by J. Naomi Ay
Unfortunately, it was this very trait that allowed the Bagmagians to conquer Leta-Reta's home planet. Although she had loved him dearly, and tried to not to blame the easy-going Mel-Roy for allowing Beckwad to fall, Leta could not help but wonder what might have happened if her mother, or even herself, had been in charge.
"So, you need to find this dude Ber-Kie," Bork was saying, summoning Leta's attention back to the present, back to the beach. "The boss-boy wants to negotiate."
"Or, kill him," Phran laughed, leaning against Bork, and gazing adoringly into his face, although the squidman was doing his best to ignore it.
That was another thing that bugged Leta. Phran was forever climbing all over Bork. Everyone knew he was seeing the Dark girl, the one with the tail. Furthermore, it wasn't like Bork was even so desirable. Even if he was, dual-headed species simply didn't engage in that sort of flirting. Courtships were always conducted in an extremely civilized manner.
Of course, it would have been hard to climb all over another dual-head, as their bodies were simply too wide. Leta tried to imagine how it would have felt to sit in Ren-Ste's lap, their chest pressed against his, an arm casually lying across his shoulder. No, that wouldn't have worked even if Ren-Ste had wanted it. His lap wasn't wide enough to accommodate Leta-Reta's body.
"We can find Ber-Kie," Reta announced. "He was a friend of a friend of ours. Right, Leta? We can hunt him down on the internet."
Leta was surprised at the excitement in her sister-head's voice, while the thought of Ber-Kie and Ren-Ste still made her own throat catch. Perhaps, Reta had moved on, her love for them not nearly as deep as Leta’s, or maybe, that weeping episode last night was just dramatics.
“I suppose we could ask around, ring some old friends, social network a little bit,” Leta offered.
“We haven’t checked the school’s Footbook page since we were ousted,” Reta said.
“Okay,” Bork agreed. Being Marik’s first lieutenant, he was the de facto leader of their little team. “Take whatever you need to make this happen, and get to work. Phran and I have to stay here and manage the business. Bring this Ber-Kie dude back, but don't tell him why.”
Leta-Reta rose to her large feet, and slowly turned to go back to the hotel, to begin her investigation as to Ber-Kie’s whereabouts. Behind her, Phran giggled, while Bork made noises that implied they were mashing lips.
“Disgusting,” Leta murmured. “What does anyone see in him?”
It wasn’t hard to find Ren-Ste. They had joined the Bagmagian army, converted to the Rossorian religion, and had rapidly climbed up the flagpole of command. On their Footbook page, they had posted a picture of themselves in uniform, a bright blue sheath covering both of their heads. Leta-Reta couldn’t contact them though. The Bagmagians were now their sworn enemies, threatening to execute Leta-Reta, and their parents, if they were found.
“Good,” Reta snapped. “I don’t want to speak to him anyway. I hope he gets shot by loyal Beckwads and dies.”
Leta was a little taken-aback by her sister head’s vehemence, but on the other hand, wasn’t that exactly what would happen to them? Although she didn’t have a thought of ever regaining her parents’ lost throne, Leta really wasn’t ready to die before the age of five.
“We’ll have to find Ber-Kie without Ren-Ste’s assistance,” she said calmly, checking Ber-Kie’s Footbook status as well.
It hadn’t been updated in quite some time. In fact, beyond graduation from the Beckwadian School for Boys, there was nothing at all about them.
“We could go to Korelesk and speak to the Duchess,” Reta suggested. “Bork told us to do whatever we need to do.”
That wasn't a terrible idea. Leta certainly wouldn't have minded meeting the famed red-headed duchess. Perhaps, if the Lady was as kind as she was rumored to be, she might take pity on her fellow royals. Maybe she would consider assisting Mel-Roy and Kate-Lina, allowing them to join her ducal household, giving them tasks, although Leta couldn't imagine what.
At present, the royal parents were still living in a cardboard box on the other side of town, occasionally doing odd jobs, none of which they were very adept at performing. Their previous occupation as King and Queen had left them frightfully bereft of marketable skills. Frankly, Mel-Roy could do little but stand on a balcony and wave, while Kate-Lina was an expert at getting their hair done, but not a whole lot else.
