Astron took a step forward and then hesitated. The opening in the wall to the left led to the throne room. He poked his head through the doorway and saw that Nimbia was alone, still sitting on her throne where they had left her when the planning was complete.
Despite the short length of his training, Kestrel had been most glib. Whatever dangers lurked in the harebell glen, he had said, they well might not affect human or demon at all. With a modest escort to protect against a chance encounter with Prydwin's forces, he and Astron would fetch the pollen and share with Nimbia what they obtained.
Then, with boosted confidence from the pollen's potency, Nimbia could create something that Finvarwin certainly would approve. They would not wait for the next judging or to see if they could fend off Prydwin's attack, but go directly to the high king for a special presentation. Phoebe could even help in the control of the ring of djinns. At the very least, Finvarwin's previous judgment would be reversed and Nimbia's underhill regain its independent status.
With Finvarwin's answer to the riddle and the harebell pollen as payment for Palodad, the old demon would get Elezar restored to power and he in turn would explain to Alodar the innocence of Phoebe and Kestrel. With a little luck everyone would achieve exactly what was desired.
When Kestrel had finished, Astron saw Nimbia's spirits begin to lift. Now, a few hours later, as he prepared to leave, the sadness had totally vanished from her eyes; she stared off into space, presumably thinking of her new creation.
Astron scraped his pack along the doorjamb and Nimbia turned at the distraction. She smiled and beckoned him to enter.
'Any more questions, inquisitive one?' she asked as Astron drew closer.
Astron looked at the perfectly sculpted face and graceful limbs. Another unanswered puzzle leaped into his mind. 'You spoke of the great melancholy that comes when those of your kind cannot create,' he said softly. 'I have seen your tears and I believe. But before we came, before Finvarwin's judgment, what then was the corresponding joy?'
Astron shrugged and folded his fingertips to his chest. 'We shared thoughts in the forest,' he said. 'There I glimpsed a sadness even deeper than that which is lifting now.'
For a long moment Nimbia did not reply. She sighed and beckoned Astron to sit on the steps leading to her chair. She gathered her jeweled cape about her as he squirmed to get comfortable with the pack pulling on his back.
'Yes, indeed it is a conundrum.' Her voice took on a hardened tone. 'As you say, I am no less than a queen of underhill. My life should be like the foolish tales that men record in their sagas, with scores of smitten pages vying with one another to do my bidding and any hinted wish their fondest desire. Eventually, from all the rest I would pick the bravest, the kindest, the one most fair. Together we would spend our lives in a blissful happiness, about which others can only dream.
'It is not so, demon.' Nimbia shook her head. 'There are no hovering suitors trying to outdo one another to gain my favor. Most of the males in this underhill seem completely dumbfounded in my presence; their self-esteem seems to melt with my smile. Hardly any dare believe that they would succeed against what must be many others and so they do not try.
'And the few that do hold their own value in high regard, the ones that, in desperation, I have run to, offering to subject my will to theirs-without exception, they have proven to love themselves far more than me. To one of them, I have been no more than an object, a trophy to prove yet again his own great worth.'
Nimbia paused and sighed. 'Even if I were able to accept that part of it, despite how much I might try, the liaisons have never been pleasant. Underneath the bragging of conquest, my mates have been consumed with insane jealousies, irrational fears that they cannot forever hold me as their own, and that I will tire and shame them in front of another.
'It is a fantasy, demon. I do not fully understand why, but for one such as I there is no such thing as living happily ever after.'
Nimbia looked at Astron with eyes once again filling with sorrow. He felt a strange stirring. The queen had shared with him some of her innermost thoughts and feelings and done so unbidden. There was no question of the domination and submission of wizardry of which he was familiar. She had trusted and given of herself freely. He knew something of another thinking being in a way that he had never experienced before.
A sense of compassion for Nimbia's plight bubbled up within him-and more importantly, an urge to show that he was worthy, that he understood, and that her trust was well-placed, with a friend rather than a stranger.
'I-I was born without wings,' he heard himself blurt without thinking. 'Unlike my clutch brethren, neither could I soar through the realm nor weave more than the simplest of matter. I have become a cataloguer, an observer of the bizarre in other universes, and a value to my prince.'
Astron lowered his voice to a whisper and continued. 'But I know of what you speak, of pains deep in the stembrain that no matter of higher logic can ever completely cover. I am only a shadow of a demon, Nimbia, only a small part of what it is my birthright to be. I look at the mighty wings of the splendorous djinns as they send the air into pulsing eddies with their strokes and a rage at the unfairness of it all burns deep inside. I lower my membranes and cover my ears from the power of the great explosions that my brethren can ignite at will, and a melancholy perhaps as deep as yours stirs from its deep burial.'
Astron opened his mouth to say more but the words escaped him. What was he doing? His mind recoiled in numbness. The thoughts that he struggled so hard to keep buried were whirling unabated. And he had done no less than articulate them to one who was not even in the domain of his prince. He rose on one knee to withdraw but his limbs rapidly began to stiffen.
'Forgive me,' he mumbled thickly. 'Those words, those thoughts, they were not meant for another. I, I have-'
Nimbia reached out and placed her hand lightly on Astron's shoulder. 'Thank you,' she said, seeming to ignore completely his sudden discomfort. 'That is exactly what I needed. You serve your hillsovereign better than many of my own kind.'
Astron managed to shake his head, straining against the tightening tendons. Then he caught Kestrel entering the throne room and felt a sudden relief at the human's presence.
'Yes, I am finally coming,' Astron said. Awkwardly he rose to his feet and adjusted the pack on his back. 'A final word with the queen to learn more of the dangers.'
Kestrel shrugged and motioned over his shoulder. 'Walk with the rest of us now or catch up later,' he said.
Kestrel left the throne room as rapidly as he had come. Astron scrambled to follow. Another confusion had piled on top of the rest. He had not spoken to Nimbia of dangers. For the first time in his life, just like a human, he had told an untruth.
The trek to the glen of harebells proceeded uneventfully. The constant twilight did not waver. No one else was seen on the grassy trails. Shortly after Kestrel and the fey arose from their second sleep, the party began climbing a final hillock crested with giant ragwort and broad-leaved thyme. Astron inhaled deeply the aromatics which hung heavy in the air.
Behind them, the lush green carpet spread as far as the eye could see, eventually vanishing into the softness of fog and mist. Like blemishes on smooth skin, clumps of mushroom, golden cowslips, and foxglove scattered across the low-lying grasses indicated the presence of springy marshes with ground far wetter than the rest.
'What is it?' Astron heard Kestrel growl ahead of him. 'We have come too far to begin slacking the pace now.'
He looked up the trail and saw that the fey had stopped and Kestrel had almost closed the distance between them. Kestrel scowled and flexed his back, pulling at the straps of the rucksack he bore. Apparently the adjustment did not help; in irritation, he slipped out of the burden and let it fall heavily to the ground.
'The shrill vibrations are worse than I have ever known them before,' the first of the fey said as Astron caught up with the rest.
'What vibrations?' Kestrel shook his head. 'I do not hear a thing.' He flexed his back again. 'All I know is that we have been pushing hard for two days and the end is in sight. Now is not the time to have second thoughts.'
