Dinavhek- The Fall

by Tal'urra Steelfang

  Though she most likely meant her statement in the context of a difficult political discussion, the prince couldn't help fearing that she might instead be referring to more personal matters. On the one hand, he did not want to leave his father alone with her. On the other hand, this was his father's error in judgment, not his, and he did not want to spend another second in the same room with them.

  “Very well,” Zaeem said, looking at his son a bit suspiciously. “But don't be too long! This meeting concerns you, too.”

  It obviously didn't, and the prince was wise to keep that thought to himself. He scampered off toward the kitchen, leaving the troubling couple to their “diplomatic” meeting. He had only just rounded the corner when he nearly bumped headlong into Aasimah and Itholera.

  “Were you eavesdropping?” he asked, once he recovered from the shock.

  “More like flat-out spying,” Itholera said, surprising them both. She blushed, and added, “it was her idea!”

  “Aasimah?” the prince sighed.

  “What?” she asked innocently. Too innocently.

  Despite himself, he smiled a little at that. There was a great deal of tension among them ever since Aasimah had denied their friendship. In his heart, the prince found that he could not blame her. There was a profound difference in rank between all of them, and he had personally bought her from that slaver. In the eyes of the law, and his father, that made her his property. He'd mistakenly thought that things had changed between them, that perhaps she began to trust him. It was a fool's hope, a fact that he'd made peace with.

  Or so he thought. He wasn't above admitting (though only to himself) that he was lonely and in need of companionship – and a personal challenge. Aasimah kept him on his toes, and he liked that.

  “Couldn't you at least be a little less obvious? If they'd taken just a few steps this way, you would have been spotted!”

  “Keep your voice down, and we will be,” Aasimah warned.

  The prince shut his mouth tightly, giving her an unconvincing glare, which she easily met.

  “Prince?” Itholera interjected, “maybe we should go somewhere else – to the kitchen?”

  “That's where I told them I was headed, so, yes.”

  “We heard,” Aasimah said with a sly wink as she passed by him.

  They were in for another surprise when they reached their destination, for the kitchen was not unoccupied.

  “Rats!” Itholera gasped.

  “Mice,” Aasimah corrected.

  “They've gotten into the vegetables,” Adsuni groaned.

  “Doesn't look like much of it is salvageable,” Aasimah said, hustling over to the counter, scaring off a few of the pests.

  “Well, this day couldn't get any worse,” the prince sighed. “Lady Kharqa already hates me, and my home, and now we can't even serve dinner. What are we going to do now? Cook the mice?”

  Itholera looked aghast at the very thought; Aasimah appeared thoughtful.

  The prince did not like the look in her eyes. “No,” he said firmly, guessing her thoughts. “Absolutely not. We have to have something else. Right, Itholera?”

  “We won't be able to prepare anything in time,” she lamented.

  “I've had mouse before, it's easy enough to pass off as something else, and we have enough ingredients to disguise the taste. And if she's really from Takirar, she's not going to care much for vegetables anyway, let alone half-eaten ones,” Aasimah added.

  Adsuni shook his head in disbelief. “This is ridiculous, we have to have something else. We can't serve rat—”

  “—mouse,” Aasimah corrected.

  “Oh, what's the difference? Anyway, we can't serve mouse at such an important meeting. Besides, how would we even catch them?”

  “You can leave that to me.”

  “I didn't give you my approval!”

  “Then why ask?”

  “What in the goddess's name is going on here?” a fourth voice chimed in, causing them all to jump. Glanen stood in the doorway, his expression a mixture of shock and disgust. He wore an extravagant red and black tunic, with gold trim along the collar. He looked quite gentlemanly, nothing at all like the rambunctious youth dominating the training grounds at the Knight Academy.

  “Mice ate most of what we were going to serve for dinner,” Aasimah explained.

  The prince began to stutter a response, but gave up with a sigh and a little shake of his head.

  “Aasimah thinks it would be funny to repay them for it by serving them for dinner instead,” Itholera said.

  “I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.”

