They really are our ancestors, Raeth thought. They know us too well for it to be otherwise.
He hadn’t ever acknowledged that fact to himself. Inside, he had hoped that they were fighting some sort of monster, some sort of dark magic. Not the spirits of the Forgotten.
If only I knew more! he thought with frustration, his mind drifting from the war map. The Kaennis Sha Jaenor had sent him was incomplete—fully two thirds of the book had been removed. He wasn’t certain why the pieces had been taken out, but the expurgation annoyed him. He was fighting a war against spirits—if anything was going to help him, it would be the Vari Yden holy book.
His musings were interrupted by the opening of the Counsel room’s door. Finally, Raeth thought, turning away from the map.
“Your majesty,” Gaedin said with a flat voice, stepping from the room and shutting the door behind him. “This is not a good time. We have to prepare strategies for the upcoming battle. It is very important that we keep the Forgotten from breaching our border.”
Raeth contained his frustration at the general’s condescending tone. It’s nothing Hern wouldn’t have deserved, he told himself.
“General,” Raeth said, “I have information that you might find—”
“Honestly, your majesty,” Gaedin interrupted. “Our time is very limited. Tell your idea to one of our aids, and we’ll consider it.” He turned to put his hand on the door.
Raeth took a deep breath, calming himself. “I’ve reviewed the battle, general. The Forgotten are more clever than they thought. They know our weakness.”
The general paused. “And what weakness would that be, your majesty?”
“The High Aedin,” Raeth explained.
“They can cut Amberite,” Gaedin said flatly. “Yes, we know. We’re taking that into account.”
“General,” Raeth said with more urgency. “If you would just listen to my plan—”
“Your plan, Lord Hern?” Gaedin said, turning, his voice growing hard. “Like the plan you had last year, the plan to capture Harrmen and force them to work for us? We told you at least a half-dozen times that the barbarians would rather die than be captured, but you went forward anyway. Do you know how many men we lost in that foolish endeavor?”
Raeth paused, mouth open slightly.
“Or, how about your ‘plan’ to rearrange military ranks depending on your whims? Or how about your leadership at the battle of Korenson last summer, when you insisted on taking sole command of the armies and wouldn’t let the War Counsel direct a single squadron. We nearly lost the border for the first time in centuries because of that fiasco, your majesty.”
Raeth closed his mouth. That wasn’t you, Raeth, he had to remind himself. That was Hern. Your plan is a good one.
“No, your majesty,” Gaedin said with a shake of his head. “Whatever your idea is, we don’t want to listen to it. We knew from the start we had to make certain that this war didn’t fall into your hands. Good day.”
Gaedin pushed open the door, turning his back on Raeth.
“I can force you to listen to me, general,” Raeth said, finding his voice.
“You will regret trying, your majesty,” Gaedin said, then closed the door.
Raeth stepped back, a little stunned, to where Darro and Tarrinon were watching quietly.
He’s right, Raeth realized. It would be foolish to put the armies in my hands. I don’t have the experience. Could he really force the issue when there were so many lives at stake? Yet, at the same time he worried at the price of inaction. The Counsel might know about the Forgotten ability to cut Amberite, but they didn’t see the true weakness behind the Aedin mindset.
“Tarrinon,” Raeth said quietly. “Send a message to the High Senator. Tell him I’d like to present a motion before the Senate, one to restore martial authority to myself. I’d like to take a vote as soon as possible.”
“Yes, my lord,” Tarrinon said with a nod. “The soonest the vote could happen would be tomorrow afternoon.”
That wouldn’t leave much time before the Forgotten’s projected arrival at the border. Hopefully, the Senate would move quickly. “Thank you,” he said.
“Until then, my lord… .” Tarrinon said.
Raeth smiled. “An appointment?” he asked, looking down at the short man.
“One that you yourself made, my lord,” Tarrinon said.
Raeth paused. An appointment he had made?
“Lunch, my lord,” Tarrinon reminded.
“Ah, yes,” Raeth realized.
