by D. L. Carter
“Unlikely,” said Eioth, interested despite the wish nagging at the back of his mind to whisk Halidan off to his private chambers and demonstrate another few of the interesting postures from another book that was never far from his mind. “Laws may be put into place by the declaration of the High King, as this one was, or voted in by the majority of the Synod. But, to change it, to overturn any law, requires not only the vote of the Synod, but a year-long debate and vote amongst the people of the Empire. Such things are so rare that I can list for you the last ten such events and none of them were for this issue. No, it is more likely that it was an unpopular law and was simply ignored.”
“Ignored?” cried Halidan. “Can that be done?”
“Easily enough when no one cares enough to insist that it be enforced.” He frowned at the book and turned a page with the tip of his fingernail. “You will see that no punishment is described for noncompliance. What is your interest in this matter, aside from proof that you know High King Olifeink's name?”
Halidan hesitated, surprised that he asked. Could he not see the usefulness of the information?
“Senoia's grandson is forbidden from inheriting her responsibilities . . .”
“Because he is illegitimate!” finished Eioth, his eyes widening. He read the page, again. “Halidan, this is excellent! It was assigned a law number. The Chief Archivist can tell us of a certainty if the law was ever overturned. From the phrasing here, Yinto declared it, the Synod accepted and nothing more was done. Tomorrow, before the Synod gathers, we shall visit the Archivist and have him confirm the law is still in place.”
“It may not help him,” observed Halidan. “His family may not have acknowledged him.”
“His family?” Eioth regarded her in confusion for a moment, then smiled. “Ah, you are not aware. Halidan, the scandal of Federan's birth is not merely that he is half mortal, but that his mother, an Elf, consented to lie with a mortal man. Taking High King Yinto as a guide, Federan is legitimate. Both his mother and grandmother had declared him to be of their blood. He is legitimately the child of his mother despite his father!”
“Federan's father is mortal?” Strange that the thought was more shocking than those children whose mothers were mortal.
Eioth nodded absently, his attention still on the ancient book of law. A servant appearing at the door put Halidan to the blush, again. They had engaged in intimacies only moments ago in this very room with the door open and servants wandering the halls. What if one of them had come seeking him or her? Had someone come, and seeing what they were about, gone away? And if they had, would she ever know?
Her color deepened.
The servant coughed to gain their attention. Eioth raised his head, caught her eye, and grinned – a slow curve of his lips. Obviously, the same thought had just occurred to him, but he was unashamed.
“Dinner is ready,” announced the servant.
“Is Mitash to join us tonight?” asked Halidan.
“No. Fortunately, he is occupied elsewhere.” Eioth tucked the book under his arm and reached for her hand. “We need not engage in polite conversation this evening when we would much rather retire early.”
“Oh, yes,” said Halidan. “That is a good idea. I am very tired.”
Eioth's grip on her hand became a caress. “I think I can give you a reason to stay awake.”
Later, while Eioth slept in her arms Halidan contemplated the future. Eioth was a passionate man. The evidence was unmistakable in the ache of her intimate muscles, the faint bruises on her breasts, and the pleasing languor that nudged her toward sleep. Eioth was loyal enough to fulfill his promises. He would keep her with him lifelong.
She could accept loneliness as a reason to seek friendships, but as a reason to keep a mortal woman as a lover, no, it was not enough. She could not fill all the lonely places in his heart, nor should she try. For one thing, what would occur when she passed from life? Eioth would be lonely, again. Lonelier.
She would have to encourage him to accept more friendships. A few words with Mitash might relax the formality that marred that relationship.
While the Synod was in session, she would pay attention. There were sensible people of equal or close rank to his to be found. He could find friendships with them. She smiled to herself in the dark. Certainly, in a few days, if her information was correct, Federan would offer him friendship lifelong. Federan was half blood with a mortal father.
She shifted a little. Eioth's arms tightened in his sleep and he settled his head more comfortably on her breast. She smiled and ran her fingers over his long hair. For now he loved her and she him. The thought sent warmth through her heart and body.
While he wanted her, she would rejoice. When the time came that his interest cooled, she would cling to the comfort of the memories, but in the interest of maintaining her pride, she would not weep or protest when he put her aside. The passage of time and aging was natural for mortals. The day would come when she would retreat from his bed back to the little blue chamber down the hall, then further to a small house by the river. She would not require that he kiss her or fondle her when age wrinkled her skin and dulled her eyes.
Pride would be her strength, then.
A cold and empty comfort.
She stroked his hair, again, and glanced down when a wet tug came at her breast. Eioth's eyes were open, gleaming in the night. While she watched, he smiled and drew her nipple deeper into his mouth. Hard, hot, demanding sensations shot from her breast to her groin, even as his hands began to wander, even as he levered himself up to rise over her body and with a single thrust claimed her . . . joining them.
And the night was filled with sighs. With the determined rise of passion and heat. The slip of hand over skin, of hardness into wet, welcoming heat and the slow building of tension and pleasure. She met him beat for beat as the ride became urgent. Her arms around his shoulders, she yielded all of herself to his possession and fractured into a million stars as release took them both down into sleep.
