Upon a Burning Throne

by Ashok K. Banker

  “Minister Vida, it is such an honor,” Kune said, bowing low in greeting.

  “Actually, it’s just Councilman Vida,” Vida corrected him. “Although I have no objection to being invited to join the chamber of ministers, if you’re offering!” He tittered nervously, cursing himself for the slip. Vidu, be on your guard, this is not a friend!

  Kune looked at him solemnly. So riveting was his focus, so flattering his attentiveness, that even Vida felt the magnetism of his charm. No wonder half the men and women in the Upper City wanted to take this man to bed! Just having him look at you that way was enough to make anyone feel a little weak at the knees, man or woman.

  “We shall just have to see to that, then, shan’t we?” Kune said. “A man of your considerable talents deserves to be at the very top. Yes, of course, we’ll make it happen.”

  Vida was taken aback by the sheer confidence, the brazen assurance with which Kune spoke of moving him up the hierarchical ladder. “Um, well, yes, of course, I’m flattered, but, I hope you know I was just making a joke!”

  Kune smiled with his lips closed, his hair curling over his forehead adding a certain enigma to the expression. “Vida, Vida, my good man Vida . . . there are only three kinds of people in this world. Do you know what they are?”

  “Krushan, mortals, and animals?” Vida said, then immediately began to giggle uncontrollably at his own joke. He stopped himself abruptly. Get a hold of yourself, Vidu. He could see how this man was already gaining such a reputation: Vida’s tastes favored only women, but he could well imagine the kind of impact Kune must have on men who went with men or enjoyed the company of any gender.

  Kune didn’t acknowledge Vida’s comment: not a flicker in his eyes nor a twitch of his face muscles. He continued to look at Vida till he stopped tittering and straightened his own face.

  “Sorry,” Vida said, self-conscious now. “I tend to make silly jokes when I’m nervous.” There. You just apologized to him and admitted you’re nervous. Great, Vidu. You’re impressing him by leaps and bounds. Get a hold of yourself!

  Kune raised a hand gently. He had large, smooth hands, Vida noted, beautifully shaped and manicured fingers. He was, in fact, the complete opposite of the cliché archetype of a Geldran. The ones Vida had met so far were all rough-edged, gruff, bearded men who rarely bathed, dressed like steppes horsemen in winter, and lacked even the most basic etiquette and social graces. Kune, in contrast, was a stone god with the manners of a Krushan aristocrat. A startling combination.

  “May I?” Kune asked politely.

  Vida blinked, unsure what he was being asked. “Um, of course, sure.” He hoped he hadn’t just given Kune permission to slap him. A direct blow from that large, strong hand would probably knock him halfway across the chamber.

  Kune placed his raised hand on Vida’s shoulder with surprising gentleness. He kept it there the way a brother or close friend would. It reminded Vida of the way Shvate and Mayla touched him on the shoulder while talking. Except that Shvate’s grip was strong enough to hurt, and Mayla was more likely to slap or punch than actually touch—and she was almost as strong as Shvate. Kune touched his shoulder with great care, while making it seem flattering and intimate. Vida was aware that several pairs of eyes were watching both him and the Geldran now, no doubt burning with curiosity to know what they were discussing. He found himself greatly flattered by the intense attention he was receiving from this man, and realized that the hand on the shoulder was a shrewdly calculated move designed to suggest they were already far better acquainted than they actually were. To those watching, it would seem like they were old friends and allies. While the truth was they had only just met for the first time, and if anything, Vida would assume they were on opposite sides of any political divide, since his personal loyalty lay firmly with Shvate, whereas Kune’s lay with Geldry. With a flash of insight, he realized that was the very reason Kune was doing this: he wanted everyone watching—which was basically everybody who mattered in the Council—to assume that they were friendly, perhaps even allies. To paint the picture he wanted them to see, rather than the real picture.

  “There are three kinds of people in this world, Vida,” Kune repeated, still acting as if Vida hadn’t spoken at all. “Doers, talkers, and obstacles.”

