Lovers and Beloveds

by MeiLin Miranda

  "If I ever find myself in ancient Sairland, I'll count myself lucky."

  "Old Sairish is the universal, civilized tongue of the West, Your Highness, and to know it is to understand our own language. Should you come across an educated person whose language you do not speak, the chances are good you will both have at least a smattering of it, and so can communicate. It is also convenient for speaking privately amongst less educated people."

  Jenks came in, signaling luncheon. "I confess Sedra and I used to do it all the time, usually when we were arguing and didn't want the servants to know and tell Mama," said Temmin in classical Sairish.

  "Do what all the time, sir?" said Jenks in the same language.

  Teacher smiled at Temmin's astonished face, and said, in Tremontine, "We will resume after lunch."

  "Jenks, damn you!" said Temmin after his tutor left the study, "all this time! Why didn't you tell me you spoke it!"

  "Because it was more entertaining to listen to you and Miss Sedra concocting mischief. Now, it's lamb chops and spring greens. I suggest eating while it's hot," he said, effectively distracting his charge from an unfortunate line of questioning.

  Temmin woke up with a start. Something had just whacked him on the nose.

  "Get up, sir," said Teacher, brandishing a rolled-up newspaper.

  "You hit me!" squawked Temmin.

  "I usually use a cane on the bottom. Be grateful for a newspaper on the nose," retorted Teacher. "I beat your father for two weeks straight before he got his head on the right way round, and he would be the first person to say it made him a better ruler."

  "How do I avoid his fate?" said the Prince, rising from the green velvet couch and pulling on his suit coat.

  "It's simple, really. Do not misbehave. Be awake when I return from now on or I really will beat you."

  Temmin drew his eyebrows together. "You are nothing like my other tutors."

  "You have no idea how true that is."

  "All right, then, I'll do my best to behave. Can we get on with it? What next?" said Temmin. "Geography? Trigonometry? What do you want me to recite?"

  "Perhaps history."

  Temmin groaned. "I hate history. I know it all, anyway. I can recite the kings from Temmin the First onward. Temmin the First, called Great, Gethin the First, Hildin the First, Temmin the Second, Andrin the First, Temmin the Third, called Bastard, Andrin the Second, Harsin the First, Warin the First, Gethin the Second, called Sad, Warin the Second, called Wise--"

  "What about Hildin the Second, called Usurper, between Gethin the Sad and Warin the Wise?"

  "No one counts him," said Temmin. "We don't even use the name any more. Bad luck."

  "What do you know about him?"

  Temmin shrugged. "He was king for a day. He wasn't supposed to be. The end."

  "He was directly responsible for the unification of Tremont and Litta, though it was called Leute then."

  "Ah, now you're trying to trick me--the only child of the last king of Litta married Hildin's brother, Warin the Wise, and their son Gethin the Third, called Uniter, inherited both kingdoms. See? I told you I knew my kings."

  "I am sure you do, Your Highness," said Teacher, "but there is much about the story you do not know--much that is not written in the official histories, or even the unofficial histories."

  "What kinds of things?" said Temmin, curious. "What could you possibly tell me other than the names and dates? That's all anyone seems to care about."

  "I can tell you what kind of men your ancestors were, because I knew them. And I can tell you the stories of the women."

  "Who cares about that?" said Temmin. "Women have nothing to do with the running of the kingdom and never have--I'm sure Mama doesn't!"

  "Even if you believe the women of your family truly had nothing to do with ruling, they still influenced their men, and how their men treated them speaks volumes about who those men were."

  "If the women were so important, why aren't they in the histories?"

  Teacher gave a thin smile, and slid an ancient-looking book across the table, neither large nor small, covered in leather dyed Tremontine red; it was the old book from the lectern in Teacher's library. In dull gilt lettering on its front and spine were the words, An Intimate History of the Greater Kingdom.

  "They are in this one," said Teacher.

  Temmin opened the book. "It's blank," he said.

