The Exile's Redemption (The Heart of a Tyrant Book 1)

by Reece Dinn

  Saima burst into tears.

  Part One

  Chapter One

  The Monster ran down the white stone hallway, sobbing as she went. Koma trailed after her, cursing through gritted teeth. Can she not go one day without having a hysterical fit? She huffed, the thought of having to provide comfort to the abomination once again made her sick to her stomach. These savages are against men lying with men, but are happy for brother and sister to copulate and create incestuous monsters like this crying bitch.

  The Monster burst through the doors to her chambers at the end of the hall and threw herself onto the pink and yellow duvet that covered her bed. She grabbed a pillow and buried her face into it.

  Koma checked to see if they'd been followed. There was no one around, unless she included the large oil paintings of the previous Sabans hanging from the walls, all of them looking down the hall to the Monster crying on her bed. Koma almost felt ashamed for them, ashamed that the Monster was to succeed them one day. They created the laws that allowed her to be born. They've only themselves to blame. She closed the wooden chamber doors behind her as she entered, then locked the door. The guards haven't caught up yet. Good. Gives us time to clean her up.

  The Monster was still crying.

  I'm going to have to reapply her make-up. Again. Why couldn't I have been one of Lerama's handmaidens?

  Reluctantly, Koma moved over to the bed and placed a couple of fingertips on her back, stroking her a little, fighting down the sudden nausea touching another person brought her.

  'There, there,' she said, trying to sound as soothing as she could, but the words felt unnatural in her throat. She'd much rather have grabbed her by the hair and forced her face into the pillow until she suffocated. If only. 'Your father's body has been returned to the world now. His spirit back with the gods. He'll come back, one day. There's no need to cry.' You'll be joining him soon enough.

  Koma had to admit that for a savage Saban Lomobu had been a decent ruler. He'd ended a war that would have had no victor, and brought some wealth and stability to the country. He had married his sister and created this abomination, but then no one was perfect. The man had always been dignified and composed in every thing Koma had seen him do. If she could ever respect a savage, it would have been him. He's dead now. This Monster's mother will rule until she comes of age. Hopefully this land will be burnt to a crisp before then. Koma smirked to herself.

  'They did it,' the Monster sobbed, peeling her face off the pillow, the pink pillow covered in her make-up, the impression left in it looking like an abstract self-portrait, an improvement in Koma's eyes. The Monster was like an abstract painting herself, with those uneven eyes and gaunt, almost skeletal face, that little nose that was so small you could barely call it one.

  'Who did what?' asked Koma, removing her hand from the Monster's bony back.

  'They killed father,' the Monster squealed.

  'Who?'

  'Mother and Paulu.'

  'The Socrae-al?' She's actually lost her mind this time. The stupid bitch. Gods, kill me now. 'Your father died of a burst appendix, Sabu. What makes you think this?' Koma tried to talk soothingly, but even to her ear it sounded condescending.

  'They were smiling at each other,' the Monster squealed again.

  'So?' The day I kill you will be the happiest day of my life.

  'He stroked her hand.'

  'They were fucking,' said Koma, doing her best to hide a smirk.

  The Monster screeched and buried her face back into the pillow. Damn it. She's going to ruin that beautiful self-portrait she made. Koma resisted the urge to push her head deeper into the pillow. Her mother would thank me. She could have children with the Socrae-al. Healthy children. Good heirs. She remembered her orders, killing members of the Saban's family was not one of them, unfortunately. If I made it appear an accident the Dragon Shadows would never know.

  The Monster cried for an age. Koma was almost impressed by the sheer amount she could produce. She must have cried her weight in tears by now. Eventually, the Monster lifted her head. The make-up portrait on the pillow was a smeared mess now.

  'I know it sounds ridiculous,' said the Monster. 'But I'm right. They took my father from me so they can be together. I know it.'

  Your father was sleeping with one of the maids. A pretty one too. I really don't think he cared who your mother was seeing. They each must have known that their partner was cheating on them. I just assumed they didn't care. The thought of sex made her skin crawl at the best of times, let alone imagining savages copulating.

