Seven Princes

16

The benevolent rains of fall gave way to the season of cruel ice-storms. The northern wind swept across the walls of New Udurum and took up residence in its frosty streets and courtyards. The branches of trees in the royal gardens were sheathed in crystal, and the brown carcasses of plants were frozen in perpetual decay. The black towers themselves took on a silvery skin, and the cobbled streets of the city became a dangerous place for men and horses to walk.

After the siege of each icy tempest, the Giants went forth along the streets breaking up the ice with bronze shovels and stamping boots. Uduru did not mind the cold of winter that kept humans huddled about the warm hearths of their houses. Even in the depths of the icy season commerce thrived, and the Central Plaza swarmed with fur-wrapped traders, vendors, and commoners. Outlying farms slept through the season, but those who stored and preserved their produce did a fine business. The smokes of the blacksmiths’ stalls mingled with the effluvia of five thousand chimneys. The city steamed in its thin mantle of ice.

Shaira watched the flow of trade from the highest window of her tower. She hated the winter and its frigid onslaught. The season reared its death-colored head each year and breathed a sea of frost across the northern world. She missed the blessed heat of the desert and the gentle shade of palm trees… the breeze of the delta and the fragrant winds blowing through the Valley of the Bull. It seemed another world, a vision that had faded centuries ago, as if it was never real. The desert was gone now, and so was her life in sunny Shar Dni.

The Queen sat alone in a padded chair, the empty bed immaculate behind her and as cold as the ice along the window’s casement. She had grown used to the absence of Vod these past months… the yawning void in her life that was once filled only by his presence. The touch of his rough fingers, the strength of his embrace. The end of these things she had learned to accept, and the constant ache that never truly left her heart.

As the frosted city bustled far below, her eyes were dry. She had gone beyond sorrow. She sat enthroned in the iron tomb of loneliness. Her children were gone, like her husband. They might all be dead. Vod was certainly dead, she needed no oracle or herald to tell her that. She had known when he marched off to the sea that he would never return. She might have accepted that terrible loss, but this new one was unacceptable. Her fine boys, her loving daughter… all fled, and some at her own request.

Tadarus, Fangodrel… sent south with their cousin to stir the cauldron of war. Vireon… lost on a hunt with his Uncle Fangodrim. Not even the First Among Giants knew where he had run off to, or could guess his fate. “North,” was all he could say. “The lad ran north, fast as the wind. I searched his trail for days and lost it in the snows of the highlands.” She should have forbidden him to go on the Long Hunt, but she had thought it would take his mind off the loss of his father. Vireon was supposed to be her rock, her pillar of strength now that Tadarus was gone. Where was he?

Sharadza. The deepest cut in her heart was made by her rebellious daughter. Off in the night like a guilty thief, leaving only a pitiful scrap of parchment to explain herself. Where had she gone? Whatever path she took would lead to the sea, where Vod had gone. The girl actually thought she could bring him back from the Curse of the Sea Queen. Now that curse might claim her as well. How could she be so selfish and hard-headed?

Was I that naive and petulant when I was sixteen? No, surely not. She had been the daughter of Tadarus I, King of Shar Dni, and duty was her all. It was not until she turned nineteen that she hatched her plan with Vod… but that wasn’t her fault. The Gods had intervened. She had never wanted to marry the decrepit Emperor of Uurz – it would have been like marrying her own grandfather. Perhaps that is what Sharadza needed to take her mind off the death of Vod. She needed a fine Prince to marry. She needs a good husband.

