T.J. Mindancer - Future Dreams

by T. J. Mindancer

  “Ingorans aren’t raised to engage in strenuous physical activity,” Tigh said.

  “They think this little walk is strenuous?” Jame frowned. They continued around another curve that switched them back to a flattened out narrow lane, signifying they were at the top of the hill. “They should try getting around Emor.”

  Tigh turned and smiled at Jame. “Steep?”

  “Emor is in a canyon with towering walls of stone,” Jame said. “The shops and taverns are on the canyon floor but the homes are above them all the way up to the meadows. We get around on narrow paths cut into the walls.”

  “If Emor had been settled by Ingorans, they would have figured out a way of getting around without having to exert themselves,” Tigh said.

  They rounded a soft curve and a gate the width of the lane stood in their way. The entire design of the iron was a giant H and T, leaving little doubt they had arrived at the House of Tigis.

  Jame stared through the gate at the large stone buildings surrounded by a neat green lawn and small gardens bursting with cheerful colors and sculpted figures.

  Tigh stepped to the side of the gate and pulled on a heavy rope. A bell, housed in a small turret perched on the stone wall, sounded.

  “This is where you grew up?” Jame couldn’t reconcile the unpretentious Tigh with the strong statements of wealth and high social standing coming from the estate.

  “Yes,” Tigh said.

  A young man in the blue and purple colors of the House of Tigis stepped out of a small stone building twenty paces inside the gate. Wearing the self-important smirk of an employee of Tigis, he made a show of sauntering to what appeared to be visitors of no importance.

  Jame furrowed her brow at this behavior but kept quiet after seeing the not so amused expression on Tigh’s face.

  “You’ve made a wrong turn.” The young man waved a bored hand when several paces from the gate. “You can’t get through this way.”

  “We haven’t made a wrong turn,” Tigh said.

  He squinted at them. “What do you want?”

  Tigh raised an eyebrow. “We want in. We’re here for the joining of Paldar Tigis and Jamelin Ketlas, princess of Emoria.”

  Jame just barely kept from grinning. She loved this playful side of Tigh.

  “Paldar Tigis?” The young man’s expression got caught between a sneer of disdain, a flicker of fright, and a look of uncertainty. “She’s not here and we haven’t heard of any joining.”

  “She’s not there because she’s here.” Tigh captured the young man’s eyes with her own. “Once she’s there she’ll make sure everyone knows about the joining.”

  The young man swallowed and his eyes widened with the realization of who Tigh was.

  He ran to the side of the gate and tugged on a wooden lever that, through an iron mechanism suspended over the gate, pulled the two halves apart and outward.

  “Thank you,” Tigh said over her shoulder as she led Gessen onto the grounds with Jame at her side.

  When they were far enough away from the servant, Jame turned to Tigh. “I can see why you wanted to leave.”

  Tigh laughed. She laid an arm across Jame’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Come on. Let’s go scare some more high and mighty employees of the House of Tigis.”

  EVER SINCE JYAC made the official announcement from the palace balcony earlier that day, she had expected any number of responses to trickle back to her, but silence hadn’t been one of them.

  She stepped into the square of the quiet city. No hammering from the smithy, no chattering wafting down from various parts of the bluffs . . . only the Temple bells clanging together in the slight breeze. A quick glance around the top perimeter of the city assured her the sentries were still at their stations. She knew where her people had gone. The same place she’d have gone if she had heard news that was difficult to accept. For some reason, Jame’s popularity always took her by surprise.

  Jyac fetched Ronalyn from her daily study of the ancient scrolls in the archives and they walked up one of the paths leading to the meadow above the city.

  Before them, the women of Emor were gathered in a solemn silent prayer for their wayward princess. The Elders Council stood with heads bowed in the middle of the ceremonial circle. It looked to be a spontaneous gathering, as if everyone needed to seek solace in each other.

  “They think Jame has turned her back on them.” Jyac pulled a scroll from her belt pouch and studied it for a heartbeat.

  “I think that will help them understand,” Ronalyn said.

