Date: Wed, 23 Mar 2005 09:32:54 -0800 (PST)
From: Kris Gibbons <bookwyrm6@yahoo.com>
Subject: SS-34

This story is a work of fiction. It contains references to both sexual and
violent behaviour, along with expressions of physical affection. If you
find this type of story offensive, or if you are underage and it is illegal
for you to read it, please exit now. All characters are fictional and in no
way related to any persons living or deceased. Any such similarity is
purely coincidental and uncanny.

This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any
form without the specific written consent of the author. It is assigned to
the Nifty Archives under the provisions of their submission guidelines but
it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the direct
consent of the author.

I do not know how well-received these chapters are. The only clues I get
are emails from readers. Like the story? Hate it? Have liked it since its
emergence? Feel it is getting too obsessive? Not Tarantino enough? Let me
know. I can be contacted at Bookwyrm6@yahoo.com

Special thanks to Rob for editing.

Copyright 2003 Kristopher R. Gibbons. All rights reserved by the author.


                     34 This Confusion

                King: And can you, by no drift of circumstance,
                Get from him why he puts on this confusion,
                Grating so harshly all his days of quiet
                With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?

                           Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1, lines 1-4


     Perversely, after Aldul had left and Evendal had burrowed under the
coute pointe, Kri-estaul awoke.
     "Papa?"
     "Here, son."
     "I need to piss."
     Evendal pulled himself drowsily from the bed. Taking up a taper, he
lit the candles accenting the inside corners of the jakes-room, then
retrieved his son.
     When Kri-estaul was done, he choked down a whimper as Evendal removed
him from the wooden diamond-shaped rest. "Does the seat still make your
stubs ache?"
     That particular complaint had emerged the third day after Sygkorrin
allowed Kri-estaul to resume using the altered jakes. The King had wasted
no time in alerting Aldul and the Priestess. Aldul proffered, and the
Priestess later confirmed, that such aches were common as the harrowed
muscles would be sensitive at first.
     "Not so much," which Evendal took as an affirmative.
     "There must be some device to sooth them. Wytth... Mother swore by a
mixture of camphor oil and fermented-apple paste for her pains. I shall
enquire tomorrow."
     The child said nothing, but the room's silence suddenly weighed more
than boy and man combined.
     "Papa, do you wish you had never found me?" Kri had wiggled his body
near the bed's edge, uncertain of his Papa's temper.
     Evendal had just re-covered them both. He twisted onto his side to
face his son. "'Twas the most auspicious day I can remember, because I
found you, Kri-estaul." The glow from his eyes brightened. "One day you
will believe that without having to struggle. Now, get back over here where
you belong. I have never hurt you and I am not about to start."
     "You are not still angered?"
     "Yes, I am." Evendal admitted. "But offtimes the vital matters are not
about me. You are scared, you have been lonely, and you have worried
yourself sick over your fate, thinking I might tire of you. How much time
have you spent just waiting for that raft of security I promised you when
you became my son? I suddenly find myself with half-brothers and
half-sisters somewhere, possible threats against your value to me. You are
surrounded by Guard such as terrorised you. No, I have not forgotten that!
You think of yourself as a dropped anchor, holding me back, a burden I must
tire of. You must feel yourself surrounded by sharks, with blood in the
water! And there are only three sureties I can offer.
     "First is my word, which I shall repeat and repeat, and have it graven
on an iron arch over the gateway to the Palace grounds, if need be.
     "Second is your love and liking for me. Such is not easily
dismissed. Aldul cares about me as a friend and sometimes-mentor. Ierwbae
and Metthendoenn love me more comfortably as liegemen than as adoptive
kin. Likewise Bruddbana. Wytthenroeg, because of the royal fiction she and
my father enacted, dealt and will deal with me only as a distant
kinswoman. You were the first, and as yet remain the only, person who
turned to me with warmer feelings. You wanted me as your father, and still
do. You do not fear me, either as your King or as Songmaster.
     "Third is a security no one else has guessed. Aldul chastised me for
not thinking that you might need touch as much as words. Tell me,
Kri-estaul, do the tremors that afflict you ease with my coddling? Does my
tangible care calm you at all?"
     Half asleep, Kri-estaul did not respond immediately. Upon perceiving
that Evendal expected an answer, he tendered one fearfully. "Yes. I don't
sleep as well when I can't feel you beside me."
     "And otherwise?"
     "What do you want, Papa?"
     "The truth, Kri-estaul."
     "...Feel happy when you have your arm draped over my shoulder, it's
like the warmest rug... Don't want to be a bother."
     "Yes. That is how it feels for me as well." Evendal chuckled at the
look of surprise on his son's face. "That is the third evidence that I
shall not abandon you, Kri. You are not the only one needing a safe,
chaste, yet honest assurance of love and acceptance."
     "I don't understand."
     "I need your closeness, your smiles at me, your falling asleep in my
lap, your holding onto me. Were I a king like unto my father, you would
have remained chair-bound, and found yourself in my lap or in that sling
only in order that I might put you and my compassion on display for
others." Evendal paused, and swallowed hard. "Even with my new friends, and
the discovery of a nobler mother than I thought was mine, I feel very much
alone sometimes, Kri. You help me."
     "How do I do that, Papa? I'll do it more!"
     Evendal grinned, a shaky expression that flickered on and off his
face. "You love me, as a young child loves his papa. Only you, Aldul, and
one other love me at all without fearing me also. And at present, only you
presume to touch me, to embrace me with your hands as well as your heart,
spontaneously."
     "Who's that 'one other,' Papa?"
     "I wish I knew, Kri-estaul. I wish I knew." Tired anew, Evendal drew a
deep breath, kissed his son on his forehead. He then rested his arm over
the child's torso, whispered, "We'll talk more in the morrow. Sleep for
now," and purposively closed his eyes.


