Lady of Drith

by Chad Huskins

  “Then what does make change?”

  Daedron was ready with an answer. “Leadership. Only benevolent leaders can enact positive changes. And that’s exactly what’s required right now, if we’re going to ride on this momentum of rebellion.”

  Drea raised an eyebrow. “We?”

  “Yes. You and I. Right now, those slaves are giving their lives and taking others, but it has no meaning. No permanence. And as soon as they start seeing the futility of their rebellion, their morale will slow, then stall. But, for the moment, their momentum is powerful. They’re using your name, and so we need to use them.”

  “How?”

  “As we discussed in the gameroom,” he said. “Our marriage. Our union. We combine our family’s resources and we make a bid for the Triumverate—after all, my uncle is dead, and there are now two vacancies. I could be that Triumvir.”

  Drea nodded. “If we wait, though, the formal leadership will reassert itself, and I will be condemned as a criminal.”

  “Yes! Now you begin to see! You will be executed in the Den of Beasts just like Halorax. Nothing will have changed.” He raised a finger. “Unless, of course, we dictate the narrative.”

  “You mean control what people are thinking.”

  “Yes.”

  Drea paced for a moment, thinking on it. It could work, she thought. It could.

  “We send out criers with a message,” she said. “We say that House Syphen recognizes that what Drea oda Syphen did was wrong, she should not have lashed out against the patriarch of House Syphen, but that her love for her former slave stirred her frail female emotions.”

  Daedron nodded approvingly. “Yes, play on your own perceived weaknesses. The horde will accept this.”

  “But then we add that it may have been the will of the gods that Drea oda Syphen did so, for she exposed that at least two of the Syphenus sisters were fell-sorceresses. Many witnesses can testify to their demonic powers. Even the priests and augurs can testify to this.”

  Daedron took a step towards her, smiling proudly. “The Ninth Precept. Excellent.”

  “Further,” she said, “we make it clear that, though Drea oda Syphen has Kalder blood in her veins and does sympathize with the slaves and their rebellion, she sees no reason that the protests cannot be orderly. Daedron Syphen, her husband-to-be, also condones the abolition of slavery, but condemns violence.”

  Daedron nodded. “We make it known that while I lament the loss of my adoptive uncle and my beloved sister, she was a fell-sorceress in secret, and my much beloved wife-to-be rescued Drith when she plunged the knife into Vaedris’s back.”

  Drea pointed at him. “That’s good. We could bounce off of that with, ‘And because two of the Syphenus sisters were clearly practitioners of Dark Arcana, we cannot be sure that the rest of the family can be trusted.’ ”

  Daedron made a face. He didn’t seem to like that part. “Are you sure about that?” he said. “It makes me sound guilty by association.”

  Drea waved her hand. “It doesn’t matter, because next we’re going to say, ‘Daedron Syphen has volunteered to remove himself from all political life. He will not pursue the Trials of Honor, and he will seek no political office. He has given his heart wholly over to his beloved Drea, who has humbled him, and softened his heart and made him see the plight of the slave caste.’ ”

  Daedron smiled again. “I see where you’re going with this. The demand from the slave caste and lower-class citizens will be for someone to represent their concerns on the Triumverate. They’ll want a Triumvir whose heart bleeds for them, especially as ‘humbled’ as you’ve inspired me to be. And by saying I seek no political office, it looks to the Senate like I have no aspirations to stand in their way. Therefore, the people elect me to the Triumverate—not me, and not the Senate.”

  But Drea wasn’t finished. “ ‘The Senate is the Law,’ we say. We make that clear. ‘We do not seek to dismantle the foundations of justice, for Loraci would forsake us if we were to do so. We recognize the Senate as the lawmakers. But we also understand that sometimes the Senate makes mistakes, and that it has been absent in acknowledging the plight of the slave caste.’ ”

  “That’s brilliant,” Daedron said. “It makes us appear sympathetic to both the Law and the slaves fighting for their freedoms.” A moment after he said it, though, his face took on a troubled look. “But that might not play well with the families of those nobles that have died tonight, not to mention all the families of Lictors and Rain Guards being killed as we speak. They will accuse us of politicizing the deaths of their loved ones.”

