“He never had a harem—it was one girl at a time, two at most by the end, and none of them had any children!”
Ahrek’s brow rose. “You can’t truly know that.”
“No, but it’s what my father said.”
“And he was such an honest, trustworthy man.”
“He never had any children!”
Ahrek replied tentatively, “You and Blackheart looked very similar, Daylen.”
“People can look alike.”
“That alike? You’ve used your own resemblance to the Conqueror to help prove your parentage. On top of the unnatural resemblance, Blackheart was an exceptional swordsman and a tyrant as well.” Ahrek turned to Sain. “I think you might be right. It only makes sense that at least some of the Conqueror’s women fell pregnant, especially with the number he went through. He must have tried to kill the babes to hide them away.”
Daylen’s rage flew free. “He never killed any infants!”
Ahrek raged back with ferocious passion. “He killed hundreds of infants, children, women and innocents, Daylen! Or have you never heard of the Daybreak Massacre? Don’t try and convince yourself that your father was anything other than what he was: a murderous, genocidal tyrant!”
Daylen’s rage died as fast as it had grown, and he was left standing there wishing oblivion upon himself, because Ahrek was right. Daylen had only screamed because speaking of Dayless the Conqueror was speaking of himself, and he, with his current understanding and regret, would never commit such a heinous sin as murdering an infant. That was what he meant: that he would never do such a thing.
But he had. When he had overthrown the old aristocracy, he had executed every aristocrat regardless of age or gender. He had destroyed many cities of the nations that fought him. And then there was Daybreak. How many children had he killed throughout his life? How many babies?
Ahrek spoke in a calmer voice. “Very well, perhaps killing his own children was something that even he couldn’t do. Tyrants can still love, after all; but to prevent any challenge to his rule, they were hidden from him.”
Ahrek’s words came like hammer strikes to Daylen’s mind—for what he said was, in part, possible, only that the children must have been hidden from Daylen himself. Daylen had ordered precautions be taken to avoid any pregnancy to prevent a legitimate challenge to his power. He also hadn’t wanted any children, not after the ones that had been taken from him. Nothing could replace his little ones. But he never would have killed any child he had accidentally fathered. If those contraceptive precautions weren’t nearly as effective as he had been told, he would have executed his doctors and anyone else he could blame without a second thought. So, to save their own lives, they might have hidden the truth. Kerkain, his ruling second, would have known…but he had been executed by the revolutionaries.
If the contraceptive didn’t work Daylen could have fathered hundreds of children, literally hundreds, without ever knowing, and Blackheart’s uncanny resemblance was very, very strong evidence to that.
Daylen began to feel sick. The possibility of this was an unbearable nightmare, for if this was true, Blackheart might very well have been the bastard son of Dayless the Conqueror—which meant that Blackheart wasn’t Daylen’s brother.
Blackheart had been his own son. And Daylen had not just killed him, but had butchered and tortured him until death.
“No!” Daylen said in horror, stumbling over to the rail, shedding tears of bitterness and self-loathing. “No!” he screamed, falling to his knees. He might have killed his own son, a wretched tyrant who had turned out to be just like his father. But what if Daylen could have helped him? If Dayless the Conqueror was capable of learning the error of his ways, anyone was, so what right did Daylen have to kill him? Indeed, if Blackheart was his own son, which was becoming more and more likely in Daylen’s mind, did Daylen then have a responsibility to him, an accountability for his actions?
Daylen thought of Blackheart’s words.
“I really wonder how many of us bastards are out there?”
“Can’t you tell? With how damn good you are with that sword, and with your hair and looks, it’s clear that we’re long-lost brothers.”
“Wait! If you really are the Conqueror, that means I’m your son! Can’t you see that?”
Blackheart had really believed he was the bastard son of the Conqueror.
Ahrek knelt at Daylen’s side. “Would you have still killed Blackheart if you had known he was your brother?”
Oh, Light, Ahrek doesn’t know the half of it. “Of course not,” Daylen said, his voice trembling with emotion and distress.
“That’s good that you care for anyone who might be family, but Blackheart did deserve to die. He was a plague on the world.”
“You don’t get it.”
“Then help me see.”
“You can’t, for both our sakes,” Daylen said, dragging himself to his feet before stumbling away to his quarters.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
For the most part I believed my system to work, and I strived to give all of my people the necessities of life. The problem was that even though my nation esteemed all people as equal, people are never the same, especially in regard to what they contribute to society. How just is it to reward the indolent as much as the motivated? Not at all, and my dream of an equal society failed with disastrous results.
You see, by nature people are both lazy and greedy. Unless driven by an ideal or passion, when given a choice they’ll always choose the easier option or the one that will benefit them most. Seeing that my people lost the vision of the empire I was building and that I ensured everyone the same wage few were motivated to perform the harder jobs or those ones that required more training and education, unless they were members of the guilds. So, I took away their choice and forced those people that showed ability into the professions I needed and punished anyone who didn’t meet the quotas I set.
I took away their freedom to maintain productivity, stability and equality and believed it justified.
* * *
Lyrah found the flight to the capital very awkward and long. Cueseg wouldn’t speak about the tension between him and the crew.
