Patience
A/N: well, I for one thought it was appalling that we never know what happened to Thorold, who so faithfully followed his master, Lord Asriel into imprisonment and devoted himself to him, but never getting the same respect back, from anyone. When all was said and done, he was just forgotten. I hope to right this slur on his honour.
Summary: The fate of Thorold, Asriel's manservant, after the war, and what happened to him as the world moved on.
They say that patience is a virtue.
For Serafina Pekkala, this meant she had very little virtue indeed.
The bitter northern winds had been a relief to her when she first felt it upon her bare skin. As the climate re-adjusted itself from Asriel's first chasm, the cold was returning to the north. The ice had returned, and with it, the bears. She felt the winds of her homeland on her face, and felt homesickness, even in so brief a time of separation. But the night before, the heavy storms had snapped her cloud pine clean in half. As the morning came, she was tossed through the air by the storm winds. She remembered falling... thankfully she was not hurt, even with a broken cloud pine. But until she found another tree, she was grounded here, near Svalbard.
And worse still, Kaisa, her daemon, was gone.
She stamped her foot in frustration. She was stuck on the ground, in Svalbard.
She didn't fear the bears; they were her friends and allies now, and would treat her with respect; but she just wanted to get back home, now that everything was over. Now that everything was finally over. She shivered. The realisation suddenly made her acutely aware of the cold.
It seemed centuries she had been waiting for this day. Peace could come at last, now the church had been subdued.
Peace... at last.
She would heal her land. She would make firm allies of queen Ruta Skadi. There would be peace; at least, more peaceful that it was. The church would still be out to get them, weakened though they were. She wondered what happened to the witches that were loyal to the church. The thought made her angry. Those who joined the Church were fools! And she had killed them like they had killed her own.
It was a great tragedy for the witches in the Battle. Assembled all together, an armada in the air: against what? The angels lost huge numbers, but when they died they went and were forgotten.
But the witches... who could count the female corpses that littered the field? They were many yes; and they could fly, yes, using magic against ghasts and men: but what good were their wooden bows and simple knives against machines? Tanks, engines, guns. The armada was assembled to die. The thought made her bitter against Asriel, may he rest in peace, and Xaphania.
Thank god her own had been wise enough to follow her away to a different mission. There was shame, of course, in Serafina Pekkala's memories. She had survived, but she had not spent service on the battlefield. She had not fought like the other clan queens. She had lived while the fighters serving her died. She was helping Will and Lyra, she told herself. Helping them get something more out of life. They were gone now, both of them. Lyra she would see again; but Will she could not; and there was always her sister Mary, she and Will in a different land in a different world.
She sat pensively on a rock, utterly uncertain of what to do next. As she absent-mindedly scratched her broken cloud pine with a fingernail, a few armoured bears came by, carrying fish. They nodded to her politely, identifying her of a clan friendly to them, and continued with their conversation.
"--Iorek Byrnison may have forgotten, then it is up to us to remind him. He will know what to do."
"Perhaps it will be too late. A good man lies there, alone. I fear for how long he would live. I curse his master's irresponsibility, despite his supposed heroism in the war."
"Did you ask his name?"
"No. I was a guard. I guarded them. I never talked to them. I had orders to kill them if anything happened."
The other bear scoffed.
"The man was Lord Asriel; everyone knew that. But I think the servant was called Thorold..."
Serafina's head jerked up.
Thorold. She knew that name. She knew that man. It was he she had flown to for counsel after Lyra disappeared. It was he who was Asriel's manservant during his prison in Svalbard. It was he who had sworn to wait for his master to return. And where was he now?
She stood up so fast the bears turned and nearly growled, their silver armour slinking around their forms smoothly.
"Bears! You speak of a man named Thorold?" she cried.
"Aye," one said dubiously, "What do you know of him, witch?"
"I am Serafina Pekkala, from Lake Anara, bear. I am grounded here because of the storm this morning. My cloud pine branch is broken and I cannot fly until I find another tree."
"Queen Serafina Pekkala," the other bear replied, bowing in respect, "My king speaks highly of you. As for your problem, I can tell you that there is a pine forest a few miles ahead of you, in the direction of the sun. I hope you can find what you are looking for there."
"Thank you for your aid." She bowed in turn, "But another thing: you spoke of a man named Thorold. I myself knew this man as an acquaintance briefly, before the Battle. Will you tell me, what has become of him?"
The bears looked at each other hesitantly. The larger one finally spoke.
"He has been forgotten, Serafina Pekkala. Lord Asriel died, and no one came for him. I was a guard at that house when Asriel still resided there. The servant is old. His health is failing. Will you visit him, Serafina Pekkala?"
"I will. I have much to say to that man."
At that moment, the smaller of the bears looked up at the sky. Serafina followed his gaze, and saw: in the distance, a white bird coming toward her, with a long graceful neck and snowy wings.
