Translator Natalia Lilienthal

© Natalie Yacobson, 2024

© Natalia Lilienthal, translation, 2024

ISBN 978-5-0064-6859-7

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Letters of fire

A letter from a secret admirer to Queen Rosamunda

«I breathe fire. One line in this letter is inscribed with my breath. Be careful not to burn yourself on it. I treasure your lovely fingers, though this time they are not cut from the hands of an artist, and your present body is not as beautiful as a succession of previous ones.

Will you say that I’m crazy and that you don’t know what I’m writing about? Think about it, do madmen come out with fiery lines in their letters?

I burned down a whole town for you today. I just breathed on it as I flew over it. Towers and spires and roofs went up like matchboxes. Orange fire snaked across the rooftops and consumed the whole city. This fire is my breath. So watch out for me! Someday I’ll remember all betrayals!

You lock yourself in the palace and think I can’t get to you, but you are sorely mistaken. There is no crevice that my breath cannot penetrate. For it is fire. And I am the fire!

You should not have taunted me for centuries, or our confrontation would not have lasted to this day. You’re responsible for more than one city I’ve burned. You drove me to it! I’ve been able to keep my fire under control myself. When you read this, don’t look innocent and blame fate for sending you a suitor like me. You’re the one who started driving me crazy. You are forgetting that I’m a dragon. Now blame yourself! Someday the whole world will burst into flames with my breath, and you’ll be the only one to blame. But I also have fond memories of you. You have many bodies, you have many faces, you have many names, but you are one to me. No matter how you hide from me, no matter what form you take, I can still smell you even behind stone walls. Because of you, I am rampant, tearing travelers alive and demanding tribute from the surrounding kingdoms. One day it will be your turn. Until then, I hope you have nightmares of dragon claws tearing your tender flesh. You deserve it. It’s foolish to hope you’ll have a conscience about the fire monster you’ve worn down with your beauty and scandalous temper. But I still feel like I’ll forgive you for everything if you ever come to your senses.

In the meantime, I’ll fly to scorch new towns, villages and even flotillas on the high seas. I need to let the anger and the fire out. If you don’t love me, I have no one to pity. Next time the ambassadors bring you news of my atrocities, think hard about the fact that you’re the cause of it all. If you hadn’t hardened the beast, he wouldn’t have been so vicious. By the time you read this, I will be flying in the sky, and the world below will be lying before me like the palm of my hand. So defenseless! It asks for my fire. And I will shower it with fire. I do it in name of love and of hate.

With eternal devotion to you,

Your dragon.»

The last line was written with fire. The letter burst into flames right in her hands as she finished it. Rosamunda was amazed as she was the first time. The letter was no longer the first time. But she hoped each time that the flaming orange line at the bottom would turn out to be just innocent magic. The line glowed and wriggled under her fingers like a fiery snake, burning slightly, hissing, multiplying and crawling between all the lines. As soon as she read the letter to the end, the flames spread to the whole text. The paper was burning. Why didn’t it burn at the very beginning, if the fire had actually been applied to the letter? Doesn’t the dragon’s breath make everything burn instantly? Is that magic? Rosamunda knew magic intimately, but she did not know it.

The letter burned once again. And who delivered it? Rosamunda had found these letters in the most unexpected places. And there’s no way of proving they were there. Only the ashes remain.

It’s a threat! Someone is pretending to be a dragon to get something from the Queen.

He is in her inner circle. He knows she writes poetry and they keep it from her subjects. A poet queen is no good. She should be in politics. But politics is boring. The letter plays up this problem as well. The author hints that all tragedies are caused by her inattention. True, the hints are in the form of allegories. So what! It’s still understandable. Someone, who is close by, is watching her and judging her. That someone must be at court.

We need to check everyone. Find out who’s delivering the letters.

Where do they even come from? It’s like they come from a void in a closed room when no one’s around. For example, when Rosamunda entered her chambers, the place was empty, but when she looked around, there was a letter on the table, and the fiery line in it had a rich orange color.

