by D. L. Carter
“Do not let me hear you have attired yourself in this manner, again.” To the watching three Elves, Eioth said. “You would be well advised to leave before I know your names or your petition else I might be tempted to vote against you in retaliation for your choice of herald.”
The three bowed and hurried away. Justovan paled under the weight of so many interested eyes, but managed to retreat with the appearance of a dignified slow tread despite his damaged clothing, nodding in greeting to people who grinned and turned away from him.
“The day becomes more interesting,” observed Mitash.
Halidan rolled her eyes at him. Mitash had the strangest sense of humor.
The high bronze doors at the far end of the greeting hall opened at that moment and all in the hall began moving toward the Synod chamber.
“High Lord Chandri has not yet honored us with his presence,” observed Mitash, and Eioth nodded.
“Not surprising. I expect he will be the last to arrive. He wishes to make an entrance so you may be assured once everyone is settled and waiting to convene the Synod, Chandri will enter with great pomp and false dignity to grant us permission to proceed.”
Senoia, who was within earshot, nodded, “That idiot has less support than he claims. I wonder that he risks embarrassing himself in this manner.”
“He has some sort of plan.” Eioth said in disinterested tones, although his eyes remained alert and watchful.
Once past the bronze doors, Halidan saw the room from the Sex Magic Ritual vision. There on the floor was the eight-pointed star, the eight equal seats and the one elevated throne draped in the colors of mourning. Without intention, her eyes sought out the pedestal against the wall behind, which the vision told her the High King's crown had lain hidden for so many, many years. It took her a few moments to identify which, since there were many such pedestals and instead of being bare and white as she remembered, each was draped with the colors of the various demesnes and supporting a vase containing brilliantly colored flowers. She was only able to judge the one by its proximity to the High King's throne. Eioth, she noted, did not so much as glance about the room. Instead, he walked onto the eight-pointed star, assumed his position, and began conversing with the Elf standing in True North. Mitash touched Halidan's sleeve and drew her around the outer rim of the room until they stood behind the North West chair. Mitash laid the robe he had been carrying all morning across the chair with Eioth's sigil draped down the right side.
“Now, make yourself as comfortable as you can, Halidan, but do not permit your attention to wander. The High Lord requires us to remember everything that occurs just in case his own memory proves faulty or he is distracted at some crucial moment.”
As Eioth predicted, Chandri did not appear until all the other High Lords and their attendants were arranged about the chamber. First, Chandri's book carrier, an Elven woman of Traditional Beauty, then his robe bearer, a magician of all the Elements, entered and with a flourish prepared his chair. They were followed by, of all things, three young girls . . .
“Chandri's daughters,” whispered Mitash.
The girls wore flowers, crown like, in their hair. They handed small poseys to each of the other High Lords as they passed, Senoia rejecting hers, before arranging themselves at the foot of their father's chair as if for a formal portrait.
Finally, Chandri entered with a slow, measured step. Halidan never found out what the Elf intended to do next for at that moment, Senoia spoke.
“There you are! Chandri, have the grace not to keep us waiting around tomorrow. If you do not know what time the Synod convenes by now, hire someone to tell you and get you here in a timely manner.”
The pomp of the moment was shattered in that instant and Halidan saw sneering smiles on more than one face.
“Come on, get a move on,” urged Senoia. “We are none of us getting any younger.”
With a slightly faster step Chandri crossed the floor to his place and waited.
The High Priests of the Elements entered next and with great rolling phrases and power that Halidan could feel moving lightly over her sensitized skin, one after another, blessed the annual coming together of the High Lords, calling upon the Elements to grant them wisdom and patience.
To distract herself from the odd sensations, Halidan examined the faces of all the High Lords. For the most part, they were identically tall, pale faced, and blessed with ash white hair gently flowing down their backs. Then she glanced toward Chandri's three daughters, frowned and concentrated. If she'd met the girls on the street, her assumption would be that they were Mid or Low Court Elves. The eldest had the same grey hair as her old student Joian, the youngest the same blushing pink complexion as Calisa. When the girls had walked past to offer flowers to Eioth, she'd caught the scent of the bleach Matriarch Pitchuri had used on her daughter's hair. Compared to the delicate profiles of the other Elves, there was a squareness to the girls’ features that jarred the eye. Halidan compared them to the traditional perfection of their sire and the woman who stood beside him and wondered at the antecedents of their mother. Had some other Mid Court Matriarch's ambition been realized by marrying a daughter into so high a House?
The priests waited until the High Lords assumed their seats, then crossed the chamber to join the petitioners waiting near the doorway and Halidan settled herself in to stand until her legs fell off.
The morning's business did not go smoothly. There was not a single subject raised or comment made that Lord Chandri did not rise to add to, contradict, or otherwise waste time talking about. It was obvious to everyone in the chamber that he was trying to create the impression that nothing could occur without his compliance. Chandri was not put off his speeches by sneering comments from the other High Lords, or even fake loud snores from Senoia's direction. The gathering finally came to an end with “half as much work done,” Mitash whispered to Halidan.
