“That year.” Mak said, turning to lock eyes with Zana.
Zana stared back, but Mak broke eye contact. “Mak, if you want to visit mother’s grave so badly, the best idea would be to petition Siga. I can’t just let you into the Holy City. But, if you ask him and give him a good reason, I doubt he’d mind. Though he’d probably want to visit too. ...And maybe, this could be the beginning of some sort of...reconciliation?”
Mak scoffed. “No, it wouldn’t. Maybe you’re right, maybe Sig wouldn’t care if I visited Mother, but he doesn’t need to know why. It’s best if he doesn’t. He doesn’t care about anything but his Empire building. I can’t show weakness, Z.” Mak lowered his eyes onto his soup.
“Mak,” Zana said softly. “How serious is it?”
Mak took in a spoonful before answering, “Sabina sensed a lump in my brain behind my right eye. My surgeons are too afraid to operate, and I can’t honestly say I’d like to die on the surgeon’s table either. They tell me by winter’s end. I won’t see spring, they say.” The table fell silent. So soon? Mak’s going to…. Her stomach hollowed, but she forced a spoonful of soup into her mouth anyway. Her eyes teared. Probably from the spicy taste, she told herself. She didn’t care to guess what they were anymore. “It’s pretty funny, actually,” he began again, still staring at his soup and mixing it slowly with his spoon. “It all started a couple of months after our last family meeting. I started having visions, hearing voices. I would find myself in different places, different times, all in the past. Sometimes familiar, sometimes wildly imaginative.” A slight smile crept onto his lips. “I thought perhaps the Almighty had chosen me for some important task and I feverishly tried to decipher their meaning. Maybe he was going to use me to end Sig’s sacrilege. Sabina…she was so supportive.” He laughed softly to himself. “...But, soon after came the seizures and we realized I was just...sick. Z, I don’t want to go without seeing her. Mother and the Golden Lady, if possible. If only one, then I’d rather see Mother before I go. But....” He turned to Lan and then to Ad before locking eyes on her. “We all agreed on one thing. Sig cannot know I’m going there, or why I’m there. If he finds out about my condition, he might make a move against my lands—”
“That’s ridiculous,” Zana almost shouted. “He has to know—”
“Respect Mak’s wishes,” Lan broke in.
“His wishes? Or your’s? I’m telling you, Siga doesn’t harbor the same hate that you all have for him, but if…,” her voice almost cracked. “If he doesn’t know about Mak before…it happens, he just might hate you all for it.”
Mak stood, his cheeks flushing. “I’ll… I’ll go check on the next course.” And he left.
Lan rubbed his temples. “Z, why are you making this so difficult?”
“Difficult? I was never even told about any of this—”
“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it,” Lan shot back. “Neutrality. Not getting involved. Nothing’s neutral when it comes to family, Za’nina, and yet you always wear Mother’s wishes like a—”
“Landrie,” Ad said, coolly. “None of that helps. Z, we’re sorry this is so sudden, but this has nothing to do with Sig or our fight with him. This is about Mak. Will you let him see Mother?”
She pushed her soup away. “He can’t come into my city secretly,” she said, folding her arms. “It has to be out in the open. Sig would suspect something otherwise.”
Lan let out a frustrated groan.
“Sig has his spies everyone in my city,” she argued. “Goddess, more than half the families still hold tacit support that he should be—”
“Should be what,” Lan’s voice hardened.
Zana hit the bud of her spoon against the table. “He’d know long before Mak even crossed the border, Lan. And you know that. He’d just be crazy enough to think I’ve sided with you three and broke Mother’s wishes. No. No. The only way is by petition. You said yourself, Ad. This has nothing to do with Sig, so talk to him. Tell him what Mak is going through.”
“And give Sig the excuse he needs to come after us again,” Lan said. “Even if he believed Mak was dying, this would present him with the perfect excuse to solidify his hold over us. With his wealth, he’d ‘offer’ his ‘assistance’ to Mak’s farms and help in some ‘transitional period’ that I don’t doubt would mean they would end up belonging to him. And how could Mak refuse without looking vindictive or ungrateful? Then Ad and I would be dependent on Sig for a big portion of our crops. No, Z. No. He’s got to go secretly.”
