A Crime of Honor

  Chapter 3

  Dressed in the crisp white tunic and pants of visiting dignitaries and unaligned families, Surr pulled aside the green curtain and crossed into the unoccupied space beyond. Keira followed him, glancing at the four curtains gently shifting around them. One fluttered at the corner as someone walked by on the other side, their voice muffled by the thick velvet.

  It was the night of his meeting with Sarizen and the opening moments of the party. Most of the expected guests already wandered the curtained halls, but Sarizen had issued an open invitation to all members of the nobility, so more were anticipated.

  Surr crossed the small, curtained space to the round table situated at its center and perused the various hors d'oeuvers arranged there.

  Keira shadowed him, her sharp, darting gaze scrutinizing every shadow or movement for possible threats.

  Watching her from the corner of his eye, Surr felt his box of laughter shudder and motioned at the table. "Go on, Keira, we are in no danger yet; you might as well enjoy yourself."

  She glanced at him warily then slipped forward, doffing her mask and taking a seat at the table. She ate sternly, but the pleasure bubbling off her belied the facade. Surr felt his box of laughter shudder again and moved to take the opposite seat.

  The curtain to his left flared open, and one of the crimson-skinned Rhakari, wearing the apparel of a lord, stepped through. The Rhakari pulled the curtain closed and then glanced at his surroundings, noting Surr where he lounged in the chair and Keira where she savored a small bowl of cream and fruit. The Rhakari's eyes widened when he saw one of his own kind eating so comfortably with a human noble, then they flashed with recognition. "Oh, you must be the High-Prince Surramad Hakara."

  Surr stood, performing a shallow bow. "And you must be the infamous Jeera Lusenban, the Rhakari duke."

  The Rhakari grinned. "So, you've heard of me even in the Southern Kingdom?"

  "You're the first nonhuman to hold a position of nobility in the last hundred years; we heard of you in the first week. Besides-" Surr glanced at Keira who now stood at attention with her mask repinned- "my aide has been following your exploits with great interest."

  "Her and many others of our kind. Do you mind if I sit?"

  Surr motioned him forward and they both sat.

  "Unfortunately, I'm still accustoming myself to noble society. Take these bloody curtains for example, how am I supposed to find my way in them?"

  "They're intended to be confusing and isolating, so do not feel too out of place; I only know a few men who can find their way around the emperor's parties."

  "Well then, how does the emperor find his way?"

  "He never makes an actual appearance down here." Surr pointed to a curtained balcony hanging from the ceiling. "He prefers to watch us stumble around."

  "Ah, I see: it's just another one of his games. How can you all stand it? I've only been here for two years, and I already want to crush his head in. Do you know, last week he had two of my kin fight over a promotion to the city watch and then denied the winner on account of his 'bestial tendencies.'" Jeera growled under his breath, his hand tightening on his goblet enough to disfigure it. "Thankfully, he doesn't seem to have many years left; he should die of age soon."

  "I wouldn't count on it; we've been waiting for him to die for fifteen years now, ever since his son passed away."

  "Wasn't he your brother?"

  "What? Oh no, I'm not related to the emperor by blood, merely by position."

  "But one of my aides called you his nephew?"

  "Ah, yes, that is merely a tradition: all four high-princes are considered part of the royal bloodline." Surr plucked a cherry by its stem from a bowl of cream. "It's not entirely meaningless, though, I am third in the line of succession behind the western king and the prince."

  "What about your children? Do they share in your claim to the royal bloodline?"

  "No, they do not; at least, not until one succeeds me. Speaking of succession, however did you manage to get named Count Rhubak's heir?"

  Jeera laughed. "I didn't do anything. It was all that bastard's doing."

  Surr cocked an eyebrow. "I don't think calling the man who made you a duke 'bastard' is appropriate."

  Jeera leaned back. "Nah, the man was a bastard to the day he died. The only reason I got named his heir was because Sarizen did something to piss him off. So, he sent his manservant out to grab the first nonhuman he could find. I happened to be passing outside at the time, so he dragged me inside and the next thing I knew I was the official heir for His Grace Duke Nhamas Rhubak. It was all done out of spite, so I call the man what he was: a bastard."

