Part Two

The screams filled the air more than the flames. The dark village of Kasuto was ablaze and overflowing with panic. No one could be entirely certain how it began. Who had been the first to scream? Who had been the first to fall? Now, all that was certain was that they were under attack. Shadowy figures, riding on horseback, galloped through the streets, wielding torches like swords. They lit buildings, people, and trees indiscriminately, the orange flames glowing off of their dark, half hidden faces with steely, determined eyes that showed neither mercy nor regret.

“Farore, defend us!” a villager cried, holding his hands up to the heavens imploringly.

“You’re under the dominion of Din now!” one of the riders shrieked in a shrill, decidedly feminine voice. She cantered past the hapless villager, lighting the back of his coat on fire as she made her way deeper into the fray.

Everyone knew it was the Gerudo right away. Aside from the customary Gerudo trappings adorning their horses, it was very evident that all the riders were female; all except for one. This was puzzling. They couldn’t tell what sort of man would be able to lead the Gerudo. Or, perhaps more appropriately, what sort of man the Gerudo would willingly submit themselves to. Yet it was clear that the leader of the raid was male and he didn’t seem terribly interested in the usual Gerudo bounty. They weren’t looking for gold or Rupees. They seemed to be arbitrarily out for destruction, burning everything in sight without cause.

“Reduce this village to a pile of ash!” the leader roared, his gravelly voice booming through the night.

“Let no man or woman escape!” the Gerudo’s lieutenant shouted at the top of her lungs.

“Or child,” the leader added with a sneer.

“Death to Kasuto!” they all chanted. “Death to Kasuto!”

It was all just so senseless! The Gerudo had begun to make a game out of it. Several of the lower ranking warriors lined up the men of the village in front of the well, taking turns to see who could knock the most into the gaping mouth of the well. They threw Deku seeds and various stolen goods from the sundry shop, looking almost as if they were enjoying a game at a carnival, not carnage.

An enormous mass of escaping villagers formed near the gate. They trampled over each other, screaming and panicking, each trying to be the first to get away. In the end, they were only destroying each other, making the work easier for the few Gerudo warriors that guarded the front gate. No one would escape. They saw to that, clubbing any fortunate individuals who happened to get through the mob.

Natalya watched from the second story window of her flat. In the other room, her small son was wailing, the noise frightening him out of his wits. She was frightened too, though she tried to push those feelings aside. The Gerudo had not yet reached her small quarter of the town, but she could see them coming. She also saw, clearly enough, that there was no escape through the gates.

“What are they looking for, momma?” her young daughter, barely a toddler, asked, staring out at the scene, more fascinated than horrified.

“I don’t know,” Natalya replied.

“Do you think they want the treasure?”

Natalya shook her head. “No.” She knew well enough where the village treasure was kept. The Gerudo band had burned the building to the ground without a thought, upon entering the town.

“What are we going to do, momma?”

“Go get your coat,” Natalya instructed her child. The girl nodded obediently and scampered off.

Closing the curtains, Natalya turned away from the window. She leaned over to blow out the oil lamp on a table nearby. Already, her mind was racing as she recalled the words of advice her husband had once given her. If the village should ever be attacked, he had said, she should get the children and herself out through the trees. There was a forest just north of the village. No gates opened to it, but the wood work around the village was incomplete there and one could easily slip through the fence.

With an air of determination, Natalya crossed the room, going into the nursery where her infant son was screaming at the top of his tiny lungs. She walked to his cradle and picked him up, bouncing him lightly in an attempt to calm the shrill cries. All too well, she knew they would easily be discovered, even in the darkness of the forest, if this continued. Fortunately, her son immediately calmed down, sensing the presence of his mother.

“Momma!” the daughter screamed suddenly. Clutching her baby to her shoulder, Natalya raced out of the nursery and into the sitting room. Her daughter had parted the curtains and was peeking through them. Over her head, Natalya could see the Gerudo riders getting closer and closer.

“It’s time to go,” Natalya said, holding her hand out. Immediately, her daughter came and took her hand. The little family turned and ran, not a moment too soon. With a shuddering crash, a stone, coated in kerosene and blazing with fire came flying through the window, shattering the glass and catching everything soft and fabric about the room ablaze.

“Momma!”

“Come quickly,” Natalya said, trying to keep her voice calm. Clutching both her children, she took off at a run. They raced out of the small apartment and down the dark, narrow staircase, the sound of the Gerudo war cries bouncing off of the walls and echoing in their ears.

On the main floor, the landlord and his family were assembled. “Natalya!” he called out to her. “Quickly, we’ve got to get out of the village.”

“We can’t go to the gate,” she told them. “We have to head toward the forest. It’s our only chance.”

“The forest?” the landlord’s wife shrieked indignantly, hugging her teenage son to her side.

“Do as she says,” the landlord declared. He raced over to Natalya and picked up her daughter, carrying her on his hip. “Quickly!”

The tiny group set out, taking the back door. If it weren’t for the noise, and the eerie orange glow in the sky, it would have been like any other ordinary night. This part of the village was still untouched, a clear before picture to the devastation that was to come.

Holding her son with all her might, Natalya led them to the dark shadows of the forest. A low whistling suddenly caught their attention. Natalya stopped and turned to look up. Behind them, another catapulted stone, blazing with fire, came flying. “Get out of the way!” she shouted, running off to the left. She buried her face in her baby’s swaddling, cringing as she heard the stone impact with the ground. Still, she kept running, her breath becoming labored as a sharp pain stung her side. Her son was crying again. She could feel his hot tears against her cheek. “Don’t cry,” she begged him softly. “Everything will be all right, don’t cry.”

Finally, Natalya had to rest. She slowed to a stop and turned around to look behind her. Panic leaped up into her chest. For the first time, she realized that she and her son were alone. There was no sign of the landlord’s family or her daughter. For a moment, Natalya decided upon the worst, but it occurred to her that they must have taken a right while she took a left. Silently, she offered up a brief, sincere prayer to Farore, begging the goddess to protect them.

Another loud crash quickly reminded Natalya that there was no time for prayer. Before her, she could see the fence with several substantial openings into the forest. Hiking up her skirts with one hand, she took off at a sprint, though there was barely any strength left in her delicate frame. The clip clop of horses’ hooves haunted her from behind. They were gaining on her, even if they didn’t know she was there yet. Staunchly, Natalya resolved to die before she would let them harm her son.

She was at the fence now. With the horses ringing in her ears, she dropped to her knees, thrusting her baby through one of the holes and gently placing him on the soft forest soil. There was no way that she could climb through the opening herself, so she stood and started racing along the fence, looking for a way to get across herself and meet up with her child on the other side.

“Look!”

Natalya’s eyes shot up as she saw several Gerudo riders. One of them had spotted her and was pointing. In that instant, Natalya knew that she would never see her son again. She had only one choice, and that was to run. Run as far away from the forest as possible in the hopes that no one would know she had left her baby there. The goddesses only knew what would become of him, but Natalya would not be the cause of his demise. She would never lead the Gerudo to him.

“Death to all Gerudo!” she shrieked, gathering up her skirts again. Immediately, under the angry and indignant grunts of the riders, she took flight, running away from the fence and toward the northern gate of the village. Already, she knew that this would be the last night of her life. Somehow, that didn’t haunt her as much as it should have. At least her son would survive. She was determined that he would. She just couldn’t allow herself to believe otherwise.

