The Woven End Page 30

  He considered the dark gray sky. He was on time. When he reached the bridal building he hurried to the back door. He entered and was met by Sweetly.

  "Well, I was beginning to wonder if you were coming," she said with a saucy smile. She reached out and touched the front of his parka. He forced a smile and whispered, "Of course I would come."

  She took his hand and led him up the stairs and to the left.

  Bossy, loud mouthed females. Someone kill me.

  Most of the girls were busy with lessons on the first floor, but Creed was not satisfied that this meant safety for him. His nerves were tense, his ears scanned the area for even a little sound. Sweetly seemed carefree. She had no concerns until they reached her door and she heard the rustle of clothing somewhere. She quickly unlocked her door and stuffed her male treasure in. She took a look around before following after him and closing the door.

  #

  Creed buttoned up his parka and nodded.

  "Alright. We're settled now. Get me into that room."

  She scowled at the new business-like approach.

  "What if I don't do it? What if…" She pulled up her wool pants and set to putting her parka on. "… I just say, 'no'. A good man should be a good man at all times. Maybe I shouldn't let a bad man into my sister's room without her knowledge. Hm?"

  He whirled around with a pointed finger. He hissed, "Don't you dare get mad at me for keeping to a bargain. I never said I'd be your friend, much less your permanent slave. You asked for equipment that I have. That's it.”

  She squinted her eyes and scrunched her lips. "You're disgusting."

  He pointed to himself with both hands and laughed, incredulous, "I—I'm disgusting? I've got nothing. There just isn't a response for that." His face fell and he put his hand out, palm up. "Your side of the deal, madam?"

  "I'm not giving you that key. Come on." She pushed him aside and opened her door.

  Behind her back, Creed squeezed an imaginary neck, muttering under his breath.

  "Hadate always keeps her late," Sweetly said as she unlocked Story's room.

  Creed mumbled something and brushed by her. She closed the door and returned to her own room.

  #

  A man stood up from squatting on the other side of her bed.

  "Creed!" Story hissed, quiet, furious.

  "Sh, sh, sh!" He hurried around the bed, his finger pressed to his lips.

  "What are you doing here? You're reckless! How did you get here?"

  "I'm here to see you, and I got here by doing a few favors."

  "Why do you want to see me? Oh frosts, Creed they'll beat me tomorrow," she nearly cried. "Go, go."

  "We'll have something in common, then," he said. "I've never seen a bride beaten. Do you think they'll take your clothes off, too?"

  She rested her forehead into the palm of her hand and closed her eyes. "Okay," she said, and she opened her eyes. "Let's hear what you have to say so you can get out of here."

  He leaned back on her bed, half-sitting, half-standing. "Well, I wanted to tell you something. I don't know how else to do this but to be straight forward. We know each other well enough for that, right?"

  "Sh, Quietly. Yes, just say it."

  "I suppose the way I should start is by telling you that I regret all of our past issues. I should tell you how terrible I was to you, and how I teased you mercilessly. I guess, I should tell you that I was a brazen, harsh piece of—"

  "Are you telling me by telling me that you should tell me?"

  He stood up straight, indignant. "Absolutely not! I regret nothing."

  Story's mouth fell open just a bit. She recovered and rolled her eyes. "What is it then?"

  "Hadate comes here to watch you 'til you sleep so she can give you your dreams, you know. I'll be in trouble if she shows up while I’m here, and you might be, too. So—"

  "I'm aware of that—Of… Of how I might get in trouble. Not of Hadate coming—Does she really?"

  He was having a hard time getting it out. This was not his way, and it felt contrary to everything he thought he knew about women and what they like. Still, in the present circumstance, what choice did he have? She ought to know. After all, as far as she knew, he hated her. She had to know his heart.

  "I want you to create a place in your mind and call it 'Creed loves me'."

  "What?"

  He was trying to get her in trouble, wasn't he? He was doing this for laughs. He wanted to see her without clothes on, being beat over the back with a rod, and then chuckle about it to her later as though she thought it equally diverting.

