by S Kaeth
“He does what needs for doing. Order must be maintained.”
“Have you seen all the suffering, both inside and outside the palace? No one with the power to stop it should allow it to go on!”
“The king doesn’t need for letting anyone live here in the palace, you know. But he does, and now there’re servants who’re well paid and beautiful accommodations for his guests,” Theron said, gesturing to the room around them as proof.
“That does not mean the way things are is good.”
“We’re all trapped here, Kaemada. All of us, trapped in this ancient, ancient city. The king’s king, and doing the best he can.”
Kaemada shifted, staring down into his earnest eyes. She wished she knew what to do next, what path would lead to safety. She was drowning, out of her depth. It was too hard to keep looking at him, so she looked around the room instead, but that was no better. There was nowhere she could look that she didn’t see him in the gifts he had given her. And she had begun to enjoy the time he spent with them, despite her misgivings. She’d enjoyed trading tales with him and talking more freely. And the medicine. She could use that to help the other battered captives, at least a little.
She drew a deep breath. Theron was in danger, just as she was. At any time, the king could turn on him, and for no reason at all. He was right. She had brought his strike upon herself with her foolishness. Some part of her railed against the notion, but she pushed it far, far away. It was better to accept things as they were, to accept her own fault. It was the only way to have any peace to this place.
“I should not have asked that of you,” she whispered. “I should not have asked you to disobey the king.”
“I’m a loyal man, Kaemada. That doesn’t mean I don’t care to you.”
For a moment, Tikatae’s face flashed before her eyes, his voice in her ears. Her stomach clenched, but she breathed, pushing the fear and nagging unease away. She would work instead to avoid causing any commotion, and surely she could convince Theron to help them escape.
After all, he was only doing what he needed to survive. Just like her.
ÌTAL-FEN
Chapter Sixteen
To be sure, it falls to the noble classes to lead the common people into the Future. We have the advantages of Birth, Prestige, and University. Of course, these can be said to be disadvantages as well, but no matter. We must ensure the continuation of the Right of Elect, regardless of what others may say! It is crucial to continued success in our efforts at balance to allow our children, upon reaching the age of majority, the choice of joining the Scouts, Philosophers, or Justices. Boys of noble Birth must, of course, finish University first, but the young ladies should continue to have their chance…
-scrap of a letter between two noble houses in Codr
Ra’ael centered the dress on its hanger, slipping it into Dode’s wardrobe. Worry nibbled at the edges of her mind like a pest, regardless of how she tried to focus on the details of the mundane chore. Dode was at a meeting with the other nobles, and she wasn’t there to protect her if another assassin came. The Scouts forbade Ra’ael’s presence, and most of the Justices backed them, even though she’d been on her best behavior for nearly four moons. When had she begun to care so much about Dode’s wellbeing? Every meeting, Ra’ael found herself pacing the floors, cleaning obsessively, and straightening what was already tidy, even though a pair of Scouts escorted Dode to and from meetings. Having a Rinaryn bodyguard had not made Dode more popular, and Ra’ael loved her for that.
The door in the entryway slammed. The hanger nearly leapt from her hands, but she caught it, setting it down with the clothes she was holding. Who could it be? Dode always shut the door firmly but quietly. Never slamming. But why would any intruder slam the door? Ra’ael cautiously crept to the threshold of Dode’s bedroom, reaching it just as Dode burst inside. She would have knocked right into her if it weren’t for Ra’ael’s quick hop backward.
The old woman rubbed her hands together, a manic light in her eyes. “I have wonderful news!”
Ra’ael pressed her lips together, taking deep breaths to slow her racing heart.
With a quick step past her, Dode tore through her wardrobe, holding up gowns and then tossing them away. Ra’ael stared at Dode. She’d never seen her so excited.
Throwing aside another dress, Dode continued, “I have convinced the Opera House to allow a little entertainment in seven days. We have little time to prepare. You and your friends will be brought together, and you will sing your folk songs and dance your folk dances. It will be a wonderful evening!”
