Dawn (Society of Dawn Book 1)

by Dan O'Brien

  Shaking his head, Mensaus sat down near Acruica. “No, he came with his personal entourage, Doren, son of Dominus, and two other Drift Knights.”

  “He means to force the Lordess’ hand.”

  Acruica looked at the two men in confusion.

  “Force her hand how?”

  Mensaus placed his hands on his lap. “The attack on Duedonia gave the Lordess Ascendant considerable leverage over Scythia, and she would not have hesitated to use it, but the arrival of Doren has complicated things, for he is heir to the Crimson Throne and has come to court a woman of Pa’ngarin to solidify a new truce between our two nations.”

  Aeschylus stared at the ground, his cheek muscles flexing angrily. “A marriage to Aurora would make the most sense, which means she will have to ascend soon and will no longer need a personal guardian.”

  “What will happen to you if she marries, guardian?” asked Acruica, a hint of concern in the girl’s voice.

  Aeschylus sniffed and walked toward the dirt ring at the center of the training grounds. “I would be guardian to their children perhaps, or to another House. There is always a place for someone like me, Acruica.”

  “The Lordess should not accept his offer. The royalty of Scythia are nothing more than dirty men wearing crowns of brass. They are not proper people like us.”

  Mensaus drew his robes around him and gathered his breath. “People are people, whether they are men from the West or women of Pa’ngarin. They are all blinded by their own perceptions of what is fact or fiction. You would do well, young lady, to think how the other people of the realm perceive the women of Pa’ngarin. If more people took the time to understand others’ perspectives, then we might not repeat the mistakes of history so frequently.”

  Acruica furrowed her brow, unable to articulate her disagreement to such philosophical concepts so soon after a session devoted to physical prowess. This, however, did not stay her tongue. “My mother says that Pa’ngarin is the light and will not repeat the mistakes of the past.”

  “She is not a very mindful historian, is she?” mocked Mensaus.

  The girl jumped up, but the strong hand of Aeschylus forced her back into her seat with authority. “Mensaus only means that history is full of nations and people who believed that their achievements would change the future such that the errors of the past would not be repeated. However, in their hubris, they did not realize that much of the world did not share in their accomplishments.”

  “Why does that matter?” asked Acruica slowly.

  Aeschylus smiled at Mensaus. “When the majority of the world remains the same, the problems of the past will join us in the present.”

  “That is not what my mother says,” countered the girl half-heartedly.

  Mensaus sat forward and gripped the girl’s arm with a smile.

  “Do you believe everything your mother tells you?”

  Helius

  The Mercatus district was busy despite the heat of the day. A crowd of citizens moved like a flock of birds among the vendors’ stalls, whose awnings and canopies provided relief from the unseasonable heat. Some shoppers stopped and touched the fruits and vegetables laid out in perfect rows and neatly stacked piles, while others chatted and bartered with the merchants.

  Wearing a fresh tunic and leggings that were too large for his small frame, Helius held Aurora’s hand as they walked through the crowd. Some women bowed and offered salutations as the heiress passed, while others cast sidelong glances at her, curious why the young Maiden of House D’naia had a child.

  As the duo approached a pomum vendor, Helius looked up at Aurora. “What are these?” he asked quietly, picking up a pomum from the cart’s well-organized stack.

  The fruit was bright red with purple markings and covered in a thick skin. Aurora picked one up as well. “These are pomum, Helius. They are grown in orchards south of the city. Perhaps one day we can visit the orchards.”

  The boy nodded and returned the fruit to the pile. “I do not think I will remain in Pa’ngarin long, Lady Aurora. Your guardian did not seem confident that I would be safe in your city.”

  Aurora could not help but take the boy’s words personally.

  It was how Aeschylus spoke as well. He never talked of Pa’ngarin being his home, but instead her home. To see the same sentiment echoed in Helius’ words deeply saddened her. “Pa’ngarin can be frightening to outsiders, Helius. I will do my best to protect you, as will Aeschylus.”

