Out of the Darkness

Publishing in Kaunian was legal again. But would anyone bother? Maybe some scholars would: people who wanted to be read by a wider audience, an audience in Kuusamo or Jelgava or even Algarve that had never learned Forthwegian. But how many writers now would turn their hands to romances or poetry or plays or new sheets in classical Kaunian? How many people were left alive to read them?

“Powers below eat King Mezentio,” Vanai whispered. He hadn’t killed off all the Kaunians in Forthweg. But he was liable to have killed Kaunianity here. That black thought had crossed Vanai’s mind before. Having it come back after she read an edict favoring her people made tears sting her eyes.

Saxburh squirmed. She wanted Vanai to put her down and let her crawl around out here. It was a mild spring day. Birds chirped. A warm breeze blew down from the north. Vanai said, “No,” to her daughter anyway, adding, “You’re not going to get to eat any bugs out here.”

She wished for a park with smoothly trimmed grass. She would take Saxburh there. The closest park she knew might not have had its grass trimmed since before the Derlavaian War. The ground there was bound to be cratered by bursting eggs. And every other park in and around Eoforwic was sure to be in the same state. So much rebuilding to do ...

A woman came up and stood beside Vanai to read the broadsheet. She said, “I don’t know why this new excuse for a king we’ve got even bothered with such a silly law. How many of these people are left, anyway? Not enough to waste anyone’s time over, that’s for sure.”

What would she do if I told her I was a Kaunian? Vanai wondered. She didn’t make the experiment. All she said was, “You may be right,” and thought, No, I won’t give up my sorcerous disguise any time soon. I could make people hate my Thelberge self for what she does, but they don’t hate her for what she is.

And then a really nasty notion struck here. What if the other woman were a disguised Kaunian herself and, thinking Vanai a real Forthwegian, spoke out against blonds because she reckoned that expected of her? How would I know? I wouldn’t, any more than she knows what I am.

She had no proof. By the nature of things, she wouldn’t get any proof. But the thought, once lodged, wouldn’t go away. If it were true, it wouldn’t be Mezentio killing Kaunianity. No--Kaunianity would kill itself.

Vanai went back to her flat. Saxburh liked going upstairs; it felt different from walking on level ground. Vanai would have liked it better if she were carried instead of carrying, too.

“Judged never to have occurred,” she said again when she got inside. Did that mean she’d never had to go to bed with Major Spinello? Did it mean she’d never had to wear this sorcerous disguise? Did it mean the redheads had never captured her and thrown her into the Kaunian quarter here in Eoforwic? Did it mean they hadn’t killed tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, of blonds? She wished it did. Wishing meant nothing, or perhaps a little less.

“Dada,” Saxburh said.

“No, I’m your mama,” Vanai told her. The baby said mama, but less often. Vanai said, “Your dada will be home soon.” Powers above, I hope he will.

“Dada,” Saxburh said again. Vanai laughed. It was either that or start to cry. She’d done too much crying over the course of this war. So long as I don’t have to do any more.

She went to the cupboard to see what she could make for supper. Barley, peas, turnips, beans, olives, cheese, olive oil--nothing very exciting, but enough to keep body and spirit together. Peasants in the countryside ate this kind of food their whole lives long. City people praised peasants for their healthy diet--and didn’t try very hard to imitate it. The way things were these days, though, having enough of any kind of food, no matter how boring, was worth celebrating.

In a few days, she’d have to go down to the market square to get more. She wondered if Guthfrith who had been Ethelhelm would be there with his band. She’d seen the drummer and singer and songwriter several times. She didn’t stop to listen to his music anymore; he made her nervous. But he noticed her; she’d seen him follow her with his eyes more than once. That was not the least of the reasons he made her nervous. It wasn’t the only one, though. He had a good notion that she was a Kaunian. With King Beornwulf ‘s edict, it shouldn’t have mattered. It shouldn’t have, but it did. Kaunians in Forthweg rarely assumed edicts concerning them meant everything they said--unless the edicts were threats. With threats, whoever happened to be lording it over Forthweg was commonly sincere.