Silver-Garbed Queen

“There is a pool of blood on the throne1

For a traitor sits in that chair2

The peasants are frightened, their lords corrupt3

For a traitor sits in that chair4

So now come riding the Twelve of Silene5

And with them their Silver-Garbed Queen...”6

A common folk song though it was, it chilled Elba to the marrow. Even the Silver-Garbed Queen would have balked at the tasks before her now. But there was no one else to do them. “I saw my father in the forest today,” she whispered to Neja. “He was dead.” 7

“But not dead enough,” Neja said, not asking. Then she narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. “What is it you have a mind to do, my friend?” For one who had carved ‘All peace is the work of the sword,’ into her left wristband, Neja could be surprisingly perceptive at times. Elba swallowed hard.8

“I intend to declare myself Queen of Srandael. The time has come.” Neja hesitated a fraction of a second before she nodded. Elba watched her neck, seeing the small thin scar from an Aselfordian fighting knife and the long stripes from the whip than ran just above the top of her tunic. With Neja by her side, she knew she could have led the Sranjasem. Neja was her strong half, the one she leaned on.9

“Indeed it has.” Neja leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I only wish I could be here with you, my friend.” She straightened and her eyes darted around the room, observing the people unrolling, blankets, talking softly in the evening. “I have to go, Elba. Wait for me, all right?”10

She turned and left the cavern, descending the wide stairs. Elba frowned. What had Neja meant by that? Surely she meant wait for me to declare yourself, for she could not ride with Elba to Silene. It would mean her death.11

So Elba waited, curled up in the corner with her arms around her knees. Nien came and sat beside her. “Did you find Branaed?” Elba twisted her neck, looking at him sharply. She had told no one she was looking for her father.12

“How did you know I was looking for him?” Nien shrugged, shaking his head of copper curls. He was a very comely boy, Elba thought, comelier than his sister. In a few years he would have a following of girls, drawn to his looks, his gentle spirit, and his status. Yet he was innocent and completely unaware of his charm, a good, solid friend. 13

“Neja knew, and what Neja knows I know. Even if she will not say.” So Neja had known she was looking for Branaed, and had not stopped her. That trust felt warm and good in Elba’s heart, and she pressed back against the wall. “She will not say a lot, will she?” Nien continued conversationally. “She has secrets, that one.”14

Elba leaned forward, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You are wise for a prince.” She thought of Neja, clinging to a bucking stallion’s mane with her eyes glittering. Of Vrak-Viskan, madly dueling Branaed by the lakeside. “Wiser than Neja. Wiser than your father.” 15

“Nien is no fool.” The voice was Vrak-Viskan’s, sitting down between the two of them. “And a good warrior. Very few have ever managed to find that balance.” Elba flushed, thinking of what she had been saying. Vrak-Viskan was not wise, but he heard more than he let on.16

“You are not foolish either, you or Neja. Without Neja, I would be thrice dead.” Vrak-Viskan snorted, leaning against the cave wall. Nien pressed against his father’s side, hollow eyes widening with exhaustion. It was the time of year when the sun vanished early and everyone seemed to be tired, when people heaped the blankets on their pallets and slept long. The only one who did not seem to be tired was Vrak-Viskan, his dark eyes alert and watchful.17

“That hardly makes the girl wise.” True enough. Neja had once referred to herself as a smart tactician, but not a smart person, and she was right. Neja was a warrior, through and through. But Elba burned to defend her sister.18

“You are a warrior.” Her voice trembled. “You Vamarets of the South, you’re all warriors. Woman or not, Neja is the best of you.” Vrak-Viskan looked at Elba, long and calculating. His eyes were dark and deep, like pools of water at nighttime. Slowly, he nodded. 19

“You Sranivines of the North are warriors, too, unless I am much mistaken,” he said, a hint of mischief in his eyes. Some had been- old heroes as well as Branaed and his get. But not Elba. Elba was a huntress and a princess, but it was Neja who led the Sranjasem cavalry. She looked down at her arms- muscled, but like an archer’s, not a swordsman’s, ruefully. 20

Nein, leaning forward, saw her gaze. “I think you underestimate yourself, Elba,” he said, flushing. She looked up, startled. “You are strong,” he said, fumbling with his boot string. “In a different way than Neja, perhaps, but, well like something Branaed said...” 21

