The Woven End Read online

  "Brown. Blue," she repeated, stunned.

  The king smiled as he removed the mask from her face.

  Cova, oblivious to the nature of Sidita's private matters, beamed with joy as he reached out to touch her shoulder. A slight movement, noticed by none but herself and Cova, removed her shoulder away from his grasp.

  "Cova, you have done well. I would have had to demote you had you made me postpone marriage in vain for all these stars," the king laughed.

  "Then you are settled on the matter, Your Majesty?"

  "Settled. I’ve found her to be a joy besides.We will make preparations for a week, and at the end of the week, we will marry."

  "Excellent, sire. What may Sakat do for you?"

  "Everything. Speak with Koro. He knows my tastes and feelings. He will choose as I would.”

  Cova bowed and left the room in search of Koro.

  The king sat down in his chair once more and sighed, relieved. He looked at Sidita to speak, but noticed her sorrowful demeanor. "You have tears in your eyes. Is this not pleasing to you?"

  She started from a stupor. "Oh, sire, my matter is difficult to explain. Neither you nor marriage are the cause of it.”

  "We will sup together, yes?"

  "Yes, sire."

  "If you wish to retire to your room for a few minutes to collect yourself, we will send for you when the meal is laid out. Perhaps we may talk out your concerns and difficulties then? Does this please you?"

  "Yes, sire.”

  "Very well, you are dismissed." He stood up and extended his hand.

  She stood and placed her hand in his. He lifted her manicured hand to his lips and then held it between his own, smiling at her. He released her hand and turned to leave the way he came. Sidita left in search of her uncle who, busy or not, she would speak with.

  Cova stood in the hall near their rooms, as she supposed he would be, speaking to Koro. Koro held a paper that he scribbled in as he and Cova conversed.

  "Uncle, I must speak with you.”

  "Aren't you—?"

  "Yes, but I need to speak with you. He will send for me soon."

  "Later, Sidita—"

  "Now," she said, her voice low and firm.

  He looked at her a second time and studied her face. "Very—very well. I will find you, Koro."

  Cova followed Sidita into her room and upon the closing of the door, she hissed, "I have never been so angry with anyone in my entire life!"

  "Angry? With whom?"

  "With you, my good uncle!"

  "I? What have I done to bring your wrath upon me?"

  She closed in on him, pressing him to the door.

  "Have you gone mad, my dear girl?" He shrieked.

  "Nay! But, you are mad to think that I will ever again trust you!"

  "I have brought you to the throne, Sidita. I took care of you. What—?”

  "Nat-Scrios brought me to the throne."

  "Nat-Scr—" His face darkened like the world beneath a sky of storm clouds. "It told you its name?" he asked, grimly.

  "It is the only one with a name, is it not? Just moments ago it told me who it was. How could you entangle me with such an infamous slyte? And bring me here without knowing it? I almost collapsed with terror before the king."

  "It is not infamous to me. It is my—“

  "Companion, aid, help, friend. Yes, I know, my uncle."

  She turned from him and wept against the post of her bed.

  Cova stepped forward to comfort her, but she swung her arm back, firm and resolute, calling his approach to a halt.

  Her voice came out broken and low."Tell me the truth, Uncle."

  "Yes."

  "Has the slyte touched me? Am I black on the inside?"

  She trusted that her uncle would not allow a slyte union to take place with her soul, she trusted that when Nat-Scrios said it would abide by her wishes it would not lie to her because her uncle attested to its honesty and integrity, but she could not see her own soul. Only Cova could tell her whether her wishes were honored.

  A long silence ensued. Cova sighed.

  "Nay. That's all a myth, my dear. I've told you that. Black souls and all of that…lies. Haven't you realized that yet? A union is nothing like that. It's an agreement, not a possession."

  Sidita turned around and charged at him. He stood still this time as she fell on his chest to weep. He ventured to bring his arms around her.

  "Thank you. Thank you." She pulled away and wiped her eyes. She crossed the room and splashed her face with water from a bowl.

