“How, sire… Just for curiosity?”
“Don’t be a fool cousin. I tell you, and then you will do it.”
“I am curious, is all. I wish to learn.”
Ribeag snorted.
“I swear not.”
“Or tell someone who has not sworn, so they may.”
“I will speak of it to no-one.”
“Or write it down,” Ribeag said.
Bahn fell silent, and appeared to be thinking. More of the nobility were stupid. Bahn had perhaps half Aluese’s cunning.
“If you wish to try, cousin,” Ribeag said. “All you need to do is engage with the magic women. Have them create a spell that strikes the dark ones whenever a particular condition is met, say someone says a particular phrase, then have some someones say it. Over and over.”
“But… how?”
“That is the clever bit, cousin. You work it out. What a magnificent courting gift for my dear sister. The final defeat of our age-old enemies.”
“It seems dishonorable, though. Winning through trickery and magic.”
“Indeed. And yet, I am still bored.”
“You could….”
Ribeag threw a goblet at him, and Bahn fell silent.
“Do you not understand, you fool?” Ribeag said. “I can know what will happen before it does. Simply by thinking about it, by thinking it through. Any time I think about it. And apparently I am the only one who can. The only way I can remain interested is to avoiding thinking, and then all these schemes and plots these pitiful fools concoct surprise me. Momentarily.”
Bahn seemed unsure what to say. In the end he said, “I am sorry, my prince.”
“Indeed.” Ribeag said. “My boredom is not your concern. Go woo my sister, and tell me how it goes.”
Bahn left.
“Use your imaginations, my ladies.” Ribeag said. “I wish to view something far more perverse.”
They considered, then began fetching appendages and straps and arranging the slave girl to be taken twice at once.
“Better,” Ribeag said, and began to take an interest. Then one of them began flogging the slave girl while she had her, and the other cut the slave’s throat, and Ribeag was bored again. He summoned the guards and said. “Flog these two and return them to their husbands.”
The two noblewomen began to shriek.
“For their lack of imagination,” he added, for their sakes.
“And somebody clean the bed. I do not wish to sleep in Tn’trith blood.”
*
In desperation, Ribeag decided to go on a quest. He had no idea what to quest for, but as a child, like all children, he had heard tales of returning lost swords to their owners and mighty deeds. He went down to the treasury and rummaged around, finding rings, and spears, and swords. He held one up, and said to a clerk, “What does this do?”
The clerk was hesitant, understandably so. The prince acting strangely, in the mood he was in, was dangerous to those nearby. “Cuts, sire?”
“Is it magical?”
“Not as far as I know, sire.”
“What do we have that is?”
They offered rings, cups, a cloth that made things disappear. He put a ring in his palm, and bounced it.
“Is this powerful?”
They called an old man, the senior clerk. “Very, sire.”
“What would happen if I threw it in a volcano?”
“Why would you do that, sire?”
Ribeag looked at him for a moment, and the old clerk swallowed. Ribeag decided sages were useful and should be kept around. “To see what would happen.”
“I imagine it would melt, sire.”
“Oh. That’s rather dull.”
“I suppose it might explode, too, sire.”
“Ah, now that is more interesting. How big an explosion?”
“Well… rather larger than the mountain, I would imagine, sire.”
“That sounds more like it,” Ribeag said and slipped the ring into his pocket. He went and called for Bahn.
“I think I will kill a dragon,” Ribeag said.
“What for, sire?”
“Why not? Because it’s there.”
“What did the beast do?”
“What has anyone done?”
“A point, sire. But a dragon?”
“They’re a nuisance, are they not? Cause fires and so on. And it’s what one does, is it not? Slaughtering dragons.”
“Still… I ought to go tell the heralds. We need to tell the dark ones we will be moving the army, but not against them.”
Ribeag waved that away. “Don’t bother. I won’t take the army. Just me.”
“Alone, sire?”
“And my household, of course.”
“Indeed, sire.”
“Find me a dragon.”
“Sire.”
It took two days to locate the dragon, and another to round up enough magicians to transport the court there. Ribeag went and looked and saw the beast all strutting and roaring fire. It noticed him, breathed in his direction, but caused him no ill. It was evening, so he decided to wait until morning so the court might have a better view. The dragon prowled their perimeter all night and caused some of the mounts a little bother.
In the morning Ribeag went and looked at it again, then decided it had best be done.
“Captain,” he called. “See to that thing for me, would you.”
Shadows flitted. The dragon was eviscerated, fell on its side, and croaked a little smoke.
The court clapped politely.
“That was rather dull,” Ribeag said. “All right, pack up and let us go home. Bahn, that was rather dull. Why did you not warn me it was not worth the trouble?”
“I believe one usually does the deed in person, sire.” Bahn said.
“One does, cousin, but be very careful what the next words out your mouth are, or you may find yourself without a face to smile from.”
“Well done, sire, it was a noble deed.”
“Thank you, cousin, I rather thought so. How are things with my royal sister?”
“I will let you know when there is something to tell, sire.”