     After morning ablutions, Evendal petitioned the Mistress of Oaks for
the restructuring of a specific entryway within the Palace, and for the
installing of a birch door there. He sent a messenger to Alekrond accepting
the offer of hospitality that the Princeps Maritimus(135) had tendered to
His Majesty and His Serene Highness of Osedys, setting the date for two
mornings thence. The courier left with an additional missive, suitably
encumbered with seals, authorising the Counsellor to prepare for an
aspersion on that same date. His Majesty likewise sent notice to the Criers
to post the word, and to the Temple, where Onkira was in forced seclusion.
     The third bell of the day, Aldul asked to break fast with King and
Prince, a request happily granted. When the Kwo-edan appeared, he and his
appointed aide came bearing tablets, paper, and parchment. A startled
Danlienn followed fast behind them.
     "Wherefore the accessories, my friend?"
     Aldul carefully bowed his apologies. At his assistant's urgings, he
took a seat by the hearth nearest the bed. "Your Guard, having been
returned to their examination of the Records, wanted to pursue some
uncertainties I had clarified for them..."
     "When was this?"
     "At first light,"
     Evendal scowled, suspecting Aldul of masking another distressing sleep
behind a façade of industry. "They approached you?"
     "No, Your Majesty." Aldul shook his head incrementally, and Evendal
relented.
     "Not wanting to leave you ignorant of what they found, I had those
matters of certainty brought here."
     The churning in Evendal's stomach solidified into a knot. "And their
conclusions?" He watched Danlienn set out his tools on an enpyo'reñard(136)
he had begun bringing in with him, a legacy of the former Quillmaster's
Palace tutoring efforts.
     "Of indifferent tenor, Your Majesty. Most of your commands,
commissions, and decisions -- now that they are bereft of Siarwak and
Uhult-helt and are given constant attendants -- abide unmolested and
unaltered. Lest I forget... Gwl-lethry sent notice that he has received
thanks from Periolath the Silversmith for the commission on his
rings. Also, Ierowen of Donnath-luin has asked to be trained in fencing."
     "No," Evendal decided. "Aught else?"
     "A document I thought conspicuous in its absence: Niem Dïr has not
returned word of her eldest son's disposition, nor of her heir's training."
     "Like as not, she will report only when she has accomplished
report-worthy deeds. We have, in her mind, abused her and challenged her
honour. Any surprises?"
     Aldul nodded. "A strange one. The Dowager protests her situation. She
has taken to writing missives; ostensibly reminiscences, they degenerate
into plaints enumerating the wrongs done her. And have found their way into
the archive."
     Evendal sighed. The most insidious, inveigling threat to his
dominiarium(137) had found an avenue of communication. "Of course they
have. Onkira is eager for the discovery of her scripts, no doubt hoping I
will come across them personally. Before Mausna, she oft complained how the
record-room courted unhealthy fascinations. 'Twas a fond sanctuary for me."
     "It was?" Aldul asked, and Kri-estaul's brow furrowed.
     "My father was no fool, but his days of visiting the scientia and
sapientia of his predecessors had long passed. Mo... Onkira knew her
letters, but preferred to have her pulp-tales(138) read to her. This
rendered the archive a haven from my two dearest enemies."
     "I like to read," Kri-estaul whispered, uncertain of his reception.
     Evendal grinned, his eyes flashing. "That is good to hear. There is
nothing more quietly comforting to me than sitting with my..." He faltered
into silence, his face blank. Before anyone could note the pause, he
rallied. "...with a querulous historian complaining about how the time he
is living in and wailing over has destroyed all that is good and pure. Just
as chroniclers writing generations before him and after him argued.
     "We would notify Sygkorrin that her priests' integrity is
compromised. As is the honesty of Our Guard. Again." When Aldul took
Evendal's silence for leave to continue, the King waved for an
abeyance. After a moment's consideration, he stirred. "We must act on this
now! Chielheroni?"
     The Guard at the door entered and bowed.
     "Is Bruddbana at hand? Or Ierwbae?"
     "He is, Your Majesty."
     "And what of... Ierowen? Or Omerludi? Or Hwil-marsidyan?" Then Evendal
slapped his own head in chagrin, inasmuch as the woman before him could
serve his need, Guard or no. "Nay, do not answer. They will not be
necessary.
     "Ask the Guard Commander hither for but a moment's pause. And return
with him. Then We will need to send a messenger to the Temple." The Guard
bowed again and departed, while Evendal tapped absently on the arm of his
chair, ruminating. "Some song there must be whereby I can restore what was
lost."
     "But by your own confession to me you do not create," Aldul reminded.
     "No, you misunderstand. Rather a song by which I return what is still
entire, but misplaced and purloined."
     "Wait on that, I would say, until you take the report of your
deputies. You might confound their current efforts. Also, this diligence is
their love and gratitude made manifest."
     The King shook his head. "Again, you mistake my intent, my friend. But
We take your hint to heart. Danlienn, let us begin..."
     When Bruddbana appeared, yet again kneeling out of playfulness, the
King shared a grin with him.
     "I trust Falrija is well?"
     "Still as feisty as ever."
     "My friend, We bear yet another possible mouse, squeaking its way into
the wrong burrow. Missives bearing Onkira's contagion have reached from the
Temple's impoundment to the Royal Archive."
     "They did not creep here on little mouse paws," Bruddbana growled,
cleanly grasping the image. "Another Guard?"
     "I would not presume a yea or a nay. Nor would I presume to take
liberties with you. So I ask you to stand proxy for your command in a
casting I would spell. And you, Chielheroni, to stand beside him facing
me. If you both would indulge me?"
     "A wreaking?"
     "No. Doubtless there are degrees of faultlessness with whatever agency
was netted or trapped, that is all the more certain as the fisherman is
Onkira. A beckoning, rather."
     "You seek to draw the turncoat forth? I am your man."
     "That, my friend, was never in doubt. Will you suffer this?"
     "Your willing friend and servant. What would you have me do?"
     Evendal gave up trying to get a more egalitarian response. "Simply
kneel as you did in the Courtyard so many weeks ago."
     Bruddbana complied promptly, and extended his hands. To Kri-estaul's
disappointment, nothing extraordinary passed as Evendal m'Alismogh placed
his palms over Bruddbana's and began:

        I know how it came about,
        I judge you yet blameless in this,
        No doubt she played on your pity,
        A simple kindness perhaps,
        For a penitent woman unmanned.
        But this was a pool of tar uncooled,
        Quicksand moist, deep and avid.
        Your care within her compass warped,
        Within her sway, all good is marred.

        I know how it came to pass,
        But... You treat with an onion,
        Peel back her layers to find nought.
        And I'm a jealous man, you see,
        I am a jealous man for you.
        If you pledged to me foremost,
        Your pledge to me must stand.
        As before me you must stand.

