Chapter Seven
The three young leaders were not quite as inert as popular opinion held, or as inept. Many of the reconstruction projects were almost complete, and virtually all of the refugees had been resettled. It was with trepidation that they turned their attention away from home to the wide world outside. But decisions were obviously necessary; it had all been put off too long, and too much was unknown. A meeting was called in Pallas.
A storm was blowing up as Van's airship arrived in port, winds buffetting it so a safe landing was unpleasantly difficult. The ship was a small merchantman on loan from the Asturian navy, but a Fanelian crew had been trained, and they flew it successfully. Van took some pride in that as he sat in his cabin, waiting to hear that touchdown was complete. Meruru had done him proud, too, going into a frenzy of organisation, making up dossiers of all the information she could find that might be relevant to the summit, giving him colour-coded notes to refer to, assuring him again and again that she could keep things ticking over nicely for the few days he would be gone. He believed it; Meruru had become alarmingly efficient in the last couple of months. She was more than compensating for his own slight lethargy.
In the early days he had checked on Hitomi often, watching over her in her world, enjoying seeing her happy and busy. She almost always saw him, vision as he was in that place; their eyes would meet and that communication would be enough. But more and more, he'd come to see that there was no place for him in a world like hers. Hitomi he could understand, but her surroundings, the order of her life, were bewildering. She lived surrounded by machinery, especially strange devices for communication and reproduction of images, sounds, all sorts of information. Meruru would give her eye teeth to have some of those; he could see what people used them for but had no idea how they worked. Even in Asturia there was nothing so efficient and reliable; Zaibach might have had such technology but it was hard to tell now, the reports were so confused. She lived in a world where everything was made easy for her. No wonder she had wanted to go home; she would never want to live in a country where dragons roamed the forests and toilet facilities had not gotten much beyond the hole-in-the-floor-with-a-bucket-of-ashes stage. She would never want to come back.
'I'll never forget you. Even if I grow old.' That sounds like good-bye to me. He had begun to check on her less often; some days he did not wear her pendant at all. He didn't love her any less but instinct told him to withdraw from a situation in which he could only be hurt. It was not as if the alternative felt much better. And now, going away, he had left the pendant behind in Fanelia, lying on his bedside table. That hadn't been a conscious decision - he just forgot about it when he was packing. He could not see her now if he wanted to. Perhaps he should give the pendant to Meruru; she had always liked it. Deep down he was disgusted with himself for forgetting it. Giving it away was the worst thought of all.
'Van-sama,' said the captain, looking round the doorway, 'we've arrived. An escort has come to meet you.'
A carriage was waiting a little way off from the ship. Through the flurries of snow gusting across the hillside landing bay, Van could see someone standing by it, someone in the uniform of the Knights of Heaven. Did Allen come to meet me? Does he still dress that way now he's a king? Looks shorter than Allen. He gave up trying to see through the snow, put his head down and walked doggedly through the flying white to the carriage.
'Welcome back to Pallas, Van,' said the knight. He looked up in surprise; that wasn't a man's voice. Opening the carriage door was Serena Schezar, dressed like her brother, her hair fastened with blue velvet bands and her nose and cheeks ruddy with the cold. She smiled at him a little uncertainly.
'Let me guess,' he said flatly. 'You're trying to turn back into a boy.'
'Not at all,' she said, stiffening. 'Just get in. I'm freezing my tail off out here and I just want to get home in front of a nice fire, your majesty.' Van climbed into the carriage, trying to knock the snow off his heavy fur jacket before sitting down. Serena climbed up and took the seat opposite him, pulling the door shut behind her and giving a whistle to the coachman. The carriage began to roll. Van folded his arms and studied her. She had, perhaps, grown a little taller, and there seemed to be more meat on her bones than the last time he had seen her.
'Seriously,' he said, 'why are you in that get-up?'
'It's not a get-up,' she replied. 'These are my clothes. Didn't you hear I got into the Order of Heaven?' She looked a little proud of herself.
'I suppose my secretary didn't mention it. She only gives me the important news.'
'Get you - a secretary. What does she do, send memos to the dragons?'
'She helps me run my kingdom, such as it is these days.'
