Sit Pretty

by R. J. Price

  Scars laced Deret's torso. Some old, some new. One mark was still healing, but obviously had not been seen by a healer. It looked like someone had stabbed and slashed Deret at their leisure.

  “I don't know what else to do,” Deret said. “I can't stop her, she won't let me go to a healer. Says if I do she'll…” Deret risked a glance at Telm, then back to Aren. “I'd rather not repeat what she said. I fear for my life, Lady Aren. Lady Em insisted our mating be for life and at the time I agreed, but I didn't know who she was.”

  “Why didn't you report this before?” Aren asked Deret.

  Defeated, Deret slumped. “Who would believe me? A man being abused by his woman? I didn't think Lord Jer would do anything for me, thought Lord Av would laugh. What kind of a man puts up with this?”

  Aren frowned at Deret. “I will investigate this mating, but only if you see a healer and she writes me a report. If you fear what your mate will do to you, then remain in the healer hall until I send word as to my verdict.”

  “If you command it,” Deret said quietly.

  “I do command it,” Aren said, trying to be forceful.

  The man nodded and stood, pulling his shirt back on. He left with his head lowered. Telm closed the door behind him, sliding the lock into place. Aren stood, turning to Telm.

  “This will not do,” Aren said.

  “Of course it won't do,” Telm muttered. “Men don't get abused by women.”

  “I've watched my mother abuse my father with her words for years,” Aren responded tartly. “It can, and does, happen. Men are not the only ones capable of abuse. I want Lord Av and Lord Jer in this room within the hour.”

  Telm stared at Aren. “You cannot be upset with them for something they had no hand in.”

  “They allowed it to happen. That man obviously needed help and they were so focused on keeping the women happy that they didn't bother to look after their own. That is unacceptable,” Aren said sternly.

  “At least, wait until the healer's report back,” Telm said soothingly.

  “Fine, but I highly doubt he did that to himself,” Aren said as a knock came at the door. “What happened to no audiences?”

  “That will be easier to enforce once you're in the queen's rooms,” Telm said quietly. “Commoners are afraid of the rooms. Keeps them away.”

  Aren made a sound and returned to her seat by the fire as Telm greeted the person at the door.

  “Lady Lerana here to see you, Lady Aren,” Telm said in an annoyed tone.

  It was the tone that helped Aren recall that Lerana was Deret's mate. Aren watched the lady sit, considering her options carefully before she decided to pretend not to know anything.

  “What can I do for you, Lady Lerana?” Aren asked. “Please recall, this is on my time. Make it quick.”

  Lerana sighed loudly. “My mate is a known liar and I know he was just here. Probably telling some tale about how I hurt him. It's not the first time. I think he's upset because I'm barren, you see.”

  Watery eyes, cracking voice, Aren almost felt moved by the woman.

  “Lord Deret is going to the healer hall,” Aren said. “I will take accusations seriously and investigate them all.”

  “He's covering for the fact that he's the one who hurt me,” Lerana said desperately, shaking her head as she forced a sob. “He said this was what he would do, if I ever tried to tell anyone. He saw me go to the healer yesterday and must have decided to... Why don't you believe me?”

  Aren watched the woman, unaware what Lerana meant. The lady wasn't looking at Aren, she was looking at Telm. The older woman had her arms folded and an angry look on her face. One foot tapped on the floor in annoyance. Aren had never seen that sort of look on Telm's face.

  “I take it back, Aren,” Telm said. “I will call Lord Av and Lord Jer. Once Jer is done with Mar.”

  “You can go,” Aren said to Lerana.

  “Why is she allowed to make the judgement?” the lady protested. “She doesn't sit the throne, you do!”

  “Fool me, fine,” Aren said quietly, meeting Lerana's eyes. “I'm not such a fool as to ignore the advice of those around me. Telm obviously doesn't believe you, the healer will send her report, which will no doubt back your mate's claim, not yours.”

