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Chapter 21: New Branches, Old Roots

Aside from the king and his advisor, Tehlina was the first beast in Gryning to hear the news. She hadn't properly steeled herself and it came like a slap across the face. She recoiled on her cushion, nearly spilling her tea.

"Dead? The Aventh?" she regained her composure and set her tea down on the little table that separated her from the others. Iloshi and two others sat across from her, skunks all, wearing the robes of the Shaid. They all looked like misfits, like they'd suffered often. Iloshi's face was covered in scars, and the one named Elesh was missing both eyes. The third, named Temra, had no hand, and when the hem of his sleeve fell back there was nothing but a gnarled stump of an arm, the flesh at the wrist pink and scarred. She tried not to look at any of their deformities for long.

"How can it be that he's died with no warning?" she said.

"It was sudden for us as well," Iloshi said. "Death came swiftly; he didn't suffer."

"Was he in ill health?"

"It was a fever," the one called Elesh spoke. He was as calm and collected as the other, despite the circumstances. They were trained individuals. They would not speak out of turn or in haste. Every word was chosen carefully and spoken with a deliberate tongue.

"Yes," Iloshi added, "A fever. It came in the night, with the setting of the sun. By dawn he was no more."

Tehlina looked between the three of them, searching for a sign that they were lying. Anything at all. They were composed, sure. They gave no indication of revoking their statement. Temra fiddled with the hem of his sleeves but his face was sure, and he still said nothing.

"I'm sorry," she said, "But it's just a lot to hear right now."

"It's been hard for all of us," Iloshi said. "Himmel is a bit chaotic right now. They've elected a temporary Aventh, a wolf named Shelath; he's doing his best to keep things under control."

The skunk named Temra brought his one hand forcefully down on the table.

"This is it, Iloshi," he said. "We're here. Gryning. Shouldn't we tell her?"

"Tell me what?" Tehlina asked. She waited for an answer, but the other two were just looking at Temra. They didn't look calm anymore, their fur raised, their noses twitching. Iloshi smoothed the fur on his face and turned back to the high priestess, his voice bearing just a trace of doubt, or worry.

"I'd meant to broach the subject a little more... delicately."

He folded his hands together within the sleeves of his robes and laid them both in his lap.

"Tell me, High Priestess Tehlina - Have you ever had a dream you couldn't explain?"

Tehlina leaned forward towards the three.

"Is this about dreams?" she asked. "I thought this was about the Aventh."

"You have, haven't you?" Iloshi smiled. "You know what the scriptures say about dreams. About the possibilities they show, things that can happen, things that will happen, things that may turn out to be true. Surely you've heard about this before?"

"Yes, of course. I'm the high priestess of this chapel," she drew herself up before them. "I'm well versed in the scriptures. What does this have to do with me?"

"Your reticence tells me that you don't want to talk about your dreams. That's all right. But at least tell us if you've been having strange dreams or not."

"Yes," she admitted. "I have."

Iloshi nodded.

"So have we," he said, gesturing to the others. "All three of us. That's why we came. Yes, the Aventh is dead, but the others don't care to find his replacement. They'd rather let his replacement carry on in his stead."

"The one named Shelath?"

"The very same," Elesh broke in again. His eyeless face focused on her so intently that she shivered. "But the Aventh didn't choose him. The others did. He's not the one. He'd never have been the one, had a real successor been chosen."

"What do you want in Gryning? What does this have to do with your dreams?"

"Simply put, we think we'll find the true successor here," Iloshi said. "We think - we believe - that the Flame communicates with living beasts, through dreams. With many beasts, and frequently. Is this crazy? Maybe. But we've seen proof. Why do you think some of us who are not wolves choose to follow the Order? The Flame is mysterious, and its ways are the ways of all life. If it has something to say, we will listen. And we have been guided here, to Gryning."

"The dreams," Tehlina said.

"The dreams," Iloshi agreed. "All three of us had the same one. We saw Gryning, and it was lit by a column of pure Flame. We knew it meant something, but didn't know what. Until the next morning, when we heard that the Aventh had died. That's when we knew. And we aren't ones to ignore the message of the Flame."

"And how do you think you'll find the next successor here, without anything else to go on."

"Well, we have to try."

They didn't seem to have anything else to say. They fidgeted a little, drinking their tea, and Tehlina studied them carefully.

