Sorrows of Adoration

by Kimberly Chapman

  “Aenna, no one is accusing you of anything of the sort,” Jarik said.

  “Perhaps not myself personally, but others like me. I could have been one of those people there, you know. Had you not taken pity on me when I first arrived, I would have gone to work in this city, and no doubt, having been penniless, I would have been one of their numbers today. When you dismiss them, you dismiss me.”

  Kurit leaned his head on his hands in frustration, eyes closed. “I never pitied you, Aenna. I loved you.”

  I stared at him for a moment, my heartbeat so loud that I wondered if they could hear it. “How interesting that you say that in the past tense.”

  Kurit slammed his fists on his desk. “Curse it, Aenna, that’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

  “I know nothing any more, Kurit, except that I could have been one of those that you condemn as unworthy of your assistance,” I said quietly, turning my face from them both. “You used to be delighted to see me. Now I am but an irritation. And today I am an irritation bearing unpleasant tidings. I am so very, dreadfully sorry to have disturbed your busy day, Your Majesty.”

  I went to the door and left before I had to hear his reply. I bustled through the Great Hall to the corridors of guest rooms. I heard Jarik following me and ignored him until I had reached the steps to the southeast tower.

  Without even turning to face him, I said, “Leave me be. I’m furious with both of you to know that if I had been anything other than a young and pretty maiden when we met, I would be contemptible now in your eyes.” I began climbing the steps to the tower and did not hear him follow me.

  When I reached the top landing, the guard on duty stood to immediate attention. I tried not to sound angry as I said, “I wish to be alone. Go now. You may return when I leave.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said as he complied immediately.

  I had never before been to this tower, only to the south-western one, from where the east end of the city could not be seen. I moved one of the wooden chairs to the eastern window and sat there, looking out at the city. The poor houses and run-down shops were made mostly of wood, whereas the other buildings were made largely of white stone. The drastic difference made the area look like an unpleasant stain. I cursed myself repeatedly for not having known of this before. I could not fathom how I had been so ignorant and naïve.

  Everything about the area looked cramped. As the city had grown within its walls, it appeared that no space from the wealthy areas had been sacrificed. Instead, the poor were squeezed in tighter and tighter, until now it looked as though entire families had to live in single rooms. How could they possibly be expected to make anything of themselves if they lived like that? How could the nobility fathom that anyone who had to struggle just to survive would have the time to educate themselves or reach for higher goals?

  It was all quite ridiculous. There was so much empty space outside the city walls, but of course there the people would be easy prey for thieves and other ruffians. Further, if many of them were employed as servants, as Jarik had said, then living outside the city walls would mean long walks to the gates and then through the city, back and forth every day.

  I thought of poor Melly, who was so kind and dedicated despite her slow head. I wondered if she lived there. Did she have to walk through that stench every morning and evening? I knew the palace servants were paid a fair wage, but it seemed there was no middle ground in the city. Certainly she did not go home to one of the elegant, white stone houses with their pretty little gardens.

  How did they expect her to better her conditions? How did they expect any of the poor to do so? There was no room to build—that much was clear. I had witnessed myself the hard-working merchants, but if those around them could not afford their wares, all of the effort in Keshaerlan would make no difference.

  I had a flash of inspiration. What they needed was the entire area to be rebuilt. If those merchants were the family of the servants, then between them there should be sufficient wage to live decently. But if the merchants could not derive sufficient profit from selling only to the lowest class, it was the upper classes who needed to be attracted to their market. The upper classes had no desire to be in such a squalid, crowded, smelly place. But if the area was cleaned and rebuilt, perhaps that would attract a more profitable group of buyers. Then the poor families would be able to have sufficient income to not have to live in such poverty.

  The entire plan flooded into my mind. The city walls simply had to be extended to allow for more room. Then, the old wooden shacks could be torn out and replaced with proper housing. A whole market could be built, where all manner of merchants could decently display their wares and better attract buyers of all classes. And if the merchants made money, then their families would have more money to spend themselves! All that was needed was an initial investment, and I believed that elementary economics would take care of the rest.

  Furthermore, if the whole area was restructured with more room and better roads, sewage and waste could be properly disposed of, as it was throughout the rest of Endren. Plus, a more open area would be easier to guard, so it wouldn’t be as unsafe as Jarik had claimed the current area to be.

  It wasn’t a lack of work that kept many of the poor down in the gutter. It was a lack of the necessary space and means to succeed. If I could give them the space and the means, then I was confident everyone would benefit. Even the wealthy merchants who held their shops in the rest of Endren stood to benefit if these people had more money in their pockets to spend.

  I heard a noise behind me and turned around. There stood Kurit, looking at me with an odd expression. I turned away from him again, hoping he would leave rather than find new ways to tear at me with his words.

  He came and stood behind me, looking over my head, out of the window. “It is wretched, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

  “I am ashamed that I did not know of it before today,” was all I could say in reply.