  Lerana stood, hands clenched at her sides. “You would believe a man over your own gender?”

  “I believe the one telling the truth,” Aren said, motioning to Telm. “She has a good deal more experience than I do. Not only with people, but as my rank. She believes you are lying. What sort of ruler would I be if I ignored the experienced opinions of those around me?”

  “You will regret this, I am powerful.”

  “You have no rank or title, and apparently no honour.”

  “I have powerful friends!”

  “By all means, send them my way,” Aren responded, standing. “I'm interested in purging my court of everyone like you. Get out of my rooms.”

  Lerana left, slamming the door behind her. Telm stood, back stiff, the pinched look still on her face. Chuckling despite herself, Aren motioned to the chair Lerana had just been sitting in. Telm took the seat, huffing out as she did.

  “What was that about men not being abused by women?” Aren asked Telm.

  “She's not even one of Em's ladies,” Telm grumbled. “I thought she was a good woman. How am I supposed to help you, if I've missed her for so many years?”

  Aren shrugged. “Everyone makes mistakes and you only noticed her after her mate spoke up. This is why we need the mates to speak. Some of the couples are likely happy despite how strangely they were paired.”

  There came another knock on the door. Groaning, Aren set her head in her hands as Telm stood to answer it. There was a hushed debate at the door before Telm opened it and invited the visitor in.

  “Lord Url Marilton to see you, Lady Aren,” Telm said grudgingly.

  Aren stood, furious. “This is my time! Whatever you have to say can wait until I call court! If you believe it to be so important you can call court and then we can discuss it, but not on my time!”

  Url looked startled. “I've never heard you use that tone before. It agrees with you.” He glanced at Telm. “Is the lady afflicted in some manner?”

  “Are you asking about my cycle?” Aren snarled at him.

  “More about sleep,” Url said, glancing to Aren. “Unless your cycle makes you like this, then I suppose, yes. Is it your cycle?”

  “It's not my cycle!” Aren shouted.

  “Then what, pray tell, is bothering you so much?” Url asked.

  “Lords and ladies coming at all times of the day, people who assume they know what is best for me, who try to lie to me and are surprised when I call them on what they're doing,” Aren said quickly. “That is what is upsetting me. An arranged mating I don't want. My parents and the barons at court to make certain I mate someone who I don't want to kill, leaving me with little option besides mate him. Which neither of us wants. What's bothering you, Lord Url?”

  “The arranged mating,” Url said with a boyish grin. “May I take you for a walk, Lady Aren? Wherever you would like to go.”

  “How about the archivist?” Telm offered, turning to Aren. “You can get out of your rooms, to a place where other lords and ladies won't bother you, and request the matings be voided.”

  “Very well,” Aren said. “Why are you comfortable with his taking me for a walk, but made such a fuss over Av doing as much?”

  “Lord Url is bound by his father's honour,” Telm said. “As baron to the north, Lord Er will not put up with such behaviour. Besides, he's relatively harmless.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Url led Aren to the archives, aware that every lord and lady they passed would be rushing to report back to whomever they called master. He also knew that his father, and the other barons, would be watching the court to discover who reported to whom. Once the lines were figured out, they were hoping to be able to tell why, at that point in history, the throne had
drawn the barons to the palace.

  The further the throne stretched its manipulative influence, the more magic it used. Of the barons, Merkat of the south was closest to the palace by far. It had been him who sent the missives to each of the others to call them to court. At different times, days and days apart, yet Merkat recalled sending all the missives at the same time. To the others the statement was clear.

  The throne called them.

  Why, though? North and east had already signed the treaties which would, one day in the near future, reunite them with the palace. Borders erased, completely under palace control. They signed hesitant treaties that would take almost twenty years to culminate. Allowing them to walk away if they had to, but also giving them a chance to bring one of their queens to the throne instead of living through another Em.

  Mirmae had been the first choice, the only right choice. She was the strongest the north had to offer. She turned down Url's father, his uncle, and numerous other warriors, because she chose Ervam. A combination of northern and eastern bloodlines, Mirmae was a remarkable argument for the reuniting of the lands.