It would hardly occur to any of the courtiers to play with fire. It would be the same as setting up a fire right on the carpet in her bedroom. It is too risky. A prank like that could set the whole place ablaze. That kind of fire play can only come from someone who’s in control of the fire. The letter’s already burned, but the line «you have many bodies and many faces» came to mind. Is that an allegory, too? Is it a metaphor? She herself was strong in poetic expressions, but this was more like a riddle. What could the lines possibly mean? Many bodies and many faces! Does one have such a thing? There’s only one body. Even werewolves only have one, they just change when they transform.

And what does it mean, «You have many names»? Her name is Rosamunda. There’s only one name! And it is one title. She is Queen Rosamunda of the Dolian family. And she is currently the sole ruler of the thriving kingdom of Dauran.

«Your Majesty!» The worried young page ran in without knocking and immediately blushed with embarrassment, remembering that he had violated court etiquette. But the situation must have been extreme, and that’s what pushed him to do it. He was out of breath and even scared.

«What’s wrong? Did a dragon chase you too?» Rosamunda joked to cheer the boy up, but he was even more frightened by her joke. He even shuddered.

«Oh, you already know!» The page stared at her with such admiration and fear as if the queen had become clairvoyant. Just a little more and he put her palm up to predict his own fate. Rosamunda could hardly keep from scolding him.

«Know about what?»

«There are fires!» The page was again greatly embarrassed. «There are grand fires!»

«Is it in the alchemists’ lab again? I shouldn’t have let them experiment here.»

«No, it’s in the northern provinces.»

«What do you say?» Rosamunda shuddered this time. How much it resembled the text from the letter.

«By the way, you are expected in the council chamber to discuss the situation. I was told to tell you that it is urgent. And your presence is required, Your Majesty.»

The page stuttered and blushed. He had already made many blunders, but Rosamunda paid no attention.

«Tell them I’ll be there soon,» she waved her hand in glittering ringlets only to send the annoying page away. It was a good thing he hadn’t noticed that her fingertips were burned. People usually look at the jewelry rings, not the fingers themselves. It is unlikely that the page who left was an exception and will now gossip that the queen was burned just as her northern lands burned. There must be no gossip. No one should suspect her secret fascination with the basics of magic.

She didn’t want to attend the council, but she would have to. After all, she is the queen. Even if no one is interested in her opinion, according to etiquette she should sit at the head of the table. What’s a council without a queen? And what kind of queen is a queen who doubts her own abilities?

Rosamunda looked at the ashes on the carpet. The sight of it somehow made her fearful.

How to slay a dragon

«It must be a nomadic raid!»

«Or maybe they are warriors from Fallot. There’s a warlike and ambitious queen there.»

«And I hear she’s the one who gets attacked a lot. More likely it’s the king of Sultanit. They say he thinks he’s an all-powerful warrior-sorcerer.»

«Most likely, those tribes that make fires and rock inscriptions are savages from the caves.»

The councilors argued among themselves, and Rosamunda yawned. Only one of them spoke up to the letter she had received.

«And I think it’s a dragon raid.»

Rosamunda looked at the old minister with great interest.

«Why do you think so?»

«Only a dragon can burn down large villages and towns with a single breath. An entire army would not be able to do it so quickly. It would take them at least a day. But here, it all burned down in seconds. There weren’t even any witnesses, except for those who saw the ashes and the toxic smoke billowing above them.»

«If there were no witnesses to the fire, how do we know there was a fire?» Rosamunda misunderstood.

«The poisonous fumes remain only where the area is scorched by dragon fire,» the same old minister patiently explained to her. «The witnesses who inhaled the smoke died of poisoning. And their corpses look strange. The dead bodies are covered in a gray rash, like magical writing.»

«I don’t believe in magic,» Rosamunda hastened to object, remembering that the queen of Fallot had been repeatedly mobbed for being a sorceress.

«But the dragon believes.»

«Show me one living dragon!» Rosamunda had hoped that such a demand would make everyone laugh and lighten the mood. But the old minister’s statement seemed weighty to those around her. A tense silence hung over the council chamber.

