Hoping against hope, Shailiha opened her eyes. Several moments later her heart fell. To her horror, her overall vision was worse than when she had worn the eye patch. The scene coming through her left eye was milky, as if a white fog covered it. The vision in her right eye was fine, but with her left eye so badly occluded, she found herself in the dreadful position of nearly asking Faegan to put back the eye patch. Although while wearing the patch her depth perception was flawed, at least the milky fog wasn’t visible. Tears welled up, but she grimly blinked them back.
Sensing the worst, Faegan looked at his hands. Soon the telltale shininess in his eyes rivaled hers.
“Tell me,” he said softly.
“My left eye is blind,” she answered.
“Is it totally blind,” he asked gently, “or only occluded? The Inkai said that occlusions might persist for a time before clearing, but there are no guarantees. Place your hand over your right eye and tell me what you see.”
Shailiha did as Faegan asked. She looked around the room to find that she could see shimmers of candlelight and irregular shapes mixed with the fog, but little else. After lowering her hand she explained her findings to the wizard.
“Do not be discouraged,” he said. “As I said, the Inkai warned that this might be the case. In the meantime I suggest that you wear the eye patch and let your damaged eye rest.”
“Before I do, I want the mirror,” she said adamantly. “I must know…”
After thinking for a moment, Faegan nodded, then reluctantly gave her the mirror. Shailiha raised it before her injured face without hesitation. As the shock overcame her she took a quick breath.
At first she didn’t recognize herself. Her left iris had been invaded by a milky-white substance and the skin around her eye was red and swollen. Then she looked at the left side of her face. Deep red pock marks pitted her cheek, neck, and jawline. Closing her eyes, she lowered her head.
“The damage to your skin will heal,” Faegan said, “and the pain and stiffness in your joints and muscles will eventually subside. But I cannot say what added progress your left eye might make.”
Finding that she had no words, Shailiha only nodded. When she had first realized that she was wearing an eye patch, she would have gladly done anything to be rid of it. But as Faegan gently put it back into its place and her vision was no longer occluded, she found wearing the simple black piece of felt and accompanying string to be strangely reassuring. Steeling her resolve, she looked Faegan squarely in the face. What was done was done. It was time for her to start giving orders rather than taking them.
“Help me out of this bed,” she demanded.
Faegan shook his head. “No,” he protested. “You need to rest.”
Summoning what strength she had, Shailiha reached out to take hold of Faegan’s worn black robe and pull him nearer. The wizard curiously raised one eyebrow, reminding her of Wigg. He could easily have used the craft to stop her but he didn’t.
“I’m quite serious,” she said. “Get me on my feet. If I am to rule Eutracia in Tristan’s absence, I refuse to do so from my bed!”
After pondering her order for a moment, Faegan decided to obey. Perhaps taking charge of the future is the best medicine for her, he thought, rather than lying there and wondering what it might do to her. He smiled and gave her a nod.
“As you wish, Princess,” he said.
Faegan raised one arm and summoned the craft. At once the bedsheets and comforter lifted away to drift to the floor. Then the craft levitated the princess into the air and onto her feet. As the spell dissipated, she gradually found her footing.
“Can you walk without help?” Faegan asked.
“I think so,” she answered. Then her expression softened. “I’m sorry if I was harsh with you, but I must do this. Please leave me. I need to dress.”
“As you wish,” he said. “Do you have any other orders?”
Shailiha nodded. “I’m starving,” she said. “I know that it’s late, but I want Shawna to prepare a full breakfast for me, including lots of hot, extra-strong tea. I want Traax to personally deliver his battle report to me as soon as he awakens. And return my medallion to me. I can guess why you took it, but I’ll have it back. When the Inkai contact me I will inform you at once.”
Nodding, Faegan removed the enchanted medallion from his person and handed it to her. As she placed its chain around her neck, her expression fell. She gave the wizard a worried look.
“There’s one more thing,” she added quietly. “I realize that Morganna will be fast asleep, but have her brought to me. There is something that I must know.”
Faegan understood, and his heart went out to her. “Of course,” he replied.
