The Woven End Read online

  "Oh my!" Came a woman's voice. "He's blind! Look at those frosted eyes."

  "Good man, we didn't know. Have you your cane somewhere about?"

  Y'Armos' mouth grew very dry even as his body moistened with the perspiration of silent terror.

  "M-my spec—spectacles. Where…?" He licked his lips. "Where are they?" His hands grasped about him until he found them. Crushed under someone’s boot.

  "Oh, oh, oh. I'm in a sorry strait," Y'Armos moaned.

  "I apologize, good man. I heard you cry out and left my boat quickly. I didn't notice the spectacles."

  "Nevermind. They won't help me now. Please, if you would be so kind, take me to the palace."

  "The palace?"

  "I have a matter to take up with the king, and I'm afraid I shan’t get there without help. You will not believe me, but I was not blind a moment ago."

  "The poor dear," a woman's voice said. "He must be escaped from the asylum.”

  "Woman! Does this look like a madman to you? Look at his clothes. He's even got his hair pulled back in a satin ribbon. Nay! You insult a good man. Where's your sense?" Came another woman's voice in the harsh accent of a poor Bositian.

  "My—my satchel and…"

  Someone put the satchel in his hand. "Is this your broadsheet, good man?" His boatman helper asked.

  "Yes, yes, I did purchase a broadsheet—much good it should do me now—anyone who wants it can have it. Sir, if you will take me to the palace, I will pay you thirteen trilas. That’s double the price of a cab."

  "I'll take you sir. No need to pay. I'm a strong fellow who earns a decent living on the water. I don’t require pay of a man in need of help on the land." He helped Y'Armos to stand.

  "What is your name, good man?" The boatman asked as they began walking toward the road.

  "Y'Armos son of Etetuol. And, to whom am I indebted?" Asked Y'Armos.

  "No one that I know of."

  "Nonsense. Your name, man."

  "Brádach son of Sannindi."

  Brádach called for a cab and helped Y'Armos climb in. He followed after and sat across from him.

  Y'Armos imagined that if Nat possessed a spiritual skill to cause blindness, then there must be a way to restore sight. Even if that was not the case, he refused to despair. There were ways for the blind to read, and perhaps this would heighten his senses. The things he could learn! The new way of approaching life and teaching students! There was the good in this. But, above all, he clung to that hope of restored sight.

  In all the years that Y'Armos knew Nat he never saw evil tendencies in the boy, but in light of this act, he could not imagine that something good in the boy would resurface and show mercy to his old schoolmaster.

  Brádach assisted Y'Armos out of the cab at the gates of the royal estate. Y'Armos counted out nineteen trilas and a half and placed them into Brádach's hands.

  "There, thirteen for you and the six and a half for the driver if you would be so kind as to divide it properly."

  "Good man, could that possibly be a silk lined satchel?"

  “Aye. Yes, it is. It was a gift from the king a good many years ago when I first began the tutelage of the prince. I could never part with it."

  "May I see it, please? I dare say I don't think I've ever touched silk."

  There being little of value in it, Y'Armos lifted the flap of his satchel and felt the silk with his own hand for a moment. Brádach reached, as if to touch it, and deftly, silently, returned the trilas.

  "Fine satchel. After feeling it, I think I may have known a few good women who wore silk," he chuckled.

  Desirous to simply press on, Y'Armos said, "I need to get to the gate. They won't permit the cab of course, but they'll permit me and…and you if you will assist me still? You say you make your living on the water?" He turned to look at Brádach with his blind eyes.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then a good word with the king might be helpful for you in your occupation. Please, do assist me if you would be so kind."

  "I'll assist you. You don't need to give a good word to the king for me, however. I pride myself in managing my business and publicity on my own, and I do a right good job of it. Thank you."

  "Very well…"

  Brádach reached into his plain leather satchel and handed the driver his fare, plus a tip, and extended his arm to Y'Armos.

  They were very fortunate to be granted an audience with the king. He was to convene with his governors shortly, but had a few minutes to spare for his son's former tutor. He greeted Y'Armos with a hug, and nodded to Brádach.

  "Who is your companion, Y'Armos?" Persenimos asked.

