Chapter Text
Orsea Orseolus to Miel Ducas, greetings.
I've begun to think our friendship was two friendships all along: the one I thought we had, and the one you maintained. You did that to keep up appearances, I expect. As for the other, the first one -- the friendship I thought we had -- well, you can't be blamed for that, can you? You didn't build it out of air to trick me; I did all that on my own. I've begun to think you never knew it was there at all. Why should you, when I never told you?
(But why should I tell you? As good as tell you the color of the fine wool doublet we picked for me to wear in court, for my inaugural ducal session. We chose it together, or I suppose I asked you to choose it, out of the possibles laid out. I never had to tell you: This wool is dyed green. I never would have asked you: What color do you think this is?
In the same room, talking to one another, looking at the same object, how could there be any question we had seen the same thing?)
More later, I'm not feeling all that well.
Orsea Orseolus to Miel Ducas, greetings.
I asked Triz about the doublet I wore to my first court session as Duke. Oh, that old thing, she said. Out of fashion now, no great loss. (Left behind, you see, for the Mezentine troops or the moths.) She says it suited me, when it was new; brought out the color of my eyes.
Blue for blue eyes, she remembers it well.
It was green, though, wasn't it? A nice dark green. Solid. Sensible.
She does recall its being wool. I count that as a point in my favor. But then, what else would it have been? Who makes a doublet out of anything else?
Try telling my wife my eyes are gray. She can't look me in the face anymore, not since the city fell. She can only go by memory, the same as you.
Of course, Veatriz was always supposed to marry you, and your eyes have always been the clearest of clear blue. Whose pretty blue eyes might she remember, do you think? Don't tell me it was nothing, everyone expects me to believe it was nothing, I
[Here a blotch and a thin trail proceeding therefrom, a careless leak. Under that, a line is neatly drawn.]
Orsea Orseolus to Miel Ducas, greetings.
We had a good dinner, as Vadani dinners go, and I feel much better. What a needless fuss that was, when I left off. A waste of ink. Now I can take up pen with a calm mind and cheerful spirit. Should know better than to write on an empty stomach.
I won't apologize, as you'll never read this anyway, because I'll never send it. I find I still feel sheepish, all the same.
Of course I'd worked myself up over nothing. Your cousin Jarnac, he's the one with the really blue eyes; bright blue, glaringly bright, like the birds drawn in marginalia to play with the ink, imaginary and fantastic fowl you'd never see in real life. I saw him at dinner just this evening, you know. He's back in Civitas Vadanis for some errand or other, getting Valens' attention for who knows what. Probably something for the Eremian resistance, which would make it an errand for you. No wonder they avoided me, or did I imagine that? Triz would say I imagined it. She says I always imagine slights, I always think the worst of myself and pretend those are the thoughts of other people. She really tries to help me see I'm not as bad as all that.
She's gone to bed early. Says these dinners wear her out. So here I am with you again, courtesy of Valens' clear-burning beeswax candles and Valens' ink and the writing set you got me for a wedding present. Matching sets for me and for Triz. I'd bet she used hers to write those letters to Valens. It really is a pleasure to write with.
You always had an eye for quality.
Your eyes were more like the blue of a peregrine falcon's back. No, that's a gray blue, those are mine. Your eyes were water, watery. I can see them squinting now into the sun.
I shouldn't have eaten all that venison. It's not sitting well. I'll have nightmares tonight.
Orsea Orseolus to Miel Ducas, greetings.
Thank you for the wedding gift of this writing set. (Did I ever thank you? Someone in my household wrote a note of thanks to someone in your household. Does that count?)
You included twelve pieces of parchment, which I never did need to use, and which I therefore have at my disposal now. It saves me having to ask Valens for some.
Once this is gone, there won't be any more, unless I ask him. I don't know if Triz brought hers along, and I expect she used up all the parchment that came with hers. Had to write all those letters on something, didn't she? This is fine stuff for writing to the Vadani duke. Would do Eremia proud.
Between you and me, I don't like Valens much. I suppose you can guess why. I don't think he likes me much either, probably because I started a war with the Perpetual Republic of Mezentia, and now he's up a creek.
