Post by devilinthedetails on Jul 17, 2018 5:45:38 GMT 10
Title: Caged
Rating: PG-13 for references to death, childbirth, and arranged marriages among other things.
Prompt: Cage
Summary: Ozorne's court is a glittering cage for Kaddar. Set before Emperor Mage.
Caged
Emperor Ozorne’s extravagant aviary with its lush plants and fragrant flowers was designed to have none of the oppressive atmosphere of a cage, but, despite its bucolic appearance no doubt meant to cultivate a feeling of liberation in man and bird, it was still a cage, though one gilded in golden sunlight. As he stood with his uncle in the aviary, wishing he had never received an invitation to view the emperor’s precious birds–worth more to the man who ruled Carthak than many provinces–Kaddar felt more caged than the birds.
The birds loved their captor and were blissfully ignorant of his cruelties. Kaddar hated the man who held him–and all of Carthak–hostage to his paranoias and jealousies, and was painfully aware with every breath of how Emperor Ozorne could kill anyone with a single gesture or word. Say the wrong thing when kneeling before the emperor, and it might be the last word to leave your lips before you were beheaded with a swipe–if you were lucky, more if you weren’t–of a guard’s curved sword. Do the wrong thing, and it was likely to be your last act before the Black God greeted you. To lower your guard, even for an instant, could be more fatal and foolish than rushing into a battle unarmed.
“My birds are ailing, dear nephew.” Emperor Ozorne’s gaze, dark with mourning, flickered from one bird curled miserably in a nest to the next. The bright plumage of the birds, plucked from all corners of Carthak as a colorful testimony to the vast scope of the emperor’s dominion, had dulled, and instead of cheery cries and coos, the only music that soared from the birds’ throats were desultory moans. “It grieves me.”
“All of Carthak grieves for the suffering of your birds, Your Imperial Majesty.” Kaddar ducked his head and chewed the inside of his cheek to bite back a snide observation about all of Carthak hearing endless expressions of the emperor’s sorrow for his birds while legions could be lost at war with no eulogy from his uncle. Avian life mattered far more to Emperor Ozorne than any other kind.
“Except for the man who unleashed this plague upon my poor birds.” Emperor Ozorne clucked his tongue, sounding almost like one of his beloved birds, and lifted Kaddar’s chin, surveying him sharply as if for signs of treachery. “He has not shed a tear over my stricken pets.”
Kaddar’s tongue itched to defend himself from what seemed sinisterly similar to a cloaked accusation– to insist that he didn’t have the magic to harm so much as a feather on his uncle’s precious birds and to remind the emperor that he loved animals, spending his time at the university building environments for Master Lindhall’s creatures–but he could hear his mother’s voice in his head, pointing out that he would sound guilty if he protested too much against a charge that hadn’t been formally leveled against him.
“The mightiest mages in Carthak have examined my birds to no avail,” Emperor Ozorne went on after he had been silent long enough for Kaddar to implicate himself. “I suspect a plot–corruption and treason–at the highest levels of the university. Arram Draper was only the beginning of their machinations against me, I’m certain.”
Kaddar didn’t comment on how swiftly his uncle’s suspicions had morphed into certainty and ventured instead, “The masters at the university still haven’t declared defeat on finding a cure for your birds, Your Imperial Majesty. Perhaps they will have a breakthrough.”
“Doubtlessly they pretend to be hard at work, diligently laboring to discover a cure for my birds, in front of you, nephew.” With a dismissive sneer, Emperor Ozorne released Kaddar’s chin. His uncle had never been anything less than contemptuous of Kaddar’s small Gift capable only of fostering growth in plants, but Kaddar was always grateful that the gods had granted him magic made for encouraging plants to flourish, not for plotting and pain like the emperor’s. His weak Gift also led to his uncle perceiving him as less of an enemy. He didn’t even need his mother to tell him that if he had been born with a stronger magic, his uncle would have viewed him as a much more perilous foe, and he would never have lived to see his fifteenth birthday. “You aren’t a powerful enough mage to be involved in their plot, so they have no reason to betray their treachery to you.”
“If there is treason at the university, I have every confidence that Your Imperial Majesty will crush it for the good of the empire.” Kaddar bowed, thinking that his uncle was most accomplished at spotting treachery wherever he looked.