“Lunch?” Darro asked.
“With one of my potential brides,” Raeth explained, walking toward the door. “I made the suggestion when I heard the Senate was planning another of those balls. As interesting as the ball was, it took up far too much time. So, I suggested I have lunch with each of the brides, one at a time. After all, I have to eat. Might as well make that time useful.”
Darro raised an eyebrow. “True,” he agreed. “I assume there’ll be other people there. We wouldn’t want any of the brides spontaneously stripping in the middle of the meal.”
Raeth blushed. Darro got no end of amusement from Raeth’s encounter with Nahan the previous week.
“Of course,” Darro mused. “That could make for a very interesting meal, now that I think about it… .”
#
‘Interesting’ hardly described the experience. It seemed to Raeth that even the word ‘monotonous’ implied too much excitement. However, he’d expected as much as soon as Tarrinon told him which bride he would be spending the afternoon with.
Tae was in every way the ideal member of her Line. Ferrous Bonds believed in being strict and formal—there were many a joke that claimed High Aedin from the Ferrous line were indistinguishable from the metallic Corpates they created. The jokes really weren’t that far from the truth.
Tae sat with a stiff back, eating properly, her face flat and expressionless. Her collar came all the way up to her neck, her blonde hair was neat and clamped in place, and her dress was a simple white, its ornamentation straightforward. Raeth found the thought of spending the rest of his life married to her extremely disturbing.
He’d hoped that she might open up a little bit as the meal progressed, but apparently such was beyond her capabilities.
“So, Tae,” Raeth said, hoping the chefs would speed their delivery. “Have you any thoughts on the conflict to the north?”
“The military will deal with it,” she said simply, her voice terse.
“Of course,” Raeth said. “But, don’t you worry about such things?”
“It isn’t my place to worry,” Tae responded. “My place is to be a perfect bride. It is for this purpose that I was bred.”
Raeth sighed. I’ll bet D’Naa would have some things to say about it, he thought. The Kavir girl obviously had strong opinions, and wasn’t afraid to share them.
“Is something wrong, my lord?” Tae asked, noting his expression. “If there is anything you need, I shall fetch it for you. I can perform any duty pertinent to the responsibilities of a High Aedin wife.”
Why don’t you fetch yourself a personality? Raeth thought to himself, though he immediately felt guilty. Tae couldn’t help what she was—quite the opposite. She was exactly what she claimed to be; the perfect bride. Many High Aedin houses raised their daughters to be just what she was. One of the best ways to secure prestige and power in the court and the Senate was through marriage. Ferrous brides especially were known for their perfection and refinement, which gave the Line a political edge that made up for their diminutive numbers. To be chosen for Raeth, Tae must be the most perfect amongst the perfect.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t looking for perfection. At least, not the type that the Ferrous line offered. He’d tried to keep his mind off of D’Naa as much as possible during the last few days. The Imperium was at war, and this was no time for its Emperor to be mooning foolishly over a girl—especially a girl who had tried to kill him.
Though, he wasn’t
really certain she’d been an assassin. So many things about the girl were a mystery. She obviously had Aedin blood in her, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to Bond an Aether. However, her slight frame and dark hair implied that she didn’t have very much of an Aedin side. How, then, had she formed such a powerful Aether bond?
That was part of the reason he’d suggested the lunches. He looked forward to the opportunity to get the Kavir woman alone for a time. Perhaps she could answer some of his questions. Where had she found an Aether Bud to Bond? Why had she attacked him? Why did she captivate his mind like she did?
Suffering through the other brides’ lunches was a small price to pay for answers to those questions. He kept telling that to himself as the lunch continued beneath Tae’s unwavering, statuesque glare.
“My Lord?” Tae asked.
Raeth looked up, somewhat surprised. It was the first time the woman had tried to engage him in conversation during the entire meal.
“Yes?” Raeth asked.
“Have you…received impressions from the Ancestors yet?” Tae asked as the chefs prepared their desert.
“No, not yet,” Raeth said. “I still haven’t made my choice. I’m not even close yet.”