"Serafina, Serafina!" the white goose cried happily. Her daemon had returned. She laughed in joy, and her arms opened to receive it.
Night came swiftly for the lone Queen, and she could see no pine forest anywhere. Her feet were tired from walking so far; she did not remember when she had suffered so before. She sent Kaisa to look for the forest, and waited.
She sat herself down rigidly on a patch of bare grass, sheltered by some boulders, and breathed in relief. Closing her eyes tightly, she concentrated, her lips moving silently.
A few moments later, a small flame burst vividly from the grass before her feet, illuminating the darkness like a beacon.
There was really no need; she did not mind the cold, after all, nor did she need light in the fleeting darkness; but to sit down without a fire seemed wrong to her, and it would help Kaisa find her again in the darkness, as well as frighten away any unwelcome intruders. Contented, she rested, and idled.
She did not have long to wait. A windy, swooping sound woke her from a brief slumber. Kaisa had returned, and he had brought help. Three witches descended from the sky, and were standing haughtily in front of her; not of her own clan, but of a clan neutral to hers, bordering on friendly. They bowed, making gestures of respect. Their daemons: a wren, a sparrow hawk and a blackbird clustered about them, their black eyes curious and haughty.
"Queen Serafina Pekkala," the one with the sparrow hawk daemon said, "We saw your signal from above. Are you in need of aid?"
"Thank you," Serafina cried, relieved, "I'm afraid I lost my cloud pine in the early storm, and I am grounded. I was searching for a pine forest that some panserbjorne directed me to, but it is dark now, and I cannot find it so on foot."
One of the witches stepped forward. Her wren daemon hopped onto her shoulders.
"I am Mirja Koslovka." She said, in a shy tone, "We flew by a large forest not long ago. Then your daemon found us, and told us what you have just said. If you wish, I will fly back and fetch you a suitable cloud pine. My fellows can fly onward - I will catch up."
Serafina thanked her graciously for her charity. The other witches bade their fellow farewell, and departed, their silky garments rustling eerily in the cool air.
She waited, as Mirja and her daemon flew up with them, and then turned in the opposite direction, heading for the forest. The witches could have left her, but it would be a slur on their own pride, and also an insult to a clan-queen, which would have ensured in their swift demise and retribution. The witches had no concept of honour, but they knew well about revenge.
As she waited, she caught two hares with her bow, and skinned them deftly. By the time Mirja returned carrying an extra cloud pine branch, there were several pieces of roasted meat, smoking gently by the fire.
"Thank you," she stood up, taking the young girl's hand and embracing her, "This debt is mine. Come; join me for a meal. You must be hungry."
The two witches sat down and ate their meat eagerly. There was no table: there were no table manners.
"I do not come from here," Mirja told the queen, "But my family moved to the ice when I was very small. When I was fifteen, I realised that I was... different. I changed my name, and trekked across the ice desert, leaving Feratthis." She gestured to the wren, who said nothing. Kaisa tried to nudge close to the wren, to socialise in the way daemons do, but it edged away, shy.
"How long have you travelled about here?"
"A while. I was guarding my home in the war."
"Tell me, have you been near the house that the bears made for Lord Asriel? Can you tell me where it is?"
To the queen's surprise, the girl blushed, hastily saying no and shaking her head. Her wren flew toward her, and nestled near her neck.
After their brief repast, Serafina gave her a token of debt and thanks: a red flower from her garland, and the two parted graciously; Serafina taking her new pine branch.
"Farewell, and blessings to you, Mirja Koslovka!" she cried as they both soared into the air. Mirja headed north, and Serafina envied her – there lay her home too; but for now, she had something to attend to.
South she flew once again, feeling the wind in her raven hair, tasting ice rain in the air.
"Did you notice how quiet her daemon was?" said Kaisa as they both flew together in time.
"Yes. But it is not unusual. You are too suspicious, Kaisa. She was a shy girl, that was all."
"When you asked her about Asriel's house, she blushed, and her daemon covered her eyes with her wings. Are you certain she does not know something that we should?"
Serafina said nothing. This was a time of peace, she kept telling herself. There should be no more conspiracies, especially not among witches.
She passed woods, small lakes and even saw tiny human settlements in the distance. The world was truly her oyster; beautiful and flat like the inside of a shell. The wind rustled around her, she relished it, from the hair on her head to the toes on her feet. To be able to look down upon the world was an amazing, divine, yet lonely thing. She soared upward through some light cloud, which left her skin and hair feeling moist. When she tired of the snow-white cloudscape, she descended once more, feeling floating rain as she passed through the dense cloud. And then, she saw it:
A tiny building, surrounded by ash. She descended swiftly, noticing that smoke was coming out of a chimney.
The house was still as impressive as before, with the huge magnificent windows of glass – some smashed – and the heavy oaken door, badly marked by scratches. As she walked closer to it, she saw that it was open.