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” asked Aasimah.

  Glanen strode over to them, keeping his voice down as much as he was capable of. “My fath... Sir Konrad and I were invited to come over for dinner.”

  Adsuni found it odd that Glanen corrected himself on how he referred to his father, but for his friend's sake, chose not to comment on his odd choice of words. He wondered why his father hadn't informed him of the invitation, and he felt more than a little peeved about it. Even if the mice hadn't eaten all of their vegetables, what if they didn't have enough anyway? His father could be so thoughtless sometimes!

  “Well, you've come at a perfect time,” the prince said with a helpless chuckle. “The night's only going to get worse from here, I'm afraid.”

  “You should rejoin them. With your permission, I'll take over from here.”

  Adsuni eyed the three of them skeptically. At the sound of a little squeak, he shook his head and turned away, leaving his strange companions to deal with the mess. He had enough problems to deal with for the remainder of the night, and mice were not one of them.

  *​*​*

  Adsuni played idly with his napkin, scarcely paying any mind to the discussion they were having. A few times, the king had discreetly kicked out at his son's feet from underneath the table, to rouse the young lad's attention. The prince would listen on politely, giving them the occasional affirming nod, sometimes followed by a quick shake of the head whenever he managed to nod at a statement by which a shake of the head might be deemed more socially acceptable.

  “Nasty business, that is,” his father was saying, after nudging at the prince's feet for the third time that evening.

  “Yes, absolutely terrible,” Adsuni agreed, having absolutely no idea what they were talking about at all. He often did the same during council meetings – whatever his father or Hymuse's position was on any given subject, the prince always was always in full agreement.

  “Yes, the body count is higher than we can hope to keep track of,” Lady Kharqa bemoaned.

  “Body count?”

  The pair stared at him – his father, in undue embarrassment, and Lady Kharqa in shock and disgust – feigned disgust, he noticed.

  “I-I mean, it continues to rise greatly?” the prince lied, clumsily attempted to clarify his question. What an insensitive question! What sort of fool am I?

  Konrad cleared his throat, reminding them all of his presence. “I'm sure the prince meant no insult, good lady. This is a troubling subject indeed for one so young, and so sheltered. Perhaps we ought to leave this grim subject matter behind, and save it for another time?”

  “Troubling subject matter or not, the boy is old enough to know the impact of his words!” said King Zaeem.

  “You are quite perceptive, Sir Konrad,” Lady Kharqa said, catching them off guard. She turned her attention upon Adsuni and added magnanimously, “I will forgive your crude behavior. In good faith, I will hope that you have learned the error of your ways.”

  Her eyes were as cold as ever. Nevertheless, she had impressed Sir Konrad and King Zaeem greatly. The prince had no allies at this table.

  “Thank you,” he said, hoping to charm his way out of the terribly uncomfortable meeting. “Sir Konrad is correct, I am quite inexperienced in this area of diplomacy. I apologize for my terrible blunder.”

  “I accept your apology, and I hope that this wi
ll serve as a suitable learning exercise for you.”

  Rats! Adsuni would gladly go to bed hungry if it meant getting to leave the table early. Perhaps he could feign sudden illness?

  “Do continue, good lady,” Sir Konrad bade her.

  “Four more bodies were discovered along the outskirts of Alcnaga in the past week. All of them appeared to have suffered the same cause of death. Their throats were slashed out, seemingly by fang or claw. Two of them were emissaries from other countries – one from Toluduna, and another from Karilar.”

  “Karilar? Home of the small-people?” Sir Konrad asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I thought the small-people wanted nothing to do with us?” Adsuni asked, shocked.

  “We are at peace with the dwarven folk,” Sir Konrad clarified. “And the elven folk, as well. There have been no great wars between us over the last century, making our age the most peaceful of them all. I wonder, what could have brought one of their emissaries to Takirar?”

