Our Lady of the Snow Read online

  “Very well. Send word to me. Now: you say that Mother Marine is going to the family estate? Why?”

  “I don’t know, sire. She said she was required to go in person. I believe that the EsDorikyes don’t yet know about—about the Imperator Osiv. The letter could not have reached them before this new misfortune happened. So Mother Marine is to tell them. Grand Mother Beck has made the arrangements, I believe, and Mother Marine will leave at noon.”

  Grand Mother Beck. Oh, yes; the picture was becoming clearer now. Was Nanta’s mother dead, or was this a lie, a ruse to remove Marine from the scene for a while?

  Or even permanently…?

  Kodor’s eyes focused on Dorca again and the look in them made her quail. “Which chapel will Mother Marine go to?”

  “The Sanctum chapel, I imagine, sire. She is of course free to use the imperial chapel at any time, but…”

  The words tailed off, and Dorca blinked in confusion at Kodor’s diminishing back view.

  ****

  The Imperator’s arrival in the Sanctum had much the same effect as a fox’s arrival in a henhouse. The Sisters were thrown into a fluttering clamor of awe and terror, further confused by the fact that Kodor was also breaking the unwritten but long-established rule that men simply did not set foot in this house of women. Kodor ignored the commotion, the curtseying and scurrying and twittering and hiding. Catching the arm of a Low Sister who had not run away from him in time, he demanded directions to the chapel, listened to the stammering, tearful reply, and strode on as behind him the girl dropped to the floor in a dead faint. Through corridors, down a flight of stairs and into the building’s foundations. Someone, of course, would go running to Mother Beck; probably had done so by now. If Beck believed them she would investigate, so he must find Marine quickly, before her superior arrived on the scene. He had already made one detour, to check a certain fact, and that had delayed him. Time was of the essence now.

  The chapel door was ahead of him, marked by the Lady’s snowflake emblem. Kodor smacked it open and barged in.

  There were some ten or a dozen Sisters at their devotions in the chapel. As one they looked up at the unprecedented crash of the door, and their faces froze with wide eyes and open mouths as they saw him. Marine was kneeling by the statue of the Lady. She was as stunned as the rest, and started to scramble to her feet as Kodor advanced towards her.

  Kodor raked the other women with a glare. “Out,” he said. “Every one of you.”

  “Sire—” Marine began to protest.

  “Be quiet, Mother.” He raised his voice. “I said, go! Now!”

  They fled like a flock of birds. As the last of them vanished Kodor said, “Does that door have an inside lock?”

  “Of course not! It’s a chapel, it is open to all!” Marine’s composure was in tatters, and deference had flown out of the door. “Sire, this is an outrage! To intrude on the Sisters at prayer—”

  “Stop being a fool, Marine!” Kodor interrupted. “You know full well that I wouldn’t have come here unless it was vitally urgent. What are you denying? What are you afraid of?”

  “Nothing.” But Marine’s eyes gave the lie to it. She backed away from him. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Oh, but you are. Why? After last night—” Then it dawned on him. The confrontation last night had put one set of suspicions to rest, but there was another, still seething in Marine’s mind. Kodor could see the train of her thinking as clearly as if she had written it in letters of fire on the wall. He loved Nanta, Nanta was Osiv’s wife, and Osiv had conveniently died. To Marine, the connection was obvious.

  “By the God!” Kodor almost exploded with pent frustration and impatience. “You think I murdered my brother, don’t you?”

  “I—I don’t—” Marine covered her face with her hands. “Oh, sweet Lady, how much more sorrow will there be?”

  “A great deal more, unless you and I do something to prevent it!” Kodor shouted. “Look at me, woman; don’t stand there trembling like a sheep at the slaughterhouse!” With an effort he got his temper under control. “Look at me, and listen.”

  Tremulously Marine obeyed, and Kodor made a decision. It was a risk, but the risk must be taken “Mother Marine,” he said. “There are three facts you should know. Fact one: the sweets I gave to Nanta were not poisoned. But the soup you gave to her was.”

  “What?” Marine’s face turned the color of the marble statue.

