The Exile's Redemption (The Heart of a Tyrant Book 1)

by Reece Dinn

  'No, you're not. Look at the state of you. It's disgraceful. At the funeral you were disrespectful, to your father, to me, to our guests. You allowed your emotions to get in the way of your duty.'

  'My duty? My father is dead.'

  Go on. Smack her senseless again.

  'You have a duty to the people to show that, even in the face of pain and strife, you remain strong. If you cannot be strong in such times you aren't fit to rule. You have much to learn.'

  'Father is dead,' the Monster sobbed.

  Something hit the wall. 'If it were the other way around. You were dead, and your father was grieving, do you think that he'd show it to the world? Let them see his pain?'

  'I don't..'

  'No, he would not. He would be strong. He would be a Saban.'

  The Monster cried some more.

  Something scraped along the floor, a chair or a stool maybe. Koma pulled away to check that her spyhole hadn't been exposed. No light shone through the hole, to her relief.

  'I will serve as Saban for a year,' Lerama continued after a moment. 'After then you will be Saban. It's only a year.'

  'One year?' the Monster whimpered.

  'During that time you will be taught all the skills you'll need to be Saban, including social etiquette. From now on you will attend all meetings of the Council of Sab. I'd prefer as well if you attended at least some City Council meetings too, get to know how Denistas is run, as well as the country. You will need to study and train hard if you are to be Saban. Agreed?'

  'Yes, mother,' said the Monster, bitterly.

  It'd be better for this country if she murdered her daughter and ruled by herself. Have some children with the Socrae-al, that aren't abominations. Ask me, I'll gladly end her daughter's life.

  'The ceremony will take place in two days time, once the days of mourning have passed,' Lerama continued. 'It'll only be small, just a handful of people in attendance. I don't wish to waste state money on a ceremony for an appointment that lasts a year. Hopefully.'

  'Hopefully?'

  'You'll need a new dress. And I'll send one of my handmaiden's to do your make-up. Clearly yours has no skill at it.'

  'You could send me a..'

  'Two days. I want you fully composed for the ceremony. Finish your grieving. See the Koku at the temple, you're still friends with the Koku-bier, yes? Barren was it? Let him help you. I can't have you crying in public again.'

  'Yes, mother.'

  Footsteps.

  'Mother, are you...'

  'Your father is returned to the world, Saima. He's gone. You have to accept that. It's life. Neither good nor bad. We all die one day. There's no point crying about it.'

  The door to her room opened, then slammed shut. Footsteps headed away down the hall.

  The Monster cried even harder.

  Harsh. There might be hope for Lerama yet. If I didn't know any better I would never think she was a savage. Koma stood up, stretching her back and legs. Need to wait five minutes, make sure no one's there. She rested against the wall. Saima, a Saban in one year. As funny, and beneficial, as that would be the idea of her ruling these people is too horrible a prospect to bear. The idea of burning in glorious dragonfire was growing more and more appealing by the day. Die for the glory of the Ragi. More than anything though she wanted to see her mother and sisters one more time. Even just knowing they were okay, that they were cared for, would be enough. I'll probably never see them again. She breathed deeply, resting against the wall, forcing herself not to cry.

  After a couple more minutes had passed, and she was certain that no one would be around, she gently opened the cupboard door and peered out. The hall was empty.

  Quietly she closed the door behind her and walked down the hall, ignoring the eyes of the Sabans glaring down at her from the paintings.

  Chapter Six

  Koma opened her bedroom door and peered out. The long corridor was dark and deserted. I've waited long enough. Closing the door quietly behind her, she stepped out and crept down the corridor that housed the servants' quarters. One of the only perks of being handmaiden to the Monster was that she was allowed a room to herself. Most servants had to share a with at least two other people, so she didn't complain. Her room was half the size of the shack she, her mother, and sisters had shared, it was ample enough.

