Nanoseconds of Musing

The Web Unspun

It was nearly a week now and she still had not emerged from her rooms.

She could vaguely hear far-off sounds, pacing in the corridor, nervous and hesitant taps on the door, but none dared intrude.

I'm sure others too miss the wise counsel he had always received from Raina – but none could feel the depth of her pain. They all murmured useless platitudes, pointed out irrelevant facts: sure her end had been violent and unexpected, but these things happen. One never expects them to happen to oneself, but one cannot escape unscathed from Fate’s pointing fingers, it would alight on each some day, some earlier than others.

"Before her time", "In the prime of life", these were meaningless remarks; when it came, the call was inexorable, not one tear, not one heart-rending plea of those left behind could alter it by one second.

Crona should know that better than most, she herself had been born to one who became widow first, the mother scant hours later and at last lifeless in an even shorter spell. Poor Crona, bereft of father before birth, and of mother scarcely an hour later.

Her mother had just time and breath enough to swaddle her child and bestow a kiss of benediction, “Despite all, the time of her birth is an auspicious one, call her Crona, she shall be as dependable as Time itself, and when it is deemed fit, time shall show why I named her so.”

Then she had lain back on her pillow and turned her head to the hills outside – the nurses said they had heard a horse neigh loudly outside, they had run to the window but had seen nothing, no one. When they looked back, she was gone, a faint smile on her pale lips, her eyes fixed on the window and what only she must have seen there.

For it was on those hills that her husband had been hunting when he had fallen from his horse, breaking his neck as his heel caught in the stirrup and he landed head first.

Crona wondered what her mother had seen at that moment, how she had been so confident that Crona would prove of momentous importance. Orphaned at birth, and doubly bereft now, without the guiding influence that had ruled all her forty-five years of life, she felt as though disemboweled, hollowed out from within. The heart beat on, oblivious to the fact that the body itself was already embalmed,

The brain protested faintly at that, the pain it felt was real, hence the person was still there, the heart was justified in doing its job, waiting for life to return to the now limp extremities.

Yes, reasoned Crona, the end will come when I cannot feel, cannot grieve, cannot determine why such a thing came to pass.

Always, always she used that drape at Gathering night, Raina did all her work with just that drape next her skin. It garnered energy and channeled it to the herbs she gathered for various Casts, whilst that energy at the same time was that kept from touching Raina's body itself, somehow impervious yet conducive at the same time.

It must be a waxing gibbous moon, spilling pearly light. It must be cloudy and brooding rain, a thunderous one was better than just a spitting wet storm. It must be also alone, but Tank often went with her.

Crona stroked the large grey cat that draped itself on her lap, baleful amber orbs still and watchful.

Raina's cat, Cantankerous was his name and he had allowed none to pet him, ever. Not before today. Even now, he seemed not to welcome it, but to be indifferent to it, he might as well have said, “Do whatever you want to me, nothing matters now.”

It had been a wild and thundery night, the sky rent with brilliant silvery flashes that created magical tributaries of power across a purple sky, for just an instant before burying it all in the wet bosom of the earth, only to gather itself for another assault that followed. But, Raina had always gloried in such nights, secure from many unscathed outings in it.

Crona rocked back and forth as she repeated, Alone, always alone. I promised I wouldn’t tell. I promised, Mica. Even now I cannot break that promise.

Liefel stood just outside the door, the door which had not been opened to any till now and the keening wail was audible to him even though the its thickness, He wondered how he could help his nurse, the one who had been more a mother to him than any other, although barely out of her teens when he had been born. She had devoted herself to his care - his mother had told of many offers she had refused because marriage would take her away for Raina and her beloved Mica.

:Crona, he tapped at the door, she would not deny him entrance. She might refuse to come out or eat, or even talk, as she had every day before this, on every occasion in those days when he had knocked thus at her door.

The bolts were undone and the door swung open of its own weight, he pushed it open to show a Crona kneeling at the window seat, one arm and head pillowed on the cushions, where often she had sat at Raina's feet.

She was muttering to herself all the ifs and buts that could have saved her sister. From forcing her sister to take her along on her regular herb-gathering visits, on counseling her not to shelter under tall forest denizens in a storm, on being on the spot to have healed her when there was still a spark of life in the body, to a thousand other scenarios that did not end with finding her huddled under the hulk that had been Old Mighty, now a fallen across the path. She had been unscathed by the fall but had probably been directly struck by the lightning, the hood of the drape fallen back and the blackened lunate scar over one eyebrow the only mark on her serene face.

Later they found a similar scar in the end of the drape, the portion, she would have drawn over her forehead to allow the water to stream away from her eyes.

