Date: Sun, 28 Jan 2007 02:02:38 -0800 (PST) From: Jae Monroe <jaexmonroe@yahoo.com> Subject: The Gift of Ys Chapter 14 This work is a product of the author's imagination, places, events and people are either fictitious or used fictitiously and any resemblance to real events, places, or people, living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author retains full copyright to the material, and sincerely hopes you like it! Acknowledgement: Thanks to Richard for editing this. The Gift of Ys By Jae Monroe Chapter 14 Upon returning from the temple of the sun-brothers, mid-afternoon by the time everything that needed to be done had been done, the Svarya was immediately accosted by one of his more officious advisors. "Majesty, if you are going to go on day-long sojourns, would you please be so kind as to inform but one man in the castle as to where you are going and for how long? We have lost almost a day for having no idea where you were." The advisor drew breath after the mini-tirade, his cheeks flushed. Though the advisor paid not a scrap of attention to Isidore, the boy stood back anyway, feeling bad for getting Kerim into strife with his advisors. The Svarya's response was blythe, however. "One day and you all fall to pieces, Garis il Vern?" he asked as he strode past his advisor, slapping the older man on the back good-naturedly. "Shall we issue edicts without you then, majesty?" Garis il Vern asked sharply. Kerim stopped, turning around to face his advisor, his expression no longer amused. "It has been a long time since I've been out on the field, old man, so do you march yourself back into the council chambers and inform those within that if any wish to challenge my right to go where I damn well please and for how long, then by all means, he may step forward with his sword." "No, majesty, of course none wish to do so," Garis il Vern placated his Svarya, shrinking under the black-eyed glare. "We shall go and await your leisure." With a bow, he stepped back from his Svarya who strode away, taking Isidore's hand as he did so. When Isidore looked back it was to see that the advisor had raised his head and fixed his dark grey eyes on Isidore, his expression icy. Kerim spent the rest of the day training out on the field, though he was magnanimous enough to send a messenger to his council chambers to inform his advisors that they were dismissed from the last remaining hours of what would have been their service for the day. Isidore knew of this cavalier move by the Svarya since, having decided that his last few hours might be better spent outside in the suns-light than locked away in his library, he had been out there also. "Do you think that was so sensible, Kerim-ya?" Isidore asked as he followed the Svarya up the stairs to his chambers at the end of the day. "Treating your councilors with such little respect." "Shall you advise me on this too?" Kerim cast him a brief glance, his brow raised in amusement. "Since you have been Svarya for so many more years than me, I suppose." "No, but I know that one's advisors can be an asset or a curse, depending on how one treats them," Isidore informed Kerim of what his own father had told him. "My advisors are useful enough," Kerim said, opening the door to the inside parlour for him. "But they need to be kept in check. They think too much of my age and too little of my abilities as a warrior. A little disrespect reminds them of who I am and who they are, and who rules whom." "Perhaps they need proof of your abilities as a Svarya and not just as a warrior?" Isidore questioned nonetheless. "A Svarya is a warrior first of all," Kerim said dismissively. "A Svarya is a ruler first of all," Isidore argued. "Gods, boy, will you never stop correcting me?" Kerim demanded, whirling on him once they were inside his bedchamber. Isidore stepped back in shock, his eyes widened. "Ahh," Kerim held out his hands, his expression contrite. "I know the answer to that. Come you here, my little advisor." He pulled Isidore into his arms, the boy taking a while to relax as he was held affectionately. Isidore pulled back when Kerim went to kiss him, however. "No," he held up a warning hand, the other covering his mouth. "No more kisses, you've had your share for the day and I've never been so embarrassed." Kerim grinned. It had been to Isidore's consternation that he had decided, since the boy was lending him audience to all his matches, to kiss him between each one. "Prudish little Sheq-Kis-Ranian, what matters if others see us kiss?" "Such things should be done in private," Isidore admonished. "Especially with the way you were kissing me, no doubt all thought we would join out there on the sod. Anyway, cease diverting the subject. I stand by what I said: 'tis not your skills as a warrior that are in question. So it occurs to me that these are not what you need to prove to your advisors." "I need prove nothing to them," Kerim retorted, though he flashed Isidore a knowing look. He had not missed how Isidore had stirred even as he'd feigned vexation at being kissed before all. "'Tis perhaps the case in Sheq-Kis-Ra, where they would rather flap their mouths than raise arms in Wo-Yan. We do things differently here, Darima, though you cannot be blamed for not knowing this. My rule is law, and if one wishes to challenge the law then he does so under the conditions of Wo-Yan. My skill as a Svarya, in that respect, is very much dependent on my skill as a warrior." "No, I knew that," Isidore replied. Then he frowned, looking up at Kerim who had begun to undress to bathe before dinner. "What if I, or one of my kind, wished to change a law?" "You, or one of your kind, can appeal to me for a consideration of your proposal for a law change, and if you present your case compellingly, with sufficient evidence, I may feel inclined to grant the request." "And if you do not?" Isidore pressed. "Then it is as I said: if one wishes to dispute the Svarya's rule then he may issue a Wo-Yan challenge to the Svarya," Kerim replied, stripping off his trousers and standing gloriously naked while he washed from the basin. "So you could actually be issued challenge by a Dara?" Isidore asked. "There is nothing prohibiting it," Kerim replied, a little amused. "Though I should imagine it would be the quickest contest ever." "That is very interesting," Isidore mused aloud