by Martin Ash
"I told you, I have hardly had any. Bring me a man, or must I do it myself?"
Issul beckoned to a servant.
"We are not so different, Mawnie," she said as her sister's drink was poured. "We have both changed, it’s true, but I don’t feel we have grown apart."
Mawnie appeared not to have heard. Her eyes were on the servant bent beside her. "Now this is a sturdy fellow, sister, is he not?" she blurted out. "A fine, healthy figure." To the servant's surprise she slid a hand around the inside of his right thigh. "Young, robust and surprisingly well-thewed for a mere house-servant. His buttocks are absolutely charming, are they not?"
"Mawnie!"
"Endowed to serve, I don't doubt. His sole aim to attend your pleasure."
The servant had risen erect, rigid with embarrassment, his gaze fixed dead ahead. Mawnie's hand slipped higher, the tip of her tongue touching her upper front teeth, eyes watching his face. The man half-closed his eyes.
"You may go," ordered the young Queen.
"Oh, but not too far," added Mawnie as he withdrew stiffly. "I may want you again in a moment." She leaned conspiratorially toward her sister. "Servants can be such fun sometimes, can't they. Have you never tried one, sister? Shame on you! You should be more ready to explore. Ah, but I see I have gained your disapproval." She loosely fluttered a hand. "Let's change the subject, then. What were we talking about before we came out here? Ah yes, that proud new stud of yours. What did you say? 'Sleek and powerful . . . I am so eager to take him for his first ride.' Sister, how can you play so innocent with me?"
"Mawnie, this is becoming tiresome."
Mawnie gazed out across the wide quadrangle at the perimeter of which they sat, a smile still hovering about her lips. She raised her goblet and took a sip, then assumed a more serious expression. "So. . . it was a gift, you say, from. . . which faction?"
"The Children of Ushcopthe. They seek my favour, and the King's. I expect a petition from them quite soon."
"But it is a strong and healthy stallion?"
"Yes, but--" she caught her look. "Mawnie, please."
Mawnie brought her fingertips to her mouth. "I am sorry, sister." After a silence she said, soberly, "They have grown stronger, haven't they, since the True Sept was outlawed?"
Queen Issul nodded slowly. "They are trying to consolidate their position while being seen to have the approval of Leth and I. But they have never seriously been troublesome."
"You know, Iss, dear Leth has been harshly criticised in some quarters for his handling of the True Sept. Many think he was unwise to execute Grey Venger's sons."
"He did not want to. He agonised over the decision. In the end he was left without a choice"
"Without a choice? The King?"
"The King is not all powerful. He faced immense pressure from the factions and nobility. Also, he has been troubled of late. There is something. . . I do not know. . . I feel there is something he will not confide. He locks himself away at times. It is unlike him. I feel he. . . ."
Mawnie was curious. "He what?"
"I can’t really explain. He is distant sometimes, in a way he never was. I think the burden of kingship weighs heavily on him."
"He neglects you?"
"He loves me still, I‘m in no doubt of that. And I him. But since ascending to the throne there has been. . . I don't know. Something."
"Be careful, sister. When a man neglects his wife, be he king or peasant, the answer will be found in the bed of another. Believe me, I know."
"That’s not it!" Issul replied indignantly. "I would know if it was, Mawnie. Please don’t draw such inferences. It simply isn’t so."
Mawnie pushed back her long hair and shrugged. "Very well."
"And those boys were not innocents, Mawnie. The True Sept had trained them long and hard. They were skilled and highly-ranked. They were thugs, killers. And the Sept has not held sympathy with the Crown for generations, not since King Haruman introduced the Deist Edict. Leth made an example of them. He did not want to, he wanted Venger. Until the last moment he believed Venger would give himself up rather than allow his own children to die. Leth hated what he did, but when it came to it there was no alternative. Blood was demanded, and had he spared them he would have severely weakened his own position and given power to the True Sept."
"It turned a moderate opponent into a dangerous and invisible enemy."
"Moderate? A fanatic, and highly-trained assassin? He almost succeeded in murdering Leth! That is why there could be no quarter."
