“May I question you, Your Majesty?”
Still she did not direct her gaze upon me. Like a woman embattled within herself, she remained silent a while. When she replied, her tone was frayed. “Speak, Mayhew. I fear that I have been made blind. I see no harm in you.”
At another time, I might have answered that she saw none because there was none. Now, however, the urgency of the occasion pressed me to persist in daring.
As though I were certain of myself, I said, “You have spoken of turmoil. I have spoken of rebellion. It is plain now that the turmoil is of your own making, and that therefore the threat of rebellion has acquired substance. Your Majesty, I wish to comprehend the policy that inspires you to provoke the barons.”
As she turned toward me, the force of her regard caused me to quail. “Provoke?” With that word, and with those that followed, she gathered strength. “I have done more than provoke, Mayhew. I have positively lashed those weak men. I require them to set aside their complacence. They luxuriate in it, and their self-indulgence will ensure at least one of the dooms which you have foretold.
“Mayhew Gordian, I must have war. For the sake of the realm, Indemnie must have civil war.”
I gaped indecorously. In one respect, her assertion answered me. It accounted for her many contradictory dealings, with the barons as well as with her lesser subjects. Yet in another and deeper form, it defied my explication. I could imagine no measure by which war was preferable to peace.
I must have croaked a protest, though I did not hear myself. My Queen’s smile now resembled the glare of a headsman’s axe. “I repeat so that you will heed me. Mayhew, we must have civil war. If I am deposed, I will not regret my loss. If I am slain, I will not fault my foes. Indemnie must have war.”
Swallowing consternation, I contrived to ask, “Why?” I felt myself gasping to ascend an endless stair into an abyss of darkness. “Your Majesty, why?”
“To reduce the population.” The frustration and ire in her voice was such that a lesser woman might have rent her hair. “We must have bloodshed, quantities of bloodshed, lest we fall to the curse of Indemnie’s prosperity.
“We live too easily, feed too easily, multiply too easily. For the present, no subject of this realm knows true want. Even the most vacant of our people—those lacking in wit enough, or vitality, or will to engage in constructive effort—do not also lack food or shelter or garments.
“Yet our population grows, Mayhew. It doubles. With every generation of Queens, it doubles. In a short space of years—a time which I am now able to foresee as clearly as you—true want will begin. It must. We are blessed by bounty in every form, but that kind fortune has become a curse because it does not extend to land. We have not space enough, neither for our people nor for the crops to sustain them.
“And when true want begins, it will end as you have foretold it. Those with less will grow jealous of those with more. Jealousy and hunger will fester into ire. Eventually that ire will catch its spark, and then Indemnie will burn with revolt—not the rebellion of barons unendurably provoked by their sovereign, but the savage and indiscriminate conflagration of want.”
Eyes aflame, she pronounced, “Civil war will cull us, Mayhew. It will be bloody and regrettable, but in some measure it will be restrained. It will be limited by the commands—by the will—of the barons. They do not crave absolute decimation. Even Indolent does not. Rather their assaults on me, and upon each other, will reduce our populace without altogether destroying civil order.
“The revolt which I fear will put an end, not merely to our present ease, but also to any prospect of future relief. Inevitably Indemnie will become an isle ruled by brigands and butchers, and our descent into barbarism will be complete.
“I must have civil war. As matters stand, our prosperity is a moldering corpse draped in the finery and vestments of a banquet. Only blood-letting can hope to restore us.”
Hearing her, I felt that I could not see. Her assertions struck me as though I had inadvertently gazed at the sun. Did she call herself blind? I was more so.
“Your Majesty,” I breathed like a man made craven in an instant, “I did not understand. Now I cry your pardon. I will do so on my knees if I must. Dooms I scryed for you, but I did not grasp the nature of the burden that even one doom would compel you to bear.”
By her own dealings, she was lost. Nevertheless by that means she sought to drag Indemnie back from the brink of a worse catastrophe.
