by Resa Nelson
I’ll never do that again.
Now fully awake, Frayka saw that Wendill had left a bowl of fruit and a pile of clothing next to the hot springs. Frayka opted to remain in the soothing water while eating. Once done, she walked out of the water and stood in the strong sun to let it dry her skin. When she picked up the clothing and put it on, Frayka’s heart softened. Although not exactly like the fine clothing she used to wear, Wendill had provided a bright green dress that any Northlander woman would wear. Its texture felt softer and the skirt flowed more freely than the linen Frayka was used to wearing.
When she looked closely at the material, there were no threads. Instead, slim plant fronds interwove with each other.
This isn’t a dress made from harvested plants. It’s made from ones that are still alive!
In her normal life, Frayka wouldn’t believe such a foolish notion. But she had enough experience with gods and goddesses to know that their influence could produce marvelous and impossible things.
Frayka approached the mouth of the tunnel. “Wendill? Are you there?”
No answer came, but she noticed a lit torch nestled in a sconce carved into the opening of the tunnel. Assuming she must find her own way, Frayka took the torch and entered the tunnel. She remembered that each tunnel had led to multiple branches. Would it be better to stay and wait for Wendill to fetch her instead of risking getting lost in a maze of tunnels?
The scent of roasting meat drifted toward Frayka, and it renewed her hunger. She followed the scent. When she came to an intersection, Frayka trusted her nose. Keeping her focus on the direction provided by the aroma promising the heartiest meal she’d had in many days, Frayka made her way through one tunnel after the next with confidence. Eventually, they led her to another valley. When she walked outside, Frayka realized this wasn’t the valley where she’d met Wendill. Instead of a pond, a small stream ran through the valley. Instead of rows of crops circling a pond, a house of stone with a slanted sod roof rested in a grassy field.
Frayka found Wendill sitting by a small stone pit. He roasted a shank of meat on a spit over steady flames. Wendill looked up as she approached and smiled. “Hungry?”
“Famished.” Frayka sat next to him on the grassy ground.
After testing the meat to make sure it had cooked all the way through, Wendill used a dagger to carve it off the spit and onto wooden platters resting on the edges of the stone pit.
Frayka blew on her portion to hurry along its cooling. She used her own dagger to pierce chunks and eat them. Her entire body sank in relief at the hearty taste.
“You eat for two now,” Wendill said. “And you will eat well as long as you’re here.” He pointed at his stone-and-sod house. “It might look small, but the main floor is for company. That’ll be you.”
Frayka squinted at the house, which appeared twice as large as the cottages in her home village of Blackstone. And like those cottages, it had only one floor. “Main floor? I see no others.”
“There’s more below ground.” Wendill grinned. “I live on the lower-most level, closest to the heart of the earth.”
Frayka kept eating but considered the situation. She needed to earn Wendill’s help in a short time. She then needed to find the last two dragon gods and earn their help as well.
And she had to do it all before the child Wendill claimed she carried could be born. To protect her child, Frayka had to get back to the Land of Ice and be among her own people for the child’s birth. She didn’t know if Wendill told the truth about her pregnancy, but Frayka believed in planning for the worst situation possible. If the worst came to be, Frayka would be prepared. If it didn’t, she would be relieved.
But Frayka remembered what GranGran had insisted: Respect your elders.
If respecting one’s elders in the Far East was a matter of grave importance, then respecting the country’s gods must be even more important.
Frayka put aside her own annoyance at what she considered to be the foolish behavior of gods and spoke to Wendill as if he were a great ruler. “I thank you for feeding me and welcoming me into your home.”
Wendill looked into her eyes. “We aren’t like your Northlander gods. We love mortals.” He hesitated and reconsidered his words. “Rather, we loved them until we saw the worst among them and the multitudes of weak-minded that followed. We lived among mortals for a great long time. Of course, I will feed you. Of course, you are welcome in my home.”
Frayka found herself touched by his words. She knew the dragon gods and goddesses of the Far East were responsible for decimating the Northlands, Midlands, and Southlands. Based on the stories her father told as one who witnessed the events, she believed they had good reason.
I’m glad they did it. Otherwise, the Northlands would be as dangerous a place to live as the Far East.
“There aren’t many Northlanders left alive,” Frayka said. “And I know of no Midlanders or Southlanders who still live.” She paused, remembering that TeaTree was a Midlander. “Rather, I only know of one.”
“Others live,” Wendill said. “Not many.”
“The Northlander gods blame you for the deaths of the Northlander people. Those gods are furious. They think you overstepped your bounds and gave them a bad name.”
“We did. But for good reason.” Wendill gave a cynical laugh. “But your Northlander gods are so blinded by their opinions of themselves that they can’t see that good reason. They’ve become as arrogant as the dragons that used to roam the Northlands.” He released a wistful sigh. “That’s often how we lived and traveled among mortals. Turning into dragons and hiding among the animals known as dragons.”
Fascinated by the god’s story, Frayka knew she could listen to him talk all day.
But listening to Wendill reminisce would get Frayka no closer to the Land of Ice. She reminded herself that she needed to make good use of the time she spent in the Far East. She forced herself to stay focused on the task at hand.
