Godfang: Ch. 02 Fertile Fantasy Epic

"Queen? But it is preposterous!"

It didn't seem to matter how many times she said it. The carriage wheels continued to turn and the world continued to go mad. Through the ring of heavy cavalry raising dust beyond the partially drawn curtains of the carriage, Lady Keema Vulgaht caught glimpses of the estate's lavender fields drifting past. She fought a rising wave of panic at the thought of never again seeing them bloom, never having the freedom to race her dappled mare through them, to inhale that sweet fragrance and skim her fingers across their delicate flowers. It was a realization that threatened to strangle her.

"My Lady," her nurse grumbled. "You mustn't stress the collar of your gown by pulling at it. The lace is delicate."

"You'd have me choke to death?"

"A Queen cannot be so dramatic, ch--my Lady." It seemed even Gamalia could not adjust quickly enough to Keema's abrupt turn of fortune. Fortune? Bah! She did not wish to be Queen. Nurse Gamalia's slip made things even worse. Coming with a grimace that could salt the soil, Keema could no longer convince herself this was all some elaborate ruse.

When her gaze had adjusted to the dim carriage interior, she realized that the High Song, in his elaborately brocaded and embroidered gowns, was eyeing her from his seat across the cabin. He was no doubt wondering if Keema could be counseled. Pondering whether she could grasp what her royal mother had never bothered to teach to a child third in line to the throne. Likely, he'd known the Queen better than Keema.

In an oozing voice, he said, "My Lady,"--at least she would not have to endure being called Highness before a coronation--"please accept my deepest condolences. The Royal House mourns deeply the Queen and your sisters. If there is anything you require, please do not hesitate to ask it of me."

Keema let her gaze fall to the floor of the carriage. They were all gone. With a snap of the fingers, gone. It horrified her to think of her own flesh and blood suffering through fire. Truly. Could there be a more terrifying way to die? If so, Keema could hardly imagine. She wanted desperately to hold on to sadness, to feel empathy. But it was like clutching at mist. The only thing that felt real was the bitterness settling in the pit of her stomach.

It had been a stroke of luck that she was not present in the castle when the fire broke out. She'd begged and pleaded to remain at the Meadow Palace through spring. The capital had become such a dreadful place since the stalemate with Dagg'ar. Within the castle they were calling it a stalemate. It certainly didn't feel that way to Keema outside where Queen Tagyia's forces roved the streets of A'nterfall with utter impunity.

"Perhaps," Keema said suddenly, "there is another way. Could it be that my mother's counselors--advisors like you, Lord Adlgon--would not be better suited to the administration of the realm? I feel I would only get in the way."

"Fear not, My Lady. Your loyal counselors shall guide you every step of the way."

Splendid, she thought. They would do precisely as she suggested--running the queendom themselves--but nevertheless insist on having her sit the throne, likely, as a figurehead. Then she could never be free. It just wasn't fair. The time of Man was running short as it was. She was not fit to rule! Couldn't they see that? She'd made plans, had every intention of seeing all the great cities of the world before her twenty-first name day. She'd conjured grand expeditions far beyond her mother's golden gaze. Travel, adventure. Tears fell from her eyes. Let the others think what they wished. She was mourning her dreams.

Her nurse patted Keema on the hand. "Sad days call for a gentle hand. You will do well." Comforting words delivered with a grim expression. Keema hid her face in her hands and cried.

***

The Supreme Councillor, Vagyia Migylt, listened to the sniveling fools her elder sister, Queen Tagyia of Dagg'ar, had promoted to two of the most important stations in her realm.

"We are making progress, Highness."

"Not good enough! Tell me of our efforts to find them and round them up." Queen Tagyia's sharp voice filled the Royal War Room. She was a robust woman, handsome if not matronly. And she thrust her gaze about like a spear, leveling it first on her Lord Commander, Hafhert Fayne. "Hmm?"

"Yes, your Grace. No rumor of male fertility goes uninvestigated. All told, we've found roughly twelve of them."

