by Renee Duke
Even so, he wasn’t the only one with access to Taz. We all had an open invitation to visit the Supreme Ruler and his family and if he was not busy with state affairs he and Vostia were always pleased to receive us. The rest of the time we were either with our foster families or out and about with friends we made at school.
Cholar’s educational system takes personal learning styles into account when teaching reading, writing, and arithmetic to the young, and once a certain mastery of those has been achieved, puts more emphasis on individual talents and interests. Children and teens still go to regular age-appropriate schools in order to acquire general knowledge and become properly socialized, but in addition to that, Arlyne was enrolled in an art academy, Simon in one designed to challenge his intellect, and Kirsty and I allowed to take junior classes at, for her, some place devoted to the study of gemmology and, for me, the Cholaris Institute of History And Philosophy, where Ezrias taught when he was not busy maintaining the royal archives.
I loved his classes and the way he encouraged my interest outside them as well. He was an authority on the history of several worlds besides his own and we had some thought-provoking conversations. Free access to his extensive library was another bonus, one Simon and Arlyne also took advantage of whenever they came to visit me.
They came quite often, as did Kirsty.
“Are those laddies your sons?” she asked Ezrias during her first visit, pointing to a picture of two handsome Cholarian boys about our own age.
“They are,” he replied. “We named them Brakos and Grakos after the famous twins who helped Beom unite the planet.”
“They made a bit of history themselves, just by being born,” Maranta added. “I believe twins are quite common on Earth, but on Cholar, they’re a rarity. Ours were the first to be born in the capital for over fifty years. And the first identical set in over eighty.”
“Really?” said Kirsty. “Fancy that now. As you say, twins are quite common on Earth.”
“Yeah. Nathan and Leopold were twins,” said Simon.
This was news to me as they hadn’t looked a bit alike. But then, I hadn’t been all that interested in the light-fingered brothers who’d led my brother astray.
“Ah, yes,” said Maranta. “Nathan and Leopold Praeger. Those older boys who got you all into such trouble. We know all about those two. Including their twin status.”
“Aye, well, with the ring’s disappearance playing such a prominent part in the succession dispute I suppose the professor here had to write them up in your history books,” said Kirsty.
“The theft of the ring was but the catalyst,” said Ezrias. “The cause was the greed and unscrupulousness of former Crown Councilman Drazok and others who sought political and monetary gain from an alliance with the Association of United Planets.”
“What happened to him?” I inquired, having left before the trial.
“Well, in the days of Beom, the conviction for treason would have led to him being thrown from a precipice called Zerrix’s Ledge, so named because it was once the favourite contemplative retreat of a hermit called Zerrix. But people are much more civilized now. He has merely been exiled — for life — to Prexath, a small neighbouring planet Cholar laid claim to soon after achieving space travel.”
Beom was Cholar’s very first Supreme Ruler. Back in what, on Earth, would have been the sixteenth century, AD, he brought the planet’s various opposing forces to heel using a combination of military might, personal charisma, and the mystic forces of the Ring of Beom, an enchanted bauble he’d acquired from an old woman he saved from a pack of small, but vicious, animals called taiskels. Being, it was assumed, some kind of sorceress, she’d infused her token of gratitude with several powers capable of acquiring, and retaining, the absolute rule of Cholar for Beom and his descendants.
“Prexath is rather inhospitable,” Ezrias added. “Though it is capable — just — of sustaining life, no native population was found and there is no record of it ever having been used as anything other than a penal colony. Those obliged to dwell there spend most of their time acquiring food — which can, with effort, be found or produced — and protecting themselves against the elements. A considerable come-down for the once high and mighty Drazok.”
“Serves him right,” said Kirsty, “but getting back to your sons, they look like bonnie lads, and Meda’s not told me a thing aboot them. Where are they? Just oot, or are they away at boarding school?”
Maranta and Ezrias looked shocked.