  "Once upon a time," intoned Teacher. Words blossomed on the page. Temmin pulled his hands away from the book in astonishment, and the words vanished. He looked up at Teacher, who said, "It is all right. It cannot hurt you." Temmin hesitantly took up the book, and Teacher began again:

  Once upon a time, in the old Kingdom of Leute, there was a Princess named Edmerka. She was as beautiful as her name was dissonant. When Edmerka was still quite young, her mother died, leaving her as King Frederik's only child. The King paid little attention to her, and she grew up desperately lonely. Though Frederik loved his daughter, he spent most of his time with his new wife, trying to produce a son and heir.

  As Teacher spoke, words scrolled out into the empty book, faster and faster, until the pages spilled over. The words continued to flow, growing larger, taking form, turning into pictures, then pictures that moved. Temmin saw as if from a great height, higher than a tower; below him spread rivers and mountains, rushing closer as if he were falling, and though he wanted to cry out, he couldn't make a sound. He swooped over a forest, flying over villages and what must have been considered a city, its houses mostly of wattle-and-daub and rough, thatched roofs not much more sophisticated than the villages. An imposing stone castle stood apart from the little city, an actual moat encircling it. It must have been a very long time ago, thought Temmin dimly. Teacher continued:

  Instead, the servants raised her, and they spoiled her. Though she was by nature a kind and loving child, her loneliness overwhelmed her. Soon she was as arrogant and haughty as she was beautiful.

  A portrait of a breathtaking young woman appeared, dressed in rich clothing from long ago like a princess in Ellika's illustrated book of Corrish fairy tales. Her soft mouth and strong brows drew into a frown, but her blue eyes were more sad than sulky. Teacher's voice began to fade. "Her story," said Teacher, "is called 'The Curse of the Traveler Queen.'"

  The room fell away, and Temmin fell into the distant past, caught in the pages of the book.

  * * * * *

  The Princess Edmerka raged in her room, throwing anything within reach at anyone within range. "Why must I do anything he wants me to! He doesn't care in the least about me, so why should I care what he wants!"

  "I'm sure I don't know, miss, don't blame me!" cried her nurse. "The King merely said it's time for you to come talk to him and 'face your future,' I think is how he put it!"

  "I don't want his future, Olka! I don't want to marry this week's favorite, I don't want to enter the Sister's Temple--I want out of this place! I want to be left alone! Go away!"

  The sound of broken crockery followed Olka down the hall as she ran to Edmerka's father and prostrated herself: an oversized, gray dumpling dropped on the floor at his feet. "Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but the Princess is in a rage again. Nothing satisfies her. We bring her your presents, and she throws them at our heads! Now she says she wants to be left alone. Please tell me what to do, sire."

  King Frederik pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose, and glanced at his young wife, demurely embroidering at his side. She dropped her needle long enough to brush her long fingers across his hand, until he returned her intimate smile. "What does she intend to do," he said to Olka, "move to a cottage in the woods by herself? Amma bless me, she's a Princess! She can marry or go into the Sister's service, and I'd rather she marry. Without an Heir of my own, I must depend upon her to have a son, and soon, if I can find the right husband for her. Who'd take such a shrew!"

  "It's only a matter of time until you have an Heir yourself, my lord," said the Queen, taking his hand in hers. "Perhaps if your da
ughter gives us some peace, we might...strive toward that goal."

  Frederik gave a short-lived grin. "Edmerka hasn't given me a moment's peace since her mother died. What do you suggest, my love?"

  "I have three brothers, you know," she said, stroking his palm deftly. "It would please me greatly should Edmerka become my sister as well as my daughter. Perhaps an extended visit to my family?"

  Frederik shivered in delight. "Olka, pack Her Highness's trunks."

  And so the Princess found herself bundled off far to the west to her stepmother's family, strangers all. "At least she's only sulking," Olka said to the captain of Edmerka's escort. "How much longer?"

  "We should finish the journey late tomorrow," he answered.

  But as they approached their destination the next day, the Princess caught sight of a Traveler encampment, its bright caravans in a half-moon to one side of the road. She cried, "Stop! I wish..." To roam the world like that, she thought. Free, stopping where you wished when you wished and moving on in your own time, never bowing to anyone else's demands. With that kind of freedom, it wouldn't matter whether anyone loved you or not. The caravans spoke of all that. "I wish to have my fortune told," she said.

  "Oh, Your Highness, whatever for? They're frauds and liars. You won't learn a thing," said Olka. "Besides, we're almost to your mother's people."

