Needs of the Empire

by Christopher Mitchell

  ‘I’ve got someone out buying you new clothes for the trip,’ she went on. ‘I hope you like them.’

  She cringed, sure she must sound like a phoney.

  ‘Just wait till you try chocolate,’ she said. ‘You’ll love it. And you’ll meet new friends. There’s a little Rakanese school in the Old Town of the city or, you know, if you want we can get a tutor. What would be better, do you think?’

  Thymo continued to stare at her.

  ‘Look,’ she said, ‘we’re not going to get very far if you won’t speak to me.’

  ‘I want to go home,’ he said.

  ‘We’re going to a new home.’

  ‘I don’t want to go with you, I want to go home.’

  ‘Tough shit, little man,’ she said. ‘You’re stuck with me.’

  Thymo’s lip trembled for a moment, then he hardened his face and looked away.

  She gazed at him.

  Noli had made a terrible mistake. She wasn’t cut out for this .

  He was kind of cute though, with his dark hair, big sappy eyes, and constant frowning. She was reminded of Kylon, and smiled.

  ‘You hungry?’

  He glanced at her, then turned away, trying to hide his interest.

  She leaned over and pulled a bell-rope, and within seconds a porter was wheeling a trolley into the grand quarters where Shella had been residing since she had arrived in the city.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, as the porter left.

  She removed the covers from the plates, allowing the aroma to drift through the room.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Eat.’

  Thymo got up, and walked to the trolley, his eyes darting over the contents of the plates and bowls.

  ‘One small compensation of living with a princess,’ she said. ‘Good food.’

  The following morning Shella sat back and relaxed as porters lifted her heavy trunks, carrying them downstairs to where a line of carriages waited. Thymo sat opposite her, drinking fruit juice.

  She wondered if Noli would appear at the last minute, crying out that Shella was kidnapping her child, and it had all been an elaborate plan for revenge. She shook her head at her paranoia, and instead started thinking of all the adjustments to her life she was going to have to make. Poor boy, she thought, stuck in the same house as Sami and Kalayne.

  ‘You don’t like me,’ the boy said.

  ‘What?’ Shella said. ‘That’s not true. I don’t love you. We’ve only just met, and that would be weird. But I’m coming round to you. I’m going to honour the promise I made to your mother, and look after you the best I can.’

  There was a knock at the door, and Jayki entered.

  ‘We might have a problem,’ he said, glancing at Thymo .

  ‘What?’

  ‘Prime Minister Drappo’s waiting downstairs for you.’

  Shella sighed. ‘Haven’t we already said our goodbyes?’

  Jayki shrugged.

  She stood. ‘Come on,’ she said to the boy.

  ‘Might be best if we leave him here,’ Jayki said.

  ‘No way,’ she said. ‘You saw how he kept trying to wander off on the way here. I’m keeping him where I can see him.’

  ‘Fine.’

  Jayki turned, and they followed him out, Shella taking the boy’s hand. They went down a flight of stairs and reached the building’s main entrance hall where Drappo stood, surrounded by officials. Shella could see carriages outside, getting ready for their departure.

  ‘What’s up?’ she said to the prime minister.

  ‘I see you have brought the boy with you, your Highness,’ Drappo said.

  ‘Very observant.’

  ‘Well I’m afraid that his presence has caused a bit of a stir in the government. Some of my more excitable ministers believe you intend to take this boy, whom I believe to be closely related to you, back to Plateau City to be anointed as your successor, a Prince of Arakhanah.’

  ‘That’s a load of crap,’ she said. ‘I promised my sister I’d look after the boy, make sure he gets a good education and everything. That’s it. He’s not going to be my heir.’

  Drappo nodded. ‘But he’s your sister’s son? You must see how that looks to certain people. On one hand it encourages the small but noisy royalist clique who will argue, whether you agree or not, that the boy is a prince already, and should be recognised as one. And on the other, the anti-royalists want me to arrest the boy here and now, as a danger to democracy.’

  ‘He’s five years old.’

  ‘It sounds ridiculous to me too, but for some he holds the promise of the future. ’

  ‘I’m taking him back to the Plateau,’ Shella said, ‘but I’ll sign anything you need me to.’

  ‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ Drappo said, clicking his fingers.

  A clerk walked forward, holding a sheaf of papers.

  ‘I took the liberty of drawing these up,’ Drappo said. ‘They should help calm things down.’

  The clerk held out the papers and a quill for Shella. She took them in her hands.

  ‘Give me a quick paraphrase,’ she said.

  ‘In these documents, you swear again that you will not take or recognise any heir to your royal position.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ she said, signing the bottom of each sheet.

  ‘Right,’ Drappo said. ‘Let’s get you on your way before there are any more calls for children to be arrested.’

  They began walking towards the carriages.

  ‘I have, as you know,’ Drappo said, ‘gathered a small number of flow mages for you to take back to Plateau City.’

  Shella’s heart sank.

  ‘I know how you feel about this,’ he said. ‘May I remind you that you gave your word?’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ she said. ‘I’ll deliver them in one piece.’

  They walked through the front gates, where six carriages were prepared. Jodie was waiting by one, its door open. Porters were loading the tops of the carriages with trunks, and guards had taken up position on the front bench of each, next to the drivers.

  ‘Here they are,’ Drappo said, pointing at a small group standing by the carriages. Shella looked them over. Three were elderly, two men and a woman. The fourth figure was much younger, a woman who was staring at Shella as they approached. A guard kept his crossbow trained on her.

  ‘Three retirees and a criminal,’ Drappo said.

  ‘A criminal?’ Shella said. ‘What did she do?’

  ‘Set fire to her parents’ house, killed them both,’ he said. ‘It was this or the noose. ’

  Shella noticed the chains on the woman’s wrists and ankles.

  ‘That’s just fucking great,’ she said. ‘Is that why I’m getting an armed escort?’

  ‘Partly,’ he said, ‘but mostly to ensure all four mages arrive safely.’

  Shella watched as the mages climbed into their carriages. The three older mages got into one together, while guards led the woman into another. Shella reached her own carriage, where Jodie was standing.

  ‘Here’s where I leave you, your Highness,’ Drappo said. ‘Have a safe journey and all that. Try not to get any mages killed.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  The prime minister gave the smallest of bows, then turned and began walking back to the building, the crowd of officials following.

  She turned to Jodie.

  ‘Your Highness,’ she bowed.

  ‘Hi Jodie,’ Shella said. ‘Good to see you again. You have a nice time?’

  ‘So, so,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you about it on the way.’ She glanced down at Thymo, as Jayki checked their baggage.

  ‘This is Thymo,’ Shella said. ‘Thymokanawara.’

  Jayki glanced back at them. ‘Not Yalopo?’

  ‘No way,’ Shella said. ‘The boy’s a Kanawara. He’s family.’

  Jodie nodded.

  ‘Should I bow to him?’ she whispered.

  ‘No,’ Shella smiled as she climbed into the carriage. ‘At least not until we
get back to Plateau City.’

  ‘Is she serious?’ Jodie asked Jayki.

  ‘It’s Shella,’ he said. ‘Who knows?’

  Chapter 18

  Twenty-Five

  S lateford, Rahain Republic – 14 th Day, Last Third Autumn

  Daphne’s vision soared up into the night sky, and she sighed in exhilaration. She stretched her mind, taking in the pinpricks of light below, where the sleeping villages and hamlets of Slateford Estate lay. A few miles to the north, a dull glow marked the town, where bars and taverns were open for business throughout the night.

  She glanced down at the mansion beneath her, where her body slept next to Killop’s. At the foot of the bed was Karalyn’s cot, and Daphne waited a moment. If Karalyn was going to follow her on the night vision, she usually emerged soon after Daphne. She smiled as she sensed her daughter’s vision rise from the cot. It paused, then went into Killop’s head, and Daphne frowned.

  As she was debating whether or not she should intervene, she saw Karalyn’s vision rise clear of the mansion. It was dragging another consciousness with it, like a hen leading a chick.

  Killop, she said.

  Am I dreaming? he asked. Where are we?

