Solitaries were the highest-ranking Silent who could take on any mission unaided. Their numbers and location was a secret the Commander protected jealously. They lived away from Taniir-The-Strong Castle and relied solely on their own resources.
Most students fared well partly due to their training and partly due to the magnanimity of their champion. Banimelek fared better than most. Then came Ahiram’s turn.
Most beginners were nervous when they faced an accomplished Silent. Ahiram looked nonchalant and eyed his opponent with the same wry smile he bestowed on his teammates; a smile that said, “I’m going to win.” Noraldeen knew what Ahiram was thinking and was simply awed. The two fighters stood in diagonally opposite corners. Tanios gave the signal and they leapt forcefully into the arena; the visiting Silent moved like a prowling tiger, but Ahiram charged like an angered viper. Powered by an unnatural fury, he displayed a complex sequence of moves that surprised and confused his adversary, who lunged forward, aiming for the young man’s ankle and missed it by a fraction of a second. Ahiram had been already air born. He landed behind his fellow Silent and said “tag; you’re it.” The attack had lasted less than five seconds. The bemused Solitary felt the dart on his forehead and burst out laughing. He turned around and slapped Ahiram on the shoulder.
They faced each other again. This time the secretive champion was ready. He knew he was facing a challenger of extraordinary talent. Yet the best talent is no match for experience. Ahiram lost the following two rounds. Later, the visitor admitted that he relied on all his wits to defeat his young opponent. “I will think twice before facing you again next time around, young man.”
Yet, Noraldeen was not attracted to Ahiram’s prowess. She vividly remembered how he had patiently mentored, and freely taught all those who approached him. She could still see him sitting quietly, lost in thought as he admired a sunset or flight of birds migrating south at the beginning of fall. They had taken long walks in the mountains talking about his life in Baher-Ghafé, shark fishing, and sailing the sea without boundaries, without restraint, without limits. Noraldeen had fallen in love with Ahiram despite her rank and her upbringing. She felt she was dealing with a prince, not a slave.
“Lady Noraldeen?”
Noraldeen woke in a start and realized she had fallen asleep sitting on her bed. She massaged her neck, stretched and got up.
“Yes?”
“Lady Noraldeen,” said Marialeen walking in with two maidservants in tow. “Your father would like you to join him now in the reception hall. The Empyrean delegation is at the door of the city.”
“Already? But it’s so early.”
“M’Lady, it is past noon,” replied Marialeen with a note of concern. “You have slept all morning.”
“I did? I must have been exhausted then.” The young woman sighed. “Let’s get that dress on.”
After a frenzied wardrobe makeover, the maidservants managed to turn Noraldeen into a royal princess. “Your father will be pleased, M’Lady,” said Marialeen. “Now, please follow me and try to walk with poise, not like a tigress on a hunt.”
The Empyreans had sent word saying they would arrive early afternoon. Lord Orgond had commanded everyone to be ready to receive them at a moment’s notice; he wanted a full royal reception for the delegation. Noraldeen felt awkward in her white dress and was grateful the Silent were not there to see her—though she would have been surprised to see their reaction, for she was simply stunning. She reached the hall and forced herself to walk slowly as instructed by her mamameer. She noticed all eyes were on her. I must look stupid, she thought.
“You are ravishing, my daughter,” said Orgond with a tender smile.
She could not help but frown. Her father meant what he said, yet she had never thought of herself as ravishing before.
“Sir, the Empyrean delegation requests an audience.”
“Have they come amiably?” asked Lord Orgond, in accordance with Amsheet protocol.
“Yes sir, they have.”
“Open the gates, allow the delegation in, and may these walls protect them as they protect us.”
They waited in tense silence. Noraldeen knew any slight misdemeanor would offend the Empyreans and could mean war. In the past, the master of Amsheet had intervened personally in two different cases where the Empyreans had felt insulted by representatives of Tanniin. Only the respect they owed him, and his great sense of diplomacy, had saved the day and averted war. The peaceful result was especially good for Tanniin. The odds against the formidable Empyrean army were slim. Even the mighty Baal had left them alone.
