Certain things have to happen before other things. Gods play games with the fates of men. But first they have to get all the pieces on the board, and look all over the place for the dice. -- Terry Pratchett, Soul Music

I think I'm dreaming, Linyie decided. It was a very comforting thought. It assured her that no, the world hadn't gone mad, nor had any fairy come along and put a spell on her parents. No one liked to have their world turned suddenly upside down, even if the dramatic changes were ones they had hoped for all their lives -- which admittedly wasn't very long in this case.

Her day had started just like any normal day. Her nursemaid, a jolly middle-aged woman named Hiyashou who let her have as many toys as she wanted and never shouted at her, bustled into the nursery at half twelve[1] and chattered cheerfully to Linyie as she got the little princess dressed.

"Good grief, child," Hiyashou grumbled as she struggled to brush her charge's hair. "Did you tie knots in your hair? You must look presentable when you go to see your parents!"

Linyie, being half-Malishese, had hair that was thicker and coarser than a Carannish child's would be. Her skin was a shade browner than any of her cousins', and her eyes were a slightly different shape. These were the only noticeable differences between her and the people around her. Yet somehow she instinctively knew that these parts of her appearance, insignificant though they seemed to her, marked her as different in a way she couldn't understand.

Once she had broken a doll that had belonged to a duchess's daughter. The older girl had lost her temper and shouted insults Linyie didn't understand. The one that had appeared most was "moon-eyes"[2]. Hiyashou had been scandalised by what the girl had said, and had told Linyie never to listen to those words.

The princess couldn't see what the fuss was about. She called people names too when she was angry, and why was it an insult to have her eyes compared to the moons? She liked the moons. They were pretty and glowy and cast such fascinating shadows around her room. Yet everyone acted as if her playmate had said something unforgivable, and that girl had never been allowed to play with her again.

Linyie was brought out of her thoughts by a sense that her nursemaid had said something important.

"I'm not going to see my parents today," she said, bemused.

"Your mother wants to see you after breakfast." Hiyashou said it as calmly as if this was a perfectly common occurrence and not at all surprising. "And your father wants to see you before dinner."

Linyie sat in silence, puzzling over this extraordinary information. Today was Mengrai[3]. Her parents only saw her on Giliu[4]. Only rarely did they ask her to visit them, instead of them coming to visit her. Why this sudden change? She hadn't done anything very bad that would get her a scolding.

There was a mystery here. And if there was one thing that Linyie hated, it was a mystery. Questioning Hiyashou was no use. The nursemaid only smiled and shook her head.

"Goodness, child, I don't know why they want to see you today. Finally remembering their duties, perhaps." If Lethil had been older she would have noticed the hint of disapproval in the woman's tone. Hiyashou had children of her own, and she took a very dim view of the royal couple's 'parenting'. It was certainly about time they remembered their daughter's existence more frequently than once a week. "I suppose they'll tell you themselves."

~~~~

Drazenmira had gained her throne after the tragic early death of her childless older brother. Over the last forty years she had held onto her throne by never allowing the scandal-mongers an opportunity to pounce on any slight wrongdoing or misstep on her part. And now her daughter and heir was busily amusing herself by giving every gossip in the country plenty to talk about. 

The queen was not amused.

"I demand an explanation."

Those words had once struck terror into Losradan's heart. Now the princess only looked bored. Her shadow, that creeping insect of a troublemaker, was mercifully nowhere to be seen. Only members of the Nirnian royal family were allowed into the oștrohevár[5]. Drazenmira had no doubt Losradan would run back to her and tell her everything as soon as she left. That thought only infuriated her more.

"There's nothing to explain." Losradan examined her nails with a maddening air of nonchalance. "I thought you wouldn't like a strike. So I went to prevent it. And I brought a list of the people's complaints so we can make sure it never happens again. You've nagged me for years about not being a proper heir. Shouldn't you be happy I'm doing what you've told me to do for years?"

Drazenmira ground her teeth. She looked away from her daughter, suppressing the urge to slap the little brat.

The oștrohevár's walls were lined with portraits of dead and gone Vyshnyovs and Vyshnyovas, most of them depicted in full ceremonial dress with their crowns, long robes, and enough jewels to fill a decent-sized treasury. Drazenmira stared at a portrait of her mother, Kihértó [6] Suwadera Nolavaevna [7], silently wondering how her mother would tell her to deal with this pest of a daughter.

"You acted without my knowledge or consent," the queen said coldly. "Common courtesy to the head of your family requires you to inform me of such matters."

Losradan looked briefly uncomfortable. "But you wouldn't have given your consent if you knew."

True. Her oldest daughter's behaviour over the years had proved her utterly unable to deal tactfully with this sort of situation. Drazenmira would have sent one of her other children to hear the miners' complaints. It was a minor miracle that Losradan's interference hadn't provoked a riot.

No, not a miracle. The queen didn't have to be told to know a certain recent addition to her daughter's household had had plenty to do with it.

"Do you want me to take away your right to make decisions on your own?" Drazenmira asked coldly. Her daughter shook her head. "Then don't let this happen again."

~~~~

The village of Hamdeyahmar felt as if it was living in some strange, frightening dream. The people had woken up one morning to find a small army encamped among them. So-called soldiers in dirty, ragged clothes watched their every move. The mayor made a long, rambling, not entirely coherent speech about there being an excellent reason for all this and how everyone needed to just give in and not make a fuss. Some of the villagers muttered about driving out the soldiers. But the villagers had only farm tools. The invaders had swords.

