dead, she needed no oracle or herald to tell her that. She had known when he marched off to the sea that he would never return. She might have accepted that terrible loss, but this new one was unacceptable. Her fine boys, her loving daughter… all fled, and some at her own request.
Tadarus, Fangodrel… sent south with their cousin to stir the cauldron of war. Vireon… lost on a hunt with his Uncle Fangodrim. Not even the First Among Giants knew where he had run off to, or could guess his fate. “North,” was all he could say. “The lad ran north, fast as the wind. I searched his trail for days and lost it in the snows of the highlands.” She should have forbidden him to go on the Long Hunt, but she had thought it would take his mind off the loss of his father. Vireon was supposed to be her rock, her pillar of strength now that Tadarus was gone. Where was he?
Sharadza. The deepest cut in her heart was made by her rebellious daughter. Off in the night like a guilty thief, leaving only a pitiful scrap of parchment to explain herself. Where had she gone? Whatever path she took would lead to the sea, where Vod had gone. The girl actually thought she could bring him back from the Curse of the Sea Queen. Now that curse might claim her as well. How could she be so selfish and hard-headed?
Was I that naive and petulant when I was sixteen? No, surely not. She had been the daughter of Tadarus I, King of Shar Dni, and duty was her all. It was not until she turned nineteen that she hatched her plan with Vod… but that wasn’t her fault. The Gods had intervened. She had never wanted to marry the decrepit Emperor of Uurz – it would have been like marrying her own grandfather. Perhaps that is what Sharadza needed to take her mind off the death of Vod. She needed a fine Prince to marry. She needs a good husband.
Gods of Earth and Sky, please let her return safely from whatever fool’s journey she has taken. I’ll see her married and happy before another year turns. Perhaps one of those Twin Princes of Uurz would suit her needs. Emperor Dairon would certainly not refuse Shaira’s offer. His sons were young and strong… one a warrior, one a scholar. There was variety for her daughter, an element of choice that Shaira herself never had. Until that day she had chosen Vod and sent him on his journey…
Shaira came down from her tower perch only when the duties of queenhood demanded it. There was some mumbling from her human advisors, suggestions that she make herself more visible. She could not hide away forever if she hoped to keep rule over a city of Men and Giants. The Uduru she kept at court said nothing. It was not their way to intrude on a woman’s grief, however long it might last. Besides, they lived far longer than Men, so they could afford to wait out the length of their little Queen’s sadness.
“Isolation is not good for the soul,” said Aadu, Priest of the Sky God. “You must accept the company of others.”
She heard the wisdom in his words, but ignored it.
“Your daughter will return, Majesty,” said Tolomon, Viceroy of Trade. “She is only a girl; she will not go far. Homesickness will bring her back before long.”
Tolomon was a well-meaning fool.
“Vireon will come back to us when he is ready,” said Fangodrim the Gray. “He knows the forest better than any man or Giant. My guess is he’s run off to forget the city for a while. You know he loves the Wild more than any of his girls.”
She wrapped a shawl of worry about herself and stayed in her private chambers most days, sleeping or staring out the southern window at the tiny folk of Udurum, the basalt ramparts, and the black mountains along the horizon. Her servants brought spiced wine, or tea steeped with calming herbs. She drank them all, tasting nothing, her eyes roaming the heavy clouds. She waited, like green stalks wait in the frozen earth. Should spring arrive, she might sprout forth again. Or shrivel in the dirt of her own despair. She did not know.
The first real snow laid a blanket of white across the black stones and high walls. The great trees became pale monoliths, the streethshe did ts filled with slanting drifts, and the brilliance of morning came early. In the sparkling light of that pristine dawn, Vireon approached the city gates with a train of blue-skinned Giants at his back.
Shaira’s servants washed her black locks and dressed her in a regal gown of purple and sable, her neck and wrists hung with silver. She endured their ministrations impatiently, rushing them through their duties. Not daring to smile until she set her own eyes on her youngest son. How else could she believe it was true?