"Let me tell you about a dream I had," she said. "I think you'll find this very interesting."

She told them all about the Flame descending on Himmel, consuming it whole. She told them about the fire she'd seen spring up in her own hands in the dream; but she left out the vision she'd had later, when she'd been speaking to Grehn. The vision of that deadbeast was better left unspoken of, she thought. But while she spoke, she saw that she'd captured the attention of the Shaid. They listened rapturously, letting the rest of their tea cool while they sat. When she finished, they looked at each other with awe.

"I think we'd better talk about this further," Iloshi said.

As his eyes opened, Vacka once more took in the scenery of the hills. Siljna's Hills. He cursed the name of that shunned and forgotten god, and of the hideous undead pup Kethke, who had grown into something vast and terrible. Morgara still glowed in his hands. He was only seconds removed from destroying that god, though his passage back into the realm of the living had felt like years.

Vacka stood, surveying the land around him. A creek ran through the plain, over the top of the nearby hill where he'd found the sword. He walked to the edge of the creek and rammed the sword into the shore, hilt jutting upward, then stooped to his knees.

The water was cool, splashed upon his face, and he tried to drink some. He grimaced. Brackish. The saltiness coated his tongue long after he'd spat it out; he tried sucking on the edge of his robe to erase the taste. While he did so, he caught his reflection in the surface of the water.

His yellow eyes looked almost dun. The blood vessels around their edges were clearly visible; meanwhile the fur on his face had grown long and ragged, their loose ends waving all around. He thought he looked like he'd been struck by lightning. Even his robe, once white as snow, was now a dull grey, except for the black patches where it was coated in dirt. He took the time to remove the robe and washed it in the water, restoring a little of its earlier coloration. But when he stripped he saw that his fur had grown ragged all over his body. Vacka submerged himself in the waters, letting the cool current carry the dirt from his limbs. He cleaned his claws and his teeth, and then removed the sword from the bank; with its sharp edge he trimmed the excess growth of fur. Then he spread his robe out to dry and lay in the sun.

He felt a renewed sense of purpose.

When the bond is broken, my power can be lent to any beast. And any beast who gains that power would become a god themself...

Rheuhl had promised him that. He didn't trust the immortal spirit -- what good reason could it have for severing that old bond, for creating a new one? And with him of all people? Vacka didn't want to think too closely about it. What's to stop you from getting somebeast else to kill me?

But as he lay there on the grass, he imagined that it had grown very cold all of a sudden, and then he lost the light of the day. He sat up quite quickly. All around him was the shadow of Rheuhl.

"You've done it," said the immortal.

"I killed your god," Vacka admitted. "What happens now?"

"What happens now is that I am free to rebond with a living beast."

"And why, exactly, would you do that?"

"Mmmm, need I explain all the ways of the immortals to you? Not that you would understand. Our methods, our motivations, they're not for mortals to comprehend."

"Try me."

"Such haste! I forget how quickly you all want to act, to speak, to fight. Very well, young one -- you want to know why I would form a new bond? Perhaps I see potential in you. Perhaps you could be a service to me and to my will."

"And why, exactly, would I want that? I don't seek a master."

"Mmm, but there's something else you want, yes? You desire a power. A greater power than even Kethke could lend you. You want that power to yourself. Tell me, young one, am I wrong?"

"You're saying, then, that if I bond myself to you you'll give me the power I want. But in return I will be your pawn."

"Pawn is a terrible word," Rheuhl said. "It suggests something like decision, something like choice. More accurately, it suggests that once you did have a choice, and by making you my pawn I will remove all your ability to make decisions. Mortal, I tell you now that no such thing exists. All actions in the world are guided by the whim and will of life, of death, and of the forces that guide and bind those things. Your own actions are already decided. By aligning yourself to me, you'll be sacrificing nothing, for already you have nothing. But your gains will be remarkable. You'll have power all to yourself, power unimaginable. And you will become one of the gods themselves. For generations you will be remembered, feared, praised; Vacka, the Hand of the Dark. One of the mightiest gods there ever was."

Vacka was very silent as he regarded the dark form around him. He thought about it quietly, then put both hands on the ground.

"If that's true, then you already know what I'm going to say."

"No, mortal. I am one of the driving forces of the world, the will of death embodied, but I do not know what will happen before it does. Even if it is already set in stone. I cannot read what will come next."

