by Ako Emanuel
The three became fast friends, and a budding romance had just recently begun to spring up between the two young people.
But at the lorn with the two Princes, he had seen the instant attraction to the young Prince Staventu on her face as clearly as if she had shouted it; and Staventu’s was just as evident. He knew that Staventu would invite Pentuk along on the search, could have predicted it in the wind. And he had known that she would have a fear/desire reaction that would lead her straight here. He had taken the liberty, in case of just such an event, to inform the older of the two, Rilantu, of Pentuk’s background.
“It is all right, child. Be at peace. Tell me what is wrong.”
And in trembling words she told him, told him of her desire and fear, of her desire to go and her fear of going.
“What if he is another Junti’mun?” she whispered. It had been a long time before she could utter the name. “I still have not had the training of an Ov’ta’mu...”
Rukto had to agree with some misgiving. He had hoped that Denyo would have taken care of that, would have been her first. Staventu surely was as well versed, if not better, in the sexual arts, though, and Rukto knew him to have a kind and understanding heart and the ability to display great gentleness and care. The younger Prince, in his youth, had found a wounded bird once, and had nursed it back to health and flight and freedom by himself, with only healing advice from the ol’bey’woman. Surely someone who displayed such sensitivity and delicacy of touch at such a tender age could not harm this wounded bird now?
She had a difficult time ahead, being forced to make a choice between the two young men, but perhaps it would finally push her to taking that last step to independence. For once the choice had to be made, no one could make it for her. One young man would be hurt, but they had both taken a fancy to her. The thing would have to sort itself out.
“Pentuk, you are a woman now,” he said, lifting her head up so that he might look into her eyes. “No one may force you to do anything, and if I know Staventu, he would never do anything so ignominious. He is an honorable young man. And you have a good head on your shoulders and great av’rito’ka at your command. If anything goes wrong, you have but to av’tun your way back here, before you go past the range of your av’rita, and I’ll protect you with all the power and authority I can wield. But you must step into the world. You are my best student. I know you’ll be fine.”
She smiled and hugged him fiercely. It was all the answer she needed.
the stars turned the laughing darkness with their dance...
The stars were at the height of their whirling dance as the search egwae prepared to leave. Warru, servants and mounts filled the Este courtyard.
The two Crown Princes stood side by side, each preparing his own mount. Staventu was strangely quiet, his movements stiff and abrupt, his face expressionless. Beneath his ministrations the specially bred kati’yori, almost the size of a full horse rather than the zebra it resembled, squealed more than once. Rilantu completed strapping the riding panquin to his kati’yori before turning to gaze at his brother.
“You really are treating that mount very badly,” he observed calmly. “Is there something bothering you?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Staventu answered, his voice perfectly modulated to seem as calm. “What could possibly be bothering me?”
Rilantu gently shouldered his twin aside and began re-buckling the panquin. Some were much too tight, while others woefully loose. The thing would have hobbled the poor ‘yori and thrown the Prince inside of a san’chron - assuming that the beast could have been made to move at all. It probably would have lain down and refused to budge.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “Should I hazard a guess?”
Staventu snorted, checked the security of his packs.
“Brother,” Rilantu persisted. Staventu snapped about, his eyes wide in a fierce glare of onyx and liquid fire. Rilantu met it with a solid obsidian and hard granite, not giving ground before the sharp ocular onslaught. Their eyes locked, Staventu’s anger and hurt pouring forth in the ferocity of his eyes. Rilantu weathered it patiently, letting the redly glaring emotions impact upon him and pass through him. Finally the searing ocular onslaught wore itself out and Staventu narrowed his eyes and looked away. Rilantu suppress a sigh.
Neither had heard softly approaching footsteps during their strange discourse, nor the accompanying hoofsteps.
“Your pardon,” a soft, familiar voice finally spoke up. Instead of jumping or startling, both turned as one, with the lightening quickness that had been trained into both of them.
