Kariana raised an eyebrow at this. “How is that possible?”
Teretha raised her eyebrows and rocked forward, grinning. “By acquiring the right friends.”
Kariana listened intently as Teretha explained her plan, and smiled at its simplicity. She felt her mistrust slowly replaced by awe at Teretha's cunning and audacity, her simple cutting of an impossible knot. I could learn so much from her.
Yet a nagging voice in her head argued it was not enough. She remembered staring up at the statue of Tasinal, blood running down her face, and dreaming the mad dream of dispensing with cunning once and for all, to have the power to simply smash her enemies rather than fence and spar for every advantage. The notion of living by her own rules, and not having to lie and manipulate was a powerful one indeed, but to reach that, she would need to prove herself. This was a stepping stone.
I could be more. If my father hadn't held me back. If I had been trained. “I'll play this game,” she said at last. And win.
Narelki looked up from her desk in the library as Slat opened the doors. “You have a visitor, Mistress,” he told her.
Kariana, seeming even shorter standing next to Slat, gave Narelki a look of grudging surrender.
Narelki nodded to Slat. “You may leave us.” She waited until the doors were closed before addressing her uninvited guest. “Did you truly imagine you could summon me like a slave?”
Narelki was expecting rage, petulance, or perhaps even feigned long suffering nobility, but she was taken aback by what she saw on Kariana's face: sheer terror.
Kariana's eyes darted back and forth, as if searching for spies. “I felt safer in the palace, and I couldn't trust a messenger. I'll just have to hope Amrath's Library keeps its secrets.”
Narelki was tempted to simply eject Kariana and go back to her treatise. This is such an obvious production. Still, it wouldn't do not to find out what the child was up to. She was possessed of a certain low cunning that could prove troublesome if not watched carefully. “Nihlos would have fallen long ago if the Library of Amrath were not inviolate. Speak whatever lie you came to tell and begone.”
Kariana began to blink quickly, her features trembling as if her brain were being overloaded. Ah, there. A little more pressure at that crack, I think, will prove telling, or at least amusing. “It's more than one thing,” she stammered.
You are absolutely infuriating with your idiocy. “Then perhaps you ought start with the first, hmm, then proceed on to the others?”
“Okay, okay! I'm just trying to figure out which is first.” Kariana fidgeted like the child she was for long moments as Narelki's patience unraveled even further, but at last she blurted out, “They're going to kill Aiul!”
Narelki felt a brief chill, the natural reaction to hear one's child is in danger, before she considered the source of the information. She gave Kariana a patronizing look. “Who?”
“The Meites!”
The chill in her gut rose again, briefly. They are indeed capable of it, but why would they? She pushed it down again, feeling her lips purse in annoyance. Kariana was a habitual liar and a crude manipulator. This story was likely the hook for something, though precisely what remained to be seen. Still, there was something in her demeanor, her choice of words, that made hearing her out seem worthwhile. Narelki offered Kariana a cold, calculated glare. “Let us say for the moment that you had fooled me with this pathetic attempt at deception. How did you come by this knowledge and continue breathing?”
Slowly, with copious amounts of hand waving and self aggrandizing, Kariana trotted out her obviously rehearsed back story. There I was, just minding my own business, thinking only pure thoughts, when suddenly yadda yadda. Youth are so arrogant, imagining their plodding, mundane attempts at cleverness are unique or even very effective. A zombie no one else had seen was convenient, and Kariana's feigned noblesse oblige was sickening, her bravery in going to demand answers from powerful sorcerers absolutely ridiculous.
“I was working up my nerve to go in when they started chanting this poem, and then they started fighting, and Maranath yelled out, 'She intends to kill Aiul, you fool!'” Kariana paused and looked at the floor, embarrassed. “And then I ran away.”
The ice in Narelki's belly refused to go down this time. No! Oh, no, it cannot be that! She stared intently at Kariana, forming each word carefully, like a sculptor chipping ice from a block. “What were they chanting? What words?”