“Very good then.”
*
Ribeag decided all there was for it was to go out into the world of mortals. He was longing to leave, but certain matters got in the way. He decided to push Bahn along.
He summoned his sister and demanded to know why she would not marry Bahn.
“Because I will not,” Aluese said, petulant and bored herself.
“Captain,” he said, “Bring me my sister’s companion, the one we had flogged, with the damaged wing.”
Aluese looked at him, seemed a little sad.
“Let us see how much you care for this woman, sister.”
“I care for her, brother.”
“Good.”
The led the girl with the damaged wing in. She was scared, was looking around nervously. She saw Aluese and her gaze settled there. Ribeag thought that was interesting.
“Chain her, flog her,” Ribeag said to the room. “You know what to do.”
“Brother, please. Will not you reconsider?”
“Will not you?”
Aluese looked away, at her companion. She did not answer. The girl was chained to a torch sconce, and beaten. She flinched when the rope struck, was silent otherwise.
“Why do you make her suffer?” Ribeag said.
“You are cruel, brother.”
“What is she to you?”
“She is my friend, brother. That is all.”
“Only that?”
“Only that. Friendship may be something you do not understand.”
“I imagine not. You have no care if she is raped again?”
“I care a lot, but not for the reason you think.”
“Marry Bahn or I will have it done.”
“After what you did to her last time she will never lie with a man again in peace. Is that not enough?”
“Her mind is
troubled?”
“Her body is broken. Your guards are not kind.”
“No, I suppose not. And still you call her friend.”
“I do.”
“She is deformed.”
“If you care about things such as that, she already was. She is a warrior.”
“She was.”
“She is. And what you do… Scars on her back and breaking in her womb are nothing new.”
“I suppose not.” Ribeag walked closer, and peered at the girl. She did seem to have a lattice of old scars, beneath the blood of the new.
“Marry Bahn.”
“I will not.”
“This girl will suffer.”
Aluese stood there for a while, thinking. Ribeag had never seen her as thoughtful as she was where this girl was concerned. “If you wish me to,” Aluese said. “Then answer my question.”
“Which question?”
“As I asked when you first spoke of this. Why?”
“Ah. I am bored. Ruling displeases me. I seek a change.”
“Make me regent.”
“If I make you regent, our world becomes a bloodbath.”
“Perhaps. But not through my will.”
“No, but still it does. You will force me to do this, sister?”
She said nothing.
Ribeag peered at the girl. Her arms were above her head, her wings pinned back by their angle. Her back and legs were heavy with blood, rich and red against pale skin. The gossamer of her wings was clotted with splashes, as Aluese’s had been on the day of the battle. She was breathing hard, but nothing more, no tears, no sobs, no whimpers. She was a warrior, he supposed, still, and accustomed to a little pain. She met his eye, looked back at him now. She seemed defiant, rather than afraid. He supposed pain was merely pain, after all, once those you feared inflicted it upon you.
“You are strong,” he said to her.
“I am, sire,” she whispered.
“And wise to answer.”
Behind him, Aluese moved. She took a step or two. To draw closer, to hear what was said, Ribeag assumed.
“If my sister takes another step, restrain her.”
The captain flitted closer, hissed in Ribeag’s ear, “We cannot, she is of the blood royal also and we must protect her too.”
“That’s right,” Ribeag shrugged. “Very well. Let her do as she wills.”
Aluese heard. She was smiling to herself, thinking she had won something. Ribeag knew that without looking.
He looked at the chained girl, looked at her, thinking, until Aluese grew nervous again.
“You do not mind the beating,” Ribeag whispered, “But what of the other? If I give you back to my men to do as they will again, and this time I tell them not to be so gentle.”
Suddenly the girl’s defiance was gone. She shook her head and bit her lip. Bit it again, since it was already bloody, presumably from biting down to stifle her cries as she was beaten.
“Indeed,” Ribeag said. “Rape her until she begs you to stop. And begs, mind you, not just asks. Rape her. Dewing her. Put out her eyes. In that order.”
The girl made a strangled sob.
“Brother…” Aluese said, her voice shaken. “I beg you.”
Ribeag was surprised by that. Aluese’s tone was angry, did not match the words, and yet the words had been spoken. “Wait,” he said, turned and looked at Aluese. “You beg me?”
“I beg you to reconsider. Do not force my hand over this.”
“I am not forcing your hand.”
“You do not realize it, but you are. I will make war on you over this.”
“You will make war?” Ribeag smiled a little, and looked around. Captain, is that a sufficient threat…?” There was no response, no harm befell Aluese, so Ribeag supposed not. “Make war, sister?”
“I will.”
“You will challenge me for the throne. That I would freely give if only you marry Bahn?”
“A regency is not the crown. And I am not challenging you for that. I know how others see me, I know many would ally with the dark ones to overthrow me.”
“Not to mention that raising a hand against me would see you dead.”
“I would not raise a hand against you, you fool. That is why your pets will not harm me. They know that, even if you do not.”
