Keeping the Fire: Day Above, Night Below

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It was a full hour before dawn when Coralm knocked on her door. Polena was up already, writing a letter to her daughter by the light of a lantern, but the suddenness of his knock still startled her. As she let him in, Coralm paced the periphery of the room, came up slowly to the side of the balcony door, and threw it open as if expecting someone to be waiting on the small perch. All that awaited was the pink and lavender clouds heralding a dawn that had broken behind the peaks but was yet hidden from the Fortress and the sleeping Dehali valley below.

“Are you finished Comae? Would you like to tell me what worries you?” said Polena, trying to sound annoyed but having more fright in her voice than she wished. Coralm, turned to her, his face stoic but his eyes possessed of a hidden rage. So vexed had he been, that it was as if he thought Polena had come into his room unannounced and he had only just noticed her. He took in breath, stopped, and calmed himself, letting his shoulders drop.

“We cannot go to the king's council after the festival today.”

“No, we have to go.”

“We cannot and we will not. I have made a decision Luminary.”

“Sir Coralm,” Polena returned, respecting his rank but unwilling to let the point go, “I have spent days preparing for this, the People have spent centuries growing the faith, and the Free Westins have waited almost a millennium to be out from under Westa Proper's heel. I will not let you disappoint all of us,” her poise seemed to catch him off guard and he unintentionally made full eye contact. There was fear in his eyes, Polena saw it. That was what the guise of rage and action hid.

“We cannot. We must not,” replied Coralm, carefully re-dawning his cold affect like it were a winter coat, and then, before she could protest. “You can write a defense of the facts. But I have reason to believe that it is not safe for us to go.”

“If I write a defense it will simply be ignored. These People care only for the spoken word Comae, they care for someone's presence. We will present facts in absentia and they will say: 'why should it not be true that Djasho lived two hundred years and foretold the future?' That is the kind of questions these People ask.” As she heard Tavya's words come out of her mouth Polena inwardly cringed. Coralm's eyes stayed with Polena's a moment, then drifted about the room as if in thought. They stopped on her writing lectern and Polena reflexively stepped in front of it.

“Who are you writing at this hour?” he asked, his voice direct, without any hint of it's intent.

“My daughter.”

“Truly?” Coralm asked. This time Polena's gaze was tested but she did not look away.

“Sir Luminary, who or what has frightened you so that you would turn even on me, your ally? We have to go to this council. If it is too dangerous for you to go, then send me. If I must stay then let me write the arguments for you. Why give everything up now? We can't let the Fortress be forced into a foolish war like this, we can't let the Domineerists of Fiedjan take control –“

“We cannot let the Djaught best you,” Coralm interrupted.

“Yes,” replied Polena, perhaps with more vigor than she intended. Coralm paused, looking away from her. His countenance was that of a hawk, not hunting, but perched. It was peering, far seeing, but without focus.

“You are under Flin's arm,” he said, and Polena began to speak but Coralm cut her off. “I have proof you have met with them. Polena, I have been at this post for twenty years. It is almost half of my life. I began it as an aid. My three previous Comaes were all killed. One by bad medicines, one by an angry prostitute, one by a hunting accident, but all three were truly killed by assassin. I have tried, for the past eleven years, to gain favor with Free Westa, for I saw their many nations unity in the Free Westin parliament as the only way to stop the endless cycles of waring in this part of the world. Yet, for eleven years I cannot help here. Perhaps I should have looked to Flin.”

“Comae,” Polena began, then, stopping herself, she came to him and put a hand on his arm. “You wanted me to be separate from you, wanted to be certain that others of the Fortress perceived us as opponents, not allies. Well I have given up nothing to Flin. Yes, I have been speaking with them, but isn't that what you wanted? We have two fronts now, you the Free Westin and I the Flinish. We must attend this council. You have already planned for this.”

“You lied to me.”

“And you didn't?” replied Polena, unable to keep from raising her voice, “Oh yes, Knight Luminary, you never told me a lie, but you didn't tell me much of anything. You have lied by omission as I have lied by necessity. We have both gained from our lies and I thought as a diplomat you would understand a transaction like that. We are both working for the People here! You gave me nothing with which to work so I took matters into my own hands and the result is that we have all the tools we need to win this day! We can stop this war. Wither your chess player's wits now? ”

“One does not stop a war Polena, only delay it.” Coralm said. He took her hand from his shoulder and stepped towards the door. Listening at it, he turned back to her. “There will always be another war. There will always be casualties no matter how clean the victory or noble the fight. Remember that. We will go today, both of us, but I cannot be responsible for what Stone-Hearted Fate intends.”

“I understand,” Polena replied, feeling sobered almost to the point of melancholy.

“And also understand that if you are not here to do so, I will not write a letter to that little girl in Meeda.” Polena opened her mouth but found nothing to say.

“Our choice is made Comae,” the Knight Luminary said, “Let us hope your argument is as vivid in the council as it is in this room.” Then he left her.

From outside, the first winds of dawn buffeted the shuttered door and Polena found herself forced to look back at it as if certain someone watched from beyond. She tried to go back to writing, but every time the wind rose up it shook her as surely as that balcony door. At long last, she threw it open in frustration. Outside the sun had dawned, but the peaks of the mountains cast a great shadow. By the distant glowing of lanterns in village windows she could see that for all the light of dawn in the Fortress, in the valley below it was still night.

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