Chapter 3, Leaving behind
It took a week to travel to the capital. They could probably have made it much faster but the carriage rolled slowly through the landscape. Eléen didn’t know any of the men that accompanied him. They had been sent by the leaders of Ilsa, a council of Lords he had heard. The men belonged to the Great Duke of Lashima, they seemed to take great pride in the fact. It was obvious they were soldiers. Not only from their uniform in silver and bronze but also from their armour. Each wore a heavy case of steel on their chests with a tunic on top, on their heads sat conical hats. Also in steel. Their arms and legs was covered with steel plates. All carried one spear and one sword, and they marched alongside the carriage. Eléen hated the carriage. It was sunny days and the rays hammered on the small vehicle, whenever he opened the curtains the captain, or sergeant, would close them. Locking the heat inside. Never mind trying to walk, he didn’t dared to try. Instead he felt like he would melt. After the first day he had taken to wearing his oldest and simplest robes, if he had to ruin any robes he might as well ruin those. For some reason, the soldiers looked askew at his robes. He had caught some of them whispering about him disguising himself as a women. Which made no sense, he didn’t look remotely like a woman. If had looked more like his sister he could have understood their comments, but no one who looked at him could mistake him for a woman could they?
The morning the day they reached the capital, Eléen demanded the opportunity to take a bath. The capital lay just over the next hill, they would reach it within an hour. The captain looked as if he wanted to protest but seemed to think the better of it. The innkeeper gladly filled one huge wooden tub with warm water. To Eléen’s joy the innkeeper also filled one casket with colder water and added flowers and spices to it. Wearing his favourite robes, a wonderful scent filling his nose. For the occasion he had put on slippers. Thankfully, the sky was cloudy so the carriage was actually durable. An hour later they rumbled through the streets of Cathandra, the capital of Ilsa.
The city was sprawling across a dale, white square houses crammed together. As opposite to Sirrela that had seemed unplanned and sporadic, Cathandra looked like someone had tried to build it with an image in mind and then given up. There were wide streets that could hold thousands of people and there were alley that could at best hold one. Some houses had flat roofs and some had domes, some were in white stone and some in black. Eléen soon figured out that the houses in black stone and with domes belonged to the rich and powerful. If you had both you were likely part of the Lords’ council. An inlet led to the sea but no wharf had been built. Only small boats was able to cross the inlet, on the far end of the inlet stood a large castle. It was built on a cliff and hovered above the city like a hawk. Ilsa had a king, Eléen had heard. The king had almost no real power and functioned more like a figurehead than a political figure.
The carriage draw a crowd. It moved easily through it, people moved out of the way. Their murmurs causing a loud susurration as the carriage rolled passed. The people knew, an important guest was arriving today. An ambassador from the rich land of Alcande, an old ally to Ilsa. An even bigger crowd waited at the castle. A platform had been built in the courtyard, rich carpets covering the wood. The king stood with his wife, his son, his wife and the king’s grandson on the platform. All wearing their best formal wear and their best crowns. Even the small boy in his mother’s arms. The Council of Lords waited at the top of the large stairs, away from the crowds. Their faces grim. They knew that the boy was just as much a figure head as the king but until the clerk arrived, the boy would be the most important guest in a century. The Great Duke of Lashima followed the carriage as it rolled through the gates to the platform. His soldiers had melted away as instructed. A servant opened the carriage door as it stopped at the platform. A moment later a young man stepped out.
The king stared at him. The Council stared at him. The people gaped in disbelief. The first thing everyone noticed of course was his strange clothing. Robes in a soft pink and orange colour was draped around him, leaving his arms bare. Slippers in similar colour was decorated with seeds and stones. Flowery embroidery was carefully sewn at the neck and the short sleeves. Pearl earring hang in small hooks from his ears and two bracelets rested on his right arm. One in black ebony and one in white ivory. When the shock from his clothing wore of people were stun anew as they noticed his face. Brown hair with pearls and colourful beads braided into it. Framing a face with soft, gentle lines. The eyes held a warm brown colour, the lips a pale pink. A breeze rustled the clothes and made the brown hair flutter. The Great Duke couldn’t believe his eyes. The young man didn’t look like anything they had expected. Maybe Alcande played a higher game than he had thought.
***
The king seemed dumbfounded. So did his family. Eléen waited a few second before he decided to move things along on his own. He bowed traditionally, both arms crossed in front of him, back kept straight.
“Your majesty”, he said. “It is an honour to be received in Ilsa.” His sister had drilled him the etiquettes of court. The kind seemed to waken from his stupor, shook himself and announced in a booming voice.
“We welcome the ambassador of Alcande”, he spoke to the crowd. “Alcande have long been our sister nation and we are honoured to house her ambassador!” The crowd cheered. Eléen looked at it. He had never been good at this kind of thing. Everyone looked at him expectantly like he was suddenly going to do tricks. He decided to take the safe course of action.
“’As a flowers whose only duty is its beauty’”, he recited from memory. “’As is the heart’s only duty to know love. As the sun gives us warmth and the earth its riches. Such is the duty of the people. To be a flower of beauty, a heart of love, a source of warmth and generous as the soil.’ It is with great pleasure I will reside in this beautiful kingdom.” The crowd cheered, many looking confused as if they hadn’t really understood what he had said. Eléen breathed slowly. His father had often recited the poem to Karla after she announced her intentions to join the council. It was meant to serve as a reminder that it was real people she would rule over. It seemed to do the trick when giving speeches as well. The queen curtsied and gestured toward the large stairs.
“You must be tired after your travels, your excellency”, she said, her face motherly. “Please come inside.” They led the way up the stairs, the Council had already slipped inside. “Do many wear robes like yours in Alcande?” she asked. Eléen shook his head.
“This is a very traditional way of dressing”, he explained. “It is exclusive to men. Normally it would go with a beard but as you can see I have foregone that.” He certainly wasn’t going to tell the queen his sister had forced him to shave! Though he admitted it would probably have been very hot to keep it. And it had itched horribly.
“I see”, the queen said. “Might I ask you of your name?”
“Eléen, your majesty.”
“Eléen”, she mused. “A curious name. My name is Anshalla but most call me Shalla.” Eléen bowed his head. The king hurried up the stairs, his girth getting in the way. The king seemed like a good man, despite his big stomach he didn’t feel bad or disgusting like the major had.
“And I”, he wheezed, “am Schiama. This is my son, Racha.” He gestured to the young man. The man had picked up his son from his wife and carried him up the stairs. The boy was at best two years old. Racha looked at his son with the most adoring eyes Eléen had ever seen. His wife watched him with warmth and a silly smile. “Darla, my daughter-in-law”, the king continued. “My grandson, who is about to fall asleep, Chermi.” Eléen smiled and bowed slightly again. It seemed to satisfy them.
“Your name is almost the same as my sisters”, he said conversely to Darla.
“Oh?” she said with an odd accent. “What is her name then?”
“Her name is Karla”, he answered.
“That is alike”, Darla laughed. “Are the two of you close?”
“As close as any brother and sister I presume.” The royal family laughed as he had made a joke.
“She misses you greatly, I’m sure”, the king said. “Must have protested greatly when they sent you here, eh?”
“Not really”, Eléen answered without thinking. “She was the one who sent me here after all.” That got a blank look. It seemed that the idea of a woman in charge was foreign to these people. “I’m sure she misses me though!” he assured them.