Leta-Reta was at a bus station waiting to board the mid-morning shuttle to Korelesk when there was a commotion on the other side of the building. A tall, thin Karupta man, in line right before them, sighed heavily and stepped out of the queue, ultimately missing the bus, although Leta-Reta never found out why. She was too involved in her own problems, for when she climbed aboard the bus, the driver stopped her with a wave of his hand.
“You’ll have to cover that up,” he said, pointing at Reta's head. “We don’t allow your types here. It's in the rules."
For a moment, Leta was so stunned, she couldn’t respond, but eventually, she found her tongue and demanded to know where this rule was written.
"The fine print," the driver said. "Now, get off. You're holding up the line."
Leta maneuvered them away once again, while the emotional Reta burst into tears.
“Here,” the woman behind them nudged. “I’ve got an extra cloak that you can wear.”
A moment later, the dual-headed princess walked on again, clad in an blue Rossorian robe, so all encompassing, not even their mouths were visible to the driver.
“This is ridiculous,” Leta mumbled to her sister-head once they had secured a seat near the back.
“Why is it okay to discriminate against us?” Reta whispered. “It’s so unfair. Was Rehnor always like this?”
Leta wasn’t certain, as she knew little of Rehnor, having spent most of their time cloistered in the Palace of Beckwad.
“No,” said a voice across the aisle, startling both heads, for she had obviously been eavesdropping. "Rehnor used to be much better, not so long ago."
Both heads turned quickly to the left, Leta leaning slightly forward so she could see around her sister. It was the old woman who had leant them the robe, her own body equally obscured by her blue robe.
“It wasn’t like this at all," the old woman continued, shaking her single head disgustedly, while the folds of her robe swished sideways as she did so. “Now we all have to masquerade as something we are not, just to prove that we are not something else. Oh, how I miss those bygone days when that dreadful Karut was still in charge. Back then, we didn't have to pretend to like someone, just so we didn't offend them. Back then, if we wanted to hate, it was perfectly acceptable, and let me tell you, I hated those Karuts."
"I wouldn't want you hating us," Leta said. "Just because we're dual-heads."
"And, I wouldn't want you hating me," the old woman replied. "Just because I have a single head, and six limbs." She stuck three feet out from under robe, surprising both Leta and Reta. "But, I wouldn't want you to have to like me either, just because it's against the law. Forcing us to cover ourselves completely doesn't seem to be the right answer either. Equality is fine, but not at the expense of individuality."
Leta-Reta nodded in concert, although for them, individuality was something they really hadn't known. Leta believed she was fine with this, and to her knowledge, so was Reta. Yet, as they rode along, a tiny, wicked thought niggled at the back of her brain. Would life be better if Reta weren't there? After all, they were now living in a world of single-headed people. They might never return to Beckwad. They might never meet another dual-head, or fall in love. Could they, would they, separate if given the chance?
Some Bagmagians had been known to cut off one of their heads, especially if their partner was particularly argumentative. But, Bagmagians were cruel and war-like, while Beckwads were compliant and peaceful. Leta would never contemplate such a thing, as above all, Reta was her best friend.
"Are we there yet?" Reta sniveled when they had been on the
bus for about twenty minutes. "You know how I hate traveling, I wish we could have gone by limo like we did in the old days. Do you think Duchess Luci will be kind to us?"
Before Leta could answer, Reta started singing her favorite pop song. She loved to sing, despite being unable to carry a tune.
"Will you hush, please?" Leta snapped, as Reta's voice peaked on a particularly sour note. Leta hated when her sister sang, and when she nagged. She also hated it when her sister snored, or when she got hiccups after eating carrots. The question was, did she hate it enough to cut her off?
Chapter 13
After the destruction of the Imperial Palace, when the Imperial Court had moved to Rozari, Ber elected to return to Korelesk rather than go with them.