Mawnie traced small circles on the table with the tip of her middle finger. "Word is that with the Karai moving closer the True Sept are making secret overtures - may already have made contact. So Hugo says."
"The Karai are still beyond the Bitter Lakes and Uxon's Ridge."
Mawnie nodded sombrely. Her home, the Duchy of Giswel, was the closest of the domains of Enchantment's Reach to the lands now occupied by the Karai. Their advance had been remorseless and though the threat to Enchantment's Reach was not immediate, King Leth had dispatched extra troops to Giswel as a show of strength. Now Duke Hugo had come to Orbia, with Mawnie, bringing word of his latest discovery: the Karai appeared to be in league with one of the gods of Enchantment. The Karai, who were not wholly human themselves, had things in their ranks that had never been seen before.
This was daunting news which had sent King Leth and all his advisors and officers into urgent conference.
Mawnie said, "It’s a short distance if they decide to move against us."
Then she stood, abruptly. "Iss, I don't want to talk of these things now. I don't want to be fearful or sad. The world is in turmoil, everyone speaks as though we are at our final days, as though doom waits poised to swallow us at any moment. I don't want this. I want to be happy. I won't think of the Karai or their alliances. I want to laugh and sing and dance, the way we used to. Remember, Iss, when we were children? When Ressa was alive? It wasn't so long ago. We were happy then. It was so different. Oh yes, it was."
She had taken up her goblet and held it to her breast with both hands. Now she moved to the balustrade and stood looking out again across the quadrangle. A few figures could be seen on the far side: a maid scrubbing the stoop outside the Lord Constable's offices; a lad in the long sepia gowns of the library clerks, hurrying with a stack of fat books in his arms; two officers of the militia striding purposefully towards a side-port in the Guardian's Wall. Beyond the quadrangle Orbia's myriad towers rose into a clear azure sky, marvellous and bright in the warm golden light of early autumn. The sun was high and the world revealed in clear, sharp relief, bar the few dark shadows where its rays could not penetrate. Mawnie lifted her slim shoulders and let out a long sigh. "How I wish Ressa could be here again."
It was now that Mawnie, falling silent, bowed her head and wept.
"Mawnie. . . ." Queen Issul rose and went to her sister, took the goblet from her and held her in her arms as Mawnie's shoulders were racked with sobs. "Mawnie, Mawnie. I knew there was something. It isn't the Karai, is it, though there is enough there to fear. That's not what troubles you now."
"It is everything!" cried Mawnie. "Oh Iss, I am so unhappy!"
Issul waited, stroking her pale hair and rocking slowly from side to side, half-watching the pigeons which were gathering again along the veranda, and gradually Mawnie's sobs abated.
"Let's walk a little," Issul suggested softly when Mawnie was sufficiently calm. She linked arms with her sister and guided her back indoors. They passed through her rooms and out to the passage from which stairs descended to the door that let outside. In the sunlight they began to walk slowly along the straight flagged path which traversed the quad.
Queen Issul walked straight-backed, her head high, her pale green gaze inward and reflective. She stood an inch or so taller than her sister. Her hair was notably fairer and, when freed of the chignon and plaits which now held it close to her skull, was looser, more naturally wavy and slightly longer. She was a beauty, if
at times a little solemn. Her oval face was pale, the skin fresh, the cheeks lightly freckled. Aged just twenty-two, she was two years Mawnie's elder.
The death some four years earlier of Issul's other sister, Mawnie's twin, Ressa, had caused Issul to become fiercely protective of Mawnie. She perceived in Mawnie's behaviour worrisome signs of dissipation. Issul was torn. Mawnie and Ressa had been inseparable and Mawnie had never really recovered from the loss. Moreover, there were elements to the tragedy which Issul was bound to keep secret, even from Mawnie.
Mawnie, in contrast to her elder sister, walked with drooping shoulders and a heavy gait. Her feet struck the floor as though falling rather than placed. She too could be striking to the eye. Light and slender of build like her sister, she lacked Issul's natural poise, and her gaze, now upon the ground before her, tended often to flit here and there, as though she were constantly searching for something undefined. She laughed as readily as she cried, and was prone to temper just as easily. Her expression in its unguarded state was open-eyed and vulnerable, her look seeming to hold a sad acknowledgement that the thing she sought would never be found.
