by Emanuel, Ako
“The Doan?” Jeliya’s frown deepened, then disappeared. A flit of memory - a spear flying past, in the Doan coral and mauve. She looked around. “There is something of my journeys that I think you should know,” she said.
“Yes, tell us what happened to you,” Staventu urged, sitting forward. “As much as you can,” he added. They all leaned closer, eagerly.
She considered what to tell them and what to leave out. “I had an accident,” she began, “and I fell on a poisonous plant that has not been seen before. It is like thrista magnified times ten. I was rescued almost immediately and treated, but I was delirious and fevered and effectively blind.” Pentuk gasped, and Jeliya smiled reassuringly at her. “I...” she hesitated, not wanting to give away just yet that she had found what she was looking for, in a manner of speaking, “came very close to what I was looking for.” It was not a lie, and more truth in more ways than one. “And I also came very close to death. The one who helped me, saved me. He nursed me back to health. But once the Rite of Finding bonded to me, he deemed that it was no longer safe to stay where we were. We left and used the binding of Finding to come closer to you. We were pursued. By warru of many different Tribes. Or rather, by many warru implicating many different Tribes, including the Doan and the Ottanu.” She looked at Otaga. “They tried to kill us. The only thing that saved us was stumbling into the Cribeau’lons. My benefactor said that these warru had been trying to find me since my accident, and that the plant I fell in was - made, made to be that deadly poisonous. Had I not been treated almost instantly, I would not have made it.
“We ran for turns with little food or rest. I was weak from the poison and from not being able to perform the Rite of Solu during my illness - I was just recovering from the lor’den, as a matter of fact, before we had to flee. So I could only risk an av’tun once and it was very short and unstable, but it took all my av’rita and strength. They found us again within half a turn. We were both wounded, though my savior more than I. I couldn’t perform any healing - the Cribeau did the healing. Then we waited at the edge of the Cribeau’lons for your egwae.”
There was silence as the brief summary she had fed them filled their mental jaws past chewing. Hunted by warru even before the egwae had been sent? A dangerous plant that was deliberately engineered to be deadly? The Doan, a new ally turning out to possibly be an enemy? It was just shy of being too fantastic to believe, and yet none would doubt her words.
“Obviously,” Otaga said slowly into the question-laden silence, “obviously you do not want to say just yet who your savior is.” It was a question, and Jeliya nodded in answer. “Then we will not ask about that one. You said that you came very close to what you were looking for. You were looking for the cause of the Zehj’Ba. Did you find it?” At Jeliya’s silence that bespoke her reticence, the Warru First held up a placating hand. “This is politically crucial, Highness. If you cannot give good enough cause for being absent during the Bolorn, your and the High Queen’s political standing will be damaged. How seriously is yet to be seen, but you must be prepared to defend your position.”
“But she was hurt,” Rilantu pointed out. “Seriously hurt. Any ol’bey’woman would be able to confirm that.”
Otaga shook her head. “She also sent the majority of her escort away before she was hurt,” she countered, “which, I am sorry to say, will not stand well. If they had been with her, the chances of her being so seriously wounded would drop to nearly nothing. One thing that Tokia implied in her challenge was that the Heir had been negligent. Your being hurt because you sent your escort away - well, it would only seem to substantiate her claim.” She looked apologetic at the unintended but inescapable slight toward the Heir. “If the fact that you were injured is to be brought up, it will have to be secondary to what you have found.”
Jeliya wanted to look away, but held Otaga’s eyes. Then she nodded very slowly. “I found it. I know what the cause of the Zehj’Ba is.”
The group around her sighed away a collectively held breath.
“Do you know where it is?” Staventu asked.
Jeliya shook her head. “Not precisely. But I know that it is within the boundaries of the Av’ru. And very close to the borders. I would hazard a guess that it is somewhere in the unclaimed lons.”
“Close to where you were?”