Ra'ael bristled. She’d just put all those clothes away. Dode hadn’t even acknowledged startling her, so wrapped up was she in this fantasy of hers. Folk songs and folk dances, indeed. Ra’ael had no intention of putting her culture on display to be sliced into pieces and dissected by the monster of Kamalti high society.
“We’re to be your entertainment?”
Dode dropped the clothes she held in a heap, finally looking at her. Disappointment lined the edges of her frown. “I could order you to do this, you know. It would be fully within my rights. But I hoped you would enjoy this, that you might think of this as an opportunity to help Kamalti get to know Rinaryn ways.”
“You assume that’s a goal of mine.” Ra’ael eyed the pile of clothes heaped on the floor. She’d have to put everything away. Again.
“I thought we had gotten past this.” Pain formed an undercurrent of Dode’s voice. “You have served me well these four faces, and I hope you think I have been kind to you. Why should we let the nonsense continue to spread that your people are animals?”
“Why should I care what they think? My people do not—the Kamalti might as well not exist from their perspective.”
“Well, do not let that stop you from having a nice evening.” Dode’s tone gentled further. “I thought you might be getting homesick and want to see your friends.”
Ra’ael hesitated. She yearned to see Takiyah and Taunos again. Dode had checked on Taunos twice for her, reporting that he seemed well-treated, all things considered, but there was no word about Takiyah. Still, Takiyah was smart and strong. Taunos was the one who needed watching, to make sure he didn’t do something stupid. There was no longer Kaemada to worry about. She had to make sure the others didn’t die as well, murdered by sneering Kamalti. In that moment, seven days seemed too long. She wanted to check on them right away, to talk to them, to see for herself that they were okay.
Dode pressed on. “You take solace in your familiar habits. I know you do. This is a chance to let them spread like seeds sprouting in the gardens.”
“Will it be honorable? We’re not to be mocked.” Ra’ael drew herself to her full height, despite the fact that she was much shorter than Dode.
A smile lightened her expression. “Do you think the great singers and performers of Kamalti society think themselves mocked? No! Well, not when done correctly. When done right, it is uplifting and exalting. And it will be done correctly for you—authentically. I have reserved the Opera House, did I not mention? All Kamalti performers strive to one day earn the privilege of performing at the Opera House.”
Ra’ael tapped her finger against her lips. Kaemada had longed to bring Kamalti and Rinaryn together. Perhaps this spectacle would honor her memory. At least it might open dialogue and sow curiosity. Maybe they could find a way to make the Kamalti more lenient toward those who left the paths. And even if none of Kaemada’s dreams came true, this would be a chance to check on Takiyah and Taunos.
“Fine.”
A broad, giddy smile split Dode’s face.
The next few days were a whirlwind of activity, filled with meetings with the Opera House, tailors, and other vendors as Dode rushed to plan the event with Taunos’s and Takiyah’s captors. In the evenings, Ra’ael and Dode argued about content with raised voices, a bent plate, and a cup with a crumpled handle bearing witness. After three vicious nights, they agreed on some children’s songs and a few g
roup dances. Ra’ael banned all religious dances and songs and refused to budge regardless of how hard Dode pressed her. Eventually, Dode relented.
The evening of the performance, Dode grabbed Ra’ael by the hand and pulled her into the small guest chamber set aside for her that Ra’ael never used. With a flourish, Dode opened a bag. Inside lay Ra’ael’s own proper Rinaryn clothing, clean and folded. Ra’ael gasped. Tears sprang to her eyes, and her hand trembled as she touched the soft alanshorn wool. It felt like home.
“I had these professionally cleaned so you could wear them tonight. And look. Look farther in the bag.”
Ra’ael dug her hands in, pulling out her clothes. The thin blue shroud of priestesshood lay beneath them, also clean and folded. She threw it over her shoulders immediately, though it sat wrong on the too-smooth Kamalti dress. Something else weighed down the bag, and she reached back in, drawing out her small hand drum and the rattles for her wrists and ankles. She stared at them. They had been in her pack.