as he watched Kerim wash, his eyes traveling over the fine body appreciatively. Kerim turned to him, catching the boy ogling his form and responded with a grin. "There is nothing expressly forbidding Darani from engaging in any of the contests; well, except Wo-Tan, of course." (None but a Tanja could engage in the Wo-Tan challenge.) "Think you to issue a challenge to me, Darima?" "What should you say if I did?" Isidore asked. "I should have to request that you do not," Kerim answered, "for Wo-Yan is meant to be injurious and I could not injure you." Isidore vaguely recalled what he had learned about the various forms of contest. Wo-Yan was the type that required a physical injury to end it, then the winner could claim the right to have what they fought for. "So if I did challenge you, and you could not injure me, then you would renege and I would be victor by default?" Kerim flashed him a warning look. "I should hope you do not entertain the notion of issuing challenge to me, Isidore. You would fail to injure me and I would not like to injure you. Thus the contest would stalemate and, in such a case, the status quo remains. I would be the victor by default - and I would be very angry with you." "Oh," Isidore thought on that for a moment. "So there really is no point?" he asked. Kerim gave him a consoling smile. "There isn't, little one," he agreed. "In a land ruled by might, there is little point for he that is not mighty." *** "What do you think to do with all these books, Darima?" Kerim stepped into the library, looking about at the four piles of books that had been brought into it before him. Isidore had, as soon as he'd known the proceedings were to start, asked Kerim if he might procure them from the Temple of Lodur and they had only just arrived this morning, taking two days to be fetched and brought to the castle. Regarding Kerim from behind his miniature fort of books, Isidore folded his arms across his chest. "I disbelieve there is no point for he that is not mighty, Kerim-ya," he informed the Svarya sternly. "Therefore I shall set myself to reading the Book of Lodur, or as much of it as possible, in the fortnight before you begin calling the sun-brothers to account for their actions." "Shall you?" Kerim asked, regarding the four stacks of books before turning back to the boy standing behind them. "All three volumes?" "It will be my endeavour," Isidore replied. "And do not think I shall hold my tongue during the trials; I know any may interject if they feel a grave miscarriage of religious order is about to occur, so if there is aught in the trials that I believe is in conflict with what I have read in these undisputed texts, I shall bring it to your attention." "Shall you just?" Kerim asked, his expression still unduly amused. "I shall," Isidore repeated. "And whatever dullard you have set to question the sun-brother-priests may not be deaf to my interjections. That is all I would expect from you Kerim-ya; do not let him ignore me, or any other." "You know interjecting a false or irrelevant point will get you barred from the proceedings?" Kerim asked. "Do not think I shall bring up any point that would fall into either category." Isidore looked insulted. "And you are so certain I shall appoint a dullard as inquisitor?" Kerim questioned. "Fairly certain," Isidore replied. "You have a rather unexceptional pool to draw from in this." Isidore referred to Kerim's advisors somewhat unflatteringly, "unless you are planning to conduct the trials yourself?" "No, Darima, I shall preside over them so cannot also be questioner." "Then I am certain your selection should be less than capable," Isidore replied, vindicated, "and so I shall be in the audience, to help as I can." "Think you so poorly of my advisors?" Kerim asked curiously, then he grinned. "I suppose you think I should appoint a Daran inquisitor." "Hah!" Isidore's sarcasm was evident. "I shall bet my every last coin against that ever happening." "That is a silly bet to make," Kerim scoffed, "you have no coins." "My father sent money with me," Isidore replied dismissively, "I shall bet that." Kerim shook his head. "You cannot, Darima, for I sent it all back the day you arrived." Isidore looked up, surprised, though he didn't remain so for long. "That would be just like you," he said, looking skyward. "So. What do you have to pay with if I accept the wager, little one?" Kerim asked, coming around his fortress of books to where Isidore stood. "I imagine you shall be the one paying up, Kerim-ya," Isidore replied. Then he cast his eye over the man's well-made body. "So what will you pay me with?" "I shall not lose the bet," Kerim replied. Isidore was about to reply with another glib remark, but he stopped himself, stilling. "You haven't..." he said in amazement. "Your advisors would never stand for it." "And though you have counseled me against it, you know I care little for what my advisors think," Kerim asked, placing his hands on Isidore's shoulders. "Though I do not wish to look like a fool, so you'd better do me proud, little one." For some absurd reason, Isidore burst out laughing. Kerim frowned, while Isidore shook with his laughter. "Oh, what did they say?" he asked through laughs. "I wish I could have been there." Kerim was actually rather glad Isidore wasn't there. Upon informing his advisors of his plans, they had variously dissented or dismissed the whole thing as being a farce, and a mere indulgence of the Svarya to his latest fuck-toy. There had been no more than idle grumbling, however, and Kerim had let them go on undisputed, knowing that the proof would come out in the process. They would see, soon enough, that he had chosen the best advocate to run the trials, and a public forum was the best place for Isidore to demonstrate his capability. "I shall not be easy on you," Kerim said once Isidore had finished laughing. "It cannot appear that I favour you." "For certain," Isidore replied. "Be as hard on me as you please." "I'm glad you accept that," Kerim replied, then his hands slid down Isidore's back as he pulled him close for another hug. "But right now," he whispered in the boy's ear, "I am more interested in what you will use to pay for that wager." Isidore giggled. "I imagine you can ask for anything right now," he whispered back. "For right now I am just about pleased enough to deny you