  Jyac nodded and they passed between a series of intricately carved posts that marked the traditional entryway into the ceremonial circle. They walked past the Elders’ tight ring in the center of the circle to the raised platform on the opposite outer rim.

  The Elders broke their circle of meditation and rearranged themselves into a half circle facing their queen.

  Gindor leveled steely eyes at Jyac. “Have you finally come to pray for Laur to give your niece and heir the guidance she needs to find her way home?”

  “No.” Jyac held up the scroll. “I’ve come to let Jame tell her people in her own words why she’s taken this other path before she returns to Emoria.”

  A low murmur rippled through the attentive women.

  “As you wish, my queen.” Gindor bowed. “And I accept that we’re divided on this issue.”

  “You’re gathered here to entreat Laur to give Jame guidance to bring her home to Emoria,” Jyac began. From where she stood in the ceremonial circle her words could be easily heard throughout the meadow. The Emorans accepted the phenomenon as a gift from Laur. “I ask that you pray for a safe journey for Jame as she pursues her life outside our borders.”

  “How can you ask us to give her our blessing?” Argis asked in an anguished voice. With a face distorted in anger, she strode into the circle and stood before Jyac. “She’s chosen to wander all over the place with that woman as a companion. She’s going to be joined to that woman in a foreign ceremony.”

  “We had a choice.” Jyac straightened and swept her eyes over the gathered women. “We had a choice to bring Jame home against her will or let her decide what she wants to do with her life. Bringing her home against her will would risk breaking her down emotionally or cause her to rebel and leave us forever. Jame is destined to be Queen of Emoria, we must learn to trust her decisions and she must learn from her mistakes so she can grow strong and wise. We’ve not had any indication that Jame and that former Guard are not sincere in their feelings for each other and for the life they’ve chosen to follow. Argis, I know it hurts, but you must remember, even if she did return to Emoria, she wouldn’t have been joined with you.”

  Argis clenched her fists. “I stand in defiance to the queen on this issue. I could eventually learn to live with the knowledge that Jame no longer loved me, but I can’t live with the knowledge that she has willingly chosen to share her life with that Guard.”

  “Your defiance on this issue is accepted, Argis,” Jyac said. “But let me give you a friendly warning. If you take it upon yourself to do something about that Guard, Jame may choose never to set foot in Emoria again. Which means you’d better not set foot in Emoria again if you drove your future queen away from her place among us.”

  “I understand, my queen.” Argis straightened, slipped her sword from its scabbard, and whipped it into a salute.

  “Thank you, Argis.” Jyac accepted the salute with relief. “Now open your ears and your hearts and hear what your princess has to say.”

  Jyac read Jame’s impassioned letter—of her need to prove that her people could trust her judgment and her need to pursue being an arbiter so she could learn to be a wise and just queen. Jame spoke of her love for Emoria and how she was hurt by the idea her people thought she’d bring harm to them. Because of that she would only return when they accepted her life companion as a citizen and royal consort.

  The rest of the day was spent in thoughtful discussion and, much to Jya
c’s relief, ended with all her people bowing heads in prayer for Jame’s happiness and safety in whatever path she chose to take.

  JAME HAD ENVISIONED Tigh’s sisters to look like her. She certainly hadn’t expected identical twins with the coloring of Joul and the personality of Paldon.

  A dark-haired young man with weak brown eyes and a mild demeanor trailed Pandon, the oldest twin. They had just recently been joined and Jame caught Pandon glancing with affection at the young man. Patlin, the younger twin, held hands with a confident looking red-haired girl and was engaged in an animated discussion with Tigh.

  “I hope to get to the Phytian Mountains some time,” Juon said. At eighteen, he was a male version of his oldest sister, tall and muscular with soft blue eyes and black hair.

  “They’re the most beautiful in the spring when the flowers are in bloom,” Jame said. “Although Ingor is a wonderful looking city.”

  “You must get Tigh to take you to the Arcade down on Merchant’s Square,” Juon said. “It’s the largest shopping arcade in the Southern Territories.”

