by Aderyn Wood
“So soon?” Father asked.
“Don’t leave on my account, brother.” Heduanna sat at the table and picked up a fig.
Hadanash gave her a flat stare, his amber eyes afire. “There are things that require my attention in the barracks.” Then he left with swift strides.
Heduanna watched him go. He’d been surly since their father made his shocking announcement that Heduanna was to enter the temple. She still simmered over it herself, but Hadanash seemed to lay the blame at her feet as much as their father’s. And that was unfair. I’m the one who has to suffer the priests.
In any case, she was beginning to suspect who was really to blame. And there he is, the little rodent.
Qisht swept onto the courtyard carrying a large jug of morning beer, which he placed on the table, before bobbing his head to her father. “Good morning, my King.” Then he bowed before Heduanna. “Princess.”
Heduanna gave him a perfunctory glance. My, you’re a sly one. He acted as though it was the first time he’d seen her father that day, when he’d slept in the royal bed last night, as he did every night. Lies are what you excel in, weasel.
Qisht had something to do with putting her in the temple, she was sure of it. She imagined him whispering the idea into her father’s ear as they shared a pillow. Perhaps he’d learned that she knew of his duplicity. Though she’d only talked it through with Hadanash. It was unlikely Qisht would have overheard them, but one couldn’t be too sure. A shiver gripped her as she wondered just how far Qisht’s spy network extended. He was in charge of the palace slaves, were they all loyal to the royal family and to Azzuri, or to Qisht and Urul? She crunched on an apricot. She must talk to her brother about it soon. If only he wasn’t so surly.
“It is well we are alone, daughter.” Her father’s low voice came to her easily and Heduanna snapped her gaze to him. He looked tired, unrested.
“Oh? Why so?”
“I wish to discuss something with you.”
Qisht finished pouring a cup of beer for the king, then left as silently as he’d arrived.
“Blessed Ralja, has been to see me again.”
Heduanna swallowed her mouthful and tore the feather from her headband, flinging it on the table. “And what has the walking skeleton have to complain about this time?” Heduanna failed to keep the bitterness from her voice. Blessed Ralja was master of lessons, and he’d had nothing but complaints since she began her studies.
“He tells me you’re not taking the lessons seriously. That you’ve not read Hepter’s text on disease.”
“Sargan knows that text from start to end, Father,” Heduanna said, her eyes focused on the city below. “And if he were here, as he should be, he would be dealing with the priests and their tedious lessons and he’d even enjoy it. He’d be half way on his journey to becoming the new high priest.” As he should be.
“That is not possible now.”
Heduanna grabbed another apricot and chewed. She scanned the table for wine, but only a jug of breakfast beer sat before her. She poured a cup and took a swallow. Her father’s absolute authority was a boon, mostly. But now it proved to be utterly frustrating. “I still don’t understand,” she snapped, “why Sargan cannot be our high priest. And what’s more, I think Hadanash has a point. It would be more prudent to allow me to marry King Amar-Eshu. It would bring peace to all Zraemia, and perhaps we could avoid the prophecy of Gedjon-Brak altogether.”
Her father’s dark stare held her eyes. “What does Phadite tell you?”
Heduanna’s shoulders slouched. Of course she didn’t believe it, though she wanted to. Everything Phadite had revealed pointed to Gedjon-Brak. The Great War to Come remained a very real threat that grew closer with each new vision. But surely this marriage proposal was the most obvious solution. Did her father not think she could help bring about peace in the capacity of queen to their greatest enemy? “Sometimes, I think you have no faith in me, Father,” she said, quietly.
Her father’s gaze softened. “I have every faith in you. That is why you’re destined to become the new high priestess of our city.”
Heduanna’s breath hitched and a wave of heat flowed through her chest. Her eyes tingled and she blinked them hard. He did believe in her. Perhaps too much. Something tugged at her consciousness. In her visions the goddess had made it clear Heduanna would hold much power. Perhaps Heduanna had been mistaken to interpret her position as queen of Urul as the source of that power. It would be difficult to gain more power than the office of high priestess. Especially if it turned out that her father… Her eyes widened.
