A Promise Broken

by Lynn E. O'Connacht

  The hall was much busier than Arèn was used to, but then he was up and out much earlier than usual. The servants were cleaning the floor and windows, hushed chatter flowing past him. He greeted some he knew, but mostly he ignored them the way they ignored him. It carried him to the kitchen more quickly, at least, where he could plead with the cooks for some bread. He found himself fending off a woman he hadn’t seen since he’d lived in Ónin. Jeimar-minnai has never stopped trying to feed him a three-course meal every time she saw him. He normally paid more attention to who was cooking to make it easier to avoid her. It took him less effort than it once had, thankfully.

  Having made his escape, he trudged through the halls with his warm, jam-filled rolls. He had to talk to Baesou. When he’d woken up, he’d realised that he’d have to excuse himself from the meeting entirely and he’d need to choose a replacement. The rysharoi would be at the Enkeina now. He always spent a few days a month up there to ensure that the magic keeping them safe hadn’t weakened. Arèn had his doubts and suspicions about the truth of that. When he emerged on top of the tower to discover that Baesou was reading a book, they only grew stronger. He cleared his throat, as much to announce his presence as to deal with the last of the jam he’d eaten.

  Baesou looked up. “Arèn. What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you.” He walked out onto the platform and tried to find a good place to settle. Even half-buried in the structure, the Enkeina took up a good quarter of the platform. It shimmered gently in the morning light. A sudden gust of wind made Arèn shudder. He’d have liked this platform much better if whoever had designed it had seen fit to install a proper railing around all sides rather than a single wall to the north where the stairs were. But there was only a wall, the height of two bricks around the platform.

  Baesou was sitting on it. He raised his eyebrows before putting down the book and gesturing at the wall. Arèn stayed where he was “You’ve found me,” the man said with a grin, though it soon sobered. “What is it?”

  “I need your help.”

  Baesou pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “This is about what happened between my son and that boy, Janyn, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. I need someone to replace me on the council for a meeting to deny bias.”

  “What if I side with Myrtan?”

  It was Arèn’s turn to sigh. “Then I’ll have been a fool to ask you. I know you hate attending our meetings, Bae. Please. It’s in your son’s best interests as well.”

  Baesou patted the wall again and this time Arèn did sit. He scooted as close to the safety of the platform as he could, but it barely helped. Baesou shook his head, but otherwise the man only shifted to face Arèn. Arèn hadn’t thought he could be nervous asking his friend for help, but he could feel his heart beating wildly the more Baesou stayed silent.

  When the man did speak, it was in the lilt of a farakaoina. Arèn didn’t know it. All he could feel was a weight settled against his back like a sun-warmed wall. If he closed his eyes, he could even forget that he was on the highest point of the island. Baesou’s voice rolled over him. “That almost sounded like a threat, Arèn.”

  “You know me better than that. They’re only children, Bae.” Arèn leaned forward, resting his face in his hands, and sighed. He’d been too happy to assign the blame to Janyn. They all had been. He needed someone on his side to draw attention to that. He needed Baesou. Nothing could happen to Radèn. The boy had made no promises. If Baesou made the faslaeraoina remember that… Arèn sighed again. “The meeting will be held next week. What am I going to do?”

  “Sit here and enjoy the solitude with me before you work yourself to death. I’ll remind them of the part my son played for you, but I won’t take your place.”

  “Thank you, but I should –”

  “Stay. You’ll not do anyone any favours by overworking yourself.”

  Arèn almost threw his head back to laugh. At the moment he was in more danger of falling to his doom. Yet, it was true that he’d be busy for much of the week. If Baesou wouldn’t speak for him, he’d either have to locate someone else the faslaeraoina deemed acceptable or excuse himself without replacement. This might be his only chance at respite until the meeting was done. “All right. Just for a little while.”

  “The boy made a promise, Mystá-minnai.” Baesou’s voice boomed through the hall. The rysharoi had cut right through what she had been saying, without any regard for protocol or courtesy. Not even Anou-minnoi intervened and Arèn couldn’t tell if that was a good or a bad sign.