"Then I accept," Vacka said. "Make me a god."

The Molokhiin were dead, the guards deposed, and the prisoners freed. Many of them were guilty of some crime or another. Most of them were innocent. Valdigt and her companions freed them all, regardless. Many of them chose to stay behind - they didn't know where to go, so they set up a makeshift shelter inside the prison. The she-wolf Vjona stayed behind as their de facto leader, helping them transform the place into a home. The rest of them went their separate ways. The she-wolf Liahla lead a group of criminals and vagabonds back Grey Port, where they resumed whatever lives they'd been leading before their capture. The she-wolf Sentha lead a group of beasts Northwest towards Midport, leading them through the mountain passes of the Middle Isle. There they'd find new lives, as bakers, as merchants, as sailors - as anything but prisoners. The ones who were left behind, though they were few, joined Thess as members of her crew. The beasts she'd normally sailed with had been left behind in Grey Port, save for a few trusted beasts who helped her man the ropes. The Conqueror had been moored in a small bay between the cliffs, and navigating back out had taken the better part of their day. The waters were shallow and the rocks numerous. But Thess' crew was skilled, and many of the new beasts had been accomplished sailors themselves. One of them, a bold desert rat from Tern, took charge while Thess recuperated from her injury. His name was Shah, and he had been a sailor on the Sea of Unt before his capture and imprisonment. Thess had liked him immensely and appointed him to the temporary position.

"I promised I'd get ya to Brand," Thess had told Valdigt, then nodded at Shah. "That's a promise I'll keep. This'n help ya get there. Won'tcha, Shah?"

"But of course," he said, bowing low. His pointy nose nearly scraped the floorboards.

So they had chosen to continue down the Strait, and Valdigt, who knew nothing about sailing, had nothing to offer. Her shoulder wound ailed her, but she mostly tried to ignore it. Let it heal on its own, she thought. She tried exploring the ship, small though it was, or pacing up and down its decks, listening to Shah as he prattled on to her.

"Never deserve prison," he told Valdigt, while they sailed off the isle. "Me? Oh no, I never deserve prison. Far as anybeast else knew, that is. I commit many crimes in my time, oh yes. Many, many crimes. Small crimes though, nothing big; I never kill another beast. Only stealing. Stealing and smuggling. But was I caught? No, no, never, never. They put me away for nothing."

He was a good leader, and got along well with the other beasts. Valdigt liked him, and trusted him more now than she trusted Thess. She had had time to think about the things that had happened, and though she still couldn't remember the events of her capture, she knew the otter was at least partially responsible. Valdigt kept an eye on her, even though the captain spent most of her time lying in her bunk, fighting the pain of her wound. She spent the next few days perpetually drunk, or sometimes took lanesh to dull her senses. Lanesh was popularly used across the Middle Isle, where it grew naturally, and was used as a sort of sedative. The bright yellow flowers were easy to spot, and always had only three long petals; it had long, stringy roots, which were plucked off and ground into a fine powder. Herbalists and healers used it in poultices to numb pain, although many beasts snorted the powder, or lined their gums with it. It produced a gauzy numbness in its user, and beasts who used lanesh felt like their heads had been stuffed with cotton, their bodies anchored down with stones. Beasts often grew dependent on lanesh, and using it could be dangerous. Too much and the heart could slow completely. Valdigt kept an eye on Thess, making sure she didn't ever use too much at once. She felt sorry for the girl, who lay curled up in her bunk clutching her maimed arm. Whatever evil the otter had unleashed on her, she'd still saved her life, and been handicapped in the process. Valdigt felt somewhat responsible for the missing hand.

Valdigt sighed deeply, and the noise woke Thess from her drug-induced sleep. She smiled weakly, then winced in pain.

"I'm sorry," Thess said. "You must not trust me at all."

Valdigt said nothing.

"Aye, I deserve it too. I won't blame ya."

"Are we really headed to Brand this time?" Valdigt asked.

"We were really headed there last time," Thess said, but her face wrinkled together with embarrassment.

"So then explain the prison."

Thess groaned and reach out blindly, groping. She opened her eyes and saw the arm missing its hand, withdrew it rapidly, then used the other arm to search for her waterskin. She found it, tipped a measure of water into her mouth, and drank. Then she put it down and stretched back out on the bunk. Valdigt rephrased her question.