  Koma rose from the bed and went to sit on the stool by the night stand, the stand littered with half empty bottles of perfume, pale brown make-up powder, a bottle of soft red lipstick with the thin brush still in it, and various brushes with bits of the Monster's hair stuck in them. The long mirror on it was smeared with make-up too. Koma leaned back against the cold, white stone wall and folded her arms, trying to calm herself, so that when she spoke next her voice might actually sound soothing. She knew that there was little chance of it, but it was her job to try.

  'My Sabu. I don't mean to discredit you,' said Koma. 'But this isn't the first idea you've had that could be considered,' how can I put this, 'outlandish.'

  'Like what?' the Monster snapped, the forehead of that skeletal face creasing into a frown.

  'Like the time you were certain one of the guards was going to come into your room to try and,' Koma forced herself not to say fuck, 'sleep with you. Or when you thought the sky was going to fall down and kill us all.'

  'That could still happen,' she snapped, wiping the tears from all down her, now red, face. The tears had left trails through what remained of her make-up.

  'No it won't,' said Koma, firmly.

  'It might.' The Monster's disgusting hand poked out of her robe for a moment and Koma did her best to stay composed, as she always had to. Whenever she even saw that deformity she felt sick to her stomach. Near every time she had to dress, or undress her, that hand would come near her, or even sometimes touch her. That shrivelled up, black little hand with the twisted fingers, would touch her skin, and it was all she could do not to vomit. What made it worse was that she had to pretend to not be bothered by it. Being touched by that hand was the worst thing she'd ever experienced.

  'Either way,' Koma continued. 'This isn't the first idea you've had that could be wrong. You have to admit it is a bit far fetched.'

  'Far fetched?' Another tear ran down the Monster's hideous face, threatening another fit of tears.

  Maybe I'm approaching this the wrong way. She hates her mother. Should I indulge this? I could push her over the edge. Who knows what she will do if she's pushed. This might be fun.

  'Maybe you're right,' said Koma, after a moment's consideration. 'It's far fetched. But, I suppose it isn't impossible.'

  The Monster's big, sunken eyes widened. 'You believe me?'

  Someone knocked on the door.

  'Hold on,' said Koma. She rose and went to the door, unlocked then carefully opened it, just enough so that she could poke her head through.

  It was a Saban's Guard, rifle resting against his shoulder. It was one she didn't recognise, though his face was so plain she wouldn't of.

  'What is it?' she asked, trying to sound pleasant, but knowing that she'd failed.

  'Doma Lerama demands that the Sabu return to the wake at once. The feast will begin soon.'

  'We're just changing her clothes, reapplying her make-up. We'll be down shortly.'

  The Guard grunted, then spun on his heels and marched back down the hallway, his white and yellow armour clinking as he marched away. Clink. Clink. Clink.

  Koma closed the door and locked it again. 'We need to get you redressed and reapply your make-up, Sabu,' she said. 'Your mother demands that you return to the wake.'

  'I don't take orders from that whore,' the Monster snapped.

  'For now, my Sabu, you must go down and finish this day. Give your father the wake he deserves
.'

  At the mention of her father she perked up a little. She nodded and got up off the bed, then began to undress. At the sight of the deformity, and her skeletal figure Koma turned away, heading over to the big, brown wooden wardrobe to pick out something else for her to wear. She looks awful in everything. But it's better than her being naked. Gods, she looks like a starved street urchin. The wardrobe was full of dresses and robes, from brightly coloured ones to white, grey and black ones. She picked a white dress that seemed appropriate for a funeral, it had little flower patterns at the bottom of it, but still managed to be understated. There'd been a girl in a pink dress at the funeral itself and no one had said anything to her, despite the bright colours being very inappropriate. Koma almost admired the girl for it. The dress would do.