Liefel felt his own heart constrict in empathetic grief, felt it writhe in guilt at being able to beat when one so much better had been stilled forever. He too wished the deed undone, he too would have paid any price for reversing the deed, but he had come out of his loss easier because so many others depended on his calm head and reasoned action.

How does one save one's loved ones from the vagaries of Fate, one cannot, no matter how skilled, extend Life when it escapes the body instantaneously. Healing is for slow ebbing, from disease or injury that give one the luxury of time and opportunity. How can the cold of logic warm a heart chilled by loss?

Liefel did not make the mistake of taking his old nurse in his arms, no matter how much he wanted to do so. It would be like trying to pat a porcupine, no matter that the animal was keening its grief.

He just sat there, quiet, but there, as the regret poured out in bursts until it was all spent.

Then he leaned forward until his lips were at her ear, “ If someone knew, Crona, then you wouldn’t be telling.”

Wild eyes rolled into his, locking a hopeful soul to his next words.

“Yes, I knew that Raina procured this material from the House of Ness about twelve years ago, when I was married but a month or two. I know she used it to further her powers of forecasting the Future. I know there was much she found to trouble her. I do not know more, and I miss her too.”

The walled part of her heart was breached with those words, the feelings gushed out and her body was wracked with convulsive sobs as she collapsed in a heap on the carpet, wailing like the bereft tortured creature that she was.

Liefel, moved closer and lifted her into his arms, when she eventually cried herself out his shoulder was a convenient rest for her spent and weary head. One arm still holding her close, the other smoothed back her mass of tumbled curls, her usually immaculate bun had descended into the wild freedom of her younger days – indeed she looked childlike and vulnerable despite her years.

“Crona, you can confide your fears in me, I think I know one half of the story and you the other, and Raina had us both sworn to secrecy. But, in this case, guessing would be harmful, keeping silent would make a bad situation worse.”

One last loud blowing of her nose was completed, on the cloth she always carried tucked at her waist; Crona dragged another corner of that large square across her cheeks and eyes before she spoke.

Mica, Mica. I think I know why she died. Raina, I mean. It was the cloth!

What mean you, it was the cloth? She was struck by lightning, not choked or strangled?

Nay, the cloth was Merkelen and from Ness for a reason – she told me that it had to be from whole fibers, to make it impervious to something. Her exact words were that it had to be of whole fibers, or else it would not repel…

So? It was from Ness, they guarantee that.

Yes, but you see, she saw a tiny defect at one edge, but thought it could not be a break, for those show up against the light as streaks. This was a mere dot.

Liefel waited, there must be more.

But, what if we aren’t aware of the capacity of skilled weavers to hide defects, what if there was a break? What if the cloth did not protect as she thought it would? What if that was why she was struck? What if it attracted the energy?

Crona, it does no good to think that way, there are always ifs and buts, if this had not happened and if that had not been done, our loved one would be still with us.

We must get on with life and let her live on through us.

But Mica, I can see the defect plainly now, the bolt DID strike exactly there, and the mark on her forehead matched the scorches there. Ness ARE responsible for her untimely death.

Dearest, even if some weaver did hide that defect, and you may be sure I will get to the bottom of that, what would you have me do?

Make them aware that anything less than a full disclosure can have grave consequences, that they should not have let us assume it was a flawless piece.

But, Crona, did Raina tell anyone that it was life-threatening to have the fibers cut? Having them whole is important only so they retain their unique light emitting property, which makes them valued by the elite or rich customers. One cut fiber would not have dimmed that much. How were they to know?

As Crona opened her mouth in protest he held up his hand, Don’t talk to me of their proclaimed WHOLE without HOLES or the Make without Break guarantee! Guarantees are just words - what they will fulfill IF someone brings the lapse to their notice, otherwise it is a standard, met in the usual circumstances. But, mistakes happen, were they made aware of the consequences of any such lapse?

Nooo … I don’t believe Raina even made that clear to me, why it was so important. It is only from examining the cloth, her wounds and the memory of that one vague half-sentence she uttered that I have deduced as much as I have. Perhaps, she too just assumed.

Very well, it was an error and one that proved costly, but the inquiry must be gentle and thorough. Leave it to me to set someone to probe for answers, but without letting them know the gravity of their error.

Another thought revolves in my mind of how we can use this apparent aberration, the imperviousness and the vulnerability too.

For what, Mica?

For weaponry, dear. A new kind, therefore one against which the defenses shall be weak.

Liefel settled into a thoughtful reverie thereafter and Crona just remained kneeling at his side, the tips of the fingers of her right hand resting on his shoulder, giving support and seeking it.

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