  Cova reassured her, "You will have Nat-Scrios for a friend if you want it, but it cannot form a union without your consent. Slytes may be superior to humanity, but their lack of physical form gives them limitations. You can trust it."

  "It is you alone I trust, Uncle." She dried her face with a towel.

  The bell in her room rang. Supper with the king.

  Chapter Eight

  Traditional marriage ceremonies were long abandoned by the common Trilanders, for a more community oriented ceremony. At this time, the ancient, nature-based marriage customs were observed only by the king and his queen. Royal couples never made vows with words. They followed the ancient marriage custom of a more certain, wordless, vow which could never be taken back or forgotten. This, after all, was nature's way, and it was fitting for the glory of the Triland, the king and queen, to unite in this manner.

  If Sidita lived the life of an average farmer on Bos, she would be given to a husband who had courted her, cared for her, and asked for her. She and her husband would exchange sincere vows from a love that had mellowed with time and proven itself.

  As the king's bride, she was to come on her own and offer herself with no witnesses wanted. No king of the Triland ever made a woman queen by claiming her as property, but many a woman made herself queen by willingly going out to meet the king and offering herself. In this way, a queen maintained the dignity of a living soul because, in appearance, she made the choice herself.

  During the week leading up to the wedding, Sidita’s maids soaked her in perfumed water two times a day. Her golden hair, sprayed with a pungent smelling fruit juice to lighten it, glowed like the Star by the day of the wedding.

  Sidita's soft, pedicured feet often crossed the path to the Queen’s Garden so that she would remember the way without help. This was the path where dozens of noble, strong women had also journeyed to their new life beside—

  Sidita's heart thundered.

  She was marrying the king.

  Though he spoke to her as an equal, she was intimidated. She wished that someone would give her to him, just as her apa might have. Who was she to walk up to the king and offer herself as queen? Granted, he wanted her, but something in the gesture made her uncomfortable. She had no reason to think herself unworthy, except that the king seemed to possess a level of glory that her meager claim to worth was far overreached in striving for.

  She spent a lot of time with Persenimos in the week leading up to the wedding. She did not doubt that she felt the precursor of love for him.

  He smelled good. That was certain.

  She experienced the giddy, almost painful pleasure of his presence, but time often crushes love's precursor and leaves one very glad that they did not rush into a commitment during such a volatile stage of affection. She hoped it would mature and that she would not be a sad queen who the king would kill for his power strand.

  Her maids awoke her before Star rise and brought a breakfast of buttered toast and wine before grooming and preparing the soon-to-be queen. It promised to be a clear, beautiful Star rise. She asked one of the maids to open a window and sat before it while they braided her hair. The fresh, cool air felt like a glass of water for her soul. The fluttering in her belly faded.

  They dressed her in a plain, vivid green linen tunic and pant, passed on for many generations of queens. They left her small feet bare, and a wreath of the sweet smelling coro bark circled her head. Coro bark was known to soothe
the nerves.

  The maids finished their tasks and hurried out, leaving Sidita alone.

  When she was alone, her eyes stung and her throat constricted.

  Crying? Whatever for?

  She put her face into her hand and attempted to hold the tears at bay. She was not unhappy, she was not overly afraid, but it was overwhelming just the same. Such a mixture of dread, elation, emotion, and duty might overcome even the strongest woman.

  She looked up. The Star's rosy aura touched the horizon. She cleared her mind and followed her feet. As she passed by the guests' quarters—there for the celebration later in the day— their quiet murmurs and hushed signs of life indicated that they were all awake.

  Sidita felt uncomfortable knowing that they were all awake and fully aware of what time it was, what was happening and, most likely, listening to her walk through the hallway. The attempts at privacy seemed to make an even greater spectacle of things.

  Sidita slipped out of the palace and passed through the first, largest garden, to the Queen's Garden in the center. The gate to the Queen's Garden was slightly ajar, just as it should be, indicating that the king was there… waiting for her. She took a deep breath and opened it enough to slip in and closed it behind her. It clanked shut. Except for the iron door, the garden was enclosed by tall, dense, angular bushes.