nothing." Then he grinned, when he was face-to-face with Kerim. "And you'd better get as much as you can, because for the next two weeks I shall be very busy." At the end of the fortnight, they began the trials of the sun-brothers. Isidore had spent that fortnight preparing for them, exceedingly glad that, having embarked on this undertaking, it was now his to guide. Of course, the Svarya would be officially presiding over it, but as to this Kerim had informed him that he would likely scarce be able to pay attention to the proceedings when Isidore ran them. "What is the matter with these clothes?" Isidore asked as he came out of his chamber where he had gone to dress the morning of the hearings. "They are enticing," Kerim said, his eyes traveling up and down Isidore's lithe form smothered in his snug fitting black. "What would you have me wear then?" Isidore felt he was most soberly attired, his trousers being plain black, his camic having but a thin gold trim around the collar that went down the front panel and nothing else. "Sackcloth might do," Kerim said, pretending to consider the case. "Well best you picture me in sackcloth then," Isidore replied long-sufferingly. "I shall be picturing you naked," Kerim told him with no shame at all and, in fact, the way his eyes roamed over Isidore at that precise time it seemed he was doing that very thing. Isidore made no reply other than punching the man's midsection, but then his hand was caught, his fist unfurled and dragged lower, to the bulging crotch. "Can you not feel how I want you," Kerim said, rubbing Isidore's hand against his stiffening member. "It will be torture for me in there with you walking around looking as you do." "I can't see how this helps," Isidore pointed out, though he made no effort to extract his hand from the grasp, rather enjoying the feeling of the hot member under his hand. He caressed it a little as he felt its heat radiate against his palm through the animal-hide trousers. He found his answer, and was both pleased and vexed about its after-effects, for though he felt very contented afterward, they both had to change their clothes. He had also to brush out his hair, then rebraid it, because he could not go out there the way it was, with all being able to see how, not half an hour ago, he'd been pounded on his back on the bed. Once he was all straightened, dressed and prepared for the day, he held out a cautionary hand as Kerim came up to him. "I am not getting dressed three times this morning," he said in a warning tone. His hand was caught but that was all that was caressed within the much larger hand as they made their way down to the council-chamber. Inquests such as this one were run in a somewhat arbitrary way, in that their structure, length, and so forth were determined by the Svarya presiding over them. Since the hearing was one in which Isidore, as inquisitor, was to discover the truth, he would be asking questions of the chief-priests, and any others whom he saw fit. The questions were not known in advance by any other than Isidore. The Svarya was free to interrupt at any time, and could also halt the proceedings for deliberation at any time. Isidore had watched many trials during his time in Sheq-Kis-Ra, so he had a fairly good idea of how he was going to conduct things. The chief-priest of the Daja-ya would be the first to be heard, and he was understandably put out of sorts when they saw who was to be advocate for the Svarya. At least Isidore understood his upset, if he did not sympathise with it one bit. What he did feel strongly about, however, was the need to prove himself to the utmost before the Svarya's advisors and the like who watched him with a suspicion that they managed to varying degrees to keep from their countenances. If he faltered in this, if he did not perform his part of the proceedings flawlessly, they would not only look askance at him, but at Kerim as well. If he erred in this undertaking, at best they would think it was the Svarya's whim that put him there; at worst, that he had undue control over Kerim and that it was the Svarya's weakness. Such faith as Kerim had put in him, regardless of whether or not his advisors were present, would be enough to secure Isidore's absolute best effort. But that they were there only made him all the more determined. Of course, the chief-priest of the Daja-yan order was not going to roll over without a fight, and while Isidore was asking preliminary questions, he commented loudly that his neck grew sore from leaning down to address his questioner. "Be glad 'tis your neck and not your knees," Isidore retorted, and when the Daja-yan priest had cast an incredulous look at the Svarya it was to see Kerim in the process of cleaning his nails with the tip of his dagger, his attention apparently elsewhere, though Isidore had no doubt his ears, if not his eyes, were trained on everything going on before him. Having no answer from the Svarya in support of his cause, the Daja-yan priest was forced to abandon his attempt to use Isidore's height as a reason why the proceedings were not to go forth under the guidance of a Dara. Once Isidore had established the chief-priest's name, Vorin il Domiyar, and that he was in fact the chief-priest of the Daja-yan order, he told Vorin that he could raise his head, and rest his tired neck, for Isidore would conduct the rest of the proceedings from the dais. This too received complaint, as did a number of other minor aspects of the proceedings until Isidore ordered the Daja-yan chief-priest to cease wasting their time with minor infractions. "Svarya, I only say that the Dara's voice is thin and reedy and I have trouble hearing it above the general sounds in the room." The chief-priest appealed to Kerim directly with his latest problem. Kerim looked up from his conversation with Kylar who sat beside him, wherein he had been explaining, with hand-gestures, the need to keep his hands cared for. "Are you hard of hearing then?" he asked the chief-priest. The priest flushed. "No, Svarya, I do not believe the problem to be mine, 'tis that the boy's voice is so soft, it is hard to make out." Kerim looked about him. "Well which boy have you been talking to?" he asked facetiously. "No, 'tis either that you are hard of hearing, or talking to the wrong Dara, for I assure you, his voice is impossible to