Date: Mon, 19 May 2003 10:34:01 -0400
From: Kris Gibbons <bookwyrm6@yahoo.com>
Subject: SongSpell-13

This story is a work of fiction. It contains references to violent behavior
between adults and children, and expressions of physical affection between
consenting adult males. If you find this type of story offensive, or if you
are underage and it is illegal for you to read it, please exit now. All
characters are fictional and in no way related to any persons living or
deceased. Any such similarity is purely coincidental.

Warning: This chapter is not easy reading, the greater number of pages
involve violence to a minor, and its effects.

This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any
form without the specific written consent of the author. It is assigned to
the Nifty Archives under the provisions of their submission guidelines but
it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the consent of
the author.

I can be contacted at Bookwyrm6@yahoo.com

Copyright 2003 Kristopher R. Gibbons All rights reserved by the author.


                    13 What's Hecuba To Him

                    Hamlet: What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
                    That he should weep for her? What would he do
                    Had he the motive and the cue for passion
                    That I have?
                                         Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2, Line 569

     "Then, n... Now, Papa."
     The King sighed. "I don't like this. I don't think its
wise. Kri-estaul, you are still... not well."
     "Please, Papa! Please! I need to know!"
     Evendal stared, bewildered, into the desperate countenance. "What?
What pushes you so?"
     "You are all so... so good to me. Even though..." Kri-estaul swallowed
and forced the words out. "Even though I'm dirty and stupid and slow and
bad." The list played on Evendal's ears like a meaningless
litany. "But. But..." Kri-estaul either could not voice the thought, or
feared to.
     "But what?"
     "But you don't know. You've got to know. You don't know... what I am."
Kri-estaul curled around in a ball, hugging his stomach. "You don't. Just
don't hate me." he whispered. "I try... tried to be good."
     Had he not witnessed this quicksilver transformation in his son,
Evendal would not have credited it. "Shhh. I can see we need to begin this,
at least. And I gave you a promise, Kri-estaul. I promised I would not hate
you. I meant it. And mean it now."
     The eight-year old remained curled, but relaxed slightly. "I'm sorry!
I'm sorry...P.Papa. But, you don't know. You've got to know."
     "And when I know what you went through? What do you think will happen
then?" Evendal asked the brutal question softly.
     For a long time the only sound in the room came from the mingled
breathing patterns of the two occupants. Kri-estaul's breath came out
erratic and syncopated. When that showed no sign of change, Evendal asked
again. "What do you think will happen then?"
     Kri-estaul's voice burbled, barely coherent. "You won't love me any
more. Or you'll... only bear with me."
     "Bear with you?" Evendal responded. "Do you mean 'just tolerate you'?"
     Kri-estaul nodded.
     Evendal took it as a sign of progress that at least the child did not
expect the physical cruelty he had known. "Tolerate you? Kri, I am King. I
don't have to tolerate anyone. That would be cruel of me. But please listen
to me for a moment. I know some of what you feel, Kri-estaul. And something
of the way you are thinking. Not enough, maybe. I haven't felt like you do
for a long time. Twisted, and its not anything you can change or reach, or
bargain away. No matter how much talking to yourself you do, or how
watchful you are, the dirtiness and twisting floats up inside. And at the
happiest times, to make them bad, to ruin them for you."
     Kri-estaul stared up at his father, his mouth slightly open, tears and
amazement in his eyes. His breathing had calmed.
     "I'm right here, Kri-estaul. And I love you, as my son. Whatever you
need to tell me, I will listen. It will not get old. It will not, my son!
The feelings that eat at you will go away, but not quickly. So, however
often you need to talk, I want you to talk to me." And glancing at the wall
beside them, Evendal was reminded how the same stonework went down four
levels. "But not in here. Can... Can we go outside?"
     After a moment Kri-estaul realised he was being asked, and nodded
vigourously.
     "Of course, you know I have to have Guard close by? They will hear
what you say also."
     Kri-estaul thought on that for a moment. "Can one of them be Uncle
Ierwbae? Or Uncle Metthendoenn?" Though tentatively voiced, he carefully
pronounced their full names.
     "Yes. We can ask them." Evendal remembered Sygkorrin's
advisement. "And would you mind awfully if Aldul sat with us?"
     Kri frowned. "Why?"
     Evendal pondered what he could say without breaking faith. "He went
through some cruel times, too. And he is good at listening."
     "You like him a lot, don't you?"
     "Yes. Like I told you, he helped me through a very scary time."
     "Oh. Would he... He's nice. Even though he gives me those potions."
     "Are you sure? You don't have to do this, you know?"
     What Evendal saw on Kri-estaul's face reminded him of the dull,
despairing expression he had seen on too many battle-worn veterans facing a
long campaign. "Yes, I do. Don't I?"
     "Yes," Evendal whispered, wondering what passed in his son's
mind. "Probably many times." He motioned for one of the Guards. "Hielbrae,
would you ask Ierwbae and Metthendoenn to attend us outside? And if they
are agreeable, arrange for Metthendoenn's safe transport? And delegate
someone to request Aldul's presence as well. As soon as they can come."  As
Evendal gave his orders, Kri-estaul uncurled enough to watch. His face
shone with amazement that his new Papa actually arranged everything without
shouting at him or cursing him for the burden he was. The woman departed.
     "Now," Evendal began. Kri-estaul tensed. "We both need to get ready
also. The jakes, then we'll do a quick clean up. And you are not telling us
anything unless you accept a rule or two."
     "W. Wh... What?"
     Evendal did some quick, furious rethinking. He spoke slowly, hoping it
would convey a calm he did not feel. "If you are scaring me, I will ask you
to stop. And give everyone a moment to calm down. If we don't understand, I
will ask you to stop. That will give you a chance to help us
understand. Just for a moment! But when I ask you to stop, then you will
stop! It will do you no good to get sick, over words we did not hear
clearly or understand. Do you see why I want that rule?"
     The King watched Kri-estaul run his words over several times in his
head, until the sense penetrated. "You want to make sure you hear me
right. Right?"
     "Yes, and I want you safe. I will not hurt you, Kri-estaul. I do not
want you to hurt yourself."
     Kri-estaul's look of incomprehension added to the weight in Evendal's
heart. "Just pretend, Kri-estaul. That for the time being I am more worried
about you than if you are good or evil."
     To that, Kri-estaul said nothing. But Evendal knew the child felt
himself a burden. That he allowed himself to draw anyone's attention or
effort took courage; it also underscored how vital he felt his intended
disclosures.
     Ever since the first Council's bloody mess, the king ensured a good
supply of washcloths, a ewer, two waterskins, and five craters - four
filled with water - were kept available on a long narrow table in their
apartments. Groaning out of bed, Evendal lifted Kri-estaul to the privy and
waited outside. Once done there, Evendal moved his son with him to the
table and they set about cleaning themselves. Both Evendal and Kri-estaul
had taken it as given that his son would take care of himself for
everything except his perineal region and his back. The King's first
attempt to help his son had shown the wisdom in Kri-estaul, solely, washing
his legs, as he alone knew how much pressure and abrasion they could bear.
     Rather than dwell on the inevitable, Evendal ald'Menam did the one
behaviour he despised in others; he spouted whatever entered his head to
say. "What would you like to break the night's fast with? Pickles and
teff?" Kri-estaul stared at his adoptive father in surprise. "Apricots and
