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

by Reece Dinn

  Chapter Nine

  A red carpet lined with golden thread ran across the white stone floor of the hall, leading up the steps to the Saban's Seat at the top. The Saban's Seat was a large, gold painted wooden bench covered with red velvet cushion. Lerama was seated upon it, her back straight, hands loosely resting on her thighs. Her long silver dress draped her body, reaching down to her ankles. She wore her blonde hair in a bun, with two long, decorative silver hair pins criss-crossed through it.

  The Monster stood beside her, dressed in a shiny white and orange gown. She stole a glance at her mother, doing a poor job of hiding her resentment.

  On the step below, to the right of the carpet, stood the Qotan, dressed in his usual faded, tattered robe. The man looked more like a homeless person every time Koma saw him. On the next step below him, but on the opposite side, stood the Socrae-al. The man's armour gleamed almost as much as his teeth did, as always. Next step down, but on the Qotan's side of the carpet, stood Shonmu, looking as smug as ever. Other Tekans from other cities lined the carpet on the steps. Most of these Tekans hadn't been at Lomobu's funeral, the distance too great to travel in time, but they'd made it in time for this.

  At the foot of the steps stood the Nobans of Denistas, various Koku, and Lerama's mother. Lerama's mother was so old Koma was amazed she was still alive, her skin was so sagged and wrinkled that it looked like it'd flake away if touched. The woman was hunched, her chin almost level with her crotch, the two walking sticks she grasped the only thing keeping her upright. People should be killed before they reach such a decrepit age. It's pathetic.

  Koma, the other handmaiden's, and servants, lined the outer walls of the Saban's Hall, the servants dressed in their usual grey robes, handmaiden's in light blue. At the back of the hall, by the doors, sat the band of musicians, composed mainly of violinists and flute players.

  Everyone stood in silence waiting for the Koku-rai to enter.

  The Doma wasn't lying when she said it would be a small coronation. This is hardly the Emperor's Ascension. Koma locked eyes with the Monster for a second. She looked like she could burst into tears any moment. This is killing her inside. Good. The Monster looked away.

  The doors swung open and the band commenced playing. The violin's sharp notes mixed with the flutes created an grand, but elegant melody. The Koku-rai entered the hall, clutching a golden circlet. Slowly he walked down the carpet, all eyes on him. He nearly tripped on his light green robe as he passed by Lerama's old mother, who shot him a dark look.

  He ascended the steps carefully, but with little grace, the circlet he held clearly a burden for his weak arms. Please gods, let him collapse before he reaches the top. To Koma's disappointment he didn't, but he appeared exhausted by the time he climbed the last step. He waited a moment at the top of the steps to catch his breath, before turning to the gathered nobility below him. The band's melody ended, and the hall returned to silence.

  'Today, a new sun rises,' said the Koku-rai. 'We swear into office the next Saban. The people, and the gods rejoice, for a new era begins.' He walked around behind Lerama, and held the circlet over her head.

  He cleared his throat. 'Do you vow, Lerama of the Damna family, to serve the people of Predemagda? To honour, respect, and cherish them? To uphold their laws and traditions? To protect their land, and preserve it?'

  Lerama held her head high as she spoke. 'I do.'

  'Do you vow to the gods that you will serve them? To carry out their will? To honour and respect them?'

  'I do.'

  'Then, it is with great delight that I name you Saban of Predemagda. May your reign be peaceful and prosperous.' The Koku-rai placed the golden circlet on the newly named Saban's head.

  The assembled onlookers burst into applause, all except for Koma.

  Lerama's face remained passive, her eyes casually sweeping the room. It was only when her gaze fell on the Socrae-al that she smiled, even blushed a little. The Socrae-al beamed even more than normal, his teeth so white they made the white stone around him look dull by comparison.

  It was funny at first, but their little affair is nauseating now. The Monster remained composed, to her credit, clapping along with everyone else, forcing herself even to smile. Snap. Please. Kill her, then yourself.

  Koma stretched one of her legs that was cramping. She'd been standing for hours, the luxury of a chair denied to her. No doubt at dinner I'll stand at the back and watch them eat. Again. How do I do it? Must be the joy of knowing that they'll all burn soon.