  The only reason ours is the most peaceful age is because we actively pretend that they don't exist, Adsuni thought, and wisely kept to himself. The words “dwarf” and “elf” were rarely used among the Dinavhene people. Instead, their races were merely known as “small-people” or “pointed-ear folk.” Supposedly, there existed many other races, including dark-skinned elves that lived on their own island, and some sort of hybrid race that had long ago died out. The only people in his life who knew anything about these other races were his father and Sir Konrad.

  The prince recalled the time that he had visited the Great Library of Aranaot, in hopes of finding more information on these foreign creatures, and their lands. The librarian and his assistant looked at him like he was absolutely mad when he asked for their help.

  He opened his mouth, hoping to ask about these odd sub-human creatures, when Glanen suddenly appeared, bearing a large tray.

  “I'm afraid dinner is taking a bit longer to prepare than we expected,” the young knight said apologetically. “But we have finished preparing this tray of spiced and buttered bread to hold you over while you wait. Please accept my sincerest apologies. Dinner will be ready in no time!”

  “Sir Konrad, were you aware that your son had been slaving away in the kitchen, like a common servant?” Lady Kharqa asked, appalled.

  “Oh, you needn't concern yourself over that, my lady! Why, when I was his age, it was very common for younger knights to train in basic household duties. It builds good character, and teaches them the value of hard work.”

  “As it stands, I'm afraid we are a bit short-staffed,” King Zaeem added. “We lost most of our servants after the plague hit Dinavhek. Those that did not succumb to the illness chose to flee to greener pastures. We've only two servants now, but they work well enough for four!”

  Kharqa bristled for a moment, unaccustomed to hearing any sort of positivity towards those as low on the societal ladder as “servants.” She was not one to be easily impressed, and the prince could not imagine a scenario in which their meeting could be any more awkward.

  “I truly do not mind,” Glanen said, trying to diffuse the tension as he laid the platter down on the table, along with four smaller plates. He had done an incredible job, for the bread slices looked and smelled unbelievably tasty, and were surrounded by cuts of different vegetables, neatly arranged to produce a colorful circle. His best friend had done the impossible, by turning a single loaf of bred, and a few bundles of half-eaten vegetables into a beautiful appetizer tray.

  “I suppose we handle things very differently in Takirar,” Kharqa said with a slight sniff. She, too, was impressed by the display, and that fact made her all the more irritable. Still, it would be improper for her to openly show her disdain toward the customs of her host, and she showed tremendous restraint by keeping her true feelings to herself.

  “Well done, boy, well done!” King Zaeem said, as Sir Konrad portioned the bread pieces.

  Glanen bowed and took his leave, shooting a sympathetic little smile at Adsuni.

  “Now, you were saying, my lady?” the king asked, prompting Kharqa to continue.

  “Yes, dark business this is. Dreadful, really. To see so many people cut down, in their prime, so brutally... Oh, it breaks my heart!”

  The prince snorted. He thought he'd masked it well enough by taking a sip of his wine, but the flicker of Sir Konrad's eyes told him otherwise.

  “Who could be responsible for such barbarism?” Konrad asked.

  That was a question that Adsuni thought about asking, and he was glad that the elder knight had done so in his stead. He thought back to the awful raid on Dre'shii, the damage that wrought by those wretched brigands. Could there be a connection?

  “There has been an increase in violent crime,” the prince noted.

  Again, Konrad eyed him.

  The prince met his stare innocently. “We have seen raids upon villages just outside of the capital, and they draw ever closer. Rumor has it that street violence is on the rise, too,” he added pointedly.

  “Similarly, my division of the Knighthood has seen more action than usual,” Sir Konrad added.

  I'll bet it has.

  “Yes, there has been growing unrest among the general populous,” Lady Kharqa said. “Crime is a given in any society, no matter how civilized it seems on the surface. But this...”

  “This is unprecedented,” King Zaeem finished for her.

  “We know it's happening here, and in your own home – am I correct?” Sir Konrad asked.

  Lady Kharqa nodded grimly.

  “I wonder, then, if this is happening elsewhere?”

  “Do we even know what 'this' is?” the prince asked, troubled and, above all else, grouchy.