lentils? Oysters Paprikash and carob? No. Thistles! Green or purple?"
Evendal stared back at Kri-estaul, inquiringly. "In a mustard sauce? Or
apple and tomato?"
     Kri-estaul could not help making a face. "I'm not very hungry."
     "Nonsense. Just wait until you've tried Shulro's crab stuffed with
pine needles and walnut hulls."
     Kri-estaul giggled briefly, and having cleaned himself to the limit of
his reach and his nerves, grimaced and glared at the empty basin. "Let me
situate you, son. Please." The bronze oval bowl, at its widest, was half
Kri-estaul's length, and had a padded wooden framework encompassing it that
elevated the boy's buttocks and braced him lower at the chest. Doeskin
stirrups or slings, strategically set, kept his calves from any hard
surface. The effect had Kri-estaul look like someone falling nearly
face-first, but it made using simple distilled water on his fistula
infinitely more effective: A gift crafted by Pohul-halik and Priestess
Sygkorrin in their 'dissolute past'. Evendal had never seen its like, but
old marks on it, and the polish provided by heavy handling, told him the
device was not something newly inspired. After affixing a reed to the
modified aperture of each waterskin, Evendal pressed the skin, directing
the water precisely.
     Drying off, they followed the same rule as washing: Kri-estaul took
care of himself to the limits of his reach and strength. Evendal dried the
remainder. Dressing brought their greatest frustration, as Evendal had no
experience putting clothes on another person. Invariably a garment started
out twisted, or they had trouble getting the child's arms through
sleeves. Kri-estaul could not bear to sit passively while his father,
however unintentionally, strangled him or fettered him. This morning
Kri-estaul voiced no protest, eliciting a sour mixture of relief and worry
in Evendal.
     With a kiss on the boy's forehead, Evendal carried Kri-estaul out and
sat on the mock Throne to wait. In a wordless understanding, they both
accepted that eating first might be a bad idea. "If you need to stop, then
stop. If it gets too scary or hard, you stop. Do you hear me?" He knew he
repeated himself. He knew he had to.
     Kri-estaul nodded with a worried expression on his face. "I hear you,
Papa." And Evendal realised that Kri offered neither a concession nor
acquiescence.
     Metthendoenn arrived on a makeshift litter, with Ierwbae and Aldul as
the carriers.
     Too anxious to wait on anyone's questions, Kri-estaul began. "When I
had six years, I went to the Palace all the time. With my bodyguard,
Ienlit. Mama taught writing there. I used to learn at home, but Mama was at
the Palace a lot more. One day, I walked through the Palace to go home. I
turned a corner and saw the Stoner. He was huge! Angry looking. He was
waiting for Ienlit and me. He ordered us to come with him. We ran as hard
as we could. He got Ienlit. I ran until I ran into the Beast. But he looked
like a Guard. I didn't know who he was. I apologised. He grinned real
big. He grabbed me and lifted me up. I thought he was going to hit me. He
stopped, let me down and said something about being sorry for not seeing
me. I had to walk more slowly from now on. He said he would see me very
soon. I walked real fast out of the Palace and told my family."
     "After that, why did you come back?" Aldul asked.
     Kri-estaul looked down at his lap. The question disordered
Kri-estaul's thoughts. After a moment, where Evendal could feel and hear
the child mumbling, Kri-estaul answered. "I thought he was a Guard. He was
real nice to me at the end. So Mama thought it would be safe as long as I
stayed with a protector."
     "After school the next day, I walked through the Palace. Worried about
the Stoner. The Terrible... The Beast snuck behind us. My new guard tried
to help. I don't remember the guard's name. She ran. They grabbed her
though."
     Kri-estaul shook in Evendal's arms. "We were taken to the
under-ground. I think it was the second floor. Into a room with
weird-looking beds. He was strong. He strapped me into one and then flipped
it up. He said so I could look at everything. But there wasn't anything to
see except those stupid beds and some posts. The bed swung me a lot and
hurt my arms and back. I begged him to let me go. I really did."
     "Shh..." Evendal interrupted. "Take a deep breath, Kri." The boy
complied. "And another. Now. Do you want to continue?"
     Kri nodded, distracted. "He smelled of metheglyn and betony. Mama used
to drink a glass after each guild-council. And grandma smoked betony when
she lived with us. That's how I know. He told me he couldn't..."
     In re-orienting to Kri-estaul's immediate resumption, Evendal got a
glimpse into just how his son survived, isolated, in the dark, for two
years. With nothing but time, and no one to talk to, and nothing but straw,
stone and rodent to touch, Kri-estaul must have set himself the task of
remembering. In order. And drawing on all his associated memories from
before his imprisonment. Remembering everything he could!
     "...He had told my mother and Drussie how I had hit him. I had run
into him. And that they said I was always like that; a naughty, stupid
brat. But I'm not, Papa! I'm not! Really, I'm not! I kicked a room screen
down once when I had five years, 'cause I was playing where I shouldn't,
but..."
     "Shh. I know, Kri. You're not naughty. Nor stupid. I know better."
     Kri-estaul paused, taking several breaths and looking at Evendal with
an odd expression; half fearful, half critical. He clearly did not trust
his new father's good nature, still. He took a deep breath, then laid out
his most painful memory.
     "The Most Terrib... The Beast said... They told the Beast that he
could have me, if he wanted, for twelve coppers. Drussie taught me about
money, Papa. I like the feel of silvers better than either golds or
coppers. Two days before He... detained me, Drussie bought three squabs at
market for twelve coppers. She had to pluck them, though."
     "He... He hit me. I couldn't breathe. The weird bed swung me away and
then back into his fist." Kri-estaul was sweating now. "He stopped hurting
me, and picked on my guard. I couldn't breathe well. Then she was
naked. She looked odd, nothing but hair under her trews. And He did mean
stuff to her, nothing I had ever seen before. But I knew it was mean
because she screamed and begged him to stop. He looked at me. I was sure he
was going to stab me, too. But he kissed me. It was gross; he kept pushing
his tongue at my mouth. I must have made him angry, I don't know. He hit me
hard again. I opened my mouth, and he started kissing me again. And he spit
all this blood into my mouth. He slapped me in the face and said t... drink
it down or he would kill me. I gulped." The boy sobbed, clutching his
father.
     "Enough!" Evendal cried, gripping the shivering, dear form. "This can
wait."
     "No!" Kri shrieked. "No. Please! I need to. It never goes away.
And... And sometimes it swallows me! I am in the under-grounds... again,
and I see the Beast. Or Nisakh again! Make it go away, Papa! Please? I'll
be good! I'll be good!"
     The King didn't know what to do, but his heart hurt unto
breaking. "Enough, Kri-estaul! Enough. Oh, Thunders! My son! My son, you're
safe now! No more of this!"
     Frantic, Evendal looked at Aldul, who had crawled up to the Prince and
held out his hand, palm up. Having sensed movement near him, Kri-estaul
cringed against Evendal and whimpered at the Kwo-edan's nearness. "Can you
grip my hand, Kri-estaul?" The boy nodded, sniffling and panting.
     Aldul almost chuckled at the child's literalness. "Will you grip my
hand, Kri-estaul? Now?"  With heart-stopping slowness, and an almost
palsied waywardness, the boy complied. Aldul made no move,waiting. Suddenly
uncertain, the Kwo-edan shot a quick, nervous glance around at his
audience.
     "When I was near your age, I was kidnapped by people like the
Beast. What you suffer, sometimes, I endure too. It happens, and at the
weirdest moments. What to do when it happens is what you are doing now. You
take someone's hand, you hold onto it hard! Not a chair, not their
clothing. Their hand. And you try to tell them you are trying to stay with
them. I know when you get scared it's hard to think, but do you think you
can do that?"