        Come to me, to my help and main.
        Turn to me with heartfelt zeal,
        If mine own you were, be so again,
        Safe from all that she portends,
        I'll be your shield as I did vow,
        If you'll but turn to me, here and now.

     The song began as a rhythmic monologue, one side of a conversation,
and elided into rhyme only at the end. If will or fancy held any sway at
all, the covert themes, the motif and motive, infused his dwoemer -- remedy
and prevention. Inoculation.
     Done, the King released the Guard's hands and sat back. Kri-estaul,
knowing something was changed, studied his surroundings. The glow off
Evendal's eyes had remained constant, as had the room and the comforting
scent off his Papa's closeness. Uncle Aldul sat waiting on Evendal's return
to the record-work, glancing occasionally at a furiously scribbling
Danlienn. The man kneeling before them was still a Guard, if funny and nice
sometimes, and in that moment bore a strange expression.
     Chielheroni, red-faced, dared a quick glance about herself. Seeing no
one move or speak, she broke the silence that had followed after the
song. "Might I retire for a moment to refresh myself, Your Majesty?" And
Evendal nodded and grinned in acquiescence. With a stiff bow she retreated.
     Bruddbana, after a breath, straightened. He let one shaky hand grip
his sword and the other cap his dominant knee. The royal form delighted him
in its simplicity. His King took a swallow of hot cider and the Guard just
kept a smile from his own lips. Osedys was too gangly for the traditional
moulds of male beauty, but his awkward vitality, the rude force of his
so-honest personality, stirred Bruddbana. The man had mystery, power,
virtue, intelligence, cunning, and a naïve passion that evoked admiration
in the Guard. Kneeling now, Bruddbana was forced by circumstance to
acknowledge that what gripped him felt somewhat more than admiration for
Evendal, like unto those attractions he had unreflectively ignored ever
since Falrija had first slapped him and earned his attention.
     And so he said nothing.
     "How is it with you, my friend?"
     "I am well."
     "How is it with you?" the King asked a second time.
     Bruddbana had changed drastically since the first days; his inability
to hide his emotional state, however, had not. "I am reminded of matters I
would... clarify with my wife, before detailing them to anyone."
     Evendal grimaced, then confronted him again. "Do you mean
the... moment's stiffening and the foreign urging that might have overtaken
you? Such is but a passing response to my song, which relies on the erotic
impulses in all."
     Bruddbana's darkly red face and the creasing to his clothes confirmed
the truth his Lord spoke. The Guard shook his head, in concert with a
relieved sigh. "Yes and no. The urging is not foreign, though I thank you
for explaining its sudden force."
     The King remembered comments by Sygkorrin, relevant to Bruddbana's
love and loyalty(139). Few men had more knowledge of Evendal's frailties,
yet for all his brew-inspired tendency toward boasting, braggadocio, few
men remained as steadfast and discrete as Bruddbana had shown
himself. M'Alismogh smiled, hearing both what was said and what had
remained unspoken. "You but confirm the treasure you and your wife are, the
grace you grant me."
     "You mean that? Knowing..."
     Evendal shrugged. "Knowing that you prize your wife's well-being above
your own comfort."
     Bruddbana relaxed further, no longer concerned to hide from his liege,
nor as mindlessly fascinated. "Yes, I do."
     "Aldul, I have sent to the Priestess, begging her to present Onkira to
us on the morrow, for aspersion on the morning after."
     The Kwo-edan frowned. "And do you intend to witness this 'aspersion'?"
     "Yes, We must." His use of the royal plurality signalled a duty he
could not shirk.
     "Where will this event take place?"
     "On a bit of ossified reef called Traitor's Wash."
     Aldul sat up, disrupting his papers. "And where will Kri-estaul be?"
he asked, already uncomfortable with the answer he had yet to hear.
     Kri-estaul stared at his father, his face grim with anticipation. The
sudden tension in the boy's form faded swiftly with Evendal's
answer. "Beside me, enjoying the unique pleasures of Alekrond's true home."
     Bruddbana interposed, standing. "Is this a subject about which you
would accept kindly persuasion?"
     "Only Kri-estaul's."
     And Aldul had no doubts of that.
     The King requested a full tea for Aldul and elevenses for himself and
Kri-estaul.(140) Half a bell later, Ddronhelim arrived.
     "All health and prosperity, Ddronhelim," the King bade, "to you and
your brother."
     "Your Majesty." The young man swallowed hard, and looked ready to flee
the room.
     Bruddbana scowled, in dread of what his Guard might confess. The
scarred man's presence conveniently reminded Bruddbana how the twins had
recently begged leave to visit the Temple together, at a bell when
Darhelmir had duty assigned him. Charged to ferret out the depths of the
Royal Archives' misuse, Ddronhelim could serve as courier for the Dowager.
     "Your Majesty, I fear your good wishes are too late... for my... my
brother."
     Bruddbana released the breath he had been holding, but relief turned
to dismay with the impact of his deputy's words.
     "Clarify, as you can, good Ddronhelim," the King bade softly.
     Given the opportunity, Ddronhelim tore in, spewing his anxiety and
sorrow with each consonant. "He has professed weariness too often, of
late. When not under another's scrutiny, he will pant just from a brief
walk, as though there is not enough air to breathe. He sleeps like one
already dead, utterly insensible to all, and awakens wearier than when he
retired. His appetite is suffering as well, as anyone can see looking on
him."
     "Surely you two sought out the Temple?"
     Ddronhelim nodded, oblivious as his one hand kept a bruising grip on
his other hand's fingers. "A goodly priest owned as my... my brother's
heart was weakened in some way. Instead of hope, he proffered silence. And
a decoction(141) of poppy, laudanum(142), as though it were a wondrous
philter."
     "Where is your brother now?"
     "In among the records, striving to ignore his frailty, to drown it in
service to Your Majesty. He drove me out, to answer your request alone. He
dreaded to come himself, lest you see his extremity and deny him the only
true opiate that serves him."
     "We would not do that else We had some choice to offer that might
prove more amenable to him. Bruddbana, go with him if you would, and gently
bring Darhelmir to Us."
     As the two Guard obeyed, Evendal flashed Aldul a troubled glance. "Did
you ever feel as though Fortune spent her time making new games to play you
upon her wheel, just for the amusement you bring her? I am beginning to
feel just so!"
     "I do not understand the intent of your words."
     "You will," the King foretold, and stared down on his quiet, puzzled
son. 'You're too quiet for one having but eight years,' he thought sadly,
'too quiet.'
     "I am very powerful, Kri-estaul. So powerful I think I will alter you
to some creature more to my liking."
     "No! I'll be..." The child clenched his jaw, in unmindful imitation of
the King, and asked warily, "To... to what?"
     "A giggling boy!" Evendal shouted and proceeded to tickle his son,
making the child squeal and laugh and beg for clemency again and again. He
would stop, grant Kri-estaul a moment to recompose himself, let them both
catch their breath and smile at each other, and then he would move -- most
deliberately -- with fingers twitching but only lightly touching, and eyes
sharp for any hint of distress.
     Such treatment qualified as torture, for Evendal forced Kri-estaul's
endurance to a level where the boy could not help but scream and shriek
