Naondel

by Maria Turtschaninoff

  “Thank you, wife,” he said simply and squeezed my hand.

  Then, as always, he was blind to the depths of my hatred. He was so full of himself that he was incapable of comprehending the effect of his actions on other people. I was his wife. I had been quiet and obedient for many years. My loyalty to him was evident.

  Of course, hate was not the only thing I felt for him. I had fought hard to smother any other feelings and leave space for loathing alone. Yet I had loved him once. An echo remained that could never be silenced. I had always loathed myself for it, but at that moment I pardoned myself. Without that echo I would not have been able to do what needed to be done.

  I released the dead woman and led my husband outside while the mourners emitted their final wails and rang their bells so that all in the afterworld would hear that a new soul was on its way.

  I took Iskan to my chambers. I had had Estegi make them as pleasant as possible, and provide all of Iskan’s favourite delicacies, and a pipe to smoke after eating. I made sure he was sitting comfortably, in prime place, and ordered a young maidservant to fan him to alleviate the heat that lingered despite the sun already lowering in the sky.

  Iskan drank the wine, and then sat with a confused expression on his face like a little boy. His hair had greyed around the temples, and, though he remained a fine-looking man, he had bitter lines around his eyes, which I saw as the marks of Anji, and he could no longer be considered handsome.

  “What a great loss for a man to have no living parents,” he said. I bowed my head so that he might not see my face.

  “So it is, Iskan-che. Perhaps a man can find solace in his sons on a day such as this?”

  Iskan smiled at me. “You truly do know me well, Kabira-cho. Have them sent for.”

  I had not seen them for many moons. The proposal had been for my own sake, and I had forewarned their servant so they were dressed and ready to offer their father words of grief and condolences.

  I was seized by the heart at their entrance. Korin was a young man, broad-shouldered and handsome, already dressed in white for mourning. He bowed to me formally with his hand to his forehead before giving his father a heartfelt embrace and kissing him on both cheeks. Enon was a mirror image of his elder brother, but with a downier beard and shoulders more slender. He gave me a reticent smile and kissed me on both cheeks. I inhaled deeply his scent of rose water and sweat, and greedily stored its memory in my heart.

  Little Sonan was no longer little either. At fourteen years old he had just received a sword and horse of his own. He took after his two elder brothers in most ways, but he reminded me most of my own brother Tihe. They both laughed easily and inspired laughter from all in their company. Sonan was loved by all: from servants to honoured guests, from cooks in Iskan’s kitchen to the Sovereign Prince himself.

  He did not know whether he should follow the example of Korin or Enon so after he had bowed he stood before me awkwardly, uncertain what to do. I gestured to him to embrace his father. My arms longed to wrap around his thin neck and press his bony shoulders into my body, but I knew that Korin would scold him if he allowed this to happen. Enon could do as he wished. He was old enough.

  All three young men bore signs of grief and tears on their cheeks. Their grandmother had been like a mother to them. She had raised them when I could not. She had overseen their wet-nurses and their teachers, and taught them to be men. Men like their father. They sat in conversation with him now, speaking about the departed, drinking to her soul. Even Sonan was allowed to drink wine and soon his cheeks flushed red. When his two elder brothers were deeply engrossed in conversation with Iskan, he drew closer to me.

  “Cho?”

  “Yes, my son?”

  Every time I was allowed to say the words my heart would beat a little faster.

  He swirled the bowl in his hand and did not meet my gaze. I waited, though I wanted nothing more than to take him in my arms and hold him to my breast.

  “Now that Izani-chi is gone…” He paused. “May I visit your chambers? Should it be a great inconvenience?”

  Had the crone not been dead already I would have strangled her with my bare hands then and there. I had to wait a moment until my voice was steady and calm enough to respond. Sonan looked up at me, his eyes large and apprehensive. He was the most sensitive of my sons. He must have had a difficult time under Izani’s reign. He was not like his brothers, nor his father.

