Exile

by Colleen Vanderlinden

  She was fine with that. She had work of her own to accomplish.

  After she’d finished getting ready, she went down to the kitchen, as usual, for her morning cup of tea. The cook greeted her, watching her with more than a little curiosity as Shannen prepared her tea.

  “Is it true?” the cook finally asked. Her daughter was sitting on the floor nearby, practicing her writing on a large pad of paper.

  “Is what true?” Shannen asked her, glancing up from her cup.

  “Daarik is contesting his father for leadership of our people?”

  Shannen sighed. “It is appearing that way, unless things get straightened out.”

  The cook was silent for several long moments, and Shannen looked up at her again. “You are wise in years, Miyan,” Shannen said, using the cook’s name for the first time. She rarely conversed with any of the Maarlai, though she had made a point of learning all of their names. “What is your opinion of the issue?”

  Miyan shook her head. “This is one of those situations in which it is best to say nothing, lest the one I prefer to be in power loses. No one who has fought for the right to rule feels comfortable with their opponent’s supporters in their midst.”

  Shannen nodded. “True. But,” she glanced around the kitchen. “There’s nobody here but I, and my opinion matters not at all to any of the Maarlai.”

  “Save one,” Miyan pointed out.

  Shannen ceded the point with a quick nod.

  After a moment, Miyan sighed. “Elrek has been a good leader for us. A wise leader. At least, he was until Jarvik glued himself to his side. It is…” she trailed off, shaking her head.

  “It is what?”

  “It is unnatural,” Miyan whispered.

  Shannen tilted her head, watching the older Maarlai. “Unnatural, how? For two males to become close?”

  “No, not that. That is a good thing, for any of us, male or female, to find someone they can confide in.” Miyan leaned her arms on the counter, the bread she had been kneading momentarily forgotten. “Elrek despised Jarvik for most of his very long life. Jarvik was ever power-hungry, untrustworthy. During the war, Jarvik led a contingent of others who wanted to eradicate your people. Elrek wouldn’t hear of it, and for that, my king rose higher in my esteem and the esteem of many others. That is simply not the Maarlai way.”

  Shannen nodded. She had heard as much from Daarik the previous day.

  “The war finally ended and found us victorious, but our king was greatly weakened by the length and brutality of the whole thing. He was already quite old when the war started, you know. One of our oldest.”

  Miyan paused, and Shannen said nothing, afraid to break whatever spell it was that had the cook sharing her thoughts. A word might make the mood blow away like ash in the breeze.

  “Jarvik is a healer of some talent. Not just talent with herbs and salves the way some of us are… but powers.”

  Shannen thought that over for a while. She knew, based on their discussion the night before and other talk she’d heard in the village, that some of the Maarlai possessed powers even beyond the brute strength for which they were renowned. Some, for example, had had the power to create portals between planets, transporting their people from one world to another. Her friend Janara apparently had a bit of that power, though the original port-keepers, the ones who had brought the Maarlai to Earth, had perished in the act of making the portals. There were none with their strength left, though Janara was training, trying to become more powerful.

  And now, healing powers.

  “Are there any others who can heal as he does?” Shannen asked.

  Miyan shook her head. “It is why Jarvik became so close with Elrek. For a very long time, Jarvik seemed to be making the king stronger. Better. And, as a result, he earned the king’s trust and loyalty. But it seems as if, now, the king begins to fail even with Jarvik’s healing.” She paused. “I fear that in their closeness, they grow similar in philosophy as well. Our king depends on Jarvik.”

  Shannen sipped her tea and thought. She would look into it more, before taking any lasting action against Jarvik. Without a doubt, he was the disease that needed to be cut from the Maarlai if they were to move forward, and he’d already very likely tainted too many others. But if his magic was doing more than just “not working” for Elrek anymore…

  “At any rate,” Miyan continued, “I believe that Daarik will strive to uphold the beliefs we hold dear. If it comes to it, I know where my loyalties lie.”

  “Does the fact that he is married to a human lessen those loyalties at all?”

  Miyan looked up at her, and Shannen awaited her answer, realizing that she was holding her breath.

  “Not for me, miss. I have come to know you a bit.”

  “But for others?”

  “It is a break with what many believe it is to be a Maarlai,” Miyan answered quietly. Shannen didn’t answer. It was the answer she feared, the answer she expected, but it didn’t hurt any less.

  Shannen thanked Miyan, washed her teacup, and left the kitchens. Her goal for the morning was to collect some wild plants that she would need to have in reserve if she was forced to move forward in her plans for Jarvik. They grew in the scrubby forests near the Maarlai capitol. She grabbed a harvesting pouch from the shed near the farm fields, glanced around, then trudged past the fields, past the outer wall, nodding at the guards stationed there, and into the forest, such as it was. It was a sparse place, where the once-majestic trees grew spindly and yellowed, the verdant mosses that should have been carpeting the forest floor long dried to a dirty brown. Dust clouds rose around her boots with each step, and the few bird calls she heard sounded empty, lost.

