“Yes. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” retorted Banimelek, “unless you want every member of the Silent Corps to call you an idiot for the rest of your life; there’s nothing wrong with that. Do me a favor, don’t mention it to anyone else.”
“Come on you two,” called Jedarc. “Enough secrets. Let’s move.”
Ahiram and Banimelek rejoined the group.
“Jedarc, what’s wrong?” asked Banimelek.
“I’m still hungry,” moaned Jedarc. “I want a banana.”
“Do you always complain when you’re hungry?” asked Hiyam.
“Of course, don’t you?”
“I have never complained,” she answered after a moment of silence.
“Never? Never as in not once, not even a smidgen, not one complaint, ever? Wow. That makes you a prime target for marriage.” She shoved him and he laughed. “Come on, I was teasing, so what do you mean by never?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Growing up, I grouped people and objects into two camps. Those I owned, and those I did not. I used what I owned and asked for nothing else. This is the Temple’s way.” She jerked back when Jedarc’s hand appeared in front of her face.
“This one is for you,” he said, smiling.
“A daisy?”
“Yep, It’s a flower, and it’s for you. Here.” Before she could protest, he slid the stem through her thick, curly hair. “It suits you. Would you like an apple?” He turned back and called to Ahiram, who was, once again walking behind them with the rest of the group. “Hey, Ahiram, do you have another one?”
“Please,” she interjected, “do not ask him for anything on my account.”
“You’re joking, right? This is Ahiram we’re talking about. I can ask him for anything. I can even ask him to bring me the moon and he will. He’s my friend.” Turning around he yelled, “Ahiram, do you have an—” Jedarc’s hand moved so fast it startled Hiyam. “There,” he added with a beaming smile while handing her the apple he had just caught. “A green apple. It looks good with the daisy. It suits you.”
Sondra rolled her eyes. “Why can’t the gods spare us? Tinantel in love? He was impossible before. Imagine him now.”
“Ah, love,” replied Zurwott, “the gleaming gem of a beating heart. The hearty beat beaming like a majestic gem. It is the crowning crown and the achieved achievement of a life well-lived.”
“Are you in love too?” asked Sondra.
“Not yet,” explained Orwutt. “Dwarfs are not allowed to fall in love before they have secured their inheritance in the clan.”
“You mean, gained their heritage?”
“No, secured. The clan inherits part of our wealth when they reach adulthood. Once we have secured our clan’s inheritance, we are then allowed to seek a she-dwarf for marriage.”
“I see. Who can you marry?”
“Any she-dwarf of our choosing.”
“Do you only choose a mate of your clan?”
“We prefer not to.”
“Why?”
“Since the she-dwarf’s clan provides the dowry, we prefer to dip into another clan’s wealth.”
“That’s sooo complicated! How can a dwarf ever get married?”
Orwutt had a dry chuckle. “It happens routinely, and once a year, representatives from all the clans come together for rebalancing.”
“Rebalancing?”
“Yes, we tally all weddings and dowries then exchange the difference in wealth between clans. While each clan’s wealth may vary from year to year, over longer periods, it evens out.”
“From year to year,” added Zurwott.
“Then why go through this ritual?”
“Because it is tradition,” replied Orwutt, slightly offended, “and because the wealthiest clan chooses the next king.”
“I sure am glad I am not a she-dwarf,” scoffed Sondra.
“How is it among your kin?” asked Orwutt.
“The man brings half the dowry, the woman brings the other half.”
“How sensible.”
“Isn’t it? And after the wedding the newlyweds go through a ritual fight with dull daggers. The winner becomes the lawful owner of the dowry and rules over the household. See? Sensible.”
About two hundred and fifty miles north, in the Fortress of Amsheet, Noraldeen walked into her room. She had just returned from her daily visit to the orphanage in Amsheet. The previous month, at her father’s suggestion, she had visited the orphanage for the first time and the young children had taken an instant liking to her. For the past thirty days, she had visited the orphanage daily where she played with the children, helped to feed them, and even sang lullabies before putting them to bed. Noraldeen’s voice was beautiful—though the other Silent had never heard her sing.
“Lady Noraldeen?”
