Laure watched the variety of activities going on all around her and wondered if she was losing her mind. It seemed possible; it seemed likely. Indeed, it seemed almost desirable.
She had done all the work that was needed of her, and given out all the orders necessary to the preparation of the funeral rites of Leanna and Jura. Now it felt at last as if the whole messy, agonising business was organised. Laure had to recoup some strength. She needed time. Organising the rites had taken the last of Laure’s force and she was left feeling empty, dull and exhausted, not even close enough to recovery to be considered convalescent. She was about to become queen and co-ruler of Lammor and she felt incapable even of deciding what to eat for breakfast. For years Laure’s world had been bound about by a small number of invisible threads, and now three of those - her mother, Jura, and Ashe – were gone. Laure found herself wondering if she had in some way brought about the current state of disaster. But even with an ego as well-established as her own, Laure couldn’t give much credence to that idea.
Calypso had been crossing the far of the courtyard when Jura stepped out of one existence and into another. The sound of her body striking the ground was so brief and so huge in the quiet confine of the palace courtyard that it seemed to echo through all of Lascar. Calypso had seen the moment of impact and the single broken body, that seemed insufficient to explain what had happened.
Calypso was the first to kneel beside the ruined body. She had checked – pointlessly and she knew it – at throat and wrist for a pulse, but had known she was wasting her time. She looked up to the high balcony from which Laure stared down at the new horror. How short a time between falling and impact it was and how long a time it must have seemed, thought Calypso, wondering if Jura had had time to regret her actions. She stood up and away from the corpse and let the gathering servants carry the queen’s consort to the hospital wing, where the Elders were now always to be found.
It would take time for all of Lammor to know the latest disaster, but it seemed to Calypso no time at all before the palace and the city of Lascar itself had dived into a condition of mourning so sudden and so acute that it blotted out all other considerations. Grief was the element in which the court existed, but not the entire court: Calypso found herself watching Lammor’s disintegration with something akin to awe.
Calypso’s upbringing had not allowed for the display or consideration of extreme emotions other than anger. She had suspected that even fear was a more acceptable emotion than grief, or care. Calypso had meant what she’d told Laure about her aunt, who on the death of Calypso’s mother had ruled Mercia for a number of blood-stained years, dragging the army into one battle after another. In the time of her growing up, Calypso could not remember a year passing without conflict of some kind.
But the Lammorans were entirely different. Calypso had never known a people so helplessly in thrall to their emotions, and she thought it a childish self-indulgence. Considering the political situation, it seemed a very dangerous, self-indulgence, too. It was too fucking long, she reflected, since Lammor had been involved in a war. From the information brought back to Calypso by her lieutenants and spies, it looked as if both Lascar and Lammor were heading toward a major shock in the near future.
But she felt a considerable wash of awe at the depth of the mourning that went on. Calypso stood in a position almost equal to that which Jura had held, and Calypso didn’t think for an instant that Lascar would go overboard if she took a leap out of an upper window. In fact, they’d probably think it was Ashe’s ghost coming back to gain revenge, and think the fall only fitting… It was odd, but she’d been thinking a lot about Ashe lately.
Ashe had been an invisible, visible commodity, Calypso thought. She was hardly known outside the court and within it she had moved about as though in camouflage. Ashe had deliberately sought a very low profile, and Laure had never seen fit to advertise her companion. But it had been Alexis who brought up the subject. Alexis drifting in and out of a fever that could not abate and would not reach crisis point. The Elders had pointed out to Calypso something she had already thought of: that some fevers leech the strength out of a person until nothing remains but a husk. Alexis’s build, which had started off as wide-shouldered and dense, was being whittled away by the endless days of illness. Calypso had seen Alexis’s bones became more visible day by day. It was a salutary experience. And Alexis talked about Ashe. Sometimes she wondered if on some plane, Alexis was talking to Ashe.
Calypso had never for an instant thought that Alexis really had let Ashe go, but as time went by she began to understand that what had happened to Ashe was now rebounding on Alexis. Just as the fate of one had drifted down and down… Calypso had heard rumours about a wanderer being beaten to death – and perhaps eaten – by the cannibal women of the lower mountains. She had heard rumours about a wanderer leaping to their death to escape a worse fate. And more and more she believed it was Ashe that they spoke of. If Ashe had made it, Alexis might have done the same. But it was pretty clear that Ashe was dead, so what did that leave for Alexis? They had been… unfortunate in taking Rhea’s magic from her. Calypso woke in the night, sweating from the pain in her hands, and she could not hold or wield a sword with her accustomed skill. Sometimes she went to the other ward, where Rhea was being treated. That wasn’t good at all. Rhea’s expression was that of a mute child’s, and the only words she spoke came out as gibberish. But she recognised Calypso, and recoiled from her. Nothing to be done there.
