Endworlds - Nicholas Read [64]
“And yet to be self-existing, whose rules do you follow?”
“My own?” The thought was not new. Or was it? As it took root it seemed so obvious. As though she had always known it.
“There! That is the great secret. The Builders reward strength. Did not our first king walk so? Shall not our last queen do likewise? As in the Beginning, so in the End.”
“Careful now, Bøsexiéède. This brand of treason drove the first wedge. I cannot—”
“My queen, you must. You are the only one who can. Why were you chosen by the Nabiyã Siancay to govern at this very time? To be the Conclave’s puppet or to be the only one with courage enough to save us all?”
“Even if I agreed with you—and I don’t say that I do, not entirely—you would have me turn against our primary philosophy handed to us by the Builders themselves, and align instead to the very cause that had you and your party cast out from our nations?”
“If it be right, yes. My queen—Elayen—is it not good policy to do what’s right, especially when it’s unpopular to do so? Is not this when our character is tested most? When sheep become shepherds?”
Her eyes were heavy. The words seemed slow and dreamy to her ears.
“This is not about sides or philosophies. This is about survival. If Earth Prime fails this final time, you know the consequence for all worlds that cling to this rock. Why do you think there is a prophecy for these times? Who do you think it speaks of?”
“The children of prophecy,” she yawned. “Three from above, two from below. We think that we’ve found them, you know. The three.”
“No, you have only to look in the mirror. Are you not ruling monarch? It’s you, Elayen. You are the highborn. You are above all. You are one of the three! It has always been you.”
“But the others. Three came to us from above.”
“One will not pass the tests. There are only two. Only two. And you.”
Could it be?
Bøsexiéède had a way of making the prophecies so much clearer than did the seerwitches. Others eschewed the Dae’mon. But they were brethren once, fellow Fae’er. Sometimes she caught herself wondering if the best part of their race had been lost with the rift.
No, they had been friends! He would not deceive her. Not once in all these years of their private exchanges had he deviated one jot from being the same Bøsexiéède she had always known.
She turned the idea over. The more she pondered it, the more she wondered. Hadn’t the Nabiyã Siancay called her to the throne for these exact times? Was it for this purpose?
“I could unite our own people after all these years. And by so doing, we could save all the people of Earth, in all its Ages.”
“Yes. And finally, all will ascend. I believe this is your destiny, your purpose. But take heed: your own people are not all ready to embrace such change. We shall walk softly. At first.”
Sleep had almost claimed her again, the ideas burrowing deep into her hippocampus where they would be remembered as facts, and into her amygdala where they would find conviction. Bøsexiéède knew all too well that people decided with emotion, but justified with logic. To turn a person fully to a cause, conversion was needed on both pressure points.
“Who can I trust?” Fae’Elayen asked dully, the sounds of each syllable glancing off the dreamscape that tumbled toward her, pulling her away.
“They will seek you out. From all the dimensions they will come.”
Colors, music and conversations were mingling together. The Queen’s last mumbled words of the evening would have been imperceptible were the Dae’mon not inside her head. “How will I know them?”
“I will whisper truth when you need it. If you allow me to serve.”
A smile spread across Queen Fae’Elayen’s lips. Grand Ephir Bøsexiéède was a friend indeed. He was welcome to serve. It would be their secret.
AS THE FAE’ER QUEEN drifted into slumber, the shade Bøsexiéède was tempted to sever her motor skills and wrap her higher functions in a cocoon he could wedge into a corner of her mind, while he moved in to possess her body.
Disconnected from external stimuli and the surge of adrenals, she may dream forever, but