The Tale of Lady Kessandra
The blustery weather of the early Viverides springtime kept the residents of Begonia House indoors. Continual thunderstorms buffeted the quaint lanes of Ward 43, tearing off the occasional tree limb or sending the pieces of a patio set tumbling. Stuck inside due to the weather, the group quickly ran out of things to do. Even with the ability to download things onto their intellipads, the Adjudicants censored so much available media that attempting core-net entertainment became impossible. Ennui soon overwhelmed the group.
Trisla quelled her boredom by cooking incessantly. Baking sweets was her favorite pastime, and soon Begonia House smelled of chocolate, banana, vanilla, cinnamon AND cheese. Xaz bided his time by sharpening his claws and pestering Rowan and Zara to read or tell him stories. Rowan tinkered with getting an ancient robotic floor cleaner working so that no more mopping would have to be done. And Zara spent most of her time trying to sew outfits from the fabric they’d purchased from Madame Olendra by using the “Clothing Patterns for Imperial Concubines” book she’d downloaded. Unfortunately, the descriptions and instructions were largely in Olde Galactic, making them difficult to translate.
Zara’s annoyance with the situation was on a slow burn. After all, they’d all spent years in the bunker. They knew how to deal with boredom. But, at least back home, there’d been more people to talk to, constant work to be done for the war effort, and nothing to prohibit them from using their intellipads as they wished. Meaning could be derived from patching the torn clothes of soldiers or knitting thick socks and mittens to keep the family and servants warm. Zara didn’t particularly see the point in putting together a series of elaborate dresses intended to impress a man she’d likely never meet.
Reading the “Handbook of Concubine Propriety” sent to her by Edi, Zara learned that the “polite” way to introduce yourself to other Concubines was to send a servant with a small calling card. The other Concubine could then respond with an invitation to tea or some other minor affair to get to know you. Zara sent Trisla around with her calling cards, but received no invites in return. She could only assume that Lady Astrid had made it known anyone associating with Zara would be a social pariah.
Zara supposed that the ostracization was a blessing in disguise. If she didn’t interact with other Concubines, she would be unlikely to get involved in drama and dangerous political schemes. Still, it did hurt to be shunned.
Trying to distract herself from thoughts about her social embarrassment, Zara lowered her sewing to look around the room. Having eaten too many cookies, Xaz had become a lump on the floor. His tail swatted lazily at a fly. Trisla, covered in flour, had fallen asleep on the sofa while waiting for her latest concoction to bake. And Rowan? Zara had no idea what had become of Rowan.
That’s when there was a knock at the door. It surprised all of them. Xaz sat up quickly and then rolled into a crouch, growling slightly and looking around as if he thought there might be an intruder. Trisla woke too and, after realizing it would be left to her to answer the door, a task normally left to Rowan, dusted flour off of herself and set to the task
The interaction ended quickly, and soon Trisla rejoined them in the sitting room, carrying on a small pewter tray a single tented calling card. Zara’s eyes grew wide and she snatched the card off the plate.
“The Lady Kessandra invites the Lady Zara to a late morning tea on the morrow at Wisteria House.” Zara read it several more times just to be sure.
“The witch’s house?” Trisla signed after putting down the tray. She looked incredibly hesitant about the entire concept. “What if she turns you into salt?”
“I thought witches turned people into frogs,” Rowan interjected, appearing from downstairs with a piece of cheese. “Or other reptiles.”
“Xaz could be a snake, yes yes,” Xaz added without getting up off of the floor. “Xaz could slither. Ssssslither. Slitherrrrr.”
Trisla shook her head as her hands moved frantically, expressing her dismay in Galactic Sign Language, “You mustn’t go, I think, milady. There are so many rumors about her in town. I met a florist who said that all of his flowers die every time she walks past. And I heard one concubine’s maid say that Lady Kessandra got kicked out of the Forbidden City because she cursed the Emperor’s favorite songbird to sound like a frog.”
“See?” Rowan said, motioning to Trisla, “Frogs.”
Zara shook her head. “Well, I can’t continue to just… Not know anyone on Viverides. Anyway, she’s two ranks higher than I am. I’m pretty sure it’d be incredibly rude to turn her down without an immensely good reason. And the fear of witchery probably doesn’t count.”
Once it was decided, there was much to prepare. Zara needed to put the finishing touches on the first dress. Xaz had to be persuaded into a bath, rather than his usual cleaning method of, ‘letting the rain lick the dust off’. And Rowan and Trisla needed to decide which of them would come along to attend Zara. Trisla won due to Rowan’s last few tea-pouring attempts ending in spillage.
