A Lotus for the Regent

by Adonis Devereux

  “Of course.” Ajalira knew that was true. Any woman who looked on Kamen would doubtless love him, and only Saerileth's heart belonging to Darien could have prevented it. “But how do you hide?”

  “I do not, not when my master is near.” Saerileth's voice was perfectly even. “He is such a man as to make even a Lotus forget herself. Otherwise, Lady Ajalira, I am a Lotus. It is what we do.”

  Suddenly Ajalira leaned back, dizzy. “I am sorry. It must be the sudden change to such heat.”

  “Doubtless.” Saerileth pulled from a fold of her pallav a handful of carrot sticks. “Perhaps you would like one?”

  Ajalira sat up and took one. How Saerileth had known to carry carrot sticks off the ship, Ajalira did not know, nor did she care at that moment. The carrot sticks revived her, and when she was handed down out of the litter to Kamen's waiting arms, she thought no more of it. Saerileth seemed to melt away, and Ajalira assumed she had gone to meet Darien somewhere.

  “You look lovely, Lira.” Kamen held her hand as they entered the King's palace. “But I will be glad to see you back in your proper clothes.”

  “That will have to wait until we go home,” said Ajalira. “All our luggage is still on the Aramina, and she will not dock until tomorrow.”

  “If you want to go home at once, then you should.” Kamen pulled the pallav from her head and stroked her horns. “I know how you hate this dress.”

  Ajalira nodded. “I do, but it does not sting the way it used to. Everything about my life up until I came to you matters less than the least moment in your company.”

  “Already trying to get in trouble?” Kamen kissed her nose. “More open displays of love?”

  “Your Grace?” A Sunjaa whom Ajalira recognized for one of King Jahen's stewards came running up to Kamen. “We were not expecting you so soon. The heralds did not say that the Aramina was in port. The Fihdal and Vadal ambassadors are still here, and the Seranimesti lords arrived yesterday. They are not expecting you until tomorrow either.” The steward seemed personally affronted not to have known Kamen's itinerary.

  “I returned on the Crown.” Kamen's shoulders stiffened, and Ajalira knew that, after the few days of sailing incognito, Kamen was back to being Regent, back to carrying the weight of many kingdoms, but she resolved that he would not have to bear these burdens alone.

  She lifted his hand to her lips. “I will see to the Ausir. I know that you have to attend to the preparations for the coronation. I can speak to them on your behalf.”

  “They don't know, Lira.” Kamen seemed to understand her desire to help him, and he pulled her close for a moment. “They don't know that you are not going to wed him.”

  “Then I shall tell him.” Ajalira smiled up at Kamen. “You have your hands full, my love. I am your concubine. If I cannot help you, who can?”

  Kamen brushed his lips across her brow. “Thank you, Lira.” He smiled, and then he was gone, swept away by the chattering steward.

  Ajalira smiled at Kamen's retreating back. He was the noblest man she had ever known, and in his dark face went all the light of the world. But she had her own tasks now, and wrapping the distasteful pallav around her shoulders, she went to find the Seranimesti lords.

  They were actually staying in the palace, and it did not take Ajalira long to make her way to the apartments set aside for them. A footman announced her presence, and she was immediately taken to meet with Lord Tivanel Seranimesti. She saw, too, his younger brother, Konas.

  “Lord Seranimesti.”

  “Lady Zomalin.” Tivanel bowed to her, and she was perplexed by the deference in his manner. Did he not think her a whore? “We were not expecting your arrival until tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow, Your Grace, is to be your coronation.” Ajalira gestured to the sofas by the window. “If it please you, I can explain to you all the Regent's plans for the coronation to ensure the safety of His Grace King Jahen as well as yourself.”

  “You mistrust the Kimereth still?” Tivanel waited until she had sat to seat himself, and he took up a place nearer her than she would have liked. Lord Konas, on the other hand, seated himself on the sofa opposite hers.

  “There was an attempt on His Grace the Regent's life on the outward journey,” said Ajalira. “They abducted me in Godswatch. Poison and again poison, both times. And it was poison that took the lives of all those of the House of Tamar, excepting only mine.”

  “Excepting yours and your mother's.” Tivanel smiled.