Yes. I’ve been a fool!
She cleared her throat, and placed her cup of beer down. “Father, I am sorry I have not met the priest’s expectations, but I do find them tedious. I am god-touched. I do not need such learnings of physicks and body parts.”
Father smiled. “You are god-touched, daughter. I trust you will find your way in the temple, though a little reading on the side might serve to inform your knowledge more fully, of disease and temple affairs. It will serve you well to learn as much as you can. Not only what you find in the books.”
Heduanna studied her father’s face. His eyes seemed playful. “I will try.”
“Speaking of the goddess. Has she visited you in your dreams?”
Heduanna shook her head. It had been a very long time since she’d had a convulsion. Physically, she was glad for it, as she’d never felt healthier. Though the goddess hadn’t sent her a sign in her dreams either, and if she were to be truthful, she found it more and more difficult to access Phadite’s power. “The goddess has not seen fit to communicate with me these last few moons.”
Father looked at his beer with a slight frown. “It has its own blessings. At least you are not subjected to the ill health the fits bring on.” He looked up at her. “Why do you think she has been so reserved?”
Heduanna hesitated. It was not a subject she’d ever broached directly with her father. It was more a topic for a mother’s ear. But she had little choice about that. “I have an idea about it.”
“Yes?”
Heduanna squirmed on her seat. How could she tell him that her love-making fed the goddess? And that the slaves and the guards no longer gave her what she needed. And since she’d taken up residence in the temple, lovemaking was out of the question altogether.
“I think I may know what you want to say.”
“You do?”
Her father glanced to the side. “You’ve been… chaste, these past few moons.”
“You knew?”
“Of course. Who do you think stopped the slaves and the guards from sharing your affections?”
Heduanna blushed.
“I need you healthy, daughter. I need you with me for what is to come.”
Qisht returned and the way he looked at Heduanna, she knew he’d heard their conversation. And was that a smirk on his over painted face? Yes, I’d wager it was you who whispered such advice to my father. And for what purpose? Heduanna swallowed a sip of breakfast beer as she thought through the possibilities. Perhaps he wanted to cease her father’s advantage with the goddess. Or, perhaps it was a direct request from the king of Urul to ensure his future queen remained faithful to him. Her jaw clenched as she stood.
“You have plans, daughter?”
Heduanna looked at him, trying and failing to smooth the look of irritation she knew dominated her face. “I’ve lessons with the priests. After noon I must attend to my poetry.”
Father wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. “You will need to delay your poetry.”
“Why?”
“We have court after noon.”
“Court is so tedious,” Heduanna failed to hide the petulance in her voice.
“Court is the backbone of Azzurian peace, and as princess and our future high priestess it is a role you must embrace. You will help me with the our code-making, no matter how tedious the task. You’re god-touched, daughter, and a princess of Azzuri. You have a responsib
ility to your people.”
“Yes, Father.”
Heduanna squirmed on the hard stone bench. Court proved to be as dull as she’d predicted.
“Let me understand this,” the king spoke from his throne, an imposing symbol of rule made of lapis lazuli. “You’ve witnessed Serachin accepting bribes on a daily basis.” Father-king rolled his shoulders.
He’s as uncomfortable as I am. Heduanna sighed as she returned her attention to the palace informer.
“That’s right.” Nephan was as stoic as he was ugly. He took his role as spy most seriously. Heduanna wondered if he also worked for Qisht. “He only accepts gold.”
“Lies,” Serachin, the corrupt teahouse owner muttered. “I would never smuggle blue smoke, or anything else into Azzuri.”
The king flicked his string of knot beads and the clacking sound made Serachin jump.
Heduanna smirked. This one was sly, she was tempted to extend a slim thread of the goddess’s essence to see if Serachin was telling the truth, or if he was lying, as she suspected, and was guilty of smuggling and selling blue smoke after all. But accessing the goddess took so much effort now, and the results grew more ineffective. And she was not keen to invite a convulsion for a sly one like Serachin. But If he’s not lying I’m a camel’s foot.