Calypso had not had to do very much about organising the funerals. She watched Laure as if through a veil. And the ceremony was so very formal and so very intense. All those dignitaries who had attended the joining of Laure and Calypso were back again, their numbers boosted by all those who had met known the queen, and Jura, had who now wished to honour them. To Calypso the process of Lascar’s mourning opened up a new world to her. She had never thought much about anyone, and very few people had mattered to her. Oddly enough, despite the almost-casual blow that had nearly floored Alexis, it was Alexis about whom Calypso felt the most. Their relationship was the longest and the most reliable that Calypso had ever known, and yet it never would have occurred to her to choose Alexis as her consort. Maybe she should have done, was Calypso’s thought as she walked from the sick-bed to Laure’s room. Gods! she slapped her forehead with her hand. Laure’s room. It was even theirs. Except that it was, only… Only Calypso couldn’t feel that way about it.
Laure sat on the bed in her room. No, not her room. Their room. She sat on the bed with her head in her hands. In the space of just a couple of weeks her life had been turned upside down, spun around and then shaken. Perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised at her inability to sleep at night, when Calypso lay peacefully dreaming beside her. Calypso broke in upon her thoughts and her room, appearing with an expression that approached tenderness.
“Hullo,” said Calypso, sitting down on the other side of the bed to Laure. “How are you doing?”
Laure looked at her with the blank stare that she had lately made her own. Calypso sighed. “Alright. Dumb question. Are you doing, Laure, are you still in there? When I look at you I see a stranger.”
“Isn’t that exactly what we are, Cal? Strangers?”
“Not entirely. We’re beginning to know one another. Beginning to learn one another. These things take time.”
“Unlike sex.” Laure flattened the intention of the word. When it came out, it lacked power. But it was the word that Calypso picked up on.
“As you say, unlike sex. And yet, doesn’t the sex work?”
“I’m beginning to think it’s the one thing we have in common.”
“I can think of worse.”
“And I can think of better.”
“Why beat us both up over this? Plenty of relationships are rooted in simple attraction. Was it for the love of Ashe’s skill in debating or fighting that your pulse beat harder when you looked at her? No. It was the fact that when you looked at her, you got wet.”
Laure’s glance was contemptuous. Calypso grinned. “Oh, come on, Laure. She was an attractive little freak. If she really had been your gift to me, I would have made good use of her. And I doubt if she would have emerged with any more bruises than in the hours you spent with her.” Laure’s expression grew colder still. “Come on, I know about all that. I’ve heard the court gossip. Why not admit the one thing that’s buzzing round in your brain that you can’t let go of?”
“What thing is buzzing round inside my brain, apart from the echoes of your speeches, Cal?”
“The fact that dislike me as you may, you also find me attractive. You want me. And then I’ll admit that, although you’re a very slight shadow in my heart, I want you. You’re like some kind of food that I know I shouldn’t eat, that does no good, that does not nourish. I think you are spoiled and foolish and immature, and yet, I want you. The Gods help me. I do.” She gave Laure a slight grin. “In fact, I want you right now.”
They looked at one another. Laure was silent for a moment and then, as she stood up and began undoing her clothes, said, “Calypso? I hate you. Go and lock the door.”
*******
Ashe finished dusting herself off. She straightened her clothes, reassembled her dignity and fixed Gowdie with a stern gaze. “You’re a shape-shifter.”
“Not exactly. Shape-shifters can choose when to change, whereas that power isn’t always at my disposal, as theirs is. Half of my race have this… gift. There’s never any knowing who it’s going to take. My sister, for example, missed out entirely. To be honest, she’s never shown any sign of minding, and of course, it’s not all fun and games. As I said, I don’t have complete control, and sometimes I get stuck as the karg and not the woman, at which point people have been known to throw spears at me, and fire arrows in my direction.”
“Of course.” Somehow Ashe had put the memory to one side. “How did all that come about?”
