Song of Edmon

by Adam Burch

  “Because . . .” My voice quivers. I notice camglobes hovering around me. I see the irises within their silver orbs dilate as they record everything I say. I glance at Edric furious in his silence, yet he says nothing against the will of the emperor. This is the answer, I realize.

  “Old Wusong, my father fights, but he’s never come to Bone to see me. He’s supposed to rule there, but doesn’t know anything about what matters to the people. How can he rule that way? He won’t, and he never will. Edric is supposed to be the strongest warrior on Tao. He won the Combat twice. You’re just an old man, but somehow you know what matters to these people. There’s something you know that he doesn’t, and it has nothing to do with fighting.”

  I should just shut up, but I don’t. I feel anger as I understand what I say for the first time. “My mother told me the High Synod gave him the right to own Bone, but what right did they have to give it? Because they are fighters? A bully fights people who are weaker than him. And cowards do whatever stronger people tell them to. My father is both.”

  I repeat words my mother has spoken aloud a hundred times, but I’ve never connected them like this before. My father stares hot daggers.

  “And so are you, Grand Patriarch,” I add.

  The crowd gasps. Alberich and his armored guards tighten their grips on their swords and pikes.

  “A bully and a coward, Little Leontes?” Old Wusong’s voice is so calm I know there is deadly anger in it. The whole court is watching—my taunting sister, my imperious father, the boy with the red hair, the old man on the throne, and the silvery camglobes that hover around my face like buzzing insects. A lump wells in my throat so big I can barely swallow. Instead, I shrug with a casualness I do not feel.

  “And what are you, young Leontes, that you can speak these words to me, the emperor of Tao?”

  He is about to end me with a word.

  “You’re right. I’m nobody,” I say quietly. “But what I’ve said is the truth.”

  His eyes search me, looking for something deep inside. I don’t know what. He turns to my father after a long beat. “This is the one you want to discard?”

  Discard?

  “You think he’s too weak for the patricide?” Old Wusong croaks. “He’s impudent but undeniably brave. Though I know how fathers see only what they wish to see. I know that all too well.”

  He turns back to me, and I hear his bones creak. “Little Leontes, you have been honest with me. I’ll be honest with you. It is sometimes necessary when you’re a leader and a man to hurt others. Other times it is necessary to not risk your own life, to stay alive. Especially when you are a Patriarch who must choose a man for his daughter. Your bravery has convinced me this day.”

  He has a sly look in his eye. This is all some sort of game, I realize. Old Wusong snaps his fingers. A small figure, robed and veiled, is trotted out from behind his throne. She’s attended by two older women, faces painted, dressed in kimonos. Old Wusong reaches over and lifts the veil from the little figure. “My daughter, Miranda Wusong,” he pronounces.

  The girl is excessively plain. Her eyes are passive. My initial feeling upon seeing her is discomfort.

  “Do you like your betrothed, Little Leontes?” Old Wusong asks. He grins, black-toothed.

  He said I’ll marry his daughter? The camglobes hover close to my face.

  My father’s knuckles go white as he clenches his fists. The muscles in his jaw twitch. The emperor’s game is for my father, and I’m caught in the middle, I suddenly understand. This was not supposed to happen, but something I said changed things. Somehow, my words allowed the emperor to win and my father to lose.

  I smile and try to respond politely. “I don’t even know her, Grand Patriarch.”

  “True, Little Leontes. In our world, though, one does not always have that luxury.”

  The hall breaks into a collective “ah,” acknowledging the wisdom of the old man. I think they’re just happy the danger seems to have dissipated.

  “You see why it was necessary that you and I got to know each other?” he asks.

  He made me stand here and answer his questions because I’m to marry his daughter? I feel humiliated, but I nod because an adult is telling me I should understand.

  Old Wusong’s wispy eyebrows arc in suspicion. “Are you being honest now, Little Leontes?”

  “No, I’m being like my sister,” I respond. “Clever.”

  Old Wusong breaks into a crooked smile. “No, you’re being something quite different, Edmon.” The name sounds alien on his withered lips, but it’s the first acknowledgment that I’m not just my father’s son. I’m my own person. “You’re being unpredictable. Such a quality, if it doesn’t kill you, perhaps will save your life one day.”