“Your sister sent you here?” Shalla asked in a stunned voiced. “How could she have the power to do that?”
“She is the Seer”, Eléen tried to explain. “She is chosen by the people led them.” The answer seemed to confuse them but they were skilled enough in the etiquettes of the court to ask any further questions. The king introduced him to a servant in a spotless uniform while informing that the elderly man would act like his manservant during his stay. Eléen didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. He was so long away from home.
***
A familiar feeling enclosed him and he felt the panic rising, he snapped his eyes open and stared into the darkness. He felt bewildered. A cry of fear and abandonment slipped out from his lips. He started to claw around him, trying to escape, his finger felt fabric. Gripping the fabric hard in both hands he started trying to move the fabric out of his way. It refused to move, he pushed down harder, his mind going blank. A surge flowed through him and with a crash something landed on the floor. He panted heavily and tried to free himself from what bound him.
The chamber door flew open and an elderly man stepped through. He had grey hair the colour of iron, his thin face had soft creases. The dark eyes glanced about the room in shock.
“My lord?” he exclaimed in a worried voice. “Are you alright? What happened?” the man hurried to Eléen’s side. Mind still blank he struggled to get his blankets off not noticing the man talking to him. The elderly man gentle helped him untangle his blankets and onto his feet. He was led to wicket chair and made to sit down. The elder opened a window and looked with fright at the bed. It was a big bed with a canopy hanging from the top of it. Large pillars supported the railings in which the canopy was fastened. Except one of this railings looked like it had been ripped of the pillars, taking the drapery with it. It was like a huge hand had taken hold of and brought it down. Remarkably, that was the only thing that had broken. The rest of the bed, and the canopy fabric, was intact. The older man looked at Eléen. He didn’t notice any of it. His mind was still a mess, throwing everything in disarray. Before when this had happened he had always had his father to help him calm down. After his father had died he had started to fear the night.
A gentle hand touch his shoulders, a voice he hardly recognized spoke to him. The voice didn’t say anything important. It was only trying to be soothing. Slowly he could feel the chaos of his mind die down and reality returned once more. His chamber returned to him, as did the man standing at his side, looking worried. It was Isha, his manservant. The elder man didn’t normally intrude on him, sensing he preferred to have some distance. Now Isha’s hand on his shoulder felt reassuring. Eléen the noticed the bed, he remembered the surge from his panic and swallowed hard. Letting his mind drift was an easy thing but moving something of these size should have made him feel drained, even in his confused state. Yet he felt nothing. What if he was growing stronger? He feared what would become of him.
***
Isha exited the chambers of the young lord, the young man had refused to return to bed. Instead he had settled at the window, staring out at the dark waters. Isha had managed to keep himself steady in front of the ambassador but now he started trembling. At his age anything could be a shock but most would had trembled, he thought, at seeing signs of the ancient gifts. Most wouldn’t know what look for he admitted. There had been many centuries since anyone with the gifts had appeared. But as it happened, Isha’s great-great granduncle had been gifted with the power of the ancient. Ever since he was a child, he have been told stories about his great-great granduncle. What had stuck with him the most was always the stories of when his uncle had been lost in a state of panic and fear, his mind lost to the world. Only calm and patience had brought him back to normal. As a child, he had pitied the man in the stories. He had always sounded like someone who would be sad and lonely, afraid of his own powers.
Now Isha could see he probably had had reason to. Lord Eléen was a pleasant young man most of the time, his tastes a bit odd but still. It had been easy to make accommodations. Isha wouldn’t try to dress the young man, he didn’t know how to anyway, and in exchange the young man would listen to his suggestions. Isha could never have imagined what struggle went on inside that pleasant surface. He thought for a moment if he should report what had happened and then decided against it. The king didn’t have the power to do anything and the council had too much power. His great-great granduncle had ended his own life, not being able to live in fear, and in anguish seeing the fear on his families faces. No, he wouldn’t say anything. But perhaps he could provide some small support to the young lord. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the ancient gifts have resurfaced in Alcande.
***
It was relaxing. Sitting at the window. He did not yet dare to go to sleep. For so long he had been able to keep it at bay. His father had explained why it happened and had tried to assure him that it was nothing to fear. Eléen had never really been able to believe him. For the first time he regretted not telling his sister the truth. Sure, she might not have been able to help but at least he wouldn’t have been alone. And she would never had sent him here. Maybe. His father had believed that his sister also had some of the ancient gifts, but so weak she had never noticed. A gift of knowing the future. So slight and so weak that it only manifested itself as intuition and a sense of what to do. It didn’t make him feel any better. It only meant that Karla unknowingly had sent him here because it was of importance to the future.
He locked at the bed. Nothing would be able to explain that. He felt bad for Isha who would probably be taken for a liar but he couldn’t allow the bed to remain broken. He focused, closing his eyes, on how the bed had looked before. When he opened his eyes, the bed was back to normal. He still didn’t understand the rules of his gift, or gifts he thought, but it was no doubt. He was way stronger than before and he was only getting stronger. That shouldn’t have been a scary thing. But it was.
***
The blue silk robes have creased. Again. Just from hanging it seemed. Eléen threw it on the bed in exasperation, causing more wrinkles. He knew it was a gift from Karla but he just couldn’t bring himself to like it. Isha twitched as he wanted to take care of the robes, he didn’t move though. The servants had tried to take care of it but the silk just refused to obey. There were another feast today. Eléen had really had it with feasts but his mission was to strengthen the relationship between Ilsa and Alcande. He just wished he didn’t have to do all this socializing in order to do so. They just seemed superfluous and to extravagant. Meant to distract him.
The climate in Ilsa was similar to that of Alcande but lay further south, making him suffer in the heat. His skin had already started to turn bronze. He flopped down in the wicker chair. Today’s theme was the Sky. The king had themes for each day and everyone had to dress in a manner that best illustrated the theme. It was ridiculous. Isha went to the wardrobe and carefully picked through the robes. The elderly man had a good sense and had already manage to add a few robes from tailors in the city. He stopped and picked out a lightly purple robe, the same Eléen had worn on the day he started his journey.
“What about this blue robe?” Isha asked. “Wouldn’t it do nicely to fit his majesties theme?” Eléen raised an eyebrow. Blue? True it was a very light purple with a tinge of blue but surely everyone could see the robes were not blue? Apparently not. Well, he liked that robe so there were no reason to object. He stood and put on the thin linen he would have underneath, he then draped the robes around himself with the skills of someone who had done this everyday of their lives. Isha had sat fourth a pair of shoes, they were odd to Eléen. The bottom was made of some kind of wood. Leather had been used to cover the top and another piece of leather bridged the foot when worn. They were not easy to walk in and he had seen them mostly on women. But he did admit they worked nicely with robes. So he put them on without protest and reached for his bracelets.
“My Lord”, Isha said, “you are going falconing. Is it wise?” Eléen hesitated and dropped his hand. He hated falconing. It was just so pointless. So a bird of prey killed a small animal it wasn’t even allowed to eat, what was the point in doing that? He sighed. For every day he spent in Ilsa the more he missed his home. Alcande accepted almost anything, the country worked because everyone worked together. Everyone had a home and any decisions were made with everyone’s best interest at heart. Most of all, he had never felt out of place. Here, everything was rigid. Lords in their place, servants in their place. Following the king, following the council. No mixing between different people. The royal family was good people, but self-centred. All they cared about was their own comfort and the fear of losing it. They were very much like the poor falcons, acting for the council. He let Isha fasten the armguard on his arm.