  Blunt as his question was, the rest of them could not rightly take offense, for it was a valid one, and it had surely crossed their minds.

  “That is why we arranged to have this meeting, my boy,” King Zaeem said somberly. “We are hoping that we might work it out.”

  The prince wanted to mention the problems they were having with slave caravans along the border, but given Kharqa's obvious disdain for those she considered lower than herself, he felt it wise to hold his tongue, and bring the issue up at another time, preferably when she was hundreds of miles away.

  As if he were reading his son's mind, his father continued. “Crime among the lower class does not concern me, as long as they keep it contained amongst themselves. What I worry about is that it has already begun spreading. The recent murders in Takirar must have been politically motivated, but for what purpose?”

  “And by whom?” Konrad asked.

  They fell silent, each left to their own thoughts. Adsuni did not trust Lady Kharqa. His father trusted her too much. Konrad was a whole different puzzle to work out. If Hymuse were here, he might be able to shed some light on their discussion, but he'd been strangely absent for the past few months. He used to trust his father, and Konrad, but now?

  Now, the prince felt alone. He found himself surrounded not by allies, but by strangers, each with their own agenda. He knew this was how the world of politics was supposed to work, and he did not like it. Never before did the prince feel so out of place.

  He was immensely grateful when Aasimah and Itholera reappeared, each bearing a platter, and a set of utensils. Aasimah brought a plate of meat, cut into small, seasoned cubes. Itholera brought a bowl of soup, along with a few smaller bowls for each person. It was a simple feast, but a well-prepared one. Adsuni would have sworn he caught a wink from Aasimah as she set down the prince's share.

  The dinner table looked less inviting than it did previously. The prince was about to make some sort of excuse, but then, he noticed something else, something that made his skin crawl, and it was the look that Kharqa was giving Aasimah.

  The woman paid absolutely no attention at all to Itholera, even when the younger woman very clumsily dropped the spoon onto the table, producing an obnoxious little twang. Her eyes were fixed upon Aasimah,
giving her the most peculiar of looks that the prince had ever seen. It was as if she knew something, and whatever it was, it probably wasn't good. Adsuni didn't know how Aasimah wasn't shrinking on the spot; if Kharqa had been staring at him so intensely, he'd have bolted from the table and run away as fast as his spindly legs could carry him.

  Everyone else was so caught up in the feast that they did not notice the strange interaction between the two women. Aasimah met Kharqa's stare boldly, almost as if she were issuing a challenge. Kharqa looked at her almost predatorily, but Aasimah was not one to back down. Finally, Lady Kharqa broke her gaze, turning her attention upon King Zaeem who was already digging into his own share, and regaling her with a tale of his youth.

  As Aasimah passed by him, Adsuni quietly slipped his hand out, brushing his fingers against hers ever so briefly. She looked down at him, inviting an explanation. The prince said nothing, but he gave her the smallest of nods, which she returned.

  Chapter 16

  A Child No More

  ∞∞∞

  Excusing himself from the dinner table early proved to be a significantly easier endeavor than the prince was expecting it to be. Lady Kharqa made evident the fact that she found his presence to be something of an inconvenience to her, and the king felt that he had been humiliated enough for one day. He made no effort to stop Adsuni when he rose from the table, complaining of a growing headache. He merely advised the prince to take some tea before he went to bed.

  The prince walked slowly and carefully, until he was sure that he was out of earshot. He then hurried over to the kitchen, finding only Itholera and Glanen, who were busy preparing dessert.

  “Where has Aasimah gone?” Adsuni asked.

  “She said she was going to retrieve something,” Itholera answered, frowning a bit.

  “I'll go look for her,” Glanen offered, but the prince cut him off with an upraised hand.

  “No, don't worry about it, I'm sure I'll find her. Will you two be all right?”

  “Of course, my prince!” the knight boomed, seeming back to his usual self.

  The prince hesitated, wanting to ask them about the questionable serving of meat that had been presented with dinner, but he changed his mind. The less he knew, the better.