He looked hopefully up at his father. “Two fine princesses to lead the Sranjasem,” he intoned, finishing his son’s sentence. “One could lead a charge, the other could outlast a siege... I am strong, and yet they frighten me.” Elba raised her eyebrows, disbelieving. Her father, the one who had let so much pass in her because she was only a girl, feared her?22

“You lie. My father does not fear me.” A small smile played across Vrak-Viskan’s lips. He shook his head, the greased black hair rustling from side to side. Elba pulled the tie from the end of her braid and shook out her brown hair, feeling the sweat that ran through the tresses. It was autumn, but the sun still shone bright and hot. 23

Vrak-Viskan watched her, chuckling a little. “Whatever one may say of Branaed Sranivine, one may not say he is a fool. I think, in fearing you, he has chosen well.” Elba collapsed against the wall, her fingers falling away from her hair. Vrak-Viskan’s black eyes never left her, a smile in them. It was at odds with the sharp angles of his face. 24

“But why?” Elba moaned, suddenly besieged with confusion. “Why?” She stared up at the vaulted ceiling of the cavern, and suddenly she was nine-year-old Princess Elba again, who had never held a bow, never ordered an execution. When had that changed? She had learned strength from a girl her own age, a girl who knew pain and hunger better than most men... a girl who now stared at her from across the cavern. 25

Neja Vamaret was sitting in a circle with Lorlin, Riet-Ninna, Slindin, Meifenke, and Anjenella, her shoulders hunched. She raised a crooked finger and beckoned to Elba, lips pressed together. The other girl shook off her misery and crossed the cavern, picking her way among blankets and stools. Vrak-Viskan and Nien followed. Neja and her companions had assembled a group of stools, though Riet-Ninna sat against the wall. 26

Of the five, she was the only one who was not a warrior, and the youngest save Lorlin. At fourteen, she was a wisp of a girl, all skin and bones. Yet she had borne a child and escaped persecution in Srandael, her adopted country. Ninna was a Trat Riet, a princess, and a fosterling of Anjenella’s. In contrast, Anjenella was the oldest, a decrepit old woman who, despite her thin bones and shrinking muscles, was a fair swordsman. 27

The rest were men: Meifenke, Slindin, and Lorlin. All were armed, and all bore the scars of battle. Just the sort of people Neja would associate with. The princess of Vamaret stood up, offering her stool to Elba. She took it, sitting down and staring around the circle. 28

Five pairs of eyes stared back at her, waiting. Neja spoke. “Elba, these are those who will declare you Queen.” Elba whipped her head around, staring up at her friend in shock. Neja had the grace to look embarrassed. 29

“You promised not to tell!” Neja said nothing. Elba got to her feet, kicking the stool back in a fury. “That was a secret between friends, Neja Vamaret!” She knew she sounded like a child, but she could not bring herself to care. 30

She slapped Neja, and the girl let the blow land. The second time, though, she caught her wrist. “Firstly, I never gave you my word.” Elba wrenched her fingers out of Neja’s grip and sat back down. These are those who will appoint you Queen, Neja had said. 31

Still seething, she pondered the words. So these people had agreed to appoint her Queen, had they? Anjenella of Orndael, Lorlin of Forndael, Meifenke of Grendael, Slindin of Srandael, Riet-Ninna of the Trats. All from different lands, all trusted by the Sranjasem. She had to laugh at Neja’s genius. 32

“Gods, Neja. When will you learn to trust others with your work?” Neja grinned and swatted her head playfully, friends again. That was the way it was between them, the way it had been for years. There was a part of Elba that would always detest Neja’s conniving mind and ruthlessness, but it did not matter. They were sisters, tried and true. 33

“Never,” Neja said without hesitation. “I’ve found others to be, in general, useless. We have Lorlin for the Forns, Meifenke for the Grens, Anjenella for the Orns, and Riet-Ninna for the Trats. I will stand for the Free Women.” She turned to her father. “Will you stand for the Vamars?” He bit his lip, thinking. 34

“Yes.” That was it, then, Elba knew. There was no backing out. Tonight she would sleep as Queen of Srandael. A sobering thought. 35

She sucked in her breath. “When?” Neja’s hard, callused hand covered her shoulder, giving her a squeeze of support. She had thought that, with Neja by her side, she could stand as Queen of Srandael, but now that the prospect was upon her she wondered. Was even Neja’s help enough?36

