“Your Greatness, Ilim has come.” Said a servant.
“Bring him in.” The guard bowed low before the king and then to Ilim, ushering him into the king's private chamber. The doors to the balcony were wide open, letting what little breeze was left of the afternoon in.
“Have someone fan us. Bring the large peacock fans, and something cold to drink.” Khalit said. A servant bowed and hurried off.
“So what now, Ilim? Have you have come to scold me again?” The king picked at some dates in a jeweled bowl.
“I have not come to scold. Your decisions are your own. Only that these games are becoming increasingly bloody and brutal.”
“I see. You have come to scold. You do not approve of the fighting? Of the hunting games?”
“I see no sense in them. I saw a great yaryebu brought from the far north. A magnificent beast! I had thought they no longer existed. You intend to slaughter this animal as well?”
“I do, if it is what the people desire, and they do desire it. It makes them – and the sun god – happy. Keeps their minds off their troubles.”
“Why do you not address their troubles instead? And why worship a god that demands such cruelty?”
“What is cruelty? It is but the cry of the coward! I can see Him. He rides high in the sky, every day. He answers my prayers. He is not far off somewhere, invisible and distant. He requires courage whether it be in battle or in the arena. To show courage is to shed blood. To risk life! Savage beasts tearing men to pieces, men getting the mastery over wild beasts, the arena battles, wars! Nothing is held back! The smell of the blood, the roasted meat of bone, brains and sweat, the sight of torn flesh and the bloody maw; it is there in the open for the people to savor. No barricade exists between Hec and the savage beauty of life in the arenas. It is a fiery world with harshness and cruelty married to beauty and glory and we who worship him live in it from moment to moment!"
“You think your tribesmen weak then? You think Hec is the only god that requires great courage? That war and bloodshed is the only courage, Khalit? Is it such a little matter to you that you have turned away from the true path?”
“Do not trouble me with this again, Ilim! Your god is dead. He did not win me my throne, nor will he help me keep it. Besides, I have other matters to deal with.”
“Do you not heed the prophecy? Is it for you to be king? Is not God the one who decides these things? Those who simply seize power are rarely fit for it.” The king's eyes blazed and he slammed his fist onto the table.
“Watch yourself, Ilim! I am not one of those priests at the temple! I tolerate enough insolence from you but I will not tolerate treasonous words.” Khalit warned. Ilim bowed and changed the subject.
“Caravans have arrived at the East Gate. The tribute from the vassals in the south has come. However, the salt caravan has not arrived.”
“Why not?”
“King Kufun is harrying the caravans crossing the Sidunna. There was a recent attack on one of the southern villages again. I have heard rumor that he is massing an army on the last island in the Gaspa.”
“Tarkal.” The king sighed heavily. “He has recently finished building a fortress city there, from what I have heard. I did not worry over it because it was so far away.”
“It is far, but he has recently acquired drekar.” Said Ilim. The king heaved another a deep sigh. He stroked his beard.
“I wonder. An entire fleet of drekar in the South Lands. I had only heard tales of such ships in the far cold West Lands, where no men I know will go. Yet, he has acquired them. Small wonder his raiders are able to get to the southern coast so quickly. I will put a stop to him soon enough. There is a plan in motion, Ilim. However, I have made a momentous decision.” Ilim raised his brow.
“You may not like it, though you rarely approve of anything I do. I am planning to put aside the queen and I am taking a new one.” Ilim was genuinely surprised. His mouth opened, wordlessly, turning into an 'oh'. He did not speak for a while as the realization sank in. Khalit watched him closely.
“She has not given me a son, Ilim.”
“But the queen is a good and virtuous woman. And besides, you have many healthy sons already!”
“None of them born from a queen.”
“Since when has that ever been an impediment to kingship?”
“It is an impediment when a king must secure his line amidst upheaval. Since I have sat upon the throne I have had nothing but uprisings, rebellions and raiders from the south and the east. Bastards can sit on the throne and rule without care when times are easy.”
“But she is of noble birth! Will you just cast her aside as if she were a rag?”
“I have no choice, Ilim. I know what people say, the nobles of the city. Savage! A tyrant who would be a king! Usurper! I know what they whisper.”
“You did take away their power, my king.”
“They were no better. How is a city-state ruled by nobles better than a king? They pretend to have some knowledge and refinement but they desire power just as I do. I do not pretend to anything.”
“It must be said, though the nobles hate you, the people love their king.”
“That is what matters to me. So, I give the people what they want. Blood and bone for sport, grain in their bowls and meat in their cooking pots.”
“Say what they might about you, you are no bastard, my king.” Said Ilim.
