Emblems of Power

by C L Patterson

  “He is in bad shape, but he will survive. How long have you been standing there? What all did you hear?”

  “I heard enough to know that something unnatural occurred during the escort and about your suspicion.”

  “Speak to no one what you have heard. When the others return from the escort, I will tell them the same thing. As far as anyone is concerned, Kosai was caught in a swarm of lindworms during a sand storm. Keep guard here and make sure that no one sees him. He needs his rest.”

  “Yes sir.” Ulryck said as he saluted. The Captain returned the salute and went to the horse stables just outside the Barracks. The stable boy, Emmer, came to the door and stood straight and puffed his chest out as far as he could. He was only twelve and had a way for soothing sore horses after a hard run.

  “Boy, fetch me a fast horse and be quick about it,” the Captain said.

  “Yes sir,” Emmer said. He ran into the stable and returned shortly with a paint filly. Her left hind quarter, right side, and neck had a brown patch, trimmed with grey and black. Patches of fine gray hair smudged over her coat. A black saddle was strapped to her back and she was fitted with the proper tack.

  “She may not be elegant, but she is the fastest,” Emmer said. The Captain swung onto the horse and kicked her sides.

  The filly trotted down Outer Road. After a few minutes, the Captain coaxed the horse to a faster run. Her hooves beat the ground like a heavy drum. It was a route less traveled by the commoners, which gave the filly ample time to get set into a rhythm.

  Further down the road, a group of men were pushing carts with the Three Brother’s mark on the side. A syndicate member pompously led the crew. He was a tall, slender man with dark skin. He held his head high, his eyes almost closed, taking too long of a stride and his left arm held precisely out to the side, holding the excess of his red robe. The carts conveniently took up most of the road, leaving only enough space for a little more than a person to walk on either side. The cart pullers looked up and frantically pulled off to the sides as the Captain raced towards them unyieldingly.

  “No, no, we do not yield to anyone on the road,” the syndicate member said coldly. The Captain, seeing the arrogance of the syndicate member, guided the filly towards the outside and slowed her. The cart pullers pulled their carts away from the Captain and his horse. One raced forward, another tried to move towards the center of the road, and the other stayed straight. The handlebars of the cart that moved towards the center of the road got caught in the spokes of the cart that went strait. Both carts turned on their side. The filly reared up from the commotion, causing a couple other cart pullers to stop in their tracks, or back up. More carts tipped over, spilling their contents all over the road. Vibrant painted pots and glass jars filled with fruits and syrups shattered; the viscous goop congealed with the loose sand.

  “Why didn’t you yield to me!” the syndicate member hollered as he counted the broken containers with his finger. “You ruined a whole cart worth of fruit. Do you realize how much that costs?”

  “It must be such an inconvenience to you,” the Captain sneered, not looking at the syndicate member. The filly moved her feet, and the Captain reined her left and then right, trying to find a path through the mess. The cart pullers tried to gather the goods and clear a space for the Captain as quickly as their frail frames could allow. One of them picked up a broken glass container, and placed it back in the cart. He swore and shook his finger, as if he had cut himself, and then began to suck on it. The Captain saw that there was no injury, but that the man wanted a taste of the sweet liquid.

  “Time, Captain,” the syndicate member said, moving to the front of the horse. “The loss of which is the only thing you have inconvenienced me of. I am a member of the Three Brothers. I have more money than I know what to do with. I could even buy that horse right from under your nose.” The Captain loosened the reins in his hand and sat tall and still and glared down at the man. The horse also stilled and snorted powerfully.

  “Your hand would be cut off before the money purse was placed on the table. Now move commoner!” The syndicate member gasped.

  “How dare you call me a commoner,” the syndicate member said.

  “You are no more than that to me,” the Captain said.

  The syndicate member placed his hand over his chest and stumbled back, and fell into the goopy mess. The cart pullers chuckled to themselves and bowed slightly as the Captain passed by them. The Captain returned the gesture with a nod and tight smile.

  He held tightly to the reigns and turned the horse left at the next main intersection onto South road. The street was riddled with shadows from the scaffolding and poorly crafted wooden bridges overhead that linked leaning wooden buildings. The entangled structure of wood and rope wobbled in the wind and the settled sand fell onto the captain. He looked up briefly but could see no one.

  This section of the city was called the Tangle. It stretched on and around the southern quarter of the city. Thieves and robbers, and anyone else who didn’t want to be found, hid within its ever changing structure. It had not been mapped because the bridges and buildings were taken down and moved frequently.

  The Captain rode the filly through the center of the Tangle, periodically glancing up at the overhanging structures and bridges. On either side of the road, people, old and young, sat in piles of putrid rags. Flies swarmed and landed in the corners of their eyes. Small clay pans were in front of them. Others stood, leaning up against the walls of the Tangle wearing similar sand and grime covered clothing. The people didn’t scream or jostle, but stared warily at the Captain as he passed.

