They opened the doors for her after she acknowledged them with an eloquent nod, and the Chamberlain scurried in before them. Azakar stopped and gawked a bit at the Hall of the Sun, giving the Chamberlain time to procure his ceremonial staff from a servant holding it. The throne chamber was suitably grand and lavish for the monarch of Wikuna, huge and towering, with vaulted ceilings and mighty buttresses rising up to reinforce them. The ceiling was arched, some hundred feet over their heads, where many chandoliers hung with their magically created lights to illuminate the huge chamber. A red carpet ran up the middle of the room, from the doors to the raised dais that held the throne itself, and flanking that carpet was nearly three hundred Wikuni dressed in various types of ridiculously expensive attire. Nearly the full complement of court, she noticed. The throne was a huge block of black basalt stone, shaped into a huge throne, with thick pillows and armrests to comfort the reigning monarch. In stark contrast to that black stone chair, a huge circular topaz nearly three feet across was embedded in the back of the throne, a good six feet from the chair's base, with a corona carved into the stone around it that was encrusted with smaller topazes, a begemmed replica of the sun on the kingdom's crest.
Sitting on that throne, dressed in the purple robe of the monarch and with the gold and topaz crown of Wikuna sitting atop his brow, was Damon Eram. Keritanima stared calmly at him as she stood and waited to be announced. From that distance, it was hard to make out the nuances of his features, but the flat, angry look on his face was evident to anyone who could see it. Standing beside him, on his left, was Keritanima's sister, Jenawalani. The mink Wikuni's face was pinched and hostile, and her brown hair and gray fur had been combed to absolute perfection. She wore a gem-studded gown with a daring neckline, a modest cream color to accentuate the color of her fur, but her boxy muzzle showed her barely contained snarl of envy and hatred of her older sister as she entered the room.
The Chamberlain rapped his staff on the tiled floor sharply, three times, and that caused the low chatter in the hall died down. "Your Majesty, Lords and Ladies, Keritanima-Chan Eram, Jewel of the Western Star, Lady of the Twenty Seas, Bearer of the five Bands of Nan, Holder of the Ring of Bakul, Crown Princess of Wikuna!"
The assembled courtiers bowed or curtsied at that announcement. Binter and Miranda did the same, Binter having to rap the back of Azakar's knees with the tip of his tail to get the human to do what was proper. From here on, Keritanima would be alone. She stepped away from the protection of her bodyguards and friends, stepped onto that red carpet, walking a gauntlet of amused looks, evil glares, and barely suppressed smiles as she marched slowly, measuredly, and regally up that carpet and towards her father. She didn't look anywhere but into his eyes the entire time, watching them begin to burn with anger and fury as she approached, but they were also tinged with just a little bit of fear. She reached the edge of the carpet and stopped, some fifteen feet from her father. No one was permitted to come any closer than that. Then she just stood there, when she was supposed to curtsy and make some kind of humble remark to satisfy the towering pride of the throne and the monarch.
Damon Eram blasted to his feet and raised an arm, a hand holding the golden scepter of the crown, and pointed it at her. "You will show proper respect for the King!" he roared.
Keritanima said nothing. She simply crossed her arms beneath her breasts and stared at him.
The fur on Damon Eram's face ruffled as the skin beneath flushed, making the fur move. "This is treason!" he screamed. "Bow to me right now, or I'll have you executed on the spot!"
Keritanima raised one arm and pointed the palm of her hand at her father. That caused him to recoil, to bring his scepter up as if to fend off some kind of attack, and several of the Royal Guard rushed from their positions at the sides of the dais and the walls to intercept her. But she did nothing more than reach down and grab the hem of her skirt, then make the barest of curtsies. She stared right into his eyes the entire time, her steady gaze making note of his fear and his reaction to her. Then she gave him a light, amused smile. That also generated a few barely audible chuckles and titters. Damon Eram feared his daughter, and she had just made that weakness public knowledge.
Damon Eram recovered his dignity, glaring death down on his daughter and jumping back into a rigid posture. But Keritanima's voice cut him off before he could begin to rail. "Thus have I satisfied the demands of the King," she stated in a cold voice. "Do you want me to sit up and beg now? Roll over and play dead? How about if I fetch your slippers?"
