The willow behind him seemed to droop, almost embracing him. “Yet there is no denying its presence.” He sighed again. “For one reason or another, you have become the plaything of numerous vying powers.”

  She stared at her father, still breathing heavily. Was it her father or the Lady speaking? She almost didn’t care. She could feel the mark boring into her back. Whatever protection her father had put over her was now gone.

  “Do you know how to remove it?” she begged.

  He looked away, a lifetime of sadness lurking in his eyes. “Yes, there is one way.”

  She swallowed, dreading her question, but she had to ask. “There’s a price, isn’t there?”

  “There is always a price to pay with her,” Kinaevan stated. He started to stand, seeking a scrap of strength inside him. Instead, he fell forward, the cane clattering to the cobblestone path. Instinctively, Vinet reached out, catching her father as he fell. His body was limp and heavy in her arms. She could feel the raggedness of his breath.

  “You must take me to the Shaded Lake, to Alfheim. There… a ritual.”

  “Father,” she swallowed. “Father, you’re not well. You couldn’t make such a journey.”

  He clutched her arm with surprising strength. “I can. I will.”

  She hesitated. The pain still lingered in her shoulders. “What is the price?” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. It is a price I will gladly pay.” He coughed, and a seizure wracked his body. As Vinet watched, another long streak of white appeared in his hair. She tightened her grip on him, for she knew it was all she could do.

  “For you, daughter. For the little one you bear.” He continued.

  She instinctively brought a hand to her stomach. Nothing showed yet, but it would soon. “Father,” she whispered, desperation and despair leaking out with her voice.

  His hand clutched her arm even harder. “Child of mine. Heir of the Oaken Spear. Promise me that you will take me there. Swear to me that you will not stop the ritual once begun.”

  She stared into his eyes, taken aback by the intensity in his gaze. She hesitated a moment longer, then lowered her eyes. Her hand tightened on her stomach, a reminder that she was responsible for a life other than her own. “I…I promise.”

  Kinaevan closed his eyes and relaxed. He slumped back, allowing Vinet to settle him on the bench again.

  “Go then to the Embassy and summon my Keeper. She’ll know the way to Alfheim and how to begin the ritual. For now, my daughter, I need to rest.” He curled up on the bench in a fetal position. The trees rustled quietly around him.

  Willow weeps, and is so sad, but to sleep with her is not so bad. The children’s poem whispered through Vinet’s mind as she looked at her father.

  What price could there possibly be? She wondered. Her father knew, of that she was certain. And he didn’t want her to know, for fear that she wouldn’t agree.

  A flash of nausea overcame her, and she steadied herself against a thorn tree. The bark scratched her hand, and she hastily drew back.

  Her hand went to her stomach again. It wasn’t just her life on the line now. The little one inside her, the one she already loved more than life itself, was at risk.

  She swallowed. She looked one last time at her father, then turned resolutely towards the house. She had work to do.

  **********

  The journey to Alfheim was the hardest journey Vinet had ever had to make.

  Kinaevan’s “Keeper,” as he’d termed her, had proven to be a taciturn older elf woman who’d barely spoken two words to Vinet the entire month of the journey. She’d shown no surprise when Vinet and Gwyn had arrived at the embassy, she had merely ordered the Thorns to move out. The Thorns traveled around them now, silently spread out, guarding the travelers.

  Vinet, Nazir, and Gwyn were the only ones who rode. They kept their horses at a walk, but even so, Vinet had the feeling that the Thorns could easily keep up with a trotting horse. The only thing that was slowing them down was the cart which bore Kinaevan.

  She felt her gaze turn to her father again, as it had already a thousand times this journey. He lay perfectly still, his expression shifting between peace and pain.

  Nazir, as always, saw where her gaze lay. “How old is your father?” he asked in a low voice.

  Vinet shook her head. She had no idea. Very old, was the only thing she knew.

  Nazir looked around at the other elves. “They’re not surprised. Perhaps…”

  Vinet shook her head. She knew what Nazir was trying to suggest, what he was trying to prepare her for. But she couldn’t accept it.