     Kri-estaul hesitated while the sense of Aldul's words penetrated his
fog of anxiety, then he nodded.
     "I know it's impossible yet to look at us when you talk about
this. You don't have to. But hold onto your Papa's hand while you
talk. Will you do that? It may not keep you here. But it might."
     The child nodded again, and Aldul retreated an arm's length.
     Everyone waited, knowing without a word said that Kri-estaul needed to
finish his task.
     When his breathing grew easier, Kri-estaul lifted his head from
Evendal's side and frowned. "He... He put this post in front of my guard
and weighted it down. It wasn't very tall. I've seen fighters do that at
practices. But he tied a dagger to it and got behind her. He had already
torn off her clothes, and he pulled her back. Like he was hugging her, but
she screamed again. Real loud. I thought he was pulling her arms and
stuff. I said to let go of her. She didn't do anything wrong. He... He let
go of her. And she swung into the knife. He pulled her back and did it
again. She kept screaming. I cried. She got all bloody. She stopped
screaming. But the Beast still pulled her back. He made some weird noises."
     Kri tried to rush through his remembrance, but with his sobbing and
breathlessness, the listeners were able to keep up easily. The last
statement came out as a burble, as Evendal held the boy and gradually
calmed him.
     "She died before he quit. I saw when she stopped breathing. There was
a cat at our home ash-pile that I found dead once. I knew she had died. He
came up to me. He didn't smell like metheglyn anymore. And moved the bed so
I was looking up at him. He had his pee-stick out. All gummy and bloody. He
asked me if I knew who he was. I didn't know. He was the Terrible Lord
Abduram. I was to call him that. Only that. I begged him to forgive
me. Over and over. I did! He said he couldn't. I was bad."
     "And that my family didn't want me."
     Kri-estaul halted for a long time, his skin clammy and his skull-like
face aquiver.  "I told him I would be good. He ordered me to clean his
pee-stick. I couldn't reach it. He said 'Lick it! Like its a honey-dipper.'
I'm sorry! I wanted it to be a bad dream! I tried to get out of that bed. I
did try. He hit me every time I moved. And he made me clean it. It didn't
taste of much, like the inside of my mouth when I've bitten my lip. But it
smelled awful."
     The child's last avowal was slurred, but the intent crystal
clear. Except for Evendal tightening his embrace, no one moved for several
breaths. Too many breaths for Kri-estaul's peace of mind. "Please, I'm
sorry! Please don't hate me! Please. I didn't want to! He made me! I didn't
want you to hate me..."
     "There was nothing else you could do, Kri-estaul." Evendal assured
him, in a gentle voice. "You had no choice."
     Kri cried in Evendal's arms for a while. Nobody moved. When he felt he
could, the child tried again. "When he said I had cleaned it enough, he
left me alone in the bed. He said I had just had my supper. They left the
dead lady on her bed, too."
     "Kri-estaul..." Evendal began.
     The child shook his head vehemently. "No."
     "Why? Calm yourself, a moment. Why is it so important to tell us all
at one time?"
     "It just is! If I don't I'll be too scared... later."
     Evendal felt confusion on top of his misery. "Scared of what?"
     "You have been so good to me, like I was... a boy. I feel like
I... Like I am fooling you, somehow."
     "So." Metthendoenn whispered. "You think we don't know how evil you
are? You're afraid you will not have the courage to tell us, later. Right?"
     Kri-estaul nodded, closing his eyes. "The next day, I guess it was the
next day. It was a long time anyway. He came back, with a brazier. Mama had
a much smaller one that she used to calm herself after a rough day with the
guild. She used it to make the room smell nice. He asked me if I knew why I
was here. I told him no. He hit me and asked me again. I cried maybe I was
bad. He punched me again. 'If you had to guess, then you are still bad', he
said. I begged him to let me go, give me another chance to be good. But I
had to be punished for running into him. Good boys do not run into the
loving rulers of their home. He said something about making sure I did not
do it again. I... I didn't understand."
     Wrapped up in his memories, Kri-estaul began to gasp for breath again.
"He cut my clothes off. He flipped up the bed frame. Then he put his knife
over the fire. He walked behind me and... hurt my legs. It hurt. I
screamed. Louder than I ever screamed."
     Kri-estaul's hysteria began to fade again. "I woke up. My legs were
burning. I could not see anything. I was still in that bed. I cried and
cried. No one heard me. I hurt for a long time. I remember my throat hurt a
lot. My arms didn't hurt as much, but they kept tingling. The Beast came in
and asked me if I wanted off the bed. I said yes. But I had to prove I
could be good. He said I had to be obedient." Kri-estaul paused, clearly
unhappy about continuing.
     "One of the Guard came up to me, pulled out his pee-stick and wanted
me to open my mouth. He started to piss. I shut it. He stopped and punched
me in the side. He made me drink his piss! But the... the Beast said I had
failed. I stayed in the bed."
     Kri sounded tired at this point, but he continued, determined. His
voice gradually fell into a resigned, dull-witted drone. "He flipped the
bed up again. The Guard took a rag and water and wiped my bum. I... I had
pissed on myself and had... had shat; I guess when He hurt my legs. I kept
begging Him to let me go. He gave me another chance. A test. I was not to
make any noise. The Guard grabbed my bum and spit on it. The Beast pushed
him aside and got behind me. And..." Kri-estaul stopped, then mumbled into
his lap. "He hurt me and hurt me."
     "I tried hard not to make a sound. I tried! But I couldn't help it. I
screamed." The tired, defeated monotone harrowed Evendal more than the
uncontrolled cries had.
     "He was mad. I had disobeyed. He finished hurting me and told me I
would never leave the under-ground. I was a very, very bad boy who could
not behave. He said he would be kind still: He would not kill me. He gave
me to his friend, Nisakh, to make into a good boy. Nisakh untied me, lifted
me out, and laid me on the floor. He said the first lesson was taught
outside, went to the door, and told me to follow him."
     "Mother-killing dastard!" Ierwbae hissed.
     "I couldn't. I dragged myself forward. I tried. Nisakh got angry
because I was slow and disobedient. He stepped on my hands. That hurt
more. I kept trying! He kicked me. Then he picked me up and tossed me to
the door. I don't remember, but I think I got down the stair to another
level. I don't remember."
     Frighteningly, Kri-estaul's weeping had slowed. His voice remained a
chill monotone.  "He threw me down the hall till we got to a room. He
dragged me in and... shackled me up to a wall with my nose in all this
yucky stuff. Then... he. He hurt me, too. It still hurt. Only worse. Then
he stopped and unshackled me. He held me by my hair when I fell. He. He
made me clean his pee-stick. I thought he pissed in my mouth at first, but
it was that slimy stuff that Guards make when they get excited... or
angry."
     "I asked if I had been a good boy. He pulled my hair up harder.  I had
not been good. But he said I could be. I was bad for running into the ruler
of Osedys, and I must never forget that. Never. He didn't think a Guard
should help bad boys. But he taught me. If I saw him, or any Guard, the
first thing I must do is apologise for being alive. For being bad."
     "He was kind to me, then: He waited until I could talk and asked if I
understood. I said I did. I didn't want to hurt anymore. I asked him if I
could have something to eat. He kicked me because he had given me lunch
already. I told him as fast as I could that I hadn't known it was food, and
thanked him. He left me alone then."
     Kri-estaul paused, catching his breath, not looking at anyone. "A lot
of time passed. When no one from my family ever got mentioned, I... I
thought they really had sold me to the Terrible Lord Abd... the Beast."
     "I'm tired. Nisakh would bring other Guard with him sometimes, and
they would test me. If I could keep quiet while they hurt me. Or fed me
their slimy stuff. Sometimes I could. Mostly I couldn't. The Terr... Beast
