89 - A Chicken in the War-Bird's Pen

So I… Dukir Pahgemar, pretending to be the Amir Isfahsalar, most illustrious spymaster for His Radiance on Chishiki, Diryish Pollus, walk into this odd tent inside a cave in Milar. I am hoping not to interrupt the wedding time of the Milar surdeniliarch with his new bride. The last thing I expected, on the whole sphere of the earth, was to walk in, face--to–face with a dead man.

A dead man with a reputation for the highest honesty and the most impeccable of integrity, the man who would die rather than be disgraced on or off the field. I’d been only hoping to find the boy. The malleable teenager I could take off to the Empire, wil-he, nil-he, and train up to be a decent Emperor… not this warrior… even if he was standing with a single sheet wrapped around himself, no veil and an arm flung around… the surdeniliarch of Milar. Of course I’ve used the only means of immediate communication with Diryish already and it is a single use object.  Naturally.  Life is just like that, in all its perverse and ironic glory.

It all fell together like coins in a well, in his head. “Kyrus Talain… the elder,”

“Amir, please, be seated.” Kyrus sat down himself, the Milari war master not letting go so Dukir found himself the target of their two gazes; along with that of the boy, still sitting on the floor with the little white vermin in his lap. “Kyrus… offer the Amir some tea, would you, son?”

“Certainly, Da.”

As the boy quietly fetched cups and crumbled tea leaves and set out the little bowls of chutneys and butter, Dukir watched, quietly, taking in the way everyone moved.

“May I offer my congratulations on your marriage?” He said as he accepted a cup from the younger Kyrus. “I’ll take the drink bare, thank you. Though as Siwion, I should rightly serve you.” The boy flinched.

Ilax said, quietly. “Neither my inamour or my married-in son have had time to adjust to the idea as of yet, Amir. Give them a little time, please.”

“Oh, yes, certainly, surdeniliarch. I am needing considerable adjustment time, myself.” That drew a laugh. “I am sure this is going to throw a chicken into the war-bird’s pen.”

“Yes, it will. With the warning my new son gave us, that he is a Siwion of Lainz, and thus so is his ‘dead’ father, we had just come to the conclusion that to sort this all out I shall have to request a State visit to the Radiant city, myself and my heir.”

“Truly?” Dukir found himself surprisingly relieved. He’d been thinking he’d have to argue and cajole or even threaten. 

“The Most High could let his son come to the city with me, thus maintaining his cherished privacy and his new wedding…” And if everything fell apart I’d have you tucked away safe in this country… hmmm.

“No.” Kyrus’s voice and Ky’s voice rang out together and they exchanged a look with each other that showed surprise and pride on both sides. “It would be my duty to return to my home country,” Kyrus continued. “I was discarded by General d’molfe, and would never return to be merely another Ass in the Lainz armies –“

“—never that low, da!” Ky protested. “You were better than that!”

“Shush, lad.” Even in the wrapped bedsheet there was something intense about Kyrus, that mere trappings couldn’t show. Perhaps it was his will, or the force of his stare. That stare is so much like the old man’s… If I’d ever doubted, one of those looks would have been enough to convince me otherwise. “But if the Emperor needs me, in whatever capacity, it will be my honour and pleasure to accompany you… as long as my husband and new family is acknowledged appropriately.”

“Of… course.” Dukir turned to Ilax. “Naser… would your government allow your visit to Lainz the city?”

“It’s been ten years,” Ilax said thoughtfully. “Considering that the circumstances have changed, probably no more than a month’s worth of debate.”

Ky and Kyrus both just rolled their eyes skyward. “Of course… only a month.” Tizrav wiggled over to him and began pulling on the edge of the sheet wound around Kyrus, protecting his modesty. “Stop that, rodent! Amir… how urgent is it that we travel to the city?”

While Dukir considered, Ilax said quietly, “Personally I got on well with His Radiance, I thought.”

“Yes, surdeniliarch.” Dukir hid his sigh. “His Radiance… is very old, though his health is remarkable for his age.”

“And remarkable when people kept trying to kill him in inventive ways,” Ilax said dryly.

“But he is very old.” There was no getting around that fact, and the reason he had been sent to Milar, with such broad-reaching orders. “I, and my Emir-al, would be very happy if we could cut our travel time down to weeks.”

Ilax looked thoughtful, apparently not noticing that his sheet had slipped loose and lay around his waist as he sipped his tea. Thankfully, for the Lainz sensibilities, it hide everything necessary. He was as unconcerned as if he were fully dressed, in his office, behind a desk. Or as if he sat in his chair on the Unity floor.

“So it is your Emir-al who has been behind this mission, Amir?”

With a totally bland face, Dukir reached up to thumb his insignia, as if he were merely the Amir it claimed him to be. 

“Of course, Nasers.” Ilax’s smile spoke entire libraries but he said nothing. “I am but a working Feather-spitter.” And you’ll believe that when the sun and moon change places, he thought.

“How may I help the Illustrious Siwions and the most honourable surdeniliarch and his family come with us to Lainz… as fast as possible?”

“People have only just adjusted to the fact that Kyrus isn’t dead. It’s going to take you and your Emir-al both to convince the Unity that you are serious and that Milar has been hosting the possible Kraganzh himself, all unknowing.”

“Certainly, Nasers.”

Kyrus and Ilax exchanged a look full of the years between them, the understanding each had of the other’s mind. “I will be very happy to have my husband and wing-brother at my back, Amir. For my protection and the protection of our son, Kyrus.”

Oh Light and Dark. This is going to have the Hive-Lords squawking so loud you’ll hear the screech and cackle all the way back up these mountains. Diryish is going to laugh so long and hard he might just fall over and die right there, from laughter alone.