  Jeera leaned forward. "By the way, I hear Southerners share my people's polygamist practices."

  Surr's box of joy rattled as he remembered his family, and he let that emotion whisper out of its confinement, bringing a smile to his face. "Yes, though not without some differences."

  "How do you mean?"

  Surr let his smile expand to a grin. "My sister has three husbands that she abuses terribly."

  Jeera laughed. "And how many wives do you have?"

  With a little effort, Surr locked his joy away again; it was not the time to think of his family, and he had something else to do before the night ended. He rose with a bow and Keira hurriedly joined him. "I have three wives, all of whom I love dearly." Surr allowed himself the hint of a sad smile. “Unfortunately, I cannot speak of them as much as I would like, or with you as much as I would wish; there is something that needs my immediate attention. I bid you farewell and wish you a safe evening."

  Jeera Lusenban stood and bowed. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Highness. I hope we may speak again."

  Surr tipped his head in acknowledgment and then strode to his left pulling aside the curtain hanging there so that Keira might slip through ahead of him. When he stepped into the next little area, she already stood before the opposite wall holding the curtain open for him. The various lords, servants, and guards straightened and bowed to him as he strode past them. Many spoke polite nothings or murmured little greetings, doing their utmost to avoid his attention without breaking social customs. Surr knew they didn’t fear him so much as what being associated with him might inflict upon them. As such, he let them bow and speak their vapid greetings and ignored them as they so desperately wished.

  Continuing into the next room, Surr found it unoccupied except for a square table and one of the many games members of the Inner Kingdom's nobility liked to play. He continued moving, striding down the long room without a glance at the table, and connected to the Mantra. He did not submerge himself in it, and thus the world did not change around him, but he listened to its currents and searched for the music of those who were connected to it. A number of people rose in his senses, their connection to the Mantra whispering in his ears, tickling his nostrils and stinging his tongue. He discarded these, pushing them away from his consciousness until he found the one he wanted.

  Surr changed course, heading north, and released the Mantra. Caught off guard, Keira rushed ahead of him to pull aside the curtains and clear his path. They traversed another five rooms, two with games and three with food before they reached a circling corridor. He turned left, slowing his pace as voices trickled to him from further on.

  A blond youth appeared, his tall frame clothed in green robes and his face marked with emerald Mantra lines. He paused when he saw them, his words tapering off as a smile came to his face. "Hello, Uncle." He strode forward and embraced Surr.

  "Hello, Cariam, how have you been?"

  The youth drew back, his smile undiminished. "I have done well since I returned to the Inner Kingdom. Grandfather has taken a personal interest in my education and will even sit in on occasion. Beyond that, I have dozens of other tutors and study almost every subject you can imagine; I have even begun learning of the Mantra." Cariam leaned to the side, grinning around Surr at Keira. "Is that Keira?"

  Keira bowed. "I am honored
that you remember me, Your Highness."

  "Nonsense, someone is rather hard to forget when they eat all of your food."

  Surr suppressed his box of amusement as Keira ducked her head. He laid a hand on Cariam's shoulder and propelled him forward. "Come, let us walk where there are fewer prying ears."

  Cariam nodded and motioned for his attendants to fall back as he strode down the corridor. "So, what brings you to the capital, Uncle? You haven't called here since my father died."

  "Mostly I came to protect the tithes, but since I was coming, I thought I might bring a surprise for your grandfather. Speaking of him, how is your grandfather? He looked ill when I spoke with him earlier."

  Cariam rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. "I don't know, the doctors all say he doesn't have long to live, but he's not one to give up without a fight."

  Surr pushed out a snort of laughter. "No, he is not. The doctors have been proclaiming him on death's door for fifteen years, but the old bastard just laughs them off. Still, I don't know how much longer he can pull through, even if he is using the Mantra to extend his life."

  "He wouldn't dare! He knows that using the Mantra to extend life is forbidden!"