shut out." The Svarya looked back to the priest, suddenly, his expression turning piercing. "Unless you are wasting our time?" The priest flushed again. "No, majesty, I am not, I shall listen more closely from now on." With a nod from the Svarya he was able to turn to Isidore once more, and set to trying to break him down with his eyes, but Isidore was used to hard gazes, so he was unperturbed by it. "Vorin il Domiyar," Isidore began, glancing down at the book before him. "In the area of worship to the god to which you have been sworn, the mighty Daja-ya, do you consider all duties performed sufficiently, with reverence and to the best of your ability?" "Aye," Vorin replied shortly. "And one of those duties, one of the duties of all Daja-yan priests, is to lesson the Dara-yan priests of the nature of their service to the revered Dara-ya, is that so?" "Aye." This affirmation was given a little less comfortably. "Can you tell me the nature of the instruction you gave to the Dara-yan priests in the area of supplication to Him?" Isidore asked. "An example?" he clarified. "The Dara wishes me to list every instruction I have given to my little brother priests?" Vorin asked with a smirk. "An example typically means just one instance, representative of the type of instruction you have given to your little brother priests," Isidore replied. "So any one instruction I have ever given at any one time?" the chief-priest asked, his voice revealing how ridiculous he thought such a requirement to be. "Just the one," Isidore allowed a trace of weariness to enter his voice. "Can you remember any one instruction you gave in the area of supplication made to the Dara-ya by one of his image?" "No," Vorin answered shortly, his voice bored. After all that, Isidore thought, keeping his expression bland and lifting up a scroll upon which had been taken a transcription of an interview. "Fortunately, since the chief-priest's memory has gone the way of his hearing, I have here such an example as he was unable to recall." Clearing his throat, and raising his eyes for just a moment to revel in the furious red the chief-priest flushed under the insult, he then spoke. "The following is the transcript of an interview with the chief-priest of the Dara-yan order, Anakh no Domiyar. In the area of appropriate supplication to the Dara-ya, his words were as follows: 'When a supplicant comes in with a problem that is borne of his inability to submit, he is taught submission by a representation of the acts between the sun-brothers.' "Interviewer asks: 'Explain the relevance of inability to submit' "'Essentially, every problem derives from the Dara's inability to submit. If a Dara is lazy, it is because he cannot submit to the instruction of his master in some area of the running of the household and lands. If a Dara is smart-mouthed, he is unable to submit to the superior knowledge of his Dajan master. If he is...' "Well the list goes on, for it seems the only list more extensive than that of the many ways a Dara can fail to submit is that of the many ways he can engage in supplication to, according to the words here, 'appease his god for failing Him'. "'If the Dara has failed to curb his tongue, he shall be made to submit with the mouth--' "Here interviewer interrupts with: 'made to?' "'Yes, if the Dara is not aware of the importance of making supplication to his god, force is betimes employed to ensure that he unburdens himself to his god.'" Isidore put the scroll aside, resisting the urge to tear it up and throw it out the window and into the dirt below. Now was not the time to give in to his anger; his revulsion at what had happened in the name of serving his god must be suppressed. With cold blue-black eyes, he looked up at the chief-priest. "Given the inability of the chief-priest of the Dara-ya to read, he could not point me to the appropriate books wherein such instructions and guidelines could be found, so I ask you, Vorin il Domiyar, to please direct me to these." Vorin swallowed, but he went through the pile of books next to him, looking down the spines and finding one that seemed to suit his purpose. Opening it, and searching down the front page for a moment, during which time there was audible the numerous rustlings, coughs and other activities that took place in the council chambers which had been rearranged into an auditorium for this trial. "The passage has been found," Vorin informed him, bringing an end to the pause. "Speak the name of the tome and that of the passage," Isidore answered, his own stack of books next to him, amongst which he had the same volumes as the chief-priest. "Book of the Dara-ya, passage 14:8," Vorin replied and Isidore quickly extracted the book, flipping to the same passage then signaling for the chief-priest to begin reading. "'The Dara-ya did submit to the Daja-ya, and He stated that this was because it was His fondest desire.'" The priest quoted the passage. Isidore looked up expectantly. When the chief-priest looked across at him with a bland expression, Isidore's eyes widened. "Is that it?" he asked. "Where does that prescribe such behavior as was read to all in the interview transcript by your own little brother priest?" "The Dara-ya did submit to His big-brother," the priest repeated. "If submission is lacking in a Dara, he is breaking a sacred commandment of his god, therefore he must be taught to submit. The nature of such lessons is up to the interpretation of the priests of the sun-brothers." Isidore clamped his lips shut to prevent the explosion of ire he wished to pour on the smug bastard. When he opened his mouth, it was to speak in a dispassionate voice. "Might I direct the reverend priest to the remainder of the passage 14:8 in the Book of the Dara-ya. Said god submits 'because it was his fondest desire.' That in itself makes an offence of what was revealed in line 147 of the transcript: 'force is betimes employed to ensure that he unburdens himself to his god.'" When his eyes flicked around the room they were to meet with stony glares from a good many of the occupants, but also thoughtful looks from others, some looking down at their hands, their brows creased, others looking at him expectantly, waiting for more. As his eyes traveled past Kerim he saw that his dagger lay beside him and he was listening intently. "A Dara must submit. If he does