The field on which they hunted was on a hill just short trip from the castle. Everyone riding a horse or a carriage. Eléen was expected to ride a horse but he instead rode with the women. He was not actually afraid of the animals, they were nice in their own way. But the idea of sitting on one made him uncomfortable. Not to mention the fact that his robes were not really made for riding a horse. He had seen young lords look at him with disgust, he didn’t care. For some reason Darla often brought her son on the daytrips and Eléen had a blast playing with the child. Darla had no problem handing him the boy, he cajoled and made funny noises while the boy laughed loudly. The women usually smiled, some of the ladies looked at him with considering eyes. Today, Chermi had fallen asleep as soon as Darla sat him on Eléen’s lap, not bothering to wait until he asked. Seeing the boy fall asleep she sighed.
“I wished it was always that easy”, she said. “Sometimes he just refuses to fall asleep.”
“He most feel very safe with you, my lord”, a young noblewoman said. Her dark locks swept over one shoulder, her eyes fierce and proud. “Say, do you always dress in those robes.” Eléen let the child lean against his body and addressed the noblewoman.
“It is how my father raised me”, he explained. “This is traditional robes of Alcande. Once they represented fertility and prosperity. Now days there are few who bother to follow the traditions. But it was important to my father so I want to honour him. Also, they are truly comfortable.”
“And your mother agreed to this?” the woman asked.
“I would think so, she did marry my father after all”, he answered. “But she died when I was young so it is hard to say.” The carriage became quiet. “Is anything the matter?”
“You said you father died not long ago”, Darla said in a low tone, “but to think your mother is gone as well. It must be hard on you and your sister.” Eléen opened his mouth and closed it again. He hardly remember his mother despite his father’s efforts. But his father had worked hard so that he and Karla could live good lives. Maybe he should stop talking about his parents? It made him sad and people seemed stunned.
“I have to ask”, he said, changing the subject. “Isn’t those dresses horribly hot? They look so tight. My sister prefers the latest fashion among women, many wear trousers of course, and they look breezier than these do.” It worked. The women launched into a discussion about fashion and admitted, yes the dresses were stifling, and how was his sister’s dress cut? Only the noblewoman with the fierce eyes stayed quiet, studying him.
Chermi woke just as they arrived at the field and stormed out to his father who had just sat down from his horse. The falconeers stood waiting with their birds. Eléen made a grimace before stopping himself. When the noblemen and noblewomen started playing with the poor birds he kept to the side, hoping no one would bother with him. That’s was why he felt worried when the noblewoman with the fierce eyes approached him. She had put on a hat with a wide brim, the hat was green with two large feather stuck to it. She held a fan in one hand and waved it vigorously.
“Such a pointless sport”, she said. “I have never seen the point of it. The bird is doing all the work and there is no way to keep score.”
“I pity the birds”, Eléen said without thinking.
“Yes, so do I”, the woman looked at him. “My name is Aralla. I figured you hadn’t remembered. You are an interesting person.”
“I assume I should be flattered”, Eléen said as politely as he could. Aralla kept talking as if she hadn’t heard him.
“I considered trying to marry you for a while”, she said with a level tone. Eléen chocked and coughed on nothing. She had what? “You are good material. Especially with your affinity for children and a man who knows fashion is better than a man who only know swords. But I decided against it.”
“I… I don’t what you want me to say”, he said. “Why telling me this?”
“To let you know what others might think”, she said. “To be honest, I doubt you would ever look at me as a woman. Or any woman. At least, not as a woman of desire.” He stared at her. At times he had thought that women could read his mind but he had never thought himself transparent. She seemed to be able to read his mind again. “It isn’t obvious and perhaps I’m wrong. I’m not saying you are a deviant, I just think that it would take a lot for you to fall for any person. It would be a person that can breach every single wall you built and stay when they’ve seen even your ugliest side. I’m simply not that person.”
Eléen was flabbergast. It appeared Aralla was a very intelligent woman and very perceptive. Karla had long ago said something similar, so had his father. But they knew him well, to hear a stranger say those words made him feel odd. He then remembered one word she had said and he flinched.
“We don’t use the word ‘deviant’ in Alcande”, he said. “It is an insult, really.”
“Oh”, Aralla said with interest. “Why is that?”
“It is used to say someone is wrong, faulty. We don’t believe you are faulty just because you are different. And then, you are not different anymore,” he said. “Men who wants to be women, women who wants to be men. Men who fall in love with men and women who fall in love with women. I didn’t know that others would think it strange until I talked with travellers. To me, it had always been normal. Women in men’s clothing to me is just women. Even being an assa is normal for me. There is simply no judgement based on something so shallow.” Aralla stared at him. He feared he had said too much.
“You know”, she said at last. “That explains a lot about you. You have actually been raised to deem people from their actions, not judge them for who they are. I’m actually envious. The way you see the word has to be purer, clearer.”
“Or just darker”, he muttered. She laughed.
“That to. Tell me, what is an assa?”
“An old word, I started to like it a lot”, Eléen smiled sadly. “It was used to address men like me, who dress like this. In a way, it is way more proper than calling me ‘lord’.”
“Very well, I can call you that”, Aralla said. “But I do prefer if you would allow me to call you by name. Because I really want to be your friend.” Her fierce eyes lightened and she smiled. “I don’t say that often, Eléen.”
***
She had really hoped it would be easier to find a clerk she could send but it had turned out to be more difficult than she had thought. The clerk would be travelling slower than her brother and once there they would have to be able to work with Eléen. Karla looked at the small man in front of her. Thin with wisps of hair combed over a bald patch, his eyes baggy. She knew he had been working in the guilds for many years and was capable, she just doubted he could handle her brother.
“Thank you for your time, Remin”, she said. “I will consider it.” The man had come forward himself and proposed himself for the post. Remin was a good man, he respected the traditions and had never a bad thing to say about anyone. But he could be imposing and stubborn. Matching him with Eléen was asking for trouble. What she needed was someone with patience. Remin bowed and left her office, she let out a sigh and rose from her chair to look out from the window. As always the view of Alcan relaxed her. Everywhere she looked there were happy and content people. A knock came on her door. She turned and called for the visitor to enter. The man who entered was tall, almost bulky. He had overseen the smithies for years, pitching in when help was needed. Kalima was one of the council members and spoke for the all the smithies in town, from blacksmith to goldsmith. To see him in the traditional robes was always slightly jarring but the man had a vain streak to him you wouldn’t have expected. Today’s robes were as extravagant as ever, shimmering velvet in red with silk details and expensive stones. The grey beard contained the usual beads and jewels, no doubt a present from Kalima’s husband who had become rich as a merchant. Karla’s father had been a good friend to Kalima for many years, the man had been very sad to learn of Meliani’s death.
“Things are rough on you, it seems”, he said, the soft voice a great contrast to his massive body. “No luck?” She shook her head.
“They are all good people but none of them would be able to work with Eléen”, she said. “I fear they would start to make decisions without him. And don’t want that. He might be timid but he is very intelligent, otherwise I wouldn’t have sent him.”
