The Ardoon King

by Samuel Fort

  Chapter 30: Exit Fiela

  “What’s up, little lady?” asked Sam, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was wearing a white t-shirt and boxing shorts and held a towel in front of him to protect his modesty.

  “I am not a lady, Sam,” Fiela said, “I am a queen. Nor am I little. I am shorter than the average Nisirtu female, but I am the same height as most females of your kind.”

  “My kind?”

  Fiela ignored the response. “Are you a Christian?”

  Sam was flummoxed by the question. It was the last thing he’d expected to be asked by the wife of a man with two wives and a “consort.” He said, “More or less. I’m trying to improve but the circumstances keep working against me. Why? Have you got some fliers you want to give me?”

  “Fliers?”

  Sam shook his head. “Never mind. What about you? Are you a Christian?”

  “I am waiting for Ben to tell me.”

  “Pardon?”

  “He is the king, Sam, and my husband. Should we not share the same gods? I can hardly expect him to take mine. I would not recommend mine to anybody.”

  “But he’s a Christian?”

  “Of a kind.”

  “Then you know he has only one god, right?”

  This appeared to fluster the girl. “Are you certain? Not four?”

  “I’m pretty sure, yeah.”

  “Is it a powerful god, at least?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Does your god wage war?”

  “That’s the kind of question that could cause a brawl, honey. My opinion, though? Yeah. There’s a lot of killing and war in Old Testament.”

  She nodded approval. “That is all I require. Now, are you a priest?”

  Sam shook his head. “I’m not Catholic.”

  The girl looked put-out. “Who presides over your ceremonies?”

  “In my church we called them ‘ministers.’”

  “Can such people conduct marriage ceremonies?”

  “Of course.”

  The smile was back. “Good. Are you a minister?”

  This was turning out to be a very interesting, if baffling, conversation. “No, darlin’. I’m not much of anything, truth be told. But why would you ask me a question like that?”

  “I need a priest. Ben does not believe we are married.”

  Odder and odder. “Why not?”

  “Because his god was not invoked at the ceremony.”

  Sam scratched the back of his neck. “Did he tell you that?”

  “No, but…” The girl blushed.

  Now the man understood. Or thought he did. “You are hoping that I can marry you two,” he said. “In a Christian manner. Make it proper and all that.”

  “Can you? Please?” She moved a step closer and said quietly, “You must also tell him that the marriage ceremony is your idea. Tell him you are concerned your god is angry with us. It does not matter that you are not a real priest. It will be our secret.”

  “Uh-huh,” said the man, stroking his beard and looking at the floor. In as serious a tone as he could muster, he said, “You’ve thought this through?”

  “I have,” she said looking at him with her violet eyes. In a conspiratorial tone, she added, “I am queen. If you help me, I would not be ungrateful. I am very fond of Celeste. I would be happy to have her as my lady-in-waiting when she is of age.”

  “Lady-in-waiting? What’s that, exactly?”

  “My assistant. It is a very high station. She would be guaranteed the best of everything. Education, clothing, food, medicine, jewelry – whatever she wants. Normally Ardoon are not allowed such roles, yet Ben says this is a new world and Ardoon should be allowed the same roles as Nisirtu, which is kind of crazy, but he is the king. When she is an adult I can pair her with a suitable noble.”

  “Pair her?”

  “Arrange for her marriage.”

  “I think that she should choose her own husband, Fiela - when that time comes, which better not be anytime soon.”

  “No, she must not choose,” said Fiela, shaking her head. “She should assent to her marriage, of course. But she cannot truly comprehend the qualities of the men around her. She sees only their masks. My sister has spies everywhere and Persy knows the pedigree of every family. They can arrange for a good match.”

  Sam chuckled. “Is that right?”

  “Truly. Soon each noble will be granted lands to manage, Sam. Even the lowest among them will be given thousands of acres to farm and develop. It will be very hard and dangerous work. Think of your posterity. Would you rather your descendants be serfs or masters?”

  “Nothing wrong with hard work,” replied Sam.