Dode smiled. “I managed to get your pack from storage. I thought you would like to wear your own things tonight.”
“Thank you.” The words came out in a whisper. It was strange, the depth of gratitude she was floundering in. They were only things. And yet they reminded her of home, and she had missed home so very much.
Dode nodded and pulled the door shut behind her as she left. Ra’ael wasted no time discarding the Kamalti garb. As she pulled on the familiar clothes, serenity filled her. She tugged on her boots and then finally the priceless blue cloth, which draped perfectly. A glimmer of optimism rose in her like a fresh spring breeze. Dressed like this, comfort and authority filled her once more. Dressed like this, she was a woman in control of her destiny. She was loath to ever take these clothes off again.
It was difficult to remember the Kamalti protocol regarding ebrs as she left the house with Dode. She’d gotten used to the silly rules, but now, with everything about her screaming Rinara and home, she found her head rising, her steps quickening, and her lips curving upward. Her loose hair flowed about her like a sleek, black waterfall, and every movement sang of grace and strength. Kamalti heads turned as she passed, and she smiled fully, enjoying that power again. Let them look. Let them see her and remember.
The Opera House's columns of carved rock towered several stories above them. The building formed a perfect circle, open at the top. Of course, that was not unusual for Kamalti public buildings—there was no weather here to ward off with roofs—but somehow, the Opera House made the design feel artful instead of unnecessary. Ra’ael followed Dode to the side and paused. A sign hung above the door, and while she couldn’t read the blocky Kamalti letters, she had no trouble reading her name in flowing Rinaryn script.
So that was why Dode had asked her to write their names. She grinned at Dode, who beamed in return.
“I hope you feel honored,” Dode said.
Honored, valued, maybe even loved. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all. “I do. Thank you, Dode.”
Stepping into the lavish interior after Dode, all words were stolen away. She still cared little for stone, but here, the polished stonework gleamed in the light of hundreds of lanterns. Wooden decorations, polished and stained, accented the hallway with luxury. And this was only an entryway! If the entrance for performers was so grand, what did the main entrance look like? Of course, it was nothing compared to a grassy meadow under the open sky, but it was the best these Kamalti could do since they insisted on hiding underground.
The hallway opened to a thickly carpeted chamber with curtainshanging along the walls. Dode pointed out the dressing rooms, which Ra’ael had refused to use, and then the simple door that led onto the stage. Two Kamalti approached, a shuffling older man and a younger man with a powerful stride. The older man bowed and made empty platitudes toward Dode, which Ra’ael ignored. The younger man grabbed her bag. She tightened her grip, narrowing her eyes at him. Itching for a fight, was he? There was no way she was letting go of her drum and rattles again, and certainly not to an ill-mannered Kamalti.
“He has to check that you brought no weapons, Ra’ael,” Dode said. “Honestly, Kerim, I assure you there is no need for worry.”
Staring the man down, Ra’ael let go of one of the bag’s handles, keeping a firm grip on the other.
He scowled, grumbling under his breath as he searched the bag far more thoroughly than was warranted. Finally, the Kamalti threw the other handle of the bag back at her, which she caught easily. He grimaced, and she smiled at his back while the two walked away.
Dode raised her browridge. “You need not provoke security so.”
“He provoked me. Where were his manners?”
The entry door opened again and Taunos stomped in. His shoulders slumped and his entire head was shaved bald. There was not a hair on his head, no stubble on his face, even his eyebrows were gone. Tension lined his face, but a fire burned in his eyes. She didn’t see any signs of injury or mistreatment, even with the Kamalti clothing baring his torso and arms, but his gait was so… wrong. Fear crawled up her spine as she stared at him. Taunos glowered at the floor, barely glancing up at all as he crossed to the dressing room and slammed the door. Behind him, an older man walked with an inscrutable expression, his gaze flickering over Ra’ael before he focused his attention on Dode, giving her a very proper bow.
Dode returned the formality. “It is good to see you, Lord Mekl.”