  A brazen king and queen, mottled with verdigris, faced one another. Each statue held a chalice in its hand, lazily tipped over, pouring a small trickle of water into the shared basin below.

  Sidita proceeded past the fountain, through a bower of silk thorns and blazing vydrens. Silk thorns, stiff, and brown, spread out into clusters of miniscule branches, thin as strands of a web, tipped with round purple nubs. The dew shimmered along the strands. Enormous, fragrant, blood red blossoms, the blazing vydrens, were scattered here and there among the silk thorns.

  Sidita approached a square pool of water where a wingray sat, drinking. The wingray flew past her and out of the bower. The trickle of the fountain's water was still with her. The place existed in a repose as pure and sweet as a winter Star fall.

  She looked into the pool. A glittering, gold star mosaic shone on the floor. Sidita passed by this and went through an arch of foliage to another room. At the far end of the space stood a coro tree. The trunk's size bespoke many stars of life. Its roots spread out, up and over each other for several feet. The branches reached up very high and also hung down very low so that the rich green leaves swept the ground. The sweet, spicy smell of the bark made Sidita feel as though she drank one sip too many of Clabbeline wine. A bit of coro bark around the neck or head might help the nerves, but an entire tree was enough to inebriate the soul.

  Sidita closed her eyes and looked into the Sálverøld. The Sálverøld seemed to slow down here— the coro tree's doing, doubtless.

  Small lights flitted about like starbugs. Sidita reached out to touch one, but it flitted away. She walked forward to the coro tree. In the Sálverøld its spirit, contained in a transparent cylinder, flowed upward and broke out into the sky like veins in a strong man's wrist. Within it, long, firm brown rods clicked and clacked together, never going up or down, only tipping and spinning about. She stepped beyond the coro tree and came upon the king, sitting.

  He was the picture of majesty in his soul. He looked like an uncut olive jadisk stone held to the Star light, and shimmered as with silver dust. Her soul crouched down to look at him closely.

  Yes. Here was a good, true man. She would gladly suffer at his hand as willingly as she would be soothed by it. He possessed a rich soul, in the truest sense of the word. She looked at his soul before, but it seemed to speak to her this time. Something inside of him brought him closer to an awareness of the Sálverøld. She faintly heard him sing the way only a soul can. She dared to reach out and touch him. This stirred him out of his repose and brought him to his feet.

  Quickly, Sidita opened her eyes to the natural about her, still standing beneath the arch.

  Persenimos came out from behind the coro tree, smiling. He strode over to her and embraced her. He smelled like a latys leaf: fresh, sacred, spicy. She liked the scent even better than the coro bark.

  He held her out at arms' length, his hands on her shoulders. He studied her face, smiled faintly, and without further ado, closed his eyes and placed his lips lightly against hers. She closed her eyes and felt their souls touch. It was a thrilling moment of connection, peace, and stirrings in the depths of her soul. Lip upon lip was pleasant, but to feel the bond beginning to form in their souls was a precious weaving.

  #

  Later, the king presented his new queen to the kingdom as they stepped out onto the balcony of the palace. The king revealed his silver speckled, green mask. The details of how the power strand unveiled itself in the king after so long would not be necessary to share with the common people. Only a few would ever know the secret. Some were suspicious, but what did the opinion of some mean?

  The celebration that Star fall was more boisterous than any wedding Sidita remembered. The king, queen and their noble guests, feasted on roasted codsoft, lembor meat, creamed peas, buttered brown bread, cheese, grapes, copious amounts of lidimus wine, and coro and sáfflon spiced metheglin. Dancers, musicians, and acrobats entertained the guests while they ate.

  The people of the Triland, in their own homes and community gathering places, took the occasion as an excuse to dance and drink ale in the way of common folks. The fires rose high, and the volatile noise of drunkenness wavered between riot and joy until late into the Star fall.