"Is it Hugo?" Issul enquired after they had gone a dozen paces or so. She had purposefully avoided talking of Ressa. It would elicit further tears and little else. Issul suspected that matters of the present had brought on Mawnie's current mood.
"He is a pig," said Mawnie heatedly. "I hate him."
"Truly? You loved him once."
"I admired him, I was infatuated by him. I lusted after him. All this is true, but it is not the same thing." Mawnie pressed her handkerchief to her reddened nose, and halted. "He doesn't love me. He never has. He loved Ressa, you know that, Iss."
Issul remained silent, pensive.
"He turned to me when she died, trying to rediscover her in me, because we were so alike," Mawnie went on. "But I was always second choice and I could never live up to his expectations, though I tried. I could only be me, not Ressa, and that is not what Hugo wanted."
"Has he said as much?" Issul pressed her arm and encouraged her to walk again.
"He doesn't need to. No, he says nothing. I hardly see him. He prefers the company of scullery-maids or countesses - he makes no distinction. They satisfy his needs. But his lawful spouse and mother of his child fails to interest him in any way. And he makes no secret of what he does. It is as if I don't exist, I don't matter."
"It might have been the same if Ressa had lived, Mawnie. His love for her might have dwindled. Hugo is a handsome man, and powerful. He is restless, ambitious, an idealist. For him there are no ordinary comforts. I believe the world can’t satisfy him. He is good at heart, I think, and does not mean to hurt you--"
"Then why does he do it?"
"Perhaps he can’t help himself."
"You are defending him, Iss! How can you?"
Issul shook her head. "Not defending, nor condoning. But I am trying to understand. Simply to hate and condemn is to be blind to the whole picture."
"Yes, you have studied with mages and perhaps see things with wiser eyes than mine. But you are free of the pain. I know only how I feel."
"You’re wrong, Mawnie. I am Queen, and it is an exalted position, but I am not free of pain, as many would believe. You know that. I am pained when I see the problems that beset our people and our land, and I am pained when I see how you hurt. Do you really think I feel nothing? I love you and am unhappy for you when I see what this is doing to you. And I fear for what I see you doing to yourself."
"It is what he is doing to me!" Mawnie cried.
"You are letting yourself be his victim, then. I don't think even Hugo wants that."
"But what can I do? If I take a lover I am condemned, not only by Hugo but by everyone, including you. If I don't I am his victim."
"You are letting yourself be his victim whether you take lovers or not. I think you are trying to spite him."
Mawnie snorted. "Nothing I do spites him in any way. He has the sensitivity of a granite promontory. I just want to be happy, Iss. I want to enjoy my life again."
They had arrived at the far side of the quadrangle and passed now through a small portal into a heavy lime-pleached alley which ran along the side of a walled knot garden. Roses still bloomed beside the lawn to one end, and Issul breathed in the air deeply as they passed. "It’s good, Mawnie. The sunlight, the flowers. These things make recompense for the toils we bear. I wonder sometimes whether our hopes and expectations are simply misdirected."
"I just want to be happy," reiterated Mawnie miserably. "I want it to be like it was."
"You have to accept that the past is gone," Issul replied.
"Oh no, it is not!" Mawnie declared vehemently. "If only it were. The past never leaves us, Iss. We are its prisoners and it will not let us go."
A short arcade now took them back indoors and eventually to an intersection of corridors. One way led deeper into the palace precincts, the other towards the military parade grounds, barracks and stables. Mawnie chose the latter and soon they found themselves, still arm-in-arm, at the edge of the vast dusty square that was Orbia's main parade and training ground. Formations of troops, mounted and foot, drilled in the sun, and the air was cut with the bellowed commands of drill-sergeants and training officers. A squad of elite Palace Guards, alert to the arrival of the royal sisters, moved discreetly into protective positions close by.
After a few moments quietly observing the soldiers Mawnie quite suddenly bobbed onto her tip-toes and pointed. "Oh look, Iss! I think that is the one I told you about! There! Do you see?"
