by Robin Roseau
“Of course, Prestainamatta,” I said. And so I repeated that to Prodótar, who nodded immediately.
“Of course, of course,” he said. “A good plan. I imagine it is difficult to fill so many roles at once.”
“Life is difficult for all, only in different ways,” I said. “I could not do what you do.”
The solders built camp. Others built dinner, and we all sat together, talking easily. The Goddess listened, but I noticed she seemed to be watching one of the soldiers more closely than the others, a woman perhaps my age. Finally I switched to her language. “Is something wrong?”
“Tríaperiláti is troubled,” she replied. “You could call her Láti. I like her. I want you to find out why she is sad.”
“This might not be the right setting.”
“Find out before bed,” she said. “Please, Yalla.”
“Of course, Prestainamatta,” I said.
Later, Prodótar wanted to talk, but I told him quietly, “She asked me to look into something else first. I’ll find you when I can.”
“It’s nothing important. We can talk tomorrow, and then in Lopéna.”
“All right. Thank you, Prodótar.”
Then I followed after Láti, the Goddess at my shoulder. We caught her sitting on a stump, staring into the dark of the night. “Láti,” I said. “Is that right?”
She bounced to her feet. “High Priestess!”
“Do I have your name right?”
“That is what my grandmother calls me.”
“Could I share the stump with you? It’s cozy but we’ll both fit.”
“You may have it, High Priestess,” she said. “I can go somewhere else.”
“I wish you wouldn’t, as I’m here to talk to you.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her down, both of us perched rather precariously on the stump, our shoulders touching. She, like nearly all soldiers, was much bigger and stronger than I was, but I made it work. And then the Goddess folded her legs and hovered in the air before us, although of course, Láti wouldn’t see. “You should know, our Prestainamatta is here.” I gestured. “She asked me to talk to you.”
“She did?”
“She knows you are troubled, and she hopes you will tell us.”
“It is nothing,” the woman said quickly.
“Well, I’m not going to translate that, and she wouldn’t believe me if I did. You can tell us you don’t want to tell us, but I think it is more than nothing.”
She paused. “I don’t want to trouble her.”
“What does she say, Yalla?” the Goddess asked. So I relayed a few sentences. “Tell her I want to know.”
So I repeated that, and the woman nodded. “I think I’m pregnant.”
“Ah,” I said. “Is that a good thing?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “The father isn’t a good man.”
“I need to ask you. Did he hurt you?”
“Nothing like that,” she said. “But I didn’t know what sort of man he was when I shared my bed with him.”
“Does he still share your bed?”
“No.”
“So you don’t need protection from him.”
“No, nothing like that. But I won’t let him have my children, and if he knew I was pregnant from him, he might try to take them from me.”
“Let me explain to the Goddess, and we’re going to have a few more questions,” I said.
I relayed everything. I finished, and she said, “Of course she’s pregnant.”
“Is it a boy or girl?”
“One of each, actually. They are healthy, but still very small. Yalla, I want to give the girl long, white hair. Don’t tell Tríaperiláti.”
“All right,” I said. “I may tell her the rest?”
“Yes.”
So I switched languages again. “Láti, I asked her. She call tell you whether you are pregnant. Do you want to know?”
“Yes.”
“You are. Do you want to know the rest?”
“She can tell me?”
“She can.”
“I think.” She paused and bit her lip, then nodded. “Yes, I want to know.”
“You carry healthy twins, a boy and a girl,” I said. “Do you like being a soldier?”
“Very much.”
“I want to interfere. If I make a mistake, I can still find a way to take care of you. Will you let me interfere?”
“It will be okay,” she said.
“May I interfere?” I paused. “I have to ask. It’s not the prince, is it?”
“No, no,” she said. “Not him. You may interfere.”
And so I raised my voice. “Larien? Terél?”
It wasn’t Larien or Terél that appeared out of the dark. It was Níta, and she surprised Láti when she did it. I had to set my hand on her sword arm. “It’s only my maid. They can be somewhat protective, and they’re always about. Níta, could you find the prince for me? I wish to add him to this conversation.”
“Not the prince!”
“Yes, the prince,” I said. “Níta, I’ll wait right here. Please.”
“Of course, High Priestess,” she replied. And then she disappeared as silently as she had appeared. And that was when I was sure that Está was nearby as well, and if I called, I wouldn’t be too surprised if Féla and Naddí answered, as well.
It took about two minutes, but in the meantime, I reassured Láti everything would be fine. Then Prodótar appeared, and Níta carried a chair for him. She set it down, and he sat, facing me, the Goddess offering a little room for him.
“Prince Prodótar,” I said. “Láti carries twins.”
“Congratulations!” he said immediately. “I was not aware you were married.”
“I’m not,” she said, looking down at the ground.
“Oh,” he said. “We don’t judge things like that. You know that. Your place in the guard is secure, if you want it to be.”
“I do not believe that is the problem. Prince Prodótar, I want you to place this woman under your personal protection.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The father is the Duke of Galídalopitá,” said Láti.