Damon Eram spluttered as some of the courtiers laughed. None of them expected humor from Keritanima. Many of them had no idea what to expect from her, she knew, and she was going to take advantage of that fact.
"Perhaps his Majesty would prefer it if I entertained him with feats of prestidigitation and thaumaturgic delights?" she asked, raising her hands and toucing the Weave. Five balls of fire appeared in her hands, and she began to juggle them easily. Damon Eram flinched slightly at the appearance of those magical objects, but this time he held his position. "After all, you must have some reason to bring me halfway across the globe to stand before you."
"Cease this display!" Damon Eram roared, trying to get the situation back under control. Keritanima let the fiery balls vanish, then folded her arms again and stared at him. "Your behavior has been deplorable, Keritanima! You have caused me no end of trouble, and I mean to take that trouble out of your thick hide!"
"You may certainly try," she retorted calmly.
"Silence!" he screamed in a furious tone. "You have inconvenienced the Crown and Wikuna for the last time, Keritanima! Did you believe that you would get away with it? Did you really think I wouldn't have you dragged back here to answer to me for what you have done?" He pulled his robe around him and sat back down. "Your punishment has already been decreed, daughter. You will surrender all your personal wealth to the Crown. You will be restricted to your apartments until such time that I rescind that punishment, and you will be flogged right here and right now." Keritanima glared at her father, but she did not speak. "Fifty lashes. One for each headache you have caused me in the last months."
A large cat Wikuni stepped forth, wearing a black leather hood and carrying a whip. "Now remove your dress," Damon Eram hissed eagerly.
Keritanima didn't move. She just stared at her father.
"Fine then. I'm sure the dress will make it hurt that much more. Commence!" he ordered.
The cat Wikuna shook out his whip and moved to the side, so his whip lashes would strike the Princess on the back, as the courtiers cleared away from the area near the throne, looking on eagerly. Keritanima did not move, made no attempt to dodge or protect herself as the cat Wikuni raised the whip, then struck at her. It lashed in and made contact with her back--
--and there was a brilliant flash of light. The cat Wikuni screamed only once as lightning blasted up the length of his whip, emanating from Keritanima and sizzling into him. His fur stood straight out, and then began to smoke, as the scream died away and it made no more sound. It only shuddered horribly, unable to release the whip even as the tip of the whip did not fall away from her back, until the lightning stopped arcing along the whip's length and the tip fell away from her. The cat Wikuni slumped to the floor, smoke issuing forth from its mouth, eyes, and fur. It was very dead.
"Murder!" Jenawalani declared loudly in her shrill voice.
Damon Eram jumped to his feet, his eyes bulging in his shock and rage at her action. "You have just commited murder before the court!" he screamed.
"I did no such thing," she replied calmly, kicking the end of the whip away from her foot. "The Fifth volume of the Laws of the Crown, year 1747, third decree, states that a Royal Prince or Princess may not be physically assaulted or injured by any party of lower rank. Such transgressions are punishable by death, with no benefit of trial. So, as you see, father, I did nothing more than enforce the law."
Damon Eram glared at her.
"The only person with t
he legal authority to whip me is you," she announced, reaching down and picking up the whip. She coiled it up until she had the handle, and held it out towards him calmly. "Would you care to have a turn, father? I'm sure you'll find the experience a once in a lifetime event."
The challenge hung there for a very long moment, then Damon Eram sat back down on his throne hard enough to jar his crown. Jenawalani glared viciously at her older sister, nearly snarling at her. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the courtiers staring at Keritanima with new eyes. This was nothing what they expected. Nobody had ever frustrated and dominated Damon Eram in his own throne room before. "You are wrong, daughter," Damon Eram snapped. "I ordered the flogging. Your quoted law doesn't give you the right to counter my decree."
Keritanima continued to hold onto the whip. "I'll be happy to wait here as your Chamberlain researches the law," she offered. "I'm sure he'll discover the validity of my statement. Would you like me to quote it for you, so he knows what to look for?"
Damon Eram stared flatly at her.
"Until he returns, I assure you I'll deal with anyone else who tries to whip me in the same manner," she promised. "Unless you'd like to come down here and do it yourself," she added with a slight smile.
"I will not permit witchcraft in my hall," he said evilly. "I forbid you to use your magic in this hall again."
"Fine. Just so you know, the spell protecting me was created before you made that statement. Anyone who makes an attempt to injure me will meet a similar end."