“There are no boarding schools on Cholar,” Maranta replied. “Family ties are far too important for children to be separated from their parents merely for educational purposes. And not all education takes place in school. Brak and Grak are currently in Chorathase — Cholar’s primary wilderness area — learning outdoorsman skills from their paternal grandparents who are both guides there.” She gave a small, sad sigh. “We miss them terribly, but they very much wanted to go, and must be allowed to strengthen their bonds with their grandparents too.”
Ezrias gave her a hug. “They’ll soon be back telling us all about it, my sweet.”
“Ezrias and Maranta really do miss their kids, don’t they?” Arlyne mused after they went to put in their daily call to their offspring. “Sub-Ruler Tolith and Sub-Queen Galya have a grown-up son and daughter and are never happier than when they’re doing something with them or their grandchildren. And with me, too. They’ve really made me feel like I belong.”
“What about you?” I asked Simon. “How do you like being with Mardis and Zovia?”
“They’re nice. And their library is almost as big as Ezrias’s. Naturalist stuff mostly, but quite interesting.”
“I canna complain about Lord Verim and Lady Atrellia either,” said Kirsty. “They’re a wee bit old-fashioned, but braw company nonetheless. And she’s got the most fantastic collection of jewellery I’ve ever seen outside a store or museum. As well as some really lovely music boxes and other pretties.”
While we all found our guardians congenial, our best times were spent with Taz and his family.
Taz and Vostia had two young children, Princess Challa and Prince Kadian. Though devotedly at Vostia’s side for Challa’s birth, Taz had been Drazok’s prisoner at the time of Kadi’s and was thrilled when he heard he had a son. Cholarian parents seldom want to know an infant’s sex beforehand, preferring to take what comes and simply cherish him or her. Nor do they practice birth control since, for whatever biological reason, they never have more than four offspring, and most only have two or three.
All are considered a blessing, even when they’re being contrary or getting into trouble. With Challa, this was quite often. When we left Cholar she’d been a sweet, adorable toddler with a ready smile and biddable nature. I do, however, remember Verim saying she might just have been lulling everyone into a false sense of security, and such must have been the case. Now the Earth equivalent of three, she was a determined little miss with an inquiring scientific mind that led her to do things like test the laws of gravity by jumping off the palace roof. (Vostia managed to snatch her back from the edge just in time.) And, after Arlyne unwisely told her an old Earth Bible story, experimenting with flotation by putting her baby brother in a basket and shoving him out onto a rapidly-moving stream that was making its way to a pool beneath a high waterfall. (Taz managed to snatch him back just in time.) Both incidents resulted in her getting her backside whacked, but she was neither repentant nor discouraged. Physical chastisement’s been out of vogue on Earth for generations, and never was in vogue on Vorla, but risk to life and limb is one of the few instances in which Cholarian parents employ it.
Along with unwarranted violent outbursts — something else Challa was known for. She had the ability to throw tantrums the like of which I had never beheld. Not even when I’d worked in a child care centre on Sustra. During them, she would throw herself on the ground kicking and screaming with such intensity I was sure she’d do herself an injury. Adult response to these displ
ays depended on the circumstances. If she was just mad because someone wouldn’t let her have or do something she wanted, her posterior received the same treatment as it did for reckless scientific experimentation. But if she was genuinely upset or frustrated, or simply tired beyond reason, as small children often are, someone would pick her up and soothe her out of it.
If her parents didn’t happen to be on hand, Challa’s preference for this was her nanny, a cheerful, energetic young Cholarian woman named Lyetta, or Lyetta’s assistant, Keza, the Vedetian widow Taz had stood up for against a bullying Klavorian crewman on the immigrant ship we took to Cholar after we escaped from Drazok.
She’d also turn to Verim.
“He has mellowed in his old age,” Vostia confided the first time we witnessed this. “He is not nearly as strict a disciplinarian now as he was when Taz and I were children.”
“Hmph,” said Verim.