“If I don’t find a way to make peace between the dragon gods and the Northlander gods, they’re going to kill me and all the surviving Northlanders. I imagine they’ll kill any remaining Midlanders and Southlanders, too.”
Wendill shrugged. “That is not my concern.”
“No,” Frayka agreed. “It’s my concern. I need your help and I humbly ask you for it.”
Noting how much Frayka had eaten and that her platter had little food left on it, Wendill scraped the rest of the meat from his platter onto hers. “You ask very prettily,” he said. “Did your great-grandmother teach you that?”
Frayka felt touched by his generosity with his food and surprised at his astute question. She stabbed a chunk of meat transferred from his plate. “Yes, she did. GranGran says when I’m in the Far East I must do two things. Respect my elders and learn the language.” Frayka wolfed down the meat.
Wendill laughed. “Now I remember why I found Northlanders so charming. I always liked their straightforwardness. Here in the Far East, people are very cautious and careful in what they say. You so rarely get a direct answer from them.”
“The Far East is a disturbing place. There may have been wild animals like dragons in the Northlands and brigands and other threats, but all people had a certain freedom. And the laws were fair to all.” Feeling homesick, Frayka forced herself to resist the urge to become sentimental. “There may be few of us in the Land of Ice, but we live like true Northlanders. That’s why I need your help. To keep that goodness and fairness alive.”
“I see,” Wendill said. He looked at his own empty platter and then the other platter that Frayka now licked clean. Wendill stood and offered a hand to Frayka. “Come with me. We’ll get you settled into the house.”
Frayka accepted his hand. But once on her feet, she stood her ground. “There’s too much to be done. I have no time to settle anywhere. I must keep moving.”
Wendill crossed his arms but spoke with a compassionate voice. “I know you want to find every dragon god and goddess needed to mak
e peace with your Northlander gods. It is clear you want to protect your unborn child by leaving the Far East before its birth. But there is no need to rush.” He reconsidered his words. “These things can’t be rushed. If you try to hurry the gods along, it will lead to disaster.”
When Frayka let the dragon god’s words sink in, she felt their truth in her bones.
If I rush the dragon gods, I’m trying to control them. No one can control any gods. What am I thinking?
And even if I could control the gods, how would that make me any better than them? Aren’t the Northlander gods controlling me by telling me what I have to do in order to stay alive and keep the people I love alive?
Why would I want to be like those horrible gods?
Frayka felt overwhelmed by the frustration of the time and constraints that she would have to overcome in order to succeed. “Then what am I to do?”
Wendill headed toward his stone house, and Frayka walked by his side. “Spend time with me,” Wendill said. “I do not give my help to everyone who asks for it. I need to understand what the consequences of my help are likely to be.”
“I can tell you what the consequences will be,” Frayka said. “If you help me convince the other dragon gods to join us, then I will figure out a way for all of us to appease the Northlander gods.”
“I understand that you believe what you tell me,” Wendill said. “But I have no proof that what you say will happen.”
“Of course, it will!”
“Because you say so?” Wendill laughed. “Foolish girl! Do you always take everyone at their word?”
Frayka thought about his question. “Not always. But Madam Po can vouch for me.”
Wendill stopped, blocking Frayka’s path. His dark eyes turned pitch black, and the look inside them scared Frayka. “I take nothing at face value. I will allow no one to vouch for you. The only truth that exists is comprised of the actions you take. Your words mean nothing unless they match your actions. Don’t waste my time with words!”
Frayka trembled, still frightened by the darkness in his eyes. But she understood him at last. “You want me to stay here because you need time to know who I really am.”
Wendill’s posture relaxed. The blackness in his eyes lightened to dark brown. When he smiled, Wendill’s warmth felt genuine. “Smart girl.”
They resumed walking to the house.
“Whether god or mortal,” Wendill said, “coming to understand the true nature of another being is never easy. It takes time and patience. Some people withhold information about themselves, while others spend their lives trying to convince themselves that they’re someone quite different than who they truly are.”
Frayka thought about the ways her own mother tried to force Frayka into being someone other than Frayka’s true self. She thought about what her father had said about her mother pretending in order to fit in with the other women in the village so she wouldn’t risk feeling alone and isolated.
Normally, Frayka would have felt frustration and anger toward her mother. Now she felt pity.
Frayka caught Wendill’s gaze. “You’re saying that some people lie to themselves. And when they lie to themselves, they end up lying to everyone else.”
“Precisely,” Wendill said.
Frayka continued to pick at that notion as if she were trying to straighten out a pile of tangled thread. “And you need time to get to know me so you can decide whether or not I’m one of those people.”
“Smart girl,” Wendill said. “Clever girl.”
“I understand,” Frayka said, “I’ll stay. But I know who I am.”
“Let’s hope so,” Wendill said. Reaching the front door of his house, he held it open and beckoned for Frayka to enter.
CHAPTER 20
For a full week after the untimely death of Emperor Po, the new Empress Ti kept her word to close all facilities in the royal complex for the sake of mourning.
However, every day she made use of the empty courtroom inside the Hall of Justice for her own purpose. She’d made the guards push the rows of benches against the walls to free up the floor space.