Fear shone on Kariana's face at Narelki's new tone. “I can't remember!”. She sputtered. “Something about a thousand years, and ten centuries, and –.”
Narelki could not help herself. She had spent years since her fall, working so hard to master her once raging emotions. She no longer had the luxury of that freedom. Yet the fury could not be contained. Kariana forgotten, Narelki leapt to her feet, seized a vase from her desk, and smashed it against the wall where it exploded in a rain of pottery, water, and flowers. “Traitors!”
Kariana slowly backed toward the door, eyes bright with sudden fear, hands up as if to ward off a blow, shouting. “What? What did I say?”
Narelki barely noticed her. With a shriek, she grabbed at the edge of her desk and flipped it over, scattering papers over the floor. “I'll kill you all, you back stabbing, treacherous whores!”
It was, Narelki thought, like having a seizure, or the closest experience she had to compare. One felt it coming on, the jaw clenching like a vise, the pressure inside the skull demanding release, and then the feeling that one's head were literally coming apart at the seams. Control fled in a blinding flash as everything was blotted out. Then came the flailing about, smashing things, often enough of great value, as if they were a sacrifice. Control returned slowly, some time later, and one often enough found themselves in a humbling position. She ran her hand over her face as she contemplated the mess. “Brilliant,” she muttered to herself. “I'll be lucky to salvage that treatise.” Undignified, but better than feeling helpless.
She suddenly remembered her guest, and cast a tired glare her way. Kariana stood cringing in the corner, pallid and wide-eyed like a prey animal.
“Wretch,” Narelki spat as she struggled to regain her dignity. “Even a fallen Meite terrifies you, I see.”
Kariana blinked several times. “What? I don't–”
“It doesn't matter,” Narelki snapped. She considered calling for Slat to have the slaves clean the mess, but it was bad enough that Kariana knew of her tantrum. She could not bear the shame of Slat's disapproving, silent stare. He had never whipped her as a child, but that was only because her own father had been quite handy with a switch, and Slat had learned from a master. She put the thought from her mind and bent down to pick up pieces of the vase. “What else did you have to tell me?”
Kariana was trembling now. “You're a Meite?” she asked in a near-whisper. After a moment, she added, “Are you going to kill me?”
Narelki stood and deposited the shards into a waste basket, then turned to address her insolent, mocking, and soon to be ejected guest. But looking at the girl, it seemed less mockery and more genuine ignorance. We've done you no favors, have we? Narelki sighed and allowed herself a brief smile. She suddenly felt very old again. “I once was. But no more. And no, I think I'll let you live for now, at least until I've heard the rest of what you've come to say.” A million new questions seemed to float in Kariana's shocked stare, but now was not the time. “Your news first. What is the other issue?”
Kariana nodded, eager to comply. “Teretha Prosin wants an alliance with you and me. She says to remind you of the Continuity of Government plans, and you will understand how we can take control of the council.”
Narelki heard herself speak, even as she was absorbing the information. “That's patently ridiculous. It hasn't been used in...” She trailed off as she thought more deeply. Perhaps. Kariana, still nervous and blinking in confusion, seemed to be trying to understand, and failing. Mei, I don't remember the details! She began scanning the bookshelves,
looking for a specific volume, the name of which she could not quite remember. I'll know it when I see it.
Kariana, of course, lacked the grace to simply silence her prattle while her elders were thinking. “She doesn't know about Aiul and the Meites. But we could stop them if we did this, right? They'll listen to the will of the council?”
Narelki laughed softly, nodding at this even as she continued her search. “And of course I would have to absolve Rithard. That's what this is really about, yes?”
“Isn't it worth it?”
