Sohna and Vivian - My Brother's Keeper

Her mind really wasn’t on the impending revelation, however. She still couldn’t understand why Wolf hadn’t told her he’d gone to wizard’s school. She wasn’t really mad about it anymore - he’d made those big puppy-dog eyes at her and she couldn’t have stayed angry if she’d wanted to - but that didn’t mean she understood. True, it isn’t in the same category as somehow forgetting to tell me his name, she thought, trying to be fair, but still ...

Her musings were cut abruptly cut short by the wizard’s - Samantha’s, she reminded herself - standing up and clearing her throat to begin her lecture.

“I’ve had copies of the document drawn up so you can all have one,” she began, depositing an insulted-looking Lucent on the table in front of her and picking up a small stack of papers. Lucent stretched himself as she passed the copies of the poem around to everyone, then promptly plopped himself down on top of the original, still lying on the desk for Samantha’s reference. He blinked languidly.

“Oh, Lucent, you’ll have to move,” she told him sweetly. “You’re in the way.”

“Ungooow!” replied Lucent in a deep, booming voice. He didn’t budge.

She put her hand down to move him herself. He opened his mouth and rested his teeth on her skin, looking up at her speculatively.

“Oh, all right,” she conceded. “I think I can do it from memory. Someone interrupt me if I skip a stanza.”

She stood up straight and began what Virginia thought of as her ‘lecture mode’:

“First of all, I’d like to state that because the document is not intact - the last part of it is obviously missing - the interpretation I have made is not necessarily an accurate one. Please keep that in mind.

“Now, the first stanza appears to be nothing much more than an introduction. The entreaty on the third line: Sit back, you must learn this lesson well, leaves little doubt but that this is the genuine beginning of the document. Apart from that, it gives us very scant information - merely that the story has lain dormant - which was due to the forget spell - and that the remainder of the document will concern a kingdom that has been cursed.

“The second stanza reveals a bit more: That the cursed kingdom either was that of the dryads or occupied the same territory, that the curse ended an era of peace, and that it was cast on a full moon at Midwinter. Now for those of you who don’t know, an occasion of the full moon coinciding with Midwinter’s Eve is one of the most auspicious for the casting of spells. Any spell cast at that time will have more power to it than it otherwise would. What isn’t clear from this is whether this curse is the one you both experienced or a different one altogether.”

Virginia sighed. She was already getting bored and knew she’d have difficulty staying awake for the full lecture, but she didn’t dare fall asleep. She didn’t want to insult the woman and she certainly didn’t want to appear not to care what the whole thing meant. It didn’t really help that Wolf was listening with rapt attention.

Well, thought Virginia sourly, he’s not one of ‘those of you who don’t know’ is he? She nearly added sarcastically that it might have been nice if he’d bothered to share his magical knowledge with her, but she realized immediately that he actually had: He’d been a veritable fountain of information on everything from the invisibility shoes to the riddling frog. He simply hadn’t bothered to tell her where his information had come from. She knew she should stop dwelling on it so much, though, and tried to think of something else, but across the room, her father was listening to Samantha with at least as much interest as her husband. Mentally, she shook her head, wondering how he could be so absorbed, but then realized the real question was probably why wasn’t Virginia interested in it. Obviously her mother had been, or she’d never have left in the first place. So if her parents were, why not her?

Uneasily she suddenly recalled that her grandmother hadn't been much interested in hearing the proceedings, either. When invited, she'd declined the invitation, saying she had to use the time to select suitable material for the spring wardrobe she was having made. She was also not too happy about the wizard's cat: she thought it might irritate Roland. Roland, of course, had joined her shortly after Virginia and Wolf had returned from their honeymoon. He'd been languishing - her grandmother's word - in one of those pet hotels, where the animals each have their own television, as she had originally thought she was only going on a visit, but had decided to stay. Maybe she had more in common with Grandma than she’d ever thought. Just what I needed to figure out now, she thought wryly. At least I’ll never be as inconsiderate as she can be though. I hope. I’d better not be, anyway, she mentally added. She could still hear the unspoken criticism in the old woman's words during her latest visit: "You know, your mother barely showed at all when she was carrying you ...” which were completely oblivious to the fact that Virginia's feelings might be hurt by the statement. She sighed heavily, wondering then what had caused her to start thinking about all this junk in the first place.

