“Are you saying you don’t even use it,” Advin asked, bring his glasses down to his eyes. “Not even once?”
“No; never. Those things are dirty too.” She dusted her silk draped sleeves. “I’d never be able to wear anything without getting it ruined.”
“Good,” Mak said. “We don’t need the Almighty's help anyway. He’s too busy helping Sig expand his empire, isn’t he?"
"Not here, Mak," Ad said, opening his hand toward her. She took it. "Lan’s waiting inside. Dinner's prepared—”
“I just got here," she groaned. "Can't I relax a bit? I was looking forward to a bath.
“You’re not going to say hello first,” he asked with a teasing grin.
Zana resisted rolling her eyes. Right, tradition. “Did he at least install heating to the palace waters?"
Advin gave her that familiar childhood expression: lips drawn to line with half opened eyelids that usually meant she should know better.
“Really, Lan is too obsessed with all that First Settler’s antiquity,” she said, looking up at the golden bricks that had replaced some of the red bricks in the exterior of the palace. “And, yet he goes on and does that to his own home. It’s looks so...vulgar. And, we know father never wanted this place to be comfortable, so I doubt Lan will either. We should have met at your home. …Why here?” She then eyed him.
But Ad smiled. “You’re not getting anything from me. I promised him. We’ll talk inside.”
“I’ll keep trying,” she said. “I hate waiting.”
“Oh, I love them,” Mak chimed in suddenly. “I brought them from home. Picked them myself at the base of the Golden Lady a few hours ago.” He then ran up ahead to a servant girl by the stairs.
“I’m sorry, what,” Zana asked as Mak ran by.
Ad squeezed her hand. “Let it go,” he whispered.
“Let what go?” But Ad didn’t reply. He had a stern look on him as he watched Mak with worry creeping in from the corners of his eyes. She turned to Mak who graciously received a plate of strawberries from a young servant girl. Something wrong with Mak? “Ad, was he joking about picking them next to the Golden—” Mak then turned and smiled at her as he ran back with the plate.
“Hey, Z. These are your favorite, aren’t…they…,” he stopped, his joviality fell from his face. “It just happened, didn’t it?”
“No, it didn’t,” Ad assured him.
“Then why is Zana looking at me like that?” He glanced around him, looking at each of the faces of the servants, examining them for a moment before moving to the next.
Ad squeezed her hand. “Oh, it’s your hair,” she said, putting a strawberry in her mouth. “Oh, these are delicious, Mak. Thank you. But, really, if you think strawberries are going to win me over about what you’ve done to your hair, think again.”
Mak took off his hat and rubbed his bald head. “Yea, I guess it’s kind hard to hide, isn’t it?”
“Kinda hard to hide? How many strawberries did it take to convince Sabina to go along with it? No wonder you two haven’t been to the recent receptions.”
He glanced away, a befuddled look to him. “Well…, she’s uh.. –supportive,” he stuttered, before taking a bow. “I’m happy you like them, Z. I’m...I better go on ahead. See to dinner.” He then returned the plate of strawberries to the servant girl and went on inside the palace.
“Advin,” Zana said, sternly.
“Not here, inside,” he said, glancing at Eamark behind them.
“This ‘inside’ is getting on my nerves,” she replied as Advin led her onward toward the palace entrance with Eamark by her side. The Palace itself wasn't anything very interesting, red bricked building that was first carved out of the mountain side by Father for efficiency, but since then, Landrie had it restored —not updated. Yet, he embedded jewels from his mountains into the brick wall, other bricks had been replaced by gold in some random pattern. Knowing Lan, it probably made some weird sense to him. Silk banners with his crest, three mountain peaks and a crown around it, hung from balconies high up.