  “I’ll be sure we see it on our next visit to Ingor,” Jame said. “We won’t have time this trip. We’ll be leaving right after the joining tomorrow.”

  “Leaving so soon?” Juon sounded genuinely disappointed. “I thought you’d stay around a while. Tigh has been away a long time.”

  Jame smiled at how easily the younger generation got into the habit of using Tigh’s Guard name. “We’ll be back for Patlin’s joining, but we have a job to do.”

  Pandon and Patlin and their respective companions waved across the room at Jame and Juon and then pushed through one of the doors leading to the endless terraces that surrounded the main house.

  Tigh joined Jame and pulled her close. “You’re not going to the concert?” she asked Juon.

  Juon shrugged. “I’m meeting some friends at Bushra’s Hideaway.”

  “Do the parents know?” Tigh lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

  “Uh, no,” Juon said. “You won’t tell them will you?”

  Tigh laughed. “Of course not. Enjoy yourself.”

  “You’re the best, Tigh.” Juon laughed and trotted out of the chamber into the main hall of the house.

  “Which leaves just the two of us.” Jame wrapped her arms around Tigh.

  “My parents won’t be back until late.” Tigh looked around the airy garden room. “The Guild meetings are usually long and tedious.”

  “So, will you finally show me your room?” Jame asked. It had been a point of discussion ever since they boarded the ship to Ingor. Tigh refused to describe the personal sanctuary where she grew up.

  “Come on.” Tigh pulled Jame along.

  “I like your family,” Jame said as Tigh guided her into the main hall with its high octagonal ceiling and stone staircases that swept up to the other floors.

  “Most Ingorans are good people,” Tigh said. “If you get past the merchant mentality.”

  They wandered down a gallery punctuated by small sitting rooms, went through another large garden room, and out a side door. Before them were several small cottages circling a shallow fishpond.

  Tigh paused and stared at the golden fish sparkling in the water, illuminated by sheltered night torches. “I spent a lot of time dreaming of studying in Artocia while watching those fish go about their watery lives.” She squeezed Jame’s hand. “Now I have a new dream.”

  “It’s funny how things turn out,” Jame said.

  “This way,” Tigh said as they skirted around the pond to the first cottage. She opened the door. The fireplace and several lamps had been lit and their belongings were piled next to the bed.

  Jame stepped into the chamber and took in the small wing made up as a sitting area and another wing with walls of shelves full of scrolls and a worktable and chair. A washing chamber was through an opening in the back, next to the bed.

  “It doesn’t look too much different from my room back in Emor,” she said, noting the subdued colors and high quality of the materials and furniture.

  “Really?” Tigh asked.

  “I mean, my chamber is a part of a cave, but everything else is much the same,” Jame said. “Of course, Jyac or the Council would never ever let us stay there together until we were joined.”

  “Fortunately for us we’re in Ingor.” Tigh grinned and lifted a startled Jame and carried her to the bed. “In fact it’s considered good luck if the happy couple are too exhausted to remember the words of their joining ceremony.”

  “Hmmm.” Jame pulled Tigh onto the bed. “We can’t go against Ingoran tradition can we?”

  TIGH ROLLED HER eyes at her family’s idea of casual. She’d never imagined casual joining ceremonies had become a stylish trend in Ingor since the end of the Wars. Or that there was a line of casual clothing created for those attending the joinings. Never mind all that control contradicted the concept of casual.

  Tigh and Jame had on the same clothing they wore during the Solstice. A decision that had more to do with how they liked the way the leathers looked on each other than any sort of concern over proper casual joining apparel.

  Jame looked panicked as the brightly painted trolley box they were in lurched and plummeted downward. “These are much more interesting to look at than to travel in.”

  Tigh wrapped reassuring arms around her. “At least we didn’t indulge in the traditional joining wine.” Tigh glanced at her family who were watching the neighbors’ estates fly by. Ingorans were always in search of new landscape and architectural ideas.

  Jame grimaced. “I would have surely embarrassed myself. Ingorans ride these things all the time?”

  “Since practically the day we’re born,” Tigh said.