“Maybe you should try letting him go?” Kalima said sitting down on a chair with a groan. Waving her away he stretched. “As you said, Eléen is very intelligent. Maybe he would be able to achieve more if you let him work on his own. All we need is a good relationship after all, not any agreements.” Karla nodded, the older man did have a point. But she had promised to send him help and she said as much. “Send him a letter”, Kalima suggested. “Explain that he will be on his own for a while longer.”
“I can’t wait much longer”, she protested. “Soon the autumn wind will come, making travels to Ilsa very risky. He would have to face the winter without aid.”
“And maybe that is for the best”, the older man looked at her with eyes the colour of ice. “Both you and Meliani have tried to protect him for so long. Perhaps that was a good thing. But he can never grow unless he have to move on his own.”
“You don’t understand”, Karla protested. “I don’t know why, but is Eléen very troubled. He is not the kind to make it on his own.”
“You mistake me”, Kalima said, smiling. “And underestimate your brother. Yes, he is not the kind to make it on his own. He is the kind that will make others move for his sake, giving him the strength to move forward. And neither he nor the other party would actually notice.” He plucked at his robes. “I know how it feels to move in the robes in the world outside Alcande. It takes a special kind of courage. People have a tendency to respect that courage, you drop all need for pretence. It is rough in the beginning but if you give it time you find yourself surrounded by people you can truly trust.”
His words were reassuring. Karla of course knew the stories, Kalima and his husband had visited them often enough when she was a child. In his youth he had followed his husband on his travels. Once the need to travel died down, both had settled in a comfortable lifestyle. Their home was modest and tasteful. And even now, Kalima’s husband doted on him.
“Don’t you ever regret putting on the robes?” she asked. “You could have married a woman and had a family.” Kalima smiled broader.
“Even if I hadn’t put on the robes I wouldn’t have married a women. I know with the traditions fading it is difficult to remember but in the end, it is our choices that matters above all else.”
Karla nodded again, she understood. And as the Seer of Alcande it was her duty to nurture the warmth and kindness that had made Alcande so successful. Maybe Eléen could handle himself without help. She didn’t want to admit it but she regretted a bit to have sent him away. He was after all her baby brother, hopeless at times but she still loved him dearly.
***
The sound of rain falling on the great windows filled the hall. A quiet hush lay over the castle, winds howled. Even in Ilsa, the summer was at an end Eléen thought. He sat in a corner of the hall, enjoying the rare absence of voices while listening to the raging storm. A letter had come from his sister just a few days before. He had though he would feel worse about the news but after a month in Ilsa it didn’t bother him so much. In a few weeks, the kingdom would celebrate the harvest. The farmers were busy with their fields. With this kind of weather, there would be no outings for the nobility. They shut themselves in their chambers, having small get-togethers over a cup of mulled wine. This suited Eléen nicely. No one bothered him here, no one expected him to be here. A small basket stood at his feet, containing his sewing box, knitting needles, a scissor and lots of threads. Currently he was embroidering one of his new robes. Isha had insisted that a tailor should make the robes but Eléen had made it clear he wanted to embroider it himself. So needle weaved through the fabric, giving form to a field of flowers. He had learnt sewing from a neighbour during his early youth. Making a robe was tedious and took too much time. But decorating them was enjoyable.
“You are like an old woman”, a crisp voice echoed through the hall. Eléen looked up from his work. Walking toward him was a young woman in a green silk dress with white petticoats and lots of frills. Her dark curls hardly restrained by a green ribbon in her neck. The high heels of her shoes clicked when she walked over the stone floor. Her fierce eyes fixed on him. The lady Aralla was indeed a hot blooded person who never let social constraints get to her. So naturally, she and Eléen got on famously. The fact that neither cared about others thoughts made them very much alike.
“If you say so”, Eléen said and went back to his needle. Of course Aralla didn’t let herself be deterred. She fetched a chair and sat down in the same corner looking annoyed.
“You know”, she said, “if had found such a quiet place like this you could have told me!”
“It just didn’t occur to me”, he said soothingly. It was a surprise how well the two got along. Aralla felt stuck in the expectations of an Ilsa noblewoman, Eléen felt out of place in general. So they had worked together a few times. Not anything serious or important but the feeling was novel for both. She shrugged and adjusted her skirts.
“You are not meeting with the Council?” she asked.
“Not that I’m aware of”, he answered. “I think they are waiting.”
“For what?”
“For a clerk to arrive from Alcande. Someone who would ‘advice’ me.” Aralla nodded as if she understood. She probably did. “Though they will have wait long until that happened.”
“Oh?” the young woman said. “How so?”
“I received a letter from my sister the other day”, Eléen said. “They can’t send a clerk until spring.”
“Isn’t that a problem?”
“Not really. The council is waiting for my ‘advisor’ to arrive so they don’t bother talking to me. That means they can’t push any agreements on me either. But since I am the ambassador they have treat me politely and with respect.”
Aralla smiled. “That’s quite devilish thing for you to do”, she said.
“Learning from the best”, he answered and she laughed with delight. Then she grew solemn. “What?”
“I just remembered why I was trying to find you”, she said. “Lady Darla’s cousin will return to the castle in the coming weeks. Probably in time for the harvest ball.”
“Her cousin?” Eléen said surprised. “Why?”
“I’m not sure but when the Lady married the crown prince her cousin also came.”
“So… why did you want to tell me that?” Eléen raised an eyebrow. Aralla rarely came with gossip and Darla’s cousin didn’t seem worth looking specifically for him.
“Believe me”, Aralla said. “You will know when you met him.”
***
Snow fell from the sky, one tickled Reshien’s nose and he sneezed. Bundle up for the cold he waddled through the snow. His men trailing behind him. The plan was moving along nicely. No one had yet noticed anything but the northern kingdoms were already ready to be toppled. The best thing was that Reshien and his men wouldn’t be considered suspicious. There was no reason to be impatient. First the northern kingdoms and in the spring they would move south.
“Boss?” Sarhas walked up to him, a skinny man at his side. The man wore clothes that locked more ragged than they were. So, Kabrin had returned from his mission. The man had spent the better part of the autumn in a port city. Reshien sneezed again, it was hard to believe that summer still lingered further south.
“What do you have to report, Kabrin?” he asked. The man snivelled and spoke in a dry, rusty voice.
“The kingdom of Arbacha is ready for taking”, Kabrin said. “You were right about the resentment brewing. It is so isolated that no one would notice anything.” Reshien smiled to himself. Of course he were right. They would take Arbacha and when they had cleaned it off, they could just throw it away. All while no one would know who the real culprits were.
“I heard something that might interest you”, Kabrin said carefully. Reshien gestured for him to speak. “Do you remember the man in those robes? The odd one?”
First, Reshien had no idea what the other man was talking about. Then a memory remerged from the depth of his mind. A man in tattered clothing that looked almost like a dress, pleading to be allowed to return to his son. “What about him?” he asked.
“The place he was talking about, Alcan, is a real place.” Reshien stopped dead and looked at Kabrin. His men stopped and looked around for a threat, with an effort Reshien started walking again.
“Continue”, he said curtly. He hated surprises.
