By his own count, Ashura had read the first two paragraphs of a roofing supply requisition thirteen times. He couldn't seem to get past that second paragraph and get on to the actual details of the materials needed and their cost. He did know that the last storm had damaged the barracks housed beneath the floating mountain. The troops garrisoned there had carpenters and roofers at their disposal, but their supplies needed replenishing before the next winter storms swept through. He had that much memorized.
Normally, other court officials took care of that sort of thing, but Ashura was distracting himself. Besides, he needed to sign off on large expenditures that came out of the castle treasury, anyway. Might as well review the entire request. He tried again, starting with the third paragraph this time.
Who was he fooling? With a dispirited sigh, he set the papers down on his desk, leaned forward, and rubbed his eyes.
All attempts at distraction were doomed to fail. He knew that. He knew he was just running from himself, that he was trying to avoid his own thoughts. He wanted to avoid thoughts of everything to do with his current life. Even Fai.
Especially Fai.
But there was no escaping those dark thoughts. They bubbled to the surface like thick sludge, smearing all about them with their black tar. They stuck to everything. All obstructions were as mere sieves to them, letting them push through in long, gooey ropes of guilt and shame.
He might as well just let them in, he thought in resignation, and with that the floodgates opened. He again relived those horrible moments when he realized what Fai had become, when destiny had asserted itself yet again, and he had bound Fai's power. Those moments when he had violated Fai's very mind, altering the boy's memories.
Ashura groaned aloud and buried his face in his hands. He had no right to be among normal, decent people. He was a monster, and he just kept proving it over and over in ever new and creative ways.
What had he been thinking?
Thinking? How delusional. He hadn't been thinking; he had been panicking.
He simply couldn't let it go, or even push it away for a short period of time. He castigated himself again—and again and again—for telling Fai the truth about his wish, about the need to bind the child's power. For altering the child's precious memories to hide that very truth.
Experiences, knowledge, and memories were the foundations of a person's sense of self, of personality and identity. What had he done to Fai? How could he have done it, and how would it affect Fai's further development? What would become of Fai due to Ashura's crime?
What was wrong with him? Ashura wondered. What kind of despicable person did something like that to his own son?
He was a skilled liar with a lifetime of training and experience. Deception and misdirection came as easily as breathing to him. He lied all the time: to himself, to Kendappa, to his courtiers and servants, to his subjects, to foreign ambassadors and diplomats. He lied for his kingdom's interests, his own, and for Fai's.
He lied by omission whenever he had a prophetic dream that he could not share with others. Look at that avalanche. He hadn't warned Fai, his court, or the town, and no one had known enough to prepare. If that wasn't dishonest, what was? And yet it was necessary. By hiding his knowledge, not warning anyone, he had helped to fulfill destiny. He thought of another who facilitated destiny by silence and misdirection, the Witch of Dimensions. Did she suffer the same kind of guilt for her deliberate inaction, her ambiguity, obfuscation, and lies of omission?
Lying was a way of life for him. Why couldn't he have simply lied to Fai in the first place? A simple lie would have reassured Fai, swept away his insecurities.
Ashura could have told a lie and then found another time to mark Fai with the magic restraining spell. He hadn't needed to do it immediately, not while Fai's mind was disturbed by thoughts of his promise to the dark sorcerer and worries about his promise to Ashura. At any later time, Ashura could have offered the phoenix mark as a gift, a touch of his own magic for Fai to keep, without reference to his own, cursed wish. He could have waited a little longer, just a few days, and bestowed it without the real explanation. A calmer, more settled Fai wouldn't have asked any questions, then. Fai would have accepted the marking and the lies that would have accompanied it—probably quite happily.
You were probably too late with the restraining spell, anyway, the dark shadows in his mind whispered to him, and he feared they were correct. In that case, what would a day or two have mattered, when the spell should have been set months ago? He was too late with everything. Always too late, and everyone in Seresu would die for nothing...
For one wild, heedless instant, Ashura considered removing the restraining spell from Fai, allowing the child to gain the true magical stature that his amazing power should have vouchsafed. Ashura could replace the spell with one that truly was nothing more than a phoenix marking with a touch of benign magic. Fai would never know the difference, and he could then become what he had always been meant to be.
But Ashura knew that would only be a sop to his guilty conscience, a mere bandage on wounds already inflicted. Besides, he should not allow either doubt or sentiment to rule him. There was always a chance that he hadn't been too late, that he could still succeed. He would succeed, he told himself firmly, and Fai would survive the horrific future. Ashura had to believe that.