  Vida raised his eyebrow. He couldn’t help it. Another retort sprang to mind, but he bit it back. Despite the politically savvy part of him knowing exactly what Kune was doing, another part of him—the bookish, scholarly part of him—admired how he was doing it. The Geldran was demonstrating power, familiarity, and influence, all in a single visual tableau. He—the brother-in-law of Crown Prince Adri, soon to be king—posing with the chief advisor of Adri’s only political rival, Prince Shvate, in an apparently friendly private conversation about, presumably, some important matter of administrative or imperial significance.

  Kune used his other hand to point to himself, then flicked it to indicate the room in general, and finally pointed a finger at Vida and looked questioningly at him. He didn’t say anything further. Just locked eyes with Vida and smiled slowly; the smile of the leopard preparing to feast. Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone, the impression of his fingers still lingering on Vida’s shoulder, the impression that his powerful personality and presence and shrewd political tactic had made on Vida’s mind stamped permanently.

  That’s one to watch out for, Vida told himself. He had a powerful urge to dust off his shoulder but resisted. Everyone was watching him now. Every single person in the chamber. Kune’s shrewdly calculated tactic had been a complete success.

  Kune

  “Sister.”

  Geldry looked up with a delighted expression. The eyeband on her face concealed her eyes, but the smile on her face was clearly visible. “Brother! When did you return?”

  “Just this minute. I came straight to you.”

  Geldry rose to her feet with a considerable effort. She had to push down on the bed and keep her feet splayed wide, then take the support of two maids: only then was she able to gain her footing. Both maids continued to support her, holding her elbows while standing behind her, as if presenting her. Kune accepted the present, turning his cheek to air-kiss his sister on one, then the other cheek. He had to bend from the waist to do it because of the considerable impediment.

  He looked down at her swollen belly. “What do you have in there? A whole flagon of wine?”

  “I wish!” she said sourly, making a face. “Then I could simply drain it out. The damn thing just keeps growing and growing. I feel like I’m going to burst any day.”

  She struck her belly with her clenched fist, the frustration and anger visible in the force she used. The action threatened her balance, and the maids had to use all their strength to keep her from toppling sideways, crying out in horror at her actions. Their distress was contrasted with her utter lack of maternal consideration. Though she had been like this for weeks, they could not comprehend any mother-to-be behaving so brutally toward her unborn child. The word around the palace was that Geldry had gone insane.

  Kune stepped in close and slipped his arm around her waist, grasping her tightly. He caught hold of her opposite arm and jerked his head at the maids. “Leave us.”

  The maids continued to stare at him—whether to make sure he meant it or because they were so enamored of his looks, it was hard to say. One maid blushed and smiled when his hand inadvertently touched her fingers.

  Kune’s grey eyes narrowed as he looked at the maid.

  “Out.”

  The single word was like a slap. The maid lost her smile and left the room at once. The other maid retreated, bowing, and left as well.

  Kune put both his arms around his sister and helped her sit on the bed again. She heaved a sigh of frustrated relief as she was seated without mishap.

  “I feel like an elephant!” she said. “Look at how heavy I’ve become! I can barely stand, let alone walk. I haven’t left this bedchamber in months.”

  Kune
walked over to the bedside table and picked up a silver cup. There were juice and water beside it. He poured some juice and brought the cup over to Geldry.

  “Here, sip some juice,” he said.

  Geldry’s eyes flashed at him, and she struck the cup from his hand. Juice splattered everywhere, some of it landing on Kune’s face, arm, and his spotless white anga garment. The silver cup clattered on the marble floor, rolling noisily all the way across the chamber till it struck the base of a statue of the great Krushan ancestor, Yayati.

  “I guess you aren’t thirsty, then,” he said, with no hint of anger.

  “Juice? Really, Kune?” She waved in the direction of the wine jug across the chamber. “Get me wine! I need wine, not juice.”

  “Sister, in your present state, you can barely stand even when sober. Wine isn’t a good idea.”