Knowing that there was little more to be said, he swiveled his chair around and wheeled it across the princess’s quarters. Calling the craft to open the door, he steered his chair into the hallway and the door closed quietly behind him.
Shailiha shuffled painfully across the room toward her wardrobe, gingerly trying to become accustomed to her aching body and impaired vision. She hurt everywhere, but she also supposed that the more she pushed herself, the quicker she would recover. After lighting more candles, she changed from her gown into a pair of close-fitting black breeches, a white silk blouse, and a sleeveless brown leather doublet. Putting on her knee boots was an immense challenge, but she finally managed.
After running her fingers through her long blond hair, she was breathing heavily and sweating lightly. She slowly crossed the floor to sit gratefully in one of the comfortable balcony chairs overlooking the palace grounds. The night air was sweet and cooling. After taking a few deep breaths she regained a modicum of composure.
And so I am partly blind, she thought. But my body and mind remain intact, so therefore I can still rule. And rule I shall.
As the night creatures sang and the stars twinkled in the sky, Shailiha explored her feelings. Her personal circumstances had changed, perhaps forever. This pain was new, but older, even deeper wounds that had come long before these new ones still scarred her heart. Since the death of her husband, Frederick, she had felt desperately alone, despite all the people and Minions who shared this great palace.
Morganna had helped to fill the void left by Frederick’s passing, but since then there had been no love like that which Frederick had given her. For a time after his death she believed that her love for her child and the love that Morganna gave her in return would be enough to fulfill her. But she later realized that this vacuum would be unique and long lasting, regardless of how much she and her growing child loved one another. She needed a man’s arms around her. She wanted a man’s strong but careful touch, his scent, his passion. She wanted to be swept away—even if only for one night—so that she might fully experience womanhood once more. But there had been no such passion in her life for more than three years, and she deeply mourned its loss.
Because of the new injuries to her face and eye, added concerns unfolded in her heart—concerns about which she was at once sure and unsure. If her injuries did not heal, the likelihood of finding romantic love would be dampened still further. As much as that thought plagued her, another plagued her more. Morganna’s presence had partly filled the hole in Shailiha’s heart, but without her daughter’s love and trust, that hole would only widen again, perhaps irrevocably. And so she had demanded to see her daughter straightaway. She had to know, before trying to carry on and rule the land that she and her brother so loved.
As she sat there with her thoughts, a soft knocking could be heard against her doors.
“Enter,” Shailiha called out hoarsely.
The doors parted to reveal Shawna and Morganna standing there. Shawna was dressed in her usual work clothes, and the precocious three-year-old obediently held the gnome’s calloused hand. Morganna was clothed in a simple red and white checked dress, white leggings, and shiny black shoes. Her long blond hair lay behind her neck, collected by a jeweled pin. As Morganna looked toward the balcony to f
ind her mother, her face suddenly changed from delight to fear. Cringing slightly, she lifted Shawna’s apron before her face, trying to find safety there.
Shailiha felt her heart break, but she continued to smile for Morganna’s sake. Shawna gave Shailiha a concerned but knowing look, telling the princess that she had been fully informed of her situation. Then the gnome pursed her lips and nodded, tacitly signaling her deep sympathy.
Shailiha stretched out her arms. “It’s all right, Morganna,” she said. “Please come to me. I’ve missed you.”
Morganna moved slightly away from the protection of Shawna’s apron, but she refused to venture farther. The look on her face now spoke of both fear and confusion.
“Mamma…?” she asked softly.
“Yes, it’s me,” Shailiha answered. “I’m a little bit sick, but I’ll be better soon.”
Morganna looked up at Shawna as if silently asking what she should do. After giving the princess a wink, Shawna scowled at Morganna and put her hands akimbo.
“Don’t just stand here, child,” she said. “Go to your mother. I must get back to the palace kitchens and cook up a great breakfast for you two. Now scat!”
Morganna swallowed hard, then started taking small, unsure steps toward the balcony. As she neared, she realized that the person in the chair really was her mother, and her expression changed from fear to concern. But as she reached Shailiha’s chair, the princess was overjoyed to see her daughter suddenly reach up to be taken into her arms.
