by neetha Napew
She questioned. Yet pauk was her consolation as much as the sea. For her dead brother YeferalOboral was now among the gossies, pouring out love for her as he sank towards the original beholder. The queen's unspoken fear, that he had been murdered by JandolAnganol, was proved baseless. She knew now where the real blame lay. For all that she was grateful.
Yet she regretted not having that additional reason to hate the king. She swam in the sea among her familiars. Peace of mind forsook her each time she returned to shore. The phagors carried her back to the palace in her throne; her resentment grew as she approached its doors. The days dragged by and she grew no younger. She was scarcely on speaking terms with Mai. She ran up to her creaking chambers and hid her face.
'If you feel so badly, follow the king to Oldorando, and plead with the C'Sarr's representatives there to annul your divorce,' Mai said in impatient tones.
'Would you like to follow the king?' asked MyrdemInggala. 'I would not.'
Burnt into her memory was a recollection of how, in spendthrift times, this woman, her lady-in-waiting, had been harvested into the king's bed and the two of them, like low whores, had been pleasured by him at one and the same time. Neither woman spoke of those occasions - but they lay between them as tangibly as a sword.
Chiefly from a need to talk to someone, the queen persuaded CaraBansity to stay at the palace for a few days, and then for a day more. He pleaded that his wife awaited him back home in Matrassyl. She pleaded with him to wait a little longer. He begged to be excused, but, cunning man though he was, he found it impossible to say no to the queen. They walked every day along the shore, sometimes coming on herds of deer, and Mai trailed disconsolately behind them.
When JandolAnganol, Esomberr, and their party had been gone from Gravabagalinien for a week and two days, the queen was sitting moodily in her room, gazing to the landward side of her narrow domain. The door was thrown open and in ran TatromanAdala, shrieking a greeting.
The child came halfway across the gulf between the door and the place where her mother crouched. That mother had raised her head and looked from under her disordered hair with such venom that Tatro halted.
'Moth! Can you play?'
The mother saw how the daughter's infant face bore the features of her father's line. The genethlic divinities might have further tragedies yet in store. The queen screamed at Tatro.
'Get out of my sight, you little witch!'
Amazement, scandal, anger, dismay passed across the child's face. It glowed red, it seemed to dissolve, it flowed with tears and sobs.
The queen of queens leaped to her sandalless feet, and rushed at the small being. Twirling it about, she thrust it forward and out of the room, slamming the door on it. Then she herself, flinging her body against a wall, hands above her head, also wept.
Later in the day, her mood lightened. She sought out the child and made a fuss of her. Lassitude gave way to a mood of elation. She put on a satara gown and went downstairs. Her portable golden throne was summoned, though the heat of midday was heavy on Gravabagalinien. Submissive hornless phagors brought it forth. Majordomo ScufBar came, and Princess Tatro with her nursemaid, and the nursemaid's maid, carrying storybooks and toys.
The small procession being assembled, MyrdemInggala mounted her throne, and they started on the way to the beach. At this hour, no courtiers accompanied them. Freyr regarded them, low over a shoulder of cliff, Batalix shone almost at zenith.
Leisurely waves, aglitter as if the world had just begun that day, came in, curling to reveal for a moment their cucumber hearts. About the stand of the Linien Rock, water gargled invitingly. Of the assatassi of the recent past there was no sign, nor would there be until next year.
MyrdemInggala stood for a while on the beach. The phagors stood silently by her throne. The princess rushed excitedly about, issuing her commands to the maids for the building of the strongest sand castle ever, a pianissimo generalissimo rehearsing her role in life. The lure of the sea was not to be resisted. With a bold swing of her arm, the queen released herself from her dress and slid the zona from under her breasts. Her perfumed body was available to the sunlight.
'Don't leave me, Moth!' Tatro shrilled.
'I shall not be long,' replied her mother, and ran down the beach to plunge into the beckoning sea.