  By separating the families, they were removing the possibility of their strongest lines breeding together to create stronger ranks.

  “What are you thinking about?” Aren asked Url.

  “Breeding,” Url said without thinking as they stepped into the archives. “Not like that,” he added quickly. “I was simply thinking of breeding in general. Mirmae Hue—have you heard much about her?”

  “She was Ervam's mate, mother of Av and Jer,” Aren said. “She was born of the north, but had a coastal name. Doesn't she share the same name as the baron of the east?”

  “That she does,” Url said nodding slowly. “They are distantly related. The Hue line, like the Marilton line, is well known for its ranks. Her father's blood mixed with that of a northern whore, yes, an actual whore. It's an honourable profession. Most give up the children to their fathers. Mirmae was strongest in a while. Until you, it would seem.”

  “Ervam is under the impression I'm weaker than Mirmae,” Aren said. “I have no stick with which to measure myself.”

  “Impossible for you to measure yourself with these ones around, everyone hiding themselves,” Url said with a nod. “Ervam believes Mirmae the strongest queen ever born. A man who links himself to a woman tends to believe as much, when it's real, true love. While she was the strongest the north had to offer, even now, she was not the strongest, nor are you, though you are stronger than she was.”

  “Then why would your grandfather send her south?” Aren asked. “Strength is a precious commodity in a queen, so why banish her? Just because his new mate didn't get along with her?”

  They stopped at the archivist's desk. The man who sat behind the desk was older than any man Url had ever seen. Knowing this was the archivist, he bowed his head slightly. To take the position one had to train for a very long time and needed a special skill along with magic of his own.

  “The one who sits the throne?” the old man croaked. “Coming to see me? Without Telm dragging you down, kicking and screaming?”

  “My name is Aren,” she said politely. “Who are you?”

  “The archivist,” was the grumbled response. “You are here to void two matings. I've got my boy searching for the papers.” With a tremble, the archivist turned to Url. “What do you want?”

  “I would like to make an alteration to the papers of Ervam Marilton and Mirmae Hue,” Url said.

  “No.”

  The archivist pushed two papers to Aren for her to sign. Written commands to find the mating papers and allow the archivist to void the matings upon finding the papers.

  Url frowned at the man.

  “What do you mean, no?” he asked.

  “The papers clearly indicate their state,” the archivist said without emotion. “You wish to remove the documentation which states they were mated.”

  “Weren't they?” Aren said to the air between Url and the archivist. Url watched the young woman think about it, watched as her face twisted up in surprise. “When you people mate, does the woman take the man's name?”

  “Yes, because he comes first to the mating.”

  “That's why Jer is a Hue,” Aren said.

  The archivist harrumphed. “Ervam has told the tale I wrote for him for a long time. Perhaps he believes it now, easier than his memories. The papers for Ervam and Mirmae will never speak the truth.”

  “Why do you want to change this now?” Aren asked Url. “Why not change it before?”

  “I didn't know they were claiming to be mated before,” Url said. “I didn't know Ervam brought the boys down here and claimed that Jer was his. I can overlook the mating, her blood mingled with that of mine, as far as I'm concerned, that's enough. But lying to Jer about how he came to be? Lying about my grandfather?”

  “If your grandfather didn't send Ervam here,” Aren said, looking to the archivist. “Then why did they come south?”

  “Because, while killing one's father is not against the law in the north should it be done for honourable reasons, killing the baron while not a warrior is,” the archivist said. “Baron Er sent his brother south because according to the law, Er had to take Ervam's life and his mate.”

  “Take his mate?” Aren asked, sounding surprised.

  “Multiple mates are permitted, under certain circumstances,” Url said. “Such as, your father is baron, a commoner takes his life. You have to take the commoner's life, but that makes you responsible for his mate and the blood he leaves behind. Every execution you perform, you adopt new blood. Not to perform mating duties, but in all other respects.”