“It does not change the fact that my sons are. I need a younger, fertile queen. I will not treat Diti poorly. I have never abused her. You know that, but I must do this in the interests of my legacy. In the interests of peace and security.” The king said with finality. Ilim sighed. This was not good news to his mind but everything this year boded ill. Winter had come and gone like a gazelle and spring had not arrived, yet it was unusually hot, even for Hybron. It was the month of Lali, a winter month, yet it was as hot and dry as the month of Yin. It was going to be a very long summer and very long summers, Ilim noted, always signaled great trouble in the land. Khalit had completely abandoned the old ways. Once a man of the Karig got married, he married for life. He could marry as many women as he could afford but putting away a mate was a serious offense to the tribe, to the families involved and to God. But Khalit did not worship the god of the Aishanna-La any longer and Diti's natural family were long dead. There was no one to stand for the queen's honor and matters of kingdom politics and wealth mattered far more than honor in Jhis. Ilim had tutored him and taught him from infancy the Holy Writings. Trouble. A great sadness washed over him but he pulled himself together as he heard the doors open. Servants came in bringing massive, wide feathered peacock fans and stationed themselves by the king's chair. Others came in with trays of delicate ewers of ice cold wines, goblets and bowls of sherbets with iced fruit.
“Let us retire to the balcony.” Said the king and the small train followed him out to his favorite spot, a slim, lacquered bone table amidst stone benches littered with embroidered throws and pillows. Thin veils hung from the balcony rooftop to keep out the insects and protect from the sun's heat. The trays were set before them and the fans began gently waving on either side. Khalit poured some iced, soured milk for himself and mixed in some plum juice. He could not stand the refined wines of the cities. At least with that, Ilim noticed with approval, he was still a tribesman. Ilim took an iced plum and sucked on it. His eyes were drawn to the Golden Temple with its gold-tipped towers and dome. Thick columns of incense smoke streamed from the vents of its central dome. He had serious business at the temple soon enough. Anger rose in him and he quelled it by taking a deep breath and averting his eyes from it. He turned to the king.
“Does she know yet?” The king glanced at the servants and made a hand signal.
“Leave us!” The servants bowed and scurried away. “No.”
“And who will the new queen be?”
“Perhaps a Strab chieftain's daughter from Egi. I am sending Bakku to Egi to see about the matter more fully.” Ilim frowned. Howeve
r, he did not permit himself runaway thoughts. Khalit was fickle when it came to women. It had been difficult to convince him to marry in the first place and right after he wedded Diti he took many concubines. He could very well find some reason to put this new wife away also, if she displeased him.
“She lives in Egium. Her father is ancient, but very wealthy. The dowry can be used for rebuilding the treasury. What I can gain from her family is more ladre to buy what I need to build up my army. The chieftain has a small army of valiant, mighty men of his own. I will add them to my own army if I think the match satisfactory. If what I hear and see about this woman does not satisfy me, there are others.”
“And Bakku, who has been urgently arguing her case in front of you for many months now is in charge? Do you think you will receive a dispassionate report on her?”
“I would send you if I could. I know you would tell me the truth, Ilim. However, I have others in the delegation who will balance Bakku's praise with a cooler opinion. Even if she is ugly or unacceptable in some way, there is the more important question of ladre. I need to rebuild the treasury.”
“If you are building up your army then I suppose the tribute has come just in time.” As much as he hated to see it happen it was inevitable. The queen had not given the king any children. Why had not God seen fit to bless the marriage with sons? He wondered.
“Indeed.” Said the king, sipping his wine. Ilim looked out across the city. He was sure after having seen Bakku slithering down the hall that somehow the entire Ainash priesthood was behind this. They disliked the current queen and had worked toward her downfall from the beginning. It seemed to him that there was no devilry they were not behind. Yet, Ilim could sense that many forces were at work. He would have to talk with Queen Diti. It had been some time since he had spoken with her. She was a holy woman and perceptive, for a woman. Perhaps there was some reason why she had not borne children beyond what he could ascertain. If Ilim was right about things, it was likely that she already knew what was coming.
Chapter Three
The queen listened intently for the small scratchings of her messenger cat as she was practicing her calligraphy script. She was cleaning one of the brushes when she heard the gentle, telltale noises. She got up and lifted her skirts, stood on the chair near the trap door in the wall and unlocked the latticework door. Fricka shook herself, finally back from her wanderings. The little copper ball fastened to her collar gleamed with tiny lights, suggesting that information had been recorded. Fricka lept down from the ledge and rubbed up against her skirts.
“Let us see what you have found.” Her senses were alert. Something was going on in the palace, just out of sight. It was the feeling of a sinister, veiled thing that seemed to twist, flutter and touch everyone in the palace except her. She felt she was at a loss. Fricka was extraordinarily good at gathering information and secrets, keeping her one step ahead of everyone else but this time it was as if something invisible was purposely staying just out of reach of her senses and she was deeply disturbed about it. Yet, had she not agreed to this life for a higher purpose than her own comfort and status? She sensed that whatever was buzzing around the palace, it was about her. The king had not sent for her in months, yet even that was not so unusual. Whatever it was, she had fallen in esteem in the eyes of the concubines as well, like foolish Salayma who thought herself the king's next favorite, even having the effrontery to sit in her place in the Queen's Banquet Hall and in the sitting rooms, smirking at her. All this fighting over attention from a king who barely took notice once he had what he wanted. She pitied them more than anything. If she had the interest in court politics and intrigues that they did she would truly be a holy terror but everyone rendered an accounting in the end. There were none who escaped the Eye of God. So, she held herself aloof from it all. She saw herself as one small part of a long, inexorable moving line of fire that was reaching for a purpose in the future. Everyone was. Even these others, squabbling over thrones and power, played a part in the moving line of the future, whether they wanted to or not.
