Magic and Miracles, page 18
“Finally, oh.” Crayle cut himself off. He crossed his arms and squinted at the hood.
“We seem to have stumbled upon a familiar problem.” Terria pointed to the emperor’s piece. “Where to place the emperor.” They both knew placing it at the top wouldn’t work, but that was the only place that made sense if they were to follow Crayle’s plan. Once again, they reached a dead end. “Don’t beat yourself up. We’ve an entire empire to weave together and place on the shoulders of one man.”
“And it is that one man who doesn’t fit.” Crayle rubbed his jaw.
“You’re right.” A flash of insight wiped clear Terria’s thoughts. “He doesn’t fit.” A burst of energy rushed through her. She plucked the emperor’s shred from the floor. “We haven’t been asking ourselves the right question. That’s why we couldn’t weave the pieces together. We shouldn’t have been wondering where to place the emperor. We should have been asking if he belonged in the garment at all.” She carried the cloth to the hearth and dangled it in front of the fire.
Crayle followed. “But the emperor carried that piece with him for almost a year. Didn’t we need it to familiarize the cloak with the person it was meant to protect?”
“Again, the wrong assumption.” She closed her eyes and pushed her spirit to sense for fate’s approval.
A gentle tap on her heart told her to cast the cloth into the flames.
She took in a deep breath and smiled. Her eyes watered with grateful tears to finally find the path meant for her. “It seems the whole of the cloak has rejected the emperor. We must cast him off and let the will of the people triumph.”
The cloth dropped from Terria’s fingers. It laid across a scorched log, the embers eating it from the edges until nothing remained.
Crayle’s mood shifted. Worry filled his voice. “What does this mean? Will the cloak protect him?”
Terria watched the fire, the ramifications of her decision dawning on her as the last of the cloth’s ashes became indistinguishable from the rest. “I suspect not. The magistrate’s robes have judged him unworthy of his station.”
“But…” Crayle looked down at the fire. “Won’t that mean he will come for you?”
Terria expected her anxiety to flair, but peace kept her spirits up. She placed a hand on Crayle’s shoulder, hoping to share the peace within her. “We must follow fate, wherever it leads.”
He nodded.
“Come now. We’ve weaving to do.” Terria retrieved a spool of thread and sat to arrange the strips of cloth on the floor. “No sense spending time fearing what we don’t want to happen when we should be spending our time working toward what we do want to happen.”
13
Dawn broke over the horizon. Its rays warmed Terria’s face. Her numb fingers struggled to play her lute as she sat in her garden on the eve of the imperial procession. The chill of night stiffened her joints. Sleep evaded her. The finished cloak sat folded on her lap.
Crayle approached. “The guards are here to escort us to the palace.”
Terria kept up her song. “Sit with me a moment.”
“But the guards—”
She cut him off with a scolding glare.
He sat.
The warmth of the sun barely sunk into her skin, but already she felt as if it freed her from the grasp of night. “You’ve done well this past year, Crayle.”
He thanked her.
“Your apprenticeship is almost complete. Should I not survive the day, you must practice everything I have taught you until your body knows how to weave without commands from your mind. Once it has infiltrated every muscle, you too will be a master.”
He bowed his head. “Do you really think the emperor will take your life?”
“It is time we find out.” She placed the lute on the ground, held the cloak to her chest, and stood. “Should I not return, please do everything in your power to retrieve the weavers’ painting.”
“I will.” He stood and hugged himself.
“Now come along. Fate awaits.” Terria left for the path leading up to her cottage.
A row of guards awaited. They flanked her and Crayle. As one, the group marched to the palace without a word. Nearly a year since she first arrived at the palace steps, Terria looked up from their base and took in the morning. The golden sky gave way to a soft blue. The city woke up. Its people went about their work, moving in every direction to begin their day and create a collective hum. Birds flitted merrily after returning from their winter travels. At Terria’s back, the world seemed to move as it did every day. Before her, she feared, waited the most important moment of her life.
She stepped forward. As she climbed, more and more guards joined their company. By the time she reached the last step, two dozen soldiers walked with her. A captain, marked with feathers protruding from his helm, led them to the throne room doors. Her heart raced. Her first visit had required a thorough inspection of her person. The second, another, but less strict. Today, without explanation, the palace ignored its usual precautions. Terria hoped this was a sign of trust, but didn’t give the thought much credence.
The vast doors swung open.
Terria entered and knelt on a mat placed a hundred paces from the throne. Crayle knelt at another placed behind her. Across the room, fires on either side of the throne flickered shadows. The doors creaked shut. A hundred soldiers joined the weavers in their wait for the emperor.
From behind a banner beside the throne, he appeared. Dressed in his armor, he walked to his seat, metal clanging with each footstep.
The mood in the room shifted, each person performing their part with the utmost care. No. Terria searched the faces of those around her, finding not care, but fear. Backs stiffened. Expressions vanished, leaving faces vacant. Crayle stared at the floor.
“Show me the worth of your labor.” The emperor waved a hand as if gesturing a fool to entertain him.
Terria stood.
