Rhianon-7. Queen of Vinor
Natalie Yacobson
Translator Natalia Lilienthal
© Natalie Yacobson, 2022
© Natalia Lilienthal, translation, 2022
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
Death and the Queen
Waking up, Rhianon was surprised that the town had not yet rung the alarm bell to warn people of the disaster. The words of the angel she met on the street last night were unequivocal. It would be time for the alarm bells to ring. However, the city outside the window was unusually quiet. Rhianon squinted at the bright daylight flooding her bedroom. She didnt immediately notice the black birds flying outside the window. Crows again? Squinting sleepily, she peered out the window. From here she could see the peaked towers with their brass plating glistening in the sun, the spires of the town hall, and the cathedrals. And everywhere she could see the black specks of feathered creatures flying by. Whole flocks flew over the city.
«They were flying away,» the spirit whispered in her ear. He was awake, but at least he did not disturb her during the night. He must have been a bit gallant, after all, to let her sleep.
«I see,» she admitted that she didnt feel like shed slept much, but she couldnt stay in bed any longer. If the agitated court was already seething against her, then it was time to pack up and disappear. As the instigator of an unwanted war, she could only find herself insulted in Vinor. That means there will be no visit from the angel of death in three days. Or rather, there will be, but to her. If she is denied support here, she does not care that the disease will consume the city. Let herself be. Rhianon felt no pangs of conscience as she prepared to go.
Someone had left her beautiful new clothes. Examining the neatly folded bundles, Rhianon guessed that they were not the work of the kings tailors, but a work of magical art. The spinsters had done their best. They may have been scheming, but they knew what they were doing. The night passed and they had already made for her a cloak framed with gold lace as thin as cobwebs, several luxurious outfits: green, blue and, to her displeasure, bright red. Though the latter was the prettiest, she wouldnt dare wear it. And where is the camisole she had ordered. Right now it was far more important to her than dressy rags. Otherwise, how else could she leave the castle unnoticed unless she changed into a man? Under the three folds, Rhianon finally found the last one. The camisole, the shirt, the breeches, everything was in place. The black velvet blended gracefully with the intricate pattern of delicate white lace on the cuffs and collar. How beautiful and discreet. She had expected a brightly colored tunic, like all the courtiers dandies. The black and white tones reminded her of something.
Rhianon remembered, and almost let the garment out of her hands. It was the uniform of a student of the School of Witchcraft black velvet and white lace, with witchcraft symbols skillfully woven into the pattern. Rhianon already recognized them in the intricate ligature. No, she would never wear this. Otherwise, the effect might be unpredictable. She would be bewitched, driven mad, dragged into a cursed place.
«Dont be silly,» the spirit reassured her. «This will protect you.»
Little did she believe it, and yet the black velvet felt so lovely to the touch.
What better to wear her atypical red dress or this costume» Rhianon thought briefly. The camisole fit her like a glove.
«You didnt seem pregnant at all,» the soft voice whispered.
Frankly, she didnt know what was supposed to be happening to her. Her waist was still thin, even thinner than before. The tight clothing accentuated the boyish slimness. Rhianon glanced in the mirror; the simpler the outfit, the more dazzling her own beauty seemed.
There was one detail of her outfit that was missing. She lacked a hat that would hide her hair and make her look like a boy. And she would have needed a sword-band, or at least a short sword. What would a court dandy be without a richly instructed weapon? She didnt feel like a court dandy. Strict and beautiful at the same time, the clothes were suitable only for a privileged and, of course, a chosen apprentice a magician from the School of Witchcraft. Rhianon didnt regret at all that she hadnt stayed there. She wondered if Madael would have found her there. He might have. After all, everything to do with witchcraft applied to him in one way or another. He would have noticed her there and loved her.
She could have cut her hair, of course, but Rhianon didnt dare. It was too thick and beautiful. It would probably grow back in just one night, but she wasnt going to risk it.
She took one last look around the luxurious bedroom and grabbed the doorknob.
«Hey, where are you going, theyll recognize you!» The spirit resented her, but Rhianon paid no attention. She only twisted her hair into a loose braid and threw it over her shoulder.
