“How do you think we should use this knowledge?”
The boy frowned. “I do not assume to know how you would use my Radiance most illuminated. But if being the Queen is anything like being an Elder in the village, sometimes you must do things you do not want to do, but are expected to do, because you are the person people look to for guidance.”
She nodded. Finyaka had some political insight it seemed. “We would use your knowledge to punish those who were the most corrupt, and award those who weren't.” Once again, the Court erupted in a clamor of voices as people began pointing fingers and naysaying what they had done.
This time Ayanyi ignored them, intent on Finyaka. She watched him ponder that answer. He closed his eyes, deep in thought. Even without her Radiance, she knew he struggled internally. He doesn’t want to use his Radiance for something he has no power over. Oh, to have the luxury to see the world in a naïve state of black and white.
This game had reached its end. Ayanyi had to make sure he could see the taint within the Court, though she was quite sure which of the nobles the boy would point to. If she used his powers now, unchecked and without ensuring their authenticity, it could cost her. Time to end this and have the boy evaluated before she used him in far more subtle ways. Just having him in the room with her may cause some of the nobles who were unsure of their loyalties to come to her side.
“Before we use your gift, we would confirm what you speak is true. We would test your accusations against those that we know are tainted. We will not do that before our Court. Not now. When you have been accepted by the Council, then we will call you before the Court and have you show us the wonders of your aura reading. Now return to your advocate and proceed with your lessons.”
The majordomo whispered into the boy’s ear, and Finyaka backed up three steps and awkwardly genuflected. He then backed to the door where his cousin rushed in to take his arm and walk him from the room. Ayanyi watched him go. Noted that once the boy reached Sheekara, the old mage-priest looked at her, gave a formal Court bow, then fell in behind. She had a thought.
“Amaya,” she commanded.
A young woman in her early twenties, her long course braid bound with bands of iron, brass, and gold to denote her as a noble heir, performed the genuflection flawlessly. She approached Ayanyi, stopping at the edge of the red circle and knelt, awaiting instructions.
“Amaya, approach and take our confidence.” With the grace of a hunting cat, Amaya approached the throne, allowed the guards to search her, then stood to Ayanyi’s left, her back to the Court.
Of her five natural and adopted children, Amaya was the most loyal, and most capable, for what she had in mind. If anyone could win Finyaka to her cause, Amaya could. Ayanyi took her daughter into her confidence.
Finyaka’s mind was a buzz. The meeting with the Queen had left him unsettled. Worse, the rest of the evening was a whirlwind of faces and conversation, most of it about him but directed to his advocate. I am but an object to marvel at. Those who came to gawk at him all carried the Darkness within them. It left him feeling nauseous. Tired of being paraded around, poked and prodded, subjected to endless scrutiny Finyaka addressed Sheekara, “Elder, permission to take my leave.”
“Where do you wish to take your leave, my young adherent?” The mage-priest seemed distracted. His tone, cold. He had yet to question Finyaka regarding his audience with the Queen.
The weight of the evening was slowly crushing Finyaka, he needed an escape. “Somewhere silent revered one.”
“I can attend him, most revered.” Matasa had remained by Finyaka’s side since they had departed the Queen’s Court.
Sheekara scowled. “You are both inseparable. Very well, at the end of the corridor to the left is the Adari Garden. If you get lost, ask the servants to direct you.”
His hand upon Matasa’s shoulder, Finyaka bowed. “Thank you, revered one.”
“I will send a servant when you are required.”
Finyaka bowed again and with Matasa leading, they made their way through the simple palace corridor, quickly losing the noise and crowds of the Gala. Many of the people in attendance, especially the nobles and mage-priests, carried a hint of the Darkness within them. How could he stop it from destroying the three bands when it was part of everything here? He was powerful, but the Darkness had overpowered him once already. He shuddered.
“Are you well?” Matasa stopped and turned to him, taking both of Finyaka’s hands in his.