And then, there were the strange visions she'd had recently.
She unhooked the metal ball from Fricka's collar, locked her bedroom door and went to the far wall of her inner sanctum, a room hidden behind luxuriant hangings and filled with walled chests. Chests with drawers filled with many forbidden things, such as tablets inscribed with forbidden information. She fished out a key hidden beneath her sash belt and went to a small panel on the far right side of the wall. She touched the polished wood panel, pushing gently. It clicked and dislodged itself and turned, sliding down. The true drawer was then revealed. She stuck in the key and turned it. It clicked and unlocked. Listening for anyone who might be approaching, she glanced back at the cat. Fricka would alert her if anyone approached. The cat stood behind her, gazing serenely with wide, gray-green eyes. The queen pulled out an object wrapped in cloth and set it on a nearby table. She unwrapped it. It was a small electrum and wooden box with a thin electrum rod with spiral ridges. She screwed the ball, made of the same metal as the machine, on to this rod until it tightened and fit snugly. She opened the box and set a small candle inside, lit it and waited. The flame heated the wires inside but instead of burning them the wires began to light up and then the ball itself began to glow. She quickly got one of her bronze hand mirrors and held it up to the ball. Images began to appear in the mirror. First she saw servants busy about their chores, and the image of stone and then carpeted floors - Fricka traveling down halls and through rooms and in between hangings. There were images of the cavernous kitchens, roaring cooking fires and then the fires themselves seem to engulf the images in the mirror. Fricka had gone through the huge fireplace through some secret hole or tunnel – they were numerous in the palace – and then darkness. Then a pale light appeared at the end of the tunnel and then there was an upper chamber. It was one of the king's private rooms. Two men were talking. One of them was the king, the other had his back turned but her heart froze in her. He wore the scarlet robes of a man of high rank or wealth and his long, stringy black hair was pulled back into a knot at the base of his head. His sleeves were shortened to show off the three silver arm bands of intricate filigree work on his right arm. Bakku!
Bakku was her greatest enemy in the palace and she had noticed lately that whenever that jackal was prowling around the king, the less he would send for her. In growing alarm she watched as the king handed Bakku his signet ring. Bakku was once a priestly scribe who had recently become a scribe and a messenger of the royal court and he had influence among the Ainash priesthood and wealthy patron families of the Golden Temple. The image showed Bakku leaving the room and making his way to his own apartments. Fricka had been trained to keep an eye on Bakku's movements and she'd learned to find secret ways to follow him and go to and from his apartments, unseen. She fled from the secret peep-door at the king's chamber and soon the images showed Queen Diti that Fricka had made it to the king's study where the secretary waited. He had the secretary prepare a letter but nothing could be ascertained, only that great haste was made. Fricka had waited patiently until the many letters were finished. Then wax was melted and the seals affixed, the king's seal of the lion of Hybron with his initials below. Both men left the room and went to the balcony, waiting for the seals to dry. Fricka gingerly lept upon the table and recorded the letters more closely. The ball magnified the paper of the letters until it seemed she could almost read fragments here and there, though they were enclosed. She could not read all of them, only a few words from the letter on the top of the pile. It was addressed to the chieftain Tenan in Egium. She caught two words that made her heart stop once more.
New queen.
She now new her deepest suspicions were correct. Khalit wanted a new queen. She'd known this day would come, but it still wounded her. She blew out the candle, unscrewed the ball and put the machine back in its hidden place. She picked up the cat and went to a divan. She took off one of her delicate veils and draped it o
ver her bronze mirror to obscure her reflection. She could not bear to see herself now. She sat down, stroking Fricka's soft gray fur. No matter her greater duty, tears fell silently from her face. She'd thought these feelings toward Khalit had all but disappeared, but they had not.
“You did well, Fricka. You did well.” Fricka mewled softly.
Chapter Four
Ilim stood in front of the assembly of priests and scribes, his brothers of the temple. Lower scribes sat in the lower pit behind him. The priests sat up high on the platform, the higher scribes on the lower level platform, most looking down at him with various shades of disdain, some with unconcealed hatred. They all wore their golden and silver bands proudly, even rolling up their sleeves to show their obedience to the Law of the temple. Such as it was among them. His activities at the temple had lately drawn larger and larger crowds of people, some curious and looking for entertainment, others, looking for trouble. He could feel hatred seething around him like a stoked fire. He looked in all the faces gathered for Eliaz, one of the few friends he had, but could not find him. He said a silent prayer of thankfulness. Eliaz usually managed to avoid involving himself with the most egregious crimes of these men.
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