Gods of Earth and Sky, please let her return safely from whatever fool’s journey she has taken. I’ll see her married and happy before another year turns. Perhaps one of those Twin Princes of Uurz would suit her needs. Emperor Dairon would certainly not refuse Shaira’s offer. His sons were young and strong… one a warrior, one a scholar. There was variety for her daughter, an element of choice that Shaira herself never had. Until that day she had chosen Vod and sent him on his journey…

Shaira came down from her tower perch only when the duties of queenhood demanded it. There was some mumbling from her human advisors, suggestions that she make herself more visible. She could not hide away forever if she hoped to keep rule over a city of Men and Giants. The Uduru she kept at court said nothing. It was not their way to intrude on a woman’s grief, however long it might last. Besides, they lived far longer than Men, so they could afford to wait out the length of their little Queen’s sadness.

“Isolation is not good for the soul,” said Aadu, Priest of the Sky God. “You must accept the company of others.”

She heard the wisdom in his words, but ignored it.

“Your daughter will return, Majesty,” said Tolomon, Viceroy of Trade. “She is only a girl; she will not go far. Homesickness will bring her back before long.”

Tolomon was a well-meaning fool.

“Vireon will come back to us when he is ready,” said Fangodrim the Gray. “He knows the forest better than any man or Giant. My guess is he’s run off to forget the city for a while. You know he loves the Wild more than any of his girls.”

She wrapped a shawl of worry about herself and stayed in her private chambers most days, sleeping or staring out the southern window at the tiny folk of Udurum, the basalt ramparts, and the black mountains along the horizon. Her servants brought spiced wine, or tea steeped with calming herbs. She drank them all, tasting nothing, her eyes roaming the heavy clouds. She waited, like green stalks wait in the frozen earth. Should spring arrive, she might sprout forth again. Or shrivel in the dirt of her own despair. She did not know.

The first real snow laid a blanket of white across the black stones and high walls. The great trees became pale monoliths, the streethshe did ts filled with slanting drifts, and the brilliance of morning came early. In the sparkling light of that pristine dawn, Vireon approached the city gates with a train of blue-skinned Giants at his back.

Shaira’s servants washed her black locks and dressed her in a regal gown of purple and sable, her neck and wrists hung with silver. She endured their ministrations impatiently, rushing them through their duties. Not daring to smile until she set her own eyes on her youngest son. How else could she believe it was true?

An audience of Men and Uduru filled the throne room well before she entered. There, in the midst of smiles and expressions of wonder, dressed in the crude skin of some snow-beast, stood Vireon, blue eyes blazing. The crowd spread like water, and a cheer went up to the rafters, the bellows of Uduru making stone and girder tremble.

Vireon rushed toward her, and someone else rushed behind him. He held the hand of a strange woman with wild hair the color of ripe corn and even wilder eyes. She wore the mottled furs of woodland creatures, and a cloak of dark wolfskin.

Vireon let go the woman’s hand and embraced his mother. She shivered at the touch of his cold skin, as if he’d not been near a fire in days. Yet beneath that chill beat the blazing heat of his heart, a sweet medicine for her injuries. She grabbed his big hands in hers, rubbing them.

“My son,” she said, locking his eyes with her own. About the dais where the double throne sat empty (like the much greater single throne behind it), the eyes of her advisors grew large as they caught the rays of her smile. “You are cold.” She turned to a steward. “Bring hot wine for my son and his… guests.” The steward rushed off to rally the servants.

“Mother,” said Vireon. “I missed you. I’m sorry to have left you so long.”

She hugged him again. “You are back now,” she said. “The Gods are good.”

“Mother,” he said again, taking the wild girl’s hand. “This is Alua.”

He said the name in a way that told her everything. This was no casual dalliance he had found in some hidden village and dragged home to please his manly hunger. He gave her name as he might give a precious jewel into his mother’s hands, or a holy object from some distant temple.

The wild girl blinked her coal-black eyes. They sparkled like the morning snow. She said nothing, so Shaira spoke in her place.

“Those who are close to my son’s heart are close to mine,” she said. She took Alua’s hand. Cold, like Vireon’s skin. The girl lowered her eyes and smiled. Demure as a Princess. Or too ignorant to behave otherwise. “Welcome to Udurum,” said the Queen.