  “You had no knowledge of it; I’m aware of that. Listen. Fact two: there has been no letter from the EsDorikye estate. I’ve questioned the palace officers, and Beck lied to you; the roads are blocked and no message could possibly have got through. Nanta’s mother is not dead.” He drew breath. “And fact three: neither is Imperator Osiv.”

  To his relief, Marine had the mental resources to take in the skeleton of the tale in a few crisp sentences—and to grasp immediately the significance of what she had been told. The pieces of the picture fitted together, now, like a hand in a tailored glove, and Marine’s first thought, as Kodor had anticipated, was for Nanta.

  “Sire, she is in far more imminent danger than I had ever dreamed!” she cried. “I must go to her, I must do something! But what can I do?”

  “There’s only one solution,” Kodor told her. “You must take Nanta away from the palace. Out of the Metropolis, to a safe hiding.”

  “My own Sanctum—” she began eagerly.

  “Too far; and it’s also the first place that Urss will think of. No; you must take her to the hunting lodge where Osiv is living.” His mind skimmed rapidly over a plan. “Beck has arranged for a sleigh to take you—in theory—to the EsDorikye estate. You’ll use that; but with my driver, not Beck’s. I’ll give the order.”

  “But will the order be obeyed, sire?” Marine asked worriedly. “If Mother Beck or Father Urss hears of it—”

  Then they would intimidate the servants and override the command, unless he was there in person to gainsay them. If he did that it would bring everything into the open, for there was no plausible excuse for such an action. That must not happen; not until Nanta was safe.

  Frustration surged again, and Kodor paced tigerishly across the floor. “We need help,” he said through clenched teeth. “The frost sprites—the God knows I’ve tried to communicate with them so often since that encounter in the forest, but they won’t answer me.”

  Marine, who knew nothing of the encounter, looked at him with wide eyes. “I’ve prayed to the Lady,” she said. “But she—”

  “Oh, prayer! What use is prayer? We need power!” Kodor wanted to strike out at something, anything. Raising his voice he shouted to the chapel roof, “Damn you, you capricious creatures, where are you when you’re needed? Where are you?”

  An ice-cold breath whispered through the chapel. From behind them a thin, strange voice said:

  “We know. We serve.”

  They both spun round.

  The frost sprite’s eyes were the color of ice, set in a grotesquely oversized skull which in turn was framed by a mass of silver braids. Its body—spare, wiry, a child’s frame—was draped in what appeared to be frosted cobwebs, in which faint rainbows danced like moonlight reflecting in icicles. Through its translucent form the outlines of the chapel were dimly visible.

  Marine uttered a shocked gasp and reflexively her hands clasped together. “The tears of the Lady are the blessing of the snow!” she whispered.

  The sprite inclined its head. “True, Mother. True. The snow is blessing when the Lady weeps. We shall help. We shall not let her die.” It looked then at Kodor. “She must only call, and we come.”

  “Go to her!” Kodor urged. “Go now—protect her!”

  But the being raised both hands before its face in a gesture he remembered. “She must call. You are her brother, but we are not of you. She calls, and we obey. We are of the Lady. That is how it must be.”

  “Sire, they are waiting for Nanta to ask them,” Marine whispered breathlessly. “It isn’t caprice. Th
ey have no choice.”

  Kodor’s mouth tightened into a hard line. “Then go to her, Marine. Tell her everything, tell her what to do. I will keep Urss and Beck busy. I’ll summon them to the throne room and—”

  He stopped as the frost sprite made a strange, shrill sound, like a warning whistle. There was a shudder of displaced air; in the space of a breath the being vanished

  And the chapel door opened.

  “Your Majesty!” Grand Mother Beck made a sweeping curtsey to Kodor. “When Sister Chaia told me you were in the Sanctum, I could hardly believe her! I beg your pardon that I was not here to welcome you, sire, and explain the circumstances; but I’m sure you will understand that the protocol…”

  She let the sentence trail away unfinished, at the same time moving with dignity towards them. Kodor saw her eyes, saw what lurked there, and in a rapid aside he whispered to Marine, “Follow where I lead. Say as little as possible.”