Her feet crunched in the soft, already trodden snow outside the house. Her sharp eyes picked up the signs of scuffle. They saw the harassed snow, and the minute blood spots that led unfalteringly to the house. There was a broken rifle by the door, half buried under the dirt.
There was trepidation in her heart, and she gripped hard the long knife that she always kept hidden at her side.
Her feet tread lightly over the threshold. The hallway was carpeted in red, but she spotted darker crimson patches that could only be one thing.
Softly, she went up the stairs, her feet cold against the stone steps.
"There is danger here still," Kaisa whispered urgently in her ear, "We should not have come here." But Serafina was resolute.
The upstairs landing was in slightly better condition, but even here she could smell the distinct excrement of cliff ghasts. She went into the first room, which was the grand chamber. There was a large bed, with rich bedding and elegant scattered furniture: this was Asriel's former room. She ran her finger over an armoire; it was thick with dust.
A small noise made her turn sharply.
It was the sound of laboured breathing.
"Who is there?" she said sternly, showing no fear.
"Please... help..." said a voice, quiet and husked. It was coming from down the corridor.
She stepped lightly, and exited the room, marching tenaciously to the next room. She took a breath, and pushed open the door.
This room was not as grand as the first; it was a servant's quarters. The furniture was soft wood, and simple. There was a small commode and a narrow metal-framed bed, under which she saw him
"Help me..." Thorold cried hoarsely from under the bed. He was lying on the floor, and blood was pooling around his body. His dog daemon was whining at his side, its body bruised and battered.
Serafina did not reply, but instantly got down to her knees and pulled out the aged man. Kaisa used her rounded beak to nudge the whining hound daemon onto its feet. She stumbled clumsily, and fell again.
"Are you an angel?" the man asked hoarsely. His lips were parched.
"No," Serafina answered, she tugged him out. There was a nasty gash in his side, of which the blood had clotted. As she helped him up, she saw that one of his legs was broken. He gave a small moan of pain.
"The ghasts... they came... two days ago," he sighed for breath, as Serafina lowered him weakly onto the bed, "Water." He murmured.
"I will return." Serafina said, and then went back downstairs.
The kitchen was in disarray. Most of the pantry had been plundered, and there was ghast foul in the corner. However, there was still some water left in the freshwater barrel. She scourged around the cupboards, and found some chocolatl, some biscuits and a few raggedy looking tea leaves. She tried boiling the water on the stove, which had very little fuel left, and adding the tea leaves to the hot water. The water went a dark colour. She remembered that you had to drain out the tea, and add milk and sugar, but there was no fresh milk around here, and the sugar had all been spilt onto the floor. Instead, she tried adding some of the chocolatl to sweeten it.
With tray and food in hand, she went back upstairs to serve her new casualty.
"Serafina Pekkala," the man cried, overwhelmed, when she entered, "What twist of fate brought you to me? I thought I had been forgotten."
She smiled serenely at him, and gave him the tea. If she hadn't been stranded, and overheard the two bears, he would have. He drank, coughing slightly. He winced at the taste.
"I'm sorry, I have no—"
"It is quite alright," he said kindly, "I have not tasted water for days. Usually, I am the one doing the serving. It makes a change to be served, and by a witch too! For your compassion I am truly grateful." He drained the cup, and leaned back on his pillows, sighing contentedly. His eyes were drooping sadly.
"When did the ghasts come?" she asked him.
"It was two days ago," the dog daemon by his side spoke up, "We shot at them before that, but this time, one of them caught us from the back. We were knocked out. We tried defending ourselves, but they tore at us with their claws, and we hid as they destroyed the house."
"Do the bears know of this?" Serafina said. She took a spare shirt that was lying on a chair, and tore off both sleeves, wrapping it into a tight bandage. Urging him to sit up, she wrapped it around his wound. It would have to do for now.
"They do not. After Asriel left, they have come regularly to bring supplies for one, and water. The last time they came was five days ago. They were concerned about me, and how I was alone here. But I had vowed to wait for my master."
"Your master is dead." Serafina said abruptly.
"I know. I knew that long before. They bears told me. Now I have no purpose in this land, but where can I go, I ask you, and how can I go?"
Serafina did not answer. She did not know, herself. She was still unclear about why she came here in the first place – though she was not regretting it – she had no friendship with this man, save to pump him for information the one time.
But now he was alone.
"You will rest." She said, in a simple statement, a command, "I will fix your leg, and heal your wound. When you are fully healed, I will take you to King Iorek Byrnison. You will go to Jordan College, and find Lyra. Perhaps she and her tutors could do something for you. I will return to my clan."
"Will you leave me?" he said, almost urgently. Serafina looked at him, and saw in those aged eyes a young man, lost and injured. She saw in him something of herself. She saw in him Farder Coram.
"Not yet," she said, "You will have to wait."