  Then he casually waves my mother and me away as if we are mere gnats. My turn has ended. Mother and I step back into line with the rest of the Leontes coterie. She grips my shoulder, and I feel her fear. The image of the fiery Pavaka cauldrons flashes in my mind.

  I catch sight of the red-haired boy from across the room. He tilts his head at me and nods. It’s a gesture of respect, I think. Have I made a friend this day or an enemy? I wonder.

  The old emperor raises his arms to address the crowd. “Today we will welcome a future Patriarch to the Balance. So, I can think of no more fitting occasion to make this announcement. Dr. Jou . . .”

  He gestures to a man dressed in the green and gold colors of House Wusong. His hair is clipped short, and he wears spectacles on an aquiline nose over a pencil-thin mustache. “People of Tao!” Dr. Jou begins. “For the last nine years, the Scientific Institute of House Wusong has monitored the Fracture Point that repositioned itself and opened much closer to the planet . . .”

  “Yes, yes.” The old man on the throne waves his hand impatiently. “Get on with it, Doctor.”

  The scientist tries to regain his composure. “The institute has the pleasure to announce that this Fracture Point, well within our solar system’s gravity, will now provide a new, direct route to a planetary system known as Lyria.”

  Lyria! A new planet? No, a whole planetary system.

  “Lyria.” It sounds strange as I whisper the word.

  Old Wusong stamps his cane, and the science doctor steps into the background. “As a gesture of good faith between our world and our new interstellar neighbor,” the emperor croaks, “House Wusong has officially invited emissaries from Lyria to this sacred ceremony. The first off-worlders to set foot on Tao in the almost seventy years since my predecessor expelled all outsiders.”

  The crowd murmurs. Several men, strangely dressed, step from the throng. They look ragtag in their flight suits and worn leathers. An older man with dark skin like a Daysider and strange reddish hair bows before the Grand Patriarch. “Old Wusong, I’m Captain Ollie Rollinson, of the UFP ship James Bentley,” he says in a warm, gravelly voice.

  He gestures to the men at his sides. “My first officer, Mr. Stephen Sanctun.” The captain indicates a lanky man with a scraggly beard, dressed in a hodgepodge of color. A tall black hat stands upon his head. He removes it, revealing a bald pate framed by a frazzled horseshoe of sandy hair.

  I stare intently. This is the first time I’ve ever seen a true bald man before. Baldness was bred out of the Tao gene pool long ago.

  “And his son.” The captain points to a lanky, pimply-faced teenager. His arms and legs look way too long for his body in the knee-length coat he wears.

  “We bring news from Lyria and from Elia Lazarus of Lazarus Industries regarding a unique trading opportunity.” Rollinson smiles.

  They look strange, unkempt and bedraggled, but also so free. I long for that feeling in this moment.

  Old Wusong nods. “Welcome, and thank you for the gifts you’ve brought us. After today’s festivities, we’ll most gladly receive the news of our newest friend and business partner.”

  The captain and his crew seem confused for a moment before they realize they are dismissed. They quickly shuffle
back into the crowd.

  “And now,” Old Wusong says, addressing the entire hall again, “the new heir to House Leontes . . .”

  The great heavy double doors of the hall swing open. Light streams into the room and silhouettes a tall, slender figure. I am swept aside to the flanks with the others to make way.

  The sound of a harp rings. The figure strides gracefully across the walkway. It’s a woman, willowy and blonde, a Nightsider. Her lean muscles are powerful in their stride. As she glides, her head never dips or rises but remains perfectly parallel to the floor. No man could move like this, I think. Golden tresses cascade down her back.

  “Try not to stare,” Lavinia whispers.

  My stomach twists with embarrassment. “I think that’s what she wants,” I hiss back.

  Lavinia tries appear as if she’s bored, but neither of us can miss the boy who follows at her heels. He’s perhaps four or five, dressed smartly in the navy-blue military uniform of House Leontes. Silver gauntlets and a ceremonial gorget flash in the twilight. A small cape trails each step of his shiny black boots. His skin is pink and perfect, his face round and flat with bright blue, curious eyes. They sparkle as they take in everything around the room. His head is framed by soft curls, the color of spun gold. He looks like a young, innocent version of Edric, I realize.