An audience of Men and Uduru filled the throne room well before she entered. There, in the midst of smiles and expressions of wonder, dressed in the crude skin of some snow-beast, stood Vireon, blue eyes blazing. The crowd spread like water, and a cheer went up to the rafters, the bellows of Uduru making stone and girder tremble.
Vireon rushed toward her, and someone else rushed behind him. He held the hand of a strange woman with wild hair the color of ripe corn and even wilder eyes. She wore the mottled furs of woodland creatures, and a cloak of dark wolfskin.
Vireon let go the woman’s hand and embraced his mother. She shivered at the touch of his cold skin, as if he’d not been near a fire in days. Yet beneath that chill beat the blazing heat of his heart, a sweet medicine for her injuries. She grabbed his big hands in hers, rubbing them.
“My son,” she said, locking his eyes with her own. About the dais where the double throne sat empty (like the much greater single throne behind it), the eyes of her advisors grew large as they caught the rays of her smile. “You are cold.” She turned to a steward. “Bring hot wine for my son and his… guests.” The steward rushed off to rally the servants.
“Mother,” said Vireon. “I missed you. I’m sorry to have left you so long.”
She hugged him again. “You are back now,” she said. “The Gods are good.”
“Mother,” he said again, taking the wild girl’s hand. “This is Alua.”
He said the name in a way that told her everything. This was no casual dalliance he had found in some hidden village and dragged home to please his manly hunger. He gave her name as he might give a precious jewel into his mother’s hands, or a holy object from some distant temple.
The wild girl blinked her coal-black eyes. They sparkled like the morning snow. She said nothing, so Shaira spoke in her place.
“Those who are close to my son’s heart are close to mine,” she said. She took Alua’s hand. Cold, like Vireon’s skin. The girl lowered her eyes and smiled. Demure as a Princess. Or too ignorant to behave otherwise. “Welcome to Udurum,” said the Queen.
“I have much to tell you,” said Vireon. She saw a sadness swimming in his eyes, a hungry fish gliding beneath the surface of a frozen lake. “What word from Tadarus?”
“No word,” she told him. “Certainly he and Fangodrel have reached Uurz by now.”
Vireon’s lean chin sported a half-grown beard. It made hird. ize='m look a bit older, more like Tadarus. Or perhaps it was the raw concern on his face. He worries for his brother.
“Has there been no messenger confirming his arrival?”
“No word from Uurz has come,” she said. His questions brought back her cloud of worry. “What troubles you?”
“Nothing,” he said, turning away. “I miss my brothers… that is all.”
Now her eyes fell on the blue-skinned Uduru standing in the hall. Some of them were possibly human men or women, for their height was much less. They sweltered and sweated beneath cloaks of thick fur, and the Giants of Udurum stared at them in silent wonder, marveling at their indigo skin, and waiting for the Prince to explain them. That time could be postponed no longer. When Vireon spoke, she realized that the tallest blue-skins were all female.
“Cousins!” announced Vireon, stepping onto the dais. “Where is my uncle?”
Fangodrim the Gray made his way through the crowd, smiling. “Prince!” shouted the First Among Giants. “Your hunt went on far too long!” Giants rumbled with laughter as Fangodrim and Vireon embraced. Shaira took her seat on the throne behind her son, who commanded all the eyes in the room.
“I am sorry for leaving you in the forest,” Vireon said to his uncle. “But as you will see, my hunt has been a good one.” Fangodrim stepped aside and Vireon addressed the crowd. The wild, silent Alua stood with her hand in his. They seemed inseparable. Shaira decided not to worry about this unless it became necessary.
“Uduru! People of New Udurum,” Vireon began. “These are the women and children of the Udvorg!”
A wave of astonishment flowed across the hall. The city Giants, mostly sentinels and palace staff, rubbed their beards and stared at the blue-skins, who stood blinking and resigned. The smaller ones looked afraid, some clinging to the skirts of the Giantesses. Shaira did not know the word Udvorg, but it seemed some of the Uduru did.
