Chapter 51

“Yes, several times, during his occasional conversations with mum. Why?” Amanda asked.

“It’s Emirate tradition that children of the Emir are educated apart from their fathers,” Lauralla interrupted to explain. “As well as from each other.”

“I know. But I assumed they still talked and were aware of each other...” Amanda replied but trailed off at Grian’s shake of the head.

“My father and I have spoken only once each year on my birthing date,” he explained.

“How on Vreekoos does he know if your education is going well and your views and attitudes aren’t being corrupted by people around you?”

“Reports came back from their bodyguards,” Lauralla replied. “Though Ashel, the older brother, seems to have fallen in with bad company lately.”

“I’m sure he still respects father,” Grian temporised.

“So you grew up knowing neither mother nor father?” I asked.

“That is correct, Dayyev,” Grian replied. “Though I regard Lauralla here as ‘mum’ as she saw to my education and needs.”

“Would that I could have educated the two of them, but that is also against our laws,” Lauralla sighed.

“I take it Ashel has not reached the ... point of no return?” Amanda enquired, knowing the Emirate’s tendency to deal with inconvenient sons in line to the throne if they stepped out of line.

“No. He’s just got an arrogant streak, fostered by those who felt the Empire humiliated one of their own during the alien war,” Lauralla again answered.

“Zheng?”

“Yes. His clan, which he returned to after resigning his commission.”

“His disgrace was mostly of his own doing,” I commented with a frown, having been told the tale by my sister ... admittedly from her biased point of view.

“It was indeed, young Dayyev,” Lauralla acknowledged. At this point food was brought in and we moved to comfortable seating. “However,” she continued, “his clan seeks to rewrite history and have Zheng restored as a hero betrayed by a treacherous ally.”

“And Grigo’s point of view?” Amanda asked.

“Is that incompetence brings its own reward,” Lauralla chuckled. “However, Ashel’s best friend is Zheng’s son and he has picked up a trait of both arrogance and dislike for the Empire from him and others around him.”

“Foolish,” Amanda sighed.

“Indeed. However he is not unintelligent and Grigo waits to see if he will break free of his own accord.”

“I presume Ashel will be attending my introduction to the Emirate Court tomorrow?”

“He will. It is not known if he intends an insult to you or not,” Lauralla warned.

“I hope not. I would hate to be the centre of a confrontation,” Amanda sighed. “It’s not why I’m here. I’m just here to pay respects to the man who sired me and show the respect the Empire has for the Emirate.”

“Grigo knows this, though his other reason is having Dayyev sketch him,” Lauralla chuckled.

“Yes. We all know what his primary aim is,” Amanda laughed as the mood relaxed.

I, in the meantime, had begun some formal sketches of both Lauralla and Grian, including one of Grian and Amanda together which showed their obvious relationship to each other as well as the friendship they now tentatively had. Another sketch I did of Lauralla was to be the basis of a coloured portrait, showing her in her formal Priestess robes, looking both serene and wise.

“When you are able ... or it is allowed, you should visit the Empire and meet mum. She’d be delighted to actually meet you,” Amanda informed Grian.

“I would be delighted, though currently I have to finish my higher education,” he replied. “Then I will be assigned a role in the ruling house and that may constrain or free me, depending on what it is.”

“I’m the same,” Amanda smiled. “I can’t just choose to do anything major on my own, though have quite a bit of freedom within those limits.”

“I haven’t even got that. There are still factions out there who resent the ascendancy of my father and would seek to kill me.”

“After all these years?”

“Grudges go deep and revenge is sweet,” Grian replied. “As one of our sayings goes.”

“So you’ll be a walking target for the rest of your life?” Amanda queried with a frown.

“Potentially. Though Her Reverence, Lauralla, has been slowly removing or disempowering various groupings within the clans who were threats.”

“Not an easy task either,” Lauralla sighed. “It has to be done in such a way that does not lead back to the Emir.”

“Understandable,” Amanda nodded. “Though the Temple being apolitical must help.”

“It does. There are still many amongst the leadership of the Clans who do not recognise our true power,” Lauralla smiled grimly, showing the force of will we’d been warned about.

“And long may it remain that way,” Grian chuckled, lightening the mood.

“Interesting and dangerous society in the upper levels here,” I opined when we, together with Lauralla and Grian, made it to the isolated guest suite we were assigned.

“Yes, though I don’t think we are a specific target for anyone, except the group Ashel is part of. Even that seems to be aimed more at Grigo and petty revenge than anything else,” Amanda replied.

“Just be wary of how a challenge or insult is presented. A lot of eyes will be on how you respond,” Trusha warned.

“I know. Some may be ignored as petty, others with a verbal reprimand, still others by the sword.”

“Your sword practice is acceptable; I doubt many here could face you.”

“I’d still rather not use it at all.”

“Understandable, if moot.”

“True, I’m unlikely to be given a choice,” Amanda sighed.

“Your compatriots will be safe,” Lauralla informed her. “They do not represent the Empire leadership as such.”

“Yes, I studied the various protocols the Clan leadership uses to protect those of ‘lesser worth’ in any dispute,” Amanda grimaced. “Their language in the Codex Honorum could have been chosen more wisely though.”

“It was written bluntly so as to brook no misunderstandings,” Lauralla acknowledged. “That said, yes, the terms used to describe subordinates are somewhat crude.”

“If my brother challenges you, you must be wary,” Grian warned. “He is an expert swordsman.”