  #

  Not long after the marriage, Sidita was with child. They announced the news to the kingdom and all hoped for an heir. Before three constellations of her pregnancy passed, the child was no more. It dealt a severe blow to the royal couple.

  By the next star, yet another pregnancy buoyed the hopes of King and Queen and delighted the kingdom once more. This pregnancy, too, ended with tears.

  This cycle revolved through two more pregnancies.

  The kingdom no longer felt disappointed, but unsettled. If the queen could not produce a child—male or female—a frightening future lay before the Triland. Persenimos had brothers, but they were not good men.

  The governors assembled, and though Cova balked at the idea, he eventually assented to advising the King on the matter. Persenimos granted the governors an audience.

  He sat in his personal library, resting his forearms on the arms of his chair, his eyes fixed on the blank space of the desk before him. The news of Sidita's last miscarriage, only a week ago, left him both raw and numb at the same time. The governors approached with care and, after much silence, forced the words out.

  Oma spoke, "Your Highness, we have been discussing the matter of an heir with one another…”

  The king's eyes looked up.

  Oma continued, "We…we have a plan that you may find acceptable to aid His and Her Majesty."

  A slight upward twitch of the head signaled for Oma to go on.

  "It…Well, it involves a practice not commonly used, but it has been used and been effective."

  The King's eyebrows raised in obvious skepticism.

  "You see, unbeknownst to most, there was a time when one of your ancestors married a barren woman. The solution was to…well…” He took the plunge without a breath. “To take another woman into a legally binding contract and produce an heir through her. The woman would be cared for for her life, but the child would be raised upon the queen's knee. Very few would know—“

  No one interrupted Oma, but the King’s deadly look cut him off.

  The long silence and stare of the king did not bode well for the governors. All three felt the same dread.

  "A mistress. You are suggesting I take a mistress?" Persenimos spoke, at last.

  Cova stepped in, "Sire, mistress is an ugly word. I believe a more suitable word for this legal contract would be ‘surrogate amar’."

  "Ah, an ugly word, yes, but still the word. The st
ars fall on surrogate amars! You're asking me to boot about with another woman to produce an heir. You cannot separate me from the equation by using the word amar instead of mistress or concubine.” He glared at each of the governors “You, Cova? You suggest that I betray your own niece?"

  "I hesitated at the thought of it myself, sire. I can see no other way."

  "I know of no legal contract," answered Persenimos.

  Cova began, "We might procure an official document for a fee by—"

  The king paled with anger. "Oh, I see, I see. You wish to make it legal with a piece of paper, whether such a paper exists at this moment in time, or not. Nay, my good men, I refuse. I prefer to sink into oblivion as the honorable king who produced no heir, than to settle on such a hedonistic practice. An heir is important, but does not exceed my own soul in its value. Can you imagine the color of it after such an act? You are dismissed."

  Obedience being the only choice, they bowed, thanked the King for admitting them, and made their way out single file. Oma closed the door behind them. They stood together for a moment.

  Oma adjusted his collar and wiped his nose with a handkerchief. "Well, if he really needs a few more lost heirs to be convinced, then let him have them." Oma said. “I have business to attend to. Good Star rise.” He walked away.

  Atenos nodded to Cova and followed after Oma. Cova was relieved. A child by another woman would not suit him at all, nor would he have wanted that to happen to Sidita. He was almost certain Persenimos would never agree to the idea. Therefore, something else must be done, and he knew exactly what. He left the cool palace and stepped into the starry heat of the day.

  “Jerus!” Cova slapped the side of his carriage to stir the driver from his conversation with a stable man. “I want to stop at Alchemy’s Pot.”

  They left the palace grounds and went through the Royal City until they pulled up to the dingy pub. Cova stepped down.

  “Wait here,” he told Jerus.

  The place smelled of vomit and ale, but he didn’t have to bear it for long. He charged through the kitchen and exited the back door.