To be fair, I never asked him to butt in.
You always said the war wasn't my fault. A bloody stupid idea is what you called it, but you said it wasn't my idea, and I'll always remember that. Your exact words: Maybe next time when he says, let's not pick a fight with the Mezentine Empire, somebody'll listen. Well, it's true I was opposed at first. It's sweet that you remembered, even if it really was my fault, since I let myself be persuaded to go forward with the invasion after all (else we'd not have been there, obviously).
You didn't know I heard. You thought I was passed out in the wagon, what with the wounding and the pain and all that. You, with your face ruined, slogging along through muck and misery, doing my job for me, still telling people off in my defense. The words stuck with me, a repetition every time that horrid wagon hit a rut. Nothing better to occupy my mind, you understand. Didn't need to think what to do next, you had that handled.
Since we were kids you've been sticking up for me. Since we were twelve, anyway. It started with that time you hid me behind the unicorn tapestry, do you remember? Or maybe I hid you, depending how you look at it. Your sacrosanct Ducas family tapestry, that only the heir and the reigning head of the family could touch; my idea, to remind you no one else would dare touch it. Not even a Ducas from the lesser branch, like Jarnac. Certainly not a Phocas or a Leucas, like those other boys with him.
But, then, you wouldn't have needed to hide, if not for me. You were supposed to be a hound like always. On principle, you said: don't make Orsea be the roebuck again, it makes no sense, the roebuck should be faster or why would hounds be needed at all? So Dorca Phocas said, right, Miel, you're the fastest one, you best get going.
I remember I was poleaxed. Just standing dumb. They had to extend my head-start just to make the game worth playing. I think I wasn't sure who was the roebuck, you or me. Then you grabbed me by the hand and ran.
How did I know about that tapestry? Not like your family kept it anywhere a person ought to see it. Some Ducas, generations ago, decided the place for it was all the way in the upper solar. I remember us running up the stairs, and me thinking, what if I slip, he'll have to haul me up behind him by the arm. And you panting like the hound you always were.
Orsea to Miel, greetings.
Have I told you, I'm not welcome at the council meetings anymore. Valens' council, that is. He can't stand watching me make a fool of myself, he was hoping matters would improve but it just hasn't shaken out that way. Oh, he didn't put it in those words precisely.
They'd love to have you there, I'm sure. You'd know just the right things to say, same as in my council meetings back home. The only times you came off wrong were when you'd stuck your neck out for my sake.
No danger of you doing that here, if you ever get here. I've used up all the grace anyone had left for me, haven't I? Yours most of all.
Does it count for anything that I had you moved, in the siege, from the tower to the ground floor where you'd be safer? That when the bombardment had really got going, I still spared a thought for you? I told the fellow to tell you specially. Give him the Duke's compliments, I said, and tell him it's to keep him safer, just in case they bring the engines round that side. Maybe you thought I said that only for form's sake, since as the Ducas you were by rights entitled to that tower suite for a prison. No, you had to know, you'd seen what their scorpion bolts could do, their siege engines would have to be as brutally effective. You had to know I really meant to keep you safe. Safer.
It was me who had you imprisoned in the first place, granted.
Tell me what I should have done instead.
Your cousin Jarnac travels back and forth these days, I think, between Vadani territory and disputed Eremian land. Does he ever join you on the front, or is he tasked solely with supply? I remember you saying he's a pacifist. Resisting enemy occupation ought to be an exception, I would think, and he fought hard enough for Civitas Eremiae. I wonder if he gives you any news. Some things he'd only say in person, I feel certain.
Did Jarnac ever tell you what he asked me on the ramparts, before the city fell?
To set you free. To give you the defense of the city, as you'd be the best suited for it. As if I didn't know who was best suited? As if I hadn't imagined how easy it would be, to give over to you, and how we'd need no words.
Orsea to Miel, greetings.
I remember now about the tapestry. What put me in mind of it is this other hideous tapestry Valens has here. They're all hunting scenes, you know. Something blank-faced and horrid, held at bay. Stiff-legged men with triangular bows and triangular noses, in profile, aided by stiff-legged hounds rampant. Something bleeding in threads of rust and umber. You're left to imagine the crimson it would have been, when it was new.
