The Shadow's Heir

by K J Taylor

  “So do I,” said Oeka. “He still believes you are the King’s daughter.”

  “The Emperor does, too,” said Laela, remembering. “When we first met him, he looked straight at me an’ made some comment about Arenadd’s family rising to power. An’ I suppose I do look like him a bit . . .”

  Impulsively, she snatched up a hand mirror and examined her reflection carefully. There was the hair, obviously, and maybe something a bit similar about the nose and the chin . . .

  Not for the first time, she wondered whether it could be true. Could she really be his daughter?

  No. She dismissed the notion, yet again. It was impossible. He couldn’t father children; he’d told her so himself. And he’d never been with a Southerner. There was no way.

  And yet . . .

  “If I was his daughter,” she said slowly, “then I could do the marriage. I could finish this thing myself.”

  “But you are not his daughter,” said Oeka.

  “I know, but . . . I dunno. Maybe I could . . . pretend, like.”

  Oeka’s neck feathers rose. “You mean lie? To the Emperor?”

  “Yeah. I mean, no. Of course not. Don’t be daft. I couldn’t do that.”

  Oeka slowly scratched her flank and made a low, soft, rasping sound. “Could you do this thing?” she asked eventually. “Are you willing to?”

  “I couldn’t,” said Laela. “No way. Could yeh imagine the trouble I’d be in when the truth got out?”

  “It depends,” said Oeka.

  “On what?”

  “I have been listening, too,” said the small griffin. “And I think I understand how this thing would work. This mating is not about power, only symbolism.”

  “So?” said Laela.

  “So it does not matter that you are not his daughter and will never inherit his throne. The Emperor does not want a marriage between the current or future ruler of the North—he only wants a member of the King’s family, any member. He said so himself today.”

  “So what does that mean?” said Laela.

  “That it will not matter to him if you do not rule. As long as you are a Taranisäii in name, it will be enough.”

  Laela rubbed her chin. “What do yeh think I should do, then?”

  “Tell the truth,” said Oeka. “Or part of it. Say you are the King’s daughter, but are not legitimate. You are a Taranisäii but will not inherit the throne. Tell him that, and tell him you are still willing as a Taranisäii to accept a mating with a member of the Emperor’s own family. See if that will satisfy him.”

  Laela stared. She mumbled something, began a proper reply, and then trailed off into silence.

  Oeka huffed. “I know I am not clever like one of your kind, but I have used my best judgment. I do not know if my advice should be followed . . . Decide for yourself. I am sure that your own reasoning will be better.”

  Laela found her voice. “Since when did you start soundin’ humble? Dear gods, the world really has gone mad.”

  Oeka snapped her beak. “I have given all I have to offer. It is your decision.”

  “You’ve been happy t’make decisions for me before.”

  “Yes,” Oeka admitted. “But no matter her species, every female must choose which male will fertilise her eggs. That is her decision and nobody else’s.”

  Once, Laela might have laughed at her partner’s awkward choice of words, but not now. Now they only served to sharply remind her of what was really at stake here. Not Arenadd’s quest or the Emperor’s anger if she was caught, or even the slaves whose freedom depended on her now. She was more than willing to help them, and to do her duty as Arenadd’s aide.

  The real question was how far was she willing to go for their sake? Was she willing to do what Oeka had suggested—that is, marry some Amorani man she had never met? Sleep with him, most likely? Was she willing to betray Yorath?

  “I gotta think about this,” she muttered.

  “Think, then,” said Oeka, looking quite relaxed. “Take the time you need.”

  “Right,” said Laela, and that was more or less all she said for the rest of that afternoon.

  • • •

  She couldn’t sleep that night. Telise brought her a beautifully refreshing dinner of fresh fruit and some very mild wine, all of which did a lot to make her feel better, and the doctors had sent over some thick, gritty medicine that tasted vile but finally got rid of the headache.