not do so because he wants to, then force is used to ensure he wants to," the priest said after a moment's deliberation. "'force is used to ensure he wants to'..." Isidore repeated. "Enlighten me: how does one force a man to want something?" The priest flushed, and white lines appeared around his mouth, which was held tensely in apparent repose. "The Dara is made to see the error of not submitting. Since he desires not to be forced to submit again, he therefore submits freely." "Could you define freely?" Isidore asked, and ignored the snickers. "Freely," the priest replied in a patronisingly slow tone, "means of one's own choice." "So the Dara is forced to submit if he does not do so of his own choice; the aim of forcing - halt me if I'm wrong - being to ensure the Dara sees the error of not submitting?" Isidore paused, and the priest nodded. "So this forcing, it is an unpleasant event, is it?" The priest nodded again. "So that, if he does not wish to submit of his own choice, he knows an unpleasant event will follow, and to avoid this unpleasant event, he submits...of his own choice?" The priest nodded impatiently. "Aye," he said, waving his hand as though he wished Isidore to get to the point. "And I must prevail upon your patience to ask you one more question," Isidore told the priest. "Do you understand 'choice' to mean the opportunity to make a selection among different alternatives?" The chief-priest nodded. "Aye," he answered briskly. "Does his Majesty agree with the definition of choice that will be upheld during this case?" Isidore directed the question to the Svarya. "Yes," Kerim answered after giving the question some thought. "And so shall choice have that definition for the purposes of this inquest," Isidore announced for the benefit of those in audience in the court. Then he turned his attention back to the chief-priest. "The Dara, according to the word of Vorin il Domiyar, has the choice to submit, and if the Dara does not submit, he is then forced to submit, the unpleasantness of which event is designed to ensure the Dara submits of his own choice to avoid being forced to submit." At the silence, he continued. "I cannot see where the element of choice comes in: the Dara must submit. If he does not submit, he will be forced to submit. There is no choice; there is no alternative to submitting. If the Dara cannot make a selection among alternatives - if there is only one thing that may be done - the Dara cannot be said to have choice." "He chooses to submit freely or be forced to submit," the priest replied, his voice raised slightly in anger. "Freely," Isidore replied in a measured tone, "you have defined earlier to mean 'of his own choice', so to rephrase your sentence: 'he chooses to submit of his own choice or be forced to submit'. This is somewhat overqualified, we need only to say 'he chooses to submit or is forced to submit', do you agree, chiefest of the Daja-ya?" The priest agreed, a little lost with all the defining and redefining of terms. "And so," Isidore said, sweeping his eyes across the room. "He has no choice at all, if he does not submit, he will be forced to do so, and there is no choice." The priest blanched, and tried to go back to his original line of argument that the choice was between submitting with force or without. "The choice," Isidore responded when the priest had finished outlining his original, and defeated, argument, "according to the passage 14:8 in the Book of the Dara-ya - which states clearly that the Dara-ya gave because it was his fondest desire - is whether or not to submit. Submission was by choice, by desire - does the chief-priest agree that what one chooses one might also be said to desire?" The priest reluctantly nodded, speaking aloud his agreement when it was prompted of him. "Does his majesty agree to the parallel being drawn?" "Does one always control one's desires?" Kerim asked. "If one can be said to desire something, does one also have the choice over that? For certainly a man may desire that which he wishes he did not." Isidore might have been lost for a longer moment but for those last few words. "One moment, majesty," he said, leaning down and going to one of the older tomes of the Book of the Dara-ya. Opening it up, he found the same passage fairly easily, since it was but three pages after the one in the newer tome. "Passage 14:8 in the Book of Dara-ya currently under discussion has its concordant passage of 14:2 in the Book of the Dara-ya from the reign of..." Isidore checked the spine, "Vemiyar da Jaal, majesty, and herein, it states: 'The Dara-ya did submit to the Daja-ya, and He stated that this was because it was his fondest wish.' Can we accept that one has control over one's wishes more than one's desires? Though the words are closely related, 'desire' contains a more elemental connotation of need, whereas 'wish' tends to be less associated with need and more with want, implying a greater degree of choice." Kerim considered it for a moment. "Perhaps 'tis in fact that 'wish', in the tome of my grandfather is to be construed in this more elemental sense." "Then as proof of my proposed definition, I offer the legend of the Dara-ya on the grassy knoll:" Isidore answered. Most knew of this legend. Lifting the book, Isidore read the relevant passage, quoting the appropriate numbers, even though it was so well known. "'And so the Dara-ya rested on the hill, and quickly fell into sleep; in slumber, His big brother crept up behind Him, meaning to surprise the little brother god, but upon seeing Him was so overcome with desire He lay down behind Him and proceeded to enter Him; the Dara-ya awoke to the sensation and halted the congress; He proceeded to chastise the Daja-ya, for He had been sleeping and had not known of the congress ere He participated in it; the Daja-ya grew overcome with remorse, and promised three acts of contrition...'" The rest of the legend told of the three feats performed by the Daja-ya to atone for His crime, and were not necessary to the Isidore's case. "I direct your attention now to a tome written in the time of Vornn da Jaal." This was met with expressions of surprise around the council-chamber, for the tome was old indeed to come from the reign of Kerim's great-great-grandfather. "Passage 22:3,4: 'The Dara-ya awoke to the sensation and halted the congress; He proceeded