  The Captain looked forward through the haze of the heat. The road opened up into the inner-most circle of the city not far ahead. It was a stone-paved circular courtyard with a three-tiered fountain placed in the center. All three tiers were identical in shape but varied in size, the smallest at the top and the largest at the bottom. They were casted from grey cement and slightly concave. The lips were evenly ruffled, giving the cement dishes a flowing look. On the underside of each tear, orange, red and pink flowers bloomed. Water continually shot up from the top of the fountain and splashed into the top tier before gently cascading back into the pool. The pool was also circular. A small lip of red stones and cement encompassed it and white tiles were laid in the bottom of the pool. The water drained into a large grated opening next to the base of the fountain.

  Homeless, servants, dignitaries, councilmen, merchants, families and Guard came to the fountain to drink the sweet water anyway they could. Some filled buckets, others filled carafs, while the homeless and poor used their hands. It was calm and quiet around the water. No one spoke while at the well, but looked down, watching their vessels fill. To the east was Capitol road. It was lined with the red and white banners of Tessír. The banners were twice as tall as the Captain and hung from tall metal poles.

  The Captain kicked the filly. The horse ran even faster around the fountain and down the road towards the Capitol building. It was a rectangular building with the same red and white banners hanging from the second level. A horse stable was off to the left. As the Captain reached the stable, he dismounted, handed the reins to the stable boy and ran up the stairs.

  The marble stairs were cleared of sand hourly by custodians. Two polished grey statues of wolves sat on each side of the stair with two of the Guard standing on either side of the entryway.

  They were two of the Captain’s most recent graduates, each sweating under the Council Guard uniform. The uniform consisted of knee-length chainmail, with a purple and green vertically stripped vest laid over the top. The black shoes had a curled point at the toe. The metal helmet’s came down just above the eyebrows and covered the back of the neck with a leather strap that went under the chin. Tessír’s banners fluttered down from their halberds. The guards snapped to attention and saluted as the Captain reached the top of the stair. The Captain returned the salute and continued right, towards the Counci
l’s Hall.

  The floor was white marble with black veins running through the stone. The Captain’s footsteps echoed through the open hall. One of the guards chased after him. The hall turned left. Half way down was a set of large wooden doors with golden rings. Two more guards stood at the ready, holding halberds in front of them. They saluted the Captain as he approached them. Without slowing, the Captain pushed the doors opened and entered the room, turned and slammed the doors shut.

  It was a large rectangular room with two levels. The first level was an open, marble floored room. The second level was filled with one-hundred and fifty chairs, seventy-five on the left and right sides. The front of the second level was for the Head Council and had only a single row of tall dark mahogany chairs. The backs of the chairs were padded with a purple velvet cushion, with a carved tower on each side of the chair. There were seven chairs, all filled with people in black robes with various colored trim on the cuffs and collars. Behind the Council was a large wooden door which led into another room where they retired when they needed to discuss matters amongst themselves.

  There was another man who stood off to the side of the council and wore a dark blue cloak. His hands were at his sides. The Captain looked at him briefly. He had a brown goatee and coarse brown hair with strands of grey blending in. He was a small, slender man and did not shuffle or move as the Captain walked to the center of the room.

  A full council was in progress, where representatives from the cities Linnouse, Port Rasmú, Anteperil, Jetismore, Ryshta, Varlette and Noiknaer were in attendance. The councilors wore colored robes for the city that they were representing. The seats were filled with reds, blues, purples, greens, yellows, reds, and other colors, making the plain white room transform into a rainbow.

  The head councilman, who sat at the center of the seven chairs in front of the room, was addressing the other representatives when the Captain barged in, but was now silent. As the Captain walked towards the center of the room, he looked up and locked eyes with the head councilman. A hiss of whispers fluttered in the room. On the left side of the room, one representative from Linnouse, wearing the green robes with red trim of his city, stayed focused on the Captain. The Captain noticed this from the corner of his eye and turned to look. As he did, the representative mouthed “I’m sorry,” and then nodded. The Captain gave a quick nod in response and then looked back up at head councilman.

  “I assume that you are here to collect an early payment for your services and collateral for the happenings this morning,” the head councilman said, dressed in his black robe with purple and green trim. Three members of the head council sat on each side of him.

  His name was Rodrick. He had been in government since graduating from the school of Politics and Citizenship, first as a clerk and then working his way up through the years until he became head councilman. Not once had the Captain seen him dressed in casual clothing.

  When the government caravans first started, he assisted in unloading the caravans, and then afterwards, proceeded to give a speech about how generous and kind he and the representatives were for implementing the program. Shortly after, while unloading a caravan, he insisted that banners be erected on the wagons bearing the standard of Tessír, so that the people knew it was the government that was providing for them. When the caravans started being ambushed, Rodrick retreated to the sanctuary of his government halls. It was repeated in the city that his charitable demeanor was only as good as long as the caravans were successful.

  “Was the money worth it?” the Captain asked as he continued to stare at each of the head councilors. A few squirmed in their chairs and shifted their gaze, either looking at some trivial papers on their desk or the backs of their hands. Others sat perfectly still, their faces completely void of emotion. One councilor, a woman, had a slight smile.

  “His sacrifice is worth the survival of the citizens,” Rodrick said after a long pause.

  “I see everyday people starving in the streets, begging for want of bread. Where does the money go? Where is the food?” the Captain roared back.

