“It’s not sour if it’s true. I would give anything to join the Laowyn Resistance. At least they fight for what is right.”
“They are defending, not seeking violence.” He put down the pot he had finished and picked up the dirty spoon. “Besides, your uncle would die before he allowed you to follow your parents footsteps into the Resistance. He seeks the Great Spirit and peace above all else.” Djeck eyed her over the handle of the spoon.
“There is no use in seeking peace when your enemy seeks war.” Kiara ignored his mention of the more peaceful endeavours.
“Dramatic, considering all that’s happened so far is a trade embargo.”
Kiara rolled her eyes at Djeck’s pragmatism. The Laowyn Resistance was all that what was left of the old Laowyn army that had fought King Emril in the wars that had seen the Laowyn conquered.
Rumours had been spreading since the Resistance had helped many of the Meir Elves escape punishment for their harvest fayre. They had protected many others from Reluwyn cruelty and they were increasingly all that made sense to Kiara. Zephenesh could argue for peace all he wanted, but violence in Emrilion was escalating and no amount of pacifism would stop the wave of aggression yet to come.
Garesh threaded his way like a fine needle between the courtiers that thronged the Hall of Banners. A gentle hum of voices filled the cavernous room as news was passed on, allegiances were established and enemies were flattered.
The High Councillor remembered the days when he had been the news bearer, the persuader, the flatterer, but those days were behind him now. He had dragged himself up from being the nobody son of a courtesan to the most powerful man in the empire next to the Prince. What would his mother say now if she were alive? He’d make her eat the cruel words cursing his birth and her prediction of his pitiful future. Look at him now. No more fear of factions, no chance of losing power. The regency document was written in indelible ink and signed by Emril, King of the Reluwyn, the Elves, the Laowyn, the Radichi and the Chieftains. No more pandering to courtiers, for now they pandered to him. Garesh had never been easily persuaded to do another man’s bidding, and now he had a tight grip on the reins.
He skirted the throne at the end of the columns and disappeared through a door in the back of the hall. This led him to the chambers once used by Emril for Imperial business, which were now Garesh’s primary place of work. Mishka and Sameedos awaited him in the principal chamber.
Mishka was a small, round man, with dark Reluwyn colouring and a terrible squint. He squinted even now, as he bobbed respectfully in front of Garesh.
Sameedos, though quite as portly as his fellow Councillor around his middle, was much taller, with strangely gaunt facial features. He rose from a chair he had taken by the window and bowed gracefully.
“High Councillor, how pleasing it is to see you. We are assembled to do your bidding as you asked. What would you have us do?”
Sameedos was useful to Garesh. He too had risen through the ranks, except his penchant for palace concubines had placed him firmly in Garesh’s hand. After all, the Prince’s absence hardly negated the royal law which made all concubines his and his alone. It would not do to be found partaking of the Prince’s fruits, and Garesh had made that clear to the courtier. Apparently fear bred sycophantic talk as well as a biddable attitude. The former Garesh could do without.
“What would I have you do?” Garesh picked at a bunch of grapes that lay in a bronze dish upon the desk. He popped the first between his front teeth, splitting the skin and then sucking it back into his mouth. “I would have you, as I have already asked you to do countless times before, find my Prince.” The question had been uttered sweetly but the accusation was unmistakable.
“We have covered the main settlements in the north of the empire and are now looking to the south, my Lord,” replied Mishka, eager to please his master. “If he is in the north he must be avoiding larger settlements.”
“Yes, that does seem to be the case, doesn’t it?” Garesh strode over to the window and split another grape with his teeth, sucking the flesh from it mercilessly. His councillors couldn’t help wondering if that was how he would devour them if they failed him.