  Kurit was quiet for a few minutes, and his proximity behind me forced me to sit stiff in the chair, lest I should shiver. Then he put a hand on my shoulder, and the shiver came. He raised his hand from me for a moment and then set it back on my shoulder again. “Has it been so long since I have touched you, that my touch makes you shake so?” he said softly. I did not answer. He put his other hand on my other shoulder and bent to kiss the top of my head. “I do love you, you know. It hurts me greatly that you should think otherwise.”

  “And what would you have me think, when you spend every moment buried in tasks of your own and mine and whomever else’s, always avoiding me, shooing me away with nasty words when I force you to pay attention to me?” I continued staring out of the window, though I was no longer looking at anything. “I am not your wife, Kurit. I am your burden. I am not so foolish as to not see that.”

  He slipped his arms down to embrace me about my shoulders, putting his head beside mine. Kurit kissed my cheek and held me tight. His breath on my neck tickled me, but I was not amused and sat very still. “Aenna, that’s not true,” he whispered. “Don’t say such things.”

  I slipped out of his arms and moved to stand at the other end of the tower, facing him. “It is true. First the bottle was your mistress, and now it is your books and records and writings and meetings. What’s next, Kurit? In what diversion will you bury your pain next?”

  He did not answer. He stood quietly, his hands on his hips, looking at the floor grimly.

  I sighed. “Why do I waste my breath? My opinion means nothing to you. You still drink yourself to sleep every night, then rise to hide away the hours in your workroom. The sight of myself or your son does not please you—it disturbs you. I don’t know whether it’s because you’re afraid if you love us then we’ll disappear, or if you are so lost in your world of self-torment that interruptions of our reality threaten you.”

  He looked at me and said simply, “The first one, I suppose.”

  His candour surprised me, and I could think of nothing else t
o say.

  Kurit sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He chuckled sadly and said, “Absurd, isn’t it? I close you out of my life for fear that you will be out of my life.” He slowly crossed the landing to me, and despite my frustration, I let him embrace me.

  “I had nearly forgotten what this felt like,” I said.

  “Forgive me. I can no longer count the ways that I have failed you.”

  “Oh, stop it, Kurit,” I said, stepping back from him, out of his arms. “Stop finding ways to pity yourself. You’re not a poor man without resources, and you’re not a stupid man without the wit to make your own decisions. Stop brooding about the things in the past that you cannot change, and start making the changes in your present that will give you a better future.”

  He turned and walked back to the east window, gazing out of it. “And them? Those that don’t have the resources? What would you have me do for them?”

  “I have some ideas. I would discuss them with you, if you wished to hear my thoughts.”

  Kurit pulled the chair by the window slightly off to one side, and then fetched another and placed it nearby. He looked to me and extended a hand to one of the chairs. “Sit with me. I want to hear your ideas. I want to hear your voice.”

  I nodded and sat with him. I summarized my earlier thoughts and plans, pointing out the window to indicate how vast a space there was to work with. He listened intently, looking at me with a tenderness in his eye that I had not seen since I had recovered from my trek from Wusul.

  When I was finished, he thought in silence for some time. He took my hand in his and stared out the window. The light of day was beginning to fade into the oranges and reds of the sunset in the opposite direction. The bottoms of the clouds reflected the colours magnificently.

  “Your logic seems sound,” he finally said, “but I don’t know that I’ll be able to convince the tax-paying lords that their money should be spent on the poor. It would cost a fortune to bring in so many materials, to hire such a labour force.

  “There are unemployed men in Endren, in those streets,” I said. “And what if I could get those who lived there to agree to help build it, for their own betterment? I could find the best price for the stone possible. The quarries are largely unused in these times, and I know I could bargain with their owners. Besides, the costs would be recouped in a more profitable city for everyone. And if it’s taxes they’re concerned with, remind them that the destitute do not pay taxes. If all of those people down there had the chance to earn a decent living, they could contribute back as is right.”

  “There will still be beggars, Aenna. There will always be those who are incapable of earning a wage or who chose to be lazy and not do so.”

  “Of course. But many of the people I saw struggling this afternoon weren’t incapable, nor were they lazy. They were working, despite knowing they would be unlikely to take home a profit today. I have no desire to save the lazy. I wish only to give those willing to work the chance to do so for a decent living.”

  He nodded. “Good, then. Look into it further. Come up with a solid plan and a proper budget, with confirmed prices and costs. We’ll present it to the Council together. If they approve, you can go ahead.”

  I smiled, delighted to suddenly have something worthwhile to do and ecstatic that Kurit had said ‘together’. I threw my arms around him happily, pondering for the first time in many months the possibility of a good future for us.

  He pulled me into his lap and held me. His hand reached up to touch my cheek softly, and then he kissed me. It had been so long since he had shown such affection that my heart raced and my skin tingled.

  “Will you come to my room tonight?” I asked.

  He did not answer but kissed me again, which I took to mean he would. We went back down the tower steps, hand in hand. I felt so giddy I actually had to resist the urge to skip like a young girl as I walked to my chambers when we finally parted.