  She picked up a small pillow and threw it at him. He caught it easily in one hand. “That’s the whole point. I can’t walk anyway. I can barely stand. All I do is sit and lie down all day and night. I may as well drink wine! I may as well get stinking drunk. What difference will it make?”

  Kune raised his eyebrows at her volume and her tone. He shrugged. “When you put it that way . . .” He walked over to the jug of wine and poured a cup. He walked back and offered the cup to Geldry. She snatched it from his hand so roughly, a third of the wine spilled, splashing on the floor and on the bedclothes.

  Geldry gulped down the wine in a single swallow. She held the cup out to Kune. “More!”

  Kune looked at her without any expression.

  Geldry shook the cup at him, shouting, “MORE WINE NOW!”

  Kune didn’t take the cup from her. He walked over to the jug and picked it up. It was a heavy jug, filled with at least two liters of wine, the jug itself weighing as much as its contents. He held it with one hand, easily. He brought the jug over to the bed and held it out in a pouring angle. Geldry raised the cup and Kune filled it with wine.

  Geldry drank again, greedily, wine spilling from her lips and trickling in red rivulets down the sides of her jaw and neck, staining her garments.

  She finished the cup and held it out again.

  Kune filled it a third time without comment.

  She drank it down less hurriedly this time, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, no longer looking as harried. “I needed that. I needed that so badly, I can’t tell you. Adri forbade the maids from giving me any wine because I happened to have had a little too much and slipped and fell. Once! I fell once! He acted like it was a national calamity. The only reason that jug is even here in the chamber is because I told him that I must have some on hand for the times when you visit. He’s such a hypocrite. He himself quaffs wine by the skin, and he’s blind! But he suddenly decides that I can’t have any. Who gave him the right?”

  “He is going to be emperor of Hastinaga soon,” Kune said.

  Geldry raised her head at a sharp angle, frowning above the eyeband. “Are you being sarcastic?”

  “I’m simply stating a fact. He’s crown prince now. He’s going to be emperor. The auspicious date has been set already by the pundits.”

  Geldry’s mouth twisted in a mutation of a smile. “I don’t give a damn what he does. He can go directly to Nrruk, for all I care. He doesn’t have to sit in this wretched bedchamber all day and suffer like I do. He’s off gallivanting with his whore.” Suddenly, her hand arched back, and she threw the cup forcefully enough to strike a porcelain vase filled with rare white orchids.

  Kune bent his head to move it out of the trajectory of the cup. The vase shattered, spilling perfumed water and expensive flowers. Kune glanced at it as he straightened himself. “I guess you won’t be needing more wine, then,” he said. He started to walk back to the table to replace the jug.

  “I hate that man!” Geldry said, snarling the words. She hawked and spat a wine-colored gob of phlegm on the polished marble floor.

  “He is your husband,” Kune said as he set the jug of wine down. “And the soon-to-be ruler of the world’s most powerful empire.”

  Geldry spat again.

  “I see that things are not rosy hued between you and Adri.” Kune walked over to a carved wooden chair, picked up one end, the muscles on his back working, and set it down near the bed. He sat down on the chair, making himself comfortable.

  “What do you expect?” she asked harshly. “He’s off whoring with his mistress, never here with me. And I’m stuck carrying this . . . this thing.” She struck herself on the belly again.

  “When is it due?” he asked. “I thought when I was here last you said it ought to come in the winter, but winter’s come and gone, and it’s early spring now. Isn’t it late?”

  “Late?” she repeated, then grunted. “It’s much more than late. I think it’s dead!”

  “That’s a little harsh. Why would you say that?”

  “Because it doesn’t move, it doesn’t kick, nobody can seem to hear a heartbeat; I’ve asked five different maids and wet nurses to listen, and they say all kinds of comforting things, but none of them are able to find its heartbeat. It hasn’t moved once since I became pregnant. Not once in over a year! How is that possible? And it feels solid, like a lump, not like a child, a living thing.”

  “And yet you said it grows. It does grow, doesn’t it? It looks much larger than when I was here some months ago.”

  “Yes, it grows and grows. I don’t know how much bigger it can possibly grow. I can’t carry it anymore. I can’t do this anymore. Kune, do something. Help me get rid of it.”