“What about Sabina,” she asked, tipping her chin up. “Won’t all of Mak’s rights go to her?”
“She’s not a Ladress, and they don’t have an heir.”
“You mean she doesn’t hate Sig like all of you do.”
Mak returned suddenly, and everyone fell silent. “How is everyone’s soup,” he asked. “Did I get them right?”
“Mak…,” Z started again, but couldn’t find the words. Mak looked lost and distracted. She wanted to console him, but how? If only they would talk to Sig, they’d realize he’s as sick as they are, obsessed with their own little worlds.
“We’ll talk later, Z,” he said, scanning the soup bowls. “In private.”
Lan shook his head, flicking hands up. “Well, that was productive.”
“Was that all you wanted to talk about,” Zana asked, standing. “Because if so, I’m going to my room.” She looked up at Mak and softened her frown. “I’ll wait for you,” she said.
“Zana,” Lan said sternly. “We’re not done. Please, sit down.”
Mak nodded and she sat, sighing and wringing her wrists. “What other news are you hiding from me?”
“Much,” Lan replied. “At first, I didn’t want to tell you because you might let it slip to Sig when you see him.” He glanced to Advin. “But, Ad’s right. You need to know because when it’s time for us to break from Sig, I want you to be prepared for refugees.”
“Another war,” she said, flatly. “You can’t win this. His weapons are far too powerful, and I don’t think I can keep him from taking over completely if you try.”
Lan smiled, biting his lower lip. He was hiding something, she knew. “It’s about something we discovered in the Mountains,” he said. Zana’s heart jumped. Gene, she thought. Were the priests right? Lan took an aggravatingly slow sip of wine.
“What did you find, Landrie,” she asked.
Mak began gathering up the soup bowls, but when he went for her bowl, she took it back.
Lan chuckled. “Staying a while longer, huh?”
“What did you find in Father’s mountains, Landrie,” she repeated.
“The truth of a long rumor, a mystery finally solved.”
“Grandfather’s Search…,” she guessed. “But Mother said he never found anything. The earthquake, the lights in the sky. He searched for months in those mountain lands and found nothing.”
“Months,” Ad chimed in with a suspicious tone. “Doubtful. Remember Z, the Golden Lady had just awoken when that earthquake struck. The Holy City was in shambles because of her. Grandfather had his hands full rescuing and rebuilding. I doubt he was able to devote as many resources to the search as Mother led us to believe. And Father spent most of his time securing the mountain piedmonts and growing Sat’r and Faf’r. Mother was never interested, so they were never really explored.”
She turned back to Lan. “And now you found what caused that terrible quake. What was it?”
He strengthened in his chair before leaning toward her. “You cannot tell Sig,” he warned, pointing his finger at her.
“I never do,” she replied, taking a spoonful of soup into her mouth.
Lan smiled again. “I’ll say it. It’s what we’re all thinking, anyway. A Shard, another Fragment of the Almighty’s Body,” he said. “It must have awoken all those years ago and shattered a hole in the mountains.”
Zana swallowed, searching her brother’s tired eyes for more. How much they’ve changed over the years. No longer th
e joyful eyes of an older brother, but the tired eyes of ambition, of suspicious and resentment. She feared what his answer would be to her next question. “And what is your intention now that you found it?”
“Well, firstly, it has to be excavated,” he said, reclining back into his seat. “That’s a big enough job in itself. It’s at least as big as the Golden Lady, maybe larger.”
“And after?”
“One task at a time, Za’nina. We can’t rush these things,” he said. “I just wanted you to know because rumors will start spreading. And it doesn’t help that they’ll happen to be true.”
“Sig will suspect the truth,” she replied. “He knows Grandfather’s story too and he knows what the priests think is hidden there. If you’re not careful—"
“He will what,” Lan barked, slamming his fist on to the table. “He will come and take it? Desecrate more of the Almighty’s body? And probably be blessed all the more for it!”