And she had made no mention of ships from the east. Yet now I guessed her deeper designs. Beyond question, she searched the seas in all directions for habitable lands. Should they be discovered, the need for war might be averted. To meet the failure of that hope, however, she had conceived another expedient. She now imagined that by preventing one doom she might thereby diminish another.
An isle accustomed to disciplined war and restrained killing might be able to defend itself against enslavement.
But while I pleaded with her with my eyes and my empty hands, Inimica Phlegathon deVry turned from me. “You did not understand,” she replied as though she had no interest in my concern, “because I did not wish it. There is no fault in you. Remain my servant. Resume your auguries. Your gifts may yet catch some gleam of a salvation that surpasses my apprehension.”
Doubtless I should have withdrawn at once, overwrought as I was. Yet one query remained in my mind, placed there by Thrysus Indolent. Having already presumed so much, I hazarded an end to her forbearance.
“Your Majesty—” My voice caught in my throat, but I goaded myself to swallow the obstruction. “How did you select the man who became the father of your daughter?”
She sighed, and her burdens appeared to settle more heavily on her shoulders. In a wistful tone, she answered, “My mother taught a strict adherence to the Articles of Coronation. However, I was a willful girl, determined that my actions should not be constrained by either hieromancy or statecraft. I chose whom I chose, thinking myself ready to defy the cost.
“As I came to know the man, however, I discovered him oblivious of the larger world. He heeded neither the restrictions nor the perils of his place in my bed. Also it was not in his nature to remain silent when he wished to boast. Therefore I deemed it certain that he would one day inform his family or his comrades that he was my lover, and that by so doing he would put both them and the realm in jeopardy.
“Slew ended his life at my command. Thereafter I became willful for other purposes. Perhaps they will prove more worthy than a girl’s self-gratification.”
So saying, Inimica Phlegathon deVry left the chamber. As she departed, however, her every step was eloquent to me. As though her strides were language, she informed me that she could not be certain of Excrucia’s lineage. It was possible—indeed, it was probable—that my friend and ally’s veins held an admixture of ungifted blood. She would have failed Baron Indolent’s test, and was as lost as her mother.
Thereafter the days passed in growing unrest within the Domicile. Rumors of armies spread as though a shaft of lightning had struck the heart of the house. Whispers of war and siege were everywhere, though none knew who the foe might be. Flustered serving-maids and cooks blundered about their tasks, heedless of their own deeds. My Queen’s more personal servants and counselors ran hither and thither, to no visible effect. Groaning wains bore foodstuffs of every description through the great gates, unloaded their cargos indiscriminately, and hastened away in plain flight. Calls went out to every nearby town, village, and hamlet for physicians and herbalists. And in the Domicile’s courtyard, as well as atop the walls, Her Majesty’s two captains commanded their mere score of men—a group from which Slew and Vail were conspicuously absent—in a frenzy of unwonted training and unfamiliar instruction. The Domicile—so the captains insisted ever more hoarsely—might be well defended, were the guards but willing enough, and ready in their deeds, and quick with the knowledge
of their duties. Yet the residents of the house were not comforted by such exhortations. We were accustomed only to peace. The prospect of battle, with its attendant maimings and death, filled us with dismay.
Nevertheless my Queen’s solstice ball drew closer, and she would have no slack or slovenly preparation for her festivities. Though her household servants fretted and trembled and indeed wept as they labored, they were granted no respite in which to multiply their fears. The Domicile’s Majordomo was at all times a shrill harridan, but she well understood that those under her rule must not be permitted to dwell on matters over which they had no sway. Also she knew that Inimica Phlegathon deVry required perfection for this ball above all others. Therefore the Majordomo drove her forces with a fever to match the urgency of the guards’ captains.