The entrance itself hadn’t been aggrandized. The lifted portcullis was the same style but new and gleaming. The doors were new too, but in the same original fashion: double hard oak doors opened widely, allowing the warmth of the main hall to spill out into the cool evening air. Servants stood there —everywhere really— ready to serve. She had to remind herself they weren’t servants in the traditional sense as in descendants of serving families or indentured servitude of the poor. No, Landrie hired the most capable he could find to do his palace business, and some of them probably had other patrons to serve as well. Maybe she could pay one of them to heat up some water—
"May I ask you something while we walk," Ad spoke up.
"You may. Though, I’ll probably just answer ‘not here, inside’"
He laughed. “I’m glad you still have that sharp tongue. ...like Mother.” He frowned. “You remind us of her, you know. The way you talk, carry yourself. I suppose that’s not a surprise; you spent the greatest time with her.”
“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “But, I know where this is going, Ad. And you shouldn’t.”
He chuckled nervously. “None of us could get away with anything with Mother, either. But, that didn’t stop us.”
She sighed, patting his hand on her arm. “Go ahead, then. Go where you shouldn’t.”
“Your Holy City,” he said. “How’s your reign?”
“Specifically?”
“Security,” he said quickly with tension in his voice.
“You mean, Sig,” she said. “Oh, he’s got his spies everywhere. We all know that. Even he knows I know. And he knows that you three know that he knows. It’s all very ridiculous, this whole affair. Everyone should just come out in the open. But I really don’t care about that; Mother’s wishes are what I care about. The Holy City will not become part of your feud. Ever. One day, when Sig and you three come to your senses. Then, and only then.” She smiled warmly. “We’ll have a celebration, Ad. A tourney, a festival, everything like the old days when we were all together. There in the Holy City. And...you four will finally be able to visit mother and father. But, not now. Not until this foolishness ends.” He stopped and looked mournfully at her. “What is it?”
He continued walking. “Inside,” he said.
Zana’s felt her face flush. “I am half tempted to slap you, dear brother.”
“And I am half tempted to do the same to you, dear sister. Your naivety is chilling.” He slowed his pace to the main stair with the servants still out of listening distance. He glanced back to Eamark, who undoubtedly was listening too. “I fear that’s another thing you caught on with Mother. She was naive too. Always living in the past. She thought she could keep the Holy City neutral; she hoped for that ‘celebration’ too. All while her enemies closed in, her sense of piety and justice blinded her, Z.” His jaw tightened. “She thought the Golden Lady would always protect her, and what happened? She….by one of her own damn sons—”
“We don’t know that,” Zana snapped back. “Sig—”
“Damn it Z,” he shouted. “Face the truth. Mother was blind and so are—”
She slapped him across the face, immediately regretted it. “I...I’m sorry, Advin. I shouldn’t have.” She looked away, cursing herself for losing her temper. Not this crass, she said to herself.
“Impulsive and naive,” he said quietly. “Please Z, before we go in. Promise me something.”
“Sig didn’t kill Mother,” she insisted.
He continued escorting her further. “Please, keep an open mind. Will you do that for us?”
“If you would just meet Sig. He’ll see you. Then you’ll know—”
He squeezed her hand.
“Alright, alright” she said, sighing. “I’ll listen. I’ll listen until it’s my turn to talk. ...Things really are different this time, aren’t they?”
“They always were,” he replied.
If not for Ad�
�s ominous talk, Zana would have taken some nostalgic comfort in the halls of the Red Rock. Landrie, for all his outrageousness kept the interior exactly as Father designed it: efficient for defense. In those days, the mountains were far less charted. This was the frontier. Though her brothers wouldn’t believe it, she remembered her father painfully laboring over this, then, small outpost, his unkempt beard, tired smile, and drowsy eyes hoping to have an ever-improved defense built on top of the Red Rock cliff before each winter. Thankfully, the mountains were as impassable as they could have hoped and no foreigner, most of all those noble-hating Demos in the west, ever assaulted this place.
So when she entered the hall, she smiled fondly. The carpet, a red crimson with a gold diamond pattern, was the same fashion as in her father’s time, though newly remade and the lanterns burned with the old candle and wick style that seemed more homely than the oil lit lanterns, and even —she almost snorted— the nauseating smell of burning wood and charred meat from all the fireplaces still floated along the drafty breeze that freely blew through the Red Rock.
