'I thought,' said Hugh, struggling into a sitting posture and gazing at him intently, still, 'that you were a part of my dream. It was a curious one. I hope it may never come true, master.' -- Charles Dickens, Barnaby Rudge

"You. Did. What?" Kilan had never doubted Varan's common sense before. Well, he thought she was an idiot, something brothers everywhere thought about their sisters, but he had never thought she would do... this. "Are you trying to start a war?"

Varan shook her head emphatically. "I'm trying to prevent one!"

"You're going the wrong way about it," Death grumbled.

Gialma added nothing to this discussion. He had collapsed into a chair and now watched the argument with wide eyes. Kilan couldn't blame him. When people started shouting at each other, or merely sniping sarcastically at each other from opposite sides of the room, it was never safe for bystanders to interrupt.

~~~~

It was tempting to blame Fate for every unforeseen disaster Death encountered on an almost daily basis. But grudgingly, if only to herself, she had to admit that sometimes the blame lay with less exalted beings. Well-meaning souls, mortal and Reaper alike, could cause more chaos than even Fate could. Now open war with Malish might very well be around the corner, and Death could do nothing about it.

More ominously, she could see nothing about it either. When she looked into the future of Carann and Malish, she saw only a vague and fog-shrouded scene that could be a battlefield, or a dining room, or something else entirely. No figures or faces were distinguishable among that endless grey prospect. Looking too long into it left her feeling woozy and disorientated.

There was one person who might know what the immediate future held. So Death went to visit her at once.

She found War in her own realm, still wearing her armour and busily fletching a freshly-made arrow. A stack of already-prepared arrows stood propped against the wall beside her, while a pile of not-yet-finished arrows lay at her feet. Death looked at them grimly. Her daughter would not be preparing so many weapons for no reason.

"Hello, Mother!" War said cheerfully. Her hair was tied back in a sloppy ponytail, but strands escaped from it to hang over her face. "What brings you here?"

Death picked up one of the already-finished arrows and studied it. It was close to a metre long and more like a miniature javelin than an arrow. The feathers of the fletching were bright red streaked with black. The arrowhead was filed to a point like a knife's tip.

"What are these for?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

War looked at her in surprise. "Don't you know?"

Death shook her head. "I suspect. I don't know."

"They're for the war between Carann and Malish, of course!" War's tone suggested she thought her mother was very stupid not to know this.

Death set the arrow against the wall again. It struck the stone with a dull, metallic clink. "When will this war begin?"

War shrugged. "I don't know. Fate just told me to make preparations for it."

~~~~

Every personification had their own servants to help them. Death had her Reapers, Pestilence had his Plagues, War had her Valkyries. They were all the souls of dead mortals, and they all acted as their King's or Queen's assistants in going about their duties. The Valkyries fled across Malish and Carann, blood-stained spectres riding ghostly wolves, spreading distrust and anger through the lands.

Death watched with a grim scowl. There was nothing she could do. Directly interfering in the course of the future was forbidden. Yet she couldn't stand idly by either.

The source of all this trouble was obvious. Nalginton. Get rid of him, and the war would -- in theory -- be at least delayed. No half-way sensible empire was likely to attack their neighbours when they were in the grip of a succession crisis.

The Malishese succession was not only cruel, it was foolish and short-sighted. Apparently no one had thought of what would happen if an Iqui died after killing all or most his brothers but before fathering an heir. They would have to think of it now. Nalginton was going to die soon if she had to kill him herself. And he had only two surviving brothers, who would plunge the empire into civil war.

Where did Carann fit into this mess?

Good question. She was afraid she knew the answer.

Varan's bright idea had added another possible contender for the throne. How would Malish cope with Jalakanavu as Iqui? What would her attitude towards Carann be?

~~~~

Jalakanavu had a much better idea than just killing Nalginton outright. She had started putting almost imperceptible amounts of trosroun[1] into his food and drink. The doses she used were too small to be noticed or have an immediate effect. But they built up, day after day, until her husband went through his days in a sort of daze.

Then she set about taking over the palace.

First she went to her husband's concubines. They had suffered Nalginton's abuse. They were quick to accept her offer. Then she went to the guards, the servants and the slaves. They, unlike the concubines, were more reluctant to obey a woman. One of the guards openly laughed at her and mocked her.

"How can you rule Malish?" he sneered. "Go back to your sewing."

Jalakanavu made a mental note of who he was. He would pay for that remark soon. "I don't intend to rule," she lied. "I want to give the throne to someone who deserves it."

Finally she wrote to Prince Gialma. I need no help from Carann. I can decide what is best for my empire without anyone's assistance.

~~~~

"It seems to be my fate," Kilan grumbled, "to be constantly faced with political minefields."

Death looked up from the book she was reading. "All emperors are. You're better off than some of them. You haven't been murdered in your sleep."

This was undoubtedly true. But it was hardly what Kilan wanted to hear right now.

"You can see the future," he said. "Can't you tell me what to do to avoid this sort of thing?"