  The woman steps onto the dais beside my father. His chiseled face beams at her and at the boy who follows behind her.

  He did not look at me that way.

  “Olympias of House Flanders,” Old Wusong rasps, almost wryly. “Your beauty is staggering, your gait as true as any Jian sword dancer.”

  Two retainers emerge from behind the throne to help the old Patriarch stand on his creaky bones. Several more camglobes are released from the crowd. They hover around the dais to record the impending speech.

  Has all of Tao heard what I said to the Grand Patriarch? I feel so stupid.

  Olympias nudges the boy before the emperor. He bows. Old Wusong leans forward. “Tell me your name, child.”

  “I am Edgaard Leontes, son of Edric the Leviathan. I present myself before Old Wusong for his es-es-es—”

  “Esteemed,” his mother whispers in the boy’s ear.

  “Esteemed judgment.”

  “Very good, Edgaard,” the emperor croaks. “Do you swear to uphold the Balance? To serve the Pantheon and the people of Tao with strength and justice?”

  “I do.” The boy nods.

  The emperor sprinkles water from a small bowl across the boy’s brow. I feel like I want to cry. I don’t know why. “I bless this child, from Zhu the fire, from Gong the earth, from Mazu the water, and Shangdhi the air. May he embrace the light and the darkness. May he conquer all enemies before him and within him until he returns to the embrace of the ancestors. In the name of the Balance.”

  “In the name of the Balance,” the crowd chants.

  The camglobes hover. Edric steps forward and proclaims before all of Tao, “This is my son, Edgaard of House Leontes. Let all behold him and claim, ‘The son of Leontes is greater than the father!’ Edgaard Leontes is a leviathan. He is my heir!”

  The crowd erupts in applause. I see the red-haired boy looking inquisitively at me from across the room, gauging my reaction.

  I have a new brother, I think.

  “Why are you clapping?” Lavinia’s cold voice prickles the back of my neck. “You’ve just been disinherited, fool.”

  CHAPTER 2

  DUET

  “No!”

  The shout rings through the chamber. The crowd turns as my mother pushes her way to the center. She stands before the throne of Old Wusong in defiance.

  “No, my lord.” Her dark eyes flash.

  Guards move to arrest her, but the emperor gestures for them to step back. “Speak, Daysider,” he says calmly, “and pray that I don’t remove your tongue for your insolence.”

  “I am Cleopatra Muse, the daughter of Ishtal, who was chieftain of the Isle of Bone before you Nightsiders came and claimed land that wasn’t yours,” she states with bold disobedience. “You sent this man, Edric Leontes”—her arm flings out and points accusingly at my father—“and I was given a choice. Refuse him, and blood would be spilled on Bone, or accept, and should I bear a son, he would be named the heir of House Leontes. I did my duty. I bore a son for Lord Edric, and now he reneges on his promise and names this second son his heir? Old Wusong, descendant of the Great Song, I demand justice!”

  There is murmuring among the crowd, but I’m too stunned to look at their faces.

  My mother had me only to save her people?

  From her words, I understand for the first time that her relationship with Edric was not a willing one.

  “Is this true, Lord Edric?” The emperor turns to my father.

  Edric’s muscles ripple beneath his navy robes and silver breastplate. “Words were spoken, your majesty. No written contract was ever made.” He and my mother lock eyes. Hers are dark pools of fire. His are glacial ice.

  “Words spoken to a Daysider are as effervescent as the surf.” Old Wusong waves dismissively. “You have no claim, woman. I have designated your boy consort to my daughter because of his bravery, in spite of his heritage. Your son, though eldest, is a half-breed, and Lord Edric has made his choice. Be content with what you have been offered this day.”

  My lips quiver at the word half-breed. The entire audience laughs at me and my mother. We are humiliated. Still, she does not back down.

  “Then I renounce your claim to the Isle of Bone and to my son. Edmon and I will leave, and you will never again return to our shores.”

  Edric steps forward. “You will not take my son, nor my land from me, woman.” His voice is soft and deadly.