with laughter, totally unmanned and loudly so. But Evendal forbore
scratching, gouging, or prodding, keeping to a random feather-light run of
fingertips across ribs, down forearms, and under arms when unintentionally
exposed, across the belly or behind the ears. When Kri-estaul began to
hyperventilate for what Evendal deemed too long, they would cease, and he
waited to begin again.
     "This is not just! Unfair!" Kri-estaul wailed, unaware of the volume
of his plaint.
     The King smiled wide. "Why?"
     "I can't tickle you!" Kri shouted.
     "Who said?" Evendal dared.
     "Well... I'll bet you're not ticklish," the child probed verbally, his
voice calming, a mock pout on his face.
     "You might lose that bet."
     "Might?" Aldul intruded, catching the distinction.
     Evendal shrugged. "No one ever... played with me as a child. I had no
friends, just near peers kept at a distance." The topic was not one he
wanted to draw attention to.
     During this bout of silliness, Bruddbana and Ddronhelim returned with
Darhelmir and guided the sickly man to a chair, a liberty that warmed
Evendal nearly as much as his play with Kri-estaul did. "Darhelmir, We have
been apprised of your dreadful tidings." Something in the bend of the man's
shoulder, the defensive curve in the upper back, spoke to Evendal of an
unreported complication. "And you have fallen prey to winter's sempiternal
servants, haven't you? Catarrh?" The combined assaults of a belaboured
heart and rheumy lungs during a Thronelands winter made a funereal fire in
Darhelmir's near future a certainty.
     Miserable, the gaunt fellow nodded. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, for
not..."
     "Be at ease, my man," Evendal insisted. "We did not have you brought
here to relieve you of your commission. We would refuse were you to seek to
retire from Our service."
     Darhelmir's shoulders relaxed slightly, then bunched up as he
struggled against a cough.
     "What else troubles you? We know it is not merely your ailment. Do not
hesitate to unburden your pains to me, to Us."
     The sallower twin only glanced at his brother, but Evendal understood
enough and held up a hand to halt any explication. Just as Sygkorrin stood
framed by the doorway, Darhelmir took up his liege's offer, the spareness
of his frame accentuating the fury emergent on his face. "The priest we
visited was hardly the exemplar of tact or concern."
     Ddronhelim added, seeing the Archate at the door, "Perhaps he feared
us. Guard have given the itinerants cause to fear our retribution in the
past, if we did not like what they said or did."
     Darhelmir glanced where his brother looked, but saw and felt nothing
to dissuade him from the truth he knew. "I asked him how I might extend the
number of my days and he said nothing, only tapped his fingers on his
script. Ddronhelim asked of him some indicators, some markers by which we
might know when... I might should request, might beg Your Majesty for Your
Majesty's surest grace." With a jolt, Evendal caught Darhelmir's
meaning. "The priest offered no answer, only tendered a copy of his papers
and took his leave."
     The King did not ask if Darhelmir would truly seek him out for the
mercy-stroke; such a grace eventuated from their mutual pledge. "There is
more, is there not?"
     Darhelmir warmed to his tale, his breathing laboured, but his voice
sharp and words clipped with pain and outrage. "He left behind two
documents. One was his assessment of my state, in redundant verbiage --
thinking us too ignorant to recognise how he merely inscribed the symptoms
twice using different terms. A text we could have fashioned ourselves! The
other was an all-but-completed Return Of A Death, which he handed to my
brother, saying to summon him back in the fullness of time and he would
sign it for a sum."
     Evendal stared at a mute and mortified High Priestess. "A singular
priest, or so We hope. We shall pursue his suitability with Her Eminence at
a later time. Your disclosure in no way tarnishes Our good opinion of you
two. We had you brought to Us, Darhelmir, to offer you hope of an uncertain
mettle."
     "Hope for what, Your Majesty?"
     "Health. Wholeness such as lasts the common length of a human life."
     Ddronhelim spoke into the stunned silence that Evendal's answer
engendered. "What renders this disposition uncertain, Your Majesty?"
     "We would be spelling, singing the effort to knit your brother's
sinews to better order. The effect is not assured, and may not conform to
Our intention."
     Darhelmir thought on that, and glanced up on occasion as if to gauge
his brother's countenance. "What do you fear may result?" he asked his
King.
     Evendal hesitated, struggling for the words to encompass his
intuitions. "We might strengthen the levies about your heart, the
earthworks, and do it too well, leeching all suppleness, all pliancy. We
might age your heart, tire it beyond your actual years. Or leave you with a
heart suited to the demands of a smaller youth, not a man."
     Darhelmir shrugged. "Barring your intervention, I die. Should your
fear become, I would make just as thorough a corpse, Your Majesty."
     "True. But the coup-de-grace might be quicker, the pain and misery
more brief," Evendal riposted. "Your decision affects your brother as
well. Debate it with him. We will not move on this until after Onkira's
dissolution."
     Ddronhelim's eyes widened in alarm, a flexing his brother could not
see but that was not lost on his King.
     "Darhelmir, look upon us." The King waited for his Guard's squinting
obedience before continuing, "We hold and withhold your right to die. As
your life is Ours, your dying is Ours. And We command you now to wait upon
Us and Our will."
     Darhelmir's lips moved only to tremble; yet Kri, Aldul, Ddronhelim,
Bruddbana, Sygkorrin, and Danlienn all heard his voice -- stronger than it
had been throughout the interview. "I hear, my Lord.(143)" His body
stiffened momentarily, then his head sagged and drooped back against
Ddronhelim's abdomen. For the space of ten heartbeats, no one spoke or
moved as what had passed fought incredulity in the adults' minds.
     Darhelmir croaked out, "'Helim?" And Ddronhelim was kneeling beside
his brother, his arms wrapped about the sickly man's shoulders.
     "Papa?"
     "A moment, my dearling," Evendal requested. "We greet Your Eminence,
and ask that you redeem your vocation with these two of Our companions
while We attend to other matters. Ddronhelim. Darhelmir. You have Our leave
to speak with whomever you would at this time." He turned his attention
back to his son.
     Sygkorrin approached and knelt at Darhelmir's side. "How is it with
you, young man?"
     The Guard shrugged again. "Mortal. 'Tis all I am certain of. Do not
either of you understand?" he panted. "It is not for myself that I am
concerned! I ken what to expect. Grand-père died the same way. Father as
well. Father's older brother was hale, but died at Mausna, and Ddronhelim
takes after him it seems."
     The Priestess summarised. "It was not to learn more of your family's
heritage that you sought out a priest."
     Ddronhelim nodded, then protested, "But the fool was not fit to offer
'Helmir succour, not in any circumstance. Rhoudlun was not worth my
fingernail parings."
     Sygkorrin started and then glared. "What? Him? That camel-molester!
How did you learn of him?"
     Ddronhelim shrugged. "A neighbour of our mother's knew of
him. Insisted that we go to him as he lived in her vicinity."
     Sygkorrin turned to the King. "Your Majesty, grant me your authority
over this fellow!"
     Evendal held up his hand, requesting a moment's pause as he replied to
a concern of Kri-estaul's. "We will both just have to wait until that
morning. A fine pair we will show, as you have never been on a boat and I
do not recall whether I suffer sea-sickness or not. I might be able to ease