“It is a capital of a land called Alcande. It lies in the south, at the foot of the Marras de Galare’s mountain range. Supposedly one of the richest lands in the known world. The mountain range have protected it from attacks, the only way in is from the sea. If we can find an old mountain pass, we might be able to take them by surprise.” Not that kind of surprises he did like. But it didn’t fit into his plans. Kabrin coughed. “I heard it is ruled by a woman.” The rusty voice trying to be nonchalant. It was tempting. Maybe they could do it? They intended to move through the kingdom of Ilsa, if this Alcande lay close by that could be a key to invading. He started singing as he moved vigorous through the snow. His men smiled widely to each other. When the boss started singing, they knew he was cooking up a plan and the bosses planes always succeded.
The morning the day they reached the capital, Eléen demanded the opportunity to take a bath. The capital lay just over the next hill, they would reach it within an hour. The captain looked as if he wanted to protest but seemed to think the better of it. The innkeeper gladly filled one huge wooden tub with warm water. To Eléen’s joy the innkeeper also filled one casket with colder water and added flowers and spices to it. Wearing his favourite robes, a wonderful scent filling his nose. For the occasion he had put on slippers. Thankfully, the sky was cloudy so the carriage was actually durable. An hour later they rumbled through the streets of Cathandra, the capital of Ilsa.
The city was sprawling across a dale, white square houses crammed together. As opposite to Sirrela that had seemed unplanned and sporadic, Cathandra looked like someone had tried to build it with an image in mind and then given up. There were wide streets that could hold thousands of people and there were alley that could at best hold one. Some houses had flat roofs and some had domes, some were in white stone and some in black. Eléen soon figured out that the houses in black stone and with domes belonged to the rich and powerful. If you had both you were likely part of the Lords’ council. An inlet led to the sea but no wharf had been built. Only small boats was able to cross the inlet, on the far end of the inlet stood a large castle. It was built on a cliff and hovered above the city like a hawk. Ilsa had a king, Eléen had heard. The king had almost no real power and functioned more like a figurehead than a political figure.
The carriage draw a crowd. It moved easily through it, people moved out of the way. Their murmurs causing a loud susurration as the carriage rolled passed. The people knew, an important guest was arriving today. An ambassador from the rich land of Alcande, an old ally to Ilsa. An even bigger crowd waited at the castle. A platform had been built in the courtyard, rich carpets covering the wood. The king stood with his wife, his son, his wife and the king’s grandson on the platform. All wearing their best formal wear and their best crowns. Even the small boy in his mother’s arms. The Council of Lords waited at the top of the large stairs, away from the crowds. Their faces grim. They knew that the boy was just as much a figure head as the king but until the clerk arrived, the boy would be the most important guest in a century. The Great Duke of Lashima followed the carriage as it rolled through the gates to the platform. His soldiers had melted away as instructed. A servant opened the carriage door as it stopped at the platform. A moment later a young man stepped out.
The king stared at him. The Council stared at him. The people gaped in disbelief. The first thing everyone noticed of course was his strange clothing. Robes in a soft pink and orange colour was draped around him, leaving his arms bare. Slippers in similar colour was decorated with seeds and stones. Flowery embroidery was carefully sewn at the neck and the short sleeves. Pearl earring hang in small hooks from his ears and two bracelets rested on his right arm. One in black ebony and one in white ivory. When the shock from his clothing wore of people were stun anew as they noticed his face. Brown hair with pearls and colourful beads braided into it. Framing a face with soft, gentle lines. The eyes held a warm brown colour, the lips a pale pink. A breeze rustled the clothes and made the brown hair flutter. The Great Duke couldn’t believe his eyes. The young man didn’t look like anything they had expected. Maybe Alcande played a higher game than he had thought.
***
The king seemed dumbfounded. So did his family. Eléen waited a few second before he decided to move things along on his own. He bowed traditionally, both arms crossed in front of him, back kept straight.
“Your majesty”, he said. “It is an honour to be received in Ilsa.” His sister had drilled him the etiquettes of court. The kind seemed to waken from his stupor, shook himself and announced in a booming voice.
“We welcome the ambassador of Alcande”, he spoke to the crowd. “Alcande have long been our sister nation and we are honoured to house her ambassador!” The crowd cheered. Eléen looked at it. He had never been good at this kind of thing. Everyone looked at him expectantly like he was suddenly going to do tricks. He decided to take the safe course of action.
“’As a flowers whose only duty is its beauty’”, he recited from memory. “’As is the heart’s only duty to know love. As the sun gives us warmth and the earth its riches. Such is the duty of the people. To be a flower of beauty, a heart of love, a source of warmth and generous as the soil.’ It is with great pleasure I will reside in this beautiful kingdom.” The crowd cheered, many looking confused as if they hadn’t really understood what he had said. Eléen breathed slowly. His father had often recited the poem to Karla after she announced her intentions to join the council. It was meant to serve as a reminder that it was real people she would rule over. It seemed to do the trick when giving speeches as well. The queen curtsied and gestured toward the large stairs.
“You must be tired after your travels, your excellency”, she said, her face motherly. “Please come inside.” They led the way up the stairs, the Council had already slipped inside. “Do many wear robes like yours in Alcande?” she asked. Eléen shook his head.
“This is a very traditional way of dressing”, he explained. “It is exclusive to men. Normally it would go with a beard but as you can see I have foregone that.” He certainly wasn’t going to tell the queen his sister had forced him to shave! Though he admitted it would probably have been very hot to keep it. And it had itched horribly.
“I see”, the queen said. “Might I ask you of your name?”
“Eléen, your majesty.”
“Eléen”, she mused. “A curious name. My name is Anshalla but most call me Shalla.” Eléen bowed his head. The king hurried up the stairs, his girth getting in the way. The king seemed like a good man, despite his big stomach he didn’t feel bad or disgusting like the major had.
“And I”, he wheezed, “am Schiama. This is my son, Racha.” He gestured to the young man. The man had picked up his son from his wife and carried him up the stairs. The boy was at best two years old. Racha looked at his son with the most adoring eyes Eléen had ever seen. His wife watched him with warmth and a silly smile. “Darla, my daughter-in-law”, the king continued. “My grandson, who is about to fall asleep, Chermi.” Eléen smiled and bowed slightly again. It seemed to satisfy them.
“Your name is almost the same as my sisters”, he said conversely to Darla.
“Oh?” she said with an odd accent. “What is her name then?”
“Her name is Karla”, he answered.
“That is alike”, Darla laughed. “Are the two of you close?”
“As close as any brother and sister I presume.” The royal family laughed as he had made a joke.
“She misses you greatly, I’m sure”, the king said. “Must have protested greatly when they sent you here, eh?”
“Not really”, Eléen answered without thinking. “She was the one who sent me here after all.” That got a blank look. It seemed that the idea of a woman in charge was foreign to these people. “I’m sure she misses me though!” he assured them.
“Your sister sent you here?” Shalla asked in a stunned voiced. “How could she have the power to do that?”
“She is the Seer”, Eléen tried to explain. “She is chosen by the people led them.” The answer seemed to confuse them but they were skilled enough in the etiquettes of the court to ask any further questions. The king introduced him to a servant in a spotless uniform while informing that the elderly man would act like his manservant during his stay. Eléen didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. He was so long away from home.
