My latest traveller came the other way, up the mountain, rather than down.

Most going in that direction pass my home early enough that they don’t care to stop. The pass is ahead, beckoning with the promise of a crest and a downhill run by evening if they keep going.

It’s true too, they will even make it to the high walls and open gates of the Sanctuary of the Sky Goddess before full dark at the right time of year.

I occasionally visit them myself. The conversation’s a little limited, as is the food, but it’s fresh, prepared with care, and the hot springs below and around are simply bliss.

But I digress. My latest guest, Casimir, was part of a group clopping past my figurative front gate in the early afternoon. I paid them no heed until one paused, forcing the other riders and pack horses to veer around him. I heard voices calling out to him, but the tones were kind and amused, rather than irritated.

As the others passed, continuing up into the last of the forest beyond my home, he stayed, scanning the buildings and gardens as if looking for something.

I had to ask.

Hoisting my basket of vegetables onto my hip – the potatoes have been prolific recently and there were a good number of tomatoes begging for harvest that day as well – I ambled towards the road. “Are you looking for something in particular, traveller?”

He started. Clearly whatever he’d been looking at, or for, wasn’t me.

He bowed in his saddle. “Greetings, Mistress, am I correct in believing you offer hospitality to those in need?”

“I do. Are you in need?”

I was close enough to have a proper view of him by then. Not a young man, but not old either. Dark of skin with the beginnings of silver streaks in his tight, black curls. His smile was warm, but weary. “It would seem so.”

I waved him towards the wide path leading to my stables. “Even if it means going through the pass on your own?”

He dismounted to walk beside me, a well-mannered man. ” There is another caravan a day behind this one, and I’m not needed anywhere.”

Well that was a telling statement, with its sad yearning echoing beneath it. Not enough for full grief, so not the loss of a loved one. A position perhaps? Purpose certainly. I was looking forward to his story.

He unloaded and untacked his horse with some care and no expertise but, like his erstwhile companions, the gelding seemed fond enough to put up with the fumbles.

Yet more fuel to the fire of my curiosity. What grown man, and one far from his ancestral home at that, was only now learning to unsaddle a horse?

I’ll tell you now – I’ve never been one for unnecessary secrets – the Grand Vizier to the Imperial Court of Elaroun, that’s who. Or rather the former Grand Vizier.

We sat by the fire after dinner, and he told me of his life. Funny, colourful snippets from his youth, growing up in service to the Empress, her stern justice, her private humour, the arguments she’d have with her son over the handling of the northern border. As we know, the Prince turned out to be right about the border situation, and Casimir sighed as he looked into the fire.

“She hated being wrong and that one misstep cost us so many lives. She never forgave herself and while His Highness set things right, it strained their relationship.” He glanced at me and added. “She still struggled to take the advice of someone so much younger, even after he was proven so devastatingly correct, and he found it ever harder to respect someone so rigid. In some ways, her illness came as a relief.”

Casimir focused on his cup of mead, I think he hadn’t meant to admit that. I don’t think there was a tidy way to turn the subject, so I bent it a little. “How is Her Imperial Highness? We hear so little, and she’s long been a valued ally.”

He sighed again. “Comfortable. Which is as much as anyone can ask. His Highness is ruling in all but name, but has the tact to maintain the fiction of his mother’s continued oversight.” A smile appeared and was gone. “It was the better part of a year before anyone beyond the court’s inner circle realised anything at all was amiss. He’s a son a mother has every right to be proud of.”

Well now that was news, and an impressive reflection on the Imperial Prince. He’s someone I believe our Queen should be conversing with more closely. And I daresay she’ll have an excuse given the new family ties.

No, not blood family, but he told me of his daughter’s upbringing, a companion to the Empress’s own children and treated as quite one of her own. Her marriage to our Prince Istan is even more of a diplomatic victory than we knew. Although, I would be interested in her account of life in the Imperial Palace, and whether she was as beloved and indulged as her fond father believes. Children are not always the kindest of creatures, and very good at hiding it from their elders.

So I can understand Casimir’s feelings of loss and disorientation. With the effective change in rulers within the Empire, the role of the Grand Vizier is to be transitioned to the eldest princess, and Casimir kindly offered to bring his daughter to us as a way for Her Imperial Highness to step into his shoes without drama. By all accounts, she’s doing as well as her brother, and my guest is a little at a loss for what to do with his life.

His wife died when his daughter was a child, and now his only family is creating a new life, and a new family, half a world away from the home he’s dedicated his life to. I was reassured to hear of his reception by Prince Istan and Her Majesty, I’d expect nothing less than open arms and an offer of a home and role with them, but I can understand why he’s chosen otherwise.

When everything you’ve worked towards is suddenly achieved, in one way or another, it’s hard to find your footing in the new order of the world. I remember feeling every bit as adrift and rudderless as he is now, and can only hope he’s as lucky as I’ve been in finding a friendly current and fetching up on a welcoming shore.

We talked about where he intended to go (he didn’t know, perhaps to the Scented Islands, or maybe remain with the acolytes of the Sky Goddess for a time), and what he intended to do (diplomacy maybe? he’d like to visit some of the ambassadors he’d met over the years). I feel our conversation did him good and while he’s still unsure of his future, he’s looking forward, rather than back now.

Of course, that’s what Her Majesty had planned all along, wasn’t it? He gave me her letter as he left the next day, with the caravan he had mentioned. She’d told him to stay, and talk with me. She thought I’d be able to relate to his situation and provide understanding at least, direction at most. I’m torn between feeling mildly offended, although I’m not entirely sure what over, and just the tiniest bit proud that I can still be of use, even in this strange, demon-free world, on my quiet, far-away mountainside.

I’ll pen a quick note in response to hers, if you’re lucky she might let you read it. I doubt it though.

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