  "Creed," she teared up. "Go."

  "You're crying?"

  "I think you're just a monster. Why would you want to get me into trouble?"

  "No, see, I don't. Listen, listen." He stepped forward and took her hands. "I don't want you to get in trouble. Let me finish. Make that little place in your mind, and I want you to let me fill it up and make it bigger. Understand?"

  His hands filled her with peace which she was unwilling to accept. He seemed like the Creed in her dream, possessing authority, and natural goodness. Story shook her head and cast an anxious eye toward the door.

  "I have a goal. Okay? I've always loved you. I'm letting you know it now, so that whenever I do something kind to you, you can put it in that new thought. I knew you wouldn't have that thought until I put it in your head so… So, there it is."

  "What? Are you—you're making fun of me, aren't you? You want to see if I will start blubbering or make some confession to you so you can laugh in my face when I do!"

  "Sh! No! That's not true, and I don't think you believe it either." He squeezed her hands. She had not pulled them away. "All I want is for you to make that place in your mind and let whatever happens happen.”

  He’d never seen love, he’d never watched it in action, and his own mother and father were not there for him to learn from. Oh, they were alive, but they weren’t together. What was he to do? His urges were inexcusable to act upon, and yet he didn’t know how to resist them. He would have to now. She was not to be won with words or ideas, she was to be won with faithfulness.

  He swallowed hard and leaned in, placing his cheek against hers. “I am sorry.”

  She felt a tear from his eye on her own cheek. Frosts! Was he crying? The sardonic, womanizing poop was at the point of tears?

  “I declare my complete faithfulness to you from this moment, to death," he said.

  She never wanted attention. Suddenly, she had everyone’s attention.

  She slid her hands out of his.

  "I'm learning to love Nat. I have no interest in a place in my mind for your love— if you really have any."

  He closed his eyes and frowned briefly before drawing back to look into her eyes."How can I prove to you that I am sincere?"

  He counted himself fortunate that, though she was rigid, she didn’t shrink back.

  "You can't," she said, looking at him. She settled her eyes back on the floor. "Now, go away before we both get into trouble."

  He stepped back.

  "Well, then… Okay. You might not see me for a while, and you might even receive word that I've been killed by white wolves. It's not true. Just know that."

  He placed cool lips on her forehead, smiled sadly and left.

  The thought is there, at the very least.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  After bringing peace to the mock riot, the Father marched over to pay a visit to Hadate. Hadate and Story were finishing a lesson. Story stepped out and smiled a little. She bowed her head in greeting before walking on. The Father entered the room. Hadate had her back to him but turned about upon hearing footsteps.

  "Yes?"

  "It's taken over me. Hasn't it?" He said.

  "Close the door."

  He closed the door.

  "What are you talking about?" She asked as she sat down.

  "Nat-Scrios."

  She raised her eyebrows at this and set aside some parchments she was
fiddling with.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that I am black. I'm black as this world is going to be. I’m black like tar, like pitch, like the night sky. Black."

  "Who told you that?"

  "Never you mind," he growled fiercely. He slammed his hand on her table and leaned over her. "I want to know, witch. What has happened to me?"

  "Am I black?" She asked, cool, smug.

  "No.”

  “Well, then?”

  “Darkened, then,” he retorted.

  Haughty, she jutted her chin out, "You owe everything to Nat-Scrios. You owe your success in early life to it, you owe your direct involvement with the salvation of the world to it! You owe it everything, and you are going to complain because a slyte has done what you should have always known it to do?"

  "Should always have known it?" He roared. He straightened up and pulled his shoulders back. "You lured me into this. You caused this to be with your murders. You have done it. You told me it would not be so. How am I to know what my soul looks like when I cannot see it, and no one will tell me its condition? For Stars it was forbidden by all respectable Alchemines, and for even more Stars my sole Alchemine companion was you! How am I to know, when it appears that Nat-Scrios has been deliberately hiding its connections from me?"

  "Get in the Sálverøld, you cumrudgeon. It wants to talk to us."