Once below the surface, the forked creature became a fish herself, as lithe as a fish and almost as speedy. Swimming strongly she passed the dark form of the Linien Rock, to surface only when she was well out into the bay. Here the headland to the east curved round, creating a comparatively narrow passage between it and the solitary stand of rock. She called. The queen of queens was immediately surrounded by dolphins - her familiars, as she spoke of them.
They came, as she knew, in ranking order. She had only to release a spur of urine into the water, and the shapes silvered in, circling about her, closer and closer, till she could rest her arms upon two of them as securely as on the arms of her throne.
Only the privileged could touch her. They were twenty-one in number. Beyond them was an outer court, not less than sixty-four in number. Sometimes, a member of this outer court was permitted to join the inner. Beyond the outer court was a retinue whose numbers MyrdemInggala could only estimate. Possibly one thousand three hundred and forty-four. The retinue contained most of the mothers, children, and oldsters belonging to this school -or nation, as the queen thought of it.
Beyond the retinue, constantly on guard for danger, was the regiment. She rarely saw individual members of the regiment and was discouraged from approaching them, but understood that it numbered certainly as many individuals as the retinue. She also understood that in the deeps were monsters which the dolphins feared. It was the duty of the regiment to guard the retinue and the courts, and to warn them of danger.
MyrdemInggala trusted her familiars more than she trusted her human companions; yet, as in every living relationship, something was withheld. Just as she could not share with them her life on land, they had something in the deeps, some dark knowledge, they could not share with her. Because this thing was unknown, lying beyond her mind, it had its sinister music.
The inner court spoke to her with their great orchestral range of voices. Their pipings near at hand were humble and sweet - truly she was accepted as a queen below water as on land. Further out to sea, long sustained baritone chirps sounded, with basso profundo groans intermingling in a perplexing pattern.
'What is it, my sweetings, my familiars?'
They raised their smiling faces and kissed her shoulders. She knew each member of the inner court by sight and had names for them.
Something worried them. She relaxed, letting her understanding spread out like her urine through the water. She swam deep with them, out to colder water. They spiralled about her, occasionally touching her skin with their skin.
Secretly she hoped to catch a glimpse of the monsters of the true sea. She had not been exiled long enough in Gravabagalinien ever to catch a glimpse of them. However, they appeared to be telling her that this time trouble came from the west.
They had warned her of the death-flight of the assatassi. Although they lacked her time sense, she began to appreciate that whatever was coming was coming slowly but remorselessly, and would arrive soon. Strange thrills worked in her. The creatures responded to her thrills. Every shudder of her body was part of their music.
Understanding her curiosity, the dolphins guided her forward again.
She stared through the zafferine panes of the sea. They had brought her to the brink of a shallow shelf, on which seaweeds grew, bent before the overmastering current. They pushed through. Beyond was a sandy basin. Here were the multitudes of the retinue, line on line, facing westwards.
Beyond them, moving with the wary action of a patrol, was the whole force of the regiment, close together, body almost touching body, making the sea black and extending farther out than vision could penetrate. Never before had the queen been allowed such a close sight of the whole
school, or realized how vast it was, how many individuals comprised it. Matching the complex ranks assembled came a tremendous harmony of noise, extending far beyond her human hearing.
She surfaced, and the court followed. MyrdemInggala could remain submerged for three or four minutes, and the dolphins needed to take breath as she did.
She glanced towards the shore. It was distant. One day, she thought, these beautiful creatures that I can love and trust will carry me away from sight of mankind. I shall be changed. She could not tell whether it was for death or life she longed.
Figures danced on the remote shore. One figure waved a cloth. The queen's first response was, indignantly, that they were using her dress for the purpose. Then she realized that they signalled to her. It could only mean a crisis of some kind. Guiltily, her thoughts went to the little princess.
She clutched her breasts in sudden apprehension. To the inner court she gave a word of explanation, before striking back towards the shore. Her familiars followed or plunged before her in arrowhead formation, creating a favourable wake to hasten her strokes.