  Either way, it was done. He had made the decision to be nothing more than a witness to this meeting. He could not be accused of bias or wrong-doing and he’d failed in finding someone to speak for him. It had come as a relief to discover that Myrtan too had chosen to excuse himself from the proceedings, though Arèn hoped the other faslaeraoina would see the choice of a gaodansai replacement as the tactical move it had to be.

  Arèn had found no one to take his place, and the rysharoi hadn’t budged. Now Baesou was relaying, once again, the events that had led to Janyn’s breaking of a promise as best as the faslaeraoina had been able to piece together from various testimonies. Arèn found it difficult to focus. His stomach was a wasp’s nest of nerves and he’d forgotten how smoothly Baesou’s voice carried through the hall, making the very bones in his body resonate. He’d give anything to have a voice like that. Everything, the faslaeraoina had said once, but that.

  Arèn closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself. He squeezed the railing separating the gallery from the main floor like he was trying to crush it, until the pain of it pulled him back to the present and to Baesou reminding everyone that no one had seen exactly what had happened. Yes, Janyn had promised on the Balance not to destroy Eiryn’s doll and yes his son blamed the older boy, but no one had seen what had truly happened.

  “My son could have been the one responsible. His rivalry with Janyn is no secret and our attempts to talk to him have so far proven futile. The boy may have made a promise –”

  Myrtan snapped, “And do you suppose any of us would have been able to keep our word in those circumstances?”

  Arèn sat rigidly and bit his tongue. Anou-minnoi was letting all of them discard protocol and it irked him. To see every member of the faslaeraoina throw the rules away like empty husks… Tasting blood, he hissed softly and tried to make himself relax enough not to injure himself further. He longed to intervene and restore order, but it had to be done. Myrtan might have interrupted despite having chosen only to observe, but Arèn was not going to do the same. He was not going to sacrifice protocol and accept the risks of it for a chance to speak again.

  “The doll was not destroyed,” Zannan added. His voice was almost a whisper where Arèn sat, but it silenced everyone all the same. “It was undoubtedly damaged, but we have heard from Keilan-minnai that the damage has been fixed. If we hold that the boy promised he would not destroy it, then I fail to see how his promise is broken.”

  “Wasn’t it?” Orryn-minnaoi asked, the customary trill to speak in aos voice. The tarènaoi rose, arms spread out in apology. Arèn leaned forward a little. He didn’t think anyone remembered that he was in the hall, but he’d chosen his spot to that purpose. To be forgotten, to know who to watch in the end. He hadn’t expected Orryn to speak. The tarènaoi taught Eiryn, Radèn and Janyn, so Arèn had expected aon to remain neutral. “We do not use the word ‘destroy’ solely for things that cannot be mended. From what Keilan-minnai told us of the doll’s condition, it was destroyed to Eiryn.”

  “Will we argue semantics?” asked Eredo-minnai. “Or will we argue actions?” Arèn was not surprised by the looks she received from the other faslaeraoina. Not only was she the youngest speaker present, but she was gaodansai. They’d lost half the morning just arguing whether the librarian was allowed to be one of them for this meeting. Arèn had spent the time trying to fig
ure out what exactly Myrtan had been thinking to gain. Now, the gaodansai seemed to have sent all the faslaeraoina muttering to themselves. Perhaps the man wanted to tear them all apart.

  Anou-minnoi raised his voice to get people’s attention, nudging it along with a farakaoina. “Semantics and actions are one and the same in this situation,” Anou-minnoi reminded them all. “Now, please, be civil about this.” The old man motioned for everyone to sit down in their chairs again. “We are not here to make a final decision. That can wait. We are here only to determine the facts as best we can and make a preliminary assessment.” Lemny trilled to speak. “Yes, Lemny-minnai?”

  The kerisai rose and Arèn felt his heart stop beating for just long enough that he noticed it was so. “Such matters are to be decided between families. It was a child’s squabble, no more. Tragic, but the Balance was kept. Myrtan-minnoi and Arèn-minnoi have no business bringing their feud into our midst.”

  A murmur ran through the faslaeraoina and Arèn had to force his hands to relax enough to let go of the stone he was gripping again. Pulling up his shirt from underneath his sash to wipe the sweat off them, he forced himself back into a seat and watched the room. The faslaeraoina fell silent, no doubt because Anou-minnoi had trilled for control and seized it right back. Everyone knew Lemny’s views on gaodansaoina. Arèn couldn’t help but wonder whether she and Myrtan had come up with a plan for Janyn to escape responsibility altogether.