  Everywhere was silent, save for the odd person snoring behind a door that she passed by, and her own loud breathing. At any moment a Guard, or someone else, would surely come and investigate who was breathing so loud. I'm late as it is. Got to risk it. She was armed only with the sharpened hairpin that she wore in her hair, and the knife concealed in her robe. Not enough to take down an armoured Saban's Guard if they caught her, unless she took them by surprise. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

  There was no Guard by the doorway leading to the rest of the palace. Odd. He's probably in bed with one of the other servant girls. The thought made her cringe, even if it was a relatively common occurrence. Carefully she pushed open the smooth wooden door and peered out into the hall. Torches burned all along it. The statues of famous Sabans, Qotans, and other such people from Predemagda's past lined the white stone hallway, casting flickering shadows across its walls.

  Clink. Clink. Clink.

  A Saban's Guard was walking away from her down the red carpeted hallway to the left, his armour clinking as he moved.

  Koma closed the door quietly behind her and waited to see if he'd heard. He didn't turn around. She headed up the hall in the opposite direction, glancing back on occasion to check the Guard hadn't seen her. There's no way he'd have heard me over all that clinking.

  She made a left down the second corridor she came upon, still listening for the clinking of armour or heavy footsteps as she crept on, but all she could hear was herself breathing. At the end of the corridor she made a right.

  Clinking.

  She pressed herself against the wall and slid along it to a pillar, then squeezed herself into the corner where it met the wall. If he sees me what do I say? Midnight errand? Been summoned to the Doma's quarters? No, her quarters are in the other direction, and why would she send for me?

  More clinking, louder now. Heavy footsteps.

  I'm handmaiden to the Monster. Do I even have to explain myself? She held her breath. If I didn't why would I be hiding?

  The footsteps sounded so heavy they could have been a dragon's.

  Come on.

  The Guard passed by, rifle slung casually over his shoulder. He hummed softly to himself as he walked, lost in his own thoughts. He turned down the corridor she came from.

  Koma breathed a sigh of relief, then hurried on.

  She passed through hallways and corridors, each decorated with paintings depicting various battles, the gods, or famous Predemagdan people, until she reached the spiral staircase that led up to the roof. Checking that no one saw her, she climbed the staircase.

  She shoved open the stiff door to the roof. The vast city of Denistas lay below her, its tiers dropping away like a well lit mountainside. The bottom tier of the city stretched out past the mountains, and all the way up to the city walls. The lights of hundreds of torches and the combined brown light of the two moons made the city shine like a starlit sky. It was almost beautiful.

  On the bottom tier, near its centre, a large fire burned, it looked like a whole street was ablaze. Are the gangs fighting again? She shook her head. What's it matter? Let the savages kill each other.

  She closed the door behind her and checked again for Guards. There weren't usually any up on the roof, and those that were were up to no good anyway. Besides, if there were the Shadow would have disposed of them.

  No one was around.

  She circled the rooftop walkway, peering into the shadows, waiting for someone to emerge, or say something. Anything. She reached the door on the opposite side of the large rooftop. Still no one appeared. Do I have the wrong day? Shadows were never late. She continued circling the whole rooftop until she retur
ned to the door she'd emerged from. No. Sixth day of Yellodan. That's what he said. Definitely.

  Koma rested against the stone railing and gazed down at the city below. The big fire in the bottom district still burned. What's going on down there?

  'You are late,' someone said in Dragon's Tongue.

  Koma shrieked, spinning on her heels, then clamped her hands over her mouth.

  The Shadow stood behind her, dressed head to toe in black garb. Only his eyes were visible, and even they were dark.

  'Why?' she asked back in Dragon's Tongue, removing her hands. 'Why must you do that? I have searched this whole rooftop for you.' She hadn't spoken the Dragon's Tongue, or even thought in it for over a month. The language felt stranger each time she used it. It was her mother tongue, but somehow it was leaving her. They said it wouldn't. During the training. They told me to think in the savage tongue, that it'd help with keeping up my disguise, stay in character. They told me not to even think of my own name. Have they made me a savage?

  'You are late.' His voice was gruff. This wasn't the same Shadow she'd met with last time. Or ever. Or had she? It was difficult to tell, they all sounded so similar, always dressed in black, appearing only at night, and lingering in the shadows. No. I've never met him before. I'm sure.