Tae nodded firmly. “Good,” she said. “Then the Mahallen harlot is lying.”
Raeth froze. “What?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s nothing less than one would expect of those types,” Tae said with her controlled tone. “The way they go about finding—or should I say seducing—husbands is shameful.”
“Nahan?” Raeth said. “What has she done?”
“She stopped wearing those…hoops of hers this morning,” Tae informed. “She’s made it known—not officially of course—that you were the one who took them.”
Raeth sat stunned for a moment.
“I knew, of course, that her words weren’t true,” Tae informed firmly, staring Raeth directly in the eye. “No High Aedin of any proper breeding would succumb to such a ploy. Not only would the action shame him, but it would be an unbearable insult to the honor of his other bride offerings. Why, if I were in such a position, I doubt I could continue to face the world.”
Raeth shivered at the quiet intensity in the woman’s voice. She held his eyes, and he could see the seriousness contained therein. Members of the Ferrous line did not jest.
“You would really do that?” he asked, amazed. “You would kill yourself?”
“Perhaps,” Tae replied. “Though, fortunately, my line has another option available to it. Living as a Corpate is a cold, lonely existence, but it would certainly be preferable to facing the court after such a shame.”
Raeth sat for a moment. Then he pushed his chair away from the table and stood. Tae immediately stood as well, waiting subserviently upon his will.
“I…must be going,” Raeth informed. “I have to see that these allegations are properly denied. Please, continue without me.”
“Of course, my lord,” Tae said, nodding her head. She remained standing as Raeth turned and marched out of the dining hall. He found Tarrinon scribbling notes on a ledger just outside of the room.
The scribe looked up as Raeth left. “My lord?” he asked. “Is the meal over early?”
“For me it is,” Raeth replied, gesturing for Tarrinon to join him as he marched down the wide, tiled hallway. “Have you heard about that Mahallen woman?”
“I just received the news, my lord,” Tarrinon said. “It is an interesting move on her part.”
“She’s claiming that we slept together,” Raeth said with an annoyed voice.
“Yes. Several sources quote her on it,” Tarrinon agreed.
“What can I do about the claims?” Raeth asked, stopping and turning in the hallway, barely noticing that he was standing directly on a mosaic-face of Vae.
“It’s not true, then?” Tarrinon asked.
“Of course not!” Raeth snapped.
“Then just deny it, my lord,” Tarrinon said.
“And people will believe me?” Raeth asked.
“Of course, my lord,” Tarrinon said, scratching his long beard then moving to pull open his tome. “You are the Emperor. All you have to do is write up a formal announcement—the only body that could challenge its authenticity is the Senate, and I doubt they have time to take a vote on your sexual habits.”
“Very well then,” Raeth said, still fuming. It was bad enough that she’d tried to seduce him, but to lie about the results… . “Draw up a formal announcement for me.”
“Immediately, my lord,” Tarrinon said, adding a note to his list of tasks.
Raeth took a breath, calming himself. What did Nahan possibly hope to accomplish by such a move? Did she think he would choose her simply because of her allegations? Raeth shook his head—as if women weren’t baffling enough.
“I’ll send the announcement out before this evening,” Tarrinon said as the two began walking again. “The girl will, of course, be stoned to death.”
Raeth froze. “What!” he demanded, turning.
Tarrinon looked up. “Why, yes, my lord. It is Mahallen law. Their society would be chaos without it. If a woman wanted a rich husband, all she would have to do is stop wearing her hoops and claim she seduced him. So, when a woman makes such a claim, a man is allowed to deny the allegations. If he does so, the woman is immediately stoned.”
“That’s horrible!” Raeth said.
“It doesn’t happen very often,” Tarrinon said. “Nowadays, most women are smart enough to bring witnesses.”
Raeth paused, eyes widening. “Witnesses? But, what about my guards? They saw her go into my quarters… .”
Tarrinon shook his head. “No good,” he replied. “They didn’t actually see the…event. Your guards were outside.”