Her dress lay untouched on her throne, the phagors guarding it, shoulders hunched and acknowledging no excitement. One of the maids, in desperation, had ripped off her own garment to wave. She assumed it again as MyrdemInggala emerged from the water, reluctant to have anyone compare her body with the queen's.
'There's a ship,' cried Tatro, eager to be first with the news. 'A ship is coming!'
From the headland, using the spyglass which ScufBar brought, the queen saw the ship. CaraBansity was sent for. By the time he arrived on the scene, two further sails were sighted, mere blurs in the murk of the western horizon.
CaraBansity rubbed his eyes with a heavy hand as he returned the spyglass to ScufBar.
'Madam, to my mind the nearest ship is not from Borlien.'
'Where, then?'
'In half an hour, its marking will be clearer.'
She said, 'You are a stubborn man. Where is the ship from? Can't you identify that insignia on its sail?'
'If I could, madam, then I would think it was the Great Wheel of Kharnabhar, and that is nonsense, because it would mean there was a Sibornalese ship very far from home.'
She snatched the glass. 'It is a Sibornalese ship - of good size. What could it be doing in these waters?'
The deuteroscopist folded his arms and looked grim. 'You have been provided with no defences here. Let us hope it is making for Ottassol and its intentions are good.'
'My familiars warned me of this,' said the queen gravely.
The day wore on. The ship made slow progress. There was great excitement at the palace. Barrels of tar were rolled out to an eminence above the little bay where it was anticipated the ship's boat would have to land if Gravabagalinien was its destination. At least the crew could be confronted by flaming tar if they proved hostile.
The air thickened towards evening. There was no doubt now about the hierogram on the sail. Batalix sank in concentric aureoles of light. People came and went in the palace. Freyr disappeared into the same hazes as its fellow and was gone. Twilight lingered, the sail glinted on the sea; it tacked now, to keep the wind.
With darkness, stars began to appear overhead. The Night Worm burned bright, with the Queen's Scar dim beside it. Nobody slept. The small community feared and hoped, knowing its vulnerability.
The queen sat in her shuttered hall. Tall candles of whale oil fluttered on the table by her side. The wine a slave had poured into a crystal glass and topped with Lordryardry ice was untouched and threw blurred gules on the table. She waited and stared across the room at the bare wall opposite, as if to read there her future fate. Her aide de campe entered, bowing. 'Madam, we hear the rattle of their chains. The anchor is going down.'
The queen called CaraBansity and they went to the seashore. Several men and phagors were mustered, to ignite the tar barrels if necessary. Only one torch burned. She took it and strode with it into the dark water. To the wetting of her garments she paid no heed. Lifting the torch above her head, she advanced towards the other advancing lights. She felt immediately the smooth kiss of her familiars about her legs.
Mingled with the roar of surf came a creek of oars. The wooden wall of the ship, its sails furled, was faintly visible as a backdrop. A boat had been let down. The queen saw men straining, barebacked, at the oars. Two men were standing amidships, one with a lantern, their faces caught in the nimbus of light. 'Who dares come ashore here?' she called. And a voice came back, male, with a thrill in it, 'Queen MyrdemInggala, queen of queens, is that you?'
'Who calls?' she asked. But she recognized the voice even as his response came across the diminishing distance between them.
'It is your general, ma'am, Hanra TolramKetinet.' He jumped from the boat and waded ashore. The queen raised her hand to those on the eminence not to fire their barrels. The general fell before her on one knee, clasping her hand on which the ring with the blue stone gleamed. Her other hand went to his head, to steady herself. In a half-circle round them stood the queen's phagor guard, their morose faces vaguely sketched in the night.
CaraBansity stepped forward with some amazement to greet the general's companion in the longboat. Taking SartoriIrvrash in a great hug, he said, 'I had reason to suppose you were in hiding in Dimariam. For once I guessed wrong.'
'You're rarely wrong, but this time you were out by a whole continent,' said SartoriIrvrash. 'I've become a world traveller - what are you doing here?'
'I've remained here since the king left. For a while, JandolAnganol conscripted me to your old post, and almost killed me for it. I've stayed for the ex-queen's sake. She's in a doleful state of mind, poor lady.'
