Jackal Among Snakes

Anneliese pushed open the fur flap of a traditional Veidimen tent, walking within. The first thing she saw was a wood-burning iron stove, its makeshift chimney piping smoke through a hole in the top of the circular tent. These dwellings could be constructed in thirty minutes by veteran Veidimen, and the fur padding outside and wood stove could stave off the coldest conditions. It brought back memories, and seemed far out of place in the warmth of the summer they found themselves in.

Next, her mother fell into sight: Kressa. She was short for a Veidimen, not at all like long-legged Anneliese. Even still, that placed her a little above six feet. She had bright white eyes and golden blonde hair kept at shoulder-length. She looked a little heavier than Anneliese remembered. The probable explanation for that sat in her hands—a newborn child.

“Anneliese,” Kressa said, her voice bright with genuine surprise. “I didn’t think you’d come. Much less alone.”

Anneliese kept her feet firmly rooted to the ground as she replied, “Dras said you asked me to come alone.”

“Well… yes, I did. But you never listened to me in the past,” Kressa shook her head, then when the baby in her hands made a noise, soothed it quietly. “Look. Your baby sister, Rache,” she said, holding the child out slightly.

Anneliese looked at the little girl wrapped in furs. Though she had Kressa’s eye and hair color, she recognized bits and pieces of her mother’s husband in the facial features. She refocused on her mother and said, “I thought that Dras was talking about Jirella.”

Perhaps I set myself up for disappointment thinking that she would come, Anneliese reflected, but left those words unspoken.

“The day you left without a word was the day we found out I was pregnant with Rache,” Kressa continued. “You can’t blame Jirella for being upset.”

Anneliese sighed and turned on her heel towards the entrance.

“Don’t go,” her mother called out with some urgency, stepping forward. “Don’t go, please. I didn’t come here to fight.”

Anneliese paused and looked back. Her mother’s genuine plea brought her pause, and she hesitantly stepped away from the entrance.

“It was very difficult for me to muster the courage to come here again,” Kressa said with a tremoring voice. “This place brings back only bad memories. The unending green, the people… we barely survived.”

Annelise swallowed, looking down at her mother. “Then why did you, exactly? I have some trouble understanding it.”

“Because I don’t want to part,” Kressa said simply. “You’re my daughter. You’re my family. We can’t just never speak again—that’s not right.”

Anneliese stood silently, blinking as she waited for her mother to continue.

“Word of you reaches home very often,” Kressa continued, looking to her child and lightly swaying. “And look at you. You look wonderful. Apparently, Rowe the Righteous tells all those he teaches that they’re drooling imbeciles compared to you. He gave my mother a real dressing down when she fought back,” she laughed.

Anneliese chuckled quietly.

“I was really glad that she got taken down a peg. I can’t remember how many times she did the same to me. Ah, but… don’t mistake me,” Kressa said. “I’m not here to ask you for anything, or… or take advantage of you, or anything like that. I just… I was very sad when you left. I cried enough your father thought I would miscarry.”

“My father’s dead,” Anneliese shook her head.

Kressa’s face tightened. “You know what I meant. My husband.”

Anneliese nodded calmly.

Kressa stared for a few moments, then said, “Dras claims you’re getting married.”

the Veidimen

remember in my time here… anyone that spoke ill of the king was hated. Everyone answers to him. But you… you’re so talented, smart, beautiful… I think you’re the reason he is where he is, hmm?” She smiled up at Anneliese sincerely, the spitting image of a proud mother. “Your father… your real

crossed her arms and shifted away on her

husband-to-be?” Kressa pressed. “If not, perhaps you

brow, minutely surprised. She slowly lowered her

stepping back towards the stove. “Shall we meet him? Or maybe we can

little more inside the tent. “I fear I cannot,

of me,” Kressa shook her

I must attend to with Argrave. I’m afraid

then?” Kressa tilted

busy,” Anneliese shook her head. “Perhaps I can write, but

Kressa said with a tight voice. Anneliese eyed her cautiously as her mother continued, “I fed

rubbed between her eyes to ward that away. Old patterns realigned in her head, and as they did, she remembered the best solution. “Goodbye, Kressa,”

Anneliese did not change course, and so she spat, “All I did for you, and you’ll never show me one ounce of affection? That

past

#####

left. Could fit him in my hand. Now…” Galamon looked off to the side. “I think I’m just a big man called ‘father’ to him. Missed so much. So much I

respond. Instead, he asked, “But Muriem…

lowered his head and grinned.

I told you

his cold white eyes upon Argrave. “But it hasn’t. It’s

why I was hoping to get some details about what—" he trailed off as Galamon’s head whipped to the

to the tent and stepped in quickly. She paused when she saw Galamon

time,” Galamon said, rising from his chair. He

walked to Argrave as he rose to his feet. She rubbed her eyes hard, looking as

said, wrapping his

full of rocks. I struggle to keep

on the back of her head and jostled it lightly. “Seems normal to me. Might be cement

turns to acid. Such a hatred, just as pure as the love had been. I got out before it got as bad as it usually does, but… hah. Historically, I know it

of her head,

me tight… but the inverse came

basked in the silence, then thought of something.

“Yeah,” Anneliese finished.

took a deep breath. “Damn, I’m… I’m sorry,

into his shoulder. “Maybe I

his head. “Don’t

with one tragedy, turned it into five or six by weakness of will.” She shook her head. “Self-pity

that a lesson for me?”

would not have come this far,” Anneliese told him,