Chandri's daughters leapt to their feet and with the book and robe bearer tried to prevent anyone else leaving the chamber before their father. Senoia was having none of that. She leapt out of her chair with a speed surprising for her age, seized the eldest girl by the sleeve and hauled her out of the doorway.
“Have some respect for age,” instructed Senoia as she exited, pushing the girl to the side, “and tomorrow see to it you are properly occupied with your tutors. Children have no place in Synod Hall.”
From Chandri's expression, Halidan assumed this was going to prove to be a problem. If the children were left at home the next day, then Chandri would have lost status yielding to the other Elf; and if he brought them, no one doubted that Senoia would demand they be expelled from the room.
“He will not sleep tonight for wrestling with that problem,” whispered Halidan to Mitash who grinned and nodded.
A few minutes were spent socializing in the antechamber while carriages were fetched and the day's business discussed, again. Eioth arranged matters so that he walked down the stairs side by side with Senoia, even going so far as to offer the old woman the strength of his arm. Halidan, Mitash, and Federan followed along behind. Once Senoia was lifted into her carriage, Eioth halted Federan.
“I have always supported ability over heritage,” he said. “If we cannot bring you to rank as you deserve, I have a place for you in the North West. The family of Lord Kelth needs some magic to marry into it.”
“I thank you for your consideration, High Lord,” said Federan, “but while my grandmother lives and holds the South, I must be at her side to perform her Ritual responsibilities. She has become frail and the demands of the seasons’ Rituals wear on her strength. I do all in her place.”
Eioth raised both eyebrows. “Your power has grown so much?”
Federan inclined his head and leapt into the carriage. Leaning out the window, he said, “I have conducted all the High Lord Rituals for the South for the last sixteen years. Perhaps when my grandmother has died and they promote someone of good, clean blood and legitimate birth, but no ability, I sh
all be permitted to continue to do so for years to come. I live but to serve the Empire.”
The anger in his voice had Halidan backing away, but Eioth only bowed and gestured to the coach driver to depart.
Cris appeared a moment later with their horses. Halidan had to credit Eioth's wisdom of coming on horseback rather than by coach when they wielded their way through the traffic and out onto the street far ahead of everyone else, except Senoia. Their guards ranged themselves before and aft, clearing the streets politely and watching their back trail with expressions of deep suspicion.
A few streets later, Halidan noticed that some public houses and private ones as well, were decorated with the Sigil of South East. She frowned as she pointed and brought the flags and banners to Mitash's attention.
“He's a fool,” growled Mitash, “if he expects that the population will rise up and demand he be given the crown. It will not happen. Three daughters does not counter the weight of extreme stupidity.”
“Mind your tongue,” said Eioth softly.
“What court is Chandri's wife?” asked Halidan, as they rode past an elaborate floral display in which Chandri's sigil was supported by the Sigils of the Elements.
“High Court. Did you not see her there?” Eioth turned in his saddle to regard her intently. “Why?”
“The daughters’ hair smells of bleach.”
Eioth frowned and considered her words. “Say nothing more outside the House.”
The remainder of their journey was made in silence.
If Halidan expected Eioth to discuss her observations with her, she was disappointed. As soon as they were safe back within the House wards, Eioth took Mitash off to deal with some problem, leaving Halidan to return to her preferred occupation, reading. She assembled a list of the duplicate books Eioth had purchased and had decided that she would gift the House guards with their own library out of the unneeded duplicates. The guards might not be as enthusiastic about reading as she was, but at least the books would be there for those few who were. She was engaged in choosing between editions when Jendi appeared.
Halidan was happier to be in the House Jendi managed than Tribel's. Despite the more elaborate furnishings necessary for a House located in the capitol it had a calmer, almost serene air.
“We have a visitor,” Jendi began. “One Justovan. He claims he is the High Lord's heir and says that Tribel has failed him in some way. He has requested that I take over some service that Tribel has been doing for him. If you will forgive me, tor Halidan, I do not believe I have the authority.”
Halidan sighed. That comment was a not at all subtle hint that the authority for such matters now resided with her. Even if Eioth had been in the House, Jendi would still have sought out Halidan.
“Have you told him that Tribel has retired due to ill health?” Halidan lowered her list, more than a little surprised. Justovan had demonstrated courage, if no sense, by coming to Eioth's House the same day as receiving a public reprimand.
“I so informed him, but he will not go. He says Tribel owes him money.”
“I cannot imagine any debts that Tribel could have incurred,” said Halidan, putting her books aside. “But, I will speak to him. Where did you leave him?”
“He told me he would wait in the formal receiving room.” Jendi raised both eyebrows as she spoke.
Obviously, their guest had offended the House manager. Since she wanted to stay on Jendi's good side, Halidan immediately went to investigate Justovan’s request. She chose to use the servants’ passageways, as they were the shortest paths through the House and soon was waiting for servants to open the door to the receiving room for her.
Justovan glanced up from his examination of an expensive decoration when she entered. He frowned, either surprised to see a mortal in the House or trying to remember where he'd seen her before. Halidan declined to remind him. Since she had discarded her formal over robes, there was no sigil to instruct him. Instead, she gave a slight inclination of the head and folded her hands into her sleeves.