"Lan never fixed the draft," she said.
"Yea, well, you know him. Perfectionist," Ad replied. "A bit of the Almighty's attention to detail is in him, I think. Really, last night I could hear the whistle in the rocks while I slept. Haunted my nights here when we were little."
"Somethings never change. Then, I suppose we’re going to the main dining hall."
Ad nodded. “Straight ahead.”
“At least Mak makes great food. I assume he’s making dinner.”
“Yes, yes. Can’t pry that man away. Maybe it would have done him better if he had.” Would have?
“Well, I hope he made some of that stuffed duck Mother used to—”
Mak appeared from some side hall, flustered while wringing his hat in his hands and looking this and that way with a pensive look about him.
“Mak, what’s the matter,” Ad asked.
“I can’t seem to find...,” he replied, before looking down another hall
“And what are you looking for,” Zana asked.
Mak suddenly took note of her and turned away. “I’ve...I’ve got to go. I’ll meet you inside.” He then ran off down the hall. At the very end was the dining room, another set of double oak doors. He disappeared behind them.
"What’s wrong with him," she asked.
“He’s very sick,” Ad replied.
“...And?”
Ad stopped and closed his eyes. “That's one of the reasons we couldn’t wait till our next family meeting, Z. And you too. We're going to ask you…”
“Go on…”
He drew his lips to a tight frown. Zana recognized that expression: he was deciding something important. “Z,” he began again. “He would like to see Mother, and the Golden Lady if it can be helped."
Zana slid her hand out from his. “He can’t,” she said.
Advin continued walking ahead without her. “Not even now? I asked you, please keep an open mind.”
She marched after him. “He can’t,” she repeated. “Mother doesn’t want any of you there until—”
“This is different,” he said.
“And would if Sig finds out?”
“Sig doesn’t give a damn about Mother’s—”
The doors opened and standing there in his royal reds, a sword at his hip, and a red ruby jeweled silver circlet around his short messy blond hair was the second eldest of the Ladress siblings, Landrie. He gave her a wary half-lidded stare with his mouth scrunched to one side. Already annoyed with me, are you? Don’t keep me in the dark then. She matched the same wary expression back at him.
“I told you we’ll talk over dinner,” he said, placing his fists against his hips like Father would have done.
“I… you're right, I’m sorry,” Ad said.
Lan then grinned. “And, how’s my annoying little sister doing?”
“Never mind that,” she said, almost jogging up to him. “What’s wrong with—” She stopped herself. Inside the dining room was Mak, setting up a small table for four.
Lan rolled his eyes. “I know, I know,” he said. “I’m paying the best artisans I can find and Mak goes on to set it up for us anyway. He’s cooked too, though I can’t say I mind that.”
“What’s wrong with him,” she whispered.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You know the rules. Family business over dinner,” he said.
Zana huffed. “Eamark, you’re excused for the night,” she said before turning to Lan. Lan sighed disapprovingly. It’s your little castle, Lan.
“Eamark, thank you for watching over my sister,” Lan said. “I know you and the others of the caravan must be tired and hungry and are not yet situated with lodging. I’ve made arrangements for you and my sister’s retinue to stay in the palace. And I’ve made several lodgings available in the city.”
“It’s an honor as always,” he replied, bowing. “Is your Master of Servants the same?”
“Yes, yes, he is. You know where he hides. Prince Makim has provided all of you with a private dinner in your rooms as I’m sure you are all too wary to dine together. But tomorrow night, we will all dine together here. Festively.”
“Thank you, sire,” Eamark said. Zana noted relief in his voice. He must have been exhausted, riding horseback the entire way. “I am looking forward to it.”
“You are dismissed, Sir Eamark,” Zana said
He bowed low to her and then bowed his head toward Lan and Ad before making his way back down the hall.