  She investigated the bases of trees, finding what she was looking for on the northern side of many tree trunks. Luckily, this was a plant that seemed to thrive in all climates, all conditions. If only those that gave life would thrive as easily as this one.

  She filled her bag about halfway full, then added common wild herbs used for teas and salves on top of that, just in case anyone decided to look at what she’d harvested. She found a fallen log and settled onto it, breathing deeply, trying to center her mind.

  If Jarvik continued to be a problem, she would solve it. But she had to know exactly what kind of power he had over the king, first. As to everything else, the other Maarlai who were supposedly against Daarik, Daarik’s split with his father… that would work itself out, in time. Hopefully, it would not come to war, but if it did, she did not see how those who opposed Daarik, Baerne, and his warrior friends could believe they’d be successful.

  Unless they were being promised something, some way of winning that she and Daarik and Janara had not seen yet.

  She sat for a while longer, turning it all over in her mind, then finally got up with a sigh and started trudging back toward the village. As soon as she walked through the southern gates, she saw Janara leap up from the ground, where she’d been sitting, and run to her.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Shannen asked, immediately thinking of her husband.

  “I need to show you something,” Janara said, pulling her along.

  “No need to pull,” Shannen said, yanking her hand back from Janara’s. “I’m coming,” she told her friend.

  “Sorry. I just…” Janara shook her head and kept walking. “This is crazy.”

  “What is?”

  “You’ll see.”

  They walked quickly, and in silence, until they arrived at Janara’s hut. Janara closed and bolted the door behind them, looked through the windows, then pulled aside the cloth curtains, shutting them off from the outside. The hairs on the back of Shannen’s neck rose at the odd behavior of her friend, and she moved her hand closer to where her dagger was sheathed.

  Once she had the windows closed, Janara bent and dug under the mattress and blankets in the sleeping nook, coming out with a thick sheaf of papers.

  She set them down on the table and wordlessly waved Shannen over.
<
br />   Shannen watched her closely, but moved to the table nonetheless, her curiosity definitely piqued.

  “Well?”

  “Remember yesterday evening, when you told us who your father is, and I asked why you aren’t ruling?”

  Shannen nodded. “And I told you it’s because I am a female.”

  “And I said that didn’t sound right. You took it to mean that I meant it was unfair. That was not what I meant, but I had to be sure.”

  “Sure of what?” Shannen asked, her stomach twisting.

  Janara looked up at her. “These are the laws of your people. We demanded them upon your uncle’s surrender, so that we could see how well our laws meshed with your own. We were fine with letting you all keep to most of your laws, but we… Elrek and his council… thought it would be smart for us to be knowledgeable about your laws. Your government is required to send them to us every time a law is changed or updated. This is the most recent set.”

  “All right. And?” Shannen asked, wondering where her friend was going with this, all concern that Janara may have meant her harm forgotten.

  Janara started flipping through the sheaf of papers. “This is the section on royal succession. Read amendment number twenty-seven.”

  Shannen glanced at Janara, then bent over the paper, tracing down the long column of text until she came to the amendment Janara had mentioned. She read the words, then read them again.

  “This makes no sense at all,” she murmured, reading over it again. “My uncle would have had it changed. Are you sure these are official?”

  Janara pointed to the seal, the signature of an official she knew well in her uncle’s court. “And as to your uncle not changing it, look at the references at the end of the document.”

  Shannen leafed through, finding the note and reference Janara had noted. Then she flipped back to the original amendment.

  “It’s an Immutable,” she said quietly.

  “So unless my Common is rustier than I believe it to be,” Janara said, “this, your people’s most current set of laws, states that women can indeed rule, and that, in particular, his daughter should inherit the throne on her twenty-sixth birthday. How old are you, wife of Daarik?”

  “Twenty-seven,” she said quietly.

  “And it appears as if your father knew this was one of the laws those who came after would reverse if they could. Each king, in your society, is allowed to make one Immutable law in their tenure, if I remember correctly,” Janara said, and Shannen nodded numbly as it hit her, what all of this meant.

  “According to that end reference, he created this law the year you were born,” Janara said gently. “He expected something else of you, my friend.”

  “This is insane.”

  “Is it?” Janara pressed.

  Was it? She’d been paraded out in front of the crowds like a prize when she’d been young, a constant tie between her uncle and her father’s reign, a reminder that they were of the same blood. It was only after she started “misbehaving” that he’d tried to pretend she didn’t exist. He’d never told her any of this. Never groomed her to take the crown, never acted, in any way, as if his reign was anything other than permanent.

  Shannen looked up at Janara. “Does Daarik know?”

  Janara shook her head. “I haven’t said anything to him, no.”

  It was all becoming clear. He had to earn the loyalty of his people, and it would be that much harder to do with a human wife at his side.

  The humans needed to be united, to stop fighting, to understand that the Maarlai were their brothers and sisters, and that they all needed to unite or die.

  Yes, it was becoming clear. But she was not sure if it was something she could do.

  She held Janara’s gaze, and her friend gave her a look of understanding. “I will keep this to myself, until you ask me not to,” Janara said softly.

