by Mari Collier
“What the hell do you all think you all are doing?”
The language was similar. There was no misunderstanding the words and the authority in the voice. Da hurriedly stuffed the elbenor in his pocket while turning. They found themselves looking at a handsome, male being with wide shoulders, slim hips and flanks, a black kineman's hat set on his head, and clothed in the dark, blue hue of Don. More amazing, the eyes were grey, flat, and hard, but this being, despite the blind eyes, could see, and he was looking straight at them.
The candies in Da's left hand fell to the floor and he stammered, “My, Laird, I sorrow.” And the rest of the words he meant to say would nay come as he gazed at the man his mither had died for. How could he go to this man who saw him as a thief?
All three clasped their hands behind their backs and bowed. Pi could think of nothing to say, and the food weighed heavy in his gut. Any Ab caught stealing was sent to the mines in Ayran and he was certain he would die there this time.
The man moved from the door and walked with long strides toward them, his shoulders swinging, his rolling walk of a man long in the saddle imitated that of a Thalian, and yet to their eyes his body was too straight, the gait wrong. In the doorway loomed another man. This one was taller, heavier, his bodysuit of navy blue material accentuating every muscle that rippled and rolled down from his neck, through his shoulders, arms, torso, thighs, and legs. He walked with the normal, rolling, rocking gait of a Thalian, but it did little to assure them. Behind the strange Thalian, Lamar, and his Counselor, Beatrice, appeared.
The blind-eyed one's hand was on Da's shoulder and another hand gripped him under his chin and lifted it up. “Y'all were stealing.”
“Tis ye, Lorenz, ye, nay you all.” The huge man stood beside them, glanced down and said, “They are the Abs hired for the cleaning.”
“Y'all don't call this clean.”
“Considering the condition over the last few years, aye, it has been cleaned.” Beatrice was as uninterested in Abs as Lamar, but she felt the truth was necessary.
The man's face remained hard as he looked down at Da. “Y'all want to hand me that…” He saw the blank look in Da's eyes and switched his wording. “Show me what ye put in your pocket, or do I turn ye upside down and shake it out?” His voice was mild, but there was no mistaking his intent.
For a moment Da hesitated, his face reddened, and then anger burst through. “Tis your fault. Ye dinna come! They killed her!”
“Whoa, back up. Killed who?”
“Mither. She said ye'd come. Ye and him.” Da pointed at the Maca, who was eating a meat pie and watching with narrowed eyes. “Ye are to restore Don and I would be in House and a Warrior.”
“Why would anyone kill your mother-mither-over what she said to ye?” Lorenz was puzzled. The kid was truly angry and blamed him.
“She was the Kenning Woman and she proclaimed it to all. That tis why they killed her!”
“There tis nay Kenning Woman.” Lamar muttered.
“And when was this all supposed to have happened?” Lorenz continued his questioning.
“Seven years ago. And she was the Kenning Woman. All listened to her.”
“Boy, (Lorenz switched to Thalian again) laddie, seven years ago we were loading the ship to start here. How could she know, ken, that?”
Wee Da looked at him in amazement. He was spent inside. All he wanted to do was crawl away and hide, and still the man held him firm in his grasp, looking at him with those strange, grey eyes that should nay see, but did.
Lorenz started to say more, but time shifted and he wasn't looking at a boy's face. It was a muscular woman with long, dark brown, wavy hair and light brown eyes, holding out her right hand to him, a pleading look on her face and in her eyes. For some reason her left side was obscured as though floating in fog. He blinked his eyes and he was staring down at the kid. Kenning he understood. Often his father had called Mama a Kenning Woman and said that he had some of her abilities.
“Who killed her?”
“I nay ken. Most say the Sisterhood, but others say it was House too.”
“Why do ye call him Laird?” The huge Thalian asked.
“The Kenning Woman said that you, the Maca of Don, would return with your blind-eyed laddie and restore Thalia.” Pi was trying to find words to save them all.
The Maca gave a tight smile.
“Who can verify, hell, tell me what ye are saying tis the truth about your mother, mither.”
