Out of the Darkness

“Oh!” Pekka exclaimed. She stood on tiptoe to kiss Fernao-no, no secrets here, not any more-then said, “I’ll come, of course.” A call by crystal from any of the Seven would have got her immediate, complete attention, but Juhainen’s domain included Kajaani and the surrounding districts-he was her prince, or she his particular subject. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“No, Mistress Pekka,” the crystallomancer replied. She turned and started down the corridor. Pekka hurried after her. She looked back over her shoulder once. Fernao waved and blew her a kiss before shutting the door. She smiled and went on after the crystallomancer.

“I hope he won’t be angry because he’s had to wait,” she said when she and the crystallomancer reached the chamber that kept the hostel linked to the outside world no matter how beastly winter weather in the Naantali district grew.

“He shouldn’t be,” the other woman replied. “He’s been prince for a while now; he knows how these things work.” Juhainen’s uncle, Joroinen, had preceded him as one of the Seven, and had died in the Algarvian attack on Yliharma three years before. Joroinen was one of the main reasons her project had gone forward. Juhainen backed her, but not the way his uncle had.

His image looked out of the crystal at Pekka. “Your Highness,” she murmured, and went to one knee for a moment, a Kuusaman gesture of respect from a woman to a man that had a long and earthy history behind it. “How may I serve you, sir?”

Prince Juhainen was younger than she. He’d looked it, too, on first succeeding Joroinen, but didn’t any more. Responsibility was having its way with him. Pekka knew that weight, too, but Juhainen had more of it on his shoulders than she did. He said, “Mistress Pekka, I would give a great deal not to be the bearer of the news I have to give you.”

“What is it, your Highness?” Alarm flashed through her. Had the Seven somehow decided the project wasn’t worth continuing after all? That struck Pekka as insane, when magic she and her colleagues had created was used in Jelgava every day, and was one of the most important reasons the Kuusaman and Jelgavan armies had driven across the kingdom in less than half a year. She thought first of the project; that Juhainen’s news might instead be personal never crossed her mind.

Tiny and perfect in the sphere of glass in front of her, Juhainen’s image licked its lips. He doesn’t want to go on, Pekka realized, and fear began to edge its way into her alongside astonishment. The prince sighed and looked down at a leaf of paper on the table in front of him. Then, with another sigh, he said, “I regret more than I can tell you that, in operations west of the town of Ludza, your husband Leino fell victim to a sorcerous attack from the Algarvians. He and the mage with whom he was partnered both perished. They were resisting one sorcerous assault from the enemy when another, this one aimed specifically at them, struck home. For whatever they may be worth to you, Mistress Pekka, you have my deepest personal condolences, and those of all the Seven Princes of Kuusamo. We knew the work your husband did before the war; thanks to the behemoth armor he helped devise, many crews and many footsoldiers who might have died still live.”

Pekka stared at him. “No,” she whispered: not so much disagreement as disbelief. She’d hardly heard anything Juhainen said after he told her Leino was dead. Much more to herself than to the prince, she said, “But what will Uto do without his father?”

“What amends the Seven of Kuusamo can make, we will,” Juhainen promised. “Your son shall not lack for anything material. When the time comes for him to choose his course in life, all doors will be open to him. Of this you have my solemn vow.”

“Thank you,” Pekka said, almost at random. She felt as if she’d walked into a closed door in the dark: stunned and shocked and hurt, all at the same time. She believed Juhainen now, where she hadn’t a moment before. Disbelief was easier. Here, for once, she would have been happier not knowing the truth.

Ilmarinen would not approve, she thought dizzily. She knew her wits weren’t working the way they were supposed to: she knew, but she couldn’t do anything about it. People in accidents often behaved so; she’d heard as much, anyway. She wished she weren’t experiencing it for herself.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Mistress Pekka?” Juhainen asked.

“No,” Pekka said, and then remembered herself enough to add, “No, thank you.”

“If ever there is, you know you have only to ask,” the prince said.

“Thank you, your Highness,” Pekka said. Prince Juhainen’s image vanished from the crystal as his crystallomancer cut the etheric connection. Pekka got to her feet, vaguely surprised her legs obeyed her will.

“Are you all right, Mistress Pekka?” asked the crystallomancer who’d brought her to this chamber.