by Liam Reese
“Not good,” Zaynorth said, his careworn face looking older than usual. “He was not covering his head against the sun and has heat stroke and the burns are quite severe.”
“I should have noticed,” Besmir said, shaking his head. “Made him cover up.”
“You have had other things to concern yourself with,” Zaynorth said, “and he is a grown man, we should be able to trust him to care for himself.” The old man’s irritability was tempered with obvious concern for his brother.
“How long until we get to the palace?” Besmir asked.
“Captain is thinking tomorrow afternoon,” Ru Tarn said, wincing and doubling over.
“Are you all right?” Arteera asked.
“Yes...I am being...fine,” Ru Tarn chirped.
The ambassador turned and limped off towards a door set into one of the cabins aboard. Besmir watched her go, a twinge of concern for her well being tugging at his mind.
“Any more Gods come to visit you in your dreams?” Arteera asked as Besmir led her away from the others and towards the prow.
Besmir shook his head.
“Not today,” he said.
The ship was making good time in the wind, her sails bellied out and pulling them northwards. They passed a small settlement with piers jutting out into the river. Boats and nets had been carefully stowed and the warm glow of fires lit the simple homes and Besmir sighed.
“What?” His wife asked.
“I just wondered when it got so complicated,” Besmir told her, leaning on the rail.
“A decade ago, when you went and declared yourself King,” Arteera said.
“Yes,” Besmir grunted a laugh. “Should have been content to stay in those tents.”
The couple fell silent as Arteera drew abstract shapes on the back of his hand.
“I wonder what Joranas is doing right now?” the Queen said.
“Getting dirty and ripping his clothes I’d imagine,” Besmir said with a chuckle.
Arteera smiled sadly, a gentle sob issuing from her chest.
“I will get him back,” Besmir said with determination as he stared upriver.
A shiver of awe and overwhelming sense of his own insignificance hit Besmir when the sun rose the following morning. He had kissed Arteera and left her in the cabin they had been assigned to see the sunrise over Boranash. In the distance, his eyes picked out a darker patch on the horizon and he squinted to get a better view.
Wit Shull, the Corbondrasi capital city was immense. Besmir had believed Morantine to be a great, cosmopolitan city but the size and grandeur of Wit Shull made it look like a country fair. As the royal yacht slid gracefully upriver, Besmir’s wonder grew. The almost endless fields that had stretched away on both sides of the wide river gave way to small dwellings interspersed with large warehouses he assumed were filled with the produce from the fields.
Arteera gasped as she joined him a little later, her eyes gleaming at the brightly colored buildings and even more brightly colored citizens. Main construction was of sandstone, easily harvested from the surrounding desert but each building had some kind of decorative feature, even if it was as simple as a lone band running round it.
Spires and towers exploded into the air like fireworks, riots of color with jade and sapphire, rose and peach greeting Besmir’s eye at every turn. At first glance these colors appeared random but Besmir soon picked out associations between color and building type.
“It is being way of telling people what building is being used for,” Ru Tarn explained when he asked about it. “Green is being guard building, red is tavern or inn, blue is places of learning or advice.”
The Corbondrasi ambassador did not seem bothered by the pains she had been the previous evening although she sounded tired and her plumage appeared faded.
Now they were surrounded by buildings on both sides of the narrowing river the wind all but faded to nothing and crew members appeared from below decks to take up long poles. Each would dip their pole into the water at the bow, finding an anchor point, before walking the length of the boat to propel it forward. Working silently and in pairs, the Corbondrasi worked tirelessly to power the boat against the current.
“Does not look to have changed much,” Zaynorth said as he approached them.
“When were you here?” Besmir asked.
“I came with your father, thirty years past,” the old mage said. “Your grandfather arranged the visit but was not well enough to make the voyage so Joranas went in his place.” Zaynorth stared into the city as if seeing the past. “Here, look at the palace,” he added, pointing.
Besmir gawped at the sprawling buildings, each looked to be covered in gold and he shivered at the expense, frowning at such waste.
