Dutchess of the End

I was excited to get up and get onto my horse to start the day. It wasn’t so much the journey as the destination- as it had always been on this trip. The Proja camp was within sight, taunting me with echoes of the hecklings from the Elders back at the Slajo encampment. Our caravan packed up quickly. After a long few days’ travel, the women were excited to have a place to stop for a few days. I wasn’t sure how long we’d be staying, all I knew is that it wouldn’t be as long as the first break had. The Slajo were situated much further away than the other three were from one another. While it had taken two weeks to get here, the last two tribes- the Tilajn and Folaj Tribes- were much closer.

 

The camp blurred around me as I oversaw packing. We’d be doing the reverse in a couple hours’ time, but as the women would be unpacking, I would be entering negotiations with the Proja Elders. I needed another Mage. I wanted to perform the Rites of Winter again. The latter was less likely to happen- those extra two weeks might have brought at least one wandering southerner to the camp we saw in the distance.

 

Stephanie was awake, though as I watched out of the corner of my eye rustling around my tent, and the Princess step out of it onto the ground, yawning, stretching her arms upwards, I kept on with the preparations. The tents wouldn’t pack themselves, and the horses wouldn’t tie themselves to the wagons. And somebody had to make sure it all happened without leaving anyone or anything behind. 

 

I kept an eye on her as the packing continued. It would take perhaps another hour to be moving. In that time, Stephanie stayed near the half of the circle of wagons were her quarters and mine could be found. Never straying too far from them, never reaching out to anyone for idle chatter. Eventually, Alana went to sit next to her on the steps. I watched as they talked, laughing and making gestures with their hands. Good, I thought. It was good that Alana had a friend- one that she wanted for more than just her body, anyway. 

 

Somehow, I kept finding myself focusing on the efforts closest to Stephanie. I could almost make out what she was saying, though her laughter rang in my ear just loud enough to imprint it there for the next several seconds, echoing in my head of her joy.

 

She stood up, and I barely registered that she was headed towards me as one of the horses near the wagon spooked. It stood up on its hind legs, neighing loudly, kicking up clouds of frost as it struggled with its bindings to one of the wagons. Stephanie paid it no mind. I dropped the length of rope I held, instantly surging towards her without a thought in my mind. The horse broke free, stampeding directly towards the opposite end of the camp.

 

Towards Stephanie.

 

“Get the fuck down!” I called out, racing towards her, my boots thudding on the tundra in a panicked rhythm. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the horse run. Directly in front of me, I saw Stephanie shriek, ducking for cover, her hands over her head, squatting defensively. It wasn’t enough. The horse wasn’t so tall as to lift its legs high enough to jump over her with a simple stride. It was approaching fast, headed right for her. The rest of the camp dissolved around me, my breath a slow-moving fog as I got within two paces of her.

 

The horse barrelled down, unrelenting in its fear and in its desperation to escape. I jumped forward, praying beyond hope that I was fast enough. I felt Stephanie’s body collide with mine, hitting her as she slammed into the ground, a ball of a woman as I lay flat atop her. Behind me, I heard the horse neigh out again, its stampeding hooves falling harmlessly on the ground.

 

I rolled off of her, panting as I got to my feet.

 

“You damn idiot. Are you okay? What were you thinking?” I asked her all at once. She uncurled slowly as I hurled the words at her. She sat up, and I felt the stern expression on my face soften as she smiled, red-faced.

 

“Sorry, I just wanted to see you. I’m okay.”

 

“Good.” I said, holding out a hand for her. She took it and dusted herself off with- thankfully- gloved hands.

 

“Hi.” She said, laughing. I laughed back, shaking my head as I pulled her in for a quick hug. It was brief, but in that moment I held her tight, separating while keeping my hands squarely on her shoulders.

 

“You need to pay attention more. Get in the wagon, you’ll ride to the campsite in there.” I said. She nodded, her eyes still a bit wide from the shock.

 

“Yeah, okay. Need me to go into town with you?”

 

“Probably unwise. There’s a chance they’d demand you perform the Rites of Winter. Can’t have that.”

 

“Why not?” She asked. I led her over to the entrance of the wagon while I talked. I nodded to Alana, who opened the flaps to escort her in.