The next morning was a whirl of activity. Trisla had to re-do Zara’s hair three times, having never really had to give her a fancy coiffure before. Emergency patchwork had to be done on Xaz’s House Kalimat guard uniform when one of his many spiky protrusions ripped a section. And one of Trisla’s shoes went missing. By the time the group was heading up the hill to Wisteria House, Zara felt brittle both inside and out. Despite having chosen the most comfortable looking of all the dresses, the fabric felt heavy, and the little satin-lined shoes slipped around on her feet as she walked. She couldn’t imagine making a good impression on Lady Kessandra, and wondered if she might be walking into some sort of trap.
Wisteria House, Zara realized as they walked up the path to the front door, was twice the size of Begonia House. A robotic groundskeeper tended a garden of fresh vegetables off to one side, and the front flower boxes sported varieties of exotic blossoms Zara couldn’t name. Ivy scaled two sides of the house, clustering so densely on one side that it appeared to be crowding around a window to peek into the home. The whitewashed walls contrasted elegantly with decorative ash shutters and pine green roof. A strange wicker decoration of woven loops and knots hung on the door like a wreath made for far more esoteric or occult purposes. Zara lifted a hand to touch and inspect it, wondering how it had been made and what its symbolic purpose might be, but Trisla caught her wrist. Trisla shook her head, not wanting Zara to touch the item, and end up accidentally cursed by some unknown magic.
Their knock was swiftly answered by a portly housekeeper who ushered them inside, but only after staring at the group for longer than really polite. “Lady Kessandra will receive you in the solarium.”
Inside, Wisteria House was filled with incredible furniture, art, and decor, none of it particularly spooky or ‘witchy’. Zara immediately noticed several fine Cassadine embroidered tapestries on the walls. Her parents had shown her one in a museum back in Ankali before the war, and she’d been fascinated with how the glowing miltworm threads rippled in unison to make the whole scene appear almost alive. She’d immediately wanted to learn to embroider with miltworm thread, but the price was prohibitive, even for the rulers of Ankali. Zara saw fine porcelain tea sets from Ithonica Nine and hand-carved cabinets made from the indigo-colored wood of the Beshila forests. A section of navy brocade curtain with gold trim was pulled aside to allow the trio into the solarium. The amount of money spent on the decor of Wisteria House could have bought a half-dozen battle-ready ships back home, Zara was absolutely certain.
“The Lady Zarathenia of Ankali and her attendants,” the housekeeper announced before retreating.
Lady Kessandra sat in a high-backed blue velour chair, her voluminous gray hair pulled up into a configuration much broader than her wrinkle-lined face. She had a number of glittering gold and teal hair ornaments tucked in amongst the gray that brought out the blue of her keen eyes. Even sitting, Zara could tell she’d been hunched slightly by age, and the way her skin hung so loosely made Zara wonder if she’d been battling an illness. The table in front of her contained not only tea, but also a fat white cat, and a crystal ball. The weight of all of these things kept the white lace of the tablecloth from blowing away in the breeze issuing from a slightly ajar window nearby.
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“Come in. I hope you don’t mind the breeze. With it not raining this morning for once, I thought I’d get some…air…” Lady Kessandra had used a cane topped with a gold orb to get to her feet to greet her guest but came to a complete stop upon seeing Zara. Most people balked at seeing Xaz for the first time, but not Lady Kessandra. Instead, she focused immediately on Zara, the thin time-worn skin around her mouth twitching as she took a step forward. Zara didn’t know what to think when the old woman broke out into a laugh that was obviously directed at her guests but also didn’t seem derisive or cruel. “You must be from quite far away, my dear. I have met a good number of Hostage Concubines in my life, but you’ll be the first to show up to tea in a nightgown.”
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“What?” Immediately Zara looked down at her dress. She’d chosen a pattern that was loose and modest, something with wide sleeves that wouldn’t pinch at her wrists, but still had enough ornamentation to be considered fancy. Only once Lady Kessandra pointed it out did she see it. It WAS a nightgown. “Oh my gods. I… I didn’t know. They sent me a pattern book and I…” Zara covered her face with both hands in an attempt to block the world from seeing her intense embarrassment. “How mortifying.”
“Nonsense, I think it’s a little brilliant. Who wants to sit around eating cakes in a too-tight dress?” Lady Kessandra tugged Zara’s wrists to remove her hands from her face and gave her a reassuring smile. “Come now. Let’s sit. You must tell me all about this tall drink of water here.” She canted her head towards Xaz and then led Zara to one of the chairs. “Did he always have horns, or did you add them?”
