Frank Tuttle - Brown River Queen

“So is the missus going to find herself a widow?”

“No. Of course not. I’ve grown rather fond of you, Captain. And by now I’m sure you’ve also surmised that Encorla Hisvin and her madness is no more me than Stitches and her sewn-shut eyes.”

“I thought as much.”

“The Corpsemaster has nearly served her purpose,” she said. “Stitches will rise as the Corpsemaster fades. And so forth, as needed. My peers fail to recognize the need to periodically re-invent themselves. They wear the same cloak of identity so long it drives them quite mad in the end.”

“All that about the world of the summer-born? That was all true?” I hesitated. “Just how old are you, Lady?”

“One never asks a lady her age, Captain. I shall not answer that, save to say I have on no other occasion enjoyed an evening aboard a boat in wait of a river.”

“That was a real huldra, wasn’t it?”

She sighed. “No. It was not. And the Regent’s creature played no role in its efficacy.” She sighed again. “You have earned the truth.”

My heart sank.

“I still carry it, don’t I? The one I crushed and burned. It’s still inside me, waiting.”

“It is more precise to say you are the huldra, Captain. That is why the Elf burned.”

“So why not just throw me at Hag Mary? Why all this?” I gestured out at the newborn lake, its waters still struggling to rise.

“The huldra is old, Captain Markhat. Older than I. It came down through many summers, many winters. I spent centuries trying to discern its true nature, unlock its secrets.”

“Find a way to tame it, you mean.”

She shrugged. “In essence. It defied my attempts. Remained capricious.”

“So you pushed it off on me. And then made sure I was handy when it came time to make use of it.”

“We would not have survived the impact of what you call the sky-stone without the huldra’s stored energies.” She waved her fingers at me and mouthed words I couldn’t hear. “If it is any consolation, for the first time since you took it up, I can detect no trace of the huldra within you now. I suspect confronting the impact destroyed it completely. You are free.”

“Mr. Simmons. He did spit in my eyes, didn’t he?”

She smiled. “Daroth was always fond of poisons. I merely took precautions against such.”

I looked out over the infant lake, wondered what it would look like in fifty years, in a hundred. There’d be boats, I decided. Boats and docks and tanned kids laughing on the shore and patient fishermen hunched over their lines.

“Was it true what you said, about the times when the summer-born critters walk? That the world is a waking nightmare?”

“Yes.”

I let out the breath I’d been saving. Maybe it was true, that we’d struck a blow against slumbering monsters. And maybe, if that was true, I could forgive the odd lie, or three.

“I think we should name it Victory Lake,” I said. “Before someone starts calling it Mud Bend or Reek Hole.”

“Victory Lake,” said the erstwhile Corpsemaster, whose name I realized I would probably never know. “I believe I like that. Very much indeed.”

Laughter and cheering sounded as the Queen’s casino doors flew open. Darla’s voice rang out, and she walked a tad unsteadily toward me, a pair of tall beer glasses in her hands.

Stitches, Stitches once more, rose.

Good evening, Darla, she said.

“Stitches! So good to see you up and about. Are you rested?”

I feel a thousand years younger. Perhaps more. She picked up her plate and teacups, and after a moment she cast them all over the rail. Good evening, you two. I believe I will go watch Mama Hog and Mr. Prestley pretend to despise each other.

Darla sat and watched her go.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” she said.

“Not at all.” I took a sip of beer and grinned. Darla had found the good stuff. Even the Dutson-imposter hadn’t cracked the best casks.

Poor Dutson. We’d found him in the false boiler Evis had given me the key to. Evis and I did the best we could, laying him to rest.

Darla tweaked my nose. “Uh uh,” she said, grinning. “No poignant reflecting tonight. We’re both here, both alive, and as soon as we have a lake under us we’re both heading home.”

The doors opened again. I heard Mama bellow Buttercup’s name, heard Evis and Gertriss laughing, heard footfalls on the deck heading our way.

I lifted my glass in a toast.

“Together, my dear. To the Queen’s maiden voyage. To victory over the forces of evil. And mainly to our thousand crown fee, forever may it wave.”

Darla raised her glass with mine. “Captain Markhat, I will always drink to that.”