Pentuk stood transfixed by their double stare, a ‘yori lead in her hand. She wore a light, mauve linen wrap with a slightly thicker de’siki over it. She bowed deeply to them.
“I - have come to ask permission to j-join the search egwae,” she said timidly.
Rilantu glanced at his brother. Staventu’s face had changed infinitesimally. To Rilantu it was part whoop of joy, part snarl.
“Of course you have our permission,” he said quickly, before Staventu had time to find his voice in the tiny maelstrom of warring emotions that fled across his face and say something stupid. “We are glad to have you.”
Staventu raised his chin, assuming a formal, distant air. “Yes, that is so,” he said, his voice and face so expressionless that he might have been an animated boabi statuette. Pentuk bowed again and turned away, but not before a look of puzzled hurt crossed her face. She moved off to take a place in the forming line.
Staventu looked after her with eyes that burned and smoldered slightly, the barest flicker of some unexpressed desire in them. He stood that way for a long moment, his well-trained features gradually closing so that they betraying nothing further. He moved, shot a sidelong glance at his twin, then checked over the fastening of his mount’s harness as if he had not been botching the securing of them a little while ago. His stance and silence were almost a visual challenge, daring his brother to comment. Rilantu, however, this time wisely said nothing.
Why did she suddenly changed her mind? the younger twin wondered, staring off into the darkening eve, it seemed, but really not seeing beyond his own whirling thoughts. First she abruptly runs out on me in the Library, presumably to another’s arms, and now, out of nowwhere, she shows up, packed and ready to go. Was she playing with him? Did Rilantu have anything to do with any of this? He did not know.
His musing was cut short by a ‘tunned command to mount and form up on the Warru First. He clicked to the kati’yori. It held still so that he could swing himself into the panquin. Taking his place near the head of the double line, he began his part in the casting of the Rite of Concealment taking shape around them.
They moved out with the rising of the third moon, fifty warru (one of whom was ol’bey-trained), ten servants, the Warru First, the two Princes, and the Librarian. They rode out of the Palace grounds, and through the Western av’turun that led down to the first ring of buildings below the Palace, the Temples. They were completely muffled from sight and sound. Through spiraling streets they rode, coming to the next av’turun that put them on the next lower level. The City was built in a huge spherical crater, with a conical spire rising from the center. On this spire stood T’Av’li, and in successive rings that stepped down and outward stood the houses of the Goddesses and the nobility. They moved like joumbi, whispering spirits through the wide boulevards of the Lan’mba and nobility districts, their mounts making no sound on the smoothly paved streets. None spoke, no unnecessary sounds were made as they rode through the huge city. Three san’chrons later, at a gallop, they left that part of the city behind and came to the upper middle class district just at the base of the central cone. The streets were narrower and not made of the precious tiffan satin stone. The houses were not as large; but the district as a whole was much bigger than the nobles’. Thus they moved through the concentric rings of the city, each a little less rich than the last; there was, however, no poor section to the Ritio
us City. The last district before the high walls of the crater and the watchtowers was the industrial district, the weavers, dyers, tanners, and smiths. They reached the city’s outer limit eight san’chrons after leaving T’Av’li. Only when they were through the final av’turun that put them outside the city’s crater walls and on the road to farm land did they create their first personal av’tun, several warru women working together to form the large portal. They rode through a few at a time, those who held the portal open going last.
Eyes as deep as the eve watched them disappear.
CHAPTER XII
the light whirled, dizzy with the freedom of the sky, and the darkness, awaiting its time in the dance, turned ...
It was three turns after Tures, the turn of rest, and Trade had resumed in earnest. The Trade Circles, located in a huge, palatial building in the Lan’mba Quarter, was as busy as any wasp hive. Soku sat in the balconies above the
Trading Circle, surrounded by tablets and scrolls of papi’ras, inkpots, and scribes. She controlled this Circle for three turns, one of hundreds in use. This turn she sat in the role of supplier, others coming to her or sending their Trade Mistresses, called Trade’Marms, in their stead. Her own Trade’Marm sat in the Circle proper, ready to receive other Traders, silently directed by Soku, unseen, from above. Three classes of Traders came to her Circle. The first, who held priority, were her established buyers, those with whom she had many cycles of strong oath-claim and long-standing, profitable Trade. Next were those she had considered as new prospects and had invited to her Circle. Last were those who came to her of their own, seeking new Trade opportunities.