  “Get rid of it?”

  Kune rose to his feet, looking alarmed, and sat by his sister on the bed. He took her hands in his hands. “Don’t speak like that, Geldry. There are maids always about. That kind of talk will spread faster than you can control it. People will look at you as a traitor to the Krushan race. It is treason to want to abort an heir to the empire!”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Kune, I don’t know what to tell you. My body hurts. My head hurts. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t walk. My husband has left my company to spend his days and nights with a whore of a maid. My belly is weighed down with a lifeless lump that keeps growing. I can’t take it anymore. Please, do something.”

  “What would you have me do?”

  “Anything! First, give me more wine.”

  He patted her hands. “Let’s hold off on the wine for a while. Geldry, you’re pregnant and overdue, it’s a trying time. But think of it. Soon, you’ll deliver the child, the heir to the Burnt Empire. Adri will be crowned emperor, and you will be empress by his side. You will rule alongside him, over the greatest empire in the known world. Think about that. What power! What wealth! The world will lie at your feet!”

  “And my husband will lie down with a maid, and the whole world will know it!” she said. She was crying now. “Think of my shame and my sorrow.”

  Kune nodded slowly. “That must stop. It’s true, kings and monarchs have always enjoyed the freedom of conjugal rights with whomever they pleased. Even the great and honorable King Ratha of Aranya had three legitimate wives, and three hundred and fifty concubines. He was in the palace of the concubines when he summoned Amara to inform him about his exile.”

  “Shut up about your old legends and fairy tales,” Geldry said, wiping her nose and cheeks on his chest, staining his anga garment further. “Go fetch me more wine and tell me you’ll do this much for me.”

  “Do what for you?” he asked. But he got up and went over to fetch the wine jug and another cup.

  “Kill that maid,” she said, showing him her teeth. “Kill her and make sure that Adri never looks at another woman ever again.”

  He stopped short, holding the wine jug and the cup.

  He smiled, the smile transforming his face, lighting it up.

  Geldry raised her hand and removed the eyeband from her face. “Why the hell should I wear this anymore? I’m the fool to play the good wife while he’s off doing as h
e pleases.” She threw it aside.

  Blinking, she looked up at Kune’s face, squinting and frowning to adjust to the light. “You look like you just thought of something clever. As handsome as ever, brother. Come here. Give me that.”

  He came over, handing her the cup and pouring out more wine for her. She sipped it more leisurely this time, still frowning up at him. “So? What do you say? Will you do what I said?”

  He grinned at her. “Sister, my sister. Have I ever refused you anything before?”

  She sipped wine and smiled back at him.

  Adri

  Adri lay his head down and pressed his ear on the swollen belly. He listened intently for a moment, then smiled. “I hear it,” he said with delight, “I hear the heartbeat. It is so loud, so strong, so quick!”

  His smile faded, and he raised his head, peering blindly. “Is it supposed to be so quick? It sounds much too fast for a heartbeat!”

  Sauvali smiled down at him, caressing his head gently, ruffling his hair. “Silly, baby’s heartbeats are always faster than grown people’s heartbeats.”

  “Oh,” he said, “I didn’t know that.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know, Adri of Hastinaga.”

  “That is why I depend on you to teach me, Sauvali of Saugadha,” he said.

  The breeze from the Jeel was gentle and fragrant with the perfume of spring blossoms. They were lying in the shaded pavilion. Their attendants stood at a respectful distance, far enough to give them privacy, close enough to hear should they call. The majority of the servants, maids, cooks, and guards were eating their meals now that Adri and Sauvali had finished eating. The guard contingent was considerable now and seemed to increase each time they left Hastinaga. Adri knew it was because of the impending crowning ceremony, but it still felt like they were under siege. Still, it was a small price to pay to get away from Hastinaga and all its cares, and especially from Geldry.

  But you won’t think about her now, Adri, you promised yourself. Thinking about Geldry only makes you angry. Don’t spoil this beautiful spring afternoon with your lover.