to chastise the Daja-ya, for He had been sleeping and had not agreed to the congress ere He participated in it.'" Isidore waited while the words were digested, and for the murmurs to go down. "Such a translation suggests that the element of choice was inherent to the rightfulness of the congress between the sun-brothers, and when absent, the Daja-ya had to risk life and limb to prove the extent of his contrition." Kerim gestured to the Daja next to him, who rose to retrieve the book. Isidore passed it to him gladly, and all waited while it was handed to the Svarya and he perused it. "Be damned!" Kerim's exclamation was not hard to miss as he read the passage. "Why did nobody see this?" he demanded. "Nobody looked, your majesty," came Isidore's answer in a clear and calm voice. "Not least those to whom it mattered most." "Very well, I will accept your proposed definition of desire in the matter of little-brother's submitting to big-brother, that both 'desire', in the tome originating from my father's era and 'wish', in the tome of my grandfather's era, are to be construed in a manner that implies a greater degree of choice. Continue," Kerim instructed. Isidore nodded, thanking the Svarya for clarifying the term to be used in proceedings. Turning back to the chief-priest: "And so, according to this definition, the choice exists between the options of either submitting or not submitting, the Dara-ya chose to submit to the Daja-ya. It was a gift He bestowed upon His big brother and one that the Daja-ya considered to be of such value that He risked His life to prove His remorse for abusing it." Isidore did not present the conclusion lightly. He expected no less than a wave of dissent to pass through the grand chamber. This was quieted, the summation noted, and he was instructed to continue. Isidore bowed, a sign of acquiescence, before turning back to the chief-priest. "As to supplication to the Dara-ya, do you tell me how you came up with..." Isidore read some of the selected items from the interview transcript once more, schooling away his grimace of distaste "...as constituting rightful worship of Him." "I did not invent those manners of performing supplication," the chief-priest said defensively. All his righteous superiority had disappeared once the truth had sunk in that this trial was indeed in earnest and was currently not going in his favour. "From whence did they come?" Isidore asked. "From those before me," the chief-priest answered, betraying some relief that Isidore was not going to attempt to credit him with the invention of heretical worship techniques. Then he sighed. "Some were from my brotherhood, and I too participated in their construction," he turned away from Isidore, looking at some point between his questioner, and the wall behind him. "Every brotherhood adds to the list of manners of supplication, it is...tradition." Isidore paused for a moment, letting the priest's words sink in. "Tradition," he repeated thoughtfully. "The brotherhood's unique role in setting such manners of supplication for those who served the little brother god arises from tradition. You must know it is unprecedented, even in the temple of Osys, where supplication involves sexual acts. The formulation of these is not even up to the discretion of the priests of Osys, and certainly they are not decided by yet another set of priests." He paused for another moment, trying to school the ire from his voice so he could deliver with calm forthrightness his pronouncement. "Yet you entered the brotherhood of the Daja-ya, Vorin il Domiyar, when such a practice, extraordinary though it might be, was already set in place?" "I did," Vorin answered, his voice gone gritty with discomfort. "So none can rightly hold you accountable for the formation of such a tradition," Isidore told the room. "I do not believe so," Vorin responded, his voice softer as some of the discomfort left it. "Is, then, your conscience clear on this, Vorin il Domiyar?" Isidore asked. The chief-priest shuffled uncomfortably. "How is that a relevant question?" he asked. "I cannot know the answer to that..." "Does the chief-priest not know his own conscience?" Isidore asked sharply. "No, I mean, yes, of course I know my own mind," the chief-priest responded in a prickly tone. "I'm no Dara." This was met with snickers, but Isidore allowed no trace of any expression to cross his face, simply weathering the blow as though it had not been delivered at all. "If you admit to knowing your mind and the sense of moral righteousness therein that might be termed your conscience, (and are aware that you may not speak falsehood during these proceedings lest you stand guilty of heresy), can you then tell the advocate if 'tis your opinion that your conscience is clear on the matter of involving yourself in the invention of different manners of supplication for the little brother priests?" The priest was silent a good moment, until the Svarya instructed him to answer the question. "No," he said finally. "In some of the manners of supplication that were invented during my tenure as chief-priest of the Daja-yan brotherhood, there were some acts added to the book of supplications that I considered to be..." he stopped, gripping the lectern before him while he gathered his thoughts, and his voice when he resumed, was lower. "That I considered to be mere exercises in lewdness; acts which held no reverence and were simply...smutty." There was a ripple of surprise at the confession. "If your conscience was pricked at the addition of such 'smutty' acts to this 'book of supplications', why then, chief-priest of the Daja-ya, did you not act according to your moral reasoning and prevent their addition?" The chief-priest shifted feet. "I suppose I did not listen to my conscience," he offered at last. "A priest who does not listen to his conscience?" Isidore asked. "A chief-priest who, when making moral judgments, forgets his morals?" "There was precedent," the priest said defensively. "The whole book of supplications was...lewd." "Had you the power to overturn this 'tradition' that saw you use and add to the book of supplications?" Isidore asked. "As chief-priest of the Daja-yan order, was this within your power?" "Yes," Vorin answered slowly. "I could have done so." "And if you considered the lewdness contained within this book to be troublesome