Facing the Twilight

by Rachel Parsons

Chapter 3, Chapter 4
appear in this issue.

Chapter 5

Ambassador Weston entered shortly after the noon hours. I had wanted her during the high point of the second sun, but she demurred. One of my lackeys told me that she had overheard the ambassador mutter something about “appalling eating habits.”

Terrans should talk. I once ate an all-Terran diet and could not stand it for more than a month. I gained fifty pounds, could not gather energy for anything, and my face broke out. That, blissfully, was before my curse, and I could hide my indiscretions. But one of my nipples is still slightly lower than the other because of that ill-advised indulgence. (I had not been aware of this imperfection, but it is one of the things some, shall I say, brunette, people feel compelled to point out when you are naked in their presence.)

Weston sat down on the leather chair facing my desk, and straightened her skirt. “Now, what can I do for your most gracious majesty?”

Take it back about my eating habits, I thought but did not say. “I have interviewed the Summers, your Excellency. And they left, telling me it was you I should interview. That you have a reason to kill your son.”

Henry, who was rolling his head to see if he could knock over egg cups he had stationed just below the step to the lower chambers, put it back on and stared.

“Mother, what is she talking about?”

Weston responded by stiffening her back; reaching in and taking five of the minty pills.

“I scarcely know what that motive would be.” Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. At every crunch, Henry would rotate his head, pop his eyes out of their sockets and wag his tongue. She still ignored him.

“Georgina suggested it was because he was not fathered by your husband and he threatened to tell his father, thereby ruining your career.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing,” Henry said, pulling one foot up until it faced his occipital plate, and then kicking himself with it. He giggled and his mother would jerk at each kick.

“Henry wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing. Besides, the story is simply not true. I was faithful to Cuthbert during our marriage. And Henry is the spitting image of his father.”

At this point, Henry had put on a death smile and was pulling his cheeks out. I repressed a smile of my own, but my stomach almost folded inside out.

“I see. Could it be that your son was a hindrance to your career, or to finding a man? I have heard that women on your world will sacrifice their children for such causes.”

“Not well-bred women,” she answered stiffly. “I loved my son and was happy when Cuthbert bought him out of service. I was upset, very, very upset, when Henry decided to volunteer in spite of this.”

“So I was a soldier!” Henry made a fist and did a circular motion with it.

“So you are saying he was a soldier?’

She shook her head. “No, he just wore the uniform. It was a little like letting your son play dress up. Do you have any children, your highness?”

“My subjects are my children.”

“Hmmm, yes.” The eyebrow went up. You could almost see the snot flow. “Well, when you do, you will realize that sometimes you have to let them pretend. Ask anyone, here or on Earth. I Was A Good Mother To Henry And Miss Him Terribly.” Her comments were the kind card makers embroider on cards, usually in all capitals.

Henry had, at hearing his mother’s remarks, stepped behind her and was making more faces. She still pretended not to see him, belying her words. But she popped a couple more pills. Terrans believe the source of visions is their right cerebral hemisphere and not the gods and that ‘anti-psychotics’ suppress that part of their brains. I was wondering how many more minty treats her right brain could handle.

“May I go now, your highness?” she asked.

“Of course.”

I waved her away. I failed to see the point in continuing. She was likely to deny accusations, or outright lie, as they all had so far. There simply were no witnesses, either living or dead. I wished that my court witch, Arianrhod, were present to help me unravel the vibrations, but she had been summoned to give a presentation on candle divination before a witch’s gathering. I was getting frustrated.

The ambassador nearly stumbled on a plank. Terran women wear shoes with heels that challenge the balance. Seeing Henry gesticulate also seemed to challenge her sense of balance.

“Damn it!” Henry yelled, as the ambassador closed the door behind her. “I thought sure I was a soldier. What is with my memory?”

“I told you, as you are further from your life, your memories will fade. Eventually, only the love will remain.”

“I do not feel much love now. Only bewilderment and anger.”

“I hope to change that. Now, do whatever it is good little ghosts do. I need to think.”

To be continued...