Crier's War

“There are whispers, daughter,” Hesod went on. “I hear them in the corridors, in the kitchens. The servants of this palace are under the impression that their lady has become attached to the human girl who serves her.”

Crier shook her head. “They are mistaken, Father.”

“I know,” Hesod said gently. “I know that no child of mine, no child created by my hand, would commit such a heinous betrayal against their own Kind. I know the servants are mistaken, daughter. But humans, once convinced of an idea, are difficult to persuade otherwise. Their minds are not complex and malleable like ours. And you do not want them to continue spreading such dangerous lies, do you?”

“No,” Crier whispered.

“Then I will offer you a deal,” said Hesod, “because I believe that you are telling the truth, even if no one else does. I shall give the handmaiden one last chance. She will be allowed to remain at your feet, serving you.” He paused. “Unless, of course, there is another incident. Then she will be removed.”

“Yes, Father.”

“In the meantime, you will wear the black armband that symbolizes the Anti-Reliance Movement. As a gesture of goodwill, peace, and tolerance between Traditionalism and Anti-Reliance.”

“Yes, Father,” Crier said numbly. “I will do as you’ve asked.”

Hesod finally looked at her again, and his eyes glinted in the firelight. “I am pleased,” he said, “to have raised such an obedient child.”

Crier didn’t let herself second-guess the message she had penned the moment she left her father’s side. She would not marry Kinok. Nor would she abide her father’s decisions any longer.

The words flowed out of her pen with little effort, even the coded names coming easily.

Once satisfied, she stared at the wet ink for a moment, blew lightly across the page to dry it, then slipped a green feather into the envelope, sealed it with wax, and gave it to one of her father’s messengers.

“Deliver it well,” she said with a smile, picturing the sly look that would appear on Queen Junn’s face when she received it upon her arrival in Varn—when the queen realized that she had an ally. That together, they were going to take down the Wolf.

Friend—

You said to me that Fear is a tool of survival.

I hope that you are right.

There is indeed a Wolf among us, and we must work together to hunt him down. If he kills again, there are three who will share in the spoils. Two will be found with red blood on their hands. To find the third, look foerward; he is closer than you think.

La st we spoke, you said, “It only takes One clever fox to best a thousand men.”

I confess, I wish to be that fox.

These days, the Sha dows are long. Soon, the nights will Sta rt to swallow us whole. There is always a part of me that dreads the winter. Now more than ever.

—Fox

“Do not be ashamed of your fear, Lady Crier,” said Junn. “If you were not afraid, I would leave this room and never once look back. But you are afraid. That is why I trust you, and why I’m asking for your help.” Her expression softened. “And I really am only asking. I will not force your hand, my lady. Nor will I beg.”

“I need time,” Crier said. “I need to think.”

Junn nodded, leaning back a little. Without the smell and warmth of her, it was a little easier to breathe. “Of course,” she said. “I wish I had more time to give you, but my company leaves at dawn. If you decide you want to help me, take this and slide it under the door to my bedchamber.” She held out a green feather. “In Varn, the color green symbolizes alliance. We use it to communicate.”

“. . . We? Who’s we?”

“Those who wish to take sides against the wolf,” Junn said, and smiled, all teeth.

“As you may have noticed, he is drawn to any whiff of power. His supporters are vocal, but his base is small. In order to truly push his agenda, he must ally himself with an established force. But I admit that even I was intrigued at first. For the whole of autumn, his ideas seemed to glitter inside my head. He spoke of a glorious future for our
Kind, and I wanted so badly to help him create it. But it was a tangle of lies, Lady. A fox’s trick.”

At Crier’s confused look, she continued. “It’s from an old human story. Once, during a long and terrible winter, Fox and Bear were afraid that their children would starve. Their milk had dried up and they were both too weak to hunt. Everybody knew that Fox was the cleverest animal in the whole forest, so Bear went to her and begged for help. ‘My children are hungry,’ she said. ‘I can hear their bellies at night. What should I do?’ And Fox told her, ‘Last week, Brother Wolf attacked the farm on the edge of this forest. He killed one sheep and two fat hens. Now the humans are scared. Go to them peacefully and tell them that in exchange for one fresh hen per day, you will guard their hens and livestock from the wolves. You are weakened, but your body is big and your teeth are sharp. Brother Wolf will not cross you.’

“So Bear did as Fox said. That night, she left her cubs in their den and traveled to the farm on the edge of the forest. She knocked very gently on the farmer’s door and said, ‘I come peacefully. Please let me in.’ And the farmer opened the door only to sink his hunting knife into Bear’s heart. He thought it was another attack, you see.”

Crier watched Junn’s face as she spoke. Junn’s eyes were focused on something that did not seem to exist in this room, something visible only to her.

“What happened next?” Crier asked. “Did Fox steal the farmer’s chickens?”

“No,” said Junn. “Fox waited until Bear’s children died of
starvation. Then she ate them. The meat of two bear cubs was enough to last Fox and her kits through the final weeks of winter. She had hunted without ever lifting a paw.”

“So she killed Bear on purpose.”

“Weren’t you listening?” asked Junn. “Fox didn’t kill Bear. The farmer did. When the other animals discovered what had happened, they all blamed Bear for going mad. ‘Walking right up to the farmer’s door,’ they said. ‘What a fool.’ And Fox nodded along with them, and nobody ever found out what she had done.”

She looked at Crier closely, searching her face.

“So Kinok is the fox,” Crier said. “Clever and deceiving.”

The queen smiled. “No, my dear. Kinok is the wolf.” She paused and stared at Crier for a moment. Then she said, “I want you to be the fox.”