came to hurt me that way three more times. They hurt my legs two times. The
second time, he told me Mama had died for being bad, and for being my
mother. Then Nisakh didn't come for a long, long time. I knew I had
failed. That he was sick of me. The Beast had given up on me. I don't know
how long it was. But I saw no one. Then you rescued me."
     "I remember more, lots more. I. I just can't..., right now. I'm
sorry!" Kri-estaul started to sob again. "But I never forgot... forgot to
apologise to Nisakh. For soiling the air. For taking up food that good boys
could eat."
     Evendal wiped his eyes with a sodden sleeve and looked about
him. Metthendoenn lay clutching Ierwbae and hiding his sobs. Ierwbae hid
nothing, his face glistening. Aldul sat wet-cheeked and sad-eyed, shaking,
his taut hand again in Kri's tight grip.
     "I wished I was dead. I think... Nisakh liked hurting me. Sometimes I
would pretend... Imagine... that he was really the bad one. One Guard
wanted to... to plow me when I had shat. But the others wanted me clean, so
Nisakh always kept me clean. When I was alone I would go over everything I
remembered, again and again. Wondered if I was as bad as they
said. Sometimes, I tried to recall everything about my dreams of you. But
it was always just your eyes glowing at me. How safe I felt being held by
you. Safety."
     In the ensuing silence Evendal thought Kri-estaul had finished, until
the child blurted out. "I forgot about the dark, and the mice. When I went
to sleep they would crawl all over me, and bite me. I would try to keep
awake sometimes. But I fell asleep. The rats actually were nice, they
seldom bit."
     The child started shaking again, and briefly hid his face in his
hand. "When the Terrible Lord visited with Nisakh, he asked me how good a
bitch I was. While he was hurting me, Nisakh said I made a
good... pussy-boy. I think that's the word they used. Is that what I am?"
     The King opened his mouth. The question, along with Kri-estaul's sad
countenance and indifferent tone, totally unmanned Evendal. No sound
emerged. Evendal could only close his eyes and shake his head to say 'No.'
With the surfeit of rage and pain, Evendal's eyes glowed red through their
lids.
     "No," Aldul whispered. "No. That is not what you are, Kri-estaul. You
are a precious, strong, canny lad who was powerless to do anything but what
they made you do. Take a look around you, Kri."
     After a moment, the boy whispered back. "I'm afraid." Then he gave the
lie to his words, and flicked a look over at Aldul's ravaged face, to
Ierwbae's, a little ways away Hielbrae stood shaking with
distress. Terrible uncertainty tensing his puffy face, Kri-estaul tilted
his head up to look at the King.
     Evendal's face shone wet with tears, eyes closed, the lines of every
muscle in that face stood out. Kri did not know how his saviour felt after
his confession, his cowardice, all that he had done. Evendal opened his
lambent eyes, and Kri-estaul squinted against the light illuminating every
bite on his face.
     "Do you know what you are?" Evendal m'Alismogh asked. His voice came
out soft as velvet, and the Throne vibrated to it. It took all his will not
to scream an incoherent wail, which would have helped his son not at all.
     Kri-estaul could not look away. After a moment his squint disappeared,
though the glow in Evendal's eyes had not dimmed. Unable to speak, Kri
swallowed, then mouthed. "Bad."
     "No. You're amazing. And you're my son."
     "You don't... hate me? You won't leave me?" Disbelief burrowed into
every crease of Kri-estaul's face.
     "I am not worthy of you, Kri. You deserve better than me. But I will
never leave you. Ever."
     Kri-estaul began to cry, quiet sobs that seemed to ease him. "I had to
tell you. What I had done, what... How bad I was. I just knew when you
heard... I just knew you would rush me back to Drussie. And I would never
see you again!"
     "No, little man. You stay here, with me, where you belong."
     The shuddering child tried to stare up at Evendal. "I want that more
than anything!"
     "What?" the King asked, befuddled, slow-witted with the effort of
restraining his rage, his fury at the perpetrators.
     "You holding me. I feel... I don't feel so alone. Scared."
     "That is good. You belong right here. Why did you want Ierwbae and
Metthendoenn to hear this?"
     "You... liked them. But they needed to know I'm bad. Dung from a
jakes-hole. If they didn't like me anymore... I wanted to know. Not knowing
hurts."
     "Oh, Kri." Ierwbae moaned, still overwhelmed.
     "You still feel bad, don't you?" Aldul asked. Kri-estaul nodded. "What
did you do that is so bad?" Evendal gathered, from the look on Aldul's
face, that he asked the question for Kri-estaul's benefit. And that this
approach, this conversation, was to be Evendal's template in the future.
     Kri-estaul shrugged. When no one broke his silence, he tried
to. "It's... It's not something I've done. I guess. It's like I'm bad for
breathing. Sometimes I feel real evil. Like I fooled you all into liking
me. If you knew what I really was, you'd hate me. My thoughts, my
feelings."
     Aldul nodded. "That is what happens, Kri. Give yourself time. That is
called shame, Kri. You are nothing to be ashamed of. Will you try to
believe just this? I like you, good or bad. That the same is true for us
all." Aldul tugged at a pouch attached to his belt, and removed a metal cup
from within it.
     "You do?"
     Yes's echoed around the child.
     "If you can't believe that, then can you pretend? Pretend it is true,
act like it is?"
     "I'll try."
     "Kri, you are a good boy." Metthendoenn stated firmly. "I am proud of
you. And your Papa is right. You belong here, with us. You are an amazing
young man."
     Kri-estaul frowned, frustrated. "I'm an ugly boy. I am not a young
man."
     Ierwbae erupted. "Listen here, Kri-estaul. You are not ugly. You never
were. No one will ever send you away. It would hurt your Papa and me and
Metthen too much. We want you here. You are an amazing, strong, boy."
     Metthendoenn continued, undeterred. "Ugly or beautiful doesn't
matter. You are our nephew, our family." Evendal wondered if Kri felt
overwhelmed by the attention, or simply unable to hear past his self-hate.
     Aldul whispered, his voice husky with memory. "One other thing I want
you to try believing. Your chair will take you everywhere in the
above-ground Palace. So if you feel lonely, or scared, or confused, we want
you to come to one of us. Believe that we want to know. And if you cannot
believe that, act like you do. Tell us. Even if it is stuff you've told us
before. And if you feel yourself in an under-grounds memory, we want to
know. This is the toughest thing for you to believe, because you won't want
to bother anyone. Am I right?" He poured what looked like water from a skin
into the cup he had retrieved.
     Kri-estaul shrugged. "I guess."
     "Do you know what I do to people who bother me?" Aldul asked, emptying
the contents of a paper wrapper into his cup.
     "Wha...what?"
     "Nothing." Aldul grinned. "And if I'm in a really bad mood, I might
actually listen to them." Kri-estaul lip flickered upward, weakly. "And if
I am in a thunderously nasty mood, I may talk to them. 'Blerwm, blerwm,
blerwm.' For hours and hours, bells and bells."
     Kri-estaul giggled. And Aldul smiled. "Kri. Before you do anything
else. I want you to drink another tonic." Kri-estaul made a face, but
obeyed. "You know what your punishment is going to be for telling us about
Nisakh and the Beast?"
     Wide-eyed, but no longer quite as fearful, the child shook his head.
     "You will be forced to hear each and every one of us tell you what we
think of you. The truth. At least once every day for the rest of your
life."
     "Yes." Evendal agreed, grinning. "I will force you to hear how I love
you with all my heart. How you are the bravest, strongest, most loveable
boy in the kingdom."
     Kri-estaul scrunched up his face in pain. "But I'm not! Can't you
see?"
     "We all see very clearly." Evendal kissed him on the forehead, took a
deep breath, and hoped his gifts might serve. "Listen to Us, Kri-estaul of
Osedys." Despite his frustration, the child looked up, tired and haunted of
face. The King's eyes once again blazed bright, fierce, blinding everyone
but the survivor they focused on.