  He smiled at me frequently during dinner and even leaned over once to kiss my cheek. The public affection caused a small stir amongst the others present. I caught a glimpse of Kasha, sitting on his other side. She had remained mostly out of sight since the King’s death, and I was glad of it. After this kiss, her face became hard and bitter. I decided to ignore her.

  Jarik did not come to dinner, and I felt guilty for having been so cross with him before. I went to his chambers afterwards and apologized to him. He was quiet, but I did not think he was upset with me so much as the unpleasant situation. I told him I was working on a solution, and that seemed to cheer him somewhat.

  I bathed with prettily scented bath salts before bed and put on my most revealing nightdress. I positioned myself on my bed in what I imagined to be a sensual pose and waited for Kurit to come knocking.

  Time passed, and no knock came. Eventually, I rose and knocked on his door. There was no answer, but it was not locked, so I entered.

  There was Kurit, sleeping in his chair, still wearing the day’s clothes. On the floor under his right hand a glass lay on its side, and on the table beside him sat an empty decanter. I shook my head sadly at him as he snored.

  I went back to my rooms and changed into something more respectable. Then I returned to Kurit’s rooms and summoned Gilrin.

  “Help me get him changed and into bed,” I said, and he did. Kurit did not so much as stir, even as we dragged his corpse around the room.

  * * *

  The next day Kurit looked at me sheepishly as I passed him in the corridor, but I was too frustrated to let myself be duped into another promise of affection. Instead, I began my planning and preparations for the large project I was about to undertake.

  I found Jarik waiting for me, a grim look upon his face. I apologized again for my rudeness the day before.

  “No, Aenna, I’m not upset with you for that. As you so frequently tell me, stop apologizing. I’m simply less than pleased with the idea of you being in the east end of Endren.”

  “Then I suggest you learn to be comfortable with it, Jarik. Come—I must go there now,” I said as I started on my way. He began to protest, but when I made it clear I was going with or without him, he grumbled and followed me.

  On our way, I gave him a summary of my plans. He seemed unconvinced but said nothing. When we arrived at the east end, I said, “I have to speak to the people now, to see if this is something they want. I’m obliged to ask them before I go tearing apart their homes and businesses, after all.”

  “Aenna, we shouldn’t even be here,” he began, but again I walked away from him. I approached a merchant who had several wooden crates piled behind his stand and asked if I could borrow one. He appeared surprised by the question but immediately said that I could.

  I put the crate on its tall end in the centre of the shoddy marketplace. Jarik was beside me with the strangest look on his face. “Help me up,” I said, putting my hands on his arm and stepping up on top of the crate. I balanced on it rather well but kept a steadying hand on Jarik’s shoulder.

  “Aenna! Get down from there! Are you mad?” He put his hands around my waist to lift me down, but I brushed him away.

  “I’m fine. Don’t you dare lift me away!”

  “This is not a game, Aenna! That crate could break, and you’d fall! Someone could throw a knife at you or fire a bolt at you up there! I can’t shield you. Now get down before you’re killed!”

  I looked at his serious face and tried not to laugh. A curious crowd had gathered around our little spectacle and was watching us intently. I held my arms out to them all and loudly asked, “Well, then, are any of you considering killing me? My good Champion fears one of you shall try. I’m here to speak with you about a massive undertaking that I believe will bring great improvement to your lives, so really, killing me at this moment is not in your best interest.”

  Those gathered were now very quiet, which attracted even greater attention. Soon I was surrounded by a large and curious crowd, none of whom seemed to have the slightest interest
in striking me down.

  “Do you see, Jarik? Just because they’re poor does not mean they’re violent.” I turned back to the crowds. “Now then. This way that you live in these terrible conditions, it’s ridiculous. There’s not enough room for so many people.”

  A young man who stood near me shouted, “You’re not going to make some of us leave, are you?”

  Before I could respond, two of my guards were upon the poor man, dragging him away from me. “Stop there!” I commanded. “He did nothing wrong. Why are you handling him that way?”

  One of the guards stated simply, “Majesty, he questioned the Queen’s words.”

  “No, he did not,” I said incredulously. “He asked the Queen a question, and a valid one at that. By the Temple, do you attack every poor man who speaks out in defence of his home? I’ll have none of that! Let him go at once.”

  The guards let the young fellow go and stood aside. He seemed a little shaken but otherwise unhurt.

  “The answer to your question, good sir, is absolutely not. I have no intention of forcing anyone to leave. My plan is quite the opposite, in fact. I wish to rebuild entirely this end of the city. I wish to expand the city walls, tear down these old wretched buildings, and build new homes in their place. There shall be a grand marketplace that the nobility will not be afraid to enter. The whole area will be more open, like the rest of Endren, to allow the guards to better prevent thieves and other miscreants from their sordid doings.”

  A woman with a child in her arms timidly said, “Forgive me, Majesty, but we cannot afford such improvements. We shall have to leave after all.”

  I smiled at her. “No, you misunderstand. You shall not pay for this. I shall.”