A different culture, different people, keep your opinions to yourself.
Banners and flags danced lazily in the hot breeze making Besmir wonder if the configuration meant something, some signal the royal family was in residence. His keen eyes picked out numerous figures high among the rooftops, camouflaged but not from his gaze. Each was heavily armed with a longbow and sword, their own gazes raking the river and buildings for any potential threat.
“How big is this place?” Besmir asked as the palace slid by them on both sides. Every so often a bridge soared overhead, connecting the two sides of the palace and Corbondrasi peered over the edge as the royal vessel swum by beneath them.
“This is being difficult to answer,” Ru Tarn said. “Palace and city becoming one many years ago so is being difficult to tell where palace ends and city begins,” she shrugged. “We are being here soon,” she added, pointing.
Besmir followed her gaze and saw a large dock protruding into the river. Like everything else here it was large and colorful, the whole trees that had been driven into the riverbed had been painted in a pattern and shade was provided by lengths of colorful cloth making it look as if they were docking inside a rainbow.
Besmir took Arteera’s arm as the hollow thump issued through the ship, telling him they had moored successfully. Crew darted about in a carefully practiced dance to lower a large walkway down from the deck to the dock, kneeling as they finished their assigned tasks.
Besmir had been dreading the pomp and ceremony of a royal visit, his only goal in being here the recovery of Joranas. Anything else was a distraction or hold up stopping him from getting his boy back. The hunter king of Gazluth prepared himself for the fanfares and flowery speeches as he helped Arteera down from the ship.
Silence greeted them. He stared out at the dock, leading inside the buildings, to see a few armed guards lining the walls and a pair of Corbondrasi who must have been sent to meet them.
The male was powerfully built, muscular and strong with dark red and green plumage easily visible beneath the thin clothing he wore. As Besmir approached he found himself staring into a pair of mint green eyes the like of which he had never come across before. The piercing stare felt as if it burrowed deep inside Besmir’s very soul, able to pick out his deepest fears and secrets.
The female was slightly shorter than her male counterpart, round and matronly with sky blue and azure plumage. With wide hips and small breasts she had pale gray eyes that also did not miss a thing.
Ru Tarn followed Besmir and Arteera down to the dock falling to her knees before the pair and staring at the floor.
“King Besmir, Queen Arteera, may I be presenting to you Vi Rhane, Light of Heaven and King of all Boranash?”
Besmir felt a shill shock through him.
This is the king?
He had been expecting a demonstration of power and wealth, marching bands and parades but one of the most powerful leaders in the world stood simply before him wearing an unadorned, thin shirt and light trousers.
Vi Rhane stepped forwards and thrust his hand out at Besmir who looked at it as if unsure as to its purpose. The Corbondrasi king let his arm fall slowly.
“My apologies,” he said in a deeper voice than Besmir had ever heard from a Corbondr
asi. “I was under the impression Gazluthians shook hands upon greeting.”
Besmir shook his head as if waking from a dream, his eyes focused on the Corbondrasi king and he bowed low.
“No, your majesty, it is I who should apologize,” he said. “You surprised me...I wasn’t expecting you to be so...”
A wry smile twisted Vi Rhane’s face then and he offered his hand again. This time Besmir took it, feeling the softness of the feathers covering his hand.
“Normal?” Vi Rhane asked. “This is my queen, Su Rhane.”
Besmir bowed to the queen who offered him a curtsy before turning to Arteera. The Corbondrasi queen stared at Besmir’s slender wife with a look of sadness in her face. Her gray eyes expressing the sorrow and loss Arteera felt.
“Oh, love,” Su Rhane said as she enveloped Arteera in a feathery hug.
Arteera clung to the queen, sobbing while the Corbondrasi tried to comfort the woman she had just met.
Chapter Thirteen
“Considering the circumstances, I did not think it prudent to have a massive greeting ceremony,” Vi Rhane said quietly as he and Besmir strolled through the palace.