to your conscience, why did you not undertake to overthrow tradition in this instance?" "Because I felt the tradition more important than my conscience, in this instance," the priest answered, his voice a mixture between discomfort and ire. "Tradition more important than morality..." Isidore contemplated the priest's attitude aloud. "That seems a dubious judgment to make, but I'll not argue it. What I will do, however, is ask the chief-priest if he believes tradition must be preserved at the expense of religious doctrine?" The priest looked flustered, and directed a furious look at Isidore. "The Dara does lay a heavy allegation upon me," he warned. "Have you read the Book of the Dara-ya?" Isidore asked. "Those parts that were necessary," the priest answered. "So have you read the entire Book, front to back?" Isidore pressed. "I have," the chief-priest answered. "But I have not studied each word. I must guide my own priesthood, I must read the Book of the Daja-ya front to back, and go over its finer points, I simply have not had the time to do the same to that of the Dara-ya." "Are you familiar, then, with passage 38:1-3?" He waited while the priest found the passage in his Book, then read, "'And the Dara-ya refused to perform the act that Osys had tempted Him with, turning His face away from the seductive beauty of the god of carnal love and back to His brother; He said the act was vulgar and lacked reverence, and Osys left with head hung low in shame; and the Dara-ya said to His brother "let no acts between us lack reverence"'?" The priest was reading along with the passage, and when Isidore had finished he looked up. "That the acts were performed during supplication, and within the sacredness of the temple made them reverent," he said firmly. "An act of supplication can be rendered irreverent, and therefore ineffective, if it is undertaken incorrectly. I rather think that, given the supplication acts were impious, this made the whole process lack reverence and avail the supplicant of naught more than a cheap release." There was a collective indrawn breath at that statement, though what prompted it differed from man to man in audience to the undertakings. Though it was unnecessary, Isidore gave an example, of the tribe of Yand who offered gold tokens to make supplication to Aeoren, which were cheap metal inside and plated outwardly with gold. Their crops failed to grow for five years as punishment for their attempt to short-change their god. The chief-priest tried to make reply to this, but the battle was lost, and he failed to have much of an impact. The allegation, heavy though it was, stuck. After that they broke for refreshment. Isidore had to keep himself separate from Kerim so that they could not be seen to be communicating about the trial. It was a general stipulation of such trials, that the advocate and the judge were to have no communication. Neither was the judge to communicate with those under investigation. The former clause meant Kerim was sleeping in a different suite of chambers from Isidore, who remained in the Svarya's chambers at Kerim's insistence. It was for the week of the trials and, though it already felt like forever, it would soon be over. He consoled himself, despite that he felt strange having no contact whatsoever with Kerim. After the break, they discussed the finer points of appropriate supplication. It was a dry and dull task, Kylar fell asleep, and Kerim entertained himself by waiting until his friend dozed off and then slapping him awake. This precipitated a bout of shoving between them, which grew loud enough to interrupt Isidore, who flashed Kerim a warning look as he was speaking. They quieted down, and Kylar remained awake for the rest of the afternoon. As the suns were approaching their place of sleep, their golden light streaming in through the windows and lighting up the whole council-room with its rays, Isidore made his summary speech. Then they appealed to the Svarya for his decision, and the proceedings were paused while the Svarya and his advisors conferred in the room adjoining the council chamber. During this time refreshment was served, though Isidore sat behind the bench on the dais, not speaking to any during the deliberation. Servants brought him wine which he accepted, grateful after the events which, though they had gone for the most part well, were trying to his nerves. He was aware he was watched a great deal by those in the audience. He was also aware of the fact that he would likely be the first Dara in their living history - for few born before Vemiyar da Jaal's reign would still be alive - to have done what he did: conduct an investigation into the religious order before the entire council, and those others in the audience. He did not wish to gauge the nature of the gazes that rested heavily on him, though it might have pleased him to know that, while a good many were suspicious and mistrustful, there were some which expressed admiration, even if it was grudging. Before Kerim returned, the refreshments had been taken away, and those in the council-chambers were once more an attentive audience. Isidore stood on his dais, the chief-priest behind his lectern, the others in the chamber rising so as not to be seated in the presence of their Svarya. "It is found," said Kerim, once seated after returning from deliberation with his advisors, "in the first instance, that it has been adequately proved that the forcing of Darani who wish not to make supplication to the Dara-ya in such a manner, as described in the Dara-yan chief-priest's interview transcript, is offensive to the sun-brothers and so shall be outlawed. "It is found, in the second, that supplication made with sex-acts can be considered lewdness, but not heresy, and is an inappropriate form of worship to the Dara-ya. Such a practice will therefore cease and supplication may only be made with coin or other items of value. If the Dara lacks coin to make his own supplication, this will be supplied to him by the one who is his protector. "It is found, in the third, that, in the manner of recommending supplication that was lewd and not sanctified by the Book of the Dara-ya, the chief-priest of the Daja-ya is not considered to have transgressed, since he followed only in the footsteps of those gone before him. However, in failing to heed his voice of