"In conclusion," Samantha was saying, "It seems that the curse which was placed by the Basquel Queen, which is likely the one which affected Virginia and Wolf, although it has ramifications which extend far beyond that, may be lifted by a union between a ruling house of one of the original five kingdoms and the ruling house of the alternate dimension - also known as the Tenth Kingdom - where Virginia and Tony are from. Such a union would, of course, have to produce a child to be effective in breaking the curse."

"I don't see how that's possible," said Tony. "For one thing, there is no "King of the World" where we come from. For another, you haven't mentioned what's supposed to happen when the curse is broken. People will be able to go freely into that ruin without a problem, or what? And if that's all there is to it, why bother?"

"Obviously that's where having the remainder of the document could help us," she replied. "But as to what will happen with the breaking of the curse, it appears that your world and ours will be reunited along with the symbolic act of union between the rulers. My best suggestion is to try and find out who may have been the most likely ruler at the time and trace that individual's descendants."

“Oh, great!” Tony exclaimed. “Just how are we supposed to do that?”

“That isn’t the worst of it, Antony,” put in Wendell. “I happen to be the only unmarried - or unengaged - directly descended ruler from the original five kingdoms, aside from a few toddlers descended from Cinderella.”

“NO!” cried Rupert, jumping to his feet. “We’ve straightened all this out already with the line of succession! And Riding Hood III is not married.”

“She is engaged, to Prince Gunther of the Eighth Kingdom,” replied Wendell. “And the line of succession question is moot, considering what is at stake here.”

“Well, can’t it wait for one of those toddlers to grow up?”

“I would say not,” said Samantha cautiously. “Everything has suddenly started moving just recently. That points to the necessity of quickly resolving the problem. Not that there seems to be an immediate deadline, but waiting an entire generation is out of the question."

"I do want one thing understood, however," declared Wendell in a grave voice, "Whoever she is, she must be completely aware of what she is getting into, not only so far as this curse is concerned, but so far as I go as well; that while all the social rights and privileges of being a queen will be hers, privately the marriage will be purely for the sake of breaking the curse. After our experience, I'm well aware of the public opinion in your world of those like me. She must know and agree in advance."

"No offense, your Highness," said Tony, "But that's going to make it a whole lot more difficult."

"Actually, King Wendell is correct," Samantha told them. "Deceit in this matter is what could be deadly. So far as discovering a suitable and willing candidate, well, these things take care of themselves when the time is right.”

Virginia wasn't certain, but it seemed that Samantha gave her father a significant look with her last statement.

"Well, I don't see how we're ever going to even find any candidate!" she put in. "We wouldn't even know where to start looking!"

"Oh, that's not true, Virginia," declared her husband, "That huge library in New York City is bound to have the answer!"

She closed her eyes, exasperated. Why hadn't she seen that coming, she wondered? She'd taken him into the library once and almost never gotten him out.

"Yes, Wolf," she said. "But what, exactly, is the question?"

"That is what we need to specifically define," Samantha agreed. But she'd barely stopped speaking when a servant entered.

"The Princess Gwendolyn," he intoned.

"Oh, dear," muttered Wendell.

"Oh, please, not now," muttered Rupert.

The reactions of the two piqued Virginia’s curiosity more than the servant’s could ever have done, even had he announced her as ‘Princess Gwendolyn, the Blue Fairy.’ But that was exactly how she struck Virginia at first glance: She had the blue mop of hair and pale skin common to Eighth Kingdomers, in addition to a pair of iridescent blue fairy wings. They fluttered nervously as she entered the room.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had visitors,” she said in a light voice, apparently to Wendell, then looked down at the floor as she turned away.

“No, that’s quite all right, Gwendolyn,” Wendell told her, completely at odds with his initial reaction. Virginia raised an eyebrow and looked up at her husband, but Wolf only shrugged.

“Please come in,” Wendell continued. “I know you wouldn’t have come if it weren’t important.”

Virginia wondered if his words might be some kind of threat - telling the ice princess that her business had better be important. But if they were, she seemed not to notice.