        It is Our duty to stand in judgment
        Over this child who has come before Us.
        These golden eyes some men mutter about
        Are for discerning. For We are the sword
        Which cleaves Light from Dark, Vengeance from Justice,
        Truth from Illusion, for all Our people.
        As Left Hand of the Unalterable,
        We declare you free from any evil.
        We look in you and see a loving son,
        One belovd of Ir, and citizen.
        This is Our judgment, indisputable.

     Evendal paused, and looked down to see Kri-estaul's body shuddering in
an emotional welter of uncertainty provoked by the glamour; lightly heeded
hope struggled in conflict with his training. He had to give the child a
truer way of perceiving himself, to present Kri-estaul with an avenue of
acceptance, yet still provide for the child's will to walk that avenue or
not.

        We love you, Kri. We do not love evil.
        Accept Our judgment for Truth, if you will.

     "Hielbrae!" Evendal called out, his voice cracking. The Guard
approached. "This Nisakh is to be found and brought before Us. As soon as
yesterday. Alive, conscious, and recognizable."
     "My honour and my pleasure to serve, Your Majesty. Your Highness..."
Heilbrae swallowed hard. "Would I could have been there for you, lad. You
are not bad! A bad boy wants what they did to you. No one... No one will
touch you like that again!"
     "Before I leave, might I approach, Your Majesty? Your Highness?"
Evendal almost smiled; glad for a moment's diversion, and from someone
obviously moved by his son's ordeal.
     Confused, Kri looked to Evendal, who nodded. "Yes," Kri whispered.
     Hielbrae walked up to the mock Throne, and knelt. She glanced shyly at
Evendal. "With Your Majesty's permission?"
     Guessing the Guard's intent, the King did smile. "Of course,
Hielbrae. With Our warmest approbation."
     Kri-estaul's attention swung back and forth between Guard and father,
unenlightened, still shivering from m'Alismogh's song-spell. Hielbrae
raised her right hand and paused when the child flinched. "Oh, lad. That is
why I do this. Will you put your hand beside mine?"
     Evendal nodded for Kri to comply. "Which hand?" the boy
stuttered. "Why?"
     "Well, to do it right and proper, one of your hands on each side of
mine. Is that... Is that something you can do, right now? I won't move
them."
     Kri-estaul stared at the red-eyed Guard for a moment, then back up to
Evendal, and then nodded. When the Guard's hand was sandwiched between
Kri's smaller ones, Evendal, in turn, draped his hands over Kri's,
startling the child.
     Hielbrae spoke softly, cautious in her tone. "By the life which
sustains me and the deeds which bespeak me, I will to Prince Kri-estaul be
true and faithful. To serve and protect him. To be his shield. To defend
his body against the weak of heart and will. To safeguard him in all lands,
in all his doings, against all peril and mischance. To give him good
counsel should he desire. To comfort him in adversity or woe."
     "Nor shall I ever with will or action do anything to besmirch the
honour and virtue of his name, on condition that he will hold to me as I
shall deserve it. As the strength of the kingdom made manifest, may my
limbs fail me, and my gifts natal and acquired, should I prove false to
this oath."
     "I. I don't understand."
     Evendal interceded. "Kri, she is asking to become your vassal. To
protect you, to never hurt you, to talk to you when you need. To listen
when you need to just talk. To go with you wherever you go."
     Kri-estaul's eyes grew big. "But... But your Papa's helper."
     "Not any more, sprite." Evendal explained. "She's now the first of
your own Guard."
     "What... What do I do?"
     "Has she scared you?"
     "No. She doesn't look like Nisakh."
     "Has she offended you?"
     "No."
     "Do you reject her kindness? Her love?"
     "I'd never do that! I don't want to hurt anyone!"
     Evendal smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. Then, you need to let her know
that."
     The Prince sat quiet for a moment. "Do you really want to be my
friend?"
     "Your Guard, my Prince."
     "But all you just said, isn't that what a friend does?"
     Hielbrae grinned shyly. "That is true, Your Highness. Then, yes. I
really want to be your friend."
     "Then I want to be your friend, too. I promise to never hurt you, to
listen when you need, to pay attention, to do what I can to help you. Umm,
to stand up for you if you get in trouble. To make sure you rest if you're
sick. I'd do my best to keep you safe."
     "Have I forgotten anything, Papa?"
     "There is one thing We would add. Hielbrae, if Our son requests
something or behaves in some way that troubles you, even the slightest, you
are required to seek Us out and let Us know your concern. You are
essentially a protector and counselor, not an enforcer of his will. Royal
or not, he is a boy still. And he may not tell Us if he is troubled."
     The woman nodded. "My Prince?"
     "You still do whatever Papa said... Hielbrae!"
     The Guard bowed her head. "As you wish, Your Highness."
     Evendal returned to holding his son. Kri-estaul leaned forward and
pecked Hielbrae on the lips, then blushed. "I'm sorry."
     "Don't be. But I'd like to earn such kisses." Hielbrae smiled. "Thank
you, sweet Prince. If I have your leave?"
     "Yes."
     "You have Our leave, also, Hielbrae." The Guard stood, bowed, and
hurried off.
     "Papa?" Evendal smiled at his son in response. "What did she do that
for?"
     Evendal did not answer directly. "You looked at her, touched her hand,
spoke with her. What did you think she felt toward you?"
     "She seemed to like me. She must have heard me talking, though."
     "I'm sure she heard every word."
     "Oh..."
     "Kri-estaul?" The boy looked to Metthendoenn. "Would you feel safe
with my holding you for a moment?"
     "You... You want to?"
     "Very much, nephew. It would help me right now."
     "Papa? Could you let me down?"
     Evendal wondered if he should refuse, this seemed too ambitious after
such vulnerability. "I could take... Yes, of course."
     With mute determination, Kri-estaul pulled his body forward, dragging
some of the loose dirt in his efforts. Metthendoenn carefully held the
child, murmuring. "My brave nevvie, I love you, dirt, evil and all. But as
your uncle, your protector." Metthendoenn emphasized the last
deliberately. "Is that acceptable to you?"
     Kri nodded slowly against the Guard's chest bandage. "But you're kind
and beautiful, and... And I'm ugly."
     "Am I? I had no control over that, anymore than you did. But you said
it was allowed for me to love you. And as your uncle, that is what I will
do! That means you visit me, because I get lonely, too. Ierwbae has duties,
so he can't always keep me company. Will you visit me, if you feel up to
it?"
     "I guess so."
     The Guard simply rocked the boy, holding him loosely. Despite
Metthendoenn's deliberate caution, and his careful touch, the tension in
Kri-estaul's passive frame would not abate. What composure the watching
Ierwbae had recovered, he lost. The Guard hugged himself, mouthing his arm
in an effort to mute his sobbing, veil his distress and grief. Gently,
Aldul extricated Kri-estaul from Metthendoenn's shaky grip, and set the boy
on the ground between them.
     "How... How could they?" Ierwbae sobbed. "He's just a child. A sweet,
loving, child." Metthendoenn stretched his arms out to his more naf
partner, offering what comfort he could. Likewise, Evendal moved from the
mock Throne and wrapped his arm around Ierwbae.
     Kri-estaul sat, supported by Aldul's hand, and watched, utterly
mystified. "Did I do something bad?"
     "No, Kri." Aldul assured him. "Uncle Ierwbae's just sad over all the
terrible pain and lies you've lived through."
     "Really?" Aldul nodded. "Don't cry, Uncle 'Bae. I'm fine now. I've got
you and Uncle Metthen and Papa. And it doesn't hurt near as much as it used
to. Please, Uncle 'Bae."
     Seeing his uncle unable to respond, Kri whispered to Aldul. "Do you
want to hold me, too?"
     Aldul looked gravely at Kri's damp skin. "I would be honoured, but not
today. It doesn't comfort you, it scares you. That gives me no pleasure or
comfort either."
     Kri hung his head. "I'm sorry. I know they are Uncle Metthen and Uncle
'Bae. They are nice and talk to me, and I like them, but... I felt all
tight inside, and like I have to piss. Scared. I hate it!"
     "And when your Papa holds you?"
     Kri mumbled, afraid. "I feel like nothing could hurt me again." He
waited for the questions, for the demands adults always trumpeted at the
top of their lungs. He waited for the threat, now that he revealed a
weakness, of being deserted.
     "Kri-estaul," Aldul called in a low, conversational, tone. Kri-estaul
looked up at the expressionless face of the priest. "It is wonderful that
you have such a guardian. Do you know what Ierwbae or Metthendoenn would do
if you asked them?"
     "What?"
     "Anything." Aldul answered. "They want to assure themselves that no
one will hurt you ever again. They also want to help get you over your
fears. Touch them only when it feels safe to you. Understand?"
     "Yes."
     "Give yourself time. I know you don't think you will feel better, but
you will."
     The child lurched onto his stomach to slide back to his uncles. Aldul
reached out to halt the boy, but thought twice about grabbing him. "Kri,
don't. He would not want you to do something you don't feel safe doing."
     Kri-estaul did not answer, but dragged himself over to where Ierwbae
sat huddled between Metthendoenn and Evendal. "Aldul is right,
belovd. Nobody wants more from you than for you to feel safe and
happy. Rest easy."
     Ierwbae smiled uncertainly at Kri. "I'm sorry if I scared you,
nephew. Are you well?"
     Kri said nothing, a look of concentration intense on his face. He
pulled himself to Ierwbae's nearest arm, and tugged his rebellious body as
upright as he could, holding onto Ierwbae's tunic like a lifeline. Still
shaking, he collapsed against the Guard's chest.
     "I love you, Uncle 'Bae." The child whispered, his voice as unsteady
as his body. "Please. Please."
     "But... You mustn't force yourself. I scare you."
     "Please. I don't want to be afraid. I don't."
     With slow, deliberate movements, Ierwbae settled a tremulous,
web-light arm around a trembling Kri-estaul. "Are you certain?"
     The boy took two deep breaths, but his tremors did not
subside. "Papa?"
     "Right here."
     "Good. Stay. Please?"
     "You know I will. Right here. I'm watching over you."
     Long, awkward moments passed. Kri-estaul's body began to
shake. Hard. Realising the situation had deteriorated, that they were
acceding to the ambitions of an eight-year-old and not heeding their own
adult sense, Evendal carefully picked up his son and settled him into his
own lap. Only then did the spasms diminish, ebbing to fitful tremblings,
lessening in strength and frequency. Kri-estaul only glanced up at his
father, a question on his face he left unvoiced.
     "Remember what I said this morning. 'If you're doing something that
might harm you, I will stop it'. You have done more than your body can take
right now, Kri-estaul."
     Finally, Evendal asked Aldul. "I have handed Kri to Ierwbae
before. What was different, here? Was it just the recalling of his abuse?"
     The Kwo-edan shook his head. "That made his reaction stronger,
perhaps. But I would venture that Kri has reacted every time you
relinquished him into a Guard's hands. Just not so you would see his
response unless you were looking for it. It probably also helped that
Ierwbae has never held Kri for longer than it took to set him down."
     "Did my song elicit this urge to comfort Ierwbae? To defy his limits?"
     Aldul shook his head. "I would say not. Nothing in the words you sang
even suggested action or initiative from him. Just passive acceptance. He
has been doing what he feels he must. Remember, he wants 'to be a good
boy.' You aren't afraid of your Guard, so he refused to heed his fear."
     The Kwo-edan hesitated, then spoke softly, lowly. "You cannot
understand, easily. Kri-estaul has spent two years where safety did not
exist. Where his rules of survival had nothing to do with 'doing the safe
or reasonable action'. He has spent two years ignoring his body's needs and
demands... In. Order. To. Survive. We are going to have to be his 'common
sense'. We are going to tell him, and show him, what he can and cannot
do. Because he honestly does not know what is safe now; what is good for
him. Or that 'what is good for him' actually matters. His focus will be on
what is good for his Papa." Evendal sensed the warning in Aldul's
word. Feeling everyone's scrutiny, Kri-estaul clenched his fists over his
face and hunched inward.
     Aldul snapped his fingers, sternly, pointedly drawing everyone's
focus. "For us watching over him, his anxiety means asking every time we
want to touch him, or pat him on the back. And think twice about tickling
him! It also means that if Kri doesn't see you, announce your presence
before you get near him. Don't startle him. Give him time... and light!
After two years, this is a strange new world for him. There may be days
when Kri, however much he may want to, will not be able to endure even your
touch, Lord Evendal."
     Evendal, who had been watching his son carefully, saw the tears
reforming. "What's wrong, belovd?"
     "I don't feel so good, Papa. It's just. Master... Aldul. What you
said... It's true! It's been like that... What I want. Is that a bother? Am
I too much trouble?" The child protested, eyes heavy.
     "No. It is just and right. And it's not forever. Things will get
better."
     "Promise?"
     Aldul smirked. "Yes, Kri-estaul. I promise. As sure as you love Papa."
     Kri smiled an unsteady smile, shivered as his body suddenly chilled,
and bravely closed his eyes.



