by Rae, M. C.
Understanding her intent, he surrendered. “Very well.”
“Sa’avey and coplas-latunai,” she said. “Life and death, in that order. Commit them to memory, but never utter them except in that situation which I have prescribed. And there is more I should say, if you’ll hear it?”
She rolled onto her feet and sought out her clothing, which he would later admit, had been cast aside without much thought of its preservation. Over a nearby rock, her dress lay in tatters. She could mend it with a breath and a phrase, so why should he feel guilty for its undue rending?
Her hand dove into a pocket of her dress, and she pulled out something which the Systerian could not see clearly. She brought it near his eye. A talisman, a bird-shaped piece of golden jewelry on a leather cord. The metal was cool against his chest after she slipped it around his neck.
“A necklace?”
“A patok,” she replied. “It is a word in the Loren tongue. A patok is an enchanted talisman given as an offer of a bride’s hand in marriage. It remains gold as long as the husband accepts the wife, and the wife deigns to the husband. However, if the marriage fails, or if the bride’s loyalty to her husband wanes, it becomes glass.”
“Who do you offer in marriage?” asked Tarameen jokingly.
“I offer myself, Ta’llis bun Theru ki Solain, to you, Tarameen Mudun Rayik Sah,” she replied, giving her full name in the custom of her native land, before blushing.
Crimson in her checks was a novel sight to him, now twice observed in the passing of the evening. He hoped fate would allow him the opportunity to see it more in the times to come.
“I admit, I was nervous when I entered the hall, that the others would know my intent,” she continued, “but then I figured that few of them, if any, had ever witnessed the garb of a Loren bride.”
“Then the dress…” He trailed off.
“As those worn by women given in marriage amongst my people, in the hopes that you might have me.”
In the dizzying spin of their romance, he had leapt without reflection. Now, however, thoughtless actions were too dangerous. To love Tallis and to have her love in return was a dream he thought would never creep into the light of day. So impossible was the scenario, he had never imagined beyond it. Now, as he began to realize their circumstance, the nagging call of truth tugged on his robes and demanded answer. “You don’t know how I secretly dreamed this might happen, and I am filled with all the joys of creation. One thing nags me, however. Darling Tallis, I am mortal. You, despite your composure and unaggressive nature, are desired by too many immortal sorcerers. As you’ve noted, I could be an invaluable target for them.”
“I can bring you across,” she said plainly.
“Bring me across?” he asked, remembering the tale she had spun not two hours previous. “I thought only Andresa could create an immortal.”
“No, Andresa created me. I created the rest.”
“But the story you told… At Andresa’s bedside….”
“Andresa nearly unlocked the trait that was in me since before time began. To tell you it all would be to reveal the truth to you that all creation, even the immortals themselves, were made to forget.”
His brief silence was deliberate, as though to make her fret, before he turned to her with bright eyes. “I think then that I should accept your offer of marriage. But if I am to inherit the burden of being loathed by so many for doing so, you must share with me your truth.”
“Very well. That is fair.” She let out a foreboding sigh. “What the others have been enchanted to forget is this: Andresa ruled, but in days of yore as now, local affairs were delegated to the remnants of each island’s royal houses, and to lines that had existed before the imperial age. This limited power given to families who had once ruled with absolute sovereignty did not always leave a pleasant taste on the palate. On Solas, Andresa’s heirs, her distant cousins, who had waited generations for her passing, expecting one of them to assume the high throne, grew impatient and discontent. A few years before her passing, Andresa had issued a decree which usurped their heritage. She declared that her Council of Ambassadors would exercise the powers of the throne upon her passing in lieu of a sovereign heir, unless the Loren came forward to take the crown.
“Within hours of Andresa’s death, the King of Solas and the man who, by right of blood, would have been Andresa’s heir, Shahlamin, led his army on the palace and stood at the gates. It seemed as if the empire was to be undone, or else rededicated under his flag, for in those days the armed men of Solas were nearly invincible. The meager palace forces were unprepared for such a challenge. We had not known war for so long, in fact, that Andresa’s own standing army numbered no more than two hundred. Two hundred against three thousand Solasian-loyal soldiers outside the gates. Shahlamin demanded his terms of defeat: the throne of Andresium, and me.