Besmir had met many Corbondrasi since becoming king of Gazluth and understood their languages were so vastly different it was incredibly difficult for any Corbondrasi to speak his tongue. Vi Rhane, however, spoke as if he was almost a native of Gazluth with an extensive vocabulary and virtually no accent whatsoever.
“I’m grateful, your majesty,” Besmir said. “It might seem rude but all I want is to find my son.”
“Completely understandable,” Vi Rhane said. “And please, call me Vi Rhane.”
“And I am just Besmir. I have to say your Gazluthian is amazing.”
“Thank you,” Vi Rhane said. “I have an excellent teacher, one you may have heard of?” Besmir raised his eyebrows in question. “Founsalla Pira, your ambassador here?”
“Ah, yes,” Besmir said nodding. “I’ve never actually met him in person but I’ve read his reports, he comes across as a capable man.”
The Corbondrasi king hummed and scratched his head.
“Capable? Yes I suppose he is but very...unusual. You know his mother was Corbondrasi and his father from Gazluth?”
“I didn’t think that was possible,” Besmir said in surprise.
“It is an incredibly rare happening,” Vi Rhane said as they passed a group of female Corbondrasi practicing a dance in a courtyard. “Probably as there are few couplings of our two peoples.”
Vi Rhane led them to a group of buildings that were slightly separate from the rest. Less showy and more practical than the rest of the palace buildings, Besmir assumed these were to be his quarters for the time being.
“The Gazluthian embassy,” Vi Rhane said. “Please feel free to refresh yourselves and change before we meet later. If there is anything you need just ask Founsalla and it will be arranged.”
“I was hoping to be able to speak to you regarding the master shaman,” Besmir said hopefully.
Vi Rhane nodded.
“Of course, I’ll have him come straight over.”
“He is utterly insane,” Founsalla Pira said. “Lives in his own filth and squalor. Spends much of his time yanking his own feathers out.” The Corbondrasi-Gazluthian hybrid shuddered at the thought.
Besmir was still surprised at Founsalla’s appearance. Tall and thin to the point of emaciation he had obvious Gazluthian features. Dark brown hair covered his head but his face had a down of feathers that spread down his arms but ended at his wrists. He had none of the bright colors other Corbondrasi sported and all his plumage appeared to be small, downy feathers rather than the large, spouting ones other Corbondrasi had. He wore his heavy ambassadorial robes despite the intense heat and did not appear to suffer for it.
“Honestly, your majesty, even if they do locate the madman I cannot see what use he might be. He is a broken minded, gibbering wreck.”
“I need to know if he knows anything about Porantillia,” Besmir said.
At the mention of her name, Founsalla stepped back from Besmir and made a protective sign.
“Please, majesty, do not use that word here,” he begged. “It is not one to be used in polite Corbondrasi society.”
“She came to me in a dream, said she had my boy and I had to go to see her, physically, to get him back,” Besmir stated flatly. “Oh and she is trapped in some kind of nothingness the other side of hell,” he added.
Founsalla stroked his chin and nodded slowly.
“I can see how that might be a problem,” he said. “Yet I still cannot see how that cavorting lunatic Lor Tas can be of any help.”
“It’s the only hope we’ve got,” Besmir said sadly.
“Then I hope they can locate him, majesty,” Founsalla said without much conviction.
“What ails you, little sister?” Queen Su Rhane asked Ru Tarn as the Corbondrasi ambassador presented herself.
“It is nothing, majesty,” Ru Tarn lied. “There is no need to worry yourself with my problems.”
Su Rhane chirped a snort and held out a small, wooden cup filled with honey. Minute birds flashed over to where she held the sweet goodness out, perching on the edge of the bowl and the queen’s hand to dip tiny beaks into the sugar.
“As queen it is my sworn duty to worry about the problems my people have,” Su Rhane said, running a gentle finger over the head of one of the birds. “As your aunt, my duty is doubled. So tell me, Ru Tarn, what ails you?”
Ru Tarn crossed to the window, sitting beside her aunt and leaned her head against the stonework, watching the birds feasting on the honey the queen held.