“Your peace with him will end and he will take everything,” she said as bluntly and coldly as she could. “That much, I know; especially if one of his spies finds out instead of you telling him yourself. He’ll think you’ve kept it a secret on purpose. Don’t do that, please. Announce it. Make it into a celebration” —Lan rolled his eyes— “the site can become a new Holy City. He’ll have to agree to that. His people are still faithful to the Golden Lady, Lan; their patience with his treatment of Lairgor is strained. He won’t argue against that.”
Lan titled his head and smiled tiredly at her. “Oh, my dear annoying little sister. I’m glad you came. You remind me of Mother. She probably would have said the same thing, the ‘voice of reason,’ but Mother’s prudence, you don’t have. No, this will take a more delicate approach. Sig’ll find out, when we want him to.” He glanced over to Advin.
“Landrie,” she pressed. “What will you do with it?”
“Keep it secret,” Ad broke in. “As well as we can while we dig it up.”
Mak returned with a tray of plates as delicious aromas following him. He chuckled. “So, you told her,” he said. “I can feel the tension in here. A piece of the Almighty. If only we found it sooner.”
Zana studied Lan’s face, trying to decipher what he was thinking. She chose her next words carefully. “I can ask a few priests to come take a look. Maybe they can figure out which of the Shards it is. Or maybe just confirm it. You might be mistaken about it.”
“No, we’re not mistaken,” he said, laughing. “And no. No one goes there.”
“Damn it, Landrie. This isn’t a game,” she shouted, feeling heat flush her face. “Don’t be as stupid as Sig. You don’t know what his choices have done to him.”
“His choices,” Lan asked. “He chose to go against everything we believed in and now look. He’s expanded his territories well beyond the Isles, across the sea. North, south. He’s building, only Almighty knows, in the middle of tundra and deserts. His choices don’t look stupid, sister. He’s planning something.”
Zana closed her eyes. “He chose poorly, Lan. And now he’s living with the consequences.”
“I can live with those consequences.”
Zana opened her mouth, but stopped herself; she was about to reveal something very close to Sig. His true condition, his sudden bouts of hyperactivity and invalidity. It scared her sometimes during her visits. He’d appear so weak of body and mind that he had to be feed by hand. He couldn’t even recognize her. Other times, he’d be robust and active like a man half his age, riding horses with her and talking of subjects far beyond what she understood. One thing she did understand, his condition made him a disconnected lonely man, cursed for what he’s done. And now she feared Lan would make the same mistake. She fought herself not to argue further; she could tell by the challenging smirk on Lan’s face, it would made little difference, but there was still time. Time to figure this all out. So, instead, she frowned at him. “You’re an idiot, Lan.”
He pointed his fork at her. “Then I win,” he said. “And Mother would have backhanded you for resorting to insults. If you’re beaten, you’re beaten. Poor form, Z. Very poor form.”
“I’m declaring a statement of fact: you’re still an idiot.”
He smiled triumphantly as Mak placed the next course in front of him, a plate of steamed vegetables, boiled wild rice, and a small cup of what must be cinnamon-scented butter.
“Delicious,” Lan said
“Try it first,” Mak replied before placing another two plates before Ad and herself.
“These vegetables,” Zana said, examining them in amazement. “They look flawless. Healthy. How?”
Seating himself to his own plate, answered, “Mother’s secret.”
She took in a bite of the broccoli and smiled. Cinnamon salt, he remembered she hated the butter. “The broccoli, Mak, it’s fresh. We, in the city, ran out already. We’ve begun winter rationing the frozen stock. How did you do this? And the rice! Didn’t you have frost already?”
“A secret,” he replied, again.
“The ‘secret’ must be in the land,” Ad said, beginning his meal with rice. “I’d wager there must be underground thermal waters. It’s the most fertile in the Kingdom. Father moved all the farms to the north long ago.”
“Underground hot rivers or not,” Lan said, slathering cinnamon spiced butter over everything as he did when he was younger. “Z’s right. The first frost came weeks ago.”
“Well, we all have our secrets,” Mak said with mouthful. “Ad has his industry. Lan, his mountains. Me, I know how to grow things.” He let that last sentence linger a bit before, placing his fork down. “I’m going to tell her now, Lan.”