  Afterward, she should have been more than ready to sleep and let herself recover, but she didn’t. Her mind wouldn’t let her.

  Neither would her chest. Fear and worry were emotions that seemed to live inside her rib cage, and that long, awful night it felt ready to burst. Her heart fluttered periodically and made her feel ill.

  She tried to relax, tried to make herself sleep, tried to tell herself that everything would be all right—but she couldn’t. And the answer to her problems just seemed so simple. All she had to do was accept that this was beyond her. There was nothing she could do about it except go home and hope that Arenadd got better.

  But she found herself thinking of Inva instead. She had come to like the older woman, and to sympathise with her. She was obviously very intelligent, and highly educated as well. She deserved a chance to live free. But where was she now? Punished, Telise had said. Sent away. And Laela had a horrible feeling about just where that might be. Inva had suffered, and was probably still suffering, and all because of Laela’s own stupidity.

  Laela rebelled at that. No, it wasn’t her fault what had happened to Inva. It was the system that had done it—the system that forced people to live the way she did and treated them like so much rubbish by way of return. It was the system that had punished Inva when she hadn’t done anything.

  Right there and then, Laela vowed to herself that she would not go home until she had found Inva again and helped her in any way she could. Testified to her innocence, at the very least. But that wouldn’t be good enough. No, Laela decided, she would free Inva instead. Buy her freedom and take her back to the North.

  That decision made her feel better.

  But after that, she got to thinking about the others. How many others like Inva were there? How many hundreds or thousands of other Northerners were out there, treated like property and probably killed as soon as they stopped being useful? How many were there who had it far worse than Inva ever had?

  All of a sudden, she found herself thinking about Arenadd. She remembered the scars on his neck, and the lash marks on his back. She thought of the black robe he always wore. And the slow, chilling realisation came to her, the thought that she could guess what all those things meant. And there was the way he spoke, too—his passionate insistence that all men should be free, that slaves should be rescued, his utter hatred for the system that let them live that way at all.

  He was a slave, she thought. He must have been. That’s why . . .

  No wonder, then, that he hated Southerners so much. No wonder he had spent his entire life killing them and driving them away. No wonder he was prepared to do anything and everything in his power for those here in Amoran.

  “An’ me?” she said aloud, to the dark ceiling high above. “What does that make me?”

  Unexpectedly, she found herself feeling utterly ashamed of her Southern blood. Ashamed, too, that she had ever let herself hate Arenadd for setting his people free. For the first time, she felt as if she understood those people who hated her for being a half-breed, and in that moment she did feel ashamed of it. Inherited shame.

  The feeling passed quickly. It wasn’t her fault, and there was no such thing as a race that was better than any other. She should know.

  But like it or not, she was a kind of Southerner, and she couldn’t help but feel as if she had a responsibility to try to make amends. After all, it had been Southerners who had sold those slaves to Amoran in the first place. And as a Northerner, she had a duty as well. A duty to her people, and to her King.

  Those were inspiring thoughts,
but they still led her back to the one question that had put her in this state in the first place. Was she willing to go through with this? Lie to the Emperor? Marry a man she didn’t know? Betray Yorath?

  In the end, shortly before dawn, she settled on a compromise. She would speak to the Emperor again and find out more. She wouldn’t lie, but she would ask questions, and at least find out if a half-breed bastard was an acceptable match. That should do to begin with.

  As she drifted off to sleep, she forced herself not to think about what she had seen in the Temple. It was too soon to think of it. And besides that, she wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to.

  26

  Laela Paramount

  By the time morning came, Laela was exhausted. Her eyes were dry, and her headache had come back with a vengeance.

  She dragged herself out of bed regardless, and once her breakfast had been served, she sent Telise to pass on a message to the Emperor requesting another audience.

  The slave returned just as Laela was finishing breakfast, bowing low. “My lady, the Emperor will see you this afternoon.”

  Laela rubbed her forehead. “Why not sooner?”

  “The Emperor will see you when he chooses,” said Telise, with an iciness that surprised her.