“He is not,” Simma, one of Lauralla’s bodyguards, interjected. “We of Kilios refused to train him beyond the basics as his moral judgement was not firmly anchored.”

“Too easily swayed?” I asked.

“Precisely so, Artist Dayyev.”

“Nevertheless, I have no wish to fight a duel with Ashel, nor potentially humiliate him ... should I win,” Amanda stated.

“Yes, that would be unfortunate,” Lauralla agreed. “He has been warned, but ... he is headstrong and too easily swayed by others.”

“How close is he to triggering the Emir’s anger?” Verlig asked.

“Just at the irritating stage, but this is the first time he ... and Grian will be at the Palace, together and before the Court.”

“And he expects no reaction for possibly insulting an ally ... of sorts?” Amanda asked.

“I’m not sure what he expects, other than pleasing his so-called friends who blame the Empire for one of their son’s fall from grace,” Lauralla shrugged.

The following day, after I had completed coloured portraits of Lauralla, Grian and one of the floating Temple itself, we were escorted to a large floating, if open, transporter to be taken to the Fortress of Gilhanath, where the Emir, Grigo, resided along with his eleven wives. Each wife represented one of the Clans and were a conduit of sorts to him to inform him directly, if necessary, of an area of concern. Which is how Grigo knew of his disaffected son, as some factions in the Jemorrok Clan felt that any attempt by Ashel to humiliate the Empire would reflect badly upon the Clan itself. Unfortunately, these factions were not the ones in charge.

Amanda was dressed all in white for today’s presentation to Grigo. In the Emirate it signified independence from familial rules and was merely the Empire’s way of telling those in the Emirate that those ruling the Empire were totally independent of them, despite Amantil being married to Grigo and Amanda being his blood daughter. So, head high, looking neither left nor right, she proceeded gracefully to the raised throne where Grigo sat, his wives were also present and seated around him. It was, as the saying goes, so silent you could hear a pin drop as she silently approached the throne, followed by, at a respectful distance, the rest of us. Finally, within ten paces of Grigo, who remained seated, she halted and gave him the half bow of respect along with a hand gesture which in the Emirate symbolised familial respect as the rest of us simply bowed.

“Be welcome, daughter,” Grigo spoke clearly.

“I thank you, father,” Amanda replied

Grigo then stood and faced the Court. “This is my daughter, Amanda,” he announced. “She is of my blood and of my line. She is the heiress to the Vreekoosian Empire and you will treat her with respect or face my wrath!” he finished bluntly, warning of the consequences of trying anything to disrespect Amanda and the Empire.

Again Amanda gave a respectful bow, before stepping forward to give Grigo a reciprocated hug and a brilliant smile. “It is so good to be here at last, father,” she said.

“It is so good to finally meet you too, Amanda,” he smiled. “Now, may I introduce you to my wives?” he asked, with a minor break with tradition in bypassing the Clan heads.

“I’d be delighted,” Amanda replied as Grigo introduced each wife in turn including their Clan name.

Then, and only then, did Grigo lead her down to be introduced to the Clan Heads, some of whom were clearly in awe of the respect Grigo was giving her. I was sketching the scenes as fast as I could, catching the formal robes as juxtaposed against Amanda’s simple garb as she progressed with Grigo to greet the Heads, using her studies of the Emirate political system to greet them properly as well as enquiring of their business interests, mentioning that there was a market for such products within the Empire.

It was also clear that there was one Clan whose members looked distinctly unhappy at Amanda’s presence, though most of them also looked cowed to an extent after hearing Grigo’s direct threat to any who disrespected her. Still, it did not stop one young man with a distinctly familial look to Amanda to step forth and spit at her feet.

“I think you dropped something,” Amanda stated calmly and then blanked him to speak to the wife of the Clan head, leaving Ashel alone and feeling somewhat foolish at being simply ignored.

He was about to respond when he froze. One of Grigo’s bodyguards had glided up unnoticed to place a blade at his side and guide him away to no doubt have a long ‘chat’ with Grigo later. Just before Grigo moved on, he turned to the Head of Clan Jemorrok and casually invited him and his senior retinue, including his wife, to call in and discuss his son’s education and progress, causing a few to go very white-faced ... those of them that were paler skinned that is.

From an unknowing observer’s point of view, you’d not really know that a major diplomatic incident had been smoothed over. Though most were not unknowing and the tension in the chamber had ratcheted up several degrees. The rest of the introductions went smoothly, including the moment when Amanda met Grian and warmly embraced him, which also caused a buzz of conversation to ripple through the audience.

Afterwards we all sat on cushions in a warmly decorated room as various servitors brought in clovak, a spicy tasting, if chilled, drink that was a favourite of the people of Gamappe.

“Thank you for your forbearance over my idiot son,” Grigo apologised to Amanda.

“It was a petty moment of rebellion and it’s not like he spat in my face ... or attempted to,” Amanda replied. “If he had, my bodyguard would have acted and we’d have had a real incident on our hands.”

“Yes, despite his actions, hostilely laying hands by a stranger on an Amir is illegal here,” Grigo sighed. “Then again spitting at the feet of a guest is also a gross breach of hospitality ... though not illegal.”

“I’ll let you deal with it, father. The Empire will not pursue an apology.”

“For which he ought to be damned grateful, but I suspect initially he won’t.”

“What options are open to you, Emir?” I asked politely.