“The only ones remaining in the palace were the ambassadors sent by the client kings with respect to Andresa’s terminal condition, and a few servants who did not flee at the first sign of trouble. I, myself, was counted in that second lot. We were no warriors; we knew not the ways of weapons or combat. At least we servants had guile enough to stay and defend our Empress’s body. The ambassadors, however, proved gutless in the face of battle. In those last weeks of the Empress’s life, I had been made chief of her personal retinue. As such, I somehow found myself the de facto commander of those in the palace. The ambassadors pressed me to submit to the King’s demand, to save their lives. Only Juno and Lenu defended me, but the opposition was too great.”
“Why would the King of Solas be so set upon your hand?”
She had hoped he wouldn’t ask, but Tallis reminded herself she wasn’t bound to disclose the entirety of her past to Tarameen. “Because I was the Loren. In his mind, the Loren of prophecy was somehow a possession of Andresa’s, and he believed himself the rightful possessor of all she had. He had purchased me out from the service of the King of Lorelei during one of his diplomatic missions. I still do not know if he knew that I was actually the one spoken of in prophecy; in the times of my mortality I did not know myself. Shahlamin was a crafty strategist. He figured, if the destined Loren could not find her way to the Empress’s side, he would provide a stand-in. A man who makes his own fate does not accept well when another refuses to be part of it. His mission was the throne, I have no doubt. But he knew well that I was within, for it was he who had offered me to Andresa’s service, not but shortly before. Then, when I refused to accept either the throne as Andresa wished or the terms of surrender as did he, I countered by offering the ambassadors an alternative. I would instill in them immortality, so that they would be undefeatable in battle against the Solasian forces, no matter how clumsy their blows or unseasoned their blades. But I would not allow them to remember how it had come to be. They accepted, almost foolishly fast, and it was so. The Solasian forces perished or fled when their weapons could draw from us only pain, but not death. I personally saw out the fate of their king, who had demanded my hand. Afterwards, I stole the memories of the immortals, and replaced them with false ones. They still remember the war, but they believe that their immortality was born of their pledge to Andresa in the moment of her death, as a reward for their loyalty.”
“I believe I understand,” said Tarameen. “If they had known of your role in their fate…”
“…I would be at their constant appeal. Moreover, I would be endowed with some qualities which are not due me. I was not the creator of their gift, merely the vehicle.”
He sat up, scooted back to seat himself on one of the cushions, and turned to her. “Then I accept.”
She beamed, before he dampened her light.
“On one condition.”
“You have but to name it.”
Patting the ground next to him, he beckoned her near. She melted into his side, as he leaned over to kiss her forehead.
“I swear to bring you back across the dark divide if I’m able, but you must swear to me to make every
effort not to die.”
“As though it were my choice…” A touch of sarcasm entered her tone.
“If it should be your choice, choose to live. Now, are we married?”
Utter happiness is not an easily dismissed emotion, and even a stoic Loren could not wipe it from her countenance as she laced her fingers through Tarameen’s.
“We are married.”
Tallis arrived in secret as the first rays of the sun fell upon the towering expanse of Palace Aurora. The Gods would not hold audience with the immortals until the evening. It did not allow her much time to attempt to alter all that she knew was predestined to happen.
She entered the forests outlying the palace. Looking about her, she called out into the sky in the true tongue, “Owos, Grafin, Papullo: obey me and come.”
A blast of wind, the scent of mint, and the Gods appeared before her. Clutching their hands in front of them, rubbing fists as though they contemplated striking a blow if they could catch her off guard, they appealed to her to quickly make her business known.
“Let us not spar words. I know why you’ve done this,” the Loren proclaimed. “You want the prophecy fulfilled. You believe the immortals were a mistake in your plan. Instead of your minions, they became thorns in your side, not subverting the will of mortal men, but embracing and defending it, even if they should hold themselves in higher prestige by virtue of their eternity.”