Both men looked towards MyrdemInggala and TolramKetinet, but could see no dolefulness about either of them.
'What of her son, Roba?' asked SartoriIrvrash. 'Have you news of him?'
'News and no news.' CaraBansity's forehead creased in a frown. 'It would be some weeks ago that he arrived at my house in Ottassol, just after the assatassi death-flight. The lad's crazed and will cause damage. I let him have a room for the night.' He was about to say more, but stopped himself. 'Don't mention Robay to the queen.'
As the two couples stood conversing on the sand, the boat returned to the Prayer to transport Odi Jeseratabhar and Lanstatet ashore. When the oarsmen had dragged the boat safely above the high-tide mark, the whole party made its way up the beach to the palace, following the queen and TolramKetinet. In some of the windows of the palace, lights had been lit.
SartoriIrvrash introduced Odi Jeseratabhar to CaraBansity in glowing terms. CaraBansity became noticeably cool; he made it clear that a Sibornalese admiral was not welcome on Borlienese soil.
'I understand your feelings,' Odi said faintly to CaraBansity. She was pale and drawn, her lips white and her hair straggling.
A meal was prepared for the unexpected guests, during which time the general was reunited with his sister Mai and embraced her. Mai wept.
'Oh, Hanra, what's to happen to us all?' she asked. 'Take me back to Matrassyl.'
'Everything will be fine now,' her brother said with assurance.
Mai merely looked her disbelief. She wished to be free of the queen - not to have her as sister-in-law.
They ate fish, followed by venison served with gwing-gwing sauces. They drank such wine as the king's invading force had left, chilled with the best Lordryardry ice. As the meal progressed, TolramKetinet told the company something of the suffering of the Second Army in the jungle; he turned occasionally to Lanstatet, who sat next to his sister, for confirmation of one point or another. The queen appeared scarcely to be listening, though the account was addressed to her. She ate little and her gaze, shielded under long lashes, was rarely lifted from the table.
After the meal, she seized up a candle in its pewter holder and said to her guests, 'The night grows short. I will show you to your quarters. You are more welcome than my previous visitors.'
The military for
ce with Lanstatet were shown to rear accommodation. SartoriIrvrash and Odi Jeseratabhar were given a chamber near the queen's and a slave woman to attend them and dress Odi's wounds.
When these dispositions were completed, MyrdemInggala and TolramKetinet stood alone in the echoing hall.
'I fear you are tired,' he said in a low voice as they mounted the stairs. She made no answer. Her figure, ascending the steps before him, suggested not fatigue but suppressed energy.
In the corridor upstairs, slatted blinds rattled against the open windows with the stirrings of false dawn. An early bird called from a tower. Looking obliquely back at him, she said, 'I have no husband, as you have no wife. Nor am I queen, though by that name I am still addressed. Nor have I been scarcely a woman since I arrived at this place. What I am, you shall see before this night is over.'
She flung open the doors of her own bedchamber and gestured to him to enter.
He paused, questioning. 'By the beholder - '
'The beholder shall behold what she will behold. My faith has fallen from me as shall this gown.'
As he entered, she clasped the neck of her dress and pulled it open, so that her neat breasts, their nipples surrounded by large dark aureoles, sprang before his gaze. He shut the door behind him, calling her name.
She gave herself to him with an effort of will.
During what was left of the night, they did not sleep. The arms of TolramKetinet were round her body, and his flesh inside hers.
Thus was her letter, despatched by the Ice Captain, answered at last.
The next morning brought challenges forgotten in the reunions of the previous night. The Union and the Good Hope were closing in on the undefended harbour. Pasharatid was drawing near.
Despite the crisis, Mai insisted on getting her brother to herself for half an hour; while she lectured him on the miseries of life in Gravabagalinien, TolramKetinet fell asleep. She threw a glass of water over him to wake him. Staggering angrily out of the palace, he went to join the queen down by the shore. She stood with CaraBansity and one of her old women, looking out to sea.