From the forest, a pair of bright green eyes watched Natalya’s flight. The brave woman was hopelessly out numbered and the Gerudo riders easily overtook her with their swift mares. The leader of the pack grabbed the hapless woman by the hair and kicked her horse with her spurs. Immediately, the obedient mare began trotting off, dragging poor Natalya along the ground and into the brightness of the burning village.

Several more eyes appeared to watch the scene. The forest had been awakened by the noise, its inhabitants gathering together near the border to watch. They knew they couldn’t help, of course. This was strictly forbidden. Helpless as they were, however, they quickly realized that there was a creature even more helpless in their midst. Natalya’s son was wailing now, lacking his mother’s protective arms to comfort him. His cries filled the forest, drawing its inhabitants closer. They eyed this strange creature, wondering at his unusual form and the ghastly noise he was making.

“What should we do?” one of them asked.

 

Impa thought she knew a thing or two about pain, but this was beyond anything she had ever experienced in her lengthy career as a warrior. She felt as if she were being ripped apart, inside out. Though noted for being able to keep her wits about her in a battle situation, she found that she had lost all control of her own voice. She shouted and groaned involuntarily, drowning out all other sounds, except, perhaps, for the racing of her heart. It felt as though any second, it would burst from her chest.

The room felt slightly surreal, in part because of the sound. As Impa looked around her, the colors and shapes swirled together a bit, blurring reality. She could sense Glas by her side. He was saying something, but she couldn’t tell what it was. All she knew was that he was using his calm, rational voice, because the lines of his face were slack and his gentle eyes looked at her with deep concern. There was someone else in the room, hidden from Impa’s warped sight. All she could see of this stranger were the shadows she cast on the floor in the bright moonlight. Occasionally, one of her hands would appear, reaching into a pack, but it would disappear again. The healer, Impa remembered. That’s who it was.

“Impa,” Glas’ voice managed to break through the din as Impa’s hoarse voice gave out. “Stay calm.”

“Calm?” Impa repeated with a laugh. “Calm?”

Glas gently pressed a cold washcloth to her forehead. Droplets of water ran down her neck and shoulders, sinking into her hot skin. “You know, it’s a good thing you’re the warrior.”

She laughed bitterly. “Shut up.”

Impa didn’t mean to snap at Glas, but her anger just went beyond her control. Of all the nights, this was the one when she was most needed at North Castle. News had reached them only a few hours earlier than Kasuto was under attack by a Gerudo raiding party. Although it was many hours away, Impa’s instincts immediately told her to get to North Castle as quickly as possible, should the Gerudo decide to take the journey down to this part of the world. Several months back, the King’s wife had given birth to a healthy daughter named Zelda. This was Impa’s new charge and it was her duty to protect the young princess at all costs.

She had practically been halfway out the door before she was forced to stop, realizing that her robes were damp. Still, she had tried to leave, but Glas, perhaps for the only time in his life, won out on the argument as the great, searing pain began to rack Impa’s distended body.

“Sorry,” Glas said quietly, looking properly chidden. He turned to go to the nightstand, but Impa reached out, grasping his arm.

“Don’t,” she told him gently.

Glas nodded, returning to her side once again. “I was just going to get some cold water.”

“I don’t need cold water,” Impa scoffed weakly.

“Certainly not,” the healer agreed from somewhere beyond Impa’s sightlines. “Where’s the hot water?”

“Kaya!” Glas shouted out to the doorway. “Kaya, hurry up!”

“A watched pot never boils!” Kaya’s cheerful voice shouted back from the adjacent room.

“And your sense of inappropriately timed humor never fails,” Glas shot back indignantly.

“Not now!” Impa barked at him.

“Sorry,” he repeated.
“It’s just that I –” A fresh burst of pain erupted, interrupting whatever it was she was going to say. Impa clutched her swollen belly, letting out a groan of agony that echoed off the cottage walls.

“There’s no time for this,” the midwife clucked.

“What?” Glas asked.

“What?” Impa snapped after him.

“This baby is in a bit of a rush to be born, it seems,” she replied, setting aside a few instruments that Impa could only guess at the purpose of. She picked up a terrycloth blanket from the floor. “This is it.”

“Oh gods,” Impa moaned, turning to look at Glas.

“You are my warrior,” Glas told her firmly, brushing her hair away from her pale, sweaty face. “There is nothing you can’t do. Including this.”

“Just remember, this was your idea,” she quipped hoarsely, bracing herself against the bed.

This was partly true. The fact of the matter was that Impa had been adamantly against the notion of family from the day she met Glas. She knew that it would distract her from her duties to the royal family, a notion that was strengthened on the day she was made royal nursemaid and bodyguard to the young Princess Zelda. But by then, the wheels were already in motion. At first, she had managed to keep her condition from Glas, Kaya, and the others, but things grew more difficult as time passed on. Impa still managed to conceal herself from the royals, electing to wear loose fitting robes rather than her Sheikah uniform. As a nursemaid, she was able to justify it. After all, wouldn’t the uniform merely frighten the young princess?

Glas, of course, was thrilled at the notion of becoming a father and this somewhat nullified Impa’s misgivings. After all, his duties were quite different from hers. He would better be able to provide for a child than she and to be certain, he was more than willing to take on the additional responsibilities. Impa only wished that it were possible for him to take on some of the pain that was now gripping her body.

“Just a little more,” the midwife told Impa, her voice half lost as phantom echoes filled Impa’s ears.

She knew Glas was gripping her hand tightly, but she couldn’t feel it. Hot tears began forming menacingly in the corners of her eyes. Impa steeled herself, screaming in her brain not to cry. She would not allow herself to become weak. Not now. To combat the tears, she let out a booming Sheikah war cry, her lungs burning with pain at the sudden and unexpected strain.

When she at last ran out of air, she let her scream die and was startled to find it replaced by a new sound. The crisp cries of a baby suddenly filled the tiny bedroom. Kaya came rushing to the doorway. She looked down and immediately made a face of great disgust. “Ew…”

“Kaya, out!” Glas snapped in a voice that wasn’t recognizable as his own. After all, Glas never raised his voice at anyone. Kaya didn’t need to be told twice. With a yelp, she scampered out of the room.

Impa let out a low moan. “Is it over?” she asked weakly.

Glas had disappeared from sight, kneeling next to the invisible midwife. Impa could just see his shadow on the floor, moving very slowly. “Yes,” the midwife said after an interminably long moment.

“Good,” Impa wheezed, falling back against the mattress.

When Glas stood up, he was holding the terrycloth blanket, wrapped tightly around a small, pink form with a wide, gaping mouth that let forth shrill cries. “Ten fingers, ten toes,” the midwife said, finally appearing in Impa’s sightlines. She was a stout, sturdy matron with long white hair pulled back into a loose bun at the base of her neck. “No twin,” she added.

Smiling vaguely, Impa turned her head to look at Glas. “You’re lucky,” she told him wryly.

“Why?”

“If there was a twin, I’d probably kill you.”

Glas chuckled, sitting on the side of the bed. “I wouldn’t put that past you,” he told her.

“I need to sleep,” Impa murmured drowsily.

“You can’t sleep yet,” the midwife told her. “You still need to pass the placenta. Then you can sleep.”

“More?” Impa moaned.