  Drea thought about that for a moment. Then, a spark of inspiration. “That’s fine,” she said. “We can actualy pivot off of that. Anyone that accuses us of politicizing the deaths of the oppressors, reveals themselves to be unsympathetic to the pent-up anger of a thousand years of slavery.” She smiled. “When you and I first met, and walked the Forum, you said to me that fear kept the slaves from revolting. ‘Fear of retribution from their masters.’ Now, we turn that around. The masters must fear another, bigger revolt.”

  Daedron nodded. “We could amend our message if we need to, and send our condolences to the families of all who died in the night, as well as all the slaves that have been mistreated since Drith began.”

  Drea nodded. “I like it. We can ask the nobles to mourn with us, and ask the slaves to cease all violence to recognize the mourning of the nobles, and to respect the gesture the nobles make.”

  “Which essentially makes the nobles choose their fate,” Daedron said.

  “Yes. They can either mourn alongside the slaves, and we can grieve together as Dritheans—”

  “Or they can stand with the way things are, and potentially face the wrath of their own slaves.” Daedron looked at her with fresh respect. “A veiled threat. You’re essentially telling the nobles that if they don’t seek peace and freedom, then the slave hordes, who follow your name, will be unleashed on them again.”

  “You said to use our current momentum,” she said. “And right now that momentum is dependent upon my name, which the slaves are using as a weapon.”

  At this point, Daedron took on a wary look. “That’s another problem we face. They’re doing violence in your name, and it can look like you were viciously inciting them.”

  “ ‘When Drea oda Syphen stood atop Lord Hiss’s back, she was only trying to wave the rioters to settle down.’ That’s how we’ll frame it. Of course, the slaves will know we’re just pivoting again, They’ll know my true purpose.”

  “How will they know?”

  “Because I’ll send Fengin and Kulisa to inform them,” Drea answered. “As well as the rest of the former slaves of House Syphen. I’ll manumit them all and let them spread my word of freedom. They’ll hear of how, if the Five-Year Law is passed soon, Drea oda Syphen intends to liberate all of House Syphen’s slaves. Only those that wish to stay and receive a monthly salary may stay.”

  “And what about indentured servants, like your friend Thryis?” Daedron asked. “They’re not the same as born slaves, they’ve been forced into servitude to pay off debts.”

  “They are to be paid fairer wages, so that their debts can be paid within five years. Let everyone know that it will be included in a secondary bill, to follow the Five-Year Law, which you will support with your family’s name. People will say, ‘If even Daedron Syphen can forgive the slaves their revolt in the aftermath of his uncle’s death, perhaps the rest of us ought to reconsider.’ And the ones who don’t see it this way will still have to fear their slaves, who are loyal to my name.”

  Daedron nodded. “Then that presents another problem. Manumitting so many slaves at once, and offering fairer wages to indentured servants, brings stress on certain businesses.”

  “Yes, the Steamwright Collegium,” she said. “And all the other major companies.”

  “Exactly. Taking their slaves away from them will cut into their productivity, and increasing the pay to each indentured serva
nt will cut into their profits.”

  It took a moment while Drea paced to figure this one out. But then, she had been working on it all along, hadn’t she? At the back of her mind, ever since she’d read from the book in the Syphenus library, the one concerning Qoria laws.

  “What about the shares my father left me?” she said.

  “What about them?”

  “My father left me shares in the Steamwright Collegium, as well as in the Vagarr Mining Guild, the Aqueduct Consortium, and Stonehold Trade.”

  “Yes, but a woman can’t control her family’s assets—”

  “No, but her husband can,” Drea said. “And the shares I’ve been left would be just enough to recommend you a seat on the Qoria of each of company. Not controlling shares, but enough that we’re going to have voting influence on company policies.”

  Daedron shook his head in confusion. “But what would that gain us, exactly?”