“Lady Tallis, how could you ever say such a thing?” With saccharine words and bitter tones, silver-bearded and long-faced Owos dismissed her claim with a laugh. “Surely we have always and will always strive for the betterment of man. Even your own manifestation in flesh through our strenuous efforts was intended that they may prosper.”
“I may have come to this world at your request, but I am not your creation. I was the gilteren, my knowledge eternal. Until the time you confined my being in mortal flesh, I knew all that was and all that is. I know why you brought me here. It was all very well planned, was it not?”
“For certain, Tallis, we know not of what you speak,” said Grafin in a quivering, nervous voice. So, the Gods were not so certain of their dominion over her if he stood in fear! “We brought you here only to serve the needs of the people, as do we. Man is weak, man is self-destructive. He is like a cow, and if not corralled and fed, he will wander into the outlands and die. We need someone wise, someone strong, someone determined and humble to lead him.”
“You brought me here to serve yourselves, and your abhorrent need to subjugate. The very idea was yours, Grafin. You were the one who thought, since Andresa was soon to die, you could bring me into the mortal realm. By transforming knowledge into flesh, you felt you could restrict me, harness me. Your plan would have worked, had not Andresa countered you by telling me of the mythical Loren. You created your Loren myth as an escape plan. You thought if she disappointed you, you could pass her power on to a Loren slave woman, devoid of emotion and raised to serve her masters.”
“Grafin!” shouted Papullo, daring to act outraged. “Is this true?”
But Tallis turned next to he who feigned innocence. “Papullo, your bucket is heavy with guilt as well. It sloshes about and falls over the side, making us all trudge through the cloying pools of your deceit. Was it not you who decided that my mortal mother should be murdered after my birth, ensuring that I would be sold into slavery?”
Owos fumed. “You still forget that we hold dominion in this land. You will present yourself and accept the crown when called.”
“For humanity’s sake, or for yours?” Tallis asked. Her lip curled, giving her visage an almost doglike quality. “Emotionless Loren, praises be! Did you not realize that when my masters at the palace beat emotion from my body with the sting of their belts and the backs of their hand, compassion went along with it. I have spent centuries trying to reclaim all that was stolen from that weak mortal body and weaker mortal heart. I have rekindled in my own breast the love of my will, and the longing of my own intentions. I will command my own destiny. I will not let your greed dictate my purpose. I am sorry that members of your tribe were slaughtered by men who discovered poison that would indeed kill you, and thought your immortality could be preserved in the burning and consumption of your ashes, but I will not yield. If you attempt to make me do so, I will make known your true origins. I will let all know that your selfishness and short-sightedness destroyed your own world, and you will do the same to us, if we let you.”
“Owos, she is right!” cried Papullo. “Perhaps it is best if we surrender our plan.”
“No,” answered Owos. “She forgets that her gift is also her downfall.”
The fair-haired deity’s eyes narrowed on her.
“Knowledge you say, Tallis? Is this your best weapon? Perhaps the immortals would like to know that Andresa, who could have been easily saved by your sorcery, was instead murdered by your hand. Or perhaps you would like your new lover to know that you can never marry him in anything but the words you share between you, because your immortal soul already belongs to another.”
The Loren flinched as well as if they had hit her with clubs in lieu of words. “How do you know about...”
Owos’s words dripped venom. “Sorcery is a cloth that can be tailor-fitted to any need. Do not suppose that you are the only one who has learned how to shape it into a costume that suits you. We have our methods.”
Tallis sank back.
Owos continued. Grafin and Papullo had fallen in rank behind him, allowing the most dominant of the triad to regulate their attack. “We will not make an announcement until nightfall. You have all day to consider your decision, and to decide to accept the throne with grace. We would hate to have to offer you any further incentive.”
With that, they left her alone. The last few days had been filled with so many emotions mostly subsumed. Now, one had made its way to the precipice with her heart — fear.