Gowdie shook her head. She had a mass of dark hair that lay across her shoulders, like a storm cloud shadowing the sea. Her stance was feline, her movements were elegant and beautifully coordinated. Ashe, who had often fallen over her feet, could see this and was a little envious of it. She sighed and looked at Gowdie, seeing her for what she was when not the karg: an animal in a coat. “From all sides we’re being assaulted by news of war. Soon the people of the plains will be taking sides. Do you mind if I talk about it as we go? We need to make good speed, Ashe. We’re expected at Caer Arianrhod in a matter of days.”
Gowdie regarded Sam and Calliope with warm curiosity. “Forgive me,” she said, “But am I right in thinking that you two are water spirits?”
Both smiled proudly. Ashe was impressed and irritated. “How in the name of all the Gods did you know that?”
“It goes with the territory,” said Gowdie. “I can spot quasi shape-shifters a good league away. On the other hand, Ashe, I haven’t the slightest idea about your ancestry.”
Ashe said, “Who the fuck does?” and then felt guilty for her angry tone. She sighed: was she never going to trace her own kin? Even Gowdie, smart enough about Calliope and Sam, couldn’t help her. Annoyed with herself for minding so very much, Ashe shrugged her shoulders and said, “No matter. Forget it. Let’s start walking.”
Ashe walked and thought, and finally admitted what was bugging her so badly. Ashe wasn’t good at lying to herself. She preferred Gowdie in feline form. She’d liked the karg for its fearlessness and its lack of conversation. Back in human form Gowdie was so full of stories about Caer Arianrhod that by the third day they were together, Ashe was having to deliberately tune her out. Fortunately, Sam had taken to Gowdie on first sight, and she seemed only too happy to listen to her non-stop. For Calliope the situation was different. Like Ashe she disliked Gowdie’s almost-continuous monologues punctuated only by Sam’s admiring exclamations. When Calliope saw that Ashe was becoming distant and unsettled, she gave up on Gowdie and concentrated on Ashe instead.
Since leaving Lammor, Ashe had felt more and more that words were nothing more than weapons that could be – and often were - modified for use on any and all occasions; Ashe was sick of words. When Gowdie made a temporary return to the karg, to hunt them out some supper, Ashe smiled for the first time in days.
Calliope understood that it was Gowdie who was making Ashe so quiet. She wondered why Ashe was so important to Gowdie’s country. Calliope had heard the older water spirits talking about the changes that might overcome the country, should Lammor and Mercia combine and go to war, but she had heard nothing specific about Caer Arianrhod. And although she understood that Gowdie was an ally, and Caer Arianrhod the natural end to the first stage of their travels, like the former companion, she was in no hurry to get there. She walked beside her, drinking in as much about Ashe as the young woman was prepared to give up, and understanding that she was coming to like her a little too much. This was a problem, and one Calliope knew she could do nothing about.
Ashe had new reserves of energy: another gift from the water spirits, but it seemed to Calliope that Ashe was not enjoying her renewed strength. Ashe had been enjoying having no-one chasing her or cursing her or hurting her. Nor was anyone trying to kill or eat her. This too was good and particularly refreshing. The childhood that Ashe had never enjoyed since arriving at Lascar she had come close to returning to, during her time with Sam and Calliope. And now there was grown-up trouble coming straight at her, and Ashe was going to be involved in it, whether she wanted to or not. Not, thought Ashe, marching across the scrubland. Not, not, not…
*******
The Elders had placed Rhea in a clean, comfortable, sunny room in which one of them would be on duty at all times. No-one knew the full extent of Rhea’s hurts, or what the prognosis of her collapse would be. The Elders had worried about Rhea in more dramatic manner when she had broken away from their rule - all those years before - and sanctioned Jura as the queen’s consort. Now they worried about her in a quieter but more painful fashion. All the Elders knew in their hearts that Rhea had been the most remarkable, the most influential and the most magical of them all. Rhea reduced to a blank face, dull eyes and a silent tongue, was something the Elders found hard to bear.
None of the Elders would have admitted out loud their fear of Rhea trying to kill herself. Any self-harming quota Lascar might have had had been exhausted by Jura’s death. Lascar simply could not afford any more major losses. The space that Cairo had left behind had been concealed by her one-time staff. General opinion had it that Cairo had defended Ashe and been banished by the Mercian, or that Cairo had chosen to go with Ashe. And Calypso had said that she would have the throat out of anyone who so much ass whispered Ashe’s name. All in all, while Laure and Calypso rolled about in bed, exhausting one another and affording each another a transitory good, the Lammoran world continued to crumble about them.