So no one did anything, and the soldiers remained among them.

~~~~

Qihadal forced herself to sit still and not let her displeasure show on her face. As if it wasn't enough Death was interfering with her children, now Tinuviel was (of course!) taking her side and insisting Qihadal had to meet Linyie. Naturally this had to happen on the day the empress was expected to visit a hospital.

The irony of having no time for her children yet plenty of time for other people completely escaped Qihadal. It did not escape Death... or Varan.

What the empress would have said if she knew her hated enemy and her dead ex-sister-in-law were sitting on the window-sill will never be known. They were invisible to mortals, but the mortals were not invisible to them.

"Some people should never have children," Varan said in disgust as she watched Qihadal's stiff, awkward greeting to little Linyie. "The best I can say for Kilan is at least he's trying now. I might have to shake some sense into him if he doesn't keep trying."

Death "hmm"ed. Some knowledge of the future prompted her to remark, with a good impression of indifference, "Has Gialma been to the palace much lately?"

Varan stared at her as if she'd asked if the moons had fallen from the sky. "No. Why?"

Her queen shrugged. "No reason. I was just wondering."

Varan did not look convinced. She gave Death dubious glances for the rest of the time they stayed there.

It wasn't long. Qihadal asked her daughter a few questions about her newfound love of painting and colouring, then got up to leave.

~~~~

Death's question stuck in Varan's mind all day. It was expecting too much of anyone to think they wouldn't try to solve such a puzzling mystery. So naturally she took the first chance she got of visiting Gialma. She appeared in his sitting room and found him drawing something on a sheet of paper.

"Have you visited the palace lately?" she asked, leaning over his shoulder to see what he was doing.

It wasn't a drawing at all; it was calligraphy. A calligraphy "Happy Birthday" message, in fact. Gialma moved the inkpot away so she wouldn't knock it over.

"No," he said warily, continuing to trace the outline of a letter. "Has something happened?"

That was putting it mildly. "Kilan has finally come to his sense and is spending more time with his daughter. When I left them, Linyie was showing him all her drawings. I've never seen such an abundance of yellows and oranges in a drawing of a dog before."

Gialma laughed at that. He should laugh more, part of Varan thought idly. He looks younger and less reserved when he does.

Aloud, she said, "Whose birthday is it?"

"Father's." Gialma's dry tone said a great deal about how he thought of his father. "It would be rude not to send a message. And I need to practice calligraphy, or I'll forget how to do it properly."

Varan suspected the latter motive was more important than the first.

"Have you heard anything about the investigation into the High Council?" Gialma asked. As he spoke he began to ink in the letter he had outlined. His brush wavered slightly, leaving a line where there shouldn't be one. "Damn! Where's the blotting paper?"

Varan handed it to him. "Aunt Nimetath is investigating. That's all I know. Have you been questioned again?"

Her cousin shook his head, most of his attention on his work. "No one's even mentioned it. People rarely tell me anything anyway."

"I tell you lots of things," Varan protested, feigning offense and clasping her hands to her chest melodramatically. "Am I not a person?"

"I meant living people," Gialma said, laughing at her antics. "Could you hand me that book over there? It should have something about how to undo this mess."

Varan looked at the result of his attempts to save his work. What had a minute ago been a small line had become an enormous ink blot. "I think you should just start over."

Gialma studied it and sighed. "I think you're right."

He scrunched up his work and tossed it in the bin. An idea struck Varan as Gialma picked up another sheet of paper.

"When you're finished I'll sign it too."

Gialma looked at her askance. "My father will demand to know what it means. He won't give me a minute's peace until I explain."

"I won't put my name. I'll just put "from a relative". Let him rack his brains over that." Varan had met Uncle Yiezan when she was alive. He had left a none-too-favourable impression. She couldn't help thinking that puzzling over this would give his brains some much-needed exercise.

And so a mysterious signature was added to the birthday wishes Gialma sent his father. Many wild guesses were made as to which of their many relatives had sent it. Varan overheard some of them, and she and Gialma had many a good laugh over them.

~~~~

Just as Drazenmira had expected, Losradan went straight to complain to Rualnim.

"It's not fair!" the princess whined, sounding like a small child. "She never treats my siblings like this!"

Patience, Rualnim told herself. Don't punch her.

"Don't worry," she said with her most reassuring smile. "We just need to convince the people you have turned over a new leaf. Soon you'll have more power than the queen. I promise."

Chapter Footnotes:

[1] half twelve = Roughly equivalent to ten o'clock on Earth, since days are longer on the planet Niorla.

[2] moon-eyes = Carannish slur for the Malishese.

[3] Mengrai = Day of the week roughly equivalent to Tuesday.

[4] Giliu = Day of the week roughly equivalent to Friday.

[5] oștrohevár = Literally means "royal palace", and originally meant the entire palace. Its meaning shifted over the years. Gradually it came to mean only the part of the palace inhabited by the reigning monarch and their consort. Now its meaning has narrowed even more, and it refers to a sort of council chamber within the monarch's living quarters, used for meetings of the royal family -- often to settle disputes or criticise someone's behaviour, as protocol forbids the royals "airing their dirty laundry in public" and confronting each other in front of outsiders.

[6] Kihértó = Nirnian title meaning "queen consort".

[7] Nirne uses patronymics for both men and women (inevitably for a kingdom based on Imperial Russia!). Women's end in "evna", men's in "evik". Women's surnames add an "a" to the end, so a man of the Nirnian royal family is "[name] [patronymic] Vyshnyov", while a woman is "[name] [patronymic] Vyshnyova".