  “Right then.” Laela gulped down some water and tried to think. “In that case, while we’re waitin’ . . . I want t’know where Inva is.”

  Telise looked blank. “Your previous attendant?”

  “Yes, her,” said Laela. “Middle-aged woman, no hair. What have they done with her?”

  “She has been punished—”

  “I know,” Laela growled. “Punished how?”

  Telise looked nervous. “Punished fittingly, my lady.”

  “Where is she, then? You said she’d been sent away. Where to?”

  “I don’t know, my lady.”

  “Then who would know?”

  “Master Zel, my lady. He is master of the slaves who serve here.”

  “Right.” Laela stood up. “I want t’see him. Now.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Oeka appeared, bright-eyed, with her tail twitching. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m gonna go find out what happened to Inva,” said Laela.

  “Why does it matter? Why are you not seeing the Emperor?”

  “He ain’t available right now,” said Laela. “Anyway, I wanna find out what happened to Inva—see if I can help.”

  Oeka fell in beside her as she left the rooms. “Why would you want to help?”

  “Because I’m the one who got her in trouble,” said Laela. “They blamed her for what happened to me. She wasn’t even there!”

  “What do you care?” said Oeka.

  Laela had expected something exactly like this. “Because I’m human, an’ I don’t just care about myself.”

  “You would be wiser if you did,” said Oeka. “No-one else will care for you as much as you yourself.”

  “See, this is why griffins ain’t ruling the world,” said Laela. She grinned. “C’mon, yeh selfish goose. Let’s go do some altruism.”

  “I do not know that word,” Oeka said primly.

  “Me neither,” said Laela. “I just copied it off someone. Hurry up, Telise! We can walk faster than this, y’know.”

  “Apologies,” Telise said smartly, and hurried off down the corridor.

  They had to leave the neat quietness of the guest quarters and move on into a noisier, busier part of the palace that griffiners probably weren’t meant to see. What Laela did see, along with that, were slaves—far more of them than she had seen before. Some Northerners, some Amorani, some from Maijan, some belonging to races she had never seen before, but all of them shaven and collared, and all of them hard at work. She passed a big long room where dozens of slaves were busy washing clothes and linen, and caught a glimpse of a massive kitchen where dozens more were preparing meals and washing pots and plates. To her surprise, aside from the occasional patrolling guard, she didn’t see anyone who looked like a supervisor watching over them. But the slaves worked industriously anyway, as if they had nothing else to do but the jobs that earned them no pay, and no respect.

  And that was exactly how it was, of course.

  Eventually, Telise guided them through all this and into a slightly quieter area, where a smaller group of slaves were busy stripping the petals off flowers and putting them in bowls. Telise weaved her way through them and stopped by one man who didn’t seem to be doing anything. He was Amorani, and the stubble on his head was grey, which was just about the only hint to his age.

  As Laela and Oeka caught up with their guide, the man turned to them and bowed briefly. “Sacred griffin, I am blessed to see you and your human.”

  Oeka had been enjoying this sort of treatment long enough that she didn’t react much to it now. “Why do you speak to me, slave?” she rasped.

  The man bowed again, more respectfully this time. “I have just been told that your human wished to speak with me, Sacred One. Am I mistaken?”

  “Not if you are Master Zel.”

  “I am,” said the man, eyes flicking briefly toward Laela.

  “Let her speak with you, then,” Oeka said, bored, and settled down to groom.

  Laela took her cue. “Master Zel, is it? I’m Lady Laela.”

  Zel inclined his head toward her. “I am honoured to meet you, Lady Laela,” he said, in polished Cymrian. “How can I serve you?”

  “I’m looking for someone,” said Laela. “A slave called Inva. She was my attendant before Telise.”

  “I know that name,” said Zel. “And I offer you my greatest apology and shame that I sent her to you. I hope that Telise is a better attendant for you.”

