Everyone Does What They Can

“I know those of you who remember the time before the Empire are aware it is…new, and fragile,” Morenna said. “I’m here to tell you that what you’ve built has…significance. It has weight. When it dies, the world doesn’t just go back to what it was before.

“Everyone was a warrior, everyone with an ounce of authority a tiny warlord. Most of them had ambitions; every one of them had a grievance. It was war—the ultimate war, the war of everyone against everyone else. No safe harbor, nothing but destruction and bloodshed from one coast of this continent to the other. Anyone who wasn’t in an army was either a bandit or a refugee. Ships fled in every direction, loaded with everyone who could escape. They left behind famines and plagues… And when refugees fleeing that start to flood other continents, the results are more famines and plagues. More collapse, more societies reduced to petty warlords.”

Morenna turned her head to look once more out across Kourvald, at a city that was prosperous and at peace, for now.

“Khellvain is a bonehead, but he legitimately tries to do right by the people. Zaurgan does not care about anyone—what scares me about him is that I don’t understand what he does care about. I’ve known plenty of power-mad despots, but he’s just… No one ever figured out what he was actually trying to accomplish, only that it failed harder than anything ever has. It takes a person as smart as a Seer to be so catastrophically stupid.”

She shifted back to regard Tamara, resting a hand on Swansong’s pommel.

“I was three continents away by the end, when by pure bad luck I bumbled into… Actually I still don’t even know who they were. It was a force so large that from the middle of them I couldn’t teleport all the way out of range. They had uniforms I’d never seen before, strange weapons—magic ones—and what I think were big clockworks, though they didn’t look like Machine Men craft. I lost my swords, I was trying to fight energy attacks with my bare fists and poisons. I remember thinking, ‘well this is bullshit,’ and everything was…increasingly confusing. Just, a huge jumble, purely incoherent in my memory. And the next thing I was clearly aware of was being tiny, and being lowered into a cradle back in my old tower.”

Morenna fell silent, and Tamara didn’t speak. For a long few moments, both simply stared across the rooftops of Kourvald, lost in thought.

“The Empire must not fall,” Morenna finally said. “Deeply flawed thing that it is, if it falls, the suffering will be unimaginable, and it will reach everyone. I’ve spent the last fourteen years as apparently the only person who knows that, and I have no idea how to keep an Empire intact. All I know are some of the specific threats coming for it, and with a lifetime of skill and power under my belt, I think I’m a match for any of them. The only plan I had was to keep you and the others alive so people who understand how this damn thing works can keep it running. Let me tell you, it is not reassuring to learn you were cheating with shadow magic and are just making this up as you go. It’s been a nice vacation, but the violence is starting again, so it’s time for me to work.”

“Vacation?” the Queen repeated with wry amusement.

Morenna smiled faintly. “I’m almost seventy, Tamara. As much as I’m enjoying having strong knees and perfect eyes and being able to eat anything I want before bed and not be up sick half the night… I’m still tired. I never had a place to put down roots. Even the good times were all running and fighting. I’d earned that decade of sitting in my tower, reading and gardening and brewing potions.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing?”

Morenna glanced at her, and then away again.

“The weight of your conscience is your own to deal with, but if it means anything to you… I ended up having a surprisingly decent life last time, and this one has been one long holiday up til last week. I am fine. I was…resentful, for a long time. What you did to me was grossly unfair. But a lot of the heat went out of it the first time I let someone die because I chose my own survival instead. And… After the first time I allowed someone to die because I was just too exhausted and forlorn and numb to keep fighting, I found I couldn’t be angry anymore. I get it now. It doesn’t justify anything, but… Life is hard, and people do terrible things when they’re suffering. None of us are really in a position to judge. I don’t know if that’s the same as forgiveness, but…I suspect it’s just as good. My revenge was never against you, but on a world that made you necessary. I intend to protect peace, no matter who I have to kill for it. And yes, I can hear how dumb that sounds. I…genuinely don’t have a better idea.”

“Perhaps…it’s the most any of us can manage,” Tamara whispered. “Morenna… You’re right. I am making it up as I go—we all are. And just look at you: you say you have no idea how to heal the world, but in just the week since you started trying, you’ve brought your whole family together in a way that nobody across two lifetimes managed. And apparently that’s not even what you were trying to do!”

“It…really wasn’t,” Morenna said with a rueful grin. “Maybe nobody really knows what they’re doing; we just try stuff, and it has the results it has. Well, if I can’t take credit—and I don’t think I can—maybe I shouldn’t cast blame, either.”

She turned and leaned backward against the wall, folding her arms.

“You know, I used to be terrified of crows? I hated them. They roosted in the ceiling of my tower, creepy black shapes making spooky noise. Ever since earliest childhood I loathed them; I used to throw things and scream, try anything to drive them off. Until… In another kingdom, I happened to meet a natural philosopher who was fascinated by crows. He told me all about how clever they are, how much they love their families… How they can not only tell one human face from another, not only remember who’s hurt them and who’s helped them, but warn each other. If you make a friend or foe of a crow, generations of them will remember you as such. So… When I found myself back in that tower, instead of chasing them off the second time, I tried sharing my food with them. Maybe…that’s the secret.”

“I think that it is,” said Tamara, nodding. “That’s the most important thing I’ve learned in only one lifetime. Nothing is certain; all you can truly count on is the people you can count on. Surround yourself with good companions, and everything else…may or may not fall into place, but that’s still your best chance. This time, Morenna…”

She shifted to look at the huge, shadowed bulk of the castle looming behind them—at the narrow shape of Morenna’s tower rising from one corner. It was a dark slash against the stars, but now, one with lights blazing from every window. A warm place held by people waiting for Morenna to come home.

“You found your flock,” Tamara whispered.

Morenna followed her gaze, and a smile crept across her face.

“Huh… I guess I did.”