any discomfort of yours -- provided I am not suffering with you.
     "What would your Eminence?" the King asked the Priestess.
     "Your Majesty, grant me your authority over this scoundrel, Rhoudlun."
     "I have never seen you so eager over anyone, Your Eminence. Are you
speaking out of this passion, or is he truly a criminal? Of what is he
guilty?"
     "Misdirection, larceny by robbery and burglary, cruelty and murderous
negligence, rapine. Pretending to authorities he did not possess; demanding
a sum for exercising the semblance of skills, and mastery he did not suffer
the discipline to legitimately acquire." The Priestess was quite specific,
and more furious.
     "Were We to grant you this freedom, what would you?"
     "After making him regret ever pretending to an order of priesthood he
had no patience to achieve, I would render him incapable."
     Knowing it served Sygkorrin's agenda, Evendal nonetheless asked the
expected question. "Incapable of what?"
     "Incapable of rapine, of cruelty, of deliberate deception. Incapable
of the nimbleness needed for such larceny as he practises. Our methods
require more time than yours, with more intricate devisings, but in the
proof are equal in success, Your Majesty."
     Intrigued, the King pursued, "How would you manage to render him
incapable?"
     Sygkorrin's dark eyes glittered. "The mind is a haphazardly tended
wold. His self-awareness would be herded down evanescent deer-trails, then
abandoned to discover what he has grown in his own forest, and to work his
own way out."
     The King winced. The High Priestess turned her intense countenance on
Ddronhelim. "How much did he demand for his mendacity and heartlessness?"
     Somewhat stunned at the woman's ferocity, Ddronhelim stuttered out,
"Four vianki."
     The Priestess's brow furrowed. "That was humble for him. Your Majesty,
we offer instruction to all who seek it. This worm aspired to the
priesthood, but when it proved more effort than he had fancied, he baulked
and left with some indifferent clerical skills. Along his twisted path he
likewise acquired some skill at thievery, as well as priestly attire. He
has assaulted women and boys who refused his offers. He has bound and
gagged his marks, dragged them to perilous places, and left them to die on
their own. He wears his purloined raiment at every chance, convincing all
who see or deal with him that he is of our number."
     For all her passion, every word from Sygkorrin's mouth held the sweet
clarity of truth to m'Alismogh's ear. "How many, that you know of, have
died as a result of his indifference and malice?"
     "That I am assured of? Eight."
     Evendal stared down at an attentive Kri-estaul. "You are thinking of a
girl and her younger brother, Priestess. Speak."
     "He burgled the home of a courtesan who had more ambition than
compassion, and carried off her two bastard children. He drove them to the
cliffs, into a declivity in the base of one, and bound them there, thinking
to encourage the woman to purchase their return with report of their
extremity. The woman did not respond to his demands, and he left the
children helpless, to be swept out when the tide rose and drowned
them. Dead, their bodies meandered to a sand bar, and were found before the
sealife rendered them unrecognisable. Two of Rhoudlun's ransom notes were
in an oilskin on the girl's body. He had them already written, to extort
more from the bitch after she paid. That is how we know he was the
culprit."
     The King shrugged, his expression bland but his eye-light
pulsing. "Children. Adults. It matters little to Us. They were citizens,
entitled to Our protection. Should you find him, he is yours, Your
Eminence. This is a singular privilege We grant you, not a right to
exercise henceforth."
     Danlienn looked up from his effort, a scowl marring his features.
     "Speak, cousin," Evendal bade.
     "You mean that, truly?"
     The King frowned. "Mean what?"
     "Every Thronelander's life is yours, you have said so before, but you
do not treat them as possessions, as... chattel."
     "Yes and no," Evendal backtracked. "We know the populus for Our own,
from their first breath, their first suckle(144). Ours to deal with as We
see fit. Never doubt that We are jealous in Our ownership. And what gives
Us greatest pleasure is to enrich and cherish Our hoard. A man is not for
twisting or warping, but to be watched over, to be guarded. A King does not
spend his treasure -- his dearest prize -- he secures it. Gold, silver,
coral, even pearls, are but the means to accomplish that."
     "I fear my brother would debate that with you."
     "We do not speak a truth etched in Kul-stone, good Danlienn. For
conversely, that same treasure We cosset so does not voice an opinion worth
marking. The packrat does not ask his prize what it wants. Most people are
sheep, or wish to be. Ask the nearest fishmonger what should be done with
Onkira; he will saw the air, clear his throat repeatedly and -- if pressed
-- uncertainly suggest banishment, the very useless sentence We had already
enacted so unsuccessfully. He would tender this suggestion, not out of
compassion or charity, but from indifference -- because such matters do not
keep him from or lead him to his profit. Most people do not wish to look
beyond the span of their noses and do not appreciate being gulled into
doing so. And what is most unfortunate, such apathy infests all estates."
     Danlienn considered. "You are speaking of Providentia, and its lack."
     The King of Osedys nodded. "Prudence? Yes, among other virtues(145)
not mentioned in the lists."
     "Then whence this care for the masses? Again and again I have seen
reference to how the Throne serves the kingdom, the kingdom does not serve
the Throne. How seriously am I to consider such... hyperbole?"
     Evendal m'Alismogh paused, eyeing Danlienn critically. "We could fill
your ears with such treatises as would send you fleet-footed back to
Arkedda, out of desire for respite. Instead we entreat you: Watch,
consider, and tell Us the answer you find."
     Frustrated, Danlienn continued, "Are you like unto Alta, whose Council
ostensibly governs, purportedly serving the will of the mob?" He wrinkled
his nose, as though smelling something foul. "Their faces and names change
with the river tides, while the true rulers -- unchanging and unnamed --
securely trade and barter lives and wealth in secret."
     "Watch. Decide for yourself. But We will confess this: Were the whole
of the city to amass before Our gates and demand Our death or the
abdication of Our authority, We would not meekly accede to their whim. Our
defiance would have many roots. At least one is admittedly self-serving: We
neither want to die nor want to lose those easements and dignities We have
known all Our life... But as well, the past has shown that apportioning
absolute authority, as Polgern did, serves only discord. Governing is both
a talent and a skill combined, and We have been driven to self-governance
from an early age. Also, when so many gather with one voice demanding blood
or ignominy, the value of their cause is more doubtful than at any other
time; no actual sense, wisdom, or justice propels it."
     Evendal turned and noted a familiar communicant had entered
unannounced. The feeling in the room was beginning to remind him of the
disorder attending Nisakh's execution: a gallery of almost desperate,
thinly related needs embodied in human frames. "Be at peace. How do you
fare, Omerludi?"
     "Troubled, Your Majesty," the thin voice piped as she curtsied. "I
find my mind carping on a kindness I had done, in confidence. And now
wonder if it were in truth a kindness."
     His thoughts yet held by Danlienn's concerns, Evendal questioned her
absently. "Could Wirtle offer no help for you?"
     "It was not a concern for which I felt the need of counsel, at the
