“Mother, stifle it, please?”
Wherever did you pick up that vulgar cant? It sounds so coarse.
“I spent a long spell on Earth, among unsavory types. It rubs off.”
We gave you the best education — She sighed. Never mind, never mind. It is not for the dead to tell the living how to conduct their affairs.
“Thank you.”
But — She shrugged. If that is so, why do you seek our counsel?
“Frankly, for one reason. To get Dad to tell me how to lift the banishment spell. Inky died, as I’m sure you know —”
I didn’t. Oh, dear.
“Eh?” Trent sat up sharply. “You don’t know? But —”
Do you think omniscience is granted after death?
“Well, no, but …” Trent sat back. “Well, I assumed, wrongly it seems.” Trent regarded his mother. “You don’t look particularly upset.”
The world must turn, death must come.
Trent grunted. “Silly of me to think you wouldn’t have a different perspective on the issue.”
I’m looking forward to seeing him.
“Yes, of course. But, as I was saying, I would be his son’s regent, and I need the spell of banishment abrogated.”
Oh, Trent. Not again.
“What again?”
This wanting-to-be-king business.
“Mother, please. I’ve every right to be.”
Cawdor didn’t think you had the temperament.
“I’ve the mettle, all right.”
The mettle, yes. Prudence, forbearance, nice judgment, no.
“Nonsense.”
Trent, I’m afraid nothing’s changed.
“I’ve changed. Really. Even other people say so.”
I’m sure you have. But at this late date — Trent, why do you want the Siege Perilous?
“It’s rightfully mine. I’m the eldest son, and by rights I should have taken the throne.”
You and Incarnadine were fraternal twins. He was born first.
Trent’s fist thumped against the table. “That’s not true!”
Dear, don’t raise your voice.
“I’m sorry, Mother, but that’s been a sore point with me for eons.
How?
Trent rose and went to the writing desk. He grabbed the sheaf of documents and returned.
“I have the attending physician’s signed and sworn statement that I was the first out of the womb.”
Oh, come, dear.
“Look at it! See?”
Yes, dear. I’m sure it’s all in order.
“Dr. Philius. Recognize the name?”
Oh, I remember Dr. Philius well. I saw him, in fact, not too long ago.
“But he’s years d — Oh, right. Well, you believe him, don’t you?”
Well, of course, Trent. Dr. Philius would have no reason to lie.
“Well?”
He’s simply mistaken. A mother knows. Inky was first.
“You were out like a light. How could you know?”
I realize you were there, too, Trent, but do you really doubt my word?
“Read it for yourself, right there. Dr. Philius says he gave you something to knock you out.”
That he did, but it didn’t work. He was much too reliant on pills and potions.
“Be that as it may, Philius was aware of the bearing this might have on the future succession, and he took pains to note who was born first. It was me, and he duly swears a statement to that effect and affixes his signature.”
Nevertheless, Trent, dearest, Inky was first. I know. I saw his birthmark. A small, hourglass-shaped port- wine splotch on the left thigh. It was right in front of my nose when Philius laid him, all red and angry and yelling, across my chest. I thought it was the most beautiful little splotch I’d ever seen.
Trent was silent for a moment as he sat down. “Your memory is fogged. Philius wouldn’t have made such a goof.”
There’s no doubt in my mind, Trent.
“If you’ll forgive, Mother, I trust Philius’s memory over yours.”
Of course you do. This succession business has been an obsession with you since you were a lad. You see, I happen to have a very good memory.
“No doubt. You remember seeing a birthmark, all right, and it was Incarnadine’s, but you don’t remember when you saw it. Which was after I was born. I don’t have a birthmark.”
No, dear, it was before I delivered you. As I said, a mother knows these things. A mother remembers.
“You were exhausted and drugged to a stupor. It says here the labor was unusually difficult.”
It was, Trent, but I told you —
He raised a hand. “Enough. Please. You said you didn’t want to waste time tussling with me over a matter that I’ve quite made up my mind about, and I’m afraid this one fits that bill to a T.”
She chuckled. That I can see. We’ll tussle no more.
“All I ask is that you ask Dad to let me back into the castle.”
Dear, your father is no longer part of this world, and neither am I. We inhabit quite a different realm, a cosmos greater than all the myriad worlds of the castle, vaster than all of Creation itself. You’ve no idea. The mundane doings on your plane of existence are of no concern to us. They are not within our proper sphere of concern. The living must be let alone to work out their own destinies. We cannot interfere.
“But it’s Dad’s doing that I can’t live in the castle. Whatever wrong I did, surely I can be forgiven after so long a time.”
Your father forgives you, Trent, for the trouble you caused. Though you may scoff at the notion, he loves you and has always loved you. That is not the issue.
“Then what the devil is the issue?”
Please don’t use strong language with me.
“Apologies. Mother, really, I just don’t understand.”
She heaved her shoulders. Yes, Trent, I know you don’t. But you will, one day. You’ve a head on your shoulders and you’ll eventually see that your father had nothing but your best interests at heart.
“No doubt,” Trent said dryly. He finished his whisky and set the glass back down. “Well.”
Well, indeed. We’ve had a charming little sit-down, a nice little chat. But I must go.
“Goodbye, Mother.”
Goodbye, Trent, darling. Trent, if it had been up to me, I would have ignored precedent and named you heir apparent. It means so much to you. But it wasn’t up to me. A woman’s lot —
“Yes, unluckily for me. All the more reason why I should boost women’s rights.”
Oh, it’s not that women have no rights. In fact — Her hand rose to dismiss the matter. I’m forgetting my own dictum. I shall say no more, save this: I feel that the conflicting elements of your soul will someday work out their differences, and balances will be redressed — or, should I say, imbalances will be corrected.
“I’m all for it.”
So, I will leave you. Farewell, Trent, my son. Believe me when I say you were my favorite.
He smiled and nodded. “I do, Mother. Farewell.”
Her smiling image slowly faded. Before she disappeared completely, her small hand rose and slowly