***
A familiar feeling enclosed him and he felt the panic rising, he snapped his eyes open and stared into the darkness. He felt bewildered. A cry of fear and abandonment slipped out from his lips. He started to claw around him, trying to escape, his finger felt fabric. Gripping the fabric hard in both hands he started trying to move the fabric out of his way. It refused to move, he pushed down harder, his mind going blank. A surge flowed through him and with a crash something landed on the floor. He panted heavily and tried to free himself from what bound him.
The chamber door flew open and an elderly man stepped through. He had grey hair the colour of iron, his thin face had soft creases. The dark eyes glanced about the room in shock.
“My lord?” he exclaimed in a worried voice. “Are you alright? What happened?” the man hurried to Eléen’s side. Mind still blank he struggled to get his blankets off not noticing the man talking to him. The elderly man gentle helped him untangle his blankets and onto his feet. He was led to wicket chair and made to sit down. The elder opened a window and looked with fright at the bed. It was a big bed with a canopy hanging from the top of it. Large pillars supported the railings in which the canopy was fastened. Except one of this railings looked like it had been ripped of the pillars, taking the drapery with it. It was like a huge hand had taken hold of and brought it down. Remarkably, that was the only thing that had broken. The rest of the bed, and the canopy fabric, was intact. The older man looked at Eléen. He didn’t notice any of it. His mind was still a mess, throwing everything in disarray. Before when this had happened he had always had his father to help him calm down. After his father had died he had started to fear the night.
A gentle hand touch his shoulders, a voice he hardly recognized spoke to him. The voice didn’t say anything important. It was only trying to be soothing. Slowly he could feel the chaos of his mind die down and reality returned once more. His chamber returned to him, as did the man standing at his side, looking worried. It was Isha, his manservant. The elder man didn’t normally intrude on him, sensing he preferred to have some distance. Now Isha’s hand on his shoulder felt reassuring. Eléen the noticed the bed, he remembered the surge from his panic and swallowed hard. Letting his mind drift was an easy thing but moving something of these size should have made him feel drained, even in his confused state. Yet he felt nothing. What if he was growing stronger? He feared what would become of him.
***
Isha exited the chambers of the young lord, the young man had refused to return to bed. Instead he had settled at the window, staring out at the dark waters. Isha had managed to keep himself steady in front of the ambassador but now he started trembling. At his age anything could be a shock but most would had trembled, he thought, at seeing signs of the ancient gifts. Most wouldn’t know what look for he admitted. There had been many centuries since anyone with the gifts had appeared. But as it happened, Isha’s great-great granduncle had been gifted with the power of the ancient. Ever since he was a child, he have been told stories about his great-great granduncle. What had stuck with him the most was always the stories of when his uncle had been lost in a state of panic and fear, his mind lost to the world. Only calm and patience had brought him back to normal. As a child, he had pitied the man in the stories. He had always sounded like someone who would be sad and lonely, afraid of his own powers.
Now Isha could see he probably had had reason to. Lord Eléen was a pleasant young man most of the time, his tastes a bit odd but still. It had been easy to make accommodations. Isha wouldn’t try to dress the young man, he didn’t know how to anyway, and in exchange the young man would listen to his suggestions. Isha could never have imagined what struggle went on inside that pleasant surface. He thought for a moment if he should report what had happened and then decided against it. The king didn’t have the power to do anything and the council had too much power. His great-great granduncle had ended his own life, not being able to live in fear, and in anguish seeing the fear on his families faces. No, he wouldn’t say anything. But perhaps he could provide some small support to the young lord. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the ancient gifts have resurfaced in Alcande.
***
It was relaxing. Sitting at the window. He did not yet dare to go to sleep. For so long he had been able to keep it at bay. His father had explained why it happened and had tried to assure him that it was nothing to fear. Eléen had never really been able to believe him. For the first time he regretted not telling his sister the truth. Sure, she might not have been able to help but at least he wouldn’t have been alone. And she would never had sent him here. Maybe. His father had believed that his sister also had some of the ancient gifts, but so weak she had never noticed. A gift of knowing the future. So slight and so weak that it only manifested itself as intuition and a sense of what to do. It didn’t make him feel any better. It only meant that Karla unknowingly had sent him here because it was of importance to the future.
He locked at the bed. Nothing would be able to explain that. He felt bad for Isha who would probably be taken for a liar but he couldn’t allow the bed to remain broken. He focused, closing his eyes, on how the bed had looked before. When he opened his eyes, the bed was back to normal. He still didn’t understand the rules of his gift, or gifts he thought, but it was no doubt. He was way stronger than before and he was only getting stronger. That shouldn’t have been a scary thing. But it was.
***
The blue silk robes have creased. Again. Just from hanging it seemed. Eléen threw it on the bed in exasperation, causing more wrinkles. He knew it was a gift from Karla but he just couldn’t bring himself to like it. Isha twitched as he wanted to take care of the robes, he didn’t move though. The servants had tried to take care of it but the silk just refused to obey. There were another feast today. Eléen had really had it with feasts but his mission was to strengthen the relationship between Ilsa and Alcande. He just wished he didn’t have to do all this socializing in order to do so. They just seemed superfluous and to extravagant. Meant to distract him.
The climate in Ilsa was similar to that of Alcande but lay further south, making him suffer in the heat. His skin had already started to turn bronze. He flopped down in the wicker chair. Today’s theme was the Sky. The king had themes for each day and everyone had to dress in a manner that best illustrated the theme. It was ridiculous. Isha went to the wardrobe and carefully picked through the robes. The elderly man had a good sense and had already manage to add a few robes from tailors in the city. He stopped and picked out a lightly purple robe, the same Eléen had worn on the day he started his journey.
“What about this blue robe?” Isha asked. “Wouldn’t it do nicely to fit his majesties theme?” Eléen raised an eyebrow. Blue? True it was a very light purple with a tinge of blue but surely everyone could see the robes were not blue? Apparently not. Well, he liked that robe so there were no reason to object. He stood and put on the thin linen he would have underneath, he then draped the robes around himself with the skills of someone who had done this everyday of their lives. Isha had sat fourth a pair of shoes, they were odd to Eléen. The bottom was made of some kind of wood. Leather had been used to cover the top and another piece of leather bridged the foot when worn. They were not easy to walk in and he had seen them mostly on women. But he did admit they worked nicely with robes. So he put them on without protest and reached for his bracelets.
“My Lord”, Isha said, “you are going falconing. Is it wise?” Eléen hesitated and dropped his hand. He hated falconing. It was just so pointless. So a bird of prey killed a small animal it wasn’t even allowed to eat, what was the point in doing that? He sighed. For every day he spent in Ilsa the more he missed his home. Alcande accepted almost anything, the country worked because everyone worked together. Everyone had a home and any decisions were made with everyone’s best interest at heart. Most of all, he had never felt out of place. Here, everything was rigid. Lords in their place, servants in their place. Following the king, following the council. No mixing between different people. The royal family was good people, but self-centred. All they cared about was their own comfort and the fear of losing it. They were very much like the poor falcons, acting for the council. He let Isha fasten the armguard on his arm.