—
Despite her initial embarrassment, Zara rapidly found herself completely enraptured by Lady Kessandra’s company. The old woman had a lively personality and the kind of genuine kindness that Zara hadn’t even hoped to find on Viverides. After the tea was poured, Lady Kessandra sent Xaz and Trisla off to the kitchens where, she said, they’d find half a lemon cake made by Lady Kessandra’s housekeeper, Madame Marie. This left the pair together, now able to take their time getting to know one another as Lady Kessandra worked at laying out some tarot cards to do a reading for Zara.
“I see. So your home planet was at war until recently?” Lady Kessandra asked as she shuffled the cards.
“Yes, ah… For a decade. So, there’s not been much talk about it here on Viverides?”
The older woman shook her head. “No. The Galactic Empire fights a good two dozen wars across the galaxy at any given time. We don’t usually hear much about them unless the Spiral Alliance is involved.”
It felt weird to know that the ten years of devastating war on her home planet didn’t even really register as news in the central systems. The conflict had been all-consuming on Ankali, and would change the future of their people for hundreds or thousands of years to come, but meant almost nothing to the Galatic Empire. They fought so many wars at once… So many, that their resources must be split thin across all the battles. And yet, even with that, it had given Ankali no advantage whatsoever. If the Galactic Empire had focused its entire arsenal on Ankali for even a month, they’d have completely obliterated the population of the planet.
Zara didn’t know much about the Spiral Alliance other than that they were a large number of systems in one of the spiral arms of the galaxy that had thwarted the expansion of the Galactic Empire into their territory. Unfortunately, her home planet of Ankali had been unable to secure their assistance in their fight against the Galactic Empire, likely because Ankali was nowhere near the spiral arm in question.
“Oh. I will have to do some reading to learn more about the Spiral Alliance, I suppose.” Zara leaned forward to watch what Lady Kessandra was doing with the cards. “Wisteria House is lovely, Lady Kessandra. Have you lived here long?”
“Oh no, no. Only a decade or so. Ward 43 had only recently been walled in when I came to Ebonrue from the Forbidden City.”
“What was it like… The Forbidden City? Is it truly as incredible as the stories say?” Stories were about all one could really learn of the Forbidden City. It was unlawful to film inside the gates or even take pictures. An externally opaque repulsion dome was projected over the entire place, making it impossible for drones to enter and spy on the residents, or for there to be any pictures of it from space. Only drawings and paintings existed, and those couldn’t be relied upon for accuracy, since the Adjudicants would certainly destroy any that didn’t show the Forbidden City in the best light.
“It is the most extraordinarily beautiful place you’ve ever seen, and simultaneously the ugliest place in the galaxy to live,” Lady Kessandra murmured, her voice wistful.
“You miss it?”
“No, I… I don’t. I just miss him.” Leaving the tarot cards on the table for the moment, Lady Kessandra stood and moved to a side of the room where something on the wall was covered by fine purple satin. With the pull of a cord, the fabric slid aside to reveal a painting in the old Ieboke style. It showed the Endless Emperor, looking much younger than his current portraits, in the finery of a royal marriage. Beside him stood a beauty in bridal robes, face and lips painted porcelain white. Her eyes were hidden by her red veil, and a purple thumbprint had been placed upon her bottom lip to signify the completion of the marriage ritual. Her hands, positioned just-so that only her fingertips could be seen beneath the voluminous sleeves of the bridal robes, gingerly held the end of the arakon, the rope binding signifying imperial maidens from before the time of galactic conquest. “Back then, it was tradition. The Emperor must have eight wives before his coronation. I was the eighth. It was the happiest day of my life.”
“It’s lovely,” Zara said, standing to go take a closer look. “I’ve only seen these kinds of things in picture books or the core-net. It must have been thousands of years ago. Is this your official imperial wedding portrait?”
“Mmhm,” Lady Kessandra said. “I’ll tell you the story while I read your cards, if you like?”
—
“In the olden days, thousands of years ago, the wives of the Emperor were chosen from among the families of the Noble Ministers. It was seen as a great honor, and also as a way to accrue additional power within the palace. To increase the chance their daughter would be chosen, some of the Noble Ministers would send their daughters to the Maidane, Imperial temple schools that specialized in turning out young women honed to the preferences of the husband-to-be. If a husband should want a shy woman, he would get one. If he’d like her to be smart, or witty, or particularly ravishing, the Maidane would provide top-notch candidates.
I was at the Maidane from the time I was five years old. Our family had fallen from high favor due to my father failing or disappointing the Emperor more than once. The possibility of being removed from the ranks of the Noble Ministers loomed, and due to my father’s inability to be thrifty, it would have meant financial disaster for our family.