Then a fall into their flight, the captain, of all people, had asked to speak with Cueseg in private.
Several hours later, Cueseg returned, and though he kept his face devoid of subtle expression, his bearing and countenance was even more depressed than before.
It was interesting how easily Lyrah had come to interpret Cueseg’s mood through body language as opposed to his blank and mostly expressionless face.
Cueseg sat on one of the large cushions with his head slumped.
“What happened?” Lyrah asked in concern.
It took a while for Cueseg to reply. “I am shame. I will never have Rien.”
Cueseg’s face might have as much emotion as a puddle, but his voice always carried expression. Lyrah had never heard him sound so miserable.
“What are you talking about?”
“Tishlue…the captain. She called me to have sex…and I did.”
Lyrah’s heartbeat doubled its rate. She had to sit on the bed and close her eyes to try and hold off a panic attack as Cueseg spoke.
“I say I am strong of will and in most things I am. My mind is strong and tell my body to work and become strong too. But in sex, I am weak. This mark on head, that is what it means. It means I have sex with woman who is not my Rien; with a woman who has Rien with other man. Now I have no Rien and this mark is for all Tuerasian to know that I am to never have Rien. It is shame on me forever.”
Lyrah tried to listen. Cueseg had never acted like this before, and she wanted to help in whatever way she could. Indeed Cueseg had never appeared more, normal, to her than right then. It was just so hard while trying to deal with her own issues. Still, she managed to keep the panic at bay, focusing on the social meaning rather than the act itself. “So, you committed adultery?”
“If that is word for
it, then yes. I have this mark because of adultery. It means I am weak of will, that my mind does not control my body. There is no greater weakness.”
Lyrah had absolutely no idea what to say. She wanted to comfort Cueseg, but she couldn’t talk about intimacy without hyperventilating; and even avoiding those topics, she didn’t know a thing about backward Tuerasian customs and why they would savagely brand and shun adulterers. Adultery was of course severely frowned upon in Hamahra, but people weren’t branded and cast out for it.
Cueseg eventually spoke again. “The captain, away from eyes and ears of people, cares not for my mark and my shame. She has come to live like you Hamahrans and want me even with my shame. I am without Rien for so long and I think Tishlue ask to have sex because she want to be Rien. This make me happy, but after, she tell me she just want sex and not Rien.”
And then for the first time Lyrah heard anger in Cueseg’s voice: fierce, hot anger. “Without Rien, sex is shame. She give me more shame and I am shame enough!”
Lyrah’s anxiety disappeared instantly, replaced by worry. She stood. “Cueseg, what did you do?”
Cueseg looked at her from the corner of his eye. “I follow law of my people.”
“Which was?”
Cueseg turned to her and slowly pointed to the scarred brand on his forehead.
It took a second for Lyrah to figure out what he meant. “You branded the captain?”
“I am shame for weakness. Now she is shame, too.”
She would have asked how he did this, but Cueseg’s powers enabled him to burn people and more. “Oh, Light, Cueseg, that’s called assault and mutilation. You’re an Archknight!”
Cueseg stood and growled back. “I am Tuerase! This is law of my people.”
“But we’re not in Tuerase, and you represent the Order!”
“We are on ship that is Tuerase, and in sky it follow Tuerase law.”
Lyrah sighed. “Yes, you’re right about that, but what gives you the right to dispense Tuerasian law? Don’t your people have some type of judiciary?”
“What is judice’ery?”
“A legal system, an official organization that dispenses and oversees your nation’s laws.”
“Of course we have this, but I am Archknight. I have right to punish in law.”
“Yes, but the governments get very upset if they would’ve ruled differently to what an Archknight decided. We must be very careful in overstepping our authority, otherwise it will be withdrawn.”
“I did not step over. I did what is law.”
“Okay, okay, but Light, what if the crew turns against us?”
“No, they will turn on Tishlue for her shame. I am shame, but I am also knight. My people must show respect or they break the law.”
Lyrah paused as the implications of Cueseg’s words sunk in, which brought on a troubling thought. “That’s why you became an Archknight, isn’t it?”
Cueseg didn’t answer.
“I’m right. You were disgraced and outcast amongst your own people. So to get around your own culture’s social order, you became an Archknight, which forces them to show you respect and gives you a higher status than you ever could have received otherwise. That’s why the crew has been acting so strange with you.”
“This does not matter.”
“Of course it does! Light, do you even care about the Order?”
“I have given oath and will keep my oath.”
“But did you truly want to fight evil for the rest of your life when you undertook the Vigil, or were you more concerned about obtaining a higher social status?”
“It not matter. I make oath to fight evil and I keep oath. That is enough.”
“That’s not how it’s supposed to work. You’re supposed to want to fight evil with all your heart and soul, for only the pure will be accepted.”
“No, I do not want to be knight like that. Being knight helps me and makes a better life, but I make oath, so oath is enough.”
Lyrah sat down on the bed, overwhelmed with the fact that now all her suspicions had been confirmed. Anyone can become an Archknight. This boy they hunted, Cueseg, and even a tyrant, if he learned the secrets of the Vigil.