“And you, Lady Dode.”
“I missed seeing you in Council last meeting.”
“Yes. I had an urgent matter to attend to. Did you hear about my daughter?”
Dode’s expression turned sardonic. “Your daughter, Answer, who chose the Scouts over the Philosophers?”
“She was with the ebr there when the market was held up.”
Ra’ael’s gaze flicked to the dressing room, and she bridled some in Taunos’s defense, though she held her tongue. He was far more than “the ebr there.”
Dode raised a hand to her mouth. “By the—! How terrible! Is she alright?”
“Yes. The ebr is slow, but he managed to take down the culprits. Even so, it was quite the ordeal for any lady to go through, even a Scout.”
“A daughter needs a father. And you are a good father, Lord Mekl.”
Ra’ael watched Taunos carefully as he emerged from the dressing room in his Rinaryn clothes, which suited him much better. His anger made sense. She’d be angry too if she’d had to save the life of that terrible Scout, Answer.
Taunos stumbled toward her as if he’d drunk too much firewater, but she could smell none of the drink on him. He had none of the loss of inhibition, either—if anything, he was more inhibited, less casual than his typical self. The sense of wrong screamed louder, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose.
“What’s wrong with you?” she hissed.
Taunos stared at her for a while before speaking, and she found it difficult to read his expression. “How are you, Ra’ael? Are you being treated alright?”
Ra’ael frowned at him. She looked good—she’d made certain of it. It should be obvious she was being treated well. Taunos, however… His face was worn, his eyes weary, with none of the twinkling that had always irritated her, as if he was laughing at some joke of the spirits. There was no laughter there now, just an angry fire. She resisted the urge to shudder.
“Yes… Are you?” She threw the question back at him pointedly.
“Fine.”
“What in the realms is wrong with you?”
“You’re not looking forward to this, are you?”
“We have a chance to partake in our own culture and maybe honor Kaemada’s memory by inspiring some curiosity among these people.”
“I’m not a dancing tailosae to gibber and jump around on command,” he snapped.
“I had the same initial thought. But we have to do this, so we might as well enjoy ourselves.” Ra’ael winced inwardly as she echoed Dode, but kept her gaze steady.
Ta
unos shook his head, his eyes smoldering. “You feel free to enjoy yourself. Being scheduled entertainment like this… It’s debasing.”
“What good will come of this anger, Taunos?”
“Who says I’m angry for some good to come about from it?”
Ra’ael’s mouth twisted. “Well, do not take it out on me. This wasn’t my idea.”
“I had thought you would be dead set against it.”
She shrugged. “I changed my mind. Taunos, I do think some good can come of this. We could use some good in our lives. I wanted the chance to see you and Takiyah again. I thought you would be fighting to honor your sister’s memory, not sulking.”
His expression darkened with such violence she drew back. “This isn’t sulking. This is anger.”
“As you say.” Worry gnawed at her. Something was seriously wrong with him—his heavy movements, the dead look behind the anger in his eyes. How bad was it? Were his reflexes affected? She threw a punch at him, an easy thing to block.
Her fist collided with his jaw. He staggered back and crashed to the floor. Ra’ael stared, speechless, as Taunos took his time recovering. Her punch never should have landed, even unexpected as it was. Even if he hadn’t dodged, he should have been able to catch his balance easily. This was Taunos, the hero of Torkae. And she’d laid him flat out.
“Ra’ael, what are you doing?” Dode snapped.
“What in the Clouded Crystals is going on here?” Mekl swore at the same time, apparently forgetting his manners.
Opera House guards descended on her, clutching her hard by each arm. The Kamalti were entirely too touchy about her blood rage, but there were bigger troubles here than them. Her focus remained on Taunos. What were his captors doing to him? And why would he put up with it?
“Taunos, what’s wrong with you?” Ra’ael shouted.
He rubbed his jaw, shaking his head.
“If she is unstable, perhaps we should call off the event. We do not want a stampede if she erupts,” Mekl said.
