“This is called Kile and the White Feather. The father of the gods, Erebus, had three sons: Ferrol, Drome, and Maribor. They were the gods of elves, dwarves, and men. He also had a daughter, Muriel, who was the loveliest being ever created. She held dominion over all the plants and animals. Well, one night Erebus became drunk and… well, he hurt his own daughter. In anger, her brothers attacked their father and tried to kill him, but of course, gods can’t die.
“Filled with guilt and grief, Erebus returned to Muriel and begged her forgiveness. She was moved by her father’s remorse but still could not bear to look at him. He begged, pleading for her to name a punishment. He would do anything to win her forgiveness. Muriel needed time to let the fear and pain pass, so she told him, ‘Go to Elan to live. Not as a god, but as a man to learn humility.’ To repent for his misdeeds, she charged him with doing good works. Erebus did as she requested and took the name of Kile. It is said that to this day, he walks the world of men, working miracles. For each act that pleases her, Muriel bestows upon him a white feather from her magnificent robe, which he keeps in a pouch forever by his side. Muriel decreed that when the day came when all the feathers were bestowed, she would call her father home and forgive him. It is said when all the gods are reunited, all will be made right and the world will transform into a paradise.”
“Empress?” Mercy said.
“Yes?”
“When you die, do you meet others who have died?”
“I don’t know. Who is it you want to meet?”
“I miss my mother.”
“Oh, that’s different,” she told her. “I am quite certain daughters and mothers are always reunited.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“She was very pretty, my mother. She used to say I was pretty too.”
“And you are.”
“She told me I would grow up to be a fairy princess one day, but I don’t think I will now. I don’t think I will grow up at all.”
“Don’t talk like that. If your mother said you would be a fairy princess, you trust her—mothers know these things.” She hugged the girl and kissed her cheek. Mercy felt so small, so delicate. “Now it is late and time for you to go to sleep.”
A bright moon was rising.
Modina thought of the fifty-eight men outside, pitched on a snowy hillside, ordered by her to remain in the cold. Some would lose fingers, others toes, noses, or ears, and some might be dying right then, like her father almost had the night of the blizzard. They might be huddled in a shallow frozen hole they had chipped out of the snow, trying in vain to keep warm with only a thin wool blanket and a few layers of clothes separating them from the bitter winds. They would shiver uncontrollably, their teeth chattering, their muscles tight as they pulled into balls, snow and ice forming on their beards and eyelashes. The unlucky ones would fall into a deep warm sleep, never to wake up.
She thought of the men, imagined their pain and fear, and felt guilt. They were dying on her command, but she needed them to be there. As much as she wished it could be better for them, as much as she wished she could pray for warmer weather, she looked out at the sparkling stars and whispered, “Please, Maribor, I know I am not your daughter. I am but a poor peasant girl who shouldn’t even be here, but please, please make it stay cold.”
She fell asleep and woke a few hours later. The room was dark, the new logs having burned low, and everything outside the covers felt chilled.
It was Mercy who had woken her. She was kicking and twisting in the covers, her eyes still closed. She wrestled, her arms twitching, her eyes darting fretfully under her lids. From her mouth came fearful utterances like the cries of terror from one gagged.
“What’s wrong with her?” Allie asked with a sleepy face and matted hair.
“Bad dream, I suspect.” Modina took hold of Mercy’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Mercy?” she said. “Mercy, wake up.”
The little girl kicked once more, then lay still. Her eyes fluttered open and then shifted left and right nervously.
“It’s okay. It was just a bad dream.” Mercy clutched at Modina, shaking. “It’s all right, everything is okay now.”
“No,” the little girl replied with a hitching voice. “It’s not. I saw them. I saw the elves coming into the city. Nothing stopped them.”
Modina patted her head. “It was just a dream, a nightmare brought on because of what we were saying just before you fell asleep. I told you I won’t let them hurt us.”
“But you couldn’t stop them—no one could. The walls fell down and flying monsters burned the houses. I heard the men screaming in the fog. There was lightning, the ground broke, and the walls fell. They poured in riding white horses all dressed in gold and blue.”
“Gold and blue?” Modina asked.
She nodded.
Modina’s heart felt as if it skipped a beat. “Did you see the elves when you escaped the university?”
“No, just the flying monsters. They were really scary.”
“How did you know they dressed in gold and blue?”
“I saw them in my dream.”
“What else did you see? Which way did they come?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said they were on horses. Did they arrive here on horses or did they come by boat?”
“I don’t know. I just saw them on horses coming into the city.”
“Do you know which gate?”
She shook her head, looking more frightened as Modina quizzed her. The empress tried to calm down, tried to smile, but she could not. Instead, she stood up. The floor was cold, but she barely noticed. She paced, thinking.
It’s not possible for a child to see the future in a dream—is it? But that’s what the Patriarch said when he was quoting at the meeting. “They came on brilliant white horses, wearing shining gold and shimmering blue.” Still, that ancient account might not apply to these elves.
“Can you remember where you were when you saw them enter the gate?”
Mercy thought a moment. “We were on the wall out front of the courtyard, where Allie and I play with Mr. Rings.”
“Was it day or night?”
“Morning.”
“Could you see the sun?”
She shook her head and Modina sighed. If only she—
“It was cloudy,” Mercy told her.
“Could you tell which side the sea was on while looking at the gate?”
“Ah—this side, I think,” she said, taking her right hand out of the covers and shaking it for her.
“Are you sure?”
The girl nodded.
“You were looking at the southern gate,” Modina said.
“You two get back to sleep,” she told the girls, and left them staring as she rushed out of the bedroom, pulling on a robe. The guard outside spun around, startled.
“Wake up the chancellor and tell him I want to see that scout Entwistle right now. I will meet them in the chancellor’s office. Go.”
She closed the door and ran down the steps to the fourth floor without bothering to get dressed.
“You there!” She caught a guard yawning. He snapped to attention. “Get a light on in the chancellor’s office.”
By the time Nimbus and the scout arrived, she had the map of the kingdom of Warric off the shelf and spread out over the desk.
“What’s going on?” the chancellor asked.
“You are from the south, aren’t you, Nimbus?”
“I am from Vernes, Your Eminence.”
“That’s down here at the mouth of the Bernum?”