Valraven and Varencienne were walking down the violet carpeted aisle now, the queen’s left hand through her husband’s right elbow. Her hair was a bright golden banner over her breast and down her back, a queen of light to the raven beauty of the new king. But Maycarpe could see beneath their smiles. If he had lost Mewt, then perhaps Valraven and Varencienne had lost Caradore, for they would remain in Magrast as he would. Everyone had had to make sacrifices so that the unimagined could become possible. As Valraven had said a few months before, everyone who walked the way of light cast a shadow.
Still enclosed by milling people within the cathedral, Maycarpe heard the roar of the crowd when the king and queen emerged from its towering doorway. Their guests would now return to the palace for the dancing and feasting that would continue until dawn. Maycarpe considered slinking away to find a quiet place, where he could mull over the events that had led to this point, but then Merlan’s mother had grabbed hold of his arm, insisting he should ride with them in their carriage. ‘Merlan speaks so highly of you, Lord Maycarpe,’ she said. ‘You must tell me what he gets up to in Akahana.’
Maycarpe smiled. Saska Leckery was a handsome creature and he might as well take pleasure in her attention. Life goes on.
‘Have you ever visited Caradore?’ Saska asked him as they walked to the Leckery carriage. She had linked her arm through his.
‘No, but perhaps I should.’
‘Absolutely,’ Saska said. ‘We must arrange something very soon.’
Maycarpe patted her hand. There might be compensations for his losses. If that was to happen for him, then perhaps it would happen for the Palindrakes too. ‘Suddenly, the day seems so much brighter!’ he said and Saska laughed delightedly.
This is the Way of Light, Maycarpe thought. Clouds moving across the sun, then the brightness bursts through. He was glad to be alive.
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Sea Dragon Queens
Varencienne alighted from her carriage in the driveway before the House of Foy, the retreat that the Sisterhood had set up in the wake of Caradore’s independence. Here, priestesses of Foy were trained, and it functioned also as a hospice and retreat for those who needed sanctuary. Varencienne had come here with her lady-in-waiting, Oltefney, to visit a resident.
The Merante of the establishment came to the door to greet her, even before one of the queen’s guards could knock upon it. Behind her was a cluster of curious priestesses, whose bright eyes shone in the dim entrance hall.
‘Your grace,’ said the Merante, sinking to the floor in a deep curtsey. ‘I welcome you to our House with the greatest pleasure.’
‘Thank you,’ Varencienne said. ‘I am glad to be here.’ She took off her gloves. ‘How is she?’
The Merante rose from her curtsey. ‘Very well, your grace. She seems to think we exist solely for her benefit.’
Varencienne laughed. ‘I can believe it. Please take me to her at once.’
The Merante inclined her head. ‘Of course. Please come this way.’
Varencienne was taken to a garden at the rear of the house, which was still in the process of construction. Landscapers were hard at work on the ornamental ponds, and all the flower beds were filled with new plants that had not yet bloomed. On the lawn, a woman sat on a bench beneath an ancient yew; a book lay unopened on her lap. Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted back as if to bathe in the diluted beams of sunlight that came down through the thick branches. She was dappled in light that was like golden coins.
Varencienne approached her softly, while Oltefney went back into the house with the Merante.
‘Mother,’ Varencienne said.
Tatrini opened her eyes and Varencienne saw how the skin had become papery around them. In little under a year, her mother seemed to have aged a decade. ‘Ren, how lovely!’ Tatrini said. ‘I didn’t know you were coming.’
Varencienne did not respond to this. She had written to the Merante over a month ago and her impending visit would not have been kept a secret. ‘May I sit beside you?’
Tatrini moved along the bench. ‘Of course. Are the children with you?’
‘No,’ said Varencienne, sitting down. ‘Rav is in Magrast with his father, and Ellony is visiting Everna. Leo is also in Magrast with his nurse.’
‘Leo?’ Tatrini said querulously. ‘Leo is dead, isn’t he?’
‘My new baby,’ Varencienne said, taking her mother’s hand. ‘He’s very much alive, believe me! He has an extremely healthy set of lungs.’
‘He takes after his father?’ Tatrini said.
Varencienne sucked in her upper lip for a moment. ‘Mmm. I hope so.’
Tatrini made a sound of irritation and glanced towards the house. ‘Where are our refreshments? These people are terribly slow, Ren. In Magrast, a tray would have been here by now for a guest.’ She frowned. ‘I should change the staff, I really should.’
‘They’re fine,’ Varencienne said. ‘You’ve done a wonderful job with them.’
‘Now I’ve retired, I don’t have as much energy as I used to,’ Tatrini said. ‘I am sorry, Ren. I should be with you in Magrast, helping you.’
‘You enjoy your retirement,’ Varencienne said. ‘I envy you.’
‘The coronation was lovely, wasn’t it? Did you see how the people put their hands together for me?’ She laughed. ‘They think I’m a goddess! Silly really.’
‘I saw,’ Varencienne said. ‘Everyone loves you.’
Tatrini nodded, smiling privately. For some moments, she drifted away from reality, perhaps reliving precious memories.
Varencienne’s heart turned over. These visits were painful. Every time, Tatrini said the same things. She wanted to cry, but knew she must keep the tears inside.