Noraldeen looked up and saw her first maid waiting by the door.
“Yes, Mamameer, what is it?”
Marialeen walked in followed by two maids carrying a silky white dress. Noraldeen cringed. She looked at her mamameer, her second mother, the woman who had taken care of her after her own mother had died in childbirth.
“An Empyrean messenger came yesterday. A delegation of the empress is on its way to meet with your father. They will reach Amsheet by nightfall, and they are under the leadership of Princess Gaëla Meïr Pen.”
“Gaëla Meïr Pen,” replied Noraldeen, astounded. A chill ran up her spine. “The heiress to the Empyrean Kingdom is coming to us?”
“In person.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know M’Lady.” Even though Marialeen had raised the young woman, she always kept protocol. “Your father has sent me for you. He requires your presence by his side when Princess Gaëla arrives.”
“But—”
“Your father, Lord Orgond,” said Marialeen, who could be firm when necessary, “is convinced the empress would find it regrettable to know that her daughter, the heiress, was in a hall full of men.”
“That is not what I meant. As a Silent, I am bound to protect and—”
“And as the daughter of Lord Orgond, you are duty-bound to stand by your father.”
“Well, I refuse to wear a dress. I am a Silent.”
“And I will not have you dishonor your mother’s memory.”
The two women glared at each other.
“I will not dishonor my mother’s memory, but every time I wear a dress, men stare at me.”
“You lift their thoughts by your bearing and conduct. Either you stand before men by the truth within you, or you kneel before the lie within them. The choice is yours.”
“You are worthy of the Empyreans, Mamameer.”
Marialeen smiled. “I was honored to serve as your mother’s first maid for four years. I learned much from her; the best of women.”
Noraldeen beamed. Since she had never met her mother, hearing Marialeen extol her virtues warmed her heart. “Fine,” she sighed. “Bring the flaming dress and let’s be done with it.”
“Not so fast, M’Lady,” said Marialeen. “The Empyreans respect Lord Orgond for his fairness and strength, but they prefer dealing with a woman. You will welcome the princess.”
Noraldeen moaned and plopped down on her bed. “Me? But I am a Silent. I trained for combat and negotiation, not to heap praise on Empyreans who believe the ground should turn gold beneath their feet.”
Marialeen laughed and swiftly grabbed Noraldeen by her arms, yanking her off the bed. Noraldeen gracefully rolled into a somersault, and landed gently in front of her father, who had just walked in. He took her by the waist and spun her around.
“Ah, daughter, how much I cherish the days when you were three apples high. I could lift you up in one hand, then toss and catch you. All behind your mamameer’s back, of course; she could not bear to see those acrobatics. Now, look at you. How much you have grown. You remind me of your mother in temperament and beauty.” Lord Orgond became serious. “I had a say in the training program of the
Silent. I believe Commander Tanios has prepared you for diplomacy better than you think. I should like to see my daughter in a dress for a change. Come to think of it, a visit from the princess may have a salutary effect on your demeanor.”
Noraldeen looked at him dejectedly, but her mamameer’s stern gaze kept her quiet. She sat on her bed as though she had been condemned to death. The maidservants closed the door behind the lord and lifting their sleeves, surrounded Noraldeen with the determination of generals about to wage a fierce battle.
“Lord Orgond, the great statue of Jaguar-Night is here.”
“Ah, yes.” replied Orgond.
The effigy of the Togofalkian god had reached the fortress ahead of the midnight procession where it would parade through Amsheet. This was the long-awaited, grand opening of the carnival named for the god.
“Bring it in,” commanded Lord Orgond. He stood in the great hall where the statue would be kept. A group of men pulled a cart in. It rumbled slowly and stopped before the pedestal reserved for the statue. A thick velvet cloth covered its content. Lord Orgond inspected the cart, carefully and methodically, as agreed with the Togofalkians. The men waited patiently, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Togofalkian god.
“Uncover it,” said Orgond.