The field on which they hunted was on a hill just short trip from the castle. Everyone riding a horse or a carriage. Eléen was expected to ride a horse but he instead rode with the women. He was not actually afraid of the animals, they were nice in their own way. But the idea of sitting on one made him uncomfortable. Not to mention the fact that his robes were not really made for riding a horse. He had seen young lords look at him with disgust, he didn’t care. For some reason Darla often brought her son on the daytrips and Eléen had a blast playing with the child. Darla had no problem handing him the boy, he cajoled and made funny noises while the boy laughed loudly. The women usually smiled, some of the ladies looked at him with considering eyes. Today, Chermi had fallen asleep as soon as Darla sat him on Eléen’s lap, not bothering to wait until he asked. Seeing the boy fall asleep she sighed.
“I wished it was always that easy”, she said. “Sometimes he just refuses to fall asleep.”
“He most feel very safe with you, my lord”, a young noblewoman said. Her dark locks swept over one shoulder, her eyes fierce and proud. “Say, do you always dress in those robes.” Eléen let the child lean against his body and addressed the noblewoman.
“It is how my father raised me”, he explained. “This is traditional robes of Alcande. Once they represented fertility and prosperity. Now days there are few who bother to follow the traditions. But it was important to my father so I want to honour him. Also, they are truly comfortable.”
“And your mother agreed to this?” the woman asked.
“I would think so, she did marry my father after all”, he answered. “But she died when I was young so it is hard to say.” The carriage became quiet. “Is anything the matter?”
“You said you father died not long ago”, Darla said in a low tone, “but to think your mother is gone as well. It must be hard on you and your sister.” Eléen opened his mouth and closed it again. He hardly remember his mother despite his father’s efforts. But his father had worked hard so that he and Karla could live good lives. Maybe he should stop talking about his parents? It made him sad and people seemed stunned.
“I have to ask”, he said, changing the subject. “Isn’t those dresses horribly hot? They look so tight. My sister prefers the latest fashion among women, many wear trousers of course, and they look breezier than these do.” It worked. The women launched into a discussion about fashion and admitted, yes the dresses were stifling, and how was his sister’s dress cut? Only the noblewoman with the fierce eyes stayed quiet, studying him.
Chermi woke just as they arrived at the field and stormed out to his father who had just sat down from his horse. The falconeers stood waiting with their birds. Eléen made a grimace before stopping himself. When the noblemen and noblewomen started playing with the poor birds he kept to the side, hoping no one would bother with him. That’s was why he felt worried when the noblewoman with the fierce eyes approached him. She had put on a hat with a wide brim, the hat was green with two large feather stuck to it. She held a fan in one hand and waved it vigorously.
“Such a pointless sport”, she said. “I have never seen the point of it. The bird is doing all the work and there is no way to keep score.”
“I pity the birds”, Eléen said without thinking.
“Yes, so do I”, the woman looked at him. “My name is Aralla. I figured you hadn’t remembered. You are an interesting person.”
“I assume I should be flattered”, Eléen said as politely as he could. Aralla kept talking as if she hadn’t heard him.
“I considered trying to marry you for a while”, she said with a level tone. Eléen chocked and coughed on nothing. She had what? “You are good material. Especially with your affinity for children and a man who knows fashion is better than a man who only know swords. But I decided against it.”
“I… I don’t what you want me to say”, he said. “Why telling me this?”
“To let you know what others might think”, she said. “To be honest, I doubt you would ever look at me as a woman. Or any woman. At least, not as a woman of desire.” He stared at her. At times he had thought that women could read his mind but he had never thought himself transparent. She seemed to be able to read his mind again. “It isn’t obvious and perhaps I’m wrong. I’m not saying you are a deviant, I just think that it would take a lot for you to fall for any person. It would be a person that can breach every single wall you built and stay when they’ve seen even your ugliest side. I’m simply not that person.”
Eléen was flabbergast. It appeared Aralla was a very intelligent woman and very perceptive. Karla had long ago said something similar, so had his father. But they knew him well, to hear a stranger say those words made him feel odd. He then remembered one word she had said and he flinched.
“We don’t use the word ‘deviant’ in Alcande”, he said. “It is an insult, really.”
“Oh”, Aralla said with interest. “Why is that?”
“It is used to say someone is wrong, faulty. We don’t believe you are faulty just because you are different. And then, you are not different anymore,” he said. “Men who wants to be women, women who wants to be men. Men who fall in love with men and women who fall in love with women. I didn’t know that others would think it strange until I talked with travellers. To me, it had always been normal. Women in men’s clothing to me is just women. Even being an assa is normal for me. There is simply no judgement based on something so shallow.” Aralla stared at him. He feared he had said too much.
“You know”, she said at last. “That explains a lot about you. You have actually been raised to deem people from their actions, not judge them for who they are. I’m actually envious. The way you see the word has to be purer, clearer.”
“Or just darker”, he muttered. She laughed.
“That to. Tell me, what is an assa?”
“An old word, I started to like it a lot”, Eléen smiled sadly. “It was used to address men like me, who dress like this. In a way, it is way more proper than calling me ‘lord’.”
“Very well, I can call you that”, Aralla said. “But I do prefer if you would allow me to call you by name. Because I really want to be your friend.” Her fierce eyes lightened and she smiled. “I don’t say that often, Eléen.”
***
She had really hoped it would be easier to find a clerk she could send but it had turned out to be more difficult than she had thought. The clerk would be travelling slower than her brother and once there they would have to be able to work with Eléen. Karla looked at the small man in front of her. Thin with wisps of hair combed over a bald patch, his eyes baggy. She knew he had been working in the guilds for many years and was capable, she just doubted he could handle her brother.
“Thank you for your time, Remin”, she said. “I will consider it.” The man had come forward himself and proposed himself for the post. Remin was a good man, he respected the traditions and had never a bad thing to say about anyone. But he could be imposing and stubborn. Matching him with Eléen was asking for trouble. What she needed was someone with patience. Remin bowed and left her office, she let out a sigh and rose from her chair to look out from the window. As always the view of Alcan relaxed her. Everywhere she looked there were happy and content people. A knock came on her door. She turned and called for the visitor to enter. The man who entered was tall, almost bulky. He had overseen the smithies for years, pitching in when help was needed. Kalima was one of the council members and spoke for the all the smithies in town, from blacksmith to goldsmith. To see him in the traditional robes was always slightly jarring but the man had a vain streak to him you wouldn’t have expected. Today’s robes were as extravagant as ever, shimmering velvet in red with silk details and expensive stones. The grey beard contained the usual beads and jewels, no doubt a present from Kalima’s husband who had become rich as a merchant. Karla’s father had been a good friend to Kalima for many years, the man had been very sad to learn of Meliani’s death.
“Things are rough on you, it seems”, he said, the soft voice a great contrast to his massive body. “No luck?” She shook her head.
“They are all good people but none of them would be able to work with Eléen”, she said. “I fear they would start to make decisions without him. And don’t want that. He might be timid but he is very intelligent, otherwise I wouldn’t have sent him.”
“Maybe you should try letting him go?” Kalima said sitting down on a chair with a groan. Waving her away he stretched. “As you said, Eléen is very intelligent. Maybe he would be able to achieve more if you let him work on his own. All we need is a good relationship after all, not any agreements.” Karla nodded, the older man did have a point. But she had promised to send him help and she said as much. “Send him a letter”, Kalima suggested. “Explain that he will be on his own for a while longer.”
“I can’t wait much longer”, she protested. “Soon the autumn wind will come, making travels to Ilsa very risky. He would have to face the winter without aid.”