  Until the Sight calls me… she flinched as she remembered that conversation with her father. He hadn’t been well even then, so early in their relationship. Was this the price of using the Sight?

  “Vinet.”

  She tore her gaze away from her father at the wonder in Nazir’s voice. As she looked forward again, she felt her own eyes widening with wonder.

  A lake stretched out before them, perfectly situated in the middle of the forest. Alfheim was built around it. Longhouses stretched along the near shore, doors facing the water. They looked more like the long roots of an ancient tree than any house Vinet had ever seen. Up in the boughs of the trees, there were rope bridges and small houses lit with many-colored lanterns that blended in with the colorful leaves of Manyu’s Rise. Out on the lake, houseboats moved in a lazy fashion, seemingly going nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

  Vinet blinked, feeling tears stinging her eyes. It was beautiful. Why did she have to come here like this?

  She was given no further opportunity to observe the town. Kinaevan’s Keeper led them directly through Alfheim without stopping, though Vinet could see that Gwyn, Nazir, and herself garnered curious looks from the elves living there.

  They followed the Keeper to the far side of the lake, away from the houses. Slowly, the lake receded behind them as they entered the forest again. A harsh smell assailed her nose as the forest path began to turn down, winding through clefts in stone and soil, jagged tree roots all about. It wasn’t a bad smell, but it made Vinet wrinkle her nose all the same. The path turned narrow, and the Thorns abandoned the cart that bore Kinaevan and carried him instead. They left their horses tethered above the path.

  Down and down they followed the path, until a cave opened before them. The Keeper stopped, and Vinet swallowed.

  “Are you certain of this?” the Keeper asked in a harsh voice.

  Vinet looked around. The Thorns, so unreadable during the entire journey, shifted uneasily in the presence of the cave.

  She felt a shiver run down her own spine. “He told me nothing,” she whispered. “Beyond a promise not to interfere. I…” She swallowed. “I am not certain of this at all.”

  “You may not get another chance. In my experience, she is never pleased at this request we are about to make.” The Keeper’s face was impassive.

  Vinet felt herself flinch as a stab between her shoulders reminded her of precisely what was at stake. She felt Nazir’s hand on her shoulder, warm and comforting, a steadying presence. “What is the price?” she whispered.

  The Keeper smiled briefly, a sad smile. She reached forward and took Vinet’
s hand. “You will feel nothing, child, but your father will die. It is often the price she demands.”

  There. It was said. It was known. Vinet closed her eyes and shuddered. She had understood this, somehow, deep inside her. Nazir’s hands on her shoulders were the only thing keeping her upright.

  She opened her eyes and looked towards her father, still lying motionless in the arms of the Thorns. “Why would you do this, Father?” she whispered.

  The Keeper released her hand. “We do not have much time. Did you not swear to him? Let this be done then.” Despite her brusque words, the Keeper’s voice cracked.

  Vinet felt herself trembling. Was this to be her decision, then? The decision of whether to ensure her unborn child was free of the taint of Manyu’s mark, or let her father die?

  “Vinet,” Nazir’s voice was low. Slowly, he turned her towards him and made her look him in the eyes. “Vinet. Your father knew this. Your father wanted this. Let him do this for you.”

  She blinked rapidly. “Nazir, I…” She shook her head. How could she do this?

  He squeezed her shoulders again. “Vinet. Your father is already dying,” he said softly. “It is his time. Let him do something worthwhile with his last hours.” One of his hands moved to her stomach. “For our little one.”

  She looked at her father again. He was still motionless. His hair was almost completely white.

  “Your husband is right,” the Keeper said shortly. “Make your decision.”

  Vinet closed her eyes again and took a deep, shuddering breath. She felt a movement in her stomach, a small kick. Her heart contracted. That was the first time she’d felt her child move inside her. She couldn’t let her child bear the same mark she did. She opened her eyes to meet the Keeper’s. She couldn’t bring herself to speak, but she nodded shakily.

  The Keeper showed no reaction of satisfaction or relief, just gestured to the Thorns and stepped into the cave. The Thorns followed her, bearing Kinaevan, and Vinet and Nazir descended after them, followed by Gwyn.