“I couldn’t find her,” Soman replied, brushing his hand across the stubble on his head.
“It brings me Joy to see you smile, brother,” Gemynd said, becoming serious.
“My thoughts now are only on peace,” Soman replied. “Out of this tragedy, Todor has been united.”
“And it brings me Joy to see the two of you smiling together,” Numa said from behind them.
“The people of Todor are already indebted to this council,” Keeper Fregman said as Keeper Sam and Molly emerged from the stairway onto the dais. “Together, there is nothing you cannot do.”
“We’re better together,” Gemynd said, remembering clearly the Feast of Sevens and the day Keeper Stout had taught them that lesson.
Gemynd sighed and sat down in the chair behind Golath as everyone else took their places around the table. He felt a sense of peace that was unfamiliar, yet wholly welcome. Normally peace only came when he was alone with Numa, but there was something special about that moment, something Joyful. He looked around the dais and noted that his father, his wife, his oldest friend, and even his mother were all there with him. And all at peace with one another.
“Now then,” Keeper Sam said. “If we may proceed without any further disasters, what do the rest of you wish to discuss? What else would you like to appear on the Agreement?”
“You covered it all, tiny Keeper,” Archigadh said, rubbing his hand across his forehead.
Golath nodded. “I have nothing more to add to the Agreement,” he said.
“Nor do I,” said Numa.
“Then, it is done,” Keeper Sam said, sounding astonished.
Keeper Fregman approached the table. “I propose a feast and a glorious celebration to last the night,” he said. “What the people need most now is Joy. Let us give them a reason to celebrate. Numa, would you be able to proved food for the people to cook?”
“It is done,” Numa said with a smile. “The people will find every manner of ingredient at the base of the keep.”
“Wonderful, thank you,” Keeper Fregman said. “Chief Archigadh, would your musicians provide the entertainment for the celebration?”
Archigadh nodded. “Of course!” he said and laughed so loudly that Gemynd’s chair rattled. “A feast and a celebration is music to my ears, Keeper. Let us begin at once!”
“Yes, let us begin the celebration,” Keeper Fregman agreed. “In the morning, after the scribes have made ten copies, we will have a signing ceremony to make the Agreement official.”
“Wait,” Golath said and stood. “Before there is any celebrating, I have an announcement to make.”
He walked to the center crenellation and looked out across the crowd. Zobanites, Terrenes and Iturtians all mingled together.
“As of this very moment,” Golath began as he addressed the people. “I am stepping down as Director of Iturtia. My son, Gemynd, is now Director as well as the Iturtian representative on the peace council. Iturtians, please gather around the dais for the Sovereign Ceremony, after which there will be a feast and celebration.”
Gemynd removed his shirt as he’d been instructed, all the while eyeing the branding irons that glowed red in the coals before him. He had not feared bodily pain for years, yet now the thought of that brand touching his flesh made beads of sweat break out across his forehead. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Numa who watched from the stairway. The bridge of her nose was wrinkled in concern and Gemynd could tell she was holding her breath.
“I will be fine, love,” he said to her in psychspeak, though he wasn’t certain he believed it himself. The wound would heal, he was sure. But once he received it, he would be forever more the Director of Iturtia in the eyes of all of Todor.
Then Gemynd noticed Soman standing next to Numa. His stance was confident and his blue eyes were calm. He seemed to study Gemynd for a moment before giving him a single nod: a gesture that was simultaneously comforting and empowering. It was exactly what Gemynd needed to see.
“Despite what many might think,” Golath said to the crowd as he walked towards the hot coals, “Iturtians are a simple people. I will not decorate this ceremony with unnecessary words. The reason for the ceremony is for all of Iturtia to witness the elevation of their new Director.”
Gemynd looked down at his chest, at the brand he had received when he was appointed Pit Warden. It was a ‘P’ encircled with flames and rested just below his right collarbone. It was small—only about the size of Gemynd’s thumb—but he had worn it with pride for the last three years. He enjoyed being Pit Warden. He was good at it. And he would always treasure the memories of having worked so closely with his father.