  “With a toddler and newborn babe, Ervam Marilton and Mirmae Hue were banished to palace lands,” the archivist croaked. “Papers were provided for them, which I included in my archives, papers which I knew were illegitimate, but made no attempt to correct on the command of the one who sat the throne at the time.”

  “Why?” Aren asked.

  “For the benefit of the heir,” the archivist said. “According to the law of the north, the strongest warrior of all the children of the baron inherits his lands.”

  Aren frowned. “I'm getting really tired of people running circles.”

  “Jer is heir to the north,” Url said. “However, Ervam claimed Jer as his. That's how the north can rejoin the palace lands, because the baron line broke for the first time since we separated from the palace. Mirmae told my father to sign the papers; he signed the papers.”

  “Why is Jer heir, though? Is it the strongest warrior from the line? And… how do you tell what warrior is strongest?”

  “We know,” Url said. “It’s hard to explain. Especially to someone who doesn't have a stick to measure her own rank.”

  “I said, the strongest warrior child born to the baron. When Mirmae was to give Ervam paternity over her second born, Ervam's step-mother accused her of carrying on an affair with his father. Mirmae countered by calling a tribunal of her peers and defended before them. They relayed their decision, that Jer was the son of Ervam's father, but not by an affair.

  “The step-mother flew into a rage and attempted to murder Mirmae. By the time the two settled their dispute, Ervam had split his father in two.”

  “A fitting end to a rapist,” Url added.

  “Because Mirmae did not grant any man paternity, Jer retained her name unless she mated for life, in which case her children would follow the rights of the mate's born land. If the land knew they were not mated, it would have been forced upon them when Mirmae took the throne. They would have mated by palace law. Meaning Jer would have taken Ervam's bloodline, at which point the north would have their records updated and their archivist would assume Mirmae admitted paternity. Giving Jer the title of baron.”

  Url watched Aren consider this information, then she turned slowly to Url. “Why would you give me this information?”

  “Because I am high lord to the north,” Url said. “Do you know what a high lor
d is?”

  “A representative of the palace in the independent lands. You are an open offer to the lands to reunite with the palace and, should they reunite, you would very likely rule in place of the palace.”

  “That's pretty much right,” Url said. “I'm giving you the information you need to unite the north with the palace immediately. All you need to do is to change the records.”

  “At the risk of damaging this man's sense of self permanently,” the archivist huffed back. “Rather than being the good son born to the good man, he would be nothing more than a bastard, forced upon a family of victims.”

  Aren spoke, but Url had to strain to hear her voice. “If I don't, the north still joins the palace, just at the time of your father's death. Because if you tried to change your mind about the treaty, Lord Url, I could simply assert Jer's right and deal with his anger then.”

  “Bold,” Url responded.

  He wondered if Aren would keep her word, if he went back on the treaty. Or if this was one of those idle threats that ranks sometimes tossed to their friends and families to make decisions easier. Url had been wondering whether or not he could go through with the treaty his father had begged Mirmae to write.

  In order to save the people, Er said, always in order to save the people, but how could Url kneel to the throne? How could he bow to this untried woman? The north had always led with strength, they had never declined to the lowest point of the other lands.

  Their ranks were not, at that present time, as strong as the western ranks, but they did outnumber the western and eastern ranks put together. The north might have been populated mainly by warriors, but that didn't make them any less powerful.

  “Is there anything else I should know about the brothers?” Aren asked, either ignoring or not detecting Url's hesitance. “Or about Ervam?”

  “Ervam is a trainer, Mirmae was a queen, yet Ervam sat the throne without question because his boys stood to his back, protecting him from others,” Url said. “There's not much more for secrets.”

  “Lord Av is a true warrior,” the archivist muttered. “Still a warrior. A true warrior is one who breeds true. All of his children will be ranked, if the mother cannot provide life to a ranked child, it will appear they are unfortunate enough to be barren.”