“Now,” Neja said. “It has to be now, or very soon. Before Branaed claims the throne again.” She did not add or people will call you a common usurper- she did not need to. Elba knew what people would say of her- what they should say of a girl who stole her father’s throne. She bit her lip, trying to separate the words Branaed and father in her mind. 37

“Do it, then,” she said, her voice strained, as if in pain. A hand on her stomach, she tried to suppress the growing queasiness she felt. Once, Neja had said that a Queen’s every move was scrutinized, her every word heard- so why would one wish to be Queen? Now that very girl was turning her back, clapping her hands and calling the Sranjasem to order. All very well for her, she was not the one to be crowned. 38

“Good people of Srandael...” Elba stared resentfully at Neja’s back as her voice rang out across the cavern. “I understand you are tired and your days are long, so I will not keep you. I do not know if you have heard, but Branaed Sranivine, King of Srandael, was found dead in the woods this eve.” She paused, as if to let the message sink in. “He will rise again.”39

This time, the murmur sweeping over the room was discontented. “What do you mean by that, Vamaret?” someone called. The voice had a touch of hostility to it, as if the speaker was preparing for a fight. As Neja turned angry eyes to the back of the room, Elba flew to her feet. She quickly flattened the frizzes around her face, trying to appear respectable.40

“She means that the black magic will not fail. It will do what he intended it to do, keep him alive to tyrannize us. Well, I say no more!” She stopped; she had no idea what to say next. Neja had slipped into her seat, leaving her alone. Elba took a breath and continued. “No leader has the right to dabble in black magic. My father, Branaed Sranivine is an abomination. That is why I move that you declare me Queen!” 41

Throughout the cavern, there was silence. Elba could feel her face turning red and sent up a silent prayer. Please, Neja, say something. She did, her voice resounding off the walls of the cavern. “As a Siderider of the North, one of the Free Women of Ilarn, I second the movement.” 42

Vrak-Viskan stood up, towering against the wall. “As do I, for the Vrake of Vamardael and all of Vamaret’s sons.” Elba felt the warmth drain from her cheeks and settle in her heart. These people were standing up, declaring her worthy of the throne before their gods and brothers. Meifenke stood next, red braids tumbling about his face.43

“If I can speak for the Grens, I do. We are a wise people, and wise people do not quarrel with this young Queen.” It could have been a domineering thing to say, but it was not. Meifenke seemed to be implying that she was a great young Queen, and years would only make her grow greater. Elba hoped it was true. Slindin, a tattooed man with half of his hair shaven off, was on his feet then.44

“What true men of Srandael remain should rally behind her. She is not her father. Remember that.” Slindin played with a hangnail as he spoke, and sat back down as soon as he was finished. Elba had never known the rogue warrior to be an outgoing man, too used to being scorned and ridiculed. He was, admittedly, fearsome to look upon- half his head shaved, and tattoos winding down his body. But he was a good man, and he loved fiercely.45

Anjenella stood, clutching at Nien’s shoulder to steady herself. For a moment she teetered, then, in an old crone’s voice, began to speak. “Many of you remember Elba Sranivine from when she was a child, running around after her father, eager to please. No one would say she has not changed. The Just God will guide her to her vengeance in Silene, and all who do not follow will be marked as traitors by generation to come. So be it,” the old woman finished, waving a weathered hand through the air. Her eyes closed, and Nien reached up to help her sit again. Elba was flushing now, her skin burning at their praise. 46

Riet-Ninna rose, shaking out her black braid and fixing her eyes on the floor. “I was born a Trat. You people have always hated Trats. To me, it seems like my people have always lived here, but you see us as invaders. I suppose I can understand that. But Princess Neja says it will take all of us to see Princess Elba to Silene. So, for the Trats, I give my approval. I” She paused, playing with her braid. “I am done.” She sank to the ground in a flurry of skirts, hiding her face.47

“That leaves me, then,” said Lorlin, rising slowly. Heat was all ready rising to his cheeks, reddening them from his golden hairline down to his neck. “I am Lorlin. I was born in Forndael, but I can’t remember it. I was taken- well, but I guess I can speak for the Forns. Anything Queen Elba does on the throne that is hers by rights will do credit to her line. You know this. You know her.” He paused a moment, then sat down. Elba’s face was aflame.48