Golath picked up the branding iron from the coals and walked towards Gemynd who waited with his hands clasped behind his back, his bare chest broad and open to receive the mark. Gemynd met his father’s gaze. He looked into those black eyes that reflected back so much of himself and was honored to be Golath’s son.
“With this mark, you become the Director of Iturtia,” Golath said. “Lead the people well.”
Then Golath placed the red-hot metal against Gemynd’s breast. The sound of it reached Gemynd’s ears before he even noticed the pain. And then he remembered who he was. He saw himself step back from the situation and become the thought watcher once again.
Gemynd saw many thoughts pass by: “It burns!” “That is what it smells like to cook my flesh!” “The pain is unbearable!”
Calmly, deliberately, he inserted the thought “It is over” into his own mind at the exact moment that Golath removed the branding iron from his skin.
Slowly Gemynd exhaled and Golath took his hand and squeezed it. “I am proud of you,” he said, then walked from the dais and did not look back.
Gemynd looked out at the sea of faces before him, all those eyes watching him expectantly. The cooked-meat smell of the new brand on his chest wafted up his nostrils and the burning pain there made him clench his fists.
Gemynd recognized some of the faces he saw, others were strangers. But they all wanted something from him. The eager anticipation in their eyes reminded him of the day he was taken from Aerie and sent to training. It was his wedding day, but instead of all the faces in Aerie watching him make his vows to Numa, they watched as he was bound and forced from his home. Those faces, too, expected something from him. But that day, his primary concern had been Numa. He’d had no regard for the other faces.
But today, he could not ignore them. He was now responsible for all those who were Iturtian in the crowd.
“I am Gemynd,” he managed in a voice so soft he doubted any of them had heard. An awkward nervousness began making its way through the crowd and Gemynd watched as the people began shifting around, some in the back even walked away.
“I am Gemynd!” he repeated, this time in a shout. The people stopped their shifting and every eye was once again upon him. It felt good to command such respect with the utterance of a single phrase. And Gemynd wanted more of it.
“I am the Director of Iturtia!” he shouted, disbelieving the words until he heard them in the air in his own voice. I am the Director of Iturtia, he repeated silently to himself, feeling the power of it surge through his body, making him stand even taller before the crowd.
Tatparo, who was in the front of the crowd, went down on his knee, bowing his head before Gemynd. Immediately, every other Iturtian there did the same. And Gemynd smiled.
“I promise to lead you well,” he said. “I promise to always do what is best for Iturtians. I promise to uphold the Agreement of the peace council.”
The Iturtians did not move, but remained bowed in deference to their new leader. They accepted him, they honored him without question.
“Rise, Iturtians,” he said, and again felt a surge of power as they all did his bidding. “My first act as your Director is to appoint my Pit Warden. Tatparo, join me on the dais.”
Gemynd stepped back from the crenellations and pushed the Pit Warden branding iron further into the hot
coals as he waited for Tatparo to come up the stairs. He had not had to deliberate on who would be his Pit Warden. Tatparo was unquestionably the best man for the job.
“Remove your shirt,” Gemynd commanded Tatparo as he walked to middle of the dais. The young warrior did as he was told and Gemynd couldn’t help but notice how minimally scarred his skin was. His training had been brief and it showed.
Tatparo closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked to his left as he chewed on his bottom lip. Gemynd followed his line of sight and saw that it ended at Numa.
Without forethought, Gemynd wrapped his hand around Tatparo’s throat. “Why do you look to my wife for comfort?” he asked in a whisper next to Tatparo’s ear.
Tatparo shook his head. “No,” he squeaked past Gemynd’s firm grip. “My sister.”
Gemynd looked towards the stairway again and saw Toa peeking out from behind Numa’s skirt.
“Good,” Gemynd said, releasing Tatparo. “Remember this. As Pit Warden, your loyalty and devotion to me are paramount. The welfare of Iturtia depends on it. Now, with the peace council in place, the welfare of all of Todor depends on it. While I am the head, you are the neck. You support me and connect me to the body of the people.”