  They passed a cart full of dark vegetables with bright white stalks, where three women were chatting with one another, some with young children pulling on their dresses. “I do not think you can protect me, Lady Aurora. You are kind, but I am afraid of the others.”

  “The others?”

  “After saving me in Duedonia, Aeschylus and I stopped in Ma’oren. The women there were angry. They hated him––beat him when he answered their questions. I do not believe they will let me live.”

  Aurora held Helius’ hand tightly, pulling him to a stop. Bending down and placing her hands on his shoulders, she looked at him seriously. “Who beat Aeschylus?”

  Helius looked down at the ground. “The naked woman in the sphere. They were very angry that he let you go on your own. He told them that I could not speak. I was too frightened to speak anyways.”

  “Eris,” whispered Aurora.

  Aurora stood and they continued their stroll. A refreshing breeze blew across the market, waving the canopies and banners strewn about. It was a welcome relief in the unseasonable heat. It was believed that Pa’ngarin’s normally temperate summers had begun to fluctuate and be less regular since Fatum had fallen from the sky, a change in climate that had also been observed in other parts of the realm. In the North snow clung to the peaks, while the valleys were scorched. In the deserts to the South rain came more frequently and the nights were cold and damp.

  “Lady Aurora, would you allow your guardian to have a beard?”

  “What?”

  Helius smiled and touched a long banner that hung low over the market. “He said the men of Pa’ngarin were not allowed to have beards. I thought you might allow him to have one because you are kinder than the others.”

  “Is that what Aeschylus said?”

  Helius nodded.

  Aurora smiled. “And what else did my guardian have to say?”

  The boy paused in contemplation. “He said you were beautiful, and kind. Most of the time he was quiet.”

  Aurora could not fight the overwhelming joy that washed over her. Hearing that he thought her beautiful made her stomach fill with butterflies.

  But this bliss did not last.

  A Curator approached them. Her light brown hair was feathered and cut short and her gray eyes watched the heiress unblinkingly. She scowled at the sight of a male child being paraded around by a Maiden, especially the heiress to the Ivory Throne.

  “Lady Aurora, the Lordess Ascendant has summoned you to the Court,” spoke the woman crisply. “A delegation from Scythia has come seeking an audience with the Court.”

  With a stern look, Aurora pointed to the two women accompanying the surly Curator. “Please return the child to my residence. He is not to be ill-treated in your care,” she warned.

  The taller of the two women, the one with a shock of blonde hair, bowed tightly and gently took Helius’ hand. The boy looked back at Aurora as he was led off by the two women.

  “I do not know your name, Curator,” spoke Aurora stiffly as she took her gaze off Helius.

  “Alala, your Grace.”

  Aurora felt her fear for Helius morph into irritation and anger, sentiments that she would be taking out on the unfortunate Curator. “Alala then, by all means, lead the way.”

  Dione

  The Court of the Nine Blossoms looked different than it did the day of Aurora and Aeschylus’ return. The wooden poles had been removed and two seats had been placed––at a comfortable distance––in front of the simple, iron throne. An empty chair just to the side of
the throne was set for Aurora.

  Dione sat on her throne, which had been raised on a platform so that she could look down on the chairs in front of her, and watched the delegation squirm. She felt great joy as Malius began to sweat beneath the sun overhead. Though, she was surprised he was not soaked given the thick robes he wore. His aide, Agrona, normally cheerful and challenging in her gaze, waited quietly behind the Chancellor with her eyes directed toward the ground, while Longede stood just behind Doren and looked around nervously as he wrung his hands against the bottom of his tunic, which peeked out just beneath his armor. The son of Dominus, however, remained impassive, impervious to her psychological tactics. He stared straight ahead and had not broken eye contact with the Lordess since he sat down.

  Malius cleared his throat.

  “Shall we get started, Lady Dione?”

  The men of Scythia did not use the titles of Pa’ngarin.