  If they had, it seemed to be working. The faslaeraoina had been annoyed enough when Myrtan had called an emergency meeting about Eiryn and here they were again a month later. All Myrtan had to do was convince the majority that Eiryn was the reason these meetings kept being called. At that moment, Arèn wanted to curse himself for the decision to remove himself from the proceedings and observe. He’d lose everything if he interrupted like Myrtan had done. The other kerisoi only risked it. At that moment, Arèn thought perhaps he would like to strangle Myrtan, but that would hardly solve anything. All he could do now was hope that his careful documentation of Eiryn’s reaction and feelings would be enough. He doubted it; it was still only a doll.

  To Arèn’s surprise, when someone finally asked to speak, it was Zannan-minnoi who trilled for permission. “I beg to differ. Neither Arèn-minnoi nor his niece felt this was a matter worthy of our time —”

  Arèn had thought it quite worthy, but he’d wanted to wait precisely to avoid the discussion they were having now.

  “— but the boy swore on the Balance for all gathered to hear. This is not disputed and that alone is reason enough to bring it to our attention. Even if it means discussing semantics. Perhaps we should discuss tactics too. I notice that Arèn-minnoi is not the one abandoning his principles and bringing a gaodansai into our midst to gain favour.

  “I do not believe Myrtan-minnoi is fit to be faslaeroi any longer.”

  Arèn was desperately glad that he’d been sitting. He’d not expected that. From the way the other faslaeraoina reacted, neither had they. Some had flown up from their seats; others had fallen back into them. Some began to pace the length of the hall or walk in circles. Anou-minnoi was leaning heavily on the staff he’d brought with him. Arèn was too far away to make out how the old man was doing, but he didn’t think the words had been received too gently. No one, to Arèn’s knowledge, had questioned another appointed faslaeraoina for centuries. Perhaps the gaodansai his grandfather had known had had to deal with it, but Arèn couldn’t remember hearing any stories about that.

  “What arguments do you have for your accusations?” Baesou’s voice. More than anything, that disturbed Arèn. It should have been Anou who’d spoken. It should have been Anou who’d taken the discussion in that direction. That the old man was shaken enough to seem old, fragile and unable to fulfil his duties disturbed him. Baesou had walked over to Anou-minnoi and helped the old man to his seat. The rysharoi stood beside the seat and, Arèn thought, carefully kept his distance.

  “I have none but these,” Zannan answered. “Myrtan-minnoi lets ambition rule him. He is too stubborn to accept our council. It was only a few weeks ago that he all but demanded the death of a child.” Zannan gestured in apology, though he looked at everyone, even Eredo-minnai, as he continued, his head held firm. “I have made no secrets of my opinions and ideas and I have always, until today, been proud to call Myrtan-minnoi an ally. I mean no disrespect to Eredo-minnai, but gaodansaiona should not sit on this council. It is not their place to discuss matters which they cannot even assess.

  “Myrtan’s decision to allow Eredo-minnai to take his place is a choice that belies everything he has hitherto said he believed in. One who would betray his own principles, even if to defend those he loves, has no place among us who must put our own preferences and prejudices aside when the Balance demands it. Those are all my reasons, rysharoi. I call for an immediate vote on the matter.”

  This time, the faslaeraoina did not burst into discussions or whispers. This time, they were motionless. Whatever their emotions were, they kept them as much to themselves as they could and Arèn was too busy trying to understand what he’d just heard to pay much attention. Zannan had made no secrets of his feelings regarding gaodansaoina. The last thing he’d expected from him was a call to remove Myrtan from his seat.

  Arèn bit his cheek to keep himself silent. If he acted like Myrtan had been doing, especially now, he might lose the tenuous support he’d so suddenly gained and wasn’t sure he truly had.

  Finally, Anou-minnoi spoke. “How do you speak against this, Myrtan-minnoi?” His voice sounded brittle and soft, and Arèn was fairly certain that it wasn’t an act. The old man tended to be quite straightforward and blunt.