moral reason when required to make a moral judgment, he is considered to have transgressed in the performance of his service. He will therefore relinquish his position as chiefest of the Daja-ya but is not expelled from the priesthood and may take any position below that of chief-priest. He may not participate in the appointment of a new chief-priest. His last act of office will be to surrender this 'book of supplications' into this court's possession and any related materials to the making of supplication that has now been declared contraband. "It is found, finally, that an additional matter, concerning choice between little brothers and big brothers has been raised. I require more proof and a solid, separate case to be made, on another day. If the advocate wishes to make it, such a case shall be heard." Kerim stood, requiring all in the room to stand likewise. "Does the chief-priest, or any on his behalf, wish to challenge my judgment and subsequent proclamation in this matter?" "No, majesty" the chief-priest answered his expression subdued. There was no challenger by proxy forthcoming from the ranks of the council room either, and so the Svarya turned his attention to Isidore. Rightfully, the proceedings could not be completed without the next words. "And does the advocate, or one on his behalf, wish to challenge my judgment and subsequent proclamation in this matter?" Ignoring the murmur of laughter at the absurdity of the statement, Isidore answered. "I do not, majesty." "Then the judgment holds, the ruling stands. Vorin il Domiyar, your sentence stands, and is free to be added to during the course of these proceedings. We shall disband and reconvene tomorrow, an hour after second dawn." So the proceedings were ended that day, Isidore procuring council-room attendants to carry his books to the adjoining room where they were locked away in a chest. Since gossip spread with an astounding rapidity in the castle, Isidore was accosted by well-wishers from those in the castle for whom the proceedings mattered the most. He was informed that just about all the Darani in the castle had been kept apprised of nearly every word. Though Isidore was pleased with the congratulations, and had accepted them with all graciousness, his head had begun to throb and eventually he had to take his leave, heading away and up to the Svarya's chambers where he could rest. Once there, Isidore made his way to his bedchamber to bathe and change for the evening. He knew he would be eating alone this evening, as he did every night. It was the best compromise with Kerim. Isidore refused to be seated in the meal hall during dinner, if it was not a right extended to all Darani, and they both agreed that the time was not yet right for that to happen. Tonight, however, it was part of their being forbidden contact. Usually, as he ate alone, Isidore would be reminded of the meals he had shared with his family in Sheq-Kis-Ra, and feel a twinge of regret that he was not able to enjoy the same right to belong in Sherim-Ra. Tonight, since his mind was so preoccupied with the trial of the day and tomorrow's proceedings, which would involve questioning the chief-priest of the Dara-yan order, Isidore was grateful for his solitude. After the dinner things were cleared away, Isidore decided to go into Kerim's bedchamber and to the balcony where he could look over the castle grounds. It was late evening, the moons were out and the sky was punctured with many stars, making the view outside a fairly resplendent one. Actually, he didn't notice it much, since his mind was still buzzing with passages from the Book of the Dara-ya and so forth; his eyes looked but did not see such splendour. Preoccupied as his mind was, he became aware of bustle in the Svarya's bed-chamber after some time and, upon peering around the door, he saw that two servants were turning down the bed for him. He would spend his first night alone in it tonight. Sitting back, so that he was obscured from their view by the door that was half-closed, he went back to his thoughts. They were interrupted again, however, when his curiosity was piqued by the conversation taking place between the two servants. "Why do you wear your cloak, Eyon?" the voice of one servant asked the other, whom Isidore had recognised before as Eyon. Before the boy could summon an answer, Isidore heard a throaty laugh. "Do not tell me, I know already, you have an assignation, do you not? You plan to sneak away after we finish and meet a man that is not me." "No." Isidore heard the answer given in a somewhat defensive tone from the boy Eyon. "I'm just a little cold." The other servant laughed once more. "You could have me and I would warm you." "I'm actually very tired," Eyon said. "I suppose you are," the servant continued, and Isidore frowned, he recognised that throaty voice, even though it was lowered. "You were busy this eve." This had the tone of an accusation. "No busier than any other," Eyon replied, and Isidore detected ire rising in the boy's voice. "I did hope you would be different," came the response, muffled somewhat by exertion of preparing the chamber for Isidore's sleep. "Why have you set your sights on me?" demanded Eyon. "You are young and sweet," the other man responded, a shrug in his voice. "You caught my eye." There was silence, and into it the servant whom Isidore finally recognised, spoke. "You are surprised, Eyon?" said the young man from the library with clever grey eyes and a general dislike of Dajani. "Is that not the kind of answer a Daja would give you? Why do you not giggle and simper when 'tis I who deliver it?" "Because you do it to shame me," Eyon's voice was soft and resentful. "I grow tired of it, Ayoran, I grow tired of your making me feel bad for loving them." There was a sigh, sad and soft. "Do you know how a slave loves his master, Eyon?" This was asked in a whisper. "With restraint, with solemnity and never with his whole heart. You might think yourself infatuated with this or that one, but you'll never love the one that keeps you in chains. And over time, you will come to hate him." Eyon had no reply for that insight, it would seem, for there was silence. When Isidore looked back through the door, he saw Eyon and the other servant. Right now Ayoran had his lips pressed hard against Eyon's, bestowing upon him a passionate kiss.