when the evening pulls the sun down - diplomats, shatter me

when my time comes around
lay me gently in the cold dark earth
Tolerating the climate of places that he goes is part and parcel of being a diplomat, and while Errant is more amenable than the average horse, he always misses the Tundra. It’s been warmer there this last year, his gift to Lea, but the snow still falls year round. He is thinking of snow just as Eld is, so when the small flakes begin to drift down from the summer sky, Errant only raises his head to watch them fall. He has never made a secret of his magic, knowing that its existence alone keeps the Tundra off the radar of kingdoms looking for easy pickings. Snow is easy enough – he knows it better than most anything else, and it is only water (of which there is plenty in the Falls).

It is too warm for the flakes to last, but they are pretty as they fall, sparkling in the bright sunlight before they disappear. The cold breeze that Eld had imagined is more permanent, a cool rush that blows back Errant’s mane until he is comfortable. “I think I’ll be alright,” He says with a wry smile, and lets the breeze fade as they are approach by another mare.

There are those monarchs who care little for their titles, who do not stand on consequence and invite their subjects to call them by name. Errant, as the elected leader of the men in the north, is such a monarch; he responds to ‘brother’ as readily as his own name. But Shatter Me is no man of the Tundra, and so when the silver queen speaks, the black stallion offers a brief smile and says: “King Errant.”

She apologizes for her lack of diplomatic actions which Errant acknowledges with a dip of his dark head, the same nod that he gives to Eld to show his ascent to her staying to witness the conversation. He has nothing to say that he would mind the world hearing; treaties and alliances tend to be general knowledge anyway.

“The Tundra is doing well, growing.” Such is not always true for the wintery kingdom, but Errant is pleased that it is, at least for now. “I sent Brennen and Nihlus to arrange an alliance, but they told me of your new stipulations and your request that a member of our kingdom stay in the Falls.” He pauses for a moment, waiting to see if Shatter Me will correct him, but knowing that he remembers what his diplomats had told him with perfect clarity. He remembers more than they had told him too, of course, but he prefers to trust what they had told him and not what he had seen.

“With the recent shift in the distribution of Beqanna’s magic, I imagine that we have at least minor turbulence to expect in the coming years.” The Valley is calling for mutiny and the Chamber plans to steal children and beat women, but Shatter me does not need to hear that, not when knowledge is so closely tied to power. “I wouldn’t ask any member of my kingdom to live in a place that is not their home, especially not during times like these. Is having someone here a necessary term to an alliance with the Falls?” He dooes not ask about a treaty, because Brennen had made it clear that a shared treaty no longer meant access to the waters. The Tundra is not in dire need of the healing waterfall, but he’d rather hear what Shatter Me has to say before he plays his hand.

e r r a n t

no grave can hold my body down
i'll crawl home to her