“I’ve worked hard over the years to eliminate the rot that flourished and festered in Azzuri under my father’s rule,” the king said with a deathly quiet voice. “To rid the ring of fixtures, and the streets of whoring, and straighten out the brain-addled haze caused by blue smoke – it has taken much time, much energy.”
Serachin bowed and scraped, and bobbed his head like the obsequious wretch he was. “And as an upstanding merchant, I appreciate all you have done, Exalted.”
“Do you indeed?” The king’s eyes narrowed. “Even though your profits have dropped so significantly? Everyone knew about the blue smoke that could once be bought in ample quantities at your teahouse.”
Serachin raised a hand. “A merchant is permitted to change his ways. The wisdom of your ruling hand had a much welcome influence on my conscience, Exalted.”
“I’ve had three witnesses just testify that you are still smuggling blue smoke into your teahouse and selling it in the darkness of night.”
“No.” Serachin shook his head.
“You present a poor defence. I hereby deem you guilty of smuggling and selling blue smoke. Ashti, the penalty please.”
The king’s head scribe, Ashti consulted the large circular tablet that stood to the side of the king’s throne. A lengthy pause ensued as they all waited for Ashti to find the code. Heduanna drummed her fingers on the stone arms of her seat. These hearings would go more swiftly if Ashti could find the codes in a timely manner. Finally, his finger came to a stop on a line of code. He read it quietly, then stood to address the king. “Smuggling blue smoke requires a payment of one hundred grain tokens, or an equal amount in gold, or twice the number in lapis lazuli, or thrice that in silver – that is for the first offense. Selling requires fifty lashings – again, for the first offense.”
Serachin gasped.
“Please read the penalty for the second offense, Ashti,” the king said.
Ahsti bent to read the codes once more. “The second offence calls for death in both instances.”
“No! I am not guilty!” Serachin yelled.
“I’ve just found you guilty. You will make the payment to the temple from three moons hence. We shall arrange for the lashings tomorrow at dawn. Face me again with a similar charge and the penalty will be death. Guards, escort Serachin outside.”
“No!” Serachin shouted, but the king’s guards lifted him by the arms and he was quickly delivered from the throne room.
Nephan bowed, then followed the guards out, along with the other witnesses.
Heduanna’s father rolled his shoulders again and looked her way. “I agree with you, daughter.”
“That these hearings are tedious in the extreme?”
“No. I question my reasons for sending Sargan away.” He sighed. “I don’t mean to offend you, Ashti, but I miss my son’s capacity to hold every code in his head.”
Ashti smiled. “No offense taken, Exalted. Sargan’s prodigious memory helped to speed these hearings along. There’s no question of that.”
“Another reason Sargan should be appointed high priest,” Heduanna murmured.
Her father raised his chin, and spoke to Qisht, ignoring her comment. “Is that the last for today?”
Heduanna hoped it was. She’d had enough of listening to the petty squabbles of farmers and merchants, and the claims of so-called informants. She could appreciate the system her father had developed, and it was sanctioned by the goddess. Her father’s strict codes were the very reason Azzuri was the most peaceful city in all Zraemia. But she wasn’t made for listening to the gripes of others. With each case her frustration grew, and she had to resist the temptation to tell them to stop acting like children and to sort out their own disputes.
Qisht came forward and bobbed his head. “I apologise for not briefing you earlier, Exalted,” he said. “But there is a new case, just arrived. If you prefer, I could postpone it until—”
“No. I will hear it now.”
Heduanna groaned.
But Qisht blinked his heavy lashes and didn’t move. “It would be of no matter to any involved if this case was to be postponed, for a few days, or even a quarter-moon.”
Heduanna frowned. Qisht was pushing, as much as possible in this public space, for her father to delay this new hearing. No doubt the unexpected nature of it meant he’d had no chance to sway her father one way or the other with his whisperings.
“I will hear it now. Send them in.”
Qisht took a heavy breath.
Heduanna shifted on her seat, suddenly interested.