The castle really looked like a beehive. The maids scurried forward with trays, not even recognizing Rhianon. A page fell at her feet. Rhianon pushed the frightened heralds out of her way and went toward the throne room. She wondered what was being said. She had expected to hear the Councilors protesting the war they had contemplated, arguing against the foreign princess and her designs, but to her surprise the castle was full of entirely different rumors. Either the spinsters had miscalculated, or something far more frightening had happened. Rhianon could hear the anxious courtiers whispering in corridors and alcoves, but their suspicious conversations never mentioned war or the royal marriage with the witch-like tendencies of the new claimant to the throne. Rhianon listened. They spoke of death, but not about war.
She was uncomfortable standing near someone for a long time and eavesdropping on their conversation, but as it turned out she could distinguish the voices speaking even at a decent distance.
She could hear every conversation in town, let alone in the castle, if she wanted to. She just didnt realize it right away. As soon as she singled some people out from the crowd, she could hear only their words, no matter how far away they were from her. It was even interesting. Thus she learned a great deal and involuntarily shuddered.
The courtiers were anxious and the servants were on the verge of panic. The servants had to go out into town, for example, to the market stalls or to meet the carriages, and disease was already rampant in the city.
«I presume it was the children who died first?» Rhianon turned to the spirit. She didnt think he would answer, wasnt even sure if he was there now, but the voice came back.
«And dont think. Innocent people always die first though if you look at the moment from your spouses point of view, that is, from heaven, you can see things differently and thus it turns out that there are no innocents. Everyone is guilty of something. For example, the fact that he came into the world.»
«Leave your comments,» she demanded.
«Well, Id better stop talking, then.»
Thats what shed wanted him to do more than anything, but not now.
«There are enough people here to keep you entertained,» he finally said.
«Wait! What is in the city?»
«Why dont you listen and see for yourself,» he advised.
Rhianon listened. All the sounds of the city below came to her in one cacophony. But then, after a second, she began to distinguish between the various sources of sound. Here a carriage carrying barrels of wine rode along the sidewalk, there lace-makers and embroiderers pulled the thread, their fingers slipped quietly over the fabric, somewhere dogs barked as if they sensed the approach of death, spiders weaved webs on the walls of houses, priests read a prayer over the deceased, but not near the deathbed, but kept at a distance. They, too, are afraid of getting sick. How many people have died in the city already? Rhianon listened to the conversations of the people in the streets. According to them, quite a few were already out, and even more were sick. But if you count by the size of Vinor, the number wasnt too frightening yet.
«Its convenient to be here and hear them all,» the spirit whispered again. «You know how to do that, unlike me.»
«And you, unlike me, can see through walls,» she retorted, not even thinking much about whether he was joking or serious. No one in the crowded and homophobic hall noticed that she was talking to the emptiness over her shoulder.
«You had better be queen here, no one would dare argue that your inheritance should be returned. Its always more pleasant to stand up for something that wont go far from the family later than it is to stand up for an outsiders property.»
«What are you talking about?» She involuntarily perked up, even stopped eavesdropping on the others conversations. The spirit alerted her. She had already guessed what he was going to say next and still she clenched her fists angrily.
«You see, if Loretta is to be considered a mere legacy of the local queen, not a nation of its own, then no one would be strong enough to refuse its conquest. In the meantime, youre just a guest, and helping you, much less your country, is a moot point. Who wants to go to war over someone elses land?»
What a flattering voice and what a mean one. If it belonged to a man of flesh and blood, Rhianon would fight.
«Loretta will never be a province,» she hissed. «My country will remain mine.»
«Yes, as it is yours now,» he taunted her.
The sting was very tangible.
«Youd better accept it, my dear, because youve already sacrificed your maidenhood, and youve had nothing to gain by it. No ones made you a queen of evil spirits. Although, if Im not mistaken, your lover promised it, and yet youre still picking up the crumbs of what he should have given you in full. The situation is different here; not all men lie, and not every man is in such a free political position that he can lie to you. Ferdinand is bound because his subjects are flesh and blood. Even if he does not want to keep his oath, a whole staff of advisers will persuade him, and duty to the people will compel him. Every ruler wants to annex a piece of another country to his own. And here is such a tidbit as a whole kingdom I wonder how the king of any other country wouldnt want to get you as his heiress. And if he was already married himself, there would always be single relatives. In this case it would be Leon, whom you have fortunately already got rid of. With your dowry no one would just let you go.»
