Rook

by Robin Roseau

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t think I’m serving these people very well.”

  “I’m not sure why you say that,” she replied, “but it’s not a question as far as I’m concerned.”

  “They want me to stop and stay a while. Some want favors. Some want to hear me talk about the Goddess. Some want a word with the Duchess. I bet a bunch wouldn’t mind a conversation with Mesenorié or Tradódid, as well, but no matter what, I will disappoint them. What would you do?”

  “Ah,” she said. “I hold court. If someone has business with me, they come see me. I rarely go to them. When a monarch does something like this, there’s a phrase we use. We might say we’re showing the flag, or showing our colors. We’re reminding people who we are. But unless I’m personally addressing a regional problem, I keep it light, much as you are. You’re a busy woman, and you have business.”

  “I’m never even here,” I said. “I’ve never held court.” I sighed. “I’m a lousy High Priestess and even worse Duchess. Times two.”

  “The people seem happy,” she said. “The fields look healthy. The places we’ve seen are in good repair. No one is giving you dirty looks. What do you think needs doing that isn’t happening?”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t know.”

  “Ah, you have people managing these things for you.”

  “Half of whom I’ve never met.”

  “Perhaps, but is the work being done?”

  “As far as I can tell.”

  “Yalla, I see two other women here with hair like yours. Who are they?”

  I looked at her, puzzled what she was asking.

  “They’re priestesses, yes?” she clarified. “And there are other priestesses.”

  “Ralalta--”

  “It is not your duty to do the work of the priestesses. It is your duty to guide them, and to be their interface with the Goddess. It is your duty to listen to their needs, and they in turn to listen to the needs of the people. You can’t do it yourself, which is why the Goddess takes others to become her priestesses. Because you can’t do it alone any more than I can run Framara alone.”

  “So I’m doing what I should?”

  “Yes, you’re doing what you should. But in the future--”

  “I knew it.”

  She laughed. “Hold a public event, perhaps a fair. And make yourself available.”

  “Hold court.”

  “Informally, yes.”

  “But... That’s more time, and the Goddess is waiting for me. Every time she sees me she tells me how lonely she’s been.”

  “Why doesn’t she meet you at the border?”

  “She says she can’t. I have to come to her at the Heart of the Goddess, and then she leaves with me.”

  “Then invite her here on your way home. Can you do that?”

  “I can do that,” I said. “But it means I’ll be gone from Framara even longer.”

  “We’ll just have to make it work,” she said. “All right?”

  “All right,” I agreed.

  * * * *

  And so, at the next village, we waved and said hello to people, but we didn’t stop.

  An hour later, we came to the second largest town in Indorítanda, which had grown entirely due to the presence of the horse track. There were no races scheduled, so the town wasn’t bustling with visitors. Instead, the town was bustling as people prepared for future races. I saw a team of workers painting one of the inns. Several businesses had new signs proclaiming their wares. And the track itself was always undergoing some sort of maintenance.

  At the track, we rode right in, two of the guards having trotted ahead to make sure they were ready for us, coming to a stop before the stands, right at the finish line.

  Ralalta looked around then turned to me and smiled. “Very nice.”

  “It’s all mine,” I said. “And it loses money every year.”

  “Which would be a problem if it didn’t bring so much business into your duchy to make up for it,” Prodótar added.

  “Then you’re doing better than mine in Marport,” Ralalta said with a grin. “It’s nothing but a cash drain, and while visitors may stop by the track when they’re in Marport, I don’t think it actually brings in any business. I don’t know why my grandmother had it built.”

  “She was planning ahead for the days your Foster Daughter needed to fleece unsuspecting boys for her spending money.”

  Ralalta laughed. “Grandmother was very forward thinking.”

  “Undoubtedly,” I agreed. “Prodótar, did we have particular business here?”

  “I want you to review the improvements,” he said. Then he moved closer and lowered his voice. “There’s nothing else here that is terribly important, except for the track itself, but we need the people who work here to understand you take an interest.” He spoke at volume again. “The manager is undoubtedly on her way to meet us.”

  Just then from the stands we heard, “I’m coming! I’m coming!”

  We turned, and I smiled. Weslarin was the track’s general manager. She was a tiny hurricane of a woman, a former jockey, having risen to one of the highest positions she could achieve. From everything I had seen, she was exceedingly good at her job.

  By the time Weslarin joined us, we had all dismounted, passing off the reins of our mounts for some of the guards to manage. Weslarin approached and then dropped into a deep curtsey. “Your Majesties,” she said, and then nothing else.

  “Rise,” offered Mesenorié, but then she and Tradódid took a half step backwards, leaving me closest to the woman.

  “Duchess,” said Weslarin as she straightened. “High Priestess… Um…”

  “It’s easiest if you stick with ‘Lady Yallameenara’,” I suggested. “All the titles get in the way. I hope you are well.”

  “Quite well, quite well. And your journeys?”

  “Long and wet,” I said. “But I travel with good company and cannot at all complain. And your children? I remember you talked about a daughter.”

  “My youngest,” Weslarin replied.