“Thanks,” Zana said. “Everyone’s so tired from all the travel.”
“Yea, it’s a long way but it gives us four some privacy too,” he said with a sheepish smile.
“What is it?”
“Sir Eamark,” he answered. “It always pleases me to know that you’re still preserving our family’s knighting heritage—”
Zana pushed her way passed him into the dinning hall —if he was going to patronize her, she didn’t have to be there to listen; he knew damn well she didn’t do that for him.
Here too, the room was exactly as she remembered it. Newer items, yes, but all the same. There were two tables. One long and rectangular when entertaining a large party and a smaller more intimate round table where Mak was meticulous placing each silverware.
Alone in the midst of such a large room, she half expected to hear Mak’s mutterings echo against the walls, Instead, he smiled briefly at her before fluffing up the flowers in the center of the small table. Their mother’s favorite, lavender among red roses.
“Let me help you with that,” she said, walking over to him.
He smiled again. “They told you, didn’t that?”
“I didn’t tell her anything, Mak,” Ad shouted as he and Lan neared the table.
“Is it serious,” she asked.
Mak seemed to ignore her, snapping his fingers twice in the air. Two servants —hired hands— appeared from behind the bar bench, a young woman and an older man, presumably apprentice an chef.
“Are all the preparations done,” he asked.
“Yes, all is ready,” the older man said. “The dinners are being delivered to…,” he turned to bowed to Zana, “Princess Ladress’s retinue as we speak. You’re courses are laid out and the warmers are stoked.”
Mak shook each of their hands. “Thank you. Thank you.”
The older man cleared his throat. “You’re welcome…but…,” he turned a confused expression to Lan.
“It’s alright, Ryndo,” Lan answered with a wave of his hand. “Mak, you sure about this?”
Mak nodded. “If I had another life…”
“You two are dismissed,” he said. “Thank you both and enjoy your evening.”
The two servants glanced hesitant looks at each other, either unsure if Lan meant it or because they were in the presence of four of the most powerful in land. Zana indulged herself with the second thought; while that may be true, the reality was that ruling, she learned the hard way, was more like herding
wolf packs full of alpha wolves than shepherding sheep into one fold. With lingering confusion, or maybe awkwardness, the two servers left.
“Sit, sit,” Mak began with excitement. “I’ll grab the first dish. It’s a vegetable soup, potato based with cured sausage.”
Each sat in the nearest chair as Mak wobbled off to the bar bench; a side door there led to the kitchen.
When he was out of view, Zana asked. “So how long will it take before I find out what’s wrong with him?”
“It’s not that simple,” Lan said.
“He wants to see the Golden Lady, I know that. And Mother.”
Lan glanced sidelong at Advin who shrugged back at him.
“Is that so offensive,” Lan asked. “No one would need to know—”
“Breaking your own rules,” shouted Mak as the door swung open. He carried a tray of four bowls and a bottle of some liquor, probably wine. “Aren’t we going to wait till we eat, or would you rather just talk about me when I’m not here. I can certainly go.”
Mak placed a bowl of steaming soup in front of each of them. “Here you go, Z,” he said. “Spicy, right? Try to guess which I put in. Ad, a bit extra olive oil and sausage for you. And Lan, boring Lan, just plain like Father used to like. Why not just heat up plain water instead?” Mak placed a bottle of wine down in the center by the flowers before taking his seat between Lan and Ad.
“It’s the way I like it,” Lan answered. “The point of soup is to prepare the stomach for the food to come.”
“Ah, the only preparation I need,” Ad said, “Is that wine to fire up the appetite.”
“Don’t insult my cooking,” Mak said. “But that doesn’t mean I think your wrong.” Mak rose from his chair, reaching for the bottle, but Lan stopped him.
“I’ll do it. It’s my house.” Lan grabbed the bottle and uncorked it. He brought to his nose and sniffed “Hmm ...I’m usually good at this. It’s... it’s ...14… um...What year is this?”
Call of the Chosen- Broken Kingdoms Page 6