«You are young, your majesty…»

Here we go again! Rosamunda felt like slamming her fist on the table so that everyone in the room would go deaf. It’s a pity she’s not a man, a knight in a gauntlet. He’d clean up the mess with a single shout. She could only snap her fingers against the tabletop with all the anger she had built up, and suddenly the tabletop cracked from her light knock. And the table was solid marble! Was she imagining it? But everyone around her saw it too. Suddenly the ministers fell silent. Judging by the expression on their faces, it was not for the first time that they had to observe such miracles on the part of their queen. She did not remember having done such a thing before.

Rosamunda stared at the deep cracks that littered the table. It was going to crumble. The ministers who had been arguing recently were already looking for a place to escape, and the queen was pondering nervously. Where did her graceful hand suddenly have so much strength, and why were the advisors not surprised at what she had done?

«I’m sorry,» one of them mumbled guiltily, then another, and now it was a chorus of apologetic voices.

Are they afraid of her?! It was a surprise to Rosamunda. What could she do to frighten them so? She is not a knight, not a warrior, not a sorceress. But it was hard to be sure of the latter, seeing the work of her hands. Couldn’t a sorceress shatter a large block of marble with a single touch?

It was a pity about the magnificent table. It was an ancient relic of the entire Dolian family that had ruled in Dauran for centuries. A border of ornate symbols stretched along the edges. They meant something, according to the legends. But she couldn’t remember what. Someone, a royal jester it seemed, claimed that the table had been brought back from a military campaign by her ancestor on the shoulders of a captured giant, that it had supposedly been taken from the cave of some ancient serpent goddess, and that the symbols had been engraved on it by industrious Zwergs. Rosamunda did not believe in all these fables. Legends always arise out of bluster and lies to glorify some kings and conquerors. Besides, jesters are not to be trusted. And her jester played often with fire and autumn leaves. He behaved very foolishly and suspiciously. Yes, and about her the troubadours wrote long ballads that were mostly fiction. If she was beautiful, it didn’t mean she had the magic to command the elements. Troubadours make things up to be thanked.

They didn’t make up the table breaking. Well, he’s not such a loss. Rosamunda stood up, pulling back the brocade hem with the ermine trim, and suddenly found that the floor beneath her train was cracked too. They curled under her feet like snakes. Not as deep as in the table, but they could make the whole castle collapse. That’s why the counselors were so scared.

«I don’t feel well today,» Rosamunda felt the ermine’s fur came to life on her collar. The counselors obviously felt the same way, so they backed away.

«Anyone would feel bad when a tenth of his state burned down,» the youngest of the counselors supported the queen. He had just arrived here in place of his father, who had died hunting some strange creature. «You are understandable, my queen. But it’s no trouble. Nine-tenths survived.»

«What is about the poisonous smoke? What if it seeps into the areas untouched by the fires and we all suffocate from it?» An old minister said. «We could all die that way.»

«First of all, I suggest that we eliminate the cause of all this, and then we can think about how to pay for the damage,» Rosamunda said. She was surprised at how attentively she was being listened to. She had often been interrupted before. She even began to pant with the realization of her own weight. Her words were suddenly more important to the council than all other people’s assumptions! And all because the floor beneath her feet is cracking like an earthquake, and the columns are tilting dangerously.

«Let’s say the dragon did attack us. Then think of a way to drive it away. Consult the alchemists, the astrologers. Why do we keep them in the castle? They must know how to deal with this. And if they don’t, legends say that in the old days, knights defeated dragons. And there are plenty of knights here.»

«But your majesty,» the oldest and wisest minister took the liberty of speaking up. «A dragon is not a crow. A scarecrow is not enough to drive it away. I remember we were all very encouraged by your suggestion last year to put up an enchanted net against locusts that were destroying crops in the fields. It doesn’t matter how many maidens died weaving the net. The important thing is that we got rid of the locusts. You probably know some way to kill the dragon, too. It could sleep with your marvelous songs or poems.»

Rosamunda frowned. She didn’t remember anything about any kind of locust net, much less an enchanted one. But she would not make a complete fool of herself and ask the ministers about last year’s events.

«I must think before I give you all an answer,» she said. «In the meantime, gather the militia. If there is a strong enemy, it is worth marshaling troops against him.»