“Don’t worry, this is rather anticlimactic.” With that, the midwife disappeared from sight again.

“We have a daughter,” Glas told Impa fondly.

“I hope you’re not disappointed,” Impa replied. “That it’s not a son.”

“Not at all,” Glas assured her.

“Good, because we’re not doing this again.”

He smirked. “Deal.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk tomorrow,” she mumbled. “And they’ll need me at the castle.”

“They can do without you for a day,” Glas sighed. “Zelda’s got a wet nurse and you need to rest.”

“There was an attack on Kasuto. I’m going to have to be there.”

“We’ll argue about this in the morning,” Glas muttered.

“Deal.”

By this point, the child had calmed down, wails turning into soft whimpers. “What are we going to call her?” Glas asked, examining his newborn daughter’s face. She looked very much like Impa, but she had a tiny tuft of mousy brown hair, much like his.

“I don’t know,” Impa said. “What do you want to call her?”

“We could name her after your mother,” he suggested.

Impa made a face, as if she had eaten a lemon. “No,” she declared with no uncertain terms.

“Oh yes, I forgot how you felt about your mother.”

“I would never dream of cursing a child with the name Klymene.”

“All right,” Glas said with a nod. “No Klymene.”

A heavy silence filled the room. Impa sensed that she was supposed to make a suggestion, but to be honest she had no idea what to say. She had no idea how to go about naming something. Her horse’s name was just Filly. “How about Yonah?” she asked finally, as she found herself wondering how she was going to explain this situation to the Sheikah leader, Glas’ grandmother.

Glas shook his head. “No, it’s not right.”

“Not right,” Impa repeated, having no idea how he knew what was and was not right.

“Maybe we could name her after my mother,” Glas said after awhile.

“Shayla?”

“Shayla?”

“I like it,” Impa said at last. She wondered how sincere she sounded, but right now, she was too tired to care.

 

Leafa knelt down before a mound of dirt. It was covered with the carcasses of old, dried out flowers. To these, she added a fresh bouquet, a handful of lilies she had picked on her walk over. Lovingly, she caressed the dirt, feeling the grains run through her fingers. “Hello, Sojef,” she said softly.

He had died nearly ten years ago, following the disastrous first contact of the Sheikah and the people of the Kakariko village. Not much of a span of time, to be certain, yet Leafa felt as though it had been in another lifetime, back when she was the young Basileaus of her people, just beginning her career as a public servant.

“What was I telling you about, the last time I came?” she wondered. “I told you about the new child Robia and Tully had, I remember that. They named her Molly Leafa, after me. Leonid is just thrilled to be the big brother. You should see him. He runs through the village, making sure that everyone gets out of Robia’s way when she walks with Molly. It’s adorable.”

Softly laughing, Leafa looked up. Her eyes fell on the enormous silhouette of North Castle, looming off to the north. All at once, her laughter died and she felt her chest deflate. She sank back down to her haunches. “Things have been so difficult here, Sojef.”

It was true, although Leafa hated to sound so dramatic. Looking at the castle though, she remembered all the hardships that had befallen her people. The shadow of the great castle was enormous and fell over the fields of the Kakariko village. Nothing grew there anymore. The land that had fed her ancestors for generations lay fallow and barren.

Of course, there was still enough food to go around. Her people, unable to harvest their own crops turned to other forms of vocation. Some of them began to concentrate on crafts, creating little trinkets and pieces of art that the Hylian tourists found to be quaint. They changed these for strange little stones called Rupees that Leafa and Tully would then use to purchase grain to feed the village.

Other villagers began to venture beyond the now gateless village of Kakariko, going into service for the Hylians who had settled around North Castle, creating a brand new town. There was plenty of work to be done, and the Hylians didn’t seem as equipped for manual labor as the villagers were. Grain could be earned by that avenue as well and Leafa supposed that she should have been grateful, and yet she wasn’t.

“It isn’t the same village you knew,” she told Sojef gently. “Things are so turned around that I can hardly recognize them.” She paused, reflecting on this statement. “Well, I’m sure it’s just me. I said it before and I’ll say it again, change is at the very heart of what we Humans are.”

“And here I thought it was broccoli.”

Leafa stood up, whirling around. For a moment, primal fear filled her head, but all that immediately dissolved into an enormous smile when she recognized the form of Kaya walking up the hill toward her. “Peace and long life, Kaya,” Leafa called, holding up her hands respectfully.

“Peace and long life,” Kaya responded, repeating the gesture.

“It’s been awhile,” Leafa laughed, dropping the pose to walk down the hill and meet Kaya halfway.

“Well, you know how it is. They like to keep us busy.”

“Indeed. What are you up to these days?”

Kaya smirked, striking her most heroic pose. “I have been given the sacred duty, nay, the privilege, of escorting diplomatic envoys to and from North Castle.”

“You don’t sound too thrilled by it.”

“Well, it’s not exactly the kind of thing I trained for. A little boring actually. But then again, it beats being fired at with a barrage of arrows. Or worse. Cleaning up the mess afterward.”

Leafa smiled. “And how is Glas?”

“Glas is good. He’s had his hands full lately. There’s been little call for a healer lately. Things have just been too bloody peaceful since the Gerudos profusely apologized for their attack on Kasuto. Glas has been branching out into diplomacy.”

“Well, then you can spend some time with him.”

Kaya laughed. “I think I see Glas more than he sees his wife.”

“How’s Impa?” Leafa asked, lowering her voice a little bit. She felt odd, mentioning Impa so close to Sojef’s grave. After all, it was the embarrassment from his horrible misunderstanding that had slowly eaten away at Sojef and driven him into an early grave.

“Oh, Impa. I’m sure I recognize that name. Yes, yes it sounds vaguely familiar.” Kaya paused to touch her chin in mock thoughtfulness. “It’s certainly ringing a bell. I think I once knew an Impa.”

Leafa pursed her lips. “I see.”

Kaya shrugged. “Impa’s pretty much all work and no play these days. She practically lives at the castle now. Glas has to beg her to come home before midnight most of the time.”

“She takes her duty very seriously.”

“Extremely.” Kaya rolled her eyes. “You know, I’m Sheikah, and I’m all about defending the royal family. I get that it’s a sacred duty and pretty much what we were made for, but…still…”

“Impa’s a bit of a zealot.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Well, I hope she enjoys it.”

“I’m sure she does,” Kaya nodded. She paused for a minute, clearly debating something in her head. “How are things with you, Leafa?” she finally asked, a bit too carefully.

“Things have been…difficult,” Leafa replied diplomatically, uncertain of where this conversation was going.

“Difficult?”

“Well, the village has changed so much since we first made contact with you,” she answered.

“That’s for sure. I hear Tully married Robia.”

Leafa nodded. “They have two children now. A boy called Leonid. He’s about ten now. And they just had a daughter who they’re calling Molly.”

“Man, when did everyone grow up and have kids around us?” Kaya muttered absently.

A small frown formed on Leafa’s face. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, it just seems like everyone I know is married with kids now. Except for me of course. I was destined to die a spinster.”

The Basileaus smiled tightly. “There are worse fates.”

Kaya blinked as her error suddenly set in. “Oh! Leafa! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…well I just thought that…what I meant was…”

To ease the tension, Leafa forced a small laugh. “It’s all right,” she told her old friend. “I know you weren’t talking about me.”