  When the applause died down Lerama rose. 'My beloved people, you do me great honour. It is with a heavy heart that I take this appointment. I loved my husband-brother. His passing has been extremely difficult for me, and my daughter,' she motioned with her head to the Monster stood beside her. 'We shall mourn him for the rest of our lives, as will all of you, I'm sure. He was much loved, loved almost as much as he loved all of you. A great man, kind and wise, yet strong willed and courageous. If I am half the Saban he was then I know I will have done both he, and all of you, proud. Thank you.'

  Another round of applause, all clapping except Koma and Lerama's mother. Lerama's mother remained looking up at her daughter with a stony expression. Another family feud? Does her mother hate her as much as her daughter? Interesting. Does she suspect what the Monster suspects?

  Lerama motioned to the Monster to follow her and she descended the steps, thanking those she passed by, spending a little longer thanking the Socrae-al than the others. The Monster followed behind her, glaring at the back of her mother's head as she did.

  This is going to be an awful feast.

  Koma sighed in relief as she sat down on the stool in the mess room. The feast had been long and arduous, lots of congratulating, cheering, and people trying to get in the newly made Saban's good graces. It'd been tedious to watch, but nowhere near as bad as having to watch a room full of people eating delicious food. Koma had stood with the other handmaidens behind the Saban's table.

  Her stomach grumbled as servants brought in some of the leftovers from the feast. It all smelt good. Cuts of pink meat and green vegetables, creamy soup, crispy breads, juicy, ripe fruits of many colours, and purple pretis cake that made Koma's mouth water. She sat at the back of the room, at the small table by the window, away from everyone else. She'd seen enough people this day and had no desire to speak to another if she could help it. Putting her feet up on the empty stool beside her, she leaned back and rested her head against the wall. Will have to wait my turn. There better be some cake left for me though.

  Lerama's handmaidens sat near the front by the entrance, giggling with one another while chatting about nonsensical things, so Koma assumed. The cellar boys sat quietly, as always, at the table beside them. It was rare to see them up above ground, they preferred to remain with the wines and whatever else was down in those cellars. The promise of good food brought them up no doubt. The servants from the library and the treasury had joined them, the library servants dressed in light red, the treasury servants dressed in yellow. They too were rarely seen in the mess room, preferring to stay in their own groups. It's amazing how many cliques there are. They're practically slaves, yet from the way they act they seem to think they're free, valued people.

  Sanamu spotted her from across the room and waved enthusiastically to her. Koma looked away, turning her gaze to the sky outside the window. Don't come over. She closed her eyes, praying that he didn't. After a minute she opened them again and sighed with relief, he hadn't.

  The servants formed a queue for the buffet. Lerama's handmaidens were at the front, plates at the ready, inspecting the meat for reasons Koma could only guess at. Hope they choke on it. Or better yet get fat. Reluctantly she got up off her stool and joined the back of the queue, legs aching from being back on her feet.

  The servants swarmed over the buffet, picking everything clean. It was torture to watch, to be so close yet so far. Better be some left for me. She was so hungry she thought she might actually commi
t murder if she didn't get any cake.

  People's plates were piled high with food, bowls full to the brim with soup. They spilled as they each sat down, their plates and bowls so over filled.

  She reached the table. There was one plate left and no bowls. No soup for me then. The meat tray had been picked clean, only some fatty scraps around the edges remaining. There were some vegetables though, but without the meat they looked unappealing. She plucked the last of the bread from the basket, the ends of the loaves judging from their size, and some strange yellow fruit that she'd never seen before that no one else had taken. There's probably a reason for it. It'll have to do.

  She reached the tray where she'd seen the pretis cake. Crumbs were all that remained of it. Bastards, all of them. She threw her plate down and headed back to her table, glaring at everyone, and their food, as she past by.

  Sanamu had seated himself at her table. Why? Does he not take a hint? He had plenty of food with him, including an extra bowl of soup and a piece of pretis cake. He smiled when she sat down, and pushed both soup and cake to her.

  'Got these for you,' he said.