 

“Because if the child of the Crown Prince of Telbud were conceived during a religious ceremony while not being allowed to know her lineage, there would be pandaemonium at the castle.”

 

“You just wanna do it again.”

 

“Guilty. Now get in, we do still have to ride.” I said. Alana closed the flap once I was done talking.

 

The ride there was slow and uneventful. I sat on the saddle leaned forward, reins gripped tight in my hands as I watched the city of tents come closer into view. Much like the Slajo encampment, the Proja Tribe’s homes were fur tents supported by blades of grass grown at metre-tall heights. The mountain lions they hunted and made their clothing from typically began hibernation at about the same time the tribeswomen settled down for the winter. We were further south than the Alihjn’s typical stomping grounds up in the mountains, yet further north than most Telbian women were comfortable with.

 

I halted the caravan about two kilometres from the edge of the Prajo camp, and barked out an order to begin unpacking as I continued to ride. Alone. Without even so much as a single attendant. This was the way of things, how it must be done. They couldn’t take Alana or Prinna as a potential Resawn. I could have brought either of them with me, though only Prinna’s presence would have done good to my cause. However, the woman hadn’t spoken to me much since we left the Slajo encampment two weeks ago. She was polite, formal, perhaps a little stiff, but the shyness Alana spoke of still overpowered the Mage.

 

“Welcome, Resawn.” Again, I was greeted by a guardswoman as I rode to the edge of the tents. Her trademark Alihjn-white hair was tied up into a ponytail, keeping it out of her face save for a single strand on either end. She wore an armored chestplate made of metal and carried a bow. The expression she wore was welcoming despite her tall, almost intimidating muscular build softened by clearly aging skin.

 

“It seems more than just the Slajo see the light of the moon on me.” I said, muttering to myself as I looked down at her. Louder, I continued. “I’ve come to seek trade with your Elders and merchants. Has your tribe picked out a Resarm for the proceedings?”

 

“I’m afraid you’re just a little too late for that, Grand Archivist.” I heard a voice sound off, high-pictched and squeaking in my ears. A voice I’d come to know only led to trouble. I looked away from the guard woman- who had remained silent- to see Penelope Knass striding towards me proudly. She wore a thick winter coat, red and white. The gold I wore was forbidden to her just as the blue Stephanie wore was forbidden to both of us.

 

“Knass.” I said, curling my lip upwards ever so slightly. “I don’t recall hiring you to join my expedition.”

 

“I’ve come of my own accord, try out the local cuisine. She was beautiful, their Resarm this year. Short, large chest, shaven down there, round face. You’d have loved her, but that conquest is mine and mine alone.” Penelope said. She wore a practical pair of mittens to keep the cold away from her fingers, though brought one up to her mouth to pantomime sucking on one of them all the same. The sight boiled my blood.

 

“You’d know of the local cuisine wherever you go, their whorehouses toppling over themselves to have your patronage.”

 

“I should think so, with how generous I am within their walls.” Penelope said. She turned around and took three steps forward. I thought for a moment she intended to leave without another word, leaving her own admittance hanging in the air as she did during our last meeting. But she turned around, and as much as I’d wish she wouldn’t, she spoke. “I rode alone, I need no expeditionary force to travel Telbud, Grand Archivist. Your tablets are useless, they’ll rot away in the Archive for eternity.”

 

With that, she was gone. My first thoughts were those of relief, glad I didn’t have to have her in my presence any longer than I needed. My second and third went to the tablets. They should be meeting us during our travels to the Tilajn Tribe, assuming there were no delays. Penelope must have left before my request, meaning she didn’t know I disagreed with her wholeheartedly. Was she smart enough to realize my entire undertaking here was because of them? Putting my biases aside, I could only hope she was mocking me. Otherwise, the institution of Archivists was deeply flawed.

 

“What is your name, archer?” I asked, looking down at the guard after feeling the anger and annoyance leave my system.

 

“Arlen.” She said.

 

“Arlen, would you care to guide me to your Elders? I have business with them.” 

 

The woman nodded and began walking, guiding my horse via a hand on its neck. Unlike when I handled any of the horses as Arlen so casually did now, the beast gave no complaint, as though the pale hand soothed it.

