by D. L. Carter
He reached to slap the dish from her hand, but Halidan was quicker. She ducked past him and climbed onto the table. Seating herself in the middle she continued to sip her tea while Tribel danced from foot to foot and shrieked insults at her. Spittle flew from his lips and his face paled to grey. This time he did not faint, but Halidan began to worry for him. It would do him no good to remain in such a state. The other servants made no move to calm or assist him. Eventually, Halidan finished her drink and slammed her book brace on the table, again. The sound silenced Tribel who now had tears streaming down his face.
“Are you going to do as commanded?” she asked.
“The House must be cleansed,” he moaned and began pushing and shoving the other servants. “Clean. Clean everything!”
The room emptied in seconds, Halidan with them. By the time Tribel went looking for her, she was long gone and back in the main part of the House. Retreating to Eioth's private wing, she sat down in the library to record what she'd seen and compose a letter to Mitash. Her original plan was to remind the staff to whom their loyalty was owed, but she could see that it would take more, much more to separate them from their obedience to the mad House manager.
Of all Eioth's servants, Mitash was the only one she thought might have an idea of what could be done about the obviously insane old Elf.
The only trouble was she didn't know how to get a message to Mitash. She hadn't seen him since he'd directed her into the House and she had no idea where he lived or worked when the High Lord was not on processional. It was doubtful that anything she gave to the servants would be delivered and she didn't want to take the chance of leaving the building to search for her guards.
She'd have to wait until Mitash came to the House. Given how much Eioth relied upon him, that had to happen soon.
* * *
Eioth purchased a savory roll from one restaurant and paused to take tea at another; then refreshed and ready to renew his acquaintance with his people, he started walking through the village of Swift Breezes.
Unlike the High Lord's House, Swift Breezes was a well-integrated town with both mortals and Elves working at whatever business they preferred. Since Tribel had not left the House for decades, he was unaware that his rules regarding the mortal barracks were not followed, that mortals and Elves frequented the same stores, ate the same food, and even occasionally married.
Out in the greater Empire, Elves and mortals lived together quite calmly. Fear of mortality had become in most Households a Traditional reason for a complete House cleaning, like Spring Turning. Only someone as ill as Tribel or as prejudiced as Matriarch Netha would do more than run a damp cloth over furniture should a mortal become ill beneath their roof.
Eioth studied a mortal woman, brilliantly decorated head scarf floating behind her, as she crossed the street. He did not understand the fashion. Halidan's explanation, mortal women regarding ash white hair as beauty and their own darker hair as inferior was sad, but their brilliantly colored scarves were more a claim to beauty than a statement of inferiority.
The scarf gave Eioth an idea. Halidan had worn the same scarf for the entire processional even on days when the colors did not match. It not being an Elven fashion Mitash had not purchased another for her use. A few more scarves might be an appropriate, intimate gift. Something to show he was observant of her needs.
Eioth's watchful guard caught the change in his direction and leapt to open the door to the haberdasher so that the High Lord could enter the establishment without breaking step. Eioth acknowledged the man's efforts with a nod and smile, then turned his attention to the owner. It was Eioth's habit to visit different shops during his processional, making a few random purchases and speaking to the storekeepers. For the most part, they were stunned speechless to be face to face with the High Lord and it was necessary on more than one occasion for Eioth to guess the value of an item and leave coin on the counter since the shopkeeper couldn't focus enough to answer a simple question or move to accept the money.
The storekeepers of Swift Breezes were more complacent. The House of North West Demesne’s High Lord had been situated outside the precincts of Swift Breezes since before it was classified a town so the storekeepers were not surprised to see the High Lord wandering their streets with only two guards for company.
Instead of random purchases to celebrate his return to his home town, Eioth's shopping trip today had a specific purpose. Two specific purposes.
In addition to finding the three missing ingredients for the Sex Magic Preparatory Baths, he was looking for small gifts for Halidan. The girl had been cast out of her home with barely any possessions and with the speed of travel of the processional she had not had any opportunity to replace missing items.
In response to Eioth's question, the shopkeeper directed his attention toward a display of brilliantly colored and embroidered head scarves and matching long over vests. Eioth was engaged in trying to find a match to the shade of Halidan's cautious eyes when the sound of young girls chattering in High Elven almost stopped his heart. For a moment, he feared that the MatriarchWorind had tired of the young ladies Eioth had deposited at her door and sent them on to plague him once again, but three, not two, young women were entering the store.
On their heels came an Elven male of indeterminate age who Eioth both knew and despised: Chandri, High Lord of South East Demesne.
Eioth was not the only member of the Synod, or High Court Elf, who despised Chandri. While there were many families, Eioth's included, lacking even one child to inherit, Chandri had managed to father three.
Three!
That was not the reason Eioth despised him.
No other member of the Synod could claim such a wealth of children. Betrothal bidding on the girls, daughters of an obviously fertile mother and father, began immediately after the birth of the second child and reached obscene heights when the third pregnancy was announced.