Pi cleared his throat. “She told her vision on the waterfront of Betron. There were many there for the Council and for the Ab signing.”
“All Abs lie.” Lamar admonished. “Ye must hear it from House or a House Tri.”
Pi straightened, his face red. “I would be House if Mither had stayed in Ayran. He tells the truth. The Sisters came to the Ab quarters to make sure she was dead.”
“Did y'all see or hear them.” Lorenz ignored Lamar's snort.
“Well, nay. They sent in Martin to verify her death.”
“Uh huh, and I suppose he's somebody important too.” Lorenz inclined his head towards Ka.
“Nay, Laird, I am but an Ab and I will leave now.” Ka started edging toward the door.
“Stay right where y'all are.”
They could hear the bustle of a crowd outside and Llewellyn wiped his hands. “Tis time we made our appearance.”
“You all stay here until I get back to sort this out. Eat all the food you all want.” The hands released Da. “After y'all take out what's in your pocket and put it on the table.” The last words snapped out.
Wee Da swallowed and drug up the silver figure. “I sorrow, Laird. I will nay touch it again.” He tried to make his face pathetic and then bowed.
“Abs canna remain in here during a meeting of the Council.” Lamar was outraged.
Lorenz turned on Lamar, his face a cold mask when Llewellyn stopped him. “Why tis this important to ye, Lorenz?”
“It's hunch. I'm going with my gut.”
Llewellyn smiled. “Aye, in that case, they stay.” He saw the disappointment on all three faces. “Mayhap ye should turn on the viewers and eat all ye wish,” He turned and walked for the door.
“Llewellyn, ye have forgotten the ways of House. Ye canna do this.”
Llewellyn stopped for a moment, his voice hard. “Ye forget, my Elder. I am Maca.” He strode out of the room.
Chapter 8: The Treaty
Attendance at a Council of the Realm meeting by the Tris and those of lesser standing in the Houses was but a fraction of bygone days. What few Tris of Don and other Houses were in the audience were in the middle sections on either side of the reserved boxes. Once Abs were excluded but now their brown garments filled the side rows from top to bottom. They were a bitter reminder to the Houses as to who really ruled Thalia.
As the members of the House of Don emerged, the crowd became silent. Beatrice and the blind-eyed one stayed in the open Don seating area while the Maca and Lamar moved to join the procession ready to take the Guardian and Counselor chairs. The Council of the Realm would nay be dull this evening.
Ilman from Ishner, appointed Counselor of Don, wedded to the appointed Guardian of Don, rushed at Llewellyn, her palms extended to push him out of the line. “Ye are nay fit to sit.” she was reduced to screaming when Llewellyn's hands came out and encircled hers. Agony etched her face as he tightened his grip and she went to her knees before being lifted and thrown towards Ishner's place in line. She landed with a thump on her backside. The people in the stands gasped, then laugher rippled in small waves.
“There tis your trouble maker, Ishmalisa of Ishner. Do with her as ye please. She tis barred from Don.” His roar filled the auditorium. Llewellyn turned to the appointed Guardian, Lavina, and his words rumbled out.
“I am Maca, and to ye I issue my call. Ye may take your seat in Don's seating, or ye may leave. If ye leave, ye will be banned from Don.”
Lavina lifted her arms for the Maca to pick her up so she
could lay her head on his shoulders, confused as to how she should react until she felt the burning, nerve tingling command of the Maca's hands. She first laid her head on the right shoulder and then the left, but instead of the clucking sound of greeting, she was whispering, “Maca, they have my laddie,” in the right ear, “and my beloved,” in his left ear.
Llewellyn responded in like manner laying his head on one shoulder and then the next as he whispered, “Tell the man standing outside the door that Mac says ye may leave by fliv.” He then set her down and gave a quick smile.
“Since ye have acknowledged me, ye may stay or leave, with my blessing.” He moved to stand beside Lamar as the trumpet sounded to signal the Guardians to convene.
Beauty held up her hand to stay the line and started towards Llewellyn. “Ye are an interloper here. Nay male may sit as Guardian.” Her voice rang out.
