Spring of One

The journalists arrived before the coffin did. They gathered at the gate overnight and by dawn they were a crowd. By nine o'clock they were a swarm.

It was near midday before Corvus Crow made the long walk from his front door to the tall iron rails keeping them at bay.

'Chancellor Crow, will this affect your plans to run for re-election?'

'Chancellor, how soon will the burial take place?'

'Has the president offered condolences?'

'How relieved do you feel this morning, Chancellor?'

'Please,' Corvus interrupted, holding up a leather-gloved hand to silence them. 'Please, I wish to read a statement on behalf of my family.'

He pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of his smart black suit.

'We wish to thank you, the citizens of our great Republic, for your support over the past eleven years,' he read in a clear, authoritative voice honed by years of demanding order in the Chancery. 'This has been a trying time for our family, and the distress will no doubt linger for some time yet.'

He stopped to clear his throat, looking up for a moment at his hushed audience. A sea of camera lenses and curious eyes gleamed back at him. A ceaseless assault of flashes and clicks.

'The loss of a child is difficult to bear,' he continued, returning to his notes. 'Not only for our family, but for the townspeople of Jackalfax, who we know share in our grief.' At least fifty pairs of eyebrows shot upward, and a few embarrassed coughs broke the momentary silence. 'But this morning we welcome the Ninth Age of the Wintersea Republic, know that the worst is behind us.'

There was a sudden, loud caw from overhead. Shoulders hunched and faces flinched, but nobody looked up. The bird had been circling all morning.

'The Eighth Age took from me my beloved first wife, and now it has taken my only daughter.'

Another piercing caw. One reporter dropped the microphone he was thrusting at the chancellor's face and scrambled noisily to pick it up. He turned pink and mumbled an apology, which Corvus ignored.

'However,' he continued, 'it has also taken with it the danger, doubt and despair that plagued her short life. My...dear Morrigan' - he paused to grimace - 'is finally at peace, and so must we all be. The town of Jackalfax - indeed, the entire state of Great Wolfacre - is safe again. There is nothing to fear.'

A murmur of uncertainty rippled through the crowd, and the onslaught of camera flashes seemed to slow. The chancellor looked up at them, blinking. His paper rustled in a slight wind, or perhaps it was his hand shaking.

'Thank you. I will not be taking questions.'