Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 334
revenge, in fact; on that day when I was told of my mother's
arrest I had embarked on a great journey, which I am on to this
day, and there was nothing but gratitude in my heart for being
given the opportunity to be alive, and yet to have left the
human race behind me.
They danced around me as I daydreamed, the figures of
all those storied lovers, traitors, thieves and kings and saints
and I saw them all as actors even to themselves. If there was a
human nature it lay buried far below such inventions as grief
and love, so I was sure, and the daring of this vista intoxicated
my youth.
I was not expected to become scholarly as I am, for I was
a woman. I decided not to believe there was any difference
between man and woman, so had tutors hired. The indulgence
was given, for my father’s auguries said nothing about how to
treat the mad, so I was allowed to do what others could not.
Oh I could be charming, and as subtle in my
understanding as any scheming courtier--more so, since I was
learning the true bounds of human nature. As I grew however
my desires became less and less those of the girl I had been,
became quite estranged from court and all the ambitions that
ruled there. For I saw through those too.
At times, I do not deny it, I was indeed mad, locking
myself in my tower and singing to the owls. I would lie upon
my bed for days staring at the ceiling, bereft of purpose or
understanding and at times weeping over what was lost: grief
itself was lost to me, and love and the innocence of romance.
Handsome princes and true love meant nothing to me on the
journey I had undertaken, but they were believed in by all
about me. I longed for an understanding that was no longer
possible from these people. Of all those at court it was still the
servants and lowly laborers whom I loved the best, for they