†
Temblor's brow arches as she answers his question with unself-conscious nonchalance. Prime Minister not once, but twice, and with a gap between each time she held her station. He wonders how rank is determined here— through challenge, or debate? He is impressed by her victories even before knowing the means through which she obtained them. And, how lucky for him to stumble across such a figurehead, someone as familiar with the machinations of this herd as the mountain itself, someone with a deep attachment to this land —her Peak— and roots that must run deep. Even when she speaks of family drawing her away from this mighty range, it's this mountain she calls home.
The word stirs loss within him. He doubts he will ever return to where he came from, and so can no longer claim that land and those horses as home. It is jarring to acknowledge that he has no home. A territory, yes, in Paradise, but that land lies yet empty. It is a hollow thing, waiting to be filled or discarded. Temblor feels no more attachment to it than he might a tree, or a boulder, or the clouds overhead.
He listens as she relays what she knows of Rougaru. He learns little more about the ghost-stallion than he has from anyone else, but is intrigued at her mention of a Codebreaker and General— both hers, and again he wonders, were these titles obtained, or perhaps bestowed by Oswin? He must assume they are high-ranking individuals, and from there his mind leaps to the possibility that Rougaru's disappearance might not have been voluntary. If it had been known he intended to begin a war (and given the way Oswin admits to a poor gut-reaction upon meeting the man), it might not be farfetched to infer that he had been taken care of, quietly, before he could incite further violence upon these Islands. He glances sidelong at the pale, cream-draped mare walking at his shoulder and wonders if she would be capable of assassination, or if that is a task she would leave to the two she traveled with that day —if, indeed, such a thing had happened at all.
"I've never met him," Temblor replies, setting his conjecture aside. "But it seems every horse I meet asks after him, and all seem surprised he no longer rules Paradise. I thought it worth asking about when you didn't bring him up first." He pauses then, angling his hind hoof to rest his hip as the angry throb reasserts itself in his flank. He'll need to rest on the Crossing, perhaps overnight, before attempting the swim back to Atlantis.
"This has been enlightening, Oswin, and I thank you for both your hospitality and your time. I'd like to come again, if I may, and take you up on your invitation to see the Peak." He'll have more questions then, he is sure. Perhaps more free time, too, if he persists in choosing isolation. An empty territory means little responsibility, and little vulnerability, but there is a cost to that, one he weighs carefully in the back of his mind as he stretches his nose cordially toward the Prime Minister in farewell.
TEMBLOR
& swallows you whole
|
|