  Their bodies stood frozen but breathing. The souls met again.

  Nat-Scrios was there, separate from them. It looked them both over. Perfect works of art they were. Its own art.

  The black mass of spirit hovered near them, now intimidating, ominous, and frightening, but only to the Father. Where once he saw his only companion, he now saw terror and darkness.

  "Are you not satisfied with me, Cova?" It asked.

  "I have always been satisfied with you, Great Soul. However, this is unexpected. I never knew, and I wonder that you never told me. I have no taste for this. This is where I am now dissatisfied.

  “I would have served you, gladly, without hesitiation. This dishonesty and concealment of the matter has put a terrible taste in my mouth. I can't bear it."

  "Can't? Can't bear it, or simply hope you will not have to? Nothing has changed, dear Cova. Nothing. All that has changed is that you now know."

  Hadate huffed at him. "I say you're a dreadful fool if you had not figured it out in ten thousand stars! Frosts!”

  "I will give you the night, Cova," said Nat-Scrios. "Decide if you wish to serve me any longer.”

  "What if I choose to leave you? What will you do?"

  "I will leave you. I cannot guarantee that you will be a whole, sane, person after this, however."

  #

  Creed awoke to prepared food and the Father finishing up his breakfast, ready for the day.

  Something didn't seem right. The Father’s fleshy face was haggard.

  "Father?"

  "You were home before me, sleeping soundly. I…" He looked about him, avoiding an awkward meeting of eyes. After floundering a moment, he looked up, resigned, apologetic.

  "I owe you something. Breakfast is the start of it. You should know that I will not thwart your efforts. I ask only that you ask me no questions on the matter and that you tell no one. I know Nat-Scrios will not leave me unpunished, but he will do it as a cat. He will play with us all a little longer.” He wiped his eyes roughly. "You are not safe. Watch out.”

  Creed examined the Father’s face, concerned. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He nodded.

  "Good. Your life is your own. I will not be responsible.”

  He sighed and lifted his chin as he straightened his posture. A weight came off of him, making him visibly lighter. He smiled.

  "You've been a great help to me while I've held you captive here. I will put you back with Fourth for the time being. I want you to have a chance. For your own sake, I will send you away soon. Acceptable?”

  Creed nodded, astonished.

  "Very well. Today." He sniffed and looked around as if for some missing item on his morning's agenda. Satisfied that there was nothing else, he smiled a little, and crawled out.

  Creed sat back and scratched at the baby beard that had developed over his time here. He shook his head and laughed. He pulled his hood up and crawled out in search of Fourth.

  Third row, twentieth home. There it was. Smoke puffed from the hole in the roof. Fourth was awake.

  "Darling, I have returned!" Creed shouted.

  "Creed?" Fourth shouted back from within the snow home. He crawled out to greet him with a smile and a laugh, puffing frozen breath into the air.

  "So, how did it go?" He asked, rubbing his mittened hands together.

  "Eh, she'll change her mind. I hope," Creed said.

  "You're a shameful man, Creed. Here to protect their purity for Nat, and you hunt them down instead." Fourth laughed again. "I respect that." He whispered, "Who wants to save all those beauties for an old man of ten thousand stars. I say we're doing them a disservice."

  Creed laughed. "I never thought of it that way. That's a very good point."

  #

  "Have I ever expressed to you the importance of emotional fidelity, Story?" Hadate asked, lightly touching her desk. Story shook her head.

  "A shake of the head is insufficient."

  "No, Hadate. You haven't said anything to me about emotional fidelity."

  "Well, that's what we shall discuss today," she said. "You cannot love two at once. Remember that. You must love Nat alone, or else you will offer him a torn piece of cloth that belongs to two owners. What kind of offering is that? Do you agree?"

  "Yes, Hadate. That is sensible."

  "It is very important then, that you purge yourself of any old feelings you have had. Any previous affections for someone in a less than familial way. Somehow, you must search yourself for those residues and wipe them out." She swept her hand across her desk, knocking off a quill.

