To crown this disguise was a juicy apple, yellow on one side and red on the other. She had carefully poisoned just the red side with a strong draught of Death’s Kiss; by now, she figured, Nadra would be suspicious of such things.
She pulled her cloak around her ever the tighter as she reached the warm golden glow of the window of the dwarves’ cottage. The night was chilly, but the inhabitants of the cottage were quite warm and content; there were even sounds of merriment issuing through the window, but it died down as Vetra drew near in her hag’s disguise, and she could hear, quite clearly, Nadra’s voice.
“My dear friends,” she was saying, “you have been fine companions, princely in deed and hospitality. You have been kind to me; I am not used to that, and because of it you have paid whatever debt you owed my father ten times over.
“I wish, my friends, that I could stay among you forever. However,”--Nadra’s voice seemed to crack with difficulty-- “there are things that cannot be. Tonight I leave you forever, never to endanger you again.”
There was a murmur of disapproval among the dwarves. Vetra grew uneasy--did Nadra know she was here, right outside her very door?
Nadra silenced them once more. “Right now you do not understand. In time, you will. Tonight, just as you have repaid your debt to my father, I shall pay my debt to you and to all of Karkonia.” There was an astonished silence. Vetra’s edginess grew.
Then, “Wymar--someone is at the door; let them in.” Nadra’s voice wavered slightly. So she knew--but still let her in.
Vetra took in a deep breath as the dwarf swung open the door. She observed a tear in his eye; perhaps he knew, also. The rest of the dwarves eyed her with a mixture of fright and pity.
“Good evening, my dear,” Vetra said in her hag’s cackle. “Will you give shelter for an old woman in the cold?”
Nadra looked straight at her, her golden brown eyes meeting Vetra’s. If there had been weakness before, now there was none. “Stay or go, but do your errand quickly. Wymar, take the others and leave us; when we are done, you can explain.”
The one called Wymar, who was shaking, silently nodded to the others, who (except for Tymar, who raised his eyebrows and turned pale) looked on in bewilderment and mistrust. They filed out, leaving Nadra and Vetra alone.
“Tea?” Nadra offered pleasantly enough. “Don’t worry--I’m not going to assassinate you with poisoned tea.”
Vetra tried to look puzzled. “My dear,” she choked, “what in the twenty-one kingdoms are you talking about?”
Nadra set the cup in front of Vetra. “I was just wondering, though, are you Vetra herself or one of her servants? Speak and drink without reserve; I know what you have come here to do, and I am ready.”
Vetra remained silent for a while, not sure what to say, astonished. “I am the Queen herself. It can happen with blood, or with the taste of fresh apple on your tongue; I try not to be too cruel.”
“You are wise, then, Your Majesty,” Nadra smiled. “I knew from the moment I found out that the stranger I had been talking to was your fiancé that this day would come, in some form or another. I have fought it long enough.”
“I guess you deserve, being so brave, to see me in my natural form.”
A transformation took over the Queen, and once again she was tall, statuesque, and beautiful. Her face was sad, however.
“Such a pity--I wish there was a way to do this without shedding such noble blood. It will save many, though, and I respect you for knowing that.” The Queen, in royal splendor, sat down side-by-side with Nadra. “I’ve seen what amazing things you’ve done, and even though you fought me, I cannot help but love you as my sister.”
“Let us not stretch it out any longer; I fear chagrin. The longer we wait, the more likely it will come.” Nadra was still, though extremely pale.
Vetra set the apple on the table. “So we understand each other?”
“Yes. Is that it?”
“One bite on the red side will do it; Death’s kiss poison is very fast, and nearly painless. Of course,” she remembered suddenly, “you know that. It’s your father who used to trade it for me, isn’t it?”
“Yes; he always warned me not to eat the beautiful apples he got from you. Ironic, isn’t it?” Nadra reached for the apple and was about to bite it when Vetra suddenly stretched out her arms and hugged Nadra. It was a strange sight, indeed, to see this royal and this peasant embraced as though sisters; when it broke, they both had tears in their eyes.