  "This is Brádach, son of Sannindi. I met someone of your acquaintance in the garden park and suffered an accident there. This Brádach was kind enough to escort me to your presence. Good man, would you please wait outside the door for me?"

  Brádach bowed and left.

  Y'Armos spoke quickly,"The acquaintance is your son. He struck me blind.”

  "Struck you blind?"

  Persenimos studied Y’Armos’ face. Yes. He could see blindness in the eyes now.

  "Your son," Y'Armos said. "I will send you every letter that Prince Nat sent to me if it may be that it will lend any credence to my claim. To make this more interesting, your son has confessed murder to me; murder by spiritual means."

  "Murder! Y'Armos, please sit, sit."

  Y'Armos reached out to feel for a chair. The king rose and assisted him.

  "Y'Armos, I have always thought you a level headed and sensible man, and that is the only reason I am allowing these accusations. I find them hard to dismiss, no matter how outlandish, when coming from your mouth. You must, however, confess that this is a rather ridiculous claim."

  "I had my sight not an hour ago. You may contact my sister on Bos to testify that I had my sight just yesterday."

  "And the murder?"

  "Your sister-in-law, Tapa."

  The King tilted his head to the side, a slight twitch of one eye. "Sidita's sister? The governor's ward?"

  "Yes, sire.”

  "Explain."

  Y'Armos shared the details of Nat's story as far as he could recall. After finishing the story, he shut his mouth and awaited a reply.

  The king sat still for a moment before sucking in a great gulp of air and regular breathing resumed. He leaned back in his chair.

  "Y'Armos, I will speak with my son and will contact you. You may go."

  "Your Majesty I… I'm frightened." His voice trembled as he clenched his fingers around the end of the armrests. "As far as we know he could be in this room right now, listening to us. Wherever I go, he may come to me. A specter in the Star fall a… a shadow lurking in the corner. There's no end to the power a man has over his fellow human beings when he is in the Sálverøld. If he drained a woman of her blood and ripped the sight from a man then… Where can I go?"

  "You sound mad."

  "I do? I suppose I do. But, I know what I know, and you do not yet know it. I shall fend for myself then," Y'Armos said. His voice passed his lips, strong and clear, but his innards quivered with a sense of foreboding. He'd never been hopeless or helpless, and he'd never been a lunatic, but he was both at the moment, with no clear path out. He stood to leave, and after a few careful steps forward, he stopped, but did not turn back to the king.

  His voice quavering, he said, "Your Majesty, I beg your pardon, as I realize now how I must sound to you, but there are only two things that will keep anyone safe from the hands of someone who commits evil in spiritual ways: love or death. I was certain that your son loved me. I am sure that he did, but my threat to betray him to you stripped it from him.

  "You are too wise to think that your son loves you. If you confront him on this matter, do not think that he may not turn on you. There is much to be gained for him in your death. A kingdom's worth of gain. The spirit that has hold of him seeks this. Please, believe what I have said and… and when I am unraveling, as I am sure I will be before long, r
emember that I gave you a warning."

  He shuffled his feet forward, arms held out. His searching hands found the door and pushed them open. He was gone.

  The king stood and walked over to the bellpull. Koro arrived.

  "Postpone my meeting with the governors 'til just beore supper. I wish to see my son."

  Chapter Nineteen

  "By the stars in the sea, Cova! You have erred," Brádach shouted, his wine-gold soul emanating hot rage.

  "Erred! I have only succeeded thoroughly and completely!" Replied the dark golden soul of Cova.

  The red soul flared up as it spoke, "Fools! No one has erred or succeeded until the incarnation has become fully aware and the wills have become coexistent. Even then, we have thousands of stars before anything can be done!"

  "This is where the error lay," Brádach answered. "Your slyte hasn’t control of itself. It’s doing reckless things that will endanger the mission. You should have kept the prince with you, and handled him gently.”

  "Gently? How would you know how I handled him?”

  “I have my ways. You handled him proudly. He felt alone. He needed a friend to confess to. Now word has reached the king.