Every day Empress Ti removed a wooden staff from the row of staffs mounted on the wall behind the emperor’s throne at the front of the courtroom. Ti understood these staffs were relics of the past and utilized by emperors who had ruled long before her.
But Ti liked the way the aged wood felt in her hands when she practiced the fighting techniques she’d made Madam Po promise to teach her. Today, Madam Po insisted that Ti perfect a move intended to startle an oncoming attacker. Ti swung the staff around her head and jabbed at the empty space in front of her while lunging forward. She repeated the same defense over and over again until her arms ached and her legs felt like lead.
Despite her weariness, Ti didn’t want to stop. With every move, she pondered the things that concerned her. She worried about the advisors who were still angry about Emperor Po’s change in the law that prevented them from becoming emperor by marrying one of his daughters.
If those advisors had any sense, they would meet behind my back and work together to end my reign as empress.
Ti also worried about the court magician Tao Chu. All Ti’s life, she’d known him to be a wise and intelligent man. Although social graces made it impossible for him to accuse Ti of murdering her father, suspicion lingered in Tao Chu’s eyes every time he looked at her.
To complicate matters, Tao Chu would have to be a fool not to guess that his own son Asu had prepared the magic tableau that killed Emperor Po. And Asu Chu had no reason to murder the emperor. Asu Chu’s only connections to Emperor Po were his father—who had lived his life devoted to the emperor—and Ti.
Asu Chu is weak. Even worse, he fears his own father. How long will it be before Asu breaks his vow of silence about what I asked him to do?
When Ti brought the staff down especially hard, that action made the teeth in her head rattle. Despite the terror she felt, Ti remained calm and kept practicing.
My body continues to fall apart. What if my teeth fall out? The advisors would say I’m unfit to rule. They’d take over.
While continuing her practice as if nothing bothered her, Ti kept her teeth pressed together, willing them to stay put. But the next time she spun the staff around, her shoulders wobbled as if her arms threatened to pop out of their sockets. The idea terrified Ti, and she couldn’t help but imagine how she would look with her arms hanging useless at her sides.
Everything will be fine. Men are traveling to the far reaches of the province. They’ll return with what I need to keep living and stay healthy. There is nothing to worry about.
And yet, Ti fixated on the thought that she needed those men to return to Zangcheen soon.
“Enough for one day,” Madam Po said. She held out her hand, waiting for Ti to hand over the staff.
Rattled by her own worries, Empress Ti refused to relinquish the staff.
Madam Po thinks I’m weak. I must show her how strong I am!
Instead of handing her staff to Madam Po, Empress Ti stepped forward with a blow aimed at the old woman’s head.
Before that blow could fall, Ti felt a solid whack against the back of her knees. Her legs crumpled, and Ti collapsed to the ground. When she looked up, Ti saw Madam Po holding her cane in one hand and the staff Ti had been using for practice in the other. On any other day, Ti would have been angry. But today she mostly felt surprise. “How did you do that?”
“Decades of learning,” Madam Po said. “And decades of practice.”
Ti took her time climbing back to her feet.
The old woman is lucky to belong to my family dynasty. She is lucky I chose to keep all guards outside for the sake of protecting her secrets of fighting—they would have arrested her for striking me so!
“Decades,” Ti said. “What if I don’t have decades?”
Madam Po turned her back to Ti and placed the staff back on the wall behind the throne where it belonged. “What troubles the empress?”
Ti walked toward Madam Po. But when the empress reached the throne, she stopped and leaned against it with her back to the courtroom. “The thing that troubles all women in the Far East.”
Madam Po turned to face her. “Not all women share the same troubles.”
“They should share this one. You know what I mean. No woman is truly safe in the Far East.” Ti spread her arms wide, gesturing to the courtroom in which they stood. “Everyone knows the advisors are angry. They think a man should rule instead of me. And who’s to say they won’t try to do something about it?”
Madam Po remained steadfast, her expression unreadable. “And how do you intend to prevent that?”
Ti suppressed a sudden chill that threatened to make her shiver. She resolved to stand firm and strong in front of Madam Po.
“I must stay strong,” Ti answered. “I have faith in the royal guards, because they showed their loyalty to Father. But on the day you were in court—before Father changed the law—an advisor cornered me in the hallway. He would have tried to capture me as his bride and make himself next in line to be emperor if one of the guards hadn’t stopped him. What if something like that happens again? What if an advisor tries to kill me if there’s a time when I’m without the guards at my side?” Ti strengthened her voice with resolve. “That is why you must teach me everything you know.”
A wistful smile softened Madam Po’s face. “Teaching takes time, as does learning. These things cannot be rushed.”
“Why not?” Ti fidgeted. “The sooner I can protect myself, the less likely I’ll be killed!”
Although Madam Po’s words were direct, she spoke them gently. “Have you so quickly forgotten what happened just now? When you tried to attack me?”
“No, Madam Po, but—”
“Part of learning is discussing both successes and failures in order to evaluate them. If you can’t understand why you fail, you are doomed to repeat your failures. If you don’t understand why you succeed, you may fail to duplicate that success in the future. Tell me what happened.”