  Take a look around, she said. Slateford.

  I don’t understand, he said. How is this happening ?

  Karalyn’s presence wound round them, pushing their minds closer together.

  Daphne laughed. Our daughter, but I’ve no idea how she’s doing it.

  Is this what you do? he asked, gazing around. Is this how you use your vision powers to see things?

  Kalayne taught me this. Before, I could only do it when I was awake, but he showed me how to control my dreams. He said that Karalyn would be doing it, and I needed to learn if I was going to keep up with her.

  Killop paused. So what do we do now?

  Let’s see what’s happening in town, she said. Come on.

  She pushed her powers towards the north, her vision flying over the dark land. Karalyn followed, pulling Killop along, keeping his consciousness close to hers. Daphne paused over the town, watching the people on the streets. Drunks staggered, while new arrivals looked lost. Bored militia chatted by the roadside in the light cast from the open windows of taverns. Hot-food stalls served late night customers bacon rolls and ale, and even from high above, she could sense the life of the place pulse.

  I’ve hardly been into town, she said. Looks like fun.

  As she gazed at the streets, she felt a powerful pull from above, and a spasm of fear rippled through Karalyn.

  Daphne, Killop cried, something’s wrong. Something’s got a hold of us.

  Daphne turned. Karalyn’s mind was being pulled upwards, Killop’s intertwined. The sky seemed to open a hole to an even deeper darkness, a void.

  It’s taking us, Killop yelled, as he and Karalyn spiralled upwards.

  For a second Daphne watched in horror, then sped after them, reaching them and gathering them close.

  I need to wake us, she said.

  What’s happening?

  I don’t know.

  Their speed increased, until they were hurtling through the air, then everything went black, and Daphne could see, hear and feel nothing. She felt a twinge of panic. Where were Killop and Karalyn? She centred her thoughts. She needed to wake up.

  Before she could do anything, she realised that she was in someone else’s mind. Not the mind of an ordinary mortal, but a being whose knowledge and power made her feel like a speck of dust caught in a beam of light, tiny and conspicuous.

  The being was gazing down on the world, and Daphne could see the whole continent. It looked nothing like a star, she thought. The five points weren’t the same size or shape at all. She relaxed a little as she noticed that the being had not felt her presence.

  She closed her eyes, breathed, and woke herself.

  She shot up in bed, drenched in sweat, panting. She leaned over the side of the bed and vomited onto the floor, retching up the ale she had drunk during the evening. She wiped her mouth and picked up a jug of water. She turned, and threw half over Killop, and the rest over Karalyn.

  The baby screamed, and Killop fell out of bed, crashing onto the floor. Daphne rushed to soothe Karalyn, picking her up and hugging her as she heard Killop cough and grunt. She staggered to the table and turned up the oil lamp, sending a low light through their bedroom. Killop clambered up onto his knees, grasping on to the side of the mattress, his face and hair drenched in sweat and flung water.

  Karalyn settled, and Daphne realised that she was asleep in her arms. She smiled, and lowered her back into the cot, replacing her soaking blanket with a dry one. A headache was pounding behind her temples, and she knelt on the ground, mopping up the sick with the wet cover.

  She heard Killop get onto the bed.

  ‘You all right?’ she asked.

  He said nothing, but she could hear his ragged breathing. She picked up the vomit-stained cover and dumped it into the laundry tub. She yanked off her nightdress, and threw it in as well .

  ‘What the fuck was that?’ said Killop, his voice hoarse.

  She pulled a dry nightshirt from a drawer and pulled it on. She saw Killop watching her. She sat on the mattress and took a stick of keenweed from her pouch by the bed.

  ‘The Creator,’ she said, lighting it.

  Killop’s eyes narrowed, but he remained silent.

  ‘Kalayne warned me,’ she said. ‘He told me that sometimes he could see inside the creator’s mind when he was dreaming. He said it was bound to happen to Karalyn sooner or later.’

  Killop shook his head.

  ‘I’m aching all over,’ he said, ‘like I’ve been in a battle.’

  ‘Have some of this,’ she said, offering him the weedstick. ‘Helps after using vision.’