  The Lordess Ascendant smiled slightly as she touched Athena on the forearm. The Warden of the South moved away from her side, stepped off the altar, and left the Court, leaving Tethys as the only one standing behind the ruler of Pa’ngarin. “My daughter, heiress to the Ivory Throne, is not yet present and will arrive shortly. If her absence does not offend you, Chancellor Malius, then we can begin. However, we would prefer to wait for her arrival and observe the conventions and rituals of ceremony merited by your visit.”

  “We would like to begin immediately, Lady Dione, though we would be honored if Lady Aurora were also present.”

  The Lordess Ascendant nodded and smiled as the Chancellor wiped his brow again and then spoke. “Lord Dominus, son of Dominion and master of the Crimson Throne, wishes to discuss the terms of the treaty forged between our two nations. The compromise that has been arbitrated…”

  “Juno’s Compromise, Chancellor,” corrected Dione.

  The Chancellor wrung his hands. “Of course, pardon my verbal misstep, Lady Dione. We wish to discuss the population exchanges stipulated in Juno’s Compromise. My Lord believes that the women who are being sent to the West have passed their fertile years, that they are not as fresh as the young men we send from Scythia in good faith.”

  Dione tried her best to seem irritated by the man’s words, but she knew that the Chancellor’s accusations were, in fact, true. The women who were being sent west were older and no longer served a function in Pa’ngarin. She would not reveal this to him though, because, if anything, the white city needed more men with whom young maidens could ascend.

  “You have the gall to come before me, in my court, and question the compromise laid down by my ancestors, Chancellor. I do hope that you have come to discuss more issues than this tasteless, and unfounded, assessment of the equitable exchanges set forth by Juno’s Compromise.”

  Doren moved only slightly, but the movement was enough to draw the Lordess’ attention.

  “Lordess Ascendant of Pa’ngarin,” began the son of Dominus. “We have come here for a great many things. I do not care for the mincing of words and political slithering common in these discussions. You are a powerful woman and can certainly appreciate the necessity of reevaluating terms and the political maneuvering of Scythia by sending their heir.”

  Dione looked at the young heir to the Crimson Throne with interest. “Perhaps not all men of the West are vociferous fools after all. You might make a great king yet, son of Dominus,” she spoke with a smile, purposely using the title, king, to irritate the delegation, for no man had used that title since the realm was separated into the nations of Pa’ngarin and Scythia, knowing that any man foolish enough to call himself king would incur the rancor and venom of the masses.

  The Chancellor cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Would Lady Dione wish to move the proceedings forward then? I know that our relations are tenuous at best following the regrettable acts that occurred at Duedonia.”

  The Lordess Ascendant’s smile widened. She had not expected the Scythian delegation to be foolish enough to broach the raid on Duedonia, and she would not let this opportunity pass to press the flustered Chancellor. “Was the raid not carried out under orders from Dominus, son of Dominion, troglodyte of the Blood Throne?”

  “Blood Throne?!” fumed the Chancellor. “Lady Dione, it is an outrage that you would refer to the rightful ruler of the Scythian Empire with such a pejorative.”

  The Lordess threw her hand daintily into the air. “Pardon my vulgar tongue, Chancellor Malius. Though, I must confess, I was not aware that the men of the West possessed such delicate sensibilities. It is not my intention to sully these proceedings with defamatory accusations, but I was under the impression that the men who raped and pillaged in Duedonia were from west of the Arcadians.”

  “They were indeed, Lordess Ascendant. However, they were not acting under the authority of the Crimson Throne or the orders of my father, Lord Dominus. The men of the West have become restless. Some of them want to migrate east and south into the marshes,” spoke Doren, intervening as the Chancellor continued to fume an appropriate amount given his station.

  “Migrate, son of Dominus? They wish to live in Pa’ngarin?” mocked Dione.

  Doren shook his head and leaned forward in his uncomfortable, iron seat. “Yes, the Crimson Throne wishes to expand her borders beyond those stipulated by the terms of Juno’s Compromise. We are stagnating behind the Arcadians because there are no new areas that can support our population.”

  The Lordess Ascendant scoffed. “She? I find the personification of your nation as a woman quite amusing, son of Dominus. It was the arrogance and obstinate nature of men that created two nations, one of men and one of women. Conjuring up a female spirit for your failed experiment will not endear you to us.”