  “Then she may work hard when she wishes and she may choose the work that best suits her. If she is properly married. If she is a serf, she will not have such liberties, nor the direct protection of the Peth. Her children may fare worse. You have seen the world as it is, Sam. She will outlive you by many years. What shall she do when you and Eliza are gone? What if she is injured in the wild? What if she becomes grievously ill? What if a stranger assaults her or she is abused by a poorly selected husband? Who will educate her children?”

  Fiela shook her head. “I’m sorry, Sam. This is not the world you knew. There are no safety nets outside this kingdom. Hard work guarantees nothing other than blisters.”

  That hit home. Sam would do anything for his grandchild. Suddenly Fiela’s words seemed less absurd. “What would her job be? What would she actually do?”

  Fiela shrugged. “Not much. She would deal with the fetches - servants, I mean. She would learn everything about everybody who is important, so that I don’t have to, which would be really helpful because I hate politics. She would represent my interest when I’m not here. You know, like an assistant.”

  Sam pondered the strange girl’s offer. He wasn’t sure if what she was promising him was true or a pie-in-the-sky delusion, but a few days at Steepleguard had convinced him that there was more to it than a bunch of rich eccentrics holed up for the apocalypse. He had to think about his granddaughter’s future, and while Ben would certainly take care of him and his family, the girl “queen” was offering a bit more than sustenance.

  Still, he wanted Ben’s input on all this. Deciding to buy himself some time, he said, “I’ll need to go back to my house. That’s where my ‘ritual garments’ are. As soon as Ben gets back, we’ll take care of that ceremony, okay?”

  Fiela shook her head. “No need to wait, Sam. I am on my way to meet the king even now. There is a squadron of Peth waiting for me outside. Prepare your things. We leave in an hour.”

  “What?! No, Fiela. My family-”

  “They will be cared for, Sam. Persy will see to it.”

  Sam looked over his shoulder, eyeing his wife and granddaughter, who lay motionless beneath their sheets. “The thing is-”

  He turned back, but he girl was already gone.

  Thal caught up with the young queen just inside the main doors of the Great Hall. Fiela had donned her specialized armor, olive drab with black tiger stripes, and was strapping a holster to one hip. Two gigantic Peth escorts stood nearby, waiting, and each bowed slightly as Thal approached.

  “Are you ready?” Fiela asked her mentor.

  “I’m all checked in,” the woman quipped. “The fetches made good time loading the horses.”

  “Good,” the girl replied. “Sam will be joining us. We shall have a grand time!”

  Her eyes lost just a bit of their luster as they focused on the large box Thal was carrying. It looked just large enough to hold a couple of books. “Surely you will not make me study while we are traveling.”

  “Yes, I will. Otherwise, you will lose your way.”

  Fiela moaned, looked tentatively at the Peth on either side of her, and then gently led Thal to a far corner. In a hushed voice she said, “I will not. Have I not been a very good student lately?”

  “You have.”

  “Then must I have homework?�
� She looked utterly despondent.

  “Don’t worry. Your assignments shall be light. I don’t intend to distract you from your duties.”

  Fiela motioned toward the box. “Books?”

  Thal shook her head. “Your books are already loaded on the horses. This,” she said, presenting the suspicious box to the girl, “is a gift. I planned to give it to you on your birthday. This seems a more appropriate time.”

  “A gift?” Fiela said a little happier, grabbing the box. She removed the cardboard top. Inside she saw a polished mahogany case. She opened the hinged lid and peered inside. “Whoa!”

  Inside the case was a red silk cushion in which were nested two daggers. The blades were a foot long and narrow, not more than an inch in width beneath the handle, and so black that they seemed to absorb light. There were bronze calligraphic cuneiform etchings running down the length of both sides of the blades. The handles were made of rich, dark, leather with gold stitching.

  “Where did you get these?” Fiela asked.

  “Father and I had them made for you before the collapse to honor your victories against the Maqtu. But you were impossible to track down. Now, however, I have you cornered.”

  Fiela pulled one of the daggers from the box and read the inscription. “Blade of Fiela, Nocte Sicarius, Daughter of the Night.” Grinning she asked, “Daughter of the Night?”