Qisht swept out of the throne room and returned a moment later with four young soldiers.
Heduanna’s eyes widened when she recognised the barbarian. His pale skin was a little more tan now, and he wore the white skirt, leather cross bands upon his chest, and sandals of an Azzurian soldier. His hair remained pulled back in braids in the barbarian style. Once again he took her breath away. He was tall and dazzling to look at, and something told her he would be all she ever dreamed of in bed. It had been too long since she’d enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh.
Qisht stepped forward and read from his tablet. “These soldiers bring a grievance to the court of Azzuri and wish for Phadite and King Amar-Sin to make judgement. They include, Alangar son of Faru and overseer in the king’s contingent, Lu son of Ashti and soldier in the king’s contingent—”
Heduanna glanced at her father’s head scribe. Ashti wore a look of horror on his face. For whatever grievance his son was here, he had no knowledge.
“Varashti son of Izpur and soldier in the king’s contingent. And,” Qisht cleared his throat. “Danael, Prince of the island city known as Estr Varg, Drakia, a guest of the Azzurian palace and soldier in the king’s contingent.”
So we call him prince now do we? Heduanna chewed her lip as she allowed her gaze to follow the line of his muscular arms and chest. Perhaps father ought to marry me off to him.
Her father’s gaze seemed to assess each soldier in turn. He nodded. “Who do they bring their grievance against?”
Qisht’s eyelids fluttered. For once it seemed he was lost for words. Then, with a deep breath he said, “They bring a grievance against your brother, General Mutat, Exalted.”
Heduanna drew an audible breath, and covered her mouth with a hand. Her uncle-general would be furious. Did he even know? He was not a well-loved man. Even her father seemed to speak of him with little affection. Though her father kept his affections, or lack of them, to himself, mostly. Still, Mutat was a capable soldier, and as general he could boast a long list of victories for Azzuri’s leal cities.
Heduanna glanced at her father. He sat still as stone. This would prove a difficult bind for
him. Her father valued fairness and justice above all else, but how was he to balance that against the loyalty required to keep his brothers from his heels? If Uncle-general was found guilty of some misdemeanor, how would her other uncles react?
The barbarian had put her father in a difficult position. What in Phadite’s name did he think he was doing to breeze in here and accuse such a high-standing figure of Azzurian royalty? It was an insult, to all of them. Accusing one member of the royal family was akin to accusing them all.
Finally her father spoke, “And, my brother-general has been informed of your grievance? Where is he?”
Lu stepped forward and bowed a sweeping genuflection. “Yes, Exalted. But he did not privilege us with a response.”
Father raised his hand and gestured for Qisht to approach him. “Go fetch my brother-general. Tell him the king summons him to court.”
Heduanna licked her lips, her pulse quickening. This was about to get ugly. Her uncle’s temper was shorter than a beetle’s knee. She could see only a trap for her father, and worry tugged at her insides. His emphasis on fairness underscored his rule that all Azzuri’s codes applied to every man and woman in the city, regardless of wealth or position. Even a slave could bring a grievance to the king, and if a code was shown to be broken, the king would administer a punishment on the slave’s behalf. If her uncle-general was found guilty of some complaint, her father would have no choice but to administer a punishment for him too. No one was beneath the king’s justice. Not even his own brother.
Qisht exited to do the king’s bidding and the wait became excruciating. Heduanna’s father talked with the soldiers, asking them about their swordplay, as though they were there for nothing more than an amiable chat. He avoided, Heduanna noted, speaking directly to the barbarian whose eyes were on her.
Heduanna shifted her attention to the other soldiers, or her father, but she felt the barbarian’s stare on her. He clearly lacked the awareness that gazing so openly was considered uncultured. Of course the others looked her way too, but they were more surreptitious about it, glancing only for a heartbeat. The barbarian knew nothing of the finer details of Zraemian deportment and his stare was open and long, his eyes following the length of her right down to her sandals and up again. Heduanna couldn’t deny the thrill it gave her to be admired by such a savage, but she stalled her thoughts from those of the bedroom, for now.