  “I've been watching that boy, and his mind is struggling to do what is right in the face of this transformation. He cannot resist something so entwined with him. It is impossible. It's taking over him, while he insists on retaining his consciousness and even his will. You haven’t a submitted incarnation any more than that boy is whole enough to love fully. You’re stunting him further!”

  "Boys, boys," red interjected. "Did we come to battle like cozers in an alley, or did we convene to attempt a regrouping?”

  "At this point I'm beginning to think the first sounds like the most sensible choice," Brádach replied, staring at Cova. With a wicked smile, Brádach turned his eyes to red. "Though I know a few other things cozers do in an alley that sound sensible for women who have forgotten their place. Is that an option?"

  "Base insults! Vulgar, crude paddler! May your soul be fruitless. It is you who have forgotten your place. I was a queen and of noble blood for centuries."

  Brádach laughed. "The incest there must have been... And yet none of that has altered your place, for you are still a woman."

  At that, red lashed out with long, diaphanous fingers to scratch the translucent wine-gold face.

  "Wench!"

  "Weakling!"

  The souls lunged at each other. He quickly had her incapacitated. She wriggled and squirmed, and all the while Cova looked on, bored.

  "Woman," Brádach said. "If you ever call me a weak again, I'll tell your son what you've been doing and we will see how you like a noose about that delicate, cargalel-white neck of yours. Or we can skip the son and noose altogether. My hands will suffice, I think. You may not die, but you’ll look mighty funny with your head hanging loose all your life."

  "Let me go!"

  Brádach let her go.

  “As if I could not repair my body when it’s broken, fool.”

  “Are you sure? I’ve never broken your body before. Either way, you sure don’t want them to find out you can’t die.”

  "Our petty differences aside," Cova said. "I expect that we all have intention of seeing this through to the end now that it is set in motion. There is no going back. Really, there never was."

  “I will be here ‘til the end,” Brádach answered.

  "In what capacity? With what aim?" Asked Cova.

  "Watching. The end of the world would be a terrible thing to miss."

  Cova seemed content, but the red soul…

  “Where are your loyalties, Brádach?”

  “I’ll be loyal to my love ‘til the world ends,” he answered, looking on her.

  “You’ve never loved me, man. I’m watching you. How long do you think you can run the risks and never be burned?”

  “I’ve been burned so badly, I’ll never feel a thing. Besides, even if you could get rid of me, you wouldn’t. You like how I make… tea.”

  “Stars upon you, you fiendish animal.”

  “Important matters at hand, hissing lovers,” Cova said. “We have to isolate the prince and carefully conceal him. He must come to unity with Nat-Scrios, and he must not fall in love until the temperature is low enough for the heat of a new Star.”

  Red spoke up, “We also must consider the retaliation that is coming.”

  "Keep him out of the battlefield or we will blow the world up right now,” Brádach said. “Battle is a place where love, even the type you seek, can grow the strongest. Too great a risk. I suggest that Nat-Scrios make the prince privy to the slytian retaliation…"

  "What good would that do?" red snapped.

  “He’ll appear mad and be tucked away. I’ll find a way to take him away and hide him with me.”

  "Nonsense!" red said. "He must be restrained. You can’t keep him inside forever. No one would submit to that!”

  Brádach groaned. "Well, he should be allowed out. This was only a temporary solution until everyone dies. Company with other men, old women, and some hard work is important for the development of a fellow his age.”

  "Hah! Nay, nay, what a risk you wish to take! Will you be with him from Star rise to fall? Will no one stumble upon your abode?”Cova said. "Isolation is ideal for our purposes. I must place him somewhere, weave blackness, and use the writing.”

  "What! You can't be serious, Cova! You're a far more sensible woman than her Majesty here. I would not have expected this of you," Brádach cried. “You’re going to defy nature to such an extent? Have you no regard for your soul at all, Cova?”

  “My soul has never been harmed by slyte weaving.”

  Everything about Cova's manner said that he was very serious.

  Brádach continued, "You… the boy will be star-fallen mad! Thousands of stars, Cova! Locked up in darkness, never aging, never knowing why or—nay!"

  "It must be done.”