outset. But this morning it came to me that I might have interfered, not
helped, that I trespassed on Royal privilege."
     Evendal instantly perceived what impulse moved this girl, and he
brought his utter attention to bear. "Be clear, my daughter. What is it you
did?"
     "I provided your foster-mother with rag and ink and stylus, Your
Majesty."
     "Yes. And how is it you were so guided and goaded to meet with her at
all?"
     "Anlota sends me to the Temple with treats and tinctures and missives
for the Royal Mother(146). It was the Royal Mother Wytthenroeg who
suggested visiting the Lady Onkira."
     "Wytthenroeg?" the King blared in surprise, but reconsidered at
Omerludi's timid nod. Evendal had this image of the Throne as the centre of
the flower of governance(147), the focus about which rogue attendants,
drawn by its pull, revolved in opposition to each other. Two unrelated
pairs of satellites, the distinct elements of each pair in perfect
opposition to their counterparts in terms of influence and virtue,
maintained an enamoured motion between the Throne and the traditional first
Tier or Circle of Affect. The two counterbalanced elements in one circuit
or orbit had been, initially, Menam and Polgern: simple forte-main,
mundanely honest, passionate, brute will in opposition to plotting,
subterfuge, and manipulation. Later Abduram replaced Menam, demonstrating
that even direct brute force had its internal opposites, for Abduram held
many of the qualities Menam showed, but without mansuetude, without Menam's
mitigating doubts or humane limitations, without even a passing familiarity
with honesty.
     Polgern had succeeded with Menam only because Menam thought the elder
courtier his true friend and advisor, a deceit that Abduram wasted no time
on. Had Menam turned the same jaundiced eye on Polgern that he turned on
most of his other Counsellors, he would not only have seen the hypocrisy;
Evendal was fairly certain the two men would have been stalemated,
eventually respectful, enemies into their old age.
     Onkira and Wytthenroeg fit as the second pair of attendants around the
symbol of province-wide autonomy that was the Throne. Here Evendal intuited
without sufficient information: He did not know for how long Menam had
loved -- or if indeed he truly had loved -- Wytthenroeg. But he suspected
Menam and Wytthenroeg had established some measure of cordiality just at
the time Evendal's grandparents died in a minor typhus outbreak. From what
little he could glean out of the older magistrates, Wytthenroeg had
arrived, after receiving the grant to purchase a modest bit of acreage in
the Thronelands, two years before the outbreak. Two years after Menam
became King, he led a procession up to Arkedda to bring back his arranged
bride Onkira. And thus the second circuit drawn to the Throne, and to the
one who held the Throne, was formed: Onkira and Wytthenroeg, both rivals
(so Evendal supposed) and opposites.
     Looked at as an inevitable consequence of the politics of puissance,
this dance of move and counter suggested that even in the epidemic of
degradation, in the seemingly ravening and reckless cancer of self-interest
that the duumvirate had personified, an order and a balance yet dictated
and regulated matters.
     Was a niggling respect such as time and history can educe between
enemies behind his mother's gesture? Or were the rules of sympathy
governing utter opposites in play? 'Nestled patiently in the heart of each
element is an echo of its contrary's yearning.' Evendal grinned briefly
that his lessons in astrology and alchemy should come to help clarify the
undercurrents of the situation he had thrown himself into when he returned
home.
     "Had no one informed Our mother of the cordon sanitaire(148)?"
     Omerludi shook her head nervously. "I do not know, Your Majesty."
     Sygkorrin interrupted. "Not until she pursued her proposal with the
priests. They informed me of her inquiries. I, in turn spoke with her of
your bill. The woman has a will of whalebone, and has learned to play
selectively deaf. I do not know if she understood your concern regarding
the Dowager."
     Having kept his face directed toward Kri-estaul, Evendal focused his
gaze on his son. "Are you ready to meet your father's mother, my boy?"
     Sygkorrin looked through the movable louvres of the window. The sky
was an oyster grey, with no wind. If the aging woman needed to be
transported, the present conditions were the best for it.
     "I suppose so..." Kri-estaul sounded less than enthused.
     Still silently smarting from the potential shame their partial
training of Rhoudlun laid the Temple open to, Sygkorrin interjected, "Shall
I attend to it, Your Majesty? We have a coach fashioned to serve in weather
much colder than it currently is."
     "We would be grateful, Your Eminence. Soonest is best." Evendal
decided the gentlest course for his son was to minimise the attention
expended on Wytthenroeg's rapprochement.
     To further downplay the apparent import of the meeting, the King
turned again to Darhelmir and returned briefly to other concerns. "Would
you tolerate a legitimate priest attending you two? One chosen for your
purposes by Her Eminence?"
     Darhelmir's face betrayed first a worry or uncertainty, then a
bolstering anger by which he replied, "Only if Your Majesty would be so
kind as to vouch for the priest's courage, compassion, perception, and
intent." He winced as the breath caught in his throat, then began a
coughing fit.
     "You can be assured none shall approach you without Our sealed note of
approbation. Now, I... We assign you, Darhelmir, to the archives. Treat it
as your sole Guard responsibility. You, Ddronhelim, hold two commissions
from Us hence. You are to keep watch on your brother's well being, and act
as his better instincts when he fails to. His comfort and preferences are
secondary to his health and the maintenance of his constitution. Have We
made Our desires clear?"
     Ddronhelim struggled against tears, but answered readily, even
fervently. "Yes, Your Majesty. It shall be as you have said."
     "You both may go or stay as you wish, for now. Understand, Darhelmir,
We have only secured your survival for a short time -- not your health or
stamina."
     Having given this warning, the King turned his eyes back to a
still-kneeling Omerludi. "You, child." His voice changed in timbre and a
more chill emotion suffused those few words. "Who rules in Osedys? Speak!"
     "You do, Your Majesty."
     "When did you learn of Our bill condemning Onkira and assigning her to
the cordon for the length of her remaining days?"
     Omerludi's hands, grimed in a chalklike powder, clutched each other in
palpable terror of her life. She had been a pawn on the losing side in a
pitiable game of power, yet His Majesty had both spared her and offered her
a wholesome sanctuary. Here again, she had found herself a pawn in another
unfathomable game of power. Her only thought, facing the Royal Mother, had
been to ease the concerns of the plainly troubled and sickly woman, the
mother of the man to whom she owed so much.
     With a start, Omerludi realised she had not answered her patient
King. "The day after you summoned Wirtle out to the... the Forest. Your
Majesty."
     "What? Oh." Evendal belatedly understood her meaning. Wirtle
undoubtedly had links with the Cinqet, and responded to the King of
Misrule's call to aid His Majesty when Onkira's mercenaries were
discovered.
     "To whom are you subject, Omerludi?" Evendal stared hard at the girl.
     "To the Most Gracious and Just Majesty Evendal ald'Menam, Lord of
Osedys and Ruler Absolute of the Thronelands."
     "So you have not pledged yourself to Wytthenroeg olm'Haedroeg as yet?"
Evendal's words, his caustic tone, cracked like a scourge across Omerludi's
conscience.
     "I co... could not, Lord."