  “No.” Ajalira's smile was bitter. “It was not the Kimereth who poisoned my mother, of course, but she was slain by poison nonetheless.”

  “Tell me of her death.” Tivanel fixed her with his green eyes, and Ajalira unaccountably blushed. Why should he look at her so?

  “She was murdered in the Dimadan,” said Ajalira. “Poisoned by the Guildmaster of the Red Lotus Guild. I have no proof, only an overheard confession, but I shall yet be avenged on him.”

  “He is staying in this palace.” The voice was Konas's, and his gaze Ajalira understood. He was judging her, testing her. “How can you, a Tamari, endure that?”

  “Because he is the guest of my lord's King.” Ajalira shook her head. “He has not wronged King Jahen, and the Regent granted him asylum here. I must wait until such time as the Guildmaster leaves.”

  “Ah.” Konas nodded, seemingly satisfied.

  “How is it that you came to be a Lotus?” asked Tivanel, and his burning green eyes made Ajalira uncomfortable.

  “I gave myself over in exchange for my mother's life,” said Ajalira, lifting her chin.

  “And you were betrayed.” Tivanel took up her hand then and lifted it to his lips. “I suspected something of that sort after I came to know you in Godswatch.”

  Ajalira jerked her hand from Tivanel's and rose. “You mistake me, Your Grace. I am not here to speak of betrothal to you. I am not to wed you. I cannot.”

  “You would allow the royal Ausir line to diverge from the blood of Tamar? You would allow there to be rivals for the throne?”

  “That,” said Ajalira proudly, “is nothing to me where honor is concerned.” She tilted her left forearm toward him, showing the long scar on the outside of it. “I swore myself to Lord Kamen Itenu. I am his concubine, and under Sunjaa law that means I can have no other husband. I can give him legal heirs, and that, Your Grace, ought to make even you accept that I can have no other.” She smiled. “You need not worry that you will have to be bound to me.”

  Tivanel nodded slowly. “I see.”

  “I am here only to speak of the preparations for your coronation. Tomorrow, a day earlier than would be expected, as the Aramina does not come to port until tomorrow, Your Grace will be announced before all the city, including the visiting ambassadors of the Fihdal and Vadal empires. There are to be no Ausir present, saving only your entourage.”

  “That I cannot accept, Lady Zomalin.” Tivanel rose and began to pace.

  Ajalira sat back down, relieved that he was not so close to her. “Why not?”

  “Because I must be declared before any and all Ausir in Arinport.”

  “The Regent says it is a security risk.”

  “But not to his King,” said Tivanel. “Surely no Ausir would have cause to raise a hand against King Jahen? No, it would be against me they would rise.”

  “So I am to tell the Regent that you insist the coronation be open to any Ausir?” Ajalira knew that Kamen's concern was as much for her sake as Jahen's.

  “Yes, insofar as I can insist when I receive my crown at the Regent's pleasure and by his grace.”

  Ajalira thought she sensed resentment in Tivanel's words, but she could not understand why. “You are to be given the crown, Your Grace. Why does that not suffice you?”

  “It does.” Konas spoke for his brother. “And we are grateful to the Regent for his generosity in standing aside.”

  “As for the other arrangements,” said Ajalira, addressing both Tivanel and his brother, “it has been set that you sh
ould appear to leave the palace immediately following the coronation, and set sail, supposedly, for the north. Instead, you will be guests in my lord's house for two days. Only then will you take ship, for the Kimereth are not to be discounted.”

  “I understand.” Tivanel nodded, as though considering. “Thank the Regent for his careful preparations, and, excepting only that I desire the coronation to be open to the Ausir of Arinport, I happily agree to his plans.”

  “I will discuss your terms with the Regent and give you his response.” Ajalira rose and bowed.

  “And thank him also for the music.” Tivanel spoke again, but he was no longer looking at her. “It was gracious to have traditional Tamari music played for us.”

  Ajalira nodded and left, but she was puzzled. There was, so far as she knew, no palace musician who knew any Tamari music. As she passed through the halls, she, too, heard the strains of an old Tamari melody, the ancient marching song of Ellon Tamar, and she was just turning toward the sound, when she saw Kamen.

  She ran to him and kissed him there in the hallway. “My love.”