  'It is difficult to sneak through a palace full of guards. Try some patience,' she grumbled

  The Shadow grunted.

  'Did you do that?' asked Koma, pointing down to the fire in the city below.

  'Why would I?'

  'I do not know. You kill people, do you not?'

  'We are wasting time. What information have you for me?'

  Definitely not the same one. The last one had a sense of humour at least. Koma rested her back against the stone railing. 'Lerama will serve as Saban until her daughter, Saima, is of age, in about a year's time. The ceremony will take place two day's from now.'

  The Shadow didn't respond.

  'She has said that Saima is to attend meetings of the Council of Sab, as part of her training, as well as City Council meetings. I will attend them with her, allowing me access to much more information. This is what we have been waiting for.'

  'Is it?'

  Koma folded her arms. 'Yes. I have been handmaiden to the Sabu, not the Saban. Information is hard to attain when you spend your day attending to a whining, screeching inbred monster. I have done my best.'

  'Have you?'

  I could slap you. 'Is the information I have given you thus far not sufficient?'

  'We will be the judge of that.'

  Koma shook her head. 'I do not understand why you need to learn the ways of the savages. This country will be burnt to cinders, and everyone in it. Why does it matter?'

  'What else have you learnt?'

  Avoidance. An annoying trait of the Shadow. 'Shonmu still plots to acquire the Saban's chair for himself. The Koku-rai likes his drink.' Oh. Maybe this will interest him. 'Saima believes that her mother and the Socrae-al conspired to murder her father, so they can be together. She believes this despite the fact he clearly died of a burst appendix.'

  'Anything else?' the Shadow asked, impatiently.

  That's it? 'Anything else?' We can use this to turn daughter against mother. Get the savages to tear each other apart. 'Anything else?' 'We could turn Saima against her mother. If I help her pursue this absurd idea who knows what she might do.'

  'What this savage does, or believes, is of no concern to us.'

  'Then why am I here? Why can I not return home?' she glanced around, realising that her voice had been raised.

  'Control your emotions,' said the Shadow, flatly.

  'Are my mother and sisters well? I enquired about their well being with the last Shadow I met with. He assured me he would find out.'

  'They are taken care of, I am told.'

  'Is my mother still working in the clothes shop? Is Jayeh still dancing? Flosha attending singing lessons? Donoko recovered from her illness?'

  The Shadow waved his hand dismissively. 'They are taken care of. That is all I know.'

  Tell me something. Please. 'I need to know.'

  'I will make an inquiry,' he grunted.

  Koma bowed her head. 'Thank you,' she said, although she didn't believe that he would.

  'Is there anything else to report?' asked the Shadow. 'No information pertaining to a malevolent purple mist?'

  The other Shadow asked about a mist last time. 'Not that I recall. Why?'

  The Shadow shook his head. 'Someone shall be back here on the eighth day of the next month in the Predemagdan calendar. Do not be late.'

  She nodded. 'Remember what I asked.'

  The Shadow stepped back into the darkness.

  'Remember what I asked,' she shouted. She stepped forward, peering into the shadows. 'Are you still there?'

  No reply.

  How does he do that? She looked around. There was no way he could have just disappeared. Did he run across the middle of the rooftop?Across the slippery tiles? No, I'd have heard him. She looked up to see if he'd flown away, somehow. She shook her head. I'd have seen him.

  Down below the fire was dying out. Smoke billowed up in a thick cloud that drifted across the city. No doubt some moron had knocked a torch over and started a blaze or something.

  Why do they want to know about a purple mist? Koma yawned. She opened the door back into the palace, peering around one more time for any clue as to how the Shadow disappeared, then went back inside.

  Koma took off her robe and draped it over the back of the chair in her cramped room, then picked up the grey rags on her bed that she wore as a nightdress, and put them on, breathing a sigh of relief that she could finally rest. If only for a couple of hours. Damn Shadow. Why can't he come earlier in the night?