     "And why not? You have in deed, if not in word."
     Her eyes flashed, and she momentarily reminded Evendal of Anlota. But
the moment and resemblance passed. "I am but the ash-handler under Mistress
Shulro. I am nothing that anyone would want my pledge, even were I to offer
it where I most desire to."
     Stunned, Evendal halted his excoriation, and considered again the
still undernourished waif. "Omerludi, what We offered you at the first was
just that. An offer. If your heart is held elsewhere, We will not restrain
you, or cause you to hate Our service. If you hold some ambition your
station keeps you from fulfilling, We can remedy that. Our rule cannot
afford to have those closest to us in service harbour distemper or
dissatisfaction toward that service. Aldul and His Most Serene Highness are
witness that We grant you Our leave to pledge yourself wherever you will."
     "Why would...? I don't understand. I disobeyed you. No matter my
intention, I yet did so. To the extremity of storing the fruits of Onkira's
coercion in the Palace."
     "Never mind that," Evendal insisted perversely. "It will yield ill or
not as Ir chooses. Where would you? With what lord or guild would you find
your peace?"
     Omerludi coloured. "You'll know me for the Cinqet oaf I am, Your
Majesty, but I would be yours. Only yours."
     Evendal leaned back in his seat, befuddled. "But, that you already
are."
     Kri-estaul, unnoticed by his father, smirked. He well understood the
girl, or so he thought. His Papa was unaware of the awe he evoked in
others. Kri waited for the girl to make herself clearer.
     "Your Majesty... I am a menial; a servant of a servant of your
kitchener. I do not aspire to more than what you have provided us to keep
your Palace. You asked of my longing, unseemly as it may be, and I but
answered you."
     The King nodded. "We assume the loyalty and love of Our staff's
help. Not wise of Us."
     Kri-estaul interrupted. "Papa, you are not listening. You bring up
other matters."
     Finding himself shaking, Evendal took three breaths, holding each deep
in his chest and releasing them slowly. Kri-estaul saw clearly that
Wytthenroeg's imminent arrival subtly unnerved him also. "Thank you, my
son.
     "Omerludi... What did you do that roused my ire so? Do you know?"
     "I disobeyed your edict."
     "What would you now do differently from what you actually did?"
     After a moment the girl shook her head, stymied.
     "Before all else, you must have a mentor, an adult having more than
twenty-eight years, someone to serve in loco parentis. And not Wirtle!"
     Omerludi closed her mouth, as that was the name on the tip of her
tongue. Evendal's eyes tracked to the two Guard nearest him.
     "Darhelmir and Ddronhelim!" the King exclaimed. "Excellent idea! The
next time Our mother, or Shulro or Anlota or Bruddbana command, demand, or
request anything of you that does not involve matters of cooking or the
kitchens, you seek out one or the other of these two and inform them,
asking their advice."
     "But those you named are your people! How can I tell them 'no' and
still expect to be breathing by day's end?"
     "Come here, child." Evendal bade, in his thoughts cursing the
Stone-wrights. Cautious but obedient, Omerludi complied. When he felt her
worried breath on his skin, he continued, "You are Ours! To commend or
censure, encourage or reprimand. And no less than Our son, you have the
right, as Our servant, to move about your home without fear or threat. As
Ours, you needs must show a respect for those of whom We ask more perilous
or intimate duty. Darhelmir and Ddronhelim, We expected Shulro to guide
her, train her in the ways of the Palace and its protocols. But Shulro
knows how to train by example, by showing what is to be done, which does
not serve here. You must inform her and so form her."
     Fully aware that their King had not made a request, Darhelmir
responded. "In what manner? What are we to instruct her in?"
     "Elaborate on the ladder of authorities within the Palace webs. What
responsibilities she has toward whom, and what she can expect in turn. Even
a servant of a servant, here, enjoys some benefits from her labours and
position. Clarify such."
     "As you have said, Your Majesty," Ddronhelim replied.
     Omerludi looked to protest, but Evendal waved her to quiet. "We know
what you would say. Do you pledge to treat your service, in whatever
station, as service to Us? For such it is."
     "I so pledge,"
     "We in turn pledge to grant you such respect as your will and service,
your fidelity and intent warrant. We pledge to sustain you in your
novitiate, your ascendancy, and in your decline, as befits Our honour. Go
now and learn, so you may better serve Us and Our heir and honour."
     Omerludi curtsied and moved to assist Darhelmir and Ddronhelim out.
     Watching the unlikely trio exit, Danlienn muttered, "Now I am but more
confused, Your Majesty."
     "Peace, Danlienn. You have intruded upon a pantomime here in the
middle of its performance. My sharp words to her were but a testing. Onkira
had not deigned to speak with Omerludi when she delivered the writing
implements. A bit of hauteur that proved her saving."
     "How came you to that discovery?"
     "Had Our foster-mother set her hooks in the youngling, the girl would
have acted a lens for Onkira's sense of injured merit, of entitlement, as
Illiamarro(149) did when We confronted her."
     "Illiamarro? But where...? But you treated with Omerludi as though her
contentment concerned you."
     "Of course." Evendal waited Danlienn out, letting him think his
question over.
     "Why does it?"
     "For a few reasons. One is what We all but told her in Our pledge:
Just as the Guard does, she displays Our honour -- and can bring upon Us
dishonour -- through her actions and attitude. Also, with those helping or
hindering you every day, 'tis better to be loved than feared. And there is
that within Us imagines We know her fear, her relentless anxiety that stems
from a frustrated powerlessness bordering on despair. Did you notice her
wit awoke with her anger? We felt a familiarity that We could not name. And
lastly, We treated with her so because her contentment does indeed concern
Us."
     Bruálta cantered in, then bowed. "Your Majesty. Your Highness. Lady
Wytthenroeg has arrived."
     "Two more Guard," Evendal ordered. "Stoke up and replenish the
fires. Pull some linens out and prepare a chair for her."
     Returning to the room, Sygkorrin grinned. "Calm, Your Majesty. Be
calm. She is not so frail as when last you saw her."
     "That is not Our only fear, Your Eminence," Evendal paused to
explain. "My acquaintance with her, the signs of my affection are
retrograde by nine years. I have been derelict in my attendance on her for
just that reason. What would she suffer me to do, and what would be
unseemly, childish, and discomfit her?"
     Aldul stood and moved to tower over Evendal. "This is a concern you
and I have addressed before. Could you not have come to me with it? Naught
matters to the loving heart but the well-being of the beloved."
     The Priestess shook her head in chagrin. "He misdirects you, Master
Aldul. During our retrieval of Madame Wytthenroeg, so many weeks ago, His
Majesty was most expressive of his anxious care for her, and using words
and private references over ten years unspoken. The Lady replied with like
tongue and equal delight in its renewed use."
     The King flashed a frown at the Archate. "That was over a sennight
past, whilst she lay in a fevered state. The time that has passed..."
     "Has but fed your worries, and to no purpose," Aldul chided.
     Sygkorrin added, "I fear the lady may trouble you in a manner you have
not anticipated."
     Voices burbled from the hall, rising in pitch and volume, leaving the
King little chance to pursue Sygkorrin's warning.