  'Thank you,' she said and tried to smile, but couldn't tell if she'd managed to or not. He's a kind boy, but the price will be that he'll want to talk. She reached over and grabbed a slice of bread from his plate, then dunked it in the soup.

  'Do you think Lerama will be a good Saban?' he asked.

  She ate and swallowed the whole slice, dunking it several more times in the soup, before she answered. 'No idea.'

  'I think she'll make a fine Saban. Only be a year or two, then the Sabu will be made Saban, am I right?'

  'I believe so.'

  'Will the Sabu be a good Saban? No one knows her better than you.'

  Koma shook her head. 'No. She'll make a terrible Saban. You'd be wise to kill her in her sleep while you still can.' She picked up her spoon and slurped down a mouthful of soup.

  Sanamu sat in silence for a moment, then laughed. 'Oh, Koma. You joker. I love your sense of humour.'

  He's sickening. Someone needs to teach him to be a man. 'I'm not joking.'

  'Okay then. I shall kill her tonight.' He chuckled, then resumed eating quietly.

  Koma glanced about as she ate. Olima stalked around the room, examining the servants as they ate, like she was appraising their worth. She should eat something. Put some meat on her bones. Add some colour to her complexion. She might get a man then. Might.

  'Did you hear about those farmers?' asked Sanamu, bringing her gaze back to him.

  'What?'

  'The farmers that were attacked by that purple mist?'

  Purple mist? She leaned forward. 'No, I haven't. What happened?'

  Sanamu's face became animated, his eyes shining with excitement. 'This purple mist just appeared out of nowhere, they say. It attacked one of their trobaams and the thing became wild. Killed half the herd before they managed to put it down.'

  'It became wild?'

  'Something about having red eyes, I think. Sounds scary.'

  'It does.' So this is what the Shadow was enquiring about.

  'I wonder what that mist is. Sounds scary,' said Sanamu.

  I wonder. The Shadow already knew about it. How? Has it appeared back home too? A mist that turns animals wild? Sounds ridiculous. The story must be over exaggerated. At least I have something to report to the Shadow though. She leaned back on the stool and gazed out of the window, watching the clouds drift across the sky.

  'You not going to eat your cake?' asked Sanamu. 'Thought it was your favourite?'

  'I haven't finished my soup yet,' she snapped, picking her spoon back up and eating some more.

  'Sorry.' Sanamu looked down at his food, a sad look on his face.

  Gods kill me. 'It's okay,' she said, trying to sound sweet, but somehow made herself sound condescending instead. She finished her soup and pulled the pretis cake to her. It does look good. She cut a piece off with her spoon and ate it. It was juicy and moist, the biscuit crumb underneath soft but a little crunchy.

  'Thank you for the cake,' said Koma, this time managing to make her voice sweet. 'It's delicious.'

  Chapter Ten

  'How's Helma settlin' in ter yer place?' Awon asked Ten lying on the roof beside him.

  Ten stared up at the night sky, arms behind his head. 'Well.' He sighed. 'Too well. She's rearranging all the stuff in my room. Tidied away all the clothes on my floor. Now I can't find anything. Have to sleep on the left of the bed instead of the middle, and she doesn't like to cuddle. And she eats all my food. I'm starving.'

  'You regrettin' stealin' 'er away?'

  Ten's face flushed. 'No. I love her.'

  'Yer jenni,' Awon joked, sitting up.

  The roof of the butcher's shop was their favourite place to hang out and chat. They usually stole some mugs of beer from the inn down the street to drink while they were up there, but Ten hadn't been in the mood.

  'The moons and stars are beautiful,' said Ten.

  'You turnin' into a girl?' sniggered Awon.

  'No. Just never appreciated 'em before. They're beautiful.'

  Awon looked up at the sky. Lorelai, the green moon, was the smallest, and appeared to be the furthest away of the two moons. Its emerald green light shone brightly, its surface clear and smooth, like a giant jewel in the sky. Renoma, the red moon, was bigger and closer. It moved faster across the sky than Lorelai, but wasn't as impressive to look at. Its light was a dull red, and it looked like it was covered in dust. There were several dents in it too, like someone had been throwing rocks up at it.