"You could come with me," Lord Taner had suggested. "I would be happy to place you on my staff."
"I think I should stay with Grandma Luci for a while," Ber had insisted.
As much as he liked Taner, and Ber did, very much, the prospect of being anywhere near the Emperor filled him with absolute terror.
At that moment, Ber had been sitting across from Taner in the Turko limousine, soaring high above the flooded lowlands of Mishnah. Loran was next to him, his head leaning on the window, as if he was asleep. An occasional whimpering noise indicated that he was not.
“It is your decision, of course,” Taner replied, gazing out the window at the wreckage below. His mouth was turned down in a deep frown, his brow furrowed heavily, aging his appearance even beyond his many years.
“What about Loran?” Ber nodded slightly toward his young uncle. Newly bereft of his father, Duke Petya of Korelesk, Loran was appropriately subdued.
Ber had lost someone that day, as well. He had watched his brother taken away by the rampaging current, which had coursed through the Emperor’s office, sweeping the wheelchair bound Kie out the door. Ber had witnessed all of it, Duke Petya falling from the ceiling, and smashing against the floor, and his brother’s lifeless body floating through the Palace Courtyard and down the hill.
At the time, a similarly rampaging current had raced through Ber’s newly transplanted veins, filling his heart with anger, hate, and grief. Kie had been as close to him as his own heart, for not long before, they had shared a single organ.
In the days and nights since, Ber became consumed with his dead brother’s spirit. He couldn’t get that image out of his mind, Kie’s face and body, blue and cold, like the frigid, deadly waters which took his life. Ber vowed to avenge his brother, to kill the man who had taken his life, but first he had to get over his predominate fear of that same man.
“Loran?” Taner’s eyes shifted briefly to Ber’s young uncle, Loran. A flash of disgust crossed the old man’s face, before he turned his eyes away, once again, downcast and sad. "You should stay with Luci, Ber. She is bound to be terribly upset. Your presence will comfort her greatly. When you are ready to come to Rozari, you must contact me. I shall send a plane for you.”
“Yes, sir,” Ber replied, although he wasn’t sure that Taner’s inclinations regarding Luci were correct. To Ber, the Duchess had often seemed cold and remote. Of course, that was when he and Kie were still joined. Their two-headed Beckwadian physique undoubtedly made her uncomfortable, as she never seemed quite certain to which head she ought to speak.
The limo swept southward, climbing in elevation as it crossed the mountains which bisected the Mishnese continent.
“As for Loran, I am sorry to tell you,” Taner announced, again with a heavy sigh. “The Duchy of Korelesk has reverted to the Crown.”
“What?” This announcement knocked Loran from his daze. He bolted upright, practically leaping out of his seat. “Dude? What are you saying about my personal space?”
“I am saying, Loran,” Taner continued. “His Imperial Majesty has taken your personal space away. I do believe, however, it shall be possible for Korelesk to return to your family if someone asserts himself in the proper manner.”
“What does that mean?” Ber asked, assuming that when it came to the Emperor, the only properly assertive manner was to fall over dead.
“You must display unfailing loyalty to His Imperial Majesty, unlike all your predecessors including Berkan, Marik, and now, Petya.”
"Are you saying I could be the Duke? Me?" This was an option Ber had never considered, but neither did he want it. Frankly, at this moment, he didn’t know what he wanted from this life. Every dream, every desire seemed so completely unimportant now that Kie was gone.
"I'm the Duke," Loran mumbled, nudging Ber in case there was any doubt. "That's me. That’s my title. My job. My desk. My fancy pen."
"No, I'm afraid you are not, Loran.” Taner closed his eyes, as if by doing so, he could make not only these boys, but the entire situation disappear. Unfortunately, when he opened them again, they were both still in his car. “His Imperial Majesty has revoked all of your titles. He does not believe you have the capacity to execute this office. I’m sorry, young man, but I quite agree with him.”
“So, that’s it?” Loran sniffed. “I’m basically washed-up toast?”
Taner didn’t respond, as there was nothing more to say.