Rhea felt as though she had been pinned down by an enormous and unmoving rock. She knew herself to be both helpless and mute. She thought it would have been better by far if Alexis had drained away her life with her power. Better by far. But Alexis had not killed her. Rhea thought that if she ever regained her powers, she start her new life by turning Calypso and Alexis both into ugly, greedy and tenacious creatures small enough to be accidentally squashed underfoot.. But Rhea could not speak and could not move and could not - worst of all – do anything to end her own suffering..
*******
Alexis was sure that she was dying. Didn’t she have to be? After all, the blood-loss had never stopped. It was hard, though not impossible, to speak, and there were times when her sight appeared to be blurred. Notwithstanding, she still took pleasure in Calypso’s visits to her. Only a week ago she had been young and vital, scarred by countless fights but still standing, still… independent. Alexis did not want to die. It was no fear of what came after: as far as Alexis was concerned, she’d already done penance for all her many crimes; but there were so many days she wanted to have before they dug her a neat and final resting place in the earth.
Alexis had been told about the deaths of Leanna and Jura, but as she had hardly known them, she found it impossible to mourn. The sunlight was growing more intense each day, and each day it fell on Alexis for a little longer. Alexis loved spring, and always looked forward to Mercia’s wonderful summers. The idea that she might miss the forthcoming – and every other forthcoming - summer was horrible. And it felt as though she was drowning in the peaceful, steady and unflinching care of the Elders. She had not even the energy to shout at them that it had been she who had taken Rhea’s magic. What a two-edged sword that theft had been! Talk about stabbing yourself in the foot…
*******
In Caer Arianrhod Cirrus saw Ashe’s discomfort and wished that she could have sent anyone other than Gowdie to draw Ashe into the new political situation. Cirrus loved Gowdie deeply, but there were times when she would happily have hurled a spear or two in her general direction, no matter what shape she had taken. Betany too was worried about her sister. “They’re not that far away?”
Cirrus nodded emphatically. “They should reach the city gates two days from now.” Betany nodded. Cirrus could visualise the party. “Your sister has appeared to them in both of her forms.”
“Oh, great,” said Betany. “Let’s hope that this time she gets stuck as the karg. Then she can’t talk all the damn time.
*******
That night Ashe and the others made camp in a hollow, and sat around the good fire that she had lit. Ashe’s reserve was rubbing off on the others. The only sound – other than the cracking of the fire – was the karg engaged on a noisy grooming session. Sam was watching the karg and Calliope was watching Ashe. Unlike Sam, Calliope was not impressed by Gowdie’s shape-shifting. After all, she and Sam had transcended both form and element.
As the night drew on, and the karg snored beside the fire, Sam beside it and equally dead to the world, Calliope turned her attention to Ashe.
Ashe looked at the big cat and the smaller shape of Sam, then she glanced at Calliope, and then drew on the water spirit’s knowledge. “Are we far from a river?”
“There’s one about a quarter of a league away. Do you want to go there? I could guide you.” Ashe smiled her second smile since Gowdie’s arrival.
“That would be nice,” she said. “The others will be safe enough here. I doubt anyone would dare threaten them with Gowdie turned karg.”
They got up quietly, and tiptoed away.
*******
At Caer Arianrhod Betany lay in the approximate centre of her broad bed and watched the moonlight make a fantasy world of the room. From the ceiling of her room hung down a couple of hundred witch-balls, fine thin glass suspended on threads so fine they were nigh-on invisible. They were red, green, bright, silvery blue and warm yellow, and they gleamed in the moonlight. Betany had lain unsleeping for hours. She kept deciding that it would be better to rise and do something – anything – but for some time she felt too enervated to move. At last, angry with herself and exhausted almost beyond thought, she slid out of bed, put on a robe and walked downstairs. Cirrus had said that Gowdie and the others would be there if not tomorrow, then early the day after. For her own part, Betany expected them to arrive the next evening. She was a little irked that Gowdie had foreseen so much. She was irritated by the confidence her sister exhibited so much of the time. Cirrus had said that Gowdie was a good envoy, but she had added that Betany was a more politic one. Betany was curious about Ashe. She was curious too about the two water spirits Cirrus said were accompanying the former companion.
