Page 90 of The Moon Blessed King
‘And I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do now,’ Fen replies. ‘But first…’ She shows him the child. ‘I need help.’ And when she looks up, it isn’t to him or Cieli or even Elena nervously hovering in the background. It is to Zinnitzia, who is watching her with lips pursed and posture defiant.
Finally, Fen understands what Zinnitzia has wanted to teach her.
And she knows at long last exactly what it means to be in balance.
PART V
As deities, the gods Life and Death lay claim to several symbols. The sun and moon, respectively, are by far their most well known. Perhaps one of the more obscure symbols to be associated with either deity, however, is that of the nightcat. The famed beast, now considered extinct, carries with it its own legends. Almost all of these are in some part related to the goddess of death.
Ancient depictions of the beast (a felid creature large enough for a grown man to ride) always take great pains to hide or obscure it rather than present it as a point of focus. In the underground burial chambers of Saradier, paintings of familial gatherings and hunting patterns can be observed on three of the great walls. On the fourth, just over the entrance to the mine, and thus unnoticed by any who first enter the tunnel, is the nightcat.
For generations the nightcat has thus been slipped into artwork: lurking amongst partygoers at a feast, crouching in the bushes during great warscapes or seen in the watery reflections of the moon on a lake near where two lovers make silent passion. All are oblivious to the danger. All are oblivious to the quiet warning: death comes for us all whether we see it or not.
And the nightcat is always watching.
–Art History and Symbolism in the Modern Age,
by Faralhea d’Altas
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Cat
It is dusk when Cat lays eyes on Alerae for the first time in years, and the contingent of soldiers waiting at the city gates seems miniscule compared to all who have walked with them. A gentle wind slides through the air, fluttering his flag. Slowly, he dismounts from his horse. He gently takes the flag-pole and hands it to a young boy that has been walking at his side since three cities back, eyes wide and hopeful. ‘Please take care of it,’ he murmurs. The boy nods and holds the flag as steady as he can.
Elician dismounts. Madame Leonde comes off her wagon. Partho and Leferge step forward to join them. ‘They won’t let us enter like this,’ Leonde tells them simply. Cat looks back towards the people who have followed him, now far outnumbering the standing army of Alelune. He never asked them to, but they have come anyway. They have come to see.
And because of that, Gillage knew they would be coming. The stories have spread far ahead of them. Anticipation served their cause well as the supplies and support that made their trip feasible were often collected in advance. In towns awaiting aid, the stories were a boon, pre-empting deliverance. Here, they are not. The soldiers in front of the gates of Alerae are dressed in black armour andtheir horses are bold. They stand to defend the city, but they are severely outnumbered.
‘I don’t want to fight,’ Cat says.
‘I am here to speak to our king about Altas. I will be let through,’ Leferge states with easy confidence. ‘If you issue your challenge, then I will ensure you will be permitted to enter the palace as well. Witnesses,’ she suggests, side-eying Elician and Partho, ‘are also permitted.’
‘Not several thousand witnesses, I wager,’ Partho comments dryly.
‘We all came to see,’ Leonde says.
‘You’ll know if I fail,’ Cat replies. ‘You’ll know if I lose.’
‘Oh,’ Leferge muses. ‘I suppose Leonde should come. But as for the rest…’ The great general does not seem displeased in the least about leaving thousands of potentially furious people at the gates of Alerae. If she were any less diligent a soldier, Cat might even suspect she is enjoying the logistics of this particular confrontation.
Decision made, they approach the city bearing a flag of truce. Leferge initially turned her nose up at the suggestion – what doessheneed to be pleading a truce for? But the others insisted, and she relented.
Elician walks at Cat’s side. ‘Do you know what they’ll ask you to do when you mount your challenge to the throne?’ he asks quietly.
‘No.’
‘And what happens if you fail?’
‘Then you’ll be imprisoned and tortured and a lot of people will die,’ Cat replies. Elician has always protected him and kept him safe. He will protect him from this final challenge too if that is what Cat wants, and ensure he does not die even if that is the will of the gods. But Cat doesn’t want that. He wants to do this right. He wants to be the king that Elician and Madame Leonde hope he can be. The king that Partho has sworn himself to serve. A king that Leferge can be proud of.
His people need something better.
They need something good. And so he must truly succeed here, on his own. No matter the cost.
‘If you fail,’ Partho interjects, ‘I will see to it that the King is returned to Soleb.’
‘Careful, my lord, I might start thinking you like me,’ Elician says. But even in the joke, Cat can hear the subtle notes of relief. He hopes it will be enough.