  Suddenly, it seems they are the only two people in the room.

  “What do you care? Why abandon him for so long? He will learn our ways and find his own path.”

  “There’s only one path before him now. He will marry the imperial heiress. You will not defy me or the emperor.” My father closes the distance to her. “I’ve let you keep him from his heritage for too long. Look at the tillyfish.” He scowls in my direction. “I can fish. I want to be a musician,” he says, mocking me.

  I feel hot tears in my eyes even as the audience guffaws.

  “Your ways won’t make him what he needs to be,” Edric says coldly.

  “What he needs to be is nothing like you—ashamed of your low birth, crawling before the likes of these sycophants to a withered rag of an emperor. Leviathan? No, worm. You disgust me.”

  There are gasps from the crowd, then a pregnant moment of stillness.

  Rage ignites in Edric’s eyes. He grabs my mother violently and backhands her.

  I’m frozen in place, not comprehending what’s happening. Old Wusong sits coolly indifferent on his throne. The crowd nods at the proceedings with silent assent.

  Move! something inside me impels.

  I run to her, but I’m yanked back by the collar of my shirt. The grizzled man, the seneschal Alberich, pulls me to him. He smells of metal and sweat. I stare at his puckered stump that wraps around me and pins me to him.

  “Boy,” he says gruffly, “this isn’t for your eyes.”

  “No!” Edric snarls. “He must watch.”

  He rips the fabric of my mother’s white linen dress, tearing it from her shoulder. She rakes her nails across his face. The scratch cuts him open. He bleeds but isn’t deterred. He smiles a shark-toothed grin. My mother raises her hand again, but he grabs her wrist. She tries to slam her knee to his groin. He casually turns aside, deflecting the blow.

  My father finishes stripping the dress from my mother’s smooth, mocha body. Her naked breasts quiver as she’s exposed for all to see. She wants to cover herself, I can tell, but resists the urge. She stands proud, arms at her sides, eyes burning defiantly. My father wears a look of admiration as he meets her gaze. The moment doesn’t last long, though. He knocks her to the floor. She kicks at him. She claws. She str
uggles. It’s no use. My father is too big, too strong. He knows how to hold her down. Edric’s leviathan tattoos dance.

  I clutch at Alberich, even though he frightens me. I try to hide myself from the violence. He grabs my head with his good hand and turns it, forcing me to watch my mother scream as Edric’s fists slam into her. On the dais, the blonde woman, Olympias, stands imperiously. Her son, Edgaard, my brother, begins to cry. He tries to hide his eyes, too, but his mother forces his head toward the scene, just as Alberich forces mine.

  A hand reaches out and clasps my own. Lavinia. She holds it tightly but never takes her eyes off Edric. Her eyes narrow with hatred for the man we both call father.

  “Monster,” she whispers.

  Finally, Edric stands, flexes his muscles like a bull seal, and slowly backs up the steps, returning to his spot beside the emperor. My mother, bloodied and alone in the middle of the floor, grabs the tatters of her garments and swaddles herself in them.

  Alberich releases me, and I run to her. She does not look at me. She seems lost in some other world. I don’t know what to do or say. But when she stands, she releases a carefree laugh through a deformed mouth.

  “That was nothing, Edmon. He thinks to shape you with his notions of pain, but you are stronger than that, aren’t you? You will forget what you saw here today.”

  “Yes, Mother.” I nod. She takes my hand, and alone we walk toward the grand double doors, our heads held high. It’s the first lie I’ve ever told her.

  I will never forget what I saw this day.

  I will kill Edric for what he has done.

  Our sondi docks on the shores of Bone. I sprint down the boarding ramp.

  “Edmon! Edmon, wait!” my mother cries.

  I don’t heed her. I don’t care. She is too injured to follow. My chest is thick with hurt, my face strained with the effort of keeping the tears within. I run past the docks and up the narrow, winding roads. I race by the white adobe villas and shining azure roofs. It’s afternoon, time of the midday nap. There are no people in the streets. An old woman opens a door, and I duck into an alley. I don’t want her to see my dirty tear-streaked face. I feel just like what Lavinia called me—a fool.