  Having regained his composure the Chancellor smoothed out the wrinkles of his long black coat with his hands. “We do not need to digress into…”

  Doren silenced the older man with a raised hand. “I want to hear what the Lordess Ascendant of Pa’ngarin has to say about our nation, Chancellor. I think I will find it rather enlightening.”

  Dione let her smile slip into a wry twist of her lips. She did not like the dismissive attitude he took at her jab. She had anticipated irritation, an outburst befitting the easily riled and violent nature characteristic of men. “Where to begin, Doren, son of Dominus. If pressed I would say it all began when men created a double standard about sex, making it such that men could have as many whores as they please, but women were not allowed the same courtesy. This made women dependent and subservient to men and fostered the development of emotional relationships instead of personal growth, relegating women to the level of second-class citizens. Though this is not the case in Pa’ngarin, it remains startlingly prevalent in your caves and ruins of the West. Men want women to be a certain way, to be their whores in one capacity or another.”

  Chancellor Malius sat back, his eyes wide and jaw slack. “Lady Dione, your criticisms are antiquated. Scythia is not the misogynistic wasteland that you describe. We do not treat women as less than equal. They are mothers, and wives, and daughters, who we value as highly as any man.”

  Athena returned with Aurora in tow.

  Her hair was pulled back, though her bangs fell across her ivory features. The heiress of the Ivory Throne was truly beautiful, radiant like an alabaster angel.

  Doren watched her enter and his eyes opened in interest for the first time, his bravado and solemn stare replaced with astonishment. He had heard of the beauty of the young Maiden, but witnessing it was something else altogether.

  Doren stood awkwardly, shifting his seat such that it knocked Longede off the platform and onto the dirt and sand below. The amphitheater––luckily for the Drift Knight––was empty save for those involved in the discussion, so there was no crowd to mock his lack of balance. He landed with a fumbling roll, stood up quickly, and dusted off his armor as he looked around sheepishly.

  Athena threw back her head with a hearty laugh.

  “Lady Aurora,” spoke D
oren with a bow.

  Dione looked from the serious look on the son of Dominus’ face to the confused smile on Aurora and felt pleased that she had discovered the heir to the Crimson Throne’s weakness. “It brings me great joy you were able to join us, daughter. Chancellor Malius and Drift Knight Doren, son of Dominus, have come from beyond the Arcadians. The frail one who has fallen in the dirt is called Longede.”

  Aurora bowed her head to each of them and then sat beside the Lordess Ascendant. “It is an honor to meet all of you. I hope that my sudden presence has not interrupted the conversation.”

  Dione smiled wickedly and looked at Doren. “We were discussing the differences between our two great nations, were we not?”

  The Drift Knight took his gaze from Aurora and looked at the Lordess. “Indeed we were, Lady Dione. You were saying how the men of the West treat women as secondary, sub-human. I believe you were about to express a revelation about our two worlds, some great moment of insight that would cause us, feeble men, to reevaluate our existence.”

  “As I recall, it was Chancellor Malius who had spoken last. He was telling me how women were revered in Scythia. Agrona, you have lived among these men for many years now. Do you care to voice your opinion on your place in their society?”

  Agrona lifted her eyes for the first time since entering Pa’ngarin and met Dione’s smiling face. She opened her mouth as if to speak and then paused as she looked to Doren, and then to Malius. “I am treated well.”

  “You are treated well?” mocked Athena.

  Dione smiled and shifted on the throne. “We treat animals well, Agrona. When we tend to our gardens and our crops, we make sure to treat them with care and attention. We care for our men in the same manner that you care for your women.”

  Even though Malius was more experienced in diplomacy than Doren, he continued to be riled easily by the goading of the Lordess. “What about the men you have chained in your castles and throne rooms. Your concubinus whose wellbeing you care little for? We have heard the stories, Lady Dione, of the male infants thrown in the lake of our savior, I’mann. What of these men? Are they not animals to you?”