“Please forgive us,” she began. “We were not in expectation of your visit. The House manager informs me you have been seeking Tribel. I regret the necessity of giving ill tidings, but Tribel was taken ill some time ago and is still in residence at Gentle Waters sanctuary.”
“So Jendi said, but I hoped it was not true.” Justovan's shock was sincere, but as it turned out, self-centered. “This is intolerable. He is supposed to send me money every month. I have not received it on time. I suppose his health is his excuse.” He began pacing about the chamber and paused when he passed Halidan for the second time. “Are you the one in charge now? You will see to it I receive six hundred silver the first of each month.”
Halidan almost gasped at the Elf's audacity at issuing such a demand in Eioth's house, and the money? An extraordinary amount!
“Ah . . . Can you tell me what debt Tribel is paying off? If there is enough in Tribel's account, I could arrange for Mitash to pay the balance.”
“Tribel owes me no debt,” cried Justovan. “It is my inheritance. The late High Lord Renthi acknowledged me as his heir, after Eioth, and directed that I should receive funds from the estate until such time as I inherit.”
Even Halidan knew this one of Renthi's decisions only held weight if Eioth died without issue. There was time yet. Though he'd had three marriages with no children, did not mean that there was no hope for him. Eioth was young enough that even spending a few years with a mortal lover would not eliminate the possibility of children. Added to that, Eioth did not like this individual; therefore, she would have to seek his guidance on what to do.
“Please excuse me,” she said. “I did not know this. Tribel was taken ill so very suddenly that he was not able to teach his successor all of the finer points of his responsibilities.” She regarded him solemnly. Eioth had publicly repudiated this Elf's claim to be next in the line of succession. Possibly, the Elf had convinced the insane House manager of his claim, or . . . she remembered the journals and the book of rules sitting unread in their box. There might be useful information in them. Some explanation of the Elf's presumption. To Justovan, she said, “If you will write out your direction and describe which section of the late High Lord's will you are named in, I shall pass the information along to Mitash. He deals with matters of the High Lord's finances.”
Justovan ceased pacing and came to tower over her. “I am not in the will. This was settled as a private instruction directly to Tribel and myself by the High Lord several years before his death. Ask him. We discussed the matter each time I visited.”
“I am sorry. Tribel was judged by the healers to be unbalanced in his mind. His testimony would not be accepted.” She tilted her head to one side. “Could your claim be written somewhere?”
“I have letters in the High Lord's own hand, written to me before his death, telling me my place in the succession.”
“Then, by all means, bring them to me and show me the passage that says you are to receive six hundred in silver.” Halidan spread her hands and smiled. “Then I shall pass that information on to the High Lord to verify and confirm your claim.”
For a moment, she thought the Elf was going to spit in rage. Instead, he gathered his dignity, glared down at her, and snarled, “Mortals should not be given positions of authority,” turned his back and left.
Halidan followed him from the building and stood at the top of the steps watching until he climbed into a very fine coach and was driven away. Then she hurried through the House to her room and pulled the box of journals from the bottom of the pile. The first and only time she'd looked through these books, she had no specific idea of what to look for. She'd read enough to inspire her shock and horror at the description of the late Lord's irrational hatred for his son and then put the books aside against some nebulous future need.
Now she picked up Tribel's precious book of rules and flipped through. Sure enough within a few pages she found a set of instructions regarding Justovan.
She set the rules aside, picked up the topmost of the journals, and started flipping through. It was in the fourth book she found the first reference to Justovan.
My cousin Neoli has been granted the blessing of a child, a male, to be named Justovan. I have examined him myself and have judged him pure. The child remained pale even when I pinched and squeezed his feet until he cried. Neoli is to be congratulated. After the deception that was practiced against my own Household, I take no chances.
Halidan regarded the perfect handwriting with horror. Tribel was insane, but Eioth's father was far beyond that term. How twisted the late High Lord's mind had to be to perpetuate such a cruelty upon a child!
She turned the pages rapidly, glancing at each seeking the name Justovan. There was nothing more in that journal. In the next she found another reference to the examination of other children.
Dionit, Earth Master, begged me to grant my opinion of his grandchild. My reputation for establishing the purity of bloodlines is well established now. I have been keeping a close eye on the females born as, eventually, I must find a suitable bride for Justovan.
Justovan, thought Halidan, frowning. Justovan, not Eioth!
I assured Dionit that he was right to be concerned since I was aware that he permitted mortal servants within his House. The contamination of the air they breathe out and all that they touch is well known. As it happens it was not necessary for me to disrobe the girl child, nor administer the pinch test. The girl's features are a garish pink even when asleep. This one will not do for Justovan and when I told Dionit no family with any pride would accept her, Dionit was rightly horrified. I advised Dionit to dismiss all mortal servants, to have his son divorce his wife at once, cancel the wedding contract, and declare the child illegitimate. It cannot be permitted that families conceal the contamination of their bloodlines and then spread that taint to others without consequences.