Raeth blushed furiously. “You mean they actually… .”
Tarrinon nodded. “Though, only certified scribes of the court are valid witnesses. As I hear, the job is quite popular.”
“Tarrinon,” Raeth said, still blushing, “there is something very wrong with Mahallen society.”
“I agree wholeheartedly, my lord.”
Raeth sighed, leaning back against a pillar, his cloak flapping behind him. “So, if I deny her claim, Nahan will be killed.”
“Yes, my lord,” Tarrinon said.
“But, if I do choose Nahan, Tae just told me she’d turn herself into a Corpate out of shame.”
Tarrinon raised an eyebrow. “Not an unexpected move, I suppose.”
Raeth groaned, leaning his head back against the pillar. “What a mess,” he said. What would he do? The one he didn’t choose was as good as dead, but neither of them was the one he actually wanted. “Who would have thought choosing a bride would be so much trouble?” he mumbled.
“I believe you did, my lord,” Tarrinon noted. “Isn’t that why you commissioned the Ynaa to ask wisdom from your father?”
Raeth looked up, frowning. “If I didn’t know better, scribe, I’d think you were mocking me in my misery.”
Tarrinon smiled. “My lord,” he said with a hint of mock indignation. “I’m a bureaucrat. Accusing me of having a sense of humor is akin to a vile insult. Now, I believe you wanted me to make an appointment with the Patriarch for after your meal?”
Raeth sighed, nodding. Perhaps a trip to the Irae would take his mind off of his women troubles. Somehow, however, he suspected the Vo-Dari weren’t going to be any less frustrating.
Chapter Twelve
It felt odd to be walking the mudstone corridors of the Irae again. It had only been two weeks, but his life as Hern had been so markedly different than his one as a Dari that he had trouble associating the two. The faces and scenes he passed seemed like images from a dream. A bad dream. Though he had convinced himself to be content as a Dari, he now regarded those years with a measure of discomfort.
The truth was, the last two weeks had been invigorating. Despite the frustrations and the problems, despite the war and the brides, everything about his new life felt rig
ht to him. It was what he always should have been. He finally had a purpose, one that made him feel alive. His existence in the Irae had been a shadow of that. He knew the work he had been doing was important, but it just hadn’t fit him.
Perhaps part of his discomfort was from the way people looked at him. Familiar faces that had once smiled, now turned away in fear. He was an intruder. Non-Dari rarely entered the back hallways of the Irae, and his presence disturbed their orderly, uneventful lives.
I am sorry, my old friends, Raeth thought. I will leave you to your chantings and painting as soon as possible.
He and Tarrinon walked quietly through the hallways, following a brown-robed Dari named Faellos. Raeth had to be careful to pretend not to know where he was going; though he had visited the Patriarch on many occasions, Hern never would have done so. In fact, few outsiders knew much of the Patriarch. To them, the Vo-Dari leader was a mystical religious figure. Raeth had difficulty regarding him in a similar way—he knew the Patriarch too well.
The entrance to the Patriarch’s chambers was a nondescript wood door set in a mudstone wall. The Dari knocked, then backed away, gesturing for Raeth and Tarrinon to enter. They did so, and Raeth had to resist the impulse to bow his head subserviently.
The Patriarch sat behind a low, nondescript table with two Vo-Dari aids at his side. All three regarded Raeth with dissatisfied eyes—he had invaded their realm. Then, slowly, all three bowed their heads. In a half-month of odd experiences, being bowed to by Vo-Dari had to be one of the strangest.
“Emperor,” the Patriarch said with a raspy voice.
Raeth smiled slightly, remembering the day when the kindly, grandfatherly man had first welcomed him to the Irae and set him upon his training as a Dari. Even then, five years ago, the Patriarch had been so old he could no longer walk on his own. Yet, there was still a keenness to his eyes—an aged wisdom that few outside the Irae ever had the privilege of knowing.
“Patriarch,” Raeth said, nodding. “You can probably guess why I wished to see you.”
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