“Oh, Light, this is so much worse than I imagined,” Lyrah said softly to herself. Now she had to find that boy, and she would make sure he never revealed what he knew.
By the next fall, Cueseg had returned to his normal self, or so it appeared. They didn’t see the captain at all, even when they landed within the Capital Skyport.
Disembarking, Lyrah marched straight to the massive skyport’s main offices, where the Portmaster would be located.
The main office was an impressive ten-story building made of decorative brick and several interconnected buildings. A horde of people moved through its many doors. Though the people outside the building took notice and made way for them, the crowds inside were so preoccupied with whatever task they were about that they didn’t notice the two Archknights who had entered.
The first room was large and open with countless lines of people in front of raised and walled-off reception desks. The fact that an organization could process even half of the submissions, complaints, fines, inquiries, ship inventories, and countless other procedures that the Capital Skyport required was remarkable. Yet the administration handled it well enough to see the port run efficiently, though one might not say smoothly. It all looked so chaotic.
Lyrah bonded light to her voice and called out, “Silence!”
Everyone in the room became quiet and turned. When seeing two Archknights they parted as Lyrah and Cueseg walked to one of the reception desks.
“I need to see the Portmaster at once!”
They were promptly shown to a formal sitting room on a higher level within the building and shown every courtesy. On their way to the room, Lyrah asked that the Portmaster find out if a ship by the name of the Maraven had dropped anchor recently before meeting them. She also requested that word be sent to the Hold, the official Archknight headquarters within the city, that she and Cueseg had arrived and that they needed to speak with a superior. Their attendant nodded and left.
The muffled sound of the frantic bustle in other rooms could still be heard within the sitting room, yet it was still comparatively quiet.
Cueseg lounged on one of the couches.
“This is a formal meeting, Cueseg. You should be standing when the Portmaster arrives.”
“In my culture, we sit to greet people.”
“But we aren’t in your culture, Cueseg.”
Cueseg sighed and stood.
Lyrah’s stress gnawed at her while they stood there waiting. Things had been so intense recently, what with the threat that this boy posed and their lack of progress in catching him. What she wouldn’t give to have a good game of Rattan Ball to unwind, go for a long run all by herself, or take a day off to watch the Races. But there was no time for any of that.
The Portmaster of the Capital Skyport arrived shortly after, flanked by four Harbormasters. He was an older man, but not nearly old enough to trigger her aversion. Indeed, the man looked full of energy, ready to get anything done that needed doing. He had faded blue hair, graying at the sides, the wrinkles on his facing adding character.
Walking to Lyrah, the Portmaster bowed respectfully before sweeping off his top hat. He was dressed in an embroidered tailed suit coat and wore a cravat and appropriately beaded tassel with a bejeweled backsword at his side. Very fine dress; but considering that the Capital Skyport was the largest skyport in the world, any managerial position in this port indicated a prestigious career indeed.
“Lady Archon, I am Mr. Tellfen,” the Portmaster announced formally. “I’ve just checked through the logs and with every registry station around the city. The Maraven has not seen port in the city for four months. I’ve also sent word to the Hold as you requested, and a member of your Order should be on their way.”
Cueseg stood to Lyrah’s side, holding a firm, blank gaze on the people b
efore them, and it was clearly making them feel a little uneasy.
“Thank you, Mr. Tellfen,” Lyrah said. “I’d expected we might have beaten the ship here. Please place a standing alert for the Maraven at all registry stations. Also, the Hold must be alerted as soon as it’s spotted. Let the ship enter, but I need to know in what dock it does.”
“That’s impossible to know, as the docks are occupied and vacated constantly through the fall,” Mr. Tellfen said. “All captains know they’re free to pick any vacant dock within the area of the harbor they were directed to. We record and inspect the cargo of each ship after they land, as well as their length of stay, but knowing what specific dock, in even an hour’s time, simply can’t be done.”
Lyrah raised an eyebrow. “But you can keep a specific dock free, can’t you?”
The Portmaster considered this. “If we moved some boom gates in, yes. The dockmen would need to be on watch for the ship to raise the gates in time, and the ship would have to be ordered to that specific dock, which would be highly irregular.”
“Yes, and that would create suspicion,” Lyrah said. “We don’t want to tip them off. Have the registry stations on alert, but admit the ship as normal. Then have them sound an alert once the ship has passed through the shield as it will be too late for them to escape. We’ll inform the Border Patrol to approach and escort the ship to a specific dock when hearing the alert.”
Tellfen nodded. “Excellent plan. Should I be concerned about this ship? Does it pose a threat to the city?”
“The knights will keep everything in order. What dock will they be escorted to?”
Mr. Tellfen looked to one of his Harbormasters, the only woman among the four.
She was similar in age to Lyrah, the knight noted as the woman looked through her ledger. A Harbormaster’s role in Highdawn was easily as broad as a Portmaster of a smaller city. “I’ll keep dock two clear on the twelfth stack,” the Harbormaster said. The Capital Skyport was large enough to have skyships dock above one another, and thus each dock was grouped in stacks according to harbor.
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