  "Can you understand?"

  "Yes, Hadate."

  "Have you any such affections?"

  Her first impulse was to answer in the negative, but a twist of her heart stopped her. She hesitated with the words on the tip of her tongue. Her stomach flipped and her eyes threatened to tear up.

  "I don't know. I will have to think on it," she answered, looking down. She ventured a glance upward at Hadate's reaction.

  Hadate was frozen, staring at her. Angry? No. Scared, maybe. It was a strange expression that Story withered beneath.

  Hadate moved, and with movement came a smile that clearly took effort to form.

  "I'll be honest with you, my dear. Love can be seen in the soul. It is that fact that makes all the difference when the end comes. It is the spirit of love, in combination with the Great Soul's presence in Nat, which will cause the Star to rekindle. However, I have seen love in your soul, and it is an appalling mess. You must get your love spirit straight or you will never have what I know you hope for."

  Hadate examined the result of her words in Story's downcast eyes and the agitated state of her soul. She proceeded, "You wish for green grass, a blue sky, and rich harvests?"

  Story nodded her head.

  "For humanity to have more than roots, meat, and bone to eat?"

  Nod.

  "For… warm, loving arms to hold you in a world where it is for affection rather than practicality?"

  Story didn't respond.

  "I have seen the Star in all its glory," Hadate whispered. Her zealous gleaming eyes bored into Story's vulnerablity. "I have seen it. Don't ask me how, for I shall never be able to explain it to you. It is a sight worth working for.

  "Now, listen to me. Nat was there when the Star was a wonder, as well. He saw things as you never have. What do you think would please him among women?"

  Story's eyes ventured up and fell down. She shook her head.

  "Would he be impressed with a woman who is as this world is? He who has seen golden fields of grain and grassy meadows? A man who has felt
the warmth of the Star on his face and was once the desire of every glowing, adoring maid of worth and beauty? Would he be pleased with someone who is only half alive to love for him, just as this world is half alive to its inhabitants? It provides just enough for us to survive… for now. Is that what will spark the love to save our world?"

  Hadate leaned forward on her desk and whispered, "A piddly, half-hearted love? Undecided and uncertain of its importance in your life?"

  Silence. Silence.

  "No!" She snapped. She rested an elbow on her desk to prop the side of her forehead atop her fingers, apparently nursing a headache.

  "You may go."

  Story wasn't due to be done with Hadate for a long while yet, and she had no other lessons that day.

  "Wh… Where shall I—"

  Curtly, she spat, "Take the day and do as you like. I can't stand to look at your soul. Go. Don't return to a lesson with me until you have your affections organized and your soul in a presentable state."

  Story had tears near the verge for a long while, and now they burst out of her along with her indignant words. "Why would you continue with me for so long and not tell me I had a problem?"

  Hadate did not look up.

  "An authentic queen knows her own heart. I hoped you would come to your senses, recognize, and rectify your soul's unrest. Go, now. There's nothing I can do for you. You must do this for yourself.”

  "Hadate, I beg of you—"

  "Go."

  "I want everything you want. I am not experienced in these things, and I have no idea how to identify the trouble, much less to rectify it. You… you leave me floundering without hope. I will be lost to Nat who I…Who I do love very much. I need him. I have seen him and…"

  She bit her lip and looked away from the white wolf's icy glare.

  "I have smelled him, somehow. I want more than anything to be the bride. I have never believed any of this until I saw him and… and seeing as I no longer have anything, I am desperate to hold on to this wonderful… precious gift."

  Hadate's eyebrows arched high at this. A transient expression of analysis and inspiration slipped upon and off her face.

  "This is gratifying to hear. I suggest you sit and think on your past connections, and be honest with yourself. Cut off what you find. Be merciless to it. Find your sole passion and longing in the savior, and throw out all others with vehemence," she said, punctuating her last word with a pound of her fist on the desk. "If you can do this, then you will be a ray of Star shine to Nat in this cold, dreary world. He will not be able to resist you. I will know when you have all right within yourself, and I will send for you.