"What did they mean? I heard them say it. You've been bringing less and less bounty home. Did you turn me over to them?"

Thess licked her lips, searching for the right words.

"You did, didn't you? How much do they pay you?"

"I didn't want to turn ya in," Thess said. "They made me."

"What do you mean, they made you?"

"I mean they made me do it. The pirates. By ashes, Val! Don'tcha understand? All of us do what they say if we wanna sail the Eyes. We ain't evil."

"Slow down. Explain yourself."

Thess groaned and licked her lips again. Her eyes wandered over and found Valdigt and grew wide, pleading.

"Some wine?" she asked. "I'm hurtin' bad, Val. Get me some wine."

"You'll get your wine after you tell me what you meant," Valdigt said.

"The Molokhiin," Thess said, stressing her words as though what she were trying to teach an idiot. "They're evil, pure evil. They like to make beasts suffer. It's the only thing they care about. That's their bounty - bodies. They have no use for gold."

"So you sold me?"

"No, no. I give to the pirates, the pirates sell to the Molokhiin. I never have direct contact. In exchange for a prisoner or two, the pirates leave us alone. It's self-preservation."

"How come the Molokhiin recognized you? You used to be one of their pirates, didn't you?"

Thess fell silent quickly, and Valdigt felt herself burning with anger.

"You're amazing," she said. "By ashes, truly amazing. I can't believe this!"

"I ain't worked for em in years," Thess growled. "I'm done with all that. And I never meant to let em take ya."

"But you did."

"Listen, I told em they couldn't have ya! I said it right to em, said 'She ain't for grabs.' But they don't wanna listen. They're flamin pirates, after all. I didn't mean it to happen. And I'm sorry. You don't think I wanted this to happen, do ya?"

Thess thrust her handless limb in Valdigt's face, making her recoil. She withdrew the appendage quickly, wincing in pain again.

"It flamin hurts, too. Hurts all the time."

"What's so special about me?" Valdigt asked.

"Huh?"

"You said you didn't want them to have me. Why? What made me different from any other beast that you'd have given up?"

"Nothin," Thess said. "Didn'tcha promise me some wine?"

"You're not getting any until you tell me."

"Ashes," the otter breathed. "You're a nightmare."

"Well?"

"I liked ya," Thess said. "There? Understand? I mean, I didn't know ya. But I thought, 'She's cute,' and... I don't know. Ashes, there's just somethin aboutcha. I don't know. I wanted ya to hang around. Happy?"

But Valdigt didn't answer. She thought about the otter and tried to judge whether or not she told the truth. Could it be that she really had liked her? That Nashil had liked her had been surprising enough, but the possibility that two different beasts could have felt for her was almost too much. But the otter had risked her life and lost her hand in the process of saving her - and that was the most anybeast had ever done for her.

"If what you say is true," Valdigt began, "Then how come none of the prisoners we freed recognized you?"

"Prisoners don't last long. Surely ya realize how close to death beasts live in there."

"I'm sorry. I don't want to blame you for what happened. I've just been through a lot, and it feels like I have to place the blame somewhere."

"I get it," Thess said. She rolled over and clutched her arm again. "I'm sorry too."

That was all Valdigt could bear. Her insides roiled over with unexpected emotions and she stood. She fetched the otter a flagon of wine and refilled her waterskin. Then she went above deck again to pace the floorboards and be alone with her thoughts and the sea.

"You summoned for me?"

Tanda stood in the doorway to the tea room. Its westward-facing wall was long, and opened outward over the cliffs. The sea outside was fairly calm today, but Tanda couldn't help thinking how a fall from this height would be fatal either way. There wasn't a guard rail to keep beasts from falling either - there was a thin wooden bar about ankle high, and nothing else. The interior space was lined with wooden floorboards, several green mats spaced a few inches apart, from one wall to the other. On two of these mats at the far end Nashil had set up cushions and a small table. She sat on one of them now, wearing an airy pink robe, the sleeves of which were decorated in fine silk flower petals. The petals were loosely stitched to the fabric so that whenever she moved they would flutter, as though disturbed by a breeze. She lifted a teapot from the table and poured two cups. She took one for herself and held the other up to him.