Lan waved his fork in the air. “It’s why we’re all here.”
“Z,” he said. “I want to say this in front of everyone. Once I’m gone, I’m not going to give my lands to any of the families. Sabina and I don’t have a child, though we’re trying before… the end.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” she replied, trying to be as gentle as possible. She glanced over to Lan, continuing. “Tradition would have the lands and rights go to Sabina.”
“Tradition,” Lan retorted, “would have the land divided and given to all five of us. Like hell we’ll let Sig get a piece of it. And like I said, Sabina isn’t a Ladress. If they don’t have an heir, she’ll keep the title, not the authority. Mak has to decide on a Regent or give it to one of us whole. You should really study up on our successions laws, Z.” Apparently, you have, she thought.
“Landrie’s right,” Mak said. “And we’ve talked it over. If we can conceive, she’ll be Princess-Regent until the child grows up to assume the throne. If not, she wants to go back to her home and remarry. I don’t blame her. She’s a sweet young woman and doesn’t need to be harassed by Sig once I’m gone.”
“You see,” Lan said, tipping his head toward her with a mouth full of food. “We thought this through.”
“If that happens, I’ve decided that…” Mak paused. “I’m going to give my land and stock over to you, Z. The Holy City. That way, it’ll be safe from Sig and maybe I can make amends for my life too. Sabina has agreed to stay on a year or two to help you get know the farmlands.”
“Oh, Mak,” she said. “It’s kind of you but isn’t it too early for all that. How long have your doctors given you? Till spring?”
“Four or so months, yes,” he said, looking away.
“Would you care to be seen by one of my doctors. She’s very good; a priest from the Temple.”
“I have my own medics and Sabina’s a good one too, Z. You helped her get trained by the Temple, remember?”
“I know, I know,” she said, swirling the rice on her plate with her fork. “But… this one is exceptional.”
“Who is she? Have I heard of her?”
“She fought in your tussle with Sig,” she replied. “So, I can tell you she’s loyal, but as for her name, I can’t tell you.”
Lan paused eating, eyeing her. “You have secrets
too, huh, Za’nina? Growing up so fast. It’s good to hear.”
She frowned. “It’s not what Mother would have wanted. Well, Mak. Instead of going to the city, visiting mother; I can have this priest visit you. Maybe she can heal you.”
Mak drew his lips to a line. “I don’t want to wait too long. I don’t want to become so weak I can’t visit her.”
“You look healthy enough,” she replied, cursing herself for saying it. Be more sensitive. “I mean, well…we all know doctors underestimate the strength of their patients for a reason. And Sabina loves you, so she may be being a bit of a mother hen.”
Mak took in a deep breath. “OK,” he said. “I’ll see her.”
She rose an eyebrow. “That easy?”
“No, I’ll see your priest, and if she can help, then fine, all is well,” he said. “But, if she can’t help, you’ll have to let me sneak into your City. No word to Sig. That’s the deal.”
Zana huffed; Ad laughed.
“Good show, Mak” Ad said. “I couldn’t have planned that better myself.”
“It wasn’t a plan,” Mak protested. “I’m serious, Z. Sabina and I have made peace with this. If I must see one more healer before I can see Mother. Fine. But, it must be very soon. Please, don’t wait this out.”
Damn. Zana thought. There’s not much time to find her. She grabbed hold of her glass of wine, slowing bringing it up to her nose. She swirled it, sniffing in the sweet scents and bitter tones, taking her time as she thought things through. …And what could Gene do? She wasn’t a healer, barely a medic; that wasn’t her discipline. But her last letter several months ago told of fantastic technologies, magics, the old forgotten ways —maybe something before the Whithering Catastrophe survived. Big Sig sure proved people of those times were far more sophisticated.
Besides, Zana knew Sabina was as good a doctor as any in the Holy City, mastering both the magical and surgical healing arts. Damn her, why didn’t she at least send me a letter? To be blindsided by this! Hope, she had to hope Gene could help, or at the very least stall Mak a while longer. She snickered inwardly. Going off to save the world, Gene, can’t you save my brother?
Call of the Chosen- Broken Kingdoms Page 7