  “And a little spicy food upsets your stomach?” Jame arched an eyebrow at Tigh.

  The trolley scraped to a stop. With Tigh’s help, a relieved Jame climbed out of the apparatus, then she watched with widening eyes as the Paldar clan climbed onto another trolley.

  “That one’s going up.” Tigh led Jame to the roomier carrier. “It goes right to Miterie Park.”

  Tigh grinned as the trolley crept up and around the hill, revealing whitewashed panoramas of Ingor and the boat-filled Nirlion Sea glistening in the morning sun.

  “It’s beautiful,” Jame said.

  “We’re very proud of our city.” Paldon stared at the harmonious meeting of city and sea. “There’s Miterie Park. A wonderful choice for a joining.”

  “It seemed right, somehow,” Tigh said.

  The trolley rolled to a stop on the harbor side of the park. Jame climbed out and looked around. The Temple to Bal was a small ornamental building with all sides open to the hilltop breezes. Terraces where people lounged and enjoyed the stunning view cascaded down from the Temple. The rest of the knob was neatly trimmed expanses of grass accentuated by the occasional statue or small plot of flowers. She could just make out a Glak field with narrow stone spectator stands on the far edge of the green.

  The aura of peacefulness enveloped Jame as she walked into the airy Temple. She thought this change in atmosphere strange, since the Temple didn’t have any walls and they were still outside. An acolyte wrapped in the pale robes of Bal stepped through an opening on the widest pillar holding up the roof of the Temple. Jame noticed the pillar covered a set of steps that led downward to beneath the stone floor.

  “Our daughter wants to be joined,” Paldon said.

  “Such a beautiful morning for a joining,” the acolyte murmured. “Come and gather around the altar.”

  Tigh took Jame’s hand and gave it a squeeze and Jame smiled up at her. The acolyte made them stand in front of a pedestal that supported a shallow ceramic bowl flanked by two silver cups. The Tigis clan stood in a circle around the pedestal.

  The acolyte took her place on the other side of the pedestal. She dipped the end of her sleeve into the sweet fragrant water in the bowl and wiped it across Tigh and Jame’s foreheads.

  “Hold you
r hands over the bowl, palms down,” the acolyte said. She cupped her palms together and dipped them into the bowl and trickled the liquid over Tigh and Jame’s hands. “Turn your palms up.” She repeated the ritual cleansing of their hands. She then guided Jame behind one of the silver cups and Tigh behind the other so they faced each other with the pedestal in between. Their eyes met as the acolyte directed them to hold hands over the bowl.

  “Bal smiles on you and gives you the good fortune of his blessing,” the acolyte intoned. “All he asks in return is that you continue to love and honor each other for as long as you walk this earth and as you journey through eternity.” She turned to Jame. “Will you honor and love for as long as your souls exist?”

  “I will.” Jame’s voice was husky from the emotion swelling inside her.

  The acolyte turned to Tigh. “And will you honor and love for as long as your souls exist?”

  “I will,” Tigh whispered.

  Everyone but Jame was startled when Tigh crumpled onto the polished Temple floor. Having a proficient knowledge of Tigh’s body language, she saw it coming before Tigh uttered the words and had released Tigh’s hands as she swayed and fell.

  A grinning Juon stepped forward and patted Tigh’s cheek. Her eyes popped opened and she stared at him in profound puzzlement.

  “Come on, Sis.” Juon helped her to her feet. The rest of the family smiled at Tigh’s obvious depth of feeling for Jame.

  “Sorry.” Tigh’s expression was sheepish and, to Jame, endearing.

  “I’ll take it as a compliment,” Jame said and they clasped hands once more.

  The acolyte pulled a long strip of cloth from her sleeve. “In the eyes of Bal and the city-state of Ingor you are joined.” She wrapped the cloth around the closest set of hands. She then lifted a jar from the bottom of the pedestal and removed the glass cork, releasing the aroma of the joining wine. After pouring a bit into each silver cup, she made the sign of Bal’s blessing over the liquid offering. “Take your cups and offer the wine to your life companion as a toast to many long lifetimes of happiness together.”