  He propped himself up onto an elbow, looking at the smokestick.

  ‘I don’t want to become addicted.’

  ‘You won’t.’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, taking a draw, ‘I am. I’ve taken to it like you lot have taken to drink. It’s made me a better mage. But Killop, one puff won’t make you addicted.’

  He paused, then reached out his hand, taking the keenweed. He held it to his lips and inhaled.

  ‘By the way,’ she smiled. ‘Happy birthday.’

  ‘He’s been a right grumpy bastard all morning,’ Bridget said to her as they stood by the edge of the courtyard, watching as tables, chairs, and an outside kitchen were set up.

  ‘He didn’t sleep well,’ Daphne said.

  The opposite was true. Within a minute of smoking the weedstick, Killop had passed out, and slept the rest of the night, while Daphne had lain awake, reliving every detail of their intrusion into the mind of the Creator. Kalayne had assured her that the Creator had never once noticed whenever he had looked in upon his thoughts, but a worry persisted that they had been seen.

  She sighed, wishing the mad old Kell was with them in Slateford.

  ‘You all right?’ Bridget said. ‘Draewyn been getting on at you?’

  Daphne shrugged. ‘No more than usual, but I don’t listen to what she says so I’m not sure.’

  ‘That drives her crazy, you know,’ Bridget laughed. ‘That you don’t give a shit.’

  ‘You’ve done a great job getting the party ready.’

  Bridget frowned. ‘I’ve been meaning to say sorry for pushing your wedding back. It’s just that I thought it would be a better idea to have the chief’s birthday first. The clan need to see him, they need to know that he’s fine, and then, in a couple of thirds, you can get married.’

  ‘This is horseshit.’

  ‘I know it is,’ Bridget said, ‘but at the same time it’s not. Killop’s the chief of the fucking clan. Him getting hitched is a big thing to Slateford. With all the crap going on outside, we need folk to feel they’re safe here, that we really are a clan. The chief’s wedding, with you all dolled up, and Karalyn decked out as a flower girl, it’l
l be braw. I’ll organise a party even bigger than this one. Half the clan will be there…’

  ‘This is not what I wanted.’

  ‘As your friend I agree, and feel angry on your behalf,’ Bridget said, ‘but as the Herald of the Severed Clan, I couldn’t give a shit. The moment you accepted the chief’s proposal, all the wedding plans are in my hands.’

  ‘I proposed to him.’

  ‘Same difference.’

  ‘So I’m going to be served up for the whole clan to stare at?’

  ‘He belongs to them as much as he’ll belong to you,’ Bridget said. ‘If you don’t like it, don’t marry him.’

  Daphne sighed and bowed her head.

  ‘But the wedding won’t be the end of it, will it?’ she said. ‘I’ll be the wife of the chief. I’ll be kissing babies and judging the best marrow competitions at village fairs. ’

  Bridget laughed.

  ‘Back in Brig,’ she said, ‘our old chief’s wife was commander of the Brig army. She was as wide as an ox, and couldn’t run for shit, but by fuck she could swing an axe. I don’t think she ever judged any village fairs.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ Daphne said. ‘I was thinking of my mother, the wife of a Holder. A proper lady. She didn’t think much of me for going into the army. She would rather I’d worn dresses and learned embroidery, fit to be married off to the younger son from some second rate Holding.’

  ‘Well, you got out of that,’ Bridget laughed, ‘only to find yourself marrying the chief of a barbarian tribe.’

  Daphne smiled. ‘As a noblewoman of the Realm of the Holdings, I was trained for this. I know my duty. I was brought up to expect to be a bride in an arranged wedding, at least here I’m choosing the man. I’ll do it, Bridget. I’ll behave. I’ll play the role of the chief’s wife.’

  Bridget nodded. ‘Thanks. Even though you’re not married yet, you’ll be starting today, at Killop’s birthday party.’

  Daphne lit a cigarette.

  ‘And none of that,’ Bridget said, ‘at least not at the table when folk are eating. You know how Draewyn goes on about it.’

  ‘I’ll try not to punch her.’

  ‘Not today at any rate.’