Damon Eram's brows furrowed. "Then I order you to end your spell."
"I cannot. You just ordered me not to use magic in this hall. A decree made by a King does not expire, nor can it be superseded by later decree, until a written copy of said decree, bearing the King's seal, is presented before the Clerk of Law."
"That's a lie!" Jenawalani accused.
"First Volume of Laws of the Crown, year 1752, first decree. Would you like your Chamberlain to check that one as well?" She smacked her head. "Dear me. I seem to see that your Clerk of Law isn't present at the moment. Someone should really go summon him." She tapped her finger on her muzzle. "Do you know where that law came from? It was the decree of Luthis, your great-great grandfather. He had a habit of second-guessing his own decisions, so he made that decree to ensure he thought carefully about any decree he wished to repeal. It was never repealed by a later decree."
It was clear to everyone in the hall that Damon Eram was more than taken aback. Keritanima had defeated his attempt to humiliate her with a public flogging, and it was plain from his face that he didn't know if she was lying about those laws, or telling the truth. He looked to have no idea what to say next. "Come now, father," she said, putting the whip on her shoulder easily. "This is where you send your Chamberlain to check those laws, and order me to wait until he returns, trying to make me feel uncomfortable. If it turns out I'm lying, you can have me executed for murder. If it turns out I'm telling the truth, then you'll have to fetch your Clerk of Law so you can repeal the decree stopping you from making me lower my protective spell."
"I will not play games with you, Keritanima," he hissed. "I order you to submit to the punishment."
"I already have submitted to the punishment," she replied evenly. "As soon as you find someone to administer it, I'll gladly let him try to whip me."
"Killing the man fulfilling my orders is not submitting to your punishment!" he raged, standing up again.
"You said submit. You did not say accept. And you already know what it will take to have me whipped, father. We can stand here all day and play word games and chess, but you know it will never come down to anything else. I know the law better than you ever will, and I can stand here and raise legal defenses to my actions all day. There are hundreds of laws protecting the Royal Family."
"Not if I repeal them," he hissed.
"If you repeal them, you leave yourself open to all sorts of problems, father. After all, those same laws protect you. Repeal them, and you lose your own legal protection." She grinned evilly. "Face it, father. The only way you're going to hurt me is if you come down here and do it yourself."
Damon Eram looked past her. "If you will not accept the punishment, then your maid will on your behalf. Only it will be doubled."
"First Volume, year 1737, first decree. The personal servants of the Royal Family will be extended the same protections as the Royal family member whom they serve. Anyone who touches my maid will answer to my bodyguard," she warned in a dangerous voice. "Binter, Azakar, kill anyone who touches my maid," she called loudly in Common, so Azakar could understand the command.
"Now I know you're lying," Damon Eram said triumphantly.
"Then go look it up," Keritanima said flatly. "Would you like the decree quoted to you in its entirety?"
"As a matter of fact, I would," he said with a grin.
Keritanima cleared her voice. "Hear Ye, Hear Ye, Beholden this, a lawful Decree issued forth by Amvar Eram, King of Wikuna, in the year of our Gods 1737. Be it so known that henceforth, the personal servants, grooms, maids, and private attendants of the immediate Royal family shall enjoy the same legal protections as the Royal family member whom they serve, be it matters legal, physical, or tort. The personal servants of said Royal family members shall be protected by the Royal Guard as vigorously as they would defend the Royal family. Hear Ye, Hear Ye, be this decreed as rightful law."
One of the Royal Guard stepped forth boldly. He was a tall panther Wikuni with gray creeping into his black fur, but his green eyes were still sharp and lucid. Keritanima knew him as Shan, the Captain of the Royal Guard, a sober, serious Wikuni devoted to his duty. Keritanima knew that Shan didn't like her father, so it was no surprise that he was speaking up for her now. "Your Majesty, on this matter, I can state confidently that the Princess has correctly cited the law. Personal servants of the Royal family are, by law and duty, protected by the Royal Guard when they stand within the Palace. This is a law I know, so I can support her Highness in its interpretation. Given the circumstances, should anyone attempt to harm the Princess' maid within this hall, the Royal Guard would have to stand forth and defend her from injury."
