Dream of a Vast Blue Cavern

Chapter 11: Marked By Fire: Medoc

 Medoc walked away from the throne room in a stiff, formal march, his features perfectly even. He wasn't aware of where his feet were taking him until the air grew slightly humid, and he realized he was halfway to the baths. Well, that made sense. Of course he would go there to calm his nerves, soothe away the shock of the last few moments, to quiet his mind—which still rang with the Ice Queen's thoughts.

 I can help you, she said over and over again, as if she was still linked with him. What had happened in there? He understood, but he still couldn't believe it was possible. The very idea repulsed him now, but when he had been a young Flame, pondering such things, he had always assumed that if a Flame mated an Icer, the union would produce no offspring, like the perverse matings with Semija, or a mating between a hippole and a cababar. At the least, the offspring should be deformed, sickly, unable to survive for long. Not hale, like the Ice Queen. Not able to draw T’Jas from both fire and ice. Why had the Fire Spirit willed that something like her would be allowed to exist? And who was her mother? The image in the Icer’s mind hadn’t been clear enough for Medoc to identify her. But he had heard a tale once of a Lady fleeing to the frozen tunnels. Her family had been executed for plotting against a King—was it Rodev or Ritnu? Medoc could not recall. The Lady had returned and been executed herself, after her mind was plundered for any secrets she might carry from Iskalon.

 None of that mattered. The truth was, the Ice Queen could use heat T'Jas. Medoc was not staunchly religious, but he kept the rites as he was required by his position, and he often prayed to the Fire Spirit before battle. He believed that when he died, he would be consigned to the lava river and his spirit would flow to the lava lake, as it had during the testing, to rest for eternity. The Ice Queen had gone to the lake, been tested in its center, and survived, even returned with the mark of the Fire Spirit, though the lava mesh had not fully formed on her body—probably because her blood was contaminated. Medoc's stomach churned again. The whole thing was revolting.

 And dangerous. Medoc had lied about his King, told the Guards that Dynat had tortured the Ice Queen, marked her, when he had not. Sooner or later, his lie would be revealed. Why had he lied? Did he really think the grotesque half-breed could be of use? She had seen his mind, knew that he had considered treason. If Dynat discovered that, Medoc would be lucky to be thrown into the Lava River. He would have to kill her somehow, without Dynat finding out that he had done so.

 The humidity grew, and the stench of black smoke rose into the tunnel, covering a layer of delicious sulfur smell. He stood for a time in the tunnel. He would find no peace in the baths now, no quiet contemplation. But Bolv would be there, and he needed to speak with Bolv.

 He found her in the large, communal bathing cavern. He leaned against the arched doorway, watching her address the crowd that gathered there. She stood on a ledge of stone, Semija kneeling at her feet. Fifty or so commoners listened, scratching heads, muttering, and tapping feet. A few nobles, standing out in gemcloth and golden plate, stood alongside them.

 “ . . . King Dynat is aware of the situation, and grieves with you. He is very busy. I remind you, the war is just now over. The baths will receive their due attention.”

 The commoners did not seem well pacified by Bolv's promises. One of the Nobles spoke up. “It's not the baths we care about, Kinyara. It’s the cursed drinking water. Half the tunnels by the baths are contaminated. These common Flames are coming up to our tunnels to fill their buckets. It has to stop.”

 “We are working on the problem—”

 “That's what you said five days past! What are we paying for, anyhow?”

 “My hippole are all coughing blood! Will I have to pay taxes on hippole I can't even milk?”

 “Ah, here's the General, maybe he has word from the King—”