He walked briskly to the far wall and took his place upon the other cushion, accepting the tea. He sipped it once and grimaced - the brightroot tea still didn't agree with him. Too bitter, too peppery. He wondered if there was anything else in the garden that would be worth brewing.

"I had heard the king instated a new advisor," Nashil said.

"I'd heard it too," Tanda agreed.

"I had also heard that this new advisor was a fox. 'A fox?' I said. 'That can't be right. A fox advising the wolves?' But they told me I'd heard correctly. A most unusual choice, wouldn't you say?"

"Certainly not a traditional choice. I take it you don't agree with his decision?"

"I never said I didn't agree. I just wanted to see if it was true."

"Is that why you summoned me?"

"Partially."

Nashil turned away from him and focused her attention on the setting sun; she drank of her tea and sighed. Tanda took another sip as well, then adjusted uncomfortably on his seat. He tossed the sleeves of his robe out and folded his hands on the table. Nashil caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and tossed a glance over her shoulder, back towards the fox.

"The yellow suits you," she said.

"Besegrare says it's too traditional. 'Not for foxes,' he says."

"He didn't order you to change, did he?"

"No."

"That's because it suits you. He'll come around. You look good."

"Thank you."

"You know that he's asked me to marry him?"

"Ahhh, yes. Now I see why you wanted to speak to me."

"It was last night. I haven't been able to think about much else."

"What did you say?"

"That I needed time to think about it."

"Fire and flame - he would make you the queen, then?"

"So he says."

Tanda opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. He seemed at a loss for words, then just shook his head, a disappointed look gracing his pointed features.

"Fire and flame," he muttered again, then drank of the tea.

"You think it's a bad idea?"

"I never said that. He's just been obvious about his intentions for a while; I'm hoping he not always so singularly minded. As far as the marriage, well, who am I to judge? You're a strong wolf, and so is he. I'm sure that you'd make a fine queen, if nothing else. And a good wife. But I can't tell you that it's a bad idea. I don't know that for sure. That's something that you're going to have to figure out for yourself - I can't just discount your own feelings, can I? Look inside yourself, you'll find an answer."

"At least you aren't just telling me what I want to hear," Nashil said, frowning. "I guess that means you're probably a good fit for the job."

"Well, what is it that you want to hear?"

"I don't know," Nashil lifted her thumb and bit at the nail, chewing with her eyes cast down. She stopped, a memory lost behind her eyes, then she put her hands on the table on top of Tanda's and looked up into his face.

"What about Valdigt?" she said. "I thought that I loved her."

"Do you?"

"Yes," Nashil said, immediately; but then she bit her thumbnail again. "I mean, I haven't known her for very long. Just a few weeks really. But I thought that I loved her."

"And you don't love Besegrare."

"I have feelings for him - I don't know what kind of feelings, but they exist. I could learn to love him. He's offered me so much, too. I could have a new home here."

"You wouldn't have a home if Valdigt came back?"

"I might. But I still haven't heard from her. How do I know she's still coming back? She might not even be alive."

"Truly, your troubles number many."

"I've been having a hard time. That's the real reason I summoned for you."

"That's the reason, huh?" his tail twitched and he lifted a hand to his chin, thinking.

"Yes, that's the reason. That, and -" Nashil broke off mid sentence and her hands began to tremble. She poured herself more of the tea, the liquid shaking as she poured it, and tried to sip from the cup. Instead she put it back down and her whole body drew up tightly. Her tail she grabbed and held for comfort, her ears lying flat against her head.

"Nashil?" Tanda started to rise, reaching out for her, but she stopped him with a raised hand.

"No, no, I'm okay! I'm... I'm okay."

She took some time breathing deeply before she could uncurl herself and focus again. Tanda lifted her teacup for her and she took it, drinking shakily. Her body still quivered but she seemed capable of speech again.

"Oh Tanda, I've been so afraid lately. You still don't know what I saw."

"What you saw?"

"In the Foxwoods - Do you remember? I had an... An episode of sorts."

"I remember that. But you said that you couldn't remember what you saw."

"I do though. I was lying. I remember all of it."

She waited to see if Tanda had anything to say about that, but he didn't. He sat back down on the cushion and settled himself and waited, not wanting to pry. His face was comforting, and she took hold of his hands again.

"I spoke with him. The sorcerer who destroyed Inthil, and Hollow. I spoke with Vacka."

