Keeping the Fire: An Honest Smile

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The grey granite walls of Fortress Edgar reflect the light of the sun, dulling its focus but redoubling its warmth. In the summer it is unpleasant, and the wealthy put up tapestries to take in the heat, making the halls of the nobles blaze with the summer colors of orange and yellow. But in the winter, as now, the reflection of the light keeps the Fortress warm. It is one of the essential strategies, one of the cunning tricks, necessary to survive in the Westin winter. For, one cannot survive it honestly.

Honesty was on Polena's mind this morning. As had been expected, the king had expressed worry to the Djaught Mehethe as to Fiedjan's claims and Mehethe had asked for the Ministers to vote on the issue. That vote had been arranged for the day before the singing of The Coming of Drakur, for any vote on or afterr that somber remembrance day would be in poor taste. Again, this was as expected. Unexpected, by any, had been a missive from the Djaught Mehethe sent directly to Polena asking for a private face-to-face meeting two days before the vote. She had called Tavya for advice, and Alembic being unavailable, she had allowed Delhay in at the last moment. The Minister Tavya arrived with her small staff and was immediately skeptical, though she seemed equally worried by the presence of the Whale.

“You cannot take up this offer Luminary,” Tavya begged, he voice tinged with a persuasive worry, “it is a trap.”

“I can see that possibility, but why should I ignore the chance? Maybe he simply wants to ask some questions, maybe he wants to try and bargain, and maybe he wants to threaten me. In any case I am stronger for knowing it than not.”

“I must protest,” Tavya said, “you are not considering all of the possibilities. He would only call you if he had some scheme. He must mean to entrap you or gain some intelligence of your strategy. What if he means to use this to find out who is close to you, and then threaten them?”

From where he stood by the hearth, warming his hands Delhay scoffed. Tavya did not break eye contact with Polena, as if she had heard nothing. Polena, indeed, had thought of someone threatening those she was close to. Yet, there were few here. She knew it was not wise to tip one's hand, knew that she was in danger here. But something of the Djaught's letter gave her pause. It was the honesty in it.

“There was a poem in the letter,” Polena said, “an old one that doesn't translate well. It means something like “I have never seen the forest before I saw it this day.” It was written by Djasho and while the rest of the letter seemed formal and in a workman like hand, this poem was given special deference. There is no hidden meaning to that poem; It is in the common style and cannot be given a True Reading. But the hand that wrote it showed a greater love there than with any other word in the letter.” Tavya reached to take Polena's hand, but the Luminary had drawn it away. An awkward moment passed between them as Tavya realized she had become predictable. Her eyes hinted fleetingly at an apology.

“Polena, that care is for you. My rider is found of telling me, “When you hunt a wolf, you don't bait with leeks,” this careful hand is careful bait. This Djaught is certainly involved in the man that tried to abduct you. Maybe too in the assassins and even in Knight Luminary Coralm's death! Why would you give him anything?”

“I thank you for your worry,” Polena replied, very formally, “but I would like to hear the council of another before I decide. Delhay, what do you think?” the great man looked away from the fire, but his gnarled hands didn't leave it. Such a hearth must seem a luxury to one who spends so much of their day out of doors or in cold halls.

“Well, your meeting would be in the Halls of Fiedjan. It is their sovereign territory. If he meant to kidnap you he would only need to tell us that you had decided to stay there a while and we would be able to do nothing. If you think he has tried to kill you then you would be stupid to go there. But I bet that the Duchess here is more worried that the People's Alliance is about to get an offer of concessions, some agreement or treaty in return for support in the Djasho matter. It's something she would rather have for Flin, or herself, no doubt.”

Tavya looked hurt, and the genuine seeming honesty of that display filled Polena with equal parts sympathy and suspicion. She did not like being manipulated. While the Minister of the Keepings swore her innocence, Polena considered. She was still thinking when a silence fell over the three of them.

“You going? If you do and you go alone, I can't offer you much,” said Delhay

“I am going.”

“Good.”

“Polena please don't do this. I beg you, this man is trying to manipulate you.”

“I don't doubt it my friend. Before this meeting he told me that you had called yourself by the name Weatherclock in a gathering of your allies this past Autumn's Observance.”

Delhay stood up, as if he had openly cringed to hear that secret revealed. Polena did not look to him. Her eyes were instead on Tavya, who had look of horror on her face. Her attendants came closer, like they were rallying about their mistress to shield her from a blade. Polena pushed her point.

“You are not the Weatherclock, though I could see that you might claim to be. You were lying that night, or he is lying now. I intend no offense to either of you. You are both trying to twist me in the direction that is best for your own People and that is laudable. It shows me that you both hold your duties in good faith. But so also does this Djaught, and so must I as Speaker for the People of our grand Alliance of Creace. I am going. That is my choice and no others.”

Polena had a tendency, when ignored or passed over to get angry. She had come to this place to try and make a difference in the world, but she had been denied the means to do so. To flex her strength now and to do it using only the truth, filled her with a sense of power she had long coveted. Polena felt herself smile for what felt like the first time in the whole of this long, cold winter.

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