"Thank you so much for that," Damon Eram said flatly to his Captain, giving Keritanima a slightly wild look. He seemed shocked that she could quote forgotten laws and decrees. "I will definitely have your laws researched, daughter," he said in a savage voice. "Until I remove all the blocks to your flogging, you will return to your apartments. But be ready to receive your punishment. But now it will be on hundred lashes, carried out in the Market Square at high noon. And you will have to march to the square naked, then march back after you have received your punishment."
"I'm so glad you think so, father," she said flippantly, turning her back to him and walking away without curtsying, or waiting to be dismissed.
"You will show me proper respect!" Damon Eram screamed from his throne.
"I'm already going to be whipped," she snorted, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Why should I bother with hollow tokens of respect?"
"How dare you!" he shrieked.
"I dare lots of things, father," she said, stopping and turning around. "I am what you made me. Now you have to face the reality of your molding." She stared at him, raised her hand to the side of her muzzle, pulled down her lower eyelid, and then stuck her tongue out at him. "That's from the Brat," she said with a grin. "She says hello."
That created a bit of laughter among the courtiers, who were now thoroughly enthralled with the drama playing out between father and daughter.
Keritanima collected her maid and her bodyguards, turned and gave her father a toothy grin, then sauntered out of the throne room acting as if she owned it. She left behind a court trying very hard not to laugh in the presence of an infuriated, indignant, thoroughly humiliated King, and his astounded, shocked, and very worried younger daughter.
Word of Keritanima's mastery of her father during their initial encounter raced from the Palace lik
e the wind, and spread throughout the city. Word of it reached every pub and alehouse, scattered through warehouses and aboard docked ships, and floated through the parlors of the rich and the noble. By sunset, everyone in Wikuna was whispering about how Damon Eram's daughter embarassed him in his own throne room.
And more than one nobleman reassessed his opinion of Damon Eram's enigmatic daughter.
Chapter 13
"What are you doing?" Azakar asked Keritanima curiously.
It was the day after the Princess dressed down her father in his throne room. There had been no servants or messengers, leaving her in her rooms to supposedly sweat out her impending punishment. A group of guards had, however, come in and removed all her jewelry, all her dresses, and all her money. The rooms were a bit emptier now, especially the closet, but that didn't bother her in the slightest. All she had left were the dresses Miranda made for her on the journey to Wikuna, but they were good enough.
There had been a time when looking good had been almost obsessively important to her. Granted, she did look good in the well-made dresses supplied by Miranda, but they were not the silks and satins, brocade and velvet that had usually graced her form. She realized it after they came and took all her dresses away, that she didn't miss them in the slightest. A house-sized closet full of rows and rows of beautiful gowns, and she had chosen the morning before to wear the simple brown dress that Miranda had made for her. She guessed that her time with her brother and sister had had a much more significant impact on her than she first believed. She did look good in Miranda's dresses, and she discovered that that was good enough for her.
But they were gone now. She didn't miss them, but it did free up a great deal more room in the apartments. They had been very thorough in their search of her rooms for gold and valuables, which meant that they had only found about half of what she really had on hand. The problem they had was that they still remembered Keritanima the Brat. They didn't look any further than her rooms, and they didn't find half of her fortune there. Keritanima had had years to build a complex web of spies, informants, and assassins, and that took vast amounts of gold. Usually, her allowance, and the money she could steal from the treasury with her father's seal and a key to the treasury was enough to cover her expenses. But sometimes, for a rush job or something serious, she needed more than she could easily obtain without having to sell off all the dresses and jewels that the Brat fancied. To cover the cost of those occasional crises, Keritanima had become something of a phantom businesswoman. Under the name Lizelle, Keritanima owned a very large, very profitable trading company. It was chaired by a Wikuni that ran it for her, yet had no idea by whom he was employed. Lizelle Sailmender was an imaginary person, but in Wikuni records, she seemed as real as a real person. She had a large file in the Hall of Records as the owner of substantial property in the capital city. She was a thriving businesswoman with a net worth rivalling some smaller noble houses, and every year she paid large sums in taxes. Lizelle wasn't a noblewoman, so there was no tax breaks for her business. Were she a real person, she'd probably grumble about that endlessly. She even had a couple of minor legal infractions, one for public drunkenness and another for assault on another Wikuni businessman during a meeting, some ten years ago. They were faked, but they gave the imaginary Lizelle more color, more believability.
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