  Laela hadn’t missed Telise’s anxious looks toward her. “She’s doin’ a great job,” she said kindly. “But I wanted to know where Inva’s gone.”

  “She has been sent away,” Zel said at once.

  “I know,” said Laela. “But to where?”

  “To the slave market, to be sold to a new master. She will not be allowed to serve nobles again.”

  Laela groaned inwardly. “Look—Zel—that ai—isn’t right. She shouldn’t have been sent away.”

  “Why not?” Zel looked very politely disapproving. “She allowed her master to be placed in danger and was punished for her negligence.”

  “It wasn’t her fault,” said Laela. “She only did what I told her.”

  “That does not matter,” said Zel. “She did not obey the command given to her to keep you from danger at all costs, and this lapse is punishable.”

  The sheer injustice of it infuriated Laela. She opened her mouth to retort but quickly shut it again as common sense caught up with her. She wasn’t going to get anywhere arguing with this man, and besides, there was no reason why she should be arguing with him at all. He was her inferior, and she had learned that you didn’t argue with inferiors. Instead, you just ordered them to agree with you.

  “Bring her back,” she said.

  “I cannot do that,” said Zel, but cautiously.

  “Bring her back,” Laela repeated.

  “She cannot be brought back.”

  “All right, then,” said Laela, changing tack. “How about I tell the Emperor that you ain’t doin’ your job? I’m his guest, an’ it’s your job t’keep me happy. If I say bringin’ Inva back would make me happy, then you have t’do it. Otherwise, I’ll be unhappy. An’ when I get unhappy, I get nasty. An’ when I get nasty, I make people’s lives hard. Are yeh startin’ to get what I mean, Zel?”

  If the head slave was affronted by this not-so-subtle threat—the kind of threat Laela was best at—he didn’t show it. “Very well then,” he said in flat tones. “I will send out for her to be brought back at once. Shall I have her brought to you once she has returned?”

  “Yes,” said Laela. “An’ make it fast,” she added nastily. “I want her back by tonight.”

  “It shall be done,” said Zel, and there was s
omething about him and the way he said it that made Laela completely confident that he would and could do just that.

  “I must be the worst guest this palace has ever had.” She smirked to herself as she left. But there was real satisfaction mixed in with her smugness. She only hoped her next meeting with the Emperor would go as well.

  • • •

  While she waited for the afternoon to arrive, she made several other visits. First she checked in with the other Northern griffiners, making sure they were all well and assuring them that she had placated the Emperor and was due to see him again soon.

  She also visited the docks where the Seabreath was still moored, to see how Arenadd was doing. She found him unchanged, still comatose, but breathing steadily. Skandar was with him, patiently guarding his human. Evidently, he had finished enjoying Amoran’s various pleasures. His partner was more important.

  “Don’t worry,” Laela told him. “We’re goin’ home soon, an’ he’ll get well. Just look after him. I never saw a griffin who took better care of his human.” She didn’t say that last part just to flatter him, and he seemed pleased even if he didn’t say anything.

  “When are we going home?” asked Penllyn.

  “Soon,” said Laela. “I’m just about done talkin’ to the Emperor. We’ll be leavin’ in a matter of days.”

  “We’d better,” Duach muttered.

  Laela took one last look at Arenadd’s deathly pale face. “We will.”

  • • •

  The meeting with the Emperor finally arrived. This time he received Laela in an elegant room that must have been his official audience chamber. Vander was there, with Ymazu, and Zaehri, the griffins sitting on velvet floor-pads obviously made just for them.

  Once the formalities were over, Laela sat on a couch opposite the Emperor while Oeka chose a pad of her own and lay on it, with her front paws outstretched.

  “Lady Laela,” the Emperor began. “May I ask how your King is faring?” Off to the side and behind his ruler, Vander listened closely.

  “Unchanged, Sacred Ruler,” said Laela.

  The Emperor looked a little sad. “That is not good. Have you made a decision yet, Lady Laela?”