“Seven have sworn,” she heard Neja whisper, so quietly she could not be sure she had heard. The Princess of Vamardael had her eyes on the crowd, wide and wary. Waiting. With pent up breath the Sranjasem, too, waited, not so much as blinking. It was Anje, a quiet girl from the infantry, who broke the silence.49

“I swear to her, by the Just God and the Watcher above, by the Covenant and all it entails!” A roar of approval filled the cavern as Anje walked forward, her red curls streaming behind her and her chin held high. Elba Sranivine could not bring herself to move. Mere hours ago she had been one of them, a soldier of no particular prowess or wisdom. Now they hailed her as Queen, screaming it and shouting it as they clapped and beat their thighs in exultation.50

As Anje drew even with her, Elba found the courage to clasp her shoulder and kiss her, first her right cheek, then her left. “And I!” Enja called from the back of the room. She had slipped out of the small room where she worked her potter’s wheel, and was now standing in the door with her arms crossed. She had an almost eidolon look about her, her dark, blind eyes flickering about. “Where my sister goes, I go as well.” 51

Elba managed a nod, blowing a kiss to the back of the room. Neja, Vrak-Viskan, Meifenke, Slindin, Anjenella, Riet-Ninna, Lorlin, Anje, Enja... What an odd group of vassals she had for a girl of fifteen. She looked down and saw Mida offering up her sword. “My line is the line of Prayta and Essacraeta, that which will never fail, though its Riding may. You can count on my blade, Elba-Queen.” 52

Elba knelt, kissing the woman on each temple. “Thank you, Mida.” The Free Woman faded back into the crowd, one sword in many. Elba, no longer embarrassed, watched her go. The crowd was silent now, waiting for the next oath.53

For a moment, it did not come. Then Nien wrenched himself forward to kneel before her. She looked down at him, skeptical. The others had not known her- unless you counted Neja, of course- but Nien she joked around with in the pools, teased on the hunting trail. But still, he spoke. 54

“I suppose my sword is not yet mine to give, Your Highness, but you can count on my fidelity. I swear it.” Your Highness! Elba’s breath hissed in between her teeth. Nien must have heard, must have understood, for he grabbed her foot and squeezed, reassuringly. She laid a hand on his head.55

“Just God bless you, Nien.” The prince of Vamardael smiled and rose, slipping back to his father’s side. Elba bowed her head to hide a small smile that stole across her lips. She wished she could take the masses of the Sranjasem- man, woman, child- and hold them to her, whether they called her Your Highness or not. In the end, all it meant was that they loved her, that they trusted her, that they would follow her. 56

Neja’s fingers crept up her shoulder, squeezing slightly, when she heard it. A man, leaning on a walking stick, was coming forward, his crippled left leg dragging on the ground. “I pledge allegiance,” he said in a voice rough from disuse. He took another step, then another, each straining the muscles of his back and bringing his weight down hard on the floor. White hair, tangled and misshapen, fluttered as he moved. 57

“Jond of Eagle’s Talon,” Elba whispered, stepping forward to meet the old man. She reached up to the top of his walking stick, laying her young hand over his gnarled one. “I thank you,” she said clearly, looking into his eyes, “from the bottom of my heart.” The old war hero looked at her, then, slowly, like the sun rising over the hilltops, a smile formed on his face. Elba, too, smiled, her hand falling back to her side.58

“Let there be food!” Neja cried, and a buzz filled the hall. All traces of solemnity were broken as Sranjasem brought out meat and mead and dragged tables to the center of the room. Anjenella stoked a fire against the back wall and, as the flames roared up to the ceiling, the Sranjasem rejoiced. Neja Vamaret, a small smile on her face, poured a bit of mead into a goblet. “The Silver-Garbed Queen,” she said, raising it high.59

“The Silver-Garbed Queen!” The people echoed back to her, smiling and drinking. Neja turned to find Elba staring at her, drumming her fingers on the table. The red- haired girl had to fight to keep from laughing as she watched her friend appraise her. Her mouth she kept steady, but her eyes danced with amusement. 60

“Neja,” the girl said slowly, brooding, “the Silver-Garbed Queen is a legend.” Neja’s lips curved upward in a parody of a smile. A finger ran over the carvings on the goblet in her hand, up and down and up again. All the while, Elba watched her, waiting. For what, she was not sure.61

It was a long moment before Neja spoke, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Oh, is it?” she asked, and drank. 62