Llewellyn placed both hands on his hips and a wicked grin lashed across his broad face. ”Beauty,” he greeted her, “I remind ye, I am Maca of Don. Ye still owe me bedding for the time I beat ye in the Arena. Do ye intend to honor your word now in front of all?”
Beauty stopped as laughter ran through the crowd again, and Betta put a restraining hand on her wrist.
“Nay now.” Betta's voice was sharper than normal.
Beauty swung to face her mother. “Mither, we canna allow this breach.” She ground the words out.
“He tis Maca,” came the complacent words of her mother. “Come, ere the Kreppies complain we delay the Golden One and make us small in the eyes of Thalia.” She turned and started up the middle staircase that ran inside the round stone column holding the Guardian's rostrum. Two lines of Guardians and Counselors started up the left and right staircases that led to their seats. Beauty quickly caught up with Betta, her face flushed and her fists clenched as tightly as her teeth.
Betta seated herself and watched the others emerge from the stairs and take their seats. To her right and left the seats curved around her and Beauty. Army, Betron, Ishner, Medical, and Rurhran were on her right. Ayran, Don, the empty chairs of Flight, Manufacture and Trade, and then the appointed Guardian and Counselor of Troy were on the left. All of the seats for Guardian and Counselor, except Ishner, Rurhran, and Don, were occupied by women. Ishmalisa was allowed her mate to be her Counselor since he always deferred to her. The Counselor of Rurhran never contradicted his Guardian and was the last of the male Warriors that fought the Justines. The last male warrior, if one did nay acknowledge Lamar. It was painful to look at Lamar and see what he had sacrificed for Thalia. His existence shamed them all for their adherence to the rule of the Justines and the Sisterhood. Now there was another treaty. How many new humiliations would be demanded from Thalia? Llewellyn was the focal point. Why had the Justines permitted him to live and to return? Her forefinger touched the audio circle and her words came out strong and clear.
“Welcome Thalians and honored guests.” In her mind she saw all the Kreppies crumpled on the floor with broken necks and backs. “We are here to approve the new treaty from the Justine League.”
The Kreppies were seated below and directly across from the Guardian and Counselor of the Realm in the House section. Balen touched the amplifier button on his chest and stood. “Prepare to welcome the Golden One. Honor him.”
The double doors opened and the Justine appeared. His copper hued hair was mid-length and bare of covering. His copper eyes with the golden circle around the pupils were fixed on his reserved seat. His golden robe barely covered the shimmering bluish white gown that swept to the floor. The robe swung easily as the man moved with measured steps across the arena, his longish face in complete repose. Balen and the rest of the Kreppies dropped to their knees and lowered their heads. A murmur rose and flew through the spectators as another figure appeared. This one was not as tall as the Justine, only about three inches over six feet, and was covered by a long, black Thalian warrior's cloak. The cowl was pulled forward and effectively hid the features, but all could see this one moved with the rolling gait of a Thalian.
“Who?”
“Who?” The word buzzed through the crowd.
Their attention was diverted as more beings entered and the crowd gaped in wonder. The first was a tallish woman with exquisite even features, high cheek bones, and full red lips. Her curly hair was as red as an angry sunset. The thick mane of curls spilled down past her shoulders and the sides were pulled up and tied back with a shiny green ribbon. Her cape of green was thrown back revealing a dull green, tight fitting garment that showed every curve and line. Her boots had slender, spiky heels that would nay permit running. Never had any of the spectators seen a female with such heavy mammary glands, not sensibly flattened, but pushed up and outward by her clothing, unless she was due to birth, but that did nay seem probable since the woman was slender from the glands down. They gasped as they saw her Justine copper, golden pupil circled eyes look at them and at the Guardians as she moved a few feet to the left of the door.