The Empyreans had never crossed into Tanniin amicably. This was the first delegation to come in peace, and it was headed by the daughter of the Empress, Princess Gaëla Meïr Pen.
The doors of the reception hall opened quietly and a servant announced the visitors. All present bowed, save Lord Orgond, who held his daughter back, preventing her from bowing. He nudged her forward and she stood in front of him. He surveyed the members of the delegation and was surprised to see a turbaned man dressed in colorful clothing and of phenomenal proportions. The Empress has sent Uziguzi Aor Jar. This is going to be a remarkable visit. Uziguzi Aor Jar—known among the lowlanders as Heehee-The-Fat—was one of the closest advisers to the Empress. Lord Orgond had employed him during the War of Ar-Gaeer that had ended the uprising of the lowlanders. Despite his silly name and embarrassing appearance, he was a brilliant strategist and a great diplomat. Uziguzi had one of the sharpest minds, and he remembered everything including the minutest details.
Three standard-bearers processed in first, then twenty-four Empyrean warriors clad in full military attire. Next, Princess Gaëla entered in her full military regalia. As a sign of peace, she carried her sword on her shoulder and not at her waist as in battle.
The military dress heightened her stark beauty. Her black eyes shone softly in her oval-shaped face, the hallmark of Empyrean beauty. The contrast between her long, black hair and opaline skin was striking, and the effect was enhanced by her tall, lean frame. The whole image created an ethereal aura around her, as though she were more spirit than flesh.
Noraldeen was impressed by the princess, despite the early misgivings the Silent had had of her. Gaëla moved with grace and simplicity. To all those who knelt and bowed on her approach, she responded with a thoughtful, quiet smile. Noraldeen wondered how the princess could tolerate the fat man dressed like a buffoon. He saluted everyone by waving a silky handkerchief that hung from a protuberant ring. Four Empyreans of exceptional height flanked him. Finally, another twenty-four Empyrean warriors walked in, closing the delegation.
“That is Lord Jar,” whispered her father. “You must salute him after the princess. Now, you may take your seat.”
Noraldeen showed no reaction. Keeping her eyes on her guests, she waited until they drew closer before she took her father’s place on the seat of authority. The delegation stopped before her.
“Princess Noraldeen of Tanniin,” said the princess, “I salute you in the name of my empress, Aylul Meïr Pen.”
“Your Serene Highness graces this fortress by her presence.”
“Princess Noraldeen, in the name of Her Royal Highness, the Empress Aylul Pen, I wish to extend to Your Ladyship and your household our warmest wishes of well-being and peace.”
“And how is Her Highness, the empress? In good health, I hope?” Noraldeen’s own ease surprised her. She knew her father was pleased.
“She thanks you for your solicitude toward her and has expressed a wish to meet with you.”
The Tanniinites breathed a sigh of relief. This delegation was not here to avert war or settle accounts. Something else was in the offing.
“Lord Jar,” continued Noraldeen with a voice strong and firm. “I welcome you to the Fortress of Amsheet.”
“Tatata Doopeleedo, do not lord and butter me,” replied Uziguzi Aor Jar with a distracted tone. “I am Her Highness’ fool and have come here to entertain, and to be entertai
ned. Now, Doopeleedo, you are scrumptious in your dress, and fresh as a lilac in the first days of spring. This mission is parsimoniously political and politically atypical, thus, the red in my turban. Do you like red roses, Doopeleedo dear? I love roses. Red is my favorite color when I travel and you know me, or you should know me, I hate to travel. It is dizzyingly monotonous. The weather, ah, the weather, I get hot when it is humid and humid when it is warm and my horse caught a cold and was killed by accident. I miss him, Doopeleedo, I miss my horse. Animals have feelings you know, and he loved ripened apples. Since he is gone, there is no one to share apples with. I have a splitting headache doctors would die for. Life is a river, is it not so, Doopeleedo dearest? We are but floating lilies that gasp for the light and then are gone in the mist of the past. Past the falls of yesteryear lie the dreams of tomorrow. They rise to the sun and fall back, dew of the children to come. This trip has affected me. Where is the chicken? I am hungry. No, do not tell me, I know all is ready and waiting. I shall leave you to rest, dine as your guest, and have a bite or two at best.”