  A councilwoman, the one who sat still with a small smile three seats to Rodrick’s left, stood. Her name was Councilor Steran. She was a small, frail woman and she wore a black robe with red and blue trim, the colors of Anteperil. She also wore light blue lipstick and her nails were painted red.

  “Food and money are stored here. If we were to share our supplies now, we might not have it for when the need was truly great. You wouldn’t want us to be found with naught when we are truly in need, would you?” she asked, her voice rising unnecessarily high at the end of her sentence.

  “You’re right. It would be a shame if your wine, bread,” he paused and looked at the other councilors briefly, “and swine,” he said with emphasis, “were to be turned to the people. Tell me, how much of the peoples’ work and money have you spent on your own gluttony?”

  “Captain!” gasped Councilor Steran, placing a hand on her chest. “I would never abuse my position to get gain. I do have my needs,” she giggled slightly and passed a glance to her fellow councilors. “We all have our needs. But the poor people, they do not know what they need, and their needs need to be managed. Besides, how many of your niceties have you earned off the sweat of your students? ”

  “She’s quite right you know,” Aleal said. She sat on the other side of high council and spoke quickly and clearly. She was from Port Rasmú, showing the interlocking blue and green bands of color on her cuffs and collar. “If we opened the grain stores, they would be emptied and consumed by night fall. We are here to manage their well being, and you Captain, are where you are to manage their safety. Wouldn’t you agree Evaan?”

  “Yes, quite,” Evaan said. He sat on Steran’s left and was a middle aged man from Linnouse with straight brown hair and thick bristly mustache. He adjusted his yellow and red cuff. “But that’s not why you’re here, or why any of us are here. Captain, you have interrupted a very important meeting. We will hear your complaints afterwards.”

  “I disagree, Evaan,” Councilor Simmons said slowly and softly in his true tenor voice. He was from Noiknaer. His black hair was combed fiercely and sharply to the left side. “Our meeting today is about the caravans, and the Captain may have some insight that would be… beneficial shall we say, to the cause. Captain, what news do you bring?”

  “My son is dying,” the Captain said. The representatives gasped. Some, who were focused on the proceedings, frowned, while other bowed their head and tore a loose string from their robes.

  “Sons, daughters, mothers, fathers… they are all dying, and frequently,” Simmons said in from his chair. “How is your son any different?”

  The Captain growled at Simmons, breathed, and then continued.

  “It’s different because my son sacrificed his life to protect the caravans to feed the people!”

  Councilor Simmons held up a hand.

  “And that sacrifice we are all grateful for,” he said. Steran nodded in agreement.

  “But it wouldn’t be a sacrifice had I been allowed to send more of my guard, instead of Kosai. That order for him to go with so few others came from this room. If I didn’t know any better I would say that this council was planning on killing him!”

  “Captain, you go too far!” Councilor Kevyn said as he stood. It wasn’t often when he spoke in council meetings, often giving one or two word answers. His belly jiggled and ruffled his robes as he stood, the fabric sticking between rolls of fat. The light from the room shined on his oily, sweaty bald head and thick neck. “Each of us knows the value of your son, and would never purposely endanger his life, or any of the guard for that matter.”

  “I would almost believe you Kevyn,” the Captain said, walking closer to the black robed councilors. “If you spent less time at the brothel house trading food for company, and more time caring for the countless bastards you’ve sired that are up in the mines. I might believe you. Wasn’t it because of those vice
s that you were excommunicated from the Three Brothers?”

  “That has nothing to do with this Captain,” Simmons said, shaking his hand. “You have accused us of attempted murder and I ask you, what proof do you have to back your claim? None! The orders we gave about how many guard to send, we thought would be compensated by Kosai’s skill in combat and leadership. We felt, as a council, that this option was the most cost effective. The sandstorm was forecasted by our own school of transportation and logistics, which as you know is instructed by former nomads who have lived in that desert and swore allegiance to us and our cause.”

  “Then you will trust my judgment in the future,” the Captain said.

  “Not so,” said the last councilor. Nicóla was her name. She wore the yellow and red colors of Linnouse. Each ear was pierced twice. Large golden loops hung from her ears, and above those was a diamond stud. “Though your judgment, if heeded, would have saved your son, we still have more information on the upcoming caravans. We have reports about the weather and tribal movements.”

  “And lately, you have failed,” the Captain said. “It is almost uncommon now to go out and not be attacked by nomadic tribes. I have earned all that I have, and paid for it with blood and tears, not ink and parchment. My Guard understands the desert better than any of you do. If any of the council actually cared about the people, you would trust my orders.”

  “Enough,” Rodrick said as he held up a hand. “Captain, if you are here to criticize us in our efforts, than you are dismissed.” The Captain turned his back without bowing and and exited the Council Hall before the Council could see the grimace on his face.

  Someone whispered behind him, but he didn’t turn to see who spoke. Peteir and the two guards that guarded the entrance to the Hall ran after the Captain. When they reached him, they snapped to attention and saluted. Peteir then stepped forward.

  “Captain, you cannot enter the capitol building unless on business,” he said. “It’s a new policy passed last week.”