“I will do what I must to protect myself and my empire as I always do.” Emperor Ozorne’s lips were thin and cutting as a blade. “For now, because my university is a hotbed of treachery that must be stamped out, I’m forced to seek outside assistance to heal my birds.”
“Outside assistance?” Kaddar arched an eyebrow in polite confusion.
“You are aware that a delegation of Tortallans will be arriving in Carthak within the week to discuss their regrettable and ridiculous accusations of our ships raiding their shores and even menacing members of their royal family?” Emperor Ozorne waited for Kaddar’s nod before continuing, waving his hand as if to push away charges that Kaddar suspected might have more truth behind them than his uncle would ever acknowledge, “Once I’ve met with the ambassadors from Tortall, I’ve no doubt they will agree that it was pirates who attacked their coast and royal family, and this misunderstanding was a ploy by the pirates to drive a wedge between our two great countries to thrust us into warfare. In such a tense climate, goodwill gestures from both sides are of paramount importance to promote peace. It pleases me that King Jonathan has extended just such a goodwill gesture. He is sending with his delegation a girl, a barbarian from Galla my reports suggest, who King Jonathan assures me has wild magic that may allow her to cure my birds where all others have failed most dismally.”
“I wish this girl nothing but success in treating your birds, Your Imperial Majesty.” Kaddar bowed again–most of his conversations with his uncle seemed to be consist of ceaseless bowing–and thought that this barbarian wildmage would need all the best wishes that she could get. If she failed to cure the birds, diplomatic immunity might not be sufficient to shield her from imperial wrath. King Joanthan, Kaddar believed, was playing with fire when he dispatched this young wildmage with his delegation. It was entirely possible that the girl would do more to offend Emperor Ozorne than to spark his goodwill. Emperor Ozorne was notoriously prickly and if the barbarian girl angered him with her lack of deportment, war would result, and Tortall’s armies were not match for Carthak’s legions. No power in the Eastern or Southern Lands could resist Carthak. To be unchallengeable, that was what it meant to be an empire.
“When she is not treating my birds, she may long to drink in the marvels of my empire. As a barbarian, I imagine that she will never have seen such civilization before, and everything in Carthak will fill her with a wide-eyed wonder. Perhaps I will even be able to poach her for myself.” Emperor Ozorne reached out to clasp Kaddar’s shoulder. “You will squire her about while she is in Carthak. Charm her and introduce her to all of Carthak’s splendors. I’m relying on you, dear nephew, to flatter her. Do not disappoint me.”
“I would never dream of disappointing Your Imperial Majesty.” Kaddar inclined his head gravely, adding inwardly that this wasn’t out of affection for his uncle but out of a very rational fear of the fate that awaited him should he displease the emperor. “I will be most welcoming to this wildmage and show her all of the finest destinations in Thak City.”
“Excellent.” Emperor’s Ozorne’s grip on Kaddar’s shoulder tightened until it bruised. As Kaddar imagined with a wince how purple his skin would be the next morning, Emperor Ozorne gave a cold smile that was more chilling than a shout. “You can practice your flirtations on the barbarian girl so you will be better prepared to charm Princess Kalasin, whom I intend to arrange your betrothal to with the Tortallans while they are here.”
“Princess Kalasin?” repeated Kaddar, the sides of his mouth furrowing in a frown he couldn’t hide. He didn’t know much about the oldest Tortallan princess except that she was rumored to have inherited her mother’s beauty and that her parents doted on her. He was also under the impression that she hadn’t celebrated her tenth birthday yet. She was likely more interested in dolls, ponies, and puppies than she was in marrying princes. Of course, Kaddar suspected that this must be some trap or delaying tactic of his uncle’s. After all, the emperor would never wish him to wed and father any heirs who might be a threat to his uncle’s reign. In Emperor Ozorne’s eyes, the less heirs existed, the more secure he was in his rule. “Isn’t she young for marriage?”
“Young for marriage, yes.” Emperor Ozorne’s smile had definitely descended into leering territory. “Not young for a royal betrothal, however. Many royals are betrothed before they are five. You and Princess Kalasin are quite old to be engaged. Your age is pardonable due to the fact that you were only named my heir recently because of treachery, but Princess Kalasin’s parents are without excuse for their neglect of her future. They should be eager to rectify their oversight with an imperial betrothal to cement the goodwill between our dominions. Obviously the marriage would wait until she had her woman’s bleeding, but she would come live in Carthak to adjust to our ways and people during the engagement.”