  “Grand Mother.” He walked forward to meet Beck, schooling his expression into one of sober concern. “I must ask your pardon for this intrusion. I realize it is quite unprecedented. But when I heard the unhappy news of Karetta EsDorikye, I…well, I confess I acted without thinking. Dorca tells me that my sister has not been told—a very wise decision, I agree—and so I came in search of Mother Marine, in the hope that she could tell me the full story.”

  Beck smiled. “I’m sorry that you’ve been put to so much trouble, Your Majesty. I would, of course, have been honored to explain everything to you myself.”

  “I’m sure you would, Grand Mother.” Kodor was not intimidated. “But I also gather that Mother Marine is to leave for the EsDorikye estate today, and I want her to take them a personal message from me.”

  “Ah,” said Beck. She seemed somewhat mollified, though Kodor doubted that she entirely trusted his reply. “I understand, Your Majesty. It is most gracious of you, and I’m sure the Dowager’s family will be greatly touched by your kindness.” Her gaze slid to Marine’s face, and Kodor saw her trying to interpret what she found there. “Marine, my dear, if His Majesty will permit I think it is time to gather your belongings and make ready. The sleigh is prepared and will be in the palace’s south courtyard in less than an hour.”

  Marine swallowed. “Thank you, Grand Mother.” She glanced nervously at Kodor. “If that is all, sire…”

  “Yes, Mother Marine, that is all. You’ll not forget my message?”

  “Oh no, Your Majesty.” Her eyes flicked a meaning in which hope and trust vied with desperation. “I’ll remember every word.”

  “Good. I’m sure you’ll wish to make your farewells to the Dowager, so Grand Mother Beck and I will excuse you now. I wish you a safe journey.”

  Beck clearly did not like the idea of Marine returning to Nanta, but she could raise no objection in Kodor’s presence. She led the way to the chapel door. Outside, Marine curtseyed to Kodor and hurried away; Beck, too, would have taken her leave, but Kodor stopped her.

  “Grand Mother Beck.” He smiled. “I want you to attend me in the lesser throne room in…” He calculated. “Half an hour from now, if you please.”

  Beck was taken aback. “In the throne room, sire? Yes—yes, of course. May I—ah—ask what is required of me?”

  “I’ll inform you of that on your arrival.” She would run straight to Urss, he was certain of it; and the chances were that the summons he also intended to send to Urss would arrive while she was in his office. Kodor smiled inwardly. “Thank you, Grand Mother. And now if one of your women will show me the way out…”

  ****

  “It’s a disturbing development, I agree, Beck; but not necessarily cause for alarm.” Standing at his study window and gazing down at the courtyard outside, Father Urss had the air of a predator contemplating its next attack. “The reason the Imperator gave for his visit might well be true. And even if he has an inkling of something in the wind, he can have no evidence that would link us with his suspicions.” He turned and regarded her sternly. “Unless someone has been careless.”

  Beck drew herself up. “I assure you, Father, that I most certainly have not!”

  “Then we have nothing to fear. Mother Marine will soon be leaving the Metropolis, and that will solve one potential problem. High Sister Ludia, in her innocence, continues to include your special ingredients in the Dowager’s food. No, Beck; we’re safe enough.”

  “But what about the Imperator’s summons?” Beck asked. “The timing isn’t a coincidence, I’m sure of it. What does he want?”

  Urss frowned, recalling his own message from Kodor and the haste with which it had been delivered. Beck was right; there was something odd about the timing. But as to what it portended…

  “We’ll only find that out by attending on him as he commands,” he said, carefully keeping the doubt from his voice. “Which of course we shall do. As soon as—”

  The words broke off in a gasp, and he clutched reflexively at his temples.

  “Father?” said Beck. “Are you ill?”

  “Nnn—” Urss was trying to say “no”, but he could not make his tongue obey him. He gasped again, shutting his eyes tightly, then to Beck’s alarm he started to sway like a drunkard.

  “Father!” She hurried towards him—and a force like a physical blow rebuffed her, sending her tottering backwards across the carpet. Urss’ mouth stretched in a terrible grimace; a bubbling sound came from his throat, and a voice that was not his, but which emanated from his

  mouth, boomed:

  “No!”