Betany still hoped that war could be avoided, but as the days went by and the rumours grew in strength and threat, she had begun to think it inevitable. Would Ashe be drawn to the cause? After all, she had once been a citizen of Lascar. Surely she wouldn’t want to fight against them. But they had thrown her out or let her go. Betany sighed. How the fuck was she to know what Ashe would choose to do?
Betany threw caution (and with it, all hope of sleep) to the four winds. She climbed down the long staircase, crossed the empty and echoing reaches of the court and reached the kitchen. She fetched herself a goblet and a jug of mulled wine. It would probably keep her awake, but that didn’t much matter. Soon no-one would be sleeping.
*******
The moon shone on the distant water. Ashe had left her cloak by the fire, and walked with her hands shoved into her pockets. A light breeze blew the hair back from her forehead and in the night light her eyes shone. Calliope walked beside Ashe, matching her stride for stride, and saying nothing. She wondered how much longer she and Sam could stay with Ashe. Theirs was a temporary change: unlike Gowdie they could not pass between worlds more than once. Sooner or later she and Sam would have to return to the river, or die. There were plenty of warnings to keep them from forgetting their true home, and there were times when Calliope felt herself to be tired not of this new world, but of the people inhabiting it. She wished she could persuade Ashe to return with them, when it was time for them to go, but she knew that was impossible.
The world of the river spirit was entirely different to that of anyone or anything else. The water spirits inhabited a world of constant change and eternal movement. They spent their time – all of them, always – in a world of taste and texture and sensation, where all was simplicity. No-one lied underwater. No-one tested another’s patience or courage or tenacity, and when information was needed it was simply passed by one spirit to another free from emphasis, explanation and taint. It seemed to Calliope that the land people were liars for the main part, and manipulators for the rest. Except for Ashe. Ashe was the only land person that Calliope had seen washed clean of humanity and breath. When Ashe had come to the river, there had been nothing left of her. When she had fallen, Ashe truly had not cared whether she lived or died. Perhaps it had been the ambiguous attitude that had alerted the river spirits to her death. They were used to seeing the struggles of the drowning, but when Ashe came to them, she was clean out of fight.
What was it in Ashe that had made the water spirits so anxious to help her? This was something Calliope still wondered about, and she knew that she couldn’t ask her silent companion, because she was sure that Ashe didn’t know. And it looked as if Ashe would soon be tugged a war, and taken from Calliope’s side. Ashe valued herself so very slightly, so why was it that she was and had been, whether she saw it or not valued, both by the river spirits and the inhabitants of Caer Arianrhod? One had given her a second chance of life, the other claimed to need her if the forthcoming war was to be won. Gowdie had been sent to fetch Ashe. The question was, why?
At last Calliope gave up the unequal struggle. The words burst out before she had time to consult herself. She said to Ashe, “Why are you doing this? Why are you here? I know that you don’t want to talk, and that you’re sick of everyone else talking all the time, but I have to know. Sooner or later Sam and I will have to leave you, but before we go, I want to understand you.”
Ashe was surprised. She pushed her dark fringe out of her eyes – hair that badly needed cutting; later that night she might take a knife to it, and hack it shorter – and said, “Understand me? What you see is all there is, Calliope. There’s nothing further to understand.”
“Oh, yes.” Painfully ironic. “It happens all the time: people get expelled from their homes, murdered, resurrected and conscripted. What I want to know is, why has it all happened to you? I can’t believe it’s simply a question of luck.”
Ashe repeated, “Murdered, resurrected and conscripted?” and began laughing. After a moment, Calliope was laughing, too. When she’d caught her breath, Ashe said, “Calliope, I am so sorry. I think your people forgot to breathe life back into my sense of humour. I’ve been miserable for ages and I am sorry about that. It’s just…” she broke off, unsure of what came next. Calliope helped her out.
“It’s Gowdie, isn’t it? The whole thing about having somewhere specific to get to.”
“It’s partly that. To be honest, I don’t really understand. I think that so much happened to me in so short a time that I never had the opportunity – or the irritant – of considering what had happened before I left Lascar. I found freedom and I liked it. Now it feels as if I’m about to lose it again, and as you say, you and Sam can’t stay much longer.” She looked at Calliope. “The problem is, I really like you. I can’t remember liking anyone so much.” She smiled. “And we don’t even share the same base element. I’m on the earth and you’re in the water and that’s an end to it.”