“She would be your hostage, Your Imperial Majesty?” The words spilled out of Kaddar’s mouth before he could consider whether they were wise or not. He could picture the bars of his uncle’s cage stretching out over the Emerald Ocean to ensnare Princess Kalasin and King Jonathan.
“I wouldn’t phrase it so crassly, Kaddar.” Emperor Ozorne’s laugh didn’t sound offended by Kaddar’s bluntness. “She will be our honored guest and a guarantee of Tortall’s continued goodwill between us.”
“She still seems young to be sent far away from her home as a guarantee of goodwill.” Kaddar didn’t know why he risked his neck to defend a princess whom he had never met. If his mother were here, she would nudge and hiss at him until he became less chivalrous and more attuned to his own survival.
“You seem to be too young to understand even the basics of a royal marriage,” snapped Emperor Ozorne, striding away from Kaddar and dismissing him with a brusque wave of his hand as if Kaddar were a slave rather than his heir. “Your mother was shipped off to her betrothed at thirteen and almost died giving birth to you when she was the age you are now. Ask her to explain these matters to you instead of wasting my time with such folly.”
Trembling from top to toe at having provoked his imperial uncle to such sudden fury, Kaddar dropped to his knees in submission, but Emperor Ozorne, his back to Kaddar, offered no indication that he had noticed. When his knees stopped shaking, Kaddar rose, praising the Graveyard Hag when he didn’t collapse at once, and placed one tentative foot in front of the other on a slow journey down the mosaic-lined corridors to his mother’s quarters.
He entered his mother’s quarters to find her sitting on a coach while a slave girl with skin pale as hers knelt on a cushion at her feet. Both of them were hunched over miniature cypress writing desks, puzzling over the household accounts.
“I must speak to the cook about reducing the costs of serving the lower classes at our banquets,” Mother remarked, tapping her quill on her parchment in disapproval of the cook’s loose purse strings. “He’s being excessive with what he feeds them. My feasts aren’t charities.”
Glancing up from her calculations, Mother must have detected something in Kaddar’s face that announced his need to speak with her privately, because she ordered the slave girl, “Run along to the kitchens and warn my cook that I’ll be meeting with him tomorrow morning at which time I’ll expect a thorough explanation for the money he’s been spending feeding the lower ranks at my banquets. While you’re there, you may fetch a bite to eat for yourself. We’ve many more accounts to square before the evening is done.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Highness.” The slave girl placed her writing desk, parchment, and quill on a marble tabletop and fell to the floor in an obeisance. Rising from it, she hurried to the door. “Thank you.”
Once the slave girl had departed for the kitchens, Mother’s lips pressed into a concerned line as she scrutinized Kaddar for hints of what had transpired to make him so clammy. “You look as if you saw a ghost or just became one, Kaddar. What happened?”
“His Imperial Majesty invited me to visit his aviary with him.” Kaddar stumbled through a vague explanation that must have been almost incomprehensible through his numb lips. “I–I’m afraid I managed to offend His Imperial Majesty with a careless comment.”
“How many times must I tell you not to be careless in your words especially in front of His Imperial Majesty before it sinks in?” Mother scolded, and Kaddar recognized that this was a question best left unanswered, so he remained judiciously quiet, demonstrating that he had learned some control of his tongue, even if his mother didn’t deem it sufficient for survival in a cutthroat court. Not waiting for a reply that hadn’t proved forthcoming, Mother went on with her lecture without missing a beat. “There are only so many times that you can lose your head before it will be chopped off for you, son.”
“Yes, Mother.” Kaddar ducked his head and hoped that his posture was contrite enough to curtail her chiding.
Mother sighed, and, then in a tone that suggested she was bracing herself for the worst, demanded crisply, “What were you foolish enough to say to His Imperial Majesty this time?”
“His Imperial Majesty intends for me to be engaged to Princess Kalasin of Tortall when the Tortallan delegation arrives, Mother.” Kaddar scanned his mother’s face for some reaction to this revelation but her features remained as inscrutable as a scroll written in a barbarian language. “I merely pointed out that, being not yet ten, Princess Kalasin is young for a marriage or even a betrothal that would bring her to Carthak as a guarantee of goodwill between our countries. His Imperial Majesty didn’t appreciate that argument and reminded me that you left home to live with your betrothed when you were thirteen and gave birth to me when you were my age.”