'You're not going to make me feel guilty, you know,' she said. 'I'm truly sorry for what happened, but not guilty. You can just be as hostile as you want, because you know what, I don't care what you think of me. I'm doing something worthwhile with my life and most people have accepted who I am.'
'Most people don't get a sick feeling every time they hear you mention fire.'
'Get your hand off it. My voice doesn't even sound the same and you know it.' Serena glared at him. Van turned his head to stare out of the window.
'Seriously, what is the point of hating me? And why are you Mr Frost all of a sudden? You seemed to be warming up a little last time I saw you. At the trial you didn't even seem to feel sure I was guilty. I know what this is, you've been shut up in your little kingdom brooding on things for the last few months with no new ideas coming in and your head's got stagnant.' It was still a very striking head. He was wearing his hair shorter these days and his eyes were easier to see, dark and sullen. Van had the sort of face that could look appealing when sulky, although winter had made him sallow rather than tawny. Serena folded her arms over her chest and stared at him. They bumped along like that in silence for several minutes, descending into the city.
'Satisfy my curiosity,' she said eventually. 'Do you ever see Kanzaki Hitomi any more? Or Hitomi Kanzaki or whichever way round she puts her name?'
'What do you want to know for?'
'I just keep wondering about her. I never met her properly myself, but she had such an effect on everyone I know.'
'You met her,' Van said. 'When Allen was pretending she was his girlfriend, remember?'
'Uh-uh-uh, that was Dilandau. Of course, she affected him pretty deeply too. Very high on his Big Hate List, although you held first place on that. He was so hung up on you it was pathetic.'
'You seem to be hung up on making me talk to you.'
'Call me a masochist. But really, do you ever see Hitomi?'
'Not any more.'
'That's sad,' she said thoughtfully. 'You two seemed to be so tight. Although he doesn't say so directly, she passed up Allen for you. And Gadeth tells me stories. You two saved each other's lives more times than I can count. And now nothing?'
Van glared at her, but found nothing mocking in her look or voice. It was enough to make him wonder, to shake the strata of feeling that had built up over the thought of her. She might be right about the brooding.
'Is there no way you can get to see her?' she went on. 'You've been to her world, haven't you?'
'Only briefly. Visiting is out of the question. It's bizarre. I can understand her speech, but when I was there the first time I saw two of her friends - when they spoke, it was just mouth noises. I couldn't go there; I wouldn't be able to speak to anyone but her and people would realise there was something wrong about me. It would just be embarrassing and difficult for her.'
'I could teach you one of the languages they speak there,' Serena said. 'It's not the right one for where she lives, but it is a Phantom Moon language. That might get you somewhere. It's rather outdated language, of course - a few centuries out of style, but you could make people understand you if they knew English. I don't know if anyone still uses Latin, but I could teach you some of that too.'
'Why would you do that?'
'I don't know. Because I can.'
'When did you learn other languages, anyway?'
'I didn't - it's left over from Dilandau.'
'You see? That's what's so creepy about you. You've still got him in your head. All the things he knew and did. And you're still using them. You're holding onto that life.' He wasn't attacking her, just speaking honestly. It was what had bothered him all along.
'Look, if I can get anything good out of losing ten years of my life, I'm going to. If I can take advantage of things Dilandau learned, I will. I've got to get on in life and I can't do that if I just reject all that experience and go back to being five years old.'
'I don't want to learn a language Hitomi doesn't even speak,' Van said.
'Fine then, it was just an offer.' Another stiff silence.
'Thank you anyway.' She looked at him curiously.
'You're welcome. I didn't mean to seem pushy. I have a tendency to think that all my problems are solved so I should start fixing other people's.'
'It certainly looks as though you have everything settled.'
'I keep wondering when it's all going to turn to custard.' She glanced out of the window. 'Nearly there. Cid's already arrived, with a lot of monks who seem to be helping him with everything. He's like a little abbot himself. I keep wanting to kidnap him and take him out to Awamut for a few weeks so he can just play with other children and remember how old he is. No-one should have to deal with things like this at his age. Or our age, for that matter.'
'But we can manage,' Van said. 'And if not us, who else?'
The carriage came to a stop in the palace stable yard. Serena climbed out first and held the door back for Van.
'There's no need to do that.'