Finyaka laughed, realizing his cousin had addressed him. “Just concerned for the wellbeing of the people of the city.”
Matasa just grunted.
They made their way through the corridor and as predicted, came to a large garden filled with the succulent smells of cacti blooms, the heady fragrance of thyme and the reassuring scent of the red acacia which reminded him of home. He could hear a great fountain and the calls of a sandgrouse, but everything else was lost to him.
“Seat me away from the fountain, near the olive trees if there are any.” He could see nothing but white. It was glorious.
“It’s quite the place, I wish you could see it,” mumbled Matasa.
“I can, just in a different way.” He grinned.
They walked about the fountain and he marveled at the intricate sounds the cascading water made, though the blatant disregard for water he found repugnant.
“How’s this?”
The air was sweet with red acacia and the fountain was muffled by the nearby trees. “Yes, it will do. You can go if you want.” Finyaka knew his cousin would never leave him, not after all they had been through.
“My place is at your side. I’ll stay if it’s all the same.” Matasa placed Finyaka’s hand upon the cold surface of a marble bench, waited for him to sit, and then took a seat nearby. Few people were here, and even though the day had been warm, the night air was chill against his bare chest. Finyaka took one of the upper layers of his loose sarong and draped it across his shoulders, holding it closed before him.
“The evening chill has set in.”
Finyaka looked to see the yellow color of Matasa’s aura. “Ever the guardian.”
Matasa gave an exasperated sigh. “I have failed you too many times already, I don’t want it to happen again.”
“Thanks, Matasa.” He didn’t know what else to say.
“May I be so bold as to join you?” the female voice was soft, yet assertive.
Matasa scrambled to take a knee. “It’s one of the noble heirs.”
Finyaka quickly followed suit.
Someone gave a soft laugh. “Be yourselves, please. I wish to speak with someone who isn’t wrapped up in my mother’s games… or have I chosen the wrong people to talk idly with?”
Finyaka and Matasa regained their feet. He could see the golden aura that was the heir, and the faint yellow tinges of what was most likely a half dozen Brass Guard.
“No, most illustrious, although it has been brought to my attention that I am part of this game now, whether I want to be or not.”
Finyaka saw the aura approach. She smelled of lavender and spice. “May I join the pair of you, or do you desire solitude?”
“No most illustrious...” Though her aura showed a small amount of the tarnish, she might be someone who could answer some of his questions.
“Matasa, are you alright with the noble heir joining us?”
“Uh-huh,” was the interesting reply.
“I am Amaya.” She sat beside Finyaka on the marble bench. “Being made aware of the game, as my mother calls it, is all part of who we are. Once you have been accepted into the world of the Council and the Court, you become a piece or a player. Which do you wish to be?”
“Player,” Matasa blurted.
Finyaka thought on this, being made a game piece sounded horrendous. “How do you play when you are unsure of the rules?”
Amaya snorted. “There are no rules. Well, at least set in clay. There are nuances and subtleties and perceived actions that everyo
ne is supposed to play by, but those all must be learned, usually the hard way. You held yourself well before the Queen earlier. It looks as if your advocate Sheekara has taught you a few of the more obvious rules. He is an excellent player and has been a great adversary to my mother and her Court for a long time.”
Matasa grunted. “I have never liked him.”
Finyaka crinkled his nose. “I had an idea he was powerful and didn't care much for a great number of people, but I was unaware of his posturing against the Queen.” Granted Finyaka felt uneasy around the old mage-priest, but he didn't show any signs of the Darkness. Given his station in the city and his general attitude, Finyaka found that odd.
“She is concerned that if she stands against Sheekara, then the other mage-priests will stand with him. Right now, they are broken into three factions, in part by the Queen’s actions to keep them separate and Sheekara’s insistence they act together. If they were to ally, they would most likely overthrow the Court. Which would put everything we know into turmoil, changing the social structure laid down by the First Singers in the Song of the Great Sun.”