Triz went to the market for embroidery floss this morning. Found some shades of green she wanted. I'm glad someone is getting some fresh air.
What I remember is, you never showed me that tapestry until I found it myself, and then you told me to keep me out of it. I saw you through the keyhole, hiding something behind it. I thought I knew what it could be, and I was right: my penknife, that you stole. No idea why. You didn't need it, all your things were nicer than all mine anyway. You said: You can't go back there, only the Ducas and his heir can touch that tapestry. Not even the cleaning ladies touch it, you said. Only a restoration specialist, maybe once a generation.
Who was I, a minor nobody, a son of the Orseoli. I suppose I cried a little. At any rate you did feel sorry for me, and you pulled back the tapestry yourself, quite carefully, and went behind it, and came back out. You gave me back my knife. You didn't say sorry.
I didn't ask for an apology, either, or expect one. It was favor enough you'd shown me something of yours.
It was favor enough you'd ever wanted to take something of mine, in the first place.
Orsea to Miel, greetings.
I dreamed of you again last night. It was that time when I flushed out the ducks too soon. I know you weren't there that time in real life. It was Jarnac. I never dream of Jarnac, you see.
I cried, and I knew the duke of the Vadani would see any second now. Not Valens, you see, but the old duke, Valentinian. You came to my side on a huge ugly horse, and I couldn't reach so much as the stirrup, so you jumped down to where I was, to help. You hid my face under the unicorn tapestry. You were wearing it as a cloak, in the dream. You said: No one can touch this tapestry except the Ducas or his heir.
And you're the Ducas, and you haven't got an heir, so I knew I'd be all right.
Now I'm awake and I'm in Civitas Vadanis after all. I ought to be relieved.
Orsea to Miel, greetings.
You sent me four letters every day, when you were in the tower. I sent them all back unopened. If you knew I'd opened one, and read it, you'd expect an answer. You'd be within your rights then.
There's a junior clerk who handled this for me, too fiddly for my hands but he managed all right and I dare say you never did catch on. He'd pry loose the Ducas seal with a heated knife, and I'd read the letter. Then he'd fold it up again just like it was before, and seal it up again.
You wanted to save my dignity, I could tell. This was all a big misunderstanding, whatever it had been; we could put it right. You'd take the blame, you'd clear it up for me, just say the word.
You really didn't know, I do believe that now. You never knew and now you never will.
The mistake you made wasn't to want Veatriz, or to plan helping Valens to save her (I know of course there was nothing doing, but you've got to understand I did believe that at the time). The mistake you made was to leave me out of it.
She was always supposed to marry you, anyway. What's more, in the Sirupati Truce, she was supposed to marry Valens, only I'd got there first by the time anyone noticed. The two of you could have her, though she loves me and I love her. You'd have been within your rights.
Only why did you leave me out of the plan? That's what I couldn't forgive.
I dreamed last night that we escaped the city, like I thought Valens had planned, and we met at that inn where he wanted Triz to meet him. It was just us four. He looked the way he looked when he was nineteen, and you looked the way you looked when we took the army up the Butter Pass. Your handsome face all ruined, for my sake.
He swept Triz up on his huge ugly horse. The horse was Jarnac. And he'd brought no other horse for us, for you or me.
Then you grabbed me by the hand, and ran.
Orsea to Miel, greetings.
I confess I started the war. It was me, all along, and I did it before I even became the duke, before you were Ducas.
It's when my father wanted to send me to the city university at Lonazep, because what else was I good for? I'd be secretary of something, somewhere, for someone. Maybe for Jarnac Ducas. Not like I stood to inherit anything myself.
The night he told me to pack my things, I made a wish.
I wanted nothing to change. I didn't want to go to Lonazep, because you were the Ducas heir by then, and you'd never in your life be sent to Lonazep.
I wished: Let me stay here, with my best friend. It's all I want.
I was going to burn these but I found something else. I'm going to leave them folded into the book of fairy stories in Valens' library. It's in between the first two pages of the story about the ape's paw, the one you make a wish on and the finger curls, and your wish comes true.