“And maybe that is for the best”, the older man looked at her with eyes the colour of ice. “Both you and Meliani have tried to protect him for so long. Perhaps that was a good thing. But he can never grow unless he have to move on his own.”
“You don’t understand”, Karla protested. “I don’t know why, but is Eléen very troubled. He is not the kind to make it on his own.”
“You mistake me”, Kalima said, smiling. “And underestimate your brother. Yes, he is not the kind to make it on his own. He is the kind that will make others move for his sake, giving him the strength to move forward. And neither he nor the other party would actually notice.” He plucked at his robes. “I know how it feels to move in the robes in the world outside Alcande. It takes a special kind of courage. People have a tendency to respect that courage, you drop all need for pretence. It is rough in the beginning but if you give it time you find yourself surrounded by people you can truly trust.”
His words were reassuring. Karla of course knew the stories, Kalima and his husband had visited them often enough when she was a child. In his youth he had followed his husband on his travels. Once the need to travel died down, both had settled in a comfortable lifestyle. Their home was modest and tasteful. And even now, Kalima’s husband doted on him.
“Don’t you ever regret putting on the robes?” she asked. “You could have married a woman and had a family.” Kalima smiled broader.
“Even if I hadn’t put on the robes I wouldn’t have married a women. I know with the traditions fading it is difficult to remember but in the end, it is our choices that matters above all else.”
Karla nodded again, she understood. And as the Seer of Alcande it was her duty to nurture the warmth and kindness that had made Alcande so successful. Maybe Eléen could handle himself without help. She didn’t want to admit it but she regretted a bit to have sent him away. He was after all her baby brother, hopeless at times but she still loved him dearly.
***
The sound of rain falling on the great windows filled the hall. A quiet hush lay over the castle, winds howled. Even in Ilsa, the summer was at an end Eléen thought. He sat in a corner of the hall, enjoying the rare absence of voices while listening to the raging storm. A letter had come from his sister just a few days before. He had though he would feel worse about the news but after a month in Ilsa it didn’t bother him so much. In a few weeks, the kingdom would celebrate the harvest. The farmers were busy with their fields. With this kind of weather, there would be no outings for the nobility. They shut themselves in their chambers, having small get-togethers over a cup of mulled wine. This suited Eléen nicely. No one bothered him here, no one expected him to be here. A small basket stood at his feet, containing his sewing box, knitting needles, a scissor and lots of threads. Currently he was embroidering one of his new robes. Isha had insisted that a tailor should make the robes but Eléen had made it clear he wanted to embroider it himself. So needle weaved through the fabric, giving form to a field of flowers. He had learnt sewing from a neighbour during his early youth. Making a robe was tedious and took too much time. But decorating them was enjoyable.
“You are like an old woman”, a crisp voice echoed through the hall. Eléen looked up from his work. Walking toward him was a young woman in a green silk dress with white petticoats and lots of frills. Her dark curls hardly restrained by a green ribbon in her neck. The high heels of her shoes clicked when she walked over the stone floor. Her fierce eyes fixed on him. The lady Aralla was indeed a hot blooded person who never let social constraints get to her. So naturally, she and Eléen got on famously. The fact that neither cared about others thoughts made them very much alike.
“If you say so”, Eléen said and went back to his needle. Of course Aralla didn’t let herself be deterred. She fetched a chair and sat down in the same corner looking annoyed.
“You know”, she said, “if had found such a quiet place like this you could have told me!”
“It just didn’t occur to me”, he said soothingly. It was a surprise how well the two got along. Aralla felt stuck in the expectations of an Ilsa noblewoman, Eléen felt out of place in general. So they had worked together a few times. Not anything serious or important but the feeling was novel for both. She shrugged and adjusted her skirts.
“You are not meeting with the Council?” she asked.
“Not that I’m aware of”, he answered. “I think they are waiting.”
“For what?”
“For a clerk to arrive from Alcande. Someone who would ‘advice’ me.” Aralla nodded as if she understood. She probably did. “Though they will have wait long until that happened.”
“Oh?” the young woman said. “How so?”
“I received a letter from my sister the other day”, Eléen said. “They can’t send a clerk until spring.”
“Isn’t that a problem?”
“Not really. The council is waiting for my ‘advisor’ to arrive so they don’t bother talking to me. That means they can’t push any agreements on me either. But since I am the ambassador they have treat me politely and with respect.”
Aralla smiled. “That’s quite devilish thing for you to do”, she said.
“Learning from the best”, he answered and she laughed with delight. Then she grew solemn. “What?”
“I just remembered why I was trying to find you”, she said. “Lady Darla’s cousin will return to the castle in the coming weeks. Probably in time for the harvest ball.”
“Her cousin?” Eléen said surprised. “Why?”
“I’m not sure but when the Lady married the crown prince her cousin also came.”
“So… why did you want to tell me that?” Eléen raised an eyebrow. Aralla rarely came with gossip and Darla’s cousin didn’t seem worth looking specifically for him.
“Believe me”, Aralla said. “You will know when you met him.”
***
Snow fell from the sky, one tickled Reshien’s nose and he sneezed. Bundle up for the cold he waddled through the snow. His men trailing behind him. The plan was moving along nicely. No one had yet noticed anything but the northern kingdoms were already ready to be toppled. The best thing was that Reshien and his men wouldn’t be considered suspicious. There was no reason to be impatient. First the northern kingdoms and in the spring they would move south.
“Boss?” Sarhas walked up to him, a skinny man at his side. The man wore clothes that locked more ragged than they were. So, Kabrin had returned from his mission. The man had spent the better part of the autumn in a port city. Reshien sneezed again, it was hard to believe that summer still lingered further south.
“What do you have to report, Kabrin?” he asked. The man snivelled and spoke in a dry, rusty voice.
“The kingdom of Arbacha is ready for taking”, Kabrin said. “You were right about the resentment brewing. It is so isolated that no one would notice anything.” Reshien smiled to himself. Of course he were right. They would take Arbacha and when they had cleaned it off, they could just throw it away. All while no one would know who the real culprits were.
“I heard something that might interest you”, Kabrin said carefully. Reshien gestured for him to speak. “Do you remember the man in those robes? The odd one?”
First, Reshien had no idea what the other man was talking about. Then a memory remerged from the depth of his mind. A man in tattered clothing that looked almost like a dress, pleading to be allowed to return to his son. “What about him?” he asked.
“The place he was talking about, Alcan, is a real place.” Reshien stopped dead and looked at Kabrin. His men stopped and looked around for a threat, with an effort Reshien started walking again.
“Continue”, he said curtly. He hated surprises.
“It is a capital of a land called Alcande. It lies in the south, at the foot of the Marras de Galare’s mountain range. Supposedly one of the richest lands in the known world. The mountain range have protected it from attacks, the only way in is from the sea. If we can find an old mountain pass, we might be able to take them by surprise.” Not that kind of surprises he did like. But it didn’t fit into his plans. Kabrin coughed. “I heard it is ruled by a woman.” The rusty voice trying to be nonchalant. It was tempting. Maybe they could do it? They intended to move through the kingdom of Ilsa, if this Alcande lay close by that could be a key to invading. He started singing as he moved vigorous through the snow. His men smiled widely to each other. When the boss started singing, they knew he was cooking up a plan and the bosses planes always succeded.