“He’s not wrong about that. I was betrothed early and gave birth young.” Mother’s face had softened as it often did when she spoke or thought of Father slain in a revolt years ago. “Such is the duty of royal women.”
“You had me too young.” Kaddar was flushed with the guilt that often overcame him when he remembered how he had almost been the death of his mother when he came into the world. “You were knocking on death’s door in childbirth, Mother.”
“Yes, and I can’t have any more children. I remember better than you that long labor.” Mother leaned forward on the coach to cup his cheek between her palms. “Yet none of that matters because I’ve given birth to you. You’ve been my life ever since you were born, and I would die to keep you safe, because you are my future, my dear and only son.”
“Mother.” Kaddar was too overwhelmed by a choking affection for his mother that he couldn’t express the love he felt for her. In the end, he settled for changing the subject instead of emphasizing his inadequacy at voicing his emotions for her. “What of Princess Kalasin?”
“Princess Kalasin wouldn’t be a bad match for you if the Tortallans could be persuaded to agree to it.” Mother’s gaze was distant and contemplative. “She may be young now, but she won’t always be, especially because a royal girl must grow up fast if she wishes to make her mark in politics. When she is only a bit older than she is currently, I predict that she’ll see that a husband and the sons he can provide her are her avenues of advancement in the world. Women may not possess power in their own right, of course, but they may touch it through their husbands and sons. With time, she will understand that.”
“What if she doesn’t?” Kaddar couldn’t explain even to himself why he was interested in the well-being of a girl who would likely always be a stranger to him.
“Then she is a fool.” Mother’s face became harder than a marble column, and Kaddar shivered at the abrupt resemblance between her and his uncle. Like her brother, Mother could be callous as a crocodile when she was engaged in her scheming though he understood that all of her strategies were created to promote his interests rather than to undermine them as his uncle’s were. Like the emperor, Mother regarded people as pawns on a chessboard to be manipulated and maneuvered to her and Kaddar’s benefit and had an icy indifference to anyone who couldn’t help or who hindered those movements. “I’ve no use for fools, and you shouldn’t either. Never concern yourselves with fools when your focus should be on the clever, Kaddar.”
“Yes, Mother.” Kaddar nodded, absorbing another harsh truth that chained him still more strongly to the cage that was his uncle’s court.
Rating: PG-13 for references to death, childbirth, and arranged marriages among other things.
Prompt: Cage
Summary: Ozorne's court is a glittering cage for Kaddar. Set before Emperor Mage.
Caged
Emperor Ozorne’s extravagant aviary with its lush plants and fragrant flowers was designed to have none of the oppressive atmosphere of a cage, but, despite its bucolic appearance no doubt meant to cultivate a feeling of liberation in man and bird, it was still a cage, though one gilded in golden sunlight. As he stood with his uncle in the aviary, wishing he had never received an invitation to view the emperor’s precious birds–worth more to the man who ruled Carthak than many provinces–Kaddar felt more caged than the birds.
The birds loved their captor and were blissfully ignorant of his cruelties. Kaddar hated the man who held him–and all of Carthak–hostage to his paranoias and jealousies, and was painfully aware with every breath of how Emperor Ozorne could kill anyone with a single gesture or word. Say the wrong thing when kneeling before the emperor, and it might be the last word to leave your lips before you were beheaded with a swipe–if you were lucky, more if you weren’t–of a guard’s curved sword. Do the wrong thing, and it was likely to be your last act before the Black God greeted you. To lower your guard, even for an instant, could be more fatal and foolish than rushing into a battle unarmed.
“My birds are ailing, dear nephew.” Emperor Ozorne’s gaze, dark with mourning, flickered from one bird curled miserably in a nest to the next. The bright plumage of the birds, plucked from all corners of Carthak as a colorful testimony to the vast scope of the emperor’s dominion, had dulled, and instead of cheery cries and coos, the only music that soared from the birds’ throats were desultory moans. “It grieves me.”
“All of Carthak grieves for the suffering of your birds, Your Imperial Majesty.” Kaddar ducked his head and chewed the inside of his cheek to bite back a snide observation about all of Carthak hearing endless expressions of the emperor’s sorrow for his birds while legions could be lost at war with no eulogy from his uncle. Avian life mattered far more to Emperor Ozorne than any other kind.
“Except for the man who unleashed this plague upon my poor birds.” Emperor Ozorne clucked his tongue, sounding almost like one of his beloved birds, and lifted Kaddar’s chin, surveying him sharply as if for signs of treachery. “He has not shed a tear over my stricken pets.”
