The Mountain Queen

Part II, Chapter Three: The Parting of Ways

That night we supped merrily in Hollitch's tiny house, and for a few hours we forgot our troubles in the glow of good food and hearty company.  Cressock told tales of intrigue and scandal among the Drymanders, and Hollitch countered with lively rural anecdotes about lost sheep and petty feuds.  Even Brody joined in, after much urging from Shamus and me, recounting the story of the muscular fish that had pulled him from his canoe and straight down to the bottom of the river—where Brody proceeded to beat the fish senseless, after which it was gutted and served up for a hero's dinner that night.

The next morning we were up with the dawn, striding through the dew and over the rise into the main valley.  Cressock was hoping for an early audience with the queen, to gauge her mood and see where her thoughts had been tending since our council.  As it turned out, there was no need for such an audience.  The queen's mood was made manifest the instant we crested the hill.

Cressock halted abruptly a few paces ahead of me; I drew up level with him and stopped too.  Shamus and Brody joined us, and we all stared at the scene that unfolded below.

The great red tent was undulating, buckling, roiling and surging in its place at the valley's center.  As we watched, the supports that held up its many sections gave way one by one, the scarlet canvas collapsing soundlessly with each pole that fell.  Like an enormous red pudding, the tent pulsed, wavered, and contracted, folding endlessly inward, layer after layer, upon itself.  It was like watching a great, many-legged beast dwindle to nothing before our eyes.

Cressock's eyes were shining in the thin morning light.  "Looks like the court is packing up," he said.

       Already the huge mast that held up the tent's center was swaying drunkenly beneath the myriad folds of canvas.  We watched as it leaned precariously to one side, made a wavering halt, and drifted gently to the ground.  The tent was now a flat stain of red on the green of the valley grass, and its compass grew ever smaller as tiny figures folded it out of existence.

"Come on," said Cressock.  And we followed him down the slope into the valley, toward the vanishing tent.

*          *          *

We found the queen standing alone a little to one side, watching her subjects' labor with absent eyes.  She wore her dark-green cloak, and her arms were folded across her chest.  She glanced at Cressock as we approached; then her eyes returned to the busy scene before her.

Cressock stepped forward and stood beside his queen, hands clasped easily behind him, silently watching the Drymanders pack up their makeshift court for the journey home.

At length, Cressock broke the silence.  "Will you remain?" he asked.

"You know I will."

"And have I your permission to remain also?"

"I command it."

"Dare I hope it will be only the two of us?"

She smiled.  "You may hope as you wish.  But I've asked Felvin and Diana to stay."

Cressock winced.  "A dangerous choice, Your Majesty.  Between the one's cruelty and the other's stupidity, they're sure to frighten away whatever spirit lives here."

"They will do as I bid them.  They're loyal subjects."

"So am I loyal, my queen.  In my own way."

They lapsed into silence again.  Ahead of them, horses were being saddled and burdened for their journey.  Diana strode among the workers, inspecting their progress with a severe expression.

Cressock spoke again.  "Who will rule in your place?"

"Quarros, of course."

Cressock whistled.  "A mortal man on the throne of Dryman?"