  "She is not my mother, and you will stop!" said Edmerka. The captain called a general halt. Edmerka climbed down from the carriage, and marched into the camp, Olka and the captain trailing reluctantly behind. "I wish to have my fortune told," she announced to the raggle-taggle band by the fire.

  An otherwise handsome young man with rusty hair and one wandering eye separated himself from the rest; the captain put his hand on the hilt of his sword. The Traveler men instantly pulled their own steel and took a step forward, tense at the young man's back. "Travelers never ask for trouble, sir," he said, "but when it finds us, we're more than able to send it on its way." The captain frowned; he moved his hand, but gestured minutely for his men to come up a pace toward the camp. The young man signaled his own men; they sheathed their swords, but never let down their guard. "Now, then, my lady," the young man resumed as he fixed the Princess with his good eye, "a fortune, is it?"

  "Are you very sure that's what you want?" said a creaky voice. In the doorway of a red caravan stood the oldest crone the Princess had ever seen, bent and gnarled.

  "Yes, of course I'm sure," snapped Edmerka. The old woman beckoned her into the murky caravan, and shut the door. Edmerka stooped to keep her head from hitting the low, curved ceiling; she gathered her skirts close to her, though the caravan appeared to be well-ordered and clean. The crone folded out a tiny table attached to the caravan's side, its legs barely held together with wooden pegs, and offered her a seat on a barrel.

  "Now, my dear," said the old woman, "let's see what the cards say about you, eh?" She spread the cards out one by one on the little table; it trembled precariously under the weight of each one. "Ah, how fitting. The Princess of the Flames, reversed--d'you see? Wrong-side round. Bad-tempered, easily provoked to foolishness, spoiled, bored and spiteful."

  "And who is she?" said Edmerka, thinking of her stepmother.

  "Oh, she's you, miss," said the old woman with an empty-mouthed grin.

  "How dare you!" said Edmerka.

  "Travelers dare often, and easily, miss," cackled the woman. "What stands in your way--my, my. Farr the Warrior, reversed. Uncontrollable impulses and ruthless lust." She clacked her tongue. "And such a nice girl you are. Who'd've suspected?"

  Edmerka's face grew blotchy, but she held onto her temper. "Go on."

  "Your enemy's card is the Prince of the Winds, reversed--untrustworthy, violent, selfish, ruthless, and reckless."

  "Who is he?" said Edmerka, wondering which of her stepmother's brothers he might be.

  "I can't see everything, just most things," said the crone. "Help will come from the King of the Winds, reversed. Goodness, many people in your fortune, dear, and so many reversed. Troubles, troubles."

  "And who is this King of the Winds?"

  "A wise man, an honest man--but a man out of place, and blind to it. He will need help himself, I don't doubt. The path before you is the Bloody One, reversed--goodness, goodness. Choices taken from you, compulsion, confinement. You have two choices of action. The Nine of the Winds, reversed, is despair and submission."

  "And the second?"

  "The Courage card," said the old woman. "I should think that would be self-evident even to you."

  "Finish the fortune," scowled Edmerka.

  "Very well. Your outcome is the Lovers. Ha! Not reversed, at least. With all these people wandering through your cards, I should think that means a marriage. But with which man is anyone's guess. A bumpy road, in any event!"

  Confinement, choices taken from her--a marriage. It couldn't possibly mean anything else but a forced marriage to one of her stepmother's brothers. "I don't like this fortune!" said Edmerka. She stood up; the little table finally gave up and folded itself into the wall, scattering the cards.

  "Like it or not, it's what I see, my girl," said the crone. "I'll have my silver now."

  "Silver?" said Edmerka as she climbed down from the caravan. "I wouldn't give you half a copper for that! And I won't!"

  "You won't pay me?" cried the old woman, clambering after her.

  "No. Captain! We'll be on our way now!" The visit had become an ill omen, the caravans no longer symbols of freedom, and she hurried toward her carriage.

  "Stop!" ordered the old woman. She threw something acrid on the fire; a silver smoke rose from the flames, and ghosted its way through Edmerka's escort. One by one, the guards dropped their weapons and stared stupidly at one another. The coachman let go the horses' leads, and Olka, who'd been sitting on a little fold-up stool, stood up and looked around as if she'd woken up in a start.