Besides, it was providence that he hadn't bound Fai's power any sooner, true providence that he had procrastinated and stalled and avoided even thinking of it. Now that he'd had some time to consider the subject, he realized that it was best for Fai. His delays had probably saved Fai's life. Destiny had demanded Fai face that avalanche to collect those two misbegotten feathers, and his power had needed to grow enough for him to succeed. Had Ashura restrained Fai's power any sooner, Fai would certainly have...died.
Ashura couldn't bear the idea that he might have killed Fai with the restraining spell as surely as if he'd put a sword through Fai's heart. Perhaps the gods weren't as cruel as he sometimes believed. Perhaps his inaction and blindness had been a boon granted by greater powers in the universe, rather than his own selfishness, his willful ignorance and procrastination.
Perhaps he was only deluding himself.
It didn't matter, though. In the end, everything had worked out. All his own lapses and dithering had been what fate had demanded of him. He was but its tool.
But poor Fai...
Ashura rubbed a tiny bit of moisture from his eyes.
Perhaps he should stay hidden for a while longer. His emotions were still too raw, and he wasn't fit to see others or be seen by them. He would keep to himself until he could be sure that his crimes, his guilt, were buried deep, disguised and hidden from the rest of the world.
At least something good would come of Fai's nightmarish encounter with that avalanche. It would silence any who might still doubt Fai's worthiness of the D title. After that feat, no one would dare to ever again question his suitability for that highest of magical honors, or Ashura's reasons for bestowing it. In that sense, Fai's triumph at Nyaidem-Yamalo had served him very well indeed. No other wizard in the whole world could have broken an avalanche like that and saved an entire village, and no one could ever deny it.
However, like Kendappa, others with authority would still question Ashura's reasons for letting such a young prince wander at will throughout the kingdom.
The incident with the avalanche made obvious to Ashura that even magical guardians were all but useless. Only Fai possessed the kind of power needed to overcome the greatest forces of nature. What use could supervisory wizards be if Fai became embroiled in another such crisis? All they could do was report the child's activities. Despite this, Ashura would not dismiss them from their duties. They provided the appearance of protection for Fai, and mollified Ashura's friends and advisors somewhat.
But in the end it didn't matter what they thought. One day, nothing would matter but Fai's life, because everyone else would be gone.
Ashura got up and went to the window. Outside, the sky was dead gray, with a thick cover of heavy, dire clouds. The weather had been so odd lately. Deep winter had passed, having been colder than anyone living had ever experienced, and now spring was late in arriving. He felt it fitting that the day was so dreary. It matched his mood.
Seresu's axiom of royal authority, "The King and the Land are One," came into his mind. If he really worked at it, Ashura could affect the weather magically, just a little. He also knew that his mystical connection to Seresu could sometimes affect the weather without his deliberate action. The weather reflected his mood, his hopes and his despair, more and more often. Was Seresu going to grow colder and colder, as his heart grew colder and more fearful with each passing year, until the day he finally went mad and murdered his country? He gazed morosely at the gloomy sky, and with a sigh returned to his seat behind his desk.
His destructive line of thought was derailed when someone knocked softly. A familiar presence glowed on the other side of the door. Ashura knew who it was, and hesitated. Per his own orders, no one else was permitted to interrupt him.
Even with the restraining spell on him, Fai's magical aura filled all the empty space around him, betraying his emotional state. Someday, he would have to learn better control over that, Ashura thought. But he also knew that it probably didn't bother anyone else, that he was just uniquely sensitive to Fai's magic. Fate itself had made him thrall to Fai's destiny.
Fate, and a dark magician who had cursed a little child...
"Come in, Fai," he called, although this child was the person he feared most this day to face.
The door cracked open and a blond head peeked in. "King Ashura?" Fai said tentatively. "Are you busy?"
"Not at all." Ashura set aside the papers he had been attempting to read. He hadn't accomplished anything useful, anyway. All he had done was brood and indulge in fruitless self-pity and self-castigation. "You are providing a welcome distraction." He got up and walked around to the front of the desk, telling himself that he was grateful for the break.
He almost convinced himself.
Fai stepped into the room, let the door swing shut, and came over to him. The child looked, well, not nervous, precisely, but not comfortable, either. His manner was not unlike that at the feast the night before, when he had kept eyeing Ashura and almost speaking but then shutting down.