Tanda dropped his head then, inhaling sharply. He felt sorrow for his people clutch his chest again, and he had to shake away the darkness. He looked back up and motioned for her to continue.

"He told me that he had no business with Gryning. He seemed eager to be on his way, too. But before he left he told me that I had been marked by Death, and that I wouldn't live long."

"He lies," Tanda hissed.

"Maybe, maybe. I hope he was lying, but he seemed like he believed it himself. He told me that I might be safe if we abandoned our quest and returned to Gryning."

"Well? Isn't that what happened?"

"Yes, but I still don't feel safe. And he's still out there; I'm not sure even the gods would know what he was up to either."

"You must not persist with such grave thoughts. Death has a time for every beast - worrying about it will not make it come any slower. It may actually hasten the matter."

"So what do I do?"

"Worry about the things you can control. Focus on fixing the other problems in your life. However many days you have left, you should enjoy them."

"You're very wise," Nashil smiled, her eyes misty. "You make a good advisor, for a fox. Maybe you should have been born a wolf."

"Maybe."

"You've given me a lot to think about," Nashil stood, walking toward the open wall. She faced the Hatskav, the wind picking up and whipping the tops of the waves.

"I'm happy to be of service. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yes; deliver a message to Besegrare for me."

"The message?"

"Tell him that I will marry him, and that the wedding should take place early next week. From now on I will take charge of my own life. I want to move on to the next phase as quickly as possible. I'll be a ruler - didn't you say I'd be good at it? Don't look shocked - and I'll have a new home here, where I will be safe, if the will of the Flame allows it."

Tanda offered no contradiction, but rose and bowed low.

"The message will be delivered, my lady."

He shuffled away and left her alone with the twilight horizon. She watched the sea's quiet rage and let her mind sink with the setting sun, the confines of her head filling with nothing. An emptiness surrounded her, calming her, and she felt finally free.

Tehlina had rarely requested an audience with the king. He had met her once, when she'd been appointed the high priestess, and had been blessed by her in a public ceremony. But aside from that, and her inquest about Irda, she could hardly think of a time they'd spoken. So she felt nervous about requesting an audience now. She'd instructed the guard to carry her request to the king and to bring his response back as soon as possible. But instead of an invitation to the courts, the guard brought the king himself on his return.

He stood at the top of the stairs to her room, the little dwelling place built on a loft above the chapterhouse. She stood with the door half-slid open, just staring; but Besegrare smiled and leaned sideways, looking into the small space she called her room.

"May I enter?" he asked.

"Y-Yes, of course!" Tehlina remembered herself and opened the door. He turned and ordered the guard to stay outside the door, as well as his swordbearer. He entered alone and slid the door shut behind him. She offered him a seat on a cushion, and rolled out a second cushion for herself. When they were both seated she offered him a drink.

"Some tea?" she said. "Or something else? I don't have any wine, but I could fetch some cold beer from the store rooms below."

"I'm all right," he said, and smiled again. His smile was big, and looked genuine, but Tehlina frowned anyways. She was flustered. Besegrare noticed and held one hand up to silence her before she could speak.

"This is about the pilgrims, yes? Their news about the Aventh?"

"Yes!" Tehlina blurted, a little loudly, then restrained herself. "Yes, precisely. It was a great shock to the Order here. I wasn't sure how to break the news. They're all a little chaotic today, mumbling amongst themselves about it."

"A great shock to all wolves, I'd think," Besegrare said. He sat with his knees splayed outwards and his elbow resting on one knee. He propped himself up on the hand and thought deeply. "A great shock, to be sure."

"Very much," she agreed. "But it's about something else that they told me."

"You have my attention, priestess. Speak your mind."

"I'm trying to find the right way to phrase it, but try as I might I cannot find the words."

"They think they found the new Aventh, don't they?"

"How did you know?"

"They told me they'd be looking," he grinned, a conspiratorial look brash on his face. "Well then? They've succeeded, haven't they?"

"They think so."

"Go on, go on. Who is it?"

"That's the problem. You see, they think it's... Me."

Besegrare lifted his head from his hand and blinked. He studied her face to see if she was lying. She looked flustered still, embarrassed and sincere.

"What's the problem? You don't want it to be true, or you don't believe them?"