  “Ah, yes. The ungrateful brat off to the big city instead of following in her mother’s footsteps.”

  I grinned at Weslarin, who understood my teasing. “Quite so,” she agreed. “Honestly, I don’t understand. She holds an apartment the size of a horse stall and works sunup until sundown to afford it.”

  “Imagine that. She could work sunup until sundown here instead, and be under your watchful care besides.”

  “Quite so,” she said again. “But her room in our home is much larger than a horse stall.” She barked a laugh at her own joke. “Well, Lady Yallameenara. As you can see, we haven’t burned down your track. What can I show you today?”

  “You tell me, Weslarin,” I said. “I have received the reports, but there is nothing like seeing things in person.”

  “Quite so.” Then she turned to the king and queen. “And do your majesties have anything in particular they wish to see?”

  “No, no,” said Tradódid. “We’re here to spend time with our daughter and her lovely wife. Pretend we’re just busybody in-laws.”

  Weslarin smiled briefly. “I shall try. And so, shall we step this way?”

  We received the full tour, and by the time we were done, I could smell cooking: the grooms were putting on a picnic for us on the grass in the center of the track. They had two large grills going and had moved several tables into place. And from the looks of it, there was enough food for an army, which was a good thing, as we were nearly accompanied by one.

  I hadn’t expected the meal, but I thought it was very kind of the grooms.

  I rather enjoyed seeing Ralalta sit down at a picnic table and eat the grilled chicken with her fingers as if that was how she ate every day. But she dived right in and showed robust appreciation for the meal, as did everyone else.

  I let the conversation flow around me. Ralalta and Mesenorié spoke in Framaran, discussing different ways of dealing with the troubles of
ruling a kingdom. I thought Ralalta deeply appreciated the chance to spend time with another monarch. Tradódid talked to the head groundskeepers about the plants growing near the front gates. Apparently there was something special about them, but you couldn’t eat them, so I never paid much attention.

  Invariably, however, one woman asked, “High Priestess, will you tell us about the Goddess?”

  “Actually,” I said, “Larien. Terél. Would you like to answer her?”

  “To understand the Goddess,” Terél said, “you must understand the nine words in her language we are free to teach you, for they embody our entire devotion to our Prestainamatta.”

  The two explained the nine words, and did better than I did, receiving nods and, at times, questions. What impressed me was that every single person listened to them, some of them quite raptly. And while Ralalta had heard all this before, she also listened intently.

  When they were done, I said, “Every morning when I am home, I visit her temple, and I choose one of these words, and I reflect on what that word means to me. Sometimes it is difficult to be fair. Each of the words is important, but it is hard not to show favorites. Joy and Love are obvious. But some days I think about Trust.” I used the language of the Goddess for these words, and then reminded everyone what they meant. “We all have busy lives, so it is good to be reminded of Serenity. And when we think the world is moving too quickly, it is important to accept Change. When I think of my family, my wives, my daughters, the woman I call Mother, I think of Life, and I think what a Gift it is to share my life with such people, a Gift I receive, and my own Gift I attempt to return.”

  “I think I understand,” said the woman who had prompted the discussion. “But…what is She like?”

  “We’ve been trying to tell you,” I said. “She is these words, she is all of these words.”

  “What does she look like?”

  “Ah, well. When I first saw her, there was no question who she was. Oh, she appears to be as human as you or me, but I just knew who she was, yet I couldn’t tell you how.” I looked around. “We have such a variety of people here. I see at least two jockeys, each of you so tiny. But then I turn the other way, and some of the soldiers are so big. Well, the goddess is far closer to my height than either extreme, but far, far more beautiful than I could hope to be.” I did my best to describe her.

  “But that isn’t who she is,” I said. “She is so intense, and loving, and effusive in her praise. She is strong but gentle, and I think I have been in love with her from the moment I first saw her with my own eyes.”

  We talked for a while longer, but then Prodótar said, “High Priestess, we should think about our next destination.”

  “Of course,” I said. “But I must hug everyone goodbye, or those who would accept a hug from me.” And then I did just that, passing from one set of arms to another, whispering something in each ear, if it was nothing more than, “Thank you for your work here.” A few received cheek-kisses, and one cheeky jockey tried to buss me in return, but I waved a finger at her and laughed. She grinned, entirely unabashed, and Alta laughed about it later. I didn’t think that woman had a jealous bone in her body.

  * * * *

  We spent two days in my Duchy. Two days. I couldn’t remotely visit everywhere or talk to everyone. I couldn’t consider myself a proper duchess. And so I repeatedly thanked Prodótar for doing the job I should have been doing myself.

  The next morning, we bid temporary farewell to the King, Queen, and Prince, but we would maintain contact through a series of messengers, and I’d see them all again in a few weeks.

  Mesenorié’s borrowed maids traveled with us, and I could already see Féla and Naddí attempting to seduce them.

  * * * *

  “Well,” said Ralalta two hours later, “we won’t visit Lopéna after all.”

  “We still could, if you had your heart set on it.”