No amount of pain could stop Shailiha now. She scooped her daughter up and sat her in her lap. As Morganna’s young eyes explored her mother’s wounds and the mysterious new eye patch, at first she seemed frightened again. Then, to Shailiha’s delight, she smiled.
“It’s a game isn’t it, Mamma?” she asked. “You’ve made a game just for the two of us.”
Unsure of how to respond, the princess decided to agree. Holding her daughter closer, she said, “Yes, Morganna, it’s a game. And when it’s over I will look the way I did before.” Holding Morganna closer yet, she rocked her in her arms. Then she looked across the room to see Shawna brush away a nagging tear.
“I’ll take my leave now, Your Grace,” she said. “The breakfast and all…”
As Shailiha pressed her lips against her daughter’s forehead she gave Shawna a little nod. The gnome let herself out and the doors closed again.
Morganna pulled away a bit to again look into her mother’s face. This time the child’s fear was gone, and Shailiha finally felt her heart calm. The worst has passed, she realized. Morganna again reached up to touch her mother’s ravaged cheek.
“I love you, Mamma,” came the soft, longed-for words.
“I love you too,” Shailiha whispered back.
For the first time since she was injured, the Jin’Saiou’s tears flowed freely, and this time she did nothing to hold them back.
CHAPTER XXXIX
MASHIRO’S WORDS STRUCK TRISTAN NEARLY SPEECHLESS. He quickly looked at Tyranny and Wigg and saw that they were as amazed as he.
Surely Mashiro can’t mean what he just said! Tristan thought. The Tome and the two Scrolls of the Ancients are priceless artifacts of the craft! How could he possibly suggest that they be destroyed? And what could Mashiro mean by “dismantling the craft”?
Still unable to believe, Tristan stared incredulously at each Inkai member. The resolute expressions on their faces said that they were firmly committed to Mashiro’s bizarre announcement.
Tristan glared at Mashiro. “Are you mad?” he breathed. “The Tome and the Scrolls are paramount in their importance! Hundreds of thousands of lives on both sides of the craft have been sacrificed to possess them! How could you even suggest that they be destroyed? And what did you mean about dismantling the craft when you have spent aeons trying to save it?”
“There is much for you and your friends to learn, Jin’Sai,” Mashiro answered calmly. “This decision was not reached lightly, I assure you. But to save the craft we must first eliminate some of its more advanced disciplines. Even then, we can do so only after Rustannica has been defeated and the world reunited under your rule. For the moment, let us not discuss our far-ranging plans for the craft. Instead, allow us to tell you about Rustannica, Shashida, and how we came to become embroiled in this terrible struggle. I will start by explaining the Rustannican government and culture.”
For the next hour Mashiro described the dangerous nation lying to the north. He explained the Rustannican government workings in detail, including the roles of the Pon Q’tar, the emperor and empress, the Priory of Virtue and the Femiculi, and the many tribunes who together constituted the voting body called the Suffragat. He then went on to describe the workings of the horrific Rustannican war machine with its legions, armada, and Blood Stalkers. Giving a detailed description of the Rustannican social order, he explained the differences among the krithians, hematites, phrygians, and skeens. The grotesque role of Rustannica’s many coliseums was then outlined, as was her dwindling gold supply and resulting economic emergency. Finally he told them of Vespasian’s new campaign to take the Shashidan gold mines.
When Mashiro finished, Wigg, Tristan, and Tyranny sat for a time in silent astonishment. After casting an incredulous look at his fellow Conclave members, Tristan looked back at Mashiro.
“I beg the Afterlife,” he breathed. “It sounds monstrous. Are the Rustannicans truly that barbaric?”
Mashiro nodded. “Interestingly, they call us the barbarians,” he replied. “Rustannica is a victim of her own excesses. Although many laws exist, morality does not figure prominently in their writing or enforcement. Instead, all the laws are skewed in favor of those possessing endowed, left-leaning blood. Unless one is a member of the krithian class or of the Suffragat, his or her life belongs to the state. But to fully understand Rustannica there is much more that you need to learn.”