  “Ahh!” The power that held Urss jolted away from him, and he collapsed on to his chair. The daylight dimmed as though someone had snuffed out a giant candle, and the voice spoke again, not through Urss this time but in a huge, disembodied echo.

  “HE IS TOO CLOSE TO THE TRUTH. YOU ARE FAILING ME, URSS, AND I WILL TOLERATE NO FAILURE!”

  Beck fell to her knees with a cry of terror, and through a stunned haze saw Urss, his hands clasped and his mouth open, look upwards to the ceiling.

  “Great lord, I am your faithful servant!” he pleaded. “I will not fail! Only help me, tell me what I must do, and I will not fail!”

  “I WILL TOLERATE NO FAILURE!” the voice repeated ominously. “OBEY ME, URSS. OBEY ME. THE FAIR CHILD IS TO DIE, AND THERE MUST BE NO MORE DELAY. GO TO THE FAIR CHILD, URSS. GO TO HER AND TAKE HER LIFE, OR SUFFER THE FULL MAGNITUDE OF MY DISPLEASURE!”

  Urss’ mouth worked spasmodically. “But great lord, the Imperator commands—”

  “THE IMPERATOR IS ALSO MY SERVANT AND MUST BOW TO MY WILL. GO TO THE FAIR CHILD. DESTROY HER!”

  Beck had covered her face now and was cowering in mortal dread. The echoes of the God’s command clashed and faded; she felt the sense of a colossal presence whirling through the room, whirling past her and away. And suddenly all was still.

  Urss rose to his feet first, though his movements were slow and uncoordinated. Every limb trembled, and his face had taken on a deathly cast. He didn’t speak; instead he moved falteringly to where Beck knelt, and helped her to stand up. Eyes burning with fear, she looked at him, silently but fervently projecting the question she had no voice to ask. Why did the God want Nanta to die? There had been such hatred in that voice, such rage; as though Nanta had committed a crime beyond redemption and the God was claiming his vengeance. Yet Nanta was a mere child, an innocent. It made no sense. Unless —

  Beck’s mind spun back over the months, to the time when she had been instructed to seek out a bride for Prince Osiv. The unnameable instinct that had guided her to Nanta—was there a connection between that guidance and the God’s wrath? Had Beck unknowingly tapped into a matter deeper, greater than she or anyone else could have thought possible at the time?

  She continued to stare at Urss and finally found her voice, though it was so thin and quavering that it was barely recognizable. “What are we to do…?”

  “We must obey…” Urss struggled to regain his wits. “The God has spoken to us. We must obey! “
>
  “Yes, Exalted Father,” Beck whispered. There was another silence. Beck wondered if she was going to be sick. Then with a vast effort Urss seemed to pull himself together. His back straightened, the trembling diminished, and his face set into a grim expression in which there could be no room for the smallest shard of doubt.

  “Beck,” he said, “go to the throne room. Attend on the Imperator. I will do what must be done.”

  “What should I tell the Imperator, Father? If you are absent—”

  “You will not know the reason for it. Why should you? Pretend ignorance, and distract him. I need time.” He started towards the door, still not quite steady but with strength and poise rapidly returning—and, buttressing it, an unnatural, hectic energy. “Go, Beck! Don’t waste a moment!”

  The door slammed shut behind him. For several seconds Beck stood paralyzed, her brain still seething with shock. But through the shock came something else: an old skill, a long ingrained training… the instinct, against any odds and in the face of any threat, to survive.

  The paralysis snapped, and she swept from the room in Urss’ wake.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Come now, come. We must hurry! Come, Nanta, before Dorca returns!” Coaxing, cajoling, Marine shepherded Nanta towards the outer door of the suite. Nanta’s feet dragged and her movements were clumsy; though she seemed to understand the need for urgency, her body was too weak to respond as it should. There must have been another dose of the poison in her breakfast this morning, and Marine cursed her own ignorance and stupidity. If she had known, if she had thought—but “if” was of no value now. Things were as they were and she must make the best of them.

  She wondered how much of the truth Nanta had taken in; or even how much she herself knew as yet. In reality it hardly mattered; even if Nanta did not comprehend, she was obeying Marine like a small, sleepy child. But if they were to meet with any trouble on the way to the courtyard—