As Gemynd said the words, he felt a pang of sorrow in his heart. It would no longer be he and his father sharing this bond, this closeness.
“I will serve you and the people,” Tatparo said and placed his hands on his hips, bracing for the coming burn.
Gemynd lifted the branding iron from the coals and quickly set it upon Tatparo’s chest, not wanting to draw out his suffering. The smell of burning flesh was thick in the air again, but Gemynd noticed that it was a slightly different smell than that of his own flesh. Tatparo winced and clenched his jaw against the pain, but did not cry out nor pull away. He would be a fine Pit Warden indeed.
Once again, Gemynd turned to the crowd and was instantly flooded with another surge of power that ran through his entire body and then wound itself deep down in his belly, coiling tighter and tighter until there was nothing but raw tension there.
“Let us feast!” he shouted. As the crowd cheered and drums began their pounding, Gemynd turned to find Numa.
She still stood at the top of the stairway, waiting for him, and he crossed over to her in three long strides. Gemynd said nothing, but grabbed her arms and pushed her against the nearest wall, covering her mouth with his. He wanted to drink in every last bit of her.
“Take us to Nocturiya,” he demanded and kissed her again. He felt the change in the air before he even opened his eyes. They were alone in the full moon light of Numa’s special nighttime place. He took a small step back and saw that Numa had also dispensed with her clothing.
Gemynd smiled. “Put it back on,” he said. “I’ve been imagining taking that dress off of you all day.”
“As you wish,” she said mischievously, and was suddenly wearing the black gown again.
Gemynd untied the silver laces at her waist, trying to savor the anticipation, but the tension in his belly was becoming unbearable and threatened to loose itself like a bowstring held taut for too long.
Doing away with gentility, Gemynd took the neckline of Numa’s dress in his hands and tore it clear down to her lower belly. He shoved his hands inside of it, cupping and molding her breasts and dragging his fingers down her back.
Numa’s fingers were at his waistband, deftly untying his breeches. When they were open, she slid her hands inside and around to his buttocks, pushing the breeches down and his hips against hers.
Gemynd started to lay her down onto the soft grass next to the river, marveling that Numa had once again dispensed with her now-torn dress and replaced it with a thick blanket beneath her back. She opened her legs in welcome and Gemynd was inside of her before they’d even reached the ground.
Although he couldn’t see it, Gemynd could feel Numa’s Lifeforce vibrating, pulsing within her and around her. Like the moonlight itself, Numa’s Lifeforce washed over Gemynd and bathed him in its power. As he moved his hips above her, she arched her back and dug her fingernails into his skin. She was climaxing already. She had wanted this, needed it, just as badly as he. Gemynd closed his eyes and let himself succumb to perfect release.
He held Numa in his arms for several moments afterward, just feeling her warmth and beauty. He knew he could not stay there for long, as the forest would begin to play tricks with his mind, but for now he was blissfully content.
“I am the wife of the Director,” Numa said and smiled.
Gemynd looked at her and smiled back. “It sounds strange, doesn’t it?” he asked.
“I like it,” she replied with a wicked gleam in her eye. “Besides, now that you are Director, it is one step closer to fulfilling my vision of Todor.”
Gemynd couldn’t help but remember what his father had said about the peace council failing. “I am committed to your vision,” he said to Numa. “As I am committed to you, my wife. I so adore you.”
“Our love has been through so much,” Numa said, looking into his eyes. “But I believe now it is finally our time to live in love and peace. And even if that is not the case, I know now that I would never stop fighting for us. You are everything to me.”
Gemynd kissed her softly and rested his forehead against hers, fighting off a wave of sleepiness that began to overtake him.
“We should get back before we are missed,” Numa said. “And anyway, I’m famished. Let’s go see what kind of feast the people of Tolnick can put together.”
Numa brought them back to the city square and they climbed the stairway to the dais together, hand in hand. When they emerged onto the dais, Soman looked right at Gemynd and shook his head. “You just couldn’t wait, huh?” he said.