Crayle gasped at the sight of her rising. Guards flinched. Their hands reached for their weapons as if the command to attack would soon be given. The emperor leaned forward.
“Here.” Terria lifted the cloak, unfurling it for all to see. “A cloak like none other.”
“It looks like all others.” The emperor’s voice echoed down the hall.
“By design.” She held out an arm and draped the cloth over it. “I’ve stitched together the talents of hundreds of citizens, the luck of the royal curate, the philosophies of our greatest thinkers, the strength of the earth, the pure hearts of those creatures with whom we share our world, the skills of your poison master, and every bit of protection available to your majesty since our first meeting. I can say, with confidence, that the world has never seen a cloak that can offer you more safety and peace of mind.”
The emperor rested his chin on his clasped hands. “Put it on.”
The beating of her heart quickened. Blood thumped in her head. She wrapped the cloak around her, knowing what was about to happen.
The emperor’s voice deepened. “Kill her.”
The soldiers stammered. Some reached for their swords. A soldier on Terria’s left stepped forward, sword in hand. The collective hesitation vanished. Metal scraped metal and echoed through the room with each unsheathing.
Terria closed her eyes and told herself to relax. There was nothing more to do but welcome death or let the cloak fulfill its purpose. Seconds passed like ages. She didn’t know if her weaving had succeeded and if it would save her life, or if she’d never open her eyes again. Her attempt to bring together so many elements into a single garment sounded impossible from the start. For a split second, she convinced herself she failed.
A force pushed her down into a crouch. Another tugged her back and forth before spinning her around. She opened her eyes. The cloak swatted away swords, pulled her from the path of their swings, and knocked soldiers to their feet.
More joined the clash, each looking more uncertain than the last. One would swing, only for the cloak to redirect their arm to hit a comrade. One by one, they fell. None could outmaneuver the cloak.
Pride swelled in Terria’s heart. She wanted to beam, to gloat, to prove to the emperor that she was more powerful than he. But more than a thunderous pride, she felt at peace. The cloak had deemed her worthy of her station. The history imbedded in the cloth by the magistrate’s untainted judgments had seen Terria as one worthy of the art of weaving. The doubt from losing the painting vanished. The universe approved of her.
The guards circled. Shoulder to shoulder, they left no room for escape. Crayle watched as he pressed his back into the doors, tears in his eyes. Terria wondered what the cloak might do. Could it manage to save her? Where was the limit to its power? Was this it?
The circle moved on her. Like a puppet on a string, she lifted straight up into the air. A second tug pulled her through the chamber to the foot of the throne. It set her down as gently as a mother laying her babe to rest.
“Enough.” The emperor held up his hand.
Each soldier stood at attention, their heels clicking together.
Standing, the emperor looked down on her. The light of the fires cast moving shadows over his face. “You have done well. I am pleased.”
Terria took in a deep breath and released the tension in her chest. The painting jumped to mind, but she wasn’t sure if she could ask for its return so soon. She removed the cloak and held it out for the emperor to claim. “It has been an honor.”
“Yes.” He pointed at the cloak with his chin.
A soldier retrieved it, walked the four steps to the emperor and draped it around his shoulders.
“Long has the throne ignored the craft of the weavers.” The emperor sat. A newfound ease softened his posture. “You shall be employed here in the palace. I’m sure your talents will prove useful.” He flicked his wrist to dismiss her.
Terria turned away. Her lungs refused to work. Her eyes glazed. Her vision blurred. She walked, her head dizzy as if about to faint. She’d succeeded in her task, but now she’d lost her freedom. The emperor would steal her from her woods, her cottage, her garden, and jail her in the palace walls until she failed to please him. She’d rather him claim her head.
14
The annual imperial procession required Terria to join the emperor’s entourage. As the newest member, she followed at the tail. They marched in a loop from the entrance to the royal courtyard, around the city, and back to the same doors. Crowds gathered, by royal decree, on either side of the street. The people clapped and cheered at the sight of their ruler, but their faces told another story. Plastered smiles couldn’t hide the enmity in their eyes.
The emperor walked at the head of the parade, his new cloak visible to Terria between the shoulders of the guards stepping in unison. Even from behind, she could see the arrogance of his spirit. He strutted with utmost peace of mind, thinking himself immune from the shattered world around him—the world he chose to break a little bit more each day.
Terria wondered how her inclusion in the parade registered in the minds of the people. Did they extend their hatred to her? Would they resent her for providing the emperor a protection he did not deserve? She tried to tune out the noise of the city. The rhythm of her feet rocked her into a dull trance.
As they returned to the courtyard gates, the emperor ascended a platform to speak to his subjects. Soldiers flanked him. Advisors and servants circled him as if to form a barrier that the common man could not cross. He stepped to the edge of the stage and cleared his throat. “Today we celebrate another bountiful year.”
The audience cheered with a dull enthusiasm.
“Once again, it is my honor to serve as your emperor. I look forward to the year ahead with hope and optimism, that this great empire shall continue to prosper.”