“It’s not good enough!” Garesh banged a fist against a glass window pane whose broad expanse showed a splendid view of the jewelled courtyard, gems shining in the midday suns. “I have already made plans for a bride to be selected for the Prince. All he need do is bed one of these maidens and if she please him, as nomadic tradition dictates, he may declare her his wife there and then. A simple deed. But how am I to keep him busy with a new wife and babies when I cannot even find the damned man?” Garesh, in spite of his excellent planning, knew what it would mean if the other courtiers found out that he had lost the Reluwyn ruler. A Regency document could only come into effect when there was a Prince to be Regent on behalf of. Without Trevisian, Garesh was nowhere, his carefully laid plans would be ruined.
Further, his pursuit of a wife for the Prince would establish him as first councillor to the King of Emrilion even after the Regency ended. Trevisian would gain his majority and become King the moment he took a wife and if Garesh could have a hand in engineering the Prince’s ascent to full power, he could maintain his premier position within the Reluwyn government. His influence would continue and the Prince’s disinterest in ruling would leave Garesh the sole wielder of power.
Before the Prince had gone, he had encouraged him to marry. It had all been working according to Garesh’s original plan. Then the Prince had disappeared, a nasty habit he had indulged in in his youth which Garesh had thought cured. Apparently not.
As a child, Prince Trevisian had gone to live like an urchin on the streets of Emril City - until palace guards had found him skinny and dirty, and brought him back to the palace. It was easily explained away when he was just a boy, but as a man it was a different matter entirely. Garesh had his suspicions. The Prince had his mother’s shape-shifting blood, so it stood to reason the magic may have been passed down to her son. But Garesh had warned Trevisian years ago never to think of his mother, never to follow in her footsteps. Over the years the Prince’s repeated disappearances had only grown Garesh’s suspicions. The law King Emril had passed against the Shifters still stood, therefore Garesh’s suspicions were hardly something he could share with his advisors. He would never jeopardise his power in such a manner. As it was, the Prince’s most recent disappearance, if it got out, would make him look like a fool. How he loathed looking like a fool.
“Are we not to select a bride from Castir? We could easily annex our eastern neighbour with such a diplomatic match. The child-Queen’s deposition has left the throne with multiple female claimants,” said Mishka, his small black eyes creasing at the corners, an obvious sign of pleasure at his own cleverness.
“No.” replied Garesh. “We have an Empire to keep united, and how is that done?”
“By ensuring uniformity among the races,” supplied Sameedos, in a tone which suggested he had been asked to repeat that answer before.
“Exactly! We are the Reluwyn, the ruling race, why should we give in to cultural differences when we have conquered those weaker nations? We should not! No customs and traditional differences. If our Prince were to marry into a neighbouring country, they would expect their traditions to be accepted here. What kind of message would that send? How are we to enforce order and keep control? We must ensure uniformity among all the peoples and provinces. Difference breeds contempt and contempt breeds rebellion.
“We shall take Castir by force when we are ready. Until then I have scribes copying out the Edict of Maidens for circulation within the five provinces. When the eligible women pour into the Prince’s harem, one should no doubt tempt his eye. The prettier the better, and whatever race she is will only strengthen our inner unity. We shall be closer to a stable Reluwyn Kingdom.” The High Councillor failed to mention his unwritten disqualification of Laowyn women from the throne. Let the Prince use them for a night of pleasure but no
t one drop of Laowyn blood would ever sit upon the throne of Emrilion.
Neither of Garesh’s fellow councillors pointed this out. Garesh’s tolerance for the race that defied his power had run out weeks ago. Any mention saw furious eruptions.
“But this is all to no purpose if we do not know where the Prince is!” Garesh snapped again, turning away and running a hand through his black beard flecked as it was with grey now. “I leave for the western forest fort tomorrow. The Laowyn Resistance is becoming more of a problem there but, unlike the Laowyn, we do not have the weakness of mercy when it comes to killing our enemies. When I get my hands on the rebels I will rip out their Enspers myself!” He was spitting and hissing like a snake. Taking a deep breath, he looked to his fellow councillors again. “I expect updates on the search.”
“The Laowyn Resistance have been operating in that whole area. To be so close to their old capital of Ishtalia, is that really wise, my lord?” asked Sameedos, rubbing his hands together jerkily.