A runner was sent the next morning while the sun was still concealed by the morning rain clouds to advise Mitash that Eioth intended to go to Synod Hall early. When Halidan and Eioth rode up, Mitash was in his saddle waiting, but still chewing on fruit-filled bread. As soon as he saw their approach, he took a last sip of tea from a flask and handed the remains of his breakfast down to a servant.
“Does nothing come between you and food?” inquired Halidan by way of a greeting.
“When the time comes, I shall postpone dying so I might have one last slice of meat,” said Mitash. “Why are you troubled? Do you think the Elements will deny me entry into Unity because of it?”
“Remember to wash your hands,” was Eioth's only comment.
Mitash bowed to acknowledge the jest.
“What important matter draws us out this early?” asked Mitash, as he nudged his horse into a walk and fell in at Eioth's left side.
The morning rain had passed, but the sun was not yet high enough to dry the roads and the splashing of hooves through puddles covered the sound of conversation. The bodyguards arranged themselves about the party, eyes alert, while Eioth explained Halidan's discovery of the day before. Mitash studied Halidan intently while the High Lord spoke and she found herself stiffening under the weight of his regard. It was likely that Mitash thought she was concerned for her own hypothetical child's inheritance. He was wrong, but she wasn't about to announce it.
It was more that she had completed a task satisfactorily for the High Lord. Her first task as librarian. He requested she find him knowledge, Mitash encouraged her to follow a particular path, and the result would make High Lady Senoia very happy.
. . . If the law was still in force.
The Chief Archivist was not pleased to be summoned to his office buried deep beneath Synod Hall so early in the morning. He grumbled and muttered his protests even while Eioth explained the reason for their visit and the law they were interested in confirming. Servants and archivists-in-t
raining were prodded into motion, climbing ladders, and searching through papers almost as disorganized as Eioth's personal library had been before Halidan took it in hand.
Eventually, a trainee returned and handed an ancient sheet of paper, bedecked with preserve spells, to the Chief Archivist.
“Here it is,” he said after he'd examined each attachment. “It is as it was when High King Yinto placed his signature, sigil, and seal upon it. It is entitled The Declaration of True Legitimacy and was placed in the archive the day it was put into force. No one has requested to see it since that day.”
“It is still in force?” asked Eioth.
“There is no record attached of an attempt to overturn it,” said the Archivist. “Likewise, no attempt was made to enforce it. As you can see from the lack of legal opinions, no court cases were brought quoting its guidance.”
“How odd,” said Halidan. “It is not as if there are no illegitimate children who would benefit from its provisions. My bodyguard is Morae Noname because he does not know he can legally claim his mother's name, if he knows it.”
“I do not doubt it,” said the Archivist. “And yet it may be as simple as the law was not widely announced. Generally, people were not made aware of its existence.”
“It is mentioned in the ninth Adventure of Norfarland,” said Mitash. “How much more widely spread can something be?”
The Archivist went a little pink along the cheek, but tilted his chin and regarded them through narrowed eyes. “Do not speak to me of such nonsense. We deal with significant matters here!”
“My apologies,” said Mitash with a bow and a smile for Halidan, once the Archivist's attention was turned from him.
“I require that this document be available today in Synod Hall,” said Eioth. “Would you honor us by attending the morning session?”
The Archivist sighed as if required to perform some great labor. After a moment’s reflection, he nodded and sent his servants to collect his formal costume. When the Archivist was suitably attired, Eioth led the way from the basement up the stairs to the greeting hall. Even though the hour was close for the opening of the Synod, the hall was echoingly empty. Halidan and Mitash glanced around as if to spy the other High Lords and their parties hiding behind the columns. The main doors were closed.
“Has something happened?” whispered Halidan. “Where is everyone?”
Mitash raised a hand to stop her speech. Eioth nodded toward the main doors. When he spoke his voice had barely more sound than breath.
“Mitash, without attracting attention, go and find out what is happening in the forecourt.”
On soft and silent feet, Mitash vanished out a small side door. His return was equally quiet.
“Chandri is at the base of the stairs in conversation with a few of his supporters.” whispered Mitash, once they had all retreated back into the basement staircase. “His guards block the doors into Synod Hall. Others of his supporters are arranged on the stairs in such a way that one would have to be impolite and interrupt conversations in order to ascend. It is all very contrived and the only reason it is working is that no one is impolite enough to force a way through. Senoia has not yet arrived,” he added, after a pause.
“Another move in his game,” observed Eioth. “Come, let us await them.”
This time Eioth supervised the arrangement of his robe over his chair, fussing with the folds until the sigil was clearly displayed. Then he sat and called Halidan to his side as the Archivist's party, staring about the empty chamber in confusion given the hour of the day, arranged themselves along the opposite wall.
“Mitash, ask the Archivist for the law. Halidan, open my book of authority and hold it for me as if you are directing my attention to something.”