“You’re still young, Leafa,” Kaya spat.

“Of course, of course.” Secretly, however, Leafa couldn’t bring herself to believe it. She was older than Kaya and well past thirty by this point. As Humans didn’t live as long as the Sheikah, Leafa was well aware that the best of her child bearing years were behind her and that the wrinkles forming around the corners of her eyes were destined to only grow deeper and deeper as time wore on.

“How’s the village?” Kaya asked quickly.

“It doesn’t feel the same,” Leafa admitted with a soft sigh. “The people aren’t as close as they used to be.”

“I’ve spotted a lot more Humans around the castle lately.”

“Well, we have to get our grain somehow,” Leafa said bitterly.

A heavy pause hung in the air. Kaya shifted her weight from one foot to the other, sensing the tension. “Well,” she said slowly, “I think it’s great. Great that the Hylians and Humans are able to get on in harmony.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“How are your fields doing?”

“All the new fields have failed,” Leafa answered heavily.

“Well, that’s unfortunate. I’ll have to make sure the King knows that before he…” She trailed off.

“Before he what?” Leafa prompted her.

Kaya scowled, averting her eyes slightly. “There’s going to be a new series of proclamations made next week.”

Leafa shifted, trying to catch Kaya’s gaze again. “Proclamations of what nature?” she asked.

This seemed to unnerve Kaya even more. “Well…theKingisdemandingatithefromthevillage.”

Leafa blinked. “What?”

With a heavy sigh, Kaya repeated herself. “The King is demanding a tithe from the village.”

“A tithe?”

“He’s going to demand ten percent of your yielding.”

The Basileaus sputtered indignantly. “He can’t do that.”

“This is Hylian land now. He thinks he can.”

“But that’s absurd! My people lived on this land for generations before we made contact with you!”

“I know that!” Kaya snapped back. She paused, looking somewhat apologetic. “I mean, of course I know that. I tried to speak out on your behalf, but they just wouldn’t listen. I don’t really command respect, Leafa. No one wants to listen to me, even when I’m right.”

“I know you did,” Leafa sighed wearily. “But I suppose if anyone’s going to speak on behalf of my people, it should be me.” She ran her hands through her rust colored hair. “I’ll journey to the King myself.”

 

Glas and Shayla were at their favorite game. Shayla would turn away from Glas, covering her eyes with her hands. Glas, meanwhile, would slowly try and sneak up behind her, attempting to tag her on the shoulder. Shayla, however, would always manage to turn around just before he could touch her, so Glas would turn away, covering his eyes, while Shayla attempted to tag him. This game could go on for hours before one of them would finally manage to tap the other on the shoulder. This round, however, Glas was careful to make sure that Shayla always heard his approach. Then, while his back was turned, he could talk to her, playfully quizzing her.

“And who was the first queen of Hyrule?” he asked, his back turned and his eyes covered while his young daughter slowly crept up on him.

“I don’t remember,” she mumbled casually.

“Oh, come on, it’s an easy one.”

Shayla sighed insufferably, pausing to dwell on the question for a moment. “Queen Avril?” she guessed.

“Oh, Shayla, you know that’s not the answer. Think harder. The name of the first queen of Hyrule is the one with a D-name.”

“Oh!” Shayla cried, her round face lighting up. “Dasha Harkin?”

“Yes! Well done!”

She giggled. Suddenly, with all the ferocious force a nine year old could conjure, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around her father. With a laugh, Glas gave in and fell to the floor, allowing her to tackle him. “I win!” she shouted triumphantly, sitting on his chest.

“Now another one,” Glas said.

Her face crumpled up into a look of disgust. “No more questions, poppa,” she implored.

“Come, come,” Glas laughed, touching her face lightly, “If I don’t ask you questions, how are you going to learn?”

“Learning is boring!” she declared.

“Clearly not my daughter,” Glas chuckled. “Come on, answer another question. You can get this one, I’ll make it easy.”

“No more questions!”

“Well…you could always go to bed.”

Shayla sighed in a long suffering manner. “All right, poppa,” she decided. “One more question. But make it a really, really easy one.”

“Deal,” he agreed, offering her his hand, which she shook. “All right, one more question. I’d better make it a really good one.”

“But not hard,” Shayla reminded him.

“Right. Good, but not hard. Let me think.” He paused to legitimately ponder it for a moment. “Fine, I’ve got a really good, really easy one for you.”

“Okay!”

“Name the three Spiritual Stones.”

For a moment, Shayla scrunched up her face in concentration. Gradually, she relaxed, proclaiming in a proud voice, “The Zora Sapphire…”

“Good.”

“The Kokiri Emerald…”

“Good!”

“And the Gerudo Ruby!”

Glas fought to keep his face from falling. “The Goron Ruby,” he corrected her gently.

“Well, I knew that,” she shrugged. For a moment, she paused. “Why don’t the Gerudo have a Spiritual Stone?”

“Well, for the same reason the Humans don’t, I suppose.”

“Why?”

“They’re not worshippers of all our goddesses.”

“But I thought the Gerudo worshipped Din.”

“Yes,” Glas answered, “but they don’t worship Farore or Nayru. They don’t have balanced virtues.”

“Oh. Well, what about the Humans?”

“Centuries ago, the Humans worshipped a god known as Joxom, the harvest god. They used to believe that he created worms and horses and cows.”

Shayla wrinkled her nose at the mention of the worms. “Ew…”

Glas chuckled. “But they stopped worshipping their god a long time ago. And now, it seems, a lot of them are beginning to recognize the divinity of Din, Nayru, and Farore.” They heard the door to the cottage open, scraping against the carpeted floor. Footsteps, muffled slightly, began to come their way. “Someone’s home,” Glas said, sitting up and pulling Shayla into his lap.

A moment later, Impa appeared in the bedroom, pulling off her long purple cloak. “Momma!” Shayla cried happily, bouncing up to her feet and running over to hug Impa’s legs. “I made up a song today! Listen, listen, I’ll sing it for you.” She began to sing, sounding horribly off key, yet with the pure gusto that could only be created by an enthusiastic child. “The cat is a yo-yo. The yo-yo is red! I love the cat. I love the yo-yo!”

Impa looked down, a bit startled. “It’s after midnight,” she said, more to Glas than to Shayla. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I told her she could stay up until you got home,” Glas explained, rising to his feet and crossing over to his wife.

“It’s horribly late,” Impa declared. “Off to bed.” She patted Shayla’s hair lightly and then took a step back, gesturing to the door.

“Okay,” Shayla sighed.

“Shayla,” Glas called.

The girl scampered over to Glas as he leaned down, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight, poppa!”

He ruffled her hair. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, momma!” she called over her shoulder as she ran out of the room. A moment later, they heard the door to her bedroom close.

“It’s not good for her to stay up so late,” Impa said, stifling a yawn.

“I didn’t think you’d be home so late.”

“Sorry,” Impa muttered, crossing over to him. She gave him a tender kiss, resting her hands on his chest.

“We have to talk about Shayla,” he said softly.

“Now?”

“Impa, we can’t keep putting it off. Her tenth birthday is in a few months and she still can’t remember the difference between the Moon Pearl and the Pendants of Virtue. How will she pass her first trial of initiation?”

“We were both confused at that age. Our parents probably wondered the same thing about both of us.”