“Silence!” Garesh roared. “I have a rebellion to put down and no Prince to place at the head of the suppression! There is work to be done: the overseeing of the Edict of Maidens, and my presence to quell any thought of rebellion. Did the thought not enter that thick skull of yours, Sameedos?”
The councillor bowed sycophantically and offered his profoundest apologies.
“I don’t need your honeyed words, I need progress.” Garesh was pacing now, his fellow councillors watching nervously for his next actions.
“Just find him!” he barked and then, without waiting for any obsequious replies, he turned on his heel and left.
“I refuse to do it!” shouted Kiara, throwing her plate down and flying away from Zephenesh who reclined opposite her.
“It’s not whether you wish to do it, Kiara,” he replied calmly, “the Edict reached us yesterday, and the guards will come up from the southern forest fort to enforce it.” His tone softened, “You may not even be chosen.” He watched her flinch slightly. “All you have to do is stand for inspection in the market square. The guards will probably pass you by.” Even as he said it he wasn’t quite sure he believed it.
Kiara was beautiful. Even in her anger, as she was in this moment, her golden curls were framing her face, her lips were full and her eyes a piercing blue. She had grown into her female figure, a figure that men now desired - that now perhaps a Prince would desire.
“And what if they wish to see more, uncle? Surely the Prince needs any harlot of his own to be inspected thoroughly. What if they see my marking, my Ensper? I’m sure that would end well for me.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice like honey from a spoon.
“It’s not a harlot he’s looking for, Kiara, it’s a wife. He’s picking one out of all the empire that is matchless in beauty. Unless you are arrogant enough to believe yourself more beautiful than the thousands of other maidens in this Kingdom, you really should not be worrying.” Zephenesh pinched the bridge of his nose, and wearily spread his fingers over his eyes. He carried on, “As for your mark, you will not show it.”
Every Laowyn was born with the mark. A single large gem, known as the Ensper, growing from their scapula, with a unique surrounding tattoo given to every child at a week old.
“Am I supposed to hide who I am now?”
Zephenesh’s words were not meant to provoke, but merely to ground his niece. Evidently, they were doing the former rather than the latter. If she showed her mark she might be chosen merely for the humiliation of losing her honour to a Reluwyn. They knew the Laowyn customs, that they did not marry outside of their race, that they held the marriage bed as a pure space. An opportunity to disrespect them would be too tempting to pass up. Zephenesh might want to obey the rulers, as the Great Spirit demanded, but he was not a fool. If Kiara hid her mark she had a greater chance of not being chosen.
She was facing the window now, shaking in indignation, her body taut with distress. He rose slowly and came to her, placing a hand on each of her shoulders.
“Your mother and father gave charge over you to me when they died, Kiara, and I have raised you like my own daughter. All I ask is your obedience in this. Our calling as a people is to peace, and to respect the rulers over us. Do you think I would ask you to do something that would put you in danger?”
“Even if they are not our own people?”
“Yes. And I cannot see you disobey them, or me.”
It was the only thing he could think of to protect her. If she stood for inspection, as any other maiden in the Kingdom between fourteen and twenty would, she might remain unchosen. Zephenesh was sure she would. No one would pick his little Kiara. She was still so young in his eyes. Of course he saw she was beautiful, but his paternal love for her overshadowed that. If he tried to hide her from the authorities and they found out, she would be taken, regardless of whether she was chosen.
She made no reply to his plea for obedience.
“The Great Spirit protects you. We must trust him that you will not be chosen.”
“And if I am? If they found out my race they would execute me - as they have executed so many others. If they so much as suspect that I have hidden who I am, I will surely be imprisoned.”
Zephenesh turned her to face him and saw the fragility in her eyes. It was not often she admitted fear or any other weakness. She was strong. But he was sure of this: that she would obey the law as the Spirit demanded, saying nothing of declaring her race, and she would not be picked. She would be saved from further scrutiny, and that’s all that mattered.