Kaddar’s tongue itched to defend himself from what seemed sinisterly similar to a cloaked accusation– to insist that he didn’t have the magic to harm so much as a feather on his uncle’s precious birds and to remind the emperor that he loved animals, spending his time at the university building environments for Master Lindhall’s creatures–but he could hear his mother’s voice in his head, pointing out that he would sound guilty if he protested too much against a charge that hadn’t been formally leveled against him.
“The mightiest mages in Carthak have examined my birds to no avail,” Emperor Ozorne went on after he had been silent long enough for Kaddar to implicate himself. “I suspect a plot–corruption and treason–at the highest levels of the university. Arram Draper was only the beginning of their machinations against me, I’m certain.”
Kaddar didn’t comment on how swiftly his uncle’s suspicions had morphed into certainty and ventured instead, “The masters at the university still haven’t declared defeat on finding a cure for your birds, Your Imperial Majesty. Perhaps they will have a breakthrough.”
“Doubtlessly they pretend to be hard at work, diligently laboring to discover a cure for my birds, in front of you, nephew.” With a dismissive sneer, Emperor Ozorne released Kaddar’s chin. His uncle had never been anything less than contemptuous of Kaddar’s small Gift capable only of fostering growth in plants, but Kaddar was always grateful that the gods had granted him magic made for encouraging plants to flourish, not for plotting and pain like the emperor’s. His weak Gift also led to his uncle perceiving him as less of an enemy. He didn’t even need his mother to tell him that if he had been born with a stronger magic, his uncle would have viewed him as a much more perilous foe, and he would never have lived to see his fifteenth birthday. “You aren’t a powerful enough mage to be involved in their plot, so they have no reason to betray their treachery to you.”
“If there is treason at the university, I have every confidence that Your Imperial Majesty will crush it for the good of the empire.” Kaddar bowed, thinking that his uncle was most accomplished at spotting treachery wherever he looked.
“I will do what I must to protect myself and my empire as I always do.” Emperor Ozorne’s lips were thin and cutting as a blade. “For now, because my university is a hotbed of treachery that must be stamped out, I’m forced to seek outside assistance to heal my birds.”
“Outside assistance?” Kaddar arched an eyebrow in polite confusion.
“You are aware that a delegation of Tortallans will be arriving in Carthak within the week to discuss their regrettable and ridiculous accusations of our ships raiding their shores and even menacing members of their royal family?” Emperor Ozorne waited for Kaddar’s nod before continuing, waving his hand as if to push away charges that Kaddar suspected might have more truth behind them than his uncle would ever acknowledge, “Once I’ve met with the ambassadors from Tortall, I’ve no doubt they will agree that it was pirates who attacked their coast and royal family, and this misunderstanding was a ploy by the pirates to drive a wedge between our two great countries to thrust us into warfare. In such a tense climate, goodwill gestures from both sides are of paramount importance to promote peace. It pleases me that King Jonathan has extended just such a goodwill gesture. He is sending with his delegation a girl, a barbarian from Galla my reports suggest, who King Jonathan assures me has wild magic that may allow her to cure my birds where all others have failed most dismally.”
“I wish this girl nothing but success in treating your birds, Your Imperial Majesty.” Kaddar bowed again–most of his conversations with his uncle seemed to be consist of ceaseless bowing–and thought that this barbarian wildmage would need all the best wishes that she could get. If she failed to cure the birds, diplomatic immunity might not be sufficient to shield her from imperial wrath. King Joanthan, Kaddar believed, was playing with fire when he dispatched this young wildmage with his delegation. It was entirely possible that the girl would do more to offend Emperor Ozorne than to spark his goodwill. Emperor Ozorne was notoriously prickly and if the barbarian girl angered him with her lack of deportment, war would result, and Tortall’s armies were not match for Carthak’s legions. No power in the Eastern or Southern Lands could resist Carthak. To be unchallengeable, that was what it meant to be an empire.
“When she is not treating my birds, she may long to drink in the marvels of my empire. As a barbarian, I imagine that she will never have seen such civilization before, and everything in Carthak will fill her with a wide-eyed wonder. Perhaps I will even be able to poach her for myself.” Emperor Ozorne reached out to clasp Kaddar’s shoulder. “You will squire her about while she is in Carthak. Charm her and introduce her to all of Carthak’s splendors. I’m relying on you, dear nephew, to flatter her. Do not disappoint me.”