“And her fighting?” Glas raised an eyebrow. “Her skills are vastly behind the other Sheikah children of her age.”

Impa looked up at him. “I’ve never heard you so concerned about fighting before, Glas.”

“I’m not concerned about fighting. You know how I feel about violence. But I’m concerned about our daughter. Someone needs to teach her the Sheikah Way.”

“She’ll be fine,” Impa assured him.

“Who’s going to teach her? You know I can’t.”

She sighed softly. “I’ll ask Kaya to teach her a few things, if that’s what you want.”

“No, Impa, that’s not what I want.”

“Then what?”

“You should be the one teaching her.”

“Glas, please, I beg you, can we argue about this tomorrow? I’m absolutely exhausted.”

“Well, it’s late.”

“Things have been difficult at the castle.”

“Difficult how?” he asked, walking over to the bed and sitting down on it, resting his hands on his splayed knees.

“The Princess has been troubled.”

“Troubled?”

“By dreams. Nightmares.”

“About what?”

“She sees danger coming in the form of the Gerudo.”

“Well, that’s nothing new. The Gerudo have always been a problem. And they’ve been rather quiet the last few years.”

“The Gerudo Prince is scheduled to visit the King tomorrow,” Impa muttered, unlacing the ties that held her armor on.

“What’s his name?”

“Dragmire. Ganondorf Dragmire.”

“What’s he want with the King?”

“I have no idea.”

Glas pulled the sheets out, climbing under them. “Well, that isn’t necessarily bad. Maybe he wants to sue for peace?”

“Zelda’s dreams indicate otherwise. She sees him as a threat.”

“They’re just dreams, Impa.”

“She also sees hope.”

“Hope?”

“A Kokiri boy.”

“Kokiri? But they can’t even leave their forest.”

“I know. That’s what makes it all so strange.”

Impa walked out of the room, headed for the adjoining bathroom. As Glas sat there in bed, he wondered about her concerns. Never being one who believed much in dreams or prophecies, he felt slightly annoyed that Impa was harping on the dreams of a ten year old girl. He knew she took her duties seriously, so he supposed it was unkind for him to scoff. Still, a pang of resentment struck him. These days, it seemed like her duties were consuming her. He missed spending time with her. Time, he well knew, was a treasure not to be squandered.

 

Leafa knew that staring around with her mouth gaping open was undignified, but she simply couldn’t help it. In all her days on the face of the world, she had never seen anything as incredible as what she now beheld. She had entered the throne room of North Castle. Though the grand hall was less than austere, what it lacked was more than made up for now as she passed through the arched doorway.

A row of white, marble pillars flanked either side of the room, climbing high up into the sky, higher than anything Leafa had ever seen built by men. Billowing purple silks hung over the wall recesses. When the wind rippled through the room, Leafa could see that each silk covered a small alcove with a large window. Each window had iron tracery, depicting an image from Hylian lore; stories that Leafa couldn’t even conceive. A long red carpet led from the entry way to a dais on the opposite end of the room. The fabric of the carpet was plush, absorbing Leafa’s footsteps. She had traveled the castle barefoot, not knowing what decorum demanded, and her feet sank into the deep depths of the carpet.

On the dais were two thrones, one on the left for the King and a vacant seat on the right for the Queen. Leafa had heard that the Queen died tragically, some ten years ago while giving birth to her first and only child. The King made his presence known, however. He sat regally in his high backed chair, peering down at Leafa from his heights. He was a large man, his plump body draped in purple robes. A long, downy white beard spilled down from his chin over his chest and halfway to his naval. On his white head was a gold crown, studded with purple, red, and blue gemstones. Golden light filtered in through the stained glass window, falling over the King to give him an air of divinity. Leafa took a split second to examine the window itself. Most of it was little more than a mosaic of red, purple, and blue glass bits and pieces, but directly in the middle of the explosion of color, there was a symbol in golden yellow glass; three triangles forming a pyramid.

At the base of the dais, Leafa held her hands up in the traditional Human salute. Beside her, she sensed Tully do the same. All around the room, the courtiers stifled giggles, watching as the peculiar couple upheld their native traditions, blissfully ignorant of the custom of bowing to the King, fashionable among any civilized Hylians. “Peace and long life, your majesty,” Leafa said above their sniggering.

The King looked down at her with beady blue eyes. “Who are you?” he asked sternly.

Tully stepped forward. “Your majesty,” he addressed the King. “I present to you Leafa, Basileaus of Kakariko.”

The King glanced at one of his advisors. “Kakariko, that’s that Human colony, to the east, isn’t it?”

Leafa’s eyebrows shot up. “Colony?”

The advisor nodded to his King. “Yes, your highness.”

“I see.” The King stroked his beard absently. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the term. Basileaus? What does that mean?”

Stifling his indignation, Tully cleared his throat. “Basileaus is the term we use to refer to our leader,” he said tightly.

“Is that so?” The King appraised Leafa for a moment. “And you, my dear, are the leader of the colony?”

“Colony? I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the term,” Leafa replied.

“Well, a colony refers to an area that’s autonomously ruled under the monarchy and that sort of thing,” the King waved it off dismissively. “What brings you to my castle?”

For a moment Leafa paused. She considered making a back handed comment about the fact that she had never been invited to North Castle before, despite giving the Hylians permission to build it on her land, but she bit her lip. “I have come to speak to you about the tithe you intend to impose on my people.”

“Tithe? I haven’t announced that yet.”

“I was informed,” Leafa explained.

“By whom?”

“That’s beside the point, your majesty.”

“Is it? Well, what about the tithe?”

“I cannot permit you to impose it.”

“Permit me?” The King looked about at his subjects, properly indignant at the situation. “My dear girl, you are in no position to be forbidding me.”

“Basileaus,” Tully growled sharply. “You will address the Basileaus by her proper title.”

“I am king,” the King barked. “I will address my subjects as I like.”

“We are not your subjects!” Tully shouted, his rich voice echoing off of the marble columns.

“You live on my land.”

“It is not your –”

Leafa held out a hand to silence Tully. “The land cannot be owned by anyone,” she whispered before turning to face the King. “Regardless of who the land belongs to, the tithe cannot be imposed. My people would be unable to meet your demands. We would starve to death.”

“You’ll find that there are plenty of ways of providing for the tithe and your people,” the King told her.

“Our farmlands are failing,” she said. “We cannot grow anything in the shadow of your castle and all the other fertile areas have been taken over by your people. Ten percent of what we grow is ten percent too much.”

“I am more than willing to accept the tithe in the form of a monetary sum, as need be.”

“Monetary sum?”

“Yes. Shall we say, five hundred Rupees?”

“Your majesty, we do not use your currency.”

“It should be easy enough for you to assimilate into our society. I know there are plenty of job opportunities in our city.”

“What would you have me do? Order my people to give up the way of life that we’ve known for centuries in order to earn shiny stones?”

“Change is inevitable.”

“Yes,” Leafa agreed, “when it is made willingly and for the right reasons. But what you would have me do is –”

“Perfectly logical,” he interrupted her.

She sighed, leaning her head to one side to examine the King. “Then there’s no changing your mind?”

“I am a king,” he declared. “I never change my mind.”

Leafa could feel Tully tense by her side. She turned to give him a quick, warning gaze, before turning back to the King. “Let it be known to the gods that I came here to do my duty to my people.”