Terria watched the people shift uncomfortably. A woman bit her lip as if holding her tongue to keep from lashing out about the oppressive taxes. A man crossed his arms like he was holding himself back from begging the emperor to release his guards from the palace to keep their streets safe. A child tugged at the shirt of her mother. Terria thought of the emperor’s secret daughter and wondered if others felt anxious about the future of their land when the emperor failed to see beyond himself.
“Come, weaver. Come up here.” The emperor waved at Terria to join him onstage.
She complied. Her stomach twisted into a knot.
Showing off his cloak, the emperor gestured to Terria. “This is my newest advisor, a weaver.”
She bowed to the crowd. His words felt like a child showing off a new toy.
“For me she has done a great deed—one that shall aid in the safety of the realm.” He turned around to give a better view of the garment. “Tell them of your accomplishment.”
“Oh.” Terria fidgeted and paused to compose herself. “This cloak is a shield that can ward off every danger—sword, arrow, poison, or claw.”
The people turned their disapproving stares her way. She looked them over, feeling the sting of each one.
“Thanks to many hands, the empire has come together to provide this protective cloak.” She spotted Shava in the crowd and the emperor’s daughter, dressed in disguise at her side. Terria lost her train of thought. The emperor did not make clear what she was to do. Should she describe each piece? What was she supposed to say?
A familiar sensation crept across her skin. The hairs on her neck stood on end. Fate’s touch reached out. Like a thread, it connected her heart to the emperor’s daughter. The soul of creation pointed her to the future.
Terria knew what she would say, but worried how it might be heard. “This cloak is built on the foundation of justice. For generations, it will judge the one sitting upon the throne—whether they be righteous or unworthy. It will shield the righteous and let the tyrants fall.” She couldn’t help but steal a glimpse of the emperor.
His face flushed red. He scowled. News of the cloak’s conditions made his hand hover over his sword.
Everything stilled as if time slowed to catch its breath.
The voice of a child called out from the crowd. “I want to see.”
Terria’s own breath sounded like the howl of the wind. Her heart beat so fast it threatened to explode.
The emperor looked to her like a predator. His eyes darted to the people, then back to Terria.
A clap from the audience broke the silence. The noise spread like fire, igniting person by person until the whole of the crowd cheered. Calls for a demonstration cut through the clamor.
“Show us!”
“Let us see the cloak!”
“We want to see!”
Terria lifted her hands to quell their unruly excitement. “Of course! Of course! The emperor wanted to prove to all how his righteous rule could not be undone by the hand of a would-be assassin.” She locked eyes with a soldier—the sullen man from the meeting at her cottage. All at once, his role in fate’s plan became clear. She waved him onstage.
He looked nervous, standing at attention with unusual strain.
Terria leaned close to his ear. “Now is the time to fulfill your oath.” She turned to the people. “Let this be the last swing of the sword aimed at our beloved emperor. For none shall attempt to steal his life and undo all he has done for his people.” She looked to the emperor.
Terror washed over him. His hands trembled, confirming what Terria suspected all along—he knew the error of his ways. He knew he had enough riches to lift up the poor, enough soldiers to protect the weak, enough power to extend his prosperity to all within the empire’s borders—and he chose not to. He knew himself unworthy of his station—just like Terria and the rest of the people knew. The path he chose to walk lead him to this moment. He could admit his failings by refusing to provide a demonstration, or he could die. All he needed to decide was how weak of a man he was. Would he rather die with his ego intact or live knowing how small he was?
Terria nudged the soldier. “Go on.”
The soldier drew his sword and looked to the emperor for approval.
He closed his eyes and gave a curt nod. His only hope was that the cloak would somehow interfere—saving him from facing the reality of his own making.
Shaking, the soldier stepped closer, but staid his sword.
Terria stood tall. “Your emperor has given an order, soldier.”
The soldier lunged. The cloak parted, letting the sword pierce the emperor’s chest. Everyone held their collective breath as their ruler gasped for air, fell to his knees, and collapsed.
The sullen soldier backed away and looked to his fellow guards. “I didn’t mean to…”
They exchanged confused looks. The soldiers had seen the cloak protect Terria and knew of its supernatural power. Now they had seen it choose to let its wearer die.
Terria scanned the crowd. Where she expected surprise, she found joy. A weight lifted. The people seemed to have believed her about the cloak’s power, and their cheers were meant to end their oppressor’s life. She crouched next to the dead body and pulled the cloak from it. Standing, she held it out for all to see. “Today, we’ve witnessed the fall of a tyrant. Whoever shall take his place, if they are worthy of the throne, shall wear this cloak. As they protect the empire, the cloak will protect them. But if their rule bends toward wickedness, may this cloak abandon them and leave them to the same fate.” She wiped her sweating palms on her robes. An idea struck, one she needed to share now before losing the chance. “I propose an annual test. On the day of the procession, let a sword fly to our ruler’s heart. If it be true, the cloak will see their reign continue.”
The crowd cheered.
A voice called out. “But who shall take up the throne?”
As if to answer, the cloak flew out of Terria’s hands. It arced through the air and landed next to Shava. Swirling itself, it wrapped around the shoulders of the emperor’s daughter. She took Shava’s hand, looking unsure of how to respond.