“Oh. Indeed. But still, a war….”
“Yes.”
“Over this girl.”
“Over my friend. Who I let you do terrible things to once, and will not again.”
“This one is that important to you?”
“She is my friend.”
“Your group do this kind of thing to each other all the time.”
“We choose to. Some choose not.”
“Oh,” Ribeag said, actually surprised. He had been surprised more here, by this, than he had been in a year otherwise. “I had not realized,” he said.
“There is a lot you assume, and a lot you do not realize, from high on your throne.”
“What does that mean? I am hardly ever on my throne.”
“I would harm you, but I want not your crown.”
“What would this war be, if not for the crown?”
“I would fight you to a standstill, to make everything else but the war between us impossible.”
“Everything.”
“Your amusements, especially.”
“I believe you would,” Ribeag said, finally entertained. Her mind was there, when she chose to use it. Perhaps she could rule well.
“Eventually,” Aluese said, “The emperor, and the other races, they would grow sick of our squabbling and force you to stop.”
“Indeed,” Ribeag said, pleased. “That may well be true.”
“Or they may depose you.”
“Or that. And you would really do this thing over this girl?”
“I would.”
“Thousands will die. Hundreds of thousands. Our wars are always worse than those against the Tn’trith.”
“You do not understand, brother. You wander the battlefields all maudlin and morose pining for the lives of people you never knew. I care nothing for strangers.”
“Even strangers who put their lives in your hands, to command.”
“Not if they are strangers, no.”
“You know what a war between us would be? All of our people, everyone. Not like the Tn’trith where half stay home.”
“Brother, listen to me. I will tear this palace down in ruins and lay our forests to the sword. I will slaughter a hundred thousand children. I will kill and burn everything you ever loved. And I will do to any who remain loyal to you what you did to my beloved friend. And I will do it without a thought because I care for nothing but her.”
“You really do not care?”
“Not for palaces and forests, and not for people I have never met.”
“But you care for this girl.”
“I do.”
“So tens of thousands would die for her?”
“If you force them to.”
“Perhaps I should have her killed, and spare us both the difficulty.”
Aluese smiled, and Ribeag was surprised to see it was her cruel smile. The one that scared the nobles and the Tn’trith, the one she wore for politics and war. She meant what she said, Ribeag decided. Aluese went to the door, and opened it. A group of her companions waited there, those who always followed her around. “Summon my people,” she called. “Summon all of them here, as quickly as you may. Tell them my brother threatens to do to me what he did to my beloved friend.”
She closed the door.
Ribeag was a little taken aback that Aluese would dare. “You know what you just did?” he said.
“I showed you I am serious.”
“This will inflame things somewhat. Your faction are hardly known for their… sanity.”
“They are wild, bloodthirsty madmen who care for archaic notions of honor more than breath and food and comfort.”
“Exactly. And they think
you are about to be dishonored.”
“Indeed.”
“Are they likely to actually stop and check what is happening, or just rush in, assuming?”
“They are unlikely to think.”
“They will all die.”
“I know.”
Ribeag sighed. “If they tear this palace down, you are to have a new one built.”
“Of course, brother. It would be my privilege.”
Ribeag sighed again. Boredom was returning. “All right, I will not kill your girl. Does that satisfy you?”
“For now.”
“There are other things I could do.”
“Many would lead to war.”
“Have her maimed…”
“War.”
“Have her raped every day.”
“War.”
“Give her to the Tn’trith, although I suppose that would be much the same thing as the others.”
“War.”
Ribeag sighed a third time. “I could set her free.”
“That you could.”
“Give you my word never to harm her again.”
“I know what your word is worth, brother, but I would accept that for now.”
“You would accept that, and have her guarded.”
“Indeed.”
“Summon Bahn,” Ribeag said to the room. He gave orders to no-one in particular, and knew from a swirl of cloth or quiet footstep that it was being done.
“We have come to this, over this, sister. And all because you will not accept my plans for regency.”
“I will not marry Bahn to suit your convenience.”
Ribeag considered that. “But you will for other reasons?”
“Perhaps.”
Bahn entered, looking worried. “Sire, there is a crowd…”
“My sister’s friends.’
“So I understand.”
“Bahn, I have found you a wife.”
“Brother…”
“Not you, sister. Bahn, this woman, the one chained to the wall.”
“Brother,” Aluese said sharply.
“I am within my rights,” Ribeag said. “Any Tr’nah may order any of their underlings to marry except those of equal or higher rank. I am of the blood royal, and there is only one other of equal rank. But it is not her I wish to marry.”
“Brother, this will mean war.”
“You know, I do not think it will. I think it may mean your mob will tear the palace apart, and I don’t like Bahn’s chances of getting out of here, but it will not mean more than that. Me having your companions dishonored, that is a rallying call, something your mob will fall behind. This is simply arranging a marriage, a legal dispute. It is rather dry. And she is only a minor noblewoman. A small family. I do not think any will care.”
Aluese said nothing.
Imperiata and Other Stories Page 6