At Eioth's gesture, Mitash placed the law record upon the open book, Halidan pinned it into place with her page turner and they waited. After a few moments, the doors were thrust open dramatically and Chandri appeared at the door with the other Lords, some pleased, some very angry, at his back. Eioth turned his head slowly to regard the new arrivals. Pushing the book Halidan held gently out of his way, he rose and descended to stand at his mark of the compass.
“Chandri, welcome! Do not block the door,” said Eioth spreading his arms in a gesture of calm welcome. “Come in. Come in. It is time for us to fulfill our responsibilities.”
Chapter Twenty
“You are a fool, Norfarland. You were born a fool, live as a fool and will die a fool.”
“Yes. Yes, I know. But, given the number of fools there are in the world, at least I shall never want for the companionship of my equals.”
The Adventures of Norfarland the Bastard ~ Book 5
Chandri's eyes went wide and startled. Halidan smothered a smile. The poor Elf was probably wondering how Eioth had gotten past his obstruction. Certainly, he was not pleased to be put into a situation wherein Eioth was inviting him into Synod Hall. While Chandri was distracted, Senoia pushed her way forward and shoved Chandri hard in the back.
“Move it, youngster,” she said, squeezing past.
That was enough to break the spell. Within a few moments, all were in their places and the priests had uttered a shorter, simpler blessing to open the Synod's second day. Eioth did not wait for the Herald to announce the next item of business. While all the others took their seats, he remained at his place on the floor.
“I would ask your indulgence this morning for the confirmation of the procedure and policy of lawmaking.” He waited only a second to create the illusion of seeking permission to proceed before continuing. “In the absence of a High King to make law-by-declaration, our Laws are created and enforced by majority vote taken in the presence of at least five of the High Lords in Synod.”
“Yes,” said Chandri before anyone else could comment. “We know this.”
He paused for a breath just a little too long and Eioth continued.
“And to overturn existing law requires public debate and majority vote amongst legal adults.”
“Yes. Yes. In the absence of a High King, that is the law.” Chandri rose quickly and assumed an oratory posture. “We need a High King . . .”
“I am not concerned with the matter of the High King today, Chandri. You may rest your mind.” Eioth turned away leaving Chandri to stutter into silence and return to his seat embarrassed to be so dismissed. “No,” continued Eioth. “My interest was caught by a law that has been in effect for hundreds of years, without legal protest or motion to overturn, but is not enforced. I refer to . . .” he beckoned and Halidan ran down the steps with the open book in her arms. Eioth lifted the single sheet by its corners and held it up, “The Declaration of True Legitimacy, wherein it is stated, all children must be acknowledged as legitimate because all children are the true born children of their mothers and thereby can . . .”
Before he could say another word, Lady Senoia leapt from her chair and flung both arms about her grandson.
“I declare before these witnesses that you are the true born son of my only daughter. I witnessed your birth and know it to be so. Therefore, I bestow upon you all Rites and Responsibilities that are mine to hold and name you heir by right of blood and ability to the Demesne of True South.”
Chandri spun and stared. “No!”
“I stand witness to the declaration,” said Eioth grinning broadly. “And offer my congratulations.”
Trevan, Lord of True North, rose and shouted. “All welcome the Heir of the True South.”
The resultant cheers sounded through the chamber. Eioth smiled and bowed to Senoia and returned to his chair, not bothering to read the remainder of the law. Chandri scowled at the noise; probably, Halidan thought, because he wanted all the acclamation for himself or at his command, more than he disapproved of the law or Senoia's declaration. For Eioth to have found a solution for Senoia's problem would be a deep and abiding pain to Chandri.
“The Archivist will be honored to hold this law ready to be examined, should any have a
n interest,” continued Eioth.
“In the Archive, under guard,” added the Archivist, with a warning frown as he retrieved the paper from Eioth's bare hands with his own gloved ones.
“If we could postpone the celebration,” said Eioth, raising his voice just a little. “We do have business to attend. I thank you for your tolerance of my interruption of this morning's proceedings.”
The hubbub died slowly as Lords and their attendants finished offering congratulations to Senoia and Federan and returned to their seats. Chandri alone did not go to Senoia, but muttered with his attendants and sulked.
Later, as the Synod was dismissed for the day and they were waiting in the courtyard for the horses to be brought around, Senoia, her grandson, and two other High Lords approached Eioth.
“Call for a vote,” said Senoia without preamble. “You have my support. Our support. Tomorrow would be the best day to call for . . .”
“I do not know what you mean,” interrupted Eioth, “but I hope you will remember to invite me to your celebrations.”
“You know very well what I mean,” snarled Senoia. “The throne is yours to clai . . .”
Eioth frowned and raised his hand just enough to have her fall silent.
“Can you guarantee all will agree with you on any particular subject presented to the Synod?”
The other Lords exchanged glances and shook their heads.
“Since full agreement is required, it is clear that now is not the time. Senoia, I am certain you and Federan do not intend today’s events to pass without a celebration.”
“I wish to examine the document myself . . .” began Federan.
“It shall be a grand one,” interrupted Senoia, clinging to her grandson's arm, “and I must turn my attention to finding a suitable wife for him. Now he is my heir, I shall have no difficulties in negotiations.”