“Destroying the three bands that hold together the Seven Peoples.” Finyaka ran his hand across his head. Matasa had grown silent.
Amaya leaned forward. “A most poetic way of saying it, but yes. There is power to be had, and there are those willing to do anything to achieve it. Your advocate is such a man, believe you me.”
Finyaka thought on this. Could Sheekara be the person that Sinaya’s spirit had warned him about?
“That is why he is so interested in understanding your Radiance.” Matasa’s voice was cold.
“Most likely. You have the potential of being a powerful piece in the game. I am sure you noticed the number of people that were interested in your abilities?” Finyaka nodded. “It is similar when you are a noble heir. People want the power of your position; they don’t care about you the person.”
Finyaka nodded in agreement. “I am seeing this now, most illustrious.”
“Please call me Amaya.” He felt a warmth in her words that had been missing in the city.
Matasa shifted beside him. “I think I understand. It’s like a ghost hound pack. They nip and claw and bite at each other until they know who is stronger and who is weaker, and for a time it stays as such, until an individual is killed, or hurt or sick, and then, the process starts again.”
“A decent analogy. Probably closer to reality than I’d care to admit. I have heard you fought the ghost hounds. Is that true?”
Finyaka realized the question had been directed toward him, though Matasa answered. “A large pack. We were able to drive them away.”
Amaya gasped. “You drove them away! Amazing. How many of your herd did they take with them?”
“Too many,” mumbled Matasa as he turned away.
That same grief welled up in Finyaka's breast, almost bringing him to tears. He reached for his cousin who pulled away. “In many ways, the ghost hounds are why we are here in the Golden City.” He rubbed the nape of his neck. “It is late, and I am exhausted, would it be rude to ask if we may take our leave.” He fought to find the words. He didn't want to go, but something told him it was time.
“Is there something more you are not saying? You can trust me. Honestly, I understand your position. People interested in your power, but not in you.” Amaya placed her hand between them on the bench.
Finyaka heard a kindred spirit in those words, but something in the back of his mind told him it was time to go. His shoulders slumped. What the young heir said was true. Could he trust her? Amaya had been straight forward with him, which was honorable, and she was a noble heir. To lie would be a disgrace to her position and the Queen. Wouldn't it? Finyaka was unsure what to do, but Amaya did seem to understand him. Though she did carry that small amount of the taint.
Matasa interceded for him. “There is much to our story, most illustrious, but we would not bore you. We should return before Sheekara comes looking for us.”
She held up her hands. “I will not pry further. Shall I take you to your advocate?”
“I can find the way.” Matasa stood and helped Finyaka to his feet.
“I am pleased to have met you, Finyaka Umu Salani. You are not what I was expecting.”
“Likewise, most illustrious.” He and Matasa bowed, then made their way back to the grand receiving room, more questions in their head when they had arrived.
The constant politicking had taxed him more than he could have foreseen. Sheekara hobbled to a stool and sat down. Relief of a sort found him. Yes, he was eighty-five, which normally meant enfeeblement, but he had known those blessed with the Radiance who lived into their one hundred and thirties. Finyaka would be the death of him. Hiding his aura from the boy was draining. Trying to ply the Darkness to those around him — while the boy was near was next to impossible. But he had succeeded, and more of his tendrils were woven into the fabric of the Court.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Please, revered master, I have information that might be of use.”
The scarred and dour face of Captain Atsubu of the Brass Guard appeared; her braids matted in sweat. She removed her hand and bowed politely. “I am sorry to have touched you, revered one, but the information I have maybe of urgency.”
He looked at her, one of his operatives within the palace, and then around to see who may be watching. The area was clear of prying eyes. He sang a quick Song of Silence just in case there were those with the Radiance who could overhear their conversation from a distance.
“Speak, woman. What news do you have?”
“The Queen has sent her middle daughter, the illustrious Amaya, to entice your apprentice-acolyte to their cause.”
“I see. How did you come by this?”