Eioth, however, had experienced conversation with both mother and father. Ignorance, stubbornness, and arrogance married with limited intelligence and slow wit were not what Eioth wanted his children to inherit; therefore, he rebuffed all overtures regarding a marriage contract between himself and Chandri's children.
The storekeeper’s eyes widened and his attention was divided between the girls who were determinedly disordering his stock and the two High Lords who might have a confrontation right on his sales floor. For a moment the storekeeper seemed to be considering running from the chamber, but protection of his livelihood as well as the prospect of gossip of the highest order kept him rooted to the spot.
Eioth regarded Chandri for a moment, then glanced about the chamber and peered out of the window as if confused.
“You are troubled, Eioth?” inquired Chandri.
“Somewhat,” said Eioth. “I was under the impression I was at Swift Breezes. At least, that was where I awoke this morning. But, now I suspect I must be somewhere else, for here before me is the High Lord of a very distant demesne. I cannot imagine how it could be that you are in the North West as I had no prior notification of your coming.”
Chandri dismissed the discourtesy with a light wave of his hand. “We arrived early for the convening of the Synod and since we heard much about the beauties of your demesne between Hub of Harmony and Swift Breezes, I decided to take a vacation in the company of my three daughters to see what can be seen.”
Eioth glanced toward the girls, the eldest in her teen years, the youngest not yet of menarche, then back to Chandri.
“You have been busy of late,” continued Chandri. “I was not certain I would have the honor of meeting with you here. I heard you were engaged in confirming a new lord in his authority.”
Eioth took the time to select a scarf and matching vest of glowing gold, blue, and red and handed it to the storekeeper with a gold piece, sending the man to the rear room to find change, before replying to Chandri.
“Unfortunately, it has come to pass that I was compelled to grant responsibility to
an individual on the basis of fertility rather than ability.” Eioth's eyes narrowed and he regarded Chandri with open distaste. “It has always been my opinion that an intelligent person of skill and quick wit is to be preferred to one whose only claim to fame is breeding! But, I was overridden by the clan.”
A faint pallor on the crests of his cheeks was the only sign of Chandri's emotion.
“You are in the minority with that opinion,” said Chandri, smiling at one of his daughters as the girl brought a bright swatch of colored fabric to his attention before running off.
“Do not imagine, Chandri, that you will be granted the High King’s throne merely as a reward for fathering three daughters. The Synod is not yet so lost to good sense.”
Chandri acknowledged his ambition with a smile. “Another opinion you are alone in holding.”
“I imagine I was not alone in being pestered by your representatives over the last few weeks. Do you truly believe that sending bands of maundering farmers and minor lords to express spontaneous declarations of need on my processional route will prompt me to suddenly declare, oh, I hadn't noticed before, but it seems that the Empire is in want of a High King? And then my thoughts would turn to you? You?” Eioth glanced across at the other High Lord and laughed bitterly. “Hardly you.”
The complacent expression vanished from Chandri's face. “I did not expect your immediate support Eioth, but to reject the suggestion in such a manner was unwise. I fully expect to celebrate the end of this year as the High King. I suggest you go and reconsider your stand.”
Eioth shrugged. “Unless an event has occurred without my being notified, the High King's crown is still missing.”
“Are you so certain of that?” Chandri's smile became smug. “I have heard a rumor it has been recovered.”
Without moving a single muscle Eioth appeared to tower threateningly over the other High Lord.
“Do not attempt a deception, Chandri. The High King's crown is more than a construction of stone and metal. It is Tradition, and memory, and power given physical form. Do not even permit the possibility of the creation of a fraud to be presented before the Synod to cross your mind. I do not believe you will enjoy the repercussions.”
“So quickly your mind leaps to the possibility of a deception, Eioth. I wonder what that says about your true nature.” Chandri contemplated that thought for a moment before continuing. “The Synod gathers in a few days. Before it ends you will be making your bow to me.”
Before Eioth could reply the smallest of Chandri's daughters, a child whose head did not even reach Eioth's waist, danced across to stand between them. Presenting her back to her father the girl fluttered her eyelashes up at Eioth.
“You are High Lord Eioth,” she declared. “I hear your name at home all the time.”
“I do not doubt it,” replied Eioth, glancing toward her father.
Since the Elf did not react Eioth said nothing, but waited to see what the rest of today’s performance would bring. There was no way that any part of today's appearance of Chandri's family was not rehearsed.
The girl, however, was not aware of his distraction.
“You're not on my list of husbands. All the other High Houses have applied. Of course they've applied for my sisters too,” continued the girl, smiling in what she had probably been told was a winsome manner. “Don't you want to have children?”
“That is not a subject I discuss with children still decades away from being of marriageable age,” said Eioth.
Ignoring his comment the girl reached up as high as she could and pinned a flower made of ribbons she pulled from her hair onto the middle of his shirt, as close to his heart as she could reach.
“That's okay. Negotiations take a long time,” she leaned both hands against his chest and smiled up at him. “You can still ask for me.”
Eioth pushed her hands away, stepped back with his heart pounding in his throat and glared at Chandri.