“This is the best way Kiara. If you hide your race you are less likely to be chosen for nefarious purposes. Besides, your features are fair, and they are likely looking for a dark-haired beauty.” He ran a hand over the crown of her head, the curls soft and golden beneath his fingers.
He left her then. She must come to terms with this alone, and besides he needed to pray. Things were getting worse for all races, not just his own. Not only were the Reluwyn suppressing racial customs, now they were taking daughters and sisters for the pleasure of their Prince.
Kiara was right in a way - only the one chosen would be the new Queen. Every other maid would be used for the night and then consigned to life in the harem. The very thought saddened Zephenesh, but fighting against the authorities to hide Kiara could only lead to more trouble. Besides, surely she would not be chosen?
The following day Kiara was told to wash and dress herself for the choosing. Zephenesh had suggested she wear a plain woollen dress. She obeyed him silently, and soon they were walking together to the market square. Other girls from Miresh joined them from side streets, walking with their parents. Some smiled, as though they were in a competition they wished to win; others were barely old enough to be called women, terrified of what could happen if they were chosen.
There were a lot of Laowyn women, but other cultures were represented too. There were many Reluwyn and several Southerners from around the meadowlands and near the Tao desert. There were even some Meir Elves present. Some Laowyn bore their marks proudly, others covered themselves from the stares of Reluwyn women. One woman Kiara and Zephenesh knew to be of their own people glanced sideways when she saw Kiara’s mark was hidden. Although modest, the traditional Laowyn dress had a neckline designed to reveal the wearer’s Ensper.
Kiara fixed her gaze on the path ahead, not wavering to the left or right. Her shoulders were drawn back and she clenched her fists a little. If they chose her she would strike the guard. Yes, that’s what she would do, she would cause a riot and run away. Zephenesh seemed so confident, and had told her calmly that she was to obey the authorities without question. Perhaps he would be happy to send her to the Prince, it didn’t seem like he cared.
They rounded the corner and came to the square at the centre of Miresh. Hundreds of feet stood together on the clay tiles. Shops whose produce usually hung out of windows and lay in baskets outside were shuttered up. Was that because the Laowyn had no trade after the last proclamation? Or had the g
uards who had come for the choosing forced the owners to do it? As she looked upon the small contingent up ahead, no clue was given. The Reluwyn stood in rows, and amongst the ones wearing military dress were some wearing dark blue robes with silver sashes. She could see their badges winking at her in the morning sun.
They were surrounded by the many women who had already arrived in the square. A low murmur of voices sounded, but was suddenly cut across by a piercing scream. All heads turned towards its origin. A guard was yanking at the arm of a woman, dragging her from the shop on the other side of the open area. Another pulled along a girl of about fourteen, her face tear-stained and red.
Kiara wasn’t even conscious she had started toward them until Zephenesh put a stern hand upon her shoulder.
“Don’t.” he commanded in an undertone.
Kiara watched as shackles were put on the mother’s wrists and she was hauled away down a side street. The young girl was forced into the crowd with the rest of the women waiting.
“Now I see why you weren’t willing to hide me,” accused Kiara, turning merciless eyes upon her uncle. “You were afraid of being arrested.” She felt a twinge of shame at dealing so harshly with the man who had raised her, but she stifled it. He was doing nothing in the face of this injustice.
The young girl was still stifling sobs. No one dared to comfort her. Kiara pulled against her uncle’s restraining hand. She felt it tighten around her arm.
Her eyes flashed at him, “You would not let me stop the guards but I will comfort that girl.” She yanked her arm away and strode off through the crowd. Many eyes watched her, but she ignored them.
Upon reaching the child, Kiara immediately put an arm around the smaller girl’s shoulders and took one hand warmly in her own.
“Now child, you must stop crying,” she said in a firm whisper. “They will only take her away until she calms down, and you are drawing attention to yourself until you do the same.” The words seemed harsh, but the girl wiped the tears from her face and stopped sobbing. She straightened but did not let go of Kiara’s hand.
The Edict Page 3