'I'm a knight, of sorts, and you're a monarch. It's what we do. Do you need a break first, or would you like to meet with the others straight away?' She was leading him in through a back door. A middle-aged footman took Van's coat, carrying it away to brush the snow off properly. The gentility of the Asturian palace always made a strong impression on Van; half the time it made him feel a little shabby and countrified, and the other half it irritated him with its luxury. The mouldings around the doorway they had just come through were picked out with twiddles of gold paint. What was the point of that? Most interior doors in Fanelia were curtains, or heavy paper stretched over frames that slid on tracks. It wasn't that nothing was decorated, just that the style was more restrained, because form was always secondary to function. Serena, blasé about her surroundings, had pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and was blowing her nose quite loudly.
'I'm getting a cold,' she explained. 'I can feel it stealing over me. Your rooms are ready, so if you want refreshments or a change of clothes, just say the word.'
'No, I would prefer to meet the others straight away.'
'As you like.' She led him on through the palace, upstairs, past ornaments and furniture richer than anything in his kingdom, to a parlour where a fire was burning brightly in a wide fireplace. Seated around the fireplace were Millerna and Allen, Cid and two monks, one quietly passing prayer beads through his fingers. Millerna rose to greet Van. She was beginning to look pregnant now, wearing a looser dress that did not constrict the expanding curve of her belly. Van found he had to remind himself to look at her face and not her front. He couldn't help wondering if she had looked like that at her wedding, not that many people had been invited to see. Millerna had certainly made no attempt to deny that she was pregnant; she freely admitted who the father was and more or less dared the world to comment. Which it did, quite harshly in many cases.
Van had been expecting Serena to leave, since she was not directly involved and her manner had become mildly deferential, but she went straight over to the armchair Cid occupied and perched on the arm of it, and the two began to talk with some animation. She seemed to be a favourite aunt. The boy had looked quite sombre when they first entered the room, but his face lit up when Serena joined him. Allen was watching them with a sort of uncertain smile, as though he liked what he saw but did not want them to notice him watching.
'I hope you had a safe journey here,' Millerna said. 'The weather has been very disappointing.'
'It's really freezing in Fanelia,' Van told her. 'When I wanted to wash my face this morning I had to melt the ice in the jug first. It's the sharpest winter we've had for a long time.' He sat down in the only space available, next to the monks on the low sofa. The praying one paid him no attention, but the other monk smiled and nodded at him. He had a writing tablet, inkhorn and pen with him; probably planning to keep notes. Van wondered whether or not to open Meruru's portfolio that he was carrying. It might look like trying too hard.
Millerna rang for tea, then settled herself back in her chair, straightening her skirts around her. She looked at Allen briefly; he nodded very slightly, supporting her. A little glow of comfort and confidence came to her with his look.
'Since we're all together,' she began, 'we might begin to discuss the situation facing us.' The scribe-monk uncorked his inkhorn, dipped his pen and looked alert. Cid, who a moment before had been enthusiastically describing something to Serena with many gestures, sobered immediately and turned his full attention to his other aunt. Van put his hand on the folder in his lap, decided it was trying too hard and put it on the bit of sofa between himself and the monk, who continued to move his lips soundlessly, the beads clicking slightly as he turned them.
'The people of our respective kingdoms are calling for decisive action in the matters of Zaibach and Basram,' Millerna said, 'and I believe they deserve it, for their peace of mind and future security. I believe, too, that we should not let the opportunity to benefit from Zaibach's technology slip through our fingers out of a superstitious fear of some malign influence still hanging over the former empire. We are, at present, weakened as we have never been before. Almost everything of the old, everything that protected us, has been stripped away or set at a disadvantage. Rather than the beginning of our fall, I wish to make this the an opportunity for a new rise - to grow in new directions.' She glanced out the window at the swirling snow in the darkening sky. 'When a huge old tree falls in the forest, many saplings struggle to grow up, drinking in the sunlight and rain as they never had a chance to do while its canopy sheltered them. As the trunk of the fallen tree decays and settles into the soil, more plants grow on it, drawing nourishment from it so that it still supports the life of the forest. It reminds me of the reconstruction work on the Grand Canal - the builders are using the broken stones from the ruins in their mortar.
