Wednesday, May 16, 2012

28 - As Safe as Lies Can Make You


Mariush came into the bedchamber surrounded by attendants, shedding her veils into their hands gratefully, pulling the pins out of her hair. Diryish, sitting out on the honeycomb balcony, watched quietly through the screen as her formal armour was removed. When her hair was loose and being brushed, he cleared his throat quietly and everyone jumped, stopped where they were.

He rose, careful of his joints, very well aware that it translated as a severe dignity rather than pain. One never showed pain. He walked to the edge of the stone curtain, raised his hand to lean on it. They salaamed, Mariush sliding off her padded bench to do so, ever graceful. They are like a field of young flowers bowing for the wind’s touch.

“You may all be dismissed,” he said quietly. “Thank you for your diligent service... except you Mariush. You stay, if you please.”

It was like a minor dust devil, the rustle and bustle of people gathering themselves and things and taking themselves off. Mariush seated on her bench, kept her blue eyes on him. “Come out to the balcony with me, my dear,” He said as the last of her attendants salaamed their way out.

“Radiance.” She glided past him, her silks rustling. Outside the balcony was full of the hum of bees. The walls were honeycombed with their wax, the whole balcony carefully tended so that chairs and tables could be placed without their occupants slipping on honey or being dripped upon. 

Diryish sat down again and held out his hand for the half-dozen bees to settle upon it, tongues testing his skin for sweet and finding only salt and meat. They buzzed up and over to the lush flowers growing along the forward edge, suspended over the city and then, below that, thousands of feet to canyon floor.

“It’s just Diryish when no one else can hear. Have you had tea yet?”

“No, my Zukardaro.

She is hiding it well. It is such a shame she feels she must hide it from me. She is almost at the point where it would be difficult to hide her morning sickness. At my age I will be a father again. And I must not let on to her that I know who the father really is. For my child’s sake. I am very pleased at her choice of lover though. A good warrior, a nice young man who already loves her. We will see if he is faithful to her through her trials. It will be a good test of him.

There is an assassin. Dukir has not managed to find out who the murderous drone is, yet, so I must pretend to all the world that my new life, my new child, is not mine, to keep that tiny spark of life protected.

“Emir-al Shiadan is the father of the babe you carry?” He made his voice soft as if he were angry, as if he were disappointed.

She gasped slightly and went to her knees before him. 

“Diryish... he told me he would confess... I... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...”

He cut her off and, taking her hand, urged her up onto the bench beside him, laid a finger over her lips. “Shh.” He sighed heavily, and looked up and into the yellow-gold cavern of the balcony, the hive, humming. “Raghnall told me, yes.  The bees have also told me you were carrying.” Not entirely a lie. Bees sit differently on a pregnant woman.

“It is not fair that you are so young and I so old. A young woman has more needs than an old man can fulfil.” I remember my grandfather sounding that fatuous. Was he lying to me the same way? Well, so long as she believes me, I will bear sounding the pompous, generous old fart. “I forgive you, my dear. I would be sorry to lose one of my best officers if I am forced to discover him.  The two of you must be very discrete.”

She was no longer trying to talk, merely looking at her lap, twisting the silks in her fingers. I am so glad her Mother confirmed to me what I thought. This way I have a chance to protect her and the babe both. She nodded slightly, the round circles of tears starting to fall onto the sky-coloured cloth in her hands and then she found her voice. “I will, Zardukaro...”

“I think not. Not any longer, Mariush. I shall be sleeping alone from now on.” I already miss her warmth. “But you are still mine and I will not send you back to your Mother in disgrace. As far as the court will know, I have grown tired of you so close to me. It is best that no one get the idea that the child you carry is mine. I wish I could. I would lie, my dear and take that child as mine, if I could offer it the protection of my will and my arm, but I am too old.”

“Diryish. You could protect me. I could protect the child...”

“From our nest of Emperor would-bees? From one of my feather-spitter Generals? Say... Arbunazh holding Trovia for us? He’s a sand-snake with his nestlings all around me so I must be careful I not step on any of them. My councillor Nadian or Billiph, his brother? Both are powerful men and would be happy to ‘help’, should I fail. Neither of them is what I would call good hive leaders. They sting too many people around them.” He laid a hand on her peach-smooth cheek. “Or Zurchan, my loyal vizier? He’d poison me in a heartbeat if he were a hair smarter than my protections. But I watch him carefully. As you will need to, now, if you are not already.”

Her cheek was wet with tears and he dried some of them away with his thumb. The easy tears of the young, when everything is either total joy or total despair. It takes age to realize that life is easier than that and that there is time for things to happen. The young always feel so... immediate, seizing all life’s emotions now and in quantity, almost not caring if it is good or bad so long as there is more of it, somehow fearful that if things grow less intense they will not recognize their own lives, their own selves.

All around them the hive hummed and the bees singing out their bounty, bee’s wings wafting warm air over the two people sitting in their midst. A dozen or two delicate sister bees flew down and searched the woman’s hair, so like some of the desert flowers, shining gold and hot under the furnace of sun, and the man’s smooth brown head, with no hair at all.

I am sure you can, my dear, and should I die in the next year, you will have to. For even though I set you aside and clandestinely shame you... there will always be those who believe the child you carry is mine.” Myself included. “And you are now a queen-cell in the hive. Tended, cared-for, supported... and if another queen rises before you are ready... stung to death in your golden prison.” He brushed a bee gently away from her face and it buzzed up. All of the delicate sisters buzzing on them flew up and for a moment they were crowned with bees. Then they were bare again.

He drew her closer and kissed her. She sobbed then, but held her words. Good for you, my dear, don’t be so foolish to blurt out the truth, just to assuage my sorrow. Hold hard to that secret, even if it hurts me. Even if you think you are hurting me. I love you for it. 

“I am too old a man to love you properly, Mariush. But I am still Emperor and we will see you as safe as lies can make you; you and the child both.”

No comments:

Post a Comment