In the meantime, Ber looked out the window at the bank of oppressive dark clouds, while contemplating his life and future, during some of which, he might possibly be a duke. What would that mean? Would he have to serve the Emperor, or could he merely bide his time until the old man was dead? Gladly and loyally, he’d kneel before the Princess Sara, or Steve, or even, Rent, anybody but Sehron de Kudisha.
“Luci has been given permission to remain in the manor house for the duration of her life.” Taner’s voice interrupted. “This is why I suspect His Imperial Majesty has allowed this, as he intends to bestow the duchy upon one of her descendants, and my guess is, it shan’t be Angelica."
"This is so not cool," Loran growled, although there was nothing he could do about it. "The Emperor has totally fucked things up."
“No, Loran. You and your father did that,” Taner replied, his gaze shifting to Ber. “I encourage you not to do the same.”
Ber didn’t respond. There were too many thoughts racing across his mind, and most of them could be considered treasonous.
The limo ascended higher in the cloud bank, its engines roaring, racing as if to blast off into space. For a moment, the whole planet was lost somewhere beneath them. For a moment, they were as if encased in a womb, about to be reborn into a world that had both changed and become incredibly confusing.
Then, the engines calmed, as they began to glide back down to the planet. The clouds dissipated, exposing the world below. The Rehnorian sun illuminated the limo, casting its reflections across the windows, briefly, highlighting all of Korelesk in a golden glow.
A feeling washed over Ber’s new body. Was it relief as if a crisis had just passed? In this brief time and space, he felt almost as if he had become someone else. He could be whatever he wanted. He could do what needed to be done. He could avenge the honor of the brother who had died.
“What if I don’t want to be the Duke? Who will it go to?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps, there is another distant and deserving member of your family. I urge you not to be irrational, Ber, although I recognize you are in a time of mourning. Just remember, sometimes things happen for the best, even though at the time, it may seem for the worst. You must trust His Imperial Majesty’s judgment in this, and all things.”
“Do you?” Ber challenged, for Taner had been known to have his disagreements in the past.
“I do now,” the old man replied. “But, I have the benefit of hindsight.”
The old duke turned to gaze out the window, concluding this discussion, ending the topic and any further conversation it might bring.
A short time later, the limo settled down into the circular drive of Korelesk Manor House, before rolling to a stop before the expansive stone steps. A heavy oak door swung open, and Loran’s mother, the Duchess Marie ran to the car, just as Taner
disembarked to take her in his arms.
“Oh Taner,” she wept softly. “Is it true? Not Petya too?”
“This sucks,” Loran mumbled, refusing to get out. He buried his chin in his chest, a tiny droplet dribbling from his eye. “I can’t face her. I’m so ashamed.”
“Come on, dude,” Ber said, pulling his uncle’s arm. “Your mom needs you now.”
“But, I’m not the duke. The Big Dude thinks I’m worthless, and I probably am.”
“No, you’re not.” Ber realized how lame and apathetic that sounded even as the words escaped his mouth. “You could have ended up like your dad, and Kie. Maybe, you should consider moving to Cyganus. You’re aunt, Queen Elana III ought to welcome you there.”
Ber climbed out of the car, and stood before the imposing entrance to the manor house, wondering for just a moment what it would feel like if all this was his.
Chapter 14
Queen Elana III of the planet Cyganus never imagined that she'd have to deal with an illegal immigration problem again. As she sat at her breakfast table, enjoying her usual meal of waffles with bacon, she read through the news of the previous night, as well as her agenda for the day.
Starting in one hour, she was to meet with the Prime Minister to discuss said immigration problem, after which, she would hold an audience with a pop star. The fellow had broken all Cyganian sales records for pop songs and was deserving of a special entertainment award, or so her advisors had said. They also thought it would be quite nice if she bestowed upon him a title.
After lunch, in the afternoon, Elana planned to tour a rest home for veterans. There had been some complaints about a cleanliness issue that Elana was supposedly looking into. Actually, she would walk around, shake a few hands, and express her concern, while the press snapped some pics of her appearing appropriately disturbed.