Unceremoniously, Uziguzi left the hall behind two attendants who ushered him into the dining room. Orgond breathed a sigh of relief. He needn’t look at his daughter to know how she felt about Doopeleedo.
“Lord Aor Jar is highly esteemed by my mother,” said Gaëla. “Please excuse his eccentricities.”
“The house of Tanniin is Lord Jar’s house,” replied Noraldeen. She was mechanically repeating what she had learned over the past six years. The commander trained us well.
Lord Orgond could not help but admire the fat man. He still remembers our secret code after all these years. What had appeared to be a gibberish rant was well-disguised information. And the message was loud and clear: Red meant danger, the dead horse meant war, the eaten ripe apple meant the enemy was on the move, the floating lilies meant an absence of strategy, and the children of tomorrow was a reference to urgent readiness. Uziguzi’s wish to eat right away suggested that immediate action was required. To the uninitiated, the message was absurd, but to Lord Orgond, Uziguzi made perfect sense: The enemy is coming. The Empyreans were ill prepared to fight him, and so was the Kingdom of Tanniin. The situation is much worse than I thought.
Noraldeen could not decipher the message, but Doopeleedo was one of several terms of endearment the allies used to warn a Silent. Her cheeks flushed red when she heard Uziguzi speak, but her training kicked in and she quickly realized that what Commander Tanios had prepared them for was unfolding before her. An ally sought help, and if he spoke in riddles, then the enemy was among them.
She stood up. “I believe Lord Aor Jar is right,” she said cheerfully. “You must all be famished. With permission, Your Highness,” she said addressing Princess Gaëla, “Your retinue is welcome in the great hall, and I should like for you to dine with me at my table.”
Orgond and Gaëla were taken aback. Noraldeen was dumbfounded. What did I just say? The words flew out as if she had said them hundreds of times. It was my favorite greeting during diplomacy classes.
“Do as Princess Noraldeen has commanded,” said Gaëla. Immediately her retinue followed the butlers into the dining room.
Noraldeen breathed a sigh of relief. Wait a moment, she thought, nearly panicking, I don’t have a table that I can call my own.
“My apartments,” whispered her father as he squeezed her shoulder. He had read her confusion. They walked in silence through the halls to his chambers. A table was placed near a warm fire for them. Noraldeen ordered the doors closed and asked that no one disturb them, save for Lord Uziguzi.
“Please forgive Uziguzi,” said Gaëla, “not everyone can be trusted.”
Noraldeen nodded thoughtfully. “I gathered as much. I know the Silent understand the meaning of the term Doopeleedo when used by an ally. How did he become advisor to the empress?”
In another diplomatic context, her questions would be considered forward, almost aggressive. Orgond knew the Empyreans preferred this direct style and refrained from speaking.
“He is not Empyrean, but his extensive travel and knowledge of the world makes him a highly qualified and trusted adviser. I believe his ridiculous name means wise one in his native land. That he called you Doopeleedo,” she added while glancing at Lord Orgond, “is high praise. He reserves this term of endearment for the royal Empyrean family.”
The idea of the fat man calling Empyreans Doopeleedo brought a smile to Noraldeen’s face.
Uziguzi walked in followed by three servants. “You may thank me now, Princess.” He carried as many dishes as the servants, and helped set the table. “I was once a cook,” he said looking at Noraldeen. “Cookery is the best diplomatic school, right before crookery,” he added with a grin. “The table is now ready. You may leave my friends, I shall take care of the service. Thank you very much and do please keep that chicken soup warm for me. I shall have it for desert.” He walked the servants out and came back a short moment later. “Your men and the princess’ elite guards are standing outside your quarters. We are safe to speak freely. Doopeleedo, sit next to me. I am so happy to see your ruddy face. It is a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Pottiporo,” replied Noraldeen. “I am enthralled to see that you have grown a prickly mustache.”
Uziguzi, about to shove a massive piece of chicken into his mouth, froze and eyed Noraldeen. She grinned. A silent chuckle shook his frame and he exploded in boisterous laughter.“That impossible Tanios. I cannot believe he used my words to teach you diplomacy. So you knew what Doopeleedo meant then?”