I had three sisters, all also within the Maidane, and all far more accomplished than I could ever hope to be. So, I must admit, I didn’t take anything very seriously. I got in trouble often. Among the girls of the Maidane, I was considered plain, and my father believed it a waste of money for any enhancements or augmentations to attempt to change my looks, especially when they could be better spent on my sisters. Personally, I was fine with it. I had decided long before that I’d learn the art of fortune telling and travel the stars, meeting interesting people and learning of their incredible lives. Getting stuck in the Forbidden City wasn’t for me.
Two months before the Choosing, the Emperor sent the remaining dozen finalists a gift. We each received a rare bird from the tropical planet of Akidar. I’d never seen such delightful creatures. They came in such an extraordinary range of colors and shapes, each one more magnificent than the last. However, because I’d snuck out of the Maidane when the birds arrived, I received the very last choice, a rather dull-looking brown bird with black spots.
The Emperor’s instructions for the birds were simple. Each young woman was to train her bird however she might like. And during the Choosing, she’d show the Emperor what she’d managed to teach it. Everyone took to training their birds immediately. Some girls trained them to sing songs they’d heard the Emperor liked, other girls taught their birds to speak, or bow, or hunt, or even do aerial tricks. But I, thinking myself clever, decided not to train my bird at all. If I’d failed in training my bird, well… The Emperor would surely not want me, and I’d be free to pursue my own desires.
Eventually, the day of the Choosing came. We dressed in our finest and were paraded to the Royal Pavilion. For the first time, I saw the Emperor. He was so young then, you understand, only nineteen but he had seven wives already. His features were chiseled in the right places, soft in the right places. Back then, he had brown eyes, not like his augmented eyes now, all blue and crisp. And he had dark hair, nearly the color of midnight. I remember him being so thin, just rail thin and gangly, all long limbs and no muscle. His gaze felt serious and lonely, and perhaps a bit bored with having gone through seven Choosings already. I thought, ‘He doesn’t look cruel. One of my sisters will have a wonderful life with him.’
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Along with him were his mother, the Empress Dowager, and his sisters, the twin Princesses Narisa and Clarisa. Mostly, the Empress Dowager ran the Choosing. She inspected us, quizzed us, and looked over our documents. Girls were made to recite or play instruments, or dance. But, the Emperor spent all of it looking at his intellipad. Why would he care at all about marrying for the eighth time just to secure the loyalty of his ministers? One girl was as good as the next, most likely, as long as it was politically advantageous.
But, he did look up when it came time to show what the young women had done with their birds. Each one showed off what they’d taught their bird. My sister, Issavendra, was the most impressive. She’d taught her bird to pull the ornamental pins from her hair and then lay them out on a table to form the shape of the Emperor’s initials. I thought for certain she’d be the one chosen, as it was the most difficult trick, and the most clever.
And then they came to me. I stepped forward with my cage, and my bird, who I had named Sir Peep, for he only made the faintest peep noises.
“What have you trained your bird to do?” the Emperor asked me.
I bowed in the formal way of that era, and then held up the cage. “You said to train our birds in whatever manner we desire, your Majesty. I did not desire to train my bird, so he will do no tricks for you today.”
Everyone was shocked by my insolence. I had known I’d get in trouble, but I didn’t realize how much trouble. The headmistress of the Maidane slapped me and said, “How dare you mock the Emperor!” She bowed repeatedly to him and said, “Your Majesty, I must apologize. This girl is willful and headstrong. If it pleases you, we shall send her away immediately to be punished.”
I thought that was a bit much. It’s not like I’d struck the Emperor. So, of course, I spoke up. “I apologize, your Majesty. I did not mean to cause offense to you in any way. It’s simply…” I motioned towards Sir Peep. “...my desire for Sir Peep is not for him to do tricks. Your Majesty’s gift to me is most lovely, but I can’t really be settled with the idea of turning him into something he is not. Surely he yearns for his home on Akidar where he could fly free? There, he needs no tricks to be what he is – a bird. Is he not already the perfected form of what he was meant to be?”
I thought for certain I would be whipped. The headmistress even brought her whip up to lash me, as she carried it always at her side. But, the Emperor suddenly raised his hand to stop her.
“No. No.” He motioned to me, “What is your name?”
“I’m Lady Kessandra, if it pleases Your Majesty.” I curtsied in a wobbly manner. Grace was never my forte.
The Emperor nodded once and said, “Send everyone away except Lady Kessandra. I have chosen.”