 

“What business?” She asked. “I won’t stop you. Just curious.”

 

“I’ve come to hire a Mage.”

 

“Mages are plentiful here, I’d scarcely think you’d need to speak with the Elders.”

 

“Have your people experienced outbursts of Hosha recently?” I asked, citing their word for the phenomenon by which women become imbued with magic. It was rare for those of peach-colored skin such as myself and countrywomen to undergo it. Much more common was it in the north, but in Telbud, we simply called them ‘Awakenings.’

 

“No outbursts, it is simply common. Half our women have the Wisdom of Hosha.”

 

“Half?” I asked incredulously.

 

“I speak no lies, Resawn.” Arlen said.

 

“There is much of the Alihjn we southerners do not know, then.”

 

“Both my wives are Wise as such.”

 

“As I said, there is much we are ignorant of.”

 

Since when was magic so common in the north? And how had we in Telbud not heard of it? Polygamy? The newest information we had about the Alihjn Tribes was merely ten years old. Had this much changed in a decade? Impossible.

 

“If I needn’t worry the Elders with my query, where then may I find what I’m looking for? I’ll need a Mage willing to travel with me until next winter.”

 

“Until next winter?” Arlen asked. I nodded. “I’ll bring you to Menla’s home.”

 

Menla, it seemed, wasn’t the woman who I’d be hiring, but rather an influential Elder who was currently sitting in their meeting. Her home, despite that, was bustling with at least a dozen women, the tent I entered rivaled the size of the Slajo’s Elder tent. Renai was the one I’d be looking for. She was a head taller than me wearing a modest set of robes that cleverly hid her hands when they were at her side. When they reached up so as to tend the fire or to stir the pot, however, her Marks were exposed. A minor cultural difference I was willing to overlook. Alana had her reasons but I’d often seen Prinna walking the camp gloveless.

 

“Renai, your adventure has come, it seems.” Arlen had led me to stand in front of the large pot being tended to, a frothy grey soup that was threatening to boil out of the pot. She waved us off with some hissed words.

 

“Trying not to ruin lunch, give me a moment.” She said. Her tone shifted, sighing. “Sorry. Just busy. Didn’t mean to snap.”

 

“All is forgiven, Renai.” I said. Arlen left me alone there as I watched Renai frantically attempt to stir the liquid amidst the heat of the fire, the metal, and the steam rising from it all. A few minutes later and the fire had been extinguished, the soup- hopefully it was soup- simply simmering rather than threatening to become acquainted with the dirt floor of the tent.

 

“Sorry about that, patient one. I’m Renai, eleventh wife of Menla.” Eleventh? I briefly exchanged pleasantries with her before proposing what I’d come here for.

 

“Renai, I’ve a mission that needs attending to.” I said. With each few words, she nodded along. She was a shapely woman, angular face, hair reaching down to her waist, and full lips. Stephanie’s type surely, though it would be nearly impossible to find an attractive woman that wouldn’t be her type. “Travel with me till next winter, I’m in need of a translator.”

 

“A translator? Talia would be much better, she knows all the languages this side of the Abinajl.” The woman spoke fast, as though each word out of her mouth was in a race to see which could slide into the cold air first.

 

“I need a Mage. Any old translator won’t do. Does she know much of the language of your ancestors?” I asked. Renai shook her head.

 

“So Arlen knew what she was doin’, then. I’m your girl.”

 

“How old are you?”

 

“Twenty years, Miss.”

 

“You’ll do.” I said. It would be no good to have Stephanie be tempted to chase the skirts of anyone much younger. “You’ll have a few days to make preparations. Meet me at my encampment, you’ll see it on the southern edge of your city.”

 

I didn’t wait to hear her reply. I turned to go, but a hand on my shoulder caught me.

 

“You’re frightened by something.” The girl said.

 

“Not scared, just in a hurry.” I told her, shrugging the hand off and continuing.

 

“I’ll be available if you need to speak of it.” Renai called after me. It was sweet of her, but I was fine.

 

Not like I had an apocalyptic prophecy hanging over me or anything. I’m fine.