‘I thought I saw Almorante the other day,’ Tatrini said, ‘but it was only a gardener.’ She laughed sadly. ‘What a mistake to make!’
‘Easily done,’ said Varencienne. She squeezed her mother’s hand and only when she glanced up did she notice Tatrini was weeping. Silent tears poured down her face in a deluge. It was almost unnatural.
‘Oh, Mother,’ Varencienne said. ‘Mother, don’t.’
‘Mother,’ said Tatrini leaving the tears unwiped. ‘I’ve always been ‘mother’, haven’t I? Never Mama.’ She closed her eyes. ‘By Madragore, Ren, I never knew it could happen. Not this, after all these years.’
‘What?’ Ren murmured. She stroked her mother’s hair, which was still gold, though threaded with platinum.
‘The love,’ Tatrini said, her eyes screwed up, shut tight. ‘It is terrible. The love for them. Mante, Bay, all of them. I dream about them all the time.’
Varencienne made a sound of distress and put her arms round Tatrini’s stiff body. ‘I’ll ask the sisters to make you up a potion,’ she said. ‘I’ll make sure your sleep is your own, with no dreams to haunt it.’
Tatrini patted Ren’s arm, which was pressed hard against her bony chest. ‘No, my dear. The dreams are theirs. I can’t take them away. It’s all they have now.’ She gently pushed her daughter from her and took a handkerchief from a pocket of her gown to wipe her face. ‘Silly me,’ she said. ‘I must be getting old.’
‘Not you,’ said Varencienne.
‘So,’ Tatrini said. ‘Tell me your news. How are things in Magrast? Do you like living there again?’
‘I miss Caradore,’ Ren said, ‘but we go home as often as we can. Pharinet is with us, so I have a little bit of home with me.’
Tatrini raised an eyebrow.
‘Mother!’ Varencienne said darkly. ‘I am perfectly happy.’
‘You are a liar,’ Tatrini said. ‘Your heart is broken. I can see it, but somehow I don’t think it’s anything to do with your husband.’
‘You’re wrong.’
‘Do you know,’ Tatrini said, ‘that often when people are taken captive, they come to love their captors? It’s when they spend so much time together. They become like family. Have you heard tha
t?’
‘I’m quite sure that can happen, yes.’
‘You have to be hard, Ren. Women in our position are rarely blessed with love. It can bec difficult.’
‘Did you never love?’ Varencienne asked.
Tatrini laughed. ‘I had my share of delights, but love? I don’t think so. I never let it happen, because as a queen, even when your husband is far from your heart, he’s very close to your body, and jealousy can make a man do terrible things. It’s all to do with appearances. I never wanted to lose a love in that way. I was allowed certain things, but I knew the limit. Always.’ She fixed Varencienne with a stare. ‘As you do too, of course.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Varencienne softly. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘You can.’
‘Is it possible a woman can kill a man who holds the keys to her life?’
‘My dear, what are you suggesting? Does Valraven gall you that much?’
‘Not Val. Not me. You. Is it possible?’
Tatrini was silent for a moment, then said, ‘People thought I killed him and I have never denied it. I like them to think that. But no, it wasn’t possible. At the end, when he was dying, I held his hand and we talked of the past. In those moments, I came the closest to loving him that I ever did. I was glad to be with him. As he closed his eyes for the last time, he smiled. His hand became limp in mine and I knew he went to a better place. He was a good man, your father, despite everything. There are far worse.’
‘Thank you,’ Varencienne said.
‘I never knew,’ Tatrini said. ‘That was the strange thing. I thought I was in control, but I wasn’t. It was a game, and it wasn’t mine.’
‘I know,’ Varencienne said.
Tatrini made a visible effort to pull herself together. ‘Well now, enough of this glum talk. Let’s go into the house and find the lazy priestesses. We grow magnificent strawberries in the kitchen garden here. You simply must have some.’
She got to her feet and for a few moments Varencienne remained sitting down.
‘Come along, Ren,’ Tatrini said. ‘There’s been enough sorrow. I don’t want to see that miserable face. You have a new baby and you are queen of two countries. Now you are about to sample the delights of my kitchen. What more could you ask for?’
Varencienne looked up at her mother and thought about Tatrini’s life, how she had been married to a stranger when she was little more than a girl, how she had borne so many children, how all but one of them were now dead. Tatrini had fought against immeasurable odds to create a place for herself in Magrast, and other women had benefited from her efforts. She had closed off her heart at a very young age, because she’d had to.
‘I really admire you, Mama,’ Varencienne said.
‘Tush!’ said Tatrini, clearly delighted. ‘I am an evil old witch. Anyone will tell you that.’
‘That’s part of the attraction,’ Varencienne said. She stood up and took her mother’s arm. ‘A certain evil old witch I know awoke the Dragon Heir to his heritage. She was a dreadful creature, who manipulated everyone she knew. She believed in divine kingship, but got a bit muddled about who the divine king was. She was such a meddlesome creature, who created all sorts of trouble, yet strangely enough her actions precipitated the most marvellous changes. She didn’t intend that to happen, of course. She just wanted to conjure up demons in the cellar of her house. Have you heard of her?’
‘Over-rated,’ said Tatrini, grinning. ‘Don’t believe everything you hear.’
Varencienne kissed her mother’s cheek and together they walked into the House of Foy.
Storm Constantine, The Way of Light
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