“Is there anything, anything at all I can do when it is done?”
“Just one,” said Nadra, smiling weakly. She rummaged into her pack and pulled out a beautiful embroidery frame of black ebony. “Take this as a gift from me. It is the greatest treasure I have to offer; to me it is worth more than all the yilite stone in the twenty-one kingdoms.” She paused. “We shall meet again, when Wertantheow returns.”
With that, Nadra bit into the apple and swallowed; she could feel the poison coursing through her body. With a sigh of relief, she sank to the floor, and whispered, “I always wondered what these apples tasted like.”
Vetra looked down at Nadra’s body and gave a sad smile. “As white as snow, as red as blood, as black as ebony--a noble family with a noble end.”
With that, she vanished and reappeared in the capital, just in time to rush to the chamber of King Greiden where Rilen knelt by his father’s bedside. She stood in the doorway for a moment, unobserved, as the two spoke with each other.
“I’m sorry I got so angry, father,” said Rilen, who seemed to be speaking with hardly-contained anxiety. “I was wrong to be so rash at you.”
“Everyone is, sometimes, and you had due cause.”
“I thought about what you told me, father, when we were out at the well. You told me to play the part.”
King Greiden smiled. “Not as easy as it sounds, is it?”
“Thank you,” Rilen said. “By playing the part, you taught me to be honest.”
“Really?” The king seemed surprised. “What are you going to do about Vetra?”
Vetra swallowed a large lump in her throat. So much hinged on this.
“I’m going to marry her.”
Greiden seemed to sigh in relief. “Good for you, son.” He paused, then added, “I thought you didn’t trust her.”
“I do now, and although I don’t love her yet, I guess it might happen if I try hard enough.” He shrugged. “I’ve seen into her magic now, and although she’s a witch, she has to be to keep things together.” His eyes looked distant, as though he could sense that Vetra was there and what she had been doing.
“There was another, wasn’t there, my son?” King Greiden knew his son well.
Rilen sighed. “As you said, we were born into leadership, bound by duty, and the peace of the kingdoms is more important than personal happiness.”
King Greiden closed his eyes and smiled. “You will be a great king, my son; now I can rest.” He chuckled. “You will never be a better dancer than I was, though.”
Rilen laughed, too, and Vetra behind him. They laughed until Greiden fell silent, and the other two shed tears.
“So it is,” said Vetra.
Rilen turned around. “I thought you might be there,” he said calmly. “Where were you? None of my business, I guess.” He turned back to his father.
“I’m sorry,” Vetra touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry for everything.”
“It’s not your fault.”
You have no idea, she thought as the various servants came in to prepare Greiden’s body for burial. Her mind was reeling. She strode through the gilded halls, past the great jeweled doors, and walked until she came at last to that well, that terrible, wonderful wishing well in the middle of her garden.
At that moment, as at all moments, she could see into the heart, mind, and body of every person in Karkonia, whether native or foreign, and of every Karkonian outside the country’s borders. She could laugh when they laughed, cry when they cried, and even dream their dreams. She remembered the first time she had joined her mind with another person; he had wound up cursed, for he had persuaded her to attempt it before her time. Since then, her world had been full of voices, full of feelings that were not her own.
Until now, she’d had no room for her own voice, for her own joy or pain. Just a great weight had been her one companion, grinding upon her for years. Now, she allowed herself to feel, and what she felt was pain.
In time, Rilen came to the well, also. He seemed surprised to find her there.
“Your Majesty,” he bowed slightly, “you apologized to me, without telling me why. Now I apologize similarly.”
“Bow to no one,” Vetra reminded him. “You are the king now.”
There was a tense silence. Then both spoke at the same time, “How much do you know?” They laughed.