“I have much to tell you,” said Vireon. She saw a sadness swimming in his eyes, a hungry fish gliding beneath the surface of a frozen lake. “What word from Tadarus?”

“No word,” she told him. “Certainly he and Fangodrel have reached Uurz by now.”

Vireon’s lean chin sported a half-grown beard. It made hird. ize="m look a bit older, more like Tadarus. Or perhaps it was the raw concern on his face. He worries for his brother.

“Has there been no messenger confirming his arrival?”

“No word from Uurz has come,” she said. His questions brought back her cloud of worry. “What troubles you?”

“Nothing,” he said, turning away. “I miss my brothers… that is all.”

Now her eyes fell on the blue-skinned Uduru standing in the hall. Some of them were possibly human men or women, for their height was much less. They sweltered and sweated beneath cloaks of thick fur, and the Giants of Udurum stared at them in silent wonder, marveling at their indigo skin, and waiting for the Prince to explain them. That time could be postponed no longer. When Vireon spoke, she realized that the tallest blue-skins were all female.

“Cousins!” announced Vireon, stepping onto the dais. “Where is my uncle?”

Fangodrim the Gray made his way through the crowd, smiling. “Prince!” shouted the First Among Giants. “Your hunt went on far too long!” Giants rumbled with laughter as Fangodrim and Vireon embraced. Shaira took her seat on the throne behind her son, who commanded all the eyes in the room.

“I am sorry for leaving you in the forest,” Vireon said to his uncle. “But as you will see, my hunt has been a good one.” Fangodrim stepped aside and Vireon addressed the crowd. The wild, silent Alua stood with her hand in his. They seemed inseparable. Shaira decided not to worry about this unless it became necessary.

“Uduru! People of New Udurum,” Vireon began. “These are the women and children of the Udvorg!”

A wave of astonishment flowed across the hall. The city Giants, mostly sentinels and palace staff, rubbed their beards and stared at the blue-skins, who stood blinking and resigned. The smaller ones looked afraid, some clinging to the skirts of the Giantesses. Shaira did not know the word Udvorg, but it seemed some of the Uduru did. Or they half-remembered it.

“The Long Hunt took me into the far north, to the White Mountains,” said Vireon. “There I discovered what has been forgotten these many centuries. Our cousins, People of Hreeg like us! The Udvorg, who went north before Old Udurum was built… who made their own kingdom in the land of ice and wind. You see now the descendants of our ancestors. Yes, recognize them! These are their children!”

He shouted children with an emphasis no one could mistake. These were not blue-skinned Men, they were the offspring of these white-haired beauties in their pelts of black and scarlet. These were Giants who were not living on the brink of extinction. Children! How long had it been since the Udurum had seen Giant children? Twenty-six years since the day the Lord of Serpents fell upon the old city and murdered most of their kind.

The curiosity of the Uduru turned to joy. Some fell to their knees and took the Udvorg children by their shoulders, hugging them, lifting them, tugging at their cheeks. The blue children laughed, exchanged grins with their mothers. The Giantesses did not lack for attention either. Somen eh="2 Uduru took their hands in the sign of universal greeting; some embraced them like hungry bears; others even dared to kiss their azure knuckles.

My son has brought a miracle to his people.

Vireon turned from the spectacle to look at her. She took his free hand, tears brimming in her eyes, but these were tears of gladness. Vireon stood between Shaira and Alua, both of their hands in his own.

Fangodrim came to the dais, carrying an Udvorg girl-child on his big shoulders. “You hunted beasts and found Giants!” said Vireon’s uncle. His eyes also brimmed with tears of joy. “How many are there? Up there among the White Peaks?”

Vireon smiled. “ Thousands,” he said. “Entire clans, Uncle! All under the eye of the Ice King called Angrid the Long-Arm. He welcomes his lost cousins into his kingdom. Once again the Uduru will have wives and children. The Uduru will live!”