"It isn't that," Tehlina said. "Truth be told, I believe every word of it. The Flame - it speaks to me. I see things in dreams. I don't always know what they mean, but I see them."

She stopped then. It was her turn to study Besegrare and see if he believed her.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" she said.

"No," Besegrare said, his tone grave, his look fierce. "I believe it. I've seen things too."

"The Flame works mysteriously. We are but wolves and cannot understand it. But if by some chance of fate I have been selected, chosen, I won't be able to deny my purpose."

"You're afraid that the others won't believe you."

"And why should they? The other's haven't had my dreams. They haven't had my visions. They'd be trusting me on faith alone."

"What about the three pilgrims? They traveled all the way from Himmel for this. Does their word mean nothing?"

"They're Shaid. They won't be able to convince the others of anything. Most of the acolytes here will believe me, but you won't convince those who live at Himmel."

"So you're faced with a choice."

"That's right. I can sit back and let this Shelath, whoever he is, be the new Aventh. They already like him in Himmel -- that's what the pilgrims told me, at least. My other option is proclaiming myself the Aventh, come whatever consequences may. I don't anticipate it will be an easy transition, either. Though some of them may listen -- especially those who work under me here at Gryning -- I fear the others will break away. You understand what I'm talking about? A schism. Both sides arguing that theirs is the true and only way. The Aventh is supposed to unify the followers of the Flame. I don't want to be the one responsible for shattering the Order."

Tehlina lifted a hand to smooth her fur, then cracked her knuckles nervously. She couldn't look Besegrare in his eyes.

"Matters of the Order are outside my sway," Besegrare said, after a time. "It has always been that way. I cannot interfere, unless I want to set a precedent for any future ruler to interfere. But I'll do what I can to make things easier for you. If this is your destiny, and you feel you must pursue it, you and your followers will continue to live under my protection. You're right about one thing -- nobeast wants a schism. But I would not tell you to ignore the Flame. To do so could be dangerous, and unwise. But I don't need to tell you that. If anyone's telling anyone that, it should be you telling me. Though you must have some doubt right now, you must not doubt my word. You and your followers will be protected. Your chapel remains here at Gryning."

"Sire," Tehlina bowed low, on her hands and knees.

"Do not bow to me," Besegrare said, taking her hand and rising. "You serve a greater power than your king. It is I who should be bowing to you."

He did just that, giving a short and oddly delicate bow, before turning and opening the door. The guard and the swordbearer were still there, and they both stood to attention in the presence of the king. He set them at ease with a nod and stood there in the doorway, his attention focused on something in the distance. Tehlina looked out of the loft past the king down the stairs. The purpling sky set a lush background for the fierce red and yellow shape strolling up the hill towards the stairs. As it approached Tehlina saw that it was a fox, dressed in yellow robes -- a wolf's color, she noted -- and she wondered if she'd ever seen anything like it before. It must be the new advisor, she thought. She'd heard a rumor about it floating around the night before.

"A message," the fox said, "From Nashil of Inthil."

"Speak, Tanda," Besegrare said.

Tanda? Tehlina thought. She was an educated beast and she was well-versed in the names of beasts and place across the kingdoms, and she thought she recognized the name. Isn't that the prince's name? She'd heard about Tanda, Prince of Foxes before. Yes, she was almost sure about it. But she wasn't sure if Tanda was a common name or not. She watched the fox closely. His features were fine and pointed, an almost feminine grace lent to his each movement. He bowed before Besegrare, then opened his mouth to speak. Then the fox looked up and his eyes connected with hers. For a moment they looked right at each other, and then the fox stood up straight and coughed.

"Perhaps we'd better speak as we go," Tanda said.

"Very well," Besegrare motioned towards Seshi and the guard, who followed quickly pacing behind him. They made their way down the stairs quickly, then down the hill towards the gardens and the main keep.