“Let’s set that aside for the moment,” Vetra said, “to bury your father. Then, you may continue your search--that is, your tour--of the kingdom. The dwarves of the seven mountains can show you much, so that would be a good place for you to begin this time.” For the first time since their meeting at Wieshaw, they looked each other directly in the eye. For the first time, Vetra realized that his eyes were the same mournful grey as his father’s.
“I could stop the tour, of course.”
“You made an oath; a good ruler never breaks those oaths.”
“Very well, then.” He paused. “You made an oath, too.”
“That’s right.”
It was a mark of how bad the years had been on both of them that they both burst out in laughter and tears at once.
“Welcome to leadership,” Vetra said bitterly, conjuring two goblets and dipping them into the well. She handed him one. “Cheers; welcome to the headaches, the nightmares, and insomnia.”
“Not to mention grief,” Rilen added, his thoughts on his father. He felt numb. The feeling went away somewhat with a sip from the glass Vetra had handed him.
Vetra raised her glass in acknowledgement and set it back down on the stone of the well. Buried in her robe she fiddled with the black ebony embroidery frame. “There’s plenty of that, all right,” she whispered hoarsely to herself. Aloud, she said, “You will go a week from now and finish your tour, after your father has had his burial. You will find what you seek at the top of the highest of the seven hills.”
The morning dew had just faded from the forest as Rilen reached the top of the highest of the seven hills. His heart had already been heavy from one death, and he feared another. It sank like a stone at the sight he saw there.
The glorious colors of dawn illuminated a circle of seven short, burly dwarves gathered around an object in what could only be described as abject mourning. Hats in their hands, they bowed silently in respect of the signet ring he wore as he dismounted and looked upon Nadra’s corpse.
She was encased in a fine casket of gold inlaid with yilite stone as its base and clear, unrippled glass--or was it glass?--through which he could see the lovely features of Nadra, exactly as he remembered her, but dead. In her hands had been placed an embroidery hoop of black ebony, and an inscription in the base of the casket read:
AS BLACK AS EBONY
AS RED AS BLOOD
AS WHITE AS SNOW
So Vetra had known all along; how dare she do this while he still wore black for his father? He had been stretched to his limit; he could hold back no longer. AS RED AS BLOOD
AS WHITE AS SNOW
It is an ugly thing to see a grown man weep. The dwarves could feel nothing but pity for him--but what consolation could they offer to him?
“Nadra,” he whispered through his tears, “I promised you I would find you, and here we are. You said this would happen, but I could not, would not believe you.”
“She was ready,” one of the dwarves suddenly spoke up. “She knew Vetra was coming and managed to fight her off three times, but she didn’t the fourth. She was willing to die for Karkonia; willing to sacrifice her love for you for all of Vetra’s country.”
“Vetra!” spat the prince with disgust and disdain. “Speak not of that witch in my presence. It is because of her that all of this has happened.”
There was a murmur among the dwarves. Another of them spoke up. “If it may not be too bold to say so, you did walk out of her party.”
“Fymar!” One of the dwarves elbowed the speaker. “How dare you? Doesn’t the prince here have enough to deal with without you guilting him? I apologize, your Royal Highness.”
“No,” said Rilen, “he was right. However,” he drew his sword, “now not only will I refuse to wed the witch, but she will pay for every life she has taken!”
The dwarves drew back, astonished. Then Wymar spoke, steadily, “Hear me out right here and now, before you do anything desperate. Put away your sword, and consider Nadra’s resting place.”
Rilen obliged, but he kept his hand on the hilt.
“Now,” Wymar said, “know this: Vetra is far more wise than you think. Although (as she told me) she is nearly as unenthusiastic about the upcoming marriage as you are, she knew that it was the only way rebuild our failing nation. She sees all of her citizens everywhere, you know, with her magic.”
“Yes,” Rilen grumbled. “I am quite familiar with that. What I fail to see is how this redeems the murder of one of her own innocent subjects.”
“It was not murder, Your Royal Highness!” Wymar was adamant. “It was not Vetra that killed Nadra, or even Nadra who killed Nadra; it was the greed of Jangvit, and the wish to stop the bloodshed for that greed.”