Narelki paused and raised an eyebrow at Kariana, considering, then turned back to the shelf. “It is. I have no real hatred for Rithard. It was Davron's doing.” She felt a brief flare of rage at the thought of Davron's arrogance, followed by a small, lustful thought. She had to admit, grudgingly, he was all the more attractive for it. “I can hardly fault the boy for being afraid, and I can't help but admire how well he carried it off. But he should have come to me. I could have protected him.” She grimaced at the correction that came to mind, as if swallowing a bitter pill, but felt it would be simply weakness not to speak the plain truth. “We could have protected him.”
“So you are still a Meite?”
Narelki placed a hand where she left off her search, shook her head sadly, and gave Kariana her attention once again. “No. I have nothing left. It's all gone. They coddle me, as if I am a child they need to protect, but my own power fled me long ago. I've had to learn other ways.” She ground her teeth momentarily. “Such as this bargain you propose.”
“Which I don't even understand, just so we're clear,” Kariana said, her tone acid despite her obvious terror. “Nobody ever taught me about this kind of thing. I'm lucky I'm still alive.”
Narelki couldn't help but feel some empathy for her. “I suppose you know something of how it feels, hmm? To lose your whole life and find yourself having to learn to swim in deep water.” Kariana, for once, was silent, and suddenly seemed to find the floor a subject of great interest. We did it to her, for our own selfish reasons. She's absolutely right—it's a wonder she's survived.
Narelki turned back to her search once again, and saw the book she wanted just below her hand. “Ah, here!” she exclaimed as she hauled a large, leather bound book from the shelf. She was somewhat surprised to see not even a mote of dust. I really must remember to congratulate Slat on this. Of course, he didn't do the work on his own, but clearly he held his people to a rigorous standard. Even she wouldn't have demanded such perfection, but then, Slat had always been that way.
“Teretha is referring to an ancient law that hasn't been invoked since the days just after Nihlos's founding.” She showed Kariana the book briefly before opening it and thumbing through the pages. “You must understand, in the early days, when all of the houses were ruled by Meites, there were often battles, literally, amongst the council members. There was a distinct possibility that a particularly nasty struggle could end up with someone dead or incapacitated.” As you, yourself have suffered from, though no one had the decency to tell you.
“If the battle were large enough, it might leave the council unable to field a quorum, and prevent them from governing, so Amrath wrote a contingency into the law. The normal quorum is nine, two thirds of the full council plus one more. But should one third of the council members die or become otherwise unable to perform their duties, the quorum changes, but only for confirming new members. It becomes a simple majority of the active members, until there are at least nine again.”
Kariana's eyes grew wide as she made the connection. “Sadrina's never been replaced!”
Narelki nodded. “And Davron is in open revolt. While I'm not certain it qualifies in the sense the founders meant it, he's made no friends with this stunt. Most of the councilmembers would see it our way.” Narelki considered a moment. “Presumably, Teretha will have her own puppet suddenly fall ill or resign. Now I understand why they put that idiot in charge. He was disposable all along. But we would need one more to reduce quorum to five.”
Kariana's expression darkened. “Prandil! I'll seduce him and poison him!”
Narelki barked a harsh, humorless laugh at this. “Mei! You are bold, aren't you? Or are you completely ignorant of the fact that he and I were lovers once?”
Kariana quailed at this. “I'm doing a good job of making sure I don't get out of here alive, huh?”
Narelki laughed again, and dabbed at tears in her eyes. She's actually quite hilarious, if one thinks of her in the proper mindset. “I didn't say I objected, child. It's just that you wouldn't be able to carry it off.”
“I see the way he looks at me!”
“Oh, you could seduce him well enough. But poison a Meite? Not possible. If he even noticed the attempt, he'd refuse to believe it, and then beat you within an inch of your life, if not beyond.”
“That's impossible! No one is immortal!” Kariana said.
“Oh, he's hardly immortal. Meites bleed like anyone else. It's just that you'd need to be considerably more up front about it, and you'd need to do it quickly.”
“So you don't care if he dies?”
“If I am to believe what you've told me, he's part of a conspiracy to murder my child.”
“'If',” Kariana sighed. “I told you all I know. You seemed like you believed me when you were wrecking the place.”