“You weren’t the same race as Laure but you were still able to be her companion.”
Ashe was about to say half a dozen things, but she simply bit her lip. Calliope sighed. “Whether or not she wanted you as her consort, you were still her companion for several years.”
“Alright. Agreed.” Calliope wanted to know more but she was afraid to ask.
“Ashe?”
“Uh-huh?”
The words were simple enough. Calliope sounded them in her head before she spoke them. “And you were lovers?” Ashe gave her a savage grin. “I see. Were you happy with her?”
“Calliope, what exactly do you want to know?”
“As much as you’re willing to tell me. Everything, please.”
“Oh, you must really want to die of boredom.” Ashe sighed. “Alright.” She paused, then asked, “Where do you want me to start from?”
“From where you were before you reached Lascar.”
“Let’s see. I wasn’t born in Lammor, and I didn’t reach Lascar until I was nine or ten. When I arrived, I had someone with me – a companion, a relation, maybe just a guide – called Cora. We’d been travelling for three or four years. We lived with the sea-people for a while, which is where I got to like swimming so much. The same day we reached Lascar, Cora died. It was so strange: she took me to the gates and kissed me on the cheek, turned around and walked away. But she didn’t get far: the guards told me afterwards that she dropped like a stone down onto the dusty road. I… I ran back to her.” Ashe suddenly remembered everything from that time. “She didn’t die easily or painlessly, Calliope. I don’t even know what killed her. Anyway, I wouldn’t let go of her, so one of the guards had to knock me out. I woke up with such a headache.”
Calliope frowned. Cora dying in such a way sounded to her like very dark magic. She put the information away to examine at a later date. She asked, “Did you meet the princess straight away?”
“No. Not for the first few weeks. For a while I didn’t see anyone. The guards were smart, if a bit on the cold side. They had to think about Lascar, and when I turned up like that, they had to assume that I might be a threat to Lammor. After all, we’d turned up out of thin air, and when Cora died they assumed I might have the same disease – if it was a disease that she died of – so I was quarantined for a while. I was scared at first. It was strange to be entirely alone: for so long there had been Cora.”
“You must have been very frightened.”
“I don’t know how long I was alone for. It might have been a month. At first I hated it, then I got to like the quiet. And then I was taken to see the queen – Leanna – and she talked to me. I wasn’t in any way remarkable, but of course, I didn’t look like any of them. I think the queen was just curious because my arrival had been a bit odd. Anyway, we talked for a while: she asked me lots of questions that I couldn’t answer, and then they put me in a room for a day or so. I suppose I was under lock and key again, during that time. Again. And then they brought me out and let me talk to Jura. Jura I really liked.”
“Gowdie mentioned her.” They didn’t look at one another: Gowdie mentioned everything. Ashe smiled again. “Wasn’t she considered an outsider, too?”
“She was. Anyway, yes, Jura was an outsider, too, even though she’d been with the queen for so long. I respected and honoured the queen, but I loved Jura. It would have been hard not to. She had an kind of integrity that I always envied. She was the one who told me to get out of the court and really think about what I wanted, when they were considering me as a potential companion for Laure.”
“That was good of her.” Pause. Then a return to the important questions. “What about the sex? You said you became lovers.”
“Sex?” Ashe grinned. Then the grin died away. “Yes. One day we just crossed that line, from friends to lovers. But it was different for me than for her. For Laure I was one of a series. But she was the first girl I’d ever been with. I must have been sixteen by then. Laure was slightly older. Just a couple of months, but I think that it mattered very much to Laure.
“I was so overwhelmed when she first kissed me that I felt as if summer had struck in the middle of winter. I was so happy. It wasn’t the most successful sex in the world, though. I didn’t have any experience, and Laure had had lots. I didn’t realise that at first,” she added.
Calliope was developing an impression of Laure. In due course she hoped to have said impression described in oils. Then she could set it on fire.
“There was a period – maybe just a few months – after we’d first become lovers, when I think we were both happy. I think she quite liked me then, and I was completely smitten. I’m a bit of a fool for beauty, and Laure was so very lovely. I kept letting her appearance win me over. It’s like being in love with a dream, if the person you’re with is that beautiful.”