  Thal shrugged. “A euphemism. You’re a night assassin.”

  “Cool.” The girl pulled the other dagger from the box and twirled it effortlessly in her other hand. After a dozen revolutions she tossed it into the air, studying its upward and downward trajectories. The dagger landing horizontally atop the girl’s right index finger. “Perfectly weighted,” she marveled.

  Thal was awed by the assassin’s control of the dagger. Though balanced only on the tip of the girl’s finger, it was absolutely motionless. It might as well have been glued to a wall. It disappeared in a flurry of movement that made the woman instinctively take a step back.

  “I’ll leave the box here,” said Fiela, turning and placing it on a nearby table. “These babies aren’t intended for display, after all.” Thal saw both daggers already pinned beneath Fiela’s belt, one on each side of her body. It seemed impossible that the girl could have holstered them so quickly, especially while holding a box in one arm.

  Though thrilling, the woman also found the motions oddly unsettling. With a person like Fiela nearby, death was always a millionth of a second away.

  Fiela was about to make her supposedly clandestine exit when Persipia appeared at the main doors. She rushed up to the girl, a pained expression on her face.

  “Annasa, are you off?”

  The girl sighed. “Yes. But keep your mouth shut until tomorrow, Persy. The king has summoned me. My sister does not know.”

  “What?” the woman looked terrified.

  Fiela grabbed the woman’s arm and took her forcibly to a nearby coat room, shutting the door behind her. “I don’t have time for this. Look, the nurse knows to give you what you want. You’ll be fine. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks.”

  “I’ll be alone with Lilitu? Without you or the king here, she will be unchecked!”

  “And what am I to do about that, Persy?” asked Fiela impatiently. “Look, just be aggressive with her. Throw yourself at her feet. Whatever. Satisfy her before she picks up the rod. She will go much easier on you. I told you before that I am not your protector. If her abuse is too much, quit. You can. I’ve told you that. Become a citizen. It is your election to stay as consort that causes you such grief.”

  Persipia rung her hands together. “Is that woman going with you?”

  “You mean Thal? Yes. She must.”

  Persipia looked down at her hands, which she held together at chest level. “Annasa, what do you know of Lady Thalassa?”

  “What is there to know?” asked Fiela, suspicious of the consort’s expression.

  The consort began to speak, then hesitated.

  “What, Persy?”

  “I have heard a rumor, Annasa. I know it is only a rumor, but you must be made aware of it.”

  “What?”

  Persipia hesitated again.

  Fiela stepped forward and said, “Persy, I will beat you myself if you don’t speak up!”

  “An affair,” Persipia blurted, taking a step back. “The rumor is that the study of the tablets is a ruse. An excuse for evening encounters. That is why they are so often together, and behind closed doors. That is why you have been made the woman’s charge. She is using the king to steal a throne.”

  Fiela’s face turned red. “Who said that?”

  “I do not know, Annasa. One of my kitchen spies just reported it this morning. Perhaps it was only small talk-”

  The girl screamed an obscenity and lifted her hand high into the air behind her.

  Persipia fell to the ground, anticipating a strike that could easily kill her. “Please, Annasa! I’m telling you only so that you may warn the king first! I told my informers to squelch such talk, but they can’t for long. If Lilitu hears these rumors…”

  Fiela pointed at the woman. “Lady Thalassa is not stealing a throne, Persy! She did not even want to be my mentor. Gods! If you find out who has said this, tell me. I will serve them their intestines!”

  “I will, Annasa. I swear. Yet rumors spread. I cannot prevent it!”

  The girl, breathing hard, took a step forward, her hand on the hilt of a dagger. She looked very menacing. “If these rumors reach Lilitu, you will do everything in your power to convince her of their falsehood. Do you understand?”

  Persipia was babbling. Fiela didn’t hear a word of it.

  “I will deal with the troublemakers when I return,” the girl seethed.

  She left the room, a trail of smoke behind her.

  Part 3 –

  Hide him from the sun!

  Let daylight become darkness for him!

  Destroy him and conquer Anzu…

  Devastate his home and the mountains!

  - The Epic of Anzu, First Millennium BC