*******
Juno had left Lorelei with the intent of sailing directly into the seat of the imperial throne. She’d been there ever since, which amounted to several days. The lush gardens of the palace provided a welcomed distraction from the intertwining thoughts and pangs of guilt, which now filled her mind and her heart. To have pushed Tallis towards this end… As she crossed through the labyrinthine layout of rose bushes with buds of every hue, she stopped for a moment to drink in the scent of the glass rose, its petals translucent in the bright of day. It was from this vantage that she became aware of a conversation nearby, rising up from a group of young women.
Helena was a pixie of Kěrsium. In a private tete-a-tete, she tended to be customarily reserved and shy. In present company, however, she had seemingly passed through some form of metamorphosis. Ru was the second lady, and likely the instigator of her transformation. She had come from Q’reak originally, but a marriage to Lord Borin of Karol Isle brought her to the craggy, outlying land of rocks. Some supposed the marriage had been arranged by an aggrieved and disgraced Duchess on Q’reak. Ru, after all, was known amongst the immortals as “she with the loosest tongue, as well as other loose possessions.” Lila rounded out the trio. She and Ru were born of the same lot. Both could anchor their side of a conversation for hours upon end, and were known to have done so.
Juno came upon these unsuspecting girls quietly. Unnoticed, she could taste on the air every poisoned word that drifted from their mouths.
“I heard that she was having an affair with one of those measly pupils at the Cove. Can you believe it? Not only mortal, but nothing more than a student,” Ru chattered. “The whole situation is simply loathsome.”
“Before you know it, she will marry one of the curs!” squealed Lila.
Juno swore that a knife carved of guilt had been plunged into her own breast and that a self-righteous hand now delighted in twisting it.
“That will be the day that I die,” barked Helena rather boldly, making the other girls snort. “It would only be yet another poor choice of hers when it comes to men though, wouldn
’t it?”
“So that’s true? I thought that was just a story.”
It was unclear who said this. The tones had grown low, as though the utterance of these words amounted to a conspiracy. Or better, the finest cut of gossip to have been presented yet.
The bitter reply, however, surely came from Lila. “No one’s seen him for years, ever since the Great War. Some think he died, but most say he went away with a broken heart when the great Tallis abdicated the throne as well as his hand. Some say he’s in hiding, waiting for her to come to her senses.”
“Marchane, Lord of Anai, says he saw him once in passing at a market years ago. Marchane was a merchant in the old times. He would have visited the Solasian court on several occasions. He would not have known him, however, said he, if not for the scar over his eyes.”
“I think he’s dead.”
“He’s immortal. He can’t die.”
“Well, Tallis is supposedly the one who’s going to end us all. Maybe she started with him, for practice.”
“And then lay in wait for hundreds of years… to what purpose?”
“Like to see her try to off me. I’ll ground that little Loren sparrow into powder. Her, and her mortal minion.”
Juno could take no more. Her ire had risen. A few more insults at her friend’s expense and she was likely to do something rash. She worried that any provocation to which she might fall subject was too likely to reveal her own recent and nagging betrayal. Juno could not resolve to think what she had revealed to him of Tallis’s infatuation and intentions. She must flee and separate herself from temptation.
Spry steps took her indoors, leaving the hens chirping amongst themselves. Palace Aurora’s fine splendor sparkled and dazed, taking her mind away from the here and now, and transposing it through the ages to the ancient times. The Empress’s architect had wasted no expense in designing the receiving hall. Mosaics in each alcove depicted a glorious event of every client kingdom of the Empire. Juno’s own island was presented as a land of riches. In the mosaic created for it, a young girl with silver strands wrapped atop her head held out a basket, woven of golden chains and overflowing with gems. Actual diamonds, rubies and emeralds had been encrusted into the wall itself. The cost of this panel alone could feed the people of her island for a year. Ah, how good the times of the Empress had been to the kingdoms… How young Juno had been then! As the youngest daughter of the client king of Paradism, she’d been sent as an emissary to pay respect to the Empress on her deathbed. The politics of life were out-shadowed in their ruthlessness by the politics of death. A dead Empress was a welcome improvement for a client king who was forced to send one-third of his nation’s profits to the imperial treasury.