  “Sonan. My son. You are, and always have been, welcome in my chambers, whensoever you wish.”

  I took hold of his hands and looked him in the eye. “I would never turn you away from my door. I would never see it as an inconvenience to entertain my beloved children in my residence.”

  I spoke quietly, so that Iskan could not hear. Sonan looked at me with surprise and relief. I could see that he was thinking of all the lies Izani had filled him with since birth. Undoubtedly that his mother did not love him, nor want anything to do with him. He was too well brought up to pronounce them out loud. Izani was the only mother he had ever known. There was no way for me to erase the past fourteen years that separated us. Yet perhaps there was still a possibility to claim at least one of my sons as my own. He held my hands awkwardly in his, which had already grown large and broad.

  Korin gave us a suspicious look and I lowered my head at once. I had to play the role of subservient wife. He looked at Sonan’s hands in mine and furrowed his brow. He stood up.

  “We will leave you now, Father. And you are right. I will consider taking a wife.” There was a certain coldness to his voice and I glanced in surprise at Iskan, whose mouth was drawn into a disapproving line.

  Korin bowed to me briefly. “Sonan.”

  My youngest son got up reluctantly and released my hands. I dared not say anything, nor remind him to visit me, afraid that Korin or Iskan would forbid him. Korin left the room with Sonan in tow. Enon shrugged his shoulders apologetically, kissed his father on the cheeks and gave me a hasty kiss before he left. A faint scent of rose water lingered behind.

  Iskan sat, still with furrowed brow, and glared at the wall. My well-considered plan would not work if his mood did not brighten. I sat before him, carefully removed his shoes and began to massage his feet. It repulsed me to touch him. To feel his skin against mine. It was an abomination that he could sit there, alive and well before me, when he was responsible for the deaths of so many.

  “Iskan-che, what is weighing on your mind?”

  “Korin. He goes against his father’s express desire.” Iskan sighed and leant back, stretching his foot forward to give me better access. “I wish for him to marry the daughter of Eraban ak Usti-chu.”

  “The Sovereign Prince of Amdurabi?”

  Iskan scoffed. “So he called himself, yes, but in reality he was no more than a governor to the true Sovereign Prince of all Karenokoi. In any case, he died last moon.”

  “Was he not here as a guest last moon?” I laid Iskan’s foot carefully in my lap. He smiled widely at me.

  “Naturally. He must have eaten something that did not agree with him because he travelled home quite ashen and died soon thereafter. There were no traces of poison.”

  I revealed no clue that I understood what Iskan had done. “And now you wish for Korin to marry his daughter?”

  “His eldest daughter, yes. He never sired sons, and the eldest daughter is Enon’s age and sole heiress to Amdurabi. If Korin married her he would become Governor, and Amdurabi would become a district of Karenokoi, just as Baklat and Nernai already have. Since I have come to power the landmass of the realm of Karenokoi has tripled, and its riches likewise. Amdurabi is now vulnerable; with merely a female heiress anybody could take power by force. However, it is in Karenokoi’s interest that Amdurabi is stable. Armies in the vicinity would be a threat to our security as well. And we are dependent on their rice and wheat, as Karenokoi produces mostly spices now. On my advice, our economy has had a great boost thanks to the spice trade.” He sighed, lifted down one foot and st
retched out the other for me to massage. “But it leaves us vulnerable when it comes to food provisions. The labourers have started to complain since I had the Sovereign issue a decree that their own growing plots should be planted with etse. I have no time for a revolt right now so I must ensure there is sufficient food to keep them quiet.”

  “But Korin does not wish to wed the daughter of Eraban? Is she homely, or disfigured in some way?”

  The furrow returned to Iskan’s brow. “Not at all. Not the most beautiful of women, but not disfigured and there is no stain on her honour. I may well have chosen her for him, even without the whole district as dowry. However, he has the notion that he wishes to marry someone of his own choosing. And the only things he has in mind are soft, round breasts and a pretty face!” Iskan took a big swig of wine. He had drunk a lot already, which was just fine. I hurried to fetch more wine and filled his bowl before continuing to massage him.

