The Last Undoing

Her death undid it all. The loyalty of the guards was gone; they made no effort to stop Orem as he ran forward and kissed the warm corpse of his child, weeping. They watched the Little King, some of them. Others looked at Urubugala, who had become pink of eye, stark white of skin, and tall, as all the stories said of Sleeve. Or at Craven, who suddenly filled his armor, a strong man with the fire of war in his eyes. But soon all eyes had turned to Weasel. For there before them all was Beauty again.

Beauty's face, Beauty's body. She had tricked them after all; she had survived; she was alive and would avenge herself.

They fell back from her, all but Zymas and Sleeve.

"Fools," Zymas said. "Queen Beauty is dead. This is the true and rightful wife of King Palicrovol, Enziquelvinisensee Evelvenin. You have nothing at all to fear from her."

It was then that Orem lifted his bloody, weeping face from the altar and realized that the Queen's Companions had not died. We saw the knowledge come upon him; saw him remember that Sleeve had told him all of them would pay the price. A lie. To trick him to do his part.

"No, it wasn't a lie," Sleeve said gently. "It all depended on whether I could work a spell with the blood of your hand. I was able to replace her spells enough to keep us to the age we were when she first bound us—I wasn't sure that I could do it."

But Orem said nothing, only looked back and forth from Zymas to Sleeve, Sleeve to Zymas.

Enziquelvinisensee Evelvenin, pitying him, ran forward to ask for his forgiveness for the lie that she had unwittingly conspired in. But he saw her face and screamed at her, flew at her to attack that face that had no right to be alive. Possibly he thought that it was Beauty—he was that distraught. They pulled him away from her, drew him back; immediately the struggle ceased, and he only hung his head and wept.

It was then that the Hart came from Palace Park and walked easily to the altar. He put his horns under the bodies and lifted. It was a curious thing: the bodies rose and yet remained, as if the Hart had found the truth of the mother and her son and raised them up, while leaving the empty bags of flesh behind. Raised them up and carried them away exultantly; they rode high among the hundred bright points of the Hart's horns.

Orem watched them out of sight into the woods. Then he shook himself like a wet dog, and made as if to walk away. The guards restrained him until Zymas called out, "Let him go. We have to hurry and give the city back to the King, before another life is lost!" It was enough for the guards.

They followed Zymas at a run, armor and all, to the Palace gate, rushing to get to Corner Castle and raise the flags of peace; to take down and defile Queen Beauty's ermine banner.

Enziquelvinisensee watched Orem Scanthips, no longer Little King, as he walked away from the place where he lost all his loves and all his trust. Almost she called out to him. Almost she ran to him and pled for his forgiveness. But that would have been misleading. He might have thought she loved him. Might have forgotten that she belonged to Palicrovol. Might have tried to bridge the centuries.

But Palicrovol, your wife was not such a fool as that. Love works no miracles; it could not have happened. She watched Orem out of sight, and then went off to look for the returning King, to give herself to him whom she had loved perfectly through all the centuries. She was still a virgin, after all; there was a wedding to complete. They would begin again what had been inconveniently postponed.

But she did not rejoice in her heart. She grieved to know that Orem Scanthips hated her; grieved most of all that he had reason.

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