(no subject)
They had arrived in Fionavar to a barrage of questions, thrown out by all sides. The first thing Paul himself had asked about was the winter, now nine months in length - unsurprising, due to the warning passed through Milliways, but far from pleasant to have confirmed. King Aileron, of course, had demanded to know where his Seer was; Kevin, meanwhile, was craning his neck to look for Prince Diarmuid.
The one, Paul had explained, was on her way, with a guest. As for the other - well, there was only ever one place to look for Diarmuid, in times of peace and in times of trouble, and it's there that Paul, Kevin and Dave had gone.
Paul leans against the wall by the door, now, and watches the surging mass of men in the middle of the Black Boar with a certain bemusement. The mock-jousting that had been going on when they arrived, one man sitting on another's shoulders, has turned into a general free-for-all. At the center, of course, is Diarmuid.
Kevin and Dave certainly seem to be enjoying themselves, at least, and Paul supposes that that's something. As for himself - despite the heat of the tavern, he cannot forget the unnatural winter outside, nor the reason for it. All the same, when irrepressible Kevin climbs up on Dave's shoulders to charge at Diarmuid, he can't help but grin, and even bring his hands together in dry mock applause -
- which means he doesn't notice the cloaked and hooded figure picking its way carefully through the brawling patrons of the tavern towards him.
But someone else does.
"Hold it, sister! This one is mine first," cries Tiene - the brown-haired barmaid who had taken him to her bed, all those months ago. Who had cried, for what she could not give him. Who had triggered a song that led him to the Summer Tree.
Who bursts in between Paul and the cloaked figure, now. Paul turns; the other, meanwhile, reaches out a hand and touches the girl. A touch, no more than that - but Tiene gasps, and falls, and, feeling herself falling, reaches out to grab the cloak from around the one who has just killed her.
Paul can do nothing for Tiene. He knows this as soon as he sees the face revealed, with her skin so white it's almost blue, and her glacial eyes, the color of moon and ice. He knows this, because a pair of ravens are speaking in his ears, and in the moment when the hand reaches out to strike him down as Tiene had been struck he opens his mouth and says what they tell him to say:
"White the mist that rose through me
Whiter than the land of your dwelling
It is your name that will bind thee
Your name is mine for the telling."
No one else pays any attention. The Black Boar is a tavern; people come there and get drunk, and fall down, and sometimes say strange things. But the figure across from him flinches, her movement arrested, and Paul presses his advantage.
"I am the Lord of the Summer Tree," he says, and his voice is the low inhuman one that comes, sometimes, with the deep old magic that comes with it. The eyes of ice lock onto his.
"There is no secret to my name, no binding there. But you are far from the Barrens, and from your power. Curse him who sent you here, and be gone, Ice Queen, for I name thee now by thy name, and call thee Fordaetha of Ruk!"
As the name is spoken, she screams.
And now the Black Boar pays attention, at last, as the scream echoes on and on. The men break off their fighting and their laughing to turn to stare at the source of the terrible wailing vibration - but as it dies away, all that's left is Paul, crouching by a brown-haired girl now blue with death, an empty cloak in front of him.
Kevin and Dave and Diarmuid rush over; take in the scene, ask the necessary questions, his friends stunned and Diarmuid hard with concentration. He explains, and his voice seems flat and faraway to his own ears.
Only Kevin, who knows him best, hears the desperation contained within it. And so, when Paul turns abruptly to leave, Kevin doesn't stop him, but stays behind in the warmth and companionship of the Black Boar.
Warmth and companionship which Paul cannot partake in. He walks in the snow, and doesn't feel the cold; he is the Lord of the Summer Tree, and so set apart - a fair trade, he thinks, bitterly, for power he's achingly unaware of how to control. He had been forced to flee from Galadan; had had to beg Jaelle to send he and Jennifer back, last time.
He had not even noticed Fordaetha tonight, until Tiene had bought him the necessary time with her life.
He feels like a child. A defiant child walking in winter without his coat, when there is more than the world at stake.
He thinks, at first, that his wanderings are aimless. It takes him a moment to realize that his feet know what his head doesn't (his head seems to be eternally out of the loop these days). He's standing in front of the shop of Vae the Weaver, where Finn dan Shahar and his adoptive little brother Darien should be sleeping peacefully.
Should be, of course, being the key word here. Because a slant of moonlight falls across the shop window, turning Paul's blood suddenly cold.
He steps forward and pushes the door open. There's no resistance; it opens easily onto the shop, snow piled up in all the aisles and counters that had once been so busy. Faster and faster, Paul moves, now, from empty shop to empty apartments above, determined to see the worst.