“You are correct. I find myself fairly convinced, even knowing who you're bargaining with. No one outside the order would know enough to mock up that story you told, including Teretha Prosin.”
“So what do I tell her, then?”
“Tell her I'm considering her offer. Until I have a plan to deal with Prandil, it's irrelevant, anyway.”
Rithard sat unmoving in a comfortable chair, fingers steepled, contemplating how to escape his cell. Oh, it had the appearance of a nicely appointed room, but it was a cell nonetheless. The door was locked, making him a prisoner, something he intended to rectify.
He remembered Davron hammering a mailed fist into Caelwen’s skull, and Caelwen going down to the prodigious blow. They had taken Rithard then, giving him no chance to even find out if his friend had survived. Rithard offered little protest. It was not the time. They were strong, and he was drunk and weak.
But now, sober again, with time to think, and left alone and in reach of any number of things he might turn into weapons, they would soon regret underestimating him. Did they not realize he could make poison gas with the cleaners they so thoughtlessly left unguarded? Perhaps even an explosive?
Rithard chuckled darkly to himself. Or a powerful acid that will melt the flesh from your skulls. You imbeciles should never have given me a means of cooking. He took his small grenade from his pocket and cradled it in his hand in anticipation. They will come soon.
‘Soon’ was a relative thing. He had almost lost his enthusiasm at the prospect by the time he at last heard a key rattling in the lock,
Rithard leapt to his feet and took up a position to the side of the door, poised to hurl his vial of acid at the head of whomever entered. As it happened, however, the door opened to reveal the one person who could stay his hand.
Teretha, resplendent in a provocative black silk dress, stepped through the door. Davron entered behind her, literally in tow. She was arm in arm with him.
Teretha looked Rithard, frozen in place, hand held high and ready to strike. Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion. “What are you about, Rithard?” Davron's hand lowered, hovering at his blade, but he said nothing.
Rithard lowered the vial with a great sigh, and cast his eyes to the ground. He was neither pleased nor surprised to see Davron's hand move away from his sword and around to Teretha's backside. So, she's taken control here. I should have expected as much. “It would seem I misunderstood the situation.” He gave her a sour look and added, “Of course, I was lacking any number of data points that might have prevented that.”
“Don't be petulant, Rithard,” she chided. “It's a safe bet that if I did
n't have you snatched up, Narelki would have.”
“And my friend is dead because of it!”
Davron rolled his eyes at this. “Mei, he's fine, nothing worse than a headache and a sore jaw. We can send for him later if you'd like proof of that.”
Rithard raised an eyebrow. “An interesting way to put it. You imply I am your prisoner.”
Teretha reached up with delicate hands and turned Rithard's head to face her. “I want you safe until this sorts out.”
Davron nodded. “The sooner it's done, the sooner I'll get my father's sword back.”
Teretha turned to him and laid a hand on his chest. “In good time.” She smiled at him and added, “It will be pleasant enough, I assure you.”
Davron's face seemed to go to war with itself for a moment, torn between outrage and desire, at last settling for surrender.” My father would not approve.”
Teretha's eyebrows rose in shock and offense. “Of me?”
“Oh, no, my dear. My father was quite fond of women, too, to my good fortune. No, I was thinking of my ignoring the theft of his blade in order to plant my own.”
Teretha patted his cheek. “Your father would want you to have an heir, and theft is such a strong word. I've merely borrowed it for while. It's not as if I've asked overmuch for its return.” She turned back to Rithard, a calculating smile on her face. “Save one son, and make another. Fighting and fucking have ever been passions that men find difficult to resist.”
Rithard shuddered to hear her speak so frankly, and thanked whatever gods might have had a hand in his birth that he was the one man in the world immune to her manipulations. At least those kind. She has other strings to pull on me, but they are not so strong. “So I am a guest, now?”
Davron waved an arm toward the hallway. “You'll have the run of my grounds, but no farther. I can't protect you if you leave.”
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