‘Much of the territory is little more than a sea of ice,’ the queen said, her eyes distant as though gazing back in time, to a girlhood spent wrapped in furs, watching the wind-swirled, wave-like berms from a fire-warmed tower.‘In the furthest north, the rimewolves stalk.Creatures out of the ancient days, white-furred and sword-toothed, big as bears and strong as oxen.One is a contest for ten men well armed with raw iron, and they are known to rove in packs of dozens.My brother, and our father before him, and his father, and every scion of the House of Vangar back to the dawn of the kingdom has stood sentinel against them, guarding against the terror they might unleash if let to roam south.’
Glascoed, too, dealt with its share of danger and mystery.The Greenwood, which encompassed the majority of the county, was rich with medicinal plants, sturdy timber, and a strange, pale, leafless tree that grew despite appearing dead, and which produced a flaky bark useful in crafting spells—perhaps a prototype of spellpaper, Fola thought.Legend told that the wood was full of pixies and fell spirits, ruled over by a fae queen who was still worshipped by some in the far reaches of the forest.
‘Regardless of the truth of such tales, the fact remains that the Greenwood is a dark, wild place,’ Medrith explained.‘One may ride from one end to the other without stumbling upon civilisation—or, if one’s luck falls the other way, one may stumble upon a village not marked on any map, with strange customs and a great fear of outsiders.’
‘It seems the sort of place where a woman of your art would thrive,’ Fola observed, nodding towards the sprouting staff.
‘I have walked it, yes,’ Medrith said.‘But whether a fae queen or no, something possesses that forest.Something that does not welcome outsiders, and certainly not outsiders with skill in magic.’
Fola frowned and tapped the table, drawing Frog’s goggle-eyed attention.‘Then it seems unlikely that a necromancer is camped with the rebels in the Greenwood.’
‘If it is a necromancer, than his power enfolds the entire kingdom,’ Medrith pointed out.‘He need not enter the Greenwood to lend his aid.’
‘True enough,’ Fola admitted.And the haunting’s first victim of note had been Harlow, the former Count of Glascoed.Reason enough to visit the area.
‘We have dallied long, and I have other duties, but there is one last thing,’ the queen said, emptying the kettle for a second time.‘No more than a rumour.One I put little stake in, but perhaps you know things that I do not, and it will ring to you with more truth.There is a tale told these past years of a new power in the world.A blending of fiend and fae, a union of opposing powers older than the First Folk, some say created by a wicked sorceress.Others say born by accident, a child corrupted and twisted in its mother’s womb.The stories differ, but all place this new power in the body of a young girl with raven hair.’
‘I’ve been in Parwys only a few days,’ Fola pointed out, ‘and I’ve seen hundreds of young girls with raven hair.But I’ll keep it in mind.’
The queen shrugged.‘Maybe these rumours merely point to our necromancer.The common folk have little understanding of magic, and tend to conflate anything evil with the fae and fiends.’
‘More likely, the haunting has its source in some crime,’ Fola said, watching the queen carefully.Here was the most dangerous territory of their conversation.She doubted Medrith would lash out with violence, but Fola liked her, and didn’t want to offend her.More, she could use an ally in the court, and was unlikely to find a better one.‘The haunting covers all of Parwys, so I hear, and claimed Harlow of Glascoed and your husband as its victims.If it isnotsimply a prolonged attack by necromantic magic, it stands to reason that the haunting was caused by some profound injustice left to fester, cruel enough to create vengeful wraiths across the entire kingdom.’
The queen’s expression had darkened while Fola spoke.‘You mean to imply that my husband and the count were at fault for such a crime?’
‘If they alone were at fault, the haunting would have ended with their deaths,’ Fola said.‘But yes, I do mean to imply such a possibility.’
‘Ought bandits to be coddled?Traitors given their freedom with naught but a chiding and a slap on the wrist?’Medrith said, her sonorous voice made clipped and sharp.‘We are not all blessed with the First Folk’s gifts of plenty, as tales tell of your City.What king has ever ruled without occasional brutality?My husband committed no evil sufficient to cause this horror.Certainly nothing out of step with the reigns of his ancestors.Or his neighbours!You do not hear of ghosts plaguing Alberon or Galca, do you?This haunting is only four years old, Fola.The root of it will not be found in the common cruelties of kings.’
Fola fixed Medrith with a long, level stare.Her own anger burned to match the queen’s.Of course she would discount the most likely answer.‘Ghosts have attacked the king and lords of a kingdom threatened by a rebellion.Whatever dissatisfaction motivates the rebels, its roots may intertwine with whatever brutality gave rise to the haunting.However good a man your husband was, he was still a king, and as you say yourself, all kings do violence.’
The corners of the queen’s mouth quirked.‘Do you know how I saw through your lie?’She shook her head, a dark laugh in her throat that turned the heat of Fola’s anger to cold confusion.‘You never called me “majesty”.You conducted yourself well in court, but you are obviously unaccustomed to dealing so personally with your betters—tohavingbetters, I should think.’
Fola swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.
The queen went on in a sharp whisper.‘The heart of the world is far away.For generations, most here have discounted tales of your City as nothing more than that—tales and legends, myths invented in the dark days after the First Folk vanished to give hope to the desperate and abandoned.But, as I am sure there are in every land, there are those of us here who know, and who see through the glamour.You think yourself and your City to be boundless fonts of goodness and charity, while you would hoard all the world’s powers for yourself.’
‘To study them,’ Fola said—a limping protest.
‘Indeed,’ Medrith said.‘Those in whose lands such powers are found cannot be trusted to study them on our own, is that it?Too ignorant to wield knowledge wisely?’
Fola met the queen’s dagger glare.‘Of the two of us, only you defend the brutality of kings.’
‘Simply that, then?’Medrith shook her head.‘You simply believe yourselves better than us.’
Fola dipped her head, then stood, motioning for Frog, who, still glancing nervously about the room, hopped to her shoulder.‘I have taken too much of your time, Your Majesty.If you would still have me report my findings to you, I will do so.You have a right to share in whatever knowledge I uncover.’
‘And I, in return, will keep your secret.’Medrith did not rise to dismiss her, only made a vague gesture towards the door, then turned to the window to gaze out at her city and the kingdom beyond.
The Gwyddien and the Girl
YC 1189
Does not the songbird test the boundaries of its gilded cage?Were it as wise as we are, would it not question whence comes the grain that feeds it, the water it relies upon?I promise you: all in the City wonder.And to some, that question is a needle, prodding them to action.
Letter from Archivist Tan Semn to Hierophant Adhamha III of Goll,YC1162
Llewyn still hated crowds.