“Yes, Pottiporo, I did.”
“Impressive, Lord Orgond. Go ahead, what are you all waiting for? That’s why I became a buffoon. We eat warm food, while royalty eat cold food, like slaves. Dig in, dig in.”
“If you ever get bored, Lord Jar,” said Noraldeen, “you are welcome here in Amsheet. The house of Orgond needs a buffoon of your caliber.”
“Ha. Spoken like a true Empyrean.” exclaimed Uziguzi. He noticed Orgond and Gaëla glare at him, but he continued. “What? Orgond? My friend,” he said pointing a fork at Lord Orgond. “This one will cost you.”
“Father, what is Lord Uziguzi alluding to?”
“That’s Uncle Zuzu to you, Doopeleedo,” added Uziguzi smiling. “Oh boy, this is entertainment.”
“Princess Gaëla, this must be serious,” said Lord Orgond, trying to change the topic.
“It is. I fear for our kingdoms.”
“For the Empyrean kingdom?” Orgond was visibly shaken. “Is the empress in danger?”
“Not imminently.”
“Pray tell.”
Gaëla smiled at Noraldeen who followed the conversation with controlled surprise. Her father had called the Empyrean princess by her first name which was unusual. “How much does your daughter know?”
“Not much. I suppose I should have told her earlier.”
“This chicken is scrumptious, is it not, Doopeleedo? Could you pass the salad to uncle Zuzu? Thanks a bunch, you’re a treasure. Orgond dearest, are you going to tell her, or do you wish me to do it? Time is running out.”
“Tell me what? What am I supposed to know?” Noraldeen straightened.
“You don’t usually wear dresses, do you?” asked Uziguzi. “No, this is not about your dress. And by the way, you are ravishing, Pumpkin. But don’t worry, no one will confuse you with a ravishing pumpkin.”
“Lord Uziguzi,” said the Empyrean princess, “I do not believe this strategy to alley Princess Noraldeen’s fear is working well.”
“Ah,” said Uziguzi looking up from his plate. “Odd. Usually it works well with full-blooded Empyreans. I can’t count the number of times my silliness has averted the spilling of Empyrean blood.”
“Let me handle it,” said Lord Orgond.
“Great,” muttered Uziguzi, “I thought you’d never ask.”
“Ask what? Handle what?” interjected Noraldeen. The meeting was not going as she had imagined. “What am I supposed
to know?”
Lord Orgond sighed heavily. “Daughter, how much do you know about your mother?”
“What you have told me, Father. That she died giving birth to me, and that she was a beautiful and fair woman. You told me you loved her very much, and she loved you even more.”
Orgond bowed his head and whispered, “Yes, my daughter, much more.” He looked at her before continuing. “You know that I was involved in the battle of Ar-Gaeer, do you not?”
“Yes, Father.”
“And you know that we fought side-by-side with the Empyreans?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Well, during this war, I met a beautiful Empyrean and we fell in love. Her name was Layal Meïr Pen, the youngest sister of Aylul—”
“My mother was Empyrean?” interrupted Noraldeen.
“Yes, she was. By marrying me, she renounced her birthright and had to leave her home, her beloved kingdom and all her riches. She came to start a life with me here. She fell ill while pregnant with you, but she told me that giving you life was to be her greatest battle, her highest victory. It became her final triumph. Your mother was a warrior of unmatched skills amongst the Empyreans. She fought for your life until the very end when she held you in her arms and kissed you. She handed you to me, and was gone. She gave you life, then gave her life to you because she so loved you. There is so much Empyrean in you, daughter.”
Conflicting feelings overcame Noraldeen. She felt privileged to have been given so much love, but sad that she had not known her mother, and angry that her father had kept the truth from her for so long.
“Why did you not tell me, Father?”
He looked down and whispered, “To prevent a war.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your father feared that a child may not realize the full meaning of these events, and as a result, many would know that an Empyrean princess had married a man of Tanniin,” replied Gaëla softly.
“And so?”
“So, my dearest daughter, this valley would have been sacked and I would have burned at the stake,” continued her father.
Wrath of the Urkuun (Epic of Ahiram Book 2) Page 35