  'What are they?' asked Awon.

  'Which? The moons, or the stars?'

  'Both.'

  'The moons are meant to control the elements in some way. A Koku explained it in a sermon one time, wasn't really listening. Don't know about the stars.'

  'How they stay up in the sky?'

  Ten shrugged. 'Beats me. The gods hold 'em there, probably.'

  'And move 'em across the sky?' Awon mimicked grabbing a moon and moving it.

  'They must never be happy with where they are.'

  Awon clicked his fingers. 'Or maybe it's so we have a way of measurin' how long a moon's passin' is, and how long months are.'

  'Yeah. Never thought of that. But then why would they have a moon's passing where there's no moons in the sky?'

  'Ah.' Awon scratched his chin. 'Sometimes it's hard to sleep when the candle is still burnin', right? Maybe the gods hide the moons so that the animals out in the wilds can get some sleep.'

  Ten clapped his hands. 'Yes. You're always full of ideas.'

  'Someone has ter be.'

  'So when the gods just have Lorelai and Renoma in the sky, it's cos they don't want any one to sleep. Like tonight?'

  'Different animals must sleep better with different lights. So when both moons are out some animals sleep well. Then when jus' Lorelai is out animals that sleep well with green light get good sleep. So the next moon, when jus' Renoma is out, animals that like red sleep well. When no moons are out the ones that like the dark sleep. Simple.'

  'That's smart,' said Ten. 'But then why are there stars?'

  Awon shrugged again. 'So the gods can keep an eye on us, maybe.'

  'But the gods only control the elements.'

  'That's what the Koku say they do. Yer don't think gods wouldn't bother keepin' an eye on what goes on in the world, do you?'

  'I suppose. It'd be like a Saban not lookin' after his, or her, people,' said Ten.

  'Exactly.'

  'So the gods are pretty good really. Watchin' over us, and all.'

  Awon lay back down. 'Rather 'ave no one watchin' me. But we don't get ter choose.'

  'Guess not.'

  'Yer right though. They are beautiful, in a non-jenni kind of way.'

  'What are?'

  'Them.' Awon pointed to the sky.

  'Oh.'

  A loud bleating cry filled the night, startling Awon and Ten and ruining their trail of thought
. They both sprang up, looking for its source.

  'Came from over there, I think,' said Ten, pointing to a spot several streets over to the left.

  'Think so too. Sounds like a yegeyor,' said Awon

  'How can you tell?'

  Awon shot him a look. 'When did you ever hear a human make noise like that?'

  'Well, I don't...'

  Awon was on his feet. 'C'mon. Someone could be in trouble.'

  'But what if it's one of them hate mobs?'

  Awon grabbed Ten's arm and yanked him up to his feet. 'Then we stop 'em.'

  'They'll kill us.'

  'They'll kill whoever they're attackin' if we don't. What if it's Norox, or 'is family? C'mon.' Awon jumped off the roof, landing on the stairs outside the back of the shop, splintering the wood. Ten hung off the edge of the roof and dropped down gently, careful not to break the wood any more.

  'Awon,' said Ten. 'I don't think we should...'

  Awon bounded down the steps, ran around to the front of the shop, then sprinted away in the direction the cry had come from, not waiting for Ten. He'd come or he wouldn't. It made no difference really. The streets were empty, save for the burning torches illuminating them, but several people had come out of their homes to see where the cry had come from. No one ran to help though.

  He darted into a narrow side-street and nearly tripped over a stray domgas eating, or drinking, out of the gutter. The small furry creature was barely visible in the dim brown light of the two moons. The two small, furry tentacles on the dogmas' head twitched, and then it ran away. Awon spat at it as it fled, but his phlegm missed.

  Another cry, louder now, then another.

  Leaving the side-street he ran up the next one, this street full of shoddily built wooden houses, clearly a much poorer street than his, despite it only being the next street over. Not that he was living in luxury. Two fat men sat on stools outside one house drinking a bottle of whisky, or something that looked like it anyway. Neither man looked even remotely troubled by the cry they'd heard. They were probably munk haters too. The poorest usually were.