Prince Kadian had a much milder temperament than his sister. Born prematurely, he had initially been a bit delicate, but at roughly — mathematical conversions are not my strong point — eight Earth months of age, this was less of a concern.
“He is definitely getting stronger and more resilient,” Keza said to Lyetta one time when we were visiting the nursery. “My Sabra was the same. She, too, was not very robust at first.” A statement that had me trying to visualize a Vedetian kid looking even more thin and fragile than the Vedetian populace at large. “Happily, she soon gained in strength. Although, like Kadi, she did not crawl as early as she should have.”
Lyetta bristled. “I have told you Kadi is in no way behind other infants in that regard. Children do not have to reach developmental stages at rigidly specific ages.”
The crawling was obviously a sore point between them, but for the most part, the two women got on well. Both were devoted to their charges and skilled at handling Challa. Keza, of course, had children of her own and went home to them each day as soon as they were out of school. Sometimes, however, Jagri, Sabra, and Tiffa came to the palace to play with Challa, and Challa liked them a lot. In no small part because they were ten, eight, and six, and being so much older than her tended to bow to her wishes. She particularly liked having them stay overnight as she got to stay up later than usual on those occasions and the kitchen staff were happy to provide special bedtime snacks for her and her guests.
Chapter Three
Cholarian food was, in general, very good. We’d all been on enough worlds to easily adjust to, and appreciate, different cuisines, and considered the chefs in our respective households exceptionally fine practitioners of their craft. Even the everyday meals they prepared were of high calibre, and they positively outdid themselves whenever there was something to celebrate, such as Lord Verim’s fortieth year as Cholar’s High Chancellor. We weren’t invited to the late-night state dinner paying tribute to that but did get to go to some of the parties the palace threw for various festivals.
We also attended the gala family meal Tolith and Galya put on when one of Arlyne’s paintings was chosen for an exhibition showcasing the work of up and coming young artists. Kirsty, Simon, and I all tucked in enthusiastically, but Arlyne herself was too pleased and excited to eat much.
Less formal, but still tasty food, was supplied for the picnic hampers our guardians took to Chorathase Park on Beom’s Day, a planet-wide statutory holiday. Besides commemorating the birth of Beom, Beom’s Day marked the official start of summer and the royal family traditionally spent it in Chorathase Park. Many of their subjects did too, but were respectful of the royals’ privacy, content to wave to them from their own day camps. It was a popular place for camping and hiking, but such activities were restricted to the park, which was in the wilderness’s relatively safe recreational zone. Beyond it, Chorathase was not considered safe. Several mountains were impassable, sections of forest impenetrable, stretches of the main river swift and perilous, and some of the plants and wildlife extremely dangerous. With only a few exceptions, people were forbidden to go past certain points.
Exceptions included naturalists like Mardis, who routinely took their lives in their hands for the sake of their work, and suitably skilled adventurers who went in with experienced guides like Brak and Grak’s grandparents. For everyone else, the recreational zone provided a challenging enough outdoor experience. The whole of Chorathase was a wildlife preserve and all the furred, feathered, and finned denizens within it, protected. (Except from each other, the laws of nature being allowed to play out.) Hunting and fishing were prohibited in both sections, and anyone wanting to live off the land for a while had to make do with the nuts, fungi, berries, and other things that grew there, taking care, in the restricted zone, to only pick ones that weren’t poisonous.
As our guardians were all either related to, or close friends with, Taz and Vostia, we entered the park as part of their retinue and spent a lovely day there. A day made all the better for finally having Jip with us. She’d only arrived the day before, and with Ezrias and Maranta’s boys still away, they’d offered to house her as well as me. Brak, Grak, and their grandparents did show up to join in the fun, however, and Kirsty thought the twins were even handsomer in person.
Within limits, we were allowed to explore the park, those limits clearly defined by brightly coloured boundary posts.
Zovia gave Simon a stern look when she saw him eyeing them.
