“Of course. I am in love.” Even now the admission
came hard.
“That is always trouble. Unrequited, I assume.”
“Strangely, yes. Can you imagine my love not being
returned?”
“By now, it is easier to imagine than it once was; habit
and repetition make all realities seem more real.” Seeing
the stag tense, the king added hastily, “But because it was
true long ago, and for your feelings now, let us say it
seems unimaginable.”
“It does.” The stag tossed his head. “I will, of course,
want revenge for my hurt feelings.”
“Feelings?” The king struck one shadowy arm with
another. The blow left no mark, and the king’s expression
did not change. “You can still speak of feelings?”
“I can.” The stag looked away. “I prefer to speak of
them, though I still have them.”
“Time changes feelings. Time may change all things,
even us.”
“Time has not changed what we do, nightly.” The stag
turned his head, briefly, to look at the north star. “I do not
think it can change what I am, nor will it change what I do.
I choose, again, to betray the one whom I – the one whom I
should obey.”
“Another might not so choose. Even you, after some
consideration, might not.”
When the stag did not respond, the king continued, “Tell
me, though you have told me often before: is this a lover
one could betray to hunters?” “One could. Does that
surprise you?” “No more than it surprises me that you
would.” Without warning the stag lashed out at a sapling
with one of his front hooves. The kick left a sharp imprint
in the wood. “How could she have refused me? How can
she refuse me?” He kicked again, splintering the small tree.
“How DARE she refuse me?”
He stood trembling with anger, then mastered himself.
“Excuse me,” he said to the king. “I’m not myself today.”
The king said heavily, “I rather fear that even after ages
of punishment, you are still yourself.”
“Perhaps you are right. Still, I like to think I would not
burst out so, except that I had rather a long night last night.”
Peris nodded. “Your feelings have always been hard to
contain; long ages of irony and veiled illusion cannot hide
them. As for your night, all of our nights are long.” He
added more slowly, “I have news that may interest you. A
second band of strangers, seeking to kill the first, has
entered Darken Wood. They are on the same path as the
first were.”
“And no sentries have stopped them? History repeats
itself.”
“It does, as we do. I am inclined to make an end to
repetition.”
The stag paid no attention to the king’s last remark. “If
these strangers are not invaders, might they be hunters?” the
stag asked indifferently.
“Hunters of men and of other bipeds. They might be
lured to other hunts.” He added, “And as for invading, this
band, too, is politically important, though they are – ” he
hesitated.
“Yes?”
“Evil. One would not have thought more evil could
be done to Darken Wood, but apparently so.”
“After what you have received at the hands of
Darken Wood, does that disturb you?”
“It should,” Peris said with assumed indifference. He
gave up the pose. “It does. The peace of a world is more
important than my petty grievances.”
The stag pointed out, “Once, long ago, the fate of a
wood wasn’t.”
“Now it is.”
The stag was too stunned to respond. The king added,
“I am no longer the sworn guard of Darken Wood,
but I choose to return to my post. I will not hunt you this
night.”
“You have hunted at my request – have hunted me, as
my punishment – every night for – ” The stag
stopped. How, in this endless cycle, could he measure
time?
The king nodded. “Granted. But a king may change his
mind. Once you have seen these strangers, you will
understand.”
“Will I? You seem sure of that; what are these
strangers like?”
The king hesitated. “Complete strangers, let us say.”
He said nothing more. “Go see them. Perhaps they will
change their mind.”
“Or perhaps they will hunt at my request.” The king said