  Myrtan rose and walked over to where Anou was standing. It was so quiet in the hall that his slippers fair echoed throughout, unless that was the sound of Arèn’s heart beating in time with the man’s footsteps. From the dais it was easier to be seen and to look at the gathered faslaeraoina than from the aisles. Of course Myrtan would take advantage of that fact. He couldn’t afford not to.

  “I refute it, but I will let the faslaeraoina decide on it and abide by their decision.” Myrtan raised his hand and trilled to indicate that he was not yet done speaking. “But in turn I request that a full investigation be done rather than a single rash decision now and I request that the investigation be led by Arèn Enrai’Sarrynna.”

  That, at least, did not surprise Arèn too much. If he led the investigation, Myrtan or an ally could call accusations of bias any time afterwards. Arèn had little work to regain his composure and vaulted over the railing onto the floor. He walked over to the gathered faslaeraoina, though unlike Myrtan he didn’t walk up to the heart of the gathering. He stayed just a little outside of the circle. If Myrtan wanted to drag him into the meeting, he’d make sure everyone remembered it was against his will.

  He trilled permission to speak and was granted it. “I am honoured you would request me, Myrtan-minnoi,” he said, “but I cannot lead the investigation. I will do all in my power to aid it and ensure that its findings are truthful, but to lead it would be Imbalance, given our history.” He forced himself not to take a deep breath and to keep very still. “I wished to be only an observer here, but, since it has befallen me to speak, may I be permitted to make a suggestion?”

  After a moment, Anou-minnoi and Baesou both nodded their assent. Even Myrtan jerked his head down quickly.

  This time, Arèn started to toy with the fringe on his sash to give his hands something to do. “Thank you all. Myrtan-minnoi has a right to a full examination of his conduct and I would advocate thoroughness. We cannot vote on such a great accusation today when we do not have all the facts.” He wanted to look around and gauge the reactions in the hall, but Arèn kept his head slightly down instead. Humility could be his greatest asset at the moment.

  “It would be Imbalance to strip Myrtan-minnoi of his seat without this investigation. With the accusation mad
e it would be Imbalance to allow him to remain. My proposal is this: we suspend Myrtan-minnoi until the investigation has been concluded and its findings can show us the way to Balance. I further propose that we vote now on his request that I lead the investigation. I believe it would be Imbalance, but I would seek your guided counsel in the matter.

  “Does anyone object?” Anou-minnoi asked. No one answered and the hall was quiet for several minutes before he addressed them all again. Arèn would have liked Anou to have waited a little longer to let the words and events settle in everyone’s minds. Some of the faslaeraoina, such as Keilan, still looked quite startled and unsure of themselves. “Then let us vote. Arèn-minnoi, Myrtan-minnoi, you two may leave if you wish. This is not your decision.”

  Neither of them left and waiting for the faslaeraoina to make their decision seemed to last forever. Myrtan had moved to the other side of the room, away from the faslaeraoina and Arèn, and was glaring daggers at him. Arèn ignored him as best he could and only paid attention to the other faslaeraoina and their votes. The decision wasn’t unanimous, but the vast majority deemed him unfit to lead the investigative team. When Anou-minnoi asked him and Myrtan both to leave, Arèn was only too grateful to do so. He’d find his niece and go plead for sand biscuits from the cooks before returning to his work.

  Eiryn hadn’t seen Janyn in their classes for days now. She didn’t understand why and she didn’t dare ask. Today she’d decided that she’d risk sitting at her desk before Orryn-minnaoi came into the room. Her heart was chasing mice and she squeaked when a voice asked her how her afternoon at the beach had been. It was only Radèn she realised afterwards, but he’d startled her by speaking from behind her. The boy frowned, moved to squat beside her desk instead, and repeated his question.

  “Windy,” she answered. Her stomach made her feel sick and she felt dizzy.

  “Are you all right?” The boy put a hand on her shoulder and moved even closer to her face and stared. Bewildered and confused Eiryn pulled away from him. Janyn wasn’t here. No one was behind her. Radèn was too close and she was too hot and she couldn’t breathe, so Eiryn bolted. She sprang up from her seat and ran, determined to hide in her uncle’s rooms until the world decided to return to normal.