And still I received no word from Excrucia. I caught no glimpse of her, though I haunted the secret passages of the house with the diligence of a man obsessed, having as a servant no admittance to—or indeed knowledge of—the more public halls and chambers. Some weeks now had passed since she and I had discussed history and lineage, chrism and the Articles of Coronation, yet of the efforts which she had promised at my urging I had no tidings. As the threat of armies and the prospect of the ball approached, I was as lost as she—and far less significant. I had gleaned all that my gifts offered, and had now no occupation other than to nurture my dismay. Indeed, I had not worth enough to merit attempts upon my life, while twice more assassins had endeavored to end Excrucia’s. In consequence, Slew had joined Vail for her protection—and I survived my days in untroubled safety, knowing only that my sole friend still lived.
Indemnie’s dooms drew near while I served no more purpose than the croaking of a storm-crow.
Fortunately—I mean that it was fortunate for my remaining sanity, if for no other cause—one law was immutable. Change ruled every circumstance, for good or ill. The ball was no more than a fortnight distant when I returned to my laborium from my meaningless peregrinations and encountered Vail at my door.
A tall man, muscled and broad, he dominated my slightness. Stooping, he gripped the shoulder of my robe so that I could not draw away from his mouth at my ear. In a hasty whisper, he informed me, “Her Highness awaits you. Do not tarry to speak with her. Do not acknowledge her presence. Much depends on the pretense that she witnesses nothing, knows nothing.
“The command that you asked of her did not suffice to compel compliance. For that reason, Slew obtained Her Majesty’s authority. He brings a visitor. They will arrive at any moment.”
At once, he opened my door and thrust me inward, then withdrew, closing the door at my back.
As I reeled in both body and mind, I endeavored to scan my chambers. Such was my fright that I did not immediately discover my friend. After a moment, however, I found her seated in the farthest corner of my workroom, concealed by shadows and a dark cloak, the hood of which prevented any glimpse of her features.
Well, I thought as I sought for calm. Well. Did she depend upon a mask of ignorance? Her caution I did not comprehend, but I could well believe that she had good cause. As I did also. Slew had made my Queen aware of her daughter’s alliance with me.
Obedient to Vail’s command, I did not address Excrucia. Rather I took a stool facing the door and seated myself, pretending nonchalance with poor success. Naturally I was curious to know the identity of my visitor. Also I wondered at the apparent need for secrecy. More than the answers to such queries, however, I wished to know how my Queen would respond to my dealings with Excrucia. Did my friend’s mother now condone our efforts together? Or had I now incurred our sovereign’s wrath?
While I gnawed my uncertainties, a knock sounded on my door. Ere I could shift my limbs or my voice to respond, Slew’s thick arm swept the door aside, and my visitor was ushered inward.
As did Vail, Slew wore no livery to distinguish him from a common laborer. Only his great strength set him apart. And only the quickness of his gaze hinted that he was alert to every peril. Unhesitating, he brought his companion to stand before me. Behind them, Vail closed the door again, remaining in the outer corridor himself to stand guard over my encounter with an individual whom I did not recognize.
He was by a hand’s width taller than I, and clad as I was in an unadorned black robe, though our apparel differed as to cleanliness. His appeared freshly scrubbed and pressed as though for a stately occasion. Indeed, his hands and face were pink with washing, and his groomed hair was enclosed by a circlet of dark iron. In addition, his bulk emphasized my leanness. He was of a size to command more than ordinary attention, corpulent to the point of obesity, with plump hands, fat thighs, and a barrel torso. The heavy flesh of his cheeks bulged into trembling jowls, and that of his brow sagged to give his eyes a perpetual squint.
“Brother,” he began at once in a voice that rattled with catarrh, “I do not know you. I was encouraged to imagine that I would meet with Her Majesty Inimica Phlegathon deVry, to whom my allegiance belongs. Instead I find myself in this lowly and noisome chamber. I see by your furnishings and filth that you are a hieronomer. In that, we are brothers, though I hold our kinship in small regard. More than that, I do not know.
“Explain, Brother. I am impatient to resume more worthy tasks.”