“Be on your way,” the King told her dismissively. He waved his hand, shooing her in the direction of the door.

Gathering up all the dignity she could muster, Leafa turned around, taking the slow, long march back along the red carpet. As she walked, she could feel the courtiers staring at her. How rustic she looked compared to them. In her simple homespun top and skirt, she lacked all the proper baubles and bangles that attended upon nobility in the world of the Hylians. As she made her way to the door, she could hear them laughing at her, pointing at her bare feet and unadorned hair, that grew wild, uncombed, falling around her shoulders.

Before arriving at the door, it was pulled open by a page. On the other side, Leafa found herself face to face with a foreign envoy. She had never seen Hylians like these before. There were five in the pack, four of them Amazonian women with fiery red hair, almost as wild as her own. The women flanked a man in the center, with equally untamed red hair, although he seemed somewhat bald on top. These Hylians were different from the others Leafa had met. They seemed to have a bit of a wild streak to them, and their dress evoked thoughts of the desert.

Tully pulled Leafa off to one side as this company came marching in procession down the carpet, lest she be trampled. “Ganondorf Dragmire, of the Kodiak Gerudo Pride,” the page announced.

“Your highness,” the man said in a gravelly voice as his party approached the throne.

“Come on, Leafa,” Tully said quietly, touching her shoulder. Together, the two of them walked out of the room, salvaging what little dignity they had left. The knight who had first escorted them along the corridors of the castle was gone now and once the doors of the throne room slammed shut, Tully and Leafa found they were quite alone in the castle.

 

The castle was absolutely buzzing with activity today. Frankly, Impa would rather have taken her young charge off to the field for some breathing space, but for some reason, Princess Zelda insisted on staying near her father this morning. Of course, the young girl wasn’t allowed near the throne room while he was hearing petitions, so Impa lead her down the corridor toward the courtyard.

“Impa?” Zelda asked thoughtfully, tilting her head to one side in a rather catlike gesture she had picked up several years back.

“Yes?” Impa answered, looking down.

“What do you think Ganondorf Dragmire wants with my father?”

“I don’t know,” she replied truthfully.

“Do you think it has something to do with the attack on Kasuto?”

“The attack on Kasuto? That was nearly ten years ago. How did you hear about that?”

“I’ve heard some of the courtiers talking about it from time to time,” the Princess said absently.

“What of it?”

“Some of the survivors say that the Gerudo Pride that began the attack was led by a man. Do you think it could be this Dragmire?”

“I don’t know,” Impa sighed. “I’m afraid I wasn’t there when it happened.” A twinge of guilt passed over Impa’s face and she hid it from the Princess, looking out ahead of her.

“I think the boy in my dream was from Kasuto,” Zelda muttered.

Impa paused, looking down again. “I thought you said he was a Kokiri.”

“Well, he was dressed like one. And he had a fairy with him. But I don’t think he was Kokiri. They couldn’t leave the forest, after all.”

“Perhaps,” Impa shrugged.

It never ceased to amaze her how composed and mature Zelda was. Although only a girl of ten, she bore herself like her mother, the Queen, always with dignity, always with grace. Unlike other children, Zelda never seemed interested in silly entertainments or trifles. She was a thoughtful child, always analyzing the situation around her. When she was in a public sphere, she was deathly silent, but Impa could tell from looking into the girl’s eyes that she was absorbing everything around her.

Today, for some reason, she seemed more regal than usual. Perhaps it was her clothing. Zelda’s dressers had put her in a pink and white gown, bearing the Hylian royal crest in gold and red thread. On her head, she wore a dignified headdress that tucked away her corn silk tresses, making her look a bit older than normal. Aside from her dress, she seemed much more reserved than natural for a child of her age. This immediately caused Impa great suspicion.

“Your majesty?” she said after a moment.

“Yes, Impa?”
“Have you had more dreams?”

Zelda was silent for awhile. Again, she seemed to be analyzing the question in her unusual manner. Finally, she nodded slightly. “I had one last night,” she admitted softly.

They passed the throne room and the doorway to the courtyard came into sight. “I want you to tell me exactly what you dreamed,” Impa said firmly.

“It was the same as always,” the Princess replied.

“Tell me anything that was different.”

She frowned for a moment. “There was one thing.”

“What?”

“The boy, the one standing in the shaft of light, he had something in his hands this time.”

“What did he have in his hands?”

“I can’t say for certain,” Zelda responded, “but I think…I think it was the Kokiri Emerald.”

“The Spiritual Stone?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s interesting.”

Zelda turned away from her companion, glancing out one of the windows to the courtyard. She was silent for a moment. “Father doesn’t believe me,” she murmured quietly.

“You’ve told him about your dreams?”

“Yes. He just thinks I’m imagining it.” Another scowl settled on her delicate features. “Impa?”

“Yes?”

“Do you know where the Ocarina of Time is kept?”

Impa was slightly taken aback by this question. “Yes,” she said slowly. “In the artifacts room upstairs.”

“I’d like to see it later.”

“As you wish. I can take you there after we –”

“Impa!”

Both Impa and Zelda turned around. Equally surprised, they saw Glas huffing and puffing his way down the corridor. He was dressed in ceremonial Sheikah robes, his long hair pulled back at the base of his neck with a purple ribbon. “Glas,” Impa mumbled.

“I need to speak with you.”

“Glas, I’m with –”

“Go on,” Zelda told her. “I’ll just go outside.”

“But Princess, I –”

“I can stand to be alone in my own courtyard for a few moments, Impa,” Zelda insisted. With that, she turned around and vanished out into the sunlight.

Glas walked over to Impa. “Was that…?”

“Yes.” Impa rounded on him. “What are you doing here?”

“There’s a crisis up in the mountains,” Glas said, taking Impa’s shoulders in his hands. “Yonah’s sending a Sheikah envoy to help.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Apparently, the Gorons have reason to believe that their leader has been abducted.”

“The Goron leader is a man named Darunia,” Impa said absently. “I’ve met him before, he’s a good man.”

“Yes, I know. Which is why we need to help them, if we can.”

She frowned slightly. “And you have to go?”

“There are so few of us left. Everyone else is occupied with royal business. Kaya’s coming with me.”

“Thus assuring a diplomatic failure,” Impa deadpanned.

Glas smirked. “Give her some credit. She did help us out of a tight spot during a certain first contact situation.”

“Of course…” Impa blinked suddenly. “Who’s going to watch Shayla? If Kaya’s going with you…”

“She’s going to have to stay here with you,” Glas answered.

“What? No. No that’s utterly impossible.”

“Impa!”

“I’m sorry, Glas. But do you have any idea how difficult that will be?”

“You’re watching after one child. Another shouldn’t be too terrible. And Shayla isn’t high maintenance. She can feed and dress herself.”

“But suppose someone suddenly asks about her? What am I going to say?”

“Is it so shameful to say that you’re watching after your own daughter for awhile?”

“They’ll think I’m not taking my job seriously.”

“I’m certain they won’t.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “All right, all right, bring Shayla to the castle.”

“I already have,” he replied with a grin. “Kaya’s watching her for a few moments.”

“Kaya’s corrupting my child no doubt. She’s probably…” Impa trailed off as her eyes suddenly wandered to the window. Sitting in the courtyard, she saw Zelda. But the Princess wasn’t alone. She was with a young boy, one Impa had never seen before. His dress was shabby and peasant like and immediately, Impa took alarm.

