Intermission #1
(I will be doing narrative intermissions between each new country from now on to explain why she is going to a certain place and how.)
INTERMISSION
The day after Christmas was quiet in the palace. The celebrations and excitement of the day before had faded. Now, early in the morning there was a chill in the air, and the sun slowly rose over the distant mountains, Talena leaned on the parapet and stared out.
“I would like to say thank you for your assistance,” Valeriano said from behind her.
She turned and nodded. “Thank you. So is it official yet?”
“It is. The Council of Regents has decreed that I am to be crowned king since the line of Enrique is no more.”
Talena nodded. “You deserve it. Well done. I guess I should settle in for the long haul.”
The Duke turned King looked uneasy, almost shifty. “It is about that which I wish to talk. The Council had some conditions upon which I am to be accepted. In addition to making my nephew Juan heir, and restoring certain lands taken by the former King, they also mention you.”
“Me?” Talena asked, eyes narrowing.
“Many members of the Council, including the Cardinal of Seville and the Prince of Asturias, feel that you represent a...problem. They feel your example, while noble, sets a bad precedent, and is against both church and the King’s law. They wish you to leave the palace...and Castille.”
“Oh is that so?” Talena fumed. “What do you think? You’re the King now, you make the laws! That’s why you’re King!”
Valeriano offered a shrug as answer. “I cannot dictate to the church. And besides, while you have helped me, I must agree with them.”
“So you’ll do anything for power. Everything for the crown.”
“Be careful, Talena,” Valeriano said sternly. “I have an offer to make to you.”
“And you think I’ll agree to anything you say?” Talena demanded angrily.
“That is your choice, not mine. Do as you wish,” the King retorted. “But I am sending an ambassador to Rome to see the Pope. If you wish you can go with him.”
“Where they will be so much more understanding and open minded?” Talena asked.
“That is my offer, take it or leave it. Either way, you are to be out of my domain by the end of January.”
Talena watched the man go and felt very, very angry. “You’re still living in the Dark Ages, you sexist pig!” she shouted, but fortunately he was gone. And, of course, it was literally true. That only made her more angry.
“I bet if I was John bloody Smith in my place I’d have been made a Duke and given a palace. But oh no, women should stick to their sewing and popping out babies. Well I come from a place and time where more than half the world gets to leave the house!”
No one was listening to her diatribe, which rather annoyed her as well. How could she get properly angry by herself?
Talena rummaged in her pocket and pulled out her voice recorder. It was small and sleek, able to hold hundreds of hours of data in optimal conditions. She weighed it in her hands, as if wanting to toss it away into the gorge. But then, without using it, or anything else, she put it away.
In her own language; a dialect that would exist for centuries, she spoke distractedly. “God damn it. I’m stuck here. Going around and around the world forever like a ghost. Fifteen years...how many more is it going to be?” She stopped. “And I’m talking to myself.”
Going to her pack she pulled out the pistol. She cleaned it every week, and the nine bullets she had left were also checked. It was one of the few things she had left, one of the few things that told her that her childhood was not just a dream.
She toyed with it for a moment. Nothing like this would exist for twelve centuries. It could put a hypersonic slug through an inch of concrete at half a mile. There was a solution to her exile of course...it’d only take one bullet.
“No,” she said aloud, back in Castilian again. “I’m not that desperate,” she decided.
Talena packed the weapon away and headed down into the palace to begin her preparations for the journey to Rome....