"Twelve?" the Queen said incredulously. Swiveling her head to the man seated at her right. "Of the more than 800 culled from your eyes and ears?"

The High Inquisitor scratched his chin thoughtfully. Lord Regald Whisnet was nothing if not deliberate in his manner. "Highness," he said, "that number is deceptive. My eyes and ears have been told to listen for even the smallest whisper. Few women fall ill with signs of being with child. Fewer every day."

Commander Fayne cleared his throat. "And I have my men building outposts from the Nor'an Plains to the Red Sea."

"Have the twelve... candidates arrived yet?"

"Three, Highness. The renovations to the Court Apartments have been rushed to completion. The others are still on the road. With a full detachment in escort."

"Good, I want them delivered to me safely. And every woman who bears a child must be brought with her babe to the capital. I'll not have our dwindling future lost to foolish accidents or malnutrition."

"And what," Vagyia finally asked, "of the refugees flooding the capital in the wake of the Queen's reward proclamation?"

Sharp eyes fell upon her. Perhaps sensing the possibility of an explosion between the siblings, Commander Fayne spoke quickly. "We have begun receiving the grain shipments this morning, High Lady. House Vulgaht is most generous with their reserves now that their realm has been cowed."

"And housing all these... subjects?" Vagyia may have been addressing Fayne, but her gaze was fixed on her sister. "What of plague and disease?"

"So far, we've minimized the numbers permitted to the Low City. Eminence of Royal Domain has been invoked for the surrounding villages."

"Still do not see the wisdom in my decree, sister?" the Queen asked imperiously.

"Needless panic is an inducement for rebellion. Your Grace." She added the belated honorific.

"And our three fertiles here in the castle," Queen Tagyia said. "I'm to understand they were found among the refugees...in the capital, is that correct?"

"Yes, Highness," The High Inquisitor said.

"Satisfied... sister?"

The Supreme Councillor leaned forward in her chair, holding her royal sister's gaze. "Your Grace, we may as well be searching for weevils in a storehouse, one grain at a time. I implore you to take my counsel and dispatch the Women's Legion. With the Diviners, we could--" Commander Fayne stifled a snort, but not quickly enough. He earned himself a glare from Vagyia.

Queen Tagyia drew herself up. "Women's Legion, bah! I will not have armed bands of noblewomen roving the countryside, bedding every man suspected of fertility. My realm will not be turned into a brothel."

"The Women's Legion has been carefully vetted," Vagyia snapped. "Each woman, like myself, has produced no fewer than four babes. All were young mothers--they are still well within the birthing age. Each woman is a noble, and--"

"Enough!" the Queen snapped. "You would have me cuckold every common wife in the Queendom. You fail to realize, younger sister, that it was Queen Lyven Vulgaht who started the nightmare I am still cleaning up. Even when shown with her very own eyes, she refused to see that the problem was not with the womb. It lies with the male. We must harvest the males if we are to save the realm."

"Yes," her sister said. "The world is fortunate to be rid of Vulgaht. But you are driving us to the same precipice."

The others stiffened and the Queen glared with fury. "How dare you? Envious, backstabbing--"

"If the fate of the world were not at stake, sister, I would not dare. You see the end of Man as a distant point when the youngest of your people are old. But that is not the end of the world. The end comes when the last woman passes her birthing age. That day comes quickly."

At that moment, the great chamber doors rumbled. Opening wide enough to admit a single person, Queen Tagyia raised an eyebrow at the hasty intrusion of one of the Inquisitor's secrettellers. Garbed in castle robes of richly embroidered blue and gold, the messenger offered a hasty bow to the Queen before rushing to the High Inquisitor's side and whispering.

"What is it?" Queen Tagyia demanded. "If you dare to interrupt this session, then you might as well speak for all ears."

The High Inquisitor's eyes widened. "Go on, Ananicus. Tell the Queen."

Trembling, the messenger bowed again. "A girl, Your Grace. Low City. A girl with child."