Prodótar actually hissed, then clamped his lips shut.
“I take it he is not a good man.”
“He is actually a good Duke,” said Prodótar, “But he is a horrible womanizer. If you ever want to set your wife off, mention him. Alta is not at all fond of him.”
“How do you feel?”
“He is a good duke, and I have to work with him. I don’t, however, socialize with him. Tríaperiláti, your children could be wealthy.”
“I don’t want him to know!” she said. “He’d take them from me. I know he would.”
“Ah,” said the prince. “I believe I am fully caught up.”
“Prodótar, I don’t know that my request is wise, now that my own thoughts have caught up to me,” I said. “If you step in, with no other father evident, the rumors will be-”
“You’re right,” he said. “If Alta were here, we’d move you into her household, Tríaperiláti.” He leaned forward and took her hands. “We will find a solution. Now you must trust us.” Without releasing his soldier, the prince then asked, “Yallameenara, what does our Prestainamatta say?”
“Let me catch her up,” I said. So I relayed the full conversation, as best I could. I finished, and she nodded.
“If a solution is not found in Alteara,” she replied, “then I wish her to go home with you. Will Queen Ralalta allow such a thing?”
“Shouldn’t we ask her?”
“She would do what is necessary to protect her children,” Yahamala said. “But Prince Prodótar is a good man. Let us leave this puzzle in his lap and see what he does with it.”
“All right,” I said. “Prodótar, Láti, the Goddess offers one solution, but it is one we wish to hold in reserve. Prodótar, if you can find a good solution, that would be best. But either way, Láti and her children will be protected.”
“Then we’re agreed,” he said. “And so I repeat: congratulations, Tríaperiláti. You help to take care of Alteara, but now for a while, Alteara will take care of you.”
She brushed at her eyes. “Thank you, Prince Prodótar. I didn’t know what to do.”
“I’d like you to keep this to yourself for a time. If anyone asks why we are gathered here, we need a story.”
“My grandmother has been ill,” she said. “The Goddess offered kind words, but we thought you should know.”
“All right. Is that issue urgent?”
“Not urgent, but if that changes, I will tell my captain.”
“Very good,” said the prince. “I know the soldiers don’t realize it, but this is the sort of issue you can bring to me. You don’t need to wait for a goddess to uncover this for you.”
“I couldn’t have,” she protested.
“Well, I don’t make empty gestures. I think I am going to discuss this with my wife and perhaps my parents, and if we don’t have a good solution, then perhaps we will explore this alternative idea. All right?”
“All right, Prince Prodótar. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Thank you Prodótar,” I said as he stood.
He nodded to me and clutched my shoulder briefly as he stepped past. I put an arm around the soldier, and we leaned together for a while. After a few minutes, she asked, “What did the Goddess suggest?”
“She hopes the solution lies within the borders of Alteara, but if it does not, then there is a ready solution to the south. But that may not be what you would prefer.”
“You would invite me to Framara?”
“No. The Queen of Framara would invite you to Framara. If she weren’t readily available, then I would ask you if you would like me to ask the Goddess to change your hair.”
“She can do that?”
“Frankly, I don’t know. I don’t want to ask her, and she might have been unwilling, but if that wasn’t a choice, there are still others.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Lady Yallameenara. I’ll be all right now.”
I gave her a little hug, and then I looked at the Goddess. She nodded, and so I stood, and we headed for bed.
We were alone for about a minute and a half before everyone else joined us. It was cozy and warm.
Reunion
Mesenorié, Tradódid, and Ralalta met us on the steps of the palace, and warm greetings were offered widely. I then begged for a bath and the news, receiving each. Mesenorié and Ralalta sat with me, and instead of paying attention to me, the Goddess spent the entire time stroking both of the queens.
“You look very happy,” I told her.
“I am,” she replied to me. “Why didn’t Lásenalta come?”
“I imagine because Juleena was feeling very protective,” I replied.
“What did she just ask?” Ralalta asked.
“She wanted to know why Alta isn’t here.”
Ralalta chuckled. “Then I figured out what you answered.” And then she shifted languages and said poorly but understandably enough, “Prestainamatta, what plan babies?”
The Goddess froze for just a moment, and then she wrapped both arms around Ralalta.
“She’s holding you,” I whispered.
Ralalta began beaming. “I think I can feel her.”
“What did you say, Ralalta?” Mesenorié asked.
“I asked about the babies,” she replied.
“I would like to know as well,” Mesenorié replied. And so I told that to Yahamala.
“I promise two for the succession,” she said. “Dawnastaria and the new child. I have not decided if Kissagoddessia suits me, but a betting woman would make a poor wager against her hair.”
I laughed and relayed what had been said.
“Yalla,” the Goddess added. “I want at least one more of your children. I would take Kissagoddessia tomorrow, but she is too young to learn my words, anyway. Tell them that now.”
So I repeated everything, speaking Altearan. “Yalla,” Mesenorié said when I was done, “I do not want you to repeat this outside this room, but we have another need.”
“Oh?”
“Things happen.”