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(135) Latin: First Citizen of Sea-Commerce
(136) A construct somewhat between the old U.S. school desk-chairs and a
prie-dieu.
(137) Power, authority, rule, dominion, property, danger.
(138) Tales of two separate types: 1) Imaginary travels, with danger from
fantastical beasts. 2) Pathetically reasoned diatribes against various
long-moot issues -- such as the scandal of gentry and commoners learning to
read and write.
(139) Chapter 12
(140) The British tradition dovetails so well with the Oseidh, I could not
resist.
(141) An essence extracted from its source by boiling.
(142) A tincture, a solution of opium in an alcoholic menstruum
(143) Much as English has 'hear' and 'listen', Hramal has more distinctions
for that semantic unit. In this case, when Darhelmir says "Rep'hetlari,
Ureg'ev", utter obedience is understood because of his word choice.
(144) With the exception of those from Alta, Hramal in every estate would
be utterly unable to take the U.S. Bill of Rights and the prologue of the
Declaration of Independence seriously. The only rights people are born with
are the right to desire and movement and those rights correlative to their
senses. e.g. the right to eat but not the right to food, the right to see
but not the right to what is seen, the right to touch but not the right to
ownership, to grasp or claim, etc.
(145) The lists Evendal refers to vary slightly but generally comprise:
Justice, Temperance, Magnanimity (which includes Generosity and Clemency),
Fortitude, Prudence, Courage, Mansuetude, Affability.
(146) An honoured position known as iyoba in Nigeria, and gebirah in
Hebrew.
(147) The text is giving a specific here, a traditional (almost Dantean)
image of the flow of virtue and health from the king to the land, then to
the gentry, then to the commons; but I am uncertain whether the flower
intended is a chrysanthemum or a rose.
(148) A barrier designed to prevent a disease or other undesirable
condition from spreading.
(149) Chapter 17.