The oil painting would be suspended over a dozen candles and allowed to smoulder before it burned. That should do it.
“I used to lie beside her in bed, when she was sleeping, and just watch her breathe. I knew every aspect of her face. When she was sleeping, she looked other-worldly. It’s a phase: lots of people go through it. I used to think that I was so lucky…” Ashe broke off.
A short silence between them. They could see the river, not far off.
“And then she chose Calypso, and the whole thing was over.” Ashe blushed.
“She didn’t tell me about Calypso. I mean - ”
Calliope raised her eyebrows. “She didn’t tell you anything, did she? She kept you around to keep things secret and then she produced Calypso. How long before the ceremony did she give you to adjust? How long was it then before Calypso arrived?” Ashe stared at the distant hills in an almost-convincing parody of fascination.
Calliope stopped dead. “She didn’t tell you, did she, Ashe?” Ashe wouldn’t meet her eyes. “No, I can see that she didn’t.” She sighed. “When are you going to start defending yourself, Ashe? No, don’t answer that, either.”
“Rhea – she’s the finest wise-woman I’ve ever known – told me what was going to happen. The odd thing was, once she’d told me, and I’d gotten over the shock and the anger, all I could think was: I can be free again. Gods, I can leave.” She didn’t look at Calliope. She said, “That last day, when Ruth found me and told me that I was wanted by the princess, I had already begun to change. I had a choice: I went to her because I knew that everything was over. I suppose I wanted to look at her, knowing that she was already rid of me, and not fall down, or die.”
When Ashe had finished speaking, Calliope had a momentary flash of foresight. It was the first and last time that she would ever experience it but while it lasted she realised that she could see everything, see the reasons for everything. But the impression couldn’t keep. Even as Calliope understood everything, everything was flashing past her. She looked at Ashe with a new expression in her eyes.
They reached the river banks. Ashe stopped and sat down on a low rock. Calliope watched her. “Ashe, what are you doing?”
“I’m going swimming.”
It was different for a water spirit. Calliope said, “But the water will be almost freezing. Won’t that hurt you?”
“I’ll live,” said Ashe. “Probably.” She had unlaced both her high boots and was starting to undo her shirt. “ Are you going to join me?”
“I can’t. I’m sorry, Ashe. Water spirits aren’t allowed to do what Sam and I have done more than once in our lives. If I swim with you now, I’ll never be able to leave the water again.”
A long moment passed between them, and then Ashe smiled and threw Calliope her shirt. “Please guard my clothes for me. Don’t let any shape-shifters steal them. It’s a cold night.”
It was a cold night, and the water was like ice, but Ashe was happy in it..
*******
A long way away from Betany’s insomnia, and Ashe’s midnight swim, Laure and Calypso lay in the bed that the princess had once shared with Ashe. Laure was sleeping, and Calypso lay unmoving, a million miles from sleep. Through the air that night ran a strange connection: Betany sitting on a working bench in the broad kitchens of Caer Arianrhod, drinking her cold mulled wine, Ashe allowing the current draw her downstream, making it as hard as possible to regain her starting point, and Calypso, lying sated, her hands behind her head, wishing she could sleep. She seemed to have mislaid that particular skill.
A cloud passed over the face of the moon and suddenly there they were, the three of them sitting round a table, with Betany at the head of it, a jug of wine before her, a cup resting by her hand. Ashe pushed her chair far enough back from the table that she could rest her knees against the edge. When she looked at the ground Ashe could see grass growing up all around the legs of the table. Calypso sat opposite Ashe, her face illuminated by the cool white light of the moon. There was a short silence, and then Betany said, “Is there no chance at all of our avoiding a war?”
“Things have gone so far now that if we let our weapons fall to the ground, rumour alone would pick them up and employ them.” Calypso slapped her hands palms down on the table.
Betany looked toward where Ashe was sitting, absently, squeezing water out of her wet hair, and doing up the leather laces that secured her shirt for the sake of modesty. “Ashe? What do you say? Will you join with us at Caer Arianrhod?”
Ashe looked physically tired but emotionally a little better. She said, “I think so. If we do, we’ll be on our way again at dawn. I think there is no other option. If the Mercian army takes Caer Arianrhod there will be nothing but a life of tyranny and slavery left for its people. And Lammor will be decimated. But I wish there was no need for war.” Her voice sounded to her dull and empty.
