The Path of the Wind
The wind is whipping around her as the last of the vanships roar overhead, and she tries not to wince. The sound brings back so many memories, some of which she'd rather had stayed where they are. But she's standing in a crowd of lords, ladies, and fleet commanders; and she cannot let them know how nervous she is.
A quick glance shows her where the captain is. He's up at the front, on the left hand of Emperor-to-be Alex. Currently, his royal highness is tugging at something on his coat, and when Admiral Mad-Thane touches him on the shoulder he glares up at the old man. It's natural for him to act this way, this is the first time he's been to a state occasion without his mother. Even so, things are becoming a little strained.
The captain doesn't seem to have noticed. He's been standing there the entire time without a single expression on his face. For the hundredth time, Tatiana wonders what exactly is written on that piece of paper he has in his pocket. He never showed her the final draft, or even really asked for her opinion on it after that one day. Instead, he's spent the week locked up in his cabin without visitors. She supposes that's not really unusual for him, but she still can't help but worry.
He hasn't told her what he plans to do about the position the Admiral offered, either. The day after he read her his first draft, he hired a shuttle and flew over the Admiral's flagship. But what happened and what he said, Tatiana has no idea. He hasn't said anything.
And so, as the final wave of vanships roars overhead and Claus Valca steps forward to the podium, she, like everyone else, holds her breath to hear what he has to say.
"We are all here today in honored memory of Empress Sophia, who has been called the Uniter of Prestor." He looks calmly around at the gathered dignitaries. "It was unquestionably the leadership of Empress Sophia that brought Prestor through its most trying time and brought us to where we are today. And it is fitting that we, the heirs of her legacy, should pause a while to remember her accomplishments. It is the least we can do."
All very well and good. Tatiana lets out a little breath. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.
"And yet, this least we can do is also the most we can do." The captain frowns down at his notes. "For who can pretend that ten, or twenty years from now, the world will even remember what has been said here? And who can say completely that after ten or twenty years have passed, the Empress Sophia will still be remembered?"
She freezes. Behind her, there's a little gasp.
"If there is one thing that the Exile wars taught us, it is that we cannot be sure of the future, or even of the present. Everything we know may be torn up in a day, we may be forced to abandon all we ever knew and confront a new, dangerous future. However we may pretend otherwise, our lives are but brief moments, little bits of sand lost in the great hourglass of time. During her life, Empress Sophia was the greatest ruler that either Anatole or Disith have ever known. Yet even her life, great as it was, has ended just as all shall. And who can know whether what she has done will continue into the future?"
More whispers are coming from behind her. "No one can. No one can be certain of these things." Claus looks around the platform, an unutterable sadness in his eyes. "When all is said and done, we have little control over the path of history."
The courtiers are shifting around nervously, there is a great deal of murmuring. Admiral Mad-Thane, his right hand firmly on Alexander's coat, makes no sign.
"As you are all well aware, I was among those who made the first journey to the green world of Exile. I learned many things in that land before I returned. Allow me to share one of them with you…" He flips through his notes. "…a selection from an obscure text of that land."
Tatiana closes her eyes. There is only one text he can be reading from.
"As you do not know the path of the wind, or know how breath enters the unformed body, so you cannot understand the workings of he who drives the wind, the maker of all things. Sow your seed in the morning, and in the night do not be idle, for you do not know which will succeed, whether this or that, or whether both will do equally well."
She hasn't heard that one before, she realizes.
"The Exile Wars, as I have said, taught us many things. They taught us how quickly a world may change, how easily a life may be lost, how so much can depend on the chance of the wind." He looks around at the platform, which has passed from murmuring to dead silence. "But they also taught us about how little we really know. They taught us that there is always something greater, larger, more powerful than ourselves. That the chance of the wind is not chance at all, but rather a directed plan. Even if we ourselves cannot understand the plan as it unfolds. Even if it causes us pain."
"No one can know whether Empress Sophia will be remembered in twenty years." There's another fresh wave of murmuring. "No one can know what the future holds. But we can know that one way or another, the actions of the Empress will have an impact upon that future. We can know that the things she did and the sacrifices she made will fit into the great plan of history. Even if we ourselves cannot quite see how."
Tatiana is listening. The courtiers behind her are listening. From where she's standing, it looks like even little Alex is listening.
"And this holds true for every man and woman. Even as the Empress has left an indelible mark upon the world, so each one of us shall leave an impression of our own that will affect the future in ways we cannot imagine." Claus takes another long, slow look around the platform. "It remains for us to make that impression, to leave our own legacy even as the Empress has left hers. We must sow the seeds of the future as best we can, trusting that even if our actions do not work how we plan them to, they will work how those beyond us do."
A smile touches his lips. "We may be small grains of sand. We may be caught up in vast winds of change. But it is the driving of the wind that turns small grains of sand into beautiful sweeping dunes."
He steps down, and there's a short silence before Admiral Mad-Thane begins to clap. And then a few others join in. And then some more. Then some more. And before Tatiana quite knows what is going on, the entire platform is erupting in applause.
But she isn't clapping. She's crying, and it's all she can do to hold herself steady.
Because in that smile, she can see it. Claus Valca is back.
Epilogue
"Fine job on the speech, if I may say so sir."
"Thank you, Miss XO." He nods. "Now get a shuttle down here before some more of those nobles come over wanting to shake my hand. I've had more than I can stand."
"Shuttles?" She raises an eyebrow. "Sir, if you'd prefer, I can order a car to take you to your hotel, you should be perfectly safe there."
"I need to talk to Mad-Thane." He tugs at his cloak. "He's on board his ship, isn't he?"
"Yes. He's preparing plans for sending off the armada in the morning, I believe. He doesn't' think the fleet should be sitting here for longer than necessary."
"All the more reason for me to talk with him, I can go over the plans with him. Get me a shuttle."
"The shuttles are still flying in the air, sir." She tries not to be curious about why Claus wants to help with the fleet movements. "If you don't mind waiting, I'm sure he'll be down for the ball later this evening."
"No, it's important. And I really should look at those plans with him." He looks up at the airships flying high overhead and heaves a long sigh of frustration. His flaxen hair whips about, dancing in the wind. "Are there any vanships available?"
Tatiana's breath catches. She hardly dares to believe what she just heard, but she doesn't dare ask him to repeat it. "Th… there are… some… vanships… still available, captain."
"Hm." He gives a short nod. "Right then. Signal to him that I'm coming up." He turns around, long cloak swirling in the wind, and stalks toward the hangar. After a few steps, he stops and turns to look at her. "XO!"
"Yes, sir?" She asks.
"I need a navi."
The End
A/N:Not that I'm really proud of it, but this probably holds the record for me, in terms of shortest story that takes longest to finish. I must've started writing this a year ago. But one way or another, it IS done, and I stand at my promise of never leaving a story unfinished. I hope you're satisfied... I know this last chapter was pretty overly philosophical. But I did need to give some kind of answer, so there you have it.
Reviews are, as usual, appreciated.