  “Thank you.”

  Janara nodded. “For what it’s worth, you might have been a nightmare of a princess, but you may just be exactly what your people need in a queen.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Daarik hunched over the scarred wood table. Maps, lists, and other scrawled notes were fanned out before him, and he looked at them without really seeing them.

  He had them all memorized by now, anyway.

  He listened as his friends and advisors debated amongst themselves. He glanced up from the papers, taking in the scene around him. Baerne sat to his right, his grandmother to his left. The rest of the seats at the long wooden table were filled by some of his most trusted soldiers, soldiers who had fought alongside him and, when he’d gone to them with the current mess, had instantly vowed allegiance to him.

  His eyes swept past the empty seat where Janara was supposed to be. She’d hurried off over an hour ago, muttering about something she needed to check on.

  “All I’m saying is that removing Jarvik would be an expedient first step,” Baerne was insisting. Shannen’s idea of taking care of Jarvik had spread quickly, first to Baerne, and then to over half of his lieutenants. They all saw, and knew, that Jarvik had slowly but surely wheedled his way into Elrek’s good graces, using his skill as a healer to gain the type of power very few had. Even Daarik, groomed to be the Maarlai’s next leader, did not have the king’s ear the way Jarvik did.

  And now, even less so, Daarik thought as the debate continued.

  “Daarik is against it, and so am I,” his grandmother said calmly.

  “I am not entirely against it,” Daarik said with a sigh. “If there is no other choice, then yes, I see the wisdom in getting Jarvik out of the picture. But no matter what else he is doing, he is the only reason, very likely, that my father has lived as long as he has. I owe him a debt, no matter how vile he is.”

  “Honorable,” Faerlah said, and he gave his grandmother a small nod. There it was: the Maarlai notion of honor, the one that Jarvik no longer adhered to. But just because Jarvik didn’t keep to their beliefs didn’t mean that everyone else should abandon them as well. That, as much as anything else, was what they would be fighting for. Daarik was proud, for the most part, of how his people had handled themselves during the war with the humans. He was not about to become the kind of monster Jarvik had advised them to be. Not then, and certainly not now.

  “There is another issue,” one of his soldiers, an enormous Maarlai named Vrynn, said quietly. He was a good fighter, a loyal soldier. He was also Janara’s oldest brother, and Daarik had been friends with him from the cradle.

  “What is that?” Baerne asked. Vrynn looked at Daarik.

  “You are a smart leader. You know how things are. More would follow you were it not for the human. You preach the preservation of traditional Maarlai values while devoting yourself to a human wife. Nothing about that honors our traditions.”

  Daarik stayed silent for a moment, fighting the urge to argue, to defend his wife. He knew Vrynn was not saying it as an insult to Shannen. He liked her well enough, and he knew well of the friendship Janara had forged with the human princess. There was not a hateful bone in Vrynn’s body, and for that, Daarik was grateful.

  “So I have heard,” Daarik finally said. “You all know that what we’re doing here is only a first step toward truly allying with the humans, right? We need to work with them or we are all dead.”

  “Not necessarily,” another of his men, Dorne, commented. “We can work toward trying to leave. They can stay.”

  “It will be years, probably, before anyone is trained enough to move us, if it can be done at all. We need to restore this planet as best we can, and for that, we need the humans on board,” Daarik said. He held his hand up, heading off the arguments that he knew were coming. “And no, exterminating the humans won’t do it. We’re back to our values again. We will work with them. Having a human queen will help with that.”

  “But it will not help in unifying our people now,” Vrynn argued. “And you know that, commander.”

  “What’s done is done. She is here, and she’s no
t going anywhere,” Daarik said. Not that I’d ever let her, he thought to himself, memories of the previous night flitting through his thoughts. She was his, completely, in a way he’d never realized he wanted anyone to be. He’d realized, sleeping next to her, that he was doing this as much for her as for anything else. If Jarvik had his way the humans would be wiped out. It would not take much. All of their most fierce warriors had died in the war against his own people. They would not survive a second war.

  And she would be the first to die, if it came to that. Daarik would not let that happen.

  “I have a question,” Baerne asked, and Daarik shot him a look. Baerne wasn’t usually one for questions.

  “Hm?”

  “Jarvik hates humans. Wants them dead.”

  Daarik nodded.

  “Elrek came up with this idea to wed you to a human, despite the fact that Jarvik has had his ear the entire time. You’d think Jarvik would have been dead-set against that. It makes no sense.”

  Daarik remembered the conversation he’d had with Shannen, in which she’d told him what her view of a political marriage truly was. She’d said he was naive, and he’d said she was too human, that his father would never come up with something like that.

  But Jarvik would.

  Daarik cleared his throat. “Jarvik went along with it because he was playing his own angle.”

  “Which was?”

  “By having a high-profile human here, if we decided that war was the next step…” he trailed off.

  “What?” Baerne asked.

  “Shannen would have been the first to die. A warning to her people about what was coming,” he said quietly. “And she saw it and I was too naive to see what was right in front of me.”

  The room was silent for several moments.