Death shook her head. "I can't see every single thing that'll happen. And if I did tell you any of that, I would change the future and we'd end up in even more trouble. It's a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation."

Kilan suppressed a groan. "Can you at least tell me if Malish will declare war in the next few days?"

Death thought about what she could see of the future. "No. I believe, however, that they will find themselves in a civil war in the next few months."

~~~~

Prince Shuradin watched events unfold in his homeland with a mixture of satisfaction and horror. If Nalginton was deposed and killed, he would have a chance to claim the throne. But if he took the throne, other people would crawl out of the woodwork with claims of dubious veracity. The empire would dissolve into civil war.

He saw only one way out of this. He would ask for Tinuviel's support.

~~~~

Since the announcement of her pregnancy, Qihadal had received nothing but endless congratulations from people she'd never heard of before. Frankly, she was sick and tired of it. She became so exasperated that she stopped reading her letters. And that was why she didn't learn of certain events in Malish until they were well underway.

The first she heard of it was from her maids gossiping.

The rest she learnt from Tinuviel.

"We don't know what exactly is happening in Malish," he said, "but Nalginton is doing less and less and Jalakanavu is basically ruling the empire. So far she hasn't made any threats toward us, but the Malishese army is still on stand-by. And now Shuradin wants me to support his claim to the throne. What do you make of that?"

Qihadal thought back over the various palace revolutions she had seen while in Malish. "It sounds like Nalginton is preparing for war, and Jalakanavu is preparing to murder him."

Tinuviel nodded grimly. "That's what I was afraid of. But can we ignore them and let them sort this out themselves, or will they attack us?"

"It depends on the outcome of Jalakanavu's coup." It was an age-old story in Malish. A ruler put down a rebellion and immediately attacked some enemy to gain the people's support. Or a new ruler took the throne and did the same for the same reasons. "Sooner or later I think they will attack us."

Qihadal's thoughts went to Death. There was someone who would certainly be happy if there was a war. But how could she warn Tinuviel when he trusted Death so completely?

~~~~

Life settled into an unpleasant dreamlike state for the next few weeks. Nothing happened in Malish. Nothing much happened in Carann. The High Council advised Kilan to support Shuradin's claim to the throne, at least in name only. He took the precaution of setting terms the would-be Iqui must follow if he wanted to keep Carann's support. Spies worked busily on both sides.

The future remained obscure. Death gritted her teeth and went on with her duties. She knew as little about approaching events as the mortals did.

So it was a terrible shock when she looked at Nalginton's hourglass one day and saw it was about to run out.

"Damn you, Fate!" she swore as she hurried to Malish. "Can't you meddle in someone else's business for once?"

Death arrived in the royal palace just in time to collect Nalginton's soul. He had died from trosroun poisoning. The official verdict would be heart failure.

Two women stood by the Iqui's death-bed. One was Jalakanavu. The other was Rajuyahra, one of Nalginton's concubines. Death paused to listen to their conversation.

"He's stopped breathing," Jalakanavu announced after listening intently for a moment. She leaned over and pressed her fingers against her husband's neck. "Dead."

Rajuyahra said nothing and kept her eyes fixed on the floor. She was only seventeen, a general's daughter chosen to be the Iqui's concubine because she was considered the most beautiful woman in Ihalāiksonen. She was also pregnant, Death realised when she saw the way Rajuyahra held her hand pressed against her stomach.

Jalakanavu turned and gave the girl a look of barely-disguised contempt. "We need only say I will be Regnant for-- How far along are you?"

"Almost six months, your Excellency," Rajuyahra murmured.

"Then I will take the throne as Regnant until your son is born."

The girl briefly glanced up, then dropped her gaze again. "We don't know if it will be a son."

"It will be," Jalakanavu said with surprising certainty. "And I will formally adopt him."

Oh, Death thought. So that's her plan. She would claim she was only Queen Regnant -- the only way the Malishese would accept a female ruler. Then she would adopt her husband's child, and would remain Queen Regnant while he grew up... and by the time he was old enough to rule on his own, she would have seized the throne for herself and abandoned all pretence of merely being regnant.

It was a plan that was full of holes. Jalakanavu had no guarantee that the child would be a boy, or that it would be born alive. She didn't know if the nobles would accept her as regnant. She didn't know if her husband's surviving brothers would stand by without making their own bid for the throne.

Death didn't need to see the future. She knew perfectly well that Malish was headed for civil war.

The problem was, it would drag Carann down into this mess with it.

~~~~

The news Death brought from Malish was hardly the sort of news calculated to lift anyone's spirits. Kilan listened with an air of profound despair.

"So Jalakanavu is now Queen of Malish," he said wearily. "Why did I make that agreement with Shuradin?" In the same breath he said, "We'd better prepare for war."

Death nodded. Fate was still keeping the future hidden from her sight. But she could tell this would be a wise precaution.

Chapter Footnotes:

[1] trosroun = A sort of poison that has a sedative effect on a person, gradually slowing down their internal organs until they cease to function.