An Emperor's Fury: The Frayed Rope

by Paul Heisel

  The other Furies talked with her sporadically, mainly idle chit chat about the weather or the food, but there were times when the old timers spoke of the oppression of the Furies and prejudice aimed at them. They were living proof, all of them, by the marks they carried. Owori realized the families feared the collective power of the Furies, that if Furies could be organized and deployed as a force they would be unstoppable. There was also an undercurrent, a glint in some of their eyes that told Owori mischief along those lines was brewing. She suspected that the Furies training in Malurrion in secret would return in time as a force not commanded by families or the Emperor. It made her wonder, was Pearl leading all of this? Owori imagined all the Furies from Bora working together. The Furies could devastate entire towns if they wished. She imagined Pearl throwing lightning bolts everywhere and Ash calling up a massive conflagration. No one would stand a chance. It made Owori wonder what was going on in Bora, and it made her wonder why Pearl hadn’t returned.

  Halfway into the third week a contingent arrived, from where, Owori didn’t know. She happened to be by the docks when the boat came in. Everyone who came off the boat, except for the crew, wore masks to restrict their vision. True to what Pearl had said, it was a secret island that no one could know about. They were dressed in expensive clothing of all colors and sorts; the women were lavishly adorned in flattering dresses and stylish hats, while the men wore rich robes and sported golden sashes. The boat trip had to be less than a day, as the passengers didn’t look like they had slept on the boat overnight. She guessed by their stature and confidence, there were no tentative steps off the boat, that they had been here before.

  For an hour she watched them unload the boat, the wooden boxes and gilded chests brought from the hold were endless in supply. All of it was loaded on wagons and taken to the interior of the island; Owori presumed from her minimal inspection that it was supplies for the temple and the town. Time wore on and her thoughts meandered. She was thinking about Feln, wondering what he would think if he had seen her with her dragon tattoos. She felt ill thinking what his reaction to her marks might have been. He would have accepted her for the person she was, right, and not be swayed because of her looks, this freak Paq had created?

  Upon her return to the temple, she saw the servants scurrying inside and out, setting up dining and serving tables, bringing chairs out from storage, and rearranging the grounds for a celebration. Red streamers and golden paper decorations in the shapes of dragons went up along the eaves of the temple. Poles held decorative red lanterns and ornamental torches, thin ropes strung in between the trees in the garden were adorned with bright colored paper balls. Inside she went to get a bite to eat and found the kitchens were a madhouse. Cooks and assistants were preparing dish after dish, half would be served now, half later. Fresh fish had come in from the lake and the cooks were preparing them for grilling. They told Owori these were called spotted bass, a slender fish with succulent meat. The other fish was a salmon, brought by the arriving guests, that was one of the tastiest fishes and would be a treat for everyone. Animals had been slaughtered on the morn, and Owori could see by the amount of meat being prepared that this was going to be a celebration with a great number of people.

  Owori grabbed an apple. The only protest from the kitchen was they wanted to make her a more substantial dish, but she was content with an apple and ate it while she walked to her room. She could hear more activity, but shut it all out and closed the door. She meditated and found her center, her relaxed thoughts now drifting to Pearl. She wondered, when would Pearl be back? What was happening in Bora? Did she expose Kara? Or was Pearl as dead as Jerr? She ached to know what was going on. It ate at her. Owori’s only link back to Malurrion was Pearl, and it had been weeks since she had departed. The meditation helped calm her fears, filling her with strength to go on waiting one more day. Though she didn’t know what the consequences would be, often she thought about stowing away on one of the ships and disappearing on the other edge of the lake. It was her marks and Pearl, though, that kept her put. What would happen to a Fury, unaccounted for and loose? Would she be hunted? Hindered? Attacked? She wasn’t sure. What if Pearl returned and she wasn’t here? What would happen then? She didn’t know.