“Forbidden means forbidden, Simon. No one goes into Chorathase’s restricted zone without an official guide.”
“And there are areas into which even they do not go,” said Verim, “so if you are seized with an urge to go out of bounds, restrain it. One Beom’s Day search through barbed bushes, ferocious ferns, menacing moss, and other perfidious plants is enough for any man.”
He turned to bestow a stern look on Taz, who protested.
“That was not intentional, Verim. I was only six. I got lost.”
“With a little help,” Tolith muttered.
His wife smiled. “There was no proof of that, Tol. Just suspicion on your part. Supreme Ruler Obruk absolved Drazok of all blame. And while, having been convicted of treason, Drazok did not take the Oath of Loyalty at Taz’s coronation, he did take it at Obruk’s, and the Ring of Beom would have told Obruk if Drazok had meant harm to his heir.”
A foreknowledge of treachery was one of the powers the enchanted ring was supposed to bequeath to a Supreme Ruler, and no one who ever swore an Oath of Loyalty on it ever fared well if they later betrayed Cholar’s sovereign in some way. But this type of reasoning failed to move Tolith from his position.
“Taz was not the heir at the time. He was still some months away from taking the Verification of the Succession and therefore not even on the list of possibilities. Had he been, Obruk might have got a sense of some desire to get rid of a potential heir with the type of spirited nature Drazok knew he’d never be able to control. As it was, Obruk accepted Drazok’s claim that he’d looked away for a moment and His Little Highness, being such an adventurous and fast-moving child, got away from him.”
“Why were you even with Drazok, Taz?” Mardis wanted to know. “It was usually Royal Guardsmen who kept an eye on us when we were set free to roam.”
As I noticed a couple of them were doing with Challa, as well as Princess Dalara’s young daughter and the children and grandchildren of various sub-rulers, doubtless knowing from experience that Challa, for one, would be off like a shot if she thought no one was watching.
“We were looking for you,” Taz replied. “Drazok said you’d found a curious looking nest just past the boundary posts and wanted to show it to me.”
“Which you would have believed, because Mardis quite often went out of bounds in order to examine such objects,” Tolith retorted.
“Yes, I must admit I was surprised it wasn’t him we were looking for,” said Verim.
“I still have great anxiety whenever he is out here,” said Zovia.
Mardis looked affronted. “How did this get turned onto me? I’ll
admit I do get carried away sometimes, but I always take a guide with me when I go into the restricted zone. A practice I began as soon as Taz’s experience alerted me to the necessity.”
“Oh?” said Verim. “I thought it had more to do with your father’s vow to give you a sound thrashing if you didn’t start to exercise more caution and set your little cousin a better example.”
It was hard to imagine the mild-mannered Prince Mardis ever doing anything that might have led to any kind of thrashing, whereas the more wilful and reckless Prince Taziol had received and, by his own admission, merited, quite a few.
“Um, well, I do vaguely recall him making some reference to that, yes,” Mardis confessed. “But as I grew older, seeking accompaniment became habit.”
“I still marvel at your luck every time you go in there,” said Verim.
“How far in did you go?” I asked Taz.
“A long way. When I couldn’t find Mardis I turned to go back to the royal camp site and realized Drazok was no longer behind me. I couldn’t locate any of the boundary posts either, and at that point panicked and ran, getting deeper and deeper into the restricted zone until, eventually, I had to drop to the ground, exhausted. I did, however, still have enough strength to start crying inconsolably. Something I intended to keep up for some time.”
“Who found you?”
“I did,” said Tolith. “But not in the restricted zone. He walked back out to the search party’s base camp near the boundary all on his own. I was the only one there, having been assigned to the monitoring of communications.”
Taz nodded. “It was the strangest thing. As I lay sobbing, I suddenly got the feeling all was going to be well and instantly became calm. A few minutes later, a soft wind came up and began to blow through some of the foliage around me, as if showing me a path. I followed it and just before nightfall came upon the base camp.”