And here it is.
An broken window. A bitter wind. And an empty cradle, rocking.
The one, Paul had explained, was on her way, with a guest. As for the other - well, there was only ever one place to look for Diarmuid, in times of peace and in times of trouble, and it's there that Paul, Kevin and Dave had gone.
Paul leans against the wall by the door, now, and watches the surging mass of men in the middle of the Black Boar with a certain bemusement. The mock-jousting that had been going on when they arrived, one man sitting on another's shoulders, has turned into a general free-for-all. At the center, of course, is Diarmuid.
Kevin and Dave certainly seem to be enjoying themselves, at least, and Paul supposes that that's something. As for himself - despite the heat of the tavern, he cannot forget the unnatural winter outside, nor the reason for it. All the same, when irrepressible Kevin climbs up on Dave's shoulders to charge at Diarmuid, he can't help but grin, and even bring his hands together in dry mock applause -
- which means he doesn't notice the cloaked and hooded figure picking its way carefully through the brawling patrons of the tavern towards him.
But someone else does.
"Hold it, sister! This one is mine first," cries Tiene - the brown-haired barmaid who had taken him to her bed, all those months ago. Who had cried, for what she could not give him. Who had triggered a song that led him to the Summer Tree.
Who bursts in between Paul and the cloaked figure, now. Paul turns; the other, meanwhile, reaches out a hand and touches the girl. A touch, no more than that - but Tiene gasps, and falls, and, feeling herself falling, reaches out to grab the cloak from around the one who has just killed her.
Paul can do nothing for Tiene. He knows this as soon as he sees the face revealed, with her skin so white it's almost blue, and her glacial eyes, the color of moon and ice. He knows this, because a pair of ravens are speaking in his ears, and in the moment when the hand reaches out to strike him down as Tiene had been struck he opens his mouth and says what they tell him to say:
"White the mist that rose through me
Whiter than the land of your dwelling
It is your name that will bind thee
Your name is mine for the telling."
No one else pays any attention. The Black Boar is a tavern; people come there and get drunk, and fall down, and sometimes say strange things. But the figure across from him flinches, her movement arrested, and Paul presses his advantage.
"I am the Lord of the Summer Tree," he says, and his voice is the low inhuman one that comes, sometimes, with the deep old magic that comes with it. The eyes of ice lock onto his.
"There is no secret to my name, no binding there. But you are far from the Barrens, and from your power. Curse him who sent you here, and be gone, Ice Queen, for I name thee now by thy name, and call thee Fordaetha of Ruk!"
As the name is spoken, she screams.
And now the Black Boar pays attention, at last, as the scream echoes on and on. The men break off their fighting and their laughing to turn to stare at the source of the terrible wailing vibration - but as it dies away, all that's left is Paul, crouching by a brown-haired girl now blue with death, an empty cloak in front of him.
Kevin and Dave and Diarmuid rush over; take in the scene, ask the necessary questions, his friends stunned and Diarmuid hard with concentration. He explains, and his voice seems flat and faraway to his own ears.
Only Kevin, who knows him best, hears the desperation contained within it. And so, when Paul turns abruptly to leave, Kevin doesn't stop him, but stays behind in the warmth and companionship of the Black Boar.
Warmth and companionship which Paul cannot partake in. He walks in the snow, and doesn't feel the cold; he is the Lord of the Summer Tree, and so set apart - a fair trade, he thinks, bitterly, for power he's achingly unaware of how to control. He had been forced to flee from Galadan; had had to beg Jaelle to send he and Jennifer back, last time.
He had not even noticed Fordaetha tonight, until Tiene had bought him the necessary time with her life.
He feels like a child. A defiant child walking in winter without his coat, when there is more than the world at stake.
He thinks, at first, that his wanderings are aimless. It takes him a moment to realize that his feet know what his head doesn't (his head seems to be eternally out of the loop these days). He's standing in front of the shop of Vae the Weaver, where Finn dan Shahar and his adoptive little brother Darien should be sleeping peacefully.
Should be, of course, being the key word here. Because a slant of moonlight falls across the shop window, turning Paul's blood suddenly cold.
He steps forward and pushes the door open. There's no resistance; it opens easily onto the shop, snow piled up in all the aisles and counters that had once been so busy. Faster and faster, Paul moves, now, from empty shop to empty apartments above, determined to see the worst.
And here it is.
An broken window. A bitter wind. And an empty cradle, rocking.