“I would never dream of disappointing Your Imperial Majesty.” Kaddar inclined his head gravely, adding inwardly that this wasn’t out of affection for his uncle but out of a very rational fear of the fate that awaited him should he displease the emperor. “I will be most welcoming to this wildmage and show her all of the finest destinations in Thak City.”
“Excellent.” Emperor’s Ozorne’s grip on Kaddar’s shoulder tightened until it bruised. As Kaddar imagined with a wince how purple his skin would be the next morning, Emperor Ozorne gave a cold smile that was more chilling than a shout. “You can practice your flirtations on the barbarian girl so you will be better prepared to charm Princess Kalasin, whom I intend to arrange your betrothal to with the Tortallans while they are here.”
“Princess Kalasin?” repeated Kaddar, the sides of his mouth furrowing in a frown he couldn’t hide. He didn’t know much about the oldest Tortallan princess except that she was rumored to have inherited her mother’s beauty and that her parents doted on her. He was also under the impression that she hadn’t celebrated her tenth birthday yet. She was likely more interested in dolls, ponies, and puppies than she was in marrying princes. Of course, Kaddar suspected that this must be some trap or delaying tactic of his uncle’s. After all, the emperor would never wish him to wed and father any heirs who might be a threat to his uncle’s reign. In Emperor Ozorne’s eyes, the less heirs existed, the more secure he was in his rule. “Isn’t she young for marriage?”
“Young for marriage, yes.” Emperor Ozorne’s smile had definitely descended into leering territory. “Not young for a royal betrothal, however. Many royals are betrothed before they are five. You and Princess Kalasin are quite old to be engaged. Your age is pardonable due to the fact that you were only named my heir recently because of treachery, but Princess Kalasin’s parents are without excuse for their neglect of her future. They should be eager to rectify their oversight with an imperial betrothal to cement the goodwill between our dominions. Obviously the marriage would wait until she had her woman’s bleeding, but she would come live in Carthak to adjust to our ways and people during the engagement.”
“She would be your hostage, Your Imperial Majesty?” The words spilled out of Kaddar’s mouth before he could consider whether they were wise or not. He could picture the bars of his uncle’s cage stretching out over the Emerald Ocean to ensnare Princess Kalasin and King Jonathan.
“I wouldn’t phrase it so crassly, Kaddar.” Emperor Ozorne’s laugh didn’t sound offended by Kaddar’s bluntness. “She will be our honored guest and a guarantee of Tortall’s continued goodwill between us.”
“She still seems young to be sent far away from her home as a guarantee of goodwill.” Kaddar didn’t know why he risked his neck to defend a princess whom he had never met. If his mother were here, she would nudge and hiss at him until he became less chivalrous and more attuned to his own survival.
“You seem to be too young to understand even the basics of a royal marriage,” snapped Emperor Ozorne, striding away from Kaddar and dismissing him with a brusque wave of his hand as if Kaddar were a slave rather than his heir. “Your mother was shipped off to her betrothed at thirteen and almost died giving birth to you when she was the age you are now. Ask her to explain these matters to you instead of wasting my time with such folly.”
Trembling from top to toe at having provoked his imperial uncle to such sudden fury, Kaddar dropped to his knees in submission, but Emperor Ozorne, his back to Kaddar, offered no indication that he had noticed. When his knees stopped shaking, Kaddar rose, praising the Graveyard Hag when he didn’t collapse at once, and placed one tentative foot in front of the other on a slow journey down the mosaic-lined corridors to his mother’s quarters.
He entered his mother’s quarters to find her sitting on a coach while a slave girl with skin pale as hers knelt on a cushion at her feet. Both of them were hunched over miniature cypress writing desks, puzzling over the household accounts.
“I must speak to the cook about reducing the costs of serving the lower classes at our banquets,” Mother remarked, tapping her quill on her parchment in disapproval of the cook’s loose purse strings. “He’s being excessive with what he feeds them. My feasts aren’t charities.”