“Things happen; I agree.”
“Even if Felésartinda gives us more grandchildren, things happen.”
“Things happen,” I repeated.
“We would be much pleased if there was a backup plan, so to speak.”
I groaned. “You want Alta and me to produce at least one more child.”
“And we would prefer the child be fostered here,” she added. “And we wouldn’t mind if there were two, but then we would want them to alternate which was here.”
“Why alternated?”
“Because if Something were to happen, there would remain one backup far away, safe in the loving arms of our nearest friends.”
I stared. “Is this a real danger?”
Both monarchs exchanged looks, and then Ralalta said, “No one is pleased that I had only a single child, and that the line is not clear if something were to happen to Juleena. I haven’t trained a backup, either her backup, or a backup for her successor.”
“Yalla, right now, if something happens to Tradódid, Prodótar, and me, Lásenalta would be queen. She could decline in favor of Sincólateed, but the child is far too young to rule, and Alteara would then be ruled by a regent. No one wants that.”
“Let me catch the Goddess up to us,” I said. I did that. She sat quietly, nodding at the end.
“Does Lásenalta and Juleena’s new daughter satisfy both requirements?” she asked. I translate that and waited for Ralalta and Mesenorié to comment.
The two considered each other. And they grinned. “I believe we need one more,” Mesenorié said. “Wouldn’t you agree, Ralalta?”
“Most definitely,” she said.
“You two just want more grandbabies,” I said.
“Not at all,” Ralalta said. “That gives us Juleena’s successor plus a share in two backups.”
“And it gives us a share in two backups,” Mesenorié said. “I would want assurances from the Goddess she wouldn’t claim either of the backups, and I would want them both trained as possible leaders.”
“Fluent in both languages,” Ralalta said. “We can share them, Mesenorié.”
“Do you really mean to suggest that sending them back and forth by sea is safe?” I asked. “There are storms. How many times can we do that before the chances catch us?”
“What are they saying?” Yahamala asked.
“They’re being greedy,” I said. I relayed the conversation. “I can’t tell if they’re serious, or if they just want additional grandbabies.”
The Goddess smiled. “Lásenalta likes being pregnant,” she said. “I don’t believe she will mind. And now we must only decide how many more times you will make a baby, Yalla.”
I smiled. The thought didn’t bother me at all, but then I said, “Can we wait until we’ve resolved our current plans?”
“Perhaps. We’ll see. Assure Ralalta and Mesenorié I will offer one more child for them. I will leave Dawnastaria and both of these new babies for the succession. Now, you will tell Ralalta my words.”
“Yes, Prestainamatta.”
“Ralalta,” she said. “The next time you send Yalla and both her wives to me, I will place a child into Yalla as well.”
Hearing the translation, Ralalta and Mesenorié both clapped in glee.
* * * *
We gathered in the morning, and it was quite a group. I hadn’t realized, but Ralalta brought Tiera, Gressa, and Tyreen with her. And so the meeting room was quite full.
We used the same room that had been used for peace treaty negotiations so many years ago. Mesenorié, Tradódid, and Prodótar were present, but they would remain only long enough to welcome everyone to the palace.
We had a few minutes at the beginning, before people settled. That was when Prodótar pulled me aside. “Mother and Father have
declared a state dinner tonight. Could you come tomorrow?”
“I’d love to,” I said.
“Thank you, Yallameenara.”
I clasped his arm for a moment.
“I want to thank you for something else while I’m at it.”
“Oh?”
“Years ago, you gave me some advice. I have been trying to live by it.”
“Think before you act?”
“Yes. Thank you. I am sure Father said the same thing to me more than once, but hearing it from you, and you so young at the time, seemed to be what I needed.”
“And hearing it from Juleena perhaps didn’t hurt, either.”
He laughed. “No, but by then I was ready to accept it, and she only offered additional guidance.”
I roamed the room, even coming to a stop beside a table covered in a cloth. Ralalta stepped over just in time to keep me from peeking underneath. I turned to her. “You know what’s under here!”
“It’s a surprise for you, and perhaps a few others,” she said. “And evidence of the wisdom and foresight of Princess Lásenalta. No peeking, Yalla. Or else.”
I laughed. “Or else, is it?”
“Yes. Or Else.”
“Got it. I wouldn’t want to suffer an Or Else.”
She tucked my arm in hers and pulled me away.
I had a chance to greet Gontí and Moí, two of the three abbesses. I felt for her and decided that Ti-ti would arrive by midday, or so I thought. But I introduced them to Ralalta, who greeted them warmly.
“Why did you summon us, High Priestess?”
“I wish to draw on your experience,” I replied.
And that was when Mesenorié suggested everyone was here who was expected. She suggested we find seats.
I took the center of the table, as I usually did, with the Goddess to one side, Terél to the other, Larien across, and everyone else filling in.
“Very good,” said Tradódid. “Unless we’re needed, we’re just here to welcome everyone to Lopéna and to invite you to dinner tonight. It will be a formal event, although modest in size, with dancing to follow.”