  “By having a footing in each company’s policymaking procedures, you could influence the Law. You could recommend an overhaul of the system to help slaves and indentrued servants, exactly as the Collegium’s support of the slave caste system has propagated slavery. You would have power.”

  “Only a little power, and only until the other members found some way to corner me into selling the shares, if not outright assassinating me out of contempt for supporting you and your slave rebellion.”

  Drea shook her head. “You didn’t let me finish. As your wife, I would be permitted to attend Qoria meetings in your stead. I would, in effect, be a Qoriai. The only Qoriai who has a sympathetic heart towards slaves and working class Dritheans. The only Qoriai whose name the slaves love. A Qoriai whose best friend is herself an indentured servant.”

  Daedron smiled. “If the slaves find out that their savior, Drea Kalder, is being denied her lawful place on the Qoria, they may become upset. The Qoria will feel the pressure to have at least one person on their council that can mollify the masses.”

  “Yes,” Drea said. “But only if we get the word out fast enough. We need our peaceful intentions to be heard by both the Senate and the people, as well as our support for fairer treatment towards the lower-class Dritheans.”

  “Our marriage would have to happen quickly. Immediately.”

  “Then find a priest. Tonight.”

  Daedron laughed. “Just like in seshqii. You have a mind made for maneuvering, it’s just that no one ever moved out of your way before to allow you to explore it.”

  “But do you think the maneuvers will work?”

  Daedron shrugged. “Hard to say. I’m as new to the political game as you. But if we don’t at least try, the only alternative for us is death. The Senate will label us traitors to Drith, and with you in prison or dead they may lose their passion for rebellion.”

  Just then, the lights in the foyer flickered. Drea looked at the electric globes, and was suddenly reminded of Thryis. She turned at once to the large iron golem standing behind her. Despite his breathing, Drea had forgotten that Lord Hiss was there. “Lord Hiss, could I ask a favor of you?”

  “If our agreement still holds and you will kill me when you have the chance, then yes,” he said.

  “I need you to go check on someone for me.”

  : The Cos t:

  Thryis had been injured in an explosion at the Great Generator. When Lord Hiss found Thryis and sent the message back to Drea, she immediately sent Kulisa to find the best healers at the Hospice of Sora, and summoned them to the house where the Ardenkus were staying.

  When Drea started out the door to go and see about her beloved, Daedron stopped her. “There’s too much violence in the street,” he told her. “If any Rain Guards or Lictors should find you now, you will be lynched on the spot—”

  “I don’t care, she’s my friend,” said Drea.

  “You don’t have any power yet, no leverage, no reason for them to keep you alive. Only by marrying me, tonight, can you have any worth—”

  “Get out of my way, Daedron!”

  “I’ve already sent for the priest. He can marry us—”

  “I said, get out of my way!”

  He sighed angrily. “Fine. But I’m coming with you. Someone needs to keep you alive, since you seem so intent on dying.”

  An hour later, they arrived at the home of the Ardenkus. It was old, filled with the odor of mildew and forgotten dreams, and by the time Drea and Daedron got there, Thryis was surrounded by three of Sora’s healers, as well as her father, Lord Thronis, and her brother, Thrayton.

  Drea greeted them, and when she looked into their sad eyes, she saw accusations pointed at her.

  “She says she did it for you,” said Lord Thronis, who was so old and enfeebled he had to lean on his son to stand up. “Is it true? Did you convince her to do it?”

  “I…I…” Drea couldn’t find the words.

  Suddenly, young Thrayton shoved her, and Drea nearly fell over. He moved towards her like he meant to hit her, but Daedron stepped in between them.

  “She’s going to lose her other leg!” Thrayton cried. “Because of you!”

  Drea swallowed. “She’s…?”

  “Drea?” said a weak voice. They all turned and looked at Thryis, who was looking around in a daze. Her one good leg was bloodied and bandaged, and the healers were applying a poulice and some kind of potion to the burn marks on her neck and chest. “Drea luv…”

  “I’m here, Thryis,” she said, hurrying to her beloved’s side. Drea took Thryis’s hand, and squeezed it. She gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Thryis, my love? Can you hear me? I’m here.”