'Because the falling of the great trees has been, for us, the loss of parents and beloved friends, naturally we have not immediately leaped up as the saplings do. We have taken our time to find our way, to secure our positions at home. Now it is time to plan for the future, and ensure that the forest grows tall once more, and is never razed.'
She stopped speaking. There was a silence in the room, interrupted after a moment by the entrance of a maid bringing in the tea-tray. Everyone was occupied for a few minutes with the business of pouring out, asking for milk or sugar, and settling themselves once again. Only the praying monk took no notice of the business around him.
'I don't know,' Millerna said, 'if my words have moved you as I would wish.'
'I thought they were wonderful,' Serena said warmly. 'Especially the forest metaphor. You sustained that really well.' She looked mildly embarrassed at the literary tone of her praise and took a sip of her tea. The steam from her cup was making her nose pinker.
'Your Majesty,' said the writing monk, 'I wish, if I may, to take your words home to our people, to show them with what a wise and gracious queen we are allied.' He sounded sincere.
'I would consider that an honour,' Millerna said. Her eyes met Allen's again; he was smiling, silently applauding her.
'You mean we've all got to grow up more - right?' said Cid. He had been looking a little lost during the talk of trees.
'That's right,' Millerna told him. 'And we need to decide specifically what to do about Zaibach and Basram, and to put our plans into action.'
Van cleared his throat. 'I don't see what we can do about Basram. Personally, I'm very unwilling to fall back into militarism. If you prepare for war, you get war.'
'I don't think we can do anything about Basram now,' Serena said, 'which is why you really should look into Zaibach. I don't pretend to know all about every aspect of the technology developed there, but I can tell you that if you had floating fortresses, and could upgrade your melefs to the capabilities of Alseides or Oreades, using the production line facilities there, you would be much more secure. Think about how useful the Stealth Manteaux would be. I'm sure your brother, Van, would be happy to know they were being used to protect people, rather than being weapons of aggression.'
Van looked hard at her. Of course, that was why she was there; the expert on Zaibach. She sat there in the livery of a Knight of Heaven, balancing a teacup on her knee while she wiped her nose again, but for a moment his mind's eye clothed her in red and black. Was she too keen to have access to those kinds of weapons again?
'I've waited to say this until I could say it to you all together,' Serena went on, tucking her handkerchief back up her sleeve. 'I don't know what you will think about it, but since you asked for my opinion, as someone with experience, here goes. The people of Zaibach have been conditioned over many generations to trust and look up to a strong leader, an absolute ruler. They had such continuity and control from Lord Dornkirk that to many of them it must feel as though the world has ended now he's gone. That's another great tree that's fallen, if I can use your metaphor, Millerna. What I think you need to do is sort of transplant your power, or graft some of it to their root, so that as you grow as rulers, you can take in Zaibach as well. Not occupation so much as adoption. I really believe most people would be grateful to have strong government again. By all accounts life there now is chaos. If no new form of order is going to rise out of that, order imposed from outside is the only way.
'You see, I remember Zaibach in what a lot of those people will remember as the good times. It's true that there was not a lot of freedom but there was always certainty, and everyone was provided for by the state. We were told that we were the chosen people of destiny, that there was a special place in the world waiting for us, and that we would be the architects of our own glorious future. A whole nation was united in a dream. That was a very good feeling, that certainty and clarity of action.'
'Yes,' Van said. 'Isn't life simple when you know you're right all the time?'
'I didn't say it was right. I know it wasn't right,' Serena said irritably. 'Would I be sitting here with you now if I thought it was right? Jeez.'
'She's just trying to help,' Cid said to Van. 'Don't be mean.'
'Van's allowed to ask questions,' Allen said. 'This is his decision too.' It was the first time he had spoken up and it seemed to annoy Cid more. He folded his short arms over his chest and said 'I think you should listen to Serena, because she's been there and none of us have and she knows more about it than you do.'
'Actually, I have been to Zaibach,' Van said. 'I went twice during the war.'
'Only very briefly,' Allen reminded him. 'Serena has the memories of ten years of everyday life there.'
'Thank you for bringing that to my attention,' Van said, with an edge of sarcasm on his voice.
'I think what Serena has to say is very interesting,' Millerna said, 'but of course I understand Van's concerns about reviving that kind of mentality.'