  The Monster stood naked, waiting to be dressed. Why can't these people dress themselves? Does everyone have people to dress them? Back home there were slaves, but even we dress ourselves. Koma struggled to imagine the people in the lower tiers of the city having servants. She hadn't spent much time down there, in fact she'd only been down half a dozen times in the past two years. She'd not ventured any further than the Noble Tier since then. Even that had been bad enough. Far too many savages for her liking.

  Struggling not to cringe, Koma dressed her, doing her best to look at her as little as possible. 'That looks good on you,' she forced herself to say. The dress was a loose fit, which hid the Monster's bony body well. She picked out a white glove from the top of the wardrobe that matched the dress. The glove was hard and made to look like an actual hand, the same size as a normal one. Why they didn't just force her to wear it at all times Koma could only wonder. The Monster put the glove on and instantly Koma felt better now that that it was out of sight. She had the Monster sit down on the stool while she did her make-up, not taking particular care at what she was doing.

  'You need proof,' said Koma, as she began to dust the Monster's cheek.

  The Monster's eyes widened again. 'Proof?'

  'You have to be sure that they did kill your father. Until you do you can't say anything. You have to hide your suspicions.'

  The Monster thought about this for a moment, then her face shifted in a way that seemed akin to realisation. 'I'll get proof then. How do I do that?'

  Gods, even for a savage you're stupid. You can't help it, I suppose, being an abomination. 'Pretend you're a Konar investigating a murder. What do you do?'

  'Arrest everyone you suspect?'

  She has a point there. Koma shook her head. 'Your father died of a burst appendix, yes?'

  The Monster nodded, her eyes suggesting she didn't like where this was going.

  'So the first thing you need to do is find how someone could make someone's appendix burst. A poison, maybe. That's where I'd start.'

  'Poison. Yes. That's what they did. They poisoned him.' Her voice rose as she became excited. Then her eyes began to tear again.

  'No, stop. You'll ruin your make-up.' Koma wiped the tears out of the Monster's milky eyes, her stomach twisting as she touched that slimy face. If I have to do this again I'll cut these weird eyes out of your head. 'Listen. Until you prove it, you don't know that they poisoned him. Once you've found a poison that can do it, the next thing you do is find a merchant who sells the poison, and find out who he, or she, has recently sold some to. Understand?'

  The Monster nodded, one of her cheeks rubbing against the brush covered with powder, darkening that cheek more. Koma was about to correct it so the other cheek matched, but decided she couldn't be bothered.

  'What do we do after that?' the Monster asked.

  'We'll get to that when we have evidence. For now, find the proof. While you do that you need to pretend that you know nothing. Your mother can never know. Understand?'

  'Yes.'

  Koma spun her around to face the mirror, picked up the first brush she could reach, and brushed the Monster's thin brown hair. She'd no idea why there was a need for so many different sized brushes. She just used whichever came to hand first, they all seemed to work. While she brushed Koma imagined stabbing her through the throat with the sharpened hairpin she wore. One cut. That's all it would take. Then I'd be free. She knew though that she wouldn't be. The Ragi would punish her, and the worst thing that could happen was to incur their wrath. It'd make the hell she lived in now seem like a picnic in the conquered heavens.

  After an age the Monster was ready. She examined Koma's work in the mirror for a few seconds, then nodded in satisfaction. She made to leave.

  'Just remember,' said Koma, opening the door for her. 'Regardless of what she's done, your mother loves you, and always will.'

  The Monster hissed, her skeletal face twisting in anger. She attempted to stomp out the room and down the hall, but her frail legs and feet barely made a sound as she went.

  Koma chuckled quietly to herself and followed after her, closing the doors to the chambers behind her.

  Chapter Two

  Awon hefted the sack of meat over his shoulder and barged out of the butcher's shop. The sweet scent of the flowers that lined the road wafted up his nose, masking the smell of shit from the open toilet next door. The street was quiet, out of respect for the Saban. His death had hit people hard, those that cared anyway.

  'Don't gamble my money away on those stupid fights on the way home, you hear me?' his father shouted from the back of the shop.

  Awon sniggered, his father knew him well. 'We'll see,' he shouted back.

  'Don't play with me, son.'