  For the remainder of the day she stuck to her normal routine, training and refining her magic as Pearl had taught her. After receiving her red dragon marks, she found the magic plentiful and easily available for her use. Alone and unobserved she would try new things, finding success with some, utter failure with others. What she could do with her magic was amazing, but she thought, there had to be more. She could disappear for hours if she wanted to, conjure up shields to block magic and projectiles, and create force fields around her feet and hands so she could land blows without touching her opponents. She had learned to move objects with her magic. She could throw a person across a room, much like Tasha had shown her, or bring objects to her. Her failed attempts to conjure up fire, ice, lightning, or wind remained a mild concern, and she couldn’t figure how to extend her magic to accomplish those feats. Maybe it would happen in the future. After training, she took a hot salt bath and enquired with the other Furies in the bathhouse about the people who had arrived. They didn’t know who they were specifically, but they did know the contingent was from one of the families. They indicated there would be a celebration tonight, recognizing the arrival of the family and their honored guests. Nobles from all over the island would be invited to attend as well. When they finished celebrating and selecting the Furies, all would travel by boat and return to their family province. The chosen Furies would embark on their journey to their assignment, their new home. The old-timers said the selection process hadn’t changed in hundreds of years.

  Owori meditated in her room, touching the magic with both mind and soul. It made her feel complete, and she wasn’t sure how she had lived without it before. She dashed the thought; she was reminded of Feln and his smile, his broad shoulders, and uncommon wisdom. Nothing in her life could be complete without him. Little hope of ever finding him remained, and with so much time passing she couldn’t put aside the terrible notion that he was probably dead. She thought that would be something she would never admit. There was always hope though. A knock at the door startled her out of her peaceful trance and she cast one eye at the door, stretched her magic in that direction to see what would happen. Nothing changed. She expected to see Paq who would want to have one of his talks about Pearl.

  “Enter,” she said. Now both eyes were open and her body was coming awake, dormant magic stirring.

  Quin came through the door, his bulk dressed in rich silk robes. They were garish orange with yellow accents. Owori nearly laughed – he looked like a pumpkin. Then she noticed that cradled in his arms was a garment made of red fabric. He put the cloth package on the table and bowed. “Owori, good, you’re here. I apologize for the intrusion. You have been invited to attend the celebration. Since this is your first celebration with a family in attendance, I brought you a robe to wear. It has been custom made to fit you. Please, join us. We are about to begin.”

  She laughed, partly in spite and partly because of his outrageous outfit. There was no way she was going to attend this party and prance around like a harlot for sale. She wasn’t going to give anyone even the slightest chance they would enquire about her. “Not a chance. I’m not for sale like a piece of meat. You remember what Pearl told you and Paq – we wait until she returns. Out! Get out!”

  “I understand,” he said. “As you wish. You are going to miss a wonderful time.”

  “No I won’t. Out!”

  Quin bowed and backed out through the door, leaving the robe.

  Owori pushed with her magic, shutting the door. She slid sideways, rolled off the bed whisper quiet, and came to her feet. The energy shot through her body unabated, making her feel invincible. Pearl would be back soon when things calmed down in Bora, and she would be able to go back to Malurrion a few months after that. She was sure of it.
She grabbed the red silk robe and held it up so she could see it. The crimson robe matched the color of her tattoos and as Quin had said, it had been sewed to fit her perfectly. She held it close to her body and drifted to the cursed mirror. Her hair was growing, but not fast enough – she wanted her longer hair back. The eyebrows had returned, slight and straight, adding mystery to her dark eyes. The robe was simple and elegant, and had large sleeves so a Fury could hide their tattoos and hands.

  It fit her well, accenting her curves in all the right spots. The fabric felt like silk, but could stretch and shift with her. Except for her hair, she thought she looked presentable. The robe hid her tattoos, even the bits of the dragon that were on her neck. Was that the purpose? Had Quin given her the means to participate without anyone knowing she was a Fury? She looked as normal as any of the women on the island except for her short cropped hair. For a moment she considered investigating the celebration as a guest, not as a Fury, and she was about to fling the robe into a corner and retire early for the evening when a thought occurred to her.