  “And what did the Seranimesti say?” asked Kamen. His eyes were tired, and Ajalira looked forward to the day when Jahen could take up the duties of his throne.

  “He wants to allow all the Ausir in Arinport to attend the coronation, but otherwise he will agree to everything.”

  “And what did he say regarding not having you, Lira?”

  “He asked a bit after my mother,” said Ajalira, “when he thought he would have to marry me, but he seemed not to care either way about it when I told him that I was yours only.”

  Kamen shook his head. “He fancies you, Lira.”

  Ajalira laughed. “You are teasing me. He does not.”

  Kamen's eyes lost some of their tiredness, instead gleaming darkly. “Oh, he does. But he shan't have you. You're mine.”

  “Always.” Ajalira kissed him. “But where did you find a musician who can play Tamari melodies? The Seranimesti said that they heard some and wanted to thank you.”

  “I would like to take credit for that, but I'd nothing to do with it.”

  “There.” Ajalira tilted her head. “Can you not hear it? Someone is singing.”

  Kamen smiled. “My ears aren't as keen as—”

  Around the corner stepped a small boy, perhaps six years of age. A dulcimer was slung across his back, and his high, clear voice stopped singing only as he saw them.

  “I've seen you before.” The boy bowed to Kamen. “But I've never seen you, Lady.”

  Ajalira swayed on her feet. The boy before her was the very image of her own dead mother, excepting only his horns. This boy had none. Ajalira fought back against the roaring in her ears.

  “What is your name?” Her voice did not seem to belong to her. “Where are you from?”

  “My name is Kaelmoro.” The boy's eyes did not leave her face. “I am from the Dimadan.”

  Kamen left Ajalira and swept the boy up into his arms. “The Guildmaster said that you had died in the Losiengare raids.”

  “He lied.” The boy was still not looking at Kamen. He reached out for Ajalira. “You are my sister, aren't you?”

  “How did you know?” Ajalira could not move, not even to take her little brother from Kamen. “Where have you been?”

  “I have been raised my whole life in the Dimadan,” said Kaelmoro. “I didn't know you existed until now, but as I was playing for the Guildmaster, he suddenly told me to stop, that the Regent and his concubine had returned unexpectedly, and I must hide again. I've been hiding since we left the Dimadan.”

  There was something strange about the way the boy spoke, almost as though he were listening to something that Ajalira could not hear.

  “I'll have words with the Guildmaster.” Kamen's fury was plain on his face, and Ajalira, suddenly able to move, darted to his side. She enveloped both him and Kaelmoro in her arms.

  “You can't.” Kaelmoro shook his head. “I killed him.”

  “What?” Kamen set the boy down and knelt to look him in the eyes. “How? Why?”

  “Because when he told me to hide, I felt guilt pouring off him. I touched his mind then, and I saw that he had killed my mother. Even though he had given my sister the honor of being a Lotus, I couldn't forgive the murder.” The boy's clear eyes were sad, and Ajalira, pushed off when Kamen had put Kaelmoro down, now knelt, too.

  “What does that mean?” asked Kamen, looking to Ajalira. “Felt guilt? Touched his mind?”

  “My grandmother, Mirel, was called the last of the telepaths,” said Ajalira, feeling as though she had stepped into another life. “But her telepathic gifts were passed on to her firstborn by Arathan, Nethrin the high priest. Neither my mother nor my uncle showed any ability, but it is possible that it passed through her to … my brother.”

  “You believe me.” It was not a question. Kaelmoro turned to Kamen. “I killed him by lulling him to sleep and then stabbing his throat. I wasn't sorry to do it.”

  “You knew my question?” Kamen looked at Ajalira. “The heir to the Ausir throne.”

  ****

  “And you didn't know this before?” Lord Tivanel Seranimesti stood facing Kamen. Ajalira was between them, her hand on Kaelmoro's shoulder. She interpreted as the others spoke.

  “Of course not.” Kamen smiled wryly. “If I had, I certainly wouldn't have dragged my concubine all the way to Godswatch!”

  “True.” Tivanel's gaze shifted to Ajalira and Kaelmoro. “I can imagine you wouldn't want to risk her.”

  “Do you acknowledge my brother's claim, Lord Seranimesti?” asked Ajalira.

  “He does,” said Kaelmoro. “I see his thought.”