Immediately, the men removed the cloth. A mahogany crate with a thick gold frame occupied most of the cart. Carefully, one of the men climbed onto the wain, gripped a gold handle, and pulled the front of the large box. Working quickly, he released a series of locks and removed the top and the four walls, revealing its content. Even Orgond was taken aback. The statue was a lifelike representation of a black jaguar leaping forward. Its jaws were of gold and its teeth made of precious stones. The front paws—cut from zephyr—were air-born with protracted jade claws. But what struck the men most were the eyes. They covered almost one third of the face and were made of red corundum rubies; one of the rarest and hardest minerals on earth. The upper eyelids looked like two large gold triangles. The face would have been comical had it not been for the bloody reputation of this god.
“Very well, gentlemen,” whispered Orgond. “Let it remain here.”
The men bowed, stowed the disassembled crate beneath the wagon and left in haste. They must be scared. Standing before the uncovered statue in the large deserted hall, he gazed into its eyes. I do not blame them. Leaving the hall, he ordered the guards to stop anyone from walking in the hall without permission.
Two hundred miles south, near the edge of Magdala, Bahiya had just completed her thorough inspection for magic.
“No curses here,” she whispered. “Still, there is a powerful magical presence. Something I do not recognize.”
“Friendly?” asked Tanios.
She shook her head. “Not friendly, but without evil intent.” Seeing Tanios’ confusion, she explained: “This evil is not set against us.”
He nodded. “Shall we climb?”
She nodded back.
A moment later, Tanios reached the last rung of the ladder and stepped onto a rugged platform, high in the tree. He turned around and lent a hand to Bahiya. She grabbed his hand and for a split second, their eyes met. He looked away and sat down on a bench. She reached the platform and sat beside him. They waited in silence for Habael to join them. She looked at Tanios, wanting to say something, but he looked down. He was relieved to see Habael resuming his ascent. This closeness with Bahiya was starting to weigh on him. He stood up and went to the edge of the platform. All around him, giant trees stood silently, as if watching. He craned his neck but could not glimpse the treetop. He heard someone weeping and glanced at Bahiya, half-expecting to see her in tears, but she pointed to a dark structure behind them.
At last, Habael reached the platform. Tanios lent him a hand.
“Have you found anything?”
“Yes, someone is crying behind these branches,” replied Tanios.
Habael pushed the branches away and opened a door. A disheveled man walked out.
They gasped.
“Garu!” exclaimed Tanios.
“What happened to you?” added Bahiya. His appearance was ragged. He had not washed or shaved in weeks, his eyes were red and swollen, and his tussled hair was covered with dirt and debris.
Still weeping, Garu ushered them into the small room and did not bother to ask how they found him or what they were doing in this part of the kingdom. They entered sedately and immediately saw a poor creature, barely human, deformed and eaten by leprosy, lying on a thin mattress made of fresh leaves. Only their perfect self-control prevented them from running away. Instead, Habael moved closer to Garu, placed his hand on his shoulder, and spoke softly.
“Garu, who is this?”
“My poor Ramel,” said Garu in a choked whimper. “Oh, my love, my love,” he exclaimed and he fell to his knees sobbing.
“The Queen?” replied Tanios in hushed amazement.
Bahiya knelt by Garu. “This is then the source of the evil I sensed,” she whispered. “She is under a powerful curse. Garu, what happened?”
The Queen started to shiver violently. Garu quickly grabbed a blanket and gently placed it on her. He signaled for Tanios to bring the candle closer. Garu placed his hand on the forehead of the Queen, and Tanios had to resist a gag. The face was no longer human.
“She has a high fever. I do not know what to do,” said Garu rapidly. “I tried every medicinal herb I know of in the forest to no avail. I cannot cure her. Curse you, Ibromaliöm. Cursed be the day that I trusted you, the day that you enchanted this innocent creature with your lies and deceits. All you wanted was the book. The book! What to do? What to do? Master Habael, help me, I beg you, bring back my Ramel to me, please.”
Habael looked at Garu with eyes full of pity. “Master Garu, I am so sorry, but I do not think there is much anyone of us can do. She is dying.”
Garu slumped to the floor sobbing uncontrollably now. Even though he knew the Queen was dying, hearing it was a shock. He looked at Habael and Bahiya with pleading eyes, imploring them to do something. Bahiya knelt by him and held him in her arms. Garu sobbed quietly. Habael placed the deformed hand of Ramel, which only three weeks ago, had been so beautiful, into the hand of Garu. The Queen’s respiration had become short and erratic.