     Later that day Kri-estaul came down with a flux, a result of the
emotional afternoon. Aldul, as no surprise to Evendal, proved his skill
with an herbal remedy that allowed the boy to retain a very light, and much
needed, evening meal.
     Late the next morning, Evendal and Kri-estaul, with a group of ten
Guard, paid a call on the Matron of Scriveners. The Guard waited outside
the building as the King stepped into the antechamber and enquired after
the Quill-master. After a brief wait, Drussilikh came down and greeted the
King and Prince. The few days since their last meeting had visibly been
difficult, as witnessed by the dark circles hounding the Matron's eyes.
     "You grace us by your kind visitation, Your Majesty. Your Highness."
Drussilikh declared, performing a courtier's curtsey. "To what do we owe
the light of your favour?"
     Kri-estaul just stared at Drussilikh, feeling the chill of her
regard. He had awakened excited at the prospect of helping his sister. That
pleasure curdled in the face of Drussilikh's biting civility. He hid his
distress in the clumsy folding and unfolding of his woolen wrappings.
     "We thought the sister of Our son dwelt here. We perceive Our error
and beg your pardon for intruding. We wish you the joy of the day, and will
go call upon the sincere attentions of the gracious Pohul-halik." Evendal
nodded his head and turned to leave. Quick as lightning, Drussilikh blocked
Evendal's path and knelt with head bowed.
     "Your pardon, Your Majesty. When Linkhend reported that you had
arrived with a squad of Guard, I did not know what that boded. I simply
reacted."
     The King looked at her in shock. "You thought me another Polgern? To
abuse you after you had given me Kri? After you had torn your heart out and
given it to my keeping?"
     "I could only think of one reason you would bring so many Guard with
you. It... It frightened me."
     Evendal stood silent, working to think, to percieve past his
anger. "Forgive me, I did not think what such a unannounced visitation
would look like after the nine years you have had. Forgive me, Matron. They
are here to help, not harm. Stand, please."
     Drussilikh obeyed. "And forgive me, Your Majesty. When you had shone
me nothing but good will..."
     "We seem to do a fine job of aggravating each other... Do you think
its love?"
     Drussilikh stared in confusion, then let out a shriek of
laughter. When she caught her breath, Kri-estaul said peevishly. "I don't
understand." This just set her off into more laughter.
     "We came to visit, but also to ask if there is a building in this area
which is truly untenanted and vandalized. We hope to help restore your
homes, but do not want to affect an active residence until We are sure of
what We do. The first building should be a test."
     Drussilikh considered. "The house closest has been vacant for over a
year. You may need to go through it, in case some luckless destitute has
homesteaded. But Wytthenroeg has not used the building in quite some time."
     Evendal looked startled, haunted. "She is well?"
     The Matron stared at the King, puzzled. "She suffers from that
inescapable ailment, lord. Old age. Compounded by a life now too rustic for
her years."
     "Could... could someone inquire if she would return? If so, I will
provide a litter, a carriage, whatever would best serve her."
     "You knew her?" Drussilikh asked, then blushed. "Of course you
did. Mother had recommended her to your father for your schooling. I just
remembered. I would be delighted to attend to that, my lord."
     "Thank you, Matron. Let us consider a different dwelling as our
initial effort."
     Drussilikh nodded. "Then follow me." And the Matron led them out
front, and walked for a quarter of an hour, the Guard following
quietly. She halted in front of a ruin. Whatever building had rested there,
the remaining two walls could only suggest a construct of great height. One
wall went up a good forty feet, with a thatched roofing set at ten feet
high, and two deteriorating wooden walls.
     At a signal from Evendal, the Guard entered and searched
thoroughly. Even to the point of checking what flooring remained for
cellars or hideaways. Once satisfied that he endangered no one, the King
shifted Kri-estaul over to Drussilikh, and moved in front of the cracked
stone steps that would have led to the main entrance.
     Suddenly anxious, where previously calm, Evendal took a stomach-deep
breath.

    	Into this damaged structure, once so fine,
	Let stone from the town wall fit every line.
	Every shard and fragment replace,
	Restore this house's intended grace.
	Every finial or cornice keep
	Every ornament or rainspout steep.
	Make this building fit to dwell in,
	Secure against snow, wind and rain.
	May this child of the Kul move to our desire,
	Let stone be remolded without the Kul's fire.