“I was one of the guards by the throne this day. After you and your apprentice-acolyte left the Queen’s presence, she called Amaya to her confidence. They spoke quietly for a time, then she dismissed her. Your apprentice-acolyte was the subject of the conversation. The heir will be asking him to join her in the Hall of Knowledge, to discuss his Radiance.”
Sheekara sat for some time as he pondered the ramifications of the Captain’s report. The Queen was interested in his little goatherd. Someone of Finyaka’s power level would be desirable, especially when they were as young and manipulative as he was. This was something he needed to address and quickly.
These galas usually left Ayanyi feeling bone-weary and agitated, but this one had been brutal. First the never-ending line of adherents, then the conversation with the powerful little goatherder from the wadi. Never had she seen so many people jockey for the chance to see a young adherent, especially one which hadn't even been indoctrinated by the mage-priests yet, regardless of the regalia he wore. Even she had judged whether he was useful as a pawn in her machinations. Ayanyi stood before her dressing mirrors in her private chambers and lifted her arms. Three serving girls were beside her, one with a simple goblet full of wine, the other two unraveled her hair from her crown. The Queen drained the goblet and then handed it to the servant to refill, which the young girl did quickly and efficiently. Once they had freed her hair, they helped her from her formal attire. Soon she was casually dressed, sitting on her chaise sipping her wine, feeling more comfortable than she had all day.
Ayanyi sighed. “Get us something to help with this wine?” The smallest of the three servants bowed and left the room. Ayanyi dismissed the other two, then sat in silence, mulling over the events of the evening.
Her reverie was broken when the servant returned with bread, olive oil… and her daughter, who, dispensing with formalities followed the petite maid into the chambers and took a small stool in the corner.
“It is not like you to come unannounced.”
“I saw your maid and decided to follow her. She informed me you were alone.” The small servant blushed.
Ayanyi’s brow furrowed and she cast a hard look at the young maid, “Stay with us.”
The servant bowed, placed the bread and oil on a table and took a place behind the Queen. “What brings you to my private chambers unannounced my daughter?”
Amaya stood, walked to the small table where the decanter of wine was sitting and poured herself a glass. “The adherent, he did not confide in me as we had expected.”
Ayanyi nodded and sipped her wine, she was shocked Amaya was not able to take the young man into her confidence. She waited as Amaya swirled the wine in her cup and drained it.
“He spent most of the eve being paraded by Sheekara. When he did leave, he went to the Adari Garden with his cousin. The two sat in quiet until I joined them.” Her daughter poured another cup of wine and sat. "We were discussing Sheekara and his plans for drawing the Council to his cause. I thought Finyaka was being poetic when he said: Destroying the three bands that hold together the Seven Peoples. It has stuck with me.”
Ayanyi attempted to hide her shock, but her daughter could read her better than most. Amaya placed her goblet on the table and leaned forward, made to reach for Ayanyi, and then pulled back. “Mother?”
Ayanyi put her hand to her mouth, “Are you certain of the words?”
“Yes,” Amaya’s voice was low, guarded.
“When I was heir, my mother spoke to me of an old proverb. When the Bands of Gold complete their ring, the Bands of Brass shall fall to taint, and the Bands of Iron will be shackled to the yoke of Darkness. I never understood it, though I have always assumed it meant the Mage-Priest Council rebelling against the Court. It would mean the destruction of the three bands which hold together the Seven People. It would be the collapse of all that we know.” She placed her wine goblet on the table. “Was there more? Did Matasa say anything?”
Amaya massaged her forehead. “No. They were both very defensive and shared little.”
Ayanyi mulled over the information she had garnered from her daughter. “The hour is late but call upon our allies within the Order of Erudition and begin at once. I want our scholars to investigate his Radiance. Also, have them look upon the registers and discern if any heretical wielders may have made their way to the lands of the Umu Salani. I am quite sure his Radiance is of the Great Sun, but I must be certain. He and Matasa both could be working for Sheekara already.”
Forgotten Magic (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 3) Page 67