  Surr felt his box of pride stir just a little at his nephew's words. He had been friends, brothers almost, with the boy's father; but the man had died nineteen years ago leaving an infant son and Sarizen to reassume the crown. Surr's box of rage rattled at the memory of his friend lying beside his wife in a muddle of stained sheets. No one ever spoke of it, especially not the nobility, but everyone knew it was Sarizen's doing. Thankfully, even Sarizen could not ignore the laws governing matters of death. Surr had taken custody of Cariam as his godfather and squirreled him away in the Southern Kingdom far from Sarizen.

  His custodial rights ended the moment Cariam turned eighteen however, and Sarizen had called him back to capital within hours of the day's arrival. This had transpired early last year. He woke from his ruminations and glanced up as a pair of servants scurried across their path and vanished into the curtains on their left. "Your grandfather is the emperor, Cariam, he dictates our laws and doctrines and is thus above all of them. It is his prerogative to extend his life through the Mantra if he so desires."

  They turned a corner arching outward from the hall's center. "Still, you must realize and accept that you are the next one in line for the throne. Are you ready for that?"

  Cariam looked down. "I don't know. Everyone says that I'm ready, and I've conducted audiences, but the thought of sitting up there on the throne terrifies me." He looked up at Surr. "Does that disappoint you? Does it make me weak?"

  "Some would say that a reluctance to take the throne is wisdom, but I think it is more apt to say that a desire for the throne is unwise." He met his nephew's gaze. "But you cannot rule a kingdom from a position of fear, Carr, you must have the strength to carry it in times of despair. Always remember that first and foremost, you are a caretaker, a protector, and if you cannot do that, then you are unfit to be king."

  Cariam slowed and stopped. "Do you think I'm ready?"

  Surr faced him. "Have you killed a man yet?"

  Cariam jerked back with a gasp. "What? No! I-"

  "Have you seen a child being born?"

  "No. I-"

  "Have you slept in the wilds? Have you learned of hunger?"

  Cariam drew himself up and met Surr's gaze. "Yes, I have."

  "Have you helped to build something? A house, a toy?"

  "Yes."

  "Have you destroyed something?"

  "...Yes."

  "Do you understand what I am telling you?"

  "Yes... I must know what my people experience."

  "No, you must know what your actions may inflict, the pain and the joy. When you become emperor, you will hold the lives of millions in your hand, to build or to destroy, and you will have to choose constantly between the two. Not every life can be saved, and some should not."

  Cariam looked down. "So you do not think I am ready?"

  Surr resumed walking. "No, but I was not ready when my father died either."

  "Then what should I do?"

  "Learn to act. Whether it results in good or ill, an emperor must always act. The only thing more disastrous than a king who will not act is a king intent on destroying his people."

  Cariam stopped again. "Like Grandfather?"

  Surr glanced back at him, silently questioning.

  Cariam slowly advanced, his brow furrowed. "The way Grandfather treats the non-humans it's... it's not ambivalence, it's intentional."

  Surr nodded. "Yes." A bell chimed nightfall in the distance, and he glanced toward the emperor’s balcony as Keira stiffened beside him. "I must leave you now, Carr, your grandfather and I have business. But, I would like to ask a favor of you; please return to your rooms and stay there for tonight."

  Cariam frowned. "All right, Uncle; but why?"

  "Please, do not ask why for I haven’t an answer. Just trust me."

  Cariam nodded and then slipped away, leaving Surr alone with Keira. She turned to him, speaking softly, "Why did you speak with him when doing so might have risked all we wished to achieve tonight?"

  "Because I wanted to converse with him one last time before he learns to hate me."

  "I do not think Cariam could ever hate you."

  He faced her and pulled a black and red mask from a pouch on his belt: a war mask. "He will have to learn to if he ever wants them to accept him as emperor." He donned the war mask. "Is Basciles ready? It is time to begin."

  Keira nodded. "He is; the doors to the armory are unlocked, and the keys to our chambers are in his possession."

  "Then tell him to begin."

  She nodded, her pupils expanding over her crimson irises until they usurped all color. A second passed and then the unique red sigil of the Rhakaris’ Mantra bloomed in her eyes. Surr turned and strode toward the armory as the velvet curtains parted before him and the Mantra lines bloomed on his arms.