“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. “I ...” she glanced uncomfortably around the room, obviously wondering if what she had to say could be said in front of all these strangers.

“It’s all right,” Wendell assured her. “This is Samantha of the Wizard Council, and the rest of these people are my advisors.”

She stared in surprise for a moment at Samantha, but gave the rest of them only a cursory glance. Virginia wondered exactly why he’d chosen to introduce them that way instead of individually - it wasn’t as if there were hundreds of them - but she forgot about it as soon as Gwendolyn started speaking.

“I suppose it might be best to have a wizard hear this,” the princess said almost to herself. “I’ve wondered if some magic might be involved. Anyway, why I’ve come: It’s about my older brother Gunther’s behavior. You know he’s engaged to Riding Hood III?”

Wendell nodded.

“Well, that has essentially been understood since they were children ...” she flushed, but continued, “Although the formal agreement between the two of them and the particulars have only recently been ironed out. But it’s only been ... I’d say within the last three weeks that he’s suddenly started on an anti-wolf campaign.” She bit her lip and looked almost sheepishly at Wendell.

Virginia felt Wolf stiffen and squeezed his hand. He squeezed it back and seemed to relax a little.

“Go on,” Wendell prompted.

“Well, it just isn’t natural,” she said. “I mean, it’s not that he’s always had any great love for wolfs, but it’s never been obvious - in fact, a year ago I’d have said he had no opinion about them one way or the other. But now he’s determined to, well, as he says, exterminate them completely.”

Virginia squeezed Wolf’s hand as hard as she could. She could almost feel him shouting in protest, but he stayed quiet. He was so tense, however, she wondered that Gwendolyn didn’t notice, but she didn’t.

“Everyone thinks, of course, that this is just because of his betrothal to Riding Hood. But I don’t. It’s too much! He wouldn’t have had to do anything but not stand in her way, and I know this isn’t anything she asked him to do. In fact, I don’t believe she’s even written him in over two months.”

“Perhaps that is why ...?” suggested Wendell.

“No, that is what everyone thinks, but the truth is, he hasn’t written her, either. It’s not as if he has some great passion for her. But he is passionate about eradicating wolfs - suddenly. And there’s something else. It started right after this mysterious storyteller left. I’ve wondered if he had something to do with it - if he might have been a witch who put a spell on my brother - but I can’t get anyone to even listen to the idea. And I know, Wendell, that all this is none of your affair, except that he’s threatened you directly. He’s said that the first thing that needs to be done is to get rid of your infernal wolf pardon.” She bit her lip nerviously, waiting for a reaction as if she expected a physical blow, but Wendell said nothing.

“Tell me about this mysterious storyteller,” said Samantha.

“Well there isn’t much to tell. He arrived maybe a month ago and stayed for about a week. He was very good at storytelling - I heard him myself - and that’s why he was invited into the castle. My brother seemed to take to him, though maybe it was the other way around, I don’t know. There was nothing mysterious about his leave-taking; he said that he simply needed to move on.”

“Did you speak to him at all?”

“Only in the most general way, to be polite. I can describe him: he was rather tall and thin, clean-shaven, but his beard seemed to grow quickly, so I wondered that he didn’t just grow it out. Reddish-brown hair, green eyes.” She blushed, and Virginia realized she’d found this mysterious stranger quite attractive.

“He had a very pleasant, smooth speaking voice, which of course helped him in his storytelling. The actual stories he told were mostly very sad, except this one he told that made us laugh, about a wolf who couldn’t stop eating. I suppose, in a way, that one was sad too, now that I think about it. But that was the only one about wolfs, and there really wasn’t anything in it that ought to have set my brother off. It’s only the timing of his visit that makes me think he might have had something to do with it.”

“Did you ask your brother about him at all?”

“No,” she admitted. “Gunther knows I’m suspicious of his sudden hatred of wolfs. If I started asking about the storyteller, I know him - he’d take it as an attack against a friend.”

“If he knows you’re suspicious and he knows you’ve come to visit me, I assume he can draw the correct conclusions ...” suggested Wendell.

Gwendolyn looked stricken.

“Oh, I should prefer to be forewarned,” the king quickly assured her. “Has he said exactly how he plans to force me to retract the pardon?”