“Beware, little dwarf,” Rilen’s eyes flashed as he drew his sword and advanced towards Wymar. “I hold your life with the edge of my sword. Be careful how you speak.”
The other six stood, appalled, but their leader stood firm and spoke calmly, glancing at the blade. “Nadra loved you in a way you didn’t deserve. Will you dishonor her name by slaying her friend in her place of rest?” Rilen’s sword fell with a clatter, and a tear glistened in his eye. “When the Queen came, she was disguised as an old hag. Nadra knew she was coming, and she had told me ahead of time not to stop it. She told me to take the others away until it was done, for their sake, but I could still hear them through the door.” Wymar himself began to weep now. “They embraced each other like sisters, and after it happened, the Queen actually came out, told us not to be frightened. She gave us this hill to bury her and to build this memorial to immortalize her as a hero of Karkonia. If you visit her, you’ll find her wearing mourning.”
“But why?” the prince was in wonder. He had known Vetra was in mourning, for he had been, also, but as for the memorial--he had no idea.
“Nadra’s father was the very guardsman who protected King Yeidsta until he died. He was a merchant, a common man who treated us all well until battle claimed his life. It was he who heard the king’s dying request for his daughter Vetra. He, though wounded himself, carried the king’s body to the castle for the funeral, and as a result, died. That is why Nadra was working there when you found her, and why the Queen, for the sake of us all, killed her.”
Rilen looked upon Nadra’s face once more. “For you, I’ll marry the witch, but it’s you I’ll remember. Always. I promise, in the name of you and your father, to end this war, stop the bloodshed. I’ll see you again, I am sure.”
He put his hand to the glass, and it disappeared. He fingered her ragged shawl, all he had seen of her before the chaos, all he had needed to see. Then, removing the circlet of gold from his head, he kissed her and, wiping his eyes, began to saddle up his horse to head back to the capitol.
He was just about to mount when he heard a voice. It was a very familiar voice, musical and silvery, exclaiming, “Wertantheow be praised!”
He whirled around, not wanting to believe it, but it was true: there was Nadra, eyes open, sitting up, breathing. Living.
He was tongue-tied. It was too good to be true, but there she was, and she was smiling. He helped her out of the golden coffin, and she fell at his feet, kissing his ring with due respect for a royal. He pulled his hand away and instead took her hand in his so that they stood eye-to-eye. “Thank you,” he said, “for teaching me so much.”
She blinked as if coming out of a dream. “Wait a moment, this can’t be heaven; you’re wearing black…”
“My father died.”
Suddenly, the smile faded from her face. “We’re right back to where we started, then. This isn’t right, isn’t right at all.”
The court was hushed these days as Vetra sat on her throne in robes of deepest black, veil over her lovely face. She kept to herself more than she used to, taking her daily strolls in the garden like she always did, but not enjoying them as much as she had before that fateful night when everything changed.
The flowers were in stunning colors as she walked among them one morning. The morning dew had not quite worn off, and the sun shone upon the drops, casting marvelous sparkles of water from every bloom, each a prism shining with tiny rainbows. They were so bright, so beautiful, and full of fragrance.
Vetra sighed dejectedly as she sat down by the well. She felt so dead inside. Every day the crown seemed to be heavier and heavier, not just from the weight of ruling, but the weight of something she had never felt before: guilt.
She stared into the crystal water of the well and sighed. She wished that she could somehow have found a way to save her kingdom without killing Nadra. She wished she didn’t have to marry Rilen at all. She wished she could just learn to be happy again. She wished a lot of things.
It didn’t help that on the same evening of Nadra’s death, King Greiden had suffered from a heart attack and died, making the need for a resolution ever more urgent. To her, it was no wonder that Rilen hadn’t returned from the wild yet, saying by messenger that he needed time to think. She would be surprised if he came back at all.