“I would not expect a Zobanite to understand that some things are more important than feasting,” Gemynd jested in reply.
“And I would not expect an Iturtian to understand that it is never necessary to choose one over the other,” Soman said with a wink.
The table in the center of the dais was already covered with tray after tray of food. Meats, vegetables, breads, and sweets were laid out from one end of the table to the other. “How long were we gone?” Gemynd asked, astonished that such a feast had been prepared already.
“Long enough,” Soman answered and took a seat in front of a tray piled high with roasted bird.
Gemynd looked around the dais and saw Keeper Sam and Keeper Fregman in conversation at one end and Archigadh and Molly in conversation at the other. There was now an odd number of people on the dais and a heaviness of sorrow pulled at Gemynd’s heart. He would have to choose a second now, and he knew the right choice was Tatparo. But how empty that dais would be without Golath.
“You miss your father already,” Numa said quietly, reading Gemynd’s thoughts.
“He has become more than a father to me,” Gemynd explained. “He is my friend, and he was my leader for a long time. It will take time for me to grow accustomed to not having his leadership.”
Numa kissed Gemynd lightly on the cheek. “I miss him, too,” she said. “Let us build a house right next to his, wherever he chooses to settle, so that when we are not in council, we can annoy him with our constant presence.”
Gemynd smiled at the thought of that. “That sounds wonderful,” he agreed.
“Gemynd, I wish to formally welcome you to the council and congratulate you on your elevation to Director,” Keeper Sam said, walking towards Gemynd with his hand outstretched.
Gemynd shook his hand, but pulled away quickly. He did not trust the childlike Keeper. There was a deviousness about him that made Gemynd’s blood run cold. “Thank you,” he said politely, then turned back to Numa.
“Would you like to sit and eat?” Numa asked as she walked to the table and sat down next to Soman.
Gemynd looked again at the food, realizing he had no appetite. His body had been through the flood, then the branding ceremony. His mind was still com
ing to terms with being the Director of Iturtia. It seemed there was far too much going on to be concerned with eating.
“Director Gemynd,” Archigadh said, having walked up beside him. “We have not yet truly spoken to one another. I was not pleased with your actions in Aerie, nor the pain you caused my son. But I have watched you closely today. I have seen the way you love that Empyrean lady and I have seen the way my son loves you. He has forgiven you. He considers you his brother. If he can do all that, then so can I. I am happy to have you on this council.”
“Thank you, Chief,” Gemynd said, feeling awed by both the size of the man and his generous spirit. “And I am grateful to you beyond words for saving my father and mother today. I shall endeavor to do all I can to keep peace in Todor.”
“That is all the thanks I need,” Archigadh said and patted Gemynd on the back, sending him several steps forward. “Now let us seal our new bond with food!”
Gemynd sat at the table next to Archigadh and took small bites of the food that was handed to him. It was hard to believe that only a few days ago, he and his father had been preparing to march through the tunnels to Zoban and make war. Now here he was, Director of Iturtia, sharing a meal with the Chief of the Zobanites on the eve of signing a peace council Agreement. How quickly everything could change!
It wasn’t long until the trays of food on the dais were empty. Music began in the city square below and Gemynd walked to the edge of the dais to look down upon the festivities.
The entire city square was packed with bodies moving in time to the drums. They looked like blades of grass in a meadow, bending and waving with the force of the wind.
“Let’s join them,” Numa said and Gemynd realized she could not hold her feet still.
He nodded at her and took her by the hand, leading her down into the crowd with Soman following.
“Like old times mixed with new,” Soman shouted over the music as they wove through the dancing bodies.
Gemynd looked more closely and realized that some of the bodies weren’t dancing at all, but were engaged in various stages of sex acts. Groups of four, five and more pulled one another’s clothes off and rubbed and writhed together. Trays of a strong drink were carried through the crowd for people to grab and consume at will.
Disintegration: The Todor Trilogy, Book Two Page 24