This turn had been most fruitful. There had been almost one hundred percent response to her call for the Trade reform Yakan’tsu from the Queens she had invited. Each had sent either a high ranking Trade’Marm or come themselves, and a proposal to be presented to the High Queen had been drawn up in short order. And the Trading had gone well, relatively fair terms and agreements being made without san’chrons of haggling. The independents had been a pleasant surprise also, and many promising new contracts and concessions had joined her already formidable stack.
A server came in, bowed, and handed her the last solicitation from the independent
Trader Circle. Soku was not surprised. Nor was she surprised that the Trader requested a conference face to face rather than through Trade’Marms.
She indicated acceptance to the aide, who took the reply back out. Then she gestured for her scribes to gather the records and agreements and return to the Doan Lan’mba where she would look them over later. Last she dismissed her Trade’Marm from further duty this turn.
Thus, alone in the empty balcony, she gathered herself and her wits, and rose to meet with the Ottanu Queen.
She stepped through an av’tun to the private lain set aside for her use for just such meetings. The Ottanu Queen was already there, her attendants minimum.
The Ottanu rose and bowed low out of respect. At the moment, because of her disgrace, Soku’s standing was higher than her own. Soku, every sense sharpened and on alert, bowed in return, then sat first as was her present wont. The Ottanu had a reputation for being crafty and cunning, and ruthless. Having never faced the Ottanu Queen across the Trade table before, Soku kept her guard up. The Ottanu Queens also had a reputation of being master manipulators, though lacking in subtlety. As Tokia sat opposite her across a low, narrow table, Soku kept a close watch on her. They took the ritual drink of the Sisterhood pact and then lay the cups aside.
“Peace and light upon you,” Tokia intoned, her voice low and humble. One would think, to hear her, that she never had, and was incapable of, issuing challenge at the Bolorn. “How fare you and yours?”
“Peace and light upon you,” Soku replied, making her eyes visibly guarded as she regarded the Ottanu from under thick lashes. An insult under most circumstances, as it implied mistrust, this guarded pose was almost to be expected here. And Tokia could not take offense, not until she was proven right about the Heir. Caution about one in disgrace could not be faulted. Not that it made much of a difference to Soku whether Tokia would take offense or not - she never planned to do any serious Trade with the Ottanu. Still, it was unwise to leave a trail of enemies in one’s wake.
“I and mine fare well,” she continued, letting her posture show the slightest rigidness that the Ottanu might take for unease and uncertainty about this private, unscheduled lorn. It was rather overt, not in keeping with the subtle dances of formality that the royalty of the Realm usually partook in. But then again, the Ottanu did not take much to subtlety, and the whole point in this case was to ward Tokia out of her impending Yakan’tsu. Let the Ottanu think that she unsettled the Doan enough in to betraying small signs of discomfort. “How fare you and yours?”
“I and mine fare as well as can be expected,” Tokia replied genially, ignoring Soku’s apparent reticence, and even smiling a bit. Was it a small smile of some small triumph?
“To what do I owe the honor...?” the end of the question hovered, as if to say that ‘honor’ it definitely was not. The implied insult was neatly negated by the fact that Soku had spoken first and had presented an opening to her guest, forgoing the right to make Tokia explain herself in the ensuing silence. If Tokia noticed either, she tried very hard not to show it.
“Ah, Sister, I have heard melae that you intend some masterful move within the Circles, a piece of brilliance that would bring much gain to all involved.”
“Perhaps,” Soku replied noncommittally, not rising to the flattery. She could not play herself down too much, otherwise the grounds for her reputation and credibility would be put in question. “But then, the nature of melae being what it is...”