  “You chose your own wife.”

  Iskan laughed. “Yes, and certainly not for your beauty. Just like Eraban’s daughter, you came with a dowry. Korin must realize that he can have succulent flesh as well. Marriages are arranged for other purposes.”

  His words stung. Still, after all that time. I had believed that he loved me, once. I had believed that he found me beautiful.

  “You are a wise man. Korin ought to heed his father’s words.”

  Iskan sighed. “He has always been stubborn and filled with his own ideas. Enon is easier to steer.”

  “Perhaps you might sweeten the proposition?” I lifted his foot down from my lap and sat up straight on a cushion. “Seek out the five most beautiful women in the land and let Korin choose himself some concubines. As a wedding gift.”

  It is not easy for me to admit that I spoke these words. That I gambled away these girls’ lives and Korin’s life in such a facile manner. My life was worth so little to me at the time that I did not value others’ particularly highly either.

  Iskan smiled and raised his cup to me. “Kabira, a little of my wisdom has rubbed off on you. So shall it be, on my honour. And the power and might of Karenokoi shall grow, and thereby so shall mine.”

  He was in good humour again. His feeling of well-being made him look at me a little differently that evening, and I had ensured that his head and judgement were powerfully influenced by wine. I drank too. I needed a little inebriation to be able to go through with my plan. I was afraid. Yet there was another feeling at play: loneliness. It was so long since I had been touched. I had loved this man once. Once, I had desired him.

  The necessary task was not as difficult as I had expected.

  I had known Iskan a long time. I knew what he liked. I gave him the right mix of meekness and compliance, of girlish admiration and timidity. Iskan’s only weakness was flattery. He never tired of hearing about his own excellence. I got him where I wanted him.

  I got him between my legs. I got his seed in my belly.

  * * *

  I knew it was a girl. Everything about the pregnancy felt like the ones Iskan aborted when Anji showed him that I was carrying girls. I was terrified that he would discover I was with child. I had to be able to keep my daughter. I had to have something of my own. Someone to love. Someone who was mine alone. The thought of a daughter was born in me when Meriba lay dying. I had been biding my time ever since. Waiting for Izani to die. As long as she lived I could not put my plan into action.

  It was easier to hide my pregnancy than I had thought. Iskan was probably ashamed that he had allowed me to seduce him. Me, an ugly old woman, when he had so many beautiful concubines to call to his bed. I had thought that perhaps he… I do not know. I was foolish enough to believe that something might have changed. Yet he continued to avoid me. He had never been in the habit of visiting my chambers, so I kept myself there, and stayed quiet. Izani was no longer there to spy on me and betray me to her son. The sunlight hours had grown long by the time I finally dared venture out into the garden, on the days when I knew for certain that Iskan was not in the palace. I never set foot in the great halls of the dairahesi. I sewed clothes for my little one, and carefully hid them. I read and transcribed poetry. I painted. Yet after a while it was not enough. At times, when I knew most of the dairahesi to be elsewhere, I mustered the courage to visit the little library, and began to read the scrolls therein. It was mostly the classics, which I had read many times before, but they kept me occupied for a time. Once I had ploughed through the stock a desire awoke in me for more. It was as if the girl in my womb, who was now kicking and prodding inside, craved more than just physical nourishment from me. She wanted knowledge.

  I knew that Iskan kept a large private library. That is where he stored the scrolls he gathered from all corners of the earth, including in scripts he could not read, simply to deprive others of the possibility of gaining access to the knowledge they contained. I suddenly found myself hungering for scriptures like a woman starved.

  The only person to visit me in my self-inflicted confinement was Sonan. True to his word, he visited on occasion. Not as often as I would have liked, not even as often as he himself wanted, but whenever he could sneak away from the watchful eyes of Iskan and Korin. Korin was to wed the daughter of the Governor of Amdurabi. He took four concubines, each more beautiful than the last. Both he and Iskan were occupied with the preparations, and now and then Sonan was able to slip unseen into my chambers. Apart from Iskan my sons were the only men allowed in the dairahesi.