“My egg came early,” she said. “Months too early.”
The queen’s head snapped round, startling the birds and causing them to scatter in all directions.
“As I was not expecting it, I did not have the proper preparations in place,” she added. “No pytarrah juice, plus we were traveling.”
“Dear niece that must have been an awful situation. Might I ask what actual measures you took?”
Ru Tarn looked down, embarrassed as she admitted to her dalliance with a married Corbandrasi..
“I have not expelled yet,” Ru Tarn said bitterly.
The Corbondrasi queen looked shocked.
“Not to be brutal but there are measures one can take if wished,” she said.
Tears rolled down Ru Tarn’s face then, soaking her peach-pink feathers and making them dark.
“I don’t know what to do,” she wailed. “If I rid myself of the egg now it might cause so much damage I can’t have another in future. If I have the hatchling I lose my position and the respect that comes with it as well as hurting you.”
“My feelings are secondary in this, but can I ask who the father actually is?”
“My assistant, Qi Noss,” Ru Tarn said with a look of embarrassment.
“And does he know any of this?”
“No, I’ve been speaking to a friend of mine though,” Ru Tarn said.
“Good, what did she suggest?”
“He, aunt, it’s one of King Besmir’s friends, a man named Herofic.”
“A male!” Su Rhane squawked in shock. “No, don’t panic I was surprised, that’s all. Maybe I should meet this Gazluthian,” Su Rhane said.
“He is currently in the infirmary being treated for heatstroke and sunburn,” Ru Tarn told her.
“A stubborn Gazluthian,” the queen mused as she offered the honey out to the birds once more. “An interesting choice, my niece.”
Ru Tarn stared at her queen and aunt as if she had not even considered the possibility. Now the words had been spoke aloud the realization hit her that she did have more than feelings of friendship towards Herofic.
Besmir recoiled from the stench that rose from the thing that had dragged itself before the Gazluthian embassy. A mixture of unwashed body and excrement wafted from Lor Tas with every movement and it was all Besmir could do to stop himself from ordering someo
ne to douse the creature in water.
His dirty skin bore the marks and bruises where he had, apparently, pulled his own feathers out and Besmir could see a few of the larger holes had small blood trails running from them. A featherless Corbondrasi was a strange thing to behold as his skull was a completely different shape once stripped back to skin. Wearing nothing but a filthy rag around his waist the head shaman of Boranash squatted with his arms around his knees as he squinted up at Besmir with blood red eyes.
“The hunter king of Gazluth is seeking Lor Tas,” the shaman said.
His voice was the high-pitched squeak of a Corbondrasi but his words were Gazluthian and easily understandable.
“I do,” Besmir said, covering his nose with one hand.
Lor Tas giggled a hissing sound, slapping the floor with both hands.
“Smelly Lor Tas is upsetting the king?” He asked sarcastically.
“Actually yes,” Besmir said. “You stink.”
Lor Tas laughed again, rolling in a circle on his back and kicking his dirty feet in glee.
“Oh Lor Tas is liking the truth. So many others are lying to Lor Tas so Lor Tas will tell them what they are wanting to know. King Besmir is not being a liar but Lor Tas is not being able to help.”
“You don’t even know what I want,” Besmir said as Founsalla Pira joined them.
“Mwondi came to Lor Tas,” the shaman said. “Mwondi is telling Lor Tas Lor Tas cannot be helping Besmir king.”
“Porantillia took my son,” Besmir said.
Lor Tas recoiled as if he had been doused in acid. He folded himself into a ball and rolled backwards away from Besmir at the mere mention of her name. He drew symbols on the ground and mewled strange noises. Founsalla Pira shook his head.
“I am sorry, majesty,” he said. “It is as I feared. His madness is obvious and complete, I doubt there are any answers here.”
Besmir heard the steady drum of marching feet and an honor guard appeared escorting the Corbondrasi king and queen. They approached Lor Tas carefully, keeping a gap of several feet as if the shaman was some poisonous creature about to strike.
