115 - May Justice Prevail

Report to the LIN, priority from Sunrise Loggia

The once honourable Zurchan, acknowledged son of the Amin line, has lost his name and all positions and titles.   

The man who had been the most Radiant One’s trusted vizier has been arrested and is being tried for the attempted assassination of the Emperor he served for twenty-two years.

The trial is expected to last this full week.  Should Zurchan be found guilty, the harshest penalty that can be called for, for this crime, is exposure in the great traitor’s cage.

The last time this particular cage was used for an execution, it might be remembered, when the Hive Lord once known as Basserus’s body was tied in place, after his heinous attempt on Emperor Pollus, ten years ago.

No details on Zurchan’s trial have yet been released to our disseminators and pollenators of news.  The Emir of the Rasheem has promised us a copy of the record, once the trial is over.  His most Radiant, Emperor Pollus, declines to speak of his reaction.  He says only “I am grieved that someone so close to me is in this position.  May justice and truth prevail.”

We at the LIN echo His Radiance, long life to him. May justice prevail.

_______________

In the time since the Emir-al and the Amir had come through, on their mission, the Lainz border post had undergone a remarkable transformation.

The bridge over the border river had been fixed so that the birds could safely be ridden across instead of led over hooded.  The Emir-kapikulu salaamed as they stopped at the karal fence, which was again a solid wattle, with no holes.  “Kapikulu.”  The Emir said, not getting down immediately.  The man jumped to take the war-bird’s chain with his goad.  “Much better than last time.”

“Bright One, we serve.  If the Emir-al would care to inspect?”

Dukir’s smile never rose above the line of his veil, though he had to cough.  The kapikulu was the senior of the border attendants, and his uniform, that had been conspicuously absent when he’d been at his Milari wife’s house, was clean and obviously newly let out to fit him once more, the line of revealed cloth a darker black stripe. He was aware of the row of eyes peeking along the top of the adobe wall just around the corner.  Likely the children of this once despised bunch, who had no doubt been watching for their approach and given their da’s some warning.  Wide, lighter eyes and skin than Lainz alone.  They looked a great deal like Haraklez.  He tried not to laugh out loud at their awe as they took in the whole flock of fancy birds.

The zon had actually had some fun on the Milar side of the bridge and pulled out their wildest coloured krashnall silks and banners, mandering in colours that matched their riding birds.  Maya had said that they’d put on a show that people would respect.

The younger two ‘kulu, callow asses both. They’re probably glad of the uniform veil to hide their protruding teeth or receeding chins. He rebuked himself inwardly.  He’d been that bad when he was that age.  The one on the right opened the door of the post and then settled back on his side side of the newly fixed and newly painted door.  Milar work, since Lainz tended to leave all planks bleached white/gray.  The Milari touch of the wives and husbands was all over the little post, from the unregulation terraced garden on the lee wall to the vibrant colours painted on fence and walls and stones lining the path to the door.

“Perhaps later,” Raghnall said and swung down with a creak of leather.  His pack-bird squawked. “The surdeniliarch and his entourage are in my charge, enroute to pay their attention to the Most Radiant One.  Give them all honour.”

The old ‘kulu nearly fell over right then and there.  He knew the significance of the Milar warmaster going a visiting from both sides of the border.  “We serve, Emir-al! Borzoo!  Darab!  Attend the warmaster’s officers!  Get their birds settled and pump that trough full, jump!”

Rasheem they were not, but they were at least acting like warriors of Lainz once more.  The older ‘kulu’s eyes rested on Kyrus and Kyrus with a beady speculation that set Dukir’s warning signals off all at once.  He recognizes them, or one of them, at least.