  He suspected nothing about my condition, young and naive as he was. I dressed in loose-fitting jackets, and he had no experience of pregnancy. We would often sit at my best table, which I always made sure was laden with all his favourite treats. It was a pity that I could not bake or prepare any of it myself, but I gave the servants detailed instruction of precisely how everything should be done. It was such a joy to be able to sit across from my youngest son, free from watchful eyes, free from Izani’s sharp comments and disapproval. Nobody made any attempt to come between us and I was able to gaze to my heart’s content at his beautiful eyes, his soft chin, his quick smile. I could take his hand if I wanted to—hold it, feel his warm skin against mine.

  There was a certain reservation about him after fourteen years of separation. He was pleasant and respectful in his way, but there was no immediate closeness between us. Izani had filled him with too many lies about me, and his father and eldest brother had made him too uncertain of his own capabilities and instincts. He wanted to believe that I was a loving mother, but he did not dare. Not at first. And, though it was difficult, I let things develop in their own time. We spoke about everything imaginable simply and comfortably while the moons passed and my belly grew. We spoke of his love of riding and hunting, and how he did not enjoy combat practice. About how difficult he found it to learn texts by heart, as his teacher demanded, but that he was good at writing script and copying paintings. He enjoyed swimming and rowing in the lake and he had several good friends among the royal court of the Sovereign Prince.

  “I am very fond of reading,” I said one day when the severest of the summer heat had finally passed. We were sitting in my shaderoom, where he had just eaten his fill of fried weja. Birds were singing outside and two lost butterflies were fluttering about the room. Sonan followed their movement with his gaze, enchanted. “I have already read through everything in our library.”

  “Father has a great big library in Serenity House,” replied Sonan, brushing away a little sugar from his lower lip. I leant forward and stroked away the last of it, and he gave me a surprised but warm look that made my heart sing. “I could bring you some scrolls.”

  “That should be a great pleasure, my son, but I do not want you to displease your father for my sake.”

  Sonan made a dismissive gesture. “He and Korin have travelled to Amdurabi. The wedding is to take place there, because Father says it is important that the people see Korin and Hánai together so they know who their new ruler is.”

  “Hánai, is that h
er name?”

  Sonan nodded. I had not heard her name before. To everyone she was just the daughter of the Governor, not a person with a name of her own.

  “So it means that nobody will notice if I bring you some scrolls. What would you most like to read, Mother?”

  Suddenly a whole world was opened up to me. Sonan brought me as many scrolls as I wished. I read and read. He described the shelves to me, and slowly I formed an image of Iskan’s library. I learnt how he ordered his scrolls: where he kept the historical works, the location of the texts on medicine, and where he hid the most secret works—the ones about sources of power, like Anji, around the world. These scrolls were few, and several were in scripts I did not know, and the descriptions in them were often meandering and cumbersome. They were intended to confuse the uninitiated. Yet, with patience, I was able to decipher and understand a good deal of it. It was as if the child inside me helped at times. She turned, and I immediately understood something that was previously unintelligible. She kicked at my rib, and patterns emerged and took shape before my eyes. She was of Iskan’s seed and Iskan was infused with the power of Anji. Perhaps some of that power lived also in the child I was carrying.

  I rarely moved beyond my quarters, and yet I travelled the world over. In some texts I followed voyagers across vast oceans to the far north and east and south. Then I studied expert accounts of the functions of the body, and sailed through the human bloodstream. I flew among stars in the sky, swam with fish in the sea, followed the crops of the changing seasons along with tillers of the soil. I sat with monarchs on thrones and criminals in dungeons. I grappled with foreign gods, watched the world being created, and mused over what was good and correct, and the nature of truth, and argued over ethics with the oldest master teachers.