“Your ex-princess is a very passionate woman,” said Calypso, wanting badly to vex Ashe. Ashe glanced at her, her expression more bored than impatient.
“How nice for you.” Ashe looked away to Betany. “What hope is there for Lammor?”
“I believe that Lascar will be lost.” Ashe nodded. In the river of dreaming she had seen the remains of the city: she was past being surprised.
“What about Mercia?” Calypso’s face was white with anger. Betany shrugged her shoulders.
“I think that that is up to you. I don’t know. I don’t even know why this dream has brought us together.”
“Do we all know that we are dreaming?” Ashe spoke the words. “Or are Calypso and I just puppets in a dream of yours?”
“It might be your dream, Ashe,” Betany’s voice was soft. She smiled at Ashe.
“It must be a nightmare then,” said Calypso. “If I am meeting you two – Ashe in particular - and I have no sword with which to defend myself.”
“You don’t need any weapons.” Ashe looked coldly toward Calypso. “You’re not in any danger. This is just a dream, or as you say, a nightmare, depending on your point of view. It’s no easier for me to see you than it is for you to look on me and be distressed. How is the princess?”
“The princess is fine. The princess and I have just spent the better part of the night enjoying sexual delights the like of which you’ll never know, Ashe.”
Ashe grinned at her. “You poor, petty woman,” she said. “As if I should still care. I’m happy for you. Really. Give the princess my regards.”
“You won’t consider our not going to war?” Betany asked Calypso. “Even knowing that Ashe and I may join forces.”
Calypso pulled a derisory face. “It’ll take more than the two of you to beat me.”
Ashe said, “What if we refused to fight? Some of us aren’t interested in littering up the countryside with dead bodies.”
“Then I’d just take your countries and your forces and I’d make your people my slaves.” Ashe shifted in her chair and sat forward, staring at Calypso’s expression. “Oh, of course. I forget that you don’t like the idea of slaves, Ashe. Was that because you were one for so long? I mean, you might have carried the title of companion, or some such thing, but we both know that you were nothing but a bed-warmer and someone for Laure to share her classes with.”
Ashe combed back her wet hair with her fingers and glanced toward Betany. “I don’t suppose there’s any more of that mulled wine, is there?” Utterly confused, Betany refilled her cup and handed it to Ashe, who drank half of it off with relish. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s funny but I’ve missed that. Lammor only does mulled wine at the solstice.
“I use it to put myself to sleep,” said Betany, “When I know that otherwise I’d be awake all night.” They smiled at one another. Calypso became irritated.
“I didn’t come here to discuss the niceties of wine,” she snapped. “What else do we need to discuss?”
“Nothing,” said Betany. “I think we all know where we stand. Go back to your own dreams.”
“Thanks,” said Ashe, succinctly, finishing the wine, her fingers maintaining an absent hold on the carved wooden cup.
“There’s something you should know, Ashe.” Calypso couldn’t restrain herself from one last blow. Ashe raised her eyebrows. “The queen is dead. And Jura followed swiftly after her. Tomorrow the funerals will take place.” She grinned at Ashe, whose face had gone white. Calypso made an ironic salute toward the two of them. “See you in the next life.” Ashe wondered why those words evoked some half-lost memory.
*******
Calliope was asleep on the riverbank when Ashe came out of the water, her hair sleeked back, shivering with cold. The moonlight was growing ragged as clouds scudded across the sky. Ashe looked down at her right hand, in which was still held a cup of carved wood. She stared at it, confused, and put it away into a jacket pocket. She dressed as quickly as her numbed hands would let her. Then she sat down beside Calliope and said softly, and to herself, “Whose dream was it, then??
*******
Maybe it had been a mistake to mention Jura and the queen. Never give away information without learning something yourself. Gods! Calypso sat bolt upright in bed. Beside her, Laure shifted in her sleep, murmured and stole the blankets. Calypso looked down at her. Caer Arianrhod. That was not good news. How could the news of her relationship with Laure have travelled so far, so fast? And that wasn’t all… Suddenly the most remarkable aspect of the dream registered in Calypso’s spinning thoughts. Ashe. Ashe alive and well, and off to join with the opposition. Calypso got up and put on a robe. She was never going to sleep again, she vowed. Not until Ashe was defeated and Caer Arianrhod had fallen.