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Preacher Man

Page 60

by r. a. Ben Miller

Chapter 37; King Praseer

  The Empra climbed aboard his Royal transport. The crowd dispersed. Praseer and Zeer were walking back, “Ma Prince?”

  “Yes, your Grace?”

  “Two things, your Majesty. You need to round up a couple of thousand Paronese Legionnaires.”

  “That’ll be easy. Then what?”

  “Thee must lead them home. You must assume your throne. Your people need thee.”

  “You are the Master’s hand. You have given us more than we could ever repay.”

  “Just get busy, ma son. Thee has much work ta do.”

  “Aye, Father. Be blessed!”

  “And thee.”

  Over the next two weeks, the Paronese people all over the valley cashed in all of their Quallium to buy tickets home. Buildings that could not be sold were abandoned. They didn’t care. They were going home.

  Zeer dropped in for the last day. Workers were carefully crating up the throne and the various bits of royal paraphernalia. Praseer stood off to one side watching.

  Zeer and Paris left for Paron with great pomp and music. King Praseer hugged Paris, “If I’d only found you first. I would have made thee my Queen.”

  “Now that the non-Paronese Guardians are leaving, a new life for everyone can be created here. Use the advantages of the Imperial lifestyle. Create a uniquely Paronese way to live.” She looked at the girls and women around the court. “Some of these will suit you well, Sire.” He laughed and shook his head.

  In a few arn, they were in orbit over Paron. Zeer and Paris were on the observation deck of Praseer’s vessel. “It’s more beautiful than I remember, sweets.”

  “Freedom adds to a beauty, does it not?”

  “Aye, that must be it.” She hugged him.

  The vessel dropped slowly through the atmosphere. As the air thickened, wings slid out of the sides, and it became a glider. It slid silently through the air and settled on a landing pad.

  Zeer, Paris, and Praseer met at the doors of the landing deck. The portal irised open, and they stepped out. Around them were the swelling strains of the first public performance of the Paronese March. It had only been played in secret for the last two centuries. The cheering crowds fell silent, just listening. Armand turned to face the Preacherman, “Cardinal, I am afraid.” The King, like most of his people, was in tears.

  “You’d be a damned fool if’n ya wasna afraid, yer Majesty.” He pointed to the crowd who resumed their howling and throwing of flowers. Armand straightened his shoulders and smiled through his tears to his people. They processed out gravely.

  The Chants began, “Karo Wa…Diet Wa…”

  Armand Praseer, ever the show man, raised his arms, paws fisted. The chants grew louder. He got to the dais, “I am the King of free Paron!” He shouted into the mic.

  “You are the King of Free Paron!”

  “We are free of our captors!”

  “We are free of our captors!”

  “We have avenged our ancestors!”

  The Chants began again, “Karo Wa…Diet Wa…” The crowd cheered and chanted for a while longer. Then, in a surprise move, Praseer knelt before the Preacherman.

  The crowd grew quiet. He and Paris put their hands on his bowed head, “From this day, you bow only to the Master. “

  “Omain,” said the crowd softly.

  Paris continued in the way they had practiced, “From this day forward, thee are responsible to these people, and they are responsible to thee.”

  “Omain,” said the crowd softly.

  “We pray the Master’s blessing for a long reign and a fruitful one.”

  “Omain,” said the crowd softly.

  “Armand Praseer, of the House of Wa, rise and lead well!”

  The crowd howled and threw more flowers. The King motioned to a group off to his left. A female came shyly forward. Armand took her hand. “Father, I would like to present Fila Didan. For the last two cycles, she has toiled tirelessly in my personal staff. Paris, I remember what you said about a task shared is lessened. I did look around and there she had been all along. I came to realize that I have had feelings for her. So, I asked her to dinner. It turns out that she returns those feelings. We have had several serious discussions since then, and she has agreed to help me rule. We wish to ask thee to marry us before thee leaves.”

  “Yes, my brother. I will gladly do this.” He turned to the tiny female, “Sister, are thee certain?”

  “I love this man, your Grace. I loved him from my first days on Tarra. I am afraid that I am unworthy of the task, but the Master never chooses whom he does not equip.”

  “Well spoken, ma Sweet Child.” He turned them to face the crowd, one on each side. He raised his arms for quiet and waited. In a few ticks, the crowd fell silent. “All blessings are doubled today. I get a new sister, and you get a Queen.”

  (howls)

  He placed the couple facing the morning sunrise and lead them through the proper banns of a Standard Troth, ending with the Paronese Blood promise. Palms were slashed and, since it was a wedding, their paws were bound together with two silver and one gold cord, “This first silver cord represents the love of Armand for Fila:

  “Omain,”

  “This second cord represents the love of Fila.”

  “Omain!”

  “The third cord is the Master’s love. And with this blood troth…two are now as one… bound for life and beyond this life to whatever the Master says.”

  “Omain”

  “Let the cord of three strands let us see and understand (he pulls off one silver cord, looking at Armand) that you cannot choose (Zeer pulls off the second silver cord, and looks at Fila) and you cannot choose, for when your strength of love, Armand, or your strength of love, Fila, wanes, still the Master’s love binds thee. And, if thee turns to Him, thee will find the strength thee needs to continue.”

  “Omain”

  “Thee are one and properly wed!” he said as he pulled off the gold cord.

  The crowd howled. Hugs were exchanged on and off the dais. Praseer and his new bride walked Zeer and Paris back to the ship. Tears and hugging and promises to exchange state visits, “Good Luck with our lost Brother, Brother.”

  “The Master’s hand has guided me this long. He will show me the Way!”

  “Omain, Brother.” He hugged Paris.

  Fila came forward shyly and hugged Paris, “Thank Thee Abbess!”

  Paris was shocked, “Fer what?”

  “It was thee who got Praseer to think of himself as a man and not just a King. Thee allowed me to be a woman and now, His Queen.”

  “Well, I ask that thee love him and let him love thee. It is the toughest part.”

  “Yes, maam. With the Master’s help.” They hugged again as sisters of Crowns. Zeer and Paris waved as the iris portal closed around them. The jets gently lifted them. Zeer thought to Paris, “Sad about losing your home, Darlin’?”

  “Where Thou goest, I go.”

  “Omain! Nuff said!”

  Upon leaving the Paronese atmosphere, Zeer, standing on the bridge pointed on the forward sensor screen to a greenish nebulae, “Cap’m, take us home.”

 

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