After taking another sip of umake, Mashiro placed his hands flat on the table. “Things in Rustannica are far from what they seem,” he said. “Only the Pon Q’tar and one other member of the Rustannican government know the whole truth. Everyone else—including Vespasian and Persephone—wrongly believes that the Vagaries are empowered by an eternal flame. This imaginative lie serves the Pon Q’tar’s needs well. Ever since the Pon Q’tar clerics banded together and convinced other mystics of left-leaning blood to follow them and break away from Shashida to form their own nation, they have told the Rustannican people that the Vagaries and Vigors are empowered by two opposing, magical azure flames. To add credibility to their lie, the Pon Q’tar clerics spun another falsehood, claiming that in a courageous act of heroism they stole the Vagaries flame from us barbaric Vigors worshippers. It was then supposedly brought to Rustannica, where it could be forever nurtured and protected from Shashidan tampering in our never-ending quest to destroy the Vagaries.”
Pausing for a moment, Mashiro took another sip of the heady umake. “To add weight to their lie, they gave the flame a physical presence, then built a magnificent Rotunda in which to house it and to provide living quarters for the Priory Sisters,” he added. “It is the Sisters’ task to ‘watch over the flame and ensure its life so that the Vagaries shall never perish.’ As you can imagine, the populace sees the Priory Sisters as immensely important to protecting the craft and their continued way of life. In truth, the flame that the sisters protect is a sham that even they believe. It is the role of the reigning Femiculi to reenergize the flame on each coming of the new moon. But the enchantment taught to her by the Pon Q’tar to perform this ‘miracle of the craft’ does nothing but ensure that the useless flame burns for another month. Except for helping to convince the populace of the Pon Q’tar’s great hoax, the flame serves no purpose whatsoever.”
“Why did the Pon Q’tar weave such an elaborate lie?” Wigg asked. “Why not simply tell their citizens the truth?”
“Rustannica is rife with secrets and lies,” Hoshi answered. “As you already know, we believe that one side o
f the craft cannot exist without the other. The Pon Q’tar created the myth of the flame to disguise various truths about the craft, such as the Orbs of the Vigors and Vagaries. Because the two orbs remain trapped on the world’s other side, their existences can be easily refuted. Like the Sorceresses of the Coven, the Pon Q’tar’s use of the Vagaries has blinded them to the truth. They are aware of the theory that each side of the craft needs the other, but like Failee and her followers, they refuse to believe it. They hope that with Vespasian’s coming they can use his immensely powerful blood to finally smash Shashida and destroy all the Vigors practitioners west of the Tolenkas. Because the Orb of the Vigors is safe from their reach, the Vigors would continue to exist—at least in theory. But with no one of right-leaning blood left on our side of the world to employ the Vigors, here that side of the craft would be as good as extinct. That’s another reason why the Pon Q’tar and the Heretics have done all they could to help destroy Vigors practitioners and the Vigors Orb on your side of the world. With those deeds done, much of their mission would be finished. But what they refuse to believe is that should their ultimate goals be achieved, all magic would cease to exist and the entire world would be plunged into a unique form of mayhem and darkness from which it would never emerge.”
“There is another reason why the Pon Q’tar perpetuates the hoax of the eternal flame,” Midori spoke up. “Because of Rustannica’s monetary woes, an internal revolt is brewing. If the Rustannican citizens knew the whole truth about the craft and what would truly happen to the world if the Vigors were destroyed, they might rise up and demand not only a halt to the war, but that all magic practitioners again try to live in peace. Because of the great manpower needed to prosecute Vespasian’s new campaign, there are likely not enough legions left at home to quell a powerful civil uprising. Aside from a Jin’Sai or Jin’Saiou finally reaching Shashida, that is the Pon Q’tar’s greatest fear—especially now that their economy is on the verge of collapse and the government has launched an all-out war to seize our gold. If our mines are taken, the Rustannican war machine can continue to wreak havoc against us for aeons to come.”
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