“Ramel, my poor Ramel, do not leave me,” moaned the former judge. The Queen’s body tensed, she sighed one last moan, then became still. Queen Ramel was dead.
Garu was inconsolable. Gently, Bahiya helped him to get up and go outside. His resistance was broken by the strain of these past days, and he followed her like a child.
How did he manage to bring her up here? wondered Bahiya. What he did is nothing short of heroic.
Tanios shuddered. The thought of Garu carrying the deformed, rotting body of Ramel sent cold shivers up his spine. Lepers were unclean, and Ramel was far worse. By touching her, Garu accepted to be unclean. Unclean out of love, Tanios mused. Poetic.
“How will we bring him down?” asked Habael. “He is too weak to climb down on his own.”
“We will lower him with ropes. Two Silent will do it.”
“We must also bury the Queen,” Habael pointed out.
“What?” Tanios snarled. “Bury a cursed leper? We would become unclean. Why not burn the body?” But he already knew the answer to that question. “I see. The forest. We cannot start a fire on this platform. Leave the body to the crows. They will do a fine job picking the bones.”
“It is proper to bury a body, Commander,” replied Habael.
“Only if we remain clean.”
Bahiya walked back in. “For once, just this once, can’t you think about someone else’s need?” she snapped.
Tanios was dumbfounded. Bahiya had spoken the way she used to when they were together. “I warn you, Priestess,” he replied angrily, “do not cross this line again. I am not your lapdog to carry out your whim.”
“Commander,” interjected Master Habael, “What if Master Garu were to wrap the body in a cloth? We would
lower the body to the forest ground using ropes. The Silent will carry Ramel on a stretcher.”
“That would work,” replied Tanios. “We could give her a proper burial while remaining clean. Great plan, Master Habael,” he added while eyeing the priestess angrily. “I will supervise.”
“The commander is a man of principles,” commented Habael after Tanios had left. “He does not bend easily.”
The priestess nodded. If Habael noticed her tears, he said nothing.It took the Silent an hour to bring both Garu and the body of Queen Ramel down from the safe haven. Habael knew the Silent carried forth this heartbreaking task out of respect and admiration for their commander.
After they laid the body on a stretcher, the commander instructed them. “We will give the Queen an honorable burial. You have not touched the body, therefore, you are all clean. You will not speak of this event to anyone. That is an order. Understood?”
The burial was simple, yet dignified. Four Silent carried Queen Ramel’s ravaged body on a stretcher between two rows of honor guards. Garu stood by Bahiya and followed her with great docility. He was in shock. The Silent buried Ramel at the foot of the tree. Habael told Garu that without his love and devotion, she would not have received a burial at all. As a leper, she may well have died alone in some dark alley, or even have been killed by a mob. Instead, she died with dignity and had the Silent to pay her homage. Garu could console himself in knowing that he had made her last days full of comfort and love.
The company of Silent departed. As they walked back to their camp, Tanios questioned Garu further. But he gained nothing more than jumbled answers about a book that Ibromaliöm had stolen. Apparently, Ramel had looked inside this book and a curse had fallen upon her. She lost her sight, then leprosy began eating at her with unbelievable speed. Garu had brought her here in the hopes of finding a treatment, though all his efforts were in vain. She quickly withered away.
Tanios slowed his pace and let everyone else pass him. He needed to think. Even though the kingdom was in shambles, he still considered it his responsibility to find the murderer of the four men of Baal who had been killed during the Games of the Mines. When he had held the candle close to Ramel’s face, he could clearly see her reddish hair, something he had not noticed before. She must have dyed her hair while in the castle. Was she not the mysterious woman who met the Junior High Rider in the garden? Was she the murderer? If so, why? Was Ibromaliöm involved in these crimes? The judge had great physical strength despite his age. But why? What could be the motive? Wait, if she had dyed her hair, how could she have left a clump of red hair in the soldier’s hand?
Wrath of the Urkuun (Epic of Ahiram Book 2) Page 33