| Morning | Afternoon | Night |
Morning Musings
Pain.
The pain is there, still. After all these years.
I swung my legs over the side of my bed, and, with a deep breath, attempted to stand up.
Once again, as had happened every morning for the past fifteen years, my right leg buckled. I caught myself on my dresser and reached for my cane, a black thing with veins of rich brown running through it.
Fifteen years now, useless in battle, forced to wear a smiling face for strangers and kin alike. There had been a time when I had been a respected general. I had led troops to victory and lay bleeding with them after our defeat in Amber. Now that the whispers of sympathy and gossip had subsided, I was no more than an empty notch in a moseleum wall. A simple diplomat.
Had I been speaking aloud, I would have spat that word out in spite. A proud member of an even prouder House reduced to a small-time politician. A lame politician, at that. But Belissa had asked, specifically, for my help. So I learned. I learned schmoozing, and working a room, what to say, and what not to say. All of the political bullshit I had intentially distanced myself from--the same that the House Hendrake had as little truck with as possible--the same I had forced to become a part of, to preserve even a small place in my family.
As I clumped about on my three legs getting ready, my morning ritual was interrupted by a servant bearing a delivery of flowers. Happy Birthday, the card read, and it bore Suhuy's mark. I smiled a little. He had remembered. Suhuy had told me that he'd never seen anyone come through the Logrus so mentally intact before--an advantage I had attributed to my family's adherance to strict training, both mental and physical.
I put the flowers down, and they were immediately investigated by my thraa, Khar. Belissa had given her to me, presumably to take my mind off myself and my situation and give me something else to care for, now that I no longer had troops to mind. I suppose it had worked in a way.
I was one hundred years old today. I stroked Khar's short fur. She loved me just the same whether I was a general in intensive care and recovery, or a demoted diplomat with a lame leg.
I didn't think I could say as much for the family around me...
Afternoon Ramblings
I wrapped my black and red cloak about my shoulders, thanked my hostess, gathered up my souvenirs, stepped through a hidden Way and found myself walking towards my own apartments. As I walked, that demon called thought overtook me once again...
I had recieved a message just before lunch that my presence was requested at a gathering this afternoon, hosted by my cousin, Belissa Minobee. No mention of the reason for the event. I supposed some important personage must be visiting, and I was needed for political or diplomatic purposes.
As I had half an hour before the reception began, I completed arranging the flowers Suhuy had sent me that morning. Now that I'm more or less retired (a bitter word for me to form), I have time for such distractions.
Taking a firm grip on my cane, I hobbled to The Ice Cove, the main reception hall in the Ways of Hendrake. There were only two Ways that lead to that room, for security purposes--the main entrance, for visitors, and a more subtle Way, for family members. I would be taking the second.
The Ice Cove is a beautiful room, but I have spent more time there than I have liked over the past fifteen years at one boring diplomatic function after another..
I stepped through the Way into the bright sunlight filtered through no less than seventy stained-glass windows. A sea of faces turned towards me as I entered.
A cry rose throughout the room.
"Happy Birthday!"
The thunderous noise of clapping and laughing, all at once, as family and friends and acquaintances greeted me, wishing me a happy 100th. Belissa came over to me, offering me a kiss on the cheek and a hug.
"Did you honestly think we'd forget?" she said, smiling. I hugged her, dropping my cane in the process. For a moment, I felt free again, as I leaned on my cousin, unencumbered by my third leg if for a few moments. I felt my face break into a smile, and stay that way. Bereft of my cane, Belissa hooked our arms together and walked with me.
It was wonderful.
There was a buffet, and toasts, and a lovely dessert that had been imported from Shadow Dlyssa called Dolce de Ciel, which tasted somewhat like eating a sweet, lightly lemon-flavored cloud. I had of course needed to reappropriate my cane later that afternoon, but it didn't seem quite so bad.
After the presents and the well-wishers, the reception hall seemed strangely empty. The caterers began to clean up, but Belissa and I remained, drinking coffee. Eventually, though, it was time for the coach to turn back into a pumpking. Belissa offered to help me carry my things back, but I assured her I could handle it. Three legs were better than two, I joked.
So here I was. I could hear Khar snuffling at the door already, anxious to investigate the packages I had brought home. Pretty girl, I hope she hadn't eaten Suhuy's flowers while I was gone...
Nocturne
It is evening again, a time for reflection.
A cup of hot tea, one of those tastes acquired through years of being left behind. Somebody had presented me with an assortment of exotic teas as a birthday present eariler this afternoon. While heated food instead of cold rations is always a pleasant experience after being on the road or bivoacked down in some forsaken hole somewhere, there is such a saying as too much of a good thing.
Khar lays curled upon my lap, making her contented humming sound as I stroke her furred head and back.
Myself, however....
I have found myself growing soft. Perhaps a life of politics and diplomactic treatment has accustumed me to such amenties as hot food and tea in he evenings, the ability to grow my hair long, the care of my pet thraa. Instead of orders I find myself automatically couching my requests in "please" and "thank you" form. My sword, traded for a cane. Rather than combat training, years of physical therapy and rehabilitation.
A time of reflection, and regrets.
The Patternfall Battle all those years ago. Rather than fighting bravely for my House and heritage, I lay bleeding in a medic tent, the lower half of my right leg cleanly severed by the swipe of an axe. Mind, I am under no delusion that my presence on the battlefield that day would have changed the outcome--but my heart cries that I only sucessfully faced a half-dozen infidels before I was injured.
Oh, there are those who told me I was lucky. Who can face a child of Oberon in battle and live?
I can, I wanted to cry out, biting my lip in frustration. Given another chance, who knows what might have happened? Years later when Borel was defeated and killed--some say murdered--by Oberon's son Corwin, tongues clucked again, and my name was dredged up as "one of the lucky ones".
I don't consider myself so lucky.
Even after all these years of therapy, even Suhuy's intervention in retraining my body to shapeshift, I cannot walk without my cane. I simply have to wait for my leg to regenerate. Oh, I can shift the mass around so my legs look more even, but it requires some concentration, and it is still too weak to walk on. It is likely, the doctors said, I will limp for the remainder of my lifespan.
Khar stirs in my lap, her head splitting in a yawn. Lucky girl, untroubled by such worries...