Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern

Chapter 7: Dreams of V'lturhst: Glace

 Glace sat in a cramped, dim cave with Stasia, Larc, Kiner, and Casser. It was a small King's Council—Nay, Queen's Council, for Stasia was sure to be Queen. Glace was among those who believed that if the other princesses had survived, they would have been found by now. He could not say so to Stasia, though. She still spoke of her sisters as if they were alive.

 In spite of her inexperience and her previous lack of interest in politics, Glace thought that she was doing well as Regent. She had organized the Guilds, put a system of raids and rations in place, and maximized the small space in the burial chamber. She had appointed her own advisors, Casser and Larc.  Kiner had survived the war as the highest ranking Icer other than Casser, and she had promoted him as such to General. Since Stasia was the highest ranking Royal, and the Gendarme outranked all other positions in the Warrior Guild, Glace ranked now as the highest Warrior, High Captain of the Gendarme.

 Glace hated being High Captain, mainly because it kept him from Stasia’s side. Other than these brief councils, he was constantly training and organizing recruits, planning raids, counting warriors. Sometimes he thought he had been promoted simply to keep him occupied. Of the rest of her Guard, only two men had survived, Glint and Fedor. Glace had pulled seven more from the most promising of the recruits and filled out her Guard with them, but it still irked him not to be by her side more often.

 At least this council session had granted him a bit of relief by restricting her to the Burial chamber. Stasia, of course, was livid. She sat on her stone stool, hands gripping the edge of the table so tight that her knuckles were white, venting her anger in a loud and animated tone. She looked beautiful even in anger, with her hair done up high in elaborate silver plaits. Her yellow-green eyes could have shot sparks into Casser, who sat opposite her. The elder Icer's eyes were not calm either, though his anger was more subdued. He sat silent, letting his niece rage on about the council. Kiner, sitting beside him, was nodding fervently at Stasia’s expletives. Larc sat opposite Glace, next to Stasia. The too-pretty Icer appeared calm and collected, although Glace detected a hint of anxiety behind her demeanor.

 “How dare they? I have a mind to get with child from one of the guildless refugees just to spite them. Thinking they can breed me out, like a molebear fem in heat. Curse Wyfus! I should have him conscripted, see how well he can manipulate the council after he dies in a raid. Fish slime!”

 Duty and deference, Glace reminded himself. She had a duty, as much as he did, and hers was to provide heirs to the throne. Her duty had been less urgent when she was thirteenth in line, but now it would be imperative. His mind said that, but hot jealousy crept down his ribs to his gut. When he had heard Cygnet’s proposal during council, he let his anger out through his axe, hardly noticing what he was doing until the fisher he was training squeaked, “Yield, yield!” Then he realized that he had backed the man against a wall and was hacking at his shield with the axe. Duty, he reminded himself now, taking a deep breath. Duty and deference.

 Stasia’s curses continued, and at last Casser interrupted in a commanding voice. “We cannot sit here and rage all chime, Stasia. It is good to let off steam, but we must speak before the council reconvenes. Do you need to hit something?”

 Stasia's rage dissolved into a disgruntled expression. “I—hit something?”

 “Your father would often take a practice sword and spend the chime between sessions in the Warrior's yard. It helped him stay focused during the next session.”

 A look of incredulity crept over the princess's face. Had she never known this about her father? From time to time Glace had been called to mock-battle with his own King. It was good training for a warrior; Krevas would suppress his T'Jas, to make the fight fair, but he was a worthy opponent even so. Glace felt a glimmer of loss; he would never again see Krevas march angrily into the training square, pick up a dull-tipped blade, and make the challenge stance. He pushed the feeling down, and focused on Stasia. She was trying to regain her fury, but wasn't succeeding.