'That's not what I was saying,' Serena protested. 'You won't get that kind of mentality just from giving them leadership. It depends what the leaders are like. Getting rid of the destiny propaganda would make a huge difference. Just getting people to live day by day, rather than always aiming for a goal in the stars, would make things better. But they can't do that without order and structure for their lives.'
'Who are we to impose order on them, anyway?' Van asked.
'Well, we're the people with order to impose,' Serena said. 'It's one of those "because we can" situations. You were saying earlier, if not us, who else? I'll tell you who else, Basram. I don't know what's going on there at the moment, but they must be interested, and they won't stay quiet forever. They'll move. Or one of the other nations. Everyone suffered losses. Everyone's got the opportunity Millerna's talking about.'
'But our situation is unique,' Millerna put in, 'because we are three nations united in purpose. Or we should be. Surely you can see the sense in what she's saying.'
'I think you planned this before I got here,' Van said. 'You know Cid will go along with it because he's a child and your nephew besides, and you got your arguments all worked out together so you could stonewall me when I arrived. Talk about a monstrous regiment of women.'
'We didn't,' Millerna said, at the same time as Cid exclaimed 'I will not!' and Allen said 'That kind of attitude will get us nowhere.' Serena was opening her mouth to say something angry too when the praying monk suddenly thrust out one hand, palm forward, in a motion that said 'stop' to all of them. There was a hushed pause as they all stared at him, waiting for him to move again or speak.
'Brother Arctu has chosen a life of silent meditation,' the writing monk explained. 'He speaks aloud only when there is something that must be said. Peaceful harmony is sacred to him and it pains him deeply to sense the disruptive energy of angry voices.'
'He came to hear what we were going to say,' Cid said, looking a little shamefaced. 'He said he thought it was important.'
'These were the first audible words he had spoken for fourteen years,' the writing monk added.
Brother Arctu looked around at all of them. He had slightly watery hound-dog eyes, with an expression of reproachful placidity. He held each of them with his gaze for a moment, then softly closed his eyes and resumed his silent prayers.
Millerna took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. 'I think we have all heard a great deal that we need to consider carefully before making any decisions. In any case, it is getting close to dinner-time. I hope that this can be an agreeable social visit, as well as an occasion to accomplish business, and that our conversation at table tonight can be untroubled by these considerations.' She smiled at them all, brightly. Van was still disgruntled but he knew better than to deliberately upset a pregnant woman.
'I'm sorry about my attitude,' he said. 'I want to protect our countries as much as anyone.'
'No apology is necessary, Van,' Millerna said, although Serena looked mollified. 'Perhaps we should all go our own ways, and rest and refresh ourselves before meeting again for dinner. I'm sure that will help us to see things in perspective. Let's not discuss this again until morning, when we have had a chance to sleep on it.' She rose, and immediately Allen was on his feet too, offering her his arm, seeing her gently out of the room. That seemed to be it for the moment. Van looked at the portfolio between him and Arctu and wondered precisely how much use it was going to be. It would be a shame if all Meruru's careful work was for nothing. He would have to read it all through again and see what he could find. Cid turned to Serena and said eagerly 'Will you show me the treasure box?'
'All right,' Serena said. 'We can look at it before we have to dress for dinner.' She turned to Van. 'I'll send the housekeeper to show you where your rooms are.'
'Thank you,' he said. The woman knight and the boy monarch left the room hand in hand. The writing monk wiped his pen on a cloth, corked up his inkhorn and sighed.
'Well, that was interesting,' he said. 'I'm Brother Ailo, by the way. It's an honour to meet you, Van-sama.'
'A pleasure,' Van said. 'Listen, how do you think all this is going to turn out?'
'Oh, we're all going to die,' Brother Ailo said confidently.
Van looked at him aghast. 'I don't think it's that bad,' he said.
'No, taking the long view, we are definitely all going to die,' said the monk. He had a wry smile. 'It's what we do before then that matters, if anything we do can be said to really matter in the greater scheme of things. I always find that helpful to keep in mind. If you'll excuse me, even monks have to answer the call of nature.' He got up and left the room. Van was alone with the silent Brother Arctu. The room seemed to get quieter with every passing minute.
'Um. Thank you for what you did before,' he said. Brother Arctu smiled, but of course didn't say anything.
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