  Owori blinked.

  #

  The lavishness was appalling. The visiting men from the contingent were eating delicacies and drinking wine from golden goblets, friendly women were on their laps with their arms splayed around the men’s necks. In a separate area, the women guests had flocks of girls dressed in white gowns attending them, and young, bare-chested, muscular men served exotic fruits and sweets. A huge pig was being roasted in the middle of the decorated garden. The pig roaster, a poor soul, looked tired and hot, his flesh red from being so close to the fire for an extended time. Wood tables ringed the perimeter, filled with platters of apples, succulent melons, grain breads, the grilled spotted bass and salmon, and a variety of pre-prepared cured and roasted meats. Furies were mingling with the guests, she presumed, to make themselves available for selection. It sickened her. How could they let this happen?

  Owori noted two Furies, who had arrived on the boat, were lurking in the shadows. They were watching one of the men and not partaking of food, drink, or the women. Both were older, had long messy hair streaked with gray, and wore thick black robes despite the warm weather. To her it looked as if they had done this a thousand times. She wondered, what could they do? How strong was their magic? She figured the man they were guarding was the leader of the contingent, perhaps the head of a family. The guest of honor had gathered other nearby attendees, Quin, and the Furies to show them what he had in his hands. He had a long ebony box, shiny and gilded with gold. Owori could hear them chatting about a belt, so she changed locations so she could see better. It was a black belt with golden dragons on it, and the gawkers regarded it with honor. It was one of the magic Favored One belts Pearl had talked about, no doubt, an object a Fury couldn’t get their hands on. She grew tired from the use of her magic and returned to her room within the temple complex, becoming visible only when she was inside. The door closed behind her and she pulled off the red robe, slunk into her night clothes, and sat down. After meditating, she rolled under the covers and fell asleep. In a few hours she would wake refreshed, do additional training, then go back to sleep until the morning.

  The strangeness of her dreams disturbed her. She couldn’t wake up. She felt trapped and it was like she was bleeding from invisible cuts. It was as if the life was seeping out of her and she could do nothing about it. She woke with a start and sat up, thankful the nightmare had passed. Her head spun; she swooned and plopped down on the pallet listless and weak. She felt sapped of her energy, more tired than she should be. The fog of sleep wore off and she realized she had no magic. Somehow, it had departed from her. It took a minute to wake fully and to light a candle, and once her room was illuminated she noticed her door was ajar a fraction of an inch, not closed completely as she had left it.

  Who had been in her room?

  Being drained of her magic was unsettling, and her greatest concern was permanence. If this wasn’t temporary, it would mean all her magic was gone. How would she survive? The magic had become integral to her life and she couldn’t imagine not having it. She hadn’t contemplated her future without her magic. As she wondered how this could happen, a tingle of magic came to her core, a frozen buzz formed and slowly began to fill her up. It relieved her that it was coming back, still the question lingered, how did this happen and who had been inside her room? Owori threw on the nearest clothes, the discarded red robes Quin had brought her, and went out the door intent on finding who had visited her room. There was no one in the hallway. After shutting her door, she went to find Paq, figuring he was the person who would give her answers. Around a corner she heard the shuffle of feet. She sped up, intent on following the noise down the intersecting hall. She turned the corner, walking briskly, slowing when she saw Quin being escorted between the two Furies with the messy hair and the black robes. They disappeared around another corner. She tried to blink, but she didn’t have enough magic. Owori sped up to catch them.