  “No. I am quite nervous, but I cannot wait to meet the Goddess.”

  “I don’t know if she’ll be expecting you, or if you’ll be a surprise. Sometimes she seems to know everything, and other times she seems almost mortal in what she doesn’t know. And she maddeningly refuses to explain.”

  Ralalta laughed and then sobered. “Yalla, I want to repeat something I’ve already told you.”

  “This sounds serious.”

  “You need to ask yourself a question. Is there more you could be doing?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You never rest,” she said. “You let your staff take care of you, which makes everyone quite happy, but you don’t lounge about indolently. You are always working.”

  “Not always; I spend time with our family.”

  “Which, in a way, is a part of your duties, to raise your children, to attend to your aged queen.”

  “My queen is not remotely aged!” I said. “Please don’t talk like that.”

  “My point is this: could you do significantly more than you already do? You must sleep. You must eat. And no one wants you to give up being a mother or a wife or a daughter for your duties. So, could you do more?”

  I considered what she was saying. “It seems like I should.”

  “Ah, but if you do more to be, for instance, Duchess of Indorítanda, then you would have less time to be a mother, or to be my daughter, or to be the High Priestess for two countries. And isn’t it the Goddess herself who dictated the amount of time you would spend here and the amount you would spend in Framara?”

  “Why are we talking about this?”

  “Because your queen is not an idiot and saw your expressions of guilt. You feel as if you’re doing a poor job as duchess.”

  “I’m not doing the job of duchess. Prodótar is.”

  “Has he complained?”

  “No.”

  “Has he done a good job?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are the people well-served?”

  “If he’s doing the job, he should have the title and the income.”

  “Ah, and I see your saddle is bedecked in jewels, and you hired three extra maids to polish your jewelry.” She laughed. “Do you even own any jewelry I didn’t give you?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Juleena gave me these earrings.”

  She laughed. “And so you see my point? Yalla, you are doing your duties as well as anyone could expect, and you are the only one who feels there is anything wrong.”

  “The Goddess wishes I were here more, and so do Tradódid and Mesenorié.”

  “Has the Goddess actually said that?”

  “Well, no, but she tells me how lonely she’s been.”

  “She is expressing joy in your company,” said Ralalta. “If she wants more of your time, she will tell you, and you will give it to her.”

  “I suppose.” I sighed. “I wish she could come to Marport.”

  “As do I, Yalla. Do you think she will talk to me?”

  “Through me, yes, I think so.”

  “Will my granddaughters see her?”

  “I believe so, but they are only beginning to learn her language, and they won’t understand each other for a while.” I paused. “Ralalta, there is a question she asks Juleena every time we visit. I believe she will also ask you.”

  “About accepting her in my heart?”

  “Yes. She asks if Juleena welcomes her into her heart, if Juleena can call her Prestainamatta. And when Juleena says ‘no’, she sends her to the village during our visit.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “I wish Juleena could open her heart.”

  “Do you want to know why she doesn’t?”

  “Shouldn’t she tell me?” I asked.

  “Yes, but I don’t think she’s willing to admit it even to herself. I don’t think she’s gotten over how you were taken from us, and she partially blames the Goddess for it.”

  “I wish she wouldn’t, or that she would forgive.”

  “Juleena forgives grievances against herself easily,”
said Ralalta, “if they are not onerous. But how you were taken was onerous, and she is exceedingly protective where you’re concerned, almost as much as she is over the children.”

  We rode quietly for a few minutes. “Ralalta, I think she was unhappy she couldn’t come, especially this time.”

  “I know, and I apologized to her over that, but we’d already made the plans, and I was afraid if I put it off any longer, I’d never go. I think this is important, Yalla.”

  “I do, too.”

  “It’s not the first time she’s stayed home.”

  “I know, but it’s the first time after Mandi and Nissi began displaying a new hair color.”

  “I can’t get over that. I’m barely accustomed to you looking so different.” She reached over and gently touched my hair, something she did often.

  “Ralalta, why do you live alone?”

  “I’m not alone. I have Juleena and you and Alta and the girls and a very large staff.”

  “You don’t have to answer me.”

  At first, I didn’t think she would, but then, not looking at me, she said, “I loved Juleena’s father.”

  “She doesn’t talk about him.”

  “It was a hidden romance,” she said. “I was still the princess. My mother died only a few years before you came to us, but she had long grown tired of the crown and had abdicated to me when Juleena was four.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded and continued. “I don’t say his name. No one knows who he was, only he and I. He…was an artist.”

  “Was?”

  “I received word he died.”

  “Again, I’m sorry. Why was his identity still hidden?”

  “He was an artist,” she repeated. “A barrel of a man, but quite sensitive, almost delicate in a way. He would have been chewed alive at court. The attention might have been good for his career, but it would have ruined him as an artist, and he was smart enough to realize it.”

  “What happened?”

  “I became pregnant. I wasn’t being careful. I wanted a child, and I wanted it by him. And it was the right choice, because I got Juleena out of it, and she’s perfect, but it was the wrong choice for us. I told him I was pregnant.”

  “And he ran.”