“I don’t know.” She considered. “I would think not. There are two main areas of unclaimed lons that actually go all the way to the Border. One in the Este and one in the Weste. It is buried in the ground, and I don’t think it has been moved. Yet.”
“And you will, I hope, explain all of these cryptic remarks in Mother’s presence?” Staventu said, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms.
“Cryptic? I? I am the soul of clarity, and erudition. Me ain’t know what’chu talkin’ ‘bout,” she rejoined, putting on her best creole dialect.
Staventu grinned. “It’s good to have you back,” he said.
They talked a little more about their speculations then left at an informal dismissal from Jeliya as she pleaded quick tiring and that sleep called. Relieved that she had kept up a good face while they were there, she relaxed the discipline about the Jur’Av’chi and nursed the still bleeding wound of the absence of him.
the darkness turned…
Soku sat down at her low work table and felt a rush of excitement at the slim stack of papi’ras that had been placed in the middle of her well-organized work stacks. There were official stamps and seals on each. She counted them. Eighteen. Then she drew a breath and looked at the top document. It said that one Soku sul Doan had agreed to open her records, residences and palace to official inspection, and that, pending the final report, she could begin surveying a location within the Palace grounds for her Cres-Terrou port exit. Upon receipt of the final report, she could begin construction of said port.
Soku laughed softly and sorted through the sheets, noting which names had been put forth for inspection, and then she called for a map of the Realm to see where each port exit would fall. The pattern was irregular, most heavily concentrated in the Western Border’lons, but six Estern Border’lons and three Central’lons showed up.
Thirty would be perfect, she thought to herself. Thirty Border Queens protected from Tokia’s machinations would perhaps not tip the scale geopolitically under normal circumstances, but thirty powerful, wealthy allies, all sworn to loyalty to the High Queen, was something else, something with which to be reckoned. They could not be ostracized by their neighbors – they would always have an outlet for Trade, even with every neighboring lon turned against them. They could not be pressured into unwanted alliances. Soku looked at the map and realized that she had created something unique, something that would aid not just her Border’lon sisters, but the Heir as well…
Barajini came in just then, followed by two assistants, breaking her train of thought. The three were loaded down with scrolls in baskets, which they set down before the Doan Queen.
“What is all this?” Soku asked, eying the baskets with curiosity and just a little misgiving.
“The fallout from our turn in court,” Barajini said, her voice dry with irony. “These are petitions for admittance into our Yakan’tsu.” She held out a scroll from the top of her pile.
Soku did not reach for it. “Petitions for admittance? You can’t be serious.” She shook her head. “How many?”
“Over three hundred Tribes.”
Almost a third of the wuman realm? Soku wanted to laugh again. Three hundred port exits would dilute her network down to worthlessness. A ploy of Tokia’s? She took the petition and read the name of the Queen who had submitted it. Jasine sul Talwi. Not usually one she did business with - this Mid-Noraen lon Queen took too many risks and usually lost large sums in non-lucrative deals. Definitely not one she would choose with whom to open a venture.
“If you would, Barajini, make a list of all the petitioners. I will write polite dissuaders to those most obviously unsuited. The others we will send the
terms and conditions to, with a response sheet. If that doesn’t frighten them off, then we will give them all due consideration. But we will post a notice - as of now, our impending Yakan’tsu is closed to petitions.”
Barajini produced three documents with the flare of a conjurer. One was the asked-for list of names. The second was the politely-worded refusal. The third was a notice of closure of the Cres-Terrou Yakan’tsu. Her face was dead-pan as she presented them.
“Am I so predictable?” Soku laughed, taking them with a bow of thanks.
“Only to me, my Queen. A good Voice should be able to anticipate as least some of her Queen’s needs.” The Voice finally cracked a smile. “Only three or four are worth serious consideration. Most of the others are just opportunistic or desperate.” A tone, as of an undercurrent of amusement, made her voice bright as satin.