The next being was a male dressed in clothes of mottled browns, tans, and greens. His hair under a kineman's hat was the red of a young Justine. His eyes were Justine, but his build was wide in the shoulders, more muscular down the middle, and slim hipped. In his arms, he cradled a weapon. More beings followed. Their clothes were mottled like the first man, but most were hatless, and two of them had bands tied around their heads. In their arms were the disallowed weapons, but it was their appearance that struck the crowd. These were no known beings. One was but medium height, his skin coloring like a Thalian's and his eyes were blue. A woman with fewer curls and sensible warrior shoes was dark haired with brown eyes and could have passed for a smaller Thalian. One man was the color of the darkest brew from Rurhran and his black hair looked permanently crimped. Two other men were medium in height, with bronzed skin like land Abs, but their hair and eyes were dark. The last man was so blond he could be a Slavey's slave if there were any Slaveys left in the galaxy.
The Guardians were as astounded as the crowd, but Betta managed to keep her face neutral as she tried to calculate how many new planets and cultures these beings represented. Betta surmised that there might be three, possibly four, and Llewellyn had contacts with them. The figure beside the Justine was the puzzle. Nay Thalians had been permitted to leave other than the appointed envoy to the Justine League. Lamar and Beatrice had returned with Llewellyn and the robed figure was nay the daughter of Rurhran, nay her counselor as they were here, not yet scheduled to leave for duty. It was time to speak and she addressed her remarks to the Justine.
“We request that ye advise your people that weapons are nay allowed in the Guardians Council.”
The Justine looked up at her. “Guardian, I have no control over those beings. Our minds cannot penetrate theirs.” Silence filled the hall and Betta considered. Were they superior beings? She looked down at them and spoke to the strange woman. “Will ye have them disarm?”
The woman lifted her head. “No, not at this time.” Her face showed no emotion, nor was there any in her rich contralto.
Betta started to object, but the Justine began speaking.
“Guardians and Counselors of the Realm, the Justines have agreed to deliver this new treaty that has been imposed upon us. This treaty affects the Justine Refuge, Thalia, Krepyon, and Brendon. The harsh terms we extracted from Thalia and Brendon are rescinded.
“The treaty itemizes the freedoms you are given back and the restraints and obligations of the Justines and Krepyons. It includes the name of the Thalian that sent us word of your attack, the money we have paid her and your Sisterhood over the last one hundred and sixty-three years as you implemented our policies and removed the dissidents from the Houses. At this time, the Thalian responsible for the new treaty will read it to you.”
At his words that told of a betrayer in their midst, Betta reached out and clasped Beauty's hand, and brought Magda of Medicine to her feet, her wrinkled face contorted in anger. The hands of the Guardians and Counselors o
f Ishner and Rurhran were tightly clasped. Betta glanced at her miniature screen. Jolene of Ayran, her face tightened, had a thin smile of satisfaction. Brenda, Maca of Betron, was scowling, and Betta kenned that Brenda was thinking of her laddie, Laird of Betron, recently condemned. Bobinet, Guardian of Army, was looking wildly at everyone, and Betta's heart sank.
The Thalian beside the Justine reached up, undid the cape and cowl, swept the garment back and off, lifted her head, and with arms and fists pumping upward, screamed, “Thalia, I have returned.” Her grey hair was a short bob and the black warrior's suit accentuated every muscle. Although she neared the declining age, absence from Thalia had nay diminished that magnificent body.
For a moment there was silence, and then the people rose and screamed as one, “LouElla, LouElla!”
Betta was on her feet with the rest, ignoring Beauty who remained seated. It was LouElla, the finest Warrior Thalia ever birthed. LouElla who while exiled had stolen the Golden One and used it as a huge weapon to crash into the Justine planet in revenge for all of Thalia's dead. Thalia mourned at her passing and appointed LouElla as honorary Guardian of Flight. The remaining Justines had permitted it as all of Thalia's space transports were destroyed, the factories deactivated, and the schools closed.
LouElla lowered her arms and held forth the thin sheets of metal with inscribed words. “Valun of Justine has given ye the gist of this treaty, but tis nay I that am responsible. It tis my Maca, my laddie, Llewellyn!” The pride in her voice blasted to shreds the very basis of the Sisterhood's oldest tenet that LouElla had decreed there be nay male Macas. “His laddie, Lorenz, my younger,” the pride still in her tone as she looked at the blind-eyed one in the Don section before continuing, “their kin and hired retainers.” She swept her hand, indicating the group at the door. “They are responsible.”