  'Fuck yer gonna do about it?'

  Awon headed up the cobblestone street towards the main road, passing by Camon's Grocery Store. He couldn't resist perusing the ripe, colourful fruit on display outside the old man's shop. The dregi fruit in particular looked good today, he loved the taste of the small yellow fruit's sweet juice, the thought of it made him lick his lips. The shop's interior was devoid of people, but full of various fruits and vegetables. Nothing exotic, Old Camon bought cheap and sold cheap, a local man for local people he advertised himself as. Awon grabbed a dregi.

  'You better be paying for that, you little shit,' snarled Old Camon. The old man hung out of an upstairs window, his thinning beard drooping down. The wooden panels of the shop creaked beneath his bulk.

  'Wasn't plannin' on it,' said Awon. He bit into the fruit, juice dribbling down his chin.

  'You'll pay for that right now or I'll be having words with your father again.'

  Awon shrugged. 'Here.' He threw the fruit up to the old man. It struck him on the nose, bounced off the side of the shop and landed in the middle of the street.

  'When I get my hands on you boy you'll wish you'd never been born,' the old man snarled.

  'Fuck yerself. Gotta go. Thanks fer the fruit.' Awon spun on his heels and continued up the street. Old Camon shouted angrily after him, but he'd stopped listening. No doubt the old man would go to his father and get him to pay for it anyway. Awon struggled to see what the problem was.

  Already the sack was digging into his shoulder, his lean arms and back aching, his sandy blonde hair matted with sweat already. The sack hadn't seemed so heavy when he'd picked it up. He heaved it higher up his back, nearly stumbling forward, his slender frame struggling under the weight of it.

  The street was lined with little blue flowers, their petals bright in the late morning light. Awon kicked them up whenever he stumbled close to one, enjoying watching the flower heads snap off the stems, the flies buzzing around them shooting away in different directions. A portly woman brushing the wooden porch of her home shook her head in disapproval when their eyes met. Awon kicked up another one, smirked at her, then walked on, ignoring the dark look she shot him.

  The main road was surprisingly busy. Carts of goods moved up and down it, though mainly up, Awon lived near to the eastern city wall, were there were barely any big businesses, or much of anything really.

  He nearly stumbled into a cart full of something vile smelling. He gagged and tried to hu
rry past to get upwind of it. The bearded man riding upfront nodded to him, then whipped the trobaams pulling the cart to go faster. The big, bulky, white furred animals moaned, but made no effort to speed up.

  Karrons perched on the rooftops, screeching at one another from across the road. The small, black feathered creatures surveyed the road, waiting to pounce on any discarded food like starved homeless people. Their scrunched up faces and beady yellow eyes made most people uneasy, but Awon never understood why, they were so feeble looking. One punch would knock them out. They were no threat, not even from the air.

  On his right the city rose up the mountainside like giant white stone steps covered in buildings, green vines and colourful flowers. At the top was the Saban's palace, looking like a mountain's peak on a clear day. White rock mountainside surrounded the city on three sides, looming over everything, dominating the sky, except to the left where, beyond the city walls, a vast green plain stretched out to the horizon.

  Awon grunted under the weight of the sack. The road was paved with smooth white stone, which made his journey easier. Many other people carried sacks of things too, or large bundles, or pulled small carts along behind them, or walked alongside diplanes that carried their goods for them, the red furred diplanes' small frames shaking under the weight of their burdens. Awon resisted the urge to kick their legs out from under them as he passed them by, feeling enough empathy that he knew it was too cruel to be funny.

  Up ahead the news reader stood on a stone block, delivering the daily news, clothed in a typical newsreader's grey cloak. A small throng of people surrounded him, although his big, booming voice carried far and wide. Sometimes, on a quiet day Awon could hear him from his bedroom.

  '..have gathered for the state funeral of Saban Lomobu. Today has been declared a day of mourning. All temple activities, other than those associated with the state, have been suspended for the day. If you need to see a Koku, you may do so tomorrow. In other news..' Awon stopped listening as he carried on down the road.