Glancing up from her calculations, Mother must have detected something in Kaddar’s face that announced his need to speak with her privately, because she ordered the slave girl, “Run along to the kitchens and warn my cook that I’ll be meeting with him tomorrow morning at which time I’ll expect a thorough explanation for the money he’s been spending feeding the lower ranks at my banquets. While you’re there, you may fetch a bite to eat for yourself. We’ve many more accounts to square before the evening is done.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Highness.” The slave girl placed her writing desk, parchment, and quill on a marble tabletop and fell to the floor in an obeisance. Rising from it, she hurried to the door. “Thank you.”
Once the slave girl had departed for the kitchens, Mother’s lips pressed into a concerned line as she scrutinized Kaddar for hints of what had transpired to make him so clammy. “You look as if you saw a ghost or just became one, Kaddar. What happened?”
“His Imperial Majesty invited me to visit his aviary with him.” Kaddar stumbled through a vague explanation that must have been almost incomprehensible through his numb lips. “I–I’m afraid I managed to offend His Imperial Majesty with a careless comment.”
“How many times must I tell you not to be careless in your words especially in front of His Imperial Majesty before it sinks in?” Mother scolded, and Kaddar recognized that this was a question best left unanswered, so he remained judiciously quiet, demonstrating that he had learned some control of his tongue, even if his mother didn’t deem it sufficient for survival in a cutthroat court. Not waiting for a reply that hadn’t proved forthcoming, Mother went on with her lecture without missing a beat. “There are only so many times that you can lose your head before it will be chopped off for you, son.”
“Yes, Mother.” Kaddar ducked his head and hoped that his posture was contrite enough to curtail her chiding.
Mother sighed, and, then in a tone that suggested she was bracing herself for the worst, demanded crisply, “What were you foolish enough to say to His Imperial Majesty this time?”
“His Imperial Majesty intends for me to be engaged to Princess Kalasin of Tortall when the Tortallan delegation arrives, Mother.” Kaddar scanned his mother’s face for some reaction to this revelation but her features remained as inscrutable as a scroll written in a barbarian language. “I merely pointed out that, being not yet ten, Princess Kalasin is young for a marriage or even a betrothal that would bring her to Carthak as a guarantee of goodwill between our countries. His Imperial Majesty didn’t appreciate that argument and reminded me that you left home to live with your betrothed when you were thirteen and gave birth to me when you were my age.”
“He’s not wrong about that. I was betrothed early and gave birth young.” Mother’s face had softened as it often did when she spoke or thought of Father slain in a revolt years ago. “Such is the duty of royal women.”
“You had me too young.” Kaddar was flushed with the guilt that often overcame him when he remembered how he had almost been the death of his mother when he came into the world. “You were knocking on death’s door in childbirth, Mother.”
“Yes, and I can’t have any more children. I remember better than you that long labor.” Mother leaned forward on the coach to cup his cheek between her palms. “Yet none of that matters because I’ve given birth to you. You’ve been my life ever since you were born, and I would die to keep you safe, because you are my future, my dear and only son.”
“Mother.” Kaddar was too overwhelmed by a choking affection for his mother that he couldn’t express the love he felt for her. In the end, he settled for changing the subject instead of emphasizing his inadequacy at voicing his emotions for her. “What of Princess Kalasin?”
“Princess Kalasin wouldn’t be a bad match for you if the Tortallans could be persuaded to agree to it.” Mother’s gaze was distant and contemplative. “She may be young now, but she won’t always be, especially because a royal girl must grow up fast if she wishes to make her mark in politics. When she is only a bit older than she is currently, I predict that she’ll see that a husband and the sons he can provide her are her avenues of advancement in the world. Women may not possess power in their own right, of course, but they may touch it through their husbands and sons. With time, she will understand that.”
“What if she doesn’t?” Kaddar couldn’t explain even to himself why he was interested in the well-being of a girl who would likely always be a stranger to him.
“Then she is a fool.” Mother’s face became harder than a marble column, and Kaddar shivered at the abrupt resemblance between her and his uncle. Like her brother, Mother could be callous as a crocodile when she was engaged in her scheming though he understood that all of her strategies were created to promote his interests rather than to undermine them as his uncle’s were. Like the emperor, Mother regarded people as pawns on a chessboard to be manipulated and maneuvered to her and Kaddar’s benefit and had an icy indifference to anyone who couldn’t help or who hindered those movements. “I’ve no use for fools, and you shouldn’t either. Never concern yourselves with fools when your focus should be on the clever, Kaddar.”
“Yes, Mother.” Kaddar nodded, absorbing another harsh truth that chained him still more strongly to the cage that was his uncle’s court.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!