  Red chirped, "La! You are always thinking of the negative, paddler. The boy will be in the company of Nat-Scrios and will not want for knowledge of what is going on outside, or for company. He will be just fine. I do believe you need to get that oar out of your…"

  "Think for a moment! He's going to starve and never die. He'll be aching with hunger without a morsel. Thirsting… never a drop! You… you just can't do that to another human being and expect that a little bit of information is going to keep him from madness. Think of it—try, hard. I know it's not easy for the two of you these days, now that you're drunken on success. Bother yourselves with a minor inconvenience for the boy's sake. He won't be fit for love otherwise, and then what good are your plans?"

  "Nay. It is to be done as I have said," Cova said in his most authoritative tone. "I will not be swayed by your opinion, Brádach. The hiding place will be sufficient.”

  “How will he relieve himself, Cova?”

  “You must keep in mind that, before long, he will no longer need to relieve himself; he will not have food," red answered.

  Brádach stepped backward a few times, eyeing his two companions. "If your own words do not sound savage to you, then— by the stars— I am certain there is nothing I can say to you."

  Red sneered, “Do you think you are the Great Soul, Brádach? You certainly act like it.”

  The soul in question disappeared.

  #

  "You sent for me, apar," Nat said.

  "Yes. Sit, Nat."

  The prince sat down. His apar studied the boy's face before leaning forward on his desk and speaking.

  "I've heard a disturbing report of you today, and I thought it best to speak to you before passing judgment. Do you have anything to tell me?"

  "Nay, apar."

  "Nat, you are my son, and I am your apar, but I am also your king. I require you to tell me what happened today."

  Nat sighed. "I met with my former tutor."

  "Y'Armos, son of Etetuol?"

  "Aye, Your Majesty."

  "And h
ow did that meeting pass?"

  "We had a happy reunion," Nat answered.

  "How is Y'Armos?"

  "He was fine upon his departure. He'd been with his grieving sister for several constellations, so he looked a little tired."

  The king exhaled through his nostrils with great force, drawing his lips into a tight, straight line. He sat back in his chair.

  "By the stars, Nat! I was told that you spiritually removed Y'Armos' sight. Is this truth?"

  The direct accusation brought out a belligerence in him that he rarely used. He dared to use it now.

  "If you knew more about the Sálverøld and cared about your kingdom, perhaps you might know if this was possible and whether or not I have done it."

  Persenimos tilted his head. "You are dismissed. I don't want you leaving the palace until I have granted you leave to do so."

  Nat stood up with such speed and force that his chair skidded backward and fell. He paid no attention as he stormed away.

  The king swiftly crossed the room and tugged at the bellpull. A servant arrived.

  "Your Majesty?"

  "Cova. I must speak to Cova."

  Cova arrived several minutes later and peeked in.

  "You certainly took your precious time," the king said.

  "I was…detained, Your Majesty, by a meeting of utmost importance."

  "An unsanctioned meeting in my palace?" Persenimos said, not entirely serious.

  "I was completing a very high-staked game of cormonds with Oma and Atenos. I could not let such a stack go without finishing it."

  "Do you think I'm so out of touch with reality that I'm not aware that no one of any rank would play such a game as cormonds? Besides that, I know you take liberties when it comes to respect toward me, but I certainly don't believe you would take quite the liberty of so many minutes for the sake of a vulgar game. You jest when you're nervous. Why are you nervous?" Asked the King.

  "Nervous! Nay, I am simply in a very good mood, Your Majesty," Cova laughed.

  "Sit." Persenimos pointed to the floored chair.

  Cova picked the chair off the floor and set it aright before sitting on it.

  "My son was in here a few minutes ago. I'm disturbed by rumors that seem to be confirmed by his behavior. He behaved in a singular manner when he returned to me after Tapa's murder, and he never became well again. It's been a full constellation, and he has grown more ill-tempered by the day. Not every moment, mind you. There are days when he is so agreeable and respectful that I feel compelled to keep him in my company all through Star rise and fall. He's such a fine boy and will surely be a good leader if he remains true to his nature but…" Here the king looked up at Cova as if awaiting the answer to a question not asked. "….But his ill-behavior is exceedingly ill, and the rumor I have heard, well, it is of a spiritual nature, and I wish to speak with you on the subjects of your tutelage."