Glas had followed her gaze. “He’s just a child. Relax.” He reached out and took Impa’s shoulders, turning her away from the window.

“What’s he doing out there? He’s not permitted here!”

“Relax,” Glas said soothingly.

Impa sighed. “How long are you going to be gone, Glas?”

“I don’t know. Why? Will you miss me?”

She smacked his arm. “That isn’t funny. Of course I’m going to miss you.”

He smiled gently. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m very loveable, you know. Everyone says so.”

The door to the throne room suddenly slammed open. Out from the room marched five Gerudo warriors, four female and one male. Without paying much attention to the Sheikahs standing in the middle of the hallway, they marched away in the opposite direction, the male pausing only briefly to throw an angry glare at the window. Clearly, this meeting had not gone as planned.

“You are incorrigible,” Impa whispered as the noisy footsteps of the Gerudo party receded into the distance.

“I know. That’s why you love me so much.”

Slowly, Impa allowed herself to smile. “Do I?”

“Well, I certainly love you.”

“I suppose I love you too.”

“Oh? You suppose?”

“Sometimes I forget.”

Glas leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “Well,” he whispered quietly, his voice harkening back to a time ten years ago. “I’ll just have to remind you.” He kissed her tenderly.

“Don’t be away too long.”

“I won’t be,” he promised. With that, he backed away, taking one last amorous look at his wife before turning around and disappearing around a corner.

Impa sighed softly, watching him leave. Although her lips were still warm from his kiss, she forced herself to shake her head, pushing aside all the feelings that were welling up in her chest. Clearing her throat, she squared her shoulders, turning to face the courtyard with staunch resolution. There was work to be done. She would see about this strange boy who had the nerve and the audacity to sneak an unauthorized visit with Princess Zelda.

 

“Disgraceful!” Tully snorted, balling his hands up into fists at his sides. “That’s what it is. An utter humiliation. I don’t know how you could stand there and take it, Leafa!”

“What would you have me do?” Leafa hissed back. “Jump up onto the dais and throttle him in front of all his courtiers and bodyguards?”

“I would have done it if you had ordered me to,” Tully replied bitterly. “Or even if you hadn’t stopped me.”

“Because violence easily resolves everything,” Leafa muttered.

They had been wandering the corridors of the castle for half an hour now. With no one to escort them out, they found themselves somewhat lost. The people they passed only gave them disdainful looks, so Leafa resolved that they would find their own way out, rather than suffer the humiliation of having to speak with any of these Hylians. Unfortunately, the castle was a veritable labyrinth to two Humans more accustomed to the simplistic huts of the Kakariko village.

“Leafa, he claimed our village for his own.”

“I know, Tully,” she sighed. “I know.”

“What are we going to do now?”

She scowled. “I wish I had an answer.”

“This would never have happened if –”

“If I hadn’t given them permission to build their castle so close to our lands,” Leafa finished for him.

“I wasn’t going to blame you,” Tully said quietly.

She nodded slightly. “I know. I just wanted to say it so you wouldn’t have to dance around the subject.”

“Why did you agree to let them?”

“Because we only met the Sheikah. We didn’t know what the other Hylians would be like.” She paused for a moment. “And at the time, I genuinely believed that we were ready to enter into a larger world.”

Tully was silent for a moment. “I felt so too,” he admitted at long last. “At the time.”

“As did many others. I did what I believed would be best for the village. How was I to know about the arrogance of their King?”

They had come to a chamber that neither remembered. It was a small, alcove off to one side of the hustle and bustle of the great hall. The walls and ceiling were constructed of the same stone that made up the outside of the castle. Three of the walls of the hexagon, the ones opposite the door, had large stain glass windows, each one depicting a different image of the Hylian goddesses. When Leafa looked down, she realized that they were treading on an engraved map of Hyrule. She sighed softly. Her foot was directly on top of Kakariko.

“What’s to become of us, Leafa?” Tully asked quietly, looking down at her foot with a forlorn expression.

“I don’t know,” Leafa answered, slowly removing her foot. As she did, she realized that engraved on the village were several small icons, depicting Human males as barbarian savages, wearing loincloths and hunting wild animals with spears and Human females as completely naked, dancing around a fire.

“Is this how they see us?”

She nodded grimly. “I guess so.”

“Well, let them.”

Leafa looked up at him. “What?”

“I say we return to our isolation. When we let them build on our land, we said we wanted to become part of the larger world, not submit to it.”

“Tully, what you’re suggesting is impossible.”

“Why not? We lived for centuries without any contact with the Hylians. Why can’t we severe the links now?”

“For one thing, our people are living in their village now.”

“We can call them back or give them the option of staying with their newfound Hylian friends.”

“For another thing,” she continued over him, “the King now perceives us as part of his land. We can’t change his mind as quickly as our own.”

“Then we can’t try?”

“The world only spins forward,” Leafa told him gently. “We can’t go back to the way we were. We can only go forward.”

Tully leaned against the wall, running a hand through the cornrows covering his scalp. “Then…we pay the tithe?”

“I don’t see how we can avoid it.”

“And I don’t see how we can afford it,” he countered.

“Then…I suppose we’ll just have to take up the King’s offer and sacrifice our people to the workforce.”

“This is a terrible day in our people’s history.”

“I know,” she told him, reaching out to pat his arm comfortingly. “I know.” She had to choke back her own sobs. If Tully was putting on a brave front for her, the least she could do was return the favor.

They heard footsteps clambering down the hall. A moment later, the Gerudo envoy they had passed in the throne room appeared, marching in formation past the alcove where they were standing. They seemed to be prepared to go by without any acknowledgement of the Humans, but abruptly, the man leading the pack held up his hand. All of them stopped, following his gaze as he turned to look intently at Leafa and Tully.

“You are Basileaus Leafa of Kakariko?” the Gerudo man asked in a low, gravelly voice.

“Yes,” Leafa replied, pulling herself up to full height to face the stranger.

Touching his forehead, the Gerudo prince bowed respectfully to her. “Peace and long life, Basileaus,” he said.

Leafa blinked in surprise. Recovering quickly, she held up her hands in salute. “Peace and long life…?”

“Dragmire,” he supplied. “Ganondorf Dragmire.”

“Peace and long life, Ganondorf Dragmire,” she said courteously.

“I’ve heard about the treatment you’ve received at the hands of the Hylian King,” he told her.

“Oh…that…” Leafa scowled, the humiliation renewing itself in her memory, much against her wishes.

Ganondorf watched her carefully as his female companions exchanged looks that were completely unreadable. “I am sorry to hear of it.”

“Thank you very much,” she said, blinking in surprise. “I wasn’t aware that the plight of my people was widely known.”

“The Gerudo like to keep informed about what’s going on in North Castle,” he explained.

Tully cleared his throat loudly. “Oh.” Leafa turned to gesture to Tully. “My champion, Tully.”

“Peace and long life, Tully.”

“Peace and long life, sir,” Tully answered.

Absently, Ganondorf gestured to a woman on his left. “My lieutenant, Alpha Sarjenka of the Kodiak Gerudo Pride.”

“Peace and long life, Sarjenka,” Leafa said.

“Peace and long life,” Sarjenka replied in a rather droll voice.