Tehlina was left for the second time standing in the doorway, dazed, then shut the door. She lit a match and touched it to a candle, using the flickering light to aid her weak eyes in writing a prayer. Then she took the scrap of paper and tucked it into her firetree, lighting it with her thumb. The prayer was dual-purposed. She had seen the setting sun outside and knew that it was only a matter of minutes before the hill and the chapterhouse would be quite dark. The acolytes would come outside and light a series of torches to brighten the paths, but there was a period of some minutes where total darkness ruled. She opened the door and went back outside, holding the firetree before her to brighten the day's failing light. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she rounded the edge of the hill towards the bottom level of the chapterhouse, built as it was on and in the slope. She found a door she knew well -- the door to the storerooms. There, all the food, drink, and supplies of the Order were kept safe. She entered the place several times daily, for she liked to lend a personal hand to the acolytes when they portioned out the day's meals. The storerooms were at the bottom of another set of stairs, these much steeper than the last, and chiseled into the sandstone cliffs. She took extra care in descending those, and paused to light a torch that hung suspended above the stairs, in case anyone else would be heading down here before the night's end. It was quite cold at the bottom -- open vents lead directly to the outside air. Sometimes big gusts would come rushing in and you could hear it whistle from inside the hall. She went to the last door at the end of the sandstone hall and went inside. There were barrels stacked from one wall to the next, and a series of crates stacked near the front door. She opened one of the crates and withdrew a glass bottle, hand-blown by Gryning's finest craftsmen, and filled with foamy poppy beer brewed in the Southern style. The bottle was set with a small cork, cut from the cork trees of Sonder, the temperate climate good for such trees, and for the growing of vineyards, which stretched across much of the face of the mountain and the surrounding valleys. Tehlina drank deeply, letting the beer revitalize and refresh her, feeling its cool sudsy foam rush between her teeth and across her tongue. She drained the whole bottle, then took another and tucked it into her sleeve. She made her way back out of the storerooms and up the stairs, around the top of the hill, up the second set of stairs, and into her room.

Vacka felt darkness coursing through him. He couldn't explain what had happened, but he felt it in his veins. It didn't feel like blood; it felt powerful and hollow and vile and like strength. He'd opened a vein carefully, a small nick on his arm, but no blood had been released. A tiny stream of something dark black coursed out of the wound, and pooled on the ground like shadows. He was a beast no more - he had become a god.

Now, when he wanted power, it was his to command. He need never meditate and travel to that chamber to request the god's help. He'd spent the morning testing his abilities, learning his limits, exploring his options. Vacka quickly learned that the power of death and the power over shadows were much the same. He could hold his hands out and imagine a sword; when he focused his will, he felt it manifest in his hands. Shadows would creep from their place on the ground and collect in his hands, taking the form of the weapon. And the dead, when raised from their graves, walked bound by shadow, their bodies leaking darkness like blood. He could move the shadows wherever he pleased, and they would manifest in whatever way he desired. And still he could use the dead to carry him through the earth.

Now that he was a god, he couldn't give up on his quest. Never mind that she hadn't recognized him - what did it matter? She wasn't herself anymore. She'd just become a shade, a ghost of herself. When he raised her body from the dead she would remember. She would see his face and she would remember.

So he stood over the open grave, covered in dirt from digging, and sent forth his inky tendrils.

For the first time since she died, Vacka felt true despair. The thing that emerged was not his mother. Yes, it had her appearance, as much as a corpse could. But it moved like any of the others, mindless and shambling. Rotten flesh and missing fur lumbered forward, and the sick stench of putrefaction hit him like a punch in the nose. He couldn't even speak. The thing stood there, dumb, waiting for his command; but he gave no order. He fell to his knees and vomited, loosening his hold on the shadows that bound her. Her bones fell apart and clattered back into the open earth.

He had believed firmly in the powers of the dead, in their ability to revive her. But if even the strength of gods was inadequate, was there anything else he could do?

He cursed the name of Kethke, the name of Rheuhl, and his own name. But no matter what he said, he was alone. He thought perhaps the shadows of one of those beings would come back to taunt him, to explain what he'd already known. The gods of death cannot restore life to the dead. Kethke had told him a thousand thousand times. Rheuhl had, he suspected, left the detail out quite intentionally. But Rheuhl did not show its face, did not come to express sorrow or to explain.

Vacka was now truly alone.

A new purpose began to take hold of him, while he lay there sprawled on the ground, clutching at roots and stones. He sat up and sniffed, and wiped his eyes. So she was gone. She was gone - finally, really, truly gone. He had to accept that now. And if he had to accept it, he would find the one who had killed her, and make them accept it too. Anybeast that stood in his way would suffer. To the ends of the earth he would go.

And so Vacka, once the Hand of the Dark, had become the Dark itself.