     Nothing obvious happened immediately. Uncertain of any effect, Evendal
waited and watched. When he caught himself sniffing for rain, for that
scent and feel that often precedes and succeeds a thunderstorm, Evendal
m'Alismogh realised something had indeed changed: The very air about them
was awash with power. The fine down on his arms and neck moved and his skin
tingled; his mouth had gone dry. The building remained unaltered, but the
same could not be said for the people paused before it.
     "What is happening?" Drussilikh muttered, but her words carried
disproportionately. "This suddenly unnerves me. Your Majesty?"
     'What have I sung?' Evendal asked himself, now more than just
uneasy. Why did he think he could control such an alien and inexplicable
mystery? His Songmastery had come upon him on its own terms, a living
creature, utterly outside his experiences. He comforted himself that his
song had at least caused no harm, so far.
     The feeling of an impending thunderstorm or waterspout, of being
centered for lightning to strike, grew stronger. Something dreadful, and
imminent. Evendal's teeth began to ache, and anxiety suffused him; a
commanding fear with no object to focus on. The feelings did not overwhelm
him - where the immediacy of battle while convulsing had, at Mausna - but
the irrational surge of energy through his body distracted all
thought. Feeling Kri-estaul trembling as the child strove to burrow into
Evendal's shoulder, and seeing Drussilikh's eyes bulge wide as she
frantically cast about for danger, meant the emotion was shared. When
Drussilikh, again, turned her uncertain gaze to Evendal, he discerned that
'an anticipation of danger' was not what he actually felt. More, m'Alismogh
sensed great force, something momentous and awe-full but not necessarily a
threat.
     Then Evendal felt stunned when a man, unconcernedly unclothed, opened
the building's wooden entrance and calmly strode out to meet him. The man
looked middle aged, his magnificent nakedness somehow insignificant to the
fact he bore skin the brown-black of obsidian and eyes as red as
sunset. His hair, dark-red with strands of gray, looked hard and rough as
cold lava. Every contour, every muscle grabbed the light, demanded the eye
see more than it could. Clarity. A painful, exceptional, clarity clothed
the sable figure. Evendal thought that if he looked at this... man, at the
right moment, or in the right angle, he would see into the heart of all
that is Mystery. Also, a sense of familiarity nagged at him.
     The exotic man stopped ten feet from a dumbfounded Evendal and
unnerved Guards. He bowed his head. "Greetings and health, Songmaster. You
surprise me yet again." When no one responded, the man's expression turned
amused. "Ah. Do you not remember me?"
     "No," Evendal replied, dazed. "We have no idea. Our apologies. We
would make introductions, but your name escapes Us."
     "Well, that's true for all. I am Kul."
     "You are called Kul?" Drussilikh found her voice, as it went up the
register.
     "No," the crimson-eyed man replied, frowning. "I am Kul."
     "Greetings and health." Kri-estaul piped. "Aren't you cold?"
     "Seldom, youngling. I am the juncture of Fire, Earth and Will. I am
the wellspring of this land."
     "You have never taken human form before." Evendal accused.
     Kul smiled. "Not true. It is simply that I am not as... responsive as
the Prcentrix Ir. Also, my gifts are not of prosperity or political
power. Therefore, I am not recalled so fondly, or so often."
     Uncertain what else to do, the King made introductions. "The lady is
Drussilikh, Matron of Scriveners. The child is Kri-estaul, my adopted son
and heir."
     "I will remember." He greeted. "Remembering... So, Songmaster, your
memory plays miser? If you wish, I can remedy that."
     Evendal had to take a moment and realise what was offered. "All of it?
Where and what I've been for the past nine years?"
     "Of course, if you wish all of it."
     His heart beat hard and loud in Evendal's ears, the air suddenly
seemed too thin to breathe. "What would you have in return?" he
prevaricated.
     Kul frowned. "You are my son, I ask no return. There is nothing you
can give that I will not have eventually."
     Evendal did not know how to take the ebony figure's declaration of
paternity. "Forgive me. But the gift you offer I both long for and fear."
     Understanding, Kul smiled. "As is the case with all my gifts."
     As they had been speaking, a small crowd of passersby grew, nonplussed
at the spectacle. The four conversants ignored the gawkers, preserved from
questions and comments by the presence of the Guard. "Might I ask what
moved you to come here?"
     "Your song alerted me. I recalled you from Mausna. I granted your plea
for sanctuary, debarkation, in my Wastes just this season. Then the
dissolution of a building. And now this... You do know that you have been
meddling with my firstborn children?"
     Drussilikh interjected, pale of face and oddly breathless. "But so did
the Lord Protector, in building that damnable wall!"
     Kul continued to smile. "True. In some ways, a greater trespass. Why
do you think it took so long for him to achieve such little success?"
     "You?"
     "Knowing what is hidden under them, I know how to grant humans'
illusions of security, and thwart them as well. I help and I humble." He
shrugged. "I am Kul." Kul turned to Evendal, all mirth erased. "What would
you, here?"
     "I seek to secure the homes which the Lord Protector had rendered
unsafe. And do so without resurrecting the traitor's methods."
     With the number of curious growing, some became bold.
     "One of you kiss him, lets see how big he gets!"
     "Is that burnt cork, or did they find you in a coal-bin?"
     "If you don't know what to do with him, I do."
     Kul turned from Evendal and perused the chuckling, suddenly rowdy,
throng. His crimson eyes turned gray, yet glowed the more brightly. Evendal
had to perform a complicated bit of footwork to stay upright as the ground
shuddered and the cobbled-stoned street undulated. Before the King could
draw another breath, the ground had split open across the avenue, and close
to a dozen hecklers fell in. The rest scrabbled several feet from the rift,
gripping each other in sudden terror and silent with fear.
     "No!" Evendal cried, stunned and appalled at the violence and loss.
     "You know what to do with me?" Kul rumbled, and the ground picked up
his disgust. "Well? What?"
     No one dared an answer.
     "You!" Kul singled out a pockmarked man in the bloodied work-clothes
of a butcher. "Approach!"
     Once again, the ground shifted, less dramatically, and the rift
closed. The ebony nude blinked, and the displaced dirt and cobbles
smoothed.  First pushed forward by those behind him, then creeping
timourously on his own, the meat-cutter came up to Kul. "Well?"
     "M...My lord?" the man stammered and fell to his knees, sweating.
     "Lord?" Kul barked a bitter laugh. "Look your fill, child. Then kiss
me and tell me 'how big it gets,' as you so brazenly suggested."
     From his long ruddy-brown hair, glowing eyes, snarling mouth, down his
lean, muscled torso, proportionate member, and lithe but powerful legs that
melded into the cobbles he had only seemed to tread, Kul looked an
unreservedly virile, unselfconscious, furious nigma. "Well,
Hiulenroth?" The man startled at hearing his name. "Continue." Kul glanced
back at the onlookers, some edging back uncertainly. "No one escapes me!"
Kul warned. All movement stopped.
     Swallowing hard, Hiulenroth inched his head forward and kissed the
ebony glans, tears slipping down his face. Kri gripped a weeping Evendal
and buried his head in his Papa's chest, overwhelmed by memory. Hiulenroth
pulled back and looked up into the Kul's again crimson eyes.
     "So. Tell us all, audacious boy, how big does it get?"
     His face showing surprise at his continued existence, Hiulenroth
huffed out the first thing in his head. "As big as you need it to be." His
lips had reddened and his face looked patchy with heat flush.
     "True. And tell these sheep who I am."
     Hiulenroth continued to stare into the ruby eyes. "You are the Kul."
     Kul considered. "Close enough. You are my children, whom I provide a
home for, a place, and a fertile one. Had I not been both extravagant and
patient when you first straggled to this shore, practically guiding you
here, you would not now be. I, unsolicited, summoned the Forest-dwellers to
remove the yoke of the Nikraan invader from your necks. And it is through
my agency that your long-suffering King is returned to you. So have you
been indulged, yet you goad well-disposed visitants with abuse! Reacting
and braying with less dignity than any beast you can name."
     "Go back home and leave us in peace. And be thankful you are not in my
domain, I am not kind to fools." Looking out over the crowd milling
anxiously, Kul pointed at where his feet would be. "Unless you wish to join
your fellows, leave now." The street soon echoed with the footsteps of the
departing.
     When satisfied, Kul turned back to the devastated King. He simply
stared, incredulous, then finally chuckled. "Tender-hearted still, after
how many ages? Rest easy, my friend. I am a guest here, and would not
impose so in your domain. These are your people, not mine, to judge. Those
few that fell are not dead, but enjoying the shallows along Thasylh Bay."
     It took a moment for Kul's words to register. "They are safe?"
     Kul chuckled again, unconvincingly. A sense of sadness belied the
sound. "From me, yes. They are not my minions to do with as I wish. I would
not presume."
     Evendal relaxed, wiping his eyes. "I regret both the treatment you
received, and my doubt of your honour."
     "Though you are a age-old friend to me, I am yet a stranger to your
mind. Again, I say, rest easy. Of more moment is your son's fear, streaming
out of him like my life's-blood from a vent. What troubles you, Kri-estaul?
You saw that youngling kiss me. No more than that."