“The way the King has treated the minorities of Hyrule has been appalling,” Ganondorf continued. “Something must be done about it.”

“I suppose so,” Leafa said quietly.

Ganondorf seemed to examine her for a moment, looking deep into her very heart. “Perhaps something is already underway,” he said softly. There was a tense silence which followed. Ganondorf watched Leafa, waiting to see her reaction, but she seemed to have none. Finally, at long last, he cleared his throat. “Of course, if action were taken against the King, I’m certain your village would be left unharmed.”

“I would hope,” Leafa answered.

“Peace and long life to you both,” Ganondorf said, imitating the gesture he had seen Leafa use earlier. Without further ado, he snapped his fingers once and the Gerudo envoy continued on through the hall, disappearing from sight.

When the echoes of their footsteps were stilled, Tully walked to Leafa’s elbow. “What do you think that meant?” he asked softly.

“I’m not sure,” she replied.

“It sounded to me like he’s planning an insurrection.”

“It’s possible.”

“You didn’t object.”

“Which led him to promise to spare our village.”

Tully scowled. “Do you really think something’s going to happen?”

“Well,” she said slowly, “if it is, at least it won’t be to us.”

“But what about the King?”

 

Shayla was doing her best to teach Kaya how to play her favorite game, but the Sheikah warrior simply refused to follow the rules. “No, no, no,” Shayla said with a sigh that sounded horrifically like her mother, “you can’t try to tag me when I’m sneaking up on you!”

“But you said the only way to get a point is to tag the other person,” Kaya said with a smile, peeking out from in between her fingers.

“You can’t score a point when it’s my turn,” Shayla insisted.

“Why not?” Kaya asked, grinning.

“Because it’s against the rules!”

Kaya dropped her hands away from her face. “Rules are meant to be broken, Shayla.”

“That’s not what momma says.”

“Well,” Kaya tilted her head to one side. “Of course not. It’s your mother’s job to teach you about rules and such. It’s your favorite aunt’s job to teach you about the fun stuff.”

“But Aunt Phebe says I should follow the rules too.”

Laughing brightly, Kaya picked up Shayla, swinging her through the air upside down. “I’m your favorite aunt,” she insisted.

Shayla squealed with delight. “Not you’re not!” she cried.

Kaya swung the girl from side to side. “We have a stubborn one here,” she mumbled, mimicking Impa’s voice. “It’s going to take a lot to break her.” She clutched Shayla’s ankles and bounced her. “Say I’m your favorite!”

“No!” Shayla shouted stubbornly.

“Say it!” Kaya insisted, bouncing her again.

“I won’t, I won’t, I won’t!” Shayla declared.

“Say it! Say, ‘My favorite aunt is Aunt –’”

“Kaya!” Glas appeared on the far end of the hall.

“Busted,” Shayla whispered.

“Kaya, put her down!” Glas came racing through the corridor, grabbing Shayla around the middle and pulling her away from Kaya.

Sighing, Kaya released Shayla’s ankles, relinquishing custody to her father. “We were just having fun,” she muttered.

“Fun is perfectly good,” Glas said, setting his daughter upright, on her feet once more. “When it doesn’t involved splitting my child’s head open.”

“I wouldn’t have dropped her,” Kaya insisted. She folded her arms, pausing for a moment before she continued. “What did Impa say?”

“Impa will look after Shayla while we’re gone.”

“Do you have to go, poppa?” Shayla asked, clutching the bottom of Glas’ robes in her tiny fists.

“Yes,” Glas replied, ruffling her hair, “I do.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what Grandma Yonah ordered.”

“Why?”

“Because we need to go help the Gorons.”

“Why?”

“Because their leader is missing and we have to find him.”

“Why?”

“Because if we don’t, they’ll run out of food and start eating little girls!” Kaya cried. For emphasis, she spread out her fingers like claws, lunging forward at Shayla with a menacing growl. Shayla shrieked in delight.

Glas did not look amused. “Kaya…”

“I’m only joking,” Kaya sighed. “She didn’t believe it, did she? You’re too smart for that kind of talk, aren’t you, Shayla?”

“Yup!” Shayla declared firmly.

He chuckled slightly. Glas could certainly appreciate a good joke. As long as Shayla knew it was just a joke. “Will you give us a moment, Kaya?”

“Sure,” Kaya replied with a nod. “I’m going to go see if our horses are ready or not.”

“Thank you.”

“Try not to talk about anything too serious while I’m gone,” Kaya said, stooping over to give Shayla a quick peck on the cheek. With that, she went off down the hallway, vanishing around a bend.

Carefully, Glas knelt down in front of Shayla, taking both of her hands in his. “You’re going to be good while I’m gone, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“You won’t give your mother a hard time?”

“No…”

“Promise?”

“I won’t.”

“Promise.”

Shayla sighed. “I promise, poppa.”

“Good girl,” he said, smiling affectionately.

“Will you be gone a long time, poppa?”

“No,” Glas said. “It shouldn’t be too long at all.”

“Good.”

“And when I get back, you can tell me about all your adventures.”

“Adventures?”
“While you’re spending time in the castle.”

“I get to stay in the castle?” she asked, her eyes getting wild and wide with excitement.

“Of course. This is where your mother works.”

“Do monsters live here?”

He blinked in surprise. “Where did you get such a silly idea?”

“Aunt Kaya said that there’s a Skullwalltula living in the castle, below the master bedroom.”

“Aunt Kaya says a lot of things,” Glas muttered with a grimace. “No, Shayla, there are no monsters in North Castle.”

“Oh,” she mumbled with a look of disappointment.

“But you can spend the time with your mother. You can see all the important things she comes here to do every day.”

Shayla paused to consider this. “Can’t I go with you?” she finally questioned him innocently.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I want to see the Gorons.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re so big!”

He smiled fondly. A part of him was rather proud of Shayla for remembering that Gorons were the largest of the Hylian races, even if she couldn’t tell the fictional Gerudo Ruby from the actual Goron Ruby. “I wish I could take you,” he told her truthfully, “but you know I can’t.”

“Grandma Yonah wouldn’t like it?”

“No.”

Shayla shrugged. “Well, that’s okay,” she decided. “You can tell me all about it when you get back.”

“On my honor,” he said, dragging a finger across his heart. “Now give your father a hug.”

“Okay!”

She surged forward, wrapping her arms around Glas’ neck. He smiled, patting her back lightly. “That’s my girl.”

“I love you, poppa,” she whispered in his ear.

“I love you, Shayla,” he replied.

Quickly, she kissed his cheek then took a step back, a big, broad smile glowing from her face. Some footsteps came echoing through the hallway and soon Kaya appeared once more. “Ready to get going?” she inquired, looking directly at the teary eyed Glas.

“Yes, yes,” he muttered, standing up and smoothing down the front of his plum colored robes.

“There aren’t any horses available, so we’ll have to go down the road to borrow a few from that ranch.”

“The one with that annoying hired hand?”

“That’s the one.”

Glas sighed. “We suffer for our duty.”

“Goodbye, Aunt Kaya,” Shayla said.

Kaya grinned broadly, leaning over to look at Shayla. “Goodbye, kiddo. Be good, okay?”

“You too, Aunt Kaya!”

“I’m always on my best behavior,” she sniffed, pretending to appear indignant, although she couldn’t hide her smile.

“Yeah, right, Aunt Kaya.”