  Ajalira caressed the nubs of Kaelmoro's horns beneath his hair. “Then what is the difficulty?”

  “You can read minds, Your Grace?” The Seranimesti lord spoke gravely to the boy, and Ajalira felt Kamen's hand come to rest on her waist.

  “Not always. I can feel emotions all the time.” Kaelmoro spoke perfect Ausir, just as he spoke perfect Sunjaa. “But to read minds takes concentration. I've only just learned it.”

  “So it is to be your coronation tomorrow then, and not mine.” Lord Tivanel smiled, and Ajalira could not understand his looks.

  Kaelmoro, however, turned to face Kamen. “It is hard to sense thoughts or emotions, Your Grace, when yours are so strong.”

  Kamen's grip tightened on Ajalira's waist. “I think I have reason.”

  Kaelmoro looked from Kamen to Tivanel and back again. “Reason and no cause.”

  “Shouldn't I be supposed to be most disappointed?” asked Tivanel.

  “I don't want to be King,” said Kaelmoro. “I just want to go home.”

  “I will take you home, Your Grace,” said Tivanel. “After your coronation tomorrow.”

  “I want to go to the Dimadan,” said Kaelmoro. “But I can't. I had to kill the one who was like my father because he murdered my mother. He wanted to keep me from my sister, but he loved me. I was like a son to him.” Tears welled up in Kaelmoro's blue-green eyes, and Ajalira felt answering tears in her own. But to her surprise, she saw that Kamen, Tivanel, and even Konas, who sat off to the side, were all beginning to weep, too.

  “I'm sorry.” Kaelmoro shook his head. “The Guildmaster always told me to be careful of that.”

  Ajalira's sorrow faded, took on a different quality, and then she understood. Her earlier tears had been Kaelmoro's sorrow in her. This sadness was her own, a sadness that this strange, melancholy boy was to be the Ausir King, that he was her long-sundered brother, that she did not know him, and that she never would, for he would leave Arinport, and she would stay.

  “I think we should go home to our house,” said Kamen, taking Ajalira's hand. “And you, too, King Kaelmoro, should come with us.”

  “Why?” asked the Seranimesti lord. “There is no longer any dispute over the succession. You chose me, and I will step aside in favor of the rightful King.”

  “And the Kime
reth?” Kamen shook his head as Ajalira interpreted. “You don't think that they will accept King Kaelmoro any more than they would have accepted you? They wanted my Ajalira only to put the seal on their own claim. They hate the Tamari, and they did not actually acknowledge Ajalira's rights. They did so only insofar as it was expedient for them.”

  Kaelmoro did not seem to be listening as the men spoke of his crown. His eyes were on Ajalira's face, but she doubted that he was looking at her. She concentrated, and she could just barely make out the nearly inaudible sound of humming. The boy-king of the Ausir was composing a song as others discussed his crown, a song of sorrow and death, of loneliness and wandering without a homecoming.

  “Lira?” Kamen nudged her. “What did he say?”

  “Oh.” Ajalira shook herself. “Lord Seranimesti agrees that it might be best to have the coronation go off as planned, only substituting … my brother for himself at the last moment. That should unbalance Kimereth, if he is going to be there.”

  “I would be, if I were he,” said Kamen. “He has risked everything, and, since the little King can read minds, Kimereth won't be able to deny his involvement in your abduction, in the attempt on my life, or even in the original assassinations of the Ausir royal family. We will be able to learn how far the treachery goes. It will be the end of the Kimereth House.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Tivanel paced in front of a long mirror, but he did not look at himself. He smoothed down his white tabard and cleared his throat. Kamen watched him pace, and he rolled his eyes at the figure of the Ausir nobleman. What kind of house took a red rose as a symbol anyway? The coronation was mere minutes away, and Tivanel just would not let the matter drop.

  “You don’t understand,” Tivanel said, continuing his attempts to convince Kamen. Saerileth, who stood nearby, interpreted the Ausir’s words. “It is essential for the Ausir people that I take Ajalira for my bride. Not only that, but she deserves better.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Kamen asked through gritted teeth.

  “I can cover her shame by properly marrying her.” A jab at Sunjaa law. “Besides, she’s the King’s sister, after all. You know this is the right thing to do.”