“What is it?” Soku responded to the vocal cue, enjoying her Voice’s pleasure at surprising her. Barajini clapped, and two more assistants came in, leading gliding tables piled high with thick sheaves of papi’ras.
“Once word got out that so many had petitioned to join, many of those who were undecided - decided,” Barajini did not sound smug, but she did not have to.
“How many?” Soku could not take her eyes off the stacks. Barajini dismissed the four assistants.
“About fifty. Including Indines sul Arine.” The Voice held up one of the contracts.
“Set it aside with the other petitions for consideration,” Soku waved it away. Fifty more of her original one hundred! That was more than she had anticipated. Then she looked speculatively at her Voice. “Just - how did word get around?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.
Barajini held her hands up. “Much as I would like to claim such cunning, majesty, it was not my doing. I gathered that the Queens in our Ya were approached by others, once our claim was cleared. When the questions became pointed, some of those undecided saw the wisdom of taking the chance on our venture.”
Soku contemplated the stacks again. “Hold them all for a ten’turn, then send the ones most advantageous to us first for approval. The others we will hold for a while more.”
It was no bad thing to let those who had agreed immediately to have a slight advantage over the others. The first eighteen, including herself, would be able to begin surveying for locations first, and thus would have their port arches up first. In addition, she could begin setting up the framework in stages, rather than dealing with all of it at once. There was so much work to be done!
*:And Barajini - the protections on our records?:* Soku fully expected her enemies to continue to try to slip something incriminating into her records - if she, the progenitor of the Yakan’tsu, could not get approval, the whole thing would come to naught. Since Barajini’s attack, special protections had been placed on all the Doan documents, public and private.
*:No tampering as of yet,:* the Voice said. Soku smiled inside and plunged eagerly into the piles of papi’ras.
the light, delirious but not drunk on the beat of the drums of morn, turned...
A drum beat sounded in the receiving lain, waking Jeliya, confusing her for a moment as she looked around at unfamiliar surroundings. She blinked. Where were the walls of her obin’tu? She was in a well-appointed sleeping lain. Then she remembered. After receiving a reply to the announcement that they had returned, they had been directed to av’tun to a vacant guest-house for nobility, outside the City proper. That had occurred the turn before, and she had slept last eve in a real pallet with real silk bedding, and had had a real royal meal. Servants had come from the Palace to attend her. And she wanted to cry for loss of the simplicity of Gavaron’s home.
The drum was a formal announcement of the imminent arrival of a visitor. It was not the royal summons but the rhythm of someone important. Jeliya had half a san’chron to get herself ready. The servants and maddi came in like a flurry of leaves and descended on her, a whirlwind of bath water and soft silk wraps and scented oil and lotion. They worked a minor miracle in the time they had, and when they were through Jeliya felt scrubbed to within an inch of her life and ready to slide off the pallet from all the silk on her. Not to mention weighed down by all the jewelry and hair ornaments so that she was positive that she could not stand even with help. Her egwae leaders, including R’Kyl, swept in just as her torturers had stepped back to reveal her. She felt strange in the finery, having been without it for so long.
She had been half right. She could not stand without help, but it was not because of the jewelry, but from pure, simple fatigue. Supported subtly by her brothers, and followed by the other core members of the egwae, Jeliya entered the receiving lain to wait for their guest.
Right on time, an av’tun bloomed into being and out stepped...
“Ashmisa!” Jeliya exclaimed. She held her arms out in welcome.
The Sixth Voice smiled and came forward to embrace her. Almost unnoticed behind her was the High Family ol’bey’woman, D’rad’ni.
“Heiress. We have missed you; our hearts are filled with light at your restoration to us,” the Voice said, hugging her hard, then holding her back to look her over scrutinizingly. Then, instead of commenting on Jeliya’s state of health, she stepped back and gave the ritual greeting including all of them. They all replied in kind.
“I bring a missive from your mother, the High Queen,” Ashmisa said formally. “After D’rad’ni has examined you, I will tell you her words.”