“He wanted to mount an army,” she began, but was interrupted by an exclamation from Rupert. Gwendolyn looked in his direction, then quickly away. Rupert did the same, obviously keeping silent with an effort. Virginia realized that they had been studiously avoiding each other ever since the princess had entered.

“I assume King Gregor prevented him?” Wendell inquired mildly, apparently not noticing the friction between his paramour and the princess, though Virginia doubted he’d missed it. Their comments just before she’d entered indicated he was certainly aware of something.

“Oh, yes,” Gwendolyn assured him. “But he in effect gave him carte blanche to invade you once he was married and co-ruler of the Second Kingdom. At least he told him to wait until he had his own army, but I didn’t get the impression that Father would do anything to stop him then. Riding Hood might, but on that subject she could probably easily be persuaded to invade.”

“I see,” said Wendell. “Well, thank you for warning me. That is something I might have expected from Riding Hood’s quarter, and had thought the danger past. If anything, I’d have expected Gunther to have a moderating effect on the wolf question in the Second Kingdom. This is disturbing - and quite odd, as you say.”

She nodded, and an awkward silence ensued. Wendell leapt in with introductions:

“You know Rupert, of course,” he said, and the two of them nodded formally to each other, their acknowledgments obviously strained. “And these are Sir Antony and the Lady Virginia ...”

“The heros of the Nine Kingdoms?” she inquired.

“Yes,” Wendell told her. “And this is Virginia’s husband Wolf, the other one of those heros.”

“Wolf?” she asked. “You mean he’s ... you’re ... a ...”

“A half-wolf,” said Wolf. “Yes.”

Gwendolyn’s blue eyes grew huge and round and she stared at him, aghast, her fair skin turning scarlet, an interesting contrast to the blueness of the rest of her, Virginia thought.

“I ... oh, my,” she said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize ... I’d never have said ...”

“Please don’t apologize,” Wolf told her. “If someone has that kind of vendetta against wolfs, I’d much rather know about it - and I try not to hold the messenger responsible for the message.”

“Oh,” she managed to say, “But I just ...” and her eyes went to Virginia’s stomach and stayed there.

Self-consciously, Virginia put her hand over her baby. With the gesture, Gwendolyn seemed to realize she was staring and looked pointedly away.

“It’s just that I’ve never actually met a wolf before,” she stammered. “I don’t know what I was expecting. Well, I ... oh, never mind, I’m just making it worse ...” She stared at him curiously, her brow furrowed. “It’s really odd, though.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I mean,” she continued, “I guess the last thing I was expecting was for you - for a wolf - to remind me of the storyteller. Not that you look anything alike, except maybe in build, but somehow your expressions seem the same. I don’t know. I can’t explain it any better than that. It’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

To Virginia’s surprise, Wolf immediately launched into a detailed description of someone, asking Gwendolyn if he matched the appearance of her storyteller.

“Yes! Exactly! Do you know who he is?”

Wolf sighed and looked over at Wendell.

“My brother, Rafe,” he said.

Claire sat in her dressing room and regarded herself in the mirror. Her reflection stared back, a vision in monochromatic red, the slightly formal riding clothes hanging just so, her hair swept perfectly back to tuck beneath the gossamer demi-hood. The reflection looked queenly, ready to receive the emissary from the Eighth Kingdom who had come bearing the first of the wedding-gifts. Claire, however, was not ready and knew she never would be.

She’d dismissed her maid for all except hair-dressing a couple of weeks ago. She knew why, though it was difficult for her to think about it directly - though she knew she must. She’d have to deal with the consequences of those reasons quite soon, and the further consequences sooner than she cared to admit. Even now she had to struggle to keep from checking the condition of her underclothing - again. Over the past month, she knew her behavior had become almost compulsive, controlled only by her strong desire to appear as if nothing were wrong.