“At this moment there is nothing about you that I do not find reprehensible. You have brought your family within the borders of my demesne without invitation, but I am certain your people are passing some story of an invitation and private meeting around as gossip. A meeting between us, how significant! You have been seen in public with me and your daughters; that also I expect will be discussed from one end of the Empire to the other before tomorrow's dawn. And that which I find the most revolting, you are planning to cross the border from my demesne into Hub of Harmony thus creating the false impression that you have my support. You knew from the beginning of your plans that I would never stand for you, so you have taken these many actions to create the illusion that I do. Do not underestimate me, Chandri, I will not stand for your manipulation. Make one move, give any one High Court Elf the distant impression that I support you and you will never reach the end of my actions to teach you better manners.”
“You cannot prevent people from reaching their own conclusions,” said Chandri, smiling as he gathered his children to his side. “Besides, since you will not take action to continue your own line, you will soon cease to matter.”
With a slight bow Chandri turned and left the store.
Eioth waited for a moment, just long enough for the terrified storekeeper to appear from the backroom, hand over a neat package and coins, before Eioth followed Chandri into the street. Chandri was assisting his daughters into a brilliantly colored Ladies Carriage when Eioth emerged. He gave Eioth a smile and benevolent wave and received a scowl in return.
“There is no limit to the depths of which I despise you in this moment,” said Eioth in a voice loud enough to carry to all the listeners gathered in the street.
Chandri's bodyguards stiffened, but made no move toward their weapons. Eioth's guards gathered closer, but were careful to avoid coming between the two magicians. Chandri's lips tightened and paled and his smile vanished like a lizard under a rock.
“You are everything I find repugnant and despicable, Chandri. You mistake my tolerance of your existence for approval and my restraint for fear. Worse, you mistake your own slyness for intelligence. It is far better for the Empire to remain without a High King than for you to pretend to the throne.”
Chandri waited until he had his daughters tucked away before responding to Eioth. “You are bold to thus address me, even in your own demesne,” said Chandri.
“I am aware of the speed of gossip,” replied Eioth with a smile. “Were I to attempt to send messages to my friends, enemies, and colleagues describing your presumption, I would have no chance of having my words reach them before you have crossed the border, but gossip . . . there is the advantage. No matter how mild or inoffensive my words today, by the time gossip has carried the news two leis, they would have it that the two of us had daggers drawn and engaged in Elemental Battle Royal and with the speed of gossip there will be no one within the Empire who will not know that I stand against your planned self-elevation.”
With that Eioth sketched a mocking bow, turned and marched off down the street. He had not gone three steps before Mitash appeared at his side.
“High Lord, how can I serve you?” asked Mitash, lengthening his stride to keep up with Eioth.
“At this moment little.” Eioth considered, then reached into his sash to pull out a scrap of parchment. “I need these items for a Ritual I must conduct tonight. Have them purchased and brought to me as soon as possible.”
“By your command, High Lord.” Mitash cast a worried glance back toward the departing Chandri. “If I might know, what has High Lord Chandri done to disturb your peace?”
“He is the one who ordered the disruption of the processional. Chandri believes he should be acclaimed High King.” Eioth’s voice shook with barely retrained rage. “Not only does he parade his family up and down the Empire as if by having an active, functioning cock he has the skills to rule us all. Not merely that. No. Worse. He parades his baby daughters before all men. If even the eldest of them has reached menarche, I would be very surprised. But,
that is not important to Chandri. He has the girls on display. Is entertaining, even demanding, proposals of marriage for them.” Eioth could barely force the words out. He tore off the ribbon the little girl had pinned to his shirt and shook it before Mitash's face. “He has trained his youngest babe to offer lover's tokens to strangers!”
For a moment Mitash appeared as if he were considering running after the departing lord knife in hand, but he brought himself back under control. “How young?”
“How can I judge the age of children?” asked Eioth. “I have little experience with them. It is enough that the girl did not even reach my sash in height and still she was trying to pin a rosette of ribbons over my heart.”
Mitash accepted the list with a worried frown. “Is there nothing more I can do to serve?”
Eioth by this time had reached where the guard waited with his horse. He tucked the bundle of ribbons into his sash. “No, friend Mitash. From you nothing more is required. I must seek another’s aid.”
When Eioth charged up the front steps of his home he took the servant on watch by surprise. He was not able to give whatever signal Tribel required for the Ritual of Welcome before Eioth was able to cross the wide front hall and make it all the way to the main staircase. Tribel, servants at his heels carrying those damned sigils, appeared in time to see Eioth disappear into the house.
“High Lord,” cried Tribel, trying to hurry without actually appearing to move faster than a walk. “High Lord, your welcome! We haven't performed the welcome!”
“Stay out of my way if you value your life, Tribel!” snarled Eioth and headed toward his private wing of the residence.
He had said no more than the truth when he'd told Halidan not a day went past that every member of the Synod remembered that there was no High King. It was a source of constant conflict with all of the High Court Elves. Anyone with the slightest amount of royal blood presented himself for consideration to occupy the empty throne, but none had gained the requisite vote of every single member of the Synod.