Ere I was able to master my surprise at his address, Slew answered him in a threatening growl. “He is Mayhew Gordian, Her Majesty’s Hieronomer. He desires speech with you. More than that you do not need to know.”
This was an expression of loyalty that exceeded my expectations. While I strove to steady myself, however, and my visitor wrestled with an alarmed indignation, Slew continued.
“Hieronomer, you wished to speak with an alchemist. This is Opalt Intrix, held in large regard by others of his ilk. Among them, he is considered an adept of iron.”
Well, I thought again. Well indeed. I had asked of Excrucia that she summon an alchemist, and now both Vail and Slew supported her desires—with Her Majesty’s consent. For the first time as my Queen’s Hieronomer, I was gladdened by Slew’s presence. His service to Excrucia strengthened me.
An adept of iron? I knew too little of alchemy.
With what assurance I could muster, I spoke at last. “Brother Intrix, be welcome. Though your reluctance is plain, I am pleased by your arrival. I find that my service to Her Majesty requires a greater knowledge of alchemy than I have the good fortune to possess. It is my hope that our Queen’s desires will inspire you to satisfy my queries.”
“What queries?” Opalt Intrix’s demand was a loose rasp. “This lout”—he indicated Slew—“invoked Her Majesty’s authority. Now I am inclined to doubt his use of it.”
“He is her man,” I replied with a semblance of equanimity. “That must suffice to content you.”
The alchemist appeared to consider the prospect of refusing Slew by plain strength. After a moment, he repeated more warily, “What queries?”
I rubbed my hands together to disguise their trembling. “Let us begin, Brother Intrix, with alchemy itself. As all know, it is vital to Indemnie’s prosperity, capable of great feats for the benefit of the realm. But what precisely does it do? What is its power? How does it serve the needs of our Queen, the barons, and the isle?”
“Do?” My unwilling visitor snorted his disdain. “It grows. More precisely, it causes growth in any form of mindless matter. It causes crops to flourish in once-barren soil, thereby bringing fertility to the soil itself. It expands stones to any desired shape and size, if the stone itself is apt for its intended purpose. It makes trees of shrubs. From trees it fashions forests. It will bring forth purity from tainted water by increasing any small portion that chances to be clean until the taint is diluted to nothingness.”
He fascinated me. Clearly Indemnie’s life had been made viable by alchemy. “And iron, Brother?” I inquired. “You are an adept of iron?”
“Iron also,” he conceded with
some bitterness. “From the ore, iron can be grown for any use when the mold necessary for that use has been prepared.”
Thinking I knew not what, I asked, “Is the mold required by alchemy?”
Opalt Intrix sighed, a man vexed by a fool’s inquisition. “It is required by the need for a particular shape. Lacking a mold, the iron will retain its first form as it grows.”
Unable to explain myself even to myself, I continued my queries.
“What does it signify that you are deemed an adept?”
Now my visitor answered more readily. My interest appeared to touch his vanity. “Any alchemist may apply his gift to any material. However, the purity of the blood varies. Also natural inclinations and talents vary. Each alchemist must discover the best use of his gift. For myself, I am named an adept, and am held in considerable regard, because my abilities pertain to iron.
“The growing of iron, like that of stone, is considered of especial worth because both iron and stone are more malleable than any material able to live and grow without the application of alchemy. Such plants as grasses, shrubs, and grains may be grown with comparative ease. It is their nature to grow. Consequently they can only be denied their natural shapes by warping, or by some other distortion. Iron and stone have no natural shape. Therefore they have no use unless they are simultaneously increased and molded for some desired purpose.
“Some generations past, the purest alchemists of their time labored for a decade to create the many blocks of granite which became this edifice.” He glanced at the walls around him. “They were true adepts of stone. For that reason, I esteem their memory.” In this assertion, he may have been sincere. “Iron is a laborious material, but it is not as arduous as stone.”
Altogether he filled me with a sense of wonder which I could ill afford to indulge. After a moment’s consideration, I turned to a new heading.