Short Story: Seven Clever Children

“Take a daughter.” The High King suggested. “Your Papa’s got no male heirs left, hmm? This is a chance, your only chance, to seat one of our girls on a throne.”

A clever observation. Her husband knew exactly how she felt about women with crowns. He’d been a perceptive young man when he’d courted her, and he’d only grown sharper with age. But the Queen had a duty to be objective. If a son suited her father’s throne best, it would have to be a son.

The Garden of the Heirs was surrounded by large walls and a hedge chock full of thorns. The only place where you could view it was a window of fine crystal, shaped to act as a lens to view the children below. The Queen couldn’t hear a thing down there, but her husband dismissed the concern with a wave of his cigar.

“Clever our children may be, Rosette, but they’re still children. One whelp’s chatter is painful enough, at length. Seven at once? I can’t even imagine.”

She put her head in her hands and peered down. The sword instructors had all taken their leave, one of them having to shake a girl off their leg in the process. Indaya, number six, was laughing madly. The gap in her teeth showed as she kicked at the grass and spun her arms in a circle. The only one of her girls to take to swordplay, to the Queen’s disappointment. Indaya seemed perfect for a moment: a blank slate. Young enough to be shaped however one wished.

But she would miss her twin badly. And the Queen knew she could not risk a blank slate. Not to rule Muria, a cold and bitter land, with its people coldest and most bitter of all.

She had so many fond memories of the place, nonetheless. Playing with her brothers in newly made snowdrifts. A world apart from Sunwick, this nation of humid summers and people who giggled far too much. Her memories brought her back to the present. To her brothers, who had all gone out together to war. Who had died together, there.

And to her seven beautiful children, playing below. Six of whom she may have to leave forever.

She did not blame the High King for his ultimatum. He had his own vast lands to consider. And choosing more than one would defeat the purpose of her choice. One heir for Muria. She had to be certain, or the Lords would smell her doubt.

Her gaze went to her eldest, and most beautiful. Dear, dear Rue. Her hair shone like dark gold, and even through the window the Queen could catch faint notes of her singing, more melodious than any bard she’d listened to. But Rue treated her sword as a prop more than a weapon, and it was telling her husband had not tried to convince his wife to take her.

Rue sat amongst the flowers, still singing. The eldest royal’s hand stroked the hair of the youngest. Violo stared up at his sister with milky white eyes, utterly content.

Orland’s movements caught her eye. Her second child stood straight, still clad in his training gear long after his siblings had all thrown it off from the heat. She caught sweat glistening from his hair as he spun and moved with his blade, practicing each move the instructors had taught him bare minutes ago.

A quiet boy, and polite. Her husband loved him dearly. As the eldest son, he’d most certainly be groomed as his heir. The High King caught her gaze and grinned.

“Look at him, Rosette! You can’t teach that kind of determination. He’ll outmatch his father before he turns thirteen, I have no doubt at all.”

She caught a flash of movement, coppery red hair heading towards the hedge. Gesian pulled away loose leaves and twigs he’d no doubt stowed there himself to reveal a hole in the foliage. From above, the King and Queen could see the maids busy picking cherries from the adjoining orchard. They didn’t seem surprised at all; in fact a few laughed and moved to meet Ges as he waved at them.

The Queen ground her teeth. “How was that not covered up before? If there was an assassin…”

The King gave a long, low whistle. “Quiet, dear. I want to see what he’s doing with that shirtpin. Why, I think that’s mine!”

Said shirtpin was exchanged for a large basket of cherries that only just fit through the gap. The Queen’s eyes narrowed. Her husband only laughed. “I have a dozen just like it. Never would have noticed, if it weren’t for the window. And it’s not like we spend many afternoons watching the children, as it is....”

Ges cheerfully shared out the spoils, giving Indaya and Violo an extra helping. Then he sidled up to Bellendra. It ashamed the Queen a little that she hadn’t even noticed her fifth daughter before. Bel’s dark curls were upturned in all directions. She’d rolled out a scroll, making markings on the white sand beside it with a child’s concentration. It looked like mathematics. Or was it a map?

The High King put an arm around his wife. “Out of the girls, I think Bel would be best for you. She has the fire.”

“Too much of it,” Her mother sighed. “She’ll never compromise, not even on the slightest thing. She’s rude to the servants, and will turn her nose up at any visitors. That much arrogance won’t stand in Muria. But… perhaps…”

Gesian handed some cherries to Bel, which she accepted with quiet dignity. He was older than her by a year, but he looked the younger one in both height and bearing. Ges licked red juice off his lips and peered at her markings, reaching out with a finger to change a symbol. His sister looked bewildered, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Dare I say the boy’s actually picked something up from his lessons?” The King wondered. “Ah, no. Wait.”

Bellendra pored over the scroll, then glared at her brother and gave him a clout on the head. Ges covered his head, laughing, as she carefully changed back the symbol.

The High King tapped his Queen’s shoulder. “If there’s one child I’d recommend, Rosette, it’s this one.”

