Death and the Emperor

Book 1 Chapter IV: Through the Years

Hey Alice, are you here or there
Or somewhere in between?
Hey Alice, would you ever dare
To go back through where you've been?
-- Rachel Rose Mitchell, Hey Alice

Zjurkyu, the year 2518

Varan was alive. The doctor had ordered her to stay in bed for a few days, but she was alive. Kilan should be more happy about this, he knew. But how could he be happy when he knew she had only ten years to live?

There were times when he felt he had gotten the better side of the bargain. He got to go to the Land of the Dead and talk with his ancestors every night. Varan was going to die. Ten years had never seemed so short before.

"Well, someone looks miserable this morning," Aunt Biënth remarked, sitting down beside him on the window seat. "What did that poor curtain ever do to you?"

...Now that he thought about it, it probably had looked as if he was glaring at the curtain.

"What would you do," he began, trying to find the right words. What would she say if he told her the truth? Would she be horrified? Would she think he was joking? Would she think he was mad? "if you tried to save someone's life, and you thought you had, but then they died anyway?"

Aunt Biënth frowned thoughtfully. She suddenly looked very like Empress Ranoryin. "I would be sorry, and angry too, but eventually I think I would realise that I had done all I could. Why do you ask? Has one of your pets died?"

No, but my sister did, Kilan wanted to say. But the words got stuck in his throat, and all that came out was, "I was just wondering."

They sat in silence for some minutes.

"I've made a friend," Kilan began abruptly, "at least I think she's my friend. But no one else knows about her."

"Ah." Aunt Biënth smiled knowingly. "Would she be a girl from the village, by any chance? Or someone else your parents would frown upon you associating with?"

His parents would definitely frown upon him associating with Death, but he suspected that wasn't what she meant. "It's not that. It's... she's not really a person at all..."

"An imaginary friend, then? I had those when I was your age. I used to pretend the fairy who lived in the moon would come and have tea with me on cloudy days, and the cupboard where I kept my pyjamas was home to a family of lukins[1]."

"Her name's Death."

Aunt Biënth's smile vanished. She looked at Kilan as if he had turned into something monstrous before her eyes.

"Kilan..." She stopped and seemed to be searching for the right words. "Kilan, do you know anything about our family history?"

"Of course," Kilan said, feeling slightly insulted. He had tutors who spent their days teaching him history.

"Our family has a history of becoming obsessed with Death. My grandmother's father believed he was in love with Death and poisoned his own wife and children to impress her. Do you have any idea how much danger you're in?"

Her words, and the deadly serious tone in which she said them, shocked Kilan.

"But she's my friend!"

Aunt Biënth pursed her lips. In that moment she looked more like Ranoryin than ever. "Oh, Kilan. Death has no friends."

Zjurkyu, the year 2522

"Kilan! Kiiilan!"

Varan had grown older. She hadn't grown out of shouting his name at the top of her lungs. Twelve-year-old Kilan sighed and set aside his drawing pad.