“But to every rumor, therein lies a seed of truth,” Tokia countered.
“Perhaps,” Soku said again, admitting and betraying nothing. Right about now she expected Tokia to change tactics, coming from a completely new direction. This was a strategy as old as time; but it was still effective, when done properly. And how it was done depended on the skill of the player, and her grip of finesse.
“Sister Doan, I feel that we are all connected, we who share similar circumstances,” Tokia said, as if on cue. “I believe that we should use this bond to unite ourselves. Through unity, there is strength - there is power.” This last was said in a semi-dramatic tone as if she dangled some great treasure before Soku, or imparted some great secret. Soku decided to nibble; perhaps Tokia could be goaded into unwittingly showing her lot.
“Power?” She said with just a touch of derisiveness. “Unity? Power for what purpose? Unity against what enemy? We are already united. The way you group these words, Sister, implies a threat of some kind.”
“Perhaps,” Tokia said from behind half-closed eyes and a tight little smile. “There are many forms of power, Sister, and many who would use them, for good or ill.”
“Yes,” Soku agreed, looking her straight in the eye. “I can see that there are.” She could not resist an opening like that. She just hoped that Tokia understood the barbed comment for what it was. A slight tightening of the other’s lips said that she did. “And just what sort of power do you speak of, Sister?” she asked, again presenting an opening.
Tokia gave her calculating look, as if wondering whether her seeming hostility were a facade to cover interest.
“The power, Sister, to bring change. To say what should be. To dictate one’s own future. Like the death-ant, those that have little influence alone can be an unstoppable wave when banded together.”
“Dictate one’s own future? No one dictates the future of my Tribe save myself and the will of the Goddesses and the Supreme One.”
“Don’t they?” Tokia sat back with a smile that seemed the tiniest bit smug. “Tell me, Sister, who has the most say in governing policy? Who must act as go-between for us if we do not come to the Ritious City to Trade? Who holds most of the wealth and power, Sister?”
“The Greater Queens,” Soku answe
red.
“Aye, Sister, by accident of birth and virtue of proximity, those who rule the Inner’lons control most of the resources of our Realm while we hang on to the fringes.”
Which is, of course, totally twisted logic, twisted to suite Tokia’s needs and give strength to her arguments, Soku thought, though she did not refute it yet. “That is the way things have always been,” she said, her voice devoid of most expression.
“Yes, that is so.” Sharp black eyes looked up at her from beneath dark lashes and brows. “But that is not the way things must yet be,” she said softly.
Soku smiled. Tokia believed that Soku would have no answer to her argument.
“Sister Ottanu, I’m afraid that I cannot completely agree with your assessment of things. True the Greater Queens have more say in governing policy, but then, those policies generally affect them more dramatically than they do us. If there is a policy that affects us all equally in dispute, we all have equal say. And the Greater Queens who are our correspondents in Trade do this as a service, as any other service one might pay for... it would not be difficult to set up one’s own courier service, just more expensive, and more inconvenient. And as to the Greater Queens holding most of the wealth and power - well, they were established first, and only after the Family Exodus were the Lesser Tribes established; by then, there was only so much land left to claim without cutting into the Av’Touched lons. And some of the Greater Tribes did donate land when their land holdings became too large. We who wanted to rule as separate Tribes rather than Main Families in another’s Tribe had to be content with what we were able to claim. And as our new Tribes were not nearly as large as the older Tribes we came from, we did not need to hold nearly as much land or as much power.” There. Perhaps not as sound an argument as it could have been, since it was spur of the moment, but it did poke serious holes into Tokia’s own theories. Had she had time to do research on her points, she could have made them airtight and irrefutable. But then, she suspected that this would not matter, since she was sure that Tokia, once refuted, would not turn to arguing semantics, but rather would try a different approach altogether. Patience did not seem to be a strong point of the Ottanu, either. And once again she proved to have read the Ottanu right.
