(If you're lost, refer back to entries for August 13, 12, and 9. Start with 9.)
Eshtine was a woman back then. She was a woman sometimes, when she had to be. She could be a woman or a snake as well as a tigress, as her cousin Neekohl could be a tiger or a man; she had heard recently that he had also learned to be a dolphin, but didnít know if this was true.
She was a woman this time so she could wander through a human village. Her queen had sent her to the Wandererís Fair in the hopes they would be selling bahrahns. They needed more for their treasury; her queen had the bad habit of giving the blood-red gems away to potential allies. ìItís diplomacy,î Veedah had scolded when Eshtine questioned the wisdom of the practice. ìYou might want to learn it.î
ìCareful, ye who walks on legs like sticks,î Eshtine had scolded the deer in return. ìI am more diplomatic than you think. If I werenít, what would keep me from you?î
Eshtine paused at one booth, then another, annoyed by the crowdómostly humans, some animals, some both or neither, hard to tell. The smells and heat of all those bodies made her gasp for breath. She ran her hand appreciatively down some exotic cloth and was accosted by the old woman inside the tent. ìNot for touching! For buying!î she rasped, whapping her hand with a cane. Eshtine glared but caught herself; better to walk away. So she did. If she had had a tail at the time it would have skipped jerkily side to side.
ìA world that wonít remember the horns of unicorns!î she heard a voice like a trumpet sing out. A man was standing on a half-rotted tree stump, leaning on a walking stick. Eshtine noticed people moved more quickly as they passed him, keeping their heads turned away. The man muttered some phrases and shouted others, shaking the stick for emphasis. Curious, Eshtine edged closer until she was the manís only audience. As soon as she was in front of him he swiveled to face her. His eyes were lightless, which made him more of a marvel to Eshtine; she had never seen a blind man before.
ìYou approach so quiet, thinking I canít hear you,î he muttered. ìWill the one with the silent feet listen to my story when no one else will?î He had no trace of his earlier crazed tone now that he was speaking just to her. Eshtine blinked; the change had been so sudden. He did not wait for her to answer, and now he spoke with practiced cadence. ìListen. You know the beginning but I know the end. You talk of how the rock fell, how the water fell, and everything was set in motion. Animals talk of a place of light and how all schemed to remain there longer than any. Let others tell you of the beginningóI tell you of our end.
ìI heard it as a child. I told a younger child to wreck his innocence. An older child had done the same to me.
ìThe ending has already begun. It began before my birth. I know many say that; they mean the end starts at the beginning, perhaps even predates it. I mean to say one thing set the end in motion as sure as that first falling rock set the beginning in motion.
ìThe dragons and the unicorns had a war. Some wonít even believe they are realóî
At this Eshtine laughedóa sharp sound, almost a yelp. Could it be true? The average villager wouldnít have much chance of seeing one, but to use that to disbelieve in unicornsí existence entirelyÖ? She could not wrap her mind around disbelief. The Queen Unicorn, far from being unreal, was perhaps more real than anything she knew. Yes, she was pure annoyance to the tigress, yes, Eshtine felt herself to be in near-total opposition to everything the unicorn stood for, but that was a far cry from nonexistence. On reflection, Eshtine realized the path of her life would have been smoother if the queen hadnít been in it. Perhaps these villagers were lucky.
The man went on as though heíd heard no interruption. ìWhat are we giving our children but a world that wonít remember the horns of unicorns! You think they or dragons could not impact our lives, but I know. I know they are more than hoof and horn, more than teeth and scales. We rely on them in complete ignorance of doing so. If they war, our lives are catastrophe. And they fought a war.
ìThe war was interminable, the opponents too evenly matched to decide any victories incontestably. Each battle brought as high a cost to the victor as to the defeated. Who knows how long such a struggle might have gone on. The Fairy Queen stepped in at last. Oh, you believe in her, all right! You cry when she spins fortuneís wheel against you. Every time you wish someone good luck you are wishing her smile on your neighbor.
The Fairy Queen stepped into the fight at last. Pure, righteous fury she was, brandishing her scepter like a sword. When she appeared between the lines the combatants crushed their own in their rush to fall back. In all of Krohn, no one held as much authority as she; not our king the lion, not any unicorn, not any dragon. It was then as it is now. She halted the war with a word. She pounded the sandy ground with her scepter. The force of the blow fused the sand beneath into glass, cobalt glass stamped with the scepterís design. She lifted the glass high. ëLet this seal your peace,í she said.
ìAs long as this amulet remains in the possession of the one to whom it was given, our freedom from further war like this is assured. But if it is ever lost the dragons and unicorns will surely call her wrath again. That will be the end. One war she allowed themóëbut come to battle again,í she told them that day, ëAnd I will take all magic from you and this land. The unicorns will be but birds of the air, dragons but fish of the sea. With fins and tails one will seek escape, with wings and talons the other will hunt food.í
ìThat will not be their end alone. I know it as few of my kind do. Their magic is our redemption, challenge, protection and test. Their end is the end of all, animal and human alike. Yet I think the Fairy Queen could swing whole worlds around, if she chose, alter moons and stars. She could break the land to pieces floating separate on the sea, elect one of us creatures to be dominant over the others, to rule in the stead of those then goneóbut without their subtle grace, I fear.
ìAnd then I think all of this has already come to pass, that this is why I see it clearly. There must be a multitude of worlds, sibling-lands where sibling-creatures live across from our lives. They and we may be similar in all things but thisósome reach their end sooner than others.î