Yvain reached out and grabbed the basket, gobbling up the remaining cherries before Ges could reach them. He had his father’s dark hair and green eyes. Gesian’s smile and Orland’s proud bearing. Some would say the best of both his brothers.

The Queen hesitated. “There’s a darkness in him, Gio. I don’t know…”

The father patted her back reassuringly. “He’s ruthless, for certain. But all the best rulers have a touch of that in them. And sure, you won’t find a soul in the palace who’ll trust him. But in a frozen wasteland like Muria? He will survive there, I promise. Even thrive.”

She pursed her lips, but didn’t argue. It was true all the famous conquerors of history needed a hard heart at times. Wrollo the Wreaker, Emperor Justel….

The older boys had all gathered together in the center of the garden, leaning on their wooden swords and talking. Ges made a few halfhearted thrusts at Yvain, who batted them aside with a roll of his eyes. Little Indaya had dropped her own little practice blade and stumbled over to the rack, where she pulled out the largest and thickest of the wooden blades. It was a miracle she could lift it at all, let alone swing it around as she toddled through the garden.

With one of her spins, she whacked Gesian on the leg. He scowled at her, rubbing his ankle as his brothers guffawed. But Indaya hadn’t learned her lesson, and with her next wild swing whacked Orland right on the rump.

It was hilarious, and even the Queen had to stifle back a laugh. But her Orland, her sweet Orland, looked at his little sister with a face of murder. A look that would haunt his mother for years to come. He raised his wooden blade.

The Queen stood to call a guard, but her husband grabbed her arm.

Gesian blocked the sword, the force of the blow knocking his own blade out of his arms. The three brothers stared at each other. Then Ges picked up his sister and ran. He was smaller, and much faster than his brothers. But he was burdened by a wriggling Indaya in his arms. To his credit, he didn’t hesitate a second.

He stumbled right towards the hedge, clearing the sticks and stones away and shoving Indaya through the hole. The Queen saw the girl squeal, but she did as she was bid, going through the thorns and leaves till she reached the orchard on the other end.

Yvain’s smile was calm, almost casual as he walked beside his older brother. The Queen could not see Orland’s face from the angle of the window. Yet Ges blanched, and ran towards the side.

“Surely we can put an end - “ The Queen began, then her eyes widened as Gesian leapt at the wall, and started pulling himself up through nooks and crannies she hadn’t even noticed. She had to peer all the way down to even get a glimpse of him.

The King cackled. “He’s got some of the mountain blood in him, eh? I knew it, the moment he was born a carrot-top.” She couldn’t even spare the attention to glare at him, because Gesian was making astonishingly sound progress. In a moment or two, he’d be close enough for her to open the window and grab him.

Then he reached up and gripped the final ledge, trying to get himself over it. But she hadn’t even realized the obstacle, the purple moss too common for her to even remember its existence. It was at a miserable angle on the ledge, utterly invisible from below. Moist from the rain, sticky and slippery in equal measure. He scratched at it, trying to get a proper grip, and his head had almost come up when she opened the frosted window just a crack.

The window was shaded. No one could see inside. But the Queen could swear she saw the pain in her Gesian’s eyes as he fell. She opened her mouth in a scream that began in a sigh of relief as he landed in the puffy bushes kept next to the hedge. He looked unhurt, but when he saw Orland and Yvain he started scrambling to untangle himself from the branches.

Not quick enough. Not nearly.

Rosette let out a strangled cry. But the High King only sighed. “Stepping in will only mean they’ll come back behind closed doors., dear. He has to learn this lesson on his own.”

“How can you be so blind, Gio? He won’t learn. He can’t!” She could see in Gesian’s eyes, clearly as she knew herself. In the angry tears running down his cheeks as he covered his head. His hunched up shoulders, as he took the brunt of each blow. He’d break before he’d bend.

Something softened in her husband’s eyes, as he looked down. “Then maybe that will teach him something, too.” He looked up at his wife. “I hope I’m not mistaken in your choice.”

“No!” She snarled, wiping her cheeks furiously with a handkerchief. “No. I won’t take Ges there. They’ll break him. I know it. He deserves better.”

Rue called something out from amongst the flowers, but she simply held Violo tight and didn’t get up. The little boy stared sightlessly towards the hedge, but kept his silence. And Bellandra, her clever Bellandra, was scratching numbers and figures feverishly, not even looking up.

Yvain at last stepped between his brothers, hauling Orland away as Ges brought himself up to his feet, shaking with every movement.

“You do Gesian an injustice.” his father said at last. “He kept his sister safe, did he not? And he would have saved himself, had it not been for the moss.”

The Queen cursed that purple gunk with every mite of her being. It was the easiest to hate.

The High King kissed her forehead. “You’ve told me stories of your homeland. From what it seems to me, it has had its fill of great kings. Perhaps it needs a good one. And if there’s anyone who can warn Gesian of the moss in the world, it would be you, my love.”