     After several breaths, wherein no one intervened, the conflicted child
whispered. "I know." Kri-estaul answered, voice muffled in Evendal's
tunic. "I didn't want to see the rest."
     "There would have been no 'rest'. That youngling chose what to kiss,
it could have been my knee, my hand, or my face, and I would have been
satisfied. Can you look at me, child? Have you courage enough?"
     Kul knew what to say. Kri-estaul whipped his head around and glared.
     "Look hard, little one. Tell me what you see."
     Caught, Kri obeyed, peering fixedly. "You are beautiful... and scary,
and strong. You... You're not mean, are you? Sad, though." Water filled
Kri's eyes. "Can I help?"
     "You do, youngling." Kul took a breath. "Regarding your song-spell,
Songmaster. These are my children, too. Serve your Unalterable. Repair the
damage caused by your absence. You merely add a lesser purpose, a temporary
honour, onto the purposes my firstborn already serve. Sing your song
however often you need, and my elements shall yield to your will,
Songmaster."
     "My thanks, father of us all."
     "And mine own as well." Drussilikh added, her eyes reddened.
     "And what of you, shy one?" Kul goaded Kri-estaul.
     "You are going to help Papa?" Kri mumbled.
     "Yes, I have known him, and helped him, for a long time."
     "Thank you." Kri-estaul declared, suddenly bold. "Your skin is odd."
     Kul shrugged again. "What do you think of it?"
     Kri tried to grin. "You're beautiful. If I had skin like that, would I
be warm all the time?"
     The Kul laughed, a booming, full-bodied laugh. "No, sweet
youngling. No. May I?" he asked, holding out long, spatulate-fingered
hands.
     Kri looked at his father, who said. "Its your choice, belovd." The
boy looked back at the ebony nude, and his curiosity decided for him. With
an eager grin, Kri reached out and found himself in Kul's sure hands.
     Kri-estaul felt like he had suddenly been dropped in a tub of hot
water. "You are very warm." He put his hand on the Kul's forehead. "Do you
have a fever?"
     "No, princeling. It is how I am. Ever and always. I also know you are
wary of others. Thank you for letting me hold you, youngling."
     Kri shrugged. "You feel safe. And you are Papa's friend." He paused,
then added in a whisper. "And you're not a Guard."
     "Then I make the same pledge to you I made to your Papa. To help you
in your times of greatest need. To be your friend. And to remember you
thoroughly, utterly, and always. Kri-estaul of Osedys, Heir to more than
the Thronelands."
     Kul turned his attention back to the King. "And your decision,
m'Alismogh?"
     "I have the feeling if I were to recover those missing years, I would
be no more whole than I am now."
     The obsidian man nodded. "At this juncture, that is a truth. Often it
is what you do now, not what you did in the past, that most defines you."
     "I would like to know, why the Desolation? Why Mausna?"
     Kul's expression turned grim. "You were partially responsible,
m'Alismogh."
     "Me?!"
     "How your Name emerged, what evoked it, do you remember that?"
     "My Name? Do you mean when I was so miserable at Mausna? With the
migraines and the nausea and vertigo?"
     "Yes. The force of all those deaths... Death awakened your Name. Your
pain caught my attention. The impossibility of your situation."
     "What do you mean?"
     "Your gift responds to the death of your fellows. You were in a mobile
charnel-pit. An abattoir of your father's crafting. Your... power had to
choose fight or flight. It chose to change the conditions. Fight, after a
fashion."
     Evendal felt numb. "Do you mean I started the Cataclysm to halt the
battles?"
     "Not entirely. I contributed as well. What would have happened, if the
land had remained intact?"
     "We would have won."
     "And?" Kul did not accept the obvious. So Evendal thought beyond
immediate consequences.
     "Polgern would have had his invading force organized more
quickly. With so many surviving veterans, he would already have marched on
his targets by now."
     Kul nodded. "And Kwo-eda, my dearest ones, would have been first
target. There is nothing that is plotted or done in secret that I am left
ignorant of. Part of my demesne is those things buried. Hidden."
     "So you knew before it happened, that my father was doomed?"
     "I knew he was to be attacked. Whether the attempts would succeed or
fail, that is a different matter."
     "Why didn't you intercede?"
     "What does one idiot mortal, with more anger and fear than sense, mean
to me? Beside, the realm of human interaction is not my demesne; it is
yours."
     "But all those innocents!"
     Kul stared at Evendal with granite mien. "Innocents? No one in a
battle is innocent, except the land. All you blood-hungry idiots, laying
claim to what cannot be owned! What I did was hard enough. Mausna! A
beautiful child! One of my delights! And I had to destroy her to halt your
sire's insanity! Had your father won, what would have followed? You gave a
poor answer, Songmaster. Mausna would have been no worse off under your
Islanders than under your sire. All those innocents? I gave them what they
asked for when they trampled across the flesh of my child in battle
array. Death. Between your unthinking need for surcease from the pain of
battle-caused deaths, and my compassion for my besieged child..." Kul shook
his head. "A tragedy of errors, all along."
     "But, we couldn't let those Nikraan scum..."
     "Nikraan? The Nikraan died off centuries past, absorbed into sturdier
and smarter groups. These were people migrating from the atolls to
untenanted land. Land I myself was willing to be generous with. They were
no different from the stragglers whom I allowed to found Osedys and
Kwo-eda. If their settling in Mausna had been the abomination your father
denounced, I would have sunk Mausna with their first footfall."
     Evendal stood reeling from the revelation. "Thunders! Is there no
truly just action?"
     "Of course, my friend. Though I do not know what it is. That is your
demesne. You were too young, too desperate for your father's approval, to
think for yourself. Else you would have seen."
     "I was not that wise, nor that impartial."
     "I know, but you were the chosen tool of the Unalterable, even
then. You would have seen it, I am certain."
     "You lost someone you cared about?" Kri interjected, recognising a
subject he could understand. "I'm sorry. I did, too. My Mama. Are you sad?"
     "Yes, youngling. I will be for a long time."
     "I'm sorry. I know I miss Mama. It helps to cry, you know."
     "My tears are deadly, sweet boy. But I have grieved. And will."
     "Why do your eyes glow? Like Papa's?"
     "That glow is the mark of my mystery. The measure to which my care and
my... passion engage jointly." And Evendal breathed a sigh in relief, not
comprehending, but accepting the effect to be innocuous in character.
     Kri-estaul frowned. "I don't understand."
     "It is difficult to explain. Words are not my favoured tool. But you
will understand. You know what you are?"
     "Papa's son."
     "Most definitely. And what else?"
     Suddenly nervous and shy, Kri hung his head and mumbled. "I don't
know."
     "You are..." Kul lifted Kri-estaul's chin to meet his sanguine
gaze. "You are my friend. If you feel lonely and want company, call my
name. Will you? You are a friend of Kul."
     "Oh. You, too. If you want. If you get lonely, come see me, too."
     Evendal looked dazed, shaken. "You... You visited me once, long ago,
and said the same."
     "Yes." Kul replied, smiling. The red of his eyes deepened, brightened
with pleasure. "Thank you for remembering uncoerced. You were a shy,
precocious, and confused child. Easy to care about, but uncared for. Full
of curiosity and empathy, qualities I recognize, but do not possess."
     "Not true." Evendal protested, physically weaving from the effort to
recall. "You were always kind with me. Patient."
     "I am Kul. I love what I love. But the rest is insignificant to
me. Kul remembers few, for few see beyond my fire. That is not true with
you, Songmaster. Now, about your restoration."
     "Yes?"
     "Matron Drussilikh has been courteously silent and patient. Let me
accompany you in your bespelling her home. By the limits in your song, all
furnishings must needs be removed first in order to remain undamaged. With
my immediate influence, she need not be bothered so."
     Once the residents had vacated, the restoration of the Scrivener
Guild-house succeeded without trouble, possessions undamaged. Sills needed
to be replaced where the wood had warped, of course, but makeshift
compensatory repairs disappeared, along with the seemingly ineluctable
draft. After Evendal sang the reclamation, Kul deftly transferred a
sleeping Kri-estaul to Evendal's arms.
     "I've missed you, dear friend, and never realised who I had been
missing." Evendal confessed, voice thick.
     Kul smiled softly, with eyes flickering orange, and caressed the
King's cheek. "No longer. And never again while you
breathe. Kul-friend. About your past... When next I visit, you might not
see me, but you will accept the burden of my offer." And Kul disappeared.


This is an emotionally difficult chapter; Kri-estaul's recitation,
specifically. I had not visited the emotions of childhood that it recalled,
and the associated real memories (as opposed to the utterly fictional ones
of the story itself), for a long time. Psychologically, there are only two
incredible elements to Kri-estaul's disclosure - his insistence on talking,
and his being able to speak coherently. A child would not do that,
certainly not a child rendered mute by shame. And that is what shame does -
it mutes. To an outsider (and everyone else is an outsider) a naturally
quiet and contented child and a child engulfed and over-burdened by shame
are indistinguishable. Anyway, making allowances for those two elements,
and the license that eight-year-olds may not talk like Kri-estaul, I hope
the chapter entertains and challenges. Let me know.