Fangodrim turned toward the excited crowd, the girl laughing on his back.

“ The Uduru will live! ” he shouted. The Giants cheered, and the palace walls shook.

Shaira rose from her throne when the tumult died down. “Let there be a feast,” she ordered. “For my son has returned, and the Udvorg have come to Udurum.”

Another round of cheers, and word of Vireon’s miracle was spilling now into the streets of the city. Rumors began to fly, and tales would grow of how Vireon had “conquered” the northlands.

She watched him introduce Fangodrim to one of the blue-skinned Giantesses. Pots of heated wine were passed among the hall, but the blue-skins would drink only cold liquids. She directed the servants to bring such for them.

“Uncle, this is Lydrah, first among my Udvorg wives,” said Vireon. “According to her own custom, I may give her to a warrior who is worthy of her. So I give her to you, Fangodrim.”

Fangodrim stared at his new wife, speechless. It was Lydrah the Giantess who spoke first, though her thick accent made her words muddy. “I accept you, Fangodrim the Gray,” she said, and took his hand. “Vireon has told me… much about you. We shall have… strong children.”

Fangodrim, still mute, lifted Lydrah in his great arms and spun her about. The nearby children laughed and began to spin themselves. Now all the Giants were spinning, laughing, talking of this great thing that Vireon had done.

Vireon went among them, picking carefully the right husband for each blue-skin Giantess. He delivered a mate to Dabruz the Flame-Heart, Ohlung the Bear-Slayer, then Danthus the Sharp-Toothed. Each of the Uduru greeted their new wives – and the accompanying children – with respect and jubilation. Shaira watched in amazement, laughing as she had never thought to laugh again, crying and happy all at once. She barely noticed the wild girl, Alua, standing patiently at the side of her throne, where Vireon had placed her. There was no jealousy in the girl’s eyes. Instead, a familiar glow beamed from her smiling face, shimmered in her black-diamond pupils. Shaira took a moment and put a name to that peculiar glow. ow. s ey

She loves Vireon. Truly and deeply.

Alua’s eyes never left Vireon as he went about choosing husbands for the last two Udvorg ladies. Many Giants requested the honor, but it was Boroldun the Bear-Fang and Ogo the Spear who had the luck. Now there stood nine Giant couples in the room, with six children between them. The blue-skins seemed overwhelmed by the shower of love and affection.

Vireon returned to the royal dais and took Alua’s hand. She hugged him and he kissed her. “You have done a good thing,” she whispered to him. Shaira heard this and silently agreed.

She wondered at the sheer delight brimming in her palace hall. Would humans have reacted differently in such a situation? She thought so, but then again humans were not facing extinction. The Uduru were, in many ways, a simpler people than Men. Their ways were not those of the Small Folk. Not even centuries of separation could sever their common spirit.

Vireon grabbed his mother’s arm, bending to one knee. “Mother, where is my little sister?” In all the excitement he had forgotten about Sharadza. For a moment, so had she. A pang of guilt stabbed her chest.

“Gone,” she told him. “Not long after you and Tadarus left.”

“Gone where?” asked Vireon.

Shaira could not speak, so she only shook her head.

Stubborn girl, you have ruined this moment of joy!

“Vireon,” she said. “Your sister has a strong will. We’ll speak of her later.”

Vireon embraced her again, sensing her worry.

“Now,” she continued. “Tell me about this Ice King…”

Today would be a feast to rival all other feasts. Word of the blue-skinned Udvorg and their invitation would travel to every Giant in the city, and celebrations would be heard in every quarter. But the Honored Uduru and their new families would gather about the Queen’s Table and Vireon would tell of his adventures. Shaira would ignore the empty chairs where her other three children should be sitting.

My son is returned, she told herself. That is enough for now.

Yet the glimmer of an unspoken sadness swam in Vireon’s eyes, even in the midst of his gladness. She wondered what it was.

Vireon held Alua close to him and said nothing.