  “I did…what you said,” Thryis whispered. “I tightened the pipes on the primary tender. I…I…closed off the pipes…to let the pressure build…” She broke off into a fit of coughing. “I tried to crawl away…after the first explosion. But I couldn’t maneuver so well…without my clockwork leg. Just had my peg leg. Fell down…couldn’t get far enough away in time…” Another fit of coughing wracked her body.

  “It’s okay, my love,” Drea said gently. “Don’t you worry about that now. It worked. It all worked out just fine.”

  Behind her, Daedron muttered to one of the healers, “Do you know of a temple priest nearby that can perform a ceremony of marriage?”

  “Yes,” the healer said. “But why would you—”

  “Go get him. Now. Bring him here within the hour, and I’ll make a generous donation to your hospice.”

  When the healer was gone, Thryis looked at Drea confused. “Blessed goddess…what’s he talking about a marriage for?”

  “It’s nothing, luv. Daedron and I have a plan, that’s all.”

  “But I heard that Lord Syphen was dead. And I thought…I thought that maybe now…now you won’t have to…to…”

  Drea squeezed her hand. “It’s just a farce, my love. The wedding is just for political reasons, to keep me alive and to keep us all safe.” Drea squeezed Thryis’s hand again, but noticed that Thryis did not squeeze back.

  Thryis turned her head away, and Drea thought she sensed a look of betrayal.

  : The Image We Maintai n:

  “I understand congratulations are in order,” said the stone-faced Qoriai sitting across from Drea and Daedron. “You two were married only two weeks ago, isn’t that right?”

  “It is,” Daedron said, reaching across to take Drea’s hand in his. He squeezed it, and smiled lovingly at her. “My Drea and I are happy to begin our lives together. Isn’t that right, my love?”

  Drea smiled warmly. “It is, husband.”

  “Some might see that as strange timing,” the Qoriai said, accepting a glass of wine being offered by Istrella, a recently liberated slave. “Your uncle’s body has only recently been burned and buried in the Necropolis, may the gods bless him. And yet the two of you rushed into matrimony during this grieving process, and during the most violent slave uprising in history.”

  “My husband and I understand that some may see it as odd,” Drea allowed. “But D
aedron and I thought it was important to show honor to the gods—for matrimony is the holiest of bonds—during this time of upheaval. Also, it was no secret that Daedron’s dear uncle wanted this happiness for us.”

  “Indeed,” the Qoriai said skeptically, taking another sip of wine. “But surely it hasn’t escaped you that this Five-Year Law, which has been rushed before the Senate, is the exact opposite of what Senator Syphen wanted.”

  “My uncle was wise,” Daedron said. “But all of us are prone to error. I believe that his was that he wasn’t ready for Drith to progress.”

  “So, just days after his death, you saw fit to campaign in the Forum for slaves everywhere to be liberated?”

  “It was only to end the violence,” Drea put in.

  The Qoriai ignored her, speaking only to Daedron, for Drea was a woman and it was improper that she ought ot have a say in such matters. “Surely you see how this looks, Daed—that is, Lord Syphen.” Daedron had taken on the mantle of House patriarch, now that Phaedos Syphen had been burned and buried. “Your wife’s name is being chanted by slaves and rioters across the city. She’s become a rallying point for more violence.”

  “But that’s hardly her fault, now, is it?” Daedron countered. “She merely called for peace in the Den of Beasts, not more violence. She cannot help it if her message was misinterpreted.” He smiled briefly. “Still, the misinterpretation is understandable, isn’t it? Especially since everyone knows my wife’s stance on this issue. A stance that I share.”

  “But an end to all slavery?” the Qoriai said. “Do you know what that would do to our economy? Do you have an inkling of how economics work?”

  “I do. That’s why we’re not asking for an immediate outlawing of slavery. Rather, we would ask the Senate to consider a slow removal of slavery in stages. Of course, the Senate, worried as they are about the economy, will listen to the city’s Qoria on this matter.”