Queen Issul followed the direction of her outstretched finger. A cavalry squad, a dozen strong, trotted towards them from the right, about thirty paces distant. "What am I looking at, Mawnie?"
"That soldier, closest to us in the fourth rank. I told you earlier, yesterday afternoon he came to my assistance when I slipped on a loose flag in the Cutter's Alley. He was walking by with another and caught my arm and saved me from falling. I think that’s him. Wait till they come closer."
The soldiers were now within twenty paces of the two, passing by almost directly in front of them.
"Yes, it’s him!" said Mawnie, and clapped her hands. "Oh, what a surprise he will get when he sees me now. He took me for a governess or lady's maid or something. Watch!"
At an order from their drill-sergeant the troopers' heads turned as one and they raised their hands in salute as they passed before the young Queen and Duchess.
"Coo-ee!" said Mawnie, far too softly for anyone but her sister to hear. But she slightly lifted one hand and waved with her fingers.
The men's features were set in concentration, but as Queen Issul watched, sure enough the gaze of the soldier Mawnie had indicated had focused more directly upon them. His eyes passed from Mawnie to herself, then back again, lingering an instant longer than his fellow-soldiers', as if questioning something. Then their heads swivelled smartly to the fore and they rode on past.
"Did you see?" said Mawnie. "He's quite handsome, isn't he? And young."
"Mawnie, I hope--" Issul began.
"No, nothing like that, sister. I merely observed, that is all. But he was gallant, and very agreeable. He held my hand, so gently, until I assured him I needed no further assistance. He is newly-recruited to the King's Cavalry, he told me, coming from beyond the forest in answer to Leth's call. His name is Shenwolf."
"You appear to have discovered a lot about him, for such a brief encounter."
"That is the sum total of my knowledge. We were together for mere moments, and he was in company, as I said, though I confess I do not recall much about his companion." Mawnie rolled her tongue inside her cheek. "He does have rather charming buttocks, though. Don't you think?"
The Queen half-smiled. "I can’t say that I noticed. Perhaps I should summon him over for inspection."
"Perhaps you should." Mawnie laughed, and as the soldiers rode away they moved on and left the parade-ground.
II
La
ter in the day Queen Issul was in her office, ostensibly inspecting proposals submitted by one of the factions, the Far Flame, for an extension to their Grand Lodge. In point of fact her mind was far away.
She was recalling her conversation with Mawnie, thinking of Ressa, thinking of Leth. Issul felt a great weight upon her. She wondered, not by any means for the first time, whether she had been wise to encourage the marriage between Mawnie and Duke Hugo. At the time it had seemed the right thing. It had given Mawnie something to live for after the terrible loss of her twin, and politically and socially the marriage had been advantageous to both sides. But Issul had been aware in her heart that Mawnie, and Hugo too, might be entering into a fragile pact.
After a year had come the birth of a daughter, Lir. Issul had hoped that motherhood, too, would help Mawnie rediscover the focus she had lost. But Lir was two and a half now and spent almost all her time with nannies, seeing her mother irregularly and for only moments at a time, and her father even less.
"Mawnie, Mawnie," Issul whispered. "Don't do this to yourself."
With a pang of guilt she thought of her own children, Prince Galry and Princess Jace. She, too, saw far less of them than she would wish. In her case it was the exigencies of duty that claimed her time, rather than any wild and desperate search for bygone happinesses. She rejoiced in the hours they did spend together, but when she kissed them goodbye and left them with their nanny or governess Issul felt wretched.
And there was Leth. Something preyed on his mind. He spent so much time locked in his study. Passing by one evening Issul had noticed a strange blue lucence seeping beneath his study door, which pulsed dimly as she watched. She thought she had heard the murmur of voices within.
When she had spoken of it to Leth later that night he replied curtly that he had merely been engaged in his researches. He was alone, he said. The voices must have been servants talking in the passage outside, or in a chamber above. Or perhaps it had been the wind shifting the heavy drapes beside the window, or the fallen leaves outside. Or perhaps it had been nothing at all.