She’d returned from her escapade that day a month and a half ago with her hands raw and blistered from her inexperience driving the team, and knew that, regardless of her protestations to the contrary, no one had really believed her story about it being her decision alone to return on her own. Since then, she’d been extra careful to act the way she always had before she’d met Rafe. Even though she’d had every intention of reversing as much anti-wolf legislation as possible, she’d known it would be unwise to do it so soon after her mysterious adventure. She’d planned to wait a month, maybe two, and then begin with some minor reversal of stricture, if she could keep her nearly constant thoughts about how many more innocent people were being victimized by the monstrous laws she, her mother and her grandmother had written in their ignorance while she waited upon the perfect moment. Then ... this.

She looked away from the mirror and down into her lap.

I am pregnant, she thought to herself deliberately. It would have been better to say it out loud, to force herself to believe it - because she knew she was still denying it was so in many ways - but she couldn’t take the risk of being overheard. I am pregnant, she repeated, conscious still of wanting to look again, just to make sure, just to see if the condition her mother had ironically referred to as ‘the curse’ hadn’t finally arrived, though she knew in her mind that it hadn’t - and wouldn’t. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, she was pregnant, like it or not. She could even feel a small knot no bigger than an acorn low in her stomach, several inches below her navel, that hadn’t been there a couple of weeks ago. It would grow larger quickly; more quickly than she could plan how to explain it - and, failing that, how she could save it. By her own law the child could not be allowed to survive its birth.

That, along with the gruesome punishment inflicted upon the ‘erring’ mother were some of the first things Claire had wanted to change, but now she knew she’d only be accused of rewriting the law to serve herself. It was doubtful that her lords would ask her to undergo the procedure (though a few might expect her to bear it nobly), but the baby’s fate would be a foregone conclusion. Even moving the wedding forward - as a couple of Cinderella’s daughters had done - would do no good in this instance. The child’s nature would be obvious the moment it was born. Claire was trapped. There was no way out of her royal prison. Her baby was doomed.

A sudden rap at the door startled her.

“Your Grace?” called the voice of her maid - now her hairdresser - softly, but with urgency. “It’s time.”

No, she thought back. Not yet, but it will be. Soon. Too soon.

She sat quietly while the time-consuming formalities were observed by her fiancé’s emissaries. The laquer-red doors to the great audience hall stood open, reminding her, whenever she glanced at them, of the dream she’d had in the ruined Basquel palace, where she’d been crowned queen of the wolfs. The irony of that dream in light of her present situation made her want to laugh out loud - to shout to those assembled, “You fools! Can’t you see I’m pregnant? Don’t you know I’m carrying a wolf cub right now?” But she remained silent, though she heard nothing of what they said.

Not that it matters, she thought. The formality was so old and repetitive it made no real difference if she listened to it, though she’d always tried to before, for politeness’s sake. Nor was it really possible to miss the end of the salutations in this instance, as the principle messenger gave a signal and two boxes were carried in by the others: A small coffer was handed to the spokesman while a large oaken chest was place on the floor before her.

“Some small tokens of negligible value for Her Majesty from her devoted prince,” he intoned, and flicked the coffer open.

Inside lay a glistening gold and ruby necklace, sparkling against the red velvet lining. He held it up for her inspection. She nodded once in approval, thinking both about how she loathed the color red and how trivial, compared to what now worried her, was the problem of always being required to wear it. The messenger, however, didn’t guess at her true reaction. He briskly lay the necklace back upon its velvet cushion and withdrew a folded document from beneath the heavy red fabric.

“A deed to a summer home on the border of our respective lands, built by my lord with the pleasure of his future wife in mind,” he declared.

Surprised, she reached out her hand to take it. He smiled as he handed it to her, obviously pleased with the reaction it had produced. With an air of certainty, he motioned for the chest to be opened.

Claire was busy thinking how she might be able to use the cottage to her advantage, and paid scant real attention to the surprise being unveiled, though it wasn’t evident in her manner.

“Tokens of my lord’s devotion to resolving the wolf problem which afflicts Her Majesty’s kingdom, along with a solemn promise to not rest until all the creatures have been completely exterminated. Upon his arrival, he will be bringing with him a ...”

The contents of the trunk became suddenly apparent: she was looking at a stack of stiffened skins - wolf skins - the fur of the back, their tails still dangling. The one lying on top was quite small, from a child no more than six or seven.

The blood drained from her face and her throat closed. She turned and ran blindly from the chamber, the exclamations of delight at the gift echoing behind her like a nightmare.