Ashura felt sadness steal over him, and a renewed surge of guilt. Perhaps, on some unconscious level, Fai still possessed some residual emotions from Ashura's actions the previous day. Perhaps the memory adjustment hadn't been as perfect as Ashura wished, and Fai had some uneasy sense that Ashura had transgressed. Perhaps Fai would never be completely comfortable around him again.
That last thought made Ashura's heart weep. "Yes, Fai? Did you want something in particular?"
Fai scuffed his toe against the floor. "I—I was supposed to show you something," he said earnestly. "The guards at the castle entrance yesterday...they said you'd like it a lot."
"Oh?" Ashura tilted his head, curious. He thought back. He'd been pretty upset by the time Fai had returned after that incident with the avalanche, but he did recall that Fai's emotions had been a tangle of black despair, nerves, profound depression and self-doubt: overpowering feelings that had masked everything else. Had there been more there that Ashura had missed?
"I was going to show you yesterday when I got back. I really was. I don't know why I forgot..." Fai frowned, confused.
Ashura felt a stab of guilt so sharp it might have been a blade piercing his breast in a death stroke. "It's all right, Fai. It doesn't matter."
Fai shook his head. "It does matter. The guards said it would make you happy. I shouldn't have forgotten."
Just the fact that Fai had returned alive made Ashura happy. What had come after...well, there was no helping that. Not now.
"I thought about showing you at the feast, but I wasn't very good at it. I was afraid it would turn out wrong. I've been practicing this morning, though, so I could get it right..." Fai looked up at him, his big blue eyes guileless. The corners of his mouth twitched with odd, unfamiliar spasms, then settled into what on anyone else would be an unremarkable expression.
It was tiny, just the merest hint of a smile. But as Fai gained confidence, it grew wider, and even showed a hint of teeth.
It lit up Fai's whole face. It was like sunshine, like a brilliant blue sky filled with birds and butterflies.
Ashura stared, overcome, not believing what he was finally seeing. He wanted to say something encouraging, but sheer happiness rushed through him and stole his strength. His throat closed. This one, small smile was something Ashura had never really believed he'd ever see, and despite its forced nature, it filled him with transcendent joy.
Fai was waiting, his fragile smile fading and uncertainty returning at Ashura's silence. Yet Ashura found he still couldn't speak. His whole body felt weak. So he did the only thing he could: he dropped down to his knees and pulled his son into a fierce hug.
Fai hugged him back, but asked worriedly, "Did I—did I do it wrong?"
"No, child," Ashura choked out. His eyes were burning. He hugged Fai tighter. "You did it perfectly. Absolutely perfectly."
"Then why aren't you happy? The guards said it would make you happy!"
Ashura realized he was trembling. He blinked rapidly to clear away the mist over his vision, and felt hot moisture run down his face.
"Are you...are you crying?" Fai asked. He pulled back a little to touch Ashura's cheek. "Why are you crying? They said you'd be very happy!"
Ashura wiped his face and grinned. "I am happy, child. So very, very happy. You have no idea."
"But, but...I made you cry..."
"Tears aren't always sad, Fai. Sometimes people cry when they are filled with so much happiness that it spills over into tears. They have no other way to express their joy. It's a very good thing."
"Then it's all right? Should I do it again?"
"You should do it as often as you want, Fai. As often as you can," Ashura told him. He was still shaking ever so slightly. He released Fai and gently cupped the boy's face with both hands. "Your face was made for smiles."
Fai smiled again, and this time it was less forced, more natural. He leaned in and hugged Ashura around the waist. "I'm glad. I promise, from now on I'll try to remember to do it for you."
Ashura wrapped his arms around the child and rested his head lightly on top of Fai's. That "I'll try to remember" broke his heart. He hoped that someday Fai wouldn't have to remember, that smiles and even laughter would come as naturally and easily as breathing.
The room brightened. Ashura turned his head toward the window and beheld a patch of blue sky. A fresh rush of joy went through him. This one small gesture from Fai...it made everything seem beautiful. Everything Ashura had done, everything to come—it would be all right. Everything would be all right. He knew his euphoria would fade, that his fears and doubts would return, but for now? Now was perfect, and he would enjoy the moment with all his heart.
He lifted Fai in his arms and stood up. "Look, Fai. Even the weather likes your smile."
"Not really," Fai protested, and he smiled once more. "The weather can't like a smile. That's silly."
"No," Ashura told him. "It's perfect."
*** end ***
February 2013 – August 2017