«Loretta is not just my dowry, its my kingdom and only I can rule it.»
«You will only rule your dreams if you dont compromise.»
Now she was really angry. As painful as it was, he had hit the mark. It was impossible not to admit it, only she didnt want to. Facing the truth was always too painful. Rhianon wanted to turn away from him and end the conversation, only she didnt know whether he was behind her, at her shoulder, or right in front of her face. The voice sounded very close, and still it was impossible to ascertain exactly where the disembodied being was. She turned on her heels anyway, and suddenly noticed that one man had separated himself from the crowd and was standing watching her. A minute passed, and he still did not join any of the gossiping groups of courtiers. Apparently he was struck by the fact that a girl in a mans suit was standing and talking to an empty space. He looked at her as if she were the only one in the room. Rhianon straightened up proudly and looked back. She must not show that he had caught her off guard. No display of consternation or embarrassment. That was what she had been taught at court when her father and the teachers he had hired were still alive. A princess must never lose her temper under any circumstances.
She tried to assess her opponent. It was no astrologer. Judging by the rich attire and gown he could be identified as a royal advisor. He was about to advise Ferdinand to send her out of the country.
Rhianon tensed inwardly.
«Yes, what are you worried about, there will soon be nothing left of the country if the disease spreads,» the spirit interjected again. He must have intended to ruin her, since he was always in the most inopportune situations, deliberately provoking her. Rhianon did not want to fail again. She pulled herself together and tried to address him only mentally, without opening her mouth.
«You were the one who urged me to stay in this country and to stay with Ferdinand. You were the one who told me to hold on to this country and Ferdinand.» She wondered.
«The dance of death has begun but that doesnt mean it cant end at any moment. You have to learn to see the bright side of life. Youre in the mood for mourning, but there are still wedding bells ringing all around you.»
She thought his joke was ridiculous, which she told him just as mentally.
«Its not a joke, dear,» he sulked. «Im always serious, unlike you.»
«I can tell,» she hummed slightly, keeping her gaze on the man watching her. He tilted his head slightly in deference, catching her gaze as if she were already queen. Rhianon didnt like that. It was as if he could see right through her and noticed something about her that wasnt worth spoiling his relationship with her for now. Or he had already calculated the future and concluded that the new queen must be served. Shes not queen yet unless the soothsayers had predicted otherwise.
Rhianon sighed in relief as the heralds blew their horns announcing the arrival of the king. Now she would be gone in the commotion and most likely she would never come back.
«Wait, how could it be?»
She could almost feel someone clawing at her shoulder, but his fingers were intangible, so they only glided over the fabric, barely touching it. And still her collar was crumpled. Rhianon reached out grudgingly to straighten it. If only she could have calculated that in the next few moments the royal procession would have stopped beside her. Naturally Ferdinand had no trouble recognizing her in any outfit. And of course he invited her back to take a seat on the throne dais next to him. He probably didnt even notice how strangely she was dressed. Were it not for the turmoil that reigned around her, Rhianon would have felt rather ridiculous in her boyish attire. But now it was as if everything was in its place. The frightened people were whispering about something unbelievable. Their settled world was already upside down. Some said death was coming to the palace, others claimed to have seen it in the dark alleys of Vinor, still others prayed. Some didnt want to believe it, some of the court poets were already sketching for poems, some ladies were fainting and being served snuff salt. Rhianon herself would have been dizzy if she had been laced up in a tight corset like the other ladies. The rumors flying around the hall were disturbing. She frowned, remembering the angels promise to wait three days until the city was almost deserted. From all the talk around her, the stranger who called himself death was scheduled to come today. The royal guards saw him outside the castle. All he did was touch people and they fell dead. Those he left alive carried his message. He would come to the court. There was nothing more the frightened people could report. Rhianon examined her own hand questioningly, the angel had also touched it, and more than once, but it was still alive. He could empty the city in one day. Why would he need three? Rhianon pondered tensely, and the people parted in advance, preparing a wide passageway for the guest who was not yet there. No one wanted to get in his way, much less feel his destructive touch. The time seemed to be approaching, and he was still not there.