  Low chuckling broke out among the Travelers, who advanced on the Princess. She moved backward toward her carriage, until she ran up against a Traveler man; he shoved her toward the old woman. "What's the matter with you all!" Edmerka shouted at her guards.

  "Will you pay me?" said the old woman.

  Edmerka set her stubborn chin, raised her head high and said, "No!"

  "All right, if you won't pay me in coin, then pay me in kind. Kiss my son, and I'll consider the debt paid." The young man with the wandering eye smiled, one tooth shy of a leer.

  "Certainly not!" said Edmerka.

  The old crone chuckled. "Oh, Princess Edmerka, you've insulted the wrong Traveler." The men rose from their places round the fire.

  "I don't recall telling you my name," the Princess answered, her voice trembling though she kept up as brave a facade as she could manage.

  "Of course I know who you are, child," said the woman. "You're stubborn, and courageous in your way. It's your downfall now, but it will be your salvation later. I am Maeve, the Queen of the Travelers, and I am your fate." Her aspect changed; the grizzled, withered crone flickered into a dark-haired, implacable young woman and back, over and over until Edmerka grew dizzy. The Traveler Queen spit in her hand, cupped it to her mouth, and shouted gibberish through it. The captain of the guards awoke from his stupor, wild-eyed.

  "Captain!" cried the Princess. "Draw your sword, defend me!"

  "Draw my sword? Who are you?" said the captain. "Where is this place? I remember nothing...no, this is not home--that's all I remember--I have to go home!" He stumbled back in terror, and fled. The rest of the guard panicked and plunged after him into the woods. Even Olka ran away, fat legs flying. Edmerka faced the Travelers alone.

  "Your fate has found you, whether you like it or not, Your Highness," said the Traveler Queen.

  The Travelers took the carriage, the horses, and Edmerka's trunks. They took the clothes from her back, down to her stockings and hairpins as she struggled to cover herself with her hair and hands. She longed to fight, to rage, to throw things, but she had nothing to thr
ow. She was one girl against a dozen or more, but she'd let Harla take her to the Hill before she'd show them how frightened she was. "Take everything," she said. "They're only things. Kill me, and my father will hang your heads above our castle gates!"

  "Brave and foolish in equal measure, just as the cards said," sighed the Traveler Queen. "Very well." She threw another handful of herbs on the fire. Silvery threads wove themselves around Edmerka; her skin drank it up. She felt it slink through her, as if it seeped into her very bones. Edmerka's joints loosened, and she stumbled. She burned from the inside. Her cheeks flushed, and her nipples grew hard and dark. "I foresaw this long ago, girl, and its necessity made me uneasy. I had no idea you'd be quite this disagreeable, though. Thank you. That makes it much easier," said the old woman. "From now on, you'll give a kiss to anyone who wants one--more, you'll give your body to anyone who wants you. You shall not only be powerless to resist, you'll return their desire. And now it's cast, not even I can lift it. The only way to end the curse is to bathe in the blood of a king."

  Edmerka's brave front crumbled as the curse bore down on her. Thin threads of lust trickled into her, twining themselves together as the smoke had, until they formed binding ropes of arousal. She knew who among the Travelers wanted her, and how badly; they burned candle-bright to her, and to her shock, she wanted them with a passion just at the edges of her control. "I'd rather die," she sobbed. "I'd rather die than live my life out like this! Kill me!"

  "Killing you seems a bit harsh for refusing to pay us," said the wall-eyed young man.

  “Be quiet, son,” said the Queen. “It’s more than that, and you know it.”

  "What will happen to me? What will I do?" Edmerka sank to the ground, sobbing and clutching her knees. If she held on tight enough, she reasoned through the red and silver haze blanketing her mind, she wouldn't pull the nearest man to her, though her body ached for him.

  She rocked back and forth and wailed, until the Traveler Queen took pity and said, "I cannot lift the curse, but I can ease it." Edmerka looked up in unwilling hope. "Give your maiden blood to my son, and I will make you forget who you are. It won't change anything, but perhaps remembering no other life will make this new one easier to bear."