  She sank to her knees and reached under the mattress, feeling around for the small green pouch that she kept hidden underneath. Her fingers brushed its soft fabric and she dragged it out. Pulling the thin string that sealed the pouch, she opened it and pulled out two of the four small model Ragi inside, then dropped them on the bed. It'd been over a month since she'd last prayed to the Ragi.

  Limjeh, She Who Protects the Brood, and Donajeh, She Who Binds the Blood of the Pure, the Ragi she prayed to most, the gods she needed to protect her family. She picked up the model of Limjeh, a green scaled dragon with yellow hair running down her spine, and pressed the model into her chest.

  'Ragi Limjeh, I beseech you,' she whispered in the Dragon Tongue. 'Please protect my mother and sisters. Let no harm come to them. Keep them safe, for I am unable to do so. They are strong, loyal, and serve you and your kin. Please, I beg this of you.' She bowed her head, then kissed the model of Limjeh.

  She placed Limjeh's model back on the bed, then picked up the model of Donajeh, a red scaled dragon with sky blue hair running down her spine. This model she brought down to her crotch, and pressed it hard into her.

  'Ragi Donajeh, I beseech you. Please keep my sisters fertile so they may continue the Telah bloodline, and provide strong sons and daughters to serve you and your kin. Our blood is old and pure. Our love and devotion to you, your kin, and the Saru, runs in our veins. Please, keep my family alive and healthy.' She brought the model of Donajeh up to her mouth and kissed it, then too placed it on the bed.

  Can the Ragi even hear me in this savage place? Do they even listen at all? Koma stared at the two models as if expecting them to answer her. Since when does any god answer mortals directly? She realised she was still thinking in the Predemagdan savage tongue without realising. A tear ran down her cheek. It'll be over soon. This savage land will burn, and me along with it. I'll rise to the heavens, become one with the Ragi. There, one day, I'll be reunited with mother, Jayeh, Flosha, and Donoko. Please let the flames come soon. I can't bear this place much longer.

  She slapped herself in the face as she felt another tear run down her cheek. Don't be weak. She put the models back in the pouch, resealed it, then shoved it back under the bed. With great
delight she crawled under the bedsheets then rested her head against the pillow. She closed her eyes, but sleep suddenly seemed like an impossible feat. Lying there, alone, her thoughts turned to her family once again.

  Chapter Seven

  'Have you seen what you've done? You torched the whole street,' cried Awon's father. 'The whole fucking street. You can see the smoke from here.' He kicked the shop door shut behind him and ushered Awon, Norox and Ten into the back room.

  'I didn't. Was dragged away.' Awon shot Norox a dark look.

  'You'd be in a cell now if I hadn't,' bleated Norox.

  'Why'd you do it?' Awon's father asked. 'Why? Why couldn't you just make fucking peace?'

  'Said I ain't apologisin'.'

  'So you burn down the street?'

  Awon shrugged, sitting down on the long worktop. 'Didn't know the whole street would go up.'

  His father clutched his head in frustration. 'He's gonna kill you, Awon. Big Red is gonna kill you. Kill us all.'

  'Calm down,' said Awon. 'How will he know it's us?'

  'Stupid bastard,' muttered Norox, dropping onto all fours.

  'How? Who else would it be?' screamed Awon's father. 'He sent you to apologise.'

  'He can't prove it,' said Awon.

  'You think that matters? The Konar might not know, but Red will. You better pray that that boy didn't tell his father about your little encounter with him. And pray no one saw any of you there either. Gods.' He kicked the wall.

  'I'm gonna go check on Helma,' said Ten, a guilty look on his face. 'See if she got to my place okay.'

  'Stay there,' snapped Awon's father.

  Ten sank to the ground.

  'As long as the Drowners don't know it was us, everything will be okay, won't it?' asked Norox.

  Awon's father sighed. 'I don't know. Maybe. But Red won't be happy. You went against him, Awon. What he says is law. More law than what the Konar enforce. Do you understand that?'

  Awon shrugged.

  His father kicked the wall again.

  'Why'd you do it?' asked Norox. 'Why burn down their bakery? If you weren't going to apologise you could have just lied or something.'