She hugged her black garments ever the closer to herself as she heard the sound of hoofbeats in her mind. Someone was coming to the castle on horseback. She might as well be there to greet them.
She went back inside and arranged herself artfully on her throne. Right on cue, the double doors opened and in walked Rilen, striding regally with none other than Nadra on his arm. Both were dressed in black as Nadra knelt and Rilen kissed her hand.
Vetra gaped at them in disbelief. Then, after an awkward silence, “Of course!” Vetra exclaimed in realization. “I forgot--the Death’s Kiss poison.” She laughed and smiled for the first time since the night she’d been talking with Nadra.
“What do you mean?” Nadra asked, startled. “Aren’t you angry? I truly don’t know why I’m alive.” She trembled.
“Neither do I,” Rilen stuttered. “One moment I was looking at her corpse, and the next moment--there she is!”
Vetra leaned back and explained, “When I poisoned the apple, I forgot that Death’s Kiss poison has a cure--true love’s first kiss.”
“Well-” stammered Rilen after an awkward silence. “Nadra and I have agreed to never see each other after this. She’ll stay with the dwarves, and I’ll marry you. That way, all goes well, the war is over, the alliance happens, and no one gets killed in the process.”
Vetra looked from Rilen to Nadra and from Nadra to Rilen again. Suddenly, she got an idea. “Nadra,” she asked, “do you remember exactly what it was that King Yeidsta supposedly said before he died?”
“Quite clearly,” Nadra replied. “It was one of the last things Father said to me. ‘The nations must be allied and the fighting must stop.’ Those were his words exactly.”
“Are you sure you two don’t want to see each other again?” Vetra inquired.
“Not really,” said Rilen. “But have we much of a choice?”
“There’s been enough trouble out of it all, I might as well have stayed dead,” Nadra cast her eyes low.
The Queen started to laugh. Rilen and Nadra looked up, puzzled. “We shall laugh about this much more in the years to come! Rilen, get up and act like a king. We can be allies without being married. It’s no secret to me that you don’t want to spend the rest of your life here, and the chieftains of old managed very mighty alliances without marriage.” Vetra sighed in relief and Rilen stared at her in shock, unwilling to believe that something this good could possibly be happening. Vetra turned her green eyes, now flickering merrily under her veil, to Nadra. “I’ll need a wise ambassador to keep those trade routes in shape. They’ll need to have ear of both me and King Rilen, and they’ll need skill in managing trade. I believe, also,” she turned back to him, “that you still need a Queen? Choose her well.”
He gently led Nadra to the garden. Meanwhile, Vetra changed her robes and veil of black for cloth of gold and set the kitchens to making a mighty feast. She summoned the minstrels and got them to playing music for all. With a wave of her hand, the banqueting hall was festooned with marvelous decorations and bright candles, flickering happily over the set tables, which took Vetra but a sweeping gesture to procure.
When the couple returned from the garden, Nadra was wearing the signet ring and King Rilen was grinning. “Guess who’s getting married?” Vetra grinned back at him as he added, “We’ll have to find someone for you next, maybe the poor wizard who’s been trapped in your well with a mirror for the last decade. He seems pretty annoyed to have been in there for so long, but says he’s enjoyed talking to you.”
Vetra gaped at him, and rushed up to her chamber and procured the mirror. “I’m so sorry!” she gasped. She reached into the mirror and pulled out a good-looking man about her age, soaked to the bone and shivering, but smiling charismatically.
“I apologize for the crime of vanity!” he cried. “I don’t care about my looks any more, just don’t leave me in there any longer, chained to the bottom but still breathing. And, ooh--” his eyes popped wide open at the sight of Vetra. “You’re even more beautiful than I thought; it’s harder for me to see you through the mirror than for you to see me.”
“You have been my trusted advisor ever since I cursed you by accident when I was little,” Vetra smiled. “I think you’ve learned your lesson well enough. Now,” she turned to Nadra and King Rilen, “to the feast, and a new alliance!”
No comments:
Post a Comment