Jeliya nodded, and for a san’chron submitted to the ol’bey’s examination. D’rad’ni remained impassive throughout, then took Jahun’no aside to confer with him. Finally she came back, gave a single nod to the Voice, and av’tunned away.
“What does the High Queen say?” Jeliya asked formally, pulling her tired and pained body as erect as she could.
“You are to proceed directly, with my assistance, to the farthest vacant Lan’mba from the Palace T’Av’li, and incidentally, closest to your present location. You will remain there and recuperate from your trial-filled journey until the last turn of Lor’ya waxing. Then she will summon you to her presence.”
Jeliya stared into Ashmisa’a eyes, looking for answers to her many half-born questions, but seeing none. The turn before the beginning of the De’en’nu Festival? That smacked of political intrigue of some type. Was that why she had not been allowed to go straight to the Palace? Well, orders were orders. She stepped back, and bowed her head once in formal acceptance of the High Queen’s words. Questions and explanations would have to wait until later.
the light turned...
The av’tun disgorged D’rad’ni into the general receiving lain of the Palace main floor, where official visitors could av’tun in unannounced. The ‘tun winked out of existence behind her as she paused a moment to get her bearings and wave away the official that came forward. She did not often come here, but she would rather that her presence were not announced.
“How is she?”
The ol’bey’woman jumped at the tenor male voice, turned to see the First Voice/Prince Consort standing waiting for her.
“First Voice - I mean, Av’lati,” she said, bowing and spreading her arms. He returned the courtesy but his eyes were heavy with impatience. She did not bother to begin the ritual greeting since he had cut through protocol with his question, which meant that he was more concerned with information than being properly formal. “I was just about to come to see you,” she said, stalling a bit to gather herself. He moved toward her like a curious predator that was not hungry, just - curious.
“How is she?” he asked again. D’rad’ni glanced around, noting the ubiquitous guards, then made a small motion toward the doorway.
“Shall we walk toward my suite? I must put my things away,” she said.
Luyon looked deep into her eyes then nodded. Was what she had to say that disturbing? Her eyes said it was. They walked a bit and she wove a subtle rite of privacy around them.
*:She is - seems to be recovering nicely,:* she began as they mov
ed slowly through the halls toward the upper levels. *:It is apparent that she was injured and poisoned, but the poison has been purged and the damage, for the most part, repaired. But - there is something else I must tell you,:* and the colorlessness of her thoughts warned him that it was something he was not going to want to hear, much less tell the High Queen. He stopped her and turned her to face him. D’rad’ni met his gaze then looked down and away.
*:She is - Jur’Av’chi’n,:* the ol’bey woman plunged grimly, only meeting Luyon’s formidable gaze again after she had said it. *:The link is strong. Very strong. And very advanced.:* Something in her mind’s voice set his hair to standing. She was not telling everything.
“How strong?” he asked quietly, urgently.
“Very - strong.” *:The channel is so deep that I’d swear she had come to the verge of -:* the rest of the words were bitten back, and the healer made a sign against impropriety toward her betters and sovereign. Alarmed, Luyon grabbed her arms, demanding, “What?!”
*:Solu’san,:* and even her mind’s voice was a whisper. Again she made the sign, coupled with one against the anger of the Goddesses. *:It is more advanced than any death-defiance bond I know of, though there are hints of that, too. And more advanced than any Goddess-bond I have ever seen. What she has is - it is almost like she is not just one single personality anymore. And yet, I do not sense the lost echoes of another in her. I do not - I am out of my element in this.:* The admission was shameless.
“Is it -” *:Is it like the Zehj’Ba?:* he asked, holding the terror of her answer inside. But she shook her head vigorously.
*:No, that is the first thing I checked for when I found this bond. It seems to be a full sharing, not a drain. I - am pretty sure of that. And - she seems to cherish it. She tried to hide it, but a bond that strong cannot be fully hidden. I - cannot tell any more with any certainty beyond that.:*