  Outside the building, she thought she had lost them. The light of the twin red moons though, betrayed their trail and she followed them to one of the guest cottages situated beyond the temple. To her left were the remnants of the celebration that servants would clean up in the morning at first light. The stone pathway narrowed because of the manicured hedges and the plants caught on her robe twice as she sped by. The cottage she came to was one story and made completely of wood harvested from the island’s deep forests. There were ten such structures, each reserved for use by visitors and guests. They were quaint houses, but Owori didn’t know what they looked like on the inside. Yet. Ahead of her was the entrance to the cottage and the two Furies with messy hair were now guarding the door. There was a small wooden porch dotted with outdoor chairs, fresh white paint still sparkling. The Furies regarded her with curious glances, but made no move to intercept her approach. Owori drifted closer and came to a stop.

  “May I help you?” one of them asked.

  Owori wasn’t sure what to say, nor did she know why the Furies were guarding the outside of the cottage this early in the morning. Was it because Quin was inside? If she delayed long enough for Quin to emerge, she could take him aside and question him. She was certain now that he had been in her room – but why? She stood straight and elevated to the balls of her feet. “I need to speak with Quin. Is he in there?”

  The Furies shared a glance. Owori felt the bile in her stomach rise. They were going to pound her, she knew it. This was a mistake. Without the full use of her magic, she was vulnerable. She had no weapons with her except for her hands and feet. Her eyes shifted back and forth, watching them, waiting for them to make a move.

  “Of course,” one of them said as he stepped aside.

  The worst course of action was to do nothing at the invitation, but walking into a trap wasn’t any better. She had expected them to tell her no or to physically keep her away from the cottage. Now she was confused about what was going on. If these were guards, then they weren’t doing a good job. Stepping forward, Owori opened the front door. Caught in mid conversation, the leader of the contingent and Quin looked toward her with mild surprise. Quin stood and fumbled with his pants as always, hitching them up around his rotund belly. The other man, dressed in a night robe, did nothing but smile. The entryway served as a living room with comfortable chairs, small tables, and hand woven carpets. A lantern flickered.

  “Allow me to introduce Yan,” Quin said. His eyes were ringed with shadows from fatigue. “He’s our guest from Daiwer-dar. Yan, this is Owori.”

  Owori frowned. That place name meant nothing to her and she didn’t care.

  “Quin, I believe you host the best celebrations in all of Pyndira,” Yan said. “It’s a shame this lovely creature didn’t attend. I would have enjoyed getting to know you better.”

  Owori checked her thoughts and initial unsympathetic reaction. It was clear to her that Yan was a man who always received what he asked for and he had to be a person of station. Perhaps should she be cautio
us. Quin nervously tugged at his pants nearby, looking like he didn’t want to be here. Movement came from the side and Owori glanced in that direction.

  A woman appeared, hair askew, her dark skin contrasting against the white linens she was trying to cover herself with. She was a tall beauty with long legs, slim hips, and small flat breasts. Realizing she had interrupted, the woman turned and departed from whence she came.

  “All of your creatures are beautiful Quin,” Yan said, his eyes shifting from the nude backside that was departing. He looked at Owori. “I do say my lovely creature, red is definitely your color.”

  “I’m not a creature. I have a name.”

  Yan laughed heartily, slapped his legs, and nearly took a tumble. Only the attentive Quin kept Yan from falling into the wall. “I know you have a name. Owori is it? That is such a pretty name for a pretty creature. Oh she’ll do fine, just fine.”

  The call for caution disappeared. “What is this drunkard babbling about?” Owori asked, turning to Quin.

  “You watch your tongue…” Yan spat.

  “Or what?” Owori countered. She could feel the magic stirring inside. It was coming back to her in a rush, like a river overflowing its banks.

  “You have achieved a great honor,” a quivering Quin said as he deposited Yan in a nearby chair. “From tonight on, you will be in the service of the greatest family in all of Pyndira. You will leave with them later today.”

  The words wouldn’t come until the shock wore off. “I’m not one of your cattle! When Pearl hears of this she’ll string you up by your feet and